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oddsnendsfanfics · 4 years

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Unraveling at the Seams Pt 20

Genre: Fan Fiction Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC Warnings: Language, Sexual Innuendo, Possible NSFW Rating: M Length: Multi Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: Originally, I had 20 parts planned for this, but I think there may need to be a few more to wrap it all up with a nice big bow.

As I wrote part of this, I kept seeing these scenes in my head over and over. Boy looks good in armour.

thank you @flowers-in-your-hayr for the header

Catch Up Here

Nell had felt like a bit of an asshole, when she climbed the stairs and walked through the front door. Unfairly she had taken the bait and responded in a less than classy manner, too late now. Henry was laid out on the couch, feet kicked up and an arm resting behind his head. The television droned on with a random David Attenborough documentary, quietly filling the room with light and noise. Resting his book on his chest, Henry squinted against the dim light and smiled.

“Have a good night?”

“No,” Nell pouted dropping her bag and kicked off her shoes. Tugging at the hem of her dress, she pushed Henry's feet out of the way to sit down. Tucked into the corner of the couch, Nell rested her head against the back of the worn piece of furniture and closed her eyes. “I was a terrible person. Am I usually a bitch?”

Clearing his throat, Henry removed his book, sitting up. “What happened?” He sat with his arm slung against the back of the couch, gently stroking the nap of Nell's neck.

“I overreacted, took the piss out of some poor girl. In my defense she was being a total clout chasing bitch.” Crossing her arms, she huffed like a child. “Shame, you’re kind of pretty,” doing her best impression of an air-head, Nell faked an obnoxious giggle. “Not pretty enough to fuck someone of importance, but pretty. Or whatever the fuck it was.”

“Do you mind telling me what this is about?” Henry moved closer, his arm around her shoulder, his other hand resting on her knee. “And I think you're absolutely more than pretty to fuck anyone you choose.”

“It's stupid, I know, but Alex brought some girl with him and she was a complete bitch to me. I assume it's because she is a bitch, not even because she knew who I was. If she knew who I was, then she played clueless pretty fucking well.” Nell rambled on. Beside her, she could feel Henry stiffen. “It's not like I am jealous because he can do whatever he wants, but who is this stranger to walk over and tell me I'm not good enough? I am good enough. I am!”

“You, my darling, are more than good enough. Clearly this woman has no idea how amazing you are. As a mother and a partner. She is insecure and needed to try and bring someone else down to build herself up. Forget her,” pressing a soft kiss to her temple, Henry inhaled and smiled against her hair.

Inching closer, Nell wrapped her arms around his neck. Kissing him firmly, she sighed against his lips. Letting him go, with a light huff.

“What's that for?” Henry pulled back licking his lips.

“Stress relief? Selfishness? I love you? Thank you? Take your pick.”

“You're welcome, I love you too, and how about a cup of hot cocoa? You can talk it out, relax, and then we can head to bed.” Henry kissed the top of her head, gently squeezing her knee.

Nell hummed, now that was a plan.

“I assume you mean in separate beds? I'm not ready to explain this to Ivan, yet.”

“Separate, yes. And what is there to explain? We had sex, we were awake before him, he is none the wiser.” Henry shrugged, standing from the couch. Stretching his arms and back, he sighed. “I'll go make that cocoa, wait here.”

“I am going to go change,” Nell peeled off of the couch, her dress while decent for a dinner, was not all that comfortable for sitting on the couch drinking cocoa. “Don't forget the whipped cream.”

“Got it,” Henry called back, opening the fridge.

Comfortable in her shorts and tshirt, Nell poked her head in to check on Ivan and Kal, before heading back downstairs. Sprawled out in the middle of her bed, Ivan was lightly snoring while Kal rested on the foot of the bed. Creeping downstairs, she paused to watch Henry setting two mugs down on the small coffee table. She envied how he was able to keep placid, even when he was worked up and frantic. Henry rarely showed it.

“You may need to sleep down here, tonight.” Nell commented, getting comfortable on the couch and reaching for her mug.

“They take up the bed, again?”

“Yeah, but they left a tiny bit of space for you.” She laughed lightly. Taking a sip of the warm drink. “How did they get that cute?”

“Kal is a dog,” Henry spoke, the obvious answer being the best, “and I know you tell Ivan he is all me, but I think he gets his cuteness from you.”

“Please, our son couldn't be more you if he had been a clone.” Nell gently nudged him with her elbow. “Did he tell you that he informed Alex that he didn't want him as a step-dad?”

Henry snorted, steadying the mug in his hands. “Oh god. I hope Alex didn't take offense.”

Raising her brow, Nell gave Henry a pointed look. “Why, it's not as if you like him.”

“It's not that I don't like him,” Henry paused, “had we met under different circumstances, I think Alex and I would have gotten on fine.”

“Hmm,” Nell hummed sipping her cocoa. Whatever made him feel better.

“You know that I can't help myself. I once sulked for two days, because Luke Evans complimented how lovely you looked.” He chuckled fondly. “You're not even his type.”

“I happen to think that was very kind of him, I sure as hell didn't feel pretty that day.” Nell rolled her eyes, sliding her mug onto the coffee table.

“Non-sense,” Henry shook his head, a bit of whipped cream and cocoa making a faint mustache, “I think you look lovely always. You looked great when you were pregnant.”

Daily, sometimes hourly, Henry would remind her how lovely or adorable she had looked. He was always free flowing with the compliments, though they came more during those months. Most of her pregnancy, Nell had felt like shit – looked like it too, so she claimed. Hearing how nice she looked made her feel better in the moment.

“My pregnancy was so hard, you were fantastic, but I don't think I was ever ready.” Nell picked at her nails.

“You were so happy when we had Ivan, though. You were and you are a great mother, my god I can't think of a better mother.”

“I was a good mom, because i had to be. It gave me something to focus on, but I was terrified and I didn't handle it well at all.” Nell could feel the tears threatening to fall.

In seven years, she'd never granted Henry the formal courtesy of an explanation. He'd never asked for one. Nell had left him, telling him they needed to be apart for a while and that was that. Age, a change of feelings, even the change in his career had all be things he'd imagined the reason to be. He should have known something was up, why had he been such a blind fool?

“We had a baby and then I was on my own, for months. You came back and then you were gone again.” Nell wiped her eyes. “I'm glad you got Man of Steel, because you worked your ass off and you deserve it, but I didn't know what else to do.”

“Nell, my darling.” Henry wrapped her in a tight hug.

Brushing her cheek against his, her body shook with each breath. “I felt so alone and I was so scared. It hurt me that you could easily leave us and that scared me more. It's not your fault, I know that, but it didn't seem to matter back then.”

“My darling, why didn't you tell me? You could have told me you felt this way.” Stroking her hair, Henry held her tighter. An overwhelming self hatred began to poke it's toe into the depths of his mind and heart. He wanted his career, after all it's what he'd worked his ass off for. He didn't want to have it at the cost of sacrificing every other thing in his life.

Nell shook her head, in her cocoon hiding against Henry. “No, no I couldn't. I didn't want you to think I was being selfish. You had to go, I know that. My problems were for me to deal with and I took them out on you. The proposal, it was too much. Something inside me snapped and I had to get away.”

“Janelle, my darling darling Janelle.” Henry rocked her gently in his arms. “You could have told me, I need to know these things. When you're unhappy or scared, I needed to know. It's how relationships work.”

“Would you have listened?” She pulled her head back to look at him. Watching the sadness on his face wash out and turn to a sort of realization, Nell snorted. “See. It would have caused an issue and we would have separated anyway. No, I didn't want to be that type of girlfriend who ruins everything for you.”

Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, Henry carefully calculated and debated what his next words would be. He'd been hurt when she'd left, not understanding what he'd done or if he'd done any thing. One minute he had taken he to dinner, planning to spend the rest of his life with her and the next...

Hearing her tell him that they needed to be apart was the single most gut wrenching experience of his life. Henry held her for a second longer, before finding the words he needed to say.

“I was devastated, by us separating. For weeks, I moped around, feeling sorry and trying to figure out what I had done.” He spoke in a hushed tone. “Did you – did you even want to be with me during any of it?”

If she said “no”, Henry felt as though he may need to leave and come back at a later hour.

“I loved every minute with you, oh god Henry, my love. I would never change that part of my life for anything, because it was amazing.” She smiled, when he kissed the tip of her nose.

A weight lifted, Henry closed his eyes for a second, a smile spreading. Lifting her hands he kissed the back of her knuckles, holding them there for a moment. “If you're not the love of my life, the least I can do is still love that you're in my life.”

The same words he had given her a few months after they'd broke it off. A phone call to check in on Ivan, had led to Henry trying to make as much small talk as possible, only to keep Nell on the line.

Nell paused, a nostalgic laugh filtered between them. “I thought that sounded cheesy then, it's still cheesy now.”

“I'll work on my material.” Henry was glad to see her smile, even a little. “I should have known you were hurting and I made a mess of that. However,” his hands tightened around hers, “I do love you, still as much as I did then. Being apart gave me a lot of perspective.”

“We needed time apart.” Nell tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Not to mention what you wanted, I wasn't ready for.”

“You're absolutely right, but I still wish we'd discussed this.” Henry was growing frustrated with the memory and himself. “When you left, I didn't think it would last long. Quite honestly, when you moved back to London I thought we would go back to how things were before. I had fooled myself into thinking you would move back in and we'd carry on.”

A handful of times, Henry had convinced himself that they were making progress. He had it in his mind that they would be back together, when Nell would once again move on, he was left standing on his own trying to figure out a way to process how he had felt.

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be,” Henry was insistent.

Biting her bottom lip, Nell blinked hard. “I told myself if I was angry with you, then letting you go would be easier for me. Unfairly, I thought of ways to stay annoyed and angry with you. I'm sorry. Doing that was childish and rather pathetic of me. It was easier than telling you the truth.”

“This being the truth?”

“That and I still love you. I think I have been in love with you, since the day you walked in and asked me out. Do you remember what you asked me?” Nell giggled. Henry groaned, running his hands over his face. Shaking his head. What an idiot he had been. Why she had ever agreed was beyond him. “Say it! You remember!”

“What did one plate say to the other?” Henry mumbled, shame oh the shame. She should have laughed him out of the room. “Dinner's on me.” Nell's giggle fit grew as Henry blushed. “Is that really when you decided you were in love? Oh god that's fucking awful.”

“It is and it was cute. I can remember laughing over that for hours, you were so proud of yourself.” Nell snorted, patting his cheek.

To make the situation better, Henry had asked her while he was half dressed in a suit of armour. He'd finally asked the girl out and hadn't made too much of a fool of himself. Henry had wanted to climb under a rock and never emerge. He had been rather proud of himself and a little boastful, telling everyone who would listen that he had a date.

“Do you like raisins?” Henry tilted his head, a lopsided grin on his face.

“What? Are you feeling okay? Henry?”

“How do you feel about a date?”

“Asshole,” Nell slapped his shoulder, rolling her eyes.

“I'm serious, we can get Bridie to come over, go out. The two of us.” His gaze never left her face.

“Are you sure? Is this a good idea?”

“Possibly, we won't know until we try.” Henry shrugged. “Although there are some things I want to say.”

“Go on.”

“I don't know how you feel about the other night, whether it was sex or something else. We've been caught in this before and as much as I love you, I do not love being a means of stress relief. If you agree to this, I want to be open and honest. I want more. I'm not asking you to marry me, yet, maybe ever again. What I am asking is that we take this slow, see where it leads, but if it ends then that is it. We clearly were not meant to be together.”

“Henry, I don't know what to say. I want to say yes, but what if I do and it's the wrong answer?”

“What if you decline and that is the wrong answer? What if there is no wrong answer?”

“Please, don't take this the wrong way, but I may need to think this over.” Nell sat still, watching his chest gently rise and fall with each breath. Calming in a way.

“Of course, take your time.”

“I want to say yes, but I'm scared. If we try this and it doesn't work, I can't go through that again.”

“I've put the choice in your hands, the rest is up to you, my darling.”

He had seen a chance and went for it. Henry had left the choice to Nell, allowing her to decide the next step as a way of making her feel comfortable with the final outcome. They would go to bed, sleep on it so to speak, and she would give him an answer when she was ready.

“I'm going to go move Kal and push Ivan over. I'll see you in the morning?”

“Yes,” Nell nodded, clenching her hands tightly at her side. “I will see you in the morning and I think we should try a date.” Holding up her finger, to halt any reply, she continued. “Baby steps, Henry. A date, maybe another once I am settled, and we go from there. Once we figure out what we want to be, we can involve Ivan. Until then, it's best we don't give him any wild ideas or hopes.”

“Absolutely.” Henry gave her a firm nod. “I'm not sure I could take another interrogation over breakfast.”

“Alright, well,” Nell stood wiping her hands on her thighs. “I guess it's settled, I can call Bridie in the morning. One more thing, I am sorry for everything. Truly, I should have never left the way I had.”

“It is what it is. We can't change that, but we can look forward to what's coming.” Henry held out his hand, clasping it Nell leaned into his side, “But for now, let's get to bed. Details can wait, my darling.”

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mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years

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I will love you if I never see you again (final chapter)

It’s the end! Thank you so much for sticking with this fic, if you enjoyed it please let me know by reblogging or by leaving a comment on Ao3! It really means everything to me.

Thanks to my wonderful betas, @spiky-lesbian and @minky-for-short, I love you both

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Trigger Warnings: kidnapping, violence, references to trans pregnancy

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Nureyev’s eyes had been fixed for the last twenty minutes, staring out of the window of the med bay, oblivious to the tugging sensation at the back of his head as Vespa stitched his wound closed.

Every so often, one of the stars he saw would shift or turn, suspended in the invisible molasses of space but moving by some impulse that had fled hours ago, and he would realise it wasn’t a star at all. It was an earring, a necklace, a bracelet. Some fragment of his life that had been torn away with the drone’s retreat and scattered out into an unreachable, empty coldness. Things he’d treasured at one point that were now lost to him, even though they seemed so close, just past the thick, reinforced glass. If he had the inclination to lift his hand, he could have pressed the tips of his fingers against the window and felt those impassable inches that may as well have been miles.

He would have, if he’d cared. But he barely saw the stars or the not stars, he only saw the distance between them. The miles and miles that stretched between where he was now and wherever his daughter was. And he was sitting here, doing nothing, eyes and cheeks burning with drying salt, shame pooling in the bottom of his stomach like acid.

He’d allowed himself to crack. He’d sobbed and lashed out and collapsed the way he’d told himself he would never do because it was amateurish and childish and everything he’d been taught that master thieves did not do. And because of it he’d cost them minutes that were more valuable than any amount of gold and silver and diamonds now floating in the slight gravitational orbit of the Carte Blanche.

Because it was only after his panic had run its course, burning down into something he could use rather than something that debilitated him, did he remember. Only when his throat opened up again was he able to choke out the words. And he would spend the rest of his life thinking about how things would have been different if he’d only acted quicker.

Vespa finally stood back and there was a single, high chime as she dropped the bloody needle into the metal tray beside her, “Right. Now do not move, I’m doing one set of stitches so if you open them back up, better get some glue.”

Nureyev’s eyes flashed, “If you think for one second I am staying on this ship-”

“Who do you take me for?” Vespa demanded angrily, moving back into his field of vision and wiping her hands on a sterile cloth, “Do not move between now and when we land and then you can wreck as much shit as you want.”

Nureyev was far beyond relaxing at this point but he fell silent, accepting that and turning back to the window. Still Vespa lingered, a lime green smudge on the edge of his eye, looking like she wanted to say something but couldn’t get it out.

Eventually she managed, voice low and rough like a lioness trying to give comfort, “Ransom...we’ll get her back. And if they’ve hurt a hair on her head, we’ll make their deaths that much slower.”

Nureyev felt the many knives concealed under his fresh clothes pressed against his skin until the barrier just disappeared under the constant, cool weight and they were practically part of his skeleton. He pulled himself away from the window to give Vespa a tight, grateful nod.

Clearly relieved that was the end of it, she left him alone with another reminder not to move. Nureyev listened, though he’d usually disagree on sheer principle, holding himself as still as his fast rising bruises would allow. He could follow rules for the promise of free reign once they touched down on wherever they ended up. He could ignore the almost unbearable burn of adrenaline in the deep down channels of his body if he and his knives could go to work.

Instead he thought of what his meltdown might have cost them. What if, while he’d sobbed and screamed, it had been discovered and deactivated? What if the kidnappers had set it on another drone flying far out into space, just to lead them on a pointless winding chase while they took Bianca who knew where? What if it was too late in any one of a thousand different ways, all because he’d been weak when his daughter had needed him to be strong?

The soft hiss of the door sliding back registered to Nureyev only slightly, though the voice and it’s words drew his attention immediately.

“Rita got the signal,” there was a strain to Juno’s voice, like he’d ran to the med bay, like he was feeling the same burn that Nureyev was, “Clear as day, she said, and it’s heading back into occupied space following the drone’s trajectory so it’s got to be her.”

Nureyev felt no relief, just a solidifying of the need to act inside him. It didn’t erase his mistake.

He hadn’t even thought of the bracelet until almost twenty minutes had passed, ten long minutes of Juno holding him by the shoulders to keep him up right and directing him to breathe through the tight clutch of panic on his chest. What good was a tracker on your child if you didn’t realise it was there immediately?

Bianca had adored the teething bracelet when he’d presented it to her months ago, loving the rattle it made and the colours and the way she could gnaw on the soft rubber shape that hung from it. And as long as she didn’t bite down on it too hard, the tracker inside the shape would keep on silently beeping away.

It was only for while she was very, very young, he would trust her once she was old enough to take care of herself, of course. He didn’t want to be that kind of father. But Nureyev had slept through far too many nightmares to take chances in his waking hours.

“Nureyev?” Juno prompted, standing close to him now, closer than he’d dared since he’d set foot on this ship. A line had been crossed apparently, “We can find her. As soon as the drone touches down we can go get her and they’ll never expect us. We can win.”

Nureyev looked at him and felt like he’d already lost.

“Juno,” he murmured, voice level, “When we get Bianca back, I think I should leave and you should take custody of her.”

His thick eyebrow furrowed, “What? Nureyev, come on, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Juno, just listen,” Nureyev exhaled, making himself look the former detective in the eye. From this close up, he could see the injuries he’d taken as their home had been shaken in the sky, less extensive than his own but there were countless nicks and scrapes on his cheeks. Apparently he’d fallen face first into the wall, “Look at what’s happened to her when she was in my care. Whoever’s taken her, they’ve done it to hurt me and she’s suffering because of it. I was a fool to ever think I’d be able to do this with the life I lead, I have too many dogs snapping after the blood on my hands. She deserves a hero for a parent. That just isn’t me.”

Juno’s eye widened, looking beyond stunned, “How hard did you hit your head? Because you’re talking absolute nonsense.”

He was making it so much harder than it needed to be, as always. Nureyev tried to keep his face and voice as cool and level as possible, “Juno, it’s what’s best for Bianca. I’ll do this for her, I’ll bring her back and then I’ll give her a good life. Without me. With you.”

Juno was shaking his head before he’d even finished speaking, “Nureyev, look, you’ve had pretty much the textbook definition of a shit day but you need to shake this off. This isn’t going to help anything.”

Nureyev frowned, “Juno, I didn’t expect you to push me back on this. You’ve wanted to be her mother since you stepped on this ship and you’re ready for it. You’ve grown so much and you’ve got something real here on the Carte Blanche. You can make her part of it so easily and she can grow up happy and never need to think anything like this will happen again. You can be what she deserves.”

“Will you please stop?” Juno wasn’t angry, he was pleading, “Just stop. Why would you just assume there’s no place for you too? Why would you just write yourself off like that?”

“Because someone has taken my daughter, Juno! They’ve reached through her to hurt me, I’ve not been careful enough-”

“No parent is careful enough, not all the time-”

“You’re talking about a child skinning their knee when their parent isn’t looking, not being taken halfway across the galaxy-”

“Nureyev, you love her, that’s what matters. And she loves you-”

“And that’s why she needs to go!” the last burst from Nureyev with a force that surprised even him and, god help him, it came with tears, “Because look what happens to people who love me!”

Juno flinched but he didn’t take a step back, he didn’t turn away with shame or pity, even as those own feelings took root in his own mind, “Peter…”

“Mag, the only example I’ve ever had of parenting and look how that shook out!” Nureyev gave a laugh that was half a sob, “You and you only grew better after you left me behind, doesn’t that tell you everything you need? And now Bianca! I somehow convinced myself that she could be the exception, that I could let my guard down and love her and let her love me. I thought if I worked hard enough it could happen but I just let it all build up like a volcano and now it’s gone off, I could have killed her as surely as I killed Mag!”

Silence followed his words, like the universe was sucking in a horrified breath. Had he ever said it out loud before? Hadn’t he been afraid of exactly this, that once he said it, he’d realise he’d done something unforgivable?

But if the universe was going to call him a monster then Juno Steel would be his one defendant. The lady who’d seen it happen with his own eyes, the one who’d dealt with countless monsters, he didn’t withdraw and there wasn’t a hint of condemnation in his eyes. His gaze held steady, the only emotion visible there was a fierce kind of love that Nureyev simultaneously yearned towards and shrank away from.

“Nureyev, my ma said very little right in her whole life but one truth she did know was that you need other people to live for. So when you’re not tough enough, they can be, that’s what she said. So you can’t give up because you’ve got them to worry about,” Juno looked him right in the eye, “And that works both ways. You live for them and they live for you and that’s how we all get by. Bianca isn’t just your person, you are her person too. And if you take yourself away from her, it all comes crashing down. God, you don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to be the flawless Peter Nureyev. You just have to be you. And so does she. That’s how everyone gets better.”

Every guiding instinct Nureyev had left told him to deny. To sink back behind his mask and ignore what Juno was saying, ignore the love he saw in his gaze. But he didn’t want to. He just didn’t want to.

“Yeah, I got better,” Juno continued, “But I didn’t do it without you, Peter. I was always thinking of you, even when I told myself I wasn’t. Because you were the person who really made me believe I could get better. That I didn’t have to die for a cause to be worth something. You woke me up to the people who’d been telling me that for years, you...you became my person.”

Nureyev trembled in the face of that love. The love that wasn’t conditional on whether he was perfect, whether he was collected and in control, whether there were tears on his cheeks or not. It was just being offered.

“I want to be one of the people you live for, Peter,” Juno murmured and the distance between them seemed closer all of a sudden, “And Bianca’s. But only if you’re okay with that, only if it’s as a family. And only if one of your other people is your own damn self. That was another thing my ma got wrong.”

It would be so easy to lean in, cross those few inches, though they were as significant as a few inches that would walk you off the edge of a cliff.

He wanted, he couldn’t deny that. But he had to study this want, find out if it was the want that drove him to take things that belonged to other people or the want that had made him look down at the squalling, squirming, seconds old baby in his exhausted arms and realise he couldn’t give her away as he’d planned.

“Can we speak again after...all this?” Nureyev murmured, “After we get her back safely? Can we come back to this then?”

Nureyev had known a hundred people, some of them people who’d claimed to love him, who would have grown angry. Who’s faces would have darkened and shoulders would have set and a possessiveness would have clouded their eyes.

But Juno Steel only nodded.

“Sure,” he gave a rough laugh, “Today’s more than enough to deal with. And there will be a tomorrow, Nureyev.”

He’d always known that. He’d lived for tomorrows for much of his life, moving forward to a new face, a new name, a new thing to steal to prove he could. He’d always thought tomorrow was worth showing up for.

But this felt so much more real. This felt like a promise of tomorrows that would be hard at times, where some would hurt. But these tomorrows were ones he could spend as Peter Nureyev, with people he cared about and who cared about him.

Both of them jumped at the sound of footsteps in the hallway, fast approaching. Rita drew the door back, her hair flying out of its usual twin buns, her eyes red raw from crying and staring at too many screens in too short a time, smoke practically rising from her fingertips. But she was grinning, in a manic, frantic kind of way.

“The signal stopped! The drone must have landed!”

In an instant, Juno had turned and Nureyev was on his feet, twin expressions of determination and frantic energy.

“Where?” they both barked, not even reacting to the other speaking.

Rita was bouncing in place, clearly jittery, “The signal held strong the whole way there, I didn’t even need to triangulate when it got messed up with all the other frequencies you find buzzing around an inhabited planet like giant space bees in that one stream, the one that made me scared to eat honey for six weeks even though honey roasted salmon squares are my seventh favourite snack-”

“Rita, please!”

“Mars!” Rita finally choked up, fighting through her own panicked babble, “She’s on Mars, Mistah Steel, at a place called, um…” she looked down and read her comms screen again, “The Oasis Casino Resort.”

Nureyev’s eyes met Juno’s, the same expression of sickening deja vu shared between them.

The former detective gave a wayn, humorless smile, “Looks like it’s not just your fault after all.”

The sense of deja vu, the sensation of falling and waking up in the middle of the night, continued through the family meeting, the crew sat or stood around the kitchen table and a projected schematic of the Oasis. Looking at the tiny, translucent rooms and hallways and grand game halls, floating and shifting whenever the people across from him moved, he felt nearly three years younger. Three years, two heartbreaks and a baby younger. He remembered when he’d felt invincible and so sure of himself, running into victory with a beautiful detective by his side, like something out of an old fashioned movie. He would need some of that old self to get through this, he realised.

Plot points happening all over again but the order shuffled and the roles recast. It was dizzying. And he needed to focus.

“And you’re sure this is up to date, Rita, dear?” Buddy leaned forward, eye focused like a laser on the plans in front of them all.

“Yes, Captain,” she nodded, still bouncing with anxious energy, “Remotely hacked the head of security’s computer so it’s a live feed. Even if they reshuffle all the rooms or something, we’ll know about it. And this…” she tapped something on the comms in her hand, causing a bright white dot to appear somewhere in the depths of the projection, “...is the current location of Bee Bee’s beacon.”

It was sliding slowly at a walking pace through a stairway, up and up. Nureyev’s throat tightened. Was she being dragged? Had they knocked her out with some chemical so she was lying limply in a stranger’s arms? He found himself bleakly hoping for the latter, he didn’t want her to know what was happening.

“They’re taking her upstairs. To this two bit con artist with ideas far above his station, I assume he has the penthouse suite to compensate for his lack of skills,” Buddy said smoothly, leaning forward with an intensity to her gaze that would have given weaker souls heart conditions, “Isn’t it helpful when they give us a lovely, high, phallic pedestal from which to reach up and drag them down?”

“It certainly is convenient,” Jet said cooly, somehow paying attention while calmly assembling a frankly enormous, heavy duty pistol on the counter, “I suggest we enter from the same height, scaling the fire escapes. It will limit potential interactions with innocent bystanders and employees of the resort. The only problem will be exiting once they realise how we have entered.”

“There are trash chutes,” Juno spoke up, sharing a glance with Nureyev that made both of them feel somehow a little better, for a brief second, “We could use those.”

“Are they big enough to accommodate a person?” Vespa raised a doubtful eyebrow.

“Oh yeah,” Juno was somehow fighting a smile, despite it all, “Believe me, they are.”

“That would work,” Jet nodded, “Reverse what they would expect, entering through the exterior and leaving by the interior. We could store the Ruby and my hoverbike in the garage, recoloured and with false plates. Present ourselves as rich visitors, the kind that pass through such a place every day.”

“This is assuming Engstrom is hiding his activities from the Oasis,” Vespa pointed out, also preparing herself, sliding an oilcloth down the blade of her knife as she spoke, “And they haven’t been told an assault might be incoming.”

“They won’t be,” Nureyev answered, eyes still fixed on that dot, like he could somehow reach in and give Bianca comfort through it, “Engstrom’s arrangement with the Oasis is hush hush. If he could rely on them to such a degree, he wouldn’t have to pay them under the table for his security privileges. This will be a small operation, low to the ground, only with a few trusted people. Engstrom will be aware how thin the ice under his feet is, no matter how much he paid off the guards after the Utgard Express fiasco.”

“So you two really did rob the Utgard, huh?” Vespa muttered, mostly to herself, “Always thought you made that up.”

Nureyev shot her a look before continuing, “We have to move quickly, a skeleton plan is all we can manage. He may be planning to move Bianca.”

“Well it isn’t as if we haven’t played it fast and loose before,” Buddy lifted her chin, “In fact, I’d say it’s when we do the best work. Rita will work through the comms, diverting cameras and blocking the security communication line. I will be posing as our fictitious Oasis patron, the pass will give me access to wherever I might need to go to clear your escape. Jet, Juno, Vespa and Ransom will go up the fire escapes and unleash hell upon this low life who thought he could threaten our family.”

Her eye passed over them all, causing them to straighten their backs and square their shoulders with the sheer magnetism of her words and her gaze.

“Let’s bring our girl home.”

The Oasis was true to its name, standing and glittering in the middle of complete Martian wasteland, the only object for miles around. Covered in flashing lights and bold colours, it could so easily be a mirage or a hallucination brought on by radiation poisoning, so incongruous did it look with all it’s flashy finery on a backdrop of constant, unbroken mud red dunes and a flat night sky.

They’d touched down under the best cloak that Rita could manage, the Carte Blanche’s bulk hidden a few miles out, right at the edge of the dome but not out of signal range of her hacking equipment. She would stay on board, working remotely, while the rest of them travelled to the Oasis in the Ruby 7, with its new, rush job coat of glittering gold and false plates, all of its features cloaked and hidden as well as just a scant hour of Jet’s time could allow. Rita had given Vespa a kill switch to temporarily plunge the garage cameras into static so there would be no record that there were more people in the car than just the illustrious and completely fictitious Comtesse D’or who had just made a last minute reservation at great expense.

Already Nureyev was seeing holes, gaps he’d want to plug with far more research and preparation but the time just wasn’t there. As the Oasis loomed in his vision, rapidly approaching until it wasn’t clear who was rushing at who, Nureyev realised how much of this would be riding on sheer dumb luck.

It was a little easier that Buddy seemed entirely unconcerned, sending them off with a wink as she sped towards the garage entrance, letting them simply leap off the Ruby 7 and hide in the clutter of the building’s back side until the attendants were occupied with her loud and flashy arrival. Before they jumped, Nureyev saw fear flash through Juno’s one eye and he took his hand, squeezing briefly. Whether Juno would have jumped if he hadn’t done that or not, the smile he gave him after they’d hit the cooling sand and caught their breath with their backs pressed to the brick made him glad he’d done it.

Climbing the fire escape was simple enough, Vespa and her knife leading the way, her hair as vivid as the hotel they were scaling, eyes flashing like the neon lights. Jet was next, climbing smoothly and skillfully despite his size and despite the serious hardware strapped to his back. Juno next, clearly not as comfortable with being a thief just yet but a fierce determination in his eye that showed he wouldn’t be turning back. Nureyev gripped the metal, still warm from the heat of the day’s blistering sun, and what Buddy had said before they broke away from the family meeting. They all cared about Bianca, they were willing to risk everything, not least the search for the Curemother Prime, to get her back.

He certainly could see the benefit of Bianca having family.

Over many years of thieving, Nureyev had developed something like an extra sense for when things were about to go wrong, a pull in his stomach that would signal him to duck, a second’s lead on searching for hiding places, a moment to tense his muscles to run as fast as he could or throw himself into their nearest available shadow.

Apparently it was something inherent to anyone who lived outside of the law because in the same instant both Jet and Vespa stiffened, something cold and sharp seized Nureyev.

Vespa, as always, was the quickest and most ruthless. Like a bear snatching a salmon from a driver, her hand flashed into the open window just above her head and caught the guard who’d been about to look down and see the four of them by the front of the jacket. With a hard yank, the unfortunate individual went careening down, an almost comical look of surprise on their face, and landed with a muffled crash in the garbage below. Mercifully, the guard was as stunned as the rest of them and didn’t make a noise.

Juno craned his neck down and, rather adorably thinking that they’d care, whispered, “They’re okay. Knocked out.”

“Did you see their weapon?” Jet grunted, his expression unchanged, “Heavy stuff.”

“Did you see their uniform?” Nureyev arched an eyebrow, “Not Oasis. It would seem Engstrom has some hirelings. Who knows how many?”

Vespa had ignored them all, poised on the wall like a cat, face tight as she waited for any response from a partner the guard may have had. When one didn’t come, she settled one hand on the windowsill and leaned out like some kind of murderous acrobat so she could address them all.

“Hallways clear. Jet and I will go around the other side of the building, cause a distraction, draw whoever else he’s got patrolling. You two continue on to Engstrom’s room,” her tone brokered no argument, there was no time to weigh up pros and cons. Even Juno swallowed any objections, though God knew there were plenty to make.

The last majordomo of Engstrom’s had nearly killed the two of them handily, after all, and the late, unlamented Valencia was who he’d kept around when he hadn’t been deliberately pissing off a master thief. But as Vespa took her largest knife between her teeth and slunk in through the window, quickly followed by the hulking yet graceful form of Jet, laden down with blasters, it was whoever had taken Valencia’s place that Nureyev felt sorry for.

Maybe it wasn’t just Bianca who was glad to have a family.

Juno risked a glance down to him, looking oddly beautiful as he leaned out over the edge of the balcony, bathed in neon colours like Nureyev was seeing him through a stained glass window, as a strange kind of saint. As the goddess he was named for.

But had Juno ever held so much fear and determination and anxiety in her eye?

Nureyev gave him a nod, trying to look encouraging. Trying to look like all his fears that they weren’t prepared, that they didn’t know their target, that far too much was at risk, were all coming true.

But all they could do was put one foot in front of the other. Two more floors and they would see their daughter and whatever that would bring.

Nureyev felt the press of the knives against his skin again, insistent and hungry.

The Oasis was grand in every sense of the word, they were some height above the ground now, enough that a breeze that smelled of hot sand lifted their hair and snagged the corners of their clothing. As much as every muscle in his body wanted to surge forward and rush to wherever his daughter was, Nureyev forced himself to go slowly, hugging the brickwork and keeping out of the teeth of the wind. Now down to half their numbers, they couldn’t be caught now.

Finally, the topmost window and, muffled by glass, a voice. Juno and Nureyev crouched on the last platform of the fire escape, ducking under the golden glow emanating from behind the glass and listened, feeling the same burning anger as they recognised it in the same moment.

“...whether it’s some drunk gaggle of socialites or not, I want confirmation,” a gruff, scraping voice that seemed to have aged more than the time since they’d last heard it would suggest, “Don’t put anything past these charlatans, there’s no way they should know the brat is here but they’ve proven to be inconveniences before now. Go, quickly. Carter said she heard blaster fire.”

A grunt of conformation, footsteps whispering against thick expensive carpet. Juno tensed and rocked on his heels but Nureyev gripped his arm to still him, shaking his head. They couldn’t afford to move before they had a better idea of what they were running into. Not when so much was at stake.

He maintained that for a whole heartbeat until they both heard what was unmistakably a muffled sob from inside the room. A sob they both knew.

Nureyev’s other hand was on a knife handle before he was really aware he was even moving, having to snap fast to keep control of himself as something dark and angry, a shadow in red light, thrashed inside him. His fingers tensed on Juno’s arm, feeling an electricity run through him. Hold fast. Stay quiet. Wait for the right moment.

“Oh, will you be quiet?” Engstrom snapped, his voice less muffled now, as if he’d moved closer to the window. Nureyev tried to build up a mental picture of the room, a map he could work with, though it was hard when the younger, red washed self was fighting him.

There was the sound of an angry snap, like the sound of a puppy baring its teeth after being backed into a corner and a short cry of pain from Engstrom.

“You little…” his voice was tight and his shoes made thin sounds on the floor as he backed away, voice dampening. That meant she was close. Nureyev leaned forward a little more. Would he have been fool enough to keep her by the window?

He’d never believed in any being more powerful than himself up until now, not even at the tensest, most teetering brinks of his career, not even in the underground tomb with Miasma. But now he was throwing out desperate murmurs, willing anyone to hear them. Any port in a storm.

Engstrom was still talking and Nureyev took pleasure in imagining him cradling a bitten hand, “More trouble than you’re worth, you brat...no wonder your father taught you no manners, the classless parlour magician...I’d behave before I decide that the pleasure of breaking your father’s teeth and seeing him rot in jail while my name is cleared is worth less to me than the joy of you disappearing down that trash chute. God, you broke the skin, you freak, you vile little monster…”

Nureyev realised a second too late what Juno was doing, though he didn’t think an hour’s preparation would have been able to stop him. He wrenched free of his grip so easily it was as if it had never been, threw open the window and launched himself at Engstrom with a snarl of fury.

“Juno!” he yelled, pointlessly, though his voice was lost in Bianca’s scream and Engstrom’s sound of bewilderment, followed quickly by a loud crash.

Expensive whiskeys and brandys were soaking into the carpet when Nureyev leapt through the window, knife whistling from his fingers in the direction of the single guard who had been about to raise their blaster in Juno’s direction. It struck them hilt first, dead between the eyes, sinking them in an instant where the blade wouldn’t have had a hope of shearing through all the armour they wore. People who saw only one end of a knife were fools. First rule of thieving.

“Mama!” Bianca’s voice yelled from behind him, “Daddy!”

Nureyev couldn’t help it, he turned to her, feeling a relief like cold water on a burn. His treasure was tied cruelly tight to a chair just beside him, within arms reach and so much in him yearned to take her in his arms and promise her it had all been one bad dream. But the monster was yet to be defeated.

Engstrom was pinned under Juno in the wreckage of a drinks trolley, unsuccessfully defending blows to his face which now resembled a melon that had taken a hard trip down a very long flight of stairs. Panic filled Nureyev’s chest until he saw a small comms unit lying an arms length away from the old man’s grasping hand. Again, he found himself praying that he hadn’t been able to send out a call to the other guards, they needed every second they could snatch now.

Those seconds were stretching and warping as they tended to do when lives hung on gossamer strands. People seemed to move in slow motion, blows falling with a maniacally comedic exaggerated performance, light tripping and dancing on broken glass on the carpet. It seemed to take Nureyev an age to cross the room, focused on crunching that comms under his heel until it was beyond repair, before Engstrom could grasp it.

And it took him far too long to realise that wasn’t what Engstrom was intending at all.

The old man’s grasping fingers finally found the neck of a half empty bottle of some heady liquor the colour of ancient bark. Nureyev saw it at the peak of its arc, catching some fragments of blue from the sign just outside the window, moving so slowly but not slowly enough.

Bianca cried out as it connected with Juno’s head, almost as awful a sound as the crunch of glass and bone cracking in harmony. Juno rolled, head clutched in his hands, blood seeping from between his fingers, too gripped to even make a noise.

And Engstrom was sitting up.

Not a complete fool and running on sheer cruelty, he didn’t lurch for the comms or try to stand. Instead he pulled a blaster from his inside pocket, small but no less deadly for it. And he didn’t bother trying to decide which to aim at, the former detective or the thief. He simply pointed it directly at Bianca.

“Stop,” he croaked, voice even fainter than before, “Or I shoot.”

Nureyev froze, hand halfway to another knife. Juno looked up with swimming eyes, having enough of a hold on himself to stop too, swaying on his knees.

“The two of you?” Engstrom seemed to be on some kind of lurid, pain fuelled high, grinning like a haunted waxwork, even as his lips swelled and his gums ran red, “Now even this is beyond my wildest dreams. Guess the two of you stuck together after you left me for dead on that damned train, hmm? And how is that working out, seeing as one of you is missing an eye?”

Nureyev tried to keep his voice calm and still, as if the two of them were still sitting at that card table from years ago. And in some ways they were, though the stakes had ballooned far out of either of their reaches.

“What is it you want, Engstrom? A ransom? The Ruby Seven? Me? You can take me if you like, I’ll stay as long as you allow Juno to take Bianca far from here.”

Juno gave a pained noise that had nothing to do with his head. Tears dripped helplessly down Bianca’s cheeks but his girl, his brave, brave girl, stayed silent.

Nureyev tried to feel none of it and just calculated. Could he get to him before his finger squeezed the trigger? Could he throw the knife fast enough, strike his wrist or, better yet, in the neck so his shot went wide? Could he find the right words to reach this bitter, broken man and appease him?

Every calculation came to the same unthinkable end.

“And why shouldn’t I have it all, Duke Rose? After everything you two took from me, why shouldn’t I have it all back including your blood, your wife’s and your daughter’s? Is that not what I’m owed after what you did?” his voice sounded like it was on the verge of breaking and his bloodshot eyes, one swollen almost shut, never looked away from Bianca, “I had thought you had more sense than this. To bring a child into our life, the life of a thief. Just more poison in the well…and look where it has ended…”

Nureyev felt bile in his throat, tearing around for more options, another way. Beg? Stall until by some miracle, Jet and Vespa could come crashing through the door? Plead? Pray? Offer him the world? Go back in time and never even set foot on the surface of Mars?

Everything around them slowed. But Juno Steel moved so, so fast.

He lurched forward and seized the barrel of the blaster between blood stained fingers. But he didn’t try and wrench it away, there was no time for that. He didn’t knock it or send it off course, what if it bounced and hit Bianca by chance?

Instead he made sure of where it would go. He turned it and pressed the barrel hard to his own skin.

The sound of the discharge was loud enough to tip the room, as if they were back on the Carte Blanche, twisted and wounded in space. Nureyev screamed, Bianca screamed, Juno screamed and neither sound could be teased out of the others.

Fortunately there was enough of Nureyev’s mind left to see what Juno needed him to do and to do it. He ran forward and brought his knife hilt down with all the strength he had left at the base of Engstrom’s skull. Fingers slackened, there was a hard, dull sound and he hit the carpet, out cold and maybe even beyond that. The blaster fell uselessly to the floor.

Nureyev cared for none of it. All that mattered was Juno, trembling in wordless agony, his shoulder smoking. He felt so light in Nureyev’s grip, light enough to come apart or simply fade away.

Nureyev felt the ghost of cold iron under his fists, felt years old bruises ache again from beating them against that door and against a future that didn’t have his detective in it.

“Just my shoulder...just hit my shoulder…” Juno managed to grit out from teeth clenched so hard they looked like to shatter, “It’s fine...it’s fine…”

The wound was a horror, a massive burn in a starburst shape but it wasn’t bleeding, just smoking and spitting. He would last, Nureyev told himself, he would last back to the Carte Blanche and Vespa would fix him, she would fix everything. But his arm hung so limp and useless, fingers not twitching and shaking like the rest of him was…

“Get Bianca,” Juno grunted, “Get Bianca, we need to go.”

Nureyev nodded, though his mind felt fractured, hairline cracks forming as he was pulled in different directions, different versions of himself pulling him apart. He stood, Juno’s good arm over his shoulders so he could take the weight of him, walking over to the chair where Bianca was tied.

“Saved me,” Bianca mumbled, looking up at the two of them with tears in her eyes, “Mamma, daddy…”

Nureyev knelt and sheared through her bindings easily, “I’m so sorry, my sweet girl, my treasure, I am so sorry…”

Bianca didn’t seem to be listening, her arms shooting up as soon as they were free, grabbing in the air. Towards both of them.

Nureyev lifted her and held her between him and Juno, taking one minute of calm in the midst of the storm they’d found themselves in. Juno’s arm tightened around his shoulder, his face buried in Bianca’s hair, leaning heavily against Nureyev. Bianca had one hand on his cheek, the other twisted tight in Nureyev’s earring. And Nureyev circled them both in his arms, like that would always be enough to keep them safe.

But it wouldn’t. Though he knew one way to ensure it.

A cold numbness descended on his mind, filing away all the adrenaline and hurt and fear with an eerie efficiency. He let Juno hold Bianca with his good arm, disentangling himself and settling the knife more easily into his palm, the hilt fitting into calluses worn onto his hands over years and years. He approached the still limp, still weakly breathing form of Brock Engstrom, everything in him trained on silencing that breathing for good.

“Nureyev,” Juno’s voice was weak and still brittle with pain, pain the pathetic excuse for a human at his feet had caused.

“Look away, dear,” he spoke words he was familiar with, though his tone was now flat and dead, “I’m going to stab Mr Engstrom to death now.”

“Nureyev, no.”

“I said look away, Juno,” Nureyev moved the knife an inch, his mind flicking idly through his decades old banks of knowledge on where to put the point to cause maximum pain.

“Nureyev, look.”

He did, turning slightly to see Juno watching him with an eye full of hurt. And their daughter, clinging to his coat, looking at him like she didn’t recognise him. Like she had no idea who he was. Like she was face to face with Engstrom again.

The knife slipped to the floor and he wouldn’t pick it back up again. The younger self bathed in the red light retreated, maybe for good this time. His shoulders slumped and he exhaled with a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

Peter Nureyev made a choice that was very unlike the man he used to be, very unlike the man he’d been brought up as. But it was the kind of choice the man he wanted to be would have made.

“See, Bee Bee?” Juno murmured, voice rough but a small smile quirking the edge of his mouth as Nureyev walked back towards them, “Your daddy’s one of the good guys.”

“Good guys,” Bianca repeated softly, reaching out to him again.

Nureyev took her, letting Juno hold his injured half and lean on him, “I suppose, my treasure.”

“C’mon, let’s get going and find me a nice place to faint,” Juno rasped, again showing off his ability to find some humour while mortally wounded that Nureyev had always admired and been baffled by in equal measures, “Bottom of the garbage chute sounds good right about now. Real classy.”

Nureyev managed a tired laugh in response, shouldering the weight of his small family as they made for the door.

Another first rule of thieving was to never assume an easy escape. So many thieves tripped up on their exit from the job, too high on the loot in their hands and the thrill of the light at the end of the tunnel. Just because you had the goods didn’t mean life would pull its punches.

But it seemed, for once, that life had no more blows left to deal. Their escape was smooth as silk, as easy as pickpocketing a drunk man with a blindfold on. Jet and Vespa had taken out every guard on Engstrom’s payroll, Buddy was waiting for them in the Ruby Seven, Rita was running at them to fly into a hug before they’d even parked up in the cargo hold of the Carte Blanche.

Maybe it was luck. Maybe that rule had grown rusty with time.

Or maybe this was the advantage of being the good guys for once.

“Right. Now do not move, I’m doing one set of stitches so if you open them back up, better get some glue.”

“How the hell am I supposed to not move?” Juno grumbled, wincing as Vespa finished his stitches, “For how long? Can I breathe?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Vespa snarled back, slamming down her needle.

Nureyev chuckled to himself from the opposite bed. It was rather nice to know he wasn’t the most irritating patient on the ship.

The wound on the side of his head, nearly identical to Nureyev’s own, was easy to fix. His shoulder was less so, the skin blackened and flesh raw and red. Vespa could clean it, she could swathe it in bandages so it was less difficult to look at but there was no getting around the fact that it would be a long, painful time in healing.

Every time he looked at the clean bandages that stiffened Juno’s collar, every time he saw him wince or saw his teeth sink into his lip to bite back a groan, Nureyev was plunged back into that single second when he’d thought he’d lost him. When he’d thought he’d paid an awful price for their daughter’s life.

It was strange and bitterly unfair, Nureyev reflected, how you often didn’t realise what someone meant to you until they weren’t there. And how certain thieves could still be such stubborn fools and need to be taught that over and over.

But fools could still learn. People could still change. Juno had taught him that.

Bianca slept soundly by him, her head pillowed in his lap, her cloth cat tucked under her arm. How that thing had survived, Nureyev had no idea.

Mercifully, his treasure was no worse for wear, just tired, dehydrated and hungry from her time in the drone. Apparently she’d dealt far more damage than she’d taken; Engstrom hadn’t been the only one to feel her teeth. Nureyv felt a fierce pride at that but he would remain on guard for bad dreams as long as he needed to. He was determined to be there when she woke up.

Juno and Vespa were still bickering up until the second when the door shut behind her. And then they both realised in the same moment that they were as alone as they’d been in some time, since their half conversation in the hallway after the auction. Suddenly everything they’d said and hadn’t said was crowding in the space between the two infirmary beds.

Juno was the first to break the sudden blanket of silence, venturing a weak, lopsided smile and a little laugh. After a moment, Nureyev found himself snorting, giggles pressing up against his chest, like a child in class well aware he shouldn’t be laughing but unable to stop all the same. Juno cackled along with him and it had the sensation of a tap being let go, something leaking away and what was left behind behind able to breathe again.

“God, what’s wrong with us?” Nureyev chortled, wiping at his eyes.

“Uh, some bastard took our kid and we had to go get her back?” Juno ventured, running a hand through his hair, pushing it into even more disarray.

“Ah yes, of course,�� Nureyev touched her lightly on the temple, “But we did it. We saved the day.”

“We did,” Juno leaned back against the wall, unsuccessfully hiding how it pained him, “And now...see, that’s the strange thing, isn’t it? No one ever tells you what happens to the heroes after the credits roll or after the story ends. So what do we do now?”

Nureyev looked down at Bianca, humming softly as he curled a lock of her hair around his finger, “Whatever we please, I think. Though these two heros need a place to sleep, actually, seeing as our bunk got dragged out into space.”

“You could come sleep in my room?” Juno offered quickly, before a light blush touched his cheeks, “I mean...if you were okay with that? I know it might be...weird.”

Nureyev smiled, lifting his eyes to Juno’s, “No. That would be nice, Juno, thank you. Bianca will be pleased. She...she really loves you, you know.”

Juno’s gaze softened and he seemed to feel the pain a little less, “Well...I love her too. You made a great kid, Nureyev.”

Nureyev chuckled, looking down at her, sleeping so peacefully and deeply like she was so sure that the people around her would protect her, “You know, I was so scared of her when I first met her. And I had been for nine months, really, I was just terrified. Everything became so complicated all of a sudden, my own body felt unfamiliar when I was so used to being sure of myself, it was...an unpleasant feeling. I went back to Brahma but I was halfway there before I even realised I was doing it, like something else was pulling me in that direction. I told myself I would find her a nice family with kind people who could take care of her and give her a good life. Where she’d want for nothing. But it was still so hard. And...then I met her. I held her in my own hands and I realised how silly it was to be scared of something so small.”

“I wish I could have been there,” Juno rasped, voice small but sincere.

Nureyev nodded, “Me too. But it felt like you were, in a way. I told you I kept Bianca for selfish reasons, back on Mars. And I wasn’t lying. I kept her because...well, because she looked so much like you. I wanted to keep part of you in my life, Juno, because I loved you.”

Juno swallowed, watching him closely, “And now?”

Nureyev looked up, “And now...now you’re someone new. Someone brave and beautiful and still so infuriatingly stupid...but someone I would be proud to call my daughter’s mother. And, well, I think I’ve fallen in love with you all over again.”

Juno had tears in his eye as he smiled, “Fool. And I love you too.”

Nureyev grinned back, “Fool.”

Juno leaned forward, ignoring Nureyev’s groan of protest, the start of his plea for him to hold still, there would be time later. The kiss was sweet all the same, more unfamiliar than he had expected but he supposed they were both very different people, after all.

People who could make something good out of this.

Nineteen Years Later -

They had said their goodbyes, there had been tears her little brother Persephone had pretended weren’t there, there had been countless promises to stay safe and keep well and remember everything she’d been taught.

But still, Nureyev followed her to the shuttle.

Juno had looked up as he’d gone, as he’d mumbled something about seeing her off, and for a moment it had seemed like he would catch his husband’s shoulder and seat him firmly back down. But he didn’t. Maybe something inside him recognised that they both needed this.

“Do you have your laser cutter?” Nureyev asked as the two of them walked down the hallway of the Carte Blanche, “Your rope? Your TV remote?”

“Daddy,” Bianca laughed, turning on her heel, having to look up and meet his eyes even at twenty years old, “I have it all, okay? You double checked my pack ten times.”

Nureyev blushed, folding his arms, “Well...a thief can never be too prepared.”

“I know, daddy,” Bianca nudged him with an elbow, “You taught me that.”

Nureyev sighed, feeling how close that last, final goodbye was and wanting to do anything he could to delay it. “You know, I looked over the plans for the facility you’re targeting and a two man con would-”

“Daddy,” his daughter tilted her head, making those voluminous curls so like her mama’s bounce, and her hand came out to take his, squeezing gently, “It’s gonna be okay. I can do this. And you know it isn’t going to be forever, I’ll always come back and visit.”

“Often,” Nureyev corrected, feeling his throat tighten as he grasped that hand that had once been barely bigger than his finger, “You’re going to visit often.”

“Sure,” her smile was brilliant, cocky and confident and infections, “When I’m not busy being the most badass thief in the whole universe.”

“I’m sure,” he had to laugh. Though he really did believe it.

Her mama’s old coat was a little big on her, the sleeves coming a little past her knuckles, she’d inherited Juno’s small stature. In some ways she still looked like a little girl playing dress up, like this was all a game to find her daddy’s lost pair of glasses or lead her little brothers on an adventure as Andromeda the Chainmail Warrior.

But Nureyev knew the solar system wasn’t going to know what hit it when Bianca Nureyev swung in on her beam of starlight.

He just had to let her go. Far easier said than done.

“I’ll call you when I land, Daddy. Auntie Rita secured the line, right?”

“She did,” Nureyev knew that look in her golden brown eyes, the look he’d never been able to deny, “But I think you have forgotten one thing?”

Bianca frowned, “But I went over the checklist…”

Nureyev grinned, it was uncanny how similar that frown was. He brought his other hand out from behind his back. The cloth cat, Kitty as Juno insisted on calling it, was looking more than a little worse for wear these days, it’s fur faded and three of its eyes missing but still, Bianca gasped in delight when she saw it.

“Of course!” she giggled, taking it happily and tucking it into the front pocket of the coat that used to be her mama’s, “I thought Idun might have wanted to keep him…”

“No, I think he realised it would be much better off with his big sister,” Nureyev nodded.

“Well, tell him thanks. And tell him I love him. Both of them, tell them I love them lots and lots. And mama too! And Auntie Vespa and Auntie Buddy and Auntie Rita and Uncle Jet…”

Nureyev was laughing before she was halfway through, “I’ll tell them. But what about your old dad?”

Bianca’s expression softened and she pounced, hugging him so tight his ribs hurt, “I love you, Daddy. Thank you for this.”

Nureyev closed his eyes and pressed his face into her hair, “I love you too, my treasure. And thank you.”

When she pulled away, it was completely, her hand slipping out of his own. He let it, though it broke his heart.

“I’ll see you soon, Daddy,” Bianca smiled, giving him a wave before she disappeared into the shuttle that had been her eighteenth birthday present from her Uncle.

Nureyev waited a long time before he turned away from the window, looking out as he had on so many journeys with his treasure, off to exciting places and interesting people and scores that would make them legends. He had no doubt that the same thing awaited her, now she was alone.

Still he watched. He watched until her shuttle joined the rest of the stars and for a little longer after that.

He knew something amazing was waiting for her.

#the penumbra podcast #tpp #penumbra #junoverse #juniverse #juno steel #peter nureyev #jupeter #tpp juno #tpp nureyev #vespa ilkay #buddy aurinko #jet siquliak #rita

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antiquecompass · 4 years

Text

Untamed Spring Fest Day 15: Growth

Wherein there is an art show and an ex.

It wasn’t often they got a weekend away together during the school year, but this time it was a special circumstance. The Rhode Island School of Design Craft Show had selected Xichen as one of its three jurors this year. It was an honor for him, and for Lan Academy, and so while Xichen didn’t like to leave the school for any amount of time, especially not right before the first quarter report cards went out, he couldn’t refuse this invitation.

“Is Xichen nervous?”

Jiang Cheng looked up from where he was giving Sugar her final hugs before setting out for the weekend. His sister had offered to watch all the pets, but Jiang Cheng loved her far too much to leave her with a dog and three cats on top of her children. Molly had agreed to take care of the cats back at Xichen’s home. Sugar needed a little more attention, and since Jin Ling had already shown a love for dogs, it would be a good test run for him in the future.

Even if the Peacock swore they’d never had a dog.

It was one of maybe three things Jiang Cheng and Meng Yao agreed on: if their nephew wanted a dog, he was getting a dog.

“I’d be nervous,” Yanli said. “I still get nervous judging cooking competitions. I hate when people don’t get rewarded for at least trying their hardest.”

His beloved, tender-hearted sister. He loved her so much.

“You know Xichen feels the same about art. He refuses to claim any one medium or style has more value than the other. To him, it’s always about being made with some sort of genuine emotion. The jurors for this show remain anonymous, so that won’t be a burden to him this weekend.” He stood, wiping off bits of Sugar’s fur from his pants and tried not to let his temper flare at the one very shitty part of this weekend. “His ex is presenting there this year though, and I think he’s more nervous about that than anything else. He’s avoided that jackass since he graduated.”

“Or maybe he’s more nervous about what you will do,” Yanli said. “Not that such a horrible person doesn’t deserve every verbal wound you’d give him. Or a physical one. Trip the bastard, make him knock out a tooth.”

“Yanli!”

She shrugged. “You could do worse. This way it’ll be a justifiable accident. How anyone could be that horrible to Xichen of all people.”

If Yanli knew everything that bastard had said to Xichen, the emotional manipulative shit he’d pulled over a year-long relationship, she’d probably invite herself along to give the fucker a piece of her mind.

“I don’t want to make it awkward or more difficult for Xichen this weekend,” Jiang Cheng said. “So I’ll be nice and professional; my normal asshole self to that piece of shit; and then I’ll set mom and Huaisang on the little rat’s trail once I get his business card.”

“Good,” Yanli said. Her cold tone faded as her bright smile returned. “If you see a peacock--”

“I’ll buy it for your family’s collection,” Jiang Cheng promised her.

***********

The Freeman Hotel was old by date, historic by design, and a little full of itself, but Jiang Cheng knew it would be a better fit for Xichen who had almost accepted the school’s offer of rooming at the Hilton. Not that the Hilton was a bad hotel, but Xichen was and remained a kind, but pampered, prince and they’d both be far more comfortable with their suite here. Xichen had fallen in love with the hotel the first time they’d stayed, and so now every time they came to Providence, they stayed in the same premier suite. It was one of their own traditions.

“You were right,” Xichen said as they exited the car. “The Hilton would’ve been fine, but it wouldn’t have felt right.”

Jiang Cheng nodded as he pulled their bags out of the trunk. “And I’m sure you’ll still meet some of your fellow alumni here, but we can still have a semblance of privacy.”

The staff here was very good and very respectful. They were also pet friendly which was one of the many reasons they stayed here.

“And escape,” Xichen agreed. He grinned as they headed towards the lobby. “We’ll both need it after this weekend.”

“Being polite is so exhausting,” Jiang Cheng agreed.

“As if you’d know,” Xichen teased.

“It’s a good thing I love you so much, or I’d leave you to fend for yourself with the alumni masses this weekend,” Jiang Cheng said.

Xichen dipped his head and kissed the tip of Jiang Cheng’s nose. They entered the lobby happy--laughing--both feeling lighter than they had during the past few weeks of work and stress.

“Mr. Lan! Mr. Jiang! It’s so good to see you again,” Santos greeted them from behind the counter. “No Sugar this time?”

“We left her with family this weekend,” Jiang Cheng said.

“We’ll miss her,” Santos said. He passed over their room keys and wished them well.

They both lingered in the lobby, studying the current art exhibit. There was always at least one art exhibit, no matter the time of year. This particular one also had various pieces from the School of Design’s student body and alumni. It was certainly going to be a weekend for it. They passed various little lounges and hidden corners full of books and art and all different types of comfortable chairs. They passed the main winding staircase that led up to the top floors of the original building, past the little door that led to a hidden garden path, and then finally headed towards the bank of elevators.

As they passed another little alcove, Xichen froze.

“Baby?” Jiang Cheng asked.

Xichen’s shoulders dropped, the joy from earlier seeming to disappear. Jiang Cheng’s protective instincts immediately went on alert, he stepped in front of Xichen, trying to find whatever could’ve caused such a sudden change in his mood. All he could hear was a nasally voice talking about the children’s paintings in the back alcove with that pretentious bullshit tone that only came from people who were too rich or too full of themselves or both.

“Some parents just shouldn’t encourage their students to pursue art. Just look at this?”

What in the actual fuck? Who in the hell criticized children’s art projects?

“Well, that’s a soulless asshole,” Jiang Cheng said.

Xichen nodded. Cleared his throat. And nodded again. “So, um...that’s my college boyfriend. Brantley.”

Jiang Cheng felt a mixture of rage, anger, and disbelief.

Really, disbelief more than anything.

“Brantley’s not a human name, it’s a horse’s name,” Jiang Cheng replied before he could form any other thoughts. He shook his head as he tried to drown out the nasally voice still droning on. “That?” he asked, pointing to where the voice came from. “Him?”

“Mistakes were made,” Xichen said, a twist of a smile back on his lips and a hint of sparkle in his eyes.

“A mistake is when you put a red shirt in with a load of whites,” Jiang Cheng said. “That is a fucking travesty.”

That asshole was the source of so many of Xichen’s firsts. That was the motherfucker who called Xichen boring. Who told him he wasn’t enough to keep anyone satisfied. Said he only got into RISD because of his family name. Called Xichen plain and hardly memorable. That motherfucker who was critiquing a kid’s drawing of Spongebob friggin’ Squarepants. No wonder Meng Yao, Satan Incarnate himself, seemed like a prince compared to that asshole. The man’s voice alone made Jiang Cheng want to break his face.

“Him?” Jiang Cheng asked again, ready to storm into the room. “Did he try to play art critic back then too? To children?”

“There were many reasons why I broke up with him,” Xichen said. He grabbed Jiang Cheng’s arm. “My love, don’t. Please. I just want to go up to our room.”

Jiang Cheng hesitated. “Just one little tiny rant?” he tried.

Xichen shook his head. “Please,” he said.

And how could Jiang Cheng deny him when he asked?

He couldn’t.

But he made sure to keep his deadliest glare on his face just in case the jackass appeared before their elevator arrived.

**********

Xichen knew Brantley (though the artworld knew him as ‘Ley’) was going to be here this weekend, but he never thought they’d be staying in the same hotel. This hotel was a place of class and calm and Brantley usually avoided anything ‘traditional’ so as not to seem boring. There was no reason for him to be staying in this hotel when far trendier ones that catered to people who cared more about their image than their comfort were closer to the city center.

Xichen refused to let it put a damper on their little holiday. He was proud to be a juror this year, was always eager to see the creations of RISD’s students and alumni, and was ecstatic Jiang Cheng had been able to clear his weekend and join him. This was their suite in their hotel in a city they came back to often. He refused to let one past mistake--one that was still so clearly a horrible human being--ruin it.

Back then, Xichen had been charmed and flustered and confused. He’d never dated before then, never had someone pursue him in the ruthless way Brantley had. He’d been bowled over by him; an attractive student, a year ahead of him, who was popular in Xichen’s department. Now he could look back and see that Brantley was smart, but not clever; handsome, but not breathtaking; talented, but not extraordinary. Still, there was a time Xichen had been in awe of him.

They didn’t start off bad, but then Brantley couldn’t stand not being the best, not being the center of attention, and as Xichen grew more comfortable so far removed from his family, found his own friends, his own talent, his own sort of fame, Brantley had become mean.

It didn’t help that during one of these Craft weekends, Xichen had won an award and Brantley hadn’t.

That’s when Brantley’s words turned vicious; taunting; what used to be praised in Xichen was now mocked; what used to be desired was now derided.

It had come to a head one weekend when Uncle had visited. He’d shook Brantley’s hand and then turned to Xichen, a frown on his face. Uncle did not approve.Uncle would not agree to let Brantley visit the Lan property like he’d been asking to for so long. And that disapproval was the freedom, the signal, the excuse Xichen needed to end it.

It was amazing how much had changed in the years since. Xichen had grown into his confidence, even if he, naturally, still had self-doubts. He still disliked confrontation and tried to please everyone, but he’d found his strength.

He’d found his strength in more ways than one, and in one person in particular.

“Ready for dinner?” Jiang Cheng asked.

He wore one of Xichen’s own Lan Academy swim team shirts, the cotton old, faded, and stretched, and a pair of khaki shirts in deference to the still warm days of early Fall and the amount of walking they’d do tonight. That was another tradition of theirs: to walk the streets of downtown after dinner, lingering in the parks, enjoying their time together, before stopping off at the local grocers to buy food to stock their little kitchen here for the weekend. Every time Xichen was reminded of his first show as Zewu-jun, of them both tired and punch-drunk on that park bench, eating a horrible McDonald’s breakfast.

He wished he could somehow tell the Xichen back then that one day he would spend almost every morning waking up to that face, that he would know that smile as well as his own; that he’d get to hear that laughter whenever he wished, since it was always either a room or a phone call away. That in that moment, hours after that breakfast, he would start something that would lead him here.

To a man who loved him for his faults as well as his virtues; who respected him, praised him, supported him. To his equal. To his heart.

Xichen knew there were tears in his eyes as he looked up at Jiang Cheng now; could feel the rattle of a sob in his chest.

Jiang Cheng immediately dropped down next to him and wrapped him in his arms, soft kisses spread across his brow, the tip of his nose, his hair.

“Say the word and I’ll get him kicked out of here. I’ll buy the entire fucking hotel to do it if I have to.”

Xichen shook his head and laughed, clinging tighter to Jiang Cheng.

“I love you,” he forced out. The words he meant to say before all of it had come crashing down on him. “And thank you for loving me.”

“Thank you for letting me,” Jiang Cheng said.

He could still feel the angry tension in Jiang Cheng’s body. He knew Jiang Cheng wanted to lash out; to avenge all Xichen’s past hurts. But those past hurts were nothing, just memories, and they were nothing compared to the joy he’d found and the happy memories he’d made with Jiang Cheng.

“Room service?” Jiang Cheng asked.

“Absolutely not,” Xichen said. He gently tugged Jiang Cheng’s arms off him and sat back. “We have a reservation with our favorite restaurant and then an appointment with our favorite park bench and I refuse to let one asshole who’s never grown out of his bitterness for not being as talented as he thinks he is ruin it.”

“I still want to kick his ass,” Jiang Cheng said.

“I believe you’d have to get in line,” Xichen said.

**********

It was after their lovely dinner, relaxing walk, and too many kisses while sitting on their bench, that the confortonation finally happened. Jiang Cheng’s arms were full of their groceries, and he was propped up against the wall as they waited for their elevator to descend. It was then that they both wrinkled their noses at the smell of someone who hadn’t sprayed cologne rather than doused themselves in it.

“Oh--you’re here.”

Xichen put on his best Headmaster Lan smile to nod at Brantley. “It is alumni weekend,” he said.

“I didn’t think school principals could afford to stay at a place like this,” Brantley said. “Of course, you have your family’s money.”

Ah, so they were continuing where they’d left off then. Even after nearly twenty years.

“My inheritance is my source of income,” Xichen agreed, “so that my salary can be donated to the school to fund various scholarships and programs.”

“Not that he even needs to pull from his inheritance, considering the money his art brings in on its own,” Jiang Cheng said.

Xichen grinned at Jiang Cheng, still so casually propped up against the wall, his smile and eyes ready to kill.

“You’re not an artist,” Brantley said as he looked at Jiang Cheng, judging him by his outfit alone. “Sold prices don’t equal skill.”

“Fair enough,” Jiang Cheng said. “I’m not an artist, just an appreciator and investor.”

Brantley gave a pitying smile. “Well, my work of course is more than just basic watercolors.”

“I love watercolors,” Jiang Cheng said. “And shouldn’t one collect and create art they enjoy? Wouldn’t it be too pretentious to imply one type of art is better than another? If it’s all up to interpretation? I mean, of course everything in life must be open to criticism, but it takes a special kind of asshole to try and douse other people’s joy just to feel better about their own failings.”

Brantley didn’t take the bait and didn’t seem to realize he was a little guppy batting at a shark. “You’re an investor, you say? What’s the jewel of your collection then? Comic strips?”

Xichen didn’t know how Jiang Cheng found the control to keep his hands where they were and not slap the smug smirk off Brantley’s face. He didn’t though, just shifted the groceries and gave Xichen a wink.

“The jewel of my collection? Xichen,” Jiang Cheng automatically said. “But if we’re talking assets, I suppose it’s the Jiang Theater. I mean, my family owns some more important pieces, but those remain on permanent loan to the Museum of Fine Arts. And the Gardner. And Harvard has a couple of our pieces too, and MoMA. Always forget about MoMA. But in terms of size, I suppose it must be the Jiang Theater.”

That caught Brantley’s attention. “Oh, are you a supporter of the theater?”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said. “And somehow some complicated way, the owner.”

Xichen finally intervened. As much fun as this was, their ice cream was melting. “Brantley, he’s the owner and CEO of Jiang Industries.”

“You may call me Mr. Jiang,” Jiang Cheng said as the elevator doors finally opened. He walked past Brantley, rolling his eyes as the man refused to move. “Seriously?” he asked, turning to Xichen as they settled inside the elevator and the doors started to close. “Him? Really?”

“I was young and I didn’t know any better,” Xichen said. “He was my first boyfriend.”

“We both started from the shit bottom,” Jiang Cheng said. “At least there was growth and improvement.”

“Are you complimenting Meng Yao?”

“Saying he’s better than that shit stain is hardly a compliment,” Jiang Cheng said. “But, yes, if we’re being technical about it, I am.” He made a face. “That’s disgusting. Come here and kiss me and take away the trauma of it all.”

“I’ll squish the bread,” Xichen said even as he crowded Jiang Cheng into the corner.

“Somehow, I think I’ll forgive you,” Jiang Cheng said.

#long post #xicheng #untamed spring fest #verse: lahl #fic: hold me like you want me #fandom: the untamed #my ridic writing

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melyaliz · 4 years

Text

Past loves and future babies pt. 1

Fandom: Marvel / MCU

Summary: Takes place after the Endgame. After realizing Peggy has moved on Steve comes back to the present to take on his biggest mission ever.

Have a baby to save the world.

Pairing: Steve x OC

Notes: So Tony survives but loses one of his arms and has a prosthetic (Why? Because I want him and why not)

Also, I normally try and make my Reaer/Ocs more basic but I wanted this one to have a VERY specific personality and backstory so Reader felt like to didn’t fit the story.

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

DONATE or REQUEST

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His future love.

It all started with a door. An opening to an idea. A name written on a plaque. An idea etched in a golden plaque.

Margaret Carter.

He could go back. He could change his fate. He could be happy.

He could rest.

But there had been one thing he hadn’t counted on. (Bucky had always warned him that he was too brash. Always running ran into everything head first.) One variable he hadn’t added to the equation.

She would fall in love with someone else.

She would move on.

But as he stood there in front of her small house laughing in the arms of another man he knew. The way he looked at her his dark brown eyes so bright as she smiled up at him. Had he looked at her that way?

Had she looked at him?

Did it even matter?

All he really knew was the reality of it all. The truth. He knew he couldn’t go back.

He needed to let her go.

Let her be happy.

Even if that meant he never could.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

“I sear to all the gods above Dixie.”

“What? You didn’t like that?”

“Let me think… you cutting all the wires before I could finish the transfer while also tripping the alarm which now has you stuck on the top floor of a… million story building… no, I’m not loving this.”

The slender brunette woman paused as she caught herself in the reflection of one of the large glass walls to a meeting room. Pausing she took a moment to check herself out. These new pants made her butt look amazing. This vigilante thing was putting her in the best shape of her life.

“Aww I believe in your skills Mac.”

“Are you checking yourself out?”

“What can I say? These metallic leggings are the bomb.”

“Jesus woman focus!”

Dixie’s cockatiel attention span was interrupted by the sound of yelling and footsteps getting closer. “Uhhh, Mac.”

“Ok. uhhh down the hall to the left there’s an office, John Mcfly.”

“Oh dear god tell me he has a son named Marty.”

“Dixie…”

“Ok, ok” her Adidas sneakers slipped slightly on the gray carpet as she caught sight of the plaque.

John Mcfly CFO.

“Ohhh fancy Mcfly.” slipping into the office Dixie took a moment to catch her breath before looking around. “Mac?” The sound of the guard’s footsteps were getting louder and louder.

“Jump.”

The young woman’s eyes looked up at the large glass window that overlooked the city. Was he serious? Yeah, Mac would never joke about her safety. He was her brother and as much as they teased each other it had always been them. Just the two of them looking out for each other.

Dixie would and had on many occasions, put her life in her brother’s hands.

So taking a deep breath Dixie bit her lip balling her hands into fists “You’ll catch me right?”

“Of course”

“Good because I hate heights!”

Also glass, Dixie hated glass. Shielding her face she prayed her new leggings wouldn’t get ruined. It was hard to make this white girl’s ass look that good. Looking up as she plummeted down the 50 floors she saw one of her brother’s drones flying next to her. Grabbing it she let out a squeak as it dipped with her weight her stomach dropping much lower than her body did. Shouldn’t have had that doughnut this morning.

While the drone steadied itself Dixie wasn’t able to get her heart back to a normal rate until her feet were firmly planted on the ground. Finding her motorcycle where she had left it she quickly took off toward their meeting place several blocks away.

“Dixie!” Mac took a step out from the dark ally throwing the last of his equipment into the white van ready to leave. Ready to ditch this city now that their work was done. Move on to the next job. The next mission.

“Dixie”

The siblings paused looking at each other confused when they heard it again. “Dixie North.” a blue light slowly started to glow in the alleyway as a shape appeared.

Dr Strange stood in front of them in all his red flowing cape glory.

Both siblings froze.

“Is that…”

“Holy shit…”

“My name is Dr. Steven Strange. Master of Time. I have come to deliver a message to you Dixie North”

Next to her Mac stiffed his hand going toward the large band around his wrist. Ready to attack if this guy tried anything toward his sister. Not that Dixie thought much would happen if he did. This was one of the great avengers. But hell, they would go down fighting,

Like they always did.

“Things have happened to disrupt our timeline. The delicate balance has been fractured so certain events must now happen much sooner.” the tall man explained taking a slow breath before continuing, “You must have your child sooner to keep the universe in balance.”

Shock.

That was all that came across her. “I’m sorry, my what now?”

“You’re child, you and Steve Rogers need to have your child now.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Mac mumbled glancing at his sister who looked just -if not more- shocked than he was. Her face pail, feeling slightly… sick, confused, unsure. Many things really.

“I’m sorry I need to…”

“You and Steve Rogers are designed to have a savior but… somehow time has been tampered with and this child must be born sooner.”

“You mean Dix and Captain America…” Mac’s voice slowly faded behind his sister. Everyone knew Steve Rogers the man who had saved them from Thanos. The man who had probably been the leader to bring back half of all living creatures only a few months ago.

Well, shit shit shittery shit.

This wasn’t going to be awkward at all.

“Go to the Avengers, I have already told them.” Strange said nodding, “The fate of the universe is hanging on your shoulders.” then he disappeared in a cloud of green smoke.

Both of the North siblings stood there unsure how to process this information.

“Ok Sara Conners,” Mac said finally breaking the awkward silence. As always, just knowing what to say in situations like this to make his sister feel better.

“Ok but wait,” Dixie said turning to her brother holding her finger up for him to wait a moment, “that dude was from further… if we go by terminator rules than I would be fucking him.”

“Maybe we should go back and asked Mcfly to verify?.” Mac smiled already seeing his sister relaxing. How else can you combat a stressful situation but with comedy?

“Oh my gosh, I was thinking the same thing” Dixie giggled wagging her fingers at her brother who mimicked her action. She already was starting to feel better. After all, matter what happened at least she had Mac at her side.

Like always.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

“I can’t go with you.”

“What!?! Why the hell not?!” Dixie let out a high pitched whine that would have dogs for miles barking as she sat on her bright blue suitcase. One of many… after all she WAS about to meet her future baby daddy and who knew what kind of outfit that would require.

“Because Tony invited you and not me.”

Dixie stuck out her tongue in pure annoyance. “He can shove his invite up his…”

“I’m about 70% sure he can still hear you,” Mac mumbled nodding toward the flying drone that had come to send them - well Dixie - an invite to come to join the avengers. He had floated there on a hologram, like Princess Leia.

“Dixie you’re our only hope.”

Ok, he didn’t actually say that but… it would have been cooler if he had. Missed opportunity. Honestly, Dixie felt like there was going to be a lot of these going forward. Good thing she was here to help provide all their Scifi references for them

This whole thing already felt like a drag.

“Promise I’ll only be a phone call away.” Mac mumbled, “And fuck the future. If this get’s to be too much just let me know and we can run away to Mexico.”

“Only if you promise we can go back to the beach after the Latveria embassy heist.”

“I promise,” he said holding up his pinky for her to take.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

“Children change your life,” Tony said lamely (for the first time in his life not knowing what to say) at Steve who stood in the doorway of the large avengers compound waiting for this future to come up. She should be here any moment.

Dixie North.

Next to him, Bucky snickered lightly. Of all the Avengers, Bucky had been the only one who had been reserving judgment. He was also the only one who knew about Steve going back to Peggy. About his plan to go back to the life he had wanted.

Bucky was the only one who knew about Steve coming back heartbroken.

The black car pulled up the gravel driveway stopping at the door where the Avengers stood waiting for their new roommate.

The young woman stepped out of the car saying something to the driver who laughed. A large smile on sweet round her face. Cheeks bright from smiling. At least she was happy. Steve mused. He, on the other hand, felt like he was being marched to his death.

“Well at least she’s cute” Sam mumbled loud enough for Steve to hear. The comment earned Sam a quick elbow to the ribs by Bucky.

Turning from the car the woman, Dixie paused taking in everyone for a moment giving a slight wave. For a moment Steve thought he saw her shoulder’s tense as she focused on him. But it was gone so quickly he wasn’t sure.

She must be as nervous as he was. He reminded himself. She was in this just as much as he was.

Walking toward them she smiled holding her hand out for Steve to shake. As he took it he could help but notice how much smaller it was than his large ones. But even so, she took his strong grip matching his grip with one of her own. Her pretty eye meeting his and he felt his stomach drop as if he was leaping out of an airplane without a parachute.

“Hey I’m Dixie and I guess I’m your future baby Mama.”

-GET TAGGED!-

Forever tag: @the-shadow-of-atlantis-links @coffee-randomness @0hmydeku @xx3fsxx @daisyboobear @jason-redhood @hello-i-lovespiderman-blr @pinkwitch21 @tomhncharliep @cdwmtjb8

Story Tag: @Evansgirl7

#Steve Rogers x oc #Steve rogers long fic #Steve Rogers fluff #Steve Rogers romcom #MCU oc #MCU fanfic #MCU long fic #MCU fluff #Steve Rogers Smut #Steve Rogers x reader

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hazelandglasz · 4 years

Text

OMG They Finally Met!

Part 2 of the Zoommates AU!

Because I can!

(And because I need to picture a world where this whole crisis is over …)

On AO3

Blaine waits a couple of days after Governor Cuomo announces it on TV, he is in such a state of shock and disbelief.

But the day has finally arrived.

The COVID-19 virus has been somehow contained and the quarantine is more or less lifted.

Blaine doesn’t wait just because he wants to be sure, but also because if that is indeed true, and he can step out of his apartment (while still practicing a healthy level of social distancing) and go for more than one hour, that means one thing.

He has a date to plan with a man he has only seen in pixels for the better part of the past months.

Picking the location is one element that takes a lot of his time, but he finally settles on a coffee shop near the dog park so they can either sit down or go sit in the park if they don’t feel safe in the café.

Picking the outfit, truth be told, takes longer.

“It’s not about making a first impression,” he sternly tells his dog while emptying his closet onto his bed. “It’s about showing Kurt that I made an effort for him.”

General Pupgana keeps on munching on her squeaky chicken. “Mrrrmf.”

“Because making an effort shows that I care, right?”

“Mrmwoorf.”

“Thank you, you’re my best girl.”

That makes her look up and smile at him while panting.

“So, bowtie or no bowtie?”

And off she goes, leaving Blaine with his wondering.

Yes bowtie, in the end.

(Duh.)

To celebrate summer and their freedom, Blaine goes for bright colors, yellow with just small dark accents to highlight it (and yes, he also picked those pants because they do wonders for his ass).

On the eve of their date, Blaine is surprised to hear Zoom beeping on his computer.

“Hey,” he says softly as Kurt’s face appears. “How are you?”

Kurt bites on his lower lip, and Blaine can’t wait to do the same. “Is it silly that I’m a bit nervous?”

“Not at all.”

“I just spent three hours trying different outfits.”

“Small player. I spent the entire afternoon before circling back to my first choice.”

Kurt chuckles at that, running his fingers through his hair. “It feels unreal.”

“You’ll need to be more specific.”

“That we’re getting out, that we’re going to meet for real after, um…”

“After virtually dating for the past couple of months?”

Kurt lets out a breath. “Yeah.”

“Feels like it’s all but a dream.”

“Oh, you poet.”

“Only for you, Kurt.”

Blaine feels his cheeks burning as he blurts it out, but Kurt’s soft smile is soothing enough for him to discard his discomfort.

“So, tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

Kurt looks… Kurt looks shy and adorable and incredible. “To think, we spent the last weeks apart while living in the same borough.”

“A shame, really. I wish we were closer, though.”

Kurt’s smile turns into a smirk—gentle, but still mocking. Fond, in a nutshell, of Blaine’s behavior. “To have a date via drone?”

“Don’t laugh, this guy is one of my neighbors.”

Kurt shakes his head. “Is there something in the water in your building?”

“Not that I... What?”

Kurt leans his head in the palm of his hand. “To make you all such romantics.”

Blaine preens at the convoluted compliment. “Nope. Just happens to happen.”

“Mhm.”

“Besides, I told you. I’m not usually very good at romance.”

“Mhm?”

“You make me want to be good at it, though.”

Kurt blushes and looks away. Blaine takes advantage of the moment to admire his profile.

“I’ll tell you one thing, mister, you may be better at it than you think.”

Blaine can tell that he is blushing too without having to steal a glance at his own face on the screen, but he really doesn’t care.

Tomorrow afternoon, they will be two blushing idiots meeting face to face, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Go to sleep, you insufferable idiot.” Kurt yawns as he admonishes Blaine.

“Your idiot?”

“My idiot.”

The words ‘love you’ are just on the tip of Blaine’s tongue, but no. Those words are better said “live”, aren’t they?

---

The following morning is a blur, as far as Blaine is concerned.

One shower, too much gel, a second shower, an aborted decision to go without gel because, just, no, just a little bit of gel, then feeding Pupgana, walking Pupgana, petting Pupgana, having a long talk with Pupgana to make her understand that for the first time since forever she’s going to have the apartment to herself, almost crying because his dog decided to sulk and turn her back on him until he sat on the floor and she came to console him (good girl, best girl really), finishing to get dressed, getting David and Wes’s approval over Zoom, hesitating over taking a jacket or not, before finally rushing out of the house to make sure he wouldn’t arrive late, jacketless.

Luckily, the coffee place is not too far from his building, and Blaine slows down as he approaches the red brick place.

But Kurt is already there, leaning against the wall while hiding behind his sunglasses, and Blaine’s heart just skips a beat.

He thought the phenomenon only happened in romance novels and/or in movies, but no. Honest to God, skipped a beat.

Because while he got used to and quite fond of and, yes, enamored with Kurt’s face, it’s an entirely different matter to be faced with his whole being.

With his long silhouette.

With how tapered his waist his, compared to the width of his shoulders.

Oh Lord.

With the way his choice of clothing, once out of confinement, really speaks for Kurt louder than any worded statement.

“We’re wearing complementary colors,” is what comes out of Blaine’s mouth once he reaches Kurt.

You complete me, is what Blaine thinks, but it’s far too early in their relationship to just blurt it out, isn’t it.

Kurt looks up, startled, until a smile slowly stretches his lips. He takes one step toward Blaine’s, clenching and unclenching his right hand, Darcy style.

“We do,” he finally replies after giving Blaine a long up and down look. “I didn’t think I was taller than you.”

“And yet, here I am,” Blaine says, going for a short curtsey.

They are still six feet apart, but Blaine would love to close that distance.

He feels closer to those Austenian characters now than he ever has.

“You look good,” he says, reciprocating the up and down look Kurt gave him earlier. “Very good.”

Kurt smiles and nods his thanks. “You don’t look bad either,” he replies. “You little sun. Shall we?”

They enter the empty coffee shop, make their order and find a table in the window.

“I love your contrast,” Blaine says, continuing their discussion. “Delicate lavender and camouflage khakis, that is bold.”

“Not as bold as that yellow, but thanks.”

They smile at each other before looking away, both awkward and Blaine silently high fives himself in his mind.

He knew they would be two babbling and blushing idiots, didn’t he?

“Your voice is even prettier than I thought,” he says, because compliments can never go wrong. “Without the lagging and electronic distortions.”

“And your eyes are brighter than your camera let on,” Kurt replies, clearly decided on not being outdone in the compliment department. “I’m glad I got to see it.”

“Me too.”

“Why was it so much easier to talk when we were doing it over Zoom?” Kurt laments once the waiter brought them their tray and they ended up being silent once again.

“Maybe because there was no pressure over our computers,” Blaine replies. “No temptation for me or for you to do something stupid.”

“Like?”

“Like this,” Blaine says, holding his breath as he covers Kurt’s hand with his, just for a moment.

Just a moment, that seems to last through a lifetime.

“Oh.”

“See? Stupid,” Blaine says with a deprecating chuckle, removing his hand.

Kurt tilts his head to the side, his eyes on Blaine’s retreating hand, their bluish green so much more intense now than through his webcam’s pixels.

“I quite like stupid,” he says softly, reaching out to take Blaine’s hand, his thumb brushing Blaine’s knuckle.

Blaine turns his hand so they are palm to palm. Even before, Blaine thought it would be amazing to hold hands with someone he loved.

Now, with the social distancing rules that have been ingrained in their mentality, it feels even more incredible.

“I quite like you, Kurt,” he replies, just as softly. “But I’m still going to let go of your hand and use my hydroalcoholic gel.”

Kurt snorts a laugh before nodding. “Same, same.”

“Do you… want some of my gel?”

Kurt bats his eyelashes like a damsel in distress. “Oh, such a generous gesture. My knight in sanitized armor. Unless that’s an innuendo, in which case, kudos.”

Blaine replays the sentence in his mind and he knows for sure that he’s turning redder than a tomato.

“Not an innuendo, then.” Kurt is full-on laughing, now, and while Blaine does his best to get himself under control, he loves being the one who put Kurt in such a good mood.

“Not an innuendo,” he finally replies, taking a sip of his coffee. He waits for Kurt to do the same, shoulders still shaking to continue. “If I wanted to do an innuendo, I’d propose to clean your hands and more, dot dot dot.”

Kurt’s eyes widen and he seems to be choking on his mouthful before audibly gulping. “That—that is a good one.”

“Your turn.”

They exchange innuendos, puns, and horrible pick-up lines until the sun starts going down.

“Oh wow,” Kurt says as they step outside, walking as side by side as they can. “I didn’t realize so much time had gone by.”

“Me neither.” Blaine pauses, hoping that General Pupgana won’t be too mad. “I should go back to walk my dog.”

“Oh.” Kurt takes a deep breath. “Can I—that is, may I walk you home? And, and, um, wait for you? For you two?”

“Won’t Wildcat be mad at you for being late?”

“Are you kidding? I’m sure she’s happy to have the apartment to herself again, at last.”

“Well then. I’d love that. I didn’t want our first date to be over already.”

“Me neither,” Kurt says, echoing Blaine. “I wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to you.”

Kurt’s words reach for Blaine’s heart in his chest, inflate it to ten-times his size, and put it back in its place.

“...Oh.”

Kurt smiles like he wants to say so much more, or do something stupid again, but they both manage to get to Blaine’s building without doing anything forbidden.

(They do end up kissing behind a tree while waiting for Pupgana to be done with her little business, and Blaine wouldn’t have their kiss any other way.)

“Can I—can I see you again tomorrow?”

Kurt smiles, pushing a curl away from Blaine’s forehead. “I’d love that. But my pick.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll text you later.”

“Looking forward to it.”

They stand at the entrance of Blaine’s place, again, with Blaine’s dog panting between them, her eyes going from one man to the other until she whines and breaks the spell.

“See you tomorrow, Blaine.”

“See you tomorrow, Kurt.”

When Blaine closes the door, his first reflex is to send Kurt a message.

“I miss you already.”

“Ugh, I miss you too. I almost turned back when I reached the corner.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I thought it was too soon for me to pull a Pretty Woman.”

“Does that make me the prostitute?”

“Okay bad reference. Too soon to pull a When Harry Met Sally.”

“Better. But I thought you wanted to be Meg Ryan?”

“Your curls are better than mine.”

Blaine laughs at that, pressing his phone to his chest.

“Definitely.”

“Hey!”

“But we’re not at the end of the movie yet.”

Kurt doesn’t reply immediately, but Blaine, for once, is not worried. When his phone vibrates again, he already has his dinner heating up on the stove.

“Not yet. But I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too.”

When the second wave happens, they move in together because, as soon as it may be for their relationship, neither of them can picture being apart.

Luckily for them, Pupgana and Wildcat adore each other.

Blaine wishes they could have met differently (a small part of him wishes he could have met Kurt while they were in high school).

But at least, one good thing came out of this whole crisis, and that’s the love of his life.

#sometimes i write #zoommates au #klaine au #fluff #so much fluff #tooth rotting fluff #i could write a third part from their pets pov #you tell me ;)#(let's see who reads the tags lolilol)

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keichanz · 5 years

Text

Mask

I honestly could not think of anything else go on so have a proud papa Sess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Spooktober Day 20: Mask

“Hullo?”

Tucking the cordless between his shoulder and head, Inuyasha leaned back against the bar counter and crossed his ankles as he tucked into his freshly made, steaming cup of ramen.

“Rin’s award ceremony is tonight,” his brother said by way of greeting, his voice its usual monotone.

Inuyasha blinked and looked at the mini calendar on the fridge. “Shit, that’s to—?”

“You will be there.” Sesshomaru’s tone brooked no room for argument, his words a demand, not a request.

The half-demon frowned. “Well—”

“Seven pm at the middle school. Dress accordingly,” his half-brother once more interrupted him, using that bizarre ability he had to sound bored and commanding at the same time.

Inuyasha scowled that time and stood up a little straighter. “Wait just a damn—”

“Do not be late.”

The half-demon cursed a blue streak into the phone and when he got no reply from his bastard of a brother, Inuyasha realized the prick hung up on him. Scowling he placed the receiver in its charging dock just as Kagome wandered into the kitchen wearing comfy lounge clothes consisting of sweats and one of his old t-shirts.

“Who was that?” she asked as she sidled up to him and stole the bite of ramen from his chopsticks for herself.

“The bastard,” he answered, still glaring at the innocent device sitting in its cradle. “He wanted to kindly remind us of Rin’s award ceremony tonight at seven.”

Kagome blinked and then winced. “Oh crap. That’s tonight?”

Her husband snorted in reply and allowed his wife to take another bite of his ramen before shoving some noodles into his own mouth.

After swallowing her mouthful, Kagome sighed and wrinkled her nose, glancing down at her clothes in dismay. She was comfortable, dammit. She didn’t want to change.

Polishing off the rest of his noodles, Inuyasha echoed his wife’s sigh and moved to toss the empty cup into the trash. “I’m pretty sure Miroku and Sango’s three brats are getting awards too, so they can’t watch Tai and Iz.”

“I’ll call Mama,” Kagome said, resigned as she reached for the phone her husband had just put back. “I’m sure she or Souta wouldn’t mind coming over for an hour or so.”

“Didn’t we get a letter saying that Iz got something, too?”

“Yeah,” Kagome answered as she punched in the shrine’s number. “She doesn’t wanna go, though. Something about too much fanfare just for getting on the dean’s list or something, though I think it has more to do with being scared she’ll trip on the stage in front of Raiden.”

Inuyasha paused and sent his wife a narrow-eyed look. “Who’s Raiden?”

Kagome froze when she realized her mistake but thankfully her mother answering on the other end of the line saved her from answering her own husband so with a smile Kagome greeted her mother and promptly ignored the suspicious half-demon glaring at her from across the kitchen.

Sitting in the auditorium of the middle school sandwiched between Kagome and his half-brother – not by choice – Inuyasha bit back another sigh of boredom and leaned his elbow on the armrest. Propping his chin in his hand, he gazed with an air of disinterest at who he thought was the principal blather on and on about how proud he was of the students and shit.

Of course he was proud of his niece and daughter – okay and maybe Miroku and Sango’s brood – but all the other brats? Pfft.

Beside him Kagome was in similar straits, looking like she was having a hard time staying awake as she stifled yet another yawn and blinked rapidly. Beside her Sango looked like she was lost in a daydream and one seat over Miroku was scrolling through his phone, completely ignoring the principal’s speech.

On the other hand – a very distant hand – Sesshomaru was unsurprisingly looking immaculate as ever, not a hair out of place, tailored suit sharp and without a single wrinkle. His face gave nothing away as he gazed steadily at the man at the podium, amber eyes clear and alert. Kagura was chatting to the woman beside her in hushed tones, ignoring everyone.

Withholding a groan, Inuyasha slumped a little in his seat and had no qualms about hiding the tongue-curling yawn that escaped like his wife had. Beside him Sesshomaru shot him a look full of warning but it went ignored.

Your fault for dragging me here, asshole, he thought petulantly and refrained from flipping him off.

Thankfully there was only another few minutes passed of man’s boring drone before the awards were finally being handed out. Unfortunately, though, since Miroku’s kids and Rin both had surnames that started with T, they had to sit thorough more than half of the students receiving their awards as the announcer went through the alphabet letter by letter.

Inuyasha more or less tuned them out, only half-listening so he was aware when the T’s would begin, however when a vaguely familiar name was called – “Mashimo, Raiden” – he half-demon’s back straightened and he whipped his head around with sudden avid interest.

Raiden…wasn’t that the name Kagome had mentioned before they left? Narrowing his eyes, Inuyasha waited, eager to see the brat that had captured his babygirl’s attention, but when no student stood up after several more seconds, the announcer continued on to the next and Inuyasha realized he must be a no show.

He grumbled in disappointment. Now he really wanted to know who this punk was and why he was the reason she didn’t want to attend tonight. Was he a bully? Would he laugh at her? Inuyasha growled, but at Kagome’s light jab to his ribs, he stopped and back with a huff. He’d have to grill Kagome later on who this brat was later but for now, he’d wait and give Rin the support she deserved.

Finally, after what seemed like a small eternity – which in reality was only about twenty minutes – Rin was next to be called up. Each parent had been given a pamphlet as they had entered the spacious room which listed each student getting an award for what it was for so they’d been able to follow along. Izayoi’s name had an asterisk next to it since they’d called ahead and said she wouldn’t be attending.

“Taisho, Rin,” the announcer spoke into the mic – Inuyasha thought it might be the dean – and from the two front rows where the students were sitting, Rin popped up from her seat and scurried over to the stairs that led to the stage.

Sesshomaru straightened in his seat as Kagura stopped her chat with the woman and put her full focus on her daughter with a proud smile. Kagome likewise sat up straighter and brought up her camera app to take a few photos.

Despite himself Inuyasha had to smile as Rin flounced across the stage, looking equal parts adorable and pretty in her floral print dress with her dark hair all bunched up on top of her head. The smile on her face was huge and the flush coloring her cheeks was from genuine pleasure as she accepted her award. She shook both the principal and dean’s hand and bowed as the auditorium erupted in polite applause. When she straightened she looked directly at her family, beamed proudly, and blew them a kiss with a little wave.

Chuckling – he loved his niece’s cheek – Inuyasha stole a glance at his half-brother beside him, expecting him to look the same as ever with his stoic mask in place and cold amber eyes devoid of emotion like a fuckin’ robot.

What he saw, however, took him aback and he had to physically bite his tongue so he didn’t blurt out a very loud, “What the fuck?”

Beside him, Sesshomaru was actually smiling. Oh, it was small, barely noticeable, but Inuyasha saw it clear as day. His careful mask of casual indifference had cracked, allowing a bit of warmth to seep through and his amber eyes held a hint of affection as he gazed at his daughter on the stage.

Inuyasha gaped.

And seeming to notice that his mask had slipped after a fleeting glance his brother’s way, Sesshomaru’s back stiffened and in a blink his face was perfectly composed once more, the smile nonexistent and his eyes holding neither warmth nor affection as he passively watched Rin skip across the stage toward the stairs to rejoin her fellow students.

Inuyasha jabbed an accusing finger at his face and blurted, “I saw that.”

Sesshomaru’s jaw tightened a miniscule amount as he hissed through his teeth, “Silence, you idiot.”

“I saw it,” he insisted as a slow, gloating grin started curling the corners of Inuyasha’s mouth upward.

The silver-haired dog demon did not deign to comment and instead pegged him with a cold glare designed to shut him up and pay attention.

Grinning broadly now because he knew what he saw, Inuyasha obliged and said nothing more, though he didn’t need to. The sly glances and knowing smirks he sent his brother were more than enough and judging by Sesshomaru’s look of increasing aggravation, he was well aware of his foolish half-brother’s childish antics.

When at last the final student was called and the dean, with the principal’s help, ended the ceremony with a heartfelt speech about the future, success, and blah blah blah, parents and students alike stood to their feet and then it was mild chaos as they reunited.

Faster than a blink Sesshomaru stood up from his seat and hastily ushered Kagura down the aisle before Inuyasha could even think about teasing him some more. It was no matter, though. He knew what he saw, knew that Sesshomaru knew that he knew, and that was enough for him.

Inuyasha felt like cackling in victory but instead he helped Kagome up from her seat and after congratulating the Tsujitani brood on their awards, they exited the building, following the hoard of other humans and demons heading toward the double doors.

Once outside in the fresh air, Kagome breathed a sigh of relief and tugged her sweater a little closer to her body. She wasn’t surprised when warmth settled on her shoulders and she smiled her thanks at her husband, grasping his jacket and hunching down into it. Mmm, it smelled like his Boss cologne. Nice.

“So what were you needling Sesshomaru about earlier?” she asked as they headed toward Inuyasha’s truck. She spotted Rin along with Sesshomaru and Kagura by their own car and waved, making a mental note to call tomorrow and congratulate her niece since she hadn’t gotten the chance to tonight.

“I wasn’t needling,” Inuyasha protested as he unlocked the doors and walked around to the driver’s side.

Closing the door, Kagome shot her husband a dry look and Inuyasha rolled his eyes, however he couldn’t stop the corners of his lips from quirking up into a tiny grin as he started the truck and headed out of the parking lot.

“Let’s just say,” he began, navigating out onto the street and toward home, “that Sesshomaru’s mask isn’t as tough as he thinks it is.”

“What?”

“Nothing. So, wench. About this Raiden brat…”

#mask #spooktober prompts #day 20 #inuyasha #kagome #inukag #sesshomaru #keizfanfiction #fanfiction #oneshot

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jimlingss · 5 years

Text

BOO-lieve in Me [1/2]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 [Finale]

➜ Words: 15k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Spirit Marriage!AU

➜ Summary: A Spirit Marriage - in which two deceased people are wedded together. In your life, you wouldn’t have ever imagined yourself married. Much less to mommy’s boy, Min Yoongi.

➜ Warnings: ghosts, discussion of death, swearing.

➜ Notes: istg the titles for my fics are getting shittier and shittier. nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this small series! and happy birthday to the one and only Min Yoongi!!

You’d rather die than be here.

“During the late eighteenth century, there were many trade issues with tea as European control over trade with China was very limited. On page two-hundred sixty of your textbook, it says that the merchants were under the direction of local officials who made all decisions of the selling process, leaving little for negotiation….” The teacher drones and on and on. Sitting here at the very back of the class with your legs comfortably popped up on the desk, you feel like slamming your head against the wall. But even if you did that — no one would notice. Luckily enough, you’re not the only one bored out of your mind. There are students passing each other notes, giggling and spewing spitballs at one another. It’s terribly childish and juvenile, so with a roll of your eyes, you keep your vision trained forward to the person you’re sitting behind, burning holes into the back of Jungkook’s head. Jungkook’s a little shit. He’s fairly popular amongst his peers for his good looks and personality, and he knows it too. He likes to talk back. He’s a brat. He’s competitive and rambunctious too. But you beneath it all, he’s a good kid — getting good grades, friendly to those he meets, athletic and talented in drawing. But lately, he’s been quieter. Reclusive even. Jungkook has become timid and he’s been distant to his friends. It’s obvious that he’s having a hard time. “Do you want to go to the movies after school? They’re playing a new movie!” “The one with Won Bin?” “Yeah! It starts at five. It got good reviews too and apparently he has a shower scene.” The two girls are giggling together, snickering underneath their breaths. And when a spitball flies past from a guy sitting across from you, your brain nearly blows a gasket. You glare into the back of their heads, mouth drawing open to say something, but you don’t need to. The teacher at the front of the room turns on his toes. “Who’s talking?!” Silence ripples throughout the room. The girls turn right back around and the boys hide their straws in the laps, all looking down at their open textbooks simultaneously. Only those who have their head rested on their desks, drooling on the wooden surface as they sleep, are caught for not paying attention. Fortunately for all of them before the teacher can yell again, the bell rings. It chimes throughout the entire building and the students get up, dismissed from the day much to the teacher’s dismay. “Make sure to finish all of your assigned homework!” he screams and gives up, packing his own things to leave. Unlike the others, you’re in no rush, instead turning to look out the window. There are students already running out the school gate, laughing with their friends, racing home, or strolling to their after-school activities. Jungkook is slow, languidly packing up his belongings, picking up his bag, putting on his jacket. As you redirect your gaze towards him, he ignores you. The boy is a ghost, caught in a trance and only brought back to the ground when someone pops their head through the door and shouts his name. “Jungkook! Are you coming with us? We’re heading down to the—” “No, I’m fine.” He throws his bags over his shoulder and walks out the door while Jaehyun is left helpless, unable to persuade him. “I have some things to do at home. Maybe another time.” What an idiot. You finally get up from your own seat, hands dug in your pockets, following him out. Jungkook walks alone, each of his steps dragged down by a weight on his shoulders that you cannot see. His head is downcasted, arms by his side and as you shadow his strides at a distance, he doesn’t notice the girl who comes from the opposite direction. Her shoulder collides with his as she speed walks and at the exact same time as she spews out an apology, he mumbles his own. “Oh.” The female stops and turns herself back, nearly whipping him in the face with her high ponytail. “You’re Jungkook, aren’t you?” “Umm...do I know you?” “At the beginning of the semester, I gave you a pack of ramen.” “You….did?” “Yeah. I was promoting the gardening club. The ramen had an advertisement stapled to it,” she reminds him in exasperation and you approach close enough to read the nametag on her uniform — Yeeun. She’s definitely an interesting character, you muse. Very loud and bubbly, having no sense of boundaries as she invades in his personal space. This is the most you’ve seen Jungkook talk recently and it’s quite funny to watch him so taken back. “You even signed up to receive information. I remember because you gave me a FAKE email!” “Oh…” Jungkook ducks his head, finding her overwhelming. “Sorry. I must’ve made a mistake…” “Yeah, sure. Listen, I’ll forgive you if you join the gardening club. We actually need more help—” “I’m good.” “If you weren’t interested in it in the first place, then you shouldn't have taken the ramen and given me a fake email! I could’ve given that to someone else instead. I know gardening seems lame but it’s actually a lot of fun and it doesn’t take that long to learn—…..are you walking away from me?!” “I have some place to be.” Jungkook is backing away with his palms up. “Sorry, not interested.” Yeeun’s mouth draws open, baffled. You laugh, snickering openly and when you brush past her, you catch her muttering about his rudeness and how she feels like a salesman going door to door. You continue following Jungkook, but not without musing that the girl seemed cute. Jungkook could’ve totally made a move or at least got a new friend, but he blew it like a total dork that he is. Though the image of him kneeling in dirt as he tends to tomatoes is all too humorous. Your feet trail after him at a distance, steps matching his. Your eyes watch his backside, too curious for your own good. He goes down three blocks, deeper into the suburban area, turning a left then a right. But as you tail him, you’re suddenly disrupted by an urgent bark. Head drooping to the ground, you find a brown poodle dog yapping at you, having leaped out from the alleyway. “Go away.” You walk over the stray, but it follows, throwing itself in front of you once more. “I said go away!” At your shout, the dog remains undeterred. His tail is still wagging, tongue out as he pants. The more you pay attention to him, the more he reacts. You look up quickly, finding that you’ve lost sight of Jungkook. Damn. With no other choice and a sigh of frustration, you pick up the damn dog into your arms. “What do you want from me? Where’s your owner, huh?” You look at the dog’s small blue collar, catching the name tag. “You’re Holly?” The poodle barks and a tiny smile sneaks on your lips before you repress it and set him down. “Go away. Leave me alone,” you tell the stray. “I’m not in any condition to take care of you, alright? And I don’t want to!” He follows you, stubby legs teetering from side to side to match up with your wide strides. A discontented inhale is stolen through the seams of your lips and you swivel around on your toes. “Stay!” Holly yelps at your command, but ultimately obeys. He stays in one spot, watching you march off. Your speed picks up and you follow Jungkook’s direction. That is until the road splits off into four and you don’t know where he’s gone. There are people coming from all directions, kids walking home from school, mothers pushing their strollers, elders holding their groceries from the store nearby. You’re lost. After a moment of watching, you sigh and give up. The sun begins to fall as the evening hour arrives. It becomes dark out within minutes, black rippling through the city slowly and engulfing the sky into nightfall. You wait at a bus station, sitting underneath the glass shelter on a bench, examining the way the wheels roll on the road. You watch the way the buses stop, how steam puffs out of their engine, how the creaking doors open and people get on and off, students and workers alike. Sitting in a single spot, you listen to the sounds of the city, the white noise, the distant cars in the back, the bustle of synchronized steps and conversations. You observe the people out and about, catching taxis and cabs or entering the cozy restaurant from across the street, those that shuffle away from the coldness, arguing with loved ones on the phone. You watch how alive they are. But finally, after hours of waiting, the bus you were expecting stops in front of you. You stand up and after three or so people hop off, you find the older lady bumbling onto the road again. She doesn’t look at you. The aged woman has wrinkles around her eyes, her steps slow, fatigue permanently etched in her muscles. She exhales every so often and you follow after her as she drags her feet from the exhausted day. Your eyes trace her slumped shoulders and thin legs, watching her backside and chasing her shadow. You stroll behind her like some sort of child lost on her way or much like Holly, a stray dog desperate for attention. The woman turns down the dark street, opening the gate to her house and you catch up behind her as her keys rattle and she opens the door. You slip inside behind her before it shuts. The entire house is consumed in darkness, but the television is on, screen casting a blinding glow around the room, walls bathed in the static. The woman turns on the lights and the boy laying on the couch, watching mindlessly, doesn’t even blink. “Have you eaten yet?” He ignores her. She moves to the kitchen, sighing again and you follow. “Mom,” you call out, but she ignores you. “Mom…..” Your mom scoops up a bowl of rice from the cooker. But she doesn’t eat it even if her stomach is growling. Instead, she sets it on the table by the front door, right beside your picture frame. “You must’ve been hungry, huh?” A sad smile graces her lips as she speaks to you. “I’m sorry for working all day. I hope you weren’t lonely. Things haven’t been too bad around here—” The boy on the couch gets up, sitting straight. His hair is a mess, eyes weary, and he turns his head. “Can you not talk to her like that? It’s creepy. And stop giving her food. I have to throw it away after. It’s annoying.” “Jungkook….” He gets onto his feet, footsteps padding down the hall before the door slams shut. The walls rattle on impact, hinges squeaking and she winces. You scoff. “What a brat.” But your mom is less angry. She merely sighs, returning to the kitchen to get her food, only to end up sitting alone at the dinner table without knowing that you’re right beside her. And she barely eats, putting less than a spoonful in her mouth before he cries into her bowl. The woman sobs quietly to not disturb her son. It’s heart wrenching and you can’t bear it for a full minute. You peel yourself off the chair, going down the hall into Jungkook’s room. Passing through the door, you find him laying in bed, facing the wall. “You’re a brat, you know that?! Mom’s crying because of you! You’re such an ass!” “You think just cause I’m not here anymore means you get to disrespect mom?! Yeah right. Not on my watch, punk!” Jungkook doesn’t hear you of course, but it still feels good to get it off your chest….until something catches in your ear. It’s the quietest of whimpers, muffled and only when you see Jungkook’s shoulders begin to tremble do you realize he’s crying too. He digs his face into his pillow, pulling his covers up over his head and you fall to the floor, leaning back at the foot of his bed. It really sucks to be dead. // Yoongi would agree with your sentiment — if he knew you. It sucked to be a wandering ghost, but even then it’s an understatement. He doesn’t get to haunt people and scare them or go around like Casper the Ghost. There was nothing exciting about being invisible to the people alive or having limited objects he could touch and interact with. But he doesn’t dwell on it too much. What’s more pressing on his mind is that he knows he’s going to hell. “Can you stop hovering over me?!” His mother shrieks and dusts off her shoulder furiously like there’s a pet cockroach perched on it. “No.” Yoongi continues to hover beside her. “You can’t make me.” “Go away!” She grieves, throwing down the tarot cards from her hands onto the clothed table. She appears absolutely psychotic as she screams and scolds to an empty space. But she knows he’s there. “Stop bothering me! Don’t you have something better to do?” “Actually, I don’t,” he bites back, refusing to go elsewhere. The woman can’t exactly hear him, but feel his presence and read his aura. Even so, she is annoyed. She gets up, moving past the beaded curtains and moving through the narrow halls. Her steps are heavy, body tired from constantly feeling him over her shoulder. It’s the pressure of an anchor. “I have a client coming over soon. For the love of all things good, please stop haunting me, Yoongi. This is my last request to you.” She is begging and ranting to the empty air. “Didn’t you always want to move out? Why are you sticking next to me like gum? You’re not four-years old anymore. Let me work in peace!” Yoongi is childish. Stubborn. He refuses, especially now that he hears a client is coming. It only provokes him, making his eyes narrow and he comes even closer. She mutters curses, a hand pressing on her forehead and decides it’s better to just ignore him. The woman grabs a binder off the shelf and marches into the main living space, right as the doorbell rings. She opens it. Yoongi’s mom has erratic hair and although she has a sophisticated demeanor, she is very much witch-like. It makes the woman on the other side startled despite having met her before. Still, that doesn’t stop her from giving the woman a warm hug. “Welcome! Welcome, come in, come in!” “O-oh, thank you.” “Don’t be shy!” she laughs. “What kind of tea would you like? Do you want any refreshments?” “I-I’m fine, thank you.” Yoongi leans back against the wall with his arms crossed. He watches the arrangement and how both get settled down across the table from each other. The black binder is opened and his crazy mother flips through the pages. The woman across from her is the first to pipe up. “I want to apologize about how I acted last time.” “Nonsense. I completely understand why someone might hesitate to do this.” She looks up at her with a sincere gaze and reaches over to put her hand over her’s. “You’re still in grief.” The woman nods. “I thought it over like you said and I really…..just want her to have peace. I’m scared that she’s lonely.” “I’m glad that you called me then. It’s my mission to make sure that everyone is matched up with someone suitable and that will give them happiness in the other word.” Yoongi scoffs. It’s a bunch of bogus and bullshit. He despises her and her scamming career — a matchmaker for ghosts? What a joke. She’s hurting these people suffering in grief and it’s unforgivable. “Thank you.” “Don’t thank me yet.” She smiles and looks through her binder before slipping a paper out. Yoongi strolls over, dipping down to look over his mother’s shoulder. Her muscles seem to stiffen as if she can feel him right there, but he remains focused on the profile he sees. Middle class family. Tragedy struck halfway through university years. Bus crash. It’s unfortunate, especially considering how young you were. Yoongi’s eyes skim over to the picture of just you, a headshot from high school, and he finds you fairly pretty when you have a smile on. It’s a shame you died so early on in your life. “So I’ve taken a long look over your daughter’s profile...and I assessed other profiles in all my binders and I believe I’ve found a match.” “Really?” The exuberant woman throws the entire binder backwards onto the last page. She fiddles with the sheet protector and takes out the page, sliding it over the wooden table like a secret contract or Satan persuading a clueless human to sign their soul away. “My own son!” “Pardon?” “WHAT?!” Yoongi goes pale. His jaw is slack, eyes bulging out from his sockets, mortified. His mother laughs, feeling his aura turn into a furious red. “I’ve met many souls and I haven’t found a better match than now. They were around the same age when they passed away and you said your daughter was feisty, right?” She stares at Yoongi’s picture — at how soft his features are and kind his smile is. He looks like a cute boy and a good son-in-law. “Yes.” “Well, I know my son very well and he’s….lively too. They would be a couple who would challenge each other, but ultimately rise above. At least that’s what my intuition tells me.” “No, no, no!” Yoongi is in hysterics and he’s shouting to no one. “Is this your ploy to try to get rid of me?! You’re marrying me off?! What the fuck is wrong with you?! You’re fucking sick!” “He seems very hardworking,” your mom says after reading over his profile, noticing how many jobs he’s had, how he’s traveled around the world despite being at such a young age. “Yes. He’s very particular and meticulous too. A very well-mannered boy…” when he wants to be, but she doesn’t add that on. “Do you really think they’d go well together?” “Well, I only really know once they meet.” “Once they meet?” “I can summon her into the room. Luckily, my son is already here.” She smiles, unbeknownst at how that very same son is ready to jump out the window and hope he can die a second time. “Would you like me to bring your daughter here?” “S-sure.” Yoongi is losing his mind. He can’t pay attention, slumped to the wall, sliding down to collapse on the floor. His hands are in his hair, shaking his head and in denial. In the meanwhile, his mother lights six candles and places out six cards, beginning a ritual. She murmurs bullshit underneath her breath and burns a picture of you to the candle beside her. It goes up into flames, photo turning to ash. Then, there’s a gust of wind. Your mom is startled when the candles are blown out and Yoongi’s mother shuts her eyes tight, fingers rubbing against her temple. In the dimension they cannot see, there’s a mist and then a shrill scream. You’re pulled away from Jungkook’s classroom, surroundings warped and soul stolen away from your control. You fall from the ceiling, landing on the carpet in a splat. “What the fuck?!” You get up and Yoongi watches you in distaste as if observing spiders hatching from their eggs. You look around before your eyes meet. He’s a random ass dude, rounded cheeks, brown eyes, reminding you of a cat with plush cheeks, but a stern stare. There’s also a woman in red robes, necklaces draped on her head on top of her untamed curly hair. Across from her and the tall candles is…..“Mom?!” “She is here.” “She is?” Your mom looks around into every corner. “Y/N?” The woman hums. “She’s here. Standing right there.” She points right at you and you’re startled, barely managing to get to your feet. “What the fuck. What’s going on?” you ask to no one in particular before turning towards Yoongi, noticing that he’s in the same state as you are. “Who are you?” “Yoongi.” His deep voice rumbles against the walls and he wears an unimpressed expression as he scans you from head to toe. “Can she see me?” You don’t look away from him, simply pointing to the woman. “No. But she can feel you.” “What?” You’re still flabbergasted, mind reeling and Yoongi feels just as numb. “What in the fucking hell….How?” “She’s psychic.” You’re befuddled, confused out of your mind. But the woman continues to speak. “I can feel her. She is….sad.” “Sad?” Your mom’s eyes are rounded, brows knitting together, looking hurt and concerned. Yoongi scoffs as his mother nods. “Deep sadness. You’re not taking care of yourself, are you? Neither is your younger son. She’s been following the both of you for some time now, watching over you.” You’re surprised, taken back by her accuracy. Your mother also comes to cover her mouth with her hand, broken sobs tearing through her throat. “C-can I talk to her?” Once she’s gotten the signal to go ahead, she turns to the empty space, missing you, but still in the general vicinity of where you are. “Y/N, honey, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that you’re still worrying about me and Jungkook. But you don’t have to be worried about us anymore. We’ll be fine. Go on in peace, okay?” A lump forms in your throat, keeping your words from spilling out. “She won’t be alone anymore. They’ll be a good match.” “What...is she talking about?” You look at Yoongi again, whispering, but the stranger doesn’t respond. He appears defeated, knees propped up and arms openly rested on them. “Y/N, you and my son are going to be wedded together,” the woman explains openly, answering your questions, “so neither of you have to be alone in the other world. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.” “Wait….what?!” Your reaction is similar to Yoongi, mouth dropping to the ground, eyes doubling. But you don’t fully understand the extent of what’s occurring — not as well as Yoongi does. He’s the one who’s truly devastated at this news. “I’m marrying you?!” “Nice meeting you too,” he chuckles lifelessly. You don’t appreciate his joke whatsoever. “What in the ever living fuck?!” “Hmm….I see it.” Yoongi’s mother bobs her head up and down, stuck in a trance as she stares at her ceiling. “They’re upset and angry.” Your mom is immediately worried. “A-angry?” “Damn fucking straight I’m angry!” You’re screaming and no one hears except Yoongi who covers his ears and scowls at your shrieking volume. “Since when am I getting married?!” // It’s unbelievable. Even when you were alive, you questioned if you ever wanted to be married to someone. The thought of forever being tied down to another human being for the entirety of your life somehow brought a bitter taste in your mouth. You found everything and everyone annoying with enough time — surely, marriage didn’t suit you. But being married to a total stranger after you’re dead for eternity?! This was some kind of living hell….and you couldn’t even escape via death by running into traffic. “We have to find some way to stop this.” “How?” Yoongi questions with a raised brow before scoffing. “We’re dead. It’s not like we can say anything.” “You said she could sense us, right?” You chase after him in exasperation. “Can’t she tell that we’re against this?” “She’s already made up her mind.” His gaze is firm, eyes cold and pinpointed on yours. “She won’t change it.” “How do you know?” “She’s my mom.” Yoongi turns on his heel one last time, challenging you to keep trying to test his patience, just so you’ll see what will happen. “The living has always been selfish, don’t you realize that? People will always be selfish. It doesn't matter that we’re dead. It doesn’t matter what we think. They don’t want us to rest in peace — they want their own comfort.” You scoff, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. “So you’re just going to let this happen?” “There’s nothing else we can do,” Yoongi repeats himself. “And we’re dead, right? We’ll pass onto the other side eventually. Marriage is a human construct. It doesn’t matter anyways.” “Yes, it does,” you persist. “It matters to me. I don’t want to marry you. I don’t even know who you are!” “I don’t want to marry you either.” With that said, he makes his move, strolling off. “W-where the hell are you going?!” “Away. Fuck off.” You scoff, not bothering to chase after him anymore. “What an asshole.” “I heard that!” “Good!” You shriek after him childishly, repeating yourself and making it loud and clear. “You’re an asshole, you know that?!” His voice becomes fainter, but you still hear his spiteful insults. “You’re an annoying bitch.” “What the fuck did you just say? Get back here! You coward! Yoongi!” You’re left breathless and defeated, fists crumpled together and face twisted in anger. A scream of his name comes out of you one more time before you’re left in silence with no choice but to collect yourself and pick up the remains of your diminishing sanity. You don’t know who he is or who he thinks he is — but you’ll never marry a bastard like him. Before you can stomp off, the psychic lady who brought you into this mess enters through the doorway. She pushes the beaded curtains away and stops several meters away from where you’re standing, staring at the space you occupy as if she can feel your presence. It’s astounding how similar she looks to her son, rounded cheeks and cat-like eyes, only older and with untamed hair. “Hello. I’m Min Chaerin. It’s nice to meet you.” There’s a pause. “I know you’re upset.” “That’s an understatement,” you spit out, even if she can’t hear you. “I promise you I’m not scamming your mother. I don’t know what Yoongi might’ve told you, but this is my job. I’m a matchmaker for the dead and I help the living with their grief. He never respected my profession when he was alive and I’m sure he still doesn’t respect it while he’s dead. He’s always hanging around on my shoulder to tell me that...But rest assured, I don’t have harmful intentions….” She walks off slightly as if trying to get closer, but she misses you by a few inches, staring off towards the painting of sunflowers. “I know you might not want this, but I believe it can help you too. You’re scared of passing, aren’t you? I can sense it.” You have no idea what this lady is going on about. “You’re wrong.” And within seconds, you vanish into thin air. Your aura disappears and Yoongi’s mother sighs, finally left alone in her own peace. // It doesn’t take long for Jungkook to find out what happens. On his way home from school, he looks through the mailbox and when he finds it empty, he goes through his mom’s bag to see if she picked up anything important. Instead, he finds a manila envelope and upon turning it the wrong way, the thin sheets of paperwork slide out onto the table, along with your profile and Yoongi’s. It’s enough for him to go berserk. “What is this?” “What are you talking about?” “This.” The high-schooler whips the papers around in his hands, his boyish features scrunched into wrath and giving him premature wrinkles. “You’re marrying Y/N off to some dead guy?!” “Jungkook…” your mom approaches with an outstretched, gentle hand. “....sit down.” “Don’t touch me!” He shoves her back, causing the older woman to stumble, gasping. “This...this is disgusting!” He screams like it physically pains him, like he’s appalled by his own mother; like he is grossed out by himself and how he’s laid hands on his mom, how he’s losing control of his emotions completely. He feels disgusted by everyone and his own hands. “Why don’t you just let her rest in peace?! Why do you have to do this?! Why is this necessary?!” “Jungkook.” Her eyes plead with his. “I don’t want your sister to be alone—” “Do you think she would want this?!” he cries out, tears streaming down his face without him even realizing. Seldom has he been so openly upset. “Do you really think Y/N would want to get married?!” “I can’t bear the thought that she’s alone!” she finally shouts back at him, breaking down and slumping on the floor as if begging for repentance. “I can’t sleep at night. I can’t eat. I keep thinking about it...how I...I should’ve been the one to die instead.” The fatigued woman beats her chest as she sobs. The last thing she ever wanted in this world was to bury her own child. “She never got the chance to love, to live, to be happy…..I am her mom and I couldn't even protect her. I...I don’t want her to be lonely!” “She’s dead. So let her die.” Jungkook’s fists shake and he throws the papers to the ground, coating the cold floorboards in white. “You talk to her picture when you get home, you put food out for her like she’s still alive. I was the one who had to clean out her stuff! I was the one who had to do all the funeral arrangements. And you think doing something like this will make you feel better?!” The woman calls out to him, repeating her son’s name on his clips, crying for the old child she has left. But Jungkook is cold and his gaze is full of disdain. “Why don’t you just let her die already?!” He stomps hard enough to bruise his own feet. The door slams, hinges trembling. The two of them cry in different rooms, tears that dissolve the bindings that held this home together. This time, you stay with your mom on the floor. Knees gathered and leaning against the wall, you watch as she weeps into her hands. From the corner of the room, someone passes through the furniture, another ghost that wanders in. It’s not Yoongi or a stranger, but Holly. He doesn’t bark or yelp for your attention, merely approaching, sensing your sorrows. He curls up in your lap and you accept his affections, holding him close. You cry with your mom and she never knows that you’re right beside her. // “Marry me.” “No.” “Please, Yoongi?” You never thought you’d resort to begging and it’s beginning to take a hit to your pride. “I promise I’ll make you the happiest man ever.” If looks could kill, you’d be lowered into your grave for a second time. His glare is cold, eyes cat-like and made of ice. But it doesn’t deter you for a second. “Over my dead body.” “You said it didn't matter! We’re dead, marriage is a human construct, sound familiar?” “Doesn’t mean I’d agree.” Yoongi isn’t even a bit curious as to why you’ve changed your mind so quickly. He truly doesn’t give a shit about you. “Your mom’s going to delay the marriage if she knows we’re still upset over it. I don’t want it to be delayed. If you accept now, we can get it done and over with. Then we can be out of each other’s way.” “I don’t think you understand something, kid.” Yoongi sits up from the bed, craning his neck to lock his eyes with yours. “Marriage is a human construct, yes. But a spirit marriage is different. We’ll be bounded together. Tied.” “So?” “I don’t want to be connected to you in any way.” “Oh, fuck you too then.” Your fist balls up. He has the most punchable face in existence. “Listen here, Min. I don’t know who you think you fucking are, but let me make this clear to you. I don’t want to marry you, alright? Not in any way. Shape. Or form. I’m doing this for my mom, alright? The quicker our marriage happens, the quicker she can move on with her life.” You want peace for your mom and for her to have an eased mind, even if it means you have to go through with this stupid thing. This….this marriage means nothing in the grand scheme of things. When it comes to your family — Jungkook and your mom — you’ll do anything that you have to. But to your dismay, Yoongi scoffs and lays back down. “Yeah, no thanks. Go ask some other ghost to help you out.” “Fuck you!” you shout at an ear-splitting volume and he grimaces, covering his ears. “I didn’t want to marry you anyway!” With the last word in, you trample out. Rather than vanishing, you make sure to physically trample out as loud as you can so he can hear. Half of you expects Yoongi to run out of his room and accept your proposal and you would whip around with a curt ‘damn straight’. But of course not. Instead, you end up marching into the main living area, right as there’s some meeting going on. There’s a boy sitting at the round table next to a girl, in the middle of a union being discussed. The two of them look up at you and even Yoongi’s mother becomes startled at your presence, stopping mid-sentence to look around the space you’re in. The only person who is clueless is the affluent woman with pearls around her wrinkled neck. “A-are you alright?” The old woman’s vision strays to where the shamaness is staring. “Is...is there something there?” “N-no. It’s alright. It’s nothing.” “Sorry for interrupting,” you mumble and duck your head. The two ghosts don’t respond and you go out quieter, exiting the house in embarrassment. Before you can take a sigh of relief though, one glance to your left and you're nearly scared to death. “Holy fuck! You scared me!” There’s a young female ghost staring into the window. She’s startled when she sees you, inhaling a sharp breath. “I’m so sorry!” And before you can ask any questions, she disappears, body dissipating in front of your very eyes. “What in the ever living hell.” You’ve never met so many ghosts before. This house was definitely haunted…. With a sigh, you’re on your way, walking across the lawn before you realize what you’re even doing and you spin around. “Is he really not coming out?!” Goddammit. With zero shame, you march back in, interrupting the meeting for a second time. The two ghosts watch with wide eyes, and even Yoongi’s mom hitches her breath for a moment, stopping mid-sentence yet again. But there’s no time for any more apologies. You pass through the walls until you’re in Yoongi’s bedroom again. He’s still in the same palace where you left him two minutes ago — laying in the single bed on top of the train-printed blue bed sheets, staring up at his ceiling. You never got a good look the first time around. His childhood bedroom is quite cute and cozy. There are knick-knacks on top of the wardrobe and on the shelves, toy cars and superhero figurines with pictures of his younger self that are cuter than you’d like to admit. The music posters on his walls and the stack discs are traces of his teenage years. But his room is fairly neat and organized, empty even, as if he had cleaned up before moving out and didn’t have plans of coming back. “Fuck off, will you?” Yoongi drags a hand over his face, ignoring the way you’re standing with your hands on your hips, glaring down at him like you’re a disapproving mother. “No, you.” “Real mature,” he chides, less angry and with a speck of amusement in his low voice. “Why are you fighting against me? I thought you already accepted this?” “I thought you didn’t want to marry me,” he throws right back at you, using his words like a boomerang. “I changed my mind.” “Then I changed my mind too.” There’s a ghost of a smirk on his mouth and you release a frustrated exhale, holding back on throttling Min Yoongi to the ground like your instincts are telling you to do. “Just agree, goddammit! You’re lazing around anyway!” Your arms shoot up, motioning to how he’s lounging on his bed with his arms folded underneath his head like he’s sunbathing on some beach. “We have no choice either way. Like you said, your mom’s going to go through with it — so better now than later!” “Hmmm….” Yoongi pretends to consider it. You want to strangle him so bad and it’s not like there’s a ghost police to arrest you either. The only thing is...he can’t die a second time and you really can’t afford pissing someone off bad enough that they’ll enact revenge on you. “Let me think about it…...okay…..” “Okay?!” Your eyes widen in excitement, lips beginning to draw upwards. “Okay, I’m thinking about it,” he corrects with a shit-eating grin. Your own mouth falls into a straight line and he turns his head to stare at you. “No.” “Fuck you, mommy’s boy!” “What did you just call me?” Instead of being offended, Yoongi is even more amused. Your insults keep having a reversed effect on him and it’s driving you crazy. “A mommy’s boy!” you scream at him indignantly. “You still live with your mom! And she told me you’re always perched on her shoulder like some kind of bird! You obviously got mommy attachment issues!” He scoffs, finding it utterly ridiculous to the point that it’s humorous. “Are you done?” “Yes!” you exclaim and his grin widens, having not expected an actual answer. You’re absolutely humiliated from having your proposal rejected. You’ve been slapped across the face by his apathy too. There’s nothing you can do, but stomp out for the hundredth time. Yoongi yells something that you better not come back to bother him, though the pair of you are perfectly aware you’ll come back sooner or later. But luckily for you, you’re not interrupting the meeting for the third time. The wealthy lady as well as Yoongi’s mom are outside, ending their long conversation together. The female ghost seems to have gone too. There’s only the male left, standing at the window and staring out at the front lawn. Your steps slow, tired from being angry. The tall male turns slightly from his spot. “Umm….hi.” “Hi.” It’s awkward. You didn’t expect to be stopped by the ghost and you’re especially taken back by how handsome he is, even with the sickly colour of his skin that every dead being seems to have. There’s something mischievous about the way he looks and carries himself as if his youth hasn’t quite passed on yet despite his body being gone. “Are you getting married too?” It’s complicated — but with a clenched jaw, you answer in determination, “Yes.” “Cool.” His smile is sweet. “I’m Taehyung. You are?” “A ghost.” Taehyung bursts out laughing, mouth moving in a slightly boxy shape as his eyes crinkle. “Same.” You haven’t talked to a lot of others since you’re passing. Aside from Yoongi, this has been the only interaction you’ve had. You act like you don’t care and most of the time you don’t, but you didn’t realize how much you missed interacting with someone else, having them see you as you see them. “My mom’s marrying me off,” Taehyung tells you, looking out the window towards the lady in the driveway. A wistful sigh leaves the seams of his parted lips. “She says it’s for me, but I think it’s really more for her….so she can get a sense of peace.” You feel him on a spiritual level and you’re a few centimeters away from giving him a pat on the back. Dead laughter streams out his chest, never reaching his eyes. He murmurs his thoughts like he’s speaking to himself, “She’s controlling even after death. Can’t escape an arranged marriage, huh? Till death do us part, my ass.” You snort. “Tell me about it.” Before anymore can be said, something catches the corner of your eyes again; but you’re more prepared and not so startled. Your head turns and you find the ghost once more. This time she’s standing in some bushes on the side of the lawn and you wonder if she’s some sort of stalker. Your forehead nearly passes through the glass of the window and a muscle in your cheek twitches as your eyes narrow. Her vision is pinpointed on the male beside you, but once she finds you looking right at her, her sad expression becomes surprised and she vanishes again. “Huh.” “What is it?” “There.” You point off and Taehyung shifts. “But she’s gone again.” His brows furrow. “Who?” “I don’t know.” You shrug. “Some girl who was looking through the window earlier. She scared the living daylights out of me…..” You smile at your own joke. Taehyung doesn’t laugh. “W-what did she look like?” “Short hair. Almond eyes. About...this tall.” Your hand juts out, matching the height you remember and suddenly, there’s a ripple of recognition that comes across Taehyung’s beautiful features. “Yeonmi?” “You know her?” Your eyes move to look at him, but Taehyung is preoccupied, staring into the distance with a slack jaw, a frown marring his visage. “Hey! Where are you going?” The ghost jogs straight through the wall, away to the garden and out of sight. You sigh. Goddammit. You were just about to ask him to marry you too. But they always run, don’t they? In life or death, you’ll never be popular. // She is heavy, weighed down. It’s an inch on her back that she can’t reach, a tickle at the nape of her neck. Goosebumps erupt and the hair on her arms raise all over her flesh. No matter where she saunters off to, she constantly feels like she’s being watched. “Min Yoongi, if you do not leave me alone, I will exorcise you from this house.” He scoffs. “No, you wouldn’t.” Yoongi’s mom washes her dishes at the sink, scrubbing her plates with passion as if trying to release her annoyance on the porcelain. “You can hate me all you want, boy. But at the end of the day, you’re hurting yourself more than anyone.” He watches her in silence and he can’t find it in himself to disagree. Yoongi does hate his mother. He hates what she believes in and stands for, resents how he never felt her love while growing up, despises how she plays with others’ grief. But he can’t argue or throw tantrums. So he’s made a resolve to never stop plaguing the woman and making her life miserable. The middle-aged woman’s hands halt on scrubbing. The sponge falls to the bottom of the sink and she turns to her right where he’s hovering, feeling the pressure of his aura that’s increasing in intensity. Yet, instead of being bothered, a long exhale is released from her lungs. “Yoongi,” she calls him gently with sad eyes. “You’re lonely….aren’t you? That girl that I matched you with, she can help you. You can help her. The both of you are similar in more ways than one, I feel it.” Yoongi doesn’t want to hear any of it. It’s the first time he admits defeat and walks off. But his mother has his persistence and wipes her hands quickly on a tea towel to follow him as he drifts away. “If you trust me this once. If you believe in me and my work this one time, then you’ll see I’m not wrong. She will help you to peace and you will help her, I am certain of it.” “I don’t want peace,” he responds calmly, but she can’t hear him. “You didn’t believe me when I said I could sense ghosts.” She stops and his own feet halt. An extended inhale is taken through her lips. “And now you’re on the other side, you know I wasn’t lying. Why do you think I’d be lying about this? Stop being so cynical and skeptical for once and trust me.” “I won’t marry her.” Yoongi disappears, dissipating from his spot. His mother sighs, losing sight of his soul and she returns to the kitchen to finish her chores, mumbling incessantly about her good for nothing son. In the meanwhile, half across the city in a tiny home, you’re bored out of your mind. “Hey…..” You’re curled up on the armchair, leaning over to the wooden desk. “Are you going to do anything exciting any time soon?” “Go, go, go,” Jungkook mutters excitedly with his pupils wide, fingers tapping on the keyboard like his life depends on it. This is the most lively you’ve seen him in the past few months. “Don’t you have any homework to do, brat?” you nag him even if he can’t hear you. “What about your history assignment? If your grade drops even more, the school’s gonna call mom and you’re gonna be in a world of trouble. Since when did you become so irresponsible? I’ll throw your computer away!” Jungkook continues to game in the dark. He has no life. No friends. But at least he’s not watching porn. You wouldn’t be able to stick around for that — you’d probably have to poke your eyeballs out and jump on to oncoming traffic. Still, you didn’t know your dork of a younger brother could get any lamer. He’s been playing all day, eating chips instead of having a real dinner, hasn’t showered at all….god, if only you could give him a noogie. Suddenly, there’s a whisper in your ear, hot breath skimming on your skin— “Boo.” “AHHHHHHHH!” You’re scared to death, chilled to the bone, nearly falling out of the plush armchair. Your hand is over your chest, an absence of any heartbeat underneath your palm. “Wh-what the fuck is wrong with you?!” Yoongi is laughing like the little shit that he has. There’s a gummy grin plastered on his face, the biggest goddamn smile you’ve ever seen on him. “Are you scared of ghosts?” “Shut up! How the fuck did you find me?!” His hands are digging into his pants pockets, lips pouted. The only light is from Jungkook’s computer screen, the white hue casting a soft glow on your skin. Yoongi leans against the wall and stares at you. “It wasn’t hard looking for your address when my mom’s written a thousand details about you from your mom. I thought you’d be here….turns out I was right.” You get up, blocking his view from Jungkook. “Get out. Go away.” But he doesn’t move, merely tilting himself and jutting his chin at the boy seated in the chair that you’re being protective of. “That your boyfriend?” “Ew. That’s my brother, you idiot.” “And you’re calling me a mommy’s boy for following my mom around?” “Shut the hell up.” You walk through the wall into the kitchen where your brother left on several dim lights. Yoongi follows you out where you can both talk without the noise of guns firing and bullets spraying. “What are you doing here? Did you change your mind?” “Not particularly.” He shrugs. “I was bored?” “You were….bored?” “Yup. My mom was annoying me with her nagging and I have no one else to bother except you.” “Wow. I’m so honoured,” you deadpan with an unimpressed expression. Yoongi smiles softly, the corners of his mouth curving and his skin bathes in the warm light of the standing lamp. It brings a lump to your throat, but you ignore it. “Did you at least think about it?” “My answer hasn’t changed.” “So if I got down onto one knee right now and proposed, you wouldn’t accept?” “I’d be amused,” he says as if it’ll make you feel any better. It doesn’t. Yoongi takes a long moment to look around your house. Your home is small and sad, falling apart, though he never makes any comments on it. It makes you uncomfortable that he’s prying into your private family life, looking at the pictures and how you lived when you were still alive. But you guess it’s fair he takes a look around considering you’ve been to his house and bedroom a number of times now. “Listen—” “Hello?” He’s interrupted by another voice, deeper and growly. A ghoul emerges from the white wall, floating and pale. Yoongi yells. You scream. The two of you stumble back, scared at wit’s end. The ghost’s eyes are big and he spits out apologies for not making any noise beforehand. At the presence of a new guest, you blink thrice. “T-Taehyung?! What are you doing here?!” “I was looking for you and I followed him here.” He points to Yoongi and the latter man recognizes him as one of the clients. They’ve seen each other briefly before, though never exchanging more than a slight nod of acknowledgment. You turn towards Yoongi, glaring at him for leading ghosts into your house. You’re the only one who should be haunting this place. He doesn’t say anything, solely putting his hands up like it wasn’t his fault and you sigh, turning to the taller ghost. “What do you want from me?” “I need your help. That girl you saw before. Yeonmi.” “What about her?” “I want to marry her.” You exchange a look with Yoongi. What the hell? // Apparently he’s been searching for this girl desperately, going to every place that he could think of only to come up short each and every time. But you’ve seen her….twice. “How am I supposed to find her, Taehyung?” You don’t know anything about this girl. It was all a coincidence. You only saw her because she was following him. For all he knows, she could be right under his nose. You decide to shun him, but his desperate beginning continues. Yoongi bids farewell, making it clear that this isn’t his problem. He’s an idiot if he thinks you’re about to let Taehyung pester your family, so you follow him while Taehyung follows you. It’s a conga line — not of dancing, but of haunting each other. “Please, please, please, Y/N. Help me.” “I can’t.” “Can you two be quiet? I’m trying to rest.” “You’re dead.” You hover over Yoongi’s body that’s laid on his bed again, flat on his back with his arms to his side like he’s a vampire in a coffin. “You don’t need rest.” “Haven’t you heard the saying ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead?’ I’m following through with it.” “I love her.” Taehyung drops down to his knees. It’s difficult to ignore him and you shift on your feet uncomfortably. “We knew each other since we were kids and we dated for a while, but then we broke up and I….I still love her. I still think about her. I didn’t know she was still here.” “What would it take for me to marry you?” you ask Yoongi. “Do you want a dowry?” “I can’t take anything with me when I go to hell.” “You’re already in hell.” The corner of his lip lifts into a smirk. “If you’re here, I’m definitely in hell.” “Wow, bitch. Be like that.” Taehyung swallows hard and his rumbling voice drops down into a whisper, “She’s the one I want. No one else.” You stop, lips falling into a straight line, turning to look down at Taehyung. You take a seat, leaning against the wall with your knees propped up. Yoongi’s eyes flutter open, staring up at his ceiling and Taehyung continues to weep with his head downcasted. Aside from the ghost’s soft sobs, the three of you linger in the silence. “I don’t know how I can help you. I...really don’t.” “Y-You’ve seen her before.” “That was by coincidence.” “She won’t let me talk to her. She’s running away….but if I could just...if I could just tell her I’m still in love with her….” You turn your head towards your supposed fiancé. “You should make yourself useful, Yoongi.” “Die.” “I’m already dead,” you spit at him, serious and no longer joking around. “I get if you don’t want to marry me. But shouldn’t we at least help someone out who wants to get married? I can’t do this by myself….please?” There’s an extended moment of silence. It draws on and on. You continue to stare at Yoongi. He sighs. “......you’re so goddamn annoying.” He gets up and you smile. Taehyung is relieved, looking at both you and Yoongi with a grateful gaze, but your fiancé tells him not to be thankful yet. // Yoongi searches through his mother’s profiles. He can’t pick things up from the shelf, but luckily no one in his family has ever been particularly neat. There are things sprawled out in organized messes and he uses the wind to flutter the pages back and forth, searching for the girl’s picture. You’re on lookout duty, keeping an eye out and following Taehyung closely. She could be anywhere, but you caught her following Taehyung, so there must be something she has to say to him or at least there’s something she wants to do. You suspect her last wish is what’s holding her back. “Is she in the binders?” “I’m still looking.” Yoongi flips through and Taehyung tries to help, looking over his shoulder. Yoongi becomes a little uncomfortable and finally understands what his mom feels constantly when he’s hovering over her. Nonetheless, hours pass until—…“found her.” Yoongi’s mother is humming a song underneath her breath. After a long day, she’s finally able to wind down and relax. The older woman is stretching her shoulders, patting the skincare cream into her cheeks as she prepares for bed. She’s walking over, ready to slip into her toasty covers, but then freezes mid-step, chills sweeping up her spine. She cranes her neck over and souls emerge from the walls. “Y/N? And...Yoongi.” A grin pulls onto her face. “What a lovely surprise. It’s nice to see you two together. Have you changed your minds—?” She’s cut off when you’re accompanied by a third.. “Who is this?” The woman squints as the tips of her fingertips tingle. She feels the air around her and stands straight. “I recognize you….you’re that young man from a week ago...Kim….Taehyung….I’m right, aren’t I?” “Yes, I am!” he chirps, confirming her belief, but she can’t hear. Yoongi apathetically waves his hand into the air and the slip of paper comes out from beneath the door. Her eyes stray off and when she walks over, she bends down to pick it up. “Park Yeon….mi? This is a girl from a while ago…..” Yoongi’s mother is confused, but Taehyung approaches confident and firm. “I want to marry her.” “What do you want me to do with this?” she asks and looks towards the spaces you occupy. Her intuition sings to her and she is quick-witted, catching on fast. “Perhaps...you want to marry this girl, Taehyung?” His aura morphs into a bright yellow, confirming her suspicion. She sighs. “I don’t know if your mother will accept this. We’ve already agreed to have you with another girl….” Taehyung begins to pour out his protests. Yoongi scowls, turning away. But you stay in your spot, trusting in the woman. She inhales and nods. “But….I’ll see what I can do.” You smile, full of relief. Even Yoongi appears surprised, shifting slightly with a lifted brow. But even with things going smoothly, you’re on alert. If possible, you want to get to the girl before she’s summoned. “I don’t know what my mom will say,” Taehyung admits nervously. “She wasn’t ever approving of our relationship…” “Well, there’s nothing we can do. They’ll take it from here,” Yoongi brushes off. “You can only hope for the best.” “I guess….” The three of you walk down the hall, making your way across the manor and back to Yoongi’s bedroom. You wonder if he died in his bed since he has such a damn attachment to being in that same spot. It’s practically his coffin. “Do you have nowhere else to be? Are you going to keep bothering me the entire day?” Taehyung pouts. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.” You trail after the pair of them until something passes through the wall. A small animal with stubby legs causes you to stop. “Holly?” The puppy yelps in response and the two males are too caught up in their banter to notice that you’re left behind. They walk through the doorways, disappearing from sight and you lower yourself to the poodle. The ball of fluff has his tail wagging, happy to see you and a smile itches up your lips. “What is it?” Your arms extend, about to pick Holly up, but he jumps back and totters the way he came. You frown and he spins back to look at you as if asking for you to come along. You follow the puppy, passing through the walls until you’re outside and you hear tinkling giggles. “You’re back, puppy?” a light voice sing-songs and you step into the sunlight. The girl you’re looking for is sitting meters away in the garden. “Yeonmi?” She gasps, eyes wide and looking up at you. “Um...is this your dog?” You glance down at Holly. “Yeah…I guess...” “I’m sorry.” She stands, smoothing out the floral print of her dress and nervously tucking a strand of her hair behind her ears. “I didn’t know. I-uh…” “Wait. Don’t go.” Your hand is extended and you force yourself to remain calm. “Please, listen to what I have to say.” Her teeth sink into her trembling bottom lip and she takes a glimpse over your shoulder. You reassure the girl, “He doesn’t know you’re here. Don’t worry.” After a beat, she nods, deciding to trust you. The both of you take a seat on the bench, watching Holly wandering around the gardens, teetering from side to side as he circles butterflies and the tulip flowers growing with weeds and untamed grass in between. “I’ll cut to the chase.” You’ve never been good at sugar coating things or easing in. It’s better to lay it on flat. “Taehyung wants to marry you.” “W-what?” She is astounded and blinks hard. You’re endeared by how sweet her personality seems and how pretty she is. She’s soft-spoken, but her eyes are bright and despite being dead, they have life within them. “I-I thought he was marrying someone else!” You shake your head. “He went looking for me to try to search for you. He still loves you...a lot...enough to bother me even after I told him to get lost.” “I…” Yeonmi toys with the hem of her dress, wrinkling the chiffon fabric in her hands as she bunches it up. “I was the one who broke up with him all those years ago. I broke his heart. I didn’t mean to….I just want him to be happy….and I thought this time, he’d finally be with someone who deserves him.” You watch her, the way regret has etched itself through her thoughts, words and actions. “I don’t deserve him.” “That’s bullshit and you know it.” You turn fully to her, almost angry at her reasoning. “Look. You’re dead, alright? There’s no changing that. You’re dead. I’m dead. There’s no point of having regrets now. Don’t make up excuses, okay? If you don’t want to marry him, then say so because there’s nothing stopping you now except for yourself and your insecurities.” She blinks hard, taken back by your bluntness. “I….” “Do you love him?” Yeonmi looks into her lap and she confesses, “I do.” “He loves you.” You don’t get it. It’s so simple. Why can’t love and romance be straightforward? “But I just can’t do that to him,” she whispers. “To throw him away and then take him back again. Taehyung doesn’t deserve that.” “That doesn’t matter to me.” A voice interrupts out of the blue and the ghost materializes from the wall. “Jesus, motherfucker! Oh my god! You almost killed me!” For the millionth time, you’re nearly scared to death at his appearance, a hand put over your chest out of reflex. Yoongi follows after the taller male, strolling into the scene with a smirk. You really wish these ghosts would stop sneaking up on you. “How did you find me? I thought you didn’t notice.” “You were gone.” Yoongi shrugs with pouty lips. “Of course, I would notice.” Unlike you, Yeonmi isn’t startled or fazed. Both her and Taehyung ignore you and Yoongi, stuck in a small bubble of only them, locked gazes that make the moment all too intimate. She stands and begins to back away. “T-Taehyung….” “Please don’t run from me,” he begs her with saddened eyes. “Not again.” “I...I’m sorry.” “I love you!” He shouts before she can vanish in front of him. Taehyung’s fists crumple and he doesn’t back down to what he’s been thinking about for the past several years, the thoughts that have been plaguing him day and night, regrets that he lived and died with. “I still love you, even after all this time….I haven’t stopped thinking about you, even after you died.” A ripple of sadness strikes across her features until she’s shattered, breaking down into sobs and rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hands. “I...I broke your heart.” “You did. But that never once changed how I felt about you.” It’s sappy and you’re eating it all up. While you’re standing back and next to Yoongi, you watch the beautiful moment like it’s part of The Notebook. “Y-You don’t care that I hurt you?” Taehyung shakes his head. “You’re my best friend — you’ll always be. And I can’t imagine marrying anyone other than my best friend.” “Taehyung…” “I don’t want to marry anyone else. I want you. I will always choose you.” Yeonmi is the one who steps forward, taking three strides to close the distance between their forms. His arms are stretched and they wrap around her waist. They embrace each other, holding one another close and she cries into his chest and he digs his nose into her hair. “I never thought I’d get to see you again.” He laughs tearfully, staring up at the white clouds in the sky that’s oblivious to them. “When you died….when you died…” “I never left.” “We didn’t get to spend our lives together, but we can spend eternity together,” he murmurs to her and when the words melt your own heart, you realize what a sucker you are for this kind of thing. You lean over to Yoongi. “What he said.” His chuckles are muffled and there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, making Yoongi look younger than he usually does. “Your attempts at proposing are getting worse and worse.” “Would it ruin the mood if I dropped down to one knee right now?” “I’d walk away without looking back.” You scoff, the two of you whispering back and forth to each other. “You already do that.” Usually watching a couple blissfully in love would make you feel somewhat bitter and you’d become cynical, knowing that it wouldn’t last and imagining them breaking up and being better off alone. But knowing Taehyung and speaking to Yeonmi, you have a sense that this is meant to be. And you don’t feel so lonely when Yoongi is right beside you. // There’s only one thing left. Everything on the side of death has been reconciled. Now you wait for the side of the living. “W-what do you mean?” Taehyung’s mother is confused, baffled, and her brows are furrowed deep. “He came to me and he told me who he really wanted to be with.” She slides the paper over the table. “Do you know her?” The woman gasps, hand lifting to cover her mouth. Sobs choke out of her throat and she glances up at the shamaness. “Ye-Yeonmi…? But...I...I…” She never once approved when they were both living. “It’s what he wants,” she conveys the message. “He’s always loved her.” The words are spoken with truthful sincerity and even Taehyung’s mother knows it. For minutes, it is silent. Both Yeonmi and Taehyung are seated across from each other, nervous and patient for her response. Would she still disapprove after his death? Even after his last request? You observe the way a multitude of emotions washes over her face and after an extended moment, she puts the paper down, peeling her eyes off of the deceased female. If Taehyung’s mother even had a trace of skepticism towards Yoongi’s mother, she doesn’t have any anymore. “If that’s what he wants…” A wistful smile graces her visage. “Who am I to say no?” It takes one single sentence to hurl the two of them from worry to happiness. They grin at each other, reaching over the table to hold one another’s hands. You’re standing beside Yoongi, leaning against the wall and watching with a smile. It doesn’t take long. Their pictures are brought together and Taehyung’s mom brings a photograph from home as well, an image of them when they were still children. The ritual begins and you help Yeonmi doll up, twisting her hair, albeit awkwardly, but she still appreciates it. They sit together in front of Yoongi’s mother, candles lit all around. Taehyung’s mother sits back with you and Yoongi. The shamaness murmurs incantations, letting a warm breeze sweep over the room as the pages in her books begin to flip. Yoongi seems bored, full of distaste, but you make him stay to watch. Deep down, you’re a sucker for sappy things and you can’t help but clap when it’s all done. The pair of them are overjoyed, content smiles pressed against each other when they kiss one another, trying their best not to giggle when they seal their bonds. They hold hands, fingers interlaced as he teases her for the way her kisses have gotten sloppy. Yoongi’s mother senses their bliss and tells Taehyung’s mom — the latter woman which has her own content smile, satisfied when the weight of her regrets and part of her grief are off her shoulders. The old woman nods and tears spring from her eyes, crying from happiness. Taehyung holds his mother without her knowing. Peace is brought and when it’s all over, you swear Yoongi’s mom turns around to look at you, gratitude present in her smile. “What are your plans now?” you ask the newlywed pair, trying your best to not let your jealousy show. While marriage never appealed to you, you’ve always wanted to be as happy as they appear. “Going on any honeymoon?” “Actually…..” she glances at Taehyung. “We...we talked about it…” He squeezes her hand comfortingly. “And we think we’re going to cross.” “Cross?” Your brows shoot to your hairline. “Y-you don’t want to stay here at least a bit longer? You can’t come back if you cross over. It’s a one-way ticket!” “We know. But there’s nothing for us here anymore.” The corners of his mouth lifts, doting gaze redirected to his wife. “We already have what we want,” she reassures and exchanges loving grins with her husband. “Well…” Yoongi rolls his shoulders, getting rid of the tension that appeared while he was watching the ceremony. He lazily nods and waves them off. “If that’s what you’ve decided…” You flash a frown in his direction, unable to understand why he’s telling them to go for it. But it’s ultimately their choice and you know you can’t stop them if they’ve already made up their minds. If they finished all the things they want to do on this Earth, then there’s really no point in being here. “We really can’t thank you enough.” “If it weren’t for you, this idiot would still be standing in the bushes and stalking me.” He laughs, flicking her forehead and causing giggles to bubble from her chest. “Stop, don’t remind me! It’s embarrassing.” Taehyung grins, ginormous smile plastered on his face, and looks off at you two. “I hope I wasn’t too annoying. Thank you, Y/N. Thank you, Yoongi. And tell your mother I said thank you too.” “I’m sure she knows,” he grumbles. “We’ll see you on the other side?” Taehyung asks, knowing that it’s not goodbye forever, or at least that’s what he hopes. You’re a bit uncomfortable, unable to give a definitive answer, but Yoongi nods again. “Maybe. Have a safe trip, you two.” “We will.” They laugh, walking off together down the street, hand-in-hand. It’s their last stroll together before crossing. You stare at their backsides, how their shoulders are weightless, having fewer regrets than before. You wonder if that’ll ever be you someday. It scares you to think about it. // The strip of paper flutters in the air back and forth, rolling around in the air like it’s a piece of confetti that was just popped in the midst of a celebration. You’re sitting on the ground, slumped against the wall, playing with the feather-light piece of white paper and watching it twirl back and forth. You wish you could touch and maneuver heavier things or fiddle around with other objects. You already have invisibility down — if you had other powers, there would be no limits to what you could do. But at the end of the day, you’re not a superhero. You’re just a ghost wandering the planet. There’s shuffling across the small room. Yoongi rolls onto his side, arm dropping over the edge of his mattress, his lethargic gaze pinpointed on you. The strip of paper floats to the carpet, your attention preoccupied on him. You look at him. He looks at you. The two of you stare into each other’s eyes and you wonder if he’s sleeping with his eyes open. “Why are you so quiet?” “‘M not.” You’ve been hanging out with Yoongi more frequently. When you’re not, you’re following Jungkook and your mom as usual. But nothing’s changed with them — they still haven’t been talking to each other, your mom still grieving, your brother down in the dumps. It makes you feel bad and guilty watching them all the time. It’s a nice change to stop haunting them for a while. If guarding them is your main job, then Yoongi is your break. And while it’s hard to admit, you enjoy his company. Sometimes nothing needs to be said and you bask in the comfortable silence, lingering in one another’s presence. Nothing feels too awkward anymore. “You are.” He blinks tiredly, sounding almost concerned. “You’re always yapping off into one of my ears.” “Fuck off, Yoongi.” You twirl your finger and the tiny paper begins to drift again. “No, seriously. What’s up?” he asks again, persisting. “You’re weirding me out and I can’t rest properly when I’m thinking about you.” You’re not sure what to tell him. “How did you die, Yoongi?” His brow lifts, caught off guard. “That’s a personal question.” “I think we’re past the point of personal.” You offer a meek smile, locking your stare with his again and the paper lies beside you. “You’re my fiancé.” “That’s debatable,” he banters back with a soft smile and then there’s a pause before he tells you without any reservation. “It was a plane crash.” “Oh. Did it hurt?” His arm folds underneath his head and even if your question is stupid, he answers truthfully, “Not too much. I just remember...people and a lot of….” “Screaming.” “Yeah….lots of screaming.” You were in a bus crash yourself. The vehicle skimmed across the road, tires screeching aloud. While the memories are vague, going by too fast that it felt surreal, you remember looking into children’s eyes, how scared they were as their mothers and fathers held them. The bus teetered from side to side before flipping several times and you recall having no control of your body, hitting against other people, against the walls and floor, against glass windows until it stopped. Then your eyes saw fire and you felt warm. But most of all, you remember the screaming. The terrified, agonizing screaming of people dying and calling out to their loved ones for help. It’s terrifying to think about it, but somehow it comforts you to know that your experience with death is not so different from Yoongi’s own experience. “You know…” He breaks the silence, swallowing hard. “You don’t have to marry me.” You lift your head, locking your gaze with his once more. “Screw family and what they feel. You can be selfish. It’s okay. Your mom and brother will recover whether you marry me or not. Time heals wounds. You can leave all of this behind, not worry about them, and cross…” There’s a thick lump in your throat and you divert your vision away from his. “Why don’t you cross then? You’re sticking around because of your mom, right?” “I’m not here because I want to be,” he tells you. “I made a promise to myself to haunt her.” “Haunt her?” “To make her life miserable,” Yoongi says simply, yet you still don’t understand. She’s an odd and an undoubtedly eccentric woman, but you’ve never questioned her kindheartedness. He seems to read your expression and rolls on his back, eyes shutting. You suspect it's the end of the conversation and he doesn’t want to reveal anymore, but the corner of Yoongi’s mouth moves. “My relationship with her was never good. She told me she could see ghosts and I never believed her. As I grew older, I thought what she was doing was gross — scamming people, the helpless, the grieving…” “But when I died, I found out she wasn’t lying.” His eyes flutter open again, looking up at the ceiling and the way the paint has chipped in the corner. “But it doesn’t matter. She’s still forcing these ghosts to get married and it’s wrong.” “Taehyung and Yeonmi…” He cranes his neck over to you, irises darkening. “We had to intervene to get them married. Can you imagine the amount of souls that were married to each other when they didn’t want to be?” “.......She wouldn’t marry them if they didn’t want to be….” Yoongi scoffs. “I’ve been around way longer than you. I’ve seen the things she’s done. I won’t rest until she stops so...you shouldn’t try to marry me. I’ll be here for a really long time.” He almost laughs as he tells you, words bitter, and you twiddle with your fingers in your lap, head downcasted and unsure how to respond. “I...I’m not leaving either.” “Don’t wait for me.” “I’m not,” you murmur. “You don’t have any reason for sticking around,” he says easily like he knows you. But he doesn’t. “If you’re worried about your family, then don’t be. There’s not a good reason why you or anyone dead should be here. You’re the one who’s suffering at the end of the day. And doesn’t your mom want you to find peace? I’m sure she’d be happy if you crossed over.” “I don’t know what’s on the other side,” you confess in a quiet voice, slightly annoyed that he keeps pushing you. His brow lifts and he questions— “Does anyone?” “I just don’t want to leave all of this behind.” You gather your knees together, hugging them to your chest, protecting yourself against your own vulnerabilities. “Look, I never got to experience life. I never got to travel and see the world or fall in love or any of that. I never had any fun while I was still alive, so sorry I’m not eager to cross over to the dead any time soon.” “My life sucked. I didn’t get to do anything. I didn’t get to enjoy what I worked so hard for.” You hate how overly emotional you’re becoming, how your deepest thoughts are spilling out for him to hear. You’re an over pressurized capsule with the lid blown off, fists clenched, looking down onto the floor. “At least as a ghost, I can be around my family and go to school and go home and do all the things I’ve wanted to do.” “I get it.” Yoongi finally understands — you’re regretful and full of self-pity. He empathizes and sympathizes more than you’d think. But what comes out his mouth is condescending, “You feel sorry for yourself.” You glare. “Fuck off, Yoongi.” “You’re allowed to feel sorry for yourself.” His lips are pouty and he rolls onto his side again to face you. “I think we’ve both earned that right. But at some point, we just have to ask if it’s doing anything anymore. You feel wronged, but so what? No one cares.” “Gee, thanks.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. “That makes me feel a lot better.” He shrugs. “If you stopped caring, it’s a lot more...free.” “It’s hard not to care.” Years of your youth were wasted. You never accomplished anything and you can’t help but feel you lived an empty, unfulfilled and useless life. Everything was taken from you before you could do anything. It’s unfair. “And that’s easy for you to say. Why don’t you just not care about what your mom is doing?” “Because that’s something I know I can change. But how I lived my life….what I did or didn’t do...what’s done is done. We can’t change that no matter how much we want. We just have to keep looking forward.” “But we’re dead, Yoongi.” You meet his gaze for the hundredth time, wondering how he can be so wise and his presence so calming. “What’s forward? What’s next?” “I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “We don’t know until we cross.” “Aren’t you scared?” You look up at him, hiding your trembling hands. “What if there’s….nothing?” “Then I guess that’s okay,” he hums, strangely gentle. “I’m going to stay here as long as it takes, but not forever. I just don’t think I can be here eternally, tied down by my past, wandering aimlessly. Sometimes...I just want to rest. Peacefully.” His words shake you to your core and he asks— “Are you scared?” Yoongi never lies or tries to hide himself. His candidness causes the walls around you to crumble and it makes you answer him with as much honesty as he has shown you. “Very.” “Don’t be.” He softly smiles, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. “No matter where we end up, I’ll be with you, right?” You scoff lightly, a bit tearful, but you downcast your head into your lap to not let him see how much he’s moved you. Still, you can’t cover the stupid smile that’s plastered on your face. “Are you proposing to me?” He hums a low note. “Sure.” “Wait...what?” You raise your chin, nearly getting whiplash with how quickly you move. Yoongi’s on his back, staring at the ceiling with his arm stretched out like he’s trying to touch it. He’s completely casual and nonchalant. “You’ll marry me?” There’s a pause. Yoongi is quiet. “I think my mom’s going to marry me off eventually. If not to you then to someone else. She’s been trying to get rid of me for some time now and she thinks marrying me off will placate me or something. I don’t know what that psychotic lady is thinking.” He sighs, but there’s a sparkle of mischief in his irises when he slyly steals a glance at you. “Don’t get me wrong, I still think you’re annoying as hell and obviously after this conversation, I find out you’re a hopeless case too……” “You have a real roundabout way of saying this,” you complain with an unimpressed expression. He ignores you. “But if I have to marry someone…….if it’s you...I don’t think I’d mind.” A scoff spills from your lips and you don’t even realize that you’re grinning. “At least ask me properly, asshole. Do you know how many times I’ve asked you?” Yoongi rolls away, facing the wall this time. He shuts his eyes and you suspect he’s ignoring you again, but then you hear his mumbles, “Will you marry me?” It’s barely coherent, but more than you can ask for. A grin spreads across your face, a victorious emotion rippling through your chest and making you feel warm and fuzzy. “Damn straight I will.” Yes, yes, and yes. You never envisioned yourself married. But if it’s Yoongi, you could go through with it. // The bristles of the broom sweep against the concrete, brushing against the autumn leaves as the flutter from the trees. Colours rich in hue, red and gold and tangerine, coat the driveway like oil paints on a canvas. She hums a soft song, sounds taking flight in the breeze and traveling distances far and wide. Two souls pierce through the walls, pulling through the physical matter and passing with ease. You approach her while pondering how she doesn’t get startled. Maybe because she’s used to it by now; she has had the ability since she was born. You also wonder how Yoongi’s relationship with his mother would’ve been different if he saw ghosts too. It is both a blessing and a curse that this gift skips four generations in the Min family. Though you can’t really imagine him as a shaman….it’s a funny thought nonetheless. “There you two are. Spending a lot of time together, are we?” She smiles, continuing to sweep the driveway. “I hope you’ve been getting close, but at this rate, you both might run me out of business. You seem to be better at matchmaking than I am—” she refers to Taehyung and Yeonmi with a grin. “You should worry about your own marriage before looking at others.” The older woman works hard to clear her driveway and makes a mental note to invest in a rake instead. It is silent for a few beats too long and she looks up to find you both there. Oddly enough, her son’s aura isn’t red or black. His soul is almost tinged with pastel yellow. “You two…..you want to get married?” “How many times do I have to tell you?” He drags a hand over his face. “I said yes.” “She can’t hear you,” you chide with a smile until you feel something brush your leg behind you. One look down and you pick up Holly happily into your arms. “Hello there….” “Great.” He lolls his head to the side, having too much fun teasing you, “You got a dog to tie me down, didn’t you?” “I don’t need to use dirty tactics to ‘tie you down’.” You pout, hugging Holly to your chest. “You’re the one begging me to marry you.” Yoongi scoffs. “I didn’t once beg you. You’re the one who’s been following me and proposing hundreds of times.” “I can’t hear you,” you sing-song, ignoring him to coo at your puppy instead. Holly’s tail wags back and forth, ears perking upwards. He’s a part of your family now and you’re about to gain one more member into this small unit that you’re quickly calling your home. You — Yoongi — Holly. His mother can’t hear your banter, but can feel both of your warm auras. Her instincts sing to her and the broomstick slips from her grasps, clattering to the ground. A grin spreads across her face, elated that you’ve both accepted the marriage and she nearly trips as she runs inside the house to give your mom a call. It happens so quickly. Maybe because she’s scared Yoongi’s going to change his mind or get cold feet. It’s miraculous that he agreed in the first place. And when your mom comes by, she’s also happy to hear that the pair of you are willing and excited to go through with it. You’ll do whatever it takes to give her a peace of mind. The ceremony is a simplistic ritual, candles lit all around and the two of you merely sitting side by side with Holly in front of Yoongi’s mom and your mom. There’s no fancy dresses, no extravagant feast, no hundreds of guests that you don’t know the name of filtering through a massive venue. It’s intimate and small, nothing else necessary. His mother’s head is bowed and she reads off the pages of her red book. “—through this union and spirit marriage, their souls shall connect, never to leave the other behind—” “I’m only doing this because it’s convenient,” Yoongi leans in to whisper, but it’s not like they can hear anyway. “Uh-huh.” You tip your head to one side, pretty smile on your face as you bat your lashes back and forth. “You mean you’re not deeply in love with me? You haven’t fallen head over heels for this?” “Psh. Not in this lifetime, sweetheart.” “You’re a blind man, Min Yoongi.” “No.” He corrects, “I’m a dead one.” Infectious giggles spill from your throat and as he gazes at you, the corners of his mouth lift until he’s laughing with you. It doesn’t take too long, just half-an-hour of listening to her words of wisdom and advice, reading off what ministers typically read as they officiate marriages. In hindsight, it’s silly to do such a human thing when you’re both dead. You’re doing this only for the living, but at the same time it’s much deeper than that. Yoongi will become your partner, romantically or platonically depending on you. It’s comforting to know that you won’t be alone. If you ever go to the other side...he’ll be with you every step of the way. “—and with this, let their two souls entwined together evermore….” Her voice fades off and when you look down, you find your skin aglow. Your stomach feels tingly, but you aren’t sure if that’s the result of the ritual or butterflies bursting from glancing at Yoongi. “We’re not going to kiss, right?” “I mean, do you want to?” He licks his lips, half-lidded eyes pinpointed onto your own mouth and he smirks. “It’s not like they would know. We could technically consummate our marriage right here on the floor in front of them and they’d be clueless.” “Yeah, I don’t think so. You’re five lifetimes too early for that, Min.” “What? You’ve never kissed someone before?” He wiggles his brows up and down. “What are you waiting for? If not your dearest husband then who? Unless you’re planning to cheat on me with another ghost….” You’re slightly amused from his scenario. “Would you kill the person I’d have an affair with?” “I can’t. But I could strangle them.” “With those limp arms, you can’t.” “I know something else that isn’t limp….” he comments slyly and your face scrunches impulsively. “Gross. Ugh, I’m so over you right now. When can I get a divorce?” “Never.” He leans in, planting a soft kiss on your cheek. There’s no pressure to it whatsoever, a mere graze of his lips on your skin, but it still catches you off guard. Your pointed glare melts into a pout and he grins. You recognize how giddy Yoongi actually is, unusually hyper and it makes you all the more endeared. Ironically, at the exact same time, your mention of divorce is overridden by the sound of the book slamming shut. “Yoongi and Y/N, I may now pronounce you as husband and wife, soul partners until the end of time itself.” The candles are blown out, flames smothered with the warm breeze that suddenly sweeps through the wind. It caresses against the woman’s cheeks, curling through the strands of her hair and even when you can’t feel anything, warmth spreads from your chest to your toes, making you fuzzy and soft. Your souls are now connected — whether that means. You’re sure it’s more metaphorical than anything. Nonetheless, a sense of bliss ripples throughout your being at your mom’s gentle smile. “Is she saying anything?” Yoongi’s mom looks over and sees the colour of soft pink. “They’re arguing.” “Arguing?” Your mom is both concerned and curious. “In a good kind of way.” She laughs. “They’re happy. Your daughter is happy to have someone with her.” The other woman laughs quietly as well and nods in understanding. After a beat, she lifts her hand to wipe at her eyes before tears can start pouring out. She cries in relief. You wish you could tell her that she was wrong — that someone ended up wanting you anyways. She always entered your bedroom with a pinched nose, saying how no one would want you if you didn’t clean yourself up. But she’s wrong. You found someone. Someone who doesn’t give a shit about anything trivial like that. And it’s not just anyone…. You found Yoongi.

#bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi scenario #bts scenario #BTS MIN YOONGI AS A GHOOOOSTTTT #and OC WHO HAS TO MARRY HIM OH NOOOO #similar to those episodes in Master Sun #but I got my inspiration from this article I read a few months back

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imaginedanganronpa · 5 years

Note

Hello may I please request Drv3's cast as remnants of despair? thank you ^-^

I love Remnant of Despair AUs :) Thank you for the fun Request, I hope you like it!Also, I’m going to shamelessly self-plug here because I also did a DR1 Version of the Remnants of Despair, too! If you like this, check that one out, too!

Again, obvious Warnings for Su*cide Mentions, D*pression/Violence/Murder, etc. and Spoilers for V3!

NDRV3 Cast As The Remnants of Despair!

Kaede Akamatsu

Kaede would be one of the hardestpeople to bring onto the side of Despair and puts up a valiant fight againstJunko’s tactics, but even she can’t stay immune forever. After hours of picking her brain, she finally succumbed to the feeling.

Like Ibuki and Hiyoko, Kaede would hold Despair inducing concerts thatbrainwashed her audience, preaching about how they should all spread Despair. Her songs also encouraged murder and suicide and the music notes would be fine-tuned into high-pitched sounds that diminish your brain into mush and physically hurt to listen to.

Those notes are modified by Miu to infect others with Despair, like an auditory brainwashing technique.

Although Kaede would pretend to be a sweetheart and maintain her innocent personality, she would have great influence over her fans. As a very prominent musician, she would start preaching to her fans to follow Despair and do the unthinkable. Most of her younger followers were turned into minions of the Warriors of Hope, while her older audience succumbed to Despair and committed unimaginable crimes.

Kaede now wears her hair in double ponytails, like Junko, and wears Monokuma hairpins as well.

Saihara Shuichi

Saihara would resist the Despair for as long as possible, but would break when shown falsified videos of Kaede’s death.

In retaliation, his first act as a Remnant would be murdering the uncle he was so close to and complicating his death so that it would never be solved. He would do so in such a disturbingly violent and brutal fashion that it sends chills down the Forensic Investigator’s spines. Complicating other’s deaths is something he continues to do as well.

Saihara’s next course of action was to set the violent criminals he put in prison free and kill the guards who watched over them, laughing maniacally as he did so and spreading Despair to the inmates.

This lead to the criminals rampaging through the city, destroying it in Junko’s name. They would set the courthouse on fire and he would stand on top of the rubble, overlooking the destruction with a satisfied grin.

He would encourage them to vandalize Japan and actively force them to commit crimes like breaking into people’s homes and murder. Saihara directly caused the crime-rates in the city to skyrocket.

He would be much more violent as a Remnant. Where Saihara used to be frailer and weak, he would now be hostile and lash out as he showed little remorse for the justice system.

Maki Harukawa

Maki would be more resilienttowards the Despair and wouldn’t succumb as easily as her classmates, butultimately even she can’t escape its clutches. She would spew threats at Junko as she picked at her brain, and would become a valuable ally on her side.

Maki would use her true talent as the Ultimate Assassin to battle against themembers of the Future Foundation. Her mass amounts of assault weaponry wouldcome in handy as she sits in a tank driven by the other minions of Junko and mows down the Future Foundation’s army with a military-grade assault rifle and machine gun.

But she is also skilled in hand-to-hand combat and directly gets involved in the battle. Maki would likely infiltrate the Future Foundation Killing Game if it goes on for too long and assassinate the members participating, giving them no hope of ever finding the Traitor among them.

She would spread Despair to adults by masking as the Ultimate Child Caregiver andmurdering their children in front of them, driving most of the adults to suicide or madness.

Maki’s personality wouldn’t change very much, though. She would still be cold and distant, only a bit more unstable mentally.

Ouma Kokichi

He would be much easier tosway onto their side. Although, he would still be extremely sarcastic in theprocess, Ouma would be more open to Despair since he finds it intriguing. He would be one of the only Ultimates to willingly side with Junko out of boredom.

Ouma would then bring the rest of the members of DICE onto the side of Despair,enslaving them while forcing them to do the unthinkable and kill their families.

DICE already participated in heinous acts, but their crimes would only increase in severity as Remnant Ouma leads them, and anyone who tried to leave his organization or fight against the Despair would get publicly executed to set an example.

They would wreak havoc on the streets of Japan, vandalizing and destroying the city and physically lashing out against both the innocent bystanders and the law enforcement trying to stop them.

Ouma would lead a horde of Monokuma through the streets as their self-proclaimed leader, and command them to participate in countless crimes alongside DICE. He becomes a Supreme Leader over the Drones and Exisals, marching in the front of the pack and telling them what to do.

Himiko Yumeno

Obviously, Himiko wouldbring others onto the side of Despair through hypnosis and her magic. She would hold Despair-inducing Magic Shows where she used both her talent and a video that Junko and Miu created to brainwash her massive audience.

Her Show would be held in the Central Park of the city to reach a large number of people. Many families, including young children, would unknowingly attend, believing it to be a normal Magic Show. Her hypnosis would convince the younger children to join the Warriors of Hope, and the older audience to fall in line behind Junko, jumping on the vandalizing and violence bandwagon.

As a Remnant, Himiko would be much more cruel and cold, although her laziness would disappear. She would also use Tenko and string her along, abusing the poor girl, who actually wouldn’t mind.

Himiko would further herself into Despair, killing the ‘useless’ animals she had raised for her Shows. Her doves, rabbits - animals of that nature would be slaughtered and fed to her larger animals.

And the tigers, pythons, and other dangerous animals used in her acts would be set free after being put under hypnosis to kill anyone in their path.

Rantaro Amami

Rantaro wouldn’t be as easy tobrainwash: he is the Ultimate Survivor after all, and has powered through this once before; but even he can’t hold on forever. Even his determination wouldn’t be strong enough to resist the Despair.

The first thing he would do after becoming a Remnant is sacrifice all twelve ofhis sisters, murdering and mutilating them in violent ways and offering them up as sacrificesto Junko. Rantaro would feel no remorse as he did this, a sick grin forming on his face.

He is a naturally calm and relaxed person, but his personality twists into something much more chilling and disturbing. Rantaro has a way of smooth-talking others, which he could use when trying to lure the others onto the side of Despair. He could easily beckon people onto his side with his natural charm.

Normally, he doesn’t like to use his sexuality or good-looks and is uncomfortable with romance, but he would seduce others only to kill them and watch the life drain from their eyes, similar to Mikan.

And he would use his talent to travel around the world and spread Despair to other cultures, gaining a massive following in the process.

Tenko Chabashira

Tenko would snap very quickly since her will-power isn’t as strong as she would like to admit. After becoming a Remnant, she would starve herself until she was thin and frail, but still wouldn’t lose her physical strength.

She would mainly be used as a tool to fight against the Future Foundation, like Junko’s personal attack dog. Tenko would be used against the Future Foundation but also against innocent civilians who refused to succumb to Despair. Anyone who tried resisting would get ruthlessly slaughtered by the Aikido Master.

She would fall madly in love with Junko and do anything for her, seeing her in a God-like status.

Tenko would also obsess over Himiko more than she already did, though her personality would be much more outwardly perverted. To fuel her own Despair, she would try to strangle the small Magician, ultimately failing.

She makes it her goal to kill any degenerate male who refuses to bow down to Junko; men are the main group that she kills in acts of Despair.

And to further herself even more, she burns down the Neo-Aikido Temple that she trained and grew up in, slaughtering her former Masters in the process. Tenko drives herself crazy as she stands among the rubble of what used to be the Temple she loved so much.

Kiibo

All Junko had to do to turn Kiibointo a Remnant is reprogram him, so his transition was immediate and his personality completely flipped. Afterbecoming Remnants, Miu would also upgrade him to become a full-fledged killingmachine.

Kiibo becomes ruthless, no longer caring about anyone else and feeling little to no emotion. The voices he heard in his head would be reprogrammed, so rather than the public controlling him, he was only controlled by Junko and would be forced to do anything she wanted.

He would use his guns and weapons as an unstoppable force against the Future Foundation. He becomes the main weapon used against them, like a tool, unable to be destroyed. Kiibo’s eyes turn red and he is much more sinister as he flies above their heads and rains bullets upon them, going on a full blown rampage.

In an act of Despair, he also murders Professor Idabashi, since he was unsuccessful the first time he lashed out. Killing the man who created him brought an overwhelming amout of Despair to Kiibo, which is the only thing he can feel anymore.

And he uses his bombs to blow up buildings, as well as dropping grenades and fire-bombs onto the Future Foundation’s Army and Hope’s Peak’s building, completely destroying them.

Miu Iruma

She absolutely falls in love withDespair and starves herself into a husk to satisfy Junko; she very easily joins the side of Despair, almost willingly.

Miu would create inventions to bring people onto the side of Despair, taking great influence and inspiration from Junko.

She becomes the Head of the Robotics Department and would be the one in charge of creating all of the Monokuma and Exisals that rampage through the streets. She’s the one who created all of the Drones that invaded Towa City as well, her machines are programmed to invade the streets and kill as many people as possible.

Miu would often sit inside the Exisals or have her Drones carry her so she could watch their destruction up close and personal, laughing evilly as they burn the city to the ground and take countless innocent lives.

With her knowledge of technology and the way it messes with the human mind, Miu creates a Despair inducing video similar to the one that brainwashed her; it’s the same one Kaede uses in her performances. She designed it to bring anyone who watches it onto the Remnant’s side.

She would still be a loudmouth, who preaches about Despair from inside her Exisals and screams insults belittling the people of Japan.

Kaito Momota

Before entering his Killing Game, Kaito auditioned with the intentions of killing as many people as possible for fame. After becoming a Remnant, his true psychopathic personality would take over and he would once again be fueled by the desire to earn fame and success.

Kaito would lash out against his fellow Remnants, especially Maki, but when that ultimately fails, he would turn towards slaughtering innocent civilians for seemingly no reason.

He becomes power-hungry and wants to conquer the world. He kills others just for the fun of it all, finding enjoyment out of watching others suffer at his mercy.

Using his talent as the Ultimate Astronaut, Kaito invades the Japanese Space Station and sends nuclear missiles to other countries to take as many lives as possible and start a war between nations. Afterwards, he would blow up the remaining missiles and kill his fellow Astronauts and scientists in the Station.

And Kaito would spread the Disease that he was infected with in the Killing Game, trying to make as many people ill as possible. With one of Miu’s inventions, he would launch the airborne Disease into Japan, which causes a countless number of people to become sick and hopeless.

Angie Yonaga

As a Remnant of Despair, Angiewould abandon Atua since it was the only thing that used to give her Hope and faith in the world, but she doesn’t need that anymore…

She goes on to destroy her former places of worship and delve herself deeper into Despair,laughing as she did so. Angie would go back to her home-island and destroy Atua’s Shrine and Temple, spreading Despair to her people and bringing them onto her side.

Anyone who refused to cooperate would be sacrificed and killed. Angie would recreate her religion to worship not Atua, but Junko, and lead her followers to sinful, Despairing acts. They would all follow her orders and abandon their religion for Despair, with Angie as their spokesperson.

Using her talent as the Ultimate Artist, Angie would also create dark, large, disturbing pieces depicting murder, death, and suicide, among other unsettling concepts and ideas. She would display them in public places where they would be seen often to strike a chord with viewers.

Her unsettling artwork would only further people into depression and emphasize that they had nothing left other than Despair. Angie would also create a large statue of Junko representing her as the nation’s new leader, which also influenced viewers to follow in her footsteps.

Korekiyo Shinguuji

If his sister was still alive, he would kill her and use her as a sacrifice to Junko. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have that option, so he continues with his quest to send ‘friends’ to her in the afterlife. Those friends also become sacrifices to satisfy Junko.

As a Remnant, Korekiyo would be more outwardly perverted and hostile than normal. He would be very easily brainwashed and would fall in love with the feeling of Despair, doing anything in his power to deepen his own mindset.

He would slowly lose his mind and his grip on reality. Korekiyo would become unstable and his moves will be unpredictable, likely becoming a killer who murders others for the sake of entertainment. He is much less compassionate, but now cold and heartless. The only thing he can think of anymore is Despair.

But he uses his talent to travel to other places and spread Despair to other societies, preaching about how beautiful Despair is. Korekiyo continues leaving a trail of bodies in his path for not only his sister, but also for Junko, and uses his status as an Anthropologist to convince others to join him in Despair. Anyone who didn’t listen would become one of his sister’s friends.

He gains a large following, almost like a cult. He travels from country to country, bringing more people onto his side and becoming a prominent figure in many cultures.

Kirumi Tojo

Being the firecracker that she is, she would try to run away and fight against the brainwashing tactics, but it wouldn’t work.

As the Prime Minister of her country, Kirumi hasgreat power over others and would convince her people to commit suicide andwreak havoc among the streets in the name of Despair.

She would order her people to follow in hers and Junko’s footsteps or be killed, commanding her Army to kill anyone who tries to refuse or escape, which is ironic since that was exactly what she did in the Killing Game.

Kirumi has great influence over others and directs her people to commit suicide to fuel their Despair, and watching her followers drop like flies only dragged her down even more. She holds large public meetings and events where she tries to persuade others to join her, and this works since she is so powerful.

But Kirumi also becomes the Head over the fight against the FutureFoundation. Since she is so persuasive, she becomes a leader alongside Tsumugi, militarily commanding her friends like Maki, Tenko and Gonta, as well as Junko’s average minions, telling them how to fight and creating strategies to defeat the Future Foundation.

She is like the Remnant’s voice of reason, speaking on their behalf as the other Remnants worship her as their parental figure. She loses her own sanity and gains a power-trip, her ego skyrocketing.

Gonta Gokuhara

Gonta would be very resilient, not wanting to give into the brainwashing techniques, but he isn’t the strongest man mentally so he easily breaks and succumbs to Despair.

With that said, he completely ditches his gentlemanly persona and becomes an evil, cruel person. Gonta couldn’t care less about anyone else and becomes increasingly violent and hostile; due to his size and strength he becomes a terrifying, unstoppable force.

He would still be quite gullible, so he’s easy to boss around and does anything Junko tells him to do, like a mindless servant. She is the only person he cares for and respects: the only one he is a gentleman towards.

In relation to his talent, Gonta would infest people’s homes with insects in an attempt to force them to love bugs, but these aren’t just any ordinary insects: they are artificial Monokuma-bugs created by Miu.

Their purpose is to infect others with Despair through bug-bites and they are commanded by Gonta, doing what he says and going where he wants them to go. After being bitten by one of his bugs, you will fall into a deep, dark Despair and can be controlled by Junko.

He has an entire Army of these revolting insects that he can use on a whim. They crawl down the streets in a sea of insects, infecting others with Despair and spreading pathogens; they help spread Kaito’s illness.

Gonta also uses his brute strength as a weapon against the members of the Future Foundation, under Junko’s orders. He will be used as a killing machine, directly jumping into the battle and using physical force to combat them.

Tsumugi Shirogane

Tsumugi would become similar toMukuro and serve under Junko, helping brainwash others and pick at their brains. She would also be Junko’s test-subject for new torture methods and hypnosis videos.

Tsumugi was already overcome with Despair before her Killing Game and likely was the one who helped brainwash her classmates, so she’s been a Remnant this entire time. It was her idea to offer her classmates up as sacrifices, manipulating their talents to spread Despair to the rest of the world.

And she loved watching them all fall like dominoes, it only drove her deeper into her own madness. Tsumugi loved watching the chaos her classmates were responsible for, feeling a sense of pride knowing that she helped create this.

She would also use her talent to Cosplay as, or essentially disguise, herself as others to frame them for the Remnant’s crimes. She could disguise herself as certain Future Foundation members and incriminate them by planting fake ‘evidence’ of their involvement with the Remnants, causing many of them to be executed by the Foundation or thrown into prison. In reality, it was just Tsumugi pinning everything on them to prevent them from stopping the true Remnants crimes.

She would be Junko’s punching bag and servant, working endlessly to please her Master. She does anything Junko tells her to do and falls madly in love with the blonde, becoming her new second-in-command.

Ryoma Hoshi

It was very easy to brainwash Ryoma into becoming a Remnant of Despair; he was already depressed enough, so it didn’t take a lot to finally break him.

Remnant Ryoma would still be depressed, but more outwardly hostile and violent towards others. He is much more cruel and corrupted and this feeling of Despair becomes his reason to live.

He doesn’t have a lot of influence over others and his loved ones are already dead, so in order to spread Despair, Ryoma would work towards slaughtering the remaining Mafia members who took his loved one’s lives.

This strikes fear into the Mafia members who managed to escape his wrath, but those who did escape would be turned towards Despair, becoming very valuable allies with ties to a larger Army.

And Ryoma would become their new leader. He becomes a very prominent, deadly figure as he is the new leader of an entire Mafia organization, all of which are ready to aid the Remnants in the fight against the Future Foundation. He commands them to join in the fight, adding another complicated layer to the battle.

Using his talent, Ryoma would persuade and challenge others to unwinnable Tennis matches where they would work so hard that they dropped from exhaustion, pushing others to their absolute limits. Once they were down for the count, he would hypnotize them into joining Despair and add his colleagues to his own Army.

- Mod Rantaro

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agl03 · 6 years

Note

Are you still taking Fitzsimmons prompts? If so, I’d love to see something along the lines of Jemma having twins and Deke volunteers to babysit because Fitzsimmons hasn’t had a date night in forever but once they leave, Deke is way over his head because he has never taken care of anyone before, but he refuses to call Fitzsimmons because he doesn’t want to ruin their date.

Hi Anon!

I am, I get to them as my muse permits.

Deke couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he finally turned down the tree-lined drive that leads to his Grandparents home. In the years since they had saved the world, found Fitz, and saved the world again, they had finally settled down when they learned Jemma was pregnant, with twins. Moving into the cottage on the outskirts of River’s End. The pair even going as far to renovate the small guest cottage on the property into a studio apartment for him so he would always have a home of his own and one with them.

He didn’t hesitate walking in the front door and was greeted by the familiar smell of tea and the eerie sound of complete silence. Complete silence was a thing of the past in the Fitzsimmons household since James and Mackenzie had arrived.

“Fitz?”

“Jemma? Are you guys here?” Deke called setting the bag that contained his customary presents down. The silence didn’t last long after that was there was a stampede of footsteps from the living room followed by twin squeals of delight.

“Uncle Deke!”

The pair rounded the corner and Deke only had a moment to brace himself before he was tacked by the now six-year-old twins. Each one talking so fast that Deke only caught snippets of what they were saying.

From what Deke caught James had started a garden with Jemma, Mackenzie had helped Fitz build a new drone, and both were excited that they were taking turns reading Harry Potter to their parents at night.

“Okay time out,” Deke said standing up and scooping one in each arm with a grunt. They really were getting too big for this. “You can tell me all about it but first where is your Mum and Da?”

In unison, the twins pointed into the living room and Deke followed having to stifle a laugh at the site. Fitz and Simmons slumped against each other fast asleep. Their feet were propped up on the coffee table where it appeared Mackenzie had been giving them pedicures before he’d arrived and James had taken it upon himself to use his mothers make up on his parent’s faces.

The normally pristine living room was littered with pillows, blankets, stuffed animals, books, and a familiar bucket Jemma would use when anyone under her care was sick.

“Was someone having tummy troubles?” Deke asked.

“Yeap!” James said proudly as he wiggled out of Deke’s arms and returned to the couch and the abandoned make up palette.

Mackenzie stayed with Deke enjoying having him to herself for a moment. “First Mommy got sick, then Daddy because he was taking care of her, and then Kenzie and I at the same time. I threw up on Da twice!.”

“Da said he didn’t know we could throw up that much,” Mackenzie added helpfully.

“And I’m afraid with them being ill then us they didn’t sleep for a few days. So James and I were doing a Spa-” Mackenzie said reminding Deke so much Jemma at that moment.

“And I’m doing makeovers-” James said holding up some blue eyeshadow just above Fitz’s already hot pink eyelid.

As much as Deke would have loved to see what kind of masterpiece James would make he opted to rescue his grandparents instead. “Okay, Monkies why don’t you two go get in my bag and see if you can find your presents.”

They didn’t need telling twice and immediately ran back to where he’d dropped his bags. “I hope its a kitty!” Mackenzie cried rounding the corner.

Once they were gone Deke snapped a quick photo before sitting down on the couch next to Jemma and gently shaking her. Usually, Jemma woke if anyone so much as sneezed, so for her not to hear him enter must mean she was utterly and completely exhausted.

“Jemma,” he said and she shot up with a start and in turn waking Fitz.

Fitz still half awake put himself in front of Jemma while looking wildly around for the twins before his eyes fell onto Deke and he relaxed.

“Deke,” Jemma said warmly embracing him in a hug.

“I hear you guys had a long week,” Deke said handing a baby wipe that Jemma always had on hand to Fitz.

Fitz wiped his eye with the wipe and groaned when it came back pink.

Jemma grabbed another wipe and set to work helping get the makeup off of Fitz’s face. “Its been a long week. We did a consult for Mack and I picked up a bug which proceeded to ravage our house. Neither of us has had much of a break recently but at least the kids are starting to feel better. Poor things now just want to play.”

Two excited squeals from the entry telling them they’d found their presents.

“Mummy, Da!” James cried running in a stuffed dog under one arm and a thick book under the other. Mackenzie hot on his heels with a stuffed kitten. “Uncle Deke got us new animals and a book on Greek Mythology! Can we read it?”

“Of course we can,” Fitz said opening his arms to James and Mackenzie settled in with her mom showing her the fluffy calico kitten.

“Perhaps tonight after baths,” Jemma added.

“I have a better idea,” Deke said with a smile. “Why don’t I watch the Monkies and you guys go out to dinner, take in a movie, go nap at your old bunk at the Lighthouse. Whatever you like and take a break.”

Fitz and Jemma both looked at him with wide and uncertain eyes. It had been a while since Deke had watched the pair on his own. Usually, he’d have a helping hand from someone else on the team. But before either could voice their concern the twins were jumping up and down in excitement.

“Please Mummy!”

“We can make pancakes!”

“And watch movies!”

“Build a fort!”

“Read stories!”

“Play hide and seek!”

“Get a kitty!”

“What do you say?” Deke asked putting on a pair of puppy dog eyes to match the twins.

Jemma looked at Fitz and after a few subtle nods, Jemma spoke. “If you are sure you can handle them, it would be nice to get out just the two of us.”

—————————————————-

Three hours later Deke realized he had made a terrible decision and it was taking every bit of willpower and love for his grandparents not to pick up the phone and beg for them to come home. Though he hadn’t ruled out using his Shield panic button and have Mack send a team in to save him.

Things had begun to go wrong nearly from the start.

Pancakes for dinner had sounded like a fabulous idea until James had dropped the bag of flour and Mackenzie had pulled the running mixer out of the batter. Jemma’s pristine kitchen now resembled a scene from Frozen with white powder covering nearly every surface. He’d tried to clean it up while the twins ate the four pancakes he’d manage to make but they had eaten quickly and taken off for the next phase of the night. Leaving a trail of white footprints into every bedroom.

Deke had decided he’d clean up the kitchen later, grabbing bags of crips and candy to take inside the fort. It had taken shape rapidly and between the three of them and every pillow and blanket in the house, they’d managed to turn the living room into a very respectable fort. Unfortunately, Deke hadn’t been paying too close of attention to what all the twins brought inside as he’d been shoring up the supports. Finding when he crawled in that nearly every toy the pair owned now resided in there as well, leaving no room for them to sit. Even worse the twins were bored of it, had eaten all the candy, and ready to move on.

“How about we go for a walk,” Deke had suggested thinking a the stroll would burn off some of this pent-up energy…that may or may not be exasperated by the bags of candy they’d eaten.

They didn’t really answer him, more let out another squeal and ran to find their shoes.

“Can we walk to the Jones’s Fruit Stand?” McKenzie asked.

The Joneses were a sweet elderly couple owned a farm just down the road and would put the excess from their garden out on the weekends at their roadside stand. Jemma loved to take the twins down to pick out fresh ingredients for dinner.

“That sounds perfect,” Deke said not seeing how this could possibly backfire on him.

“Just no carrots, or lettuce, or broccoli, well anything green for that matter,” James said earning an eye roll for from his sister. Deke had to agree with him both inheriting Fitz’s aversion to most if not all vegetables.

The twins walked the familiar path, excitedly bouncing up and down as they would run ahead and back to urge Deke to go faster. Once the stand was in sight they took off at a full run to begin to check out the day’s selection.

Deke arrived a few minutes later to see the twins not looking over the fresh strawberries and apples. Rather, peering into a cardboard box with Mrs. Jones smiling down fondly at them.

Mackenzie turned first her blue eyes shimmering in delight as she held a fluffy Calico kitten, nearly identical to the stuffed one Deke had brought back hours before.

Oh no. Was all Deke could think before James followed suit with a sleeping kitten snuggled against his chest.

“Mrs. Jones said they are free to a good home!” James said in an excited whispered as to not wake the kitten. “And she’ll provide some food and litter until we can get to the store!”

“Can we take them home Uncle Deke?” Mackenzie followed. “Mrs. Jones said they are brother and sister and have been inseparable since they were born, and they both need to go to the same house.”

“Please, Uncle Deke?” James added. “We promise we’ll take care of them, Mummy and Da said we could have a kitty when we could take care of them and we are.”

“Besides I said get a kitty and they didn’t say no when we discussed our plans for the evening,” Mackenzie added.

Deke knew he should say no. Bringing home not one but two pets was quite the commitment. But seeing the two so happy and those identical sets of blue eyes boring into his own silently pleading with him. Not to mention looking completely adorable there holding the kittens.

Honestly, how could he be expected to say no?

“Okay,” Deke relented. “But if Mummy and Da say no they will have to live with me at my place and -” He didn't’ get to finished as they squealed in delight and ran to embrace him in another hug.

“You’re the best Uncle!” Mackenzie cried.

“Even better than Aunt Daisy and she got us drums for Christmas!” James added.

“And Uncle Mack with the Play-Doh!”

Deke gave them both a hug. Whatever wrath he could face from his grandparents was well worth it for a moment like this. “You are very welcome Monkies, now lets get some apples and head home. It’s almost bedtime.”

——————————————————–

It was just after midnight before Fitzsimmons returned to their home. They had taken Deke up on his offer not only crashing at the Lighthouse for a nap but took dinner out, having a picnic to watch the stars.

Every light in the downstairs was on and the first thing that they saw was white footprints on the dark wood floors.

“Are those paw prints?” Fitz asked pointing next to his children’s.

Jemma nodded slowly and felt her jaw drop when she entered the great room. The mess of a few hours before was downright organized for the sight that greeted them.

The kitchen was still covered in flour and the sink overflowed with dirty dishes. “How many bowls do you need to make pancakes?” Fitz whispered.

The living room was no better and contained the remains of the fort. The blankets now collapsed into heaps. While the TV rolled the credits of the twins current go to movie, Incredibles.

Three figures were fast asleep on the couch. Deke in the center with James and Mackenzie each snuggled into his side. Deke had flour streaked in his hair on his face while the twins had it on their feet.

It was only upon closer inspection that they noticed the two balls of fluff curled up in the twins lap.

“Bloody hell he got them kittens!”

#aos fanfic #prompt me #fitzsimmons #fitzsimmons family #family fluff

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talking-head-productions · 6 years

Text

The entire plot of Steven universe but with human office workers:

MAJOR SPOILAGE!!!!

there's a big conglomerate run by a family of matriarchs

years ago the youngest matriarch was given control of a new, very small branch

one of the security guards, concerned about the company's resource management, basically staged a coup

she recruited the matriarch's secretary and the gayest gay couple (one creates stock predictive algorithms, the other was lower tier security), among others

there was a security civil war, more or less, and the young matriarch was assassinated

the other matriarchs decided to abandon that branch, and the town that existed around it; but first, they broadcast a signal on the 'rebel' frequencies that basically made anyone who heard it go insane (sounds science fiction, but might be possible irl)

meanwhile, the town itself is mostly fine. The remaining 'rebels' build a house and just live there for a while

they also adopt a little feral child orphan

eventually the leader falls in love with a traveling rock star and they have a kid, but she dies in childbirth

the others start teaching the kid how to be a badass, 'cause they're now a group of vigilantes hunting the crazy people

meanwhile, in a secret sub-basement of the office building, a group of super crazies jacked up on all kinds of experimental steroids are being kept alive thanks to automated systems. There's a timer though, and when it finishes a door will open...

one of the remaining matriarchs gets it in her head that they should check on the super crazies

she picks out a random engineer and tells the engineer to travel to the office in the far off town

the engineer gets there and no sooner sets down on the helipad than she sees someone has been there recently. She freaks out and leaves

not long before that, the newly badass kid found a traumatized young woman who was locked up by the matriarch's people, even though she was on their side. This young woman still blames the 'rebels' for her plight

the young woman manages to escape the town and heads off to corporate headquarters

the engineer gets back to headquarters and decides to explore using drones. When she does, she finds the 'rebels' snooping around in the office building

she reports this at about the same time as the traumatized girl returns

they raise such a stink that the matriarch decides to send them back with their best security guard, some fancy new weapons, and a fucking tank

and when they get there... turns out the security guard is from the old days and had a personal beef with the badass kid's mom. She tries to kidnap him, almost kills the lesbians, and the whole thing becomes a massive shitstorm. And then the tank blows up

the traumatized girl was being abused by the security guard, so she chains the guard up and drags her off to a secret torture chamber for a while...

everything kinda goes back to normal for a little bit... except the engineer managed to get away, there are still lingering personality issues with the 'rebels', and no one knows about the imminent threat of the super crazies

then the engineer manages to get to the sub-basement, sets a couple of the crazies loose, and paints a target on her back

and then she gets captured

and then she realizes that if she doesn't cooperate they're all gonna die

so she tells them about the super crazies and they believe her of course

they decide to find a solution to the problem, and the engineer decides that this town isn't so bad, maybe it doesn't deserve to be fucked off the map

so she reaches out to her boss via an old private and secure line she stole from an off-site lab at the edge of town

and basically gets told to let herself die, so she goes 'fuck you' and joins the rebels... only too late realizing she didn't exactly think this all through

and then the traumatized girl and the security guard return, having formed a weird co-dependent, mutually abusive relationship, and they plan on totally fucking up the rebels

which thankfully the rebels are able to separate them and defuse the situation

and then the badass kid and the engineer accidentally their way into making the super crazies not so crazy anymore, though still unfit to live among the normies so they leave 'em in the basement

and then the engineer and the traumatized girl start living together and they make such a cute couple

but then the security guard goes full nutso

she starts using the lower-tier crazies as servants/an army and she tries to fight the rebels

only to get infected with crazy herself and the engineer locks her in a cage after the badass kid and the feral child beat her up

among this, the badass kid finds another traumatized prisoner, this one an old rebel and a weapons expert

she doesn't show her trauma at first, and just seems glad to be back and among friends

then she reveals it was the kid's mom who locked her away for suggesting they kill the matriarchs

and the knife-maker attacks the kid and the kid locks her away again

and then the poor badass kid finds out his mom actually did kill a matriarch, the youngest one, and that's why everybody from headquarters hates him and the rebels so much

and he's really freaked out about all this

and then one of the matriarchs shows up in town and kidnaps his dad

so he and the rebels go to to rescue the dad and find what seems like a whole zoo filled with people and it's freakish but they can't do anything except escape

and they can't even rescue the other prisoners

and then the matriarchs send a sort of repo team, consisting of a midget sociopath who takes everything literally and a pair of former pro wrestlers that have half a brain cell between them

and these three kidnap a bunch more people to take to the zoo

and the badass kid, feeling really confused and guilty, decides to give himself up to pay for his mom's crimes if they'll leave everyone else alone

he gets taken back to headquarters, but about halfway there it turns out one of his civilian friends accidentally stowed away

and when they get to headquarters, this kid is put into a mock trial, total kangaroo court

and he's of course found guilty at first

but then his assigned corporate lawyer starts finding holes in the assassination story that just don't make sense

and then the kid and his friend drive a matriarch's car out the goddamn window of headquarters and manage to survive, landing in a garbage dump

where they're attacked by security drones, and one explodes and basically kills the kid's friend

thankfully it doesn't stick, the kid is able to heal him, but is his friend now technically a zombie? No one knows

but they also meet a bunch of homeless people that the matriarchs have been abusing, and the zombie friend becomes their leader

the badass kid manages to find a secret tunnel and gets back to his home really quickly, freaking everyone out

but they're all just happy he's back

but the engineer and trauma girl are even more freaked out, and they decide to leave town

only the engineer decides that she likes town too much to leave

so the two break up

trauma girl takes all their worldly possessions and leaves

and the engineer gets the dog

and then the badass kid gets to digging into the past and he realizes that maybe the secretary rebel might've been the real assassin

only for her to reveal that the young matriarch and the kid's mom were one and the same

and everybody freaks out

the lesbians almost break up over it

and the secretary has to explain how the matriarch realized her company was super shady but her family wouldn't listen to her

so she adopted an alternate persona and staged a rebellion

but then she felt so much happier in her new persona, she decided to fake her death and take the rebellion all the way

and she was mainly inspired by the lesbians

so the lesbians decide to stay together, and get married

and the kid lets that knife maker out of prison

and the whole town is invited

until two of the matriarchs show up at the after party with a pair of fucking attack helicopters

one of them tries unleashing the super crazies, only they're no longer crazy and they love the kid who saved them, so they attack that matriarch

and the other tries killing the wedding party, but she fails because they're all badasses and also trauma girl shows back up and goes full emo goth angst warrior on her ass

and then both the choppers get wrecked and the matriarchs are about to murder everybody with their bare hands

when the kid rushes out and reveals that he's basically their nephew

and then suddenly their all too happy to stop and help

and so now their mission is to go back to headquarters and convince the fourth matriarch to help

but everybody is nervous because the fourth is fucking schizo or something and she's apparently prone to violent rages, and they even view her as some kind of vengeful god

and when they get to headquarters, the fourth immediately has the kid escorted to her, acts really creepy, and then locks him in a corner office.

#steven universe #spoilers #au #sorta #actually i'm not sure what this is #just read it it's fun

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d-noona · 6 years

Text

AERO

SUMMARY: In a future of political, economic and moral collapse, a genetically enhanced superhuman prototype named Y/N escapes from military confines and dwells amidst the decadent underground street life of *Seoul* to avoid government agents who want to bring her back into the fold.

WORDS: 1992

Jeon Jungkook x Reader

M.LIST | CH. 06

CHAPTER 05 - SQUATTERS

Flashbacks

Dreamlike, stroboscopic images of military regimentation. As before, drained color. Y/n, Taehyung and Hoseok in long lens stack. One of your group, a girl with blonde hair, pitches forward onto the floor wracked by a seizure. Y/n and the boys only reacting with their eyes, not breaking ranks as the convulsing blonde girl is dragged away by uniformed orderlies. Flashing moments through your old barracks, Y/n in rows of steel bunks. All beds are filled except one. Y/n lying in the night shadows, stares at the empty bed. She looks down at her own hand with a look of fear, watching her hand shake as she stuff it under the sheet.

Y/n walks down the hall in grey boxers and t-shirt. The corridor is dark but light spills through a door ahead. She approaches slowly, hearing tech sounds and a low murmured dialogue. The high-pitched sound of a medical saw. In a pool of halogen light, the blonde girl lies naked on a stainless steel table surrounded by doctors and med-techs. She doesn't see exactly what they were doing, but she hears the bone saw and realizes that it's an autopsy. Y/n's left standing in horror. It is clear she thinks that they have killed her and are dissecting her like a frog. Standing silhouetted between Y/n and the pool of light is a man in a suit, not in medical greens. He turns and picks up a cup of coffee off a steel cart with one black gloved hand...White. Y/n backs away, as she is yanked by Taehyung and Hoseok with the same fearful expression. Hoseok rubs her shoulders full of concern in his eyes for what may happen to Y/n, him and Taehyung. Taehyung leads Y/n and Hoseok back in their barracks slowly as he tucked her in bed. He looks at her lovingly as he kisses her forehead and heads back to his own bunk just on her left side. Hoseok does the same, plants a kiss on Y/n's forehead and returns to his bunk bed to her right, reaching out for Y/n's hand attempting to ease her worries away.

Y/n attempts to snap out of her flashbacks, hands yanking off a bottle cap, slapping pills into her mouth. She slams her back into the bathroom corner, hugging herself as she slides to the floor, wracked in spasms. Her body shakes with muscle tremors as she clenches into a ball, eyes shut in her own world of pain and memory. Wishing that the two men whom she cared for dearly were with her at this moment. Opening her eyes. The morning light is painful to her as she gets unsteadily to her feet. She leans over the sink and pours water over her head from a plastic jug. Y/n heads out into the living room. As Y/n emerges she stopped in her tracks by the sight of her motorcycle, the handle bars of which are draped with Choon-hee's collection of thong panties hung there to dry. After a beat, Y/n crosses to her bike and removes the confections as she speaks "Choon. This is a motorcycle. Again, its sole reason for its being is to go fast. Very fast. It was not put on this earth for you to use as a clothesline. I love you make no mistake, but I love my motorcycle more. DON'T-TOUCH-THE-BIKE, Okay?"

As Y/N tosses the handful of panties at Choon's sleepy form huddled under a blanket across the room, the form shifts, then sits up revealing Jackson Wang. One arm wrapped around Choon-Hee who's snuggled next to him, still asleep. "What time is it?" Jackson stirs slowly waking from all the noise Y/n was making. He blinks the sleep from his eyes, then, after a beat recognizing Y/N. "What are you doing here?" he asked confused as shit.

"I live here. Guess I don't have to ask what you're doing here" as Y/N stares into the messy bed that laid over her with Choon slowly stirring wake. "You're roommates?" asks Jackson.

Choon-hee wakes up annoyed at the racket both Y/N and Jackson were making. "Some of us are trying to sleep." Jackson slowly gets up and starts running his hands through his hair nervously. He looks at Choon "You didn't tell me you lived with her." As he whispers to Choon-hee. Y/n quirking an eyebrow up obviously hearing the faint statement Jackson gave Choon.

Choon-hee stands up in her night gown, stared at Y/N confused "You guys know each other?" Y/n nods and replies "He's a mistake I made about six months ago before you did. But don't feel bad. Kim made the same mistake, along with Jada, Valerie, Tia and Brooke." Choon-hee recoils from Jackson "Eww"

Jackson immediately stirs to hold Choon-hee, pleading her to not listen to Y/N. "Nothing happened between me and Tia babe." Choon-hee hits Jackson with her thong laying on bed "Leave. Now!" Jackson collects his things in protest "Can I say something in my defense?" In unison y/n and Choon-hee responded with a resounding "NO."

As an aerial police drone hovers just outside the window, Y/N and Choon-hee dives for the floor, and pulls Jackson down as well. "What is it?" Jackson immediately follows the girl as they squat to the ground. "Police drone" as Y/N takes a peek on their window waiting for the drone to leave. Y/n watches the drone float, past the window, its TV camera sweeping the interior. Finally, it sails off but before anyone can register relief, they hear a squawk of a police loudspeaker outside the hallway. Y/n grabs Choon-hee "It's a sweep". As Y/N and Choon-hee haul Jackson to his feet, he grabs a hat or a magazine to cover his nakedness as they propel him toward the window. "Guys, come on. Let me put some clothes on." He pleaded the girls. Choon-hee replies back in a serious note "No time babe. Move it." Then with that Y/N open the window. Jackson has a shocked expression on his face not believing the girls are trying to get him through their window in all his nakedness "Where?" he still asks in disbelief. "Out there." As Y/N points out. "Unless you wanna end up in jail, let me and Choon handle the cops. Go!"

As the girls bundle him out onto the ledge "Im afraid of –" the poor man trails but Choon-hee responded "Don't look down!" Choon-hee slams the window shut and closes the blinds. The two girls crack up. "What a creep" says Choon-hee.

But the hilarity is short-lived when they hear the football out in the hallway of a police platoon sweeping the building. "All unauthorized individuals vacate the premises or face immediate arrest." Declared the platoon officer.

Suddenly, the makeshift door is kicked in and two cops in full riot gear enters. The first cop enters as he lifts the visor of his helmet, revealing the face of a pale faced handsome Lieutenant Lee Jungshin, with him is a much more dashing man whose face is as white as snow Min Yoongi. Yoongi rolls his eyes at his superior then smirks at both Y/N and Choon-Hee, then he salutes the two leaving them with Jungshin. "Ladies" then Y/N and Choon-hee suddenly relaxes. "Morning Yoongi, Jungshin. What's the good word?" Choon-hee the opposite of Y/N begins to roll her eyes, seething in anger and hate for the police officer standing in front of them.

"Just doing my part to keep the homeless problem from getting out of hand." Says Jungshin, who was now alone by himself as Yoongi leaves the bulding, smirking at Choon-hee eating up the sight of her in just her night gown. With this Choon-hee grabs a robe and covers herself up with her cheeks turning red. "Coffee?" Y/n goes to the counter to grab a cup. "You read my mind" Jungshin responds not looking away from Choon-hee, as Y/N pours him a cup and hands it from his back, Jungshin then turned to Y/N "You haven't seen anyone trespassing around here have you?"

"Gosh. No." Y/n responds as she throws Choon-hee a look, who retrieves an envelope and hands it over to the cop with obvious irritation. The cop takes out the cash, counts it, then reaches for his walkie-talkie.

"Seventh floor is vacant and secure" while Jungshin pockets the money he turns to Choon-hee and winks "Have a nice day" he goes. Choon-hee turns to Y/N with an annoyed expression on her face. "What's with you? Every week this scumbag puts out the squeeze on us and every week you roll out the welcome wagon like he's family." Y/n just shrugs and smirks at her best friend. "Just thought maybe he'd like a little coffee with saliva?" Choon-hee shocked with the revelation that her best friend shared with her.

"You didn't..." she says.

"Every week." Then Y/N makes a hawking sound, the two girls crack up.

After the very eventful morning the girls had, Choon heads off to work, Y/n wheels her bike down the corridor headed for work as well as Lita cracks the door open and peers out.

"It's cool." Y/n says to Lita as she opens the door. Y/N fishes in her jacket "Before I forget, Felix's check. I got in late last night and I didn't want to bother you." She hands the check to Lita, who manages a smile which only momentarily conceals the concern evident in her face.

"Thanks" says Lita. "How's he feeling?" as y/n surveys her face. Lita gave out a loud sigh "Took him to the hospital again, they gave him some medicine but he says it's not helping." Y/n gave out a comforting smile hoping to lighten her a bit. "You know how it is. You or I get sick, life goes on. A guy gets the sniffles and the world's coming to an end." Lita nods, wanting to believe it's nothing serious then –

"That you Y/n-ie?" Felix calls out for her friend. She enters the room to see Felix who lies on a mat, too weak to prop himself up. His breathing is labored. Attempting to conceal her growing concern for her friend Y/n speaks up "Playing hooky at work again Oppa?" as he smiles weakly at her, while attempting to play with his son Oli.

Felix looks up at Y/N "Feel like the dog's dinner. I know what I got, Y/N. They put me back on that drug they're giving the other vets. Only the guy that does those cable hack says the stuff's no good." Y/N sees that the fear in his eyes is real. Y/N immediately gets up "Don't believe everything you hear on TV." Concealing her concern, thinking that this is also a way for her friend not to panic. "What if he's on the level?" as Felix coughs.

Y/N sighs remembering her last encounter with the Informant Net. "Here's the dealio with the Informant Net. He's probably some wack rich dude sitting around in a trick ass apartment, bored stupid, So he gets off on scarin' the poop outta folks like and me. Listen I gotta blaze." Y/N starts gathering her bag. Felix reaches out for Y/N's hand "Tell everybody I said hey." Y/N held Felix's hand "You can tell em yourself tomorrow."

Y/N turns to go. As she passes Lita she smiles at her "Like I said, guys are the weaker sex."

#jeon jungkook #kim taehyung #park jimin #jung hoseok #kim seokjin #kim namjoon #min yoongi #bangtan sonyeandan

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yeehawbisexualold · 7 years

Text

You're a Marshmallow, Emma Swan

A CS Veronica Mars AU.

Rated T. 4.3k words. (1/?)

A/N The first chapter very closely follows the pilot in order to set up the characters and plot. Future chapters may not be as verbatim. Also, words in italics are used to represent voice-overs. Although David will be her father, I decided to keep Emma’s last name as Swan because Veronica Mars is such a distinctive name and so is Emma Swan and I don’t think Emma Nolan or the Nolan family would pack quite the same punch.

Welcome to Storybrooke high school. If you go here, your parents are either millionaires or work for millionaires. Storybrooke, California, a town without a middle class. If you’re in the second group, you get a job—fast food, movie theaters, mini-marts. Emma Swan’s after school job means tailing philandering spouses or investigating false injury claims.

She gets out of her car, a beat up, yellow bug, to see a crowd formed around the school’s flagpole. The source of the crowd’s interest, she finds, is a naked boy, duct taped, precariously to cover his private bits, to the pole with the word snitch (misspelled as “snich”) painted across his bare chest. She pushes through the hoard of spectators, gawking at the scrawny boy’s misfortune. “Who’d that guy rat out?” “Why doesn’t somebody cut him down?” “Yeah, I’ll do it. I wanna be the guy up there tomorrow.”

Reaching into her pocket, she tells the guy snapping a selfie on his phone to move.

“Who died and made you the queen?” the jack ass asks as she pulls out her pocket knife. He backs away silently when she snaps it open near his face.

“You’re new here, huh?” she asks the kid as she begins sawing away the duct tape near his wrists. He nods. “Welcome to Storybrooke High.” The bell for class rings and as the crowd begins to disperse, she sardonically cheers “Go Pirates!”

She cuts away enough to free him but leaves him with the pieces that protect his modesty.

In advanced placement English, she rests her head on her desk, falling asleep to the sound of her droning teacher’s voice.

“Did anybody complete the reading?” the woman inquires, removing her glasses. “Emma? Emma Swan, congratulations you’re my volunteer. Pope, An Essay On Man, lesson one.”

“Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never is, but always to be blest. The soul, uneasy and confined from home, rests and expatiates in a life to come,” she speaks from memory.

“And what do you suppose Pope meant by that?” the teacher quizzes.

She twiddles her fingers. “Life’s a bitch until you die.”

“Thank you, Miss Swan, for that succinct and somewhat inappropriate response.”

Random locker searches are the latest tactic the administration has adopted in its losing war on drugs. Except for Emma Swan, the searches aren’t random. She knows when they’re going to happen before Vice Principle “Grumpy” does. (His real name is Leroy but the students of Storybrooke aren’t much for respecting authority.

“Emma Swan. This should be good,” one of Sheriff Zelena Mills’ lackeys says with a smirk.

“Will you please open your locker?” Grumpy asks.

She twists in her combination and swings open the door to reveal a perfectly bare locker. Well, bare to the exception of a photo of Grumpy framed by a red heart and taped to the metal door

“Wow,” she huffs with a grin. “This is a little embarrassing.”

Emma sits alone at a round, red plastic lunch table, stabbing her disposable fork into the atrocity the school calls lunch. She stares blankly across the outdoor cafeteria at a group of rowdy students.

I used to sit there, at that table. It’s not like my family met the minimum net worth requirement. My dad didn’t own his own airline like Greg Mendell’s or serve as Ambassador to Belgium like Tamara’s. But my dad used to be the sheriff and that had a certain cache. Let’s be honest though. The only reason I was allowed past the velvet ropes was Neal Hood, son of software billionaire Robin Hood. He used to be my boyfriend. Then one day, with no warning, he ended things.

The most obnoxious of the students perches himself on Neal’s lap, rubbing his chest as he smirks at Emma.

And let’s not forget Killian Jones. His dad makes 20 million a picture. You probably own his action figure. He built his career on being the British bad boy and his son tries his damnedest to upstage his levels of naughtiness. Every school has an obligatory, psychotic jack ass. He’s ours.

Neal pushes him off and turns his attention back to Tamara who’s snuggled herself up against his side and Killian simply sits next to him clapping his hands together and pointing at Emma with a wild grin.

A figure sits down across from her, partially blocking her vision of Killian’s antics.

“You ok?” they ask, startling her out of her focused glare.

“What?“

It’s the kid she cut down earlier.

“You look, I don’t know, hypnotized.” He explains, opening his lunch.

“Did I say you could sit here?” she snaps at him. As soon as he stands, shoving his lunch back in the bag, she feels remorse. Killian pisses her off but that’s no reason to treat the new kid, who’s already had a rough enough first day, like shit. “Wait. Of course, you can sit here.”

He sits back down with a smile.

“That was cool what you did.”

Before she can respond, she’s interrupted by a voice behind her.

“My bitch. Weren’t you supposed to wait for me at the flagpole?” The bare sleeved, tattooed interrupter crouches down and gets in the kids face. “I’m not sure I could have made that any clearer.”

The kid looks like he’s going to shit his pants.

“Leave him alone,” Emma demands and the guy turns his attention to her.

“Love, the only time I care what a woman has to say is when she’s riding my big ole hog and even then it’s not so much words as just a bunch of oohs and aahs, ya know?” He asks planting himself in front of her.

“So it’s big, huh?”

“Legendary.”

“Well, let’s see it. I mean if it’s as big as you say, I’ll be your girlfriend.” She smiles brightly and gasps as if she’s just had a thought. “We could go to prom together!”

When he just laughs and leans back she continues “What seems to be the problem? I’m on a schedule here.”

“Dude, don’t let blondie talk to you like that!” his friend chimes in.

“Sounds like your buddy here wants to see it too.”

“Hell, I’ll show you mine!” the buddy shouts but is interrupted by Grumpy, arriving to break up the disturbance and ask Emma why trouble follows her around.

“So what did you do?” she asks the ‘snitch,’ who’s name she learns is Henry, after everyone clears away from the table. If she just confronted Will Scarlet, the leader of the local biker gang, she deserves to know what she was standing up for.

He explains how he works at the local gas station and while he was working alone last night, some of the guys walked in and stole alcohol from the store, stuffing bottles in their jackets and only paying for a pack of gum. He tripped the silent alarm but when the police came—"We don’t have police here. We have a sheriffs department.“—and he went outside, he realized an entire gang sat in the parking lot. Intimidated by all of the guys, he told the sheriff he pressed the alarm by accident. “You need to go see the wizard, ask him for some guts.” The sheriff told him before hauling the two bikers away.

“Go see the wizard? She said that?” Emma asks once he’s finished his story. “Congratulations, in your short time here, you’ve already managed to piss of the biker gang and the local sheriff.”

She heads to her fathers P.I. office, Swan Investigation, after school and is surprised to find Regina Hood’s car there. She hates Emma almost as much as she loves her son.

She sits down at the reception desk and busies herself with paperwork, waiting for Regina to walk out. Ingrid, the local, low-level lawyer walks in and offers “her father” a case to discover how the strip club her client works for keeps their liquor license and help her client make a deal.

After Ingrid leaves, Regina walks out of her father’s office.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, David. I don’t like you,” she says coolly, strutting past in her clean, pressed, white pantsuit, her chin tilted back in an air of arrogance. She turns her icy gaze to Emma. “I hate the fact that I’m here. But I know if anyone will be dogged and resourceful in this matter, it’ll be you. Don’t call me at home, I’ll call you.”

And then she’s gone, the air feeling decidedly less chilly without her presence.

Sure she’s a bitch. But can you blame her? After all, dad did try to send her husband to jail for life.

Her dad joins her to eat and she attempts to figure out why Regina was here. He ignores her attempts at questioning him, joking about the plastic resemblance of the cheese on their sandwiches. But after enough grilling, he reveals that Regina believes her husband Robin is having an affair—late nights and motels—and that he took the case because they need the money.

“Good, I would have been pissed if you hadn’t.”

“I wouldn’t have cared if you were.”

They continue eating together until the phone rings and her father announces he has to leave for a trip to El Paso, demanding she leaves the Hood case alone. She nods in response, knowing full well she’s lying.

She follows Robin Hood to his office. As she sits in her car, staring up into the windows of the building, she thinks about her best friend Milah, Robin’s daughter. Leaning back against the seat she recalls the pep squad car wash they worked in October of last year, both of them wearing the tight t-shirt and shorts combo, Emma with her hair in pigtails and Milah with hers long and loose.

“I’ve got a secret, Emma Swan,” she giggled, conspiratorially as she rubbed a soapy sponge along the hood of a car.

Those were the last words Emma ever heard from Milah. Later that night, she was found dead by her pool.

Emma’s father had been driving her home when he received a call about a disturbance at the Hood estate. When they arrived, David instructed her to stay in the car. But she saw Neal, sitting on a bench with his arms tucked around himself, rocking back and forth, his face ashen and his eyes wide, filled with an emotion to this day she can not name. All it took was one look at him and she was rushing in the house to see what happened.

“Where’s Milah?” she asked, her chest tight. All he could offer in response was a scrunched brow and a mouth, shaking into a frown.

Outside she found the area swarming with cops, a grieving couple, and by the pool, the lifeless body of her dead best friend—eyes wide and unseeing, blood dripping down her face from the gaping wound above where her temple met her scalp.

But everyone knows the story, the murder of Milah Hood. It was on the cover of People Magazine. It made entertainment tonight. The town was flooded with journalists. And of course, everyone remembers the bumbling, local sheriff. The one who went after the wrong man.

That bumbling sheriff was my dad.

Six weeks after Milah’s death, her crime scene video was leaked by someone in the sheriff department. In a matter of hours, millions of people around the world had seen the grizzly footage. Someone had to be held responsible and that someone was David Swan.

“So, Swan, does your dad still think that Milah’s father did this?” Killian confronted her in the school computer lab. “That’s my girlfriend. Your friend. Neal’s sister. Your dad is destroying the Hood family. What’s the matter with you people? What’s the matter with you?”

She knew he was lashing out because he was hurt but so was she. When he maliciously spit out the words, “I’m done with you.” She thought good because she couldn’t help but hate him a little bit for the way he was treating her.

Her father’s belief that Robin was the murderer no longer mattered. An emergency recall removed him from office and the investigation was no longer in his hands. Her mother wanted to move out of Storybrooke. The loss of status and loss of income was too much for her.

They had to move because they could no longer afford to stay in their house but Emma and David were not going to be run out of town.

A pair of Milah’s shoes were later discovered on the house boat of one Triton King and her father’s successor, Sheriff Zelena Mills’ face was plastered across the news for her amazing arrest.

Emma’s dad may not have been right about Robin but, sitting in the parking lot of a skeezy motel named the Camelot, she knows Regina is right about him now. She can’t imagine it’s a business meeting that’s being conducted at one in the morning, behind the door of one of the upper-level rooms.

Before she can get any substantial evidence, her car is swarmed in the parking lot by none other than Will’s gang.

“Car trouble miss?” he asks with a smirk.

“Might be a loose belt but if you wouldn’t mind checking under the hood,” she answers sweetly.

One of the guys walks up to her open window and her dog Wilby, affectionately nicknamed backup, jumps out. The guy lands flat on his back as the dog snarls at his throat. Another stomps up, yelling at her to call off her dog and she tazes him in the chest. Down he goes.

She calls Wilby off.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll call it a draw,” she tells Will.

“Love, come on, it’s too late for that.”

“Here’s the deal,” Emma informs him, no bull shit face in place. “Leave that kid at school alone for a week and I’ll make sure your boys walk.”

“Why do you care for that kid so much, anyway? Things I heard about you… You must really lay the pipe right.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” she says cheerfully with a sarcastic nod of her head.

Mr. Electricity begins to lift himself up, using her door as leverage, and she charges her tazer in front of his face as a warning.

“Alright, one week. But if you don’t get them off, I’m coming for you, your boy, and your little dog too. And remember, if you get lonely out here, Will love you long time.” He kisses the air at her as he revs his engine.

Quite a reputation I’ve got, huh? You wanna know how I lost my virginity? So do I.

It happened at a party at Tamara’s, that much she knows. She’d curled her hair and put on one of her favorite dresses—white, knee length, and flowy. Her reason for going was simply to show everyone that the way they treated her didn’t affect her.

It was a mistake.

As she walked through the crowded room of people from whom the only attention she received was pointed whispers and giggles, people whom she once considered friends, she was handed a drink. She didn’t know who handed it to her but she chugged it down.

Before long she was stumbling around dizzily and then everything went blank. She woke the next morning, alone in bed, a soreness between her legs and her underwear on the floor. She walked through the house, crying silently, an entirely new type of pain tightening her chest.

She’d thought she’d felt all the pain a person could feel—being unceremoniously dumped by whom she thought was the love of her life, having her best friend murdered, all of her old friends turning against her, and her mother leaving her and her father. But there was at least one thing left the world had to throw at her, one more thing to show her that life truly was a bitch and things would never be the same.

In the present, Robin Hood steps out of the motel room door and Emma snaps as many pictures as she can before he shuts it behind him.

She doesn’t actually get a shot of the woman’s face but she gets some pretty good images of him talking through the door way and the license plates of each car in the lot. That should be enough to get her started.

The next day at school, she sits at her usual table. The kid she’d saved is already there.

“You should hear the things people say about you,” he begins.

“You didn’t have to sit at my table,” she grumbles. Who is this kid? She saves his ass and he chooses to sit at her table for what? To make fun of her?

“And what a fine table this is. What do you suppose it’s made of?” he ponders, tapping his closed fist against the shiny top. “Oak?”

“Look, if people are saying such awful things…” she trails off, shaking her head.

“Well, I figure I’ve got a choice. I could either go hang out with the jerks who laughed at me, took pictures of me while I was taped to that flagpole. Or I could hang out with the chick who cut me down.”

It feels good, his kindness, and a warmth blooms in her chest at the thought of a possible new friend.

“So you wanna get the bike club off your ass?”

“Can we come up with a code name?” he asks, eyes wide with hope.

“Sure, kid.”

She laughs at school for the first time she can remember since Milah’s death.

Her dad returns that night and as he prepares steak on the grill, Emma tells him she got pictures of Hood at the Camelot. He reprimands her for disobeying him but then asks to see the photos. He looks through the stack of images and pauses on one of the license plates of a car.

“I want you to stay away from Robin. You hear me?” he commands firmly, in the serious father voice he so rarely uses.

“But dad, why?”

“Listen to what I said, Emma. Stay away from him. I’m telling Regina I’m dropping the case.”

He storms into the apartment, leaving the grill unmanned.

When Grumpy conducts his next “spontaneous” locker search at school, he makes a stop at Killian Jones’. Killian opens the door, expecting to be in the clear, only to showcase a lovely bong in the shape of a naked man, one hand on his hip, the other grasping the bowl placed where it’s penis should be.

“What’s this, Killian? This appears to be a device used to smoke marijuana.”

Killian looks around the hallways, flooding with people now that the class bell has run and as he’s lead away, his confused eyes land on Emma standing beside Henry.

“I know it was you!” he shouts, angrily, jamming his finger in her face. “This isn’t over, ok?”

She fake yawns at him, patting her hand over her mouth. Henry grins at her side.

“You’re so cute and innocent. I’ll get you for this,” he threatens as he’s pulled away by Grumpy and the deputy.

Jefferson, the residential stoner, passes by and offers her a high five. She’d recruited him in art class the day before to make the bong for her.

Phase two of operation freedom was done.

After school, she drove home to the sheriff’s department. Phase three. With a remote control detonator, he sets off a spark in the bowl of the phallic bong residing in the evidence lock up. The smoke from that sets off the fire alarm and the woman behind the counter calls the fire department.

Then, after the flaming crisis is handled, she heads to the fire department.

“Did you make the switch?” she asks the fire chief who then hands her a large envelope with a video tape inside.

A lot of people in this town still love dad. That comes in handy.

The residual love of her father only gets her so far though and sometimes she is left to her own devices.

Using a phony accent she makes a phone call pretending to be the secretary of the sheriff’s department, claiming to be having trouble with the computer’s system. She asks the man on the phone to run a set of plates involved in a hit and run for her. Except there was no hit and run and the plate number she if reading off is from the car parked at the Camelot the night she watched Robin.

“I’ll be damned, that’s some family,” the man on the other line says, chuckling.

“What is it?”

“That car is registered to one Kathryn Swan.”

She hangs up the phone in shock just as her father opens his office door.

“Explain to me again why we’re dropping the Hood case.”

She’s going to give him one more chance to explain himself, to tell her the truth, to tell her why her mother’s car was parked outside the Camelot the night Robin Hood visited it. But he doesn’t take it. Instead, he sips his coffee and gives her some bullshit excuse about corporate espionage, telling her it’s dangerous and they don’t get paid enough.

He asks if she wants to rent a movie and she walks out, leaving him alone in the office.

She heads to the court house and asks the receptionist which direction the bikers case is.

“Emma! I haven’t seen you since…” the woman trail off uncomfortably.

The last time I was here? Come on. That’s easy.

The last time she was there was the morning after Tamara’s party. She’d limped up to the counter, eyes smudged with mascara, and said she needed to report a crime.

After she sat in front of Zelena and reported what happened, Zelena chuckled in her face and asked “Is there anyone in particular you’d like me to arrest? Or should I just round up the sons of the most important families in town.”

Emma sat silently, shocked and dismayed. She knew Zelena was mean but this was downright wicked.

“I’ve got not a shred of evidence to work with here. But that doesn’t matter to your family now does it?” The woman continued on ignoring the tears streaking down Emma’s face. Ignoring her disheveled appearance, her wild hair, her red eyes, her torn dress. Ignoring the pulsing pain Emma could feel through out her entire body, not a pain physical in its origin but manifesting itself as such and causing her anguish never the less. “Look at this, she cries. I’ll tell you what Emma Swan. Why don’t you go see the wizard, ask for a little backbone.“

Emma left Zelena’s office with no answers to what had happened to her and no hope of ever finding out.

Now she sits in a courtroom, watching a smug Miss Mills deliver her testimony of her account of the night she arrested the two bikers at Henry’s place of work.

“Your honor, can we show the tape?” the opposing lawyer requests.

When the tape is loaded, no robbery is to be seen. Instead, an officer walks a prostitute to his car and is seen opening the door for her, getting in on his own side, and then guiding her head down to his lap.

Phase one of operation freedom had been staking out the strip club and recording the footage of their interesting ways of keeping a valid liquor license.

“Sheriff Mills is this how you run your department?” the judge questions.

Emma finger guns at Zelena and walks out of the court room.

She meets Henry at the beach and presents him with the actual footage of the robbing. He thanks her and tells her that “Underneath that angry young woman shell there’s a slightly less angry young woman just dying to bake me something. You’re a marshmallow, Emma Swan.”

She grins and turns her head away, amused but unwilling to admit it.

They spend some time flying around his remote controlled airplane. Just as she’s getting the hang of it and actually having some fun, Henry interrupts her.

“Emma, look at your car.”

She turns to see Killian lounging across the hood, crowbar in hand, surrounded by his 09er buddies (the richest of the rich, those residing in the the prestigious 90909 zipcode.)

“Do you know what your little joke cost me?” he asks, hopping off the car and swinging the crowbar.

“Well, I’m pretty sure you won’t be getting your bong back.”

He smashes a headlight. “Wrong answer.” He twirls the metal in his hand. “Would you care to guess again?”

She crosses her arms across the chest of her red leather jacket, keeping her face impassive, unwilling to let him phase her no matter what.

“Clearly, your sense of humor.”

And he smashes another head light.

“Nope, the correct answer is my car. That’s right my daddy took the Jolly away. And you know what I won’t be having?” He questions, resting the bar behind his neck and stepping closer to her. He leans in her face and answers his own question with a smirk and raised brows. “Fun, fun, fun.”

She wants to smack his British accent right out of his mouth.

“Uh, Killian,” his friend warns as a heard of bikes pull up along side them.

It doesn’t take long for Will and his friends to flip the situation in her favor.

“What do we have here? Vandalism?” Will asks. “No, the only vandalism that happens in this town goes through me.”

Killian tells Will he doesn’t have a problem with him and Will tells him he’s wrong. With Will smashing in the hood of Killian’s friend’s car (with the crowbar he’d pulled out of Kilian’s hands) and his biker buddies tearing apart the inside, they’re easily convinced to “head for the hills.”

Emma sits in her car outside of her father’s office building, watching him move around through the window.

This morning, when I woke up, I had one person in the world I could count on. But if there’s one thing you learn in this business, the people you love let you down.

David leaves, driving away in his car and she heads into the building. Her dad thinks she doesn’t have the code to the safe but he’s wrong and until now she hasn’t had to use it. She types the code in and opens it to find a large file, stuffed with folders and papers. As she pulls the contents out she realizes it’s the Milah Hood murder file, some of the evidence less than a month old, including the photo of her mother’s car she took the Camelot.

If the confessed killer is already in jail, why hasn’t dad given up on the case?

#captain swan #cs ff #cs au #my fic #i'm really excited about this so i hope y'all like it #cs fanfiction

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citrusratz · 7 years

Text

We Can Make It

A Wreck It Ralph Fanfiction from five years ago

Chapter Seven

Upon returning home and holing up in her basement once again, the rest of the day was nearly painful to stay awake for. She yawned, stumbled, grumbled, tripped, tumbled, and all around silently cursed Turbo for making her stay up all night. On any other day, being nocturnal would have been a breeze for her, but she desperately needed to finish a chore that she had been putting off. Her idea to construct an incinerator for her unwanted creations did not go unforgotten. Dealing with pyrotechnics, machinery, and potentially (literally) explosive artwork while deprived of sleep was not something she particularly thought safe.

However, rubbing her eyes, she shrugged. Making a decent incinerator in this state would just chalk up to be a bigger accomplishment, and any failures would be expected. Her expectations were low and yet she knew that she was going to beat them.

The task proved far more difficult than she had even anticipated. She began by literally painting a hole in the floor and following it down a fair ways, constructing a decently sized chamber that was just large enough for her to hop in. This part was easy enough for her, if confusing and time-consuming, dealing with dimensions and proportions and tricks of the eye. Manufacturing rows of fire spouts hot enough to incinerate anything she could imagine, though, stuck a wrench in her plans.

After several bouts of singed eyebrows, patting out clothing fires, ash stains, fried hair, painful burns, and coughing fits later, she was just about ready to give up. It was a stupid idea in the first place, she told herself. But she would not let herself stop when there was one last shot to be made.

Her final prototype was practically a geyser. She sat on the far end of the chamber, button in hand, finger trembling in anticipation of heat and pain. It was an absolute fact in her mind that no matter what safety precautions she took, she would end up losing a few hundred hairs anyway. Squeezing her eyes shut, flinching into the corner, she brought her finger down on the button.

One might have sworn that a volcanic eruption occurred in that underground chamber. Every bit of air was choked out of the space by a vicious, hungry heat, and the very core of existence seemed to glow a molten gold. Make-It screeched and almost instantly found herself on her back, her code firing and her vision flashing, until she could not move anymore. She could not breathe. She barely felt like she could manage to exist.

And yet, strangely enough, a tiny funeral drone played in her head, and on the last note, she was back on her feet.

Her entire world was disturbingly balanced and sensation-free. The fire still raged angrily around her, but she did not feel any of it.

“What the cuss..?” She looked at her hands and found that they were flickering in and out of visibility, along with the rest of her body. She was blinking like a strobe light, and the time between each blink was quickly decreasing. How ominous.

She was instantly aware of when the blinking stopped, as she repeated her horrific death sequence just as it did. Her heart stopped, lay stagnant, then burst awake again and knocked her to her feet, sending her into another series of blinks.

Cursing loudly in panic, she darted for the hole that she had painted on her way down and clawed her way back up while she still sensed herself flickering. She just barely managed to make it out before fully returning to tangibility. Coughing, spluttering, panting, her heart hammering a stabbing pain against her ribs, she paused and rolled onto her back.

That was the first time that she had lost a life.

As she watched her suite fill with billows of black smoke, she swore again as she realized that she left the power button in the chamber. She rolled onto her belly and pushed her face firmly into the floor. Slipping back in, she made bets with herself over how many more lives she would lose before finally getting this stupid idea turned off and destroyed.

The result ended up being five.

Once the crisis was finally averted, once she had turned off the spouting flames and constructed a huge fan to blow the sharp smoke out of the in and out chutes, she found herself lying on her back and staring at the ceiling. It was remarkable, she thought, how often she ended up in that position after an experiment.

“Welp,” she breathed, “no incinerator.”

Her heart leapt so hard that she thought she might lose another life when she heard her cousin’s voice.

“Mavy? Are you okay down there? Why is there so much smoke…?”

“AAHHAAAHAHA,” she masked her scream as laughter. “NOTHING. JUST. UH, BARBECUE.”

She could practically hear his disbelieving expression. “Mavy, cuz, I know the smell of a good barbecue and that’s not it.”

“I’m a bad cook.”

“No you’re not, I know that. Just what could you be cooking that would make so much smoke, anyway? You’d have to be roasting yourself a whole herd of cattle.”

“Uhh,” she scratched at the floor, biting her lip. “No, I’m just roasting myself.”

“…Alright, Mavy, I’m coming down.”

She did not bother lifting herself from the floor when he dropped down. This was how he usually found her, anyway. Upon stepping inside, he immediately coughed and screwed up his face, waving his hat around.

“Oh my land, what happened down here? And tell me the truth, missy.”

“I incinerated myself, that’s what happened,” she moaned. “And I lost, like, a billion lives. I’ve never done that before.”

“Lost a billion lives? Well, neither have I.”

She shot him an exasperated look. “I’m not joking, cuz. I’ve never died before. I was just trying to build an incinerator–…”

“Incinerator!?” Felix looked as if he were punched in the gut. “Mavy, are you out of your mind?!”

Make-It flinched and tried to sink into the floor. Her cousin rarely raised his voice, but when he did, it scared the absolute excrement out of her.

He continued, “An incinerator in this small of a console? Mavy, that would choke us all out! It’d put a haze over the whole game and Litwak would think we were glitching. And then, cuz, we would be unplugged and lose our homes! An incinerator?! Why?!”

“Uh,” she raised her hand, “I—”

“No, no, Mavy, just tell me where this thing is. I need to fix the land around it right now, before anything else can produce more smoke.”

She pointed to the corner with her raised hand.

He peered over with concrete determination, his hammer in hand, and disappeared down the hole. Several musical dings echoed from within. Make-It rubbed her hand against her forehead, trying to estimate just how deep she was in proverbial dog droppings.

Her cousin appeared after hardly a minute, having completely refilled the hole. Though she refused to look at him, she could see his stance out of the corner of her eye. He was erect, arms folded, tapping his shoe expectantly.

“Well, Mavy?”

“Who’s Mavy?”

“Mavy.”

She gulped. “See all this junk everywhere? The stuff that you can barely walk around my living space due to? Well… I needed to get rid of it, so I figured…”

“Oh my land…” he shook his head. “That’s what we have a dump for, cuz.”

She licked her lips. “I’m not welcome in the kingdom of Dump.”

“I’m sure Ralph doesn’t mind, Mavy. And don’t you worry about him, okay? I know it seems like he’s always woken up on the wrong side of the bed, but he won’t hurt you. That’s not what he’s there for.”

A frown tugged her lips down. “I just didn’t want to bother anybody…”

“Pardon me, Mavy… but isn’t that what you’re programmed to do?”

She flinched. He had sounded entirely sincere, not the slightest bit sarcastic or spiteful, but his words still left an exit wound. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Yeah, it is.”

He sighed, crouching next to her. “I’m sorry for raising my voice, Mavy. But that was far too close. You can’t just go and make something that’s going to affect the entire game like that. It’s irresponsible.”

“This is my mess,” she continued, trying very hard to keep her voice steady, “and my junk. I thought I was being responsible by taking care of it myself. I thought it was right. I know it wasn’t. I’m sorry.” She stood and kicked a torn canvas onto the out-chute platform, watching it disappear with the spring.

“Mavy, please,” he rose, approaching her. “Don’t be like this. It’s not your fault, you didn’t know.”

“You JUST said that it was irresponsible, didn’t you?” She snapped, whirling around, instantly feeling a dreadful acid in her belly when she saw his stricken face. “I tried, I really did.” She punted another hunk of junk onto the spring. “I know that I’m programmed to make a mess. Not to wreck things like Ralph, but to take something good and make it stupid. You know, that must be why they call me Make-It! The only thing I ever manage to do is MAKE a huge problem!”

“Mavy—”

“I know what my code is. I love my pranks and my ruckus and my fun. But what I’ve done lately has NOT been fun. Just—Augh!” She filled her arms with piles of junk and tossed them into the out-chute. A frenzy seemed to stir in her body as she stomped her way around the room, picking up any useless object she could reach and hurling it at the spring. Felix had to duck several times to avoid taking a face full of junk.

“I’m fun, I’m crafty, I’m clever, sure! That’s what it says on my package! Then you open me up and you find heaping mounds of reckless, rash, and IRRESPONSIBLE!” She spun and let a broken jet pack fly into the shaft. “And what’s this? The willpower that you were promised isn’t there! How can you possibly enjoy a little cuss of a tricky prankster without a fine helping of WILLPOWER!?”

Felix looked absolutely horrified and at a loss. He tried interrupting her, grabbing her, finding some way to slow her down, but nothing helped. “Please, Mavy, I didn’t mean it, what I said—”

“No, you’re right! I’m coded to be a burden. In fact, I think the game’s better off without me today. Speaking of which, isn’t the arcade still open?”

Speak of the quarter and it shall appear. A booming voice echoed through the console, repeating “QUARTER ALERT.” Felix startled and panicked, pulling down on the sides of his hat and clenching his teeth. He managed to spill out, “BUT YOUR GARBAGE IS STILL IN FRONT OF—” before he completely disappeared, automatically relocated for the game start.

Overcome with emotion, frustration, and a terribly shaken heart from dying several times, Make-It simply stepped into the out-chute and spiralled out into the open, landing on top of a heaping pile of garbage. She found herself staring down a lanky teenage boy, his face riddled with acne and confusion. Her brows lowered and she frowned. Her code screamed at her to proclaim her catchphrase, but she kept her lips wound tightly shut.

Everyone in the console was staring at her. Ralph, behind her, was just about to tell everyone his intentions with the building. Felix was beaming a terrified smile at her from across the yard. The Nicelanders watched from their windows, looking like they barely even knew who she was.

She blinked. Painting a huge sack around her garbage, pulling the draw strings tightly closed, and tugging it over her shoulder, she began to slump off screen. She paused just before she was out of view, however, to shoot another spiteful glare at the player and give him a one-fingered salute.

A gargantuan hand seized her and tossed her completely out of view hardly a moment after her finger raised. Careening through the air, firmly clutching her bag as it swung haphazardly over her, she landed with a horrible crack on the top of the brick dump. An awful twitch, a pausing heart, and a springy hop later, she was missing yet another life and flashing.

Ralph glared at her from beside the building. He sure did have a good throwing arm.

Practically growling, she roared back at them, “WORTH IT!” A speech bubble floated peacefully out in front of the screen, baring her declaration. Ralph practically shook with rage, watching her from the corner of his eye, very obviously directing his next words at her.

“I’M GONNA WRECK IT!”

Wasting no more time, he scaled the building immediately, punching away her speech bubble and shoving his fists through the bricks. The gamer looked dazed and void of any intelligent thought. After watching Ralph do his damage for a moment, though, he shrugged and played as if nothing had happened.

What a simple creature.

Make-It was done hanging around in her own game. She did not want to spend another minute of the day around the consequences of her mistakes and hurt feelings. She would avoid it for as long as she could. Stroking her usual jets onto her feet, she fired herself into the train tunnel and clear through to Game Central Station.

Just as she passed through her game’s gate, however, she felt a grid pass over her skin and heard the impossibly bored voice of the surge protector.

“Name,” he deadpanned.

At the speed she was going, slowing down for a security check was not something she really found appealing. Shaking her head, she zipped away and zoomed through the Turbo-Time gate.

The shrieks of the fan NPCs could be heard halfway through the entrance tunnel. A groan rumbled in her throat as the sound grew louder and louder, finally nearly deafening as she rocketed through the open space of the practice track. Everyone’s attention was focused on the maze. Tall green hedges had sprouted from the previously barren stretch and swirling clouds of dust ripped out from between them.

She sighed. Watching Turbo race while she was not trying to mess him up sounded like a good time, but she did not want to risk the gamers getting a glimpse of her and causing even more of a wreck than she had made for herself. The trouble was hers. She did not want to spread it to her only semi-friend.

With an uncharacteristically plain turn, she made a bee line for Turbo’s mansion, shoved his bedroom window open, and let herself topple in with the momentum as she killed the fire in her shoes. She rolled across his blankets, over the hood of the car-bed, across the floor, and flopped to a gentle stop as she ended up upside-down against the couch. Her feet bounced limply off the cushions as she observed the currently uninhabited room.

Almost everything was as she left it. The table had been pushed up against the wall, the plates all clean and stacked. The Cuss Trophy sat prettily in its new home, not having had the time to even collect a speck of dust. Even the bed was consistent in its inconsistency. Just a massive nest within a ridiculous racing car bed.

Make-It’s body ached and trembled as she righted herself and stood. Her blood felt unnaturally thick and difficult to pulse through her body. One shaky foot dropped forward, followed by another, and another, until finally she collapsed on the car bed and wormed her way into the mess of sheets. As much as all the linens smelled like a sweaty racer, she felt oddly safe balled up, completely hidden away from the great big world of mistakes waiting to happen.

Lying still, alone, the memories of the day crept upon her. She almost ruined everyone’s lives with a stupid incinerator. Her own cousin had asked her if she was programmed to be a bother. She had made such a ruckus that was not even funny. It was just rude, childish, and uncalled for.

And, of course, she could not forget how she had died nearly a dozen times.

There was no reason to be upset, she told herself. Everyone has a temper tantrum sometimes, and every game character goes through that first death…

Yet, despite herself, her sinuses began to tingle and her eyes to sting. Her lungs filled with a quick, vibrating, uncomfortable breath. She grasped at the blankets, absent-mindedly reaching out for someone, anyone. But no one was there, and no one offered any words of comfort. Only the obnoxious screams of the fans in the bleachers reached her.

As moisture began to spill over her eyes, she tried to convince herself that it was better this way. Better to cry alone so that no one could see her weakness. But her whole body shook with solitude, desperation, a horrid, deeply rooted pain that she was not ready to face on her own.

Somewhere in the midst of her weeping, she fell into a dreamless sleep.

She became aware of her consciousness by the restless clanking of plates rattling. The lampshades rocked and squeaked tiredly. The bathroom door shook in its hinges. The entire room was pulsing with rippling sound.

Make-It sniffed, groggily pushing the covers off her head, accidentally taking her hat with them. She drew in a deep breath and rubbed her face, the salt from her tears caked on her skin scratching uncomfortably. Unearthly loud music was muffled through the floorboards, but its sound waves carried just as strongly through everything they could reach. Her teeth practically chattered with the beat.

With a groan, she pulled the covers back over her head, spluttering and rolling when her hat landed on her face. Turbo must have been having that party that he thought so highly of. Yet another deep groan pushed its way through her chest when she remembered that she had told Turbo she was coming to said party. She was in no shape to be in that environment, mentally or physically. Being killed so many times had left her feeling a tiny bit feverish.

She drew in a long, slow sigh. The last thing she wanted was to mess things up with a friend that she had only just made peace with. Being so low already, though, she somewhat doubted that anything she did could make her feel worse.

Turbo would just have to wait. She would attend one of his parties when she was fully loaded and healthy. Anyway, she was doing him a favor by not showing up as such a wreck and bringing down the spirits.

Pushing her face down into the plush of the mattress and clamping a pillow over her head, she managed to pick up where she had left off in her nap.

Her next awakening was not quite as gentle as her previous. The mattress bounced and her heart jumped up with it as a stinging breath nearly popped her lungs. Unintelligible grumbling and humming wafted around behind her as the whole bed was jostled.

Fantastic. She had not woken up in time to get out of bed and collect herself for a suitable explanation as to why she never showed up at his party. Pressing her lips together and accepting her fate, she simply waited for him to notice that there was an unnaturally large lump in his covers.

His humming, grumbling, and shuffling paused. She could definitely feel his eyes on her, and she was almost ashamed of how she found it hard not to chuckle. He must have done such an obvious double-take when he realized something was off.

A finger poked her in the back. Then a hand rested on her arm, patted up and down, and pulled back.

“What the actual cussing…” he breathed roughly, his lisp heavy. He must have been drinking.

She could sense him flinch away when she rolled over, and when she peeked her eyes out of the folds, she saw him leaning away, hand raised defensively, his yellow eyes wide and shining in the lamplight. He was not in his usual racing suit, but rather, a white wife-beater and red shorts. The alarm in his gaze instantly vanished when he realized it was her, and he lowered his hand to squint at her.

“Have you been hiding up here all night?”

“…Is it morning already?”

He sniffed. “Sort of. Can’t be long after midnight. But still,” he lifted the blanket on her head to get a better look at her, “what’re you doing?”

Her eyes fell and she did not answer.

“…Well, I thought you weren’t gonna show up. Kind of a let-down, toots. You missed one heck of a party.”

She did not speak.

“…My memory might be a bit off since I’m fairly… decently… rather buzzed, but by now you’d have usually got at least a few smart remarks in and tried to piss me off somehow. You sick? Got a virus?” He pushed his fingers through his hair absent-mindedly. “Contagious?”

“Mm,” she shook her head. “I… messed up.”

“That’s a surprise,” he spluttered through his drunken lisp and yelped when Make-It punched him in the side.

“I’m not joking around here,” she muttered flatly. “And don’t treat me like I’m born to be a screw-up!”

He blinked slowly. “…It was a joke, toots. I dunno, but you know, you’re the biggest joker I know…” He paused. “I just said ‘know’ too many times…”

Make-It’s mouth twitched. “You’re still funny as all Hell when you’re drunk. But… I’m sorry, I’m just really… not Turbo-tastic right now.”

“Well… that’s a tragedy,” he stared blankly into the room, genuinely stricken (probably partially due to the alcohol). “What could bring a little rocket cuss like you down?”

Swallowing, heaving a heavy sigh, she explained quickly, “I tried to build an incinerator and I killed myself, like, five times during its construction and I had never died before, I mean, how would I get killed just painting things? I-I just—Anyway, Felix found out and—and he said that I could have gotten us all unplugged, and he said—He said that – He didn’t mean it but – he said that I was programmed to be a b-bother and a nuisance–…” She held her breath, squeezing her eyes shut, trying desperately not to let herself cry again.

Looking at Turbo was not something she wanted to do. Whatever expression he was making, whether it comforting or indifferent, would just stir her up even more. He was silent and still, though, listening.

“And… And a quarter was put in, but I was being such a baby and—I was getting so emotional and throwing a fit and I threw all my junk out into the open and—And the gamer saw me, and I messed up, and I – I flipped him off, the gamer…”

Turbo snorted.

Despite herself, Make-It choked out a laugh. “Well… yeah, that felt pretty good… But—But then Ralph grabbed me and threw me, and I… I lost another life… And I just couldn’t take it so I—I came here…” She gripped the sheets and took a long, unsteady breath. “I came here to run and hide from my responsibility because I’m a weak, selfish, useless, reckless, irresponsible waste of CODE!” She slammed her fist down against the mattress and it bounced back with surprising force. “Everything that I try to make just—Any time I try to do something right, something not a complete waste of time, I just… I just FAIL.”

Her face plopped down against the sheets. A broken, defeated whisper squeaked out of her, “I had nowhere else to go…”

Turbo was completely silent for so long that Make-It might have thought he was not even there. Her breath hitched painfully and the dreaded tears returned as she curled into a tight ball, completely ashamed of being alive at all.

“Well,” Turbo finally spoke, and the bed shifted a bit as he stood, “it’s late, I’m drunk, and Hell if I’m putting in all the effort to kick you out.”

Make-It cautiously raised her head to watch him crack his back and reach for the lamp, clicking the room into a soft and solemn darkness. He crossed to the table, taking up one of the glasses and stepping into the bathroom to fill it with water.

“What are you doing..?”

He paused and managed a half-glance over his shoulder. “Aren’t you spending the night?”

“…Why would..?”

“You said you’ve got nowhere else to go. Maybe if I were sober and more in my right mind, I’d kick you out, because I’ll have you know that I don’t enjoy having my face used as a notepad.”

She smiled slightly. “I’m not really sorry for that…”

“I know.” He walked back to the bed, placed the water on the bedside table, and put his hands on his waist, looking at her and pursing his lips. “I hope you understand just how lucky you are, toots. That’s one magnificent bed, and not one I’d lend out so easily.”

Her eyebrows raised and she sniffed. “You’re letting me use your bed for the night? The entire thing? …But you could easily fit seven people in here!”

“Didn’t I say you’re lucky? …Water’s there if you need it.” He grabbed one of his pillows and one of the many blankets, trekking over to the couch to flop himself down as a heap of puffy linens and scruffy hair.

Make-It frowned. She never meant to kick him out of his bed, as sweet of a deal as it was. The bed really was something special. She could not remember any other piece of furniture being so comfortable. But it was Turbo’s, and it was not her place to deny him use of it.

“No, Turbo, I’ll sleep on the couch,” she sat up, her head suddenly spinning. “It’s… It’s your bed, and I’m just a guest, and not even a welcome or pleasant one.”

“Don’t get up, toots. I don’t feel sober enough to get back up, myself.”

Exhaling softly, she leaned back against the head of the bed (which was really the spoiler of the car). “You don’t owe me any favors, you know. I’m doing YOU favors to pay you back for ME messing up. You’re just making this circle of favors that doesn’t make a sour lick of sense.”

His shoulders shrugged beneath his thick blanket and he rolled to face away from her. “Cuss logic.”

She blinked a few times, a grateful smile slowly creeping onto her face. Sliding back down with a comfortable, relaxing sigh, she called over to him, “Thanks, sourheart.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Another one of those immovable grins settled into her lips as she snuggled herself up in the blankets. Who would have thought that such a big, jerky screw up would have led to her making such a good friend? Her heart purred and rippled into a wonderfully pleasant warmth.

Just as her eyes began to droop, the sudden honk of a car horn scared the living daylights out of her and she cursed just as loudly as Turbo did across the room.

“’The cuss was that!?”

He groaned. “My doorbell…”

“…DID YOU HAVE TO MAKE IT SO ANNOYING!?”

“I DON’T GET A LOT OF VISITORS!”

“Well,” she looked to the elevator, then to him, “are you going to answer it?”

He grimaced. “It could be one of the blue guys…”

“Do they often ring doorbells?”

“I’m not sure they know what a doorbell is.”

“Well, then!” She gestured to the elevator.

Turbo frowned harshly at the metallic doors, pausing for nearly a minute. “…No.” He flopped back down and pulled the blankets over his face. “Not tonight.”

Make-It blinked, peering around the room. She breathed steadily, trying to recover from the horrible shock that woke her.

When she thought she had calmed down, the horn rang through the room again, prompting another chorus of swears from the two. Turbo flung the blanket off of himself and stomped over to the elevator, cussing all the way.

“Should I come?” Make-It suggested.

“Ngh,” he flinched, glancing back at her. “No. Stay.” He pointed down with his finger purposefully.

She shrugged. “Fine with me…”

His swearing could still be heard as he lowered down the elevator shaft.

Make-It twiddled her thumbs. There was no way that she could sit back and relax wondering who was at the door. Shakily, she stood and wandered into the bathroom. The color scheme was not surprising at all, the tiles being red and any porcelain being stark white. It was a long room, much bigger than necessary for one person, and at the far end, there was a single window that overlooked the side of the building with the garage.

“Why didn’t he just look through here…?” She shook her head, but promptly remembered that he was still drunk. Finding this an acceptable answer, she opened the window as quietly as she could and leaned out to take a look at the culprit. When she saw who it was, she nearly toppled out.

Felix was standing in the glow of the spotlights, holding his hat against his belly and rocking back on his heels and toes. He glanced around nervously, appearing almost impatient, and definitely tired.

“Oh sweet mother midi, please don’t let him look up…” she breathed, leaning back just enough so that she could still see the exchange that was about to take place.

Not two minutes later, the whining groan of the garage opening echoed through the otherwise silent console. Felix froze on the spot, watching the door lift and looking at the person inside. Make-It could practically hear Turbo’s scowl.

“Good evening, sir,” Felix greeted him as politely as ever.

“It’s MORNING,” Turbo growled.

“…Is it morning already..?”

“Yes,” Turbo informed him flatly.

“I’m sorry,” Felix scuffed the concrete with his shoe. “I didn’t realize it had been that long. I was trying to knock for a while, but…” He cleared his throat. “I think you had some music playing and it drowned me out.”

There was the audible glare again.

“It sounded pretty groovy,” Felix nodded and grinned awkwardly, clearing his throat. “…It took me a little while to find that doorbell…”

“What do you want, Fix-It?”

“Oh, right, sorry about that. I’m looking for my cousin, Make-It Mavis… Have you met her?”

“…Briefly.”

“Oh, okay, good,” he nodded. “Have you… seen her around here today?”

“Is she lost?”

“No! Well, hmm, kind of..?” He sighed. “She got real upset and ran off into Game Central Station. When I came to look for her when the arcade closed, the surge protector told me that she flew in here…”

“Really,” Turbo sounded supremely unimpressed. “What do you need her for?”

Felix blinked. “She’s family, Turbo. I just need to know that she’s okay, and take her home to have a talk with her about what happened today.”

“Hmm,” Turbo hummed. “Well, I’ve seen her today. She’s fine. A little dopey but otherwise fine.”

“Oh, thank Heaven,” Felix grinned. “Is she inside? She really needs to come home.”

“Why?”

“…Well… she just does. As we all know, there’s no place like home. And after what happened today, well… She and I need to talk some more. And she needs to feel like she’s safe at home.”

Make-It winced a bit. He was talking about her like she was a toddler lost in a shopping mall. “I’m almost as old as you are, cuz, I can take care of myself,” she whispered through gritted teeth.

Turbo took a moment to reply. “She’s fine,” he informed him very matter-of-factly, “but she won’t be coming ‘home’ tonight.”

“Wh–… Is she sick?”

“She’s fine,” he repeated coldly.

“Then…” Felix gestured with his hands, “…why isn’t she coming home tonight?”

“She needs a vacation.”

“…O-Okay… Is she inside, though? Could I, maybe, speak with her for a minute or two?”

Turbo paused. “No.”

Felix rocked on his heels, glancing around. “Uhh… was that… ‘no’ to her being there, or ‘no’ to me talking to her..?”

“No,” he repeated.

Felix frowned. “Uh…”

“Look, Fix-It, you’re a good guy. Literally. But you’re paving yourself a road to Hell with bricks of good intentions. You mean well. But your methods are terrible.”

Her cousin froze, his face a mix of confusion and an indignant glare. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re treating her too much like a lady. She’s not a lady,” the click of a button and the grating squeal of the garage door closing made his last words nearly impossible to hear, but she just barely managed to hear them. “She’s a person.”

Felix stood staring at the closed door for just about as long as Make-It stood frozen at the window, jaw agape. She was not entirely sure what had just happened, but her mind had gone completely blank, her insides practically turning to jelly.

Her cousin put his hat back on, stood in thought for a moment, and then began his trek back over to the train station, a slow and contemplative tempo in his steps.

The dull sigh of the elevator rising cracked a whip at Make-It’s heels and she hastily threw herself back into the bed, tangled herself up in the blankets, and made to look like she was just waking up to reach for her water. The doors slid open and a very tired, tipsy racer stepped out, practically tripping over the arm of the couch to face plant into the cushions. He moaned deeply.

“Who was it? Not the blue guys, I trust?”

Turbo waved her off, speaking a muffled couch-face language. “I took care of it.”

“Mm,” she nodded. “Okay. …Hey, Turbo?”

“Shut up and go to sleep,” he practically pleaded.

“Sourheart,” she muttered, casting a softly rueful smile in his direction. With a sigh, he turned his head from the cushions to peer at her with one eye.

Blinking slowly, twiddling her thumbs under the sheets, she tried to find some clever way of getting her point across. Her mind was still wiped clean, however, and each time she drew a blank, Turbo just looked even more tired.

She cleared her throat. “Could you come here for a sec?”

His eye widened as if she had just asked him to walk the plank. “Oh, God, why are you making me stand up..?”

“Get your tipsy bits over here, mister.”

He put every ounce of energy he could muster into the heartiest groan that she had ever heard, and got to his feet, stumbling over to the side of the bed. He paused and stared at her expectantly, slouching more and more as her grin became more and more impish.

His arms spread out slightly. “What?”

She held her hand out to him, hoping desperately that he would take the hint and that she would not have to elaborate. He watched her hand as if it were about to speak to him.

“No, really, what?”

Her hand dropped with a sigh. “Come here.”

“I am here.”

“Oh, God,” she reached over to grab hold of his wrist and tug him down onto the mess of blankets. He yelped slightly, losing all reason to protest as soon as he felt the softness of his bed once again.

“I just… I need some company tonight, okay? I don’t usually… Well, I never spend nights with anybody.”

Turbo blinked and managed to glance up at her. “…I can roll with this,” he shrugged, shifting around and curling himself around in the nest. He rolled and wiggled his shoulders back against a pillow, letting out a long, relieved sigh. “But can we please go to sleep now?”

She grinned. “Absolutely,” she purred, and wasted no time in draping herself over his side, pushing her nose up against his neck, locking her knee with his. He watched her, perplexed, but said nothing. Biting his lip slightly, his arm twitched awkwardly and wrapped itself over her shoulders. His fingers squeezed her arm the tiniest bit.

Smiling, trying not to laugh out of giddy happiness, she closed her eyes and let her head fall on his chest. An incredibly warm, fluttery sigh slipped through her lips. “Thanks, Turbo.”

His chest rose and fell slowly, and he mumbled something barely audible into her hat.

Make-It could feel herself peacefully slipping into slumber. “Hm?”

“Thanks, Mavis.”

#wreck it ralph #wir #fanfiction #fix it felix #turbo #make it mavis #writing

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aggimaginary · 5 years

Text

The Grinch 2: Happy New Year Chapter 12-We need all the help we can get

Back in Whoville, at the Light Maze entrance, Cindy Lou and Groopert were waiting for their other friends to come for their plans. Just then, three kids raced towards the entrance with their bike, trike and scooter where they saw two of their friends waiting for them.

"Alright, you call, we came," Ozzy said with a candy cane in his mouth.

"So, what's up?" Izzy asked.

"Yeah. What's the deal?" Axl added.

"Thanks for getting here so fast, guys. Follow me," Cindy Lou lead her gang through the entrance for a secret meeting.

While silently walked inside the entrance, Axl interrupted, "So, what's the big secret?

"Yeah, I don't have very long. My parents set the timer," Ozzy mentioned.

"Again?"

"Yeah. They decided to have that every night."

"Alright, everybody, brace yourselves! In exactly 48 hours, just before New Year, we're going to do something that no kids have ever done before!" Cindy Lou announced. "We're going to get a man and a woman fall in love with each other!"

"Getting a man and a woman falling in love with each other?" Ozzy inquired in disgust. "Why would you wanna do that?"

Axl slapped Ozzy behind his head, "Duh. Cindy Lou wants to be a cupid." Then, he turned to Cindy Lou, "But you do know it's not Valentine's day.

"I know it's not Valentine's day, and I don't want to be a Cupid. To uh... I just want to get them together."

"Do you know this man and the woman?" Izzy asked.

"Yeah. They are very close to me."

"Why would you wanna do that anyway?" Ozzy asked again.

"It's personal," Groopert tried to cover his friend's secret.

"Yeah, it's kind of personal," Cindy Lou nodded.

"I don't wanna do it if you won't tell me why," complained Ozzy. "It's like capturing Santa all over again."

"Yeah. What do you mean 'personal'?" added Axl.

Cindy Lou exhaled, "Alright. There are two personals: One is very top secret, and two is something that I have to share with all of you." She saw her friends are waiting for her explanation. "The man and the woman I was talking about, and they're very close to me were Mr. Grinch... and my mom."

"Wow! That's crazy!" Ozzy exclaimed.

"Yeah. I told her that!" Groopert told him.

"And I want them to be together," Cindy Lou finished the explanation.

Her friends then looked at each other in concern and quite worry.

"Are you sure about this?" Axl asked.

"What? You don't like Mr. Grinch? You don't want him to be with my mom."

"It's not we don't like him, Cindy Lou," Groopert corrected her. "We like Mr. Grinch. He's awesome."

"Yeah, and he can make amazing gadgets and gizmos. I wish I can be like him," Izzy sighed dreamingly.

"It's just that we're so worried that it's not cool for you if your mom fall in love with Mr. Grinch besides your dad," Ozzy added. "Do you still miss him?"

"Of course I miss my dad. I still love my dad, and I always remember him. But things are a different when he was gone," Cindy Lou sighed. "Ever since Dad died, Mom was so sad, work so hard every night, and took care of us every day. She did all of these things all by herself, and always said she's okay, but she's not. It's just not fair. I don't want her to be like this forever. I want her to have someone to keep her company, and help her taking care of me and my brothers. Besides, Dad doesn't want Mom to be unhappy. I know he wanted her to have someone to keep her happy and company. And I know, Mr. Grinch is the one. I want to be honest with all of you guys. You all have a complete family... I mean, having both parents with you, and I feel so jealous. I'm still happy that my mom and my brothers are the only family I got, but I always feel that something's missing, and I know it was my dad. I don't care if Grinch is gonna be my new dad if that's ever gonna happen. I like him. He's a good and fun guy, as long he keeps my mother happy. My brothers also needed a dad since they never got to meet our real dad. Dad would've wanted this. If my mom is happy with Mr. Grinch, then I'm happy with it."

Her friends stared at her in disbelief. They realized how humble Cindy Lou is, and how good that she's going to accept a new dad in her life, if this will make her mother happy.

"That's beautiful," Groopert said.

"Okay, okay, okay. You convinced me," Axl nodded.

"Count me in, too," Ozzy volunteered.

"Alright, we're in," Izzy added.

"Great. Now let's do this!" Cindy Lou smirked as she led her friends out of the maze.

The gang were riding their bikes and trikes in slow motion to the tune of Run-DMC's 'Christmas in Hollis', until they heard their parents' calls.

"Cindy Lou, it's time to come home!"

"Izzy, it's getting late!"

"Axl, time to eat!

"Groopert, dinner time!"

"Ooh, dinner," Groopert excitingly rubbed his stomach.

"Alright, we'll meet first thing in the morning," Cindy Lou announced.

"Alright" Axl agreed.

"See you tomorrow." Izzy waved them good-bye.

The gang rode away with their bikes and trikes, except for Ozzy, until...

"Ozzy, timer!"

"Okay, mom!" Ozzy groaned as he addled away.

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

At the edge of the land way of Mt. Crumpit, Aggie dragged the snowmobile outside the cave, the Grinch wore a belt with a monitor on the front, and Max was tied up with a helmet, headphones and cameras on his head and a drone on his back.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" doubted Aggie.

"Do you have a better idea?" Grinch asked.

"Well, I..."

"Ha! I don't think so!" He then turned to Max, "Okay, Max, all you have to do is to get this snowmobile to Donna Lou. Ne careful not to drop. I spent all day building that. I'll be in your ear the whole time, and whatever you're seeing, I'll be seeing on the monitor."

"You better hurry up. I saw Donna Lou is about to leave the house. I think it's her night shift," Aggie said.

"How did you know that? You're not even using a telescope," asked the Grinch.

"I have super vision; a vampire have this power. I'm also a 1/516th vampire. My great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandparents on both of my parents' sides are vampires. That's where I got my vampire powers," Aggie replied.

This quite shock the Grinch, "Wow. You really have a big family."

"I know, right? I'm so proud of myself!" She squealed.

Grinch rolled his eyes, and turned to Max, "Alright, Max, you're ready to launch!" He used a remote control to let the drone fly with Max. "Hold on, and hold on the snowmobile. Try not to drop it, okay?" his mast instructed. Max barked and saluted as he grabbed the snowmobile's hand with his paws, and the drone sent him to town.

"This is not gonna work, Grinch," Aggie crossed her arms.

"It'll work. Trust me," Grinch fought back.

Meanwhile, Donna Lou bent down to kiss Cindy Lou on the cheek, and then, she kissed the twins before turning to the babysitter.

"Are you sure you can handle this, Mrs. Wilbur?" she asked.

"Your kids are gonna be fine, Ms. Who," Mrs. Wilbur nodded. "Just go or you'll miss the bus."

"Right!" Donna looked down to her daughter, "I'll see you in the morning, sweetie."

"I wish Mr. Grinch is gonna babysit us," Cindy Lou complained.

"I know, but we don't want to disturb him. He worked too much for us already. It's time for him to take a break," Donna explained before running towards the street. "I gotta go! Bye Cindy Lou!"

"Bye, Mom!" Cindy Lou waved at her before she and Mrs. Wilbur, carrying the twins, went back inside.

Donna Lou ran as fast as she can to catch up the bus, but it already drove away. She tried to call loudly to the bus to stop and wait for her, but it's already far away. Donna hung her head down in sadness. She's always been like this. Late to catch up the boss, and late for work.

Suddenly, from above, she noticed a cute pink sparkly snowmobile was lowered slowly in front of her. Donna also noticed that Max carried the mobile all the way while tying up with a drone.

"Alright, boy, release it slowly," Grinch commanded from his dog's headphone as Max put the snowmobile down, and he flew away.

Donna Lou made a big smile in appreciation. She knew it was the Grinch who made this snowmobile since he's the best inventor she ever know. Donna waved a Max, which the Grinch saw her on the monitor, happy to see his "friend" happy. He continued to watch Donna taking the snowmobile, and rode it happily on the street without stressing herself. The snowmobile is fast enough to take Donna to work in time.

"See, Aggie? I told you my plan worked," Grinch said proudly.

"Yeah, she really appreciate it," Aggie agreed, watching the scene with her super vision. "But it was supposed to be you who give her the snowmobile! Now Donna thought it was Max who gave her that!"

"That's exactly my point!" He shouted. "If I give it to her in person, I would probably say, 'Hey, Donna, I made this mobile just for you', and she'll think I have a crush on her."

"Which you have."

"But she didn't know that! Listen, Aggie, I already took your advice, gave Donna that snowmobile, and that's it. Everyone's happy! You know? I'm going to bed. Just get Max, and come inside the cave if you want." The Grinch went back in his cave in tiredness, and shut the door.

Aggie was left alone on the edge, and, while waiting for Max, she thought of something to make Grinch open his heart to Donna without turning back. This is a very hard mission than she thought. She also can't force someone to confess his feeling to the one he love. She needed some help.

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

Later, in her room, Cindy Lou wore her pajamas and fixed her bed, ready to go to sleep. Suddenly, she heard loud taps from her window. She turned around and saw Aggie while holding Max in her arm on her window.

"Oh, Aggie," Cindy rushed to her window, and opened it.

Aggie flew in and sat on a small chair, "Sorry I came here do late, Cindy Lou. I can't use the front door. Your babysitter might not let me in."

"That's okay. I'm not sleep yet, but I'm just ready for bed," The little Who girl closed the window. "So, what's up?"

Aggie started to grunt in frustration, "It's the Grinch! He's so stubborn! He doesn't to listen to me!"

"Why? What did he do?" Cindy asked.

"I was right, Cindy Lou. The Grinch is indeed in love with your mom. He told me," the winged human replied.

"Yes!" Cindy Lou squealed happily.

"But he's too shy to admit it," Aggie continued. "He told me everything. He told me how he met your mother when she was your age. He fell in love with her the day after Christmas. I gave him advice of making a snowmobile for her so she won't be late for her work and miss the bus at the same time, and told him to give it to her in person. And you know what he did? He used Max to deliver the snowmobile to your mother!"

"But did she like it?" inquired Cindy Lou.

"Yeah, she likes it, but that's not part of the plan! I'm just trying to help him admit his feelings to Donna by him giving her the snowmobile face-to-face. It's like he gave her a sign that he likes her, but he didn't listen to me! He's so stubborn and shy!"

"Well, that's really Mr. Grinch. He's always grumpy. And when I invited him to my Christmas dinner, he's too shy and nervous. It's his first Christmas dinner after all."

"I completely understand that. I can't even force him to confess his feelings. That won't work. That's why I came to you because I need help. I don't know the Grinch as much as you do."

"Actually, Aggie, I only know the Grinch for only few days. I don't know him much. The only thing I know about him that he's alone in his cave with Max, he hates Christmas because no one has ever celebrate with him, he's a cool inventor, and he can be a good friend."

"I know. That's the only information I know about him." Aggie got up from the chair, and pace around the room. "This mission is harder than I thought. If I can't complete this mission soon, I can't celebrate New Year with my family."

Cindy Lou felt Aggie's sadness. It would be unfair if a friend, daughter, mother and wife can't celebrate New Year with her family. She has to work fast. The little girl had an idea, "You know, I know one Who who can help us."

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

At Bricklebaum's house, the door bell rang, and Bricklebaum opened the door, seeing Aggie, Cindy Lou and Max in front of him.

"Well, look who's here!" He was surprise to see three of the Grinch's good friend.

"Good evening, Mr. Bricklebaum," Cindy Lou greeted.

"Come on in. Make yourselves at home," Bricklebaum politely let the three visitors in.

"Sorry for coming here this late," Aggie apologized.

"Oh no. To me, it's not. I always stay awake this late," the joyful Who said. "Would you like some hot cocoa?"

"Thanks, Mr. Bricklebaum, we need some hot chocolate for now," the little Who girl nodded.

When Bricklebaum hot chocolate for his three visitors, Aggie and Cindy Lou drank from their mugs, while Max drank on a dog bowl. "So, what brings you three here at night?" He asked.

"Okay. First off: Grinch admitted it. We were right. He was in love with Donna," Aggie said first.

"I knew it!" Bricklebaum squealed. "Mr. Grinch. That sly dog! Woo!"

"I know. I'm surprised too," Aggie took another sip.

"Me too. I never thought there's someone who likes my mom," Cindy Lou chuckled.

"And second, that's my mission. I have to help Grinch confess his feelings for Donna."

"So, how did it go? Did that green guy make the first move?" Bricklebaum was excited to here the story.

Aggie cleared her throat to explain, "Well, he did admit he likes likes Donna Lou. He told me he had met her when she younger. I gave him an advice of making a snowmobile for her so she won't be late for work and catching the bus everyday. I also told him to give the mobile to her in person, but he didn't listen to me. He just do it his way! He used Max to give the snowmobile to Donna. Now she'll never know his feelings for her! Mr. Bricklebaum, you know Grinch more than we do, we want to know why he acted like that."

Bricklebaum sighed as he sat on his chair, "Mr. Grinch isn't like us or any other Who. He never got out of his cave, except when he needed to buy important things like food and dog food for his dog from the grocery. He never socialized with any Who for a long time or I never seen him socialized with anyone in town. Well, except for me. We have good times together. We talked, shared stories, telling each other's secrets. That's what we best friends for. Mr. Grinch was my neighbor for years."

"Huh, he wasn't kidding when he told me he was alone for 53 years," Aggie felt so guilty. She didn't quite believe of the Grinch's story about him being alone in his cave for decades, but she wasn't so sure until she was told by someone else. "No wonder he was not quite comfortable when I'm around."

"Give him time, Aggie. I'm sure he'll get over his pain very soon, and I'm sure he'll confess his feelings."

"I guess you're right, Bricklebaum. Really, I can't force him to finish my mission. As representative of the element of Imagination, my job is to help people showing what friendship is all about. But in Grinch's case, I'll help him show what love is, and how to use it."

"That's great, Aggie, but you can't to that alone," said the little girl. "I told my friends about this, and they agreed to help."

"Did you tell them about me and this as my mission?" Aggie asked.

"No, I only told them that we should get my mom and Mr. Grinch together."

"Great, because my mission is top secret. No one knows that this is my mission." The winged human then turned to Bricklebaum. "Sir, you have to help me. Grinch was so stubborn, he never listens to my word. I know he'll listen to you."

"I'll do what I can do best," The joyous Who replied.

"Thanks. Thanks to both of you. I need all the help I can get. No. We need all the help we can get," Aggie smiled.

"And we have to finish your mission before New Year, so you can go home," Cindy Lou added.

After few minutes, Cindy Lou and Aggie, who carried Max in her arm, walked out of Bricklebaum's house.

"Are you sure you know your way home?" He asked in concern.

"Don't worry, Mr. Bricklebaum, I know my way," Cindy said proudly.

"We don't have to," Aggie told her.

"What do you mean?"

Without answering the little girl's question, Aggie used her wand staff to zap Cindy Lou to teleport her back to her house in her bedroom, "Don't worry. She's already in her bedroom by now. We'll see you tomorrow at 7:30?"

"You bet. The guy really needs help," Bricklebaum answered.

"Thanks for your help. I really need that. See ya."

Aggie waved at him before flying all the way up to the Grinch's cave while carrying Max.

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

When the Grinch left the door open for her, Aggie let herself in, and put Max down.

"Alright, Max, I'll see you tomorrow," She said as the dog rushed to the kitchen, where his bed is.

Aggie flew upstairs, until she reached her room at the mid-stairway. When she hopped on her bed, she remembered that she haven't called her family and friends this morning, so she quickly tapped the belly of her penguin wand staff, and it showed three holograms from the penguins mouth.

Three holograms means three divisions of the I team she contacted: the main, which they appeared two days ago, the honorary, and the back-up.

"AGGIE!" They all shouted happily.

"Hey, you guys!" She greeted back to them. "Gosh, I already missed you."

"You haven't contacted us this morning," Burn complained.

"Sorry, I'm a little busy... of finding my mission," Aggie replied.

"You found your mission?" Pirate Izzy inquired.

"Yep, but I'll tell you later. I want to know how are the Honorary and the Back-up are doing!" The leader to the other two divisions.

"We're fine, Aggie. You don't need to worry about us," Numbuh 3 giggled.

"Yeah, but as your friend and leader, I'm still worried. So, how was Martha II doing?"

"Pretty good," Vlad said. "When she got her fangs 10 years ago, I decided to train her full-time, and she was rather well, except she never shut up."

"Grandpa Vlad, she's a teenager. Teenagers are quite rebellious these days. Don't pressure her, like what you did to Dennis," Mavis reminded.

"I don't want to be reminded by an overprotective mother who almost TEARED THE FAMILY APART!" Aggie yelled angrily, until she calmed herself. "Sorry. I was a little stress there. Too much bad memories." Then, she turned to the Back-up, "And how about you guys? How's the egg?"

"Pretty good, Aggie. Quite warm, but it's going to hatch," Marlin held his and Dory's egg.

"I can't believe I'm going to be a big brother!" Nemo swam a loop in excitement.

"Yeah, don't get too excited. You'll get stomach ache if you keep doing this," SmurfWillow warned.

"So, what the mission is all about? What's the friendship problem?" Sally Carrera inquired.

" It wasn't a friendship problem I have to fix..., it's a LOVE problem." Aggie replied.

"WHAT?!" Her team shouted in horror.

"Why the heck your element sent you instead of us?!" Junior yelled.

"I don't know, but the element sent me," Aggie tried to calm the stork down.

"But we represent the Element of Love. It was supposed to be us to fix this problem!" Tulip added.

"I know your upset and confuse, but if the element chose me to fix the problem, then we'll respect that."

"That's not fair! You know that's our job! And besides, it must be hard for you to fix this love problem," the stork growled. "You know what? We're coming there. Where are you?"

"Junior, please, I can handle this. It sounds like you don't trust me."

"We trust you, Aggie, but..." Tulip tried to explain, but Aggie interrupted her.

"Like I said, we have to respect the element. Plus, I have done this before with almost all of you. It wasn't so hard or easy. If you let me do this and trust me on this, I'll finish this mission in no time."

Junior grunted, "Fine. We'll leave you to this, but please, make this possible. We all know you are a very capable matchmaker, alright?"

"Stand down, Junior, you may still be my boss in Stork Mountain, but I'm not there, and I am still your boss in the I team."

The stork just growled and rolled his eyes.

"So, who's having a problem in there?" Ginger asked.

Aggie explained, "His name is Grinch. He lived near the town called Whoville. He never lived within the town. He lived here in Mt. Crumpit in his cave with his dog, Max. He's the town hermit, just like you, honey."

"Thanks for reminding me that, Sweetheart," Red groaned, didn't want to discuss his past. "I think I'm probably related with this Grinch person."

"Grinch, huh? There's another funny word in this universe," SmurfBlossom laughed. "Grinch! Grinch! Grinchy! Granch!"

"SmurfBlossom, remember, it's not nice to play other people's names," La Muerte reminded.

"Yeah. When he was just a kid, he was an orphan. No one adopted him. He saw children at his age celebrate Christmas with their families, and he doesn't have one. So, he lived on his own, hated Christmas for 53 years, and didn't socialized with the Who for a long time." Aggie continued.

"Oh, that's sad." Babs commented.

"I know. I felt his pain. So, he planned to 'steal' Christmas from the Whos to fix something that happened years ago, but when he did, it didn't what he was expecting. One little Who girl, Cindy Lou Who, invited him for Christmas dinner, which it was his first Christmas dinner, and he confessed it wasn't Christmas he hated, it's being alone."

"I think I feel him," Red said.

"Me too," Basil added.

"So do I," Sherlock Gnomes admitted.

"Okay, first, that was sad, and second, the people there are called 'Whos'?" Kitka repeated.

"Yeah. They all look like humans, but different appearances," Aggie described.

"But Grinch's problem was already solved. Why you were sent there to help him?" inquired Kessie.

"That's not actually the problem, Kess," corrected Aggie. "You see, the Grinch has a crush on Cindy Lou's widowed hardworking mother, Donna Lou, but he's to nervous to tell her since he never had socialized with the Whos before."

"Wait. If that's the problem, then it was supposed to be us to be sent there!" Avery realized that. "We represent the Element of Confident. Grinch has no confidence to tell his crush his feelings for her."

"Yeah, but, Avery, I was sent here. Like I said seconds ago, let's respect it."

"Yeah, Avery, elements don't lie, you know," Tyler said.

"Shut up, Tyler!" Avery yelled at her step-brother.

"Anyway, I already started helping him, but it didn't work today," Aggie told her friends.

"Did you give him advice?" Danger Mouse asked.

"Yeah. Building a snowmobile for Donna Lou to get to her work is working, but giving the mobile to her in person isn't working."

"Okay, that's all I got." The white mouse shrugged.

"Aggie, do you really agree to this?" Judy asked. "I mean, his name is Grinch, which means 'an unpleasant person who spoils other people's fun or enjoyment'. Does he really need some friendship?"

"Oh, so you're dictionary now?!" Discord glared at the rabbit cop.

"Yeah, don't be so judge-y," Tootie added. "Like Zootopia, anyone can be anything, you know. Like being a bunny cop."

"Okay, everyone, enough," Aggie halted the argument. "I know the victim is exactly what you think, but that's why I'm here. I also taught all of you how to become friends with everyone despite all of your differences. I even reformed villains into good by teaching them about friendship, and revenge isn't always the answer, right guys?"

"You're right, girl," Joen nodded.

"Meow!" Kat gave her a thumb up with his claw.

"Uh-huh," Dr. Blest agreed.

All reformed villain nodded in agreement, trying to forget their evil days.

"I even teach you guys that family isn't about related and same-blood members, but also the people who are close to you and love you," Aggie added. "Despite our differences by personalities, appearances, and the world we lived, it didn't matter when comes to love and friendship. And Grinch. He never had a friend or a family besides his dog. We can't just leave him like this. Even I can't do it. He deserves to have family and friends like we do. He also deserves a love interest. We all do, even how different we are or even we're all different species. Love is stronger than race. You guys deserve to be my friends, and I deserved to be yours. If we all deserve to be happy, loved, and friended, then Grinch deserves the same as we have."

All of your friends and family stared at her in disbelief and in touch. They realized their leader and friend might be right. They all befriended each other and one another for 20 to 40 years already, and nothing has ever teared them apart before, and no one was alone anymore. If Aggie was right, then the Grinch should have what they all have: happiness, love and friendship.

"That beautiful, honey," Red smiled.

"Okay, okay, okay, you convinced us," Doc sighed.

"Count us in, too!" Skully exclaimed as he flapped his green wings.

"Alright, we're all in, baby girl!" Xibalba winked.

Aggie was so happy that her friends and family are willing to help, and supporting her mission, "Great! Now, let's do this!" Then, she turned and glared at her dark god best friend, "Hey, X! Don't call me baby girl!"

To get started for the plans for bringing two love birds together, Aggie set up a black board, pinned the Grinch and Donna Lou's picture on the upper part, and wrote branches and calculations. It's like she was writing equations about love, while her team observed and thought of solutions of how to bring a man and a woman together, still having their holograms on. That was until their element shards on their IDs blinked with alarm wrist watch sounds.

"Ooh, bedtime," Crimson Red.

"Alright, we'll call first thing in the morning," Aggie turned to her friends before turning off the holograms. "Night, you guys."

"Night, Aggie."

"See you, tomorrow."

"Don't forget to call!"

When her team said their goodnights, Aggie turned the holograms off, covered the blackboard with curtains, turned off the lights, and went to sleep.

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

I reused the "Power walk" scene for Cindy Lou and her gang from the movie.

Once again, this chapter has crossovers at the end: Numbuh 3-Codename: Kids Next Door Burn-Turbo F.A.S.T. Pirate Izzy-Jake and the Neverland Pirates Vlad-Hotel Transylvania Mavis-Hotel Transylvania Marlin-Finding Nemo/Finding Dory Nemo-Finding Nemo/Finding Dory SmurfWillow-Smurfs Sally Carrera-Cars Junior-Storks Tulip-Storks Ginger-Chicken Run SmurfBlossom-Smurfs La Muerte-Book of Life (2014) Babs-Chicken Run Basil-Great Mouse Detective Sherlock Gnomes-Sherlock Gnomes (movie) Kitka-Penguins of Madagascar Kessie-Winnie the Pooh Avery-Dog with a blog Tyler-Dog with a blog Danger Mouse-Danger Mouse (tv series) Judy-Zootopia Discord-My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Tootie-Fairly odd parents Joen (My OC)-Oggy and the Cockroaches Kat-Kid vs Kat Dr. Blest (My OC)-Penguins of Madagascar Red-Angry Birds Doc Hudson-Cars Skully-Jake and the Neverland Pirates Xibalba-Book of Life (2014) Crimson Red (My OC)

Enjoy this, because there's still another chapter tomorrow. Pls comment.

#The Grinch #The Grinch 2018 #Dr Suess' The Grinch #Dr Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas #cindy-lou who #cindy lou's gang #donna lou who #original character #fan character #bricklebaum #Max (grinch)#Crossover(s)#friendship #reflection #romance #mission

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