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nev3rfound · 3 years

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guiding you home : b.b

after many years, bucky found the perfect gift for your birthday even if you were no longer around to see it. (1.5k)

okay so it’s angsty - i found this on my other blog and initially intended to write fluff tonight, but ended up with this oops (warnings: character death, funeral, general sad angst)

masterlist / permanent taglist

- i also have an etsy shop, i just released wandavision themed tshirts if you’d like to check those out! -

“Go on, open it,” Bucky can’t stop the smile spreading across his face as you sit upright in bed, taking the small bag from him as you eagerly remove the tissue paper.

“You’ve outdone yourself once again, Buck.” You chuckle, motioning to the effort he has put into the packaging before you lift out a framed image.

Watching you closely, Bucky can see the light in your eyes twinkle, something he’s loved since he first met you. “What do you think?” Bucky asks after a long pause as you carefully eye the framed image in your grasp.

Averting your gaze from the photo, tears glisten in your eyes. “You really did this, for me?” Your voice cracks as Bucky leans closer, resting his hand on your cheek as he softly chuckles.

“I know how much you love them, doll. I had to get you one.” He tells you before leaning in to kiss you, never wanting to let go.

Until Bucky opens his eyes as gentle purrs sound against his neck bring him back to reality.

Forcing himself upright, Bucky glances to the bare side of the bed, still untouched. “Just a dream.” He mumbles to himself, burying his head in his hands whilst Apline jumps off. “It was just a dream.” He repeats, despite the fact it felt so real. It felt like you were there with him, like old times.

As the morning carries on, all Bucky can think about is your reaction. His dream didn’t do it justice, he couldn’t feel the warmth of your skin or the bitterness of your tears against his lips. All he wants is to hold you close, and never let you go.

“Hey, you ready to go?” Steve knocks on the ajar door, stepping through to see Bucky sat in front of your old dressing table.

Your makeup and perfume remain untouched as the dust begins to collect on the items, but your scent still lingers.

“I, I’ll be a minute.” Bucky replies in a hushed tone, not even lifting his gaze from the framed photograph of you and him from your third anniversary, stood outside of your new home with keys in hand. Both of you unaware you wouldn’t make it to Christmas when he had planned to propose.

“Okay, just, we’re all here, you know.” Steve comments with a tight-lipped smile, watching as his oldest friend silently nods before the door closes, leaving Bucky with his thoughts once more.

“Thank you all for coming,” Bucky starts as everyone stands with him in the beach as waves crash in the distant. “this was Y/n’s favourite place to visit, even if she complained about the amount of sand that would end up in her clothes or shoes, or moan about it in my metal arm once we got home.” He chuckles, and a series of soft laughter follows suit.

Looking past everyone Bucky smiles as the moonlight reflects against the ripples of the ocean. It was nights like these that always felt special between you both, moments where no one else mattered, whatever was said was kept between you and the sea.

“But regardless, she loved it here.” Bucky carries on, picturing you beside him, holding his hand and squeezing it tightly. “On one of our first real dates outside of the compound, Y/n told me about her love for the stars and the universe. How everything happened for a reason.” Bucky explains, looking at all the glossy eyes and sad smiles. “I told her about my past, about HYDRA and if that was part of this ‘plan.’“ Bucky chuckles, remembering how you weren’t phased like he had anticipated about the details he was ashamed to share.

You sat with Bucky on the edge of the beach, just past the rock wall, telling him it made him who he is now. And without that, who knows what would’ve happened.

“Sometimes, on rare occasions, I questioned her logic. And now, I can’t help but question it more than ever.” Bucky pauses, swallowing the lump in his throat as Sam steps forward, but Bucky raises his hand and nods, he’ll carry on for now.

Averting his gaze from everyone around him, Bucky focuses on the dark sheet of velvet above him as all the stars are out to watch and guide him through this speech in honour of you.

“Today is Y/n’s birthday, and I wanted her to have something that would be unique. She was something else, unlike anyone I had ever met and brought so much light into my life.” Bucky pauses briefly, taking a steady breath before looking back at everyone. “I wanted to find something to reflect that, so with Steve’s help, I got her a star.” Bucky’s voice trembles as he lifts his hand up, pointing up to the sky. “Just past the moon, three stars to the left, that’s Y/n.”

Whilst everyone turns their attention to the sky and attempt to pinpoint said star, Bucky wipes his eyes in a moment of solace.

“And I hope she’s found peace out there, that she’s with everyone else.” His eyes glance over to his friends, all who have lost someone in one way or another. “Even though Y/n is gone, she’ll always be beautiful, watching over us.” Bucky can’t stop his voice from cracking as Wanda passes Steve and passes him a tissue, resting her hand on his back.

“You did great, Bucky.” Wanda mutters. “Y/n would be really proud of you.” She comments as tears fall from her eyes.

Taking a moment, Bucky inhales deeply before composing himself once more. “Y/n, she er, she’ll never be forgotten.” Bucky wants to finish his speech, for you, but his hands start to shake and everyone’s eyes on him feel like they’re piercing through his skin. “She, she’ll always be the light of my night, guiding me through.” He forces the words out as he falls to the ground, tears streaming down his cheeks as he bites his tongue, holding the sob back that wracks through his body.

Without glancing up, Bucky knows his friends and colleagues are closer to him, standing guard. “It’s okay, Buck,” Steve whispers as Bucky grips Steve’s shirt as his silent whimpers subside into quiet sobs. “you did her justice.”

“Come on, I’ll drive him home.” Sam calls out as Steve helps Bucky across the beach, not daring to look back at the sky.

“You think he’ll be okay on his own?” Sam questions as Steve walks out from the house that you were supposed to grow old in, noting the withering flowers that once bloomed.

“I hope so,” Steve answers truthfully. “I think it’ll just take time.”

Inside of the house, Bucky sits in the kitchen, nursing a glass of scotch despite it doing nothing besides burning his throat, it was a needed distraction. Yet all he can see in the brown liquid is the moonlight pouring through the large windows.

When you chose the house, you adored the big windows, allowing as much natural light to radiate through the floors. You hated feeling claustrophobic, and this eased that fear. After living in the compound for so many years, living in a house was grounding for you both, a place just to call yours.

Now it couldn’t be further from grounding as it felt like a taunt of what Bucky once had.

Downing the last of his scotch, Bucky throws the empty glass at the window, shattering the scotch glass into pieces.

The sound of Alpine meowing alerts Bucky, snapping him out of his anger at everything.

“Alpine, please, stop.” Bucky grumbles, but Alpine persists from upstairs.

Sighing heavily, Bucky traipses up the stairs, finding Alpine looking out from the balcony in your shared bedroom.

“Alpine?” Bucky calls out, seeing his cat situated happily on the wooden panels as he looks up at the sky as the moonlight illuminates his whiskers. “Come on in, pal.” Bucky motions as he stands in the doorway of the balcony, but Alpine meows in protest once more.

Admitting defeat, Bucky sits down beside his cat, looking up at the sky and focuses on your star.

“I know, I miss her too.” Bucky speaks up as Alpine curls up on his lap.“But she’s looking out for us, just up there.” Bucky smiles sadly as he points up to the sky, but Alpine is fast asleep.

Remaining in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Bucky takes everything in. He’s not been on the balcony since you passed, everything just hurt too much. But maybe this was part of the ‘plan’ you always talked about.

Maybe healing won’t be as painful as Bucky has pictured it being, but you’ll be there, whether he can see you or not.

“Happy birthday, Y/n.” Bucky mutters as a tear falls down his cheek as he focuses on your star, swearing he can see it twinkle like the light in your eyes, one last time.

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fanartfunart · 3 years

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Fly Away

Episode 3: Despair Bear

Ao3 - First - 2

(Féline Sombre & Paon Lilas designs)

Summery: An AU where Adrien never went to in-person school, not getting the cat miraculous, and found the peacock miraculous. -Chloé, determined to be allowed back to visit Adrien’s house, and discovering Adrien is visiting Marinette, sets up a party to showcase just how nice she can be. (posted in full for tumblr while I have power/internet on my computer :P)

Duusu was sitting on top of Adrien’s shoulder when he pressed play on the virtual hello from the class he was almost able to join. Adrien handed him a dried mango chip and he happily munched on it.

Chloé, of course, was the first person to show up on the video, “Adrikins Hiii! I miss you already~”

The camera turned around to show Sabrina, who must’ve been recording. She waved “Hi!”

“Sabrinaaa, camera focused on me. Meee.”

“Oh, right!”

Chloé spent at least a third of the video showing him the building as if she owned it. ...Adrien was surprised it didn’t last longer.

It shifted from the single-take style into more professionally edited together clips of various classmates. Adrien assumed this was where the boy interested in filmmaking had taken over.

“Yo, I’m Nino, hope you get to hang out outside of school one of these days dude. If you ever need a DJ I’m your man! See you around someday!”

“Hi, I’m Alya, investigative journalist-”

Chloé scoffed offscreen, “You wish.”

“Chloé I will-” the video cut out whatever happened after that. Alya stood a bit prouder, “I run the Ladyblog and am the head of the school blog! If you ever have any curiosity about the school news or superhero news, just check those out! Leave some comments if you want and I’ll get back to you asap! Keep it classy."

The rest of the class’s videos went about the same, until the very last one. The girl from the bakery frowned at someone off to the side out of sight from the camera.

“Come on girl, before Chloé comes back.”

“Hi, I’m er, Marinette. I’m uh, an aspiring fashion designer and my parents own Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie. I suggest trying out the macaroons! I brought some on the first day, uh, but I tripped so there weren't many left anyway so you probably didn’t miss anything!” She giggled awkwardly. She trailed off, giving a pleading look towards someone behind the camera. “Alya, I don’t know what else to say.”

“Whatever you’d say to a new kid!”

“Uhg, get better friends than Chloé?” She covered her mouth as Alya and Nino laughed from behind the camera. “I- mean whatttt Chloé's er, Chloé. Great evil-er friend… to er, to be setting up this videooo….ohmygosh. Can you edit that out?”

“I would’ve, but now I’m keeping it.” Nino said. Marinette gasped in offence while Alya and Nino giggled more.

“What are you all giggling over?” Chloé complained off-screen. Marinette gave a pointed look to the camera, and the video faded into a written message.

“Sorry I couldn’t properly finish my message. I wish you a wonderful year, and hope you can build great friendships, even without going to school. At least you don’t have to worry about being late! Good luck Adrien -Signed, Marinette.”

“Awwwwwwww, that’s sweet,” Duusu cried.

“Yeah, it was.” He got out his phone to text Chloé a thank you. He sighed as he looked at her many, many, many messages of upset about no longer being allowed over anymore. He was just glad she didn’t get akumatized over it….

He got up, glancing at Duusu. "How about we go visit the bakery and see if Marinette is open to hanging out. My father can't ban me from bakeries, right?"

Duusu giggled, "Sounds like fun!" He frowned, "Are you only choosing to visit Marinette because she has a good place to tell your father you're going to?"

"...No… She's just the only person in that video who mentioned a place I can visit at all."

Duusu just giggled like he knew something Adrien didn't. He shook his head with a smile and grabbed his bag. "Come on, let's go."

"Marinette," Sabine called, opening the trap door to Marinette's room. She waved to the group of girls doing a miniature fashion show there. "Your friend's here."

Marinette looked up from the blog post Alya was showing her, as the other girls continued to put on various jewelry pieces. "Who? I didn't ask anyone else to come over?"

"A boy named Adrien. I can tell him you're busy if you want me to."

"Adrien… Agreste?" Marinette tilted her head. He was Chloé's friend. The one that visited the bakery and fell/she pushed. Wait… he was also the guy who she made a feathered hat for who had a feather allergy wasn't he?! Why on earth would he want to visit her? Did he have some sort of ulterior motive? Was he Chloé's spy? Did he want revenge for the feathers?! "Er."

Alya, Rose, Juleka, and Myléne all oooh-ed at the same time.

"Oh hush. What uh, do you all think?"

Alya grinned "Good with me, girl. I wanna see how this plays out."

Rose nodded enthusiastically and Juleka gave a thumbs up.

Myléne smiled, adjusting her hat, "He's a professional model right? He probably could give us some tips!"

Marinette rolled her eyes, lowering her voice to a harsh stage-whisper, "He's Chloé’s friend."

"The one we made the video for, yep," Alya nodded, "Exactly my point. You said it yourself, he needs better friends than her." ….On the other hand, instead of a revenge-seeking spy, he could simply be that lonely sounding boy they made a video for, trying to escape the clutches of the evil Chloé. Marinette could be the only non-Chloé & minions person he knows! Marinette sighed heavily.

Sabine sighed softly, "Marinette… he's waiting downstairs. Yes or no."

"Okay! Okay. I'll go down and bring him up, I guess." Marinette trudged down, ignoring the giggling girls.

Adrien was wandering curiously around the bakery, hands politely behind his back. He noticed the door open and waved enthusiastically to Marinette. She squeaked and closed the door. Sabine raised a brow.

"You can always tell him you're busy."

"Nooo, it's fine." Marinette sighed and entered the room. Adrien’s confused head tilt turned into a smile. Like a… puppy. An incredibly patient puppy waiting for someone to play with him.

"Hi Marinette. I watched that video today! Thank you, it was really sweet of you guys to do that. I hope you don't mind me kinda just… showing up."

"Oh er… you're welcome. I was actually hanging out with some of the girls who helped make that."

"Oh! If you're busy-" He gestured awkwardly to the door.

"No, no, uh, we were just hanging out, you can join us."

He immediately perked up, "Cool! That sounds like fun!"

Marinette stared at him in his enthusiasm and nodded. "Come on up."

Adrien climbed up into the room, Marinette shortly after him. The group of girls all immediately hushed their conversation upon noticing them and dissolved into giggles.

He chuckled and waved, "Well hello. You all are wearing some lovely hats, is this a fashion show?"

"We're helping Marinette take photos for her Instagram." Myléne said.

"And future blog!" Alya added.

"They've been great models for me," Marinette smiled.

"Oh really? May I see some of the photos?" Alya handed him a phone immediately. He scrolled through some of the photos, nodding."These are great," he smiled and glanced at Marinette, "You made all these hats?"

Marinette nodded, giggling. Rose bounced over to Adrien, showcasing a necklace. "She makes jewelry too!"

"Those are lovely! You're really talented!" He gave Marinette a dazzling smile. She giggled and stuttered something, which was almost a thanks?

"Hey, you're like, a pro model, right?" Alya asked, "Do you mind helping us? Got some insider tips?"

"Oh, uh, sure!" Adrien smiled. It would be fun to help them. Probably more so than a regular photo shoot.

Chloé gasped at her phone. Her Adrien in a picture on Marinette's Instagram post? All squished in a group photo with her little squad?! Why is he hanging out with her!?

She called Adrien, anxiously tapping her nails against the back of the phone.

Adrien picked up and Chloé did not waste a precious minute. "Why are you at Dupain-Chang's?"

"Hello to you too, Chloé. I'm just hanging out. Marinette and her friends wanted some help with modeling her fashions."

"Humph, that ugly stuff? Far too kind of you to do that for her."

He sighed, "Maybe you could benefit from being a bit kinder, Chloé. It's not that hard."

She heard a few hushed whispers in the background over the line. She balked. "I- But why would your father let you visit her and not let me, your oldest friend, over!"

"Marinette didn't steal a book from my father's safe and get him upset enough to get akumatized." Adrien's voice was level. Gentle even. Chloé felt that was probably worse than any direct anger.

Marinette's voice in the background squeaked out "Chloé’s book belonged to your dad?!"

"Oh." Chloé muttered. "But actually Sabrina-"

"I don't care if you got Sabrina to do it or not. I care if you learn from this kind of stuff and become a bit more considerate," Adrien sighed, "Maybe if you showcase some better behavior my father might let you come back over more again. But until then, I can't do anything about it. Sorry."

"I…" Any defences or retorts died on her tongue.

Adrien waited a moment, "I gotta go Chloé. Talk to you later, okay? Goodbye."

"Goodbye...Adrien."

Adrien hung up and she plopped onto the couch, staring at the earlier text messages between her and Adrien.

Chloé blinked away tears.

Adrien sighed, turning towards the group of girls, "Sorry. My father kinda banned Chloé from coming over to my house and she's still… very upset about it…"

"She…" Marinette coughed, "Um. What was that about a book?"

"Chloé and Sabrina came over and uh, Sabrina got caught taking my father's book. It was important to him. Apparently they lost it… I was hoping they could find and return it and they'd be allowed back but…" He glanced at the floor and shrugged.

"Right. Right. And where did your dad get this book? Er… Maybe we can get a replacement?" She giggled awkwardly.

"I don't know. He didn't explain much about it." He waved a hand dismissively, "Anyway, you were uh, suggesting food?"

"Right!" Marinette cheered, "Shall we raid the kitchen? Maybe dad can teach us a good recipe and we can bake something like we were supposed to at school today." She opened the door and gestured for the group to file out downstairs.

"Yeah, before the fire alarm interfered," Alya said, walking down.

Rose took Julika's hand and they made their way down, Meline and Adrien not far behind.

Marinette waited for them to get out of earshot before whispering for Tiki to come out. She zipped out as Marinette grabbed her purse. "If Chloé got the book from Adrien's house, why did Adrien's father have the spellbook? He was akumatized so he can't be Hawkmoth right?"

Tiki shrugged helplessly, "You'll have to go over and ask him."

"Ugh, why is tracing down who had this book like a game of evil telephone?" Marinette groaned.

"Marinette, are you coming?" Myléne called.

"Oop! Be right there!" She opened her purse for Tiki to zip into it. She raced down the steps to catch up to her friends.

Jean-Claude arrived with chocolates and Chloé tearfully popped them into her mouth. He lingered despite his job being complete. "May I ask what has upset Mademoiselle?"

"Adrien doesn't wanna be my friend anymoreeee," She whined, "He's making new friends with other girls. How can he do this to me, Jean-Michel?"

"Uh, my name is- nevermind. Perhaps Mademoiselle can see comfort with Mr. Cuddly?" He offered the stuffed bear with a light flourish.

She gasped and grabbed the teddy bear, cuddling it close.

"If you don't mind my asking Mademoiselle, did he say why?"

"Something, something kindness and consideration." She waved a hand. She pouted. "What do I do Jean-Yves?"

"Perhaps Mademoiselle remembers Mr. Cuddly when she was a little girl and how he was always nice to Mademoiselle when she was a child?"

Chloé pursed her lips, eyes shiny, and nodded.

"Mr. Cuddly is always kind, even when it doesn't directly benefit him. But that has made him a very good friend. Perhaps, Mademoiselle can follow Mr. Cuddly's example and Adrien will see how good a friend Mademoiselle can be."

"Oh you're right Jean-Jacque, Adrien wanted me to show his dad I'm considerate, so I'll show him! Then I'll get my Adrikins back and he'll stop hanging out with Dupain-Chang! Er…. How...should I do that?" She giggled awkwardly.

Jean-Pierre sighed heavily, looking exhausted already.

Adrien was covered in flour and giggling about it. Juleka wasn't even halfway through a mumbled apology before he was forgiving her. Marinette wasn't sure how he was supposedly friends with Chloé in the first place. Was he mind controlled or something by her?

Alya slid next to Marinette and grinned "So, are we thinking friendly boy or boyfriend here?"

Marinette rolled her eyes and shook her head "I am not competing with Chloé over her infamous 'Adrikins'. Blegh."

"That wasn't a 'ew no' though~ You can't deny he's cute."

Marinette huffed, "Like, in a cute puppy way."

Alya snorted and nodded, "Fair enough."

The group's phones all pinged with the exception of Marinette's.

They each got out their phones. Adrien raised a brow. "Chloé's hosting a party?"

"Did you all get one?" Juleka asked, looking around at them.

Myléne nodded, "It looks like it. Maybe she's taking Adrien's advice and is gonna try to be nicer."

Marinette scoffed, "Please, it's probably some sort of joke or prank."

"Did you get an invite?"

Marinette looked at her phone and shook her head, "No…"

Alya chuckled, "Well that means it's real and not a joke, doesn't it, hm?

Marinette made a disgruntled face. Then her phone pinged, "Eeew! I got invited!" She threw her phone, then stumbled to catch it before it landed in the batter. Adrien stumbled and caught it for her. They crashed into each other, pinning Adrien between the counter and Marinette. She immediately backpedaled. He giggled awkwardly and handed the phone to her, stepping back out of her space.

"This is gonna be so much fun! There's gonna be dancing!" Rose looked up, smiling at Juleka.

"Wait, you guys aren't seriously considering going, are you?" Marinette squeaked.

"Why not?" Myléne muttered, shrugging, "Maybe she's really trying to be nice."

"Chloé? Nice?" She shook her head, "Eugh, whatever, you guys can go but count me out."

Adrien shrugged, idly fiddling with the dough. "I've known Chloé for a long time. She can be cool, sometimes, really." He looked up. ...Wait, did he have baby-doll eyes like Manon or something?! What is this sorcery? He smiled softly. "Maybe give her a chance, Marinette."

Marinette pursed her lips and sighed "Yeah, yeah, fine, I guess." Alya’s teasing smirk didn't help at all though.

Chloé had it all planned. She had set up a section for adults as well, having sent invites for some of the teens' parents. Namely, she needed Adrien’s father to see how great of a person she could be. Unfortunately the main person she wanted there...was not. But hey maybe this could work with word-of-mouth…. Parents talk to other parents about how nice random kids are, right?

So while the adults mostly stayed around the tables talking, the teens danced and played in the ball pit. Jean-Paul had been practically following her around with Mr. Cuddly, reminding her what Mr. Cuddly would do. But, Adrien was there! And! Adrien smiled at her! Every time she was nice! So the plan seemed to be working.

Until he left the dance floor to talk to Marinette and her friends. She barely contained her rage. Actually, she didn't contain it at all. Chloé abandoned her dance with Kim and started marching toward them.

"Oh, I do need to get some of your guys' phone numbers or something so I don't have to make surprise visits all the time," Adrien said, giggling awkwardly.

Alya nodded, "Yeah for sure, I'll give you Nino's number too, he's DJing-"

Chloé was so close to pulling Adrien away until Jean-George blocked her path.

"Mademoiselle if you-"

"Move, Jean-Marc!"

He pulled out Mr Cuddly, and spoke in a squeaky voice, "Oh, Chloé dear, Mr Cuddly is very proud of you-" Chloé gasped and tried to bat the teddy bear away.

"Is that your teddy bear Chloé?" Kim laughed, leading the traitorous group of teens.

Chloé gasped and pulled Jean-Louis into the kitchens.

"I've had it with you and your stupid advice! Ive had it with you, Jean-whatever your stupid name is!"

"Mademoiselle I was only trying to help."

"No more Mademoiselle, no more help, no more anything! You're fired!" She marched out, leaving Jean-??? clutching the teddy bear. Somewhere, a very patient Hawkmoth (who purposefully declined an invitation in a subtle attempt to make a teenage girl more frustrated and anxious and make a villain at her party eventually) grinned to himself.

Sabrina was just chilling, really. She'd helped set up the entire thing and now they'd much rather just sit and drink her juice. Just as content as Plagg with an extra piece of cheese.

Until a teddy bear clamped onto her leg.

Chloé utilized her excess frustration to pull Adrien away from Marinette. "Come on, we should dance."

"Right now? But, I was talking to-" Adrien half heartedly protested, already stumbling along.

"He doesn't have to go with you if he doesn't want to, you can't just drag him around," Marinette interrupted, grabbing Adrien's other arm.

"Chloeee," Sabrina called, brandishing a hair brush like a weapon, "Come here. Let me brush your hair. It won't hurt I promise."

"Don't you see I'm busy?" Chloé huffed. She tugged on Adrien's arm, except this time she got resistance. Adrien pulled his arm away, frowning at Sabrina.

"Uh, something's… wrong with Sabrina," he said.

Sabrina smiled, and leapt toward Chloé.

Marinette intercepted Sabrina, brows furrowed in determination and flipped her onto the ground. Adrien stared at her.

"Oh. Wow," He breathed out.

Sabrina blinked and sat up, "Huh? Why am I on the floor?"

Marinette frowned, looking around the room, "Er… you were… trying to attack Chloé."

Sabrina gasped and scrambled to a stand. "Ohno, I… I uh, I need to go." Sabrina anxiously smiled and then ran off.

"Me too actually… I, uh ...too much orange juice." Marinette ran off, leaving Adrien with- ….Where did Chloé go?

He glanced around, and found her swatting away… some kid Adrien didn't know. He was pretty sure they were in the video somewhere.

He frowned and glanced around, before running off to the stairwell.

Marinette shook her head as she hid in the bathroom stall, "Looks like Chloé upset someone. Guess it was only a matter of time. Tiki, Spots on!"

Sabrina raced into the kitchen, "Oh I can't believe I was just mind controlled by an Akuma. Poor Chloé!"

Plagg cackled in laughter, "You have the power of destruction and you were about to chase Chloé with a hair brush. I can't believe it."

They rolled their eyes, "That's definitely a good thing. Plagg, Claws out!"

Adrien closed the door to the stairwell, checking that no one was there. Duusu zipped out with a cheer, "You love Marinette!"

"I- what? I er-" He blushed and glanced to the side, "No I don't," his voice came out squeaky.

"Yes you do, I know it!" Duusu giggled, gesturing to himself, " Emotion Kwami." Duusu tilted his head, "Do you intend to tell her? How? Maybe a cute letter or something? Oh you two would be just so cute together! And we could have more fresh pastries!"

He sputtered and shook his head. "Focus Duusu. We need to help Chloé," Adrien said, fixing the brooch to the front of his shirt.

Duusu giggled more.

Adrien took in a deep breath, trying to calm his own blush. "Duusu, Spread my feathers!"

Ladybug and Féline Sombre were already there… Well that was fast.

"You finally showed up! What took so long!?" Chloé cried towards the two superheros, as she peered from her hiding spot behind a pillar. ...Or maybe it wasn't fast? Did Chloé call them or something? She has mentioned being their friend. Often. By the annoyance from Ladybug, he guessed she wasn't a very good friend if that was the case.

"What, not excited to see me?" Paon Lilas asked with a grin.

"Oh yeah you too." Chloé waved a hand, apparently having just noticed him. ...Paon really needed to work on some dramatic entrances.

Nino threw a CD disc towards Chloé and she shrieked.

Ladybug wrapped her yoyo around Chloé's leg, pulling her back and into the ball pit. Féline Sombre leaped up to restrain Nino.

Nino blinked in confusion, "Huh?"

"Oh, sorry," Féline Sombre let him go, looking for the teddy bear controlling people.

Another boy threw a chair towards Ladybug. "How about a game of flying chairs?" He taunted.

"Love to but," Paon kicked the chair away, landing in a wall, "shouldn't music be involved?"

Ladybug was grabbed from behind and she pushed Alya off, spinning around to find the teen reporter blinking in confusion.

A boy raised a table above his head, and Féline Sombre extended her staff to knock it out of his hands. Paon grabbed the table before it flew into any civilians and dropped it on the floor. "Careful kitty."

"Whoops... But, where'd he go?" Féline asked, turning around.

Ladybug looked around frantically, trying to find someone who was acting off. Paon Lilas grabbed her hand.

"What are you doing?" Ladybug tugged away. Paon pulled back, making her stumble forward. "Oh no."

"Ooo, pretty earrings." He made a swipe towards her earrings and she shoved him back, making him stumble.

"Knock it off, bird brain!" She exclaimed.

He growled and tried again with a punch. Féline Sombre vaulted in on her staff and kicked him back into a table.

Paon Lilas plucked a feather and grabbed a plastic spoon from the table.

A floating marionette rod was summoned. The strings wrapped Féline Sombre's arms and legs. They gasped as they were dragged forward towards Ladybug.

"Hey!" Ladybug cried, "What are you doing?"

"I'm not doing this!" Féline shrieked. She threw a punch towards Ladybug, "Sorry!"

"Paws off kitty cat!" Chloé called, pushing Féline over.

"Thanks!" Ladybug called, "Lucky Charm!" And… got an over large crochet hook.

Paon Lilas growled and motioned his head, the senti-marrionetted Féline being flung back towards Chloé. He charged toward Ladybug.

Ladybug glanced between the marionette rod and the teddy bear. She grabbed a marionette string with the crochet hook Féline passed her and twirling the hook to properly tangle the string, threw it into a wall. The string snapped, giving Féline control of one of her hands.

"Féline," Ladybug called. Paon kicked her and she jumped back, "I need you to cut some strings soon!" Ladybug and Paon Lilas fought. She shielded, he swept her legs. He went in for a strike, she blocked.

"Sure thing, Bug," Féline raised a hand, summoning her destructive power, "Cataclysm!"

"Now, Chloé if you could be so kind-” She gestured to the captured marionette strings.

Chloé nodded, taking up the hook and diving for the teddy bear, catching a loop on its back. She tugged and threw it back to Féline Sombre. They touched the Akuma string with their Cataclysm.

Paon blinked as the Akuma was destroyed, halting a punch. He took in heavy breaths, stumbling back as a wave of fear hit him over the receding fog of mind control. "Ladybug? What are you doing?"

Fear was quickly replaced with relief and pride. Ladybug grinned, "Just saving your feathery hide with our new sidekick." She looked at Chloé.

"You haven't defeated me yet!" A small voice squeaked and kicked Paon Lilas in the chin.

"Watch your step!" Ladybug readied her yoyo to capture and purify the butterfly that was fluttering away.

"Can someone help me out here!?" Féline Sombre yelled. Paon glanced at the senti-monster strings attached to her feet and hand and then at the spoon he was carrying. His miraculous beeped. He snapped his fingers, pulling the amok from the spoon and dropping it.

Ladybug threw her crochet hook into the air, "Miraculous Ladybug!" The swarm of ladybugs returned everything in the room to normal. Ladybug and Féline Sombe high fived. Paon Lilas ran. Before either of them turned to look his way.

Ladybug turned, finding the other miraculous wielder missing. She sighed, "He flew off again."

Chloé cleared her throat.

Ladybug blinked and looked at her. "Oh. Er, thanks for helping me back there…. It was very nice of you."

Chloé smiled, dusting off her jacket, "It was, wasn't it? Did you hear that, Jean-Pascal?! If Ladybug says I'm nice then Adrien and his dad have to believe it!"

"...Mademoiselle I must admit I have no memory of what just happened."

"Basically you turned evil and I saved you. Without me the superheros probably never would have succeeded." Chloé explained.

Both Ladybug's and Féline Sombre's miraculous' beeped.

"Gotta go," Ladybug said, running up the stairwell to the roof.

"Same here," Féline said, giving a polite nod to Chloé and Jean-Something. She ran out the doors.

"Hm. Maybe some of this nice-stuff of yours makes some sense….. Jean-Baptiste, I've decided to keep you on. Don't let the guests all run away, they don't wanna miss what's next!"

Jean-Pierre nodded "Thank you, Mademoiselle, I will Mademoiselle."

Adrien sighed as he watched Marinette finish her macaroons. He was too tired to make his own. He sat in a chair to avoid any sudden dizzy spells, resting his head on the table.

Chloé slid next to him, looping her arms around his shoulders. "Sooo Adrikins, I'm really nice now, did you notice? I even let Marinette's dad finish teaching everyone how to make those messy macaroons."

He pulled his attention from Marinette and nodded. "Yes, it's very nice of you." He smiled a little. She frowned…. Usually smiling causes the opposite response.

"Ugh, what's wrong? You're not like, super happy. I did everythingggg."

"Oh uh," he glanced at Marinette again, before looking back at Chloé, "It's nothing."

Chloé followed his glance and pouted, "Did she say mean things to you? Do I need to tell her her macaroons are appalling or something?"

"No! No. Please no. We just talked about being nice."

"Oops! Right…. Wait. You don't like her do you?"

He blushed and looked away, shrugging.

Chloé gasped, "Nooo! Ughhh, why couldn't you fall in love with someone unattainable? Like Ladybug or somebody."

"Huh?" Adrien crinkled his nose, "What?"

"Nothing~ Fine, fine. We're still best friends forever right though?"

He huffed a smile and nodded, "Yeah, Chloé, best friends forever."

"Pinky swear?" She held out her pinky in front of him and he linked their fingers.

"Pinky swear."

She let out an exhale of relief, "Okay, make sure to tell your dad I'm the best influence ever now."

Adrien giggled and nodded, "Sure. I'll try."

"Perfect. You promised," She grinned and waltzed over to the bakers and began listing off what was wrong with their goods. Pausing at Marinette, she glanced at Adrien and simply passed her by without a word…. Marinette seemed offended anyway.

Adrien shook his head. Oh, that didn't cause spots in his vision. Good. Satisfied with the conclusion the worst of the battle weariness had passed, he got up to see if Marinette might share some of those cookies. Then, if he had the energy, repair some of Chloé’s emotional damage.

#fanfic #ml fanfiction #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupen chang #Chloé Bourgeois #sabrina raincomprix #black cat!sabrina #peacock!adrien #miraculous swap #fly away fic #fanart's fanfic #apparently I cant help myself but post the entire thing #lol

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alternateafterthought · 4 years

Text

Arcane

Ø Meaning: Secret, Mysterious, Understood only by few. MAGIC

Ø Pairing: Panther Hybrid Min Yoongi x Reader

Ø Summary: Some secrets are kept for the good of people. Some secrets are kept for abuse or power. Yoongi had been a victim of abuse and power, and he wasn’t going to let anyone else use secrets for that purpose. So, when Y/N comes into his life with secrets, he doesn’t want to fall into that rabbit hole again. He doesn’t want to give all his trust to someone who will abuse their power over him. But maybe Y/N’s secrets are a good thing.

Ø Genre: Hybrid!au, fluff, angst, eventual smut

Ø Warnings: None

Ø Word Count: 1897

Ø A/N: Hey guys… this is my first Min Yoongi fic!! After finally finishing my first ever BTS fic, GOLDEN TIME, I started working on this one!! If you haven’t noticed, I really love Hybrid stories and I seem to love writing them just as much!!! So, I really hope you guys love and support this fic like you did with GOLDEN TIME!! If you want to be added to a tag list, message me or leave a comment or ask!! Thank you so much!!

Training a house dog was one thing. Walking around parks and seeing them full of dogs playing and learning to sit, come, stay, roll over was something rather cute.

What wasn’t cute was walking past those same parks to see full grown adult hybrids learning the same tricks as dogs. They may have animal genetics, they may have eats and a tail, and some attributes of their animal counterpart. Yet, it gives no proper reasoning as to why hybrids needed to be trained to sit, stay, come, roll over for a treat like they were lesser.

Hybrids might have been part animal, but they were also part human. A small detail lots of humans seemed to miss themselves.

Y/N walked through the park, having slipped away from her overbearing parents 30 minutes ago, loving being by herself. Even though it was loud, children running and playing, their parents running and shouting after them, hybrids playing with children, dogs running around. There was so much noise, so much around her, and yet it was the most at peace Y/N had been in months.

She was never allowed this type of freedom, not since she was a kid, and so she basked in the walk alone. The rays of the sun warming her up as she stood in the middle of the grassy area, head raised to the sun, eyes closed. The light cardigan over the dress she wore in the summer breeze moved as she looked around, happy to be alone, even for a while.

“HEY, I SAID SIT YOU STUPID ANIMAL!”

A rather loud, high pitched shout caused Y/N to open her eyes. Y/N blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the bright light of the sun, only to catch the ending of a tall woman hitting a hybrid.

From where Y/N stood she could make out small golden ears on top of the hybrids head, the same colour of the mop of golden hair on the hybrids head. A long golden tail wrapped around the hybrids own thigh as the hybrid curled in on themselves, their hands moving up to cover their face.

The hybrid was obviously scared, and it was even more obvious that no one was going to help the hybrid. Human and hybrids alike just looked as the woman punished her hybrid for not listening to her before looking away. Y/N noticed some hybrids, the closer ones and younger ones looked at the hybrid sympathetically, but the whole world knew that no one could help the poor hybrid. Like Y/N, all they could do was watch, before turning away herself.

Moving off the grass, Y/N followed the path to the edge of the park, joining the crowded streets of people. Y/N only had so much time to herself before her parents found her again, and that was an argument she could wait for. After all, this was the reason she had convinced her parents of this trip to the city, having planned the whole trip out.

Checking her watch as she moved across the street, Y/N only had 3 more hours before she had to meet her parents back at the hotel. She was already setting something up that would undoubtedly give her parents some type of heart attack, the least she could do was be on time.

Well as on time as a daughter can be in adopting a hybrid without her parents knowing she would.

Following the GPS on her phone, Y/N finally made it to the shelter, quickly opening the door. She was welcomed by a lively room, what was obviously once white walls were now covered in pictures of hundreds of hybrids. Some playing by themselves, some obviously posing for the camera and some with the biggest smile and humans, just having been adopted. The people in the room seemed to be just as lively, smiles and laughter coming from everywhere.

Y/N could tell who worked at the shelter, the purple shirts with the words “HOPE Sanctuary” on the back told her just that. It seemed there was a small family who had just happily adopted a dog hybrid, from the looks of it the young hybrid must have been the same age as the son he currently played with. There was also an elderly couple who had just adopted a cat hybrid, the younger feline standing next to the elder woman who gave the hybrid such a warm grandmotherly smile.

“Excuse me?” A voice spoke from behind Y/N. “Can I help you?”

A young woman stood next to Y/N; the purple shirt she wore matched the purple hair she sported. She was beautiful, the smile on her face was infectious, the soft dimples making her look that much younger. Y/N could tell she enjoyed working here, it was always good to see that there were humans like her that only wanted the best for hybrids.

“Hi yes. I called a few days ago about adopting a hybrid?” Y/N recalled the conversation she had with a very cheerful man.

“Ah yes, the older hybrid, right?” The woman’s eyes seemed to spark something. “If you would just take a seat, I will go get the owner.”

“Oh okay, thank you.” Y/N bowed her head before moving to sit in one of the chairs.

Sitting on one of the free chairs, Y/N’s phone buzzed, reaching into her handbag to check the screen. She breathed a sigh of relief, thanking every god she could think of it wasn’t her parents. It was just a reminder, a needed reminder, but just a reminder to take her medication.

It was a simple enough task, one she did willingly, taking the small tablets then the water in the bottle she always carried around. She may not like it, she may not like the effects of them, and she may not like how her parents treated her like some child. But at 24 years old, she knew when to argue about something, and when to accept her fate and do as she’s told.

“Hello, Miss Y/L/N?” A familiar voice made Y/N look up as she screwed the lid tightly on her water bottle. “I’m Jung Hoseok, but please, J-Hope is what everyone calls me. I believe we talked on the phone.”

“Yes, Mr. Jung…” Y/N caught his eyebrow raise before laughing a little as she stood, taking the man’s hand in a handshake. “J-Hope.”

“Would you follow me to my office?” J-Hope gestured towards an office door, and with a nod they both moved towards it. “Can I just say, when we got your call that you were interested in one of our older hybrids, I just had to take your case personally.”

“Oh?”

“It’s nothing to be worried about, trust me.” J-Hope smiled widely, letting Y/N know he was excited. “It’s just when it comes to hybrids, people normally go for the younger children or even teens. I worry about the older hybrids, and unfortunately any hybrid over the age of 21 is considered old.”

“Really?” That was news to Y/N, her eyes wide as she took a seat opposite J-Hope.

With a sad nod from J-Hope, he moved some paperwork around, obviously finding the right stack; “So when you said you had interest in older hybrids, I just knew it was a case I had to take.” He finally found the right stack of paper with a small sound of approval. “We currently have 6 older hybrids here and I would love you to meet them all. Though with 2 of them unavailable you will only be meeting 4 of them.”

“What species of hybrids are they?” Y/N sat up straight in her chair, intrigued and happy. “The ones I’ll be meeting at least.”

“Two dog hybrids, a fox hybrid and a cat hybrid.” J-Hope looked up and smiled as he handed over 4 files to Y/N. “These are everything about them, you can read them first or you can meet them first, which ever you choose first.”

Looking down at the 4 files, she quickly flipped through them, a picture on the front of each yellow file. All 4 hybrids were males, first was a golden retriever hybrid, sandy blonde hair, the same colour as his floppy ear. He had a boxy smile, large eyes that shone brightly and he seemed to have been playing in mud as the picture was taken. Mud covered his clothes, parts of his face and hair had muddy stains, he seemed to be having a great time, even in the picture.

The second was a German Sheppard hybrid, large ears stood tall, tan and black, his head was tilted to the side. He looked to have been caught off guard, a book sat on his lap, his mouth opened slightly. He looked tall, even sitting on what looked to be his bed, his large hands looked like they wanted to move up to block the camera from taking his picture. There was a small note on the front of his file “Would be best suited for someone who lives close to the outdoors.”

Third was a very handsome hybrid. Anyone could tell that hybrid or not, he was truly very handsome, his black hair matched his shorter black ears. His eyes bore into the camera it seemed, welcoming anyone who looked at the picture. His smile was almost childlike compared to his eyes, his lips looked so soft and pink and honestly Y/N could stare at them all day. Y/N saw that he was the oldest of the 4 hybrids, and yet he could easily be mistaken for so much younger than his age.

The final file was of the only feline hybrid in the pile. A hand covered most of the view of the hybrid, but from what she could see was a pair of intense eyes. They looked almost black, his hand covered one of them, but still they drew her in, if not making her shiver. His hair was jet black, as were his small ears, in the light of the photo there was almost purple streaks. There was a small note left for him too; “If he is not adopted in the next 6 months, he must be signed up for the breeding program.”

“Um… could I meet them maybe?” Y/N lifted her gaze up from the feline hybrid. “I just… I think I would feel a lot better if I was able to meet them before making a decision.”

“Of course, you can. Would you like to meet them all together, or one at a time?”

“I think it would be better one at a time.” Y/N moved the files to sit on her knees.

“Perfect choice.” J-Hope stood. “Follow me and I’ll take you to a meeting room.”

Soon J-Hope had set Y/N up in a room, large windows that completely illuminated the room, two comfortable looking chairs and a table between them. J-Hope had left to go get the first hybrid as Y/N paced a little around the room. She was scared to meet them, but she was more scared of walking out of the shelter without a hybrid.

It was the one thing in her life that she truly needed right now, she needed independence. A hybrid would give her that.

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Note

okay what do we need to do to get that Chris on campus with Jake thing to happen because we will do it

Okay it’s not the whole thing or anything (I can work on that actually if you want) but here’s like six oh whoops it turned into a bunch of paragraphs of cute off the top of my head:

CW: VERY vaguely referenced past noncon/exploitation/abuse, recovering pet whumpee, conditioned responses, referenced/implied that character is potentially underaged

“Why can’t I-… I want to wear my, my, um, my my sweatshirt today, why can’t I wear that?” Chris stares longingly, almost pleadingly, as Jake tosses the balled-up dirty thing in the washing machine, smiles to himself. Two-pointer, he thinks. Not that he’s played sports since junior year of high school or anything, but he didn’t exactly suck at basketball.

“It’s too warm for sweatshirts and you’ve been wearing it for four days straight, Chris,” Jake says, pulling some clothes out of the neatly folded piles of clean shirts and pants that stay on a series of shelves in the laundry room for the rescues to pick from. Most rescues take a couple of weeks to start choosing things to keep in their rooms - Chris has been here for three and all he wants to wear is Jake’s sweatshirt and basketball shorts they’d found in the back of one of the closets, something a past rescue had left behind when they moved out to start fresh. “This is nothing. Look, you’ll still be covered up, I promise.”

“I, I will? Do you promise?” Chris hugged himself, all wiry limbs with the same forced sense of lithe gracefulness all the Romantics ended up with after training. “I don’t like um, like my skin showing I don’t like there to be too much, too much skin, Jake.”

Or any skin, Jake thinks. If it was up to Chris, they’d never see anything but his eyes. He had a feeling whoever Sir was had had a thing for Chris’s hair, too, in the past three days Chris had started to talk about dyeing it black or redder or just another color entirely. He’d seen Jake looking at a photo of a girl with pierced ears and mentioned he might want earrings, too.

That was all going to be big steps - Jake figures he’ll talk about it for a few months before he can do anything on his own.

“Yeah, I promise. You know the rules here, Chris, you don’t show a single inch of skin to anybody ever unless you feel comfortable.”

“I, I, I would feel comfortable showing to-… to you, Jake,” Chris says, a little shyly. If he turns around, he knows, Chris’s face will be red, just at the cheekbones, and he’ll be doing that thing they all do where they tilt their head just the right way, just a little to the side, biting down on their lower lips to show they’re interested.

It’s probably pretty fucking seductive, if you’re a piece of shit pervert who orders one of them. When you’ve seen six of them do it, nearly robotically, falling back into motions trained into their muscle memory deeper than thought, it’s just creepy as shit.

“I know you would, buddy,” Jake says, keeping his eyes on the clothing. “But remember, we have rules about that, here.”

“Yeah, I, I know, I like the, um, the, the rules. I like them.” Chris sounds relieved, as though he’d said the words worrying that Jake would take him up on it or something. And probably he was worried about it - Nat seemed to think he was testing them, without even knowing.

Jake checks over the smaller sizes and pulls out a pair of straight-leg jeans, nothing special but they won’t cling, they’ll sit loose on Chris’s hips and won’t say anything about the shape of his legs. He tosses them over along with a random pair of boxers, and the rescued Box Boy quickly sheds his pajama pants and switches over to the new things while Jake has his back turned looking for shirts.

“Is, um, are, are are are people going to, to look at me a lot today? Or not? Are they going to look? Is, um, because what if my Sir sees a picture, if if he, if he-”

Your ‘Sir’ knows where you are. You were a dirty little secret and that motherfucker isn’t going to say a fucking thing.

Jake doesn’t say it. Instead, he just turns with the shirts in hand and gives Chris a comforting, reassuring smile. “No, man. Look, remember what we talked about?”

Chris nods, his eyes going wide and solemn, very serious about the things he’d been asked to memorize. “My name is Christopher Garner and I, I, um, I’m your father’s brother’s oldest son and I, I, I’m visiting from Michigan and that’s the name of a, um, of a state in the United States of America and that is where we live.”

“Great. Just… don’t start telling everybody everything all at once, okay? But it’s good that you remember all of it. First things first, let’s cover up your number okay?”

He hands Chris a long-sleeved shirt and the boy pulls it on over his head, the strawberry-blond pushing through the spot for the neck and fluffing out around his head, mussed up and standing on end. He looks fucking adorable, like a little kid.

Because he probably still IS one, and if anyone would tell me who that fucking Sir is I’d rip his throat out with my goddamn teeth like that lady in the third Honor Bound movie did.

That was a movie series he couldn’t watch with the rescues. Too… close, in some ways, to shit some of them had already seen. But Jake had his own DVD copies he watched sometimes while studying or doing homework.

Chris is frowning at the cuffs on the ends of his sleeves, examining them up close. His green eyes have gone slightly crossed. “Why’s there a hole?”

“For your thumbs. Let me show you.” Jake steps forward and carefully shifts the cloth around, slipping Chris’s thumb through the purposefully cut hole just below the cuff. “See? Now you don’t have to worry about it riding up and showing your barcode. Plus, it’s kind of a thing a lot of people are doing on campus, so you’ll fit in.”

“I’ll fit in?” Chris looks up at him - up and up and up, the kid is so short - and Jake smiles back down. “Will I? I’ll, um, I’ll fit in?”

“Well… mostly. You’ll fit right in as my cousin, right?” Jake grins down, rubbing lightly at his shoulders, and Chris smiles back with an expression of such absolute trust that it physically hurts to look at him.

Everything they went through made them all so fucking trusting, so naïve and so ready to accept any hint of goodness that came their way as genuine. It was like… like trying to teach a dog to be a person.

“Right,” Chris says firmly. “Cousin. Christopher Garner, who comes from, from, from Minnesota-”

“Michigan.”

“Right. Michigan.” Chris’s face fell, just a little. “I’m, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to to to um, to get it wrong-”

“You’re fine, Chris. We’ll practice on the bus on the way. Now, throw this one, too.” He hands him thin zip-up hoodie, and Chris looks finally perfectly comfortable once he’s pulled the hood up and over his head. Every bit of skin he could reasonably cover is covered. Only his bangs stick out to show he had blond hair at all.

“It’s a long day for me, so we’re going to be on campus for a long time. I’ve got money for food and stuff, and listen-… Chris, this is important, very, very important that you remember this.”

Chris swallows, hard, and nods. He fixes his eyes on Jake with total focus. “Yes, Jake.”

“If you get hungry, or thirsty, or you have to use the bathroom, you absolutely have to tell me. Do you understand?”

Chris frowns, eyebrows furrowing. They’re the same pale copper as his hair, and sometimes in dim light it’s hard to tell he has any. “But we don’t decide if we’re hungry-”

“Yes, you do, Chris. Now, you do. With me, you get to decide when you eat food, okay? I don’t care if it’s ‘lunchtime’, or whatever. You just tell me you need something and I’ll take care of you, okay?”

Chris looks doubtful, but nods, slowly. “Okay, Jake. I can, um, I can do that, but you don’t have to feed me I’m used to not, to not eating, it doesn’t bother me I don’t even um feel, I don’t, don’t feel hungry much I don’t.”

“I know, buddy. But we’re going to try and concentrate on feeling hungry more. I’m going to buy you a coffee and a scone before my first class-”

“Are you, um, are you getting-”

“Yeah, I’ll get one too.” Chris relaxes, going nearly boneless in relief. Jake reaches out to take his hands - long, thin fingers not roughened or reddened by housework. They’re a little cold, but warm quickly to his touch, and Chris tightens his grip immediately, looking up at Jake, eyes wide and almost adoring. “You can do this, Chris, okay? I trust you. I believe in you.”

Chris’s fingers start to tremble in Jake’s grip, and his lips press together. His eyes tear up, just a little. “D-do you really, Jake? Am I good, to be trusted? Am I, um, am I am I am I-”

“You’re very good, Chris,” Jake says, softly. “And you’re going to do great. Okay, one more time. Who are you?”

“Christopher Garner but I like to be called Chris,” Chris says, each word dropped with importance, with gravity. For once, he thinks it all carefully through before he speaks. “I’m from Michigan, the part shaped like a mitten, and Michigan is a state in the United States of America, which is a country, and it’s our country where we live. I’m your cousin because your dad is my dad’s brother. I’m staying with you because my parents are on a cruise and I’m too young to stay home alone because I’m not eighteen.”

“Perfect, buddy.”

Chris hesitates, looking guilty. “Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“I, um. I am eighteen.”

I’ll bet my left goddamn testicle you’re not. Doing this to you should count as a fucking justifiable homicide when I find that son of a bitch and gut him-

“I know, man.“ Jake’s voice stays soft and soothing. “But it’s just for the story.”

“… okay, okay, it’s just, um, just just for the story, I can do that. I can.” Chris nods quickly, giving Jake’s hands a tight squeeze with his own.

Jake smiles, pulling back to ruffle the coppery hair. Chris glows at the attention, the affection, tilting his head into it like a cat.

“Okay, bud. I think we’re ready. Let’s go catch the bus. If we get the 6:45 instead of the 7:15 we’ll have time to drink our coffee before my first class.”

He leads Chris out, the young rescue repeating his story quietly to himself, hands buried in the pockets of his zipup, his barcode and number safely hidden underneath his shirt, determined to make Jake proud and pretend to be just another free person like everyone else.

#whump #box boy #box boy universe #chris the strawberry blond romantic #jake the shelter guy #tw: referenced past noncon #tw: briefly referenced past abuse #tw: implications that character may be a minor #conditioning #pet whump #dehumanization #trauma recovery whump #memory loss #brainwashing #tw: trauma #angry caretaker #soft caretaker #the grumpy one is soft for the sunshine one #rescued whumpee

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untilmynextstory · 4 years

Photo

Chapter 2: THE SLEEP OF BABIES

WORD Count: 7.9k

Enjoy!

Jax and Alma are laying in bed in his dorm room. They are still in lockdown. It’s midafternoon and the kids are out with his mom. It left him and Alma some valued alone time. With the door locked and Alma’s shirt raked up to under her breasts, Jax takes the time to admire her flat stomach as his hand lays atop of it. He can really soak in that they will be having another baby in the house. He barely thinks about the fact he is about to be promoted to Vice President. It pales in comparison to this news.

Though, as he tries to spot the small changes that pregnancy brings to Alma, he does disclose everything that has happened the past few days within the club. He brings up the general unease the guys feel about agreeing to sell to the Mayans despite their current deal with the Niners.

“You don’t seem happy about it.” Alma points out. Her small hands grab his and she contorts his fingers as she pleases. A small smile forms as both of his kids do the same thing.

“It’s less blood, but now the Niners won’t be happy.” It’s like exchanging one enemy to make a new one.

Alma’s teeth tug at her lips. “They have to understand that it’s just business.”

“We promised to never sell to the Mayans.” He informs her. It was the one thing that gave them such an easy alliance. Now they will be selling guns to their enemies that will aid them in their ongoing turf war.

Jax doesn’t want to talk of club business anymore. He shifts so that he is laying in between his wife’s legs. His breath tickles her stomach. “When can we announce the news?”

“I’m 10 weeks.” She informs him. “But I want to wait a little bit longer…”

“You’re worried?”

“Cautious. After Kaylee…I’m just cautious.” She informs him as she plays with his blonde hair.

Jax places a kiss to her flat stomach. He doesn’t know how to ease her valid concerns, but it doesn’t take away the joy he feels for the upcoming expansion of his family.

“I’m your old man,” he whispers to his unborn child.

Jaxs’ smile threatens to break his cheeks as he embraces Opie. He clutches his friend tight and thanks god that he sees it fit to keep his friend safe and alive in prison. He is even thankful Darby has not broken his deal.

He hates that his friend is stuck in prison for 5 years. But his friend is alive and that is all that matters.

“Oh hell, don’t tell me you managed to knock Alma up again?” Opie guesses correctly.

Jax smiles brightly.

“Congratulations, bro.”

“Thanks. Having the two is crazy enough, but three,” Jax mutters.

“You got yourself a good family.”

“The kids miss their Uncle Opie. Kaylee was upset she didn’t have the picture she wanted me to give you done in time.”

“I miss them. I miss all of them.” Opie tells him tightly. “But what else is going on?”

Jax lets the conversation change. “Well, you are looking at your new Vice President.”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

“We’re getting closer.” Jax tells him. They are getting closer to achieving their childhood dreams of being head of the club.

“So new baby, promotion, what is the third thing we should be looking out for.”

Jax chuckles. “I don’t think the 3rd thing will be a good one.”

Opie tugs at his beard. “That sounds ominous.”

“I painted a wall.” Jax informs him.

Opie’s eyebrows skyrocket. “What color?”

“Blue for the green. Had to be done. It looks better with the black.” Killed an official for the Irish. For the money. They had to kill Brenan Hefner and they basically got a free shipment of guns.

“Someone helped.”

“Yeah, but green isn’t turning out to be my favorite. Doesn’t look right. I covered the carpet and windows, but I’m not sure…”

“Well painting isn’t our business.”

“I know.” They weren’t hit men. But maybe the thought of new life has him having doubts about taking one.

“It’s just the impending fatherhood.” Opie cautions.

“Maybe.”

It’s funny that it isn't until Alma realizes she is pregnant that her house is incredibly small. It’s then she notices how it’s not just having two kids leave her tripping over toys, but the fact there is barely any room for them. Even after going through and having the kids decide what they wanted to keep or donate, she realizes a third baby would be a tight fit.

Alma loves her small home. It was hers and Jaxs’. They managed to make it their home. It is where she raised her babies. She doesn’t want to give it up. She thinks maybe they could add to the house.

She knows Jax would contemplate it although ultimately deciding it would be better off just to buy a new one. She thinks she could manage him to at least add a room. She imagines it would be cheaper.

She just doesn’t want to give this up. She is attached to this house after all the work and love she has put into it.

She smiles as with her being pregnant she knows she can convince Jax of nearly anything. They would be keeping the house. She stands in front of her bedroom mirror and lifts up her shirt. Before Jax had left to head to Chino to see Opie, the doctor had confirmed she was two months and a couple weeks into the 3rd month. She turns to the side and she doesn’t really expect to see anything. She just looks bloated. But it’s all the evidence she needs to be extremely giddy about the pregnancy.

She’s worried, of course, but it doesn’t stop the happiness at the thought of her and Jax bringing another child into the world. She doesn’t care if it’s a boy or girl. She just wants a healthy baby.

A knock at the door startles. She drops her shirt and thinks it’s Gemma. She has the kids. She doesn’t know why she would knock, but she doesn’t think too hard on it. She walks to the door and expects the whirlwind of her children, but her body freezes at the sight of Agent Stahl standing at her doorstep.

“Mrs. Teller –“

“Agent Stahl, how can I help you?” Alma interrupts.

The tall blonde smiles at her. “I was just wondering where I could find your husband.”

Alma folds her arms across her chest. “I bet if you looked hard enough you could find him.”

“True, but actually I’m more interested in you and your family history.”

“Don’t know why? I’m not that much fun.”

Stahl chuckles at her. “I think dad would’ve had a problem with the Prince knocking up his daughter at 16.”

“This is old history, Stahl. The only person you could piss off with that knowledge is my mother. So tell me why you are here?”

Stahl quickly drops her charade and digs a photo out of her bag. “You recognize this man?”

Alma looks at a picture of an older gentleman. He looks like an average white man who could be anyone. “No, should I?”

“His name is Cameron Hayes. IRA. He is a known terrorist who we managed to track down in the Northern California area.”

“What does this have to do with me and my family?”

Stahl smirks. “A port commissioner was murdered a couple weeks ago. Rumored to piss off the IRA. Wondered if some friends helped with that.”

“Speculations don’t add to a warrant. If you appear on my doorstep one more time without one, I will call your superiors for harassment.”

“Gemma trains them well.” Stahl muses.

Alma keeps a blank face as Stahl walks back to her unmarked vehicle. It’s only her luck that Gemma pulls up into her driveway and Stahl even has the nerve to wave at the biker matriarch. Alma assumes the two women have already encountered each other.

Alma steps down from the steps and goes to Gemma’s Escalade to help unbuckle the kids.

“Mama!” Kaylee exclaims from her carseat. Alma unbuckles her and holds her close as she presses a kiss to her head. “Did you have fun with Grandma?”

“Lots!” Kaylee exclaims as she wiggles to be let down. “Is Daddy home?”

“Not yet,” She tells her daughter. Nathan doesn’t need help out of the car as he grabs his bag and rushes back in the house. Kaylee rushes in after him.

She shakes her head and Gemma stands next to her. “What did Stahl want?”

“Just playing mind games.” Alma says brushing off the encounter. She’s been through this before.

“It’s bullshit. They don’t have anything.” Gemma adds.

“It’s all smoke going after the women, huh?” Alma knows the boys did something. She just doesn’t want to dwell on it. She wants nothing to distract her from the pregnancy. She doesn’t need the stress.

It’s then that she gets a strong whiff of Gemmas’ perfume that her stomach turns. It has her running to the closest garbage can, which is in the kitchen.

Fuck, her morning sickness couldn’t have come at a better time. She heaves and heaves until her throat burns something fierce. She groans and grimaces as she can smell her sour breath. She walks over to the sink to rinse her mouth out with some water. She needs a shower at this point.

“So?” Gemma questions. “The last time I saw you throw up was when you decided to decorate my rose garden when you were pregnant with Kaylee.”

Alma takes another swish of the water. It seems the cat is out of the bag. She faces Gemma and wraps her arms around herself. “I’m two months along.” She admits.

She watches as an ecstatic look overtakes Gemma’s features. The biker matriarch embraces her in a tight hug. “Another grandbaby. Who would’ve thought. Why the hush hush?”

“I’m just worried.”

“Sweetie –“

“I know.” Alma says with a sigh. She knows worrying will make her pregnancy more stressful, but she can’t help it.

“Everything will be fine.” Gemma assures her.

It was quite easy to see that the wife of Opie Winston was the weakest link out of the few SAMCRO old ladies. Agent Stahl knows the recent single mother will crumble easily under the weight. Her intel had informed her how the small brunette had begun isolating herself from the inbred bikers. It was a rookie mistake and would leave the woman vulnerable.

Stahl seats at the wooden table with the angry brunette. A baby is sleeping in a bassinet in the living room with the oldest boy coloring. Stahl tries to at least feel pity for these kids.

“How are things going for you, Donna?”

“I’m pretty sure your notes already tell you how I am doing.”

Stahl gives her a stiff smile. “You’re smart, Donna. You can only see how SAMCRO is going to rip your family apart. It already has.”

“My family is fine.”

“And in five years…a lot can happen.” Stahl tells her as she leans up. “Are you aware of the enemies that your husbands’ motorcycle club has? Mayans, Nords…just to name a few are surrounding your husband right now.”

“Are you threatening his safety?”

“I’m giving you the facts. Two kids, a single income…it is going to be hard to manage. You might fall behind on the mortgage or get in credit card debt.”

“And what can you help me with?”

“I can help your husband.” Stahl tells her bluntly. “I can get him out this year and as a sign of good faith move him closer to home. Six hours is a long drive.”

Donna snorts. “You really need to work on your sales pitch.”

“We both know when Opie gets out he is going to go back to the club…back to arson…or back to prison if he even makes it out of this sentence.” Stahl tells her without any care. “If anything, think about the two kids who will be without a father. They are more important than that club.”

Donna stands up from the table. “I don’t know shit about Opie’s club business. And even if I did, I'd never rat on him. Get out of my house, bitch.”

Stahl gives her a grim smile and doesn’t need to be told twice. Her partner, Estevez follows her out the house.

“Well that went well.” Estevez mutters.

Stahl chuckles. “No, it went perfectly well. She is going to run to Alma Teller. Means we got her rattled or doubting. We just need a crack.”

To see Donna on her doorstep after weeks of silence and broken playdates with the kids has thrown Alma for a loop. Clearly the recent prison widow is struggling and Alma is glad to help. However, she can’t help but feel this isn’t just out of Donna’s own doing. Something pushed her to try to mend the broken bridges she had been trying to burn.

Alma knows she won’t be vindictive and turn her away. Ellie is sleeping peacefully and Kenny is glad to be back to playing with Nathan and Kaylee. It leaves the two women some privacy in the kitchen.

Alma has her own cup of green tea in front of her while Donna has a glass of water. Alma stares intently at the brunette and wonders when they start to become strangers.

“What happened?” Alma asks softly.

Donna chews on her bottom lip as she picks at her fingernails. “A fed came by my house. Was trying to see if I knew anything about Opie’s business.”

Alma blows on her tea and nods her head. “Agent Stahl, I presume.”

“She said she could get Opie closer to home and out in a year.”

“They will say anything to get you to make a slip up Donna. That would only hurt Opie and your family.” Alma replies.

Donna’s brows furrow. “Opie is in jail that is hurting my family. This club hurts my family.”

“You married into this, Donna. You knew going into this what could happen.”

Donna releases a bitter laugh. “So that excuses everything? I’m just supposed to accept that the father of my children is a convicted felon.”

The grip on her mug tightens. Alma knows she is treading on dangerous territory. She knows what she can say can push Donna in 20 different directions that can only hurt Opie. “If you talk to Stahl…you can get him killed, Donna.”

Alma watches as the blood leaves Donna’s face. Maybe, Alma shouldn’t have said that, but she also believes Opie should’ve had this talk with her. It would make a lot of things easier.

“From who? The Mayans? Nords?” Donna hisses.

Alma’s brows furrow and she assumes Stahl gave her those names. Alma thinks it is better for Donna to have that conclusion considering that Alma was talking about the club. Alma knew Jax would never let anything happen to Opie, but he was only one person. If Donna talked…

“From you. You coming here talking about giving a Fed information is gonna have him spun. He is going to be too focused about what is going to come out of your mouth than his safety in prison.” Alma tells her honestly.

Donna releases a bitter laugh. “This can’t be happening. I came here for a friend and I feel like I am talking to Gemma.”

Alma takes a sip of her tea. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not going to encourage you to rat.”

“Because your family is perfectly safe and fine right? Jax is still here. Who cares about Donna?”

“It isn’t even like that.” Alma snaps. “And the fact of the matter is one day I will probably be in your position or worse burying my fucking husband in an early grave. Don’t forget I grew up in this shit, Donna. I lost my father to this life.”

“And look where you are! Married to the fucking Vice President of the outlaw motorcycle club!” Donna roars. “What does that say about you, huh?”

“What’s going on here?”

Both Donna and Alma jump at the sound of Jax’s voice. His eyes are going back and forth between Donna and Alma. Alma can see his concern and agitation because the last thing she needs is stress during this pregnancy.

“Nothing,” Donna spats. “I was just leaving.”

Jax raises his eyebrow at the venom in her tone. He doesn’t stop her from leaving as she picks up Ellie’s carrier and interrupts Kenny playing with the kids to leave. She doesn’t bother with a goodbye and even slams their door.

Alma moves from the table with her tea and places it in the sink. She hears Jax moving behind her and his arms wrap around her.

“Does the club need to be concerned?” He asks her softly.

“Stahl rattled her.” Alma admits. “And I don’t know what is going on in her head.”

“Going after the women is a smart tactic especially ones that have the most to lose.” Jax mutters to her.

She turns in his hold to peer into his blue eyes. “What is going on Jax? Don’t tell me it’s smoke because they wouldn’t wait until after Opie’s case and sentence to start digging into club business.”

Jax pulls back some as he looks over her and sighs. His hands come up and caress her face. “I don’t want you worrying about this shit.”

“Don’t use this pregnancy to keep me at length. Not telling me shit keeps me worried.”

“A port commissioner was killed. He was the enemy of the Irish.” He tells her and nothing else.

“Jax…” Alma knows there is more to the story. He isn’t telling her everything and it burns.

“Babe, if it becomes something trust me I will let you know before shit hits the fan. Just focus on the little one, yeah.” He tells her as he pulls her close and back into a tight hug.

Alma only nods her head against his chest.

It was a close one Jax can admit. Luckily, with Unser on the payroll, it had been easy to sneak into the police to relay word to Luann about the Feds plan. Unfortunately, it meant Otto getting more infractions against him as he gave Stahl a busted nose and black eye. He hasn’t yet told the club about Donna’s visit to Alma or even Opie about his wife’s doubts. He hopes now that he won’t need to.

The club is in a good mood. It still hasn’t settled in that he is now Vice President of his father’s club. He has just gotten through his first, but many waves of heat the club will always get. He didn’t fuck it up and that is a plus. He smiles as he spots Alma at the bar. The new Prospect, Half Sack, is keeping her company.

God, his wife is beautiful and he knows he is a lucky bastard. He glances over to the portrait of her father. Sometimes, he wonders how he would’ve handled knowing he had gotten her pregnant and married her. Jax knows for sure he would’ve gotten his ass handed to him. Though he hopes the man is at least comforted in the fact he is taking care of her. He knows he treats Alma thousand times better than her father ever treated Ana.

Jax makes his way to his wife and wraps his arms around her. She laughs at the affection, but she melts into the hold.

“Miss me, baby?” She questions.

“All the damn time,” he admits as Half Sack slides a beer to him.

Alma smiles as she sips her cranberry juice. He moves to her side and is practically hovering over her. She doesn’t seem to mind. “I think we should tell people.”

“Now?”

He nods his head. “You’re closer to four months now. If you weren’t wearing loose sweaters people would know by now anyways.”

Jax can see her hesitation. He watches as the gears turn in her head. He doesn’t like it. His fingers pinch her chin bringing her back to him as he places soft delicate kisses on her lips. “It’ll be okay.”

Alma relaxes in his hold and she nods her head. A small smile pulls at her full lips. He slams his beer back before he pulls his beer close.

With his right hand he brings his fingers up to his mouth a whistle gathering everyone’s attention.

“Listen up, I got something to tell y'all.” He shouts. All eyes are on him. Curious as they look between him and Alma. He smiles wide. “I got another kid on the way.”

The club roars and he gives Alma a deep kiss before his brothers tackle him with hard slaps on his back in form of congratulation.

It was hard saying goodbye to their old house. Due to Alma’s heightened emotions, they didn’t sell the house, but decided to tackle being landlords. Alma just could not give up their former home.

The new home was a massive upgrade that Jax didn’t really care about and showed off the perks from his lifestyle. The European inspired home was 6 bedrooms with a 4 car garage. An in-ground pool in the backyard.

To welcome them into the home there were massive columns and arched windows over the front door. From the foyer it featured two circular staircases leading to the balcony that overlooked the Formal living room.

The kitchen included a prep island, a walk-in pantry, and a 6-person eat-at peninsula bar. Leaving the kitchen it opened into the breakfast room and family room, which featured a curved wall of windows. It also included a fireplace and directly across from there they had a covered porch.

Like the family, the master suite also had a curved wall of windows and Jax and Alma were treated to their own private covered porch. Their master bathroom had a corner glass shower, a whirlpool tub, and walk-in closets for him and her.

The hallway from the foyer leads to the spacious game room, large home theater and guest room with private bath.

The second floor of the house, which basically belonged to the kids, included 4 additional bedroom suites each with a private bath.

It was a beautiful home.

Jax smiles as he brings his arms around his wife and caresses her bump. Alma pregnant is his favorite site in the world. He presses a kiss to her cheek as she giggles.

“It is so big, Jax.” She whispers as they watch the Prospect being ordered by Kaylee where boxes are going.

“Nothing but the best for my family.”

Alma turns in his arms. Her bump pressed against his stomach. Her brown eyes are glowing. “I love you.”

“I hope so. Being married to you ain't cheap.”

Alma scoffs as she slaps him in the stomach. “It’s cheaper to keep me. You remember that.”

Jax smirks and he gives his wife an Eskimo kiss. “So no Kobe rings could ever help me out in the future.”

“Are you purposely trying to irritate your pregnant wife?”

“Maybe.” Jax quips as he presses a kiss to her lips.

“You’re a jerk.”

“I’ll give her a full body massage later, yeah.”

“You promise?”

“Of course, darlin’.” He promises as the doorbell rings. “I’ll get that. You should be sitting somewhere. Direct from the couch.”

“I’m perfectly capable of standing,” he hears Alma mutter to his back.

Jax doesn’t bother checking the windows to see who is at the door. He thinks it is probably his brothers wanting to see where their new place to freeload is.

He swings the door open and his good mood is instantly soured by the presence of Agent Stahl. “Can I help you?”

Stahl opens her mouth, but she is interrupted by the sound of his kids laughing behind him and Kaylee saddles up to his leg.

“Daddy! You missed it. Half Sack –“ She stops as she looks at the group of suits at their door.

“What’s going on, Dad?” Nathan asks as he too looks at the people on his steps.

Jax manages to keep a straight face as he picks up Kaylee and presses a kiss to her head before setting her back down next to Nathan. “Go to your mom.”

Nathan’s eyes widen at his words. “Dad –“

“Go now,” Jax orders.

No one is prepared for Kaylee to scream for her mother making all of them jump. They are all frozen when Kaylee attempts to close the door on the agents. “You’re not taking my Daddy!” She screams before latching onto her father tightly.

“Jax – “Stahl begins.

“Don’t do this now,” he says between clenched teeth.

“Is your wife home?” Stahl asks instead.

Her question is answered as Alma appears confused. “What is going on?” Half Sack is behind her.

“Mrs. Teller, you need to take your daughter.” Stahl says.

“What are you doing here?”

“I really wouldn’t like to do this in front of your kids.”

“Sack, take her,” Jax orders.

The Prospect comes over and with a tight grip pries Kaylee away from him. Jax forces himself not to watch as his daughter’s screams and cries echo throughout the house.

He presses a kiss to Alma, who is standing in shock as realization dawns on her. “I love you. Call my mom.”

He hugs his son real quick. “You take care of your mom and your sister and the little one.” Nathan nods and holds him tightly before letting go.

Jax walks away from his family.

He stands in front of Stahl as an agent with cuffs walks behind him.

“Jackson Teller, you're under arrest for the murder of Brenan Hefner. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” Stahl says as she begins leading him to the unmarked car.

He is silent as he walks to the car. He doesn’t resist as they push him in the backseat.

He doesn’t want to look at his family as he is whisked away. But as the car pulls out of his driveway, he looks back as Nathan begins screaming for him.

Alma stands behind their son who has turned in her arms. His tears staining her swollen belly.

Sometimes, Alma hates the club. She hates the hierarchy it upholds. She hates that her husband is in jail. Right now, she thinks she may even hate Clay Morrow. It wasn’t as if she was a fragile newlywed. She had grown up in this shit. He was beating around the bush and not giving her a straight fucking answer on as to why her kids had to witness their father being arrested.

“I know you’re upset –“

“I’m fucking pissed!” Alma snaps at her father in law.

Clay purses his lips in displeasure as Gemma even keeps her lips shut as she massages his hands at their dining room table.

Clay knows he is in a tricky spot. For one, he isn’t in the chapel and his status as President doesn’t matter right now. Right now he has his son’s wife demanding an answer because now club business is bleeding into family business.

He isn’t about to open his mouth because he doesn’t know what Jax wants Alma to even know. At the same time, he doesn’t want to get taken out by some pregnant broad. He has dodged bullets from soldiers and rivals; his life isn’t coming to an end due to an angry pregnant woman.

“Alma, jail time is always a risk for what we do.” He says slowly. He can see the steam rushing out of her ears.

“Don’t be fucking patronizing. I want to know what the fuck he did.” Alma seethes. “I have that right.” She knows it is a murder charge, but she wants the details.

“Alma, you need to calm down,” Gemma says, finally speaking up as she watched Alma cradle her stomach. “This isn’t good for the baby.”

Alma snorts. “That bitch arrested him in front of the kids.”

Alma doesn’t know why, but the tears just pour out of her eyes. She knows she couldn’t shelter her kids forever. She knew this day would come where her and Jax would need to explain their world. She just never wanted her kids to witness their father being taken away in handcuffs.

Alma collapses in a chair as the tears don’t stop. Gemma moves up from the table to comfort her. They all think it is better for Alma to break down now than later. She can do it now and leave the house strong for her family.

“We’ll figure this out,” Clay promises over the tears.

Clay is annoyed and pissed. That ATF bitch is blocking all attempts of making contact with Jax. The only thing they know is that he is being charged for the hit they did for the Irish. He is more concerned how in the hell there was a witness. He looks at Tig and Bobby, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.

“How’s Alma?” Bobby asks.

Clay leans back into his chair and sighs. “Pissed once she was able to read over the charges fully and the penalties. I thought you guys said it was clear?” He asks with more bite than he intends.

“It was, Clay,” Tig assures. “Easiest hit ever. Besides, Bobby and I were there. Wouldn’t they arrest us too?”

Clay sighs. He doesn’t know what game that ATF gash is playing.

“I don’t think it needs to be said, Jax ain’t gonna rat…so how in the hell are we gonna get him protection?” Bobby says speaking up.

Clay runs a hand through his hair. The last thing he wants is to ask the Nords for more help. “What we need to do is find the rat.” Clay tells them.

“Serious allegation, Clay,” Bobby cautions.

“No shit, but how in the hell do you explain someone identifying Jax as the shooter?”

Both men turn silent.

“Something ain’t right about this.” Clay mutters.

“You need to calm down,” Gemma orders as she watches Alma pace in the kitchen of the unpacked home. Boxes are still closed and Gemma guesses Jax’s recent arrest has made her neglect certain things.

Most importantly, Gemma is just worried about the health of her unborn grandchild.

“I fucking can’t.” Alma tells her. “We just bought this house. I don’t work. How in the fuck am I going to support three kids on no salary?”

Gemma frowns. “You know that you don’t need to worry about that.”

“That is not the point.” Alma stresses. Alma wants to scream in frustration at being in this situation. She knows after this baby comes she is going to make some major changes in her life.

Gemma purses her lips together. She wants to snap and tell Alma that she needs to get her shit together. It is just a stark contrast to how Alma is usually calm and reserved. It makes Gemma wonder how much Alma buries or this is literally pregnancy emotions that can’t let her even allow to comprehend one emotion to latch onto.

“How about we take things week by week, or better yet focus on that baby in your belly. Let the club worry about Jax.” Gemma advises.

Alma takes a calming breath as she places a hand on her prominent belly. It’s a tense and uncomfortable silence that Gemma isn’t used to being on the receiving end of. Gemma almost jumps when fat tears escape Alma’s eyes. She watches as the tears splash against the woman’s cheeks and stain against her shirt.

Gemma doesn’t exactly know what is stopping her from consoling her daughter in law. She is almost embarrassed when Nathan comes in and sees the state of his mother.

Nathan rushes over to his mother. “Mom, what’s wrong?” He asks as his arms wrap around her as much as they can. “It’s going to be okay, Mom.” Nathan whispers.

Alma opens her arms and embraces her oldest child.

Alma’s eyes meet Gemma’s. The tears stop coming.

The only good part about being locked up in Federal custody is that he isn’t in the general population. He is isolated and the food isn’t’ that shitty. He doesn’t need to try and make friends, which could mess up his standing and getting a deal. So he is not complaining or making a fuss too much and the last thing he wants is to give Alma added stress.

And after two days of nothing, the agents were finally dragging him to the visitation room. He sits quietly before Stahl comes through the door with her manila envelope.

She doesn’t bother with a greeting as she takes a sit opposite him. “You killed a state official, Jax. The U.S. Attorney will seek the death penalty.”

“I didn't kill anybody.” Jax tells her. “And if you have anything else to say, why don't you talk to my lawyer?”

Stahl smirks. “Well, if my witness statement is a lie... then maybe you should hear all of it, hmm?”

Jax smiles. “Yeah, I like a good story.”

Stahl leans back in her chair as she opens her folder. “Hefner got spooked by seeing Bobby. He turned back to you. You jammed your gun in his sternum and fired four shots. Hefner fell. You and Bobby fled the balcony... and met up downstairs with Alexander Trager.”

“Great fiction.” Jax replies. Although in his mind, the wheels are turning. He knows Bobby and Tig would never rat, so someone had to be tailing them to know that.

“Eyewitness fiction.” Stahl counters. “If you confess now, the attorney might go lenient. Maybe get you a better deal to maybe see your unborn child get married at least. Do you know what you’re having?”

Jax clenches his jaw. “Are we done here?”

“Is there anything you would like me to tell your family? I know that she is due soon.”

Jax doesn’t bother with a reply.

“I would think about your family Jax. You’re going to be doing years. I can’t imagine a child only knowing their father in prison clothes.”

Clay can feel the other parents glaring at him, but he doesn’t fucking care. With Jax being in jail, Gemma handling the garage and family business, and Alma running errands to deal with Jax's future sentence, Clay is on babysitting duty.

He is not really complaining. He loves being around his grandchildren. He loves every minute being with them. Though now, the reason parents are glaring at him, outside of him smoking his Cuban cigars, were the visitors he was getting at the playground.

Usually Clay does his best to separate his business from family life. He knows Alma will have his ass on a sling if he finds out he was handling business at a wooden picnic table. However, with Jax locked up, business needed to be handled and he needed to figure out how to make sure his son can come home on a reasonable time frame.

Clay looks over his shoulder to find his grandchildren causing havoc on the slides. He smiles before he almost drops his cigar at the site of Rosen. Usually, Lowen, Rosen’s associate, would get her fancy pumps dirty to deliver messages.

He knows it must be serious and for a minute he is scared shitless he is about to deliver the worst.

“Clay,” Rosen greets as he reaches the table.

“Is it Jax?” Clay asks.

“Surprisingly, no,” Rosen says as he sits opposite of him. “I got a message from Opie.”

Clay’s eyebrows skyrocket.

“I should say Lenny’s lawyer reached out to me with a message from Opie.” Rosen clarifies.

Clay doesn’t even want to know how in the hell Opie managed to get a message to Lenny, who is in Stockton, from Chino.

“And how much are you charging me to deliver this message?” Clay quips.

Rosen doesn’t banter as he looks at Clay in the eyes. “Opie says the Feds have gone to see him. A few times and even with the added threat to tack on more to his sentence.”

“Why?”

“Apparently someone is talking to the Feds. Gave a detailed list to the Feds of a bunch of alleged crimes Opie and Jax partook in. I mean it’s a lot of shit that goes back to their prospect years.”

What the fuck.

“Is it just Opie and Jax?” Clay asks.

“He said there is some other shit that is more broad, but specifics are mostly him and Jax.” Rosen tells him. “Now before you say anything damning, I’m gonna go. We never had this conversation.”

Clay seethes as he watches Rosen walk away. Of all the things he expected to hear. There is a goddamn rat at the table. And he knows who the fuck it is. The goddamn fucking rat.

“Fucking Kyle…” Tig mutters.

“You put a goddamn tail on him.” Clay seethes quietly. “Call Happy down here. Download him. Figure what Kyle’s been up to.”

“On it boss.” Tig says as he pulls out his phone and walks away.

Clay regrets that he didn’t see this coming. He failed as the President by not realizing the potential fallout of patching out Kyle.

“Grandpa! Push me on the swings, please!” Kaylee yells out.

Clay looks at his granddaughter. Her smile is a carbon copy of Jax’s.

Kyle won’t be shown any type of mercy.

Alma finds it hard to sleep at night. It’s not that she isn’t tired. She is and the baby is sucking the life out of her. It is just that her mind won’t stop. Her thoughts won’t let her rest. It’s not like she can exactly go to a therapist to talk about the shit she lives through.

But she knows she can’t go on for long like this. She does need to think about her children. She believes if she wasn’t pregnant her emotions wouldn’t be as severe. She would be able to pull back and let things simmer. She would be able to wade through the water before finding a crystal clear path.

Besides, the last thing she needs is for Jax to be worrying about her. She needs to get it together. Nathan shouldn’t have seen her crying like that. She feels awful that he had to comfort her. She should have shed her tears alone in her bedroom where the cold is prominent on Jax’s side of the bed.

“Mommy?”

Alma turns from where she is sitting at her vanity. She finds Kaylee standing behind the door in her purple pajamas.

Alma smiles. “And what are you doing out of bed?”

Kaylee smiles sheepishly as she walks further into the room. Alma’s heart breaks a little to think that her baby is about to be five years old. It seems only yesterday she gave birth to her little girl. She was still changing her diapers. Now, she will be starting school.

“I couldn’t sleep, Mommy,” Kaylee replies. Kaylee stands in front of her mother. Her attention focused solely on the cosmetics and beauty items laid out.

“Couldn’t sleep? And why is that?” Alma questions.

Kaylee gives her a mischievous smile. A smile that she knows that she inherited from Jax, Alma has seen that smile many times.

“You’re very pretty, Mommy.” Kaylee says with a blush. “I want to be pretty like you.”

“You’ll be prettier than me when you’re older.” Alma says as Kaylee plays with the brushes on the counter.

“Daddy says you are the most beautiful girl alive.” Kaylee tells her.

“Did he?” Alma asks. She is at least grateful Jax’s absence hasn’t affected Kaylee’s love and fond reminiscents of Jax.

Kaylee smiles. “Can I brush your hair, Mommy?”

“Of course. Let’s move to the bed so you can reach me alright.”

Kaylee beams and hastily gets on the bed. Alma moves to the edge and her little girl is eager to start brushing.

“Your hair is getting so long.” Kaylee says as she runs the brush through her long dark locks.

“Do you think I should cut it?”

“We both can get haircuts!” Kaylee decides.

Alma laughs. “We’ll see after the baby is born.”

Kaylee brushes for a few more moments and then stops as she settles next to her mother. Her small hand is timid as she reaches out and places her palm against her protruding stomach.

“I’m sad.” Kaylee announces.

Alma frowns as she wraps her arms around her daughter. “Why are you sad, Baby?”

“Because you’re sad that Daddy isn’t here.”

“Kaylee,” Alma says shakenly. Alma isn’t even sure how to respond to that.

“Do you think the baby will be sad?”

This Alma can answer. “No, the baby will be happy. They will have you and Nathan as a big brother and sister. They’ll be happy. And…Daddy will come home one day.”

“You promise?” Kaylee asks her with wide brown eyes. Alma’s heart almost breaks as she is reminded of a similar conversation she had with her own mother when her father went to prison. Her father never came home.

“How bout you sleep with Mommy tonight. I’ll feel better when I wake up in the morning.”

It’s been a weird few days. Clay has been quiet on what’s going on with Jax. Alma doesn’t focus on it. Her main focus needs to be on her kids and she is just lucky her mom hasn’t gone on a soapbox about her situation.

Besides, she promised the kids a camping trip in the backyard. She is sort of looking forward to it herself as she fills her cart up with marshmallows and chocolate. She wonders if she can borrow the Prospect to help. If anything it might be a vacation for him.

She is leaving the aisle when her cart almost hits someone.

“Sorry.” Alma says apologizing.

“It’s alright, Mrs. Teller.”

Alma freezes at the sight of Stahl. “Agent Stahl, I would say it’s been nice to see you.”

Stahl presses her lips in a flat line. “Considering I am feeling generous, I would pick up tomorrow’s paper.”

“I think I would rather not.”

Stahl licks her lips. “I mean you had to see this coming? This life you lead and if your husband would talk he might get to see his youngest graduate from high school.”

“Screw you.”

“Any bit of cooperation can help your husband.”

Alma laughs bitterly. “If anything the very least you can let me talk to my husband.”

Alma walks away from Stahl and goes to check out, but the skinny agent follows her. “You know I get it.”

“Get what?”

“The struggle you must feel. Wanting to give your kids a good life and raise your kids with their father. But it’s a fine line though right. You’re about to be on the verge of repeating the cycle. After all, your father never came home from prison.”

Alma whips around to look at Stahl. She almost can’t believe the words that escaped the agent's mouth.

Alma opens her mouth, but a pained gasp escapes her lips.

“Mrs. Teller, you okay?”

Alma feels her lower body tighten. She looks down between her legs and finds blood spreading.

Jax had been doing his daily workout routine when the guards had come to his cell. Usually they make some smart aleck remark and there would be some light hearted banter. Today, there was none of that. The men were quiet as they escorted him to the small visitation room. As he sat and waited for Stahl, he wondered what bullshit she was going to sprout on him.

He thought she would be up his ass the whole time during his stay, but she surprisingly left him alone.

He is waiting for a couple minutes before Stahl presents herself and he doesn’t miss that the camera is turned off. She doesn’t greet him. She walks stiffly to her seat. She has no papers. Nothing. She just sits and stares blankly at him.

“You got something you wanna say?” He asks, breaking the silence.

Stahl looks at him blankly. Jax feels he isn’t going to like what is going to come out of her mouth. That is the usual feeling with her, but this time something is extremely off. Something is wrong.

She clears her throat. “I wanted to give you this news in person.”

Jax leans back in his chair. “Well, that doesn't sound good.”

Stahl chews on her bottom lip before she sits up straighter and looks him in the eyes. She folds her hands across the table top. “Your wife, Alma, she’s in the hospital.”

Jax’s spine stiffens. “What are you talkin' about?”

“She had a miscarriage. I can’t tell you what exactly went wrong, but it was a close call for her. She lost a lot of blood.”

Jax doesn’t say anything as he looks up at the ceiling. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “You make it sound like you were there.”

“I was the one to call the ambulance. She was at the store when it happened.” Stahl reveals to him. “There was a witness who fingered you. We also got some corroborating statements from Kyle Hobart about past crimes.”

“Why are you tellin' me this?”

“We'll be charging you with Hefner's murder. U.S. Attorney will seek the death penalty. I guess I'm feeling guilty about the pain your wife and children will go through.”

Jax shakes his head. “I’m surprised you feel anything.”

Stahl stands up. “He was a boy, by the way. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Stahl leaves the visiting room. Jax doesn’t even wait to be taken back to his room as he breaks down in tears.

#the unknown #soa fanfiction #sons of anarchy fanfiction #jax teller #jax teller x oc

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alphacrone · 4 years

Text

for it’s better to burn out than to fade out of sight (6/?)

rating: T pairings: Yuki & Tohru (platonic), Tohru/Kyo, Yuki/Machi, other canon pairings & friendships summary: In the end, it wasn’t sadness Yuki felt, when Tohru Honda had her memories erased. No, it was anger. And anger he could work with.

<< read previous chapter || read next chapter >>

v. my cliff face is crumbling, silently tumbling, down to the water below

***

Yuki wasn’t sure what happened. One day he was hanging out normally with Tohru, playing card games and eating lunch, and the next she was scurrying away from him in the halls. Had he done something to offend her? Was he annoying her, spending so much time with her group of friends? Did he smell ?

Uotani and Hanajima noticed—of course they did, they’d been on high alert since the tent incident—but made no mention of it to Yuki. This, shockingly, did nothing to alleviate his worry.

Before, they’d chat in the mornings before class, sit together to eat lunch, and then sometimes hang out after school, whether to walk home or to Tohru’s job or to a convenience store to get drinks. But now she made excuses to skip lunch, arrived to class late and left as soon as the bell rang. Yuki thought he was going to lose his mind as he obsessively thought of anything and everything he could have done to hurt her.

This went on for a whole week before Uotani and Hanajima cornered Yuki by the lockers as he prepared to go home.

“Have you noticed anything...off about Tohru lately?” Uotani asked, arms folded defensively across her chest. She reflexively looked over her shoulder as a few chattering girls passed.

“Off?” Yuki asked. He dropped his shoes to the floor and pulled off one of his uwabaki . “She has been avoiding me, but I’m not sure what I did to offend her.”

Uotani nodded. “At first I thought you just did something stupid and Tohru was being too nice to tell us about it, but now...she’s acting really shifty around us, too.”

With a sigh, Yuki slipped on his shoes. “Have you tried talking to her about it?”

“Yes,” Hanajima replied. “She denies anything is wrong. But she’s lying.”

“Do you think…?” Yuki paused, unsure how to verbalize his thoughts delicately.

Uotani, however, had no such qualms. “That she’s being mistreated by her family? Yeah.”

“She doesn’t say much about her aunt and oldest cousin,” Hanajima said grimly, face not showing a hint of emotion. “She says very kind things about her grandpa, and sometimes her cousin, Kaoru. But the other two...I don’t trust them.”

“Do you think they’re...hurting her?” Yuki asked, alarmed. His hands began to shake involuntarily, so he gripped tighter at his satchel.

“I don’t think so,” Uotani said with a sigh. “Not, like, physically. But Tohru’s too nice, I think they’re taking advantage of that. She’s so good at cooking and cleaning, those rat bastards probably think she owes them and makes her do all the chores, even though she’s got school and work and stuff! Kids shouldn’t have to earn a place to live, you know? Not from their families.”

“They shouldn’t,” Yuki said softly. “But she may feel she has to.”

Uotani huffed with dark laughter and shook her head. “You may not’ve known Tohru long, but you’re spot-on with that, Prince . Fuck!” Uotani kicked one of the lockers, hands in her hair. “Should I just kidnap her? Force her to live with me n’ Pops and refuse to let her do any chores ever ?”

“My parents would love to have her back with us,” Hanajima said simply. “They think it’s refreshing to have such a hardworking young person in the house. Megumi and I lack motivation.”

Yuki couldn’t say it to them, but he knew of a household that desperately missed Tohru’s presence, a place where she’d had her own room and was free to be herself. She’d insisted on doing the cooking and the cleaning, but only because Shigure had convinced her not to pay rent. She hadn’t just been good for the Sohmas in that house; Yuki truly believed they’d been good for her, too.

“Perhaps...we should have a word with her grandfather,” Yuki suggested. “Without Tohru present.”

Uotani’s eyes lit up. “Oh, now there’s an idea. You really are more than just a pretty face.”

Yuki huffed and gave Uotani an unimpressed look. She laughed and slapped his shoulder, far more aggressively than he anticipated.

“You will be a valuable asset in the future,” Hanajima agreed. “Let’s discuss this further tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, we can figure out the details later.” Uotani waved at Yuki. “See ya later!”

“Later…” Yuki parroted, feeling a little overwhelmed. Uotani and Hanajima were never not overwhelming, but he felt he’d grown closer to them lately, so their loud personalities felt more amusing than grating. He could see what Tohru loved about them.

Feeling lighter than he had all day, Yuki began his long walk home. Tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow...

***

Tohru was still avoiding him the next day. Uotani shot him a concerned grimace as Tohru made an excuse to not eat lunch with them that day, but Yuki wasn’t having it. As she scurried away from Hanajima, Yuki followed, rushing out of the classroom without a word. It was one thing to avoid him , but for Tohru to avoid her two closest friends? Yuki was putting an end to it.

“Honda, please!” He called as she turned a corner. “Wait up!”

He could hear her footsteps grow faster, so he broke into a sprint. Tohru was many things, but fast was not one of them.

Yuki caught up to her in the stairwell, halfway up to the third floor. He grabbed her hand, nearly tripping them both in the process, but he was willing to do anything to get Tohru to stop .

“ Please,” he panted, squeezing tightly at her hand. “Honda, please, whatever I did, I’m sorry. Please don’t avoid your friends because of me. Please .”

“What?” Tohru’s voice was small and shaky. “I-I’m not avoiding anyone, I’m just- busy! I promise.”

“Honda…” Yuki let go of her hand. “We’ve all noticed. Uotani and Hanajima are really worried about you. I’m worried about you. So if I did something, please just tell me and I’ll go away, I won’t ever talk to you again-”

“No!” Tohru covered her mouth. “I mean...you didn’t do anything, Sohma. I...I can’t tell you what’s wrong. But it’s not something you did, I don’t think…”

“You don’t...think…?” Yuki narrowed his eyes. “Honda, please, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I-I...I have photos,” Tohru whispered, curling in on herself until her hair draped in front of her face, blocking her from Yuki’s view. “Photos of...us.”

Yuki, for the life of him, could not recall taking a selfie with Tohru, nor were Hana and Uo the type to snap candids of their friends while hanging out. The only people who ever took his picture were the girls from the fan club…

His heart skipped a beat. “Is someone harassing you?” He asked, leaning in closer. “For...for being friends with me?”

“No! No, it’s not that,” Tohru scrambled, still hiding her face from him. “M-my aunt hired a private detective to follow me, before I moved in with them, and he- he took photos of me. Of us.”

“They what? ” Yuki’s frown deepened. “Your family doesn’t approve of...friends? Male friends? Is that it?”

“Sohma.” The seriousness of her tone made Yuki’s blood run cold. She looked up at him, eyes red and swollen, looking distraught. It was devastating.

“Honda…” Yuki leaned back, realizing he’d encroached so far into her personal space, their noses had nearly touched.

Tohru took a deep, shuddering breath and said, “I don’t remember it. Any of it. There are pictures of us walking home, going to the store...and Kyo is in them, too, and I don’t remember ever seeing him outside school, but there are pictures and- and I know it’s me and you and him in the pictures but how ? How could all these pictures exist? How could they exist and I don’t- I don’t remember...we weren’t even friends then, when I was living in the tent.”

Emotions crashed like waves in Yuki’s chest, battering his ribs like ships upon rocks. He was relieved and horrified and distraught and elated all at once, heart clenching at the dark circles under Tohru’s eyes, the sickly pallor from all the nights she must have stayed awake thinking she’d gone mad. He wanted nothing more, in that moment, than to be able to take her hand and tell her nothing was wrong. But he couldn’t; Yuki refused to lie to her.

“What if I told you…” he said slowly. “That people’s memories could be suppressed?”

Tohru’s lips parted in a shocked oh . “Sohma, what do you mean?”

“There are people in my family, who have studied the art of memory suppression,” he continued carefully. “It’s something they have to implement when...outsiders learn our secret.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Tohru whispered, voice cracking with emotion. “What’s going on?”

“Do you remember living in the tent, all those weeks? Do you remember anything from that time?”

“Yes…” Tohru paused, teeth worrying at her bottom lip. “I remember...it was a little scary at first. There were bugs everywhere and I could hear dogs howling at night. I had to shower and wash my clothes at school, too, but I wasn’t worried because I always had Mom with me. Except when- when…” She swallowed audibly, eyes roving back and forth as she dug further into her memory. “There was...a landslide. Mom- Mom was buried and I couldn’t get her out and then...then everything was okay. Did someone…? I remember...ornaments. I saw Zodiac ornaments set out to dry...at someone’s house? But there wasn’t a cat one, of course there wasn’t, but I was still sad.” She closed her eyes, head clutched in her hands. “There was a garden.”

“A garden?” Yuki’s throat grew tight. “What was in the garden.”

“Leeks,” Tohru responded, and then she laughed. “I don’t know why that’s funny, I’m sorry.”

“It is funny,” Yuki said gently. “Kyo hates them.”

The corner of Tohru’s mouth quirked up. “Sohma...did I learn your family’s secret?” She asked in a hushed whisper.

Yuki nodded, too relieved to speak.

“And...my memories were erased,” she said. Yuki tried to nod again, but instead ducked his head low in shame.

“I-I’m sorry,” he said, hot tears spilling over his cheeks. “I couldn’t stop it. I should’ve tried harder, but I could-couldn’t.”

“It’s okay,” Tohru said, taking Yuki’s hand back in hers. “I know you wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t important.”

Yuki shook with his tears, sobbing heavily as the relief and terror overcame him after weeks of balancing on a razor’s edge. She knew . She didn’t remember, but she knew .

“So, we were friends, then?” Tohru asked softly. “And then I forgot, and we became friends again?”

“Y-yeah,” Yuki rasped. “You-you said...you asked me if we could still be friends, after you forgot. Th-that’s why I asked to eat lunch with you that day. I wanted us to be friends, like we had been.”

“Thank you,” Tohru said, and her voice sounded almost as watery as his. “Thank you.”

And then she did the one thing Yuki hoped for and feared. She threw her arms around him in a hug. For a brief, bright moment, Yuki relished the warmth of her close to him, the sweet scent of her shampoo, the absolute love that radiated from her like light from the sun.

But then he felt the tell-tale pull of transformation, thick smoke engulfed him, and he plummeted to the ground fast and hard.

Tohru’s gasp was the last thing he heard before everything went black.

#fruits basket fanfiction #fruits basket spoilers #fruits basket #furuba fanfiction #yuki & tohru #anna writes things #x-posting from ao3

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keanuvibe · 4 years

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Bodyguard (John Wick x Reader) Pt. 4

A/N: Hi! sorry im awful at uploading lol. my personal life rn is on fire and i haven’t had all the time in the world to write, but managed to pull this chapter together so :) thats coolio.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: swears, violence, a lil fluff

“So, tell me everything.” June smirked, leaning over the table towards you. You had managed to meet the girls on time, only a few minutes past twelve- thirty. The three of you got seated shortly after, and ordered your cocktails; beginning the rounds of catching up you had to do. The restaurant is diner themed, set in the 1950’s. One wall of the building was a bar, fit with barstools, an ice cream machine, as well as a soda machine. There was even a section where you could order homemade candy. Little booths scattered the wall across from the bar, and tables separated the two. The floor was checkered design donning many muddy footprints and the walls were covered in old-timey photos of local streets. You and the girls sat at a booth, June and Dottie sitting across from you.

“Okay, get this,” You began, leaning in towards your friends, “Santino, you know, mio cugino pazzo. He’s mad at my father and is trying to kill me for it.” ‘[My crazy cousin.]’ You finished and took another long sip of your cocktail. June and Dottie stared with their mouths agape. You calmly set down your drink and smiled shyly, eyes bouncing between the girls. You loved your friends, honestly. The three of you have been close since you were young teens. June and Dot also had connections to the Italian mafia, their fathers having run a section of both New York and New Jersey; although they aren't as intertwined as you. June is the oldest, one year older than yourself. She’s an old soul, that you know for sure. She wears dated clothes and uses dated household items; in fact, you can't recall June ever purchasing something new from the stores you and Dot go to. Hell, even her car is a 1978 AMC Pacer. Dottie is only a few months older than you, on the other hand. She is the spitting image of a pinup girl. She wears her hair in elegant waves and has bangs, she even wears button up dresses and has big hair bows for when shes feeling fancy. You can’t recall a time when she didn’t wear red lipstick nearly everyday.

“Should you even be outside?” Dottie whispered, leaning closer to your figure. Her New York accent was a little amplified by the drinks she’s had already. You shrugged as your answer, and June scoffed.

“You, (Y/N), are unbelievable.” The waiter to walked up to your table, halting your conversation. The three of you blinked at the other, little grins holding back giggles ready to erupt. The waiter asked for your orders, then as soon as the young man had left, you jumped right back into it.

“You guys should see my bodyguard.” You spoke, a smirk donning your face. Your mind wondered as to what he was up to right now. Maybe he's still sitting waiting for you to exit the bathroom, or, maybe he's already begun the witch hunt.

“Ah, yes. John? As you've mentioned. Show us! the way you've described him- He sounds gorgeous.” Dottie eagerly bounced in her seat, urging you to show them a picture. You pulled out your phone, stomach dropping at the several messages that donned the lock screen; John’s contact name on each one. Witch hunt is it.

12:47: Very funny. Where are you?

12:59: Where are you.

1:13: (Y/N). This isn’t a game.

1:21: I’m coming to find you.

At least it took him almost an hour and a half to notice. You bit your cheek, looking up at June and Dottie. The two girls were engaged in conversation, talking about something or another. You cleared the notifications and unlocked your phone, hoping to god you got to finish your lunch before John caught up. You opened the camera roll and scrolled through until you found a picture of you and the bodyguard. Somehow, you'd gotten him to agree to a photo. He was bent over so his head was level with your own. Due to the lighting, the man was squinting, however the dark gaze caused a chill to form down your back. You cleared your throat and flipped your phone around to show the girls. Dottie stopped talking and immediately looked at the screen

“Oh my god.” She murmured, sitting back and putting her hand over her chest. “He’s so handsome.” June grabbed the phone from you to get a better look.

“You have to fuck him.” The eldest commented with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. You let out a short laugh, snatching your phone back from the girls grasp. The two girls giggled at your embarrassment, Dot even took a coy sip from her drink.

“Was that gray in his beard? How old is he?” Dottie asked, looking you in the eye and sipping on her own cocktail.

“Don’t laugh, okay? He’s mid fifties.” A blush crawled across your cheeks as your words escaped your lips. June and Dottie blinked a couple times before Dot finally let out a snort.

“Going geriatric, now? hm?” June spoke, raising her brow and taking a gulp of her drink. While Dottie laughed at June’s question, you glanced over their shoulders, witnessing two burly men sit down at a table across from yours. One of them made eye contact with you, glare evident in their gaze, before looking back to their buddy. You felt your skin crawl and cleared your throat, pushing the feeling away. June’s laughter brought you back, now looking between the two girls again.

“Well, He- He really doesn't feel old. Not when we're together.” You shrugged, playing with the condensation on your drink.

“I mean, you’re only twenty-six,” Dot spoke, her eyes glancing between you and June. “You’re young and hot. I don't see an issue.” Your eyes shot up to meet Dottie’s. She smiled at you, her dark brown eyes warming your core.

“Who are we to judge,” June began, a laugh escaping her throat. “I slept with that old guy, remember? He was, like, almost sixty and I was drunk as hell.” You and Dottie laughed, remembering that night. It was June’s twenty-third birthday. You three went to the club to celebrate and the eldest of your group ended up getting too wasted on absinthe. Which resulted in her sleeping with Mitch Johnson, an old friend of your fathers. Small world.

“And you,” June pointed to Dottie, “Are a homewrecker.”

“He never said he was married.” Dottie responded, sticking her tongue out at the woman. The three of you chuckled amongst yourselves before a silence took over. Your eyes once again scanned the room, not being able to shake the eerie feeling those two men implanted. They still sat across the diner and occasionally their eyes would make contact with your own, causing a chill to run up your spine. You quietly flipped your phone over, checking for any more messages from John. The screen remained blank, setting panic to freely course through your veins. His previous message was sent fifteen minutes ago, which meant the man was probably on his way right now. Plus, your parents didn’t live far from Coopers.

The men both stood up now, locking eyes with you. They then looked at the other, as though confirmation was in order, before beginning to walk in the direction that you and the girls sat. Anxiety courses firmly through your veins now, and you could feel your palms gather sweat.

“Girls,” You murmured, gathering their attention. “There are two men walking in our direction now, and I’m pretty sure they are after me.” You kept your voice low, trying to pretend as though you are oblivious. June and Dottie became physically uncomfortable, now shifting in their seats and looking over their shoulders. You felt guilt cross your person, now realizing how serious the situation is. You put your two best friends in harm's way. I mean, It’s not like they’re completely useless; they have parents in the Mafia, they’re trained in combat and weaponry. However, the guilt still bothered you that it was your fault.

“How do we go about this?” Dot asked, reaching for her purse. Your eyes watched as the woman dug into her bag. The pop of a gun chamber sounded as she began to fill it with bullets. June tied her hair back and began to stretch her arms. You sometimes forget that June is trained extensively in Jiu Jitsu. You also looked back to the men who were still making their way to you, passing through the crowded dining room floor.

“Should we leave the public space?” You murmured, “I don’t want civilian casualties.”

“Yes.” June agreed, standing up. “Gather your things, quickly.” She added. The oldest tossed a fifty dollar bill onto the table to pay for the drinks and the food you didn’t get to eat. You led the way, pushing through the crowded dining room to the exit. You glanced back, seeing the men become more frustrated. You are aware of the other, knowing what little cat and mouse game was occurring.

Your palms shoved the door open, the three of you stumbling over onto the sidewalk. You looked both ways before leading right. You didn’t know what to do, whether you should try to outrun them, or stick up and fight. Maybe if you kill them it’ll send a message to Santino. Though, he may not even care. As he’s got twenty more men to fill the space those two would leave. You made sure June and Dottie still followed, checking over your shoulder occasionally. The three of you pushed through the crowds of New York, your main destination being Dottie’s vehicle. Your eyes also kept a lookout for John. He probably tracked your phone, you knew he had the ability anyways. You’re just glad the little ploy worked for as long as it did. You turned right down an alleyway, taking a shortcut towards the parking garage that Dot’s car was in. June looked over her shoulder, alarm blaring through her veins as she spotted the men.

“They’re still behind us.” She spoke, looking between you and Dottie. You took a deep breath, placing your hands on your hips.

“Va al diavolo!” ‘[Go to hell!]’ You cursed, throwing your hands up. Dot quickly grabbed you by the arm, pulling you as she began to run to the end. June grunted as the three of you approached a dead end, meeting a chain link fence.

“Fanculo. Okay, you two climb over.” ‘[Fuck.]’ You spoke, gesturing to the fence that stood in front of you. Your eyes met those of your friends, all breathing heavily from the sprint. Echoed footsteps could be heard at the entrance of the alley. You glanced over your shoulder, seeing the silhouettes of the men headed in your direction.

“Go!” You spoke with a harshness towards your friends.

“Not without you!” Dottie raised her tone, hands on hips. You turned your head again, seeing them get closer.

“Dot, just go!” You finally yelled. The girls hesitated, however respected your wishes and quickly climbed the fence, hopping to the other side. They stood now, staring as the men approached, getting ready to jump back over if need be.

“Santino it ha Inviato?” ‘[Did Santino send you?]’ You asked the men, slowly walking towards them.

“Si.” ‘[Yes.]’ One responded, their faces finally becoming clear from the backlight. You looked at them, noting how they both looked like average Italian men. Dark hair, olive eyes, and warm skin. Their faces were covered in a few scars, and you noted how they both wore suits with visible holsters resting on their hips

“It ha mandato per uccidermi?” ‘[Did he send you to kill me?]’ You asked, the men now only ten feet away from you. The darkness of the alley sent a chill down your spine, and you glanced back at the girls to make sure they were alright. Dot had her hand in her purse, most likely gearing up for when shit turned sideways. June held a stoic look, almost a resting bitch face, staring down the two men.

“Si.” The same one answered again. They now stood only five feet away, stopping in front of you. You felt the sweat drip down your forehead, the buggy summer heat beginning to take claim of your body. You took a deep breath, wondering where John was, and how now would be a good time for him to suddenly appear. The men cracked their knuckles, rolling their shoulders and looking at you with sinister smiles.

“Di ‘a Santino: E un peccato che sia troppo codardo per uccidermi.” ‘[Tell Santino: It’s a shame he’s too much of a coward to kill me himself.]’ You spoke, remembering the moves that your bodyguard had taught you. You leapt forward, first knocking one of the men down by pushing in his kneecaps. You took the moment to quickly hit the next guy, however, he blocked your blow, sending you back a few feet. The second man took advantage of your hesitation and grabbed you, throwing you into one of the walls. You let out a yelp, feeling the brick scrape bare skin harshly. The first guy stood up, and threw a fist at you, however, you quickly dodged and used his own momentum to toss his body into the wall.

You felt as the second lackey quickly punched your gut, causing you to double over in pain. June and Dottie stood yelling which you could hear through ringing ears. You recovered quickly, countering the second man with a swift kick to his shin. He groaned, but recovered and swung a fist at you. You managed to dodge the blow and delivered a hearty boot to his groin. He quickly dropped to the ground in pain and you grabbed the pistol from his holster, pulling the trigger and placing one bullet into his skull. The second man used this moment to grab your loose shirt, and throw you into the brick, scraping your skin once again. He lifted his foot and conveyed a kick to your gut, sending you to double over. He used his fist to hit the sides of your face, throwing your head back and forth. You could feel blood begin to drip down your face, the pain that each snap of your neck caused, you could hear June and Dot yelling but it was faint. Time felt slowed, your heartbeat was like a drum in your ear. Then, a gunshot.

All movements stopped, followed by the thud of a body hitting the ground near your own. You slowly slid down, ignoring the burning chafe the brick left. Hot tears stung your eyes as you covered them with your hands, a harsh sob leaving your throat. Your body ached, your face burned, and blood was the only taste that donned your mouth. You heard the chain link rattle as somebody climbed over it, as well as a huff when they landed. A gentle hand placed itself on your shoulder, and you saw as they knelt down, due to the shadow.

“(Y/N).” John. A hoarse cry escaped your throat upon hearing your bodyguards gentle voice. He wasn’t angry, like you expected. Instead, his tone seemed more worried than anything. You managed to look up at the man from your hands, your eyes greeting the sight of his own.

“Oh my god, (Y/N)!” You heard Dottie yell as she approached your side. The two girls quickly examined your body, nearly shoving John out of the way.

“I fucked up.” You didn’t even recognize your voice as you spoke— your throat burned. June dotted your bloody forehead with a napkin from Dot’s purse.

“We should get her back home.” Dottie murmured, looking up at John. The dark haired man nodded, agreeing with the woman. June moved out of the way so he could scoop you into his arms. You lay your head onto his chest, faintly hearing the sound of his heartbeat and breathing. The man carried you out of the alley with June and Dottie close behind. You felt the summer sun warm your face as you exited the cool shade of the alleyway. The fresh breeze brought your attention to the cuts on your face, feeling the coolness from the semi-dried blood. Dottie opened the vehicles door and John placed you in the passenger seat, buckling your body firmly in. The two girls hopped into the back, John promising they’d be returned to their car later this evening. You heard the rumble of the engine, and closed your eyes, feeling tiredness numb the pain that ravaged your figure.

——————

“How long have you been employed by the (Y/L/N)’s?” Dottie’s gentle voice quietly echoed throughout your bedroom. Mellow sun rays shone in through the window, casting a warm haze throughout the space. After the incident in the alleyway, John brought you, Dottie, and June back to your parents estate. However, after you all got back, John discovered they'd left on business to Rome for a few days. He carried your figure all the way from the car to your bed, carefully depositing you. Dot and June then got to work, bandaging your wounds, though after you seemed stable and well asleep, they backed off and let you get some rest. Now, John watched as Dottie cared for your sleeping figure. His heart couldn’t help but ache to see you so helpless laying there. Your face had been drained of some of its color, leaving it more pale and sickly. Your hair stuck to your skin, and a thin layer of sweat covered your body. Your bodyguard wanted so badly to climb into the bed with you, stroke your hair from your face, tend to your bandages, hold you, kiss you.

“Month and a half.” John answered, looking over to the woman. She nodded at his answer, dotting your forehead with a wet washcloth. The woman sat next to your bed with a rag in hand, occasionally cleaning your skin of sweat and dried blood specs. June was asleep on the small couch you had in your bedroom next to one of the windows. John stood on the opposite side of the bed from Dottie, watching her every movement when it came to caring for you. Occasionally your body would stir, but you still hadn’t woken up since the car— four hours ago.

“Are you liking it?” The vintage dressed woman asked, a smirk crossing her red lips. She cast her eyes between John and your sleeping figure, hinting as to what she was meaning.

“I am.” He responded. Dottie noticed his softened gaze when he looked towards you. She glanced back down at your face, wiping your skin with the washcloth gently. Your brow bone contained a nasty laceration and your cheekbone held a nice bruise with a cut as well. There was also a gash on your bottom lip, and your left eye held a hefty black bruise. That man really got ahold of you.

“They're a good family. I know Francesco means well,” Dot murmured, “Speaking of, have you let them know?” John watched as the woman stood up and walked to the bathroom retrieving a fresh bowl of water for your face.

“I called Francesco shortly after we arrived here.” The dark haired man spoke. He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning towards your figure. He brushed away a few strands of hair that had fallen in your face. His thumb caressed your cheek afterwords, carefully avoiding the wounds that donned your skin. He felt your body stir, and a quiet groan escape your lips as you started to wake up. Dot walked back into the room, noting Johns figure looming over your own. A little smirk crossed her lips as she set the bowl down on the nightstand. You peeked your eyes open for a second, wincing at the brightness of the room.

“Good afternoon, sleepy.” Dottie smiled, sitting beside your figure again. “Careful.” She murmured, watching as you shifted to sit up a little better. You knew Dottie was next to you, but could feel the weight of somebody on your other side. A large hand quietly placed itself on the side of your arm and you looked to see who it belonged to.

“How do you feel?” John’s words were gently spoken. His fingers squeezed your arm slightly before he released.

“M-my throat hurts.” Your voice came out scratchy and withered sounding. Dottie quickly placed a cool glass of water into your palms, hers then wrapping around yours before releasing entirely. You gave her the best smile you could manage, due to your cuts, before sipping the drink. John stood up from the bed and made a comment about going to grab pain medicine before he exited your bedroom.

“I'm going to wake up June.” Dottie spoke, walking over to her sleeping position by the window. You blinked your eyes, feeling the pain from the cuts, and groaned silently. It was stupid of you to think you could take on both of them. Your training with John was going fine, you figured if you at least got one down… No matter, at least you were still alive. The footsteps of your two friends caught your attention as the girls returned to your side. June immediately began to gush over how happy she was you were awake and okay, hugging you tightly.

“We thought you were a goner.” The girl whispered, worry still evident in her tone. You raised your brows but winced as the sting from the cut became overwhelming.

“I'm glad John showed up when he did. Like a superhero. He stood there with his gun and you should've seen the animalistic look in his eye.” Dottie sighed dreamily, “You are one lucky girl.”

“I know about your ‘no dating’ rule, however, I don't think you should let this one get away.” June commented quietly, brushing some hair from your face. Dot agreed, shaking her head vigorously. The three of you cut the conversation short as John's footsteps echoed closer. He entered the room quietly and padded over to the bed, handing you a bottle of painkillers. Your fingers brushed as the container was passed and you felt a longing for the touch to remain; however just as the warmth arrived, it left.

——————

June and Dottie stayed over for another hour before leaving. They helped you change your clothes and settle in for the night before they left you in the capable hands of John. The two of you remained in your bedroom the rest of the evening. You went in and out of sleep a few times. One time, you woke to the man humming quietly while sitting in bed next to your figure. Another, he was checking your bandages and cleaning the sheen of sweat from your skin. Maybe what June said is right, you can’t let John get away. Nobody has cared for you like he has. But that begged the question, would he even want to be with you? You’re half his age and apart of a mafia family. Plus, you still don't know much about him; his past, his home life, etc. He is a mysterious being, quiet too. It only made you want to know more.

“John?” You murmured, gathering the strength to sit up. It was late evening now, just past eight. The summer sun had just set, leaving a gray tone to cover the space.

“Yes?” He answered, turning to face you. He had been sitting at your desk, cleaning his gun.

“Parlami di te.” ‘[Tell me about yourself.]’ The man responded to your request by putting down the parts in his hand. He then quietly cleaned his fingers of grime before standing up and padding over to you, but not sitting.

“What would you like to know?” He murmured. You studied his face for a moment, taking in the features he donned. His normally combed hair was disheveled now and he had bags under his eyes. He wore a suit and shoes too, obviously still dressed for work.

“Everything.” You replied, ignoring the throb of pain that coursed through your body. John nodded, then loosened the tie from his around neck. He shed off his suit jacket next, leaving him in a black button up and vest on top. You admired his figure in the darkening room. He stood tall, confident, maybe a little tired, but didn't let it show much. The man settled on the edge of your bed, by your feet. The room remained silent for a few moments; you not daring to speak, and John taking the time to gather his thoughts.

“I was married.” John’s voice was so soft, you had to lean towards him to hear better. The man kept his gaze towards his hands, fidgeting with his fingers.

“Was?” You asked, pushing aside the slight feeling of jealousy that rose.

“She- she passed due to an illness years back.” The bodyguard paused.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” You let out quietly, as to not bother John’s story process.

“I was retired and wanted to live my days as a widower, however I was dragged back into the business by an old friends’ idiot son.” The man sighed, pushing some fallen hair behind his ear. You caught a glimpse at how sad he appeared, and felt an urge to comfort him. Pain shot through your body as you scooted down the bed until you were close enough to John. You grabbed his hand and his fingers instinctively intertwined with your own, making you realize just how large his palms actually were. It felt right, his hand being wrapped with your own.

“Ever since then, I haven't left the business again. I see no point. I can't seem to leave anyways, I keep getting dragged back in.” He sighed heavily and you began to rub your thumb along his hand, as your way of comforting him. He fell silent, but you didn't push anymore questions just yet. He was being open and raw, which was probably difficult for the man to do. If he wanted to tell his story, he would. You wanted to know more, obviously, about the kind of work he's done; his jobs, the people he’s met, and if he knew anyone in your family. You wanted to know why the man was so troubled, and why it seemed everybody is against him.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Your voice escaped softly, barely above a whisper. John's hand squeezed your own, before he finally made eye contact with you. His dark gaze caused a chill to slither down your spine.

“Yes.” He spoke softly, “I need to go change.” He gave your hand one last squeeze before removing it and standing up. You watched as his figure walked across your room and disappeared behind the door. It only took him about five minutes before he returned, ready for bed. Sure, it was barely nine, but you figured you could put on a movie. You drank in the sight of him, admiring his pajamas. Blue with plaid stripes, and a plain white t-shirt. You’ve never seen him in anything but a suit, nevermind the sweatsuit outfit from when you train. This is different than that, this is a side of John that doesn't say ‘Hey, i'm a killer!’ This side is domestic; make you coffee and toast in the morning domestic.

“Would you like to watch a movie?” You then asked, watching him tidy up his mess from cleaning his gun, which he didn't finish.

“Sure.” He responded, walking over and climbing onto the bed next to your figure. You turned on your TV, and picked a movie from a streaming service, before fully settling in. You scoot your body close enough to John’s that you were able to lay your head on his chest. The man wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you even closer, but gently as to not cause you more pain. You listened to his heartbeat as it slowed to a resting rhythm, and then closed your eyes letting sleep overcome your senses.

Masterlist

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu x you #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fanfiction #fic: bodyguardAU

126 notes · View notes

purplesurveys · 4 years

Text

998

survey by starsareonly2nd

How many text messages are currently in your inbox? I don’t know if my phone can provide that particular feature. Suffice it to say there’s a ton because I don’t really do spring cleaning with my texts and I’ve kept messages since getting this phone in 2018.

Is your profile picture in color or black & white? All my profile photos have been in color, and I think I’ve only had to have a black and white photo once.

What's your favorite Christmas movie? Love Actually.

Did you dress up for Halloween this year? If so, what were you? We’re gonna be having a virtual Halloween party at work on Wednesday and I’m thinking of just going as Dora the Explorer again since I wasn’t able to maximize my costume last year anyway (the Halloween party I had gone to didn’t allow shorts - wtf? so I ended up wearing orange pants and looking nothing like Dora) and this time around I also actually have bangs to complete the look. But idk, the party announcement says we also have 30 seconds each to impersonate the character, and I'm just not extroverted enough for individual presentations like that. I’m heavily leaning towards skipping the entire thing because of that one instruction, but we’ll see.

Are there any posters in your room? Of what? Yuh, Nam Joo Hyuk.

Do you read Rolling Stone? I don’t think I ever have.

Which Harry Potter book (if you read them) was your favorite? I read up until the blue book, but I don’t remember which one I had enjoyed reading the most. I do remember breezing through one of them and finishing in just a couple of hours, so I’d say that was my favorite.

Do you have any stuffed animals you still sleep with? No.

What kind of cell phone do you own? iPhone.

Do you have any pets? Yes :)

Are there currently any accessories in your hair? Sure, a hair tie.

Are you involved with any clubs at your school? I was in two organizations in college andddd in high school it was mandatory to be in a club, so I was in one for each year.

Do you have an MP3 player? What kind? I used to own an iPod Nano.

What's your favorite sport to watch on TV? Wrestling!!! My first love, forever and always.

How many people live with you? Four. Parents and two siblings.

Are you good at any styles of dance? Haha, I wish. I’m a terrible dancer.

Do you think that your hair looks better curly or straight? Neither. It’s best when it’s wavy.

Where was your default taken? It’s not a photo of me, first of all. It’s from an episode of Bojack but I can’t remember which episode it’s form.

Have you ever been to another country? Yeah, several times.

Do you prefer cats or dogs? Dogs.

What was the last thing you ate? Kwek-kwek. My grandma made so many pieces for us when she came over yesterday <3

What's your desktop background? It’s of a mountain range and is one of the provided backgrounds in my laptop.

What was the last movie you saw at a theater? For the billionth time, Knives Out.

Did you think it was a good movie? No, but I’m biased because I hate that genre. I’m fairly sure it was well-received and that it’s objectively a good movie.

Are you afraid of spiders? The ones we have here are super tiny and look pretty harmless, so no. But I’ve seen how freaky spiders can look like in other countries and I understand why so many people are terrified of them.

Did you carve a pumpkin this year? If so, what did you carve into it? No, we don’t practice that here.

Which Disney movie is your favorite? Toy Story makes me the happiest.

Are you the youngest, oldest, middle, or only child? Eldest.

If your power were to suddenly go out right now, how would you react? Annoyed at the inconvenience, but glad that my laptop is at 88% and that I have a bunch of tabs with surveys so I can at least do something; unbothered because the weather is cold; and pleased that I have enough mobile data to keep myself from getting bored. Overall I wouldn’t mind it, hahaha

Do you enjoy photography? I don’t enjoy doing it, but I like looking at photos, sure.

What's your favorite thing to do at the beach? Swim and allowing myself to relax and let go in the water.

Are you afraid of heights? Not for most situations, but if I had to do an extreme stunt or dare that involved heights then yeah it would.

If someone were to cut you in line at a store, would you speak up? No, but I’d take a photo of their back and share it on social media and call them an asshole to release my annoyance. I’d probably try to sneakily elbow them as well, just so I can sleep soundly at night.

Are there any foods you enjoy baking/cooking? No.

What website would you say you visit the most? Definitely YouTube.

What book are you currently reading? [continued from yesterday] I don’t think it’s still fair to say I’m reading Midnight Sun anymore. I haven’t opened it in about a month now, even though it’s constantly on my desk just right beside the laptop I work on.

Is it for school or just because you want to read? It’s because I do want to read it and because I like Twilight hehe. I’m not in school.

Are you going to any concerts in the future that you know of? I’m just waiting for my third Paramore show, whenever that is; but otherwise no and I have no clue who or when the first post-Covid concert is going to be.

Do you play any instruments? No. I can play some tunes on the piano but it’s cheating and I don’t count it, because I’ve only memorized which keys to press and I don’t actually know how to read notes or use the proper fingering.

Are you looking forward to the new Alice in Wonderland movie? This question is so cute considering it’s been a literal decade since that movie came out...anyway, no, I didn’t look forward to it as I’m not a fan of the genre.

Do you get seasick? I do but I can handle my stomach for the most part. The only time it got really bad was during my cruise, and the only reason I didn’t throw up was my dad has a cabin at the bottom floor of the ship, where the shaking was a lot weaker.

When was the last time you hung out with your friends? This is so painful to read lol...last week of February.

Do you drink soda on a regular basis? Nopes.

Are you currently wearing a hoodie? No but I can do with one right now to feel cozy. I just don’t feel like getting out of my chair.

What's the weirdest food you've ever eaten? Gulab jamun was personally a unique experience, but weird has a negative connotation so I’m avoiding that word.

What was the last sporting event you attended? I think it was like a UP/Ateneo volleyball game, which was the only type of UAAP event I attended anyway.

Do you understand Shakespeare? Nope, that’s why I got books that had the modern-day translations right beside the original text lol. I mean I would probably be able to understand it if I exerted time and effort into reading Shakespeare, but I don’t have either, so.

Is there a bookshelf in your room? Nah but the top of my closet acts like one.

Do you need to wear glasses at all? Yes, all the time.

What's your favorite genre of books? Anything non-fiction, so books on history, memoirs, etc.

Do you think it's too early for Christmas music? Not in the Philippines. Christmas for us starts in September :) Anyone’s free to put up Christmas trees and lights or listen to Christmas music as soon as the clock strikes 12 midnight on September 1st.

What's the longest you've ever gone without speaking? Maybe during my dark days in 6th grade? I was super depressed, had no friends, had a strained relationship with my entire famly, and was holed up in my room all day long. It’s very possible I went several days without talking then.

Does your house have a garden? I wouldn’t call it a garden but we do have several trees and plants around the house, yes.

What color is the shirt you are wearing? It’s multi-colored stripes.

Do you know what brand of toothpaste you use? Colgate.

When was the last time you were on an airplane? Early 2019.

Do you have a permit or license? A driver’s license, yes.

Did you walk any long distances today? Nope. So far I’ve only gone down to the kitchen to fix myself a cup of coffee.

Are you currently wearing any make-up? I’m not.

How do you feel about bands covering old pop music? I personally don’t like most covers but I don’t take it against the bands. I just won’t listen to those versions.

Are your nails painted? Never are.

Do you use correct grammar online? Sure, unless I want to use bad grammar on purpose.

Do you agree with the statement that Miley Cyrus is a bad role model? I don’t think she even ever claimed to be one, so that’s an unfair accusation. I personally never had a problem with her and I admire her confidence and boldness in her performances and other things she does. Slide Away in particular is a very beautiful song.

Do you give out cards on Valentine's Day? No.

What are you listening to right now? I can hear the wind lightly blowing outside, but thankfully it’s no longer as violent as yesterday.

#survey #surveys

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

Mama, We All Go To Hell

[Tour!verse]

TW: Abuse, victim blaming, gaslighting, mentions of CSA

——————

Stage door wasn’t something Bessie went out to that often. It was too hectic and loud, so many people bustling around in a small space, chattering like monkeys and birds in a jungle, and snapping photos. The queens enjoyed the interactions, but that was mainly because they got hugged and praised. Nobody really knew who Bessie was, despite her two introductions. In fact, the real reason anyone even gave her a second glance was because of her silvery white hair, which seemed to be more interesting than her herself.

But it was fine. Really, it was. Bessie didn’t really care about pictures or autographs. Half of the time she was glued to Howard’s side, anyway. She just liked being around her mother.

(They were currently a week into their real mother-daughter relationship. Katherine has shown interest in actually adopting Bessie. That makes Bessie’s heart beat at least a million miles an hours.)

While waiting for stage door to end, Bessie noticed someone in the crowd from where she stood at Howard’s side. A woman with long, luscious brown and piercing grey eyes. She was a hawk amongst mice in the groups of people, a predator hiding in a pack of prey. She-

“Mum?!”

-was Catherine Pershall. Wife to John Blount.

Mother of Elizabeth Blount.

Bessie darted from Howard’s side, twisting around people to avoid running into them. Her bright eyes and beaming smile faded, however, when she got close enough to her mother to see her scowl. She skidded to a halt and drew backwards, quickly remembering that her mother didn’t like her standing close to her.

“Mum,” Bessie said again, a grin appearing on her lips again.

“That’s mother to you,” Catherine snapped, “Hello, Elizabeth.”

“Mother.” Bessie said once more, this time mainly to herself. Repeating it cements it and she just wants to jump into the woman’s arms, but she knows better. “Mother- it’s- it’s you. You’re here.” If she had a tail like a dog it would definitely be wagging. “I missed you.”

“Mmm.” Catherine hummed, uninterested. Her storm grey eyes cast over to Howard, who is watching, as well as Parr and Anna, the other two queens out during stage door. Then, she looks back down to her daughter. “What’s wrong with your hair?”

“Oh!” Bessie jumped a little and ran a hand through the bleached locks, “I bleached it! Do you like it? Kitty says it’s pretty.”

Catherine snorted and that makes Bessie’s hand freeze and then drop limply to her side.

“It’s...something. You’re killing your hair, you know. Do you want that to happen, my dear Elizabeth? Do you want your hair to fall out?” Catherine said and continued when all Bessie could do is stammer for answer, “That’ll only make you look even worse.”

Someone clears their throat and Catherine snaps her head up. She narrowed her eyes at the sparkly pink queen now standing before her.

“Can I help you?” She snapped.

“I’m just here to tell Bessie that we can go change, now.” Howard said.

“And you are?” Catherine raised an eyebrow.

“Katherine Howard.”

“Oh.” Catherine said. “You’re that queen.”

Howard clenched her jaw. Bessie reached out and gently took her head, which is squeezed- whether for reassurance or an output for Howard’s obvious anger she doesn’t quite know.

“Yes,” Howard said slowly, “I am. Let’s go get changed, Bessie.”

“Wait-” Bessie said, “My mother- Can she come?”

Katherine so badly wanted to yell, “NO!” and leave the horrid woman behind, but she couldn’t do that when Bessie was giving her the most adorable puppy dog eyes she has even seen.

(Bessie wasn’t even attempting puppy dog eyes. Her dark eyes just naturally sparkled like that.)

“Fine.” Katherine sighed.

“Thank you, Kitty!” Bessie gave her a quick hug and then beamed at her mother, “Come on, mum!” She bounds into the backstage area, followed by Catherine, who Howard glares at when she passes by.

There was something about that woman she didn’t like.

—————

That night, Maggie was awoken by the sound of rushing sink water. She pried open her eyes and rolled out of bed, groaning when the faucet didn't turn off. Grumbling something about Joan being so sleep deprived that she couldn't even turn off the water, she trudged to the bathroom to find a quaking figure hunched over the sink.

“Bessie?” Maggie called out, squinting in the bright fluorescent lights, “What the hell and you doing?”

Bessie jolted up. Her hair is soaked and fading to brown at the roots.

“I-I'm sorry!” The girl yelped, “I-I didn't mean to wake you.”

Maggie rubbed her eyes and furrowed her brows.

“What are you doing?”

“Washing my hair out.” Bessie mumbled, staring down at the clumps of hair in the sink that had fallen out from her vigorous scrubbing.

“In the sink?”

Bessie nods.

“In the middle of the night?”

Another nod.

“Even though you love your hair beached?”

A third nod, although this one seems more self conscious. Maggie sighed.

“Ellie, is this because of what that witch said at the stage door? Kat said she-”

“That ‘witch’ is my mother." Bessie hissed, bristling herself up, “And she was right. I shouldn't be ruining my hair. So I'm cleaning it.”

“Ellie...”

“Go to bed.” Bessie snapped, “I don't need to be criticized.”

Maggie stood there before a moment before sighing and retreating down the hall. While doing so, she heard a tiny, “Night” and “Love you” and her heart clenches even tighter.

—————

Much to Bessie's dismay, she finds that only the top of her head was brown, while everything else was still bleached.

—————

Catherine was at the theater again the next day, standing around backstage like she owned the place. She couldn't help but sneer when she saw the mess that was her daughter's hair when she arrived. Others noticed, too, as crew members tittered when they laid eyes on the ugly mishmash of white and brown.

“Are you trying to mock my words, Elizabeth?” Catherine asked, glaring down at her spawn.

“No, mother,” Bessie shook her head quickly, “I was listening to you, actually! I was trying to wash the bleach out.”

Catherine quirked a brow at the girl's obedience.

“Oh?”

“I promise, mother. You were right.”

“Good girl, then ," Catherine slipped a hand under Bessie's chin, using the other to tickle the hairs on the side of the bassist’s head, “Why don't I help you get the rest out?”

Bessie's eyes lit up and she nodded eagerly, excited to spend time with her mother. Catherine leads her down the hall with a hand on her back. The touch was warm, a more welcoming feeling than the sink water.

Dark water. Bessie is now trapped in a powerful undertow and is being dragged through her past life.

She was Elizabeth “Bessie” Blount. Not Lizzie, not Eliza, not Beth. Bessie. Daughter of John Blount and Catherine Pershall. The oldest of many siblings. That made her valuable, her mother says. Spendable.

Her mother and father were always bickering. They acted like two angry cats when around each other, glaring and hissing and giving warning signs. Everyone said the two of them hated their daughter, but Bessie never believed it. Even when they said it to her face, she never really believed it.

Bessie remembered so much from when she lived in that house they shared. She slept in a small room, bundled up with blankets and carpets. Sometimes, she would sneak out and watch her mother at night as she worked, waiting for her to look over and smile. That’s all Bessie ever wanted. A sign that there was hidden kindness inside of the woman.

She never did look her way.

That’s when Bessie realized she had to prove herself to get attention. So, she started to become stronger, faster, smarter. Although she was incredibly intelligent and educated, her parents said the only thing that’ll get her places were her looks. So, she once snagged a pretty silver necklace from a teenage boy who thought more with his penis than his mind and rushed back home, a little hop in her step as she went.

“Mother!” The ten year old girl cried out, “Mother!”

Her mother’s head peeked out from behind a door, scowling. Catherine glared at her daughter, appearing as venomous and dangerous as a king cobra.

“I told you not to come back until dark,” She snapped, then added quietly, “Or not come back at all.”

“I know, but-” Bessie scrambled to hold up the necklace, “I got this for you!”

Something glimmered in Catherine’s cold grey eyes. She slithered out from her work area and stood in front of Bessie, huge in comparison.

“Did you now?” She said, peering at the necklace, “Did you buy it?”

“No,” Bessie shook her head quickly, “Not really. I...haggled for it. With a boy. For you!”

“I see.”

Warm fingers slipped between Bessie’s and her excitement grew. Her mother never touched her this gently before. Her hard work was finally paying off!

Catherine plucked up the necklace and she looks at it closely. Then, she smiled. Bessie nearly fainted right then and there.

“I’ve taught you well, haven’t I?” She said with sweetness that Bessie latched onto.

“Yes, mother!”

Catherine nodded and then whipped the girl across the face with the round pendant.

“Apparently not. If you get something nice, you keep it.”

Pain streaks across Bessie’s cheeks. There’s a sharp sensation in her shoulders; her mother shoves her into the wall like she’s nothing more than a sack of sand. Shoes crunch down on her fingers when she falls down to her hands and knees.

“Out here, nobody is ever going to take care of you! Nobody cares! You fend for yourself!”

Catherine was two seconds away from breaking her daughter’s hand when someone cleared their throat from the doorway. She turned, nearly uprooting Bessie’s fingernails from way her heel twists on her fingertips, and saw her husband standing there, his amber eyes glittering in the pale sunlight slipping in through the curtains.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

“Teaching our wretched daughter a lesson.” Catherine hissed.

“Ah.”

Through her tears, Bessie could see the shape of her father lumbering over. She wanted him to bat her mother away and scoop her up in his arms. She wanted to go to the kingdom with him, escape the clutter and clamor of their town. She knew he wanted that, too.

She wanted him to help.

But instead, he cracked the back of his hand across her face and snarled at her.

Bessie wished she could she say she stopped wanting attention, but she didn’t. She still tried to do everything in her power to get them to love her.

They never did.

Then the risk of moving back to the countryside came upon the Blount family. Catherine was livid. She had paced around the living room, yelling curses' to God for doing this to her while her husband watched on with a bored expression. Suddenly, however, she stopped.

She remembered her ties with the soon-to-be queen, Catherine of Aragon. Before Arthur's death, she had been a lady in waiting. Surely Her Majesty wouldn't mind an old friend working in her court. Or, rather, an old friend's spawn...

“Elizabeth!” Catherine shouted, startling her husband out of his daze. She heard a yelp from another room and her absolutely tiny, eleven-year-old daughter scurried up to her.

“Y-yes, mum?" Bessie asked.

Catherine glares.

“Mother.” She corrected.

“What do you think about going to London?" Catherine said, crouching down in front of the child. She made sure to slip fake gentleness in her voice, knowing it would help sway her daughter further.

“London?” Bessie squeaked, glancing at her father, who was paying attention with mild interest, “We're-”

“No.” Catherine cut her off right off the bat, “Not us. Just you.”

“Just me?" Bessie repeated. "I-I-”

Catherine breathed out a harsh breath at the little wretch's stupidity. She set her jaw and stamped, down her nerves.

“You are going to London.” Catherine explained, “You are going to be a lady in waiting to the queen. Do you understand me?”

“But-”

“Do you understand me?”

Catherine's harsh voice grows fainter. The vision of her is getting obscured by a stream of bubbles.

“Yes, mother.”

Bessie surfaces from the water with violent coughing. She gasps and wheezes, air slowly soothing her burning lungs. Cold droplets cascade down her reddened face.

“Mother, mother,” She rasped out, "Mother, please...”

The hand tangled in her drenched hair, gripping into the back of her skull, tightens. The grasp pulls backwards, tilting her head back with it, and Catherine stoops down slightly to glower right in her face.

“What?” She snaps.

“Please...please just,” Bessie sputters and coughed painfully, "G-give me...a moment..please...”

“I'm trying to fix you.” Catherine said, “You don't have time to wait. You'll need to go on soon.”

“Please-” Bessie’s pitched plea was cut off by a mouthful of water.

Catherine's long, pointy painted fingernails raked through Bessie's hair, scraping down the skin on her head. They dig it like hooks when she scrubs, and the intensity of the water spraying out of the faucet doesn't help Bessie's stinging scalp.

The need for air flared up again and Bessie started to cry out, but her scream was muffled. Water filled her mouth and she started to struggle. Her arms flew out, hitting Catherine a few times. Her head is yanked backwards and a hand cracks across her face.

“You vile little brat!” Catherine roared, glaring down at her spawn, who is on the floor, coughing up water. “I am trying to help you! Are you that ungrateful?”

“No, no,” Bessie sputters, “No, mother. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. P-please forgive me. Please.”

Catherine’s snarl turns into a wicked smile when she watches her child squirm and cower beneath her. She crouches down in front of her and lifted her chin, tickling the girl’s contracting throat with the tips of her pointy nails.

“Are you really sorry?” Catherine muses, “Tell me. Are you sorry?”

“Y-yes, mother,” Bessie stammers, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Good.” Catherine hums and stood up, dragging Bessie up with her, “Shall we continue? You still have some white parts.”

For five more minutes, Bessie allows her mother to dunk her under the large metal sink they found in an old storage closet. Eventually, Catherine says they’re done and Bessie is allowed to go back to her dressing room, once again with Catherine’s hand resting on her back.

Bessie keeps her mouth shut as Catherine yanks a brush through her soaked hair. She’s still drenched and shivers in the chair she’s seated in.

“Bessie, you-” Parr stopped in the doorway of the dressing room. She furrowed her eyebrows at the scene before her, “What are you doing?”

“I’m brushing my daughter’s hair.” Catherine answered innocently, “What are YOU doing?”

“I came to get Bessie.” Parr said, “Joan needs her.”

Bessie looked at Catherine, who waves a hand for her to go. She nodded and skittered out with Parr.

“You’re soaked.” Parr said, “And you’re shivering. What happened?”

“My mum was washing my hair out.” Bessie answered.

“Why? I thought you liked your hair bleached.”

“Yeah, but SHE didn’t.” Bessie mumbled. She ended the conversation at that, hurrying ahead to get to the stage. When she crossed the threshold, first she heard the gathering crowd behind the curtain and then Joan’s panicked voice.

“Can you all PLEASE just hurry! Come on, we go on in fifteen, Maud isn’t- isn’t here, and- BESSIE WHY ARENT YOU DRESSED?!”

Bessie jumped when Joan yelled at her. She heard a few people behind the curtain, probably those in the first row, giggle and murmur.

“I- I-”

“Go get dressed!” Joan cries, flapping her arms like a distressed jungle bird, “Go! Go!”

Bessie obeys, scrambling back to her dressing room. When she returns, Joan is crying into her hands at the stool in front of her keyboard. Jane is crouched next to her, rubbing her back and murmuring sweet things to her.

“Is she okay?”

Jane looks up at Bessie and smiles warmly.

“Yes,” She said, “She’s just tired and that makes her stressed”

“I’m sorry, Bessie,” Joan wept into her hands, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I know how you don’t like it when people yell at you and I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She continued to blubber until Jane pressed a soft kiss to the side of her head. Simply seeing her like that made Bessie’s heart flutter. She wanted her mother to do that.

“It’s alright, honey” Jane tells Joan, “You’re tired.”

“Yeah, it’s okay, Joan!” Bessie says.

Joan sniffled and then nods.

“Are YOU okay, though?”

Bessie blinked and turned around to face Howard.

“Uhh… Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” Howard pressed.

“Yes.” Bessie said more firmly, storming over to her spot. She doesn’t look at Howard, rather just prepares her bass. She had to make this one of her best shows.

Mother was watching.

—————

The moment the curtains closed, Bessie was off the stage. She was soaked in sweat and her face was red from all the dancing she did, but she still beamed, especially when she faced her mother in the wings.

“Well?” She pants, even though she hadn’t sung or spoken during the performance, “What’d you think?”

Catherine’s mouth was a flat line for a long time as she toiled over what she had just watched.

“You…play the bass.” She finally spoke.

“Yup!” Bessie grins.

“You just play the music.”

“I mean…that’s what bassists do.”

“No speaking parts.”

“I’m not one of the queens.”

“You could have been.”

“What?”

“I said you could have been,” Catherine repeats, “You we’re in a relationship with Henry, were you not? You could have married him if you stuck around.”

“Mother… I was exiled…” Bessie whispered. Her mother’s uncaring features did not change.

“Now whose fault is that?”

—————

Aragon didn’t hate Bessie. Not really. Sure, she acted like she did, but deep down, somewhere, she still cared about the girl. After all, they had been very close, like mother and daughter, and a relationship like that isn’t easy to break, no matter how hard she tries.

That being said, watching Catherine treat Bessie like garbage made anger bubble up inside of her. Yes, she, too, wasn’t the nicest to Bessie, but bullying the kid was something only SHE was allowed to do. Certainly not a parent. In fact, Catherine should be DEFENDING her daughter, not needle her.

But she isn’t.

Aragon knew something was off about Catherine right off the bat. She remembered comments Bessie made about her mother in their past life, which were always concerning,

(“Who does that little one belong to?” Aragon asked, gazing over at the tiny child against the wall, “Where are her parents? Poor thing is shaking!”

“Her parents aren’t here, my lady,” The maid answered. “She was sent here alone. That’s Catherine’s little one. Your newest lady.”

“Catherine?”

“Pershall.”

“Ah.”)

When Arthur was still alive, Aragon remembered a Catherine Pershall tending to her. What a strict, cold woman she was. Those old memories of young Bessie were something Aragon pushed down as much as possible, but they bubble back up at certain moments. Like right now, with Bessie’s face bright red and eyes glistening with tears.

She saw the girl cry a lot in their past life.

(“Wh-why would they do that to it?” She asked after witnessing her first bear-baiting.)

(“M-my mama said she would come.” She whimpered when her mother didn’t visit on her birthday.)

(“I-I… I think I’m pregnant.” She rasped out when she spent an entire morning throwing up.)

However, Aragon has not been faced with a broken bass plus a very pissed off music director.

“What did you do?!” Joan cried. Despite her tired, glassy eyes and the dark bags weighing beneath them, she looked like a blizzard when angry, “Do you know how much that bass cost?!”

A crowd has formed on the stage, drawn out by all the shouting.

“Joan, I’m sure it was an accident,” Jane said, trying to calm Joan down.

“Accident?!” Joan shrieked, “Does THIS look like an accident to you?!”

She snatched up a chunk of the bass, which was in pieces, and waved it in the air.

“I-I’m sorry…” Bessie whispered.

“You’re sorry?” Joan chortled, “Sorry won’t fix the bass!”

Bessie’s bottom lip quivered and she looked down. Howard, loyal as ever, set a hand on her back for comfort.

“Come on, honey,” She murmured to the girl. The two of them walk back to the dressing rooms. Aragon soon followed. When at the top of the stairs, she noticed that Catherine had stopped Howard and Bessie.

“Elizabeth, come.” Catherine ordered.

“She isn’t a dog.” Howard growled, glaring at the woman.

“Ah yes,” Catherine nodded, “You’re right, She ISN’T you.”

Bessie gasped and even Aragon’s eyes widened a little. Howard was frozen.

“Mother-!!” Bessie yelped, but shut her mouth when Catherine glared at her.

“Come here, Elizabeth.” Catherine said firmly and her daughter obeys. “And you,” She glared at Howard, “Leave us.”

Howard was rigid for a moment, then walked away, despite the pleading look Bessie was giving her.

“Why did you say that to her?” Bessie asked quietly, ”You hurt her feelings, mother…”

“Good.” Catherine knelt down in front of Bessie and cupped either sides of her face, “I don’t want to see you around that woman anymore. Do you understand me?”

“But-”

“Do you understand me?” Catherine repeated firmly.

“Yes ma’am…”

“Good.” Catherine smiled, “I’m the only one you’ll ever need, baby girl. I’m the only one who can really love you. I’m all that you need. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Movement caught Catherine’s eye. She set her jaw and stood up, patting Bessie’s shoulder.

“Go wait for me in the lobby, Elizabeth.”

Once her daughter is gone she calls out, “What do you need, Catalina?”

Aragon strides up to her, eyes narrowed.

“I know you broke the bass.” She accused.

“Yes, and?” Catherine brushed the claim off, “Playing that thing is a waste of time. She was nothing while standing in the background.“

“So you destroy her things?” Aragon growled.

“What’s it to you?” Catherine quirked a brow, “I thought you hated the little pest.”

“I was still more of a mother to her than you ever were.” Aragon said, to which Catherine merely shrugs and turns away.

“Not anymore.”

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yumejoekatare · 4 years

Photo

This is my shoe “collection,” and I throw that in quotes because I am not an actual shoe collector. These are just all the shoes I haven’t managed to throw away or donate, or in the most likely case: wear a few times before buying a new pair of shoes. Now this certainly isn’t every pair of shoes I’ve bought in the past 13 years, but the oldest pair of sneakers in this picture are from 2007, the white Adidas in the second from the bottom row, center. My cat Dewey wanted to help me take some photos.

2007 I bought the three shoes featured: white Adidas, brown Nike low tops, and black and red Nike “Brandon Roy” mids. I used to be really into fashion and making sure I had a “look” every day, and the white sneakers specifically paired up with a Coogi outfit that was flashy. The brown Nike’s went with a brown and tan Tommy Hilfiger sweatshirt (which I also still own!), dubbed the “Teddy Bear” sweatshirt, as it’s faux fur lined. The black and red B-Roy’s are great with just about anything, but I did own a black and red designer hoodie to match these specifically.

The soles on these shoes are still in great shape, but clearly the white on the adidas have seen their better days, as they’re some kind of pee-stain yellow, and the tan on the brown Nike’s has also turned into a rather similar yellow stain. The B-Roys I still wear on special occasions, mostly when I want to relive my youth. I’ve decided that the Adidas and Brown Nike’s just aren’t worth hanging on to, so they’re making their way into the donation pile.

Shoes 1, 2, and 3 of 33.

#Shoes #Sneakers #Brandon Roy #Nike #Adidas #Collection #Cat #Dewey

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love-takes-work · 6 years

Text

Keep Beach City Weird! Outline & Review

The Keep Beach City Weird! book is a little paperback full of Ronaldo's revelations. It's about what you'd expect, with the nuggets of truth that we may not recognize as truth until after the fact!

This volume is a keeper for any Steven Universe fan, but not much about it will be a surprise for anyone who's paid close attention to the show. It's fun, as usual, to watch Ronaldo loudly congratulate himself for uncovering THE TRUTH (you can "hear" his voice throughout, of course), and a bunch of the references are great fun to anyone who knows what he's referring to even if the context isn't spelled out.

Fans will also be treated to some new artwork! The picture of Ronaldo imagining himself in the hand of the Temple Fusion's animated form as a trusted sidekick is particularly interesting.

And since Ronaldo is one of those broken clocks that's right twice a day, fans who know his schtick can't help but wonder what conveniently hidden bits are actually Ronaldo straight-up telling us the future.

The book opens with an intro from Ronaldo Fryman, who declares himself as the weirdest thing in Beach City. (The Gems are a close second, he says.) He shares his frustration over not having been able to sell his book to mainstream publishers (which has led him to self-publish it), and warns you that ads for the family fry shop will be interspersed with the content because his dad helped fund it.

He then goes right into a "Monsters" section (decorated with art of him in his horror movie outfit and Peedee in a version of the Snerson costume).

The list includes Centipeetle, a Giant Bird, the Worm Monster, the Puffer Fish, "Giant Women from the Sea," the Watermelon Stevens, the Fusion Experiments, the Great North monsters, and the Crab Monster.

Most of these are not creatures he should have seen, and he shouldn't have pictures, but whatever, I digress. Ronaldo theorizes that the Centipeetles could be humans bitten by a radioactive centipede or centipedes bitten by a radioactive human. He discusses the story of William Dewey being saved by a giant woman whose image bears a resemblance to the Crystal Gems' temple, and then concludes, "Probably no connection." He mentions having seen Sugilite wreck the beach gym.

He brings up reports of the horrible Fusion Experiments and concludes they are zombies. He suggests the Great North monsters are a function of global warming and praises his own bravery in filming the Crab Monster for a documentary. And he also brings up his debunked "Sneeple" theory, which has been swapped for the Rock People theory. Those dang Rock People who want to kidnap Earth and bring it to the Mud Galaxy.

Ronaldo then goes into weirdness from space, detailing the Red Eye ("Vampire Spaceship"), the Rock People Space Program (based on Pearl's failed ship from "Space Race") the Plug Robonoids (which he thinks are an attempt to play space pinball), the Hand Ship (which he knew exactly what that was), the shirt that hit him in the head from "Shirt Club," and crop circles (like in "Joy Ride").

And then Ronaldo covers "Local Weirdness," starting with a double page about the Crystal Gems and then moving on to outline the Cat Fingers incident (with speculation on what causes "Cat Finger Fever"), the Frybo incident (was it all Ronaldo's fault for exploring tuber-based witchcraft?), the Oldest Man in the World incident (from "So Many Birthdays"), Lion sightings, Lars's fire breath, Guacola, and . . . Onion.

Next, Ronaldo gives you a tour of all the Weird Places, beginning with Funland Arcade (with a handy guide of moves you can use if you play "Teens of Rage"!), and taking you around to Race Mountain, the Abandoned Warehouse, Brooding Hill (with an included guide of things to brood about), the many-holed cliff (which he calls a Gnome City), and the Lighthouse.

And then, the "Times It Got Really Weird" section details the flowers from Rose's moss in "Lars and the Cool Kids" (did you know they were produced by cloud seeding?), the mountain of duplicated G.U.Y.S. from "Onion Trade," the disappearing ocean from "Mirror Gem" and "Ocean Gem," the blackout incident from "Political Power," Peridot's interrupting broadcast, the Great Diamond Authority, and Cluster Quakes.

And he closes everything with a "Weirdilogue" and encourages you to keep your own town weird.

Some gems:

"Like most bad stories, this one started at a farmer's market."

"I guess that's the danger of genetically engineered food: It might punch you in the face."

"Beach Citywalk Fries. We promise to NEVER bring out that Frybo costume again."

"What's scarier than a beach ball? Well, I guess a lot of things. . . ."

Ronaldo discussing an experience that was either food poisoning or accidentally eating deep-fried wood.

The Zombie Apocalypse Flow Chart which always leads to "Lock myself in lighthouse and prepare to watch the world I know crumble before me."

Ronaldo pointing out that the shirt that hit him in the head from an extraterrestrial source should be a size extra large next time, not youth medium.

"They have a cool home base in an ancient magical temple. My base is a lighthouse that I'm not legally allowed to occupy."

After an entire paragraph outlining how gross Guacola is, Ronaldo heartily encourages you to pick up a can of it while visiting Beach City.

"[M]y favorite – Teens of Rage. Probably because I am a teen who is full of rage at a world that doesn't know how to pronounce 'manga.'"

"Race Mountain, AKA the Devil's Backbone, AKA the Devil's Laundry Chute, AKA the Devil's Poorly Planned Highway, AKA Old Man Carwreck's Road, AKA Municipal Maintenance Route 64!!!!"

"I took a picture of it, which Lars really did not want published. Check it out."

Ronaldo speculates that maybe the moon has its own moon.

And here are the things I found notable for fans!

1. The book is dedicated "For Jane, My Ohimesama." I sure hope they're on speaking terms again after what happened in "Restaurant Wars."

2. Ronaldo gives the Crystal Gems his own names, referring to them as Square Head, Princess Nose, and Purple Girl.

3. When covering the fire breath incident from "Joking Victim," Ronaldo refers to Lars as "Local sarcasm dispenser Lars Barriga." This was the first place where Lars's last name was dropped.

4. The page about Onion's weirdness details an interaction that did not happen in the show but explains one that did: The ketchup packets that he famously ran over with his scooter in "Onion Trade" were begged from Ronaldo one day. Onion offered a photo of Ronaldo in third grade in exchange. (???)

5. Funland was apparently established over a century ago under the name Frederick Ulysses Neptune's Land of Mechanical Oddities and Entertainment. The entry also mentions that it contained a future-telling robot, a reference to "Future Boy Zoltron."

6. An apparent contradiction: Ronaldo, while discussing the video game Teens of Rage, identifies with the game because he is a teen who has rage. This would make him at the oldest nineteen if he is a teen. But in the section on the Lighthouse, he refers to the Beach City Explorer Club he had in his childhood with Lars, and claims that "fifteen years later" they had an incident there with the Lighthouse Gem. If it was fifteen years later but he's no older than nineteen, that happened when he was four, and that's impossible; he was far older than four in the flashback scene with Lars.

7. In a note to cover his butt from the Labor Department, Ronaldo suggests his brother is just a really short eighteen-year-old to distract from the fact that the family business is most likely exploiting him in child labor.

8. In his bit about "Teens of Rage," Ronaldo tells you about special moves for his favorite character, Gary Sunglasses. I think this is a contradiction to the episode "Arcade Mania" because while Steven is trying to teach Garnet how to play the game, he narrates that he thinks she's "a Joe Rock kinda gal," and the same character is pictured on the choosing screen.

9. Ronaldo refers to Stevonnie as "the mysterious Racer S." while discussing the greatest race he ever saw at Race Mountain. Not sure where he got "S." from, especially since he appears to have been in attendance at Stevonnie's first appearance at the rave in "Alone Together" and presumably witnessed their unfusion.

10. Other wrestlers besides those shown in the wrestling episodes are introduced in a promo flyer. We now have After School Champion Assistant Principal Gene McCormick, Culinary Tag Team Champions Baste Face and the Iron Saucier, Women's Caped Crusader Champion Tina "Ten Fingers" Gonzales, X-Treme League Champion Presented by Guacola The Ocean Town Kid, Interdimensional Champion of the Multiverse Glossy Wayne, and Old Timey Senior League Tag Team Champions Sarsparilla Frank and the Colonial Terror.

11. When talking about how to brood properly, Ronaldo refers to his hair as his "frylocks." Ha.

12. The lighthouse was apparently constructed two hundred years ago to keep people away from Beach City, not to help the ships be guided in. This might be one of the true things in the book. Who knows?

13. In "explaining" Peridot's broadcast that happened during "Cry For Help," Ronaldo comments that Peridot called herself Peridot, but that it is actually pronounced "Peridot." (It isn't discussed exactly what he means here, but he's surely making reference to the fact that the more common pronunciation of "peridot" does not have the T pronounced, even though the show uses the version where the T IS pronounced.)

14. Ronaldo, while explaining the Great Diamond Authority to us, assigns the Diamonds' underlings into a strict hierarchical society made up of the classes Chalk, Slate & Granite, Rock Candy, and Clods.

15. Ronaldo terms the earthquakes from the beginning of Season 3 to be "Cluster Quakes" because they came in clusters. Fans will know that they actually did come from a giant mutant Gem Fusion buried in the Earth which is called the Cluster.

The book has some new art that isn't just screencaps from the show, and it's a fun ride. I recommend it, and it's cheap!

[SU Book and Comic Reviews]

#steven universe #steven universe books #keep beach city weird #long post #ronaldo #myblog

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crimsonslytherin · 4 years

Text

I’ll Be Your Reason - Chapter 14

(First) - (Previous)

Words: 4334

A/N: Please Note I used some parts from the book.

The early morning of his birthday, about an hour after he’d turned 13, Harry leaned on the sill of his open bedroom window to look up at the night sky. He’d been working on one of the essays that had been assigned over the summer. Harry was only able to work on his homework really late at night or with Fiona at her house. The Dursley’s had locked up all of his magical things – his broom, his books, wand and cauldron – under the stairs like they had the year before. Harry had been able to get his wand back within the first week but Fiona let him use her books so he didn’t need to worry about getting them back just yet. She insisted on him borrowing them but he didn’t want to risk her losing her books to the Dursley’s as well. He didn’t mind having to go to her house to work on their homework, he was glad to have her help as well.

The night was rather quiet allowing Harry to hear the distinct sound of a backdoor open in one of the neighbors yards. He leaned out and looked to the right, towards Fiona’s house, in time to see her trying – and failing rather badly – at riding a broom up and over to his window.

“Fiona, what are you doing?” he whisper-shouted in amusement . Fiona looked up and grinned at him.

“Just a second.” She seemed to need all her focus to properly ride the broom. When she made it to the window Harry helped her climb through as quietly as she could. She leaned the broom against the bed before turning to him. “Happy Birthday, Harry.” She pulled him into a hug and he couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as he hugged her back. He did his best to ignore the evidence of puberty pushing against his chest. Fiona pulled away before sitting on his bed. “Ah, the witch burning essay?” She turned the piece of parchment to read some of it.

“Yeah,” Harry confirmed as he sat down on the other end of the bed. “Still bad at flying?” Fiona stuck her tongue out at him.

“I’m not a star Quidditch player like some people,” she teased.

“I’d give you lessons if we didn’t live here,” he offered.

“We could always practice at The Burrow; any word from Ron?”

“He uh, he tried to call,” Harry started. Fiona winced.

“Oh dear, who answered?”

“Who do you think? I don’t think Uncle Vernon could shout any louder.”

“Poor Ron.” Fiona shook her head. “I’m sure I could send my father’s owl and give him my number and you could just use our phone.” Harry chuckled.

“That’s okay, Fee. Maybe Hermione since she knows how to use a phone.”

“Oh well I already have her number,” Fiona told him, waving her hand dismissively.

“Talk a lot, do you?” he asked, curious. Fiona nodded.

“Mhm, mostly girl stuff, you wouldn’t be interested.” Harry chuckled.

“Probably not,” he agreed.

“So, Harry, how does it feel to be a teenager?”

“Exactly the same,” he admitted. Harry opened his mouth to speak when three owls suddenly flew in through his window. Two of them were carrying the third which they placed on the bed between the two.

“Hedwig,” Fiona greeted one of them with a smile. The snow owl nipped affectionately at Harry as he removed the parcel she was holding. She then hopped over to the unconscious owl on the bed, Errol, Ron’s family owl. The third the two didn’t recognize but it held two letters with a familiar H.

“One for me and one for you,” Harry noted as Fiona took the two letters from the owl that then flew out the window as if it were on a schedule.

“What did Errol bring? Poor bird,” Fiona cooed as she stroked the bird’s feathers. Harry took the package and tore open the brown paper to find a present wrapped in gold and a birthday card. He opened the envelop and two papers fell out, a letter and a clipping from a newspaper. Harry read the clipping aloud, quietly, and the two learned that Arthur Weasley had won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw and that the family was on summer holiday to Egypt to visit the oldest son, Bill. “Wow,” Fiona gasped seeing the moving picture of the family in front of a large pyramid. Harry opened the letter and read it to himself.

“Ron’s getting a new wand,” he told her with a smile.

“I would hope so; I don’t think we’d survive another year with that one.”

“And Percy’s Head Boy.”

“Of course he is,” Fiona groaned as she rolled her eyes. “He’s wearing his badge already.” She turned the photo to Harry and pointed it out. He chuckled.

“They’ll be back a week before school starts and he wants to know if we can meet them in London.”

“Sounds fun. What’s Hermione say?” she asked as he opened up the letter from her, the one Hedwig had been holding.

“She’s in France… Her essay is two rolls longer than Professor Binns asked for.” Fiona groaned. “And that she’ll also be in London the last week of holidays.”

“That’s awesome, what book’d she get you?” Fiona asked. Harry snickered knowing well before opening the present could be a book but they were wrong. His eyes widened and a grin spread on his face.

“A Broom Servicing Kit!” he whispered excitedly.

“If only we could get your broom,” Fiona said with a frown at the bedroom door. Harry shrugged.

“I can always bring it to Hogwarts.”

“True. Speaking of,” Fiona started as she picked up the letter addressed to her. She opened it and scanned it over. “List of books, of course, and… oh I forgot about Hogsmeade-” She paused, biting her lip and Harry let out a sigh.

“Permission form,” he muttered.

“Maybe your aunt would sign it,” Fiona suggested. He put the letters on his nightstand and noticed the time.

“Two o’clock. You should get back, Fee,” he told her. Fiona pouted.

“Fine,” she whined quietly as she stood up. Before grabbing her broom she pulled Harry into another hug and kissed his cheek. “Happy Birthday,” she told him with a grin before carefully going out the window. Harry watched to make sure she made it the less than 20 feet over to her back door. She waved at him and he gave a slight wave putting a hand to his cheek.

…

The next morning at breakfast Harry learned his uncle’s sister would be staying with them for a month. Harry, with the hopes that his uncle would sign the permission form, sent Hedwig to Fiona’s and informed her of the situation. For a whole week she couldn’t sneak into his room and he couldn’t go over to her house either. Her father had offered that he could stay at their house for the week but Harry knew his only chance at getting the form signed was to stay.

“Hey, if you need an escape our door’s always open to you,” Jonathan told him when he came over with Hedwig’s cage. He decided for the hour while his uncle went to the train station that he’d spend time with Fiona. They sat outside on the curb, Grimm lying in the sun between them.

“I can always perform a rescue mission if you need me to,” Fiona suggested. “I can be very charming.” Harry chuckled but shook his head. “Alright.” She held up her hands. “But hey, if you need to talk later I’ll be down at the playground. It’s actually quite peaceful after sunset.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

…

Fiona was sitting on one of the swings with Grimm lying on her lap when she heard screaming in the distance. She turned and looked up to see a round object floating up from the houses.

“Oh dear,” she muttered before she looked down at Grimm. “I guess Harry’s joining us after all, boy.” The cat meowed and climbed up into her arms as she stood. A few minutes later she saw Harry storming down the street pulling his trunk behind him. “Harry?” she called as she walked over. Grimm jumped out of her arms, more comfortable walking next to her as she began to jog over to him. “That’s you’re doing then?” she asked before glancing up at screaming the dot in the sky.

“She insulted my parents!” he growled out as he stopped, he was almost out of breath, huffing in anger.

“Hey, I would’ve done the same thing,” Fiona said. “But, Harry…”

“I know I know,” Harry said. “I did magic outside of school.”

“I’m sure they can just erase her memory and everything will be alright,” Fiona said.

“Let’s hope so,” Harry said. He pulled his suitcase over to the sidewalk and laid it down before sitting down himself. Fiona sat beside him and Grimm jumped up onto Harry’s suitcase. Harry pet the cat idly as Fiona leaned against him.

“You could stay with us,” she offered.

“I can’t. I can’t be near them or that house.”

“I get it,” Fiona said with a nod. “You could always stay at the Leaky Cauldron. Ron and Hermione will be there in two weeks. I could come and keep you company,” she suggested, suddenly excited. “It’ll be like a sleepover!” Harry chuckled and was glad any colour on his cheeks was hidden in the dark.

“How am I going to get there though?” he asked.

“The Knight Bus.”

“Night bus?”

“Mhm, it comes to stranded witches and wizards wherever they are and takes them wherever they need to be.”

“The magical world still amazes me,” he said with a grin. Fiona hummed in agreement. The two sat there in silence, Fiona leaned her head on his shoulder as Harry continued to pet Grimm. Fiona felt Harry shift uncomfortably and sat up.

“Do you want to ride the swings like we used to?” she asked with a smile as she took his hand and stood. “I’ll push you.” Harry started to smile back when suddenly the streetlamp above them started flickering. The wind picked up and they heard creaking metal. They turned and saw the playground parts moving. Grimm suddenly hissed and the two heard the cracking of twigs in front of them. They stood as they saw a large black dog on the other side of the street. “Harry.” Fiona took out her wand and went to move in front of Harry.

“Stay behind me,” he said as he took out his wand, held out his arm to block her and push her behind him. The dog barked making Harry stumble back and trip over his trunk. Fiona stumbled back as well but didn’t fall back. Suddenly a horn sounded and headlights shined on them as a triple-decker purple bus drove up before it hissed to a halt. Standing on the back door was Stan Shunpike, an 18- year-old boy in a wrinkled conductor’s uniform. He had a pasty face, raccoon eyes and looked like he hasn't seen the sun in years. He read from a crumbled paper.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus,” he said drearily. “Emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike,” He pointed to his name tag. “and I will be your conductor this evening.” He put his paper in his pocket before he peered down at Harry. “Wha' choo doin' down there?”

“I fell over,” Harry said.

“Wha' choo fall over for?”

“I didn't do it on purpose,” Harry said as Fiona helped him up. Stan eyed Harry suspiciously and nodded slowly.

“Well, come on then. Let's not wait for the grass to grow,” Stan said. Harry and Fiona glanced around the bus to the bushes where the dog had been but it was nowhere to be seen. Stan peeked around as well.

“Wha’ choo lookin’ at?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Harry said.

“Well, come on, then. In.” Harry went to get his trunk but Stan was already getting it. “No, no, no. I’ll get this. You two get in.” Fiona took Harry’s hand and they got onto the bus. Inside there were no seats but a few beds, in one was a sleeping wizard. The two moved past the bed as Stan struggled with Harry’s trunk. As the two reached the middle Harry looked up to see a large chandelier. Behind them Stan had gotten Harry’s trunk in and was now walking behind them. “Come on. Move on, move on, move on.” The two hurried towards the front of the bus. They moved in front of the last bed and Stan stood in front of them. The little machine around his neck spit out two tickets. He ripped them from the machine before handing them to the two. Stan knocked on the glass behind him. “Take ‘er away, Ern.” Behind the wheel sat Ernie, an unshaven wizard with very thick glasses. A shrunken head hung from the rearview mirror.

“Yeah, take it away, Ernie!” it said. Ernie took a bite from a sandwich before switching gears. “It’s going to be a bumpy ride,” The head said before cackling. The bus rocketed away and all the beds slid back. Harry and Fiona fell back onto the one closest to them. Grimm screeched and dug his claws into the middle bed. The two looked up at the chandelier swaying directly above them before the beds moved back.

“Wot you say your names were again?” Stan asked.

“We didn't,” Harry said as the two held onto the bed.

“Whereabouts you headin'?”

“The Leaky Cauldron!” Fiona told him.

“That’s in London,” Harry added.

“You hear that, Ern? ‘The Leaky Cauldron. That’s in London,’” Stan said, clearly amused. The head laughed.

“The Leaky Cauldron. If you have the pea soup make sure you eat it before it eats you,” It said before laughing. Harry looked out the window watching London careering by.

“But the Muggles. Can’t they see us?” Harry asked.

“Muggles?” Stan asked. “They don’t see nothing, do they?”

“No, but if you jab them with a fork, they feel,” the head said before cackling some more. “Ernie, little old lady at 12 o’clock!” The bus came to a sudden stop to avoid the lady crossing the street and Harry and Fiona went flying. Harry into the window and Fiona into him, she quickly moved back a bit to give him room.

“Are you okay?” Fiona asked but Harry was distracted by the head counting down.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three and a half, two, one and three quarters. Yes!” The bus took off again sending the two onto the bed, this time Harry on top of Fiona.

“Sorry!” He quickly got off of her and looked up to see the Daily Prophet Stan was reading. The headline read ‘escape from Azkaban!’ below was a moving picture of a shrunken-faced man with long, matted hair, screaming. “Who is that?” he asked. “That man?” Stan sighed and closed the paper to look at the front.

“Who is that? Who is-?” Stan turned the paper to them. “That's Sirius Black, that is. Don' tell me you ne'er been hearin' o' Sirius Black?” The two shook their heads. “He’s a murderer. Got 'imself locked up in Azkaban for it.”

“How'd he escape?”

“Well, tha's the question, isn't it? He's the firs' that's done it! He was a big supporter of… You- Know-'Oo, Black was. I reckon you heard o' him.”

“Yeah. Him I’ve heard of,” Harry said.

“Ernie, two double deckers at 12 o’clock,” the head said. “They’re getting closer, Enrie. Ernie, they’re right on top of us!” Ernie slammed two pedals and pulled a gear. The bus slowed down as it approached the two red buses. Earnie pulled down something. “Mind your head.” Suddenly the bus was squished together to fit between the buses. “Hey guys!” the head laughed. “Guys! Why the long faces?” it asked before laughing. The bus un-squished and Harry and Fiona let out sighs of relief. The bus rocketed away as soon as it could. “Yeah, yeah. Nearly there, nearly there.” The bus turned a corner and slammed on the breaks again sending the two teenagers flying once more into the window, Fiona face first then Harry next to her. The bus nudged a car’s bumper and the car alarm wailed.

“The Leaky Cauldron,” Stan said as Harry and Fiona pulled themselves away from the window.

“Ow…” Fiona whimpered as she rubbed her forehead.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked. Fiona nodded.

“Next stop, Knockturn Alley,” The head said. The two turned to see the inn keeper, Tom, get on the bus.

“Ah, Mr. Potter and Miss Gaunt... at last.” He grabbed Harry’s suitcase and pulled it off the bus before he waited for the two to get off. Fiona picked up Grimm, with some difficulty seeing as the cat’s claws were dug into the bed he was on.

“Come on, Grimm. We’re getting off, now.” The cat gladly let go and Fiona followed after Tom. Harry and Fiona got off the bus and followed Tom into the pub then up the stairs.

“Miss Gaunt, room 17 is open to you.” He held out a set of keys. “Your father was made aware of the situation and all you’re things are inside waiting for you.” He turned to Harry. “Someone wishes to speak with you Mr. Potter.” Harry nodded and turned to Fiona.

“Thank you,” Fiona said giving Tom a big smile. “Goodnight Harry.”

“Goodnight,” Harry said before Fiona went down the hall and into her room. She found her trunk all packed at the foot of the bed as well as all the required books stacked up on a nearby table with a letter perched on top.

Fiona

I wish you would have come home to tell us about your impromptu adventure into London with Harry but seeing the blimp of a woman flying from his house I realize there wasn’t time. I informed the Minister of Magic that the situation was dealt with – the woman is back to normal and her memory of the event was erased. Unfortunately I couldn’t fix Harry’s Aunt and Uncle’s memories seeing as they already know. No doubt he’s speaking with Harry as you read this, you’ll have to stay within Diagon Alley but you’ll be free to go where you wish there. In your trunk I’ve included some spending money, obviously don’t worry about your school books.

Love Mum & Dad

Fiona smiled down at the letter before looking through the pile of books. She noticed the Care of Magical Creature’s book, if one could call it a book, The Monster Book of Monsters. It was growling softly as if it was sleeping. She knew her set of books would be the exact same as Harry’s since they picked all the same classes at the end of their second year.

Grimm jumped up onto the bed and curled up. Fiona double checked that her luggage and books were all accounted for before changing and going to bed.

…

The next morning Fiona left Grimm asleep on the bed before going to out into the hall to find Harry’s room. She didn’t need to ask which one it was either, she could hear the book inside. Fiona went to knock and heard a thud then a squeal. She knocked on the door.

“Harry?”

“C-Come in!” he called. Fiona came in to see him standing on the book, with one shoe on. “M-Mind getting me the-“ He motioned to the strap that had been holding the book closed. Fiona got it and Harry tied up the book.

“At least your shoe’s okay,” she said. “I was actually coming to warn you not to open it.” Harry sighed and gave her a look. “I’ll try to be quicker next time,” she said with a slight giggle.

“Laugh it up,” he said shaking his head but smiling as he put his shoe back on.

“Shall we get breakfast, then?” Fiona asked. Harry nodded and grabbed a sweatshirt.

…

“I knew you wouldn’t get expelled,” she told him with a grin as they sat at the table before ordering breakfast. “Dad bought all my books already.” Harry nodded.

“Mine were all in my room as well.”

“Well, after breakfast, what do you want to do first?”

“Ah, well, I need to go to Gringotes first,” Harry started. “Then…”

“Then I’ll make sure you don’t buy every shiny thing.” Harry frowned in confusion. “Hagrid told me one time you wanted to buy a gold cauldron first year.” Harry chuckled as he remembered.

“Imagine Snape’s face; he already didn’t like me that first class.”

“How about we stop by that Quidditch store?”

“Sure, though if we run into Oliver you’re charming our way out.”

“Agreed.”

_________________________

The two spent the next two weeks window shopping, occasionally buying things though nothing they didn’t need or anything too fancy. More than once Fiona had to pull Harry out of a store. They ended up seeing a few students doing their shopping like Dean and Seamus in the Quidditch shop, where they thankfully never ran into Oliver. They saw Neville outside Flourish and Blotts but they didn’t stop and chat for fear of upsetting the boy’s grandmother. They saw other students they didn’t know the names of, from other houses, and obvious first years.

In the back of her mind Fiona was keeping an eye out for someone. Harry would notice her looking around when they stopped to get a bite to eat or when they walked out of a shop. He didn’t question it; he figured she was just looking for anyone they knew since he was on the lookout for any sign of Ron and Hermione.

It was the last day before term, they both left their rooms and stopped in surprise as a rat ran passed them followed by an orange cat. Grimm simply licked his paw as if it was beneath him to chase such a thing. The two walked out to the stop of the stairs and heard Ron.

“I’m warning you, Hermione! Keep that bloody beast of yours away from Scabbers, or I’ll turn it into a tea cozy.”

“He's a cat, Ronald! What do you expect? It's in his nature,” Hermione said. As Harry and Fiona reached the bottom of the stairs they found Ron protectively cradling Scabbers, while Hermione did her best to restrain a hissing Crookshanks.

“A cat! Is that what they told you? Looks more like a pig with hair if you ask me.”

“That's rich coming from the owner of that smelly old shoe brush.” Harry and Fiona grinned down at the two. “It's all right, Crookshanks. You just ignore the mean little boy…” Hermione cooed to her cat. Ron looked up to see the two on the stairs.

“Harry,” Ron said. Hermione turned to see them.

“Fiona,” she said with a smile.

“And Grimm,” Ron said. “A cat who doesn’t try to kill Scabbers every time he sees him.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

The four moved to the large table in the middle of the room, the boys on one side and the girls on the other, each girl holding her cat. Ron showed Harry and Fiona the newspaper clipping with his family’s vacation photo on it.

“Egypt! What's it like?” Harry asked.

“Brilliant. Loads of old stuff. Mummies, tombs . Even Scabbers enjoyed himself.”

“You know, the Egyptians used to worship cats,” Hermione said.

“Yeah. Along with the dung beetle,” Ron said.

“Not flashing that clipping about again, are you, Ron?” George asked as he and Fred walked over. George took the clipping from him.

“I haven’t shown anyone,” Ron said.

“No, not a soul!” Fred said as the two made their way around the table. “Not unless you count Tom,”

“The day maid,”

“The night maid,”

“The cook,”

“The bloke that came to fix the toilet,”

“And the wizard from Belgium,” George finished before the two sat down.

“Good morning, Fiona,” The twins said in unison as they smiled at the girl.

“Good morning, Forge, Gred,” Fiona said making the two grin before they turned their attention to the clipping.

“Harry!” Mrs. Weasley said as she headed over. Harry stood.

“Mrs. Weasley!”

“Good to see you dear.”

“Good to see you too,” Harry said.

“Oh Fiona! Good to see you’re doing well too, dear.”

“You too, Mrs. Weasley,” Fiona said with a smile. Mrs. Weasley turned back to Harry.

“Now, you’ve got everything you need?” she asked.

“Yup.”

“Yes? All of your books?”

“Yeah, it’s all upstairs.”

“All of your clothes?”

“Everything’s there.”

“Good boy,” she said patting his cheek.

“Harry Potter,” Arthur said as he walked over.

“Mr. Weasley.”

“Harry, wonder if I might have a word?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah sure,” Harry said before he started to follow him.

“Hermione.”

“Good morning, Mr. Weasley,” she greeted. The two went behind a post to talk while the rest of the table started ordering breakfast.

“How was your summer, Fiona?” Hermione asked.

“Uneventful,” Fiona answered with a chuckle. “I can’t wait to get back to Hogwarts.”

“Me too! Only two more years until O.W.L.s.”

“That is what you’d be excited about,” Ron said shaking his head. Hermione glared.

“George's nose looks positively massive in that photograph,” Fred said

“That's your nose, Fred,” Ginny said.

“Bloody hell. 'Tis, isn't it? Take after your side of the family, don't I, Mum?” Fred asked making Mrs. Weasley lightly smack his arm. She sat down and a waitress came over with a menu. Everyone ordered breakfast and after a few minutes Harry came over and sat back down beside Fiona.

“Are you alright?” she asked quietly.

“I’m fine,” he said with a nod but with a look that told her he’d tell her later. Fiona nodded.

“I ordered for you,” she said.

“Thanks,” he said with a smile.

___________________________

(Next Chapter)

#Harry Potter FanFiction #Draco Malfoy x OC #Movie & Book Canon #Slight Canon Divergence #I'll Be Your Reason

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