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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Note

Tarlos prompt.

Carlos just had a break down about life. And his mum sorts him out. Which ends in his Mum having a convo with TK about how much Carlos and her were close until the weird coming out thing

thank you so much for your prompt! i hope you enjoy what i came up with!

also written for day 1 of @911lonestarangstweek: Emotional whump + “How do we fix this?”

ao3 | 2.1k

Of all the people TK might have expected to show up at the house when Carlos is on shift, Andrea Reyes is not one of them.

Unfortunately, however, she has, and TK is now painfully aware that he’s barefoot, wearing a stained t-shirt and sweats in front of his boyfriend’s mother, who he has only officially met once. She raises a solitary eyebrow, looking him up and down, and TK flushes deeply.

“Um, Mrs Reyes, hi,” he stammers. “Carlos is at work.”

“I know.” She smirks at his clear surprise, then gestures inside. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” TK steps aside, wringing his hands together nervously as Mrs Reyes walks in. She looks around the space as though seeing it for the first time, which he vaguely registers as strange, given Carlos has lived here for years. Most of his mind, however, is taken up with freaking out over the fact that Carlos’s mother is here; she had seemed nice enough when Carlos had taken him over for Sunday dinner last week, but TK is in no way prepared for one-on-one interactions yet.

Especially now, when he’s barely been awake for an hour. “I-If you want to take a seat,” he says, trying to tame his anxiety, “I’ll just go and get changed into something a little more, um, presentable.”

He’s about to make a break for the stairs when Mrs Reyes catches his arm, her grip gentle but firm. “Don’t be silly,” she admonishes. “I may be Carlos’s mother, but this is your home too, no?”

“Well… It’s not... We don’t exactly… Can I get you something to drink?”

“You can sit down.”

Mrs Reyes smiles in clear amusement, and TK’s pretty sure he couldn’t be redder if he tried. He studiously avoids eye contact as he shuffles to the opposite end of the couch, sinking down into it with his gaze firmly fixed on his lap. He wishes Carlos were here, but he’s still got hours left on his shift.

Which reminds him. “Mrs, Reyes, I don’t mean to be rude, but…” He trails off, unsure how to phrase the question without sounding horrifically insulting.

Thankfully, she seems to understand. “You’re wondering what I’m doing here.”

TK nods. “Not that you’re not welcome!” he hurries to say. “But I figured you’d be here to see Carlos, only he’s not here, so… So.”

He winces at his own awkwardness, knowing he’s cutting a stark contrast to his behaviour at dinner. Sure, he can turn on the charm when he’s prepared and awake and with Carlos, but alone, half-asleep, and totally not expecting a visit?

He’s doomed.

Mrs Reyes sighs deeply. When TK looks back up at her, her expression has turned sad, a weariness in her face.

“Carlos came by our house before his shift this morning.”

TK raises a surprised eyebrow at the news; Carlos had left at six this morning, and he hadn’t said anything about going to see his parents. Not that he was supposed to, but TK can’t help but worry, especially with the way Mrs Reyes is looking at him.

“You know that two days ago was his first shift back after the suspension, yes?” she continues, nodding at TK’s confirmation. “He… When he arrived this morning, he was distressed, panicking over everything - mostly work, but he hinted at other things that I don’t… I’m not really sure what he was talking about. I was hoping you might have a little more insight?”

TK’s heart clenches at her words, but he forces a smile for Mrs Reyes’s sake. “What did he say?”

“What I understood was that he was anxious about going back to work. He thinks that no-one trusts him anymore, and he said that maybe they were right not to. I told him he was being crazy, but I don’t know if he listened to me.”

“Carlos never told me any of this,” TK whispers, horrified. He’d had no idea Carlos had been struggling so much, and he could kick himself for not pushing when he’d said that he was fine.

Mrs Reyes smiles thinly. “Of course he didn’t,” she says, almost fondly. “My Carlitos is a worrier; he’ll fuss over everyone else and never give a thought to himself, even if it runs him into the ground. I’m sure you know this.” She gestures to the scar on his forehead, and TK reaches up to touch it, running his fingers lightly over the ridged tissue.

He nods, sighing. “I’m sorry,” he says, barely able to look at her now. “I should have made sure he was okay. I asked, of course I did, but -”

Mrs Reyes cuts him off by reaching over to grab his hand. She smiles at him when TK looks up in shock, then squeezes gently. “You are not to blame. Carlitos can be very stubborn, especially when it comes to himself. He gets that from his father.”

She chuckles, then her face takes on that heavy look again and she lets go of TK, sitting back in her seat. “We talked for a while about his worries over work, but there was a point when I don’t think we were just talking about his job anymore. He said something about Gabriel and never being enough for him, but he wouldn’t explain when I asked. He left soon after that.”

TK swallows nervously. He has a pretty good idea what Carlos might have been referring to, but he doesn’t have a clue how to go about talking to Mrs Reyes about it. It feels wrong to do it without Carlos’s knowledge, anyway.

“It was your husband leading the investigation, wasn’t it?” he hedges, trying to steer her in that direction.

“It was, but this was more than that, I’m sure of it.” She sighs, sudden tears glinting in her eyes and - oh, TK is so not prepared for this. “We used to be so close, you know? All of us. But, one day, something changed. I don’t know what, or why, but suddenly he started keeping his distance more, and he stopped talking to us. I love my son, I only want the best for him, but it’s been years and now I don’t know how to help him.”

She meets his eyes, her gaze almost pleading with him. “You clearly care for him, TK, and I’ve never seen my son so happy as when he’s with you. Please, if you know anything… I just want to understand.”

TK bites his lip. Talking about this with Mrs Reyes feels like a betrayal of Carlos, but he’s not seeing a way out of this anymore. If she’s half as stubborn as her son, she won’t leave until she has at least some answers, and there’s no way she’ll believe he knows nothing.

“Did things change when he was around seventeen, by any chance?” he asks eventually, guilt twisting in his gut. “Maybe just after he, um, came out?”

Her lips part in surprise, a small crease forming between her brows. “Yes. But, I don’t understand, are you implying this is because of that? All we care about is that he’s happy, not who he loves; Gabriel and I have always done our best to support Carlos.”

TK winces. “All due respect, Mrs Reyes, but I’m not so sure that’s true.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Look, this is really a conversation you should be having with Carlos, I’ve already said too much -”

“If you have something to say, TK, please, just say it.” The warmth has dropped from Mrs Reyes’s face and she seems to be holding herself tighter. TK’s heart sinks; he’s just ruined things with his boyfriend’s mother. Perfect.

He swallows, staring hard at the floor. “It’s just something that came up after we met you at the market,” he explains quietly. “Carlos...he wasn’t sure how you would react to - to us, so he did what he does best, and chose to protect us both.”

“Protect?” Mrs Reyes’s voice is horrified, and TK looks up to find her staring at him in open confusion. “From what?”

TK doesn’t respond, but his grimace must be enough to tell her all she needs to know. She gasps and lifts a hand to her mouth, eyes shining.

“We thought…” She breaks off, shaking her head. “How do we fix this?”

He sighs. “Mrs Reyes… I can’t speak for Carlos, nor can I claim to fully understand what he’s been through. I came out to my parents when I was fourteen, and they were vocal about their support, to say the least.” TK chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck, his teenage embarrassment returning for a brief moment. “I’m not saying that’s the way to go, god knows it was awkward and overwhelming for all of us, but maybe talking to him would be a start? Carlos knows you love him, ma’am, but it wouldn’t hurt to let him know that you love all of him, if you understand what I mean?”

Mrs Reyes nods, sniffing and wiping at her eyes. “Thank you, TK,” she says, sending him a barely-there smile. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.” She stands and TK hurries to follow, grabbing the door for her.

He’s equal part relieved and worried over her abrupt exit; much longer, and TK thinks he might have lost it, but he can’t shake the feeling that he’s fucked up beyond repair. So, he’s surprised when she turns in the doorway and pulls him into a gentle hug.

“I’m glad Carlitos has you,” she smiled, patting his cheek. “And, it’s Andrea.”

With that, Mrs Reyes walks out, leaving TK staring after her, more than a little confused.

That night, TK watches Carlos move about their bedroom, his conversation with Andrea weighing on him as he twists the bedsheets in his hands. He knows he needs to talk to Carlos about it, but he has no idea where to start.

Carlos slides into bed beside him and TK instinctively leans his head on his shoulder. He’s just about worked up enough courage to say something, when Carlos interrupts, playing with TK’s fingers.

“My mom said she stopped by today.”

TK freezes, Carlos’s careful tone sending fear down his spine. He looks up slowly, biting his lip. “I was going to tell you, I swear. I just…couldn’t figure out how.” He pauses, waiting for some sort of reaction, but none is forthcoming. “Did she… Did she tell you what we talked about?”

Carlos hums. “Some of it. She wants me to go over tomorrow to talk about the rest of it.”

TK closes his eyes, slumping back against the headboard. “Shit, Carlos, I’m so sorry. I know I overstepped. I - I shouldn’t have said half of that stuff, I was way out of line -”

“TK.” Carlos’s voice is firm but gentle, cutting through TK’s panicked rambling. He looks over at him, some of his anxiety melting at the small smile on his boyfriend’s face. “You don’t have to apologise.”

“Don’t I?”

Carlos sighs. “Would I have preferred to have been there? Sure. But I’m not mad about anything you said. I know you didn’t really want to; my mom said she practically forced it out of you.”

TK huffs a laugh, but doesn’t try to deny it. “Still,” he says. “Is everything okay between you guys now?”

“We’re fine.” Carlos pulls him close, kissing his cheek. “Don’t worry.”

“Like I could ever stop,” he mutters, resting his head on Carlos’s chest and drawing his arms around him. Carlos moves as if to lie down, but TK stops him, another question burning in his mind. “Why didn’t you say anything about how worried you were to go back to work?”

Carlos tenses, silence dragging out for a brief moment. “I didn’t want to worry you,” he confesses eventually. “You had enough on your plate with the kidnapping and recovering, and I couldn’t add onto all of that. I was dealing with it.”

TK’s heart breaks at the words, tears pricking at his eyes. “Oh, Carlos,” he breathes. He twists to meet Carlos’s gaze, gripping his hands tight. “You know I love you, right?”

Carlos nods, frowning a little. “Of course. I love you, too.”

“Exactly,” TK continues. “This relationship is a two-way street, babe. I know you like caring for people, but you’ve got to let me care for you as well. You can come to me about anything, and I promise I’ll do my best to help you, just like you do for me. Please, let me in, Carlos.”

Carlos blinks, clearing his throat. “I… I’ll try,” he says eventually, ducking his head.

TK smiles. “That’s all I ask.”

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spookysmujer · 4 years

Text

His Girl // Sad Eyes

Prompt: You and Sad Eyes are trying to avoid your older brother, Spooky, from finding out about your relationship.

pairing: Sad Eyes x reader

warning: mild swearing, s m u t 🥵

word count: 1.7k

A/N: okay okay so @youare-mysonshine mentions an idea and I can’t not try to bring it to life. I didn’t think I would want to write for anyone else but Spooky but I enjoyed this! My first smut piece and I hope it’s okay. I find writing requests is much easier than thinking of my own ideas, lol. BUT recent convos with this babe, a series called NACROS will soon make an appearance. Send me requests!

“It’s almost 3 ‘o’ clock..” You say as you feel the wet kisses on your neck. The assault hot and heavy with no end in sight. He ignores your pleas on the time nearing.

You sigh but very contently. Your hands rubbing up and down his back, scratching them gently with your acrylics. Black as he likes.

With the heel of your foot, you dig it on top of his ass and he lets out a laugh, finally stopping the attack on your neck, sitting up to rest his hands on the side of you face.

“Mhm, one day I’m a leave a mark.”

“Promises, promises. Com’n you gotta bounce. Cesar will be home and then,” You sigh, as he climbs off you. “Spooky is back. We’re picking him up at 5.”

Sad Eyes glances at you as he pulls his shirt back on. He rubs the nape of his neck and sits besides you, taking your hand and kissing the back of it. You smile at his sweetness, puckering your lips waiting for a kiss.

This thing between you two happened at the beginning of summer, 2 1/2 months ago. Your little brother and his friends were at a party or watching one and you followed to make sure he didn’t get himself in any trouble.

When you entered the party for drinks, that’s when you caught Sad Eyes attention. He wasted no time in approaching you, which lead to talking and then stepping away from the party, smoking a blunt and ... well you know. You warned him about something happening between the two of you, your big brother being Spooky. But he didn’t seem to care. That was until the summer had passed by and Oscar’s release date neared. You managed to avoid Cesar figuring it out, knowing he’d rat you out. But now is the real deal.

“When you gonna tell him?” He asks you, pulling you from the daydream. You give him a look.

“When are you? You suppose to be his compa.”

He laughs and stands, pulling a blunt from the top of your dresser. Shrugging he lights it up, “End of me if I do it. We might live, if you tell him.”

“Boy, please, he’d kill me and you regardless of who tells him. Which is why, we don’t. We lay low. Let him get comfortable then when things settle and he gets in the groove of leading the Santos, we figure it out then. Now, go, before I make us get naked again. Bye.” You smack his ass as he leaves.

☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹

Though you were stressed about your relationship being exposed to Spooky, you did miss him a lot. He’d be locked up for the past 4 years. Times were hard taking care of Cesar on your own bit the Santos helped out a lot. When Cesar got home, you both cleaned up the place and before you know it, the clock struck close to 5.

You both sit against the red impala, waiting for him to come out. And when you hear the gates open, you all run to each other and embrace.

“Mano... look at you. And Y/N, who said you could become a woman and shit?” Oscar has his arm around both yours and Cesar’s neck. You both hug him walking back to the car and back home.

The Santos were gathered at the house to welcome your brother back. And it’ll be the first time being around all of the Santos, Sad Eyes AND Oscar at the same time.

You won’t lie, your nerves are racked and you felt like Oscar knows and will know soon. But he can’t know, you and Sad Eyes were always careful. Not just around Cesar but around the other homies. All loyal to your brother, so you kept it on the extra down low.

“You need another?” You ask your brother heading to get another drink. He nods and you head to the cooler, on your way you and Sad Eyes look at one another. His eyes burning into as you walk past him and around the house.

After grabbing a few, you turn to head back but bump into a body. You look up and see your guy staring at you, “Yes? Need one?”

“Nah, not a beer.”

You roll your eyes, “No no no, you heard what I said. We aren’t letting him find out, especially not tonight. So quench your thirst with a beer, papi.”

He hisses at the nickname and watch you walk away.

The night went well, for the most part. You occasionally glance over at Sad Eyes from time to time. So wishing you didn’t need hide this shit from Oscar. But your brother never wanted you involved with anything or anyone else in the gang. Understandable.

“I’ll be back. Bathroom.” You say pushing off the couch.

“Again?”

“I drank like 3 beers straight. Must you be controlling me still? I’m 23. Be back I said!” You kick his leg. Sad Eyes looks your way and you look to the house as you walk around the corner.

When you get to the bathroom, you wait for a minute when you a hear a knock. Your heart rate spikes as you open and peek your head out. Sad eyes bounces his eyebrows at you as you pull him in. His lips on yours instantly.

He feels your ass as your arms are tightly wrapped around his neck. Your kisses hot and sloppy, the alcohol taking lead.

“I was waiting to come back here and kiss you. Been watching you all night, mujer.”

You moan as he dips his face down to kiss your neck, the moan escaping louder. You cover your mouth with your hand and laugh, “Sorry.”

He laughs with you and you push him off of you and against the sink. You feel the courage and need to take it further, you keep your eyes on his as you sink down to your knees. He watches you as you play with the waistband of his jeans. Oh, you are going there.

You feel him through the jeans, licking your lips as he gets more aroused under your hand, “I kept thinking of the first time we did it. In my brothers car, best head you ever had.”

He nods in agreement, sinister look.

With the lust thick in the air, you undo his pants with his help, pushes it down enough to pull him out of his briefs, you’ll never not be star struck with what this man is packing.

You wet your lips and press a kiss on the underside of his length. Sad Eyes groans at the sensation. You are horny and tipsy as fuck. You take the tip of his cock in your mouth and twirl your tongue around it. He dips his head back in pleasure. It’s when you pump him a few times and take him deeper into your mouth and feel it hit the back of your throat that you hear him groan.

“Fuuuuck, bebe.”

Your bob your head up and down, slowly, earning impatient groans from him. You push your hand up his torso, feeling his chiseled body underneath it. He grabs your hair and bunches it up, getting a nice grip. Sad Eyes pulls you back off his cock, you look up at him as he leans down to kiss you.

“I want to make you cum, por favor.”

He smirks and pushes your head down as your take him again. With the grip of your hair in his hand and his groans, you feel yourself getting more and more aroused. But you know you can’t go too far, before someone notices you been gone too long.

Your release him with a pop and pull your top down to let him get a view of his second favorite part of your body. He bites his lips as you take his cock in your hands. Sad Eyes leans down and spits on your chest, it slides between your boobs. You bite your lip and push his cock through your boobs.

“You know ima cum quick if make me fuck your titties.”

You smirk and push your chest up and down his length. He moans and watches you work him up to the brink of release. “Oh fuck.” He groans as he releases his seed on your chest. You slow your pace as he crumbles under you. With one last stroke, you let go and kiss the tip of dick.

“Mhm, you made a mess all over me, papi. When everyone is gone, ima make a mess all over your face.” You kiss him, careful not to make a mess all over him.

After cleaning each other up and outfit change, you peek out of the bathroom and head out to your room while he heads out to party.

You do a quick fix of your make up and hair before heading back out.

A quick stop to get a beer, you spot him leaning against the house with some homies. You wink and head towards the others.

“Whew, that queso always fucks me up!” You laugh and sit back down. Oscar eyes you but goes back to the convo you interrupted.

After the long night that turned into 3am, you all clean up and get ready for bed. You constantly looking at your phone, hoping to god that Sad Eyes will still be up and down for the fuck sesh you mentioned.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Cesar says as you sitting on your bed. “Night, Mano.”

You sigh as you wait for a text back.

“Waiting for someone?” You hear Oscar, who is standing in your door way. You roll your eyes and fly your pillow at him.

“The sandman to knock your ass out, go to sleep already.” You stick your tongue out as he flies the pillow back at you and heads down the hallway.

After an hour, you sigh in defeat. No response from him and the clock is nearing 5am. You pull your covers over you and go turn off your light when you hear a sound in your window. You wait a second to make sure you aren’t hearing things when you hear it again.

You squeal and do a little dance before heading over to the window, you open it and find your older brother standing outside of it. Your jaw drops when you see Sad Eyes standing behind him, a look of embarrassment and fear.

“Hola hermana, wanna explain this to me?”

#sad eyes x reader #on my block #oscar diaz #cesar diaz #spooky #on my block imagine

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normal-thoughts-official · 4 years

Text

Supportive at every turn

Relationship: Maia Roberts & Bat Velasquez

Characters: Maia Roberts, Bat Velasquez, Raphael Santiago (Mentioned), Meliorn (mentioned), Jordan Kyle (mentioned)

Additional Tags: very brief and non specific mention of The Polycule, Trans Maia Roberts, Trans Female Character, Trans Bat Velasquez, nonbinary Bat Velasquez, bigender Bat Velasquez, Coming Out, brief mentions of abuse, Jordan Kyle is an abuser, a little bit of internalized transphobia, this makes the whole thing sound heavy it's not tbh, it's just kinda fluffy initial coming out convo, one hundred percent self indulgent thing written on a whim

Summary: Bat figures they should start thinking about transitioning.

They go to Maia for help.

Read it on ao3

“Hey, Bat,” Maia greets, casually, as soon as Bat enters Taki’s. It shouldn’t really be surprising; the restaurant is not open yet, and this means that no one but the pack, Maia and Raphael’s partners, and the occasional clan member can get in. Most of the time, it’s Bat; but it’s not like Bat’s supposed to bring her anything today, and she knew who it was without even looking up.

Well. That ends any hope of having the time to take a deep breath before talking to her. A part of Bat wants to flee, but that would only make it worse when they were inevitably back. So, they give her the best smile they can, and sit on the counter, watching as she checks if she espresso machines are all running normally.

She finally looks up at them, raising an eyebrow. “You know we’re not open yet, right?” she asks, a mix of curiosity and comfortable casualness in her tone. It makes them relax, funnily enough. The whole thing feels normal for a second, even if for Bat it's anything but.

“Yes." They say, quickly, "I just, uh, wanted to talk to you.”

She looks up, her interest piqued. “Okay,” she says, putting her hands on the counter slowly, her lips pursed in something almost like a challenge. “Hit me. Is it pack business?”

“No,” they shake their head. They wouldn’t come to her on Taki’s for pack business, unless it was an emergency. They know that she already knows this, and as nervous as they know she knows that they are, this is definitely not their there-is-an-emergency behavior. They would never have become her second-in-command if it were. Pack leaders have to be quick on their feet, and lose as little time as possible.

Besides, very little counts as an emergency, these days. Even when there is a new person Turned, Bat and the others already know how to handle it at this point. And thankfully, that’s the hardest thing they usually have to do.

She nods, seeming thoughtful. “Is it about me?”

“Uh, no,” they answer, a little uncomfortable. “It’s about me.”

“Okay,” she answers, seeming to relax a little at those words, her worried stance taking calmer, steadier undertones. “And I assume it’s going to be long, since you came here,” she glances at the clock, “two hours before we’re open. So, do you mind helping me do inventory and everything? I’m sure you know the drill by now.”

“Yes, of course,” Bat says, thankful to have something to do, and they know just from looking at her smile that she knows exactly how much it helps. They’re a lot better at talking when they can keep their body occupied. Otherwise, it feels like they’re going to jump out of their skin.

Raphael confirms that they’re well stocked up, which doesn’t come as a surprise, since their deliveries come in magically and so never get late, or lost. Maia has already handled the hygiene and security checks, so they begin to set the tables, and soon she joins them. Almost as soon as that, they fall into an easy, repetitive routine of work, and their mind is suddenly not occupied anymore. Maia seems to simply wait for them to start talking, comfortable in her element and used to the easy routine before the restaurant opens.

“So,” they swallow, trying to get her attention, and she doesn’t avert her eyes from the table, but still nods shortly at them. “I think I’m bigender.”

“Okay,” Maia says, beginning to wipe the table before she can set it.

“Okay,” they repeat, still feeling like they’re psyching themself up. They knew Maia would be nothing but supportive, of course, but… Still. “And that doesn’t surprise you?” They ask, more curious than anything.

Maia finally looks up at them, even stopping her cleaning motions. “Your name is Bat,” she says.

“That’s from Bartholomew,” Bat counters, frowning, even as they kind of wince at the name. They never liked it, which- is stereotypical, but true. Besides, it just sounds plain ugly.

“Bartholomews are nicknamed Bart,” she counters, “you specifically chose to make another nickname, that’s more neutral sounding and the name of a random animal that’s usually considered yucky. If that’s not a nonbinary move, I don’t know what is.”

She has a point. Still, they cross their arms briefly, just on principle. They struggled with this for years, more than they’ve spent struggling with having been Turned, and the whole thing feels very anticlimactic.

“I’m glad you told me,” she says, honestly. “Are you going to change your pronouns? It’s okay if you haven’t decided yet,” she adds quickly.

“Uh, I’m testing them out,” Bat admits. “I think- they and she both work. I’m not against he, but…” they trail off. But it feels a little invalidating, especially as they barely started transitioning. But they know that Maia understands this.

“Okay,” she says. “I’m happy for you. Thank you for telling me." Then, after a little thoughtful pause, "Do you want to talk about it? Your process? Or did you just want me to know?”

“I, uh,” they stumble a little, unsure of how to go on with words. “I was hoping you could, help me? With the transition? You know, teach me,” they make a vague gesture with their arms, “how.”

She smiles, something almost like laughter. “There’s no ‘how’, Bat. It all depends on what you want.”

“Well, yes, but I can’t just,” they gesture at themself, “stay like this.”

Maia frowns. “You could, if you wanted to. There’s no right or wrong way to be trans, Bat. And- well, I don’t know that for sure, but I think when you’re nonbinary, figuring out how you want to present is trickier. It’s a big spectrum. So there's also that, but even if there weren't, you don’t have to change your appearance at all. Or if you do, you can take it slow, see what seems right for you.”

They frown. “Didn’t you start ttransitioning pretty much as soon as you figured out you were trans?” They ask.

“Well, yes,” she says, a little sheepish. “But I was desperate. I- really wanted to look ‘like a girl’,” she does little air quotes, “and I knew I wanted to run away from home, so I had to figure out a way to do that before I left. And then there was Jordan.” She looks away.

Right. Of course. Jordan wanted her to look like a real girl as soon as possible. Bat almost slaps themself in their insensitivity. “I’m sorry,” they say.

She smiles, an affectionate, precious thing. “It’s not your fault,” she says, and they’re happy to see she isn’t fully hiding the pain in her eyes; Jordan is not a topic that destroys her anymore, but it’ll always be an ugly scar, and they’re happy that Maia trusts them enough to see the glimpses of hurt that still linger when he’s brought up.

She starts putting the vases on the table. The flowers today are a delicate yellow, blooming with the promise of vividness. Courtesy of Meliorn, Bat knows.

“I’m just saying that my case- well, it was mine. Yours is yours. If I had had more time, I might have taken it slower. Gone to a doctor, maybe. I don’t know,” she shrugs. “So you have time to figure out what you want, and how you want it. You know we’ll all support you.”

“I do,” they answer easily, fiddling a little with their hands. It feels almost silly, the nervousness they had felt, even as they knew it was more their fear of voicing it for the first time than anything. “Thank you for that, by the way.”

Maia smiles. “No problem, Bat.”

They have to turn around to hide a smile. Which is ridiculous. Maia has called them Bat their whole lives. There’s nothing different about this.

And yet, the smile stays.

#look. i'm working on a Very Big Fic and wanted to do something dumb #and i got myself into a trans bat rabbit hole #as you do #when you're me #so like #this happened #i wrote it in like half an hour but it's fluffy and i like the concept so like here it is #sh #shadowhunters #.maia roberts #bat velasquez #trans maia roberts #trans bat velasquez

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randomwordprompts · 5 years

Text

If It’s Magic | Chapter 1

A/N: Hey y’all, I’m still here! Aight so boom, this is gonna be a college series for our my fave demons that picks up about a month after the epilogue of Intimate Friends. (If you ain’t read that btw, go do it!) This chapter is just intro/filler but how else can we start right?

Taglist: @bartierbakarimobisson @oceanscorazon @wakandas-vibranium @wakandan-flowerz @yaachtynoboat711 @great-neckpectations @storibambino @babygirlofwakanda

July 14, 2014 - New York City, Greenwich Village

“The New School? I still don’t quite understand what was wrong with the other place you were accepted into. I thought you liked that school, frau.”

Amira rolled her eyes at her father and handed him a box to carry into the building, ignoring his prodding questions as she grabbed a packed bin of her own.

“Papa, I already told you. There were too many pros to say no. They offered more money, more options, and their curriculum is a lot more progressive than the other school.”

Hannibal snorted, “And it was the only school you and Xavier both got accepted to?”

“That’s just a bonus.”

Francois snorted about how it was more than just a bonus but walked towards the door that Pauline held open for them. Following behind was Jonathan, Amira, Hannibal, and Diana while Elisha kept the car running, planning to go park it once everything was taken out. At the sight of Francois walking towards the door with empty hands, Hannibal called out to his eldest.

“Frank, I believe you’re missing something. You’re not carrying a box.”

“I just got my nails done, I’m not risking it! Plus everything is so...heavy.”

Just when Hannibal opened his mouth with a rebuttal, Amira spoke up.

“Frankie, can you at least take my makeup bag up? You know that’s precious cargo.”

Francois grinned at Hannibal and complied with the simple request, picking the bag up carefully. As they went inside they were almost immediately greeted with the dorm director, a young woman that looked just a hair too awake for 9am. She had a clipboard in her hand and was directing other students as they scurried about the lobby.

“Good morning folks, I’m Madison! May I ask who our newest student is in this lovely bunch?”

Amira pushed past her brothers to stand in front of Madison with a short huff, “That would be me, name’s Amira Lector. Nice to meet you, Madison.”

“Please, call me Maddie! And it’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Amira. Your room is on the second floor and I believe your roommate is already up there! It’s 212, I’ll be handing out dorm keys once everyone is settled.”

After thanking Madison, Amira and family made their way upstairs, thankful that dorm 212 wasn’t far from the elevator. The door was slightly cracked so Amira kicked it open so that everyone could get in, startling her new roommate. The dorms were more accurately two bedroom apartments that were provided on campus, so Amira took her things to her room with a short wave to her roommate. Once her boxes were put down she went back out into the living area to greet the young woman. She was about 5’9, slim but muscular build, skin a lovely honey tone. She sported a pair of gold-rimmed round glasses and looked up at the group of people that were now in her dorm. A slight smile graced her lips while she walked up to introduce herself.

“Hey, my name’s Lucy, nice to meet you. I assume you’re my roomie?”

Amira smiled and nodded before extending her hand to Lucy.

“That would be me, yes! I'm Amira, nice to meet you too.”

After some brief introductions to her family followed by a visit from Maddie to drop off their dorm keys, Lucy left to get food and Amira prepared to say goodbye to her loved ones with promises of bi-weekly video check-ins. Once they left, Amira set off to decorating her room while dancing around to her 90’s playlist.

Xavier laid on his bed with a sigh once his room was finally finished, chuckling as he thought of the conversation he’d had with his mother before finally getting her to go back to her hotel for the night.

“So are you going to tell me why you decided to come here instead of St. Johns? That was a great school.”

He shrugged a bit and put more clothes into his closet before speaking, “It was and still is, but I feel like I can grow more here.”

“And the fact that you and Amira are still in business together didn’t sweeten that fact?”

Xavier grinned. He and his mother had little to no secrets, including how he made his money. She knew enough to be aware but not enough to be considered implicit, so the fact that she mentioned the exact reason he’d picked this college only proved how well she knew her son.

“It did, but with good reason. With the right connections and partners, we could make a big difference here. I know we have our disadvantages at home but here people that look like us go through some really horrible shit and it’s systemic. So, we learn the system and change it from the inside out.”

She leaned back in his chair and nodded thoughtfully, watching him for a moment. It was so quiet that Xavier turned to make sure his mother had heard him properly.

“Oh, I heard all of it. What can I say to that, though? My son is working towards a noble cause for people that aren’t afforded the same opportunities as us. I can’t fault you for that, darling.”

He nodded and sat on his bed for a moment before meeting her gaze.

“I think we can do some really good work here. And if not, I’m pretty sure Amira will find a way to overthrow the government as a contingency plan.”

She laughed but stood and walked over to give her son a hug before getting ready to leave, making sure to remind him to call home if he needed anything.

“Canadian, huh? I’ve always wanted to go but my parents said there were no black people there.”

Amira choked on her green tea laughing at that, looking at her roommate incredulously from the couch.

“Maybe not in Toronto, but there are plenty of us all over Canada. Hell, my mom Pauline is from Jamaica!”

“I thought your mom’s name was Diana? I’m confused,” Lucy paused her writing to look over at Amira curiously.

“Oh, my bad. My parents are poly. My biological mom is Diana, but technically I have three mothers because my father has three wives. That’s still illegal here, isn’t it?”

“You mean bigamy? Yes that’s still very illegal,”Lucy chuckled softly.

“Oi oi, not bigamy. Polyamory, and they work well together. Were really a big happy family and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Amira and Lucy continued to converse well into the night, learning about each other as well as teaching one another things about their respective homes. Just when they were about to turn on some Netflix there was a knock at their door. Lucy, assuming it was their dorm director went and opened the door only to find herself face to chest with the finest man she’d ever seen. Just when she was trying to figure out how to shoot her shot he asked a question that dashed those thoughts before they could even get good.

“Hi, is Amira here?”

The girl in question emerged from her room dressed for bed, wearing a shirt she obviously stole and a pair of boy shorts with her curls covered by her trusty and large bonnet. At the sight of him her face lit up but she folded her arms to feign annoyance.

“Dammit Xavier, you couldn’t show up when I was cute? Or wait till tomorrow like we agreed?”

“I could have, but I didn’t want to. Plus I like seeing Barney,” he said with a grin, referring to the purple of her bonnet.

She would’ve smacked him had he been closer but she opted to just roll her eyes and walk over to the door. Meeting the gaze of her roommate she addressed her sweetly.

“Lucy this is my friend Xavier, he wasn’t supposed to show up tonight so I’ll take this convo out in the hall.”

Lucy nodded in acknowledgement but made her way back over to the tv to pick out a movie. Once the two stepped outside and Amira closed the door behind them she launched herself into Xavier’s arms without much warning. He chuckled and caught her by her thighs, hugging her tightly as she wrapped her body around his. Pulling back to kiss him softly, she scratched at the nape of his neck as she felt her back press into a wall.

“You know...if we were quiet enough I could fuck you in this hallway.”

“Xavier Rose, you are not getting us expelled within the first 24 hours as if it’s an accomplishment.”

He smiled against her lips before dipping his head to press a lingering kiss to her throat. She sighed and hugged him once again before moving to pull her legs from his waist only to have him hold them in place.

“We can talk just like this, Mimi.”

Amira chuckled but played along as she felt butterfly kisses going from her shoulder to her ear.

“Alright, well I’ve been talking to my roommate and learning more about how things operate around here. Have you gotten anything from yours?”

“I have, actually. Turns out my roommate works for a nonprofit that helps disenfranchised people. He’s a good guy.”

“Ooh, that sounds promising. I’m going to look into some student activities tomorrow, find out if they have a BSU and whatnot.”

Xavier hummed thoughtfully but nodded to show that he was listening to what she said. They talked a bit more about their plans and how they would hopefully progress as well as what classes they’d probably start with in registration. After parting ways with a kiss and a promise to spend time together as soon as possible, Amira was back in her dorm room where Lucy was watching Netflix.

“I started watching this movie but we can throw on a baking show after?”

“Um, yes I love baking shows! I just need to go call my brother and I’m all yours, sis.”

Amira went into her room and called Jonathan to check in on the business, happy to hear that everything was running smoothly under his watch. She reminded him to deposit the money that was brought in and who to make payments to, then she found herself talking to her oldest sibling because they took the phone. Francois checked to make sure she ate and was comfortable, then offered to shoot her roommate if they happened to do anything bad to her. She reassured them that she was fed, fine, and that her roommate was a pretty nice person before they finally said goodnight with a laugh. After putting her phone on the charger, Amira went out to watch tv with Lucy until they both finally got tired enough to go to bed.

#the lectors #Amira and Xavier #if it's magic #college fic

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breeeliss · 7 years

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[Miraculous Ladybug]: The Perks of Being a Rich Kid

short commission i did for @leoqueen082 :)

fun fact: people really forget that these two kids are filthy rich and probably run in the same circles all the time. which makes for some interesting convos :P

Link to Archive of Our Own: [AO3]

Title: The Perks of Being a Rich Kid Pairings/Characters: Gen fic, Chloe & Alix Summary: Chloe and Alix bond after getting sent to the principal’s office

The Perks of Being a Rich Kid

Useful bit of information that Chloé learned today: there was a limit to how much trouble her last name was capable of getting her out of.

Which, seriously, how ridiculous was that? What was the sense of being the daughter of the most powerful man in Paris if she wasn’t going to be totally immune to punishment? She tried to explain that to her teacher but he didn’t seem to appreciate it very much because here Chloé was, getting sent to the principal’s office with a bag full of extra credit homework that was going to take her hours to do.

Sabrina really picked a horrible day to be home sick with the flu. Chloé had been doing her nails during history class this entire quarter and now she had to write a whole paper by Thursday.

To be fair, Chloé kinda toed the line a little close today. Not that she’d ever admit that to anyone other than her father who was going to love an explanation for the mess she’d gotten herself into. That was going to be a fun conversation. She wasn’t sure if her justifiable hatred for Marinette Dupain-Cheng was going to be enough to let her off the hook, and that was the real travesty of the day. Because seriously, this was all Marinette’s fault.

But whatever. At least Chloé got her revenge. Definitely worth potentially losing her credit card privileges over.

M. Damocles was busy scolding a student in his office while another three sat right outside the door awaiting their own lectures. Chloé snorted when she realized that one of them was Alix who was crouched over her handheld and growling at the video game she was playing while she waited. Well, that explained why she wasn’t in class last period.

It was funny that people complained so much about Chloé (almost) never getting in trouble because of who her father was. Alix got sent to the principal’s office at least four times a week and only ever left with a slap on the wrist because of who her father was.

Figures. M. Kubdel gave a monster of a donation to the school last year.

Chloé laid her jacket down on the floor and sat down next to Alix. “You know he’s going to confiscate that when he comes back out here, right?”

“Eh, I’m already up shit creek as it is, can’t possibly get any worse.” She waited until she was finished passing the level she was on before she looked up. “The more interesting story is the fall from grace you must have suffered to be sitting out here with us.”

Chloé rolled her eyes. “Don’t rub it in.”

“I can’t believe that the one time Chloé Bourgeois gets sent to the principal’s office, I miss it. Talk about shit luck. What’d you do? Curse out Mme. Mendeleiev because the lab goggles messed up your foundation?”

“Would you let that go?” Chloé glared. “And no, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Yikes,” Alix laughed. “Who’d you kill?”

“No one. It was a brief altercation.”

“Brief my ass. You wouldn’t be here if it was brief. Spill.”

Chloé shifted. “I...may...have gotten into a fight with Marinette.”

“Yeah, dude, that happens like every five seconds.”

“No like an actual fight. Like I might have lunged over the desk and yanked at her pigtails.”

Alix’s head snapped back as she cackled loud enough for it to echo all the way down the hallway. “No you did not!! You catty maniac!!”

“She called me a soulless hag!” Chloé defended. “How was I not going to put my hands on her?”

“You need a therapist,” Alix suggested. “Like I’m talking thousands of euros in anger therapy. You’re a liability.”

“Screw you. What are you here for?”

Alix shrugged. “Rollerblading in the courtyard. Kim dared me. Couldn’t say no.”

“You mean you did it because you knew you wouldn’t get in trouble for it.”

Alix pointed in Chloé’s face. “Hey, Damocles is afraid of my father because he needs to keep the donations coming. You make him afraid of yours. Don’t lump me together with you.”

“Please, just admit it,” Chloé smirked. “You’re a rich kid with perks.”

“Of course I’m a rich kid with perks. You, on the other hand, are a rich, annoying, prissy, spoiled kid with perks. And guess who everyone hates?”

Chloé gasped. “No one hates me!”

Alix stared at her for a long moment. “Dude….do not start with me right now.”

“They don’t!” Chloé insisted. “They just….they’re jealous. Because I’m famous and Daddy gets me whatever I want.”

“God, I’m gonna vomit. Here, open your bag so that I don’t get it on the floor.”

“Gross!! Stop it!! You’re such a freak!!”

“You sat down and started talking to this freak so joke’s on you, my dude.”

Chloé pursed her lips. “Force of habit. Don’t read into it. Besides, what’s your excuse?”

Alix squinted her eyes and tilted her head. “It’s weird because you’re like ridiculously annoying and I kinda wanna run over your face about ninety percent of the time, but the other ten percent of the time you’re oddly entertaining. Like if I needed a good laugh, all I’d have to do is insult your contour.”

“My contour is immaculate!”

“See?”

“Shut up.”

Alix stuck out her tongue. “I will say: the level of shade you dish out during all those benefit parties we hate going to sustains me.”

Chloé smirked. Their fathers had been friends for years — long before M. Bourgeois got into politics and M. Kubdel became an art curator. That meant that every art exhibition, campaign fundraiser, charity gala, and Christmas party that either man decided to hold, you could bet that Chloé and Alix were both going to be there suffering through the entire thing with no one but each other for company. Alix told her that the momentary truce was worth listening to Chloé roast all the pathetically dull boys that always asked Chloé to dance, and Chloé had to admit that watching Alix threaten to scoop out old men’s eyeballs with a melon baller was quite satisfying.

“Daddy forces me to go to those parties because he wants me to be nice to the sons of all the politicians he tries to cozy up to,” Chloé shrugged. “Not that I don’t want to see him reelected, but I only have so much patience.”

Alix shrugged. “I think my mom just wants to see me in a dress for once. Everytime I shop in the boy’s section she has an aneurism. It’s great.”

Chloé nudged her. “Remember that time you panicked and invited me over to your house because you had to get ready for our New Years’ party and you had no idea how to do your makeup?”

“Um,” Alix glared, “the whole point of that momentary lapse of judgement was that we were never supposed to talk about it. Like ever. To no one.”

“Who doesn’t know how to put on mascara? I learned that when I was ten.”

“Not everyone sleeps with a Lanc ô me palette under their pillow, Chloé . But anyway. I had a point I was arriving at before you distracted me.”

“The anticipation is killing me.”

Alix ignored her sarcasm and waved her in closer so that the other students in the hallway wouldn’t hear them. “I have to ask because sometimes I think your stupidity is genuine and not you pretending to avoid conversations that bother you. You... do know that no one in class likes you, right?”

Chloé straightened her shoulders. “That’s not true. Adrien and Sabrina like me.”

“Sabrina doesn’t count, she’ll shine your shoes if it meant getting on your good side. And Adrien likes you because that kid’s got too much faith in the world and thinks you’re gonna do a huge turn around any day now. Everyone else low key wants to smash your face through a window everytime you so much as open your mouth.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

Alix lifted her hands. “Listen, I’m being honest with you. And I’m only telling you this because I happen to know that you’re not a total brat.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when we go to those parties? You’re like...not awful. You’re kinda tolerable to be around. I think it’s because there you’re not trying to impress anybody and here you’re forcing everyone to kiss the ground you walk on because you value your school reputation over all else. You try too hard and you come off as a total pain in the ass. It’s starting to seriously piss everyone off.”

Chloé blinked. That was a disturbingly thoughtful answer, especially coming from Alix. “Since when are people pissed off at me?”

Alix’s face fell. “Are you seriously that clueless?”

“If people were so mad about my behavior, they’d tell me,” Chloé reasoned. “Marinette’s the only one who hates me as far as I can tell.”

“That’s because Marinette’s a badass who isn’t afraid to say what everyone else is thinking,” Alix pointed out. “They just don’t want to say it themselves.”

“Why wouldn’t they want to say it?”

Alix rubbed her hands down her face and groaned, slapping her cheeks a little at the end. “Ahhh, okay, okay, you’re blonde so I guess I have to dumb this down for you.”

“Oh screw you!”

She snapped her fingers. “Okay. You know that Italian art collector that my dad invites to art exhibitions all the time? M. Fellini.”

Chloe pouted. “Not ringing a bell.”

“He’s the one that always sounds like he has a sinus infection.”

Chloe face lit up. “Oh my god, yes!”

The joke was fresh in their minds because they both pinched their noses, lifted their chins, and said “Ah, buonasera mademoiselles, don’t you just look lovely this evening!” before collapsing into laughter when they heard how ridiculous they sounded. Honestly, that never got old. Chloé was half tempted to tell her father to send him some cold medicine for Christmas.

Alix rubbed away the tears from her eyes. “Anyway. We can agree he’s a total asshole, right?”

“He’s an old, skeezy, misogynistic snob. Asshole is too tame an insult.”

“Everyone and their mother is on the same page as you,” Alix explained. “But no one ever says that to him. People either ignore him or keep being nice to him no matter how much they wanna punch his face in.”

“I’m assuming there’s a point in you bringing him up.”

“People don’t confront him about being a jerk because he’s one of the richest and most successful art curators in Italy. Insult him and you can say goodbye to doing any kind of meaningful work with him in. Which, in the art world, is social suicide. It’s the same with you.”

Chloé scowled. “You’re comparing me to that wrinkled old sack of broken dreams?”

“It’s a perfect comparison. You got Alya suspended for taking a picture and you tried to get Marinette arrested for supposedly stealing your bracelet. Like, come on dude. People are terrified of you.”

Chloé crossed her arms. “They both deserved that! Alya was invading my privacy and there’s still no proof that Marinette wasn’t involved in that whole bracelet nonsense.”

“And I’m assuming Marinette also deserved you attacking her in class today and that you sitting here is an injustice to humanity. Pretty sure Damocles and your dad are gonna totally side with you when they hear you put your hands on someone because she said something a little mean.”

Chloé looked down at her nails. “You’re being sarcastic…”

“Yeah no shit, queen bee,” Alix scolded. “Here’s a wild concept: if you want to make friends, you have to actually be nice to people. Crazy, I know! Life hack of the year!”

“I try to be nice to people!” Chloé said. “But you’ve got people like Marinette who — ”

“Nope,” Alix interrupted. “Stopping you right there. Marinette has never done anything to you. Marinette’s a freaking angel. She’s nice to everyone who’s nice to her back. The only reason you hate her is because she’s more popular than you are, so you overcompensate by trying to make yourself seem like you’re better than everyone else. Except that doesn’t make anyone want to be friends with you. That makes people wanna stay away from you.”

It was only because Alix lecturing Chloé was such a bizarre occurrence that Chloé stayed quiet and let her words sink in. She wanted to brush it off and assume that Alix was just over exaggerating the situation, but then Chloé remembered a conversation she had with Adrien during his first week of school. She warned him about how hard it was to make friends when you were as perfect, beautiful, and rich as they were because everyone was automatically jealous of your success. That was why it was so important for Chloé and Adrien to stick together because she thought he’d suffer the same fate she did. But Adrien was as quiet, polite, and soft hearted as he’d always been as a kid, and that seemed to have waltzed him straight into the hearts of everyone else in the class in a matter of days. Chloé hadn’t quite figured out how he did that or how she was supposed to follow in his footsteps.

Chloé had always been more abrasive than Adrien — louder, more sarcastic, and harder to get along with. Maybe that was the problem. Although, Alix seemed to do just fine on her end.

She flipped the questions around. “Well, how did you make friends?”

Alix shrugged. “It’s not like I tried. I don’t act different depending on the situation. I just am and people just come. Kim was my first friend because we loved competing with each other. Then Kim’s friends became my friends and it just kept going.”

“That’s what Adrien said…”

“That’s pretty much how everyone makes friends,” Alix said. “Putting people down to lift yourself up doesn’t make people starstruck by you. It just makes you seem like a bitch.”

Chloé sighed. “Daddy says that in politics, in order to win, you have to show how bad the other candidates are in order to make yourself seem better. That’s why people vote for you.”

“This isn’t politics. Making friends isn’t about crushing the competition. You just….act normal and find people that vibe with your flow. Like I said. You’re chill when you aren’t trying too hard.”

“Seriously?”

Alix grinned. “You’re surprisingly hilarious. You’re also an enabler and a bad influence, but that’s a check in my book. Gotta appreciate people who talk you into stealing a thousand euros worth of silverware just to see if you can get away with it.”

“Can’t believe you actually did that,” Chloé laughed.

“Hey, like I said. I can’t turn down a challenge.” She paused for a moment and nudged her foot against Chloé’s knee when she saw her growing quiet. “Hey. I’m not telling you this stuff to make you feel bad or anything. I’m just telling it to you straight. But I also think you can do a turn around and start being nicer to people and make more friends if you cared enough to. You’re stubborn enough to pull it off.”

Alix wasn’t the type of person to put in this much emotional labor into another person, and Chloé knew that the polite thing to do was to at least thank her. But the words felt awkward on her tongue and betrayed her inexperience, so she decided it was best to just not say anything for now. Instead, she followed up with a question that was bugging her. “Why are you telling me all of this now?”

“Dude,” Alix snickered. “You got sent to the principal's office . That’s like the turning point of the century. Might as well take advantage of the momentum and use it towards something productive.”

The door to M. Damocles’s office flung open before Chloé could say anything else, and the student he’d been speaking to slunk through the hall with his head down and a slip of paper crumpled up in his hands. Probably a letter for his parents to sign. “Mlle. Kubdel!” M. Damocles’s voice rang. “It’s your turn. Please come in.”

Alix winced as she collected her bag and stood on her feet. “Womp. Time to face the music. Wish me luck.”

“You know damn well you’re not going to get in any trouble.”

“Wow, fine, I’ll wish myself luck.” She held out her fist. “Hang in there, you frilly little nightmare. If you apologize and cry a lot he’ll probably go easy on you.”

Chloé gently tapped her fist against Alix’s and have her a crooked smile. “Alright.”

Alix gave her a short salute before throwing her arms wide and skipping into M. Damocles’s office as if she were greeting an old friend. Chloé shook her head fondly and tried to think of what excuse she was going to open up with before it was her turn to go inside and explain herself. If spontaneously bursting into tears was all it would take to walk away with nothing more than a stern warning, Chloé was fully prepared to polish off all those acting lessons she took when she was little.

She hummed to herself as she pulled out her phone and started typing out her script. “Turning point, huh?” she muttered. Chloé was pretty sure Alix didn’t mean for that to be a challenge, but for some reason Chloé wanted to treat it like one. Alix’s specialty was planting seeds in people’s heads and sitting back while she watched them try to pull off the impossible. Chloé could always resent the fact that Alix was trying to get in her head, but it would be much more satisfying to exceed the girl’s expectations just so she could shove it in her face.

If Chloe could convince Alix to sit still long enough to put eyeliner on her for a party, she could handle being nice for one day, right?

#miraculous ladybug #ml #chloe bourgeois #alix kubdel #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #my writing #the perks of being a rich kid

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makknays · 7 years

Text

ghostin.

requested by anon.

Can you write a namjoon scenario where you get in an argument and tell him to sleep on the couch

genre: angst??? not rlly but idk at this point and romance??

word count: 1401

It had been a long day for everyone, it felt like the entire city of Seoul was worn out and stressed from the past week. You had had a long week at work when your boss decided to dump an extra workload on you, causing you to almost break down several times. There was no one you wanted to talk more to than Namjoon, but he was always at work and rarely avaliable, at least recently he wasn’t.

You: “You coming home, tonight?”

Namjoon: “Nope, we’re working on the new choreography, soz babe.”

Another night, another dinner alone. It wasn’t that you weren’t used to it by now, you understood that he was a very busy man, being the leader of Bangtan and all, but you did miss having your boyfriend by your side. You took your reheated food out of the microwave and plopped down on the sofa and started catching up to a drama that you had been watching. You were so ready for the weekend throughout the week, but now that it was here, you felt nothing. Your dinner was finished and you did the dishes to kill time; afterwards you had a brief shower and sat back down in front of the TV. The drama was becoming repetitive, the two leads wouldn’t get anywhere romantically and it killed you whenever you saw them hesitate to just hold hands. You were 12 episodes in, for goodness sake! Before you knew it, you fell asleep on the sofa and didn’t wake up until the next morning.

When you woke up it was 10am and no signs of Namjoon were around. You quickly texted a friend to meet up with you to catch up and got ready for the day ahead. You threw your hair up and put on whatever you could find and set out to meet your best friend, Alex.

Namjoon: “You home?”

You: “I’m on my way to meet Alex actually…”

Namjoon: “No worries.”

Strange. Namjoon never replied so bluntly or so emotionlessly but you let it go and headed towards the cafe that the two of you had agreed to meet in. “Hey, ___, long time no see!” Alex called from his table; you made your way over and and sat down opposite him. “It’s been way too long.” you laughed. “So, what’s up?” he smiled before grabbing his iced americano. “Just the usual, work is effort and Namjoon hasn’t been home a lot lately. I know the guy’s busy but I’ve had no attention from him for like two or more weeks, it becomes tiring to eat dinner alone in the apartment you share with your long term lover.” you told her, finishing with a sigh. “Ooh, seems bad, when was the last time you guys had an actual conversation?” he asked. “It must have been weeks ago, cuz frankly, I can’t remember at all.” “That’s really bad, relationships are all about communication. Now, I’m not saying your relationship is bad but it needs improvement. Have you tried to have a convo with him?” he questioned as he, once again, sipped on his americano.

“Not really, I kinda got used to not talking to him so much, despite only wanting to talk to him. Kinda sad, isn’t it?” you chuckled, laughing at your emotions to hide your sadness. “You can’t just blame him though, can you? You’ve put no effort into conversing either.” Alex started, “What you guys need to do is talk, so I say: when he comes home, whenever that may be, talk to him about everything you’ve been bottling up. It’ll do you good, don’t shout though, talk.”

You: “You comin’ home tonight, babe?”

Namjoon: “Yep.”

You: “Can’t wait to see you later !!”

You went to unlock the door to your apartment but they were already unlocked, you figured Namjoon would be home. “Hey, babe? You here?” you called when you stepped into your home. “Yeah, living room.” he replied, you quickly removed your shoes and entered the living room to see a disappointed looking Namjoon. “What’s wrong, honey?” you asked as you sat down beside him. “You’ve been out since 11am, I’ve been waiting for you for 8 hours, I even looked for you but saw you with some dude.” he replied without removing his gaze from the TV, even though he was just flicking through channels.

“Okay, first off, you could have texted me that you were home? And that ‘dude’ is Alex.” you told him as you rolled your eyes. “I wanted to surprise you were with this so called Alex guy so I though, guess not and just left you alone.” he told you, shrugging as he told his side. “This Alex ‘guy’ is my best friend, I’ve told you about him millions of times in the past 3 years of our relationship, you just don’t listen.” you muttered as you got up from your seat. “I do listen! You just never told me Alex was a dude.” he said in defense. “I’ve shown you pictures of Alex and I but you don’t pay attention! You never really do.” you replied as you made your way into the kitchen to grab some water.

“I do pay attention to you! I’m just a busy person! And this Alex looks different to what you showed me!” he shouted back, still not moving an inch. ��Alex hasn’t changed since high school, you however have changed since last month! Namjoon, face it, you’re just jealous that I was with him today.” you replied, reentering the room but choosing to sit on the floor instead. “Okay, you got me, I was jealous because I waited 8 hours for my girlfriend and she was nowhere to be seen because she was with her apparent best friend.” he muttered. “You know what? I don’t have time for your attitude! For the past two weeks I have had minimal attention from you and we haven’t even had a proper conversation. Work has been has been so difficult and I had no one to talk to about it because you weren’t here! I don’t need this from you, I thought you were supposed to be less childish, you know, as the leader of Bangtan?”

“I’m working on a comeback! You know I struggle with dances! You got into this relationship knowing that! You could’ve just spoken to Alex about how hard work was!” Namjoon said, slightly louder than usual as he rose from his seat to make his way into the bedroom. “You’re not going anywhere near that room. You have been distant for the last couple of weeks and you need to know what it feels like to sleep alone on the sofa from waiting for you.” “I never asked you to wait for me!” he shouted. “I waited because I thought you were coming home those times, I’m sorry for putting effort into our relationship.” you spoke as you pointed towards the sofa. “I can’t believe you, this! This is childish, ___!” “Have fun on the sofa.”

The next morning you woke up to an empty bed, forgetting that Namjoon was even in the apartment. You carried out your morning routine then made your way into the kitchen, still not noticing your boyfriend. Strawberries. Raspberries. Blueberries. Greek yoghurt. Breakfast! Add a cup of tea to that and you were set! With your breakfast in one hand and your cup of tea in the other. You placed them on the coffee table and sat on the floor in front of them before digging in. “Seriously, you’re gonna ignore me even now?” you could’ve sworn you jumped out of your skin when you were greeted with Namjoon’s voice, not just his voice though, his raspy, annoyed morning voice.

“I forgot you were even here!” you said in defense. “Well, that’s nice to here.” he muttered. “You’ve been gone a while, I got used to the loneliness that was a side effect of it, sorry.” you said before turning back to your breakfast. “No, I’m sorry. I should’ve given you more attention, comeback or not, you should be my number one priority, sorry for being distant, I’ll make up for it.” he said as he sat up from his sleeping position. He signed for you to sit down beside you and nuzzled up against you. “You better.” “Wow, way to ruin the moment.” he chuckled. “I missed you.”

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futctvevo · 7 years

Text

Infinity On “Hi, There”

Summary: A girl walks into a record store, where she finds a confident and sly stranger, and they strike up a convo over Fall Out Boy.

Word count: 1,168

A/N: thanks for 500 followers!! a few days ago, i wrote a cute lil story that happened to mention FOB, and i thought i might as well share it with you guys! it’s also one of my goals to practice writing this summer, so i worked hard on this one. constructive criticism is welcome, i hope you guys enjoy it!

The vintage smell of old cardboard and vinyls surrounded me, but I didn’t recoil. The scent was familiar; I frequented this record store at least once a week. “Mr. Brightside” by The Killers buzzed softly from overhead speakers as a couple of teens milled through the vinyl section, stuck with the tedious task of reorganizing records just so they could get cluttered again hours later. As I walked deeper into the store, I realized there was only one other customer in the entire shop. The near solitude created an increased intimacy between the music and I as I swept my eyes fondly over the CDs, which were arranged in disorganized rows, stretching from one end of the shop to the other in a long line of shelves.

Everything from pop, to indie, to metal was laid out on those shelves, but all of my favorites resided in one section - punk. I loved the complicated guitar and heavy drums that smashed together with beautiful harmonies and lyrics that mattered. It was a wall of sound, something meant to be blasted with the car windows down, or through earbuds late at night. It was intensely personal, yet it had the power to connect so many people together. It turned outsiders into members of a community that just got you. Punk rock was the type of music that listened to you without you saying a word. It voiced everything you couldn’t admit to anyone else, or even yourself.

It was there that I was pondering the importance of punk (go figure) while blankly staring at the cover art of Fall Out Boy’s Infinity On High, when I felt someone's presence behind me. Before I could turn around, a guy my age stepped beside me and asked, “You like Fall Out Boy?” The way he spoke made it seem more like a statement, and less of a question. His voice was rough and a bit higher pitched, but it wasn’t unpleasant. When I spun to look at him, I met pale blue eyes and a small smirk on a confident face. His hair flopped carelessly on his head - light, curly and thick with closely shaved sides. He had a tall frame, which made him seem thinner than he already was.

I rested my hand on one of the shelves and leaned. “Yeah, they’re one of my favorites.” I couldn’t decide if I should maintain eye contact or not, so I just glanced down at my grey converses. They had definitely seen better days, but I was determined to wear them until they were completely spent - these babies had been with me since freshman year. It’d be easier for me to part with a first-born child.

“Same here,” he replied, glancing to the album I was staring at earlier, then bringing his icy eyes back to mine, practically forcing them up from my shoes. It made me want to see if I could melt them a little. “Infinity On High was such a game-changer for them.”

“I know, right?” My heart lept at the opportunity to have an educated discussion about music. “I suppose it was kind of risky for them to step away from the Take This To Your Grave sound, but I think it really paved the way for the rest of their music.” I really couldn’t help but spill everything my friends didn’t care enough to hear about; when else would I get a chance to discuss one of the best bands ever with someone who just got it? “It was kind of the first big push for their style experimentation, in my opinion.” I was standing upright now so I could use my hands while I spoke. “Plus, there’s some really good jams in there.”

“Oh yeah, definitely.” The boy’s eyes lit up, wide and excited, and the corners of his lips turned up minutely. His pupils seemed to dilate, but maybe I was just imagining things. “Hearing them play ‘Hum Hallelujah’ live is such a cool experience. It gets me dancing every single time.” He chuckled a bit, almost seeming embarrassed, like he didn’t mean to share that. A couple beats passed before either of us said anything. He broke the silence by finally asking, “So, uh, do you have a name?”

“Yes,” I laughed, breathy and light. “Most people do. It’s Alex.” I offered my hand out to him, not caring if it seemed a tad old-fashioned. It wouldn’t have been the strangest thing to happen today. “What about you? Are you nameless?”

The boy shook his head at the ground, a small smile daring to glance across his face for a fraction of a second. “Jamie,” he responded, taking my hand in a solid shake, holding his head high, and letting go after an extended moment. “Cool to meet you, Alex. May I?” Jamie offered, as he reached over my arm, causing my hair to stand on end. He plucked Infinity On High off of the shelf, and glanced towards the register.

My stomach flipped, and my cheeks flushed with pink. “Are you sure?”

Jamie smiled wide. “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t,” he countered, taking steps towards the front of the store. His strides were long and even, and hard for me to match.

“Thank you,” I said to the back of his Boyz of Zummer tour shirt, following behind him. The garment stretched across his surprisingly broad shoulders, which I definitely didn’t notice. Strong. It made me wonder if he lifted boxes for a living or something. “I really appreciate it; it’s the only album I don’t own.”

“Glad to complete your collection,” he winked. He paused, and with a smidge of hesitation in his voice, he asked, “Can we grab a coffee sometime?”

“Maybe-” It was my turn to smirk. I could play this game too, you know? “-if I can get your number.”

That was definitely the right thing to say. Once we reached the register, he set the CD down on the counter, and he held out his hand expectantly. I reached into my back pocket and handed him my old iPhone 4S, but he (thankfully) didn’t mention how lame it was. He punched in his number and handed it back to me, purposefully grazing my hand for a brief second.

My cheeks were on fire.

The cashier finished ringing up the purchase, handing it to Jamie, who offered it out to me. I accepted it gratefully. He held my eyes for a moment, and I was forced to stare in wonder at the sincerity in them. He seemed serious, but hopeful, too. “You’ll text me, right?”

I was surprised to see this side of him; was he actually a bit nervous? I smiled, looking down at the ground. “Yeah, of course. How could I not?”

He looked relieved, a smile practically cracking his face in two. “So, I’ll see you around?”

I looked back up into his eager face, and promised, “Yeah. This won’t be the last you see of me.”

#there you go #thank you guys so much!!!#i read this thing over million times #but let me know if there's any errors so i can fix them plz #have any suggestions for fics or constructive criticism? shoot me an ask!#fall out boy #fob #infinity on high #ioh #my post #my work #my writing

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dejametemostrar-blog · 5 years

Text

These Chords Saved My Cheeks

(BlackBoxGuild e.g.)

By CJ Stokes

I’ve cried over three topics in my life: sports, death, and due to one or two special women crying; but all tears stopped due to music.

I lie; I’ve also cried during an a** whooping from my mother. Music did not stop those tears but it did allow me to feel tranquil before her wrath.

My first encounter with music’s power: Allegedly, I had done something wrong yet again in school. See, my mother had prepared me all too well for elementary school. From birth she wanted me to be advanced.

She even gave me a non-cultural, (possibly white-washed), name like Christopher Jared so my job application wouldn’t be skipped by hiring managers.

She placed me in a rather advanced private school in Charleston, SC which, I admit, placed much of my academic skills above most of the average South Carolina, (one of the worst education systems in the states), classroom competition. As a result, the only child would grow bored and cause a little ruckus for the wise mouth elementary teachers he encountered.

Mind you, these classrooms were by far some of the comfiest I’ve ever come across. Filled with carpet, (perfect sleep texture), and some dialogue that I’ve heard all before. They even had the wooden desk with the cubby opening.

I had everyone in there. All the class clowns and even the girl whose race I couldn’t determine but her tone was sun kissed yet her hair stayed bronze. She was beyond a crush. I was considering marriage.

I analyzed the wispy, white and gray hair of this middle-aged lady for the last time before I decided to entertain myself amongst a full classroom. Additionally, who the hell wants to listen to English at 2:30 when they just left a football sized field with swing sets and no clouds? The sun was beginning to crawl down and so would my eyes if I didn’t do something to entertain myself. To add fuel to the fire my compadres thought I was extra humorous this day. Whatever I did in the chair, from pretending/not pretending to sleep or fake singing songs, seemed to start a giggle trend and you know you laugh ten times as hard when you’re not supposed to be laughing. The things that make second graders laugh. I was full of adrenaline. With all this motivation to spread laughter, you guessed it, I decided to cartwheel my way over to the pencil sharpener.

Before I could even complete 180 degrees of my wheel, I heard the sounds of pure joy. Although some were laughing so hard that they were coughing, I knew this vibrant reaction was too loud to ignore.

My crush was laughing so hard that she had to cover her mouth and catch her breath, but my teacher was so displeased that she nearly gripped and ripped me out of my wheel. Of course, I was a little tike at the time but this usually gingerly old woman couldn’t have been any taller than me and I felt a lot of muscle. I felt like an ant under a hot magnifying glass as she stared me down through her glasses.

Of course, I was placed in the principal’s office. My friends giggles and the “oooouuu’s” of I’m in trouble faded like a passing car siren as she hauled me down the hallway. Plus, this wasn’t my first encounter with the principal; we were well acquainted by now. My mind was already elsewhere.

Once they finally let me out of that office, I peddled my way home faster than ever. Faster than when that pit bull chased me off of his premises and faster than when I thought this stocky old man was staring at me. I knew my mother would be home early today and she was bringing hell with her. I felt and heard nothing but wind not even the spin of my bike chain. I couldn’t even admire my tree lined route home like I usually do.

I locked myself inside my aqua painted room all the way in the back of the house, even though no one was home yet. I opened the blinds since the sun gave me some joy and hope that I wiggle my way out this a** whooping but I knew the inevitable was coming. I had a widescreen flat screen Polaroid on top of my wooden dresser but I was too anxious to focus on any TV.

On the opposite side of that dresser and my bed I had a series of three shelves hammered in by my mother and on that second shelf lay a radio also bought by mother. For some reason, I believed some reason would help me think of how to respond to the 100 questions my mother would ask me of why I decided to Cirque de Soleil my way to the pencil sharpener.

At that time, some reggae was the most therapeutic genre I could think of and given the fact that my father had been burning CD’s of all the classics that I should listen to, I stumbled across some Bob Marley. Three Little Birds was the first track and I didn’t leave that intro song for the next 2 hours and some change until she got home.

There wasn’t a bird in sight but I could imagine three of them just through Bob’s voice and these wailer guitars.

I was pacing in my room before that song came on and after the third replay I was able to at least lie on my back on the carpet. As I stated before, Bob didn’t save me from an a** whooping but it’s the first time that I felt like everyone would really be alright afterwards.

My second encounter with music’s power is far more brief. My sun kissed crush didn’t last long. I ended up repeating something I heard in Lil Wayne’s Lollipop to her and that was the first and last time I repeated that. She told one of the teachers and it all went downhill from there. I didn’t know what I was really saying.

I believe that was my next a** whooping as well.

So, I found a new crush; about two years later another tan one, golden, chubby cheeks but with light brown eyes and curly light brown hair. Drew, and she had huge eyes that couldn’t even hide behind the glasses.

This crush was different though. I wasn’t just attracted to her. I could talk to her for hours. We walked each other home everyday. I even used to practice riding this stupid skateboard every weekend just to impress her. I still remember the name of the little pug she had, “D.O.G.”, (pronounced deo-gee). Though I thought I found my wife in second grade this was surely her, I’d just take my time with her.

Our neighborhood was just two big cul-de-sacs, one inside of the other, and her house was just one cut through a neighbor’s yard away.

She found me so funny. Her laugh would make me laugh and she knew all of the music that I knew and more, which was the seal on the deal for me.

Finally, the day came that I could no longer hold in my true feelings for this young lady and fresh out of my last class I decided to pop the question on our traditional walk home. However, I was a little more mature this time around so no thoughts of marriage would be included even though they were in my head. I left my bike on purpose and pulled out my new white polo shirt to match my Nike Air Force 1’s.

It was a little cloudier today so I should have known something was off. There was even a contrast in how we were dressed. Her jeans were dark grey. I had on khaki’s and her shirt was black. I should have predicted a response just as lifeless.

I waited that whole walk to ask; partly due to our friends deciding to walk with us yet again and partly waiting for our convo about this celebrity drama to end.

“Alright, CJ, I’ll see you tomorrow”. No invitation, I should have caught the hint there. It kind of seemed like she was tired from school too but I couldn’t resist any longer. I had to know.

“Hey Drew, I gotta ask you a question”. She turned around before heading up the step with the same look her dog usually has. Eyebrows raised with the confusion. The clouds masked the Carolina heat that day but my palms might as well have been dipped in a pool and thank God I didn’t have on a dark colored shirt.

A slightly shaky “Do you like me?” sputtered out and of course I had to clarify. “As a friend?” she puzzled. “No, like, like-like.” She chuckled in the most nervous, flattered, and disappointing way. “I don’t think so C.J., I like you so much as a friend and I don’t want to ruin that.”

Is it sad to say that I was so poisoned with puppy love that I kind of believed her? This is the dreaded curse that Pops warned me about. Of course, I played it off cool as a cucumber as she asked if that’s okay? I chuckled too, you know to try and relax the tension and said “Nah, of course. It’s cool. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I took the nice steady walk home to my mother whose presence was more comforting than ever. Though I will admit, I walked a little quickly from Drew’s house just in case she was watching and waiting for me to leave from the window.

I kicked my Nike’s off one foot at a time so hard that I almost scuffed my toe box against our hard wood floor. My kicks were worthless now. My mother was in her home office and I laid flat on my stomach on the floor next to her with my arms folded under my neck. She couldn’t get what happened out of me for hours though she knew what the subject was during my smirk after her “Some girl, ain’t it?” question.

“It’ll be alright, buddy”. “What’s her name, I’ll fight you know?” She knew it would make me laugh but I knew I didn’t feel like laughing right now so I went just corner piece of sheet rock away into my room where I laid on the floor with the door shut once again.

I don’t know if it was my music teacher’s love for this song that made me play it or all those hours I spent playing Madden while hearing this song in the game’s playlist but This Love by Maroon 5 stayed on repeat and although it didn’t make everything alright it provided some comfort as well as the blueprint for all rejections moving forward.

I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to cry and then I wanted to laugh because I wanted to cry because I swore my heart’s defense was impenetrable. To this day, my mother swears I was crying in that room but I wasn’t thanks to Adam Levine. I’m sure she got a kick out of it though.

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spartanguard · 7 years

Text

game night

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @optomisticgirl!!!!!! Remember when you asked Emile de Ravin that awesome question about what she and Killian did on the Jolly Roger and it prompted a “do the thing” convo? Well...here’s the thing! I hope you like it and I hope you have a beautiful day—as beautiful as you are, because you deserve it!!!

Summary: The first “sleepover” between Belle and Killian on the Jolly Roger turns into an impromptu board game night. 2.2k.

“Takeout ahoy,” Killian called as he came down the steps to his cabin. Belle was just taking the tea kettle off the Jolly Roger’s tiny stove as he arrived with dinner for the two of them, ready to tuck in for their first shared night on the ship. She was still astonished that he’d offered it, but it was definitely the last place her husband would look—and most likely to sting. And frankly, she found herself in the mood to let him be burned. (Though maybe that was the hormones talking.)

“Looks like you’re settling in okay,” Killian observed, glancing around the room after setting the bag on the already-set table. She hadn’t wanted to impose, but he insisted she make herself comfortable, so she’d stopped by her father’s shop on the way over to grab some bouquets and had placed them around the cabin, along with her few boxes of essentials. There was something a bit wistful in his gaze as he took in the feminine touches she’d added; it took her back to a time when their relationship was so very different from it was now, when he told her of the last woman to take up residence within these floating walls. It suddenly struck her that, in some ways, history was repeating itself.

They both shuddered at that moment, though whether it was from the same thought, or he was shaking off the ghosts of the past, was up for debate (probably both). He looked up at her and smiled, moving on and gesturing to the table. “Shall we?”

Over dinner, they discussed the oddities of living in Storybrooke versus the Enchanted Forest, some of the gossip around town, books they were reading—anything other than the reason she was there in the first place, and it was a welcome reprieve from the worries that consumed her in quiet moments. It truly was astonishing to think how far they’d come, from being caught in a centuries-old rivalry to basically having a sleepover with her best friend. But, she supposed, if anyone in Storybrooke analyzed their lives too closely, none of it would make any sense.

Once the meal was done and trash taken care of, Killian was trying to step around one of her boxes to refill his tea mug, but tripped, knocking it over as he stumbled and partially spilling the contents. She rushed over to check on him—maternal instincts kicked in early, apparently—and he started to apologize, but trailed off as he studied what had slipped out onto the floor. “What are those?” he wondered curiously. She glanced down, and then bit back a chuckle.

Apparently, Captain Hook had never seen a board game before.

She wasn’t even sure why she’d brought them, but it looked like they would be coming in handy. So she bent down to right the box, and eyeballed a few good ones. “Let me show you!”

She took the simplest one to the table, sitting down to set it up and beckoning Killian to do the same. “It’s a game, you see,” she instructed once she had the board laid out. What she’d come to recognize as his book-reading face was on as he looked over the game, trying to process it. “You take one of these game pieces and put it here,” she demonstrated, setting the little character down on the space labeled “Start”, “and then you draw these cards to move forward until you get to the end.”

He nodded, seemingly understanding. She knew it was a rather juvenile game, but it was the easiest to explain. And he didn’t seem to mind until he noticed the game’s name written in the corner.

“Wait—Candy Land?”

Maybe he did mind, then. “Yeah, sorry; it was just the easiest to—”

“Candy Land is a game here?” he asked incredulously.

That took her aback. “Uh, yeah; what else would it be?”

He scoffed and leaned back in his chair. “Candy Land is an actual place. It’s off the coast of Wonderland; I had to visit it many a time while in Pan’s service. It took me a moment to place the monarchs—those caricatures aren’t far off, but not that close, either.”

“Wow,” was all she could muster in response, and was suddenly reminded of just how much of the world—worlds, really—he’d seen. “Does that mean you don’t want to play, then?”

“No; let’s.” It didn’t take long for her game piece to reach the Candy Castle just ahead of his, and he told tales of his brief adventures there (mostly making sure that any unwelcome pests stayed off the ship).

“What else do you have?” He stood and peered into the box inquisitively, almost child-like, reading over the unfamiliar names but clearly eager to play another game. Thankfully, she knew she had the perfect one.

“Let’s try Battleship,” she suggested, smirking. “This one sounds up your alley.”

He gave a sideways grin back as he pulled the game from the box and looked it over. “I think you’re quite right, there. Prepare to go down; I take no prisoners.”

“Ah, but you haven’t battled me yet.” (Both knew that wasn’t true, and both knew that she’d felled him with more innocuous objects in the past, but that hardly mattered now.)

She quickly explained the game and placed her boats randomly; he, of course, took several minutes to assess the size of each and the proper formation for doing the most damage. It wasn’t often people saw the calculating ship’s captain nowadays, and there was something awe-inspiring about watching as his tactical brain worked.

To no one’s surprised, he quickly took out two of her ships, but protested against the rule of moving them once he lost his first. “Any ship’s captain worth their salt will tell you the danger of staying still!” She just rolled her eyes and took out his submarine (the one he’d lingered over placing; there was probably a story there, but for another day, she was sure).

He got a hungry, almost feral look in his eyes then, and proceeded to take out the rest of her fleet in the minimum amount of moves while she kept hitting open water.

“I don’t suppose I stood a chance in that one, did I?” she commented as they packed the game away.

He chuckled back. “Not a one, darling.” He put Battleship back in the larger box and skimmed over the other titles. “Monopoly? What’s that one about?”

“You have to buy and develop properties and have the most money by the end of the game.”

He sneered and shook his head, moving past it. “Now, that is definitely something from the land without magic.” He pulled out a different one. “Life?”

“Sure!”

They spent the next hour living the middle-class American dream, both electing to attend college before setting off in the world. (She also made a mental note that it was probably a good idea for the town librarian to get a degree or two...maybe when things calmed down.) When they had to stop to “get married,” she couldn’t ignore his soft smile as he placed the tiny pink peg next to his blue one in the yellow car-shaped game piece he’d chosen, and her heart clenched in happiness at what might lay ahead for her friends. She hesitantly put a blue one next to her own, though she honestly would have preferred to skip that part had it not been within the rules of the game.

They navigated having “children” (a boy and a girl for her; twin girls and a boy for him); career changes; avoiding the stock market; paying taxes; winning the lottery; becoming grandparents; and all the other things they knew they’d be enjoying were their lives anything resembling normal.

But as they went over their Life tiles at the end, reading over all the little accomplishments on them, he made an observation: “It all sounds rather boring, doesn’t it?”

She couldn’t help but agree.

The sun had set by now, but neither were ready for bed. And she had one more game she wanted to introduce the verbose pirate to before the night was over.

“Scrabble?” he read from the box, unsure what it meant. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure; but trust me—you’ll like it.”

She quickly pulled out the board and made sure all the letter tiles were facedown before handing Killian his tile tray and instructing him to take pieces at random.

“So the whole goal of the game is to make words and score the most points with them, per their value on the tile and then with the markings on the board. I’ll go first.” She mulled over her tiles for a moment, and smiled when she realized she had the perfect opening word.

Starting from the middle, she placed the letters H O P E on the board. He was giving her a warm smile back when she looked up, but then turned his attention to his own tiles.

“So it can be any word?”

“As long as it's real, yeah, and not a proper noun. And it can use letters that are already on the board.”

His eyes darted between the board and his pieces for a bit, and she knew he had his move when his signature cheeky smirk came out.

He carefully placed his tiles one by one off the P on the board; she watched as it was spelled out, but her jaw dropped when he was done.

“Killian!” she admonished. “Really?”

“What? It's a real word.”

“Yes, but...that?”

“The poop is part of a ship, my lady. I wasn't being vulgar, though I can see where your mind is.” He winked at her; she playfully slapped his arm before returning her attention to the game.

Going off his P, she played “peruse”.

And using that R, he played “dagger”. Both paused a moment at that, thinking about all the havoc in their lives caused by a certain one. His face darkened quickly—his memories certainly as painful as hers, if not more—so she reached out to squeeze his hand, bringing him back to reality; he acknowledged her with a half-smile, shook his head, and then refocused on the game at hand.

Belle should have known that it would get out of hand fast. They moved past the usual words pretty quickly and then fell into the realm of “malfeasance”, “gherkins”, “exorcise”, “coze”, and on and on. They had stopped even keeping score and were now in a battle to see who could come up with the most outlandish word.

They were taking longer and longer to deliberate over each word, and space grew short on the board. By the time she'd managed to play “quixotic”, her eyelids were heavy and it was a struggle to stay awake; Killian too was slouched in his chair, head resting in his hand. But she had to see what Killian did next...she had to...

Everything faded to black, much like the sky visible through the Roger’s windows, and she was vaguely aware of being carried and tucked in to bed. She attempted a protest, but a deep voice overhead said “good night, Belle,” and that was it.

The next thing she knew, sun was streaming through the windows and the kettle was hissing. She blinked her eyes open, yawning and stretching, and then glanced around the cabin for the source of the sound.

“Apologies if I woke you, love, but I figured you'd like to start the morning with tea.” Killian stood by the stove pouring water into mugs and looked up at her, giving her a sleepy smile. His hair was in disarray, his shirt was only partly buttoned, and he wore no kohl around his eyes, yet there he was, taking care of her. She wasn't sure how she'd come to deserve a friend like him but she was eternally grateful.

“It's no worry; thank you,” she replied, sitting up. “Did I...fall asleep at the table last night?” she asked, sheepish.

He chuckled lightly. “Aye, you did; but the game was over anyway.” He raised his mug in her direction. “My regards to the winner!”

“Huh?” She tilted her head and hopped off the bunk to inspect the game. Hadn't it been his turn? Didn't he take the win when she fell asleep?

But the board looked just as she last remembered, with no additions since her last word. “You mean you didn't play again?”

“Couldn't,” he said, shrugging. “I stared at that for near a quarter-hour, racking my brain, and could not come up with one word. And by that point, you'd fallen asleep and I was well on my way, so I figured that was that and called it a night. So, congratulations, my dear: you beat my two-hundred-year old vocabulary.”

She blushed a bit; she wasn't the competitive kind of person who needed to win, but it was still something of an accomplishment—he did have a much richer vocabulary than the average person. But more than anything, it had been fun. “Well...maybe you can challenge me to a rematch tonight?”

He raised an amused eyebrow at her comment (which was more of an invitation, really) and nodded as he walked over. “I dare say I might.” He handed her a mug and grabbed his own, offering it up to clink with hers. “Cheers?”

“Cheers.”

#captain book #captain book ff #captain beauty ff #captain beauty #anti rumbelle #anti rumple #just to be safe #happy birthday #optomisticgirl #i love you b #my ff

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