#its about meeting kids who repeat what their parents say | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonlightspencie · 10 months

Text

… Angels Roll Their Eyes

Description: A new recruit to the BAU catches Reid’s eye. Unfortunately for the both of them, she has a past with someone very close to him. Are they willing to keep secrets just to keep one another? (TWO-PART MINISERIES)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, reader gets a minor injury, sexual references/content (i’ll accept 16+ because its definitely not more than pg-13 material but writing anything sexy makes me feel weird if i know teenagers are reading it)

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: READER’S POV!! this is where the bridge kicks in teehee. (also savannah is more of a minor character at this point, nobody really knows she and derek are together)

Devils Roll the Dice… (click for part 1)

I walked up to the figure illuminated by vending machine lights. His head was down as he looked through the options, not really intending on buying anything at all. I slowed my steps on the approach, just barely catching his attention before I was right next to him.

“Hey,” he said quietly, giving me a soft smile.

I grinned in full, not bothering to hide my feelings. Nobody was around, anyways.

“Hey. You come here often?”

He laughed. “Only this once. Waiting around for this girl who said she’d meet me here.”

“Sounds like she’s into you.”

He nodded. “I think so.”

I grabbed his hand, attempting to pull him closer. He took the advantage to bring me in instead, my back against the hard plastic of the machine’s display. Rather than kissing me then and there, he leaned in, lips unbearably close to my ear.

“I feel like we’re sneaking around past our parents,” he said quietly.

“You never got that ‘teenage dream’ experience. Maybe this is your second chance.”

He smiled. “Maybe.”

His lips pressed to mine, silencing our whispered words for good.

We were far from teenagers at this point, but he was still a dream. I found myself feeling giddy at every turn, completely ignoring the impending doom that loomed over our relationship.

We both knew we weren’t trying hard enough to hide it. Neither of us knew what would happen when it finally came to light.

Until that happened, we’d pretend it wasn’t in the cards at all. Summer love was still sweet, even being far removed from the romanticism of anything resembling the movie-loves I’d grown accustomed to religiously watching. This was somehow better. Maybe because it was more realistic. Probably because it was always more thrilling to live it out.

I smiled into our kiss, feeling his wandering hands trying to get themselves under my legs to lift me up. Sadly, we never got the chance.

We heard footsteps coming down the hall quickly, breaking apart and trying to look as nonchalant as possible as we mindlessly gazed at the snacks inside the machine.

“I’m thinking M&Ms,” I noted, almost laughing.

Spencer hid a smile. He clicked the right buttons right as our visitor reached us. The little package dropped, our secret still somehow concealed from a slightly-confused Aaron Hotchner as he stood behind us waiting for his turn.

“Night,” I said, giving a slight nod.

“Goodnight.”

Spencer followed behind me, hoping it wouldn’t be obvious that he didn’t have some cheap snack of his own in hand as we walked past. I rationalized that he looked too tired to notice, anyways.

We wound up back in my room, giggling with each other like kids at a sleepover. I made him do a face-mask with me while he made me listen to a lecture on how the hyaluronic acid in the formula provided moisture for our skin. I gladly listened with a smile on my face, and he happily accepted a hundred kisses as I wiped his face clean afterwards.

We laid on my bed, mindlessly talking about whatever came to mind. He took my hand in his, running his thumb across the back of my hand in repeated motions as we talked.

“What do you say we stop hiding us?” I asked at last, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve established myself on the team at this point, I think.”

He was quiet for a moment, still running his thumb over my hand.

“I don’t know. I think it’s better that we keep it quiet.”

I paused, taking in his response. I’d hoped that after a while we wouldn’t be hiding anymore. As much fun as it was to sneak around, it could be utterly exhausting. But, if he still wanted to, I’d agree.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he questioned, turning his head to look at me.

I looked back at him, giving him a small smile and a nod.

“Yeah. If that’s what you want, it’s fine by me.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to my forehead. I sprung up a moment after, standing at the foot of the bed. I grabbed my phone, clicking around on the screen as he propped himself up to look at me. I held out a hand to him.

“Dance with me, pretty boy,” I sang out, hitting shuffle on one of my playlists.

He quickly obliged, not wasting a second in worrying about whether or not he could actually dance. He knew I’d be there to guide whatever movements he didn’t know how to do yet.

Whispers of ‘are you sure?’

I smiled at him, admiring the way he payed way too much attention to how he moved. I made it a goal to loosen him up. After a minute, he was letting me guide, leaving his body to its own devices. He was really better off for it.

I can see us lost in the memory

We swayed along to the song, silently praying it wasn’t some kind of sick foreshadowing of how our summer would end. I pretended not to care much about the lyrics. He pretended not to listen to most of them.

August sipped away like a bottle of wine

Cause you were never mine

“Do you think that’ll happen to us?” I asked, still smiling past the gravity of the question.

“Of course not,” he answered with finality.

Wanting was enough

For me it was enough

To live for the hope of it all

I took his hands, the both of us spinning around in circles with smiles on our faces that were real and genuine despite a nagging feeling that something might be wrong.

I knew mine had a lot to do with very real feelings I was scared to talk about. I was too afraid to think about what may have filled his head. It was really none of my business, anyways, so I cleared my head of it all. Wanting was enough. I didn’t have to doubt that. It had been enough for two months so far. That had to count for something.

Weeks later and it was August. That lingering question of “will it last” was ever-present in my head. I just kept pushing it down. Fuck compartmentalization. That question was locked in a dungeon, chained to a wall, and I intended on keeping it there until we were either burning to the ground or eloping in Vegas.

Those seemed like the most viable options, anyway. An extremely-attached, yet no-strings kind of situationship could really only go one of two ways.

I almost wanted him to hate me at that point. It would certainly be a thrilling end if he revealed that he never cared about me and was only doing all of this to screw with my head. Almost like he was a spy, trying to uncover whatever boring substance made up my psyche.

I knew that was… Slightly less realistic, though.

I probably shouldn’t have been thinking about it so thoroughly, especially since it was merely theoretical. It would have caused a lot less mental work. It also might have prevented me from being off my game.

I had a habit of being a bit clumsy when we weren’t in life-threatening situations, but messing up while we were on a case? Unbearably embarrassing.

I looked up as my arm hit the wall to stop me from falling over my own two feet, disgusting to find that an exposed nail head had given me quite the scratch. It looked pretty gnarly, and frankly I was thanking my lucky stars I’d already gotten a tetanus booster after my last injury. However, I probably couldn’t go much further with my arm bleeding. Especially if they didn’t necessarily need me. It was one man they were going after, and we didn’t even know if he was in this house.

I voiced to Hotch what had happened, and he told me to leave if I was safe enough to do so. JJ and three officers occupied the house anyways, so I booked it out of there.

I cleaned myself up as well as I could with the first aid kit in the car, planning on doing a better job when I got back to the precinct. The house we were in turned out to be a bust anyways. Our unsub was still in the wind. He clearly hadn’t even been in the house in weeks. It was wildly frustrating.

Until Miss Penelope Garcia called in to save the day as she always did. She let JJ and I know that the others were currently heading across town to an apartment that she was certain housed the unsub and our most recent victim.

“Finally,” I sighed, leaning my head back in the seat.

JJ was quiet, and I looked away from my driving to see her. She smiled at me when I turned my head.

“What?” I questioned with a laugh.

“Can I ask you something?” she inquired, sitting up a little more straight. “It’s a little personal.”

I quirked a brow. “You can ask, but I reserve my right to remain silent.”

She laughed. “Alright. Fair enough. Uh, I’m just wondering about you and a certain team member.”

I swallowed. Uh oh.

“Okay?”

“I’ve just— I’ve heard rumors, and I wanted to ask you directly about them rather than letting the rumor-mill run.”

I nodded slowly. “What have you heard?”

“Word on the street is that you and Morgan used to be an item.”

Oh.

“Ah,” I replied with a chuckle. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, we were a thing. But that was a while ago, and I’m pretty certain we’ve moved past it.”

“Right, yeah,” she nodded. “You know, he has a secret girlfriend now.”

I smiled, glancing at her. “Really?”

She nodded again. “Yeah. He’s been trying to hide it, but Garcia loves to talk.”

I laughed, thinking of the bubbly, well-meaning woman. She had a hard time with secrets, though she tried her hardest.

“That’s good. He deserves to be happy, he was always a great guy,” I said.

“Just gotta look past all of the mindless flirting and the jock-persona,” JJ noted jokingly.

I hummed in agreement, turning down the road that would lead us to the precinct at last. It was a good thing, too, since my arm was really starting to irritate me now. My discomfort must have been obvious, as JJ looked at me once again.

“You okay?” she questioned. “That cut on your arm looks pretty painful.”

I looked at it, noticing there was some bleed-through on the bandage. I sighed, not looking forward to cleaning it up.

“I’ll live. It just itches pretty bad right now, and it’s fairly sore.”

“I can help you when we’re back at the station. You shouldn’t have to do that alone.”

“Thanks Jayje,” I said, resting a hand on her arm briefly.

She covered my hand with her own, giving me another smile. It felt like she could see through me on occasion. She had quickly become one of my closest friends on the team, which took me a little by surprise. She seemed a little too unironic-girlboss when I first met her, but the second Penelope helped me see her true colors… We were fast friends.

I almost found myself telling her about Spencer and I on multiple occasions, but always ended up thinking better of the idea. That moment was one of the times I almost said something.

Of course, I thought twice about it, but she gave me that look like she knew what I was thinking.

I found an out when we pulled into the precinct, and took up her offer to help me with properly fixing up my arm. We made light conversation as I tried like hell not to focus on the stinging pain that occurred every time she probed at the cut.

We did whatever we could to help after she was finished. At least until the rest of the team showed up. But, to my delight, we rounded out our night by heading home and going straight to the bar.

I didn’t often let myself get well and truly drunk. Especially not when I was around Spencer. I knew I had been staring at him once I downed my sixth shot, but by the third mixed drink he was pulling me out of the bar. He threw out some kind of excuse that he was tired and I needed a ride home.

“What’s up with you?” he asked after bidding a goodnight to everyone else. “You’ve been acting weird, and now you’re getting wasted.”

I was annoyed by the comment, but there was concern in his voice over everything else. I leaned into him as we walked towards my car.

“I just wanted to have some fun, Spencie.”

He sighed, continuing to help me walk until we reached my vehicle.

“Come on,” he muttered under his breath, helping me into the backseat of the car.

I slumped over into the seat as he did, just barely letting him put the seatbelt around me and click it into place. He was fairly quiet as he did so, which really only furthered my concern. Even drunk I knew well enough to see that something was off with him. He shut the door, and I let myself drop against the seat, listening as he opened and closed the driver’s side door.

I glanced up, seeing him adjust the mirror to keep an eye on me in the seat rather than the road. It was dangerous and stupid. And so sweet it made my stomach flip.

I let my mind wander as he turned on the radio, thought he kept it low, and started driving. I thought of him and the summer we’d shared thus far. Three months is nothing in the grand scheme of life, but it felt like everything when I was with him. He felt like everything in that time. I hated keeping him a secret so much.

Maybe I shouldn’t have drank so much.

I let out the tears I was holding back, sniffling as the snot starting trying to weasel its way out of my system. If I was going to cry like a baby, I wasn’t going let myself get all gross and grimy. That’s where I drew the line. I’d make sure at least some of my dignity was preserved.

He looked at me in the rear view mirror, brows furrowing.

“Y/N?”

I sniffled.

“Yeah?” I managed, knowing I sounded absolutely pathetic.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft. “Why are you crying?”

I met his eyes as he continually glanced at me in the mirror. I had to have looked ridiculous, laying on the backseat with tears streaming down my face for seemingly no reason.

“I’m fine.”

He deadpanned. “You’re sobbing in the backseat of your own car.”

“I’m fine,” I said again through tears, voice coming out much more whiny than I’d intended.

He said my name as a warning, seeing through my… untruth. I felt more happy calling it that than anything else. I looked at him, admiring his pretty face through the mirror as he looked on at the road ahead. Maybe it was a good idea for him to practically drag me out of the bar. I could be a messy drunk, and I definitely would’ve outed us by wanting to be messy with him in front of the team if I’d drank any more.

Keeping secrets sucked. It was stupid and annoying. Especially when he was so hot.

I whined out loud at the though, squeezing my eyes shut.

“What?” he whined back, a laugh on his lips.

“I’m sick of this.”

“Sick of what, baby?”

I sighed, wiping away tears that kept on rolling.

“Keeping secrets. I don’t want to have to keep hiding this just to keep you.”

He sighed to match mine. “I know.”

“I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“Honey, we don’t have much of a choice.”

“But I’m going to explode if I can’t kiss you in public anymore.”

“No, you won’t,” he said, looking at me again.

I pouted. “I will.”

“You’re drunk, baby. We’ll get you into bed and you’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“Will you come to bed with me?”

He smiled softly. “Of course.”

I felt the car starting to slow, and though my vision was a little blurry, I saw the green light ahead turn to yellow. I looked at him again, a small smile coming to my tear-soaked face.

“Spencie?”

He hummed in question, not yet looking at me.

“Can I tell you something really stupid?”

“I’d love nothing more.”

I paused for a moment, letting my inebriated state wipe away any inhibitions I may have had otherwise. The car stopped at the light at last. I smiled softly.

“For what it’s worth, I love you,” I mumbled. “And it’s the worst fucking thing you could hear right now.”

I hoped he’d say it back, though part of me expected him to pretend he hadn’t heard me at all.

I definitely didn’t expect him to look at me through the mirror with a devilish smirk.

“I know you do,” he stated. “And it’s not the worst thing I‘ve heard by a long shot.”

I bit my lip to hold back a smile as he pulled away from the light. We ended up back at my apartment, Spencer still helping me stumble the whole way there. I pushed him back against the door as soon as we were inside, but he held my wrists to stop me from feeling him up. I pouted.

“Ow,” I said, pulling my injured arm from him.

“You okay, princess?”

I nodded, quiet. He simply looked at me, certainly not believing me.

“Why are you doing that?” I questioned.

His eyes widened. “W-why am I stopping you?”

I nodded silently, still pouting.

“Baby— You’re drunk. I’m not doing anything with you while you’re drunk.”

I dropped my hands, whining as I leaned my full body into his. He wrapped his arms around me, walking— more so waddling— with me until we reached my couch.

“I just wanna kiss you,” I grumbled into his chest, letting him drop me onto the cushions.

I stared up at him, trying to look alluring. I probably just looked a little out of my mind.

“I love kissing you, but not while you’re so drunk you can’t even stand up by yourself without almost tipping over,” he said, smiling softly as he crouched between my legs.

He leaned up, softly kissing my forehead. He kept my face in his hands, looking at me. He let one hand drop, running it across my arm. I pulled back again, feeling the discomfort in my arm from my earlier injury.

He furrowed his brow, looking down at my arm as it was covered by my sleeve.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded. “I’m fine.”

“You pulled away twice when I touched your arm.”

“It’s okay.”

He sighed, grabbing my arm and gently moving my sleeve up over the bandage. He let out a sharp breath.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” he asked, trying not to be annoyed with my concealment. “When did you get hurt?”

I deflated. “Today.”

“How?”

“I got cut. Fell into a nail in the wall.”

He ran a hand over his face. “You should’ve told me.”

“Why?”

He glanced up, furrowing his brow. He was clearly annoyed with me, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel terribly about it.

“Because I want to know when you’re hurt.”

I swallowed. Okay, that made me feel a little guilty.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It is. That’s a pretty big bandage.”

I was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to worry.”

“It’s my job to worry about you.”

“No, it isn’t.”

He quirked a brow. “Why not?”

“We aren’t even like… A real couple,” I said, closing my eyes. “All we do is sneak around and you don’t ever want to tell anyone and I just don’t think that we can keep acting like it’s gonna last forever if we can’t even tell friends about—”

“It’s not my fault you dated Derek first,” he said, cutting me off.

I scoffed. “He doesn’t even care. That was forever ago and he has his secret girlfriend now anyways.”

“You wanted to keep this secret in the first place.”

“Well I’m sick of it,” I yelled. “I’m sick of keeping secrets and I’m sick of you not caring that I’m in love with you.”

“Not caring?” he asked, voice raising as he leaned back on his knees.

“You didn’t even say it back when I said it.”

“Because you’re drunk! How am I supposed to know if you even mean it?”

“Because I do!”

I groaned, my head dropping back against the cushions. My buzz was starting to wane, and I wished it would hold on a little longer.

“You were crying in the backseat. We said we’d talk about this tomorrow when you were sobered up. Why don’t we stick to that plan?” he said after a moment.

“Why can’t you just tell me how you actually feel about me?”

“I don’t want to say something and have you not remember it.”

“You’re so annoying,” I grumbled.

He rolled his eyes, standing abruptly. I readied myself for him to leave. I knew I was being childish, but I was tired of keeping everything bottled up. I wouldn’t blame him for dropping me then and there.

But, he reached out a hand.

“Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

I looked up at him curiously, not yet taking his hand.

“You’re staying?”

He nodded. “Of course. I don’t want to leave you like this.”

I reached out, letting him help me up. We walked to my room, quietly undressing. I climbed into bed, watching him as he finally tugged off his pants, leaving him in just his undershirt and boxers. He shut my door, turned off the lights, and got under the covers with me.

He reached out for me under the sheets, tugging me against him. I sighed, resting my hand over his arm.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“It’s okay. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

I woke up to a horrible headache, and a nauseous feeling that I was convinced would probably never ever go away. I was 100% certain I would never drink again ever in my life. It was a set rule that I made very quickly.

“How are you feeling?” Spencer asked.

My next rule was that nobody was ever allowed to speak to me again.

I broke it immediately.

“Like crap.”

“Here,” he said, a stupid smile in his voice from the one word.

I opened my eyes to see him offering me a couple of little pills and a glass of water. I took them, grateful, even though I wanted to tell him to leave me alone in the dark for the next few months. Thankfully, he let me lay in his arms until the medication kicked in and took the edge off of my stupid hangover. I was at least thankful we didn’t have work that day.

My head was buried in his chest when I felt his lips against the top of my head. He rubbed my back, coaxing me back to the real world. Unfortunately I’d been a mess in the real world the night prior and did not want to deal with the aftermath.

“Baby,” he said quietly. “Are you alright?”

“Mhm,” I hummed, leaning back a little. Just enough to see him. “Medicine helped.”

“Good,” he smiled. “I was a little worried. You drank a lot more than you usually do last night.”

“I know. I was a mess.”

He smirked. “A little bit.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, brushing hair out of his face. “I’m sorry we argued.”

He was quiet for a second, then perked up a little when his phone dinged.

“You hungry?”

“I really don’t want to go out, love.”

He laughed softly. “I know. I ordered in while you were laying down.”

“You’re a dream, Spencer Reid.”

We tumbled out of bed, Spencer insisting on preparing everything after he thanked the delivery person at the door. He made me sit at the table and wait for him, not allowing me to do anything at all until all of the food was laid out. He delighted in it.

“There,” he said, setting down our drink at last as he sat next to me. “And you tried saying I didn’t love you.”

My eyes widened, not expecting him to say anything, but especially not like that. He looked at me.

“What?” he questioned.

“That’s how you’re going to tell me?” I asked with a laugh.

“I thought you knew anyways,” he shrugged. “I do love you, you know?”

I felt heat in my cheeks at that, a smile on my face that I couldn’t control. He smiled right back at me, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand.

“Do you really think we’ll last past summer?” I asked, hoping he was feeling honest.

He sighed, the smallest grin on his face.

“It’d be a cruel end if we didn’t.”

#spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid reader insert #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds reader insert #criminal minds fanfiction

430 notes · View notes

avatarl0v3r · 1 year

Text

NeteyamxFem!HumanReader Reincarnated part 1

Requested: Yes

Index: The readers parents were killed in the war between the sky people and the Na'vi they fought with the Na'vi the reader was trained to fight and survive by Jake she ended getting close to the Sully kids years later both her and the Sully family had to leave and find someone to stay to protect the clan from the next threat. Warnings: Character death, lots of angst, and cussing

"Go!" You say sternly turning to face Lo'ak, and Neteyam they both jumped into the water you following after shortly while being shot at.

As you come up for air you feel a sharp pain throughout your whole body mainly your chest Lo'ak and Neteyam are on the ilu Tisreya hanging on "You both are idiots you know that" You say your voice strained Tisreya looks at you her eyes widening at the sight "Y/n" Shock lasing her words.

Neteyam looks over "Shit" He pushed Lo'ak off the ilu and swam to you and grabbed you with Tisreyas help lifting you onto the ilu with him he rode away to a rock where he seen his dad.

"Dad, Dad its Y/n shes been shot," He helped lift you up with his dads help "watch her head" He kept repeating.

When you were laid down on the rock he jumped out the water and came and sat by your side holding your hand Jake lifted you a bit to see how deep the wound was "Fuck" He said laying you back down everyone was now next to you he grabbed Neteyams hands "Pressure! apply pressure" Neteyam put pressure on your wound you hissed in pain.

Neytiri showed up and seen you on the ground she jogged over and got on her knees worried about losing you.

"We're losing her!" You reach and grab Neteyams hand "Neteyam," you struggle to get air into your lungs as you try to finish your sentence "i-" Your gripped loosened completely Neytiri started to scream and cry uncontrollably Neteyam started to cry begging for you to come back.

Jake tried calming them down "Our work here isn't done, i need you back" He said as he grabbed Neytiri's face he then looked at Neteyam "Where are your sisters," he only looked at him "i said where are your sisters" He looked at the ship "On the ship" Jake and Neytiri went to go find their daughters leaving Neteyam with you.

Back at the village that night

Neteyam was swimming next to your body as it lay in a large leaf he watched as you body floated to the bottom of the sea "Mother always said all energy was borrowed and one day must be returned I guess this is what she meant"

Neteyam didn't have any reaction as he watched your body be swallowed by the sea later that night Tisreya took him to the tree of life he attached his queue and closed his eyes.

Neteyam opened his eyes to see you standing there where the two of you always sparred Neteyam ran to you and hugged you tightly not letting go "Neteyam you can not longer see me at the tree of life again" He looked at you confused by your words "I wish I could join you, but this will have to be enough" He grabbed your hand looking into your eyes "What do you mean? Cant I just see you again?".

You shook your head in response "Maybe in another life we'll meet again" Neteyam shook his head "And what if we don't" You smiled "We've met before, and we'll meet again in another life."

The present

10 year old you sits up in your bed sweating and crying the "nightmare" didn't scare you it never has it feels more like deja vu as if that had really happen you turned and laid back in your bed covering up.

The next morning you seen your friend Rebecca "Becca, i had that dream again the one about the blue aliens and humans at war" Rebecca looks at you interest in her eyes "Ouu was that boy in it again" You rolled your eyes and laughed at her "We both want to be in the military so who knows maybe those blue alien things are real and maybe one day we'll get to go to Pandora" you smiling at the end.

I love this request and there will be parts to this story and time skips.

Everyone that commented on this i will tag in the next part it’ll be posted at 1 am EST

THESE ARE THE OUTFITS SHE WEARS

i own non of these photos

HUMAN: AVATAR:

#avatar #avatar x reader #avatar way of water #neteyam #neteyam x reader #pandora #lo’ak #jake sully #neytiri

777 notes · View notes

bobluvbot · 13 days

Text

birthday blues

pairing: sirius black x f!reader summary: first time godfather sirius goes shopping to find the perfect first birthday gift (jily + baby harry ♥️) wc: 5k a/n: me tryna heal canon trauma ❤️ because in my world everyone lives happily ever after !!! my lil celebration piece for hitting 200 followers! thank u all <3 not proofread, english is not my first language so plz be nice heheh

“What’s the store called again, sweets?”

even as a young kid, one of your biggest pet peeves is repeating yourself for more than four times. three is pushing it. your parents told you its a bad habit to take to adulthood because you’re bound to meet people who just don’t get what you’re saying the first or second time around. But one Wednesday morning, when you asked from upstairs where your favorite periwinkle socks were and your parents downstairs said something that the loud dishwasher and vacuum covered up, you asked them to repeat it again (still can’t hear), and again when you moved closer to the staircase down (barely heard any), then you heard your father’s heavy footsteps up, personally shoving in your waiting hand the said pair of socks.. only damp. “Honey, I said three times already, that they were still in the dryer,” your dad had huffed before heading back downstairs. That’s when you knew it was genetic.

But, you love Sirius Black. It’s gotten to the point where in the honest, sensitive hours past midnight, while there was nothing much to do as you let sleep creep up from your tired limbs to your fluttering eyelids, but to watch peace settle on the raven-haired boy’s sharp features, ethereal and glowing like an angel even in the dark of the night; that you realize he may be the love of your life. It’s a scary thought, with fears of being too eager, too soon, too much—- so you tuck it in a little pocket and give it a nudge when you need a reminder of how big and true its growing with each second spent together.

You love him, so you breathe out the snarky irritation away in slow heavy puffs and inhale peace, choosing to exercise patience because you know Sirius is nervous.

“It’s Spintwitches Sporting Needs, love. ‘s right across Ollivanders if I’m not mistaken,” you say, taking his free hand in yours and rubbing small circles on his knuckles to calm some of his nerves down, while he drives through busy muggle London streets to park by the Leaky Cauldron. He throws you a soft smile and gives your hand a quick squeeze as thanks, grateful to the heavens that you’re here to keep him from going insane.

You know him enough that, while the day in question is not about him, or you, or your relationship, it meant a great deal to Sirius.

He had one chance (even if you’d argue otherwise) to make things right, do things the right way the first time around with Harry. James knew this fact by heart, which is why he and Lily agreed in a heartbeat that Sirius should be little Harry’s godfather, as it was meant to be. He would do anything, go beyond means, hell, even against Merlin himself just to ensure the safety and happiness of his godson.

No one, however, was expecting it to backfire and it caught you and Sirius off guard. Once the tears dried and elation diffused, the anxiety kicked in for Sirius, and in turn you. He knew what the opposite was, parents who robbed their own sons of happy childhoods and disowned him when he got brave enough to find happiness and protect it, he had lived it. And now that he has a chance to save an innocent soul from a similar fate, he was determined, but this fact scared him shitless.

He wanted everything to be perfect (who wouldn’t?) and gave everything he physically could to make James and Lily’s Harry’s life easy and happy. Seeing Sirius buy ‘How to Dad?’ books and pour over them at night or on his free time at work was undoubtedly an attractive and loving sight. In a span of a week, he knew which is the best formula to supplement with breastfeeding, toys to pick that stimulate early brain development, even clothes made with hypoallergenic materials that won’t irritate the sensitive newborn skin. It came to a point where James would ask him for advice when Lily’s at work, and Sirius would put on his trusty reading glasses and point at a specific passage of ‘How to Dad?’ that answers James’ question perfectly.

Eventually, you did have to put your foot down when you found Sirius writing a howler to a baby food company when rumors started going around that their baby snack puffs (which Harry was obsessed with) had harmful chemicals in it. In typical Sirius fashion, he wasn’t convinced that easily. You’d bet that what pushed him off the howler letter route (and in turn protect the statute of wizarding secrecy) was seeing you spend lots of time in the kitchen to perfect making banana and strawberry baby snack puffs from scratch until the recall was over and the food was deemed safe to be consumed again by experts and Sirius himself.

Hearing many iterations of how the newborn days and months go by so fast was difficult to believe at times, especially when you and Sirius were babysitting to let the exhausted parents get some sort of reprieve multiple times a month. It was almost always the same. Harry would sleep for four hours straight during the night, and almost hourly right after; and while you and sirius had gotten pretty good at dividing up the tasks like bottle feeding and nappy changes equally, the shrill cry of a hungry baby is difficult to ignore and sleep through.

So despite of Sirius’s best efforts to crawl out of bed and tip-toe to the bassinet quietly not to wake your sleeping form, he gets sad but unsurprised to see you pad towards him and the baby, yawning soundlessly as you squeeze yourself between the soft armrest and Sirius’s side, head resting on his shoulder. It was his idea to get a spacious, soft recliner in the bedroom and it came in handy for situations like these, where getting back to bed once Harry sleeps is too risky as the boy would just wake up with the slightest movement, so the next best option was to try getting rest wherever you ended up in. The cries that once overpowered Sirius’s hushed whispers and cooing finally quiets down. A sigh of relief leaves both your lips, basking in the comfortable silence and bodies finding solace in each other’s warmth.

You want to say so many things to your lovely boyfriend, things he just has to hear: that he’s doing such a great job, that you see him and all the extra steps he has to take to become and do better than what he was raised for, that you love him for every single bit of it— but the right words don’t come easy when sleep-deprived and exhausted at 4:25am in the morning. So you lift your lips up to meet his temple, the side of his mouth, then his lips; hoping it’d convey what words couldn’t at the moment.

But time is an experienced thief. It was a Saturday afternoon in the middle of May and it was warm enough for you to whip out the frilly spring dresses that had been pushed to the back of your closet by the thick woolen coats from colder months. The boys had gone on a day trip to help Peter move into his first solo apartment, assembling furniture and stocking up on necessities to ensure he could survive on his own. Without the booming voices and bumbling energy of his father and godfather, little Harry had no choice but to match the calm and peaceful ambiance that you and Lily curated inside the Potter house. While it’s certainly different from what his everyday looks like (living with the likes of James), he seems to enjoy it. Gentle breeze from the windows Lily left open while she baked carry the smell of lemons and vanilla throughout the entire house, making it smell heavenly. You’d been sat on the floor by the dining table, surrounded by toy trains and colorful blocks, watching the ten-month-old munch on a toy graphorn adoringly. Recently, he’s been on a phase where he has to run anything he could get his hands on with his mouth. Some secret test or screening must be up there or something because that’s how Harry decides which toys are deserving of his attention for the day.

You’d picked up a toy set of magical creatures after work yesterday, and it won the almost toddler’s attention for the whole day. James had to snatch the toy niffler away from Harry’s grasp so he could say goodbye to his son and ask for a kiss. Safe to say there were no kisses exchanged because the little boy was too busy wailing and screaming at his father’s face. Lily had to create physical distance between her two boys so the younger one can calm down while the older got mopey. Sirius had to whisk his best friend away from the scene of the crime so that they can get on with the day, but not without leaving you a kiss.

The said niffler had soon been replaced with the hippogriff, then now the graphorn, and it’s been sitting on your lap since. Harry suddenly pulls the toy graphorn out of his mouth with a resounding pop. You both share a second or two of shocked eye contact and silence, his bright green eyes wide with surprise, before triggering a belly flipping laughing fit. This child could shock himself with a sudden burp or an unexpected sound of hitting random things with a fork, and you’d laugh every single time like its the funniest cutest thing you’ve seen in your life. It’s likewise for the rest of the marauders. Being the first baby of the group had all the adults wrapped in his pudgy fingers and he has no idea.

Harry’s eyes drop from your smiling face to the Niffler on your lap, and makes grabby hands. You almost, almost give in, but you decide to encourage him to go get it himself. Maybe today’s the day he starts to walk. You move to him a bit closer, probably a good seven baby steps in between.

“You want the Niffler, bud? You have to go get it from me!” You make a show out of grabbing the toy from your lap multiple times, hoping it’d make sense to the little boy.

He whines something sounding like your name and does more impatient grabby hands. But you weren’t giving up without a fight. “C’mon, Haz! You can do it,” you say enthusiastically.

Harry did know how to stand and good thing you were both sat near the dining table chairs, so to alleviate some of your aunt guilt you tuck the niffler away and out of Harry’s reach, before helping him up to his feet and urging him to grab one of the chair legs for support.

He stays upright, eyes still on the toy that you place again on your lap as you return to your original spot, and you clap with glee. “Great job, buddy! Okay, only a few steps to me and you’ll get the toy!”

Lily, curious to see the commotion happening on her kitchen floor, leans against the counter for a better view. Harry sees this and does the same thing, he looks at her pleadingly while making grabby hands and pointing to the niffler on your lap. You can tell the redhead’s fighting the mom urge to make her child’s life easier, but thank the heavens when she gives your same answer. She even moves to kneel beside you, waving to get her son’s attention and pointing at the niffler on your lap.

“C’mon, my sweet boy,” Lily says. “Mama knows you can do it!”

Motivated by frustration as his aunt and own mother won’t just hand him his goddamn toy, Harry whines angrily but makes a sideways step closer, death grip still on one of the chair legs. You and Lily squeal and clap in delight, urging the boy to do it again.

He makes a move for another step, but realizes that there’s no more legs to grab onto. Reluctantly, his right hand lets go and in turn faces you and Lily. This results in another round of applause, which serves like a drug to these little babies.

An anxious expression fleetingly appears on his face as he looks to you both, but the encouragement and cooing seemed to scare those big feelings away. Determined, Harry makes an unsure step forward without support, which then makes both yours and Lily’s heartbeat jump. It all happened so quick, the fear of losing balance triggered Harry’s other leg catch him on impulse, then the same on the other leg, then the other. Harry’d made four successful steps on his own before his mom catches him in her embrace before he topples over to the floor.

You and Lily were a sobbing, exultant mess. Harry, clearly confused about the commotion, whines for the niffler while Lily kisses him all over his face. You hand it to his waiting palms like a trophy before ruffling his unruly hair. An attempt for words has been made, but all that came from your mouth are garbled phrases about the miracle that just happened. Lily nods in agreement and you hug them both back.

This ten-month old just walked. This is the same baby that kept you and Sirius up at night for his feedings. The same baby responsible for the drool and spit up marks on your shirts. The same baby that laughs and babbles with you like he understands when you tell him random stories. The same baby that squeals in delight when you blow raspberries on his belly.

It felt like he had just been born a few days ago, memories of changing hundreds of nappies and preparing bottles of milk still vivid in your mind. But it’s earth shattering to consider that he’s closer to being a one year old than to the little bundle handed to you by James in the hospital room.

Time is unrelenting, stealing mundane moments behind your back and when you realize the loss, poof! The newborn you held in your arms is now a walking toddler. Soon, he’ll be the one talking your ears off, going to Hogwarts, driving a car.. You shiver at the thought. He was growing up so fast that blinking felt like cheating, afraid that you’ll miss a precious moment that you’ll never get back.

His first birthday came in the same manner— too fast for both yours and Sirius’s liking, but the wistful feelings came with excitement as Harry being a toddler opened up lots more opportunities to play and discover the world around him. James and Lily had spent the whole month planning a big birthday bash to celebrate the kiddo’s life, inviting all their loved ones to share the special day with them. And with that, the pressure was on for Sirius, as the self-proclaimed best godfather to get the perfect first birthday gift.

It’s like the heavens knew it was a special day for you both that it made sure to put out the best shopping weather one could ever ask for—- not too warm or too cold. It was a Tuesday afternoon, which meant the adults were kept in workplaces and children sent to Hogwarts or in homeschooling, leaving Diagon Alley nearly deserted, minus the occasional stray shoppers entering and leaving shops here and there. Clad in color coordinated couples outfits (that was your thing recently, Sirius more than happy to oblige) and hand in hand, you begin the mission to locate Spintwitches Sporting Needs.

Nostalgia always finds a way to seep into your bones whenever you find yourself in Diagon Alley. One blink and suddenly you’re ten again, both hands tucked in each parent’s as your mom pours over the list of school supplies you’ll need again for your first year at Hogwarts. You and Sirius see Ollivanders at a short distance and hear the entrance bell chime, the very same sound you heard when entering the shop for the first time, the shopkeeper taking one good look at you before immediately rummaging around the store, grabbing a specific box located on a random shelf four stories up. The look of confidence when he says it’s made just for you, a magical glow enveloping your tiny frame while opening the magenta box. That same magic guided you to a world where you truly belonged in, a castle that felt so much like home, and friends that soon became found family and lifelong partners. The thought of Harry soon experiencing these moments leaves a giddy feeling in your chest.

The smoky sweet scent of freshly roasted chestnuts catches your attention and you discreetly look for the source of your favorite warm snack. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Sirius (hardly nothing ever does, even the things you wish he’d miss or forget), and he gives your hand a small tug. You try to be aloof as you return his waiting gaze, complete with a quirk of your eyebrow, to which he responds with an impish smirk towards your bad acting.

“You’re not fooling anyone with that look, sweets.” The amusement in his voice is palpable as he steers you away from the main walkway and towards the small chestnut stall tucked in an alleyway, almost hidden by the bigger shops surrounding it.

“But, the store’s right there, Siri,” you try to protest. He had been anxious and stressed out about this day in particular, you knew if you were in his shoes, you’d be beelining to the store as soon as you get off the car. But he just shakes his head like its the obvious choice and nods towards the cart. “Can’t have my girl hungry now.”

After a failed attempt of trying to pay for the warm brown bag (you were no match for Sirius’s lithe, agile fingers in basically everything), you accept it with a sigh, giving yourself a few seconds to sulk before starting on the chestnuts. You weren’t the best at accepting things from other people just because, it always felt like you had to do something in return for them just to deserve it. Maybe that’s why the universe conspired to have you meet and fall for Sirius, who is a very enthusiastic giver, teaching you hard lessons on the daily.

As you begin the journey back to the shop, you carefully crack open one and hold it up to Sirius’s mouth, to which he happily obliged. “Mm, somehow chestnuts taste better when you handfeed me, dove. Do it again.”

You roll your eyes in response, but you find your fingers starting to peel another. “You’re lucky you’re good looking, Black,” you mutter to save some face, that you weren’t head over heels for this man and he to you. That’s a conversation to be had in another, less stressful day.

The shop, painted electric blue and orange, wasn’t hard to miss. One step in and the welcoming aroma of broom polish, rubber, and smoky wood brings you right back to the Quidditch locker rooms; memories of frantically lacing up your boots a minute or two after James called you as backup for an injured beater, helping Marlene comb out the tail end to fix the broom alignment after practice, and getting pinned to the cool lockers during post-win celebratory makeout sessions with Sirius, replaying vividly in your head.

It looked deceivingly small on the outside; aside from the expansive selection of different broomstick models, they had books and magazines about Quidditch strategies and featured famous matches, repair and maintenance kits for maintaining broomstick qualities, complete Quidditch gear for all shapes and sizes, and tiny practice snitches flying around the room. Squint and it’ll just be like how each Hogwarts common room would be decorated when there’s a big Quidditch match between houses or international ones in the world cup: streamers and accessories like horns and banners representing each team, posters of Chudley Cannons and Holyhead Harpies (in opposing corners to prevent unsolicited fights) accompanied by autographs of famous players and collectibles littering almost every surface of the walls. It was Quidditch dreamland.

Still in awe admiring the displays as you both walk through aisles hand in hand, Sirius breaks the silence first. “What do you think Harry will play as in Quidditch?”

You hum in response and he continues, running his hands through the bat display they had for little kids. “I bet he’d be a beater like me. You remember how that punk hit me straight on the face last week?”

You nod in amusement. Sirius had played it cool as he gently laid Harry back in his playpen, still laughing and cooing, then as soon as little Harry turned his back on his uncle, Sirius ran to you for first aid and whined the whole time you were healing the already forming bruise. But not a few hours later, he’s bouncing the baby in his arms again as he gave him a tour of the backyard.

“Yeah, those little fists definitely pack a punch.”

“How about you, love?”

Sifting through a year’s worth of memories, it was surprisingly easy to find your answer. “I think he’ll follow James’s footsteps and be a seeker.”

Sirius’s pout becomes evident, making you giggle and tug on his arm in efforts to cheer him up. “Think about it. Ever since prongslet got those glasses, it’s harder to hide anything from him now because his eyes are so quick. Poor Crookshanks too, that cat can’t catch a break now when Haz wants to play because he tracks its movements.”

Sirius lets out a soft chuckle and slings his arm around your shoulders to hold you closer. “Good point, good point,” he repeats, seemingly deep in thought as his fingers run up and down the small of your arm. “We shall see, whatever he decides to play as, or if he even plays at all, I’ll be proud of him.”

You look up to him as he absentmindedly stares at the Quidditch gear sets for little kids, a light, wistful smile on his handsome features. He might not say it out loud, but the love he has for his godson reverberates through his being, and its a warming sight to see.

Before you confess your love for your boyfriend in the middle of a Quidditch store, you whisk him away and towards the toy broom display, the only thing you were both here for. Only the big bright signs directed you to the right place, which didn’t prepare you at all for the heart exploding sight.

You’re about to burst into tears seeing how cute and tiny the little toy brooms were, and how they came in complete with tiny versions of the headlights, seats, and bag compartments the usual adult broom comes with. Both you and Sirius stood with mouths agape for a solid minute as you took in the expansive display, before your lovely boyfriend proceeds to pick out the most expensive one with the most features on it from the batch.

Surprisingly, it was you who reminded him to grab a helmet before running off to purchase the toy broom, the giddiness and excitement spreading between the two of you. The cashier gives both of you a knowing look as you and Sirius both mellowed down from full giggles to bashful smiles, examines the broom to be purchased, and asks, “For your little one?”

Now, you were no stranger to conversations like these with former lovers in the past, and you could almost hear the typical response of denial that comes swiftly with the question. It used to hurt, even if you knew by heart that that person didn’t have the fifth date potential or that it just wouldn’t last. It’s that unexplainable feeling of shame and rejection when they’d realize that it won’t work with you before you would, or if they answer with a laugh, as if having a future with you is an appalling thought. You’ve gotten better with it throughout the years, but for some reason your skin crawls with the thought of Sirius saying the same things. Years of desensitization down the drain, you find yourself bearing your entire soul to the man beside you the entire relationship, and he can easily break you into two with his response. You cross your fingers that he won’t.

He was already looking when your gaze met his, a look of softness and tenderness from him so profound you wondered if you were deserving of it. The surge of butterflies in your belly was all consuming.

Sirius shifts uneasily and shakes his head, you prepare for the worst. “For our nephew, not for our own child..,” he pauses, glancing back at you for a quick second. “Yet. But if all goes according to my sneaky plan, we might be back sooner than she thinks.”

The cashier chuckles at your stunned reaction as you shift your focus between him and your boyfriend who was both furiously blushing and actively avoiding your stare. Did you just get a marriage proposal?

Taking advantage of your confusion, Sirius pays for everything including the gift wrapping, which you had previously argued about who was responsible paying (you won, not that that matters now). You let him tug your arm and guide you out of the store, saying a quick thank you to the amused cashier. The influx of butterflies were back, tickling your insides and spreading warmth in each crevice. Just seeing Sirius handle the rambunctious mini James with care and glee, makes it so easy for you to imagine a life with him, and eventually have a little bean that’s equal parts of you and him. You hope they’d get the best parts of both.

No one brings it up as you began your journey back to the car and you’re grateful. Gift bag swinging on your arm, you drag Sirius to go get ice cream to which he happily obliges.

A gentle quiet settles on accomplished shoulders like a warm blanket as you settle in the car. Strawberry and vanilla fudge ice cream sticky sweet on each other’s lips as you exchange cones every once in a while. It would be enough to lull you to sleep, if not for Sirius’s deep breaths and sighs, the thundering of his heart that he tries to quell by discreetly scratching a small part of the steering wheel where his thumb usually lay.

He breaks the silence first, an uneasy tone making his voice seem small. “Do you think he’ll like it, dove?”

“Yes, Siri. I know he’ll love it.” You try your best to enunciate the right words, but a conflicted expression marrs his handsome features, sending a twinge to your heart.

It comes to you before he speaks. This was something that had been plaguing Sirius’s mind for a while, occupying his dreams and thoughts, embedding itself to his mind and causing unwarranted amounts of stress. You resist the urge to fill in the blanks for him because it has to come from him and him only.

But after everything he’s been through, what seems easy for most sometimes is the hardest to muster. “Siri,” you pause, waiting until he looks up at you and you keep his gaze. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

His gray orbs still before the dam breaks. “I’m sorry, love.” He chokes. “If I’m being so difficult, irky, irritated, anxious, everything.”

Hot tears run down his cheeks and it’s a painful watch. wanting nothing but to wipe it off and tuck him in your embrace and promise him he won’t be hurt as long as you’re there, but you can’t. The best thing you could do for him is to let it all out and finally feel.

He stares ahead on the city road with fingers trembling on the wheel. “I’m just so scared. So scared. James and Lily have been amazing parents, I can’t say same thing for myself but I try my best. Sometimes I still feel like he deserves someone better to be his godfather,” he sobs. “I just love him so much. I want only the best for him. I just want him to be happy and healthy all the time.”

After a while, you say with a bittersweet tone. “You know we can’t promise that, Siri,” you sigh. “Storms will come and will do damage and hurt and things that we can’t undo,” you pause, sniffling as you take your right hand to guide him to face you again, vulnerable gray eyes meeting yours. “But you know what?”

You give him an assuring smile, speaking the truth. “He’s gonna be alright because little as he is right now, he is so loved and adored by so many people, so loved by his parents. And so loved by his godfather.”

It wasn’t said aloud, it doesn’t need to. Loud as it could be, Sirius knows what you’re about to say; that his ability to love despite of everything he’s been through, despite of his own family ruthlessly trying to rob him of the ability to do so. That’s the type of love that Sirius gives, a love that withstands rain and abandonment; a love that stays after a rough storm, offering a home always open to go to when times are rough and feelings are still hurt; a love that tells the truth even when its hardest to hear.

You know all this as an easy fact because you’re at the receiving end. Even if you hadn’t heard it from his lips yet.

“Have I told you I love you?”

A watery smile spreads on your face as you shake your head. “No, but i feel it everyday.”

“I love you, Y/N.” It leaves his lips like breaths, naturally and easily.

It’s the same thing for you, too. “I love you too, Siri.”

And it ends with sticky kisses that taste of vanilla fudge and berries.

133 notes · View notes

heliads · 8 months

Note

I recently re-read the hunger games trilogy, so can you write a katniss fic with a fem!reader being secretly haymitch's daughter?? nothing much, just the two of them spending time together, hunting or spending some quality time together, ignoring the capitol, the world and individual problems to enjoy the hours they have together

please let me write for thg i love this request

masterlist

It is a terrible thing to be a Victor. Most people only look surface level, choosing to focus on the gilded trappings and gaudy praise the Capitol heaps upon you. Beneath the facade, living with the memories of what you’ve done is far harder than finding a way to burn through all the money they give you for killing twenty-three other children while all the world watches on. The price of blood was always worse than the price of gold, anyway.

You’ve seen this once before already. The Capitol does its best to stay up to date on every little detail of their lovely Victors’ lives, but when Haymitch Abernathy had his first child, he did everything in his power to ensure that no one would ever find out. That infant would live in someone else’s home, kept out of sight of the cameras and the Arena alike, and she would grow up to be you.

It wasn’t the worst of lives. It kind of was. No one can pick their place in life when they first come into the world, obviously. Otherwise, we’d all be living up in the Capitol and no one would be down here, choking on coal dust, waiting for their bones to turn ash so their body can be burned to heat the homes of the rich and prosperous a million miles away from them.

Haymitch watched out for you as best he could. He sent your foster parents money when he remembered it, always a little out of schedule, a touch too much to cover up for the fact that he forgot the last time around. He started remembering as you got older, though. He stopped feeling ashamed of you and started feeling ashamed of himself.

You see him a lot, although the frequency of your meetings always picks up around the time of the Games. He needs it as a reminder that not everything about him always leads to death and ruin. Once in a blue moon, Haymitch Abernathy is responsible for something good. Something, someone, like you.

There’s a schedule to the Games, one that isn’t known or enforced by the Peacekeepers, and it goes like this: first there is the before, and then there is the after. Prior to the start of the Hunger Games ceremonies, Haymitch will be over at your place. You’ll talk a lot. Both of you will do your best to keep the conversations light. Remember when you were a kid, crawling around all the time? How you used to laugh like crazy whenever it snowed?

Then he’ll get dragged off by the Capitol to go mentor two kids until they die, and then you reach the second phase of the schedule, the after. Haymitch will hole up in his estate in the Victor’s Village, the only occupied house there, the only living being around because he couldn’t save a single person other than himself, and you will find him because no one else will. It’s quiet most of the time. He doesn’t want to think about anything at all, and certainly not the additional two kids who placed their faith in him just for him to let them down again.

After a while, he’ll manage to claw his way out of it, and then you’ll have the better part of a year before the cycle repeats. You’ve had plenty of time to grow used to this pattern, and you’ve perfected it like a pastime. The right words to say get easier to remember when you say them every year. And now, as a reward for getting it right, you get to repeat the process with Katniss Everdeen.

You say that like it’s a bad thing. It’s not. Truth be told, it’s easier spending time with Katniss than anyone else, even right after her first Games when everything is bloody and terrible. You could see yourself doing this again next year, and the next one, and the next. You don’t think you would mind it. Not at all.

Perhaps that’s why Haymitch set this up in the first place. Maybe he knew it would be okay. Or maybe he was just so ridiculously pleased that he managed to save not one tribute but two that he was only thinking about prolonging Katniss’ survival. The reasons don’t always matter. What happened, happened, and secretly you’re glad of it now.

Katniss had been locked in a death spiral of nightmares and bad memories. It soon became clear that she would lose herself to it if someone didn’t intervene, so someone did. Haymitch took Katniss by the shoulders, shook her a little and told her to get it together, and pointed her to you. You knew what it was like to befriend someone who wanted to shut out the world, who couldn’t sleep without nightmares and couldn’t talk without thinking that someone was watching. You could understand Katniss better than anyone, and Haymitch knew it. Daughters are such wonderful pawns to play, aren’t they?

Again, a cruel way to put it, but this is the truth nonetheless. It’s what Katniss suspected the first time you visited her house, and the second, but after a couple of weeks passed and it grew obvious that you weren’t giving up on her without a fight, she begrudgingly let you in. The two of you had been observing each other for years now, the consequence of there only being so many girls your age in a small town in District Twelve, but things accelerated rapidly after the Games.

You’ll never be entirely certain why. Katniss doesn’t let people in, and she threw up her walls tenfold after she partook in the Hunger Games, unable to discern if someone was talking to her because they wanted to or if they wanted to kill her. She even started growing distant from Gale, because Gale didn’t understand her completely, not anymore. Not like you did.

Over the course of the summer, Katniss’ icy demeanor started to melt. She is hesitant and cautious, but she still smiles at your offhand jokes, always a little surprised, like she can’t believe she’s having this good of a time either. The two of you start meeting up in the forest surrounding District Twelve where no one can see you, where it’s just the two of you and the blissful sunlight waving through endless flurries of leaves above your heads.

And, not according to plan, you realize that you’re starting to fall for her. Katniss is like no one you’ve ever met before, even your dad. You knew how to operate around Haymitch, but Katniss doesn’t require an assembly guide or how-to explanation. You just know her. It is as easy as that.

After realizing such a thing as that, how could you not begin to love her? You can steal your dad’s drinks and get properly sloshed on them, but it’ll never match the tipsiness you feel when you look at her; when she laughs at one of your jokes, always reluctant at first but more easily as she gets more used to you. It makes you want to try again and again, and so you do. Katniss listens every time. She says she likes to hear you.

Instead of running away, you decide to embrace the feeling. You head to the woods more and more often, although never at the risk of the Peacekeepers’ attention. Katniss never tells you when she’s going out, nor do you mention when you’re out here, but the two of you have a habit of finding each other nonetheless. You turn around and there she is, emerging from a stand of trees; she crosses a bank at the same time as you; you climb a tree to get a better vantage point of the forest and you’re instantly drawn to the sight of her doing the same across a clearing. Katniss makes sense.

If you squint your eyes just right, you can make your entire world double. The hazy afterimages of present day will swim before you, a hair out of line but still there, still two instead of one. For example, right now, walking through the woods beyond District Twelve, it’s as if you can see two exact images of the current moment instead of only one.

On one version of this day a few years ago, when you hide away from the world in the forbidden greenery past your district’s limits, you come across Katniss Everdeen and you hide from her, too. You do not know her. Not well, at least. You see her and pretend otherwise. She does the same. She heard your footsteps first and thought herself visited by a deer instead of a girl. Her finger tensed on her bowstring, but she released it the second your face finally came into view. Katniss could not kill a person.

Would not. Katniss can kill a person, as it turns out, she can outlive twenty-two tributes through various purposes and keep one other alive, then do it again, but she does not know that yet. All Katniss knows in this past moment, this one half of a fractured memory, is that she will not kill you, and that is true today, too.

On the other version, the one that happens today, you do not run from Katniss, you go to her. That is the whole purpose of risking the Peacekeepers’ wrath by ducking under the fence to escape to the forest. The wilderness means Katniss, and Katniss means you’ll be able to spend another day relatively free from the concerns of a girl from District Twelve who has increasingly little between herself and the violence of not having enough.

Katniss doesn’t turn when you approach, but you can hear the quiet smile in her voice when she admonishes you, “You’re going to scare away all my game.”

You chuckle. “No, no. I’m drawing them out of the bush so you can shoot them. It’s teamwork.”

“If it were teamwork,” she argues, “you would also have a bow.”

You lift a shoulder. “I would never dare steal your favorite weapon. I want you to feel important.”

This does make her laugh. Almost indignantly, yes, but still a laugh. Still a win for you. She manages to nab a few birds before setting her bow down for the morning. The two of you sit side by side in the tall grass, a cool breeze blowing upon your faces, bringing with it the tender tangy scent of the forest.

Usually, neither of you have ever suffered from awkwardness when you’re out here. You could spend hours out here, not saying a word, and it would be just as fulfilling as if you’d spoken the entire time. Today, though, there’s something stuck on the tip of your tongue, a truth that refuses to go unsaid no matter how you fight it.

At last, you give in and, keeping your eyes resolutely ahead, you tell her what’s on your mind. “I’m glad you’re with me, Katniss.”

You can see Katniss frowning out of the corner of your eyes. “Where else would I be?”

You roll your eyes. “You know what I mean. You could have heard me coming and avoided me the second I stepped into the forest. Probably would have caught more, too.”

Katniss shakes her head doubtfully. “No, we’re good. This is good.”

She sets her jaw determinedly, like this settles everything. It does, in a way. It gives you the courage to continue. “I’m glad to hear it. I like spending time with you.” A pause. “I like you.”

Katniss’ brow knits. “Why would you like me?” Genuinely confused, she adds on, “I’ve done terrible things, Y/N.”

“We’re all terrible,” you whisper back softly.

She rolls her eyes. “I’ve been in the Games. You haven’t.”

This is true. No matter how much time you spend with Haymitch or Katniss, nor how many stories you hear about the Hunger Games, it will never be the same as actually taking part in them yourself. With all luck, you never will. Both Haymitch and Katniss would fight to keep you out of them, and then to keep you alive, should that happen, but the possibility shrinks with every year as you get older.

“I still want you,” you tell her. More the empty forest air; you can’t quite say this to her face, not yet. The fear of rejection after everything is too great a burden to bear.

When you do risk a glance over at her, though, Katniss doesn’t look affronted. Instead, she looks more at peace than you’ve ever seen her. Slowly, carefully, her face upturned to catch the morning sun, Katniss smiles again. You’re not even sure that she’s aware of doing it. It is simply the only way she can process that this, you wanting her, would make her happier than anything else.

And, sitting here in the forest, surrounded by a million memories of all that you have done together, a thousand hopes of all that you have yet to do, you look over at Katniss and you know. You know that she loves you. You know that she can’t say it, not yet, not until she’s certain that you love her as much as she loves you.

She will tell you, though. In time. Perhaps it’ll happen another day out here past the confines of District Twelve, in a space that has always been safe to the two of you and will thus protect her from the fallout of confessing to a friend. Perhaps she’ll tell you while you’re asleep next to her, to avoid a response, or perhaps she’ll tell you while you’re pretending to be asleep, so she knows you’re heard and you don’t have to tell her anything.

Or, maybe she’ll just say it now, unspoken but still startlingly loud, audible in every glance your way, every faint smile she never bothers to hide. That, you think, would be enough.

hunger games tag list: @w1shes43, @ilovexavierthrope

all tags list: @wordsarelife

323 notes · View notes

iridescent-petrichor · 1 year

Text

from strangers to friends, to strangers again

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Kook!Reader

Warnings: Y/N gets into a fight

Words: 2.8K

A/N: I just finished Outer Banks and this show has slowly taken over my life, so i may have to write more fics for JJ cause I love him so much omg

“JJ, it was an accident!” You insisted, following the boy as he stormed into the Chateau, trying not to pay any mind to the rest of the pogues who gave you a concerned look.

He didn’t respond, slamming the screen door behind him, nearly hitting you in the face with it. You jumped back, sighing before throwing the door open.

Curious beyond belief, the rest of the group followed you. The two of you were thick as thieves a mere twenty minutes ago when you went off to grab something from JJ’s house together. His dad wasn’t home, but you didn’t want to take any chances, standing firm on not letting him go alone.

His house was too cluttered, and while you were waiting for him to nab a beer or two out of the fridge on his way out, you stepped too far back and managed to knock a set of wind chimes off its hook, tensing when it crashed to the ground in about a million pieces.

JJ stopped, beer in hand and fridge door still open, staring down at the shattered windchimes for a long time before he kicked the door shut, shoving past you to get out of the house, almost leaving you behind in his haste to leave.

Now, you were still trying to chase him down, trying so desperately to get JJ to talk to you. He’d been silent the entire way back to the Chateau and seemed pretty content with avoiding you until the end of time over a simple mistake.

“Jesus Christ, JJ, I’ll fucking pay for it!” You called after him, falling silent when he finally stopped moving.

“You can’t just make everything go away with daddy’s money, Y/N.” His voice was firm, harsher than he’d ever spoken to you, still refusing to face you.

“I’m not saying that,” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m just saying-”

“No, you know what? Shut the fuck up.” He spun around, his words and the anger in his eyes making you freeze.

“JJ-” Kie’s voice came from the door, standing between John B and Pope.

“I fucking made that, Y/N! When I was a kid; that shit had actual sentimental value! You can’t just buy a fucking new one!” He raised his voice, ignoring Kie’s feeble attempt at intervening.

You stopped, shrinking in on yourself. “JJ, I didn’t know, I’m so sorry-”

“Of course you didn’t know! Cause you’re just a kook!” His words stung, like a needle shooting through your heart.

“JJ, I’m sorry-” You repeated, fighting back the tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“No, that was the last straw.” He lowered his voice, sounding eerily calm. “You’re not a pogue. You are not one of us. So stop fucking pretending you belong with us.”

You took a step back, mouth agape in shock. When he didn’t back down, you risked a glance at the others. They said nothing, instead avoiding your gaze.

Of course. They were JJ’s friends first, anyway. You could feel the bitter taste of betrayal in your mouth when you pushed past Pope to open the screen door, letting it slam behind you as you left.

A stinging feeling had settled deep into your chest, trying to push away the realization that it felt like something had just ended.

You made your way back to Figure Eight, feeling more alone than you’d ever felt in your life.

A little over a week had passed before your parents were trying everything to convince you to go to Midsummers. The previous couple of years you’d been able to skip out on it, going down to the docks to meet the pogues instead.

With no word from any of your friends since the fallout between you and JJ, your parents had been extra pushy about making you attend.

You sat alone in your room, writing out a text to JJ. It was carefully crafted, but once it was done, you gave it a long look and deleted it, throwing your phone on your bed.

It landed beside the dress your mom had laid out for you, along with a pair of matching heels. Their presence felt like it was mocking you, glaring up at you and reminding you how much you didn’t belong with your friends.

Fuck it.

Might as well play the part, right?

You changed into the dress, taming your hair to the best of your ability, grabbing your phone before you made your way to find your parents.

In a last-ditch effort, you checked your phone one last time, hoping beyond all odds that JJ would’ve reached out to say something. Anything.

No new notifications.

Cursing under your breath, you shoved your phone into a purse and left your bedroom.

Midsummers was just as boring as you knew it would be. You stood awkwardly at the outskirts of the party. Pope was working, stationed at the grill on the perfectly trimmed lawn, chatting with Kie. They looked so happy talking together that you had to blink back tears.

When you noticed a glass of something left unattended, you snagged it off the table it was left on, drinking whatever it was. The alcohol burned your throat, and you grimaced to yourself before setting the empty glass back down. It wasn’t enough to get you drunk, but hopefully it was enough to make Midsummers a little more survivable.

“Hey!” Sarah Cameron’s voice brought you out of your daze, giving the girl a smile. She was always nice, but you hadn’t really spoken to her much since Kie had such a vendetta against her.

“Hi,” You grinned, relieved that someone was actually talking to you.

“Surprised to see you here, I thought you hated these kinds of things!” Her smile was so genuine you couldn’t help but feel welcomed, half forgetting that this was the famed kook princess that Kie hated so much.

“Yeah,” You nodded. “Well, didn’t really have anything else to do, so…”

You trailed off, now distracted by Kie laughing at whatever joke Pope made. Sarah followed your gaze, putting the pieces together and giving you a sympathetic smile.

“Listen, I’m gonna go dance with Wheezie for a bit, but I’ll be back! Enjoy yourself, drink, and have fun! Mingle!” She put her hands on your shoulders for a second before disappearing into the crowd, fitting in so well with the uptight rich assholes that you felt a tinge of jealousy.

Talking to Sarah did help your sour mood, however, and you were finally able to let yourself relax a little. You made small talk with a couple of people you didn’t really know, sneaking a couple more drinks when no one was actually paying attention to you.

It wasn’t until you saw a familiar head of blonde hair that your heart dropped.

There he was, dressed up all nice, dancing back-to-back with Sarah Cameron.

JJ fucking Maybank.

You froze, barely paying any mind when someone shoved past you, muttering about how you were standing in the way.

Since when were JJ and Sarah friends? More importantly, since when was Sarah not ‘too kook’ for him? Why would he cut you off but not her of all people?

Shaking your head, you downed your final drink of the night, hopping down the steps and pushing past the crowd, hoping to find somewhere quiet.

What you didn’t anticipate was the asshole you’d been strategically avoiding the whole night.

“Y/N!”

You stopped, slowly spinning around to face Rafe, tensing when you saw the lazy grin on his face.

“What do you want.” He chuckled, taking a dangerous step towards you.

“Just wanted to talk.” Rafe reeked of alcohol, and while you were by no means sober, he was clearly much further gone than you.

When he reached for your wrist, you snatched it out of his grasp.

“We can talk without you putting your hands on me.” You said, fighting to maintain eye contact with him. Admittedly, he intimidated the hell out of you, but you were too stubborn to show any signs of fear. JJ had once joked that people like him could smell fear on you. Still, you glanced towards the crowd behind him. You were far enough away that no one had begun to notice the tense conversation taking place.

Dramatically, he raised both of his hands in defense. “Don’t worry, I mean no harm. Just wondering why you’re here with us instead of slumming it with the pogues like usual. I mean,” He pointed vaguely to where Kie and Pope were standing, now with JJ who seemed to be telling a story. “None of them have even looked your way tonight. Don’t tell me you’re not even good enough for them?”

You bit your tongue, glaring Rafe down.

“What do you care?”

“Oh, I care plenty.” He leaned in uncomfortably close in a way that made you want to gag. “I mean, I’m just glad you got out of there while you still could.”

You rolled your eyes, turning to walk away. You’d entertained Rafe’s drunk bullshit long enough.

“I’m just saying!” He called after you. “Better to leave now before Maybank just turns into his dad, right?”

Crack.

The sound of your fist hitting Rafe’s jaw resounded through the crowd, with everyone in earshot turning to see what had happened.

He stumbled back, hand holding the side of his face.

“Keep his name out of your fucking mouth.” You said through gritted teeth, desperately trying to ignore the pain in your knuckles.

Rafe was quick to rally, regaining his balance and throwing a punch that knocked you off your feet.

You were never much of a fighter. In fact, you’d never actually been in a fight before.

Still, you persisted, stumbling to your feet and clenching your fists.

You raised your hand to hit him again, only to be met with another punch to the face. You barely managed to stay upright, only half aware of not only the crowd forming but the boy shoving his way to the front.

“Stop pretending to be one of us.” Rafe spit.

You didn’t respond, lunging at him in your determination to win the fight. Pushing him to the ground, you got one good hit in before he shoved you off of him, now hovering above you.

Before he could do any damage, he was thrown to the side, landing hard against the dirt. You could hear yelling, but you weren’t sure where the noise was actually coming from.

Someone dragged you off the ground, walking you away from the crowd with a firm grip on your arm. You tripped over your own feet before you could gather yourself, struggling to keep up with whoever was dragging you along.

Who was dragging you along?

You blinked, getting a good look at your savior.

JJ Maybank.

When you realized who he was, you tried to shake his hand off your arm, pulling away from him.

“I don’t need your help,” You muttered, turning to walk away once you managed to rip your arm out of his grip, only half sure of what direction you were heading in.

“Y/N, stop.” His was was more gentle than the last time you heard it, and it was almost enough to break you. When he put a hand on your shoulder, you shook it off.

“Get off of me,” The hurt from your fight was still burning in your chest. You took two steps away before the heels you were wearing caught you off balance, almost falling to the ground.

What a sight you must’ve been.

“Hey, I’m the medical expert here, let me help you.” You frowned at his statement, noticing the injuries on his own face. When you stopped, JJ wrapped an arm around you, soft enough that you could pull away if you really wanted to.

You didn’t.

Silently, he pulled you into the building, guiding you through the bathroom and into a locker room, carefully setting you down against the wall. The second you were out of his hands, he jumped up, checking every cabinet and drawer he could find, even running off into the bathroom to search for something, cursing under his breath at every empty drawer.

“Aha!” You heard from the next room, watching him run back in with a first aid kit in one hand and a wet rag in the other. “Here we are.”

He sat himself down in front of you, eyes softening at the injuries you sustained.

“This’ll sting.” He said, dabbing your face with the rag to clean off the blood.

You flinched, hissing when the water made contact with the cuts on your face. JJ apologized quietly, moving as gently as he could.

“So,” JJ started, carefully picking up your hand and cleaning the blood off your knuckles. “Why’d you do it?”

You shrugged, gaze falling down to watch JJ’s work on your hand. “He was being an asshole.”

“When is he not?” He laughed.

You hadn’t heard him laugh in a while. You didn’t realize how much you missed it.

“But seriously, you were always the one getting me out of fights, what did he say to make you throw the first punch?”

When you didn’t respond right away, JJ ran a thumb over your hand, coaxing you into speaking.

“Nothing that was true.” You really didn’t want to tell JJ what he’d said, half afraid he would internalize it and hate himself for it when he was alone at night.

“C’mon,” He set the rag down, opening the first aid kit, and grabbing neosporin, dabbing it on his finger and rubbing it over the cut that was on your cheekbone. “You can tell me.”

Taking a deep breath, you meet his eyes. “He was just saying some shit about you ending up like your dad. Like I said, nothing true.”

JJ stilled, hand still resting on your cheek.

“You got into a fight with Rafe Cameron over me?”

You were surprised at how soft his voice was, a frown beginning to appear on his face.

“Of course I did. Just because you hate me doesn’t mean I stopped caring about you.”

JJ swore he felt his heart break into pieces.

“Y/N…”

“Hey, I don’t wanna hear it, okay?” You cut him off, pushing yourself to your feet now that he was done cleaning you up. “I appreciate your help, but I don’t need your pity. You said it yourself, I’m not a pogue.”

You’d barely made it to the doorway before JJ’s hand caught your wrist. It was impossibly gentle, in a way someone like Rafe Cameron would never understand.

Slowly, you turned back to face him, gaze stuck to the ground as you prepared for another fight.

What surprised you, though, was JJ pulling you into a tight hug. It took you a moment to relax, but when you did, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer. You buried your face into his neck, letting a couple tears fall.

When he heard you sniffle, he pulled away, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N.” He whispered, cradling your face in his hands. “You’re absolutely one of us, you always will be. I wanted to reach out to you the second you left, I’m so sorry I never did. I should’ve said something.”

You didn’t say anything, letting your eyes flutter closed, basking in the feeling of being around JJ again.

“I think part of me was scared that you would actually be better off with the kooks. That after years of-” He stopped, his breath hitching.

You opened your eyes, giving him an expectant look.

“…That after years of loving you, you’d be better off without me.”

A beat passed.

“What?” You couldn’t stop the word from spilling from your lips.

He laughed nervously, his smile turning into more of a grimace. “Don’t make me repeat it.”

“You… loved me?”

“Hey, I never said it was past tense.” You could tell he was nervous as all hell, tenderly grabbing his hand.

“JJ?” Reluctantly, he looks at you. “You’re an idiot.”

He laughed, the tension in his shoulders dropping when he saw the way you smiled. “Yeah, probably.”

You pulled him into another hug, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you too, J.”

“Thank god, cause I was not ready to lose you again.” When he pulled away again, he nodded towards the wall you were previously stationed at. “Now sit back down, I still have to bandage your battle wounds.”

The smile on his face made you realize everything was gonna be okay again.

It felt like a new beginning.

#jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader

654 notes · View notes

bakiuwu · 5 months

Text

This chapter is fucjing me up bad, he started off the convo, bringing up how his abilities caught up to his body. It's like he was trying to impress yujiro. Like a kid trying to show off to their parent, then for yujiro to acknowledge him, cause he's able to tell by how he holds himself. Then, to tell him it's not perfect, only to follow it up with "but you're getting there"......I can't do this.

And look how he looks at him......omg, it like he's shocked that yujiro sees his growth......I can't do this

It is so werid seeing yujiro being.....kind? to Jack epically since after what happen between the two of them after baki and Jack's fight, and even after that, he doesn't seem to have anything to say to him or about him. Especially during the pickle arc, where he calls jack a pathetic loser along with evryone else, when everyone broke in to meet pickle( he didnt even bat an eye at him)

Yujiro acts like he only has one child and that child being baki. Even when Tokugawa brings up retsu,katsumi, and Jack's fight with pickle, saying how he doesn't see how baki could win if thoes 3 lost to pickl. Yujiro responded saying "thoes 3 have nothing to do with baki," then saying baki has his blood and that he's a Hanma. Then, when Tokugawa says, (Jack also has your blood. He just brushed it off saying "hes not pure." So, seeing him be so........normal to him while showing dislikement towards him is crazy

Yujiro brings up a quote from Musashi: "In Confrontation, you have to postion yourself above your enemy Musashi". He brings up how Jack getting taller is a shortcut of being over his enemies

look at his expression. He looks hurt. Even tho he hates yujiro, he still cares about his opinion. For him to repeat what yujiro said, then to ask, "Do you dislike it?" He sounds like a kid, a kid who cares deeply about his parent opinion, a kid who doesn't want to disappoint his father.....his facial expression....his body language. It looks like he slowed down a bit while walking like he needed a minute to register what yujiro just said to him.

It's not far off to say Jack cares about yujiro opinions about him to some degree. When Jack lost to pickle for a second time, he could only think of the last words yujiro spoke to him

"Resonate in his heart" i remember reading tha for the first time and wanting to die omg, but seeing him reacted like this isn't surprising, it's very clear how effective yujiros' words are towards him, and how even if trys to not care about yujiro opinion of him, a part of him deeply cares. Every child wants the approval of their parents even if they hate them.

After Jack asks him if he dislikes it, yujiro says, "I can't bring myself to" which made me threw myself against the wall.....LIKE I JUST CANT AND WHATS MAKES THIS WORST...

IS JACK FACE,HE WAS PROBABLY WAITING FOR YUJIRO TO RIP INTO HIM ABOUT HIM GETTING TALLER AND HIS WHOLE FIGHTING STLYE OVER ALL BUT NO

Yujiro beings to.....praise Jack......omfg itagaki I swear to go-, saying that what's he's doing isn't easy, how he dealt with humiliation and pain. HOW HE IS THE ONLY MAN WHO HAVE EVER STEP HIS FOOT INTO THE TURE WORLD OF BITTING, THIS IS SO BITTERSWEET BUT FINALLY HES GETTING HIS FOLLOWERS HATE THAG YUJIRO IS THE ONE GIVING HIM PRIASE.....but for him to say he has a rare purity.....oh I'm sick....like.....WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME

..........this panel killed me......its so......idk even know man, the way yujiro looks at Jack cause he stop walking but the way hes looking at him......his eyes are so soft......, then Jack....my baby Jack, my sweet baby......I can tell that he's trying to keep his composure.......the way he's noting even looking at yujiro, cause he knows of he looks at him.....he'll break out In tears.....oh my God and what says "....thats the first time....you've ever complimented me".........itagaki when I catch you......ow

Idk why, but him saying that really fucks my heart so bad......i dont even know what to say I'm so fucking sad right now. No one ever gives itagaki credit for how good of a writer he is, mans is able to yank your heart strings out if he wants, This is probably my favorite chapter....the mood of it is so....calm and idk, but If this was able to fuck me up bad, just imagine how I'm be when more Jack lore come out

But once again, I'm just rambling my ass off . Also, God, im so dramatic😭

#baki the grappler #baki dou #son of ogre #baki hanma #yujiro hanma #jack hanma #im going crazy #bakiuwu random rambling

109 notes · View notes

bitchesgate3 · 4 months

Text

I'm pretty intrigued by the dynamic between Ketheric and Isobel because it reminds me so much of what I experienced being emotionally enmeshed with one of my parents for my entire childhood.

I think most people understand the weight of being parentified when a child must get a job to help contribute money to the family. But I don't think very many people understand what it's like growing up with a parent who over-relies on family members to be emotionally stable - and eventually having to take on the role as the go-to person to be that stability.

Of feeling suffocated by such an overly needy parent - who controls via their emotional needs and griefs - that makes you act in certain ways because surely you don't want to be the death of your parent.

I'm right at the end of Act 2, so the game may say otherwise, but I wonder how Isobel feels about everything happening.

"Your father loved you so much that he brought you back from the dead," sounds so kindly at first. But the sinister truth beyond the obsession is living knowing the fact that the only thing keeping the man alive is you. Once your mother's godforsaken task - now yours.

The game may play up that she resents this, but in my experience there is a love/hate growing up under this dynamic with a parent. You resent this parent for a reason you can't quite put your finger on as a kid, but its the resentment of being made to emotionally soothe them when they never soothe you: which was supposed to be their job. You, as the child, rely on them for survival. You have to look like everything is ok because your parent being upset is so catastrophic (that they will be too dysfunctional to meet your survival needs) that your own needs feel less important.

But on the flip side, you do become parentified in a role reversal. You can't help but love your parent and want the best for them. The emotional abuse is so subtle and imperceptible, that it just makes sense that you would never assert a boundary with your parent because of how much it would throw them into a depression. Being rejected by the one person who loves them.

I wonder how upset Isobel was when Ketheric began drifting from Selune to Shar. How, like a parent, she might have felt like he should have known better. How her own parent felt like a rotten, naive child in doing so. What if a hidden reason for Isobel holding firmly to Selune was to try to convince him. Not every action is tied to the enmeshed parent, but sometimes there are undermining doubts that maybe you're still not acting on your own behalf and still feel like you have to support a parent who should be living their own life - not sucking lifeforce from you.

I kind of feel for Isobel because she seems sweet, and even with the snark, there may be a genuine sensitivity within her that makes emotionally unstable people flock to her like an oasis in the desert (which is an experience I relate to). I even fear that with Aylin's PTSD, Isobel will just be put in that role again of emotional caretaker - being the only thing that grounds Aylin out of her rages. And that scares me.

From a note found in Isobel's room, I feel like she will fall into a depression now that she's been brought to life. Her father soon to be dead. And perhaps now, she will be stuck in a repeating cycle. Where she is always the beacon of hope for others out of necessity rather than living the life that should have always been hers and only hers.

If she dies, will the people around her desperately want to revive her as well? Because she shines so brightly they can't live without her light?

#cw emotional parentification #cw enmeshment #there is another name for this term that is more on the nose what is going on #isobel thorm #ketheric thorm #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #if some of this resonates with you - please look up “emotional inc*st” for resources

59 notes · View notes

musings-of-a-rose · 11 months

Text

Jump Then Fall - Part 2

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc “Vanessa Morales”

Word Count: 5100+

Rating: M for mature - 18+ only!

Warnings: Please be aware there is an 11 year age gap. Mature themes and some canon mentioned. Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: This one doesn’t have any Javier, but I promise the rest of them will! When the story starts, Vanessa is 19 and Javier is 30.

**Shoutout to @vanemando15 for listening and bouncing ideas from me, for holding my hand, and for her guidance with being a Latina herself. Without her, this wouldn’t even be a thing, just another line on my WIP spreadsheet. And also to my husband, who is also Latino and answered any questions I had (along with taking me to Colombia back in 2014). And to @wyn-n-tonic, who listened to my rambles and insecurities about writing an oc in first person.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

Jump Then Fall Masterlist

General Masterlist

Javier Peña Masterlist

<<Part 1<<

The drive back to Corpus Christi was uneventful, although my thoughts were anything but. Memories of the night before kept flashing through my mind, the way he touched me, made me feel, the way his nose just barely skirted across my skin, the way he nipped at my chin. The care he gave me and how he took his time when he found out I was inexperienced, rather than running away. There was much more to Javier Peña than what was on the surface, one quick glance into his deep brown eyes was enough to convince me of that. Which made me sad, considering I’d never see him again.

I blink and I’m in the driveway, putting the car into park. I have no memory of the drive here, which is slightly terrifying. But before I can think any more on that, my mother comes running out of the house, taking my face in her hands and saying a quick prayer in Spanish to bless my safe return before kissing me on both cheeks. It’s then she looks over my shoulder and realizes no one else is in the car with me.

“Did you drive alone, mija?”

Time to lie. “No. I dropped off some people just past Laredo.”

Her face relaxes. “Oh good. I’m glad you made friends.” She claps her hands together. “Come! Tell us all about your trip while you help me with dinner.”

I tell my parents all about my time in Mexico, how I not only taught English but helped to build the church and the school house, how I made some friends and how others got called to another mission.

“The university wants to talk to me tomorrow and talk about the summer. To see if they should continue the program.”

My dad smiles at me. “We are so proud of you, mi niña. Setting such a good example to others.”

“Speaking of good examples…Miguel is still single.”

“Mami!” I blush, heat rising up my cheeks at the mention of Miguel. She had been trying to get us together for years, but neither of us had feelings beyond friendship.

She points at me. “Miguel es un buen muchacho [Miguel is a good boy]. When will you see that and go on a date with him? I want nietos already.”

I groan. “Mami! I’m not ready for kids right now.”

She looks at me, waving her hand. “No entiendo Vanessa [I don’t understand] . By your age, I was already engaged to your father.”

—-

My life settled back into its normal monotonous routine: class, job, home, sleep. Repeat. I never realized exactly how boring my life was until I had spent the summer in Mexico.

More like, until I spent the night with Javier.

I wonder where he is now. Is he still on his business trip? It’s been just over a month since we had our…meet. I got the feeling he was going to be gone for a while and that he either wouldn’t or couldn’t talk about it. Maybe he’s a spy? I chuckle at the thought. Wherever he is, I hope he’s doing well.

Based on my report, the university decides to repeat the program the following summer with new teachers and asks me to give a little seminar on what I did, what to expect, what to pack, and everything that I think they should know. I have to admit, it was nerve wracking getting up in front of everyone. I felt nauseous all day thinking about getting on that stage and talking. But everyone was interested and asked great questions, immediately putting me at ease. My professors thanked me for everything and said they’d be in touch with me about possibly returning the next summer. I’d never really thought about going back, but the thought is definitely tempting.

And maybe I can stop in Laredo on the way back. No, Vanessa. It was a one time thing. You’re probably making up the connection you felt. There’s no way he felt anything for you.

—-

A couple months later, my mom calls me down to the kitchen where she’s gathering up her purse, a paper list in her hand.

“Do you need anything from the store, mija?”

“I don’t think so. Just….maybe no pork? I can’t stand the smell of it now.”

My mom chuckles. “Mexico really changed you. Carnitas used to be your favorite.”

Even just the thought of pork, which I hadn’t had the entire time I was in Mexico, made my stomach churn.

“I guess I just got used to not eating it a few times a week.”

She nods and then looks around. Spotting no one, she leans in close to me and nearly whispers. “Do you need more…lady things?”

I furrow my eyebrows together. What is she - oh. My mom was always sort of embarrassed by periods, and so, if she had to talk about it, she would always whisper, afraid anyone would hear her talk about something that is experienced by arguably more than half the planet.

“Uh, no. I don’t think so?”

“You haven’t gotten any more since Mexico. Do you still have some?”

“Uh…let me check.”

I go upstairs and into my bathroom, kneeling to open the under the sink cabinet. I shuffle some things around and grab the boxes of pads I had put back when I returned from Mexico. There’s a bunch left, almost as if I hadn’t used any since I got back.

Had I used any since I got back?

I close the doors and head back to my mom, telling her I was still good with pads. She looks slightly relieved at not having to traverse the feminine hygiene isle, giving me a small smile and squeezing my shoulder.

“When I get back, I’ll need help with dinner.”

I don’t mind helping with dinner, as I do like to eat, but I wish she’d stop asking me about Miguel. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Miguel was now dating Maria - they just weren’t telling anyone yet. I wasn’t supposed to know either, but I went into the church storeroom one day to grab a few extra Bibles and I saw them making out. Which immediately made me think of Javier, the place between my thighs tingling at the mere thought of his name. I wish I knew more about him- no, Vanessa. Don’t go down that path any more.

“...you invite Miguel over after church?”

“Hhmm?” I hadn’t been listening to anything my mom had been saying.

“Miguel. Why don’t we invite him to our after church lunch?”

“Uh..no. Miguel won’t want to do that.”

She looks at me out of the corner of her eye as she continues chopping.. “And why not? You are a beautiful girl, smart. You would have good babies-”

“He’s already with Maria, mom.”

She stops chopping and looks at me. “Maria?”

“Delgado.”

“Ay. That girl is bad news.”

“Miguel seems to like her.”

“Ah, well..men can be blind.”

—-

“We’re going to be late, mija! Hurry up!”

“Just a minute!” I yell, desperately trying to zip up my church dress.

I wear this one often but it had been a few weeks and for some reason, the zipper won’t budge. I let out a puff of air in frustration, yanking the dress back down my body. Now that the dress is off my body, I look at the zipper, seeing no fabric stuck in it. I try to zip it closed and it glides easily up.

“Oh sure. Now you want to zip.”

I toss it on my bed, turning back towards my closet when I catch sight of myself in the mirror. I stand there in my bra and underwear, looking at my body. Did I…did I gain weight? I haven’t changed my eating. If anything, I’ve been eating less. I turn to the side, my hands gliding over the skin on my lower stomach. I can see a small pooch there and I grunt in confusion. How did I gain weight if I’ve been avoiding so much food?

“Vanessa!”

I poke my head out of my door. “I’m not feeling well, mom. I’m going to stay home.”

She pauses. “You shouldn’t miss church.”

“I don’t want to get everyone sick.”

She pauses again and I swear I can hear her nod. “Ok. We will be back after lunch. I’ll bring you back some soup.”

“Thanks, mom.”

I hear the door downstairs close, the car pulling out of the driveway and driving off down the road. I wait about 15 minutes before I pull on whatever clothes I can find that fit me, grabbing my wallet and keys before getting in my car. I have to get some stomach medicine or something. I head to the pharmacy, thankful that the people I know who work here are all at church. I don’t want anyone to see me buying medicine to stop me throwing up my insides. I scan the rows of bottles for the ones for upset stomach. I grab one, flipping the box over for directions, my lips moving with the words as I read them.

“.....as long as symptoms persist. If symptoms worsen or do not improve after 3 days, call your doctor right away. Do not use if pregnant or breastfeeding. May cause interactions with certain medications…”

I freeze, my eyes rewinding the words I just read.

“Do not use if pregnant or breastfeeding….pregnant…pregnant…”

My brain kicks into high gear, and I stare at the bottle, not really seeing it. The boxes of pads that were sitting unused from my time in Mexico still sit unused under my sink. My aversion to foods I normally loved. The fact I can only keep about half of my food down. The weight gain despite this. My lower belly…my hand instinctively comes up to my belly, placing my hand there for a moment as panic starts to set in.

Could I be…no. Javier used a condom. He showed me as he did it. That’s supposed to prevent…prevent…

I grip the bottle of medicine in my hand, knuckles going white. Slowly, I turn and head out of the isle, looking for the one with the women’s products. I turn it down, grateful that it’s empty. I stand in front of the pads, pretending I’m looking for some while my eyes scan down the rows of pregnancy tests. It’s all overwhelming and I can feel the panic rising rapidly in my body. I quickly grab a box at random, hiding it under my arm as I make my way up to the register. No one is in line and I don’t know the cashier. I place the bottle of medicine and the pregnancy test on the counter, looking around nervously for anyone I may know. If the cashier thought anything of my purchase, they didn’t show it, scanning the items and quickly placing them in a bag as I handed them cash.

When I get home, I run upstairs, locking my bathroom door behind me just in case my parents come back early. My parents. What am I going to say to them? One step at a time, Vanessa. You may just have some weird stomach thing. I take a breath and open the bag, setting the bottle down on the counter and pulling out the small box of pregnancy tests. I throw up once more before opening the box and pulling out the directions, reading them several times through tear blurred vision. I somehow manage to pee on the stick, setting it aside and looking at my watch to check the time.

This has got to be the slowest 3 minutes of my life.

When I check my watch and it’s finally time, I take a deep breath before…taking another deep breath. And then I flip the test over. 2 bright pink lines stare up at me and I hold the stick against the directions comparing them. Double lines means pregnant. Pregnant. I’m pregnant.

I drop the stick, sinking down to the floor as I put my back against the wall. How am I pregnant? I only ever had sex with Javier and that was only one time. And he wore one of those condoms. Aren’t they supposed to stop people from having babies? Wait, if I’ve been pregnant since then, I’m like 3 months along. I should be making a doctor’s appointment. What doctor can I go to that doesn’t know my parents?

My parents.

There’s no way I’m going to be able to hide a baby from them. How do I explain it? Hey mom, dad. I met a stranger in Laredo and we had sex and now I’m pregnant even though he wore a condom.

What do I do?

—--

I spent the next 2 weeks trying to figure out what I was going to do. I wasn’t sure how my parents would react, considering they did want grandkids. But there’s no way they’re going to approve of this baby. In case of the worst, I start gathering up little things here and there - a few random pieces of clothes, the toiletry kit I had brought to Mexico, some little trinkets. I managed to sneak them down to my car, leaving them in the trunk in case I had to leave quickly. I really hope it didn’t come to that. But when I could no longer zip up my favorite pair of pants, I knew I had to tell them.

We all sit down to dinner, mom passing out plates and filling my papá’s plate with a large portion of food. Once everyone is settled, and grace is said, I clear my throat, my mom glancing up at me as she picks up her fork.

“I uh…I have to tell you something.”

My papá spears some food on his fork and takes a bite, chewing as he turns his head towards me, a questioning look on his face.

“Did that Miguel finally get rid of Maria?” My mom asks.

“What? No. I don’t know? That’s not-”

“I knew that girl was trouble. Always showing off in choir. You know, her mom said she got some fancy scholarship to a music school, but here she is, still here. I wonder why-”

“Mami. I need to say something.”

“-why she’s still here? She probably stayed for that boy. Maybe it’s good-”

“MAMI!”

“-good that Miguel didn’t ask Vanessa out. Maybe he’s no good-”

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence. You could hear the grass growing outside it’s so quiet. My parents stare at me, the fork halfway to my papá’s open mouth.

“What?” My mom asks.

I hesitate a moment. “I’m…I’m pregnant.”

“That’s not funny, Vanessa. Don’t you joke about something like this. You know I don’t like the humor you young people think is funny.”

I look down at my plate before looking back at her. “I’m not…I’m not joking.”

Silence again. No movement. But I can feel the disappointment, the anger building in them.

“I’m about…3 months? I think?”

Still silence.

“I only just found out.” I cast my eyes down, looking at my plate of untouched food and realize that half of it I actually want to eat, while the other half makes me want to run to the bathroom.

“Salga [Get out].” He says it quietly, but his tone has layers of anger, hurt, and disappointment all trying to bubble out.

I look up, surprised that it’s my papi saying it.

“What?”

“Salga. Yo no te quiero en esta casa. [Get out. You are no longer welcome in this house].”

“But papi-”

“Don’t! Largarte! Now.”

I glance at my mom, who has tears in her eyes. She gives me a look of utter disgust and looks away from me, showing her support of her husband’s decision.

I stand, pushing the chair away from the table. “Can I just grab some thing-”

“You should have thought of that before you opened yourself up for a man. What were you thinking? You are no longer a daughter of mine!”

My papi’s words slice through me like butter, stabbing me so hard that tears start to fall before I even know they’re there. I walk to the front door, pausing only to put on my shoes before getting in my car and driving about a block before I sit at the stop sign. I knew deep down this may be their reaction, which is why I started packing my trunk. But it still hurts. I need my parents right now, but…

Where do I go?

I turn left, driving a few blocks to knock on my friend Ximena’s door. But instead of my friend, her mom comes to the door, a stern look on her face as she shoos me away, telling me I’m not welcome in their home. I’m met with the same reaction at the next 3 places I go and I realize that my parents must have called everyone we knew to tell them not to let me in, that I had done something so terrible. I doubt they told anyone the truth, that their only child was unwed, single, and pregnant, but our church community is so strong, they apparently didn’t need more than my parent’s word to kick me out.

I stop at a little diner across town, a burger actually sounding really good to me. As I eat, I think about what to do next. It’s getting late, and while I could rent a hotel room, I won’t have enough money to do that for very long. I have no friends left in Corpus Christi, that much is clear. So…where do I go? As I eat and let the tears fall, I think about that night, about Javier. And I realize, there’s only one place left for me to go, even if it’s just until I get on my feet. I finish eating, leaving money on the table for the bill and tip, and head out to my car. It’s a 4 hour drive there, which I can’t do in the dead of night. I drive to the highway and find the closest motel, getting a room for the night that I can cry myself to sleep in.

—----

The next day, I start the drive to Laredo, oddly calm considering the situation. I can do this next step - get to Laredo. I’ll ask around for Javier and see if anyone knows where he lives. I don’t expect anything from him, and I’ll tell him as much. But I would appreciate a place to stay while I figure out where to go next.

After a few bathroom stops, I finally make it to Laredo, finding the bar I had met Javier in that night. It’s not open for a few hours, so I take that time to have some lunch and a short nap in my car, waking to the sound of the main door closing. I walk up to it and push it open, walking inside. The bartender is cleaning down the bar, getting things set up for the rush in a few hours.

“Excuse me?”

He turns to me, wiping out the glass in his hand. “Yes, ma’am?”

“I’m looking for a Javier Peña? He’s about this tall-”

The bartender chuckles. “I know Javier. Haven’t seen him in a bit though.”

“Oh.”

The bartender seems to sense my despair and he sets the now clean glass down. “Look, his dad lives on a farm just outside of town. I’ll give you the address and maybe he can tell you where Javier is.” He scribbles down an address on a napkin and hands it to me, giving me a small smile.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

—-

I pull up to the Peña farm about 40 minutes later, after the bartender had given me some general directions. It’s not a large farm but it’s not small either, and I think I can see a river in the far distance. I park in front of the farmhouse and get out, smoothing out my dress before walking to the front door and knocking. At first, no one answers. But then I hear clanging coming from the barn around back, so I head in that direction, poking my head just inside the barn door.

“Excuse me?”

The man in the barn stops hammering and turns quickly to look at me, hammer slightly raised in defense. He’s older, a nearly all white mustache with matching hair poking out from under a white cowboy hat, glasses poised on the edge of his nose. His eyes remind me of Javier’s and I realize this must be his dad.

“You must have taken a wrong turn, señorita. Town is several miles that way.” He points and I give him a small smile.

“Actually…are you señor Peña?”

He studies me for a moment. “Depends. Which Peña are you looking for?”

“Javier’s papá?”

He looks at me, trying to figure out why I would be here talking to him. “He’s not here.”

“Not back from his business trip?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Any idea when he will be back?

“No. Probably not anytime soon.”

I nod, my face falling slightly.

“Can I help you with anything?”

“I uh…I’m not sure. Maybe this was a stupid idea.”

I turn to leave, willing the tears that had been building in my eyes to not fall.

“Wait.”

I stop, looking up at the older Peña. His eyes glance down towards my belly, where I had unconsciously placed my hand. A look of realization washes over him and his kind eyes meet mine, an odd expression in them.

“How old are you?”

“N..nineteen.”

He swears, glancing up at the ceiling before back at me, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “He’s the father?”

I nod, looking down at the dirt covered floor.

“You’re sure?”

I blus, not able to meet his gaze. “He’s the only one I..I’ve ever…”

He puts his hand up. “Ok ok. I understand.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Are you hungry?”

That was not what I was expecting. “Oh I…I don’t expect anything.”

He smiles and it reaches his eyes, instantly calming me. “You’re not an inconvenience, you’re the mother of my only grandchild. Come.”

He waves his hand for me to follow him, placing the hammer down on his workbench before we head to the main house. It’s a 2 story farm house, sparsley decorated with furniture that he most likely got when Javier was born. It’s worn but well loved and I instantly feel a sense of safety, despite never having been here. He leads me into the kitchen and has me sit at the little island bar while he makes me a simple sandwich, asking me what I’m not eating and what is safe. He slides me a glass or orange juice, saying it was fresh squeezed and good for the vitamin c. I take it, thanking him while I try not to inhale the food, not having eaten in several hours. Chucho clears his throat and I swallow the last bite of my sandwich, looking at him as I take a sip of the juice.

“Did you tell him?”

I set the glass down, spinning it counterclockwise for a moment. “No. I only found out a couple of weeks ago.”

He nods. “How far along?”

“Around 3 and a half months?”

“Have you been to a doctor?”

I shake my head. “Like I said, I only found out a couple weeks ago and my parents kicked me out when they found out so…”

He swears under his breath. “We need to get you to a doctor.”

“I don’t have the money for that. I don’t have the money for anything. Oh God, I don’t have money! How am I going to…to…”

Tears start flowing out of nowhere, uncontrollable as I sob at this man’s table. Chucho comes to stand next to me, turning my body to hug me as he lets me sob into his shirt. He makes calming sounds, telling me everything will be fine. That I’m not alone.

“But…but I am alone, Chucho.”

“Not anymore. You have me.”

I look up at him, blinking away the last of my tears. “Oh no, I couldn’t-”

“What did I say earlier? You’re the mother of my only grandchild. Can I assume you have nowhere to stay?”

“I’m ok in my car.”

He gives me a stern look. “That won’t do. You’ll take one of the rooms here.”

I shake my head, starting to wave him off. “Oh, I couldn’t-”

“You can. What you can’t do is live in your car pregnant and with a baby.”

He feels fatherly, warm and safe and I can feel the tears coming on again so I nod, accepting the help that I desperately need. “Th-thank you. I promise I’ll earn my keep.”

He shakes his head. “There’s no need-”

“Please. Let me at least clean and cook? My mami taught me how and I can make really good food.”

“It’s not necessary-”

“Please let me do this?”

He studies me for several long moments. “Alright. But when you’re near your time, you’re going to rest, understand?”

I nod, smiling slightly. “Thank you, Chucho.” I take another sip of my juice while he takes a swig of his beer, the sound of the ticking clock loud in the silence of the house.

“You said Javier won’t be back anytime soon. Can I ask what he does?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

I blush. “Oh, well we uh..didn’t really…he didn’t-”

“Ay I don’t need to know,” he chuckles. “But Javier is in Colombia, working hard to take down Pablo Escobar.”

I spit out my juice, apologizing profusely as I try to dry it up with a paper towel. “He’s what?”

“Yeah. DEA. So when I said it won’t be anytime soon…”

“Was he happy to go?”

“He definitely saw it as a promotion, a chance to go and prove himself.”

I knew about Pablo Escobar of course, but to hear that my Javier- no, not my Javier. Just Javier - was trying to catch him? That is impressive.

“He doesn’t call often, but next time he does, you can tell him about the baby-”

“No!”

Chucho looks at me, straightening himself up and squaring his shoulders. “No?”

I take a breath. “I know I only spent a….little time with Javier, but he seems like the guy to try and be honorable?” Chucho shrugs and nods. “Then I can’t tell him.”

“Why?”

“Because if I do, he’ll come home. And then he will resent us. I can take it, but the baby? I can’t do that to my child. He will resent us both for bringing him home from this huge career move. We are only 2 people. The entire world needs him. Plus, what if....what if he doesn't come back?”

Chucho’s eyes are hard as he processes what I’ve said. “You’re right about Javi, but I still think you should tell him. He deserves to know.”

“I’ll tell him. I will. When he catches Escobar.”

“That could be years, Vanessa.”

I nod. “I know. And I take full responsibility.”

“That you are.”

—----

Chucho holds true to his word, inviting me to live in his home. I cook and clean for him and, even though he grumbles about it, I see him coming to dinner on time more and more, being able to rest after a long day on the farm as opposed to cleaning. As we eat, he tells me more about Javier, his childhood and the man he grew to become. What I don’t tell Chucho is that with every story, even the bad ones, I fall a little harder for his son.

He also works out a deal with a doctor in town so I can get OB care until I can get insurance. One day, he comes home from church with a crib and several boxes of baby stuff, saying the women in his church donated their old baby things to me (he’d told them I was his new live in maid, a young girl who was recently single. Not an exact lie, but they all assumed the man either left me or I was widowed, which made them open their hearts a little more to me).

He made me stop working so hard around 33 weeks, saying I should’ve stopped sooner. He insists I rest and relax, feed into my nesting instinct. He had cleaned out one of the other rooms to make nursery, putting the crib in there but pulling out an old bassinet from the attic, telling me it was Javier’s.

Chucho is there holding my hand when I go into labor and is there when my son is born. Javier Alexander Morales Peña came screaming into the world, just as every bit as stubborn as his dad, according to Chucho anyway. Tears well up in his eyes when he holds Alex for the first time, telling him how handsome and strong he is. That he’s truly a Peña man.

When Alex turns 2, Chucho demands that I go back to school, as I was only a year away from getting my degree in education. He watches Alex at night while I go to school and, a year later, I graduate with my degree, landing a job that coming school year at Laredo Elementary, which gives Alex, who will be 4 soon after, a slot in their pre-k program.

As Alex grows, he asks about his dad. I decided to tell him the truth - that his dad is a hero, trying to catch a very bad man in another country and that he can’t come back until he does. That the world won’t be safe until the bad man is caught. Alex accepts this and makes up stories about his dad, flying around with a cape and fighting off bad guys to give us all a better world.

One summer afternoon a couple years later, Alex had just gone off to camp for a couple of weeks. He’s 6 now and “a big boy”, so he begged to go off to a science camp with his friends for a few weeks. It was hard to not have him around, but I knew he was having a great time. I’m elbow deep in sink water, washing the pans from breakfast when the phone rings. Chucho picks it up upstairs after a couple rings and when he doesn’t call for me, I know it’s for him. I finish with the last pan, setting it off to side, sliding my rubber gloves off and reaching for the drying towel. I pick up the pan, drying it off when I hear Chucho coming downstairs. He walks into the kitchen and stands there for a moment watching me.

“Chucho? You ok?”

“I uh…I’m going to the airport.”

“Chucho…Are you finally taking a vacation?”

He gives me a small smile before it leaves his face. “Actually, I’m going to pick up Javier.”

—----

>>Part 3>>

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers-blog @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed @ladykatakuri @marrianena @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics

131 notes · View notes

onesapphireeye · 1 year

Text

in your warmth

Aegon reveals that he has been going to counseling and is committed to getting better and being a better father and husband. You, as always, forgive and forget too easily.

modern!aegon x reader + "you have a pretty face when you aren't yelling at me."

warnings: use of she/her for reader. angst that turns happy. metaphoric mentions of murder. aegon is/was an alcoholic. mentions of separation.

nori says: why is my brain like this?????? how did i get this from that prompt? lmao idk, but warmth by bastille was on repeat. i tried to make the reader a softer personality than usual. not beta read, as always!! you know how we do around here! xoxo.

word count: 2,000~

If your life was a movie, its genre would be a crime documentary. They'd portray you as the kind of person who lit up a room, whose once-brilliant smile had been dulled by years of living with a man who robbed everything from you. Someone whose great ambition in life lay in shreds, mangled by the ghosts of her former hopes.

No, Aegon hadn't killed you, but he had stolen your essence.

You sunk into despair as you reflected on how he'd taken away your vibrant spirit and quieted your voice. Conversations were now limited to cold, bureaucratic texts, and you felt like a shadow of your former self.

You just knew audiences would weep at their screens and feel their hearts break for the pretty wife. They'd ask why justice had not been served? Wonder if her husband's family had powerful connections?

You didn't want to be seen as a deer led to slaughter.

As much as you wanted to be courageous like Amy Dunne from Gone Girl and make a break for freedom, you never could think of a good plan.

How would you go about faking your own death?

Where would you go afterwards?

You didn't want to get away; instead, you desperately wished for a way to turn back the hands of time. Aegon had been your first love and you still cherished him in your heart.

Pain lanced through you at the thought of your twins. As much as they completed you, you missed the days before their births when life was so much simpler. You felt like a disgusting mother for even thinking it, but Aegon had been so untroubled then. Becoming a father had made him so terrified of repeating his own father's mistakes that he chose to ignore his worries instead.

Your conversations seemed always fraught with tension and fear, though he would put on a forced smile to comfort you and convince you that everything was alright. He would tell you how happy he was, but each word was coated in the need for alcohol, a way of dulling the pain of his struggle.

What finally prompted you into action, was when you had come home after a spin class to a house filled with the stench of booze and your children huddled miserably next to the motionless form of their unconscious father.

You had tried everything to help him, but he refused to quit drinking and you weren't willing to have your kids suffer like he did as a child. His stubbornness had forced you to separate and take a job outside the home in order to support them.

You wanted full custody and felt like Aegon had abandoned you in your time of need.

Aegon had not been picking up your calls, and you found out through his sister that his solution to the struggle of parenting two children was to find another woman to do the job—his mother.

She had been taking them overnight, shielding you from the truth in order to "spare your feelings". You knew enough about their family to know that her intentions were really to keep up appearances for Aegon, yet it tore you apart all the same.

How could your opinion of him decrease any further? You felt broken and alone, with no one to turn to.

OUTGOING: I know it's late and this is pretty last minute but do you think I can drop by to get you to sign some forms? I wouldn't bother you with this, but they need a wet signature for legality.

AEGON: I'm in the middle of something right now

AEGON: Can we meet up tomorrow evening? There are some things I need to tell you about

AEGON: Do you want to meet at Visenya's? My treat for your time

OUTGOING: 6pm works for me?

AEGON: It's a date

OUTGOING: It's not a date, Aegon. Just a friendly dinner.

As you drove into the parking lot of Visenya's, your heart raced and your breath caught in your throat. You were here to meet Aegon and the combination of anticipation and nerves was hard to manage.

It was a familiar place for the both of you, and the memories came flooding back. You could still taste the red wine on your lips from the night you accepted his marriage proposal here and the sweet chocolate cake from your first date left a bitter aftertaste. Looking up at its doors, you wondered why he chose this venue.

Your attention was drawn to Aegon's beloved Sunfrye, a 1962 Ferrari 250 California SWB Spider by Scaglietti, custom painted an aged gold gleamed in the darkness, mocking your pain. You knew more about this car than you'd ever wanted, thanks to all the time Aegon spent talking about it. And you sat there every time like a dutiful idiot, happy to share anything with him.

You wanted to rip Sunfyre apart with your bare hands, to feel something other than the sadness overwhelming you, but instead, you bit back a sob. Tears gathered in your eyes as you battled against the urge to key the car out of spite. You could almost picture him on his hands and knees before the vehicle; blubbering in anguish at your destructive creation.

Aegon hadn't even been on time to your wedding, so you were surprised to see he was already here. Your foolish heart wondered if this was a sign. You didn't want to turn one of your rare meetings into a fight because of a burst of vindictive pleasure.

You swallowed your apprehension and walked inside the restaurant, fifteen minutes after the set reservation time.

Giving your name to the hostess at the front, you were guided to the table where Aegon sat. Your face split into a smile at the sight of him. His skin glowed with a vibrant radiance, and his eyes shimmered with life-not from alcohol. His white blonde hair was brushed back, revealing his dazzling features. The usual bags under his eyes were gone, leaving him looking more alive than you had ever seen him before.

Your heart did a flip as you realized how much better he looked, and it filled you with warmth to know he could be happy.

"Hi," you said softly, placing the envelope on the table between you two.

"Hi!" Aegon stood abruptly, gallantly helping you take off your outerwear before pulling out your chair for you. You took a seat, feeling slightly anxious in his presence after so much time apart. As he moved away, his hands grazing your shoulders sent electricity coursing through your body, making you feel slightly more at ease.

He sat back down across from you an gave you an endearing smile, your lips curved in a small smile in response. You could tell that he was just as nervous as you were, but was trying to be brave. It made it easier to relax, knowing that you weren't alone in feeling that way.

You settled into your seat, looking into each others eyes and reveling in the moment.

"You look gorgeous. It's been ages since I've seen you light up like this." He used to be a charmer, until he lost sight of what was most important.

Your gaze flicked down, you were hesitant of looking him in the eye, in case your expression gave away how much you still appreciated compliments from him. "Sometimes I wonder if we would still be together if you had said more nice things." You had to fight your younger self, the person who was so weak and willing to forgive his wrongdoings. "I apologize, I shouldn't have said that. Let's just enjoy this moment and talk like normal people."

You had always been gentle with this man-- you still loved him, despite all of your pain-- asking for a divorce had come as a jolt to everyone. No one knew Aegon's sweet little wife had a will of steel, because you had even been so compliant in his meticulous demolishing of your own spirit.

You didn't know how to start. "You said you had something you wanted to update me on?"

"I've been going to AA meetings." Your eyebrows shot so high they almost disappeared into your hairline, your mouth a gaping maw of disbelief. He continued when you didn't say anything. "I've made mistakes in the past, and I can't promise that I won't make mistakes in the future; but I can promise that I'll learn from them this time."

You could almost sense the hopefulness radiating off of him, he was determined to be better and make things right.

"I'm so proud of you," You whispered softly, "It takes a lot of strength to take a hard look at yourself and try to make a change. Believe me, I know exactly how hard it can be." Your hearts swelled with emotion, overwhelmed by the fact that you two could have such an honest, heartfelt conversation.

"I didn't just do this for myself. I did this for us." His eyes glistened with intense emotion, "I have so much love to give and I just want to give it—the right way. I'm finally ready to learn, but I need you to show me. Please., I want to come home." He was pleading with his entire being.

Your heart was pounding wildly in your chest and before you knew it, your hand had reached out and entwined with his.

You looked him in the eyes, "I love you Aegon, more than I should. And I'm here, ready to learn along with you." His warm hand in yours let you know that this was real, that despite all the struggles and arguments, you both still had feelings for each other. "But you can't just come home, not yet."

You watched his face fall as he nodded in understanding. You hated seeing him look so defeated, but it was important to take things slow. You needed to make sure that this wasn't just a momentary flash of love.

There was a lot of work to be done before you could tell all your families and the kids that you two were reconciling. It would take time, patience and understanding but if it meant that you two could finally have the happy ending that you both deserved then it was worth it.

As Aegon went on about what he had gone through since the separation, you couldn't help but be astonished at how much he had changed. He opened up to you as if you were a long-lost friend, sharing pieces of himself that he never would have let out before. You embraced every word like it was a token of love from him and hung onto it with all that was left within you.

After a few hours of talking, he seemed exhausted from pouring out so much of himself that needed to be released. You felt something shift between you two; something was healing, something that couldn't come back to its original form: a marriage connected by love. But instead, it could be connected by something more beautiful; honesty, respect, understanding and care.

You both looked down at the envelope that still lay untouched on the table between you two.

His free hand began to reach across the table to grab it, and you stopped him. "Don't worry about those."

He gave you a warm smile and gazed into your eyes; something had stirred within you that had been dormant for far too long. "You know, you have a pretty face when you aren't yelling at me."

"Please don't start making jokes." You squeezed his hand tightly before letting go and both of you sat in silence for a few moments, feeling the tension between you two dissipate as you sipped on your drinks.

norinote: remember you can send me prompts from here or your own ideas! xoxo.

#norimadeit #aegon #aegon is that you?#i want to fight aegon lol jk or am i #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon x you #aegon targaryen x you #hotd imagine #modern aegon #aegon targaryen imagine #prompts #in your warmth

182 notes · View notes

my1guilty1pleasures · 7 months

Text

The Boy With The Pretty Blue Eyes

Words - 2.4k

Looking in the mirror, you stared into your own eyes, or rather, you stared into one of your eyes. Your left eye sparkled a brilliant blue, like the most brilliant gemstone. It was your soulmate’s eye. Part of you feared meeting your soulmate because it would mean losing the wonderful crystal that drew attention to you. You’d considered covering it up, that way if you saw someone with that same eye color, you could walk away and never lose the shimmering blue. At the same time, you didn’t want to cover it up, it was too stunning. So you didn’t, you let it be. Of course, the brilliant blue of your soulmate’s eye wasn’t the only special thing about you. You could also see things other people couldn’t. Monsters and creatures that seemed invisible to everyone else. You didn’t see them often and when you did, you avoided them, but you could still see them. When you were little, your parents had thought it was childish ‘monster under the bed’ nonsense. As a kid, they thought it was make believe. Eventually, after being told to stop playing pretend often enough, you’d stopped saying anything; you still saw them, you just didn’t tell anybody. Instead, you studied them, learned where they liked to hang out, and found a nice job as far away from them as possible. It was a cute little bakery, not very well known due to the size and location, but that didn’t matter to you. The staff and customers were always nice and the sweets and breads were always handmade with the utmost care. It was the kind of place that you could easily walk right past without realizing it, but had very loyal regulars.

Today seemed like any other day, helping the owners, who insisted on calling you their adopted daughter, make the muffins, donuts, and other breakfast foods that the early customers would order, setting up the front dining area, and getting the cash register ready before unlocking the door and flipping the sign over. The first few people trickled in along with a couple people you didn’t recognize. Nothing unusual as you served up the various orders, one of the owners making coffees while the other cooked up more treats in back. Taking a short break to make more goods between breakfast and lunch, the bell on the front counter and the front door alerting you to any stray customers that might stray in during the usually free hours where almost nobody entered the store. Time usually spent making sandwiches for the lunch rush, snacks such as soft pretzels and a couple of delicious loaves of bread. As always, it was quiet until the bell on the door jingled. Quickly handing what you were doing to one of the owners, you pulled your gloves off and hurried to the front while wiping any excess flour off on your apron.

Gojo looked around, his brow furrowed. Shoko had gotten him a really delicious slice of cake as part of a bet that he’d won. After repeated words of praise to the cake, she’d suggested he just go down to the bakery himself next time and then given him the address. He’d admit that he’d gotten lost a few times, having passed right past it, not realizing that this tiny little storefront was its own place and not just part of the larger stores next to it. Entering, he looked around in confusion, there wasn’t anybody inside, no customers, cashiers, nothing. Walking up to the counter, he couldn't help but start drooling. Even if there wasn’t anybody there, the sweets contained within looked delicious! Looking over the sweets, he was too distracted to notice the young woman walking up to the front counter.

“If you see anything you like, let me know.” a melodious voice called, drawing his attention. Standing there before him was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Yet that wasn’t even what had his jaw hanging open as he stared at her, completely speechless. It was the brilliant blue left eye that had his attention, the one that was fading into a stunning e/c. It was one of the things he’d always loved since he was old enough to understand what it meant. He’d spent plenty of time staring into mirrors, but not to see his own reflection. All just to see the beautiful eye of his soulmate and imagine who they were. Of course that had changed some time ago. Amanai Riko. He hadn’t been able to protect her, hadn’t been able to stop Geto, hadn’t been able to do anything. He wouldn’t tell anyone this, but it was one of the reasons why he trained his abilities so hard after Amanai. It wasn’t the main reason why he’d done it, but he wouldn’t deny that he’d thought of his soulmate more than once while training and the best ways to protect them. Now here he was, staring his soulmate in the eyes. Her beautiful eyes, the one that he’d spent hours staring into in his mirror.

“I’m… I’m Satoru… Satoru Gojo.” he said, still stunned by the woman in front of him. Honestly, he wished he could have said something different. Something more romantic or flirtatious. Maybe something sweet, but in that moment, it was all he could think of saying instead of standing there like an idiot. Still, her giggle was a good sign, right?

“Y/n L/n and you have the most amazing eyes.” you said, staring into his own crystalline eyes. Shaking himself out of his stupor, he grinned.

“My apologies, beautiful, but I really must disagree there. Yours are far more beautiful than mine. I’ve spent countless hours simply staring into the mirror, admiring the beautiful color, yearning to stare into the beauty that they must belong to.” he said charmingly, drawing another giggle from you.

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen a blue quite like yours. And the way they sparkle, I don’t think even sapphires or diamonds could compare. How about I go ask for the rest of the day off so we can go and complement each other’s eyes somewhere else?” you suggested, the boy nodding rapidly. Having heard the entire interaction and seeing your eyes, the owners gladly gave you the day off, shooing you out to spend time with the boy with the pretty blue eyes.

The two of you quickly became close, the young man spending all of his free time with you. Dinner and a movie, a comfortable stroll through the park, or flying you out to Osaka simply to take you on the biggest shopping trip you’d ever been on. Paying for dinner hadn’t been a surprise, even if it had been a rather upscale restaurant. A movie didn’t phase you, these were things a hard working guy could afford. The trip to Osaka, however, that had left you stunned. Apparently Satoru Gojo, your darling soulmate, was loaded. The first few dates he hadn’t wanted to overwhelm you with the amount of money he’d gladly spend on you, but continuing to hold himself back from spoiling you had been ‘far too difficult to resist’. After that, he spoiled you even more, despite your protests. Expensive gifts ranging from buying the absolutely best ingredients for the bakery you worked at to expensive diamond jewelry. The owners simply laughed and told you to enjoy yourself, he was your soulmate after all, what was the harm in letting him lavish you in gifts? So you let him spoil you to a degree. Perhaps not diamond jewelry, but frequent shopping trips, expensive dinners, and spa days at high end spas.

While you couldn’t exactly afford the extravagant gifts that he gave you, you still made sure to make every date special. Taking him for a walk after dinner to simply enjoy the night air and being together, snuggling up to him during a movie, or making sure to hold his hand tightly and plenty of kisses on his cheek. And he loved it. Loved the attention and affection. He didn’t care about expensive gifts, he could afford that shit himself, he’d grown up with that, but the time with you, the love you showed him, he couldn’t buy that. It meant the world to him. Still, there were things you both kept from each other. In particular were anything having to do with curses or the jujutsu world. To the best of his knowledge, you were just a regular civilian, maybe a little more cursed energy than a typical person, but not enough for him to risk telling you about everything. He couldn’t do that to you, you lived a calm, peaceful life, he didn’t want to change that if he could avoid it. Likewise, you didn’t tell him of the things you could see, the monsters that caught your eye before leading him in a different direction under various pretenses of wanting to see something else or go somewhere else. He always seemed very accepting of your choices, not once questioning them, but that was fine with you. So long as you kept him from the monsters, that’s all that mattered.

Gojo paced his room, biting his lip. You’d been dating for a year now and it was getting serious. Worse yet, his family was insisting on meeting you. They wanted to meet their son’s soulmate and, more importantly, his father wanted to see if you were ‘worthy’ of the Gojo name. He honestly couldn’t care less if his father thought you were worthy, you were his soulmate, he loved you, he wouldn’t let his father separate you, but it meant that he’d have to introduce you to what he really did, to the jujutsu world. To the best of your knowledge, he worked in his father’s line of work, which wasn’t an entire lie, but it certainly wasn’t true either. Still, he couldn’t hide this from you forever. Even if he managed to continue to hide it from you, even if he managed to marry you without telling you, you’d find out when your child was born, when they were different, when they began training and going to jujutsu high. Burying his hands in his hair, he groaned, he had to tell you, he didn’t have a choice. Hopefully you wouldn’t freak out.

Walking down the street, you looked at Satoru in confusion, he was oddly tense today, oddly quiet. He almost never stopped talking, he was always making you laugh, but today he’d barely said anything.

“Satoru, what’s wrong?” you asked, stopping, looking up at him in worry. He knew he couldn’t hide it from you, he knew he’d been acting differently today, there was no denying it.

“Y/n, I… I need to tell you something and it’s going to sound insane and crazy and you’re probably going to think I’m crazy, but please, please, please, just listen to me and try to believe me when I tell you that everything I’m about to tell you is true. I’ll… I’ll understand if you can’t believe me and I’ll understand if you leave me, even as soulmates, I know it’s a little much for a person to take in, but I-” you cut him off with a finger to his lips, simply smiling at him.

“Whatever you have to say, I’ll believe you, I… have something a little unbelievable to tell you as well. So you go first and we’ll promise to try and believe each other.” you said softly, making his heart pound. Looking up, he sighed.

“Y/n, there are… things in this world, things that people don’t know about, things that they can’t see. I guess you could call them ‘monsters’, I know them as curses. There’s a group of people who fight them, they’re called jujutsu sorcerers, I’m… I’m one of them. I have… abilities, curse techniques, that allow me to fight them. The other jujutsu sorcerers and I, we exorcize these curses before they can cause too much harm. We’re not always able to save everyone, but we protect as many people as we can. Y/n, I love you so much, but I can’t continue hiding this from you, hide what I really do from you.” he said, looking away from you. Hearing your laughter, he couldn’t help but flinch. You thought he was joking, you didn’t believe him. How could you? It was… it sounded insane. Feeling your hand on his cheek, he closed his eyes tightly as you turned him to face you.

“Satoru… look at me.” you said softly, coaxing him into opening his eyes, staring into his brilliant blue orbs that you loved so much. You had a soft smile on your lips as you stared at him, a surprisingly understanding look on your face, “I believe you, Satoru, I know you wouldn’t lie about this and moreover… moreover, I can see them too. I never knew what they were, but I’ve seen them for as long as I can remember. Strange creatures that nobody else could see, monsters that loomed over others, things that felt threatening. I… I’m glad that there’s people in the world who won’t think I’m crazy when I tell them that I see monsters… uh, curses.” you said, making his eyes widen. You understood? You could see curses? Suddenly a lot of things made sense. The way you would suddenly tug him in a different direction when a curse stood in a nearby alley, how you would suggest getting some ice cream when a curse floated in the sky. You’d been trying to avoid them, trying to keep the both of you safe. Satoru chuckled as he caressed your cheek, pulling you into a gentle kiss.

“I love you so much, Y/n. Is that what you wanted to tell me?” he asked, grinning when you nodded, “it looks like we’re a pretty perfect match then. In that case, I have one thing to ask you.” he said, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. You simply nodded, staring at him lovingly. The moment he got down on one knee, you were already tearing up, watching as he pulled out a small box.

“Y/n, will you marry me?” he asked, opening the box to reveal a brilliant wedding ring. You tried to wipe the tears away before wrapping your arms around him, tackling him to the ground as you laughed, he didn’t need you to say it, he knew what your answer was.

53 notes · View notes

sullyfortress · 1 year

Note

I'm absolutely in love with your AU (⁠つ⁠✧⁠ω⁠✧⁠)⁠つ

can I ask of some more hc s?

how did the family react when they found out Pey pey was deaf?

How does Lo'ak act with his kids? What do they do together? <3

Family's reaction to Pe'yam being deaf:

The Sully's were more alarmed at Pey Pey being deaf than his Metkayina family. In fact I think Tsireya, Ao'nung, Ronal and Tonowari would be completely unphased. In fact I like the idea that Metkayina have had deaf members in the past - maybe its some mutation that shows up time to time? Idk. I can see sound being less important than touch. Like feeling the movement of the water being more important than lets say, listening to movement in trees in Omaticaya forest.

I think because the Metkayina spend so much time using sign language and underwater, the idea of communicating without sound is just easier to grasp.

Neytiri, as we've learned, does not like change and does not like being unprepared. I think she would just worry for Pey Pey's safety. Neytiri has lost so many people - I think she would easily become paranoid.

I can see Kiri being really unphased. As long as he can connect with Eywa, she thinks he'll be fine.

Tuk is curious and caring so I think she would be hesitant but eager to learn and navigate communicating with her nephew.

I think Jake also would be unalarmed. He dealt with losing the ability to walk, so he can empathise with this idea of people thinking that the loss of a common ability makes you weak. He knows that people might look down on Pey Pey, but he doesn't want his grandson to think that he's lesser. He can run and walk - Jake sees that as a win. Jake's not much of a talker anyhow so I think when he needs chill time he appreciates hanging out with his grandson.

I can see Lo'ak and Neytiri being the most concerned. Lo'ak because I think he already feels like with him being mixed his kids are at a disadvantage. He knows what it was like growing up different. Also Lo'ak I think becomes more nervous and protective since the death of Neteyam so he would become a mother hen.

As for Lo'ak and his daughter Ziri, he would come to understand his fathers parenting more. I think Lo'ak would be very strict with his daughter just because she gets in so much trouble. He dishes out the punishments while Tsireya would be the one to play good cop and sooth both his and their daughters tempers. I think Lo'ak would get scared and blow up at Ziri for doing something stupid(something that he would have done at her age) and instantly regret it afterwards.

I think it's one of those generational cycles, as Lo'ak would also in the midst of yelling at Ziri for putting herself and Pe'yam in danger (I imagine she wanted to go and check out a nearby Skypeople boat wreck and scavenge for thingamabobs.), he calls Pe'yam 'Neteyam' on accident. Like most of the family, he is seeing a resemblance in Ziri and Pe'yam to his and Neteyam's relationship as children. He's terrified of a repeat. Also it seems to be a Sully/Neytiri family curse that a sibling dies each generation.

Tsireya obviously nips this in the bud and gets on his ass to apologies and make it right and not to project his own guilt on his daughter. I think Ziri would be angry at her father until she meets her Uncle at the Spirit tree and learned a bit more about their relationship growing up.

The two of them need to have some sort of heart to heart healing journey IDK I need to write it. Jake in their because *generational trauma* *cycle of pain*

As for Pey Pey and Ziri together. It consists of Pey Pey following Ziri and being the witness to her shenanigans. Ziriis also an avid talker, but while talking alot she never overwhelms or disregards her brother. In fact she's very quick at interpreting her brothers thoughts and wishes. I have this idea of whenever they meet new people who can't sign she speaks for him. Sometimes she's a bit more blunt than Pe'yam wishes.

You guys know that one Key & Peel Obama translator sketch? Yeah that them.

youtube

#peyam sully #avatar fanart #avatar the way of water #avatar way of water #ziri oc #ziri sully #pey pey oc #au avatar headcannon #yeah Ziri calls people penis face on the daily

230 notes · View notes

miracles-and-butterflies · 3 months

Note

What are the jobs/occupations in your mafia au?

Are the teens in training or are strictly not allowed to touch any weapons until their eighteen?

How protective are the adults over their children? Are they like regular parents/abuela/Tio or are they like "You bully my child? Do you want you AND your parents six feet deep? I/we can make it happen and no one would even look for you"

Are they rich per say? Do they have gifts?

How did the mafia start? Was Alma or Pedro already born in one or did it develop after Pedro's death?

How protective are the grandkids over each other? I honestly feel like everybody would be mad protective of Antonio since he's the youngest, and he's the most spoiled out of all of them. (But are the grandkids on some level spoiled as well?)

Do Mirabel and Camilo have some sort of a good relationship in this au?

How does everyone feel about blood shed? Do they feel queasy or will they not even bat an eye at it?

Sorry for all the questions, I just love Mafia au's.

Don’t apologise! I love getting questions for any of my AUs!

This will be a long one, so apologies if this isn’t out quickly.

Not too sure what you mean by jobs/occupations. Looking at other AUs there is no specific things and the only thing I could find on the internet was the hierarchy or roles in the party game. If you have anything to help with this, I’d greatly appreciate it!

As soon a Madrigal reached thirteen, they were allowed to begin training. Nobody is actually allowed to do anything in reality until they are eighteen though.

Depends on which of the adults you speak to. Alma was very protective when the triplets were little, once they were old enough to handle themselves, she stepped back a bit. That doesn’t mean she won’t defend them though. Pepa is definitely the most likely to bite your head off (metaphorically) if you even so much as look at her kids the wrong way. Julieta, Félix and Agustín are a lot more normal.

They weren’t rich initially. When Pedro died, Alma gained all of his family’s (who are also dead) inheritance and then became wealthy. She managed to keep a steady inflow of money, so they have remained quite comfortable over the years. Though they aren’t as rich as before, naturally having such a large family has its expenses and the economy is shit.

They do not have gifts. I felt it would make them too-overpowered; it would be too similar to every other Madrigal mafia AU; and I just made an AU where the gifted Madrigals become a crime family, I’m not repeating the same idea.

Pedro and Alma were both from crime families - granted, Alma’s was much more minor and they had practically stopped crime by the time she was an adult. However, growing up in that environment still influenced her and allowed her to meet Pedro. She brought a lot of influence and new ideals to Pedro, making her quite high-ranking in the order of command. Which is why, at his death, all his wealth and power fell to her over anyone else.

Influenced by their mother, Dolores and Camilo (especially Camilo) are very protective over Antonio. Luisa, as usual, is overprotective of Mirabel. The others are more normal.

Yes, Antonio is very spoiled as the youngest and one of two boys. Isabela, Dolores and Camilo were also very spoiled - though are a bit ignorant to the fact. Luisa and Mirabel, neither the eldest or male/only female in their side of the family, definitely fell under the radar a bit more in childhood; neither of them were spoiled.

Camilo and Mirabel have their usual rivalry. (It’s in their characters, I’m not changing it). They spend more time together here, if that’s what you’re asking.

Mirabel and Pepa are both squeamish. Pepa, who has adapted a little, usually carries a paper bag with her now. Mirabel, hasn’t really seen anything yet, but faints over a pinprick or paper cut. Needless to say, the family have doubts about how well she’s going to do in the future. The rest either don’t care about bloodshed or actually enjoy it.

If you have any more questions, please do not hesitate to ask!

#encanto #ask me anything #encanto mafia au #isabela madrigal #mirabel madrigal #luisa madrigal #dolores madrigal #camilo madrigal #antonio madrigal #julieta madrigal #agustín madrigal #pepa madrigal #félix madrigal #alma madrigal #pedro madrigal

17 notes · View notes

quitealotofsodapop · 7 months

Note

I am in a funny mood, so you get this:

A multiverse meeting – which is just hanging out, enjoying modern conveniences and shenanigans (more so from them actual adults then the kids, aside from the Dorito God Sacrifice Incident) – going about normally. There’s probably a documentary about something that makes the youngers go ‘oh!’ in turns.

Then the door is busted open and as everyone is grabbing a weapon – they see Nuwa, the Goddess of Creation herself, panting wildly, hair everywhere, holding a bundle that she full on yeets at LMK!Mac – he just caught it – and exclaims, “None of you saw me here, alright!” Then she zips away fast enough that the dust only kicked up a minute later.

“What the fu-”

“Language!”

“Oh, sorry!” Sarcasm drips, “But do YOU have any idea what is going on?!”

Then her husband Fuxi stumbles through the door, “Did any of you see Nuwa?!”

The confusion only intensifies. What was going on?

“Not recently.” LMK!SWK lies, you know, like a liar.

Fuxi just accepts it and runs out. They can hear him shouting for Nuwa, saying things like “I won’t be mad, I promise!” and “Just tell me what you and Hou Tu did!”

“What is this about?” Reborn!SWK feels very confused, the confusion is paramount, enough of it was in the air to choke an elephant.

They turned to look at the bundle – vary it was something dangerous. LMK!Mac slowly moves to open the bundle up and see its contents. You don’t need six ears to hear the heartbeats.

LMK!Mac blinks when he sees it, “Oh fuck.”

“Look now who’s swearing.”

LMK!SWK leans in and – “Fuck!”

“What is it?!” Smash!SWK nearly shrieks.

“Um…” LMK!Mac turns to reveal the bundle – to be a small demon monkey with a face marking, “It’s a baby?”

“What.”

So, yeah, that’s HOW Sun Luzhen happens – because bored gods, wine and curiosity leads to ‘fucking around and finding out’. Literally.

Now, Nuwa and Hou Tu just need to pay for child support X’D

Oh my chinese mythos gods

that is the perfect explanation for how Sun Luzhen happens XD

Nuwa and Hou Tu had a repeat one-night stand and made another stone monkey. Bonus if it was similar events that led to SWK's own creation in some theories XD

For all we know, Fuxi is the third parent in the genetic mess that is Mystic Monkeys.

Poor LMK Shadowpeach now got another baby to deal with. At least little Luzhen seems to adore his adoptive dads, and especially his big bro MK. The rest of the Wukongverse are horrified.

#wukongverse #sun luzhen #shadowpeach being parents #shadowpeach #nuwa #fuxi #hou tu #lmk fan children

36 notes · View notes

devondespresso · 1 year

Text

hi today we're thinking about Dustins parental (figures) trauma (because i love him)

like Dustin now has experienced 4 different instances of an older brother figure running into danger to protect him and every time said older brother figure got more and more injured

the first day Dustin meets Steve, Steve leaves the bus with the demodogs to be bait and comes back a bit shaken and with a couple scratches but basically unharmed. hes doing this to protect all the kids but at this point he's known Dustin the longest (maybe an hour or so more but still they had actual conversations in that hour)

then they're at the Byers and Steve fights B*lly for Lucas (and Max i think because he was officially there to take her home) and we hear the kids screaming at B*lly, specifically we hear Dustin scream "you're gonna kill him" and Steve very obviously has a concussion afterwards

then theres season 3. Steve and Robin hold the door while Dustin and Erica escape through vents and when they meet up again both teenagers are drugged and Steve has a black eye, bloody nose, and a split lip and is covered in blood and sweat and thats just what you can see (he mentions ears ringing, difficulty breathing and feeling like his eye is going to fall out, all of which probably comes up later off-screen because hes doing a lot of strenuous activity for someone in his condition)

and then Eddie. Eddie who was asked by Steve to look out for him and Eddie who made sure Dustin got through the portal safely before risking his own safety to help the team. Eddie who so far in canon (duffers please bring him back) died in Dustins arms and kept a smile on his face in his excruciating death to try and ease the blow it'd have on him

and even if you write aus where Eddie does live he's frequently in the hospital for several months or in a coma

now Dustins a child, he's in middle school during all of steves sacrifices and in his freshman year of highschool for Eddie's. He doesn't have a present father and while his mother is very loving she's not the most emotionally stable

and when you think about it, Dustin doesn't really have any parental figure that is 100% stable for him to rely on

His mother gets very stressed and panics a lot (which is fair because shes a presumably single working mom and joyce is in a similar situation but regardless it does put stress on their kids), and we see Dustin immediately stepping up to comfort his mom when their cat Mews is "missing" despite having to see and clean up his cats dead body alone from out of his bedroom

Steve is a relatively emotionally stable figure for him with lots of confident advice and its confirmed that Steves a very safe person for him to go to with both upside down and normal problems

but Steve has gotten hurt A Lot and often times the responsibility of taking care of him falls on Dustin (and I'd go as far as to say Dustin takes on this role himself based on how hes used to taking care of his mom). Dustins the one holding an ice pack to Steve's head when he wakes up in B*llys car and he's mostly the one looking after Steve and Robin while they're drugged. Steve is emotionally safe, but Dustin does have to worry about his safety pretty often (he so easily could've died in season 3 just from repeated head injuries alone)

Then with Eddie its clear Dustin looks up to him as a role model of this cool guy who doesn't care what others think of him, but then Eddie gets involved with the upside down. they meet in the boathouse we see Dustin immediately stepping up to calm him down and help him work through the upside down trauma (and to protect Steve who's once again in physical danger) (and then Eddie dies later so hes not really stable in either aspect rip)

So aside from the upside down trauma having the kids have to grow up too fast and having their childhoods taken away (and this definitely applies to all the kids and teens but we're talking about dusty today), Dustins a character that is consistently looking for a stable parental figure and consistently loosing the stability he finds in them. Which leads him to have to step up, shelf his own emotions, and be a source of stability for his parental figures instead.

i know its wishful thinking at best to hope for a comedic character to have their trauma properly addressed in this show, but id really like to see Dustin struggling with some of this

he probably feels responsible for a lot of shit that happened especially to Steve and Eddie because he was there to witness their injuries and they both got injured to protect him

maybe he struggles talking about certain things with steve despite him remaining emotionally safe because his experiences with comforting his mom and Eddie makes him assume thats normal. maybe hes afraid hes going to wake up one day and Steve will be dead.

maybe he puts himself down the same path steves on now, not his highschool jock path but the self-sacrificing hero path. maybe the party will be in some sort of trouble with no adults around and he'll put himself between the party and the danger because he feels responsible for making sure they're ok.

we've already seen he feels the need to mediate conflict with his friends (mike and lucas's fight in season 1 and asking eddie to postpone hellfire on lucas's behalf) and that he admires Steve's hero stunts (fighting the demodogs in season 2 Dustin says hes awesome when max comments hes insane)

i just want to see people talk about Dustins relationship with responsibility and the lack of stability in his life. i also grew up being The Responsible Friend in my friend group and its fucking exhausting. I just want my guy to get a break, maybe some assurance that Steves not going to fucking die and maybe a moment where he can just let go of tge stress hes holding onto (i don't know tbh if i knew how to fix this feeling i wouldn't need therapy lol)

#dustin henderson #stranger things dustin #steve and dustin #henderfam #claudia henderson #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #stranger things #steve harrington has trauma but so does dustin dammit #eddie stranger things #the party stranger things #dustin is such a little guy and deserves the world and i will fight to tge death for his honor #join my dustin fan club were we just sit around and talk about how lovely he is #stranger things thoughts #stranger things tumblr #devon thinks sometimes

63 notes · View notes