#your told people saw him get whisked away while his chubby little hands hold your fingers

[doodlebeeberry]

Kind of wish we could get an interview with charlies mom alice now that i think about it, i feel like that could be really entertaining

#like imagine youve been told your infant son was kidnapped without you knowing and they want you to make a statement #meanwhile you just laid him down for a nap. or like you even brought him with you to the interview cause you couldnt get a sitter #your told people saw him get whisked away while his chubby little hands hold your fingers #what a fun premise to explore. that woman is gonna think she has a changling child #rambles #hfjone

[hunnyuwu]

My Baby Don’t Like It || NCT Jaehyun+Mark [part I]

Premise: What went wrong along the way? After everything we had been through, you still chose to leave me?

Pairings : Dad! Jaehyun x fem! reader x Friend! Mark

WC: 2.1 K

Warnings: explicit language, some extreme fluff

Part I || Part II || Part III

"Hey baby! How are you today?" You were crouched down on your knees, shooting a silly smile as the most adorable four year old in the world ran straight into your outstretched arms, worming his way into the crevasse of your neck. You cooed into the kid’s ear, happy to see the boy happy and healthy. He  withdrew from his squirmy snuggles to plant his tiny, moist lips on your soft cheek as his little greeting to his beloved Noona.

"I'm happy to see you, Noona!" A smile lit up his round, chubby features before he nuzzled back into the crevasse of your neck. You rubbed the top of his head a few times, messing up his short black locks, before getting up so that you were finally standing at your own height.

"Thanks for looking after him today, Y/N."

Your heart beat slowed down to a steady, rhythmic pace immediately. The slow, heavy thrumming taunted you as it rattled in your within the hollow shells of your ears. You interlocked hands with the small boy beside you before lifting your chin to see the person before you.

A gentle smile blossomed over your lips, a wave of calm washing over your body as you examined the familiar face before you, "Of course, Jaehyun."

"Remember Y/N, I changed my name." Jaehyun gave you a teasing jab, a dumb grin occupying his eyes. You flinched a little backwards, knives stabbing your poor heart as memories flashed at the forefront of your mind.

‘Yeah, but you changed it for her.’

"A-Ah, right! Sorry, have a good day, Yoon-Oh."

You released a breath that were holding for a little while as you saw Jaehyun hop into the driver's seat of an extremely expensive, luxury car. The flashy woman in the passenger seat threw an overstated air kiss to the little boy beside you, glancing your way soon after. A scowl replaced the smile you were holding onto desperately as she simply smirked with triumph. Your free hand curled into a tight fist as you watched the car whiz away, to the point that your knuckles turned white and your nails threatened to puncture the flesh of your palm.

She removed Jaehyun from your life, 

And he allowed it to happen.

You and Jaehyun had known one another since primary school. On a bitter, cold day in the autumn of your second year, Jaehyun nervously approached your lunch table to ask if he could sit with your group, which you guys obviously said yes. While the friends you had in that group all eventually slipped away from your life through your years of schooling, Jaehyun and you had managed to maintain a close friendship. The close bond and chemistry the two of you had was undeniable to the public and private eye. Everyone thought the two of you would eventually get married, which you didn't mind them thinking in the slightest. Jaehyun had always thought the same too, even though there was no official romance. Just adoring looks, sweet gestures, lovely memories, and tense atmospheres.

In university, you finally confirmed your feelings for him, ready for that next step with him. You finally realized that he was your destiny, and you thought you were his as well.

Next thing you knew, Jaehyun found a girl from his economics class and the rest is history. They had an accidental child early on in their whirlwind romance, the one you were currently watching playing with stackable plastic blocks. Anger boiled your blood... you still loved Jaehyun to the depths of your heart, to the point that you regularly questioned whether you would ever be able to move on, but you couldn't understand how dense he was when it came to his girlfriend: Jimin.

Jimin wasn't your average, plain Jane college gal. She was simply receiving a business degree for the sake of having the piece of paper that she didn’t even work for. Jimin had her daddy's money and company waiting for her once she deemed herself ready for the role. When Jimin set her eyes on Jaehyun the very first class of economics, it was game over for anything between you two. Jimin made it her mission to claim Jaehyun as her own personal property, in other words her personal boy toy, basically making it her life’s mission to rid of you in his life. Or as she specifically explain it, 'spending quality time with boyfie while they were young.' You saw through her sugary sweet act from the moment you laid eyes on her when Jaehyun introduced the two fo you.

She was a brat, a snob, a snake, and any description with negative connotation that you could think of. You hissed as you remembered that the woman even convinced him that 'Yoon-Oh' was a more handsome name than Jaehyun. ‘How could he be so under her spell to not see the sort of shit she puts him through?’ You wondered. 

‘The least she could be is a sweet, decent person to make Jaehyun happy in life.’

That would have satisfied you, but in the end, you knew that people never really get what they want. You were left high and dry while a snobby rich whisked Jaehyun away like he was never there to begin with. And the fact that the woman barely paid any attention to her child made you absolutely sick to your stomach. Hot tears pricked at your eyes as you watched the innocent boy giggle as he was currently in the midst of building a little block boat. 

‘Taking random selfies with your extremely adorable child for your dumb Instagram page does NOT count as parenting, Jimin.’

As you reminisced on all of the times that you had to deal with Jimin's endless childishness and her possessiveness over Jaehyun, you felt a little tug at your sleeve. You smiled tearily as you saw one thing that significantly brightened up your bleak life.

"Noona?"

"Yes, Baby?"

"Why do you look so sad today?"

Your heart constricted like someone was squeezing it tightly, already feeling regret as you had been too absorbed in your own thoughts to give him your full attention. You didn't have an early education degree for nothing.

"Ah, just little things, Baby. Don't worry about it."

"But I don't want Noona to be sad! We should get you ice cream like you do when I get a boo boo!" Jaehyun's son, Jeno, happily suggested, probably just wanting to eat some ice cream himself. You were put into a bout of laughter as you lovingly looked at Jeno get up to 'go get you some ice cream to fix your inside boo boo.'

You complied as you simply couldn't ever say no to the precious boy, so you were on your way out to the local grocery store near your house, which you hadn't gone to in awhile. You peered down to the eye smile prince himself who was happily skipping alongside you, his tiny hand wrapped around the middle three fingers of your hand, a gesture that you you screaming in an internal maternal mess. 

Jimin and Jaehyun have been so neglecting of this poor child lately, always going out on day long dates and luxurious overseas trips, obviously as per Jimin's request. 

You had to say, you were extremely disappointed at Jaehyun for forgetting his caring, sweet roots. The child you were currently leading into a small grocery store was basically your own, you were more of a mother to him than Jimin could ever be.

"Hey, Y/N!"

You looked around to see who called out your name when you spotted a familiar face, causing you to stumble back with pleasant surprise.

"Oh hey, Mark! I didn't know you worked here! Master's degree yet?" You led little Jeno over to the cash register to greet him, gushing over seeing the adorable guy once again. You knew Mark when you were a senior in college, him being a spry sophomore at the time. While he was a music major and you were an early education major, you two fatefully ended up in the same science requirement classes, leading to a beautiful, supportive relationship to blossom between the two of you. You hadn't been able to see him as of late as you were busy with your job.

"Yeah, I’m here part time. Needed some money so I can pay off my college debt as I'm looking for a gig at the moment. But anyways, uhhh, y-you look beautiful as ever, Y/N. Is he your child?" You blushed at his compliment while looking down at little Jeno who Mark was gesturing to gently. Jeno was shooting Mark a suspicious glare causing you to giggle as you dropped a hand to pat his head.

"No, this is Jeno, Jaehyun's son. I regularly babysit him."

Mark gave you a confused look, something wasn't adding up for him.

"You and Jaehyun aren't together?"

You were taken aback at his lack of knowledge. You even told him about Jaehyun's girlfriend a long time ago, but it seems like he didn't remember. Besides, you and Jaehyun were very, very not together.

As you were about to explain, Jeno took the spotlight.

"Daddy should date my Noona! She's a lot better-"

"Shh, you shouldn't say stuff like that, Jeno." You cooed to comfort the pouting kid as you hoisted him up onto your waist to rock him a little. He was getting a little heavy for this, but you didn't mind throwing your back out for him.

Mark laughed to himself, throwing a loving gaze your way as you and Jeno bickered for a little. His insides turned to goop as he fell down the tempting rabbit hole once again.

"Well, if you're not with anyone right now... c-could I ask to maybe take you out on a date sometime?"

You abruptly paused your conversation with Jeno to whip your head to the blushing male. A little blush to match his crept up to your cheeks as you reeled over what he just said in your mind like a broken cassette.

"You want to... go out with me?" You whispered with a tilt of your head, needing a firm confirmation from him before you let your mind start playing tricks on itself.

"Yeah, if that's fine with you." Mark restated, biting down on his bottom lip as he awaited your answer.

Thoughts of Jaehyun’s beautiful, warm smile plagued your mind like a disease; you were still very much in love with him. Even if his actions gave you a whole list as to why you should give his ass up in a heartbeat. 

You looked back into Mark's eyes, finally making up your mind.

"I'd love to, Mark."

"Really?" He choked out, already expecting a rejection coming his way. You were oblivious to it, but Mark had the largest crush on you ever since you became partners for your science class. Whenever he even thought of asking you out, he remembered how close you were to Jaehyun, so he always chickened out. 

This was finally his chance.

"Yeah, of course I would." You said sheepishly.

"But what about Daddy?"

You looked back to Jeno who was inches away from your face with round, glassy eyes. You sighed as you gave his cheek a quick little peck.

"Your Daddy is happy with your Mommy, Jeno. Don't worry, you will always be the number one man in my heart, okay? We will have a bunch more playdates!"

Mark watched as you comforted Jeno, feeling his heart thump violently against his ribcage. He knew you were the one for him, and he truly pitied Jaehyun, for he couldn't even see the true beauty that was sitting in front of him for so many years. Mark prayed above, thoroughly thanking fate to bring you to him today.

"Excuse me, but are you checking out right now?" An elderly woman appeared behind you with a harsh glare, a sharp tongue to match her tapping foot. You bowed quickly, not too much so that Jeno wouldn’t fall off, muttering small apologies as you moved out of the way.

"You better give me a discount for the ice cream, Mark!" You yelled as you walked away with Jeno over to the ice cream freezer. Mark gave you a cute little smile before diving back into scanning the items that that woman gave to him. Though it has been hard in your journey to give up on Jaehyun, there may be just as amazing men that would be better for you out there. You sighed out happily, maybe things were going to improve for you in the future.

~~~

Part I || Part II || Part III

This mini fic is the result of when I learned that Jaehyun said he would have basically been a teenage dad if he wasn't an idol 👁👄👁

#NCT-WRITERS #neowritingsnet #nct #nct 127 #mark lee #nct drabbles #nct dream #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct yoonoh #nct jaehyun #nct mark #nct jeno #neo culture technology #nct angst #jaehyun angst #mark fluff #jeno fluff #jaehyun x reader #mark x reader #jung jaehyun #lee jeno

[jovialyouthmusic]

Double Trouble

The grandparents of Bastien and Sophia's twins meet at last

Word Count 2751

A/N Just pure fluff here, no warnings. If you're wondering about my grammar, it's in order to make plain that Costas and Althea are not native English speakers. Series not suitable for under 18s

6b Grandparents

The next day, everyone piled into the minivan and made for the Capitol. The Palace was on the northern edge of the town, so it wasn’t far in terms of distance, and Bastien had timed everything to avoid rush hour. It hadn’t been easy getting the twins ready to go out, and the double buggy was loaded up with gear for any foreseeable emergency. They parked on one of the jetties that jutted out into the bay for visiting yachts and started the process of unloading and getting the twins into the buggy. Sophia wasn’t sure if it was easier or harder having her parents there to help, as they needed attention too, and she had to make sure Edith got her share of baby cuddles before they set off to meet Costa and Althea.

It was a pleasant walk along the harbourside, with plenty to see, from the moored yachts and fishing boats, the well planted flowerbeds and the old defending castle that dominated the town. The land rose swiftly from the harbour and the town buildings climbed the hill, crowded next to one another rather like the town in Guernsey where Sophia had grown up. Sometimes the resemblance gave her pangs of homesickness even though the building style was very different to her childhood home. She didn’t visit often, and it was pleasant to be there after spending most of her time looking after the twins at the Palace. Theo and little Bea were wide eyed at the unfamiliar sights and sounds, and Edith enthusiastically pointed out the boats and what she termed ‘dicky birds’ or the pigeons and seagulls that made the harbour their home territory.

They had planned to meet Bastien’s foster parents at a harbourside bistro that served a mixture of cuisines. It had seating right at the edge of the quayside with large sun canopies over the tables to guard against the Mediterranean sun. Sophia was fair skinned so needed to be careful not to burn, as would Edith and Bob. Bastien was more resilient and bronzed quickly but it was too soon to know whether their offspring would follow their mother or father in that respect. The buggy had its own sun shade and Sophia was watchful as to their exposure They both had little sun bonnets that kept some of the glare out of their eyes and the strong rays off their delicate skin. Approaching the Bistro, Sophia saw Althea, who stood and waved at them enthusiastically.

‘Excellent, they’re here’ Bastien said. They made their way over, finding that the buggy was just too tricky to manoeuvre through the bistro courtyard and the bags had to be taken off and the twins unbuckled before they could get any closer. Edith was delighted to take Beatrice again, and the feeling was mutual as she’d just got bored and decided that the straps holding her safe were too restricting. She gabbled and stared up at her grandmother, chubby fists waving in an attempt to grab at her clothes and hair. Althea quickly made her way over to take Theo as Bob hung back, keeping out of the way of the chaos.

‘Theodore Lykel, ántra mou’ my little man she cooed as Sophia handed bags over to Bastien in order to fold the buggy up. ‘You must be Lady Edith’ Althea was saying, holding Theo one handed, making an odd little curtsey and holding out her other hand for Edith to shake. On meeting Sophia for the first time Althea had remarked how ‘English’ she sounded, and was convinced she had noble blood despite being told otherwise. Costa had confided that she was a great fan of period drama and never missed an episode of Downton Abbey.

‘Althea, it’s lovely to meet you, but I’m just plain Edith, I’m not a lady’ she replied, awkwardly changing her hold on Beatrice for the handshake, making her squeak in protest. Costa had risen from his seat and come forward to greet Bob as Bastien and Sophia wrestled with the bags and buggy, setting it up again next to the table that had been reserved for them. If the babies fell asleep it would come in handy.

‘Bob’ Costa boomed, taking his hand in both of his ‘Good to meet you. Bastien, he says these are your first grandchildren’

‘Yes, that’s right Costa’ Bob replied ‘I take it you’re an experienced pappous’ Costa beamed

‘Polý kalá - very good, Bob. You know a little Greek?’

‘A very little. There’s not much call for it where we live, but I thought I’d do a little research.’ Costa nodded at him approvingly

‘The Greek gods did not bless us with our own children’ he smiled, inclining his head at Sophia. ‘You and Edith, you are very lucky’ Bob swallowed.

‘If Bastien here is an example, yours and Althea’s parental skills are excellent.’ he replied with a smile. Costa pursed his lips in gratitude.

‘That is kind of you, Bob. Now then, come, sit, sit - and we can talk and spoil these mikroí Ángeloi (little angels) together.’ He let go of his hand and they went to help get everyone seated. The two older women cooed and bounced the twins to keep them occupied while they all settled, with Sophia and the twins in the shade of the sun canopy, Edith next to her and Althea facing them. Costa basked in the warm sun and Bob adjusted his cap to keep the sun out of his eyes in the half shade. Bastien sat close to Sophia ready to help with bags or buggy while Althea propped Theo up on her lap so he could face the grown ups, making sure he couldn’t grab anything he shouldn’t have. Both his and Bea’s motor skills were developing but still a little random and they were getting the idea of putting interesting things into their mouth to sample. They had both developed fat little sucker cheeks and their fists were chubby and always active.

Before long the waiter came out with the menus, accompanied by the owner. Luigi was a middle aged Italian, a little thick around his waist, no doubt from sampling the dishes the cook, also his wife, made.

‘Mr Lykel, a pleasure to have you at my humble bistro. You bring your family’ he beamed.

‘Luigi, it’s been a while’ Bastien stood to shake his hand.

‘Ah, these are your bambini!’ he cried ‘Bellisima, what fine healthy babies, my wife will not forgive me if she misses them. And your wife, the lovely Sophia, you must be so proud.’ Sophia smiled, feeling a little odd having her babies praised while her arms were empty.

‘You’ve already met my foster parents’ Bastien asserted, then waved his at the other two. ‘and these are Sophia’s parents, Bob and Edith’

‘Benvenuto’ Luigi turned his attention to them ‘Welcome to my humble establishment. You are English like Sophia?’

‘Indeed we are’ Bob replied ‘I’m looking forward to seeing the menu. I promise we’re not typical Brits and we won’t ask for egg and chips’ Luigi laughed.

‘That rarely happens senor, but my wife likes to make everybody happy with her cooking.’ He leaned over to take a closer look at Beatrice, looking sleepy but refusing to nod off while there were such interesting people to watch. ‘Bellissima, she is adorable. I will call my wife to take a look before you order – is okay?’

‘Of course’ Sophia smiled, and he whisked away.

‘Really, Bob?’ Edith whispered to her husband. ‘Egg and chips? We’re not that bad.’

‘It was just a joke, E.’ he smiled. She huffed, but was distracted from taking it any further when Luigi’s wife, Rennata, emerged from the bistro.

‘Oh, i bambini’ she cried, clasping her hands together ‘Che bello – they are beautiful, senora. How alike they are!’ She leaned over Edith to take a good look and Bea looked a little disturbed at yet another new face. She screwed her face up ready to cry, but Edith soothed her, taking her hand and waving it at the cook.

‘Say hello, Bea. The nice lady just wants to see how beautiful you are’ she crooned. Beatrice stuffed her fingers in her mouth and dribbled, deciding that crying wasn’t worth the effort. The cook turned to look at Theo, who was unfazed and just gazed back at the newcomer before renewing his efforts to grab the salt shaker.

‘You are so lucky’ she gushed ‘They will play together when they are older. My sister had twins. They were hard work, but they always had company.’ She bustled back inside, and Luigi beamed at them.

‘Senor, drinks on the house, I insist, to wet the babies’ heads.’

‘You’re too kind Luigi’ Bastien replied. The owner followed Rennata back in and the waiter handed round the menus, taking orders for drinks.

‘Costa, the seafood platter for two looks good’ Althea remarked.

‘Luigi is generous with his portions’ said Bastien ‘We could have a big sharing platter and all order one or two tapas each’

‘Excellent idea’ Bob smiled, though Edith looked a little dubious. She wasn’t wildly adventurous with food, so Sophia pointed out the tapas menu, which seemed to please her as there were a few things she was familiar with. Before long they had all decided, and when the waiter came back with the drinks they put their order in. The twins started to doze, so Sophia put them in the buggy where they drifted off to sleep to the soft murmur of the grown ups talking.

‘Have you ever had to look after twins, Costa?’ Bob asked him ‘Any tips to hand down?’

‘No, not twins, but some – how you say? Brothers and sisters – siblings?’ Bob nodded. ‘Some foster children, they have big trouble, you know? We do our best to help them. These two’ he nodded at the twins, fast asleep in the buggy ‘They have good loving parents, and that, my friend, is a good place to start. They will do great things, just like our Antras.’ Althea nodded and leaned forward towards Sophia, resting her hand on her arm.

‘Costa is right, Sophia. All you need is love – love and patience. Every child, they are different, and so are the ones who look after them. You will work out your best way’ Edith gazed at the twins fondly.

‘You were an easy baby, darling.’ Bob assured his daughter. ‘I think Theo takes after you, but Bea takes a little more work. I’m sure you’ll find a way to manage her. You’re already doing a wonderful job.’

‘We only ever had Sophia.’ Edith chipped in ‘and she was such a good girl, she was almost never naughty. I’m not sure I have any advice, sweetheart. I just hope we get to see them every now and again’ She looked wistful.

‘Oh Mum’ Sophia said softly ‘Of course you will. We’ll visit, or you can come up to Edinburgh when we’re settled. You can fly, it’s not a long journey. We’ll have lots of video calls too.’ At that moment Luigi and the waiter came back with their food, and they scrambled to get everything set out ready to eat. Costa raised his glass.

‘We drink to our beautiful grandchildren, and wish our Ántras and Sophia strength to help them grow up healthy and happy’

‘Hear hear’ Bob echoed, and they all drank, raising their glasses high as the twins slumbered on.

-------

‘Well I couldn’t eat another bite’ Sophia announced after doing justice to the lobster thermidor she had been craving. She drank sparkling water, while Althea and Edith had retsina, and topped up their glasses from a jug of iced water when they’d finished. Bob had a beer, whilst Bastien and Costa, having driven there, had soft drinks. Edith had ordered a crab salad, Bob had gone for a burger, and Bastien had sea bass and a dish of mussels. Costa had ordered a small moussaka and Althea had pizza, and they had all dipped in to the seafood platter.

‘Are you sure about that?’ Bastien asked her ‘they have some excellent gelato’ She smiled back at him, remembering her favourite restuarant in Edinburgh that made award winning gelato, and the fact that within the year they would be there in person.

‘I think there’s plenty of time for that in the future’ she said gently.

‘Well I think I could manage some sorbet’ Edith piped up, so the women had sorbet and the men talked, though both Costa and Bastien sampled their wives’ desserts. Luigi came to bring them the bill, and Bob insisted on paying.

‘The twins will need feeding soon’ Sophia said ‘We should probably make our way back to the van and go home.’

‘Bob, perhaps you and Edith would like to look around town with us’ Althea suggested. ‘We get to know each other, and we take you back to the Palace after’ Edith looked to Bob, who smiled and nodded.

‘That sounds like a good idea – what do you think, E?’

‘Why not?’ she answered ‘Then Sophia can have a rest when she’s fed the twins’ That said, they managed to get the buggy out with the waiter’s help, moving tables and chairs so they could carry on sleeping.

‘We’d better get moving’ Sophia declared ‘Bea doesn’t like waiting for her feed, and they’ll be hungry after all the excitement’ She hugged her parents and she and Bastien set off back to the van as fast as they could. They managed to transfer the twins into their seats without too much bother, and by the time they got home Beatrice was awake and starting to grumble. The next hour was taken up with feeding and changing them both.

‘Thank goodness we’ve only got the twins to deal with’ Sophia sighed, knowing that it would be a while before nap time. ‘I’m shattered after our trip’

‘I’m sorry to hear that’ Bastien replied as he held Theo.

‘Don’t get me wrong, it was a really nice outing. All the grandparents seemed to get on well’

‘Yes, they did. It’s difficult getting out and about’ Bastien admitted. ‘But it will just become our new normal. We’ll soon have it all down pat.’

‘It did help having a couple of extra pairs of hands. Mum was right, Edinburgh will be a whole different ball game’ Bastien walked over to her and kissed her cheek.

‘We’ll cope’ he said gently ‘We can afford extra help, and Liam said we’re always welcome back here if we need a break’

‘I couldn’t stay away for long’ Sophia smiled ‘It really feels like home here. I quite like the idea of travelling between here and Scotland’

‘Well, the King has said we can use the Royal jet to take the twins there, so that will be a huge help. I can’t imagine trying to manage them on an ordinary passenger flight’ He rocked Beatrice and clucked at her as she waved her arms and legs happily. ‘You’re a little Missy.’ he crooned.

‘We’ll be around to see when Lucy has the baby, then we’ll be off’ Sophia replied. ‘The accommodation the university’s providing will make a good base to start from.’

‘We really seem to have struck it lucky in lots of ways’ Bastien replied. They had been offered a large flat in a Georgian terrace right in the centre of the city. It had access to a park, available only to residents of the historic terrace. Sophia was excited to get there and explore. If it was nice enough, they probably wouldn’t need to bother house hunting for a while.

‘Well, my first stroke of luck was finding you’ Sophia said, bouncing Theo on her knee. Bastien smiled and held out his hand. Puzzled, she got up, holding the baby one handed and he snaked his free arm around her waist.

‘I’m the lucky one, my goddess’ he murmured, kissing her on her cheek. They each cradled a baby in the crook of their arm and he turned to face her, humming a nursery rhyme. She leaned into him and they slowly swayed to the tune, babies gazing up at them contentedly. Bastien rested his forehead on the top of her head and they formed their own safe little family bubble. Sophia’s heart felt as if it would burst with love for all three of them, and looking up into her husband’s eyes, she knew he felt the same…

@sirbeepsalot @katedrakeohd @bascmve01 @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @nomadics-stuff

#double trouble #bastien lykel #sophia x bastien #bastien x oc

[evengayerpanic]

Trains and Passengers [1 of 4]

Trigger Warning: Mentions of Emotional Abuse, Physical Abuse and Domestic Violence.

Inspired by an ask I received, wanting an AU of Aster/Ellie plus an adorable little boy, I’ve decided to take that idea, and run with it! There just seemed to be so much plot, that a one-shot wouldn’t have sufficed. So I bring you the first chapter, out of about four, in Trains and Passengers, an Ellie/Aster AU.

_________________

“You are sure that he isn’t going to find us, right?” The look Aster Flores fixes Paul Munsky with nearly breaks his heart. She’s the thinnest that he has ever seen her, dark circles under one eye, a purple-red bruise surrounding the other eye. She looks beaten down, absolutely exhausted and like her spirit has been broken. In a sense, he supposes that it really has. 

Nothing can prepare a person for the day that the man who is supposed to love you forever, starts to use his words and fists against you in pure hatred.

“I promise.” Paul whispers, pulling her suitcases out of his car, refusing to let her lift much. “Squahamish was before me and T.J. met. I was a teenager when I left.”

“And you’re sure that the cabin is still there?” Aster double checks. It isn’t that she doesn’t trust Paul, which is funny that she does at all since he was T.J.’s friend first, but the way he looked at her when she first started wearing sunglasses indoors... He knew what was going on immediately and confronted her.

She supposes the only reason he’s even helping her, the only reason she even trusts him at all, is because of Tommy. The day that T.J. and Aster named Paul the godfather of their newborn son, the man had cried and promised to always protect him.

Three years later, on the day that she broke down and told him about T.J.’s temper, Paul had cried again and promised to not let Tommy get hurt. Paul grew up with an angry Dad, he knew the damage it could do.

So it wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, she just had that natural fear running through her. What if the cabin wasn’t there? What if it wasn’t inhabitable for her and her son? She didn’t have much money, didn’t have any friends other than Paul, and her family had made it clear who’s side they were on. She was whisking her son away to safety, but she hoped it was security too.

“My friend lives across the track from the cabin, she said it’s fine. It’s still standing, and she even went in and tidied up for you guys.” Paul pulls a still sleeping Tommy from his carseat, the boy curling up against his chest and reaching his arms around his Uncle.

“Make sure to thank her for me.” Aster whispers, reaching to rub her son’s back gently, leaning her head against him and whispering. “Tommy, baby, you need to wake up... we have to say goodbye to Uncle Paul.”

“I’ll let you thank her, she promised to check in on you guys when you got there.” He smiled, as the boy in his arms stirred awake slowly. “Hey, little man.”

Big brown eyes stared up at Paul, thick lashes jostling up and down as the young boy blinked slowly at him. “Hi Uncle Paul. Are we going on a train now?”

“You and Mama are, Uncle Paul’s gotta stay at home with Daddy, okay?” Paul hugs the little boy tightly, tucking his nephew’s head under his chin before passing him over to Aster. The brunette hoists Tommy onto her hip, and grabs her suitcase in her other hand without breaking eye contact with Paul.

Tommy just whispers against his Mommy’s shoulder. “Daddy is scary, don’t let him be mean to you, okay Uncle Paul?” And then he’s wrapping his arms around his Mom’s neck and clinging onto her.

“I won’t.” Paul promises, leaning in to kiss the boy’s brown locks before giving Aster a tight hug, squeezing them both against him. “Take care of Mama, okay?”

“I will.” Tommy promises, oblivious to the tears springing to his mothers eyes as she mouths a soft ‘thank you’ at her son’s godfather, her bestfriend.

Paul nods his head, before gesturing to the train, holding back his own tears. “You better go and get your seats, the train’s just about to leave.” He smiles.

Aster hauls them onto the train, finding their seats and settling in quickly. Her bag goes under their seat and she lifts little Tommy up to the window, securing him safely against her legs. The boy waves his chubby toddler arms back at his Uncle until the train picks up enough momentum that Paul disappears from sight.

_________________

When they get to Squahamish, it’s late in the afternoon and the sun is already setting into night.

Tommy has spent most of the day curled up against his Mama playing on her cellphone, while she ignores the thirteen calls that her husband has made. Each time the screen lights up with another missed call or text, Aster and her son share a look of concern. 

“Don’t worry baby...” She whispers into his forehead, lips pressed there as he shakes in her arms. “Uncle Paul said he’d handle it, right? Plus, he got Mama a new phone, that way Daddy can’t find us, okay?”

The little boy nods, perking up only as the train starts to come to a stop. “Is this it? Are we here, Mama?!” 

Aster nods and it’s like a switch flips in her three year old, the little boy bouncing up and down excitedly, his hand gripping hers and pulling, always pulling towards the exit of the train. She stops him for a second, struggling to get their suitcase out from underneath the seat, and by the time she’s gotten it and is ready to go... Tommy is already off the train.

“Thomas?” She’s shrill. “Thomas Paul Singh?!”

Aster practically sprints off of the train, bag in her hands, her son’s name a scream on her lips as she prays to whatever God there is still out there, that she didn’t just get her baby boy away from a sick monster, only to lose him immediately to another one.

As she steps off of the train and into the station, she hears a sound that stops and starts her heart again. 

“Mama, look! I found Uncle Paul’s friend! I saw the letters T-O-M-M-Y! That’s my name, Mama!”

Aster drops her bag and pulls her son into her arms, squeezing him to her chest as a sob wracks her body. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.” She cries.

“You must be Aster.” A stranger’s voice breaks her relief of seeing her son, and she looks up from where she’s kneeling to see one of the most beautiful women she’s ever laid eyes on. “I saw him get off the platform and knew it was you guys, you look just like Paul described.” Ellie smiles and Aster feels faint.

She nods her head slowly, not realizing that she’s staring until the other woman seems to catch on. “We were just about to go find you.” Ellie explains, holding up the handmade paper sign that Tommy must have seen from where he got off the train.

In neon letters it screams “Aster and Tommy!”

Aster’s still silent, her son squirming in her embrace as she finally lets go of him. The stranger in front of her laughs a little, clearly just a little embarrassed of the sign and of the alarming way they met.

“I’m Ellie Chu!” She smiles and holds out a hand.

“I know.” Aster breaks free of her stun and smiles, somewhat awkwardly, and takes the girl’s hand. “I mean I guessed. Paul said you’d be here to greet us.”

Ellie nods this time. “Oh yeah! Should we get you two home? You’re probably exhausted from the trip.”

Aster nods, putting her son down. She watches as Ellie outstretches her hand, clearly to take their suitcase, only to wind up with Tommy grabbing on.

Her smile falters but doesn’t fade, and Ellie walks along beside the tracks with the little boy, only waiting for Aster to catch up to them.

“Squahamish is pretty small, but we do have a main street, I’ll have to show you tomorrow since we are pretty much at your place.” Ellie points at a small cabin just across from them, and Aster feels her heart seize up. She knows most people would regret it, the change from the five bedroom Victorian that had been in her husband’s family for years, to a small two bedroom shack... but to Aster it looks like freedom.

“It isn’t much-” Ellie starts, only to get interrupted by a mesmerized Aster with a smile from ear to ear.

“It’s everything I could have hoped for, thank you.”

Ellie smiles softly, and Aster’s heart skips a beat for a moment, something that she chastises herself for. Here she is, fleeing for her and her son’s life, and getting distracted by a cute girl. Damn Paul Munsky!

“Paul sent me a list of stuff you two needed, so I grabbed groceries.” Ellie unlocks the door, letting Aster and her son inside of their new home. Tommy lets out a yell as he runs at a stuffed dinosaur sitting on the kitchen table. “I also picked up a couple of things that weren’t on his list of essentials.”

At the tears that fill Aster’s eyes, Ellie reaches out to squeeze the other girl’s hand. “I know what it’s like to start over in someplace new, only I had most of my stuff with me... I figured you wouldn’t have the room in your bags to pack certain things.”

Aster nods her head. “I had to leave behind almost all of his toys, I certainly wasn’t looking forward to bedtime tonight with only one of his bears.”

Ellie gives a look that says she understands, and neither of them move to pull their hands away from each other until Tommy turns back to look at them.

“I better get home.” Ellie finally says, moving quickly back to the door. “If you two need anything, I just live across the tracks in that building, okay? I run the train station. So just knock on my booth if you need me.”

Tommy’s mouth drops open as he hears Ellie, his voice getting impossibly high-pitched and excited as he talk-shouts. “You work in the train station?!”

Aster just laughs. “Well now you’ve got his attention, you should stay for dinner, so we can thank you.”

Ellie Chu stays for dinner, and even bed time, regaling little Tommy Singh with stories of the work she does on the trains, the people she’s met. She has Aster captivated as well, but for very different reasons.

As Tommy begins to fall asleep, Ellie excuses herself with a smile. “You should get some sleep too, you’re settled in alright?” She’s genuinely concerned, a breath of fresh air from how T.J. would dismiss her.

Aster nods and smiles, wishing Ellie a good night and then triple-locking the door before crawling into bed next to her three year old and curling around him.

_________________ 

Mother and Son wake somewhere near Midnight, a sound in the dark outside stirring them from their sleep putting them both on edge. They both freeze temporarily in bed, hoping that if they’re quiet for long enough, the unknown noises will go away.

When they don’t, Aster pulls Tommy into her arms and whispers. “Do you want to go see the trains?”

The little boy nods, and so she wraps him up in a blanket, pulling a shawl from her suitcase to wrap around her own shoulders before she carries him to the door and outside of the cabin to watch.

For a second they watch in silence, the midnight train passing in front of them. Aster hugs Tommy close to her as the train starts fading into the distance, too far now to see, before a soft and concerned voice calls out to them. “Hey Aster, Tommy! Are you alright?”

Aster glances up, a sigh of relief escapes her as she realizes who it is that called out to them. Ellie Chu, working the midnight train. She should have guessed.

“We couldn’t sleep!” Aster calls out, taking a step closer to Ellie, her son clambering down from her arms to get closer to the other woman, or more importantly, the train booth she’s sat in.

Ellie opens the booth doors open wide as Tommy Singh gets close to them, the boy stopping at the doors to stare between her and his Mama. “Can I?” He calls over his shoulder, a soft nod from his Mother sends him scrambling inside, rushing for Ellie. “Cool!”

Aster gets closer too, the girls exchanging a look as Ellie lifts Tommy onto her knee to show him the control panel. “Only touch the button I tell you too, okay?” She makes sure to tell him first, before pointing at the different ones on the control board and explaining what they do. Aster comes closer and closer with each explanation, her eyes stuck on the way her son lights up as Ellie asks him to point which button is which and he gets them mostly correct. 

Her heart warms as Ellie lets him press one to make the stop lights turn on and off, and she lets out a laugh as he proclaims loudly that he’s going to be a train “connector” when he grows up, just like Ellie.

Ellie looks at the time before turning back to Aster. “Do you want to join us, it’s pretty cold out?”

Aster blushes, suddenly painfully aware of how embarrassing her thin, pink nightgown is. It’s not very warm, and it covers barely anything, her shawl barely wraps around her shoulders. Ellie’s suggestion is one of concern for her health, nothing more, but Aster still can’t help but blush at the very thought of it.

“Are you sure we aren’t bothering you?”

Ellie shakes her head, a smile coming over her face as she holds Tommy close to her, squeezing together so Aster has enough room to join them in the booth. “Not at all.” She pauses, glancing back down at the time. “The second train is supposed to be here in fifteen minutes, if you want to, Tommy can help?”

Aster nodded her head, the little boy giving out a tired but excited cry of “Yay Mama!” Aster smiled.  

“You can share the chair with me, if you want?” Ellie scootches over in her seat just a little, trying to give Aster some room to sit down. “That way you can sit?”

As the three sat together; Ellie, Aster and Tommy, a small pang rang through Aster’s chest. How was it, that she could be so comfortable with a girl she just met, when her own husband kept her terrified.

It wasn’t until she was at home in bed, over an hour later, that she was able to even think about why. Ellie was just a friend, she was nice, she was polite, she was safe... Only she didn’t make Aster feel very safe.

Getting involved with Ellie Chu seemed like the most unsafe thing Aster Flores could ever possibly do.                      

#the half of it #fanfic idea #fanfiction #AU fanfiction #ellie chu #aster flores #ellie and aster #aster and ellie #ellister #leah lewis #alexxis lemire #Trains and Passengers #inspired by prompt #tw: domestic violence #tw: physical abuse #tw: emotional abuse

[loganscanons]

visitor

summary: Nira gets an unexpected visitor

if there are typos, u didn’t see them

A sharp, echoing rap filled the apartment as someone struck their knuckles against the door, interrupting Nira and Oleander’s peaceful Sunday afternoon. Nira, lying on one of the two enormous beanbags while she listened to Oleander make up a song as he cooked, jerked upright, and glanced first at Oleander, then at the door. Oleander was in the kitchen, pulling open a drawer to retrieve a whisk, and the knock on the door made him yelp. He looked to the door, then to Nira, who was pushing herself off the beanbag and heading toward the closet. On the off chance that the person at the door was someone or something that she needed to deal with, she knew Oleander would prefer if she was clothed.

“I wonder who that could be!” he chirped. Whisk in hand, he called out to the mystery visitor, “Coming!” and crossed the apartment to answer the door.

The moment Oleander saw who stood in the doorway, his blood ran cold, and his heartbeat quickened. The figure loomed, more than a foot taller than Oleander, and the light in the hall caused his shadow to fall over Oleander’s much smaller form. Startled, Oleander yelped and tossed his hands up. The whisk he was holding clattered to the floor.

“Nira,” he said, his voice high and strained. “I th-th-think it’s for you.”

Suddenly, another large figure appeared beside Oleander, and he yelped again. He blinked twice and his fingers twitched as he took a step back.

It was only Nira.

His startled yelp when he opened the door had spurred her to move with unusual speed, bordering on superhuman. Now that she stood next to him, his fear was practically tangible. Whatever was causing that reaction in their home, their safe place away from the stresses of the outside world, needed to be eradicated immediately.

At first, she didn’t recognize the man in the doorway. He was tall and muscular, no more than an inch or two shorter than she was, and his skin was tan and ruddy. The athletic shorts and tank top he wore showed off his muscles and dozens of scars, both faded and fresh. He bore a startling resemblance to how she looked when she took her human form, hairless, with the same coal black eyes and dark glower that made strangers feel ill-at-ease.

Then, she realized who he was. Kleon. Her brother. The last time she saw him they’d been in the Ottoman Empire, and he certainly didn’t have legs at the time. In the two hundred years, give or take, that had passed since their last encounter, he must have gotten the ability to take on a human form.

There were few people she wanted to see less.

“Deianira,” he said.

“No,” she said and shut the door.

Kleon’s hand flew out, and he wedged his foot between the door and the doorframe.

“You’re not even going to say hello?” he asked, his thin lips spreading over a toothy grin. His voice was deep and hoarse and grated on her nerves.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she hissed.

She took a step forward and put her hands on either side of the doorframe, using her body to block Oleander from Kleon’s view. The movement put her uncomfortably close to her brother, leaving less than a foot of space between them, but as long as Kleon was within a visible distance, she was going to do everything in her power to keep him from so much as looking at Oleander.  

“I heard you were living in Chicago,” he said. His dark eyes flicked briefly to the space behind her. She leaned to the side, blocking his view. “I was in the country and thought I’d drop by.”

“Why?” she demanded. Her tone was venomous, a biting accusation.

“To catch up,” he shrugged.

Behind her, she heard Oleander’s quiet voice, “I’ll j-j-j-j—” He cleared his throat and tried again, “I’ll just be in the kitchen.”

“Are you going to invite me in?” Kleon asked.

There was something about his voice that made her want to punch him in the throat. Nothing specific. His voice had just always had that effect on her.

“Fuck. No.”

“I came all the way out here to say ‘hi’ to you, and you’re going to shut me out?” he asked. The bastard was smiling, like this was some kind of game to him. It probably was. He’d always been infuriatingly amused by her and her decisions.

“I have never asked you to contact me,” she said flatly.

“Don’t be like this, Deianira,” he said. “I only want to catch up a bit. It’s been—what? Two hundred years?”

Two hundred years. He always seemed to show up every two hundred years. It wasn’t enough time between visits.

She knew if she tried to make him leave, he’d get more persistent and try to force his way into the apartment. Which would mean Kleon being in an enclosed space with Oleander. She couldn’t have that.

Through gritted teeth, she said, “Fine. Let’s go for a walk.” She grabbed the slip-on shoes that laid by the entrance and pulled them over her heels. Turning to face the apartment she told Oleander, “O, I’ll be back later.”

“Okay!” he squeaked from behind one of the pillars that separated the kitchen from the rest of the apartment.

Nira pushed Kleon back with her forearm and closed the door behind her. They said nothing as Nira led them out of the apartment and onto the street. The air outside was turning cold, but winter hadn’t quite set in yet.

“Who was that?” Kleon asked, matching her brisk pace.

He spoke in Ancient Greek. She hadn’t had anyone, besides The Hidden One, speak to her in Ancient Greek since the last time she’d seen Kleon, and The Hidden One’s accent had always been a little bit off. She took a moment to process what he said.

“Hmm?”

“The scared, chubby man,” he said. “Is he your butler?”

“My bu—why the fuck would I have a butler?” she asked in English, looking at him like he had suddenly started speaking gibberish.

“I don’t know,” Kleon said, still in Ancient Greek. “I heard you got your freedom. Thought maybe you wanted to turn things around and be the boss of someone. You did get your freedom, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she said.

Kleon grinned, showing off sharp fangs, and switched to English after realizing she was going to keep responding in English, “Well, didn’t take you very long did it? Only, oooh, let’s see, almost 2,200 years? But, really, who’s counting?”

Nira said nothing. She wasn’t going to respond to his mocking. It would only encourage him.

“Is he your cook?” he asked.

“Why would I have a fucking cook?” she asked. “We don’t need to cook our food.”

“He was holding a what-do-you-call-it,” he said, moving his hand in a stirring motion. “If he’s not your butler or your cook, what is he? Don’t tell me he’s your fucking roommate. Even you wouldn’t live with someone like that, right?”

“Someone like what?” she asked, lowering her voice threateningly. A warning to tread lightly.

Kleon did not tread lightly.

“Small. Weak. Pathetic. Afraid of his own shadow. Would probably lose a fight to a—what do you call those again? σκῐ́ουρος?” he asked, pointing at a squirrel that perched on the rim of a trash can.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped. She knew he was deliberately trying to provoke her, but she couldn’t prevent the anger bubbling up inside her.

“Damn, Deianira, calm down. I know you have a weird soft spot for humans, but even you have to admit, that man is a little bitch.”

“Watch your tongue or I’ll remove it,” she hissed, turning on him.

Kleon raised his non-existent brows, surprised by her malice. Then, his eyes widened, and a look of glee spread over his features.

“Oh my gods. Are you—? You’re not…are you dating him?”

“Yes,” she said, giving him a dark look.

She wasn’t ashamed of Oleander by any means. She would proudly announce to nearly anyone that he was her boyfriend. But she didn’t like Kleon knowing her business, and she didn’t like giving him another reason to mock her.

Kleon laughed sharply, tossing his head back. Nira had to stop walking and wait for him as he bent over, his hands on his knees. Her relationship with Oleander didn’t warrant this much laughter.

“Him? You’re dating him?” Kleon asked, incredulous. “How the fuck did you find someone worse than the last one? What was his name? Janus?”

“Judas,” Nira corrected thoughtlessly.

“Yeah, him,” he said. “Holy fuck, Deianira. I can’t believe you found someone worse. At least the last one could throw a punch. Seems like if you mentioned violence to this one, he might keel over. Where did you find him? What’s the appeal? He must be incredible at fucking. That’s the only explanation.”

“Ew,” she said. “Don’t talk to me about sex.”

“So, that’s not it? What else could he possibly have to offer?”

“Are you going to shut up, or do I have to force you to?” Nira growled, clenching her hands into fists.

She wasn’t going to get into the endless list of reasons she loved Oleander. It wouldn’t change Kleon’s opinion, and she really didn’t want Kleon knowing her business.

“Okay, okay, fine,” Kleon said, stifling his laughter.

They walked in silence, heading no where in particular. She wanted to put distance between them and the apartment, get Kleon as far away from Oleander as she could. And she didn’t want to talk to him. She’d been having a perfectly pleasant afternoon with Oleander, and Kleon showed up and ruined it.

Kleon snorted, unable to contain a burst of laughter. Nira glared at him.

“Keep your fucking mouth shut,” she warned. Whatever he had to say, she knew it would piss her off.

He didn’t heed her warning.

“You going to sign away your freedom for this one too?” he asked, shooting her a malicious grin.

That was the last straw.

His nose made a satisfying cra-ack as her hand collided with his face.

Fighting always gave her a thrill. There was nothing like the power of breaking another’s bones, the smell and heat of freshly spilt blood, the adrenaline of taking a blow. But fighting with her siblings added an additional level of excitement.

Kleon staggered back, his hand cupped over his bleeding nose. Nira had her hands up in loose fists, ready to block whatever swing he took at her. She ignored the people tittering around them. Fighting in the middle of the sidewalk was ill-advised, but she wasn’t worried about anyone interrupting them. Who would want to get in the middle of a fight between the likes of them?

His nose pouring streams of dark crimson, Kleon matched Nira’s stance, bringing his hands up. She blocked the first punch easily, and grabbed the second, using his momentum to knock him to the side. She was disappointed. The least he could do after mocking her was give her a fun fight.

He jabbed, a quick, rapid fake-out, then punched again, and this time his knuckles hit her jaw. She moved back fast enough that she didn’t feel the full force of the punch, but the contact was encouraging. Maybe this would be worth her time.

In an ideal world, Nira would be kicking Kleon’s ass with them both in their true gorgon forms. But the streets of Chicago were a poor fighting ground, and the SBI was liable to imprison or fine them for the amount of clean-up that exposing humans to the existence of gorgons would require, so she had to settle for this. A fight as humans. It almost seemed unfair for Kleon. Nira had over a millennium of practice and experience fighting as a human. Kleon had at most two centuries.

She would’ve won either way. She always did. He always got in a few good hits, making sure to leave her with bruises and wounds that would ache for at least a week, but she would always come out on top. She worked hard to be the best fighter among her siblings, and it showed whenever one of them provoked her.

When police sirens began to draw near, Nira put an abrupt end to the fight, throwing Kleon to the sidewalk and digging her knee into his back. She had no idea if the sirens were for them, but that wasn’t something she wanted to deal with. Police would take all the joy out of the impromptu brawl. Nira pulled Kleon’s arm back at an awkward angle until he tapped out, the blood from his nose staining the concrete.

She helped him to his feet and pleased to see that a look of unhappy acceptance had replaced his infuriating, provoking grin. He pulled his tank top off and held it to his bleeding nose as he followed Nira to the nearest convenience store. He waited outside while she bought him an ice pack.

“Here,” she said, tossing him a t-shirt as she exited the small store.

“What’s this?” he asked, catching it with ease.

“A shirt.”

“I have a shirt,” he said and pulled the bunched-up tank top away from his face.

“That shirt is covered in blood.”

“So?”

“Just put on the fucking shirt,” she said.

He handed her the blood-soaked tank top, then carefully pulled the t-shirt over his swollen face. A logo for a sports team she didn’t care about covered the chest. She handed his tank-top back to him, along with the ice pack.

“You eaten recently?” he asked, slipping into Ancient Greek out of habit.

“A couple days ago,” she said. The fight had cleared her mind, and she found it easier to respond in her native tongue.

“Want to go get something?”

“Sure.”

Nira led them to a small diner with dim yellow lights. The upholstery of the booth seats was faded and torn and smelled of cigarettes and old coffee. The waitress didn’t react to Kleon’s bruised face or the bloody shirt he held to his nose. With a deadened look in her eyes, she cheerfully took their orders.

“You heard from the family at all?” Kleon asked, again in Ancient Greek. He brought his cup of tea to his mouth and tried not to wince as the mug touched his swollen lip.

“No,” she said.

“Kleitos said you were back in Greece for a bit.”

“I was,” she said. “To give The Hidden One the Telmoros Tablet.”

“Yeah, about that,” he said. “Apparently a small plague has broken out in the area since you returned the tablet. Doesn’t seem like a coincidence.”

“That’s not my problem,” she said.

He shrugged, “Guess not. You didn’t visit anyone while you were in Greece?”

“Just Kleitos. I expected him to be dead.”

“He’s fucking old,” Kleon said. There was a beat of silence, then he said, “Mom had another clutch.”

“When?” Nira asked. She hadn’t thought much about her mother since she left Greece in BCE. She’d expected her to be dead, too.

“A couple centuries ago,” he said. “I traveled around with Admeta for a bit. She’s nearly as good at fighting as you.”

“Admeta? Admeta is dead. I would know,” she said, ignoring the compliment. She didn’t need anyone to tell her she was a good fighter. She knew that. She was more caught up on the traveling around with a gorgon she knew to be long dead. After all, she was the reason she was dead. Admeta had died with Nira crushing her windpipe.

“No, Admeta is from the most recent clutch,” Kleon explained.

“What? That’s fucking confusing. There are millions of names to choose from; why is Mom reusing names?” Nira asked.

“She’s always done this,” he rolled his eyes. “She’s waiting for you to die so she can reuse yours. Maybe the next Deianira won’t be such a disappointment.”

“Fuck off,” Nira said. She kicked him under the table, hitting a bruise she’d given him earlier. He winced.

For a few moments, they ate their eggs in silence.

“You think you’ll ever go back?” he asked.

“To Greece?”

“Yeah.”

Nira shrugged, “Maybe. I’m…fine in Chicago.”

She was fine in Chicago, because Oleander lived in Chicago, but if she was being honest with herself, she much preferred the weather of Greece. She didn’t miss the company she’d kept there, though.

“You’re not staying here for that human, are you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“So, what if I am?” she hissed.

“Pathetic,” he said, shaking his head. He took a bite of his eggs, then said, “There aren’t many gorgons left there. Not like when we were young. Most have moved to Saventhia.”

“To where?” she asked.

“Saventhia.”

“The fuck is Saventhia?”

“You know, the other realm where all those centaur herds moved to when we were in our two-hundreds and three-hundreds,” he said.

Nira stared at him blankly for a moment, searching for a memory of centaurs leaving en masse. She didn’t think about her youth often, and many of her memories had been lost to time. She could vaguely recall the dwindling herds of centaur.

“Nicodemus moved there with his wife. He got married. Like a legitimate wedding. A fae wedding, but still a wedding,” Kleon said. “I think he wants to have children.”

Nira balked. She tried to imagine any of her siblings getting married. She supposed if anyone was going to get married, it made sense that it was Nicodemus. He’d always been drawn toward stability and family.

For longer than Nira wanted to stay in the small diner with its subpar food and old booths, Kleon rambled on, telling her about their various siblings, updating her on which siblings were definitely dead, and telling her about the lives of siblings she’d never met. She didn’t care. She tried to make note of the siblings that she’d grown up with, because she knew it was information Oleander would be interested in, but for the most part, Kleon’s gossip went in one ear and out the other.

Outside the diner, Kleon and Nira exchanged a curt handshake and a nod, a silent agreement that it would be a good two centuries before they’d willingly see each other again. Limping slightly, Nira headed back to her apartment, feeling light and clear-headed. She had missed fighting with people who could come close to her skill level. There weren’t many good things she could say about Kleon, but at least he was fun to fight. The endorphins from the brawl would keep her in high spirits for at least a week.

#nira the gorgon #oleander reddy #kleon the gorgon #my writing

[stanbillyhargrove]

Ghosts chp 20

Ally's Story

T/W: sexual assault, eating disorder

Ally's story is NOT nice, it's based off Cat's story from Demons but without the support system that Cat had

Katrina's POV

Ally was perched on the end of my bed, watching as I changed the bandages on my stomach. I taped sterile white gauze to my skin and eased myself back onto the bed with a groan.

"You've been hanging around a lot," I mumbled.

"Do you not want me here? I can leave."

"No! Wait, stay. Please, I like the company. I just mean, I hadn't seen you in a long time."

"When he's around we can't get close to you," she explained, "he keeps us away. But he's weak right now."

She sat back against the wall with a sigh, eyeing me after catching me staring at her, "what?"

"What's your story, Ally? What happened to you?"

She held her arms up so I could see the two long cuts that ran down her forearms, "isn't it obvious?"

"That's not your story, not all of it."

She dropped her arms into her lap, "you don't have to pretend to care. I'm already dead."

I stretched my hand across the bed, reaching for her, "I do care."

Her eyes were teary when she met my gaze, her jaw tight, but she still moved closer to take my hand.

--

"Mommy, Daddy's home," I announced.

She shook her head, "no, sweetie, he's not off work for a couple hours."

But then, a few minutes later, he walked through the door. Sent home early because of the blizzard sweeping through town. My mother brushed it off, saying I must have seen his car even though I was playing nowhere near the windows at the time.

That feeling, that sense of knowing, it never went away. As I got older, I realized it wasn't normal to know when someone was getting close. It wasn't normal to turn around and yell out your friends names when they were trying to sneak up on you. I started losing friends fast, nobody wanted to be associated with the outcast. The chubby cheeked weirdo that gave everyone the heebie jeebies.

I was twelve when the bullying shifted from my weirdness to my weight. The rest of my classmates had shed their baby fat and were lean where I still had a layer of pudge. That's when everything started to turn for the worst. Boys who knew I was crushing on them would sneer and laugh to their friends when I passed them. They'd pretend to like me outside of school just to turn around and shun me once in a group of classmates. Girls looked down on me, snickered when they saw me eating lunch.

Comments started coming from my family through the years too. Things like, 'haven't you eaten enough?' 'You know, everything you put on has to come off.' 'A moment on the lips, forever on the hips.' And, 'do you think you need seconds?'

My mom too, liked to tell me how little she weighed as a teenager. Joked about how her and her friends would compare thigh gaps like it was no big deal. She complained about how much she weighed now that she'd had me even though she still looked like she could be whisked away by a strong breeze. She thought she was helping by telling me maybe I'd have more friends, maybe boys would like me if I lost some weight.

At fifteen I found a website filled with pages and pages of wispy girls who's bones stuck through their skin. Girls who bragged that they had to wear children's clothes because nothing else fit, bragged about the amount of exercise they'd done that day. They shared tips and tricks to curb your hunger, told you if you followed all the rules you too could be beautiful, weightless, like them.

By sixteen, I was one of them. Comparing each days food and exercise with a group of people like me. I finally found my people, my sisters, the ethereal Wintergirls. I fed exclusively off people's compliments and they loved to tell me how much better I looked now. My mom praised my hard work, indulged my diet coke addiction. She was proud to have created a Wintergirl in her image.

Nobody in those groups liked to talk about the negatives. They didn't warn me that becoming one of them wouldn't be glamorous. That it meant constantly freezing, that your body starts growing more hair to keep you warm, that the hair on your head will get thin and lifeless, your nails turn blue and even a light brush will leave bruises on your skin. They didn't tell me that no matter what goals you hit, there would always be another. I wasn't prepared for my life to become consumed by numbers. How many sit ups, how many inches, tracking weight down in a notebook and sobbing if was more than last time. They didn't mention that I'd still hate myself no matter what.

I started swallowing handfuls of pills, secretly hoping that this time it would be enough to poison my liver. I want to go to sleep and not wake up, but I don't know that I want to die. I want to be normal, to eat and not hate myself, but that's not who I am anymore.

I kept waking up, forced to struggle through another day. Started drowning myself in alcohol every night and on the weekends, trying to find something to make me feel again. Some of the more popular girls started talking to me, asking for the secret on how to look as good as I do now, inviting me to parties hoping to get me to spill. I went to the parties but not to spill my secrets. I went for the free alcohol and eventually the drugs that the boys brought.

I had found my usual party group, the people who carried baggies of various things in their pockets. Accepted a baggie from a baby faced jock who smiled when he passed it to me.

"It'll be fun," he whispered in my ear, "trust me."

I looked at the pills for a moment before tossing them into my mouth and taking a swig of my drink to swallow them down.

"Good girl," he praised.

He didn't leave my side, didn't let me leave his sight. He was always there with an arm around me even though I didn't know him. Tempting me with tinted eyes.

This doesn't feel right.

I should have known better.

After a while, I started to feel weird. My limbs felt too heavy to move and I thought I was going to pass out. I leaned heavy into the boys side, not trusting my legs to keep me up anymore.

"It just hit you, didn't it?" He asked, holding me up.

My tongue felt too thick to move, to protest, when he picked me up. Threw me over his broad shoulder and took me back to his house.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you," he soothed.

I struggled to cry out, to push his hands away but he was so much bigger than me, had layers of muscle where I had only bone. His hands were too rough when he grabbed, when he held my wrists in one hand and undressed me with the other.

I tried again to move my legs, to fight him, but nothing worked.

"Relax," he murmured, "I'll make you feel good."

The room faded in and out through eyes blurry with tears. I could feel him. Everywhere. Every inch of me consumed by his warmth. The moments where I could almost grasp clarity were filled with pain.

He wiped a tear from my cheek, his touch tender now when he whispered, "I know you're into it...God, you feel so good."

I didn't wake up again until sometime in the morning. The sun had barely kissed the sky, just enough that the room I was in wasn't pitch black anymore. Just enough light to see that the sheets I was wrapped in were blue, not white. Just enough light to know I didn't know where I was. It took me a moment to realize there was someone else in the bed with me, a large arm wrapped loose around my waist. Tanned skin tight around broad shoulders that I might have felt safe in before. I screwed my eyes shut tight, hoping this was a horrible nightmare. But, when I opened them I was still here. The dark bruises in the shape of his fingers still stuck on my skin, the pain was still there.

I slid out of the bed, biting the inside of my cheek and praying that I could get out of here without him waking up. Apparently the universe thought I deserved this small favor because I was able to find my stuff, get dressed and slip out of his house without anyone seeing me.

Outside, I pulled my phone from my pocket to figure out where I was. I was an hour's walk away from home. By the time I got home...I'd have to get ready for school right away. I sent out a quick text to my group for someone to bring me something strong to get me through the day and started my long walk of shame.

I did the best I could to hide all the bruises under my clothes before going to school. Long sleeves pulled down into my fists, dark leggings, I even layered on a shirt with the tallest neckline I could find. Hid the red circles around my eyes under dark makeup and called it good enough.

I disappeared into the crowd at school, slinking from shadow to shadow like I was hiding from a spotlight. Thankfully, someone answered my text and slipped a baggy into my pocket during a quick hug. I wasted no time swallowing the pills, didn't even question it. I just needed everything to stop.

I only got through my first class without seeing him.

I was at my locker when suddenly I was picked up and spun around. I was too shocked to do anything more than shriek. Hit the ground and spun around to find myself face to face with that same boy. The star of the football team, he was all broad shoulders and a soft, innocent face. He came from money and everybody loved him because of it. But, of course, they didn't know what really lied behind that sweet face.

"Hey babe," he cooed, "missed you this morning. You could have stayed, I would have driven you home."

The breath rushed from my lungs and I was reliving flashes of memories from the night before. Once again trying and failing to fight back. Hearing his voice in my ear.

"Hey, Bryce!" Another jock clapped him on the shoulder, "introduce us to your girlfriend!"

"I..your...what?" I stammered.

"Guys, Ally...Ally, guys," he beamed, pulling me into his side.

The group of them said their hellos, and then quickly disappeared to their own lockers. I shoved him as hard as I could, but I barely moved him an inch. He still had a smile on his face even though his eyebrows had knit with confusion.

"Your girlfriend?" I hissed.

"Well, yeah? I assumed, after last night, y'know?"

"You assumed!"

He lifted his hands defensively, "take it easy, don't need to shout."

I spun and stalked away from him, to a quieter, more secluded corner of the school to try and calm my nerves.

He followed me, practically purring, "trying to find somewhere private for us?"

I stopped, dumbfounded, giving him time to come up behind me and plant a kiss to my neck.

I recoiled, shoving Bryce away and shouting, "get off me!"

"What the fuck is your problem? You gave it up so easy last night and now you're gunna act like a prude?"

"I...I didn't give anything! You took! You drugged me, carried me home when I couldn't walk and had sex with me when I couldn't say no! You raped me!"

"Babe," he started, "come on-"

"No! Don't fucking call me babe, I don't even know you! I'm not your girlfriend! I'm your victim!"

He got in my face, close enough I could feel the heat from his skin, and growled, "fuck you. We could have been something, y'know? I could have given you everything. You asked for the drugs, remember? You're just a fucking whore, using men to get what you want and then dropping them. You wait, I will fucking destroy you."

By the afternoon, everybody had seen the pictures he took of me unconscious and were calling me a whore. Calling me a skeleton, ugly, a tease, a user. Nobody could believe I didn't want it. 'Look at him,' they'd say, 'he's gorgeous. How could you not want him?' Or, 'I'd give anything to have him even look at me and you're complaining?'

--

It only took a couple days before someone approached me outside of my class. Asked if I'd sleep with him if he gave me something.

"Are you serious? You think I'm a prostitute or something? Try being a gentleman and asking a girl on a date, you'd have a better chance."

His eyebrows raised, "you wanna go on a date with me?"

"Not now I don't, shitdick," I scoffed, pushing my way into class.

Later that day, people were saying I'd slept with him anyway.

--

This went on for months. People would approach me asking for sex and when I turned them down, they made up a story and spread it around.

There was one boy...I thought he was different. He said all he wanted was to take me on a date, for me to give him a chance. So I did. I let him take me out for a coffee since I didn't eat in front of anyone. We actually had a good time, he made me laugh for the first time in a long time. For a minute, I felt like maybe I could see a way out of the dark.

Then, our way out of the cafe, I thought I saw a glimpse of Bryce but when I looked again, I didn't see him.

He drove us away from the city, to a secluded area where it was just the two of us. We sat in the back of his car, talking for a while until he brought me close and kissed me. Fingers started to tug at clothing, pulling a noise of protest from my throat.

"I took you out," he murmured, "now be a good girl for me."

I let my mind go blank, let him take what he wanted. Saw Bryce in his place and let a few tears fall silently.

I realized that no matter how good I thought things could be, no matter what I do, Bryce would still be on top of me and I still wouldn't be able to breathe. He'd always be there, sneering that he'd destroy me.

--

Eating was hard. Breathing was hard. Living was the hardest.

I felt like I had started dying the night Bryce took me home. Like everything since then had to have been a fever dream caused by cells deteriorating. Last night had nailed that feeling home. That I was already dead, just stuck in hell.

I showed up at school to see a snickering crowd in front of my locker. 'Whore' was painted across the door along with 'Liar' and 'Dirty Slut'.

Standing at the front of the crowd with a wicked grin on his face was Bryce and the rest of the football team.

He invaded my space, my senses, the heat radiating from his skin threatening to burn me up. The heady cologne he wore, a toxic gas that stole oxygen from my lungs and replaced it with poison.

His voice, low and husky in my ear when he sneered, "nobody believes you. Nobody cares about you. I bet nobody would even care if you were gone," he pulled away just enough to look into my eye, "I win."

I was holding back tears as I tried to retreat from the school, walking as fast as I could to escape the laughter when my arm was caught in someone's hand. I looked up at the girl who grabbed me and recognized her from some of my classes. We weren't really friends but we were close enough to know each other.

"You okay?"

I faked a smile, tried to ignore my voice cracking, "awesome...I'm awesome."

"Hey, screw those assholes, Ally."

I knew she was trying to help, that she thought her words would be enough to break through months of abuse hurled my way.

They weren't.

My shoulders slumped, "haven't you heard? I already did."

I slipped between her fingers and didn't look back.

--

"Whatever happened to chivalry?" Ally sighed, leaning against the wall next to me, "romance? I always wanted a relationship like in those cheesy old movies. You know, where the love interest makes some grand gesture to say they love you? That's what I dreamed of."

I wiped the tears from my face, "Ally.."

She smiled sadly at me, "I always thought I'd find the one when I became perfect. That if I could just be good enough...but that never happened, perfect never came."

@alias-b @charmed-asylum @champagnesugamama

#billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things #tw rape #tw ed content

[angelofthequeers]

Hold Me By Both Hands: Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Ugh, Adrien’s such a sap when it comes to describing Marinette.

Like it’s not even me, all this cheese is from him.

Chapter 12 | Chapter 14 | AO3 link

Once the green light from his transformation has washed away, Chat Noir extends his baton and takes a flying leap out of the copse of trees to where Marinette is still narrowly evading the akuma and hurling random objects at it. More hair has fallen out of her bun, her denim shorts and pink shirt are splattered with dirt, her narrowed grey eyes are blazing, and Chat Noir’s never seen a more beautiful thing in his life. He could quite happily die right now after having witnessed such a heavenly sight.

Marinette’s luck runs out just before Chat Noir reaches her. She stumbles on a stone and crashes to the ground with a yelp, with the akuma looming over her and ready to swallow her whole. And Chat Noir will be damned if he lets that happen.

“Hope you don’t mind if I swoop in, princess,” he says as he lands next to her and scoops her up in his arms. With a smug glance at the akuma, he bounds away and covers the distance to the merry-go-round in just a few seconds. The blob starts to follow, but it’s a slow wall of death compared to an agile superhero and so there’s plenty of time for Chat Noir to make sure that Marinette’s safe.

“Chat Noir?” Marinette says when he deposits her on her feet. “Where’s Ladybug?”

“I’m sure milady’s not too far away.” Chat Noir takes her hand and bows to kiss the back of it. “You just need to worry about getting as far away from that thing as possible. I don’t know whether you’re super brave or just have no self-preservation instincts, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Marinette deadpans. “You saw all that?”

“Nah. Adrien told me that you held it off to give him time to get away.”

“He’s safe?”

The concern in Marinette’s eyes makes Chat Noir’s stomach writhe and dance. What the heck is going on? “Yep. Safe as can be. I dropped him plenty far enough from the akuma. Which is exactly where you need to be, princess.”

Somehow, there are still civilians who haven’t yet realised that there’s a blob akuma trying to eat everything. Screams from the other side of the park make Chat Noir curse and whip around.

“Go,” Marinette says when he looks back at her, biting his lip. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Chat Noir says. Marinette gives him a small smile.

“I’ll go find somewhere safe,” she says. “But your duty’s to Paris, not one civilian.”

What if you’re my favourite civilian? is what Chat Noir’s tempted to say. But Marinette’s right: he can’t prioritise her above his job. So, rather than whisk Marinette away to where no one will find her like he wants to do, he winks at her and leaps back towards the akuma.

“Well, someone’s had one too many croissants,” he quips when he lands between it and the civilians it’s advancing on. The people gasp and make a beeline in the other direction. “I mean, I know that anything Dupain-Cheng is the cat’s meow, but really.”

“Chat, stop playing with the akuma,” says a voice from behind him. For a split second, it sounds like Marinette’s come back to scold him, but then bright scarlet moves into his vision next to him and he’s joined by the love of his life.

Except –

Except that the leap of his heart is subdued. The mere sight of his lady is still enough to make him smile, but she just…doesn’t look nearly as radiant as Marinette.

“Would you prefer I play with you instead, milady?” he teases. In response, she smirks at him and reaches out to flick his bell.

“How about we play together?” she says, cracking her knuckles. “You can be my player two.”

“But of course, bugaboo.”

The akuma’s surprisingly easy to take down. Ladybug’s Lucky Charm gives her a scuba mask and oxygen tank, which she has Chat Noir use to invade the blob by letting it consume him. It’s sticky and dark and he needs the flashlight in his baton to see and – yeah, Chat Noir’s going to need a long bath after this, and he’d really rather not consider the implications of needing this oxygen tank to breathe when the blob’s other victims have nothing of the sort. Thank god for Miraculous Ladybug.

Once he’s at the blob’s heart, Chat Noir finds the akumatised object: a little sewn doll with a missing arm and a head half-full of stringy hair. Does that mean that this akuma is a child, just like Green Giant? What the heck would lead to a kid turning into a giant blob? Green Giant at least had been understandable. Shaking his head and grimacing at how the viscous jelly oozes through his hair, Chat Noir grabs the doll and makes a hasty retreat before the blob can figure out what he’s up to.

In all fairness, the akumatised kid seems pretty smart, because it realises what’s going on as soon as Chat Noir breaches its jelly-like walls. And Chat Noir really isn’t that smart at all, since he lets the oxygen mouthpiece fall from his mouth before even realising what’s going on.

“Chat Noir!” Ladybug cries as the blob starts to suck him back in. Chat Noir makes a split-second decision.

“Cataclysm!” The doll in his hand crumbles to dust, releasing the black butterfly, and Chat Noir takes one big gulp of air and shoves the scuba set out for Ladybug before his face is consumed. Now it’s just up to Ladybug to purify the akuma and cast her Miraculous Ladybug before he suffocates, and he’s got the utmost faith in his lady. Sure enough, it only takes a few moments before Chat Noir’s sprawled on the grass, blinking in the bright sunlight as the swarm of ladybugs make everything again.

“You silly kitty!” Ladybug kneels next to Chat Noir and throws her arms around his neck. “Do you know how worried I was when it pulled you back in?”

Strawberries and vanilla. Chat Noir just hugs back and buries his face in Ladybug’s dark pigtails. When they separate, they pound it and then Ladybug helps Chat Noir to his feet.

“Are you okay to take care of her?” Ladybug says when her earrings beep. Chat Noir turns to the akuma victim, who happens to be a chubby girl of around seven or eight years old.

“I’ve probably got a couple more minutes than you,” he says. “Go on, milady.”

Ladybug nods gratefully and yo-yos away. Chat Noir carefully approaches the girl, hands up so as not to spook her, and kneels with her to be on eye level with her.

“What’s your name?” he says.

“Julie,” the girl mumbles. She doesn’t jump when Chat Noir gently places a hand on her shoulder.

“Why were you akumatised, Julie?” he says. Julie just shakes her head, her curly black ponytail swinging from side to side, and she snatches the doll from him when he picks it up and offers it to her, now with its arm back and a full head of thick hair. He grimaces when his ring beeps and flashes.

“Do you want me to try?”

Chat Noir’s heart leaps into his throat when Marinette draws level with him, smiling kindly at Julie. It’s all he can do to use his last functioning brain cell to nod and scurry off to transform back, then emerge from the trees while Plagg feasts in his pocket.

“…so upset?” Marinette’s saying as Adrien returns. She’s sitting cross-legged on the grass with Julie, whose hair is loose from its ponytail, and she’s parted the curly dark sheets and is working on plaiting one side with dandelions that she picks from the ground around her. Careful not to make a sound, Adrien kneels down next to Marinette, transfixed by the sight.

“Jeanne Thomas,” Julie mumbles. “She said I was fat and ugly. Then she took my doll and broke it.”

Marinette hums a little tune as she continues to work on Julie’s hair. “Can I tell you something, Julie?” Marinette says. “I think you’re beautiful.”

“Liar,” Julie sniffles.

“I’m not lying,” Marinette says. “Do you know why? Because I don’t like lying. Lying is bad. When I say you’re beautiful, I mean it.” She ties off the first plait and then starts to work on the other side. “Your hair is gorgeous and curly and soft. Your eyes are dark as chocolate. And all this chub just means there’s more to love!”

Julie giggles weakly when Marinette pokes her belly. Adrien’s still as a statue, unable to take his eyes off Marinette and her angelic radiance. In the background, he’s dimly aware of the crew setting everything back up to finish the photoshoot, and if Nathalie or Gorilla come to try and pull him away from this heavenly vision then it’ll be over his dead body.

“Girls like Jeanne are mean because it makes them feel good,” Marinette says. “It makes them feel like they’re better than you. I’ve been bullied by a girl just like Jeanne. You just have to try and not give these people any attention, because they only do it to feel better about themselves.”

“Mummy always tells me to ignore her,” Julie says, wringing her doll between her hands. “But I can’t. I just – I just want to punch her!”

“I know. I can’t ignore Chloé either and I’ve wanted to hit her loads of times, but I haven’t because I’m a better person than that. You don’t have to be mean back to Jeanne, especially if you tell yourself that she’s lying about you being ugly. Because she is lying. You’re adorable just the way you are.”

As soon as Julie’s second plait is done, she turns and jumps on Marinette, squeezing her tight. Marinette smiles and hugs her back, and Adrien’s pretty sure that a choir of angels is singing right now to commemorate just how beautiful his friend is.

“Julie!” A woman who looks just like Julie except skinnier and with a heart-shaped face is sprinting across the park, dark curls flying behind her. Julie’s face lights up and she bounces to her feet.

“Mummy!” Julie runs to meet the woman, who snatches her up and hugs her as tight as only a mother can, babbling into her daughter’s ear.

“I was so worried! You were akumatised – right in front of me – I couldn’t do anything –”

“I’m sorry, Mummy.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry, baby girl.” A pang of something twists Adrien’s gut when the woman tucks a stray curl behind Julie’s ear and kisses her forehead before turning to him and Marinette. “What happened?”

“Ladybug and Chat Noir saved the day, ma’am,” Marinette says, standing up and brushing down her outfit, now clean after the Ladybug cure. “Chat Noir tried to comfort her, but she was too upset.”

“Marinette made my hair pretty, Mummy!” Julie says. The woman smiles and runs a hand over the daisies in Julie’s hair.

“She sure did, baby girl.”

“And she said I’m pretty!”

“Because you are! Come on, let’s go home and I’ll make you a hot chocolate with all the marshmallows you want.”

Julie cheers and squirms until her mother puts her down. The woman’s eyes soften, and she mouths, “thank you” at Marinette, then leads her daughter away. Marinette turns her smile on Adrien.

“I’m glad you got away,” she says as Adrien tries not to float off the ground into the stratosphere. “I don’t even know what came over me. I – I just saw you in trouble and I got so mad.”

“You’re actually an angel,” Adrien’s mouth says without his permission. Marinette’s cheeks heat up to probably the same temperature that his do.

“Th-Thanks,” she says. “But it was really nothing special. Anyone else would have done it.”

“No, they wouldn’t have,” Adrien insists. Why can’t Marinette see how radiant she is? “You’re always so quick to jump and help people when they need it. You’re so brave and selfless, just like Ladybug. You’re like…an everyday Ladybug!”

Marinette’s face turns as scarlet as Ladybug’s suit.

“Adrien.” Nathalie steps between him and Marinette before Marinette can reply. “The crew’s ready to start again. We’re already an hour behind. Your seat is exactly where it was before,” she says to Marinette.

“O-Okay!” Marinette shoots Adrien a quick smile. “Good luck! Hopefully, it’s not ruined by another akuma.”

Adrien watches her walk off and sit down and pull her sketchbook out of her purse, unable to take his eyes off the way she taps her bottom lip with her pencil as she thinks.

“Adrien?” Nathalie says as she guides him back towards the set. “The photoshoot.”

“Angels really do exist,” Adrien sighs, letting Nathalie steer him without a fight. Nathalie stares at him for a long moment.

“I’m not paid nearly enough for this,” she mutters.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #aotq fic #aotq: hold me #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #adrinette #adrienette #adrien you lovesick fool #oops adrien's in love #rip nathalie

[arlainta]

Published in Spare Change News, Cambridge.

Something Inside Me

By Marc D. Goldfinger

When I tell you this story about an event in my life, just remember, I may be the teller of the story and it deals with something that happened to me but this story is really about them and especially about you.  I was eight years old.  There were many things that I knew at that time but understanding the things I knew was very different.  Not necessarily innocent, but I believed certain things about the world.  Some things made sense; other things didn’t.  It was as simple as that.

Summertime.  Hot, wet, the birds moving slow through thick air, the sound of cicadas singing the heat song.  I don’t even know if I remember the names correctly, let’s just call my friends Andy, Alan, Philip, Bonnie and Diane.  I probably do have the names right but I wouldn’t want to bet money on it after all I’ve been through since then.

The blocks in this little town of North Arlington, nestled right by the major swamps stretching to the edge of the big river separating us from New York were definite rectangles, not winding streets like wealthier suburban towns.  Factory towns like to keep things neat so things run smooth like assembly lines are supposed to.

Every morning at breakfast, my mother would cook some eggs and bacon and Alan would stick his face into the window and I would smile and it was all simple.  He came everyday during that summer that never had an end, and, to tell you the truth, I didn’t even know when or where it began.  My mother would open the door and ask Alan if he wanted anything to eat and he would slip right into the chair beneath the window.

I don’t even remember what we talked about.  There was the sound of the eggs popping in the grease and the smell of the bacon as she put it between the paper towels and then spilled the fat into this container that we put out for people to pick up.  My mother told me that they made soap with the fat.  To this day I don’t even know whether that’s a fact or what, but I know I’m drifting away from the main story.  That happens to me now.  My focus has changed.  Of course, I’m lucky that I have any focus left at all.

I said earlier that this was a story about them but I haven’t even got to who they are yet.  Not my friends, that’s not who I’m talking about.  David.  He’s the first, but not the leader of the others.  He is older than me and if he’s dead now he’s still older than me because that’s the way time does us.

His hair was curly blonde and his eyes were blue and they were laughing from the corners all the time but his mouth never smiled.  The playground was for all of us and that was where I met him.  He would talk to me like he was my friend and say things that I knew were true and there was no reason not to believe the things he said.  After all, I said the things I believed and meant them.  Why it should be different for anyone else was never anything I even considered back then.

David was about 4 years older than me and the world was a safe place for all of us.

There was another group of boys that people our age told stories about and I never knew whether they were true or not because we would always run away when they came to the playground or where ever we were.  They were called the Carlson gang and, as the story went, they would give us a pretty fair beating if they caught us.  They never did, any of us, at least not yet, so none of us had real experience to base the tales on, but we would run like hell when they came around.

I saw Ronnie once.  He was the younger Carlson.  He had dirty blonde hair.  His older brother was named George.  George had black curly hair.  We heard he was in the youth home on and off.  As the story went, one time in the playground, George just walked up to the baseball field where some kids were playing ball, picked up one of the spare bats and hit an older guy that we knew as Sutch in the head with the bat.  Those that were there said that Sutch fell right down but his legs were shaking up and down like he was running away while he was laying on his back and George was just rubbing the bat against the cloth of his dungarees, not even smiling.

Sometimes we would see Sutch in the halls at school shuffling slowly down the hall with his shoulders bowed to the center of his chest.  They moved him into that special class that we all knew about then.  This was after the accident.  No one saw George for a while after that.  As a matter of fact, he really has no part in the story except that he was the one who started the gang.  At least that’s what the other kids say.  There are always stories.

Did I get side-tracked again?  I was just telling how I saw Ronnie once.  He was with his dog, holding the dog around his neck with the crook of his arm kneeling on the sidewalk and there were four or five kids my age just up by the corner calling him names.  Ronnie stayed on his knees holding his dog and just watched us.  I say us because I joined the group but I don’t remember whether I said anything or not.  Ronnie never said anything but he didn’t run or come closer, just stayed there.  Every once in a while, one of the kids I was with would move towards him but they would stop because he wouldn’t budge.

After a while the fun of it ended and we left.  I turned around as we were walking away and Ronnie stood up next to his dog, watching us go but not saying anything.  I turned around again and he was gone.

I never saw Ronnie again until the day that I am telling you about now.  This was my day, the day that the world darkened into crazy night and when I woke up it was twisted at the neck like it had this accident and never could get back to – well, don’t let me get ahead of myself.  You’ll see what I mean soon enough.

There was another member of the Carlson gang that I haven’t got to yet.  His name was Marell.  A big husky boy with freckles all over his face.  Big teeth.  He had that fat smell even though he wasn’t fat.  Sour, sweat, rancid.  I know what that smell is because whenever I smell it, I think of him.  Even after all this time has passed.  I never saw him before that day, nor did I hear of him again.  Our paths did not cross again after that day and I can’t say what I might do if they did.

But let’s pretend nothing happened yet.  Let’s pretend that the world has an order and a sense to it and that things don’t get out of whack.  Let’s pretend the world is sane.

I think we were still in the kitchen, Alan, my mother, and me and we were focused on the eggs and bacon and the creamy buttered toast whisking across my plate to pick up the left-behind yolk.  The last bit of bacon, the juicy part, not quite well-done, dripping with goodness all over my tongue as my teeth bit down on it.  Wiping my hands with the napkin, Alan doing the same, the shadow of my father just coming down the stairs for breakfast as we were going out the door.

“Don’t forget to be home in time for lunch,” my ma called out as we zipped out of the yard, me throwing my hand up in the air in a quick wave to let her know that I heard.  Two blocks away, then three blocks away and there waiting, just outside the woods, was the rest of my friends.

There was Andy, skinny ropy arms with dimples on both cheeks, Philip, blond hair and bad teeth and chubby around the middle, Bonnie, short blonde hair with freckles and a kerchief tied around her head, built like a boy and she was better than most of us at baseball, and Diane who I played strip poker with one time in her attic and was waiting for another chance but we won’t go into that story right now.

Just then the clouds moved over the sun.  I remember it was that moment because we all looked up at the same time and the sun didn’t come out again.  Sometimes I wish I could forget the details.  The small details just come to me again and again and I wish that my mind had natural clouds that the details could just slip behind.  In our minds the clouds don’t hide anything.  It’s always all there whether or not you want to go looking.  Always all there.

And here we are outside the woods where it all started and where it would all wind up.  The woods.  It was an unbuilt area, one of the few left in our town.  There were houses and streets all around it, but it was like three blocks square and you could wonder how it all got away from the men with the bulldozers.  For us it was one of the places we liked to go because we moved back and forth through time and fashioned our dreams out of the mystery of the wood.

On some days we were King Arthur’s Knights of the Roundtable and out saving damsels in distress.  On other days we were trackers looking for the hidden mine of gold.  At other times we lit a fire and cooked potatoes in it while we sang songs.  “This Land Is Your Land” was one of our favorites.  Of course we sometimes played pirates exploring an island and we sang some dirty ditties on those afternoons.  The woods was our place.  When we were there the magic was real.  It was God’s place and I don’t mean to tell you that we knew what God was.

There are those of us who prayed to God at night when we were young.  I don’t remember doing that but I remember always looking under the bed and, in the closet, before I went to bed and then I would pull the covers all around me, except for my eyes because I wanted to see it if it snuck up on me.  I knew that you could cover your head, but just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there and coming for you fast.

Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there and coming for you fast.  This day was like that for all of us, but this was my day.

I wish that I could remember some of the things we did before we decided to play hide and seek.  I remember I told you that I could recall the details and, don’t misunderstand me, I wasn’t lying.  One of the details I remember was the spider web across the path.  I almost ran into it and stopped short.

It was a dark brown spider sitting still in the center of the web and when I stopped, I was a lot closer to it than I wanted to be.  The spider was large and had hair on its legs and I thought I could see its eyes and that was when it happened.  The web started to move.  It was a rocking motion, in and out.  It would move close to my face and then away, closer and then away, even closer and then away, getting ready for the return swing and then there was a hand on my shoulder yanking me back as the web rocked into the space where my face was a moment ago.

Sometimes I dream that the spider web catches my face and the webbing is in my nose, in my mouth, and when I try to take a breath the spider runs into my mouth.  I can feel the legs, the body swelling and I try to scream but the body is big in my throat, the legs tapping, tapping, tapping.  Then I wake up.  I can still feel it in my throat even after I drink and my throat is raw from the screaming.

Alan is near me on the ground after nearly getting touched by the spider.  I am crying and Diane comes over and wipes the tears from my cheeks and then Andy is teasing me about having a girlfriend.  My cheeks are hot from his words.

My parents always told me that “Sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me.”  Parents lie to us when we are young and we never forget it.  Words have always been able to hurt me and their sting lasts long, not like the fleeting quickness of a slap or a punch.  There are words I carry in my mind from back then.  They hide in the corners of myself and, like spiders, they come out, fill my throat, and make it so I cannot scream.

But this tale is not about spiders even though they terrify me to this very day.  It is about me, it is about them, it is about the woods, but clearly it is about you and what is happening now.

It is about what happened when we decided to play hide and seek and after I lost the match pull.  Anyone of the others might have been it that day but I was it and the last person to disappear into the woods was Alan, looking back at me and smiling as I closed my eyes and began to count.

To tell the truth, I don’t remember if I made it to one hundred.  I do know that I certainly could count that high so I might have.  But there was a noise behind me and I opened my eyes and turned around and looked up to the top of a small rise that was covered with stone and brush and there was David standing at the top of the hill.

“Hi Dean,” was what he said.  “What are you doing?”

“Well, we’re playing hide and go seek and I’m it.”

Then he smiled.  I had never seen him smile before.

“Where are the others?” was what he asked.

Then I had that feeling.  Maybe I had had it earlier but it got louder inside me and it was in my stomach.  My mouth was drying up.

“Close.  Very close.  Do you want me to call them out?”

David stood there looking at me with a smile on his face but not in his eyes.  And then he said, “No, don’t bother.  You’ll do quite well.”

It was quick and then, like quiet insects moving through the brush, there was Ronnie Carlson clambering up next to him with another boy that I had never seen before.  It was a long moment with the three of them looking down at me, me looking up at them and I was turning, turning to run when I heard the voice say, “Marell, get him!”

I heard them coming, heard them coming as I ran.  I was very fast but I had the shorter legs of an eight-year-old.

They were running overland, the sound of feet pounding forest dirt from all directions and it seemed like they were all around me.  I remember my voice.  It kept saying the same thing, over and over as I ran.

“Run, run, the Carlson gang!  Run run the Carlson gang!  Run run the Carlson gang!”

And I was still yelling those very words as my legs were tackled and my face hit the dirt, hard.  Blood on my lip.  The next thing I noticed was the smell.  Remember.  The smell of fat, dirty sweaty rancid sour and the breath of him close to my face.

“Hold him!”

“I got him!”

I was thrashing wild, kicking my legs and David hit me in the face.  Again.  I wet my pants.

“Take his pants off,” Ronnie said.  “Tie him to this tree.”

I was crying now as they tied me with some rope.  I forgot about my friends; all things were coming to an end now.  I knew that they would kill me.

I remember I asked them why they were doing this to me.  I told them that this was as stupid as war and why do people hurt each other like this and I don’t remember getting any answer that I understood.

I was tied to the tree for a long while and they hit me and called me sissy-boy.  There were taunts that I don’t remember and some that I do.  David kept calling me a dirty Jew.

Then it happened.  They started to untie me and then, when the twine was off, David and Ronnie pressed me down to the ground and held me.  They held me.

There was the smell of that boy Marell.  Then the weight and the pressure and the pain.  I remember calling out to God for help and then I disappeared into my head and I really can’t explain what I mean and don’t know if I want to explain it to you.  I don’t remember things for a long time after that.

Later they pulled me up to my feet.  My mind was on autopilot.  I knew that I had to run and somehow, I did.  I ran faster than I had ever run before.  I had no shoes on but my feet weren’t feeling the pain.  Even the sticker bushes didn’t hurt and it gave me a small lead because they were running around the bushes.  The bushes meant nothing to me, you see, I was already bleeding from that other place and nothing would ever be the same.  My body was different now.

Suddenly I was out of the woods and I was running down the sidewalk and I could hear their shoes on the walk coming closer and closer.  I was the wind and the rain dreaming as I flew and they were very close now.

There was a shadow on the sidewalk ahead of me and it told me to just keep running.  It felt as if I ran through the shadow and then there was yelling behind me and the noise of someone being hit.

I turned.  The shadow had been my father and he had Ronnie and David in his grip and was holding on to their hair and he hit their heads together and Ronnie’s nose was bleeding and David was crying.  I fell down to the ground.

Some things I don’t remember.  I don’t remember the police coming.  I don’t remember going home.  I don’t remember my father fighting with Ronnie’s father and the police breaking it up.  It all happened.  That’s what they tell me.

I don’t remember what happened to Marell, anything at all about him, except I remember his smell.

I remember the scratches and stickers in my legs and my feet so torn that I couldn’t walk for a few days.  I don’t like to think about being in the bathroom.  No, I don’t like to think about that.

You know that since that day everything has been different.  Deep inside me, deep inside me something changed.  That day they put something in me, they put something inside me and no matter what anyone does, no matter how they try, no matter what they say, no one can take it out.  No one.

So you see, this story isn’t really about me.  It’s more about them and even more so, this story is about you.  You know what I mean now, don’t you?  You don’t like it, but you know what I mean.