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piratefishmama · 1 year

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Crossing The Line | Part 4

“What the fuck is that?” Was Robins immediate question as Steve donned a pair of sunglasses and a cap just before disembarking the plane.

“My disguise.”

“Your disguise?”

“Yeah, y’know. Fans an stuff.”

“...Steve. Steven. I’m always here to keep you humble, you know this, so I say this with an immense amount of—”

“Robin do you remember the JFK incident? Not the president don’t be a shit, I mean the airport and you know it.” The JFK incident being a single fan who got ONE photo of him walking through the terminal and boom, paparazzi everywhere, it was as though they’d just emerged from the walls.

‘What are you doing in New York?’

‘Are you visiting anyone special this Christmas?’

‘When are you releasing new music?’

‘Will you be attending any events here in the city?’

‘Who are you wearing right now?’

‘STEVE SIGN MY TI—’

It was always chaos. “Yeah yeah you got to sign an impressive set of double D’s, woe is you. I can see your moles Steve, that isn’t going to fool anyone with eyes.” Sure his signature head of hair was covered but the moles were as good a sign as any when it came to eagle eyed Airport celeb spotters.

“Sign an impressive— my ass was grabbed more times than I could count! I had hand sized bruises Robin!” He bruised like a peach and people in crowds were grabby. “I lost my favourite sunglasses.” The cheap pair he’d grabbed from the gas station after his first real paycheque cleared. “These cover my hair and my eyes, I can’t cover anything else.” He didn’t have the resources to pull a full face of SFX to hide himself.

“Aww poor baby, okay. At least put this on.” She pulled the scarf from her neck and wrapped it around his, it wouldn’t do much, but it’d cover the vampire bite moles he’d shown off on one of his early album covers.

“Great I look like a twenty-ten hipster.” It wasn’t even scarf weather. “All I need is a bullshit moustache.”

“Better than the local weirdo at a kids playground.”

“Oh my god, is that Steve Harrington?!”

“Shit.”

“Rest in pieces, sis”

“Robin get back here!”

There was a subtle art in getting away from paparazzi and fans alike, an art cultivated from being chased by them since he was nine. It involved fake plants, bathrooms, and Robins impressive gallery of ‘fake fan photos’. All it took was a photo whizzed over the internet through Robins ‘fan’ account, an account which used one of their regular makeup girls photos as a cover (agreed to, of course) to act as a ‘fan’ of Steve Harrington.

“How come nobody TOLD ME Steve Harrington was going to be flying out of Indy today?!” Captioned above a photo from two years prior that Robin took from a distance at that very airport for that very reason.

It took all of five minutes for the hoard to dispel, hurrying as fast as they could to as far as the airport staff would allow them to go, but Robin and Steve were once again free to get their asses out of that airport and into an Uber before anyone else could spot them.

“Okay, battle plan. I got us a twin room at the—"

“Don’t say Conrad.”

“What’s wrong with the Conrad?”

“It’s… bougee. It’s like the only five star in Indy, he already probably thinks I’m the worst, a nice four star would be fine, and a twin room? Robin how the hell am I supposed to woo a guy and bring him back to the hotel if we’re sharing a room?”

“First of all, I think you’re super overestimating your level of game right now to think that you’d just be able to go from wooing to the hotel room in one sweep this guy seems like highkey mom’s basement dwelling virgin, dude probably scampers, second, we don’t even know if he enjoys the male form, and third... honestly I’m expecting you to strike out so we can have a sleepover with facemasks and chocolates. But fine, fine, what hotel would you like?” Robin passed him her phone with the booking app already loaded.

“Your faith in me is truly what gets me through my days, Robin.” He was choosing to ignore the panic inducing idea of what if he isn’t even into guys?!

“I aim to please.”

“What about an apartment? See there’s one here, two double bedrooms, four star rating, we can book now and grab the keys at reception.”

“Fine, fine, you’re making all the food though, since you’ve robbed me of my five star room service.”

“I’m cool with that.” A few buttons pressed, details auto filled, booking complete. Indianapolis, here they come!

Part 6

#Crossing the Line #Ficlet #PirateWrites #Steddie

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ereardon · 1 year

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My Girl [Chapter 15][Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OC]

Summary: Jake Seresin could be the answer to all of your dating woes. He’s the full package: steady job, mature, dependable, attractive to a fault. The polar opposite of every guy your age and he’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a partner. But there’s one roadblock: he’s a single father to four-year-old Ellie. Jake is looking for a level of commitment you’re not quite sure you’re ready to give, and he’s not willing to bring someone into his daughter’s life who isn’t there for the long haul. And even if you are stepmom material, is Jake ready to let someone back in his life while still mourning the recent loss of his late wife?

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Lawyer Natalie West]

WC: 2.8K

Warning: Age gap, cursing, angst

Series masterlist here

Jake got to the studio thirty minutes early to make sure he could get a front row seat. He wanted Ellie to see him front and center when she was on stage. He wanted her to know that she had him in the crowd, no matter what. That he would always be there supporting her.

He wanted to be enough.

It all started two weeks earlier. Bradley, Phoenix and Bob had plans to go with Jake to Ellie’s dance recital but then they had gotten called up to a mission that overlapped directly with the recital.

“I’m sorry we can’t make it to your recital, Princess,” Bob said, squatting down next to Ellie where she sat on the couch. “Wish we could be there.”

“It’s OK Uncle Bobby!” Jake felt small tears prick his eyes and he turned away, feigning a cough. Phoenix shot him a look from where she sat next to Ellie on the couch, one full of knowing and pain.

“Can we get a sneak peak?” Bradley asked, ruffling Ellie’s hair from behind the couch and she laughed. “Show us what we’re missing, honey.”

Ellie hopped up off of the couch and started to twirl around on bare feet in the living room. Behind her, Bradley, Bob and Phoenix watched with rapt attention and Jake stepped forward at one point, hand out, and Ellie took it, using him as a stable point to cling to as she twirled in circles.

The trio on the couch erupted into cheers and applause as Ellie smiled in Jake’s arms. When he set her down, she looked up at him softly. “Will you be there, Daddy?”

“Of course, peanut,” he said gently. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Is Nat still coming?” Ellie asked and Jake’s face fell. Ellie’s dance class had been planning its annual recital for months, and he had originally planned to go with Natalie. Ellie had been ecstatic, rambling on about her sparkly costume to Natalie, who always listened with careful and wholehearted attention.

Jake shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so, baby.” Ellie’s smile turned into a quick frown. “But I’ll be there. And I promise we can go out for ice cream afterward.”

She gave him a small grin. “With sprinkles?”

Jake nodded, catching Bradley’s eye as he gave him a sad smile. “Anything you want, honey.”

***

“Are you liking New York any better?” Peter popped a chip into his mouth and then offered you the bag. You reached one manicured hand in and emerged with a few tortilla chips, dropping them into a small pile near your laptop.

“Eh, it’s fine,” you replied and he laughed.

“There’s eight million New Yorkers out there waiting to fight you for that statement.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled. Peter had quickly become the person you trusted the most on the New York team, and therefore the only person you roped into late nights at the office. But it was nice not having to do the late nights alone. And having Peter around cut down on the paperwork exponentially. “It’s just overrated, let’s say that.”

“I’m hurt,” he said, one hand over his heart and the giant Patagonia logo on his grey vest.

“You’re from fucking New Canaan,” you retorted and he laughed loudly.

“Busted.”

You leaned forward, grabbing a folder, your hand accidentally skimming Peter’s. You pulled back immediately, but he was a bit slower to react.

“Hey, you never told me what happened with Jake,” he said softly.

That had been five weeks ago. While you trusted and liked Peter, you were a strong believer in keeping state and church separate for the most part. He didn’t need to know the gory details about your personal life, and vice versa. But the truth was, while you were in New York, he was the closest thing you had to a friend. Cassie was likely asleep, it was well past her bedtime, and she had already given you all the advice she could on the situation. It was in your hands now.

“Sorry, not to pry.”

You shook your head. “It’s OK. Um, we broke up.”

There was a pause. Peter’s blue eyes searched yours. “Shit, that sucks, I’m sorry.”

You drew in a shaky breath. Even weeks later you still felt the pain like it was fresh every time Jake crossed your mind, which was constantly. “It’s OK. I mean it isn’t, but that’s what you’re supposed to say, right?”

“You’re supposed to say whatever you actually feel,” he said and you looked up in surprise. “What, I can’t say profound shit?”

You laughed. “You can, it just doesn’t do well for your street cred.”

“My street cred was ruined the night my bodega guy saw me crying over a girl ghosting me on Bumble,” Peter said and you winced, causing him to chuckle. “Cringe, I know.”

“Just a little.”

Peter leaned back in his rolling chair, crossing one ankle over his knee. “So why did you and the pilot call it quits?”

You sighed. “I thought about what you said, about asking myself what I wanted. And the truth is, I want Jake to be happy. And I just know that I can’t make him happy. Not right now at least. And he deserves better than someone who strings him along, always saying it’ll get better or it’ll be the right time soon. My ex was like that and I stupidly believed him. I didn’t want to drag Jake through the mud in the same way that Sam did to me.”

“But you still love him?”

“It’s complicated.” You pushed down on your laptop, closing it softly.

“But it’s over?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “It is.”

Peter nodded and then looked out at the stack of paperwork that had dwindled significantly since you two had entered the conference room hours before. “Looks like it’s time for us to pack up. I’ll walk with you downstairs? It’s late, don’t want you heading back alone on the street at this time.”

He waited by the elevator bank as you packed up your YSL tote bag at your desk. It hurt every time you saw it, but Ellie’s drawing from the day she had come to the office with you still hung near your monitor. It was a marker drawing of the day the three of you had gone to the zoo. You looked away before it made you cry.

Downstairs, Peter held open the glass door and the two of you said goodnight in tandem to the doorman. He gave a wave, and the warm June air pulled you into an embrace on Broad Street.

“I’m this way,” you said, hooking a finger over your shoulder and pointing uptown.

“Let me walk you.”

You shook your head. “That’s OK, it’s just two blocks.”

“Please?” he said and you smiled. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving you alone this late downtown.”

“OK.” The two of you set out at a slow pace North on Broad Street. You and Peter had stayed late in the office a handful of times in the past, and he had never once insisted on walking you to your hotel.

Once the bright lights of the hotel were in sight, you looked up at Peter. He was tall, and his face was set in a pensive frown. “This is me,” you said, stopping under the awning near the marble stairs. The lobby was lit up, glowing from the inside, but empty. You snuck a peek at your watch — it was almost two in the morning. “Thanks for walking me. Want me to wait while you get an Uber?” You knew for a fact that Peter lived in the West Village, which had a shit option for trains from FiDi.

He shook his head, stepping in closer. Before you knew it, Peter’s hand was on your neck, his face closing in on yours, his lips grazing your own.

Peter was a good kisser: soft and gentle. No tongue off the bat. His hand was warm on your neck, his fingers gentle where they pressed against your skin.

But when he pulled back, he saw tears welling up in your eyes.

Kissing Peter only served to show you what you had lost with Jake. That even something that five years ago would have been a whirlwind kiss was now reduced to mediocre. Everything paled in comparison to the way it was with Jake.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said, dropping his hand. “I just thought … Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that.”

You reached up and wiped away your tears and then dropped your hands and pulled Peter’s into your own. “Hey, it’s OK. I’m sorry, too. I hope I wasn’t giving you any wrong signals. It’s just, I’m not over him.”

Peter shook his head. “No, I know that. Fuck, I thought, I don’t know what I thought. I’m sorry, Natalie.”

You gave him a small smile. “Don’t be. You actually made me just realize something.”

Peter gave you a questioning look and you simply leaned forward, kissing his cheek, before disappearing into the hotel lobby.

You had a flight to catch.

***

“And next up we have Mrs. Bell’s class!”

Cheers erupted from the crowd and Jake grinned as Ellie’s dance class made their way on stage. Ellie was third from the left, slightly off-center, and she smiled widely when she spotted Jake in the front row. He gave her a tiny wave and a grin as the music started up.

Out of the fourteen girls in the class, it was obvious Mrs. Bell had put the ones who understood the routine in the front. In the back row, three of the girls flailed their way through the song, all arms and legs, no rhythm. Jake had to stifle down a few laughs along the way, but Ellie did excellent.

Halfway through the routine, Jake watched Ellie break character, her smile growing wider, one hand risen in a tiny wave. Her eyes were glued to the back of the studio, and he turned around in his seat to see what she could possibly be waving at.

Perhaps the better question would be who was she waving at.

Jake’s heart threatened to jump out of his chest. His breath quickened, his pulse was sky high, his hands started to sweat. Anyone looking at him would have thought he had seen a ghost.

You were standing near the closed doors, a wide smile on your face, wearing a white linen dress that flowed to your ankles, blonde hair down and curled, your eyes locked on Ellie. You gave her a small wave back before darting into one of the rows in the back and sitting down for the rest of the performance.

Jake couldn’t concentrate, but he forced himself to stand and clap once Ellie’s class finished their dance. He had to hold himself together enough not to turn around and look for you in the back. Not to sprint down the aisle and search through every folding chair until he found yours.

Instead, Jake faced forward, his mind spinning as he watched the other classes routines, counting down the seconds until the lights went up and he could find you in the crowd.

Finally, the lights came off dim and Jake shot up in his seat, one of the first to stand. But once he turned around, everyone else was standing, too, blocking his view of the back row. He sighed and made his way out to the hallway, looking for Ellie. He spotted Mrs. Bell first, with her bright red hair, and watched as she opened a side door, all of the little girls in their tiny tutus spilling out into the hallway. Jake recognized Ellie’s blonde curls immediately, making his way toward her.

“Daddy!” She flung her arms around his neck where he knelt down to hug her, and Jake wrapped his daughter in his arms.

“You did so great, Princess!” he murmured, pulling back from the embrace and smoothing a hand over her hair. “I’m so proud of you.”

Ellie practically vibrated she was so elated. “Daddy, I saw Natalie! She was by the door.”

Until the words left her mouth, Jake had wondered if he had imagined you. How ethereal and beautiful you had looked, standing there. A part of him had almost been able to fool himself into thinking that you were simply a mirage, a daydream.

Until he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Nat!” Ellie jumped up and down and Jake watched as you bent over, sweeping her into your arms, matching grins on both of your faces.

“Hi peanut,” you said softly. “You did amazing!”

“You came!” Ellie was practically shouting and you laughed.

“Of course I did,” you said. “I promised, didn’t I?”

She nodded frantically then looked at Jake. “Yes, but Daddy said you might not come.”

Jake’s heart did somersaults in his chest as you raised your eyes to his finally. “Well, I’m here now, pumpkin. And I’m really glad I came. You did great.”

You placed Ellie back on the ground and looked up at Jake. “Hi Jake,” you said quietly, leaning over and pressing your lips to his cheek. Barely grazing his skin, but his fingers reached out automatically and breezed over your waist.

As you pulled away, Jake’s hope sank a little further. It took everything in his power not to reach out and pull you to his chest, plant his lips on yours, let his hands roam the expanse of your back. He was desperate to feel you beneath his fingertips again. Remember what it was like to hold you and kiss you and know that you were his.

You no longer belonged to him, and he knew it.

There was a beautiful sadness that had enveloped you. It had been six weeks since the fight. Almost three months since you left for New York the first time. And Jake still longed for you every waking minute of his days. Seeing you there, standing next to Ellie, her small hand enveloped in yours, was too much of a reminder of what he had lost.

He couldn’t believe you had come back like you said you would. That you had even remembered.

He didn’t realize that you were the kind of person who would always keep a promise, no matter what.

“Did you see my twirl?” Ellie asked you excitedly and you nodded sweetly.

“I did, peanut. You were great. Do you want to keep dancing? Maybe try tap?”

“Don’t give her any ideas,” Jake groaned and you chuckled. The sound of your laughter was a thousand rainbows raining down on his ears.

“Sorry,” you whispered. There was a moment of silence while you looked at Jake and he gazed back. Those seconds told you everything you needed to know. He still loved you. And you knew that you still loved him. But did he know it?

Jake broke the silence by clearing his throat, Ellie’s hand warm in your own. “I promised Ellie I would take her to get some ice cream,” Jake said quietly. “Um, would you like to join us?”

“That sounds lovely, but I can’t. I’m sorry.” Your eyes met Jake’s and there was nothing there but a flood of sadness. An overwhelming sadness that threatened to bury him. An avalanche of emotion.

You squatted down and rested your hands on Ellie’s small arms.

“Have a good time, sweetie. I’ll see you soon, OK?”

Ellie looked up with hopeful eyes and nodded silently, her curls bouncing. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before standing, adjusting the strap of your purse on your shoulder and turning to Jake. Jake looked at you with the same matching hopeful eyes as his daughter, but with another dash of something.

Remorse.

To his surprise, you stepped forward and wound your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. Jake pulled you in tightly, his arms binding you to him for a second, trying desperately to memorize how you felt pressed against him, before you leaned back, dropping your arms from his neck, a miserable look tattooed on your face.

“Bye, Jake,” you whispered and his mind flitted back to that night six weeks before when you had said the same thing as you reversed out of the driveway, tears flooding your eyes.

Jake held Ellie’s hand as he watched you walk out into the parking lot and be enveloped by the setting sun until the skyline was so bright he couldn’t make out your figure anymore, his vision bleached in shades of orange and red, until he couldn’t see or hear anything, the only thing keeping him grounded was the soft feeling of Ellie’s tiny hand in his, tugging him along, pulling him ahead, giving him purpose.

***

The sound of your heels clacking on the shiny floor sounded like gunshots.

Every step you took should have elevated your heart rate, but it didn’t. You felt like a marathon runner, despite never having run more than a mile at a time in your life. You felt unstoppable in a weird way.

Determination was like that. So was resignation.

Through the glass wall — why were all the fucking walls glass in this place, you wondered — you could see Patrick sipping a drink by the window, his back to you.

He turned around with the sound of the door slamming shut.

“Natalie?” His voice was thin and surprised. “I thought you were in New York until the twentieth.”

“Came back early,” you said.

Patrick raised an eyebrow. “On whose authority?”

“Mine.”

He let out a sharp laugh. “And who says you have the authority?”

You smiled. “I did, when I quit.”

“What?” He was incredulous.

“I quit, Patrick,” you said, leaning forward and pressing your hands to the enormous wooden desk, eyes hardened and locked on his watery ones. “I’m not going to be a pawn in some sick game you’re playing that hinges on bigotry. Finance used to be an Old Boy’s Club and we all knew it, but things are changing. Someday, and I hope it’s soon, you’re going to have to fess up and realize that this is no longer the workplace you started in. You’re going to get what’s coming, Patrick. Maybe I’m just the first woman to stand up to you and say it.”

His eyes shifted around in anger or fear, you couldn’t decipher which.

“I took a job with Parker Lane.” They were the firm’s largest competitor. “And I told them all about you and your non-questions about my future and family life and they found it very interesting.”

Now you knew what you saw in his eyes. Rage. Pure, unadulterated rage. Patrick sunk down into the plush leather chair behind his desk, almost sputtering in anger.

“I’ll see you around, Patrick,” you said, lifting off of the desk and turning toward the door. “Oh, and Patrick?” Your hand was on the doorknob as you turned around to look at him. He was seething. “I did some digging and it turns out I’m not the first person you’ve made veiled threats to about employment matters. Expect some paperwork on your desk from Chairman Bill for that on Monday. I wouldn’t get too comfortable in that chair. Might not be yours for too long.”

The hallway had never looked so wide, so free, so thrilling as it did on your way out.

You got in your car and hit ignore on the GPS when it asked what route you’d like to take home.

You knew exactly where you were going.

A/N: Patrick can suck it! Also there is hope on the horizon for these two 🥰 And shoutout to @blue-aconite for the recital idea from a very sad, but sweet Jake x Natalie dream xx

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#jake hangman imagine #jake hangman x you #jake hangman fic #jake seresin #hangman fanfiction #hangman top gun #hangman x oc #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin fluff #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick imagine #top gun x oc

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sirwow · 4 months

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LOGHAIL WAR !! a short fic about these two's fight in my au under the cut to complement this art

A soft snowfall paints piles of rubbish in a coat of frost. The crackling of Hailey and Logan’s footsteps in the snow is occasionally broken up by the crinkling of metal. Logan carefully tipped toed behind Hailey’s march- this scrapyard had to have been abandoned for years at this point. It was uneasy. Logan clutched the baseball he was tossing between his hands. Hailey had an iron grip on her bat since they arrived. Logan’s nerves were only worsened from the sight.

“..H-Hailey I think we should turn back.. I don’t know what you want here but I’m sure w-we could figure something else-“

Hailey cut Logan’s worry short with a glare. “No. We’re almost there anyways. Stop being such a baby for once will you?”

Her words stung more than the cold wind. Logan’s clutch on his baseball shifted from nervous fidgeting to a stone cold grip. They continued on until coming to an opening, marked by a looming broken down crane. Logan stopped in the center as Hailey drifted toward a junk pile. He tried to speak in some vain but his tongue caught itself, unwilling to comfort further. Rather Logan just watched in morbid curiosity at what Hailey was planning.

Shatter.

It was so fast Logan barely processed what Hailey was doing. She raised her bat again- and right back into the door of a totaled car. No voice nor grunt could be discerned from her pummeling. A ruthless beating with unreadable reasons. It’s not like anyone would care but.. Logan’s nerves told him this was horribly wrong.

A snag by the arm was enough to pull Hailey from her outlash, Logan pulling back till they were having a tug of war over the bat.

“Hailey what the heck has gotten into you?!”

Hailey attempted to throw Logan off the bat “Why do you need to know? Just let me have this moment!”

Logan’s remaining sympathy evaporated. Using his full force, Logan ripped the bat easily from her hands and threw it aside her feet. Hailey stared him down but the wimpy doormat of a boy inside Logan was gone.

“Why do I need to know? Oh I don’t know? I'M YOUR BOYFRIEND?? How the hell am I supposed to help you when you take your emotions out like- like-“ Logan grabs his baseball from his pocket, pitching it directly into a old TV screen. The shatter startled Hailey for a moment but the insult was fast to leave it’s mark.

Hailey lifted her bat from the ground. “Maybe because you’d just try to “fix” all my issues only to make them worse, like getting us in the hospital in the first place!” Hailey turned and bludgeoned at a pot.

“I wasn’t fixing anything! I was confused why you didn’t just say you had feelings too- I-I thought you just tolerated me leaving me in a ditch for so long!”

“Sorry I have trust issues. I could and would have never taken you if you couldn’t stop being a coward for 5 minutes! But I guess I clearly should have had higher standards.”

Logan still faced away from Hailey. Tense silence danced with the snow and his hands shook.

“You should have had higher standards? I should’ve with how you’re FUCKING TREATING ME! Ooh I’m SO sorry that I dared to WORRY about you when you left on a train with barely any notice!” Logan snarled through a childish gesture- smashing small glasses near him.

“Oh get a spine. 5 days. I WAS GONE FOR 5 DAYS! Nicole told me all you talked about was “Oh.. where’s Hailey.. oh woe is me..” Get a GRIP.”

“Get a grip- says the one who couldn’t handle talking about having a problem at home to me for 2 years-“

Hailey throws her bat into the garbage pile with a violent shriek of metal returning. She and Logan both turn to face each other, boiling enough to melt the snow that was picking up.

“You pampered piece of shit. Get out of my face.”

Hailey pointed Logan to the direction of the exit after getting in his face.

“No.”

Hailey backed off both in awe and disbelief that Logan was doing this. She gritted her teeth and screamed red in the face.

“..hhhhhHHH- I FUCKING HATE YOU!”

“WELL MAYBE I HATE YOU TOO!” Logan screamed back.

Then nothing.

They saw each other for who they were again, faces both hurt and broken. They quietly collapsed to the ground and sat back to back sobbing. The wind played a twisted melody through old pipes and cracked glass. It remained so for what felt like eternity.

Logan regained his composure first. “H-Hailey.. I-I didn’t mean all that, I-“

“L-Logan please. Please don’t apologize. I-I should be the one apologizing. I’m sorry.”

Logan shifted to sit in front of Hailey and cupped her tears with his hand. “Hailey I- I said that about your home- I don’t deserve anything after that- I never should have said a thing, I’m so sorry..”

Hailey held Logan back. “Logan, did you forget what I said? I deserve it..”

“W-what?? Don’t say that! What you said about me was true!”

“But you were being honest too!- I.. haha.. I don’t have the energy to argue this.. just- come here.”

Hailey pulled Logan in for a tight hug, laughing and crying over the situation. Logan was still lost in confusion but returned the favor as his tears returned. Their hearts raced together and slowed as they swayed back and forth holding each other. Their eyes closed, they simply let things be for a moment of respite.

Hailey eventually lightly pushed on Logan’s shoulders and he took the que to back off. She whipped her remaining tears and laughed a bit to herself.

“..Thank you, Logan. I’m not sure what would’ve happened to me if you didn’t do something. Probably would have only gotten worse.”

Logan softly smiled while scratching his weary eyes. “Of course.. haha.. I don’t think I’ve ever done something like that in my life before.”

“Well keep it up for me will you?” Hailey cupped his face with both her hands.

“I promise I’ll try my best.”

“That’s perfect.”

Hailey kissed Logan on the nose. His face was redder then when he had screamed but he giggled and dove in for a cheek kiss before Hailey could get away. Both giggled flushed on the ground before Hailey got up and helped Logan up as well.

Grabbing their things, they left with a spark- burnt in the heart but reignited in the ashes.

#rhythm doctor #rhythm doctor hailey #rhythm doctor logan #loghail #rd connections converged #iv had this for a good min iv just forgot to post it till i drew angry hailey

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oconnellthebrave · 5 months

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[ leah pipes | she/her ] Another face is seeking safety in New Orleans. Make sure to welcome CAMILLE O’CONNELL to the home of the resilient. Rumor has it that they are an 25 year old VAMPIRE, who is one of the RETURNED but we’ll keep that a secret. They are said to be SELF-DESTRUCTIVE, but that’s all a façade to cover up their EMPATHIC nature. We’ve heard that they can be found listening to GROWING SIDEWAYS by NOAH KAHAN, which sums them up pretty well. Let’s hope that they can find a way to survive this harsh new world.

CHARACTER PROFILE: Full name: camille rose o'connell Nickname(s): cami Birthdate: march 17th, 1988 Age: 25 (turned) Species: vampire Sexuality: bisexual Hometown: vermont Current Residence: New Orleans Occupation: currently none

FAMILY: Parents: Patrick O'Connell - Father (Alive), Catherine O'Connell - Mother (Alive) Sibling(s): Sean O'Connell - Twin Brother (deceased) Other: Kieran O'Connell - Uncle (deceased) PERSONALITY: Positive Traits: empathic, astute, adaptable, altruistic, candid, compassionate, eloquent, gentle, pragmatic, resilient, studious Negative Traits: self-destructive, brazen, finicky, impetuous, opinionated, sly, stoic

HISTORY: (trigger warning for mental illness, death, suicide.) Camille Rose O'Connell was born March 17th, 1988 and she wasn't alone. On that same day only a few minutes later her twin brother, Sean, was born. Patrick and Rose, two newly weds, were overwhelmed with two babies at once which led to a rocky upbringing. So the two grew close, often counting on only each other for support and comfort. Her father, a war veteran, was drafted a few years after the two were born. He came back with PTSD, something that he didn't receive much help for. From then on, Cami became interested in Psychology.

In school Cami stuck to her books, hoping her smarts would make up for her families lack of money. This ended up working in her favor when she was accepted to a nice college that helped her get on the right path for a degree in Psychology. Her brother decided to follow their families long duty of priesthood. So the two ended up splitting for the first time since birth, one going to Chicago and the other to New Orleans.

At first, it felt like life was looking up so instead of waiting for the other shoe to drop she attempted to finally live her life. It however did drop, one night she got a phone call from her uncle Kieran. He was distraught and confused saying that Sean had murdered nine people and right after killed himself. This shattered all plans for college and she quickly packed up and made her way to New Orleans. Deep down she knew there was something mysterious about his death

New Orleans ended up being a place that Cami adored despite the obvious darkness that loomed over the streets. After a few weeks of not finding much about why Sean did what he did, she ended up getting a job as a bartender at Rousseau's. A few months after that she enrolled in a graduate program to continue her degree. Life seemed to go on as normal as it could and each day she learned nothing new about what happened to her brother.

Then Elijah Mikaelson walked into her bar and ordered a drink. He spoke about his troubles and woes, so she decided to let him know his brother was narcissistic and paranoid. Soon after that she was introduced to Klaus who compelled her to give Marcel, a man she often served at the bar, a chance for a possible date. That date led to a series of events that ended up helping her understand what really happened to her brother. With now being aware of the supernatural world that lurked not only in the streets but in her family history, she was able to understand why it felt as if she was always doomed.

The supernatural world ended up being one that she happened to feel at home with. Turns out, her family had a long history of taking care of dark objects. These objects helped humans against different beings. It felt as if this world was where she belonged. But her involvement in that world was dangerous. It was never safe for her and that became apparent when she was compelled by Aurora de Martel to kill herself once Klaus admitted he loved her.

Becoming a vampire brought out apart of Cami, she hoped would never return. She became more impulsive and her anger bubbled into something much harder to control with heightened senses. It took some time, but with the help of her close friends she was able to come back from it. However, it was just in time to meet her death by Lucien.

Death didn't last forever and she wasn't exactly sure how that happened. One day she awoke in a coffin as a violent storm raged over New Orleans. As she walked the windy streets, barefoot, she realized something horrible had happened. So she made her way to the only place she knew would be untouched, the Mikaelson compound.

HEADCANNONS: -under co.-

CONNECTIONS: Klaus Mikaelson - former flame - The hybrid saw Camille first, when he had returned to New Orleans. But the most significant meeting was near a painting the two both seemed to be taken by. After this, Klaus compelled Cami to start a relationship with Marcel. He had told her that he was a vampire and what his intentions were, something she would forget every time he left her eyesight. It became complicated when Cami began a relationship with Marcel and Klaus grew jealous. Klaus would compel her one last time, but Davina Claire made sure it didn't last long. Once getting all her memories back she confronted Klaus about what he had done. The things he had told her and made her do even if he said he was protecting her, she didn't care. It felt like violation and it took some time for her to fully trust him again. However, once she did the two became very close. Their feelings for each other growing stronger as time passed.

After being used as pawn in the fight between Aurora, Lucien, and Klaus. He finally admitted his feelings for her and the two shared their first kiss on Christmas. This was their last happy evening together, because soon after Cami killed herself under the compulsion of Aurora. Thinking that Klaus only loved her for her humanity, she pushed him away hoping that would ease her pain. It didn't, and the two ended up becoming close again only for it to be halted by Lucien's deadly bite. Yet, Klaus made sure that Cami felt no pain during her death. He helped her die being comforted by the idea that he would always keep her memory alive.

Marcel Gerard - former flame/friend- The first night the two had met, Marcel let Klaus know that the woman was either dumb or brave. When approaching her to find the answer, it turned out she was very brave and wouldn't take any crap from the vampire. He found this amusing and let her live, this then turned into something more romantic. However, Cami could never be sure what feelings for Marcel were her own after being compelled by Klaus to gain the mans trust. After Klaus told her that her feelings for Marcel were indeed not fake, she did her best to push the two away. This didn't last long as the two had a summer fling which ended when she decided that it was all too much. Since Marcel also had complicated feelings for a Mikaelson, the two ended up staying close friends and allies.

When Cami died, Marcel took the loss hard and mourned her for a long time.

Davina Claire - close friend/sisterly bond- Camille met Davina because Klaus had compelled her to accept the offer of watching the new witch during a major festival. The two quickly bonded, most likely due to Cami being the only female Davina had seen in months. When tensions between Marcel and Davina were high, she went to Camille for help but she had just been compelled by Klaus to forget everything and leave the city. The young witched ushered Cami inside and began the painful processing of undoing every compulsion. Once getting all her memories back, Cami then began to finally understand the supernatural world. It was Davina Claire who helped make sure that Camille wasn't in the dark about anything. Helping her become aware that the O'Connell family has had a long line of being involved in this type of life. Soon after this, Davina would be sacrificed and later brought back from the afterlife. This would cause a rift between them as Davina ended up taking dark objects from Cami to help bring Mikael back to hurt Klaus.

-under co-

Hope Mikaelson - Cami helped keep an eye on Hope as a baby. Keeping her out of harms way when Mikaelson enemies were on their tails. However, she never got to see the woman grow as she died when Hope was a baby. -under co- Vincent Griffith - close friend/confidant - Elijah Mikaelson - close friend - Hayley Marshall - close friend/confidant - Rebekah Mikaelson - friend - Freya Mikaelson - friend- Kol Mikaelson - annoyance -

#/still working on this #exitium.intro #↷ oconnellthebrave ꒰ bio ꒱

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slashingdisneypasta · 3 years

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Sylvester the Cat x Toon!Reader || Drabble

Plot: I'm just experimenting with the Looney Tune idea so possibly enjoy some cute Sylvester Jr wanting you to be his new other parent.

Warnings: Toon violence?

You're just tying up the ends of Wile E's bandages into a tight little knot, prompting a wince from the coyote and a little board sign saying 'Ouch!'. Immediately you wince, stepping back. "Ohh... sorry, Wile E... I'm not exactly certified... " Daffy made you do this job, seeing as you're worse at sports then any of them- and that's saying something.

His head falls forward slightly and his ears wilt as you step back.

"Okay! Who's nex- " Turning around - picking up some more bandages and band aids in one fist, and an industrial sized tube of Acme branded antiseptic cream tucked under your other arm, - you look about for your next patient.

- And droop as soon as you see what kind if work load is waiting for you. It looks like every toon you know is lined up for medical attention!

The bandages and band aids slip out of your hands and scatter across the floor. "Oh boy." Quickly taking a deep breath to refresh yourself, you perk right up in order to get to it. Okay! "Sly! You're first, what's wro- Uh, hah. Nevermind."

Looking at him... maybe you don't have to ask...

Tweety flies through the giant gaping hole in Sylvester's tummy and the cat gives great sigh, slumping forward. "Why are the only times he's in there are when he can get out!!"

"I know, I know, woe is you. Sit down." You have no time for sympathies right now, you can allocate Sly only 2 minutes- and that's because you like him. The other patients coming get only one. "Okay, Sly!... um... " Oh brother you're stuck. Why do you do with an ailment like this?? Sylvester patiently sits, waiting for you to finish as you set your paws on your hips with a huff... wondering where exactly to go from here. Hm. "Do you maybe... know where your insides... are? Like, presently?"

"Uhh, they were... disintegrated... "

You two share a concerned look. "Maybe... spackle?- "

Just as Sylvester is gulping down his fear at your crazy suggestion, a certain black and white kitten comes speeding out of the crowd at the two of you. "FATHER!" Sylvester Junior stops at his fathers side, eyes wide with worry. "Father! Is he okay, Y/N??"

As you start rifling through your medical kit for something actually useful, you waive a dismissive paw at the kitten. "Oh, don't worry SJ. Your dad has recovered from worse- you know that."

Oh- that gives you an idea! It may not be strictly medical... or orthodox in the least, but its worth a try! Come on- you guys are toons. Straightening up, you look to the court; Searching for the little yellow speck you know is flying around somewhere.

Sylvester Jr nods slowly, pouting. His eyes are big, and round, and adorably full of worry. "Do you think I can sit on his lap safely, Y/N?"

Oh he's just the cutest. You turn back to your patient and raise your brows at him. "Can he?"

Sly perks up at the chance to get some much needed affection - rather then shameful berating, - from his rugrat. "Of course he can- come on, son- oww... " Unfortunately Sylvester Junior throws caution to the wind, and launches his little body at his father- almost going all the way through and causing you to seriously wince, but luckily Sylvester has a good grip on him and sets him in his lap rather then inside the cavern that was his belly. "Aghhh... thanks, son... I feel a lot better now... oof!- "

Sylvester Junior has thrown his arms around his father, and your heart leaps at the adorable scene...

Except- you wouldn't have, if you had heard what was really going on in that hug.

Sylvester's eyes widen and he deadpans at his son, hearing the words that come out in a rushed, hoarse whisper as soon as the hug he thought was genuine closes around his neck. Of course... this is his son, after all...

"How am I doing, Father?? Is Y/N looking?? I've been told that other cats become more inclined to date a cat who's good with children!, and since you're hopeless at that, I've elected myself, your darling baby son, to help you! So, are they looking father??"

"Junior!"

"Yes father???"

"I do not need your help to woo anyone, and I'm working on Y/N... " Sly tries to assure Jr, not sounding totally sure as his eyes fall downcast. "Its, uh, just a slow process, is all... " After a moment, he proudly lifts his chin, and he would puff out his chest, if... you know.. it was there... "I got your mother on my own, didn't I??"

Sylvester's proud moment is cut off quickly as his son pulls away from him to give a very deadpanned, sassy expression at the mention of his absentee mother cat. "And where is she, may I ask, father??"

A loud 'Aha!' comes from you a few feet away as you jump up, and grab something right out of the air.

Deeply rolling his eyes, irritation flickering inside him at the antics of his son, Sylvester Sr plonks him down on the bench beside him, angrily crossing his arms. Jr follows suit, looking like an exact replica of his father... except, smaller.

Blinking blankly around to see the two, with Tweety now wriggling around in your paws, you giggle at the sight. "What happened to you two? You were having such a heart warming father-son moment a second ago!"

"I'm full of shame, Y/N. Oh woe... "Sylvester Jr sighs, shaking his head as Sr turns his head slowly to look at him. "How am I to face my friends at the playground... My father- a loser!"

Sylvester pointedly looks away, angry eyes pointing towards the court. "My son... a spoiled brat. How am I ever to show my face in society, again?" An even heavier sigh comes out of Sylvester Jr at that remark, and Sylvester Sr immediately jumps up from the bench, pointing a stern finger at his son. "Oh no ya don't- Don't you dare get out that bag!!"

"But Father! I'm full of shame!" Sylvester Jr whines, holding the paper bag in his lap as you watch the two in wonderment. How they can bicker like this, and still have such an adorable, open relationship you have no clue - some kids are too scared to talk back to their fathers, - but the state of these two's relationship is truly, really endearing to you.

Oh how you love Sly... You catch yourself swooning at the thought of him, and immediately stop yourself. Stop it, Y/N! This is not the time for that. Taking a deep breath, you shake yourself. Okay, back to the task at hand.

Meanwhile, Sylvester snatches the paper bag away from Jr. "Oh, cut that out, wouldja?!"

While there's a pause in the argument, you jump and take your chance to hold up Tweety in front of Sylvester's face- his pupils shrinking at the sight and his teeth growing sharper, somehow.

"Oh no oh no- You mean old puddy tads- using me like this!" Tweety exclaims, wings pressed firmly to your paws and pushing, struggling to wiggle up and out of your tight grip. Yeah yeah, you think. Tell it to the choir.

Hopefully when I let Tweety go, Sly will give chase... and be all better!

Heh... isn't that how it works? It is, right? He'll 'perk right up'! you could say.

"Alright... here goes nothing!" You squeak, closing your eyes and letting Tweety go, hoping to god that Sylvester doesn't trample you in his endeavour to snatch his favourite little yellow bird.

Feeling a wind blow against you side and ruffling your fur as Sylvester springs to action, you slowly crack your eyes open again- first seeing Sylvester Jr as he still sits on the bench in front of you swinging his legs over the side of the bench, before peaking over your shoulder, and... "Yes!" You cry out as soon as your keen feline eyes catch sight of Sylvester looking good as new again on the court, chasing Tweety through the still-roaring basketball game. Clasping your hands together, your tail wiggles excitedly behind your back. "It worked!"

"What?" Sylvester hears your cheering and immediately halts in his tracks, looking at you then down at himself- a big, toothy smile spreading across his face when he see's he's all better. "Y/N! You did it! Thanks!"

"Of course!" You call back, then point at the scoreboard and wink. "Now kick those Monstar's butts for me!"

The green Monstar turns a squinty looking evil eye on you at hearing your words but you don't care- you're far too busy burning the image of Sly giving you a thumbs up into your mind.

"Heheh, no problem... " That trademark evil grin slips across Sly's face again as he rubs his paws together, turning his attention back to the game as you sigh, paws on your hips; Happy with your job well done.

"Uh, hello??" Someone speaks up from behind you, and you jump, suddenly remembering the mile long line of toons that still need medical attention.

Ohhh... great. You slowly turn around, seeing Elmer giving you angry eyes and quickly look extremely apologetic, paws awkwardly behind your back and spine as straight as a plank. Oops!

You might seem help... you think you tilting your head to see the rest of the long... long, l o n g line. "Uhh... SJ? You wanna help me play nurse, maybe?"

"Oh, yes Y/N!" He exclaims enthusiastically, hopping off the bench and taking up your medical kit in his short little arms- which is way too big for him. You giggle and take it from the kitten, patting his head. "I'll be happy to be your assistant!"

Fist bumping each other, you wink. "That's the kinda attitude I like to see! Lets go."

A couple hours and countless injuries later and the game is coming to a nail chewing close. Truly, this is a new level of anxiety you're feeling as you leave Sylvester Junior, now exhausted and up past his bedtime, curled in Granny's lap with a blanket strewn over him. Then you sit back down to watch the game beside a very injured Sly, as Witch Hazel defibrillates Taz.

If Michael doesn't make this shot - with but seven seconds to go, - he has to move to Moron Mountain in your place. You all dragged him here for help and now h's the one with everything on the line.

You cant help but feel a massive load of guilt.

"Oh I cant watch!" You squeak suddenly amongst the thunderous sounds of the audience at 4 seconds, and cover your eyes. "Tell me when its over!"

3 seconds later, the buzzer screeches and you hear the toons around you cheering, and peak out nervously from beyond your paws. ... What happened?

Your gaze flickers to the score board.

Oh my god. A deep, relieved breath comes out of you. "We won!?"

"We won!" Sylvester concurs, jumping up from the bench and throwing a fist into the air. Then he puts his paws on your arms and beams down at you. "We're not gonna be slaves!!"

You wonder what you could say in response, but the one thing your body is telling to you to do is throw your arms around him- so you do. And he doesn't think twice before squeezing you back, picking you up and swinging you around.

Then the world comes crashing down around Sly, as his son opens his eyes to see the scene- and gasps. The kitten sits up quickly in Granny's lap and points. "Oh, father! You did it! I knew you could do it!"

Immediately Sylvester puts you down, his paws retreating from you and a definite sense of nervousness - and maybe embarrassment? - settles over him. You raise your brows, confused, but still swimming in the joy of the game being won and just tilt your head as you confusedly smile. "What did he do??"

Sly Jr doesn't even think a second before gleefully elaborating- despite his father very nearly shaking his soul free waving his hands at him in a doomed endeavour to shut his son up. "No- stop, Junior!- "

"Asked you out! Didn't he?" As the wide eyed bewilderment on your face and the utter horror on Sylvester's dawns on Jr, his shoulders drop and he turns disappointedly at his dad. "Didn't you?"

"No!"

"Oh, father!- "

Sylvester Sr's tail, shoulders, and head slump forward as he turns his kitten around so he faces away from the two of you, embarrassment replaced by exasperation. "You're tired, son. Go to sleep. Night night, sleep tight, sweet dreams, don't let the bed bugs bite and we'll talk in the morning." Then he slowly, meekly turns back to you.

And you're practically glowing. "Sly... what's he talking about?"

"Father likes you!- " Sylvester Jr tries to speak up again, turning his head but Sr twists his head carefully back, a reprimanding tone in his voice.

"Sleep! Hah hah... " Sylvester (Sr) turns back to you, arms held carefully behind his back as he chuckles nervously. "My son is... troubled... a little- "He point at his head and swirls his finger; A gesture reading 'Loopy'. As soon as the meaning behind that word and his gesture occurs to you, you visibly droop. Oh. Okay... I guess SJ was just messing with us... Sly watches this reaction, and his ears perk up quickly; Sensing some dissappintment. "I mean, uh... unless you liked the i-idea?"

You peak up at him again from the floor, seeing his face slowly going red. "... D-do you?"

"Wha- I asked first! You answer the question."

"Hey." Setting your fists to your hips, you look stubbornly at him. "You were just taking it all back! So you tell the truth. Which is it??"

"Yeah- but I asked the question first!"

"Sylvester James Pussycat Senior!"

"Pfft... if you think pulling full name on me is going to change anything... " He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. "You've got another thing comin'!"

Your eyes narrow, and so do his, before suddenly Taz jumps up from the bench he was resting on and ZOOMS past Sly so fast and so hazardously, that he's caught off guard and jumps forward with a yelp- accidentally knocking you.

"Oh!-"

"H-hold on, I got ya!!" Sylvester's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates and he grabs you just before gravity manages to drag you down to the ground; Pulling you back up to your feet- which just so happens to bring you two extremely close together.

Two sets of eyes widen and faces go red.

Everything seems to go a little quieter around you, the deafening sounds of the auditorium seeming to get plunged under water as the crazy all just slows down for just a moment. Enough for you to enjoy the few seconds you foreseeably get before he jumps back like someone sprayed him.

But to your surprise, he doesn't move. Just stands there and looks shocked... but does not move even an inch away from you. Doesn't even let go of you.

Finally, after a few good moments, you sigh and give in. "... Sly, would you like to go out sometime with me?"

"Ah... " His ears flatten against his head as he looks bashful, with a cute little smile that makes your stomach do backflips as he curls his tail around yours. "Yes, I'd like that very much."

You lean up and give him a feather light kiss on the cheeks- and he goes even redder.

#(faintly you two can hear a loud 'YES FATHER!!' from sj XDD )#Looney Tunes #The Looney Tunes #Sylvester x Reader #Sylvester the Cat x Reader #Drabble #Sylvester The Cat x Reader Drabble #Space Jam

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artzychic27 · 3 years

Note

Artist Family 1991 movie?

All is more sullen than usual for the Artists. It’s the third anniversary of Rose’s disappearance

Juleka: *Solemnly staring at Rose’s empty room* Think of it That. For years we’ve attempted to contact Rose in the Great Beyond. And for years… Nothing.

Ever since Rose’s disappearance, Juleka has been looking through her spell books for other ways to contact her, but just can seem to find anything

For Marinette, she tries to cope the only way she knows how… Through torture.

Alix: *Tied up: Screaming through her binds*

Marinette: *Aiming an arrow at Alix* Don’t be a baby. I know what I’m doing.

Marc is more unhappy than usual… And it gets Nathaniel in the mood.

Nathaniel: *Watching Marc sleep* Look at him. I would die for him. I would kill for him… Either way, what bliss. *Marc wakes up* Unhappy, darling?

Marc: Oh, yes. Yes, completely. Nathan... The sun. Me atraviesa como un puñal.

Nathaniel: Oh, monochrome. That's Spanish.

Marc: Si.

Nathaniel: *Grabs a bucket of black paint and splatters it all over the window*

Marc: Mi amor... Last night, you were unhinged. You were like some desperate howling demon. You frightened me… Do it again.

Also, their neighbor, a well-respected judge, hates them because Marinette can’t keep her flaming arrows on the Artists’ property. Why does this matter? You’ll soon see.

Nathaniel: *Playing chess with Juleka while Marc snips the buds off of roses* It’s a milestone, Marc. It’ll be our third séance. All those years, gnawed by guilt, undone by woe, burning with uncertainty.

Marc: Nathaniel, don’t torture yourself… That’s my job around here. But, imagine if Rose did return. Half alive, barley human, a rotting shell.

Juleka: *Sighs* That’d be a sight.

Unbeknownst to everyone (Except Félix), Juleka has a crush on Rose.

Later, the Artists’ lawyer, Cecil and his wife Bridgette arrive to ask for a loan. (Wow. Asking for a loan from teenagers? Yeesh.) Why? Because they owe a loan shark.

Bridgette: Why did I marry you?

Cecil: Because I said yes!

While Cecil tries to work out a deal with Nathaniel, Bridgette collects expensive looking items for a charity auction from Juleka, Marc, and Félix

Marc: *As Félix pulls body bags out of a closet* Uncle Niknak's winter wardrobe. Uncle Niknak's summer wardrobe… Uncle Niknak.

Nathaniel: ‘The Rose Artist Off-Shore Retirement Fund’?… A tribute to thee. Some called her inhumanly evil.

Cecil: No!

Nathaniel: Only her parents before she fled her home.

And they make a deal… But…

Nathaniel: It’s going to have to wait, you know the rules better than that. Old business is old business and new business is new business. And this is new business and we do not discuss new business until… The next quarter.

After an unsuccessful attempt at stabbing Nathaniel with one of the many swords in the house, Cecil gives up until Nathaniel mentions going to get money for the monthly expenses from the vault

Meanwhile, Marc shows Bridgette a golden finger trap from the court of Emperor Wu

Bridgette: *Trying to not pocket it and run off* Oh, Marc, this is too extravagant, even for the auction.

Juleka: Let’s keep it.

Marc: Juleka, it’s for charity. *Bridgette gets her fingers trapped* Widows and orphans. We need more of them… Bridgette, about the séance tonight, why don’t you come? It's Nathaniel I'm terribly worried about. He won't eat, he can't sleep, he keeps coughing up blood.

Bridgette: He coughs up blood?

Marc: Well, not like he used to...

Cecil returns to his office with a suitcase full of doubloons from the Artists’ account, no knowledge of how to get the vault open, and in his office is Ms. Craven, a loan shark and her familiar-looking daughter, Willow

After some intimidation from Willow, Cecil gets an idea of how to repay Ms. Craven the money he owes her when he sees how similar she looks to Rose

There’s thunder and lightning on the night of the séance. Perfect weather

Marc: Marinette, Alix, put down that antenna, and come inside.

With their plan in place, Cecil and Bridgette arrive

Bridgette: *Shows Marinette the finger trap still on her fingers* Could you help me? *Marinette removes it with ease*

Marinette: Push, do not pull.

Marc: *With everyone seated around the table for the séance* Harken all souls. Every year on this date, we offer a clarion call to Rose Artist… Alix, drop the cleaver.

Marinette: *Sees Alix aiming the cleaver at her* Stop it.

Marc: From generation to generation, our beacon to the beyond. All close eyes and join hands.

After a practical joke on Bridgette involving That, the séance continues.

Marinette: Let us ransom you from the power of the grave. Tonight, oh Death, let us be your plague.

Juleka: Rose Artist, ceoli couris, ferimani bo… She’s near. *Félix plays a dramatic sting on his organ* Rose! Gather your strength! And knock three times! *One knock… Two… Three*

Nathaniel: She’s at the door!

That quickly goes to unlock the front door. And there, much to the Artists’ disbelief and joy is Rose… Or so they think. And there with her is Ms. Craven, posing as a psychiatrist named Dr. Schloss

Ms. Craven makes up some story about how “Rose” was found in Miami, tangled up in a tuna net. There were psychological tests, and a bunch of crap.

Nathaniel: And now she’s back.

Rose: At least for a week. I’ve got things to do back at the Bermuda Triangle.

Marc: *Sighs* Oh, the Bermuda Triangle./ Nathaniel: The Devil’s Island./ Marc: The Black Hole of Calcutta

Nathaniel: Pardon me for a moment. *Kisses up and down Marc’s arm* Our fifth date.

Marinette: No one escapes the Bermuda Triangle. Not even for a vacation. Everyone knows that.

Any attempts Willow tries at getting a good night’s sleep, it doesn’t work because The floors are constantly creaking, Marinette and Alix keep staring at her from down the hall, and That keep sneaking up on her which causes her to scream.

Nathaniel: … My dear friend. I’ve got goosebumps./ Marc: I know./ Nathaniel: Screams in the night. It can only mean one thing./ Marc: She’s home.

The next morning, Marinette and Alix suspect something is up with “Rose”. Meanwhile, Nathaniel takes “Rose” to the vault

Alix: *As Marinette warms up the electric chair* Do you think that’s really Rose?

Marinette: Nathaniel and Juleka seem to think so. But I think Marc isn’t sure. Now let’s a play a game. Sit in the chair.

Alix: What game?

Marinette: ‘Want to meet God?’

And Nathaniel does take Rose down to the vault, via gondola in the catacombs of the Artist home, only this vault leads to a secret room… That also leads to the money vault when a certain vial of poison is lifted

During that time, while they’re down there, Nathaniel reveals to “Rose” that his jealousy over her catching the attention of conjoined twins Ali and Eli drove her off

~Meanwhile~ Alix: So, if that’s not Rose, then who is she?

Marinette: An imposter. Now give the chair a few more seconds to warm up./ Alix: Why?/ Marinette: So it Can kill you./ Alix: I knew that.

~Later at the charity auction ~

Auctioneer: *Presenting the finger trap on Bridgette’s fingers again* This piece is encrusted with rubies and 15 emerald chips. It was donated by Marc and Nathaniel Artist. Remember, over half our proceeds will benefit the elderly and the mentally disabled. The bidding starts at $5000.

Nathaniel: Five, hah! Not good enough. $25,000!

Auctioneer: I have twenty.

Nathaniel: Twenty-five! *To Marc* Meyn Ziskeyt?

Auctioneer: Twenty five.

Marc: Thirty. *To Nathaniel* My howling demon.

Nathaniel: *voice cracks* Thirty-five!

Marc: Fifty!

Auctioneer: I have $50,000.

Marc: Your turn, my ecstasy.

Auctioneer: Fifty thousand going once, fifty thousand going twice. Sold to Marc Artists for fifty thousand dollars. *looks disgusted as Marc and Nathaniel obscenely make out*

They bought it back as a gift for “Rose”, but… She doesn’t know how to take it off! The Artists are now starting believe that she really is an imposter

Marc attempts to break “Rose” and get her to confess by taking her to the Artists’ cemetery where he reminds her of the credo

Marc: "Sic gorgiamus allos subjectatos nunc." "We gladly feast on those who would subdue us." Not just pretty words… Rose. As an Artist, you understand completely.

“Rose”: … As an Artist, I do.

Seeing that everyone’s onto her, Willow calls Ms. Craven and has her pose as the psychiatrist to try and make the Artists none the wiser

Marc: Nathaniel, Juleka, why don’t you speak to Rose? She’s right outside the door.

Juleka: We would… If that were the real Rose.

Nathaniel: She’s an imposter! A charlatan! A sham! A counterfeit!

While wandering around the home, Rose sees Marinette and Alix sword fighting and practicing lines for something.

Ms. Craven successfully convinces the Artists that their reason for suspecting “Rose” is an imposter is due to displacement, and meanwhile, Rose helps Marinette and Alix out with their sword fighting scene for a play they’re in at school. A play she’s not allowed to attend but goes to anyway

Just a few minutes before the play, Mme. Bustier, asks Marc a question about Marinette.

Mme. Bustier: Now, the students did projects on their heroes. Alya Cesaire chose Lois Lane.

Marc: Have you spoken to her parents?

Mme. Bustier: And Marinette did her project on someone named Calpurnia Dupain.

Marc: Oh, her great aunt on her father’s side. She was burned as a witch in 1706. They say she danced naked in town square and enslaved a minister. *Unaware of Mme. Bustier’s horror.* Don’t worry, we told her university first.

And after so many horrible performances, comes the best one yet… Where Marinette and Alix splatter fake blood all over the audience.

Nino: … I suggested a evening in the park, but no. You wanted to see the performances.

Alya: *Spits out fake blood* Shut up.

Furious that her plans to get into the vault have failed since “Rose” decided to go to the play, Ms. Craven insists that “Rose” must leave again… But not before the Artists mark the occasion with a going away party where the entire Artist clan is invited.

Marc: *To Marinette who is dancing with Luka* Marinette, would you go check on Rose upstairs, please?

Marinette leaves (Not before kissing Luka) and overhears Willow and Ms. Craven going over their plan to break into the vault. She quickly runs to go get help.

Meanwhile, Cecil figures out a way to get rid of the Artists for good. And here’s where the judge comes in- He gets a restraining order agasint them so they can’t set foot on their property

After the party, the Artist family tries to find Marinette when they realize that she’s gone missing. But when they return with her, they find that they can’t get inside their own home. And when they attempt to appeal to the judge, he sends them away out of spite.

The Artists are now living in a motel. Nathaniel is in a state of depression knowing they’ve been betrayed, and Marc is just trying to keep Juleka, Marinette, and Alix from going crazy… Er.

Also, he gets a job as a kindergarten teacher’s assistant. Let’s see how that turns out.

Marc: And so the witch lured Hansel and Gretel into the candy house by promising them more sweets. And she told them to look in the oven. But, before she herself could push the children inside, Hansel pushed her, that poor defenseless elderly witch into the oven instead and burned her to a crisp as she writhed in agony… Now children. How do you think that feels? *The children cry* … Exactly.

That gets a job as a courier, and Marinette, Juleka, and Alix sell poison macarons.

Not able to stand the sight of his family in such a state, Marc returns to the Artists home to confront “Rose” only to be captured by Ms. Craven and Cecil. And unknown to Marc, That followed him.

Craven, Cecil, and Willow torture Marc so he can tell them how to access the vault means of torture, but he’s a total masochist and is loving every second of it

That returns to the motel and- through Morse code- tells the Artists that Marc’s been captured

Nathaniel: Mar... Marc... Marc? Marc is what? Slow down, That! It's terrible when you stutter!

*That starts tapping in Morse Code with a pen*

Nathaniel: Marc... in... danger... stop. Send... help... at once... STOP! *He runs out. That collapses*

Nathaniel arrives just before they can try and kill Marc, and engages in a sword fight with Cecil, which he gains the upper hand on, then loses when Ms. Craven has Marc at gun point. She forces him to show Willow the vault or she shoots Marc if they’re not back in an hour

Before Nathaniel can pull out the book that activates the secret door on the shelf, Willow pulls out a different book- A spellbook that projects It’s contents into reality and creates a storm. A bolt of lightning strikes Willow and launches Cecil and Craven out the window and into graves dug by Marinette, Alix, and Juleka

Alix: Are they dead?

Marinette: Does it matter?

Months later on Halloween, it’s revealed that Willow has been Rose all this time, and the story about the tuna net and the Bermuda Triangle were true. She just suffered from amnesia

Bridgette: *To Marinette* Dear, where’s your costume.

Marinette: This is my costume. I’m a homicidal maniac; they look just like everyone else.

While the others play a good game of ‘Wake The Dead’ Marc and Nathaniel stay behind because Marc has something to tell him.

Nathaniel: Monochrome, what is it?

Marc: I finally received a letter from my mothers, and… *Shows him an ultrasound photo* They said if it’s anything like me, they want us to have it.

Sequel

#miraculous ladybug #marc x nathaniel #nathaniel kurtzberg #marc anciel #marinette dupain cheng #alix kubdel #rose lavillant #juleka couffaine #félix graham de vanily #the addams family #addams family au #the artist family

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stiltonbasket · 3 years

Note

(Is this where you submit prompts? I really dont know ^^💧) Prompt for the renouncement au: I don’t know why i love when gossip is involved, so maybe something about people’s opinions on wangxian’s marriage and how it slowly changes to a better perspective to the point that anyone who doubts their feelings for each other gets immediately shut down. And you could add some juniors shenanigans to make wangxian have that good of a reputation because i miss them </3. Thank you for your time and effort! (And sorry if this is not the place for the prompts, i will submit it again if you say so ^^’ )

(author’s note: please please reblog if you can, since that’s how we get prompts for future chapters!)

Lan Siyong considers himself one of the more moderate elders among the Lan sect.

He has been close friends with Lan Qiren from childhood, and he saw Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji grow up into the fine, upstanding men they are today. When the two of them were boys, he even had fond thoughts of attending their weddings, and watching them take on the most sacred of duties with glad, willing hearts.

Learning that Xichen would never wed had been a disappointment, but Lan Siyong rallied again when Lan Qiren confided the reason why the boy rejected marriage—chastity in an upstanding cultivator was to be lauded, especially in an age where Jin Guangshan had once demanded such high respect, and there could still be children born to Lan Huan if he decided to cultivate them. And of course, Wangji was there, and Lan Siyong knew from the first that he would be the kind of youth to fall in love deeply, at first sight, and remain passionately devoted to his mingding zhiren until he drew his last breath.

But then Lan Siyong had Wangji’s own sword turned upon him at the Burial Mounds, because the one that his many-times distant nephew loved so dearly was none other than Wei Wuxian.

“Qiren,” he says hoarsely, when the lotus-scented wedding invitations arrive from Lotus Pier. “You cannot let this happen—an unrighteous cultivator, one who spurned orthodoxy without remorse and led Wangji down such a dangerous path—”

“What has been done has been done,” Lan Qiren replies. “We have sent the bridewealth, and the marriage was contracted between Xichen and Jiang-zongzhu. All their terms have been agreed upon, and the date set.”

And then, after a brief pause: “He makes Wangji happy.”

Lan Siyong nearly cries. He does not attend the wedding, for fear of shaming Wangji with the open despair that appears on his face whenever he sees Wei Wuxian, and sends the newlywed couple the most expensive gift he can afford in an effort to do something useful.

Wei Wuxian is the one who writes him a letter in thanks. Lan Siyong almost has a qi deviation.

“You know,” one of the other elders mutters after the second wedding ceremony: namely, the ceremony held in the Cloud Recesses, since Jiang-zongzhu demanded that his brother should be married at Lotus Pier first. “Wei Wuxian refused to have a blessing for children spoken at the an chuang ceremony.”

“Gossip is forbidden,” Lan Haiyang says tranquilly. He stopped caring about practically everything after his son’s wife gave birth to the whirlwind that calls himself Lan Jingyi, so Lan Siyong has long since given up relying on him to fix any kind of sect turmoil. “And they already have two children. I have not seen a finer Lan disciple than Lan Sizhui in all my days.”

Lan Siyong is forced to concede this last. Wangji has two good children, even if the Yiling Patriarch is perhaps the most unsuitable person alive to raise them with him, and a couple’s choice to expand their family is up to them, and no others.

“He should at least have let the blessing be spoken, though.”

Lan Siyong does not disagree with this. Traditions are traditions, and surely even Wei Wuxian should know to respect them once in a while.

“It’s worse than I thought,” Lan Siyong murmurs, on a summer afternoon about six weeks after Wangji’s wedding. He passed Haiyang’s grandson and his friends on his way to the refectory that morning, and heard them discussing how heartbroken Wangji had looked upon hearing that Wei Wuxian did not return his love. “I ought not to have eavesdropped, but—poor Wangji!”

“Poor Wangji what?” Lan Haiyang asks, as if their little Lan Zhan being in trouble was all in another day’s work to him. “What’s happened to him now?”

“Wei Wuxian disavows Wangji’s love at every opportunity,” he replies dismally, going over to the refreshment table to drown his woes in chestnut cake and tea. “I fear for him, Haiyang. To love for so long, and to wed his beloved, and have children with him, and still…”

Lan Haiyang snorts into his tea.

“What do you mean by that?” demands Lan Siyong, more than a little offended. “Wangji is in distress! We must do something!”

His friend does not reply. Honestly, it’s as if no one remembers what Wangji suffered for Wei Wuxian’s sake. Lan Siyong even tries raising the issue with Lan Qiren, and then with Xichen, but all he gets in return for his pains is a tray of fresh-baked red bean buns from the hanshi and another cryptic comment about Wangji’s supposed happiness from Qiren.

Yet again, he is forced to leave his worries for another day, and try his best to follow rule three thousand, one hundred and sixty-two: that the affairs of a married couple should not be discussed by outsiders, even if they happen to be close, concerned family.

Lan Siyong thinks his hair might be turning white by now.

And then, in early winter, Lan Siyong is roused from his bed one night and told that Wei Wuxian has gone missing. He joins the search party that Wangji leads, and follows him to a dark house in the woods with the Ghost General leading the way—and then he watches as Wangji kills at least a dozen men in an effort to reach his husband, whom they find unconscious in a cave beneath the house with corpse bites dotting every visible inch of his skin.

Lan Siyong nearly weeps as he hears Wangji’s desperate whispers to his beloved on the way back to Gusu, and watches him hold Wei Wuxian close while refusing help from anyone who offers.

Let him live, Lan Siyong prays silently, when Wei Wuxian is carried into the infirmary with Wangji at his side. Please, for Wangji’s sake, let Wei-gongzi live.

“Qiren?”

A few days after the news about Wangji’s soon-to-be-born daughter is made public (public being a subjective word, since ceremony preceding the birth of a third child is unnecessary, and Wei Wuxian had said that he would rather wait until the baby arrives to make a formal announcement) Lan Siyong discovers Lan Qiren in one of the common rooms, sitting at a writing desk with his head buried in his hands. It’s a strange thing to see his friend do, since Lan Qiren has not looked so distressed since those three dark years after Wangji’s sentencing, and he hardly even looks up when Lan Siyong lays a hand on his shoulder.

“It was just four weeks ago that Wei Ying was kidnapped and confined in that dungeon,” Lan Qiren says blankly, after he registers Lan Siyong’s presence and turns around to greet him. “If he—oh, heavens—”

Two weeks later, Lan Siyong requests a week’s leave from teaching to attend the trials of Wei Wuxian’s kidnappers, who are being held under Nie-zongzhu’s jurisdiction in the Unclean Realm. He has always believed himself to be a gentle man, but when the only sentences dealt are life imprisonment and execution, Lan Siyong’s heart is strangely devoid of any pity. All he can think of are the corpse bites he saw on Wei Wuxian’s face and throat, and a baby girl who nearly perished with her father before she had the chance to take her first breath.

On his way back to the Cloud Recesses, he purchases a bolt of thick cream-colored silk with fine sky-blue embroidery and brings it to Wangji as a gift after the next monthly sect meeting.

“Xinhua-jun will need wider-cut robes before long,” he says, when his nephew gives him a curious glance before bowing low in thanks. “Zewu-jun has told us all that he and the child are in good health, and that the little one is growing well. All of our good wishes go with them both, and we pray that you should not hesitate to rely on us in the months to come if it should be needed.”

Wangji’s eyes go soft. “Thank you, San-shushu. It is much appreciated.”

Lan Siyong gets his first chance to hold Wei Shuilan at the baby’s full-moon ceremony, while Wangji and Wei Wuxian are running back and forth through the banquet hall to greet the arriving guests, and seize the first trusted elder they can reach to watch little A-Lan for a moment. At first, Lan Siyong merely stands by her cradle to keep an eye on her, but then she seems to sense her parents’ absence, so he picks her up and jogs her up and down to keep her from crying; and then he begins to hum softly beside her tiny ear, soothing the baby back to sleep by the time Wei Wuxian returns.

“My good Lan-bao,” Wei Wuxian croons, cradling the child to his chest before rearranging her crumpled swaddling clothes. “Such a good baobei, to take your nap even with so much going on! Just like your A-Die, thank goodness, and not like your A-Niang.”

Curious, Lan Siyong clears his throat. “What do you mean, Wei-gongzi?”

Wei Wuxian laughs. “I never sleep properly at night, but Lan Zhan always falls asleep at hai shi, even if he isn’t in bed yet,” he says, with his voice so full of love for the newborn child in his arms and the husband who gave her to him that Lan Siyong feels strangely humbled. “A-Lan’s just like him that way.”

At that moment, Wangji appears with a plate of cut fruit and lotus cake before presenting it to Wei Wuxian. “Here, Wei Ying. Give A-Lan to me, and eat your lunch.”

“Lunch?” Wei Wuxian asks, confused. “But we’re having the banquet in just an hour.”

“You have been having your luncheon at this time for the past six months,” Wangji says stubbornly. “I will not have you going hungry even for a minute, xingan.”

“Lan Zhan, sweetheart…”

Thank heaven they found each other again, Lan Siyong thinks, slipping away to find Lan Qiren with a rising lump of tears in his throat. I do not think anyone else could have ever made Wangji so happy.

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #renouncement verse #wangxian arranged marriage au #my fic #god this was long #BUT THIS WAS SUCH A GOOD PROMPT ;_;#<3

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what-is-your-plan-today · 3 years

Text

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby.

Day 10: Shop Till You Drop

Warnings: Bad Language words

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: Instalment 10 of mine, @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @jennmurawski13 ‘s telling of Ransom’s quest to become a normal human being. This time Ransom takes on a Supermarket…

Series Masterlist.

“Will you stop!” You sighed, exasperatedly.

“Stop what?” Ransom frowned, tossing another box of Pop Tarts into the trolley he was pushing round the Supermarket

“Loading the trolley full of crap!”

“Why?”

“Because we don’t need it.”

“So?” he shrugged “I want it.”

You let out another groan “That’s all it ever boils down to with you isn’t it?”

“What the fuck is eating you today?” he snarked back, folding his arms across his chest. “Or is it more a case of nothing has eaten you, if you get my drift?”

“God you’re a fucking…” you growled and shook your head, “frankly the thought of you going near me at the moment makes me wanna puke. I’m tired. I have back ache and my legs are sore. We came in with a list and it should have taken us twenty minutes tops but oh no, you just keep stopping for a load of shit we don’t need and it's taking us twice as long and I just want to go home!”

The last word broke as you began to sob, the damned hormones flooding your system and Ransom’s eyes flew open in panic. He was used to your little outbursts thanks to his spawn growing inside of you, but this was the first time you’d had one in public.

“Y/N, stop.” He urged you, moving round the trolley towards you. He hesitated, before he opened his arms, clearly not sure if you were going to slap him or not but you didn’t have the energy. Instead you let him pull you to him, pressing your face into his sweater, breathing in his heady scent. His hands gently ran up your back as you fought for control, eventually pulling away as you looked up at him. His large hands cupped your face gently and he pressed his lips to yours, smirking a little “And you say I’m a brat?”

“Fuck off, Ransom.” You pulled away.

“Okay, okay!” he chuckled. “Look, why don’t you-“ he fished into his jeans pocket and handed you the keys to the Merc “-go wait in the car? I’ll finish up.”

“You’re going to finish getting the groceries?”

“Yeah.”

You blinked, before you shrugged “Fine, but don’t forget anything on that list or I swear to God you’ll be couched for a week.”

“Jesus, Y/N.” He plucked the list out of your hand, rolling his eyes “Just go for fucks sake.”

You glared at him once more before you turned on your heel and left him in the middle of the aisle, without so much as a look back. As you left through the exit, you took a deep breath, instantly feeling calmer and you felt a little guilty at your outburst as he hadn’t actually been doing much wrong. He had always been a pain in the ass when it came to shopping and you’d tried so hard to get him to stay at home, but he was insistent that he came to help. You should be grateful really, you knew that, he was only trying to ensure you didn’t do too much but all it resulted in was him getting on your last nerve and an emotional outburst like the one you’d just had.

True to form he’d been a complete fucking tool from the moment you set foot in the shop. Completely ignoring you and piling anything and everything he liked the look of into the trolley, even if you knew half of it would go to waste. But that was him and his damned family all over. More money than fucking sense.

Fuck it, he could deal with it. You were going to take a nap in the comfy passenger seat whilst he finished. And woe betide him try anything when you got home later on that evening, if he so much as made a single amorous advance towards you that night you’d rip his cock off.

****

Ransom watched Y/N stalk off away from him an exhaled, loudly, whilst also giving himself a mental pat on the back for being smart enough to tell her to go and wait in the car. Allowing her to rest whilst he complete the shopping was most certainly going to put him in her good books. And, if he played his cards right and even unloaded the groceries at the other end, he’d most certainly get a bit of bedroom fun later on.

Yup, Ransom Drysdale was a clever bastard.

That said, he did feel a tad guilty. He knew she’d been struggling the last few days with her back and seeing her burst into tears in the middle of Whole Foods had made him realise just how much energy she was using growing their baby. Maybe he had been a bit of a pain in the ass, but he hadn’t meant to be. He just liked what he liked and seeing as money wasn’t an issue why shouldn’t he get it?

He glanced down at the list, there wasn’t that much left on it. So he hastily made his way around the store allowing himself only one little detour for an unlisted item- some Lavender and Camomile bath salts for Y/N which he intended to use later when he drew her a bath to help her relax- and then made his way to the check outs.

This was the bit he hated, with a passion. Unloading and then waging a war with the damned items at the other end whilst he tried to bag them as quickly as the checkout ninja scanned them and slid them down to him. However, as luck would have it, today’s ‘ninja’ was more of a ‘nan-ja’, and to his relief the coffin-dodger took her time, having to bend so close to the screen to see the items her nose might as well have been touching it. This allowed him enough time to bag everything as Y/N did- raw meats separate, then chilled, frozen, fresh and tinned. He paused, as the final bag containing the 3 bottles of his preferred wine and a 4 pack of beer felt a little strained and he pondered double bagging. But decided against it. It was only going in the back of the car from the trolley, he’d just make sure to support it underneath.

Eventually the woman, who now he studied her must have been the same age as his fucking Great-Nana Wanetta, scanned the last item which was a bar of Y/N’s favourite chocolate he’d picked up from the stand at the end of the checkout, and turned to him smiling. She read out the total and he passed his card over, looking around as she scanned it and pressed a few buttons. Finally, the ordeal was over and he took his card and receipt before making his way back outside.

Job well done, even if he did say so himself.

He pushed the trolley over the car park, stopping only to hurl abuse at some absolute moron in a Toyota who nearly took him out when he skidded round the corner, and opened the trunk to the car. He loaded the bags, took the trolley back (well, he pushed it to the spare space besides the car because fuck walking over to the Trolley Park, that’s what they paid the simpleton in the hat and hi-viz to do) and made his way to the driver’s door. He dropped in besides his girl and she turned to face him, a smile spreading across her face as he handed her the Hershey’s.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Its ok baby.” He smiled at her as she leaned over to give him a soft kiss “Cooking my boy is zapping it outta you huh?”

“Just a tad.” She shrugged “But I shouldn’t have snapped. Thank you for finishing up.”

Ransom shrugged “No big deal.” he gave her another quick kiss before he put the car in reverse and drove towards the parking lot exit, a soft smirk playing on his handsome face

Yup, he was off Santa’s Naughty List for sure.

*****

“Go and put your feet up, I got this.” Ransom assured you as you made your way to the trunk to help unload the shopping.

"You sure?"

“Positive.” He nodded, his arms wrapping around you from behind, large hands sweeping over the front of your jacket, softly caressing your bump. “It won’t take me long to unload and put it all away. Then we can curl up and I’ll order us that pizza you’ve been talking about all day.”

“Extra olives?”

“Whatever you want.” He pressed a kiss to your neck and you bit your lip. You had to admit, that did sound like a damned fine idea. And, to be honest, he was pretty good at unpacking groceries, that was one area he was actually trained in after years of you whipping him into shape.

“Okay.” You tilted your head round to look at him, giving him a quick kiss “Can you keep the mincemeat out for tomorrow’s dinner and the rest of the meat-“

“Can go in the freezer, yeah, I know.” He stepped back, reaching for a bag “I’m not a complete moron.”

“Debatable.” You muttered, ignoring the eye-roll that came your way as you stepped away from him. You headed to the front door, your pace slow as your baby was doing what felt like the tango in your belly. He seemed to be doing that a lot recently, especially when Ransom had touched your bump and spoken to you, almost like he was reacting directly to his Daddy. When you’d told Ransom so the previous night, he’d positively beamed at you with pure unadulterated love on his features, something which you were sure no one but you ever saw. You rubbed your belly, a soft smile on your face, telling your unborn son to quieten down a little, and you’d just unlocked the door when you heard a loud yell, followed by the smashing of glass and a string of expletives from your husband.

“Mother fucking, asshole, bastard crap bag!”

You spun round to see Ransom stood with a carrier bag in his hand, the bottom flapping as it had completely given way. Green and brown glass littered your drive way as a pool of red-wine and beer swam around his expensive chukkas. He screwed the bag up, tossing it into the trunk as he ran a hand through his hair, growling in annoyance.

“How much did you just drop all over the drive way?” you asked and he peeked up at you and grimaced.

“Eighty bucks worth. That was some quality merlot.”

“Well, maybe next time you’ll remember to double bag.” You shook your head, before you nodded to it “Make sure you clean that up. I’d hate to reverse over it and get another flat. Woe betide we have a performance like last time.”

“Oh, I dunno.” He quipped, a smirk spreading across his face “I happen to think the performance last time was pretty good. You certainly didn’t have any complaints once I got you back inside and sat on my face.”

You blinked, before you scoffed and shook your head “Do you know where the brush and dustpan is or should I draw you a map?”

“Fuck you.” He shot back, his eyes narrowed in a glare and you grinned, shrugging.

“Maybe later.” and with that you headed inside leaving him to grieve for his precious alcohol, which had been taken from him far too soon…

#real life taks with ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years

Text

Good Omens one-shot - “When God Closes a Door, She Opens a Window, But It's Up to You to Find It” (Rated T)

Summary: Crowley goes through unconventional lengths to escape a bad blind date...

... and ends up finding an angel in an unexpected place. (2770 words)

Notes: This is a re-write of an older story, but I think I like this version better. Human au. Fluffy as heck. CW: If you get squicked out by being covered in food trash, proceed with caution.

Read on AO3.

"Bollocks... bollocks... bollocks... bollocks... " Crowley mutters as she paces back and forth, simmering behind her eyeballs with so much anxiety she's about to tear her hair out by the roots. The only plan she can come up with to solve her current dilemma grows hotly in her mind, but she's searching for something - ANYTHING! - to take its place.

Maybe something along the lines of acting like an adult, womaning up, and admitting this isn’t going to work? Be upfront about it and say it to the man’s face, for Heaven's sake! 'Go on, Crowley!' she thinks. 'Go ahead! One foot in front of the other. Steady on! You can do this!'

But she’s become so tired of the grind – going to bars, faithfully tending her online dating profile, endless blind dates set up by well-meaning friends, the rejecting and the rejections. She can’t face one more. It physically hurts, knots her stomach muscles until the pain turns her world monochromatic.

Crowley had had high hopes for this one, too. Her date Steven is the new doctor of the boy she nannies. He and Crowley have plenty in common – a love of theater and fine dining, and an appreciation for fashion. Crowley thought dating a pediatrician would be fascinating. After summarizing the pertinent details of her own life, perhaps her date would talk about getting through medical school, toss in a few whimsical stories about the joys (quote/unquote) of working with children - baby’s first shots where the parents cried more than the infant, or the tale of a precocious little girl who demanded he put a Band-Aid on her teddy before he helped her (the way Crowley's young charge had with his first doctor when he was around three). They could swap war stories, bond in that way.

But Steven’s favorite part of his profession is pediatric surgery, and, unfortunately, he loves to talk shop. Every morsel of conversation has been inappropriate for dinner and graphic in nature - appendectomy this and tonsillectomy that, abscesses and pus and untreated sores - until Crowley’s face turned as green as her salad and she couldn’t look at her steak anymore.

Neither could their neighbors, who flagged down a passing waiter and requested a new table. They've been sat near the kitchen, which most diners would loathe, but they look heaps happier.

Crowley excused herself as delicately as she could and raced to the loo, needing to escape any more gruesome talk.

That was over fifteen minutes ago.

She’s trapped with no way out.

She pictures the layout of the restaurant in her head. There has to be a back way in and out of this place. All restaurants have an exit through the kitchen, right? But the toilet, the kitchen, and the front door are all in full view of their table. Steven is sure to spot her sneaking out no matter how stealthy she is.

Crowley turns on the cold water and splashes her face, scolding herself to think, think, think! She’s an intelligent woman. She can come up with a way out of this. Could she phone someone to come down to the restaurant and make an excuse for her? Not likely, not on short notice. Her friends Anathema and Newt wouldn't be able to find a sitter - ironic, seeing as Crowley is a nanny, and if the tables were turned, she'd be more than willing to lend a hand.

Could she phone her employers, ask Mrs. Dowling to claim an emergency at home? No. She doesn't want to get them tangled up in her personal woes, especially when they concern a man they think of so highly.

She could look up one of those services that make fake calls to your cell phone to get you out of sticky situations, but that would mean going back out there to make the ruse believable. And from the way her hands lock around the lip of the basin every time she thinks about taking a step outside the door, she knows that isn’t happening.

Crowley looks at herself in the mirror, looks into her eyes, and reminds herself to calm down. Slow her breathing. She’ll find a solution.

And suddenly, there it is.

In the reflection of the mirror, she sees what might be her only way out.

A window.

The only window in there, propped open enough that she’d be able to fit through.

It’s kind of high, sort of narrow, and definitely a last resort. But what other choice does she have?

Loads, in reality. It just doesn't feel like it.

But does she really have to resort to jumping out a window? She’s already been in there for (she checks her watch and her eyes open wide) twenty-five minutes! And her date hasn’t come to check on her once. Maybe the man got the hint and left (hopefully after paying what should be close to a hundred-pound check).

Crowley tests her luck, opening the door a sliver, praying silently don’t be there, don’t be there, don’t be there...

But there is no God - not one on her side, anyway - because there sits Dr. Steven Malory, talking to the waiter, telling him about another fascinating surgical procedure. He makes an exaggerated cutting motion across his stomach with a butter knife. The poor waiter, weighed down by a tray of soup bowls, nods politely, but looks like he may vomit in the tureen.

She winces. That poor waiter. Who knows how many times he's been called upon to lend an ear since her absence, or how many more times he'll be forced to endure another gory tale before Dr. Malory realizes she's gone. She peeks over her shoulder at the window, then back to the table, where Steven has his phone out, Googling something to the waiter's dismay. She slowly closes the door and backs away.

Window it is.

Crowley shelves the nagging feeling that she's perpetuating the most pathetic trope in the dating world and starts constructing a platform. There’s not much available – a small stepstool underneath the sink; a short, square, plastic rubbish bin that looks less than steady; another taller rubbish bin, dented along one side, looking like someone else already used it to make a break for freedom; and the toilet and basin, both miles away and completely unmovable.

Crowley does some quick engineering in her head and figures that if she turns the small bin over onto the stepstool, she might gain the height she needs to grab the lip of the window and hoist herself up, which would eliminate using the dented bin. She doesn’t like the odds that she won’t slip, fall, and crack her head open. She’s not so much worried about doing any permanent damage, but of having to explain to her date why she’s lying on the floor, covered in trash, and bleeding profusely.

With her luck, he'll giddily insist on stitching up any gashes, drawing a crowd of bystanders around to watch.

Crowley pushes the stool up against the wall with her foot. She dumps the trash from the small bin into its larger counterpart and sets it on the stool, centering it as best she can to keep it from sliding. With a hand on the wall for support, she puts a foot on the bin and attempts to pull herself up. It wobbles back and forth, then gives one backward lurch that nearly sends Crowley flying.

She determines quickly that this isn’t going to work the way she had planned and makes a desperate leap for the window, using all her upper body strength to get her halfway through.

Crowley shudders when the cold air hits her skin, shocked by the drop in temperature, but mostly from fear of death. She looks down.

A huge mistake on her part.

A horribly placed streetlamp keeps her from seeing into the alley, but she’s pretty sure she remembers a dumpster underneath this window. She had parked her Bentley in the lot across the way and saw it on the walk in. She looks out into the rows of cars and spots her vehicle. She sighs with relief.

Now she’s a little more sure, but still not 100%.

Worst case scenario, she lands in food muck, probably not rotten since it’s still actively dinner, and ruins an expensive designer outfit.

Of course, that’s not actually the worst-case scenario, is it? Worst case scenario, she misses the dumpster altogether, hits the pavement, and breaks her leg, but she’s determined to remain optimistic. At this moment, when her anxiety-ridden brain has her convinced that the only logical route out is through this flippin' window, that’s a chance she’s willing to take.

She swings her right leg over, grateful that she chose slacks over a skirt tonight, till she’s straddling the narrow sill, bent in half by the metal lip of the window frame. She balances there, the dull edge digging into her sternum, her belly, and her crotch, but she can’t make herself jump.

She’ll need to trick herself into it.

She forces herself to relax, teeter-tottering back and forth, not dwelling on the possible outcome, just trying to work her way to the right far enough that she knocks herself off-kilter.

Fate lends a hand in the form of a drunken passerby yelling, “Oi! Oi, lookie there! There’s a big bird... human... thing hanging out that window!”

Crowley panics, afraid she's about to be mistaken for someone breaking into a busy restaurant and not out. She fumbles, flails, starts falling head first, scrambles to get a hold. She hears a distant, “No! No, wait!” as her fingers slip. There are three seconds of cold wind and a sinking feeling in her stomach before she lands on her bum, thankfully in the dumpster, surrounded by the smell of not-too-rank food, the squish of something under her body that she thinks might be mashed cauliflower...

... and a scream.

“Ouch!”

“Oh my God! I’m sorry!”

Crowley yelps when her body lifts, something extraordinarily strong underneath pushing her up. She reaches around the slippery mess and wet plastic bags, struggling to pull herself off whoever is in the rubbish under her while trying to ignore the gravy seeping into her slacks, or the rice pilaf embedding itself beneath her freshly glossed fingernails. She knows she's broken two at minimum.

How much worse could this evening get?

“I’m sorry!” Crowley scrambles to her knees, crawls away a few feet. “I’m so, so sorry!”

“It’s alright, my dear.” A voice underneath her chuckles, its owner emerging from a layer of poached fish and au gratin potatoes.

Crowley turns in time to catch a glimpse as they move into the light. A woman wearing a vintage-inspired emerald gown covered in Hollandaise sauce and ranch dressing smiles sheepishly at her. The white light overhead gives a halo effect to her silvery-blonde hair, and her blue eyes almost glow.

She's quite breathtaking.

“I thought I had reserved a private dumpster,” she jokes. “I’ll need to have a word with the maître de."

Crowley stares at her, stunned. “I… I don’t understand. What are you doing in here?”

“I suspect I might be here for the same reason as you,” she says, wiping mayonnaise off her hand before offering it to Crowley. “I’m Aziraphale.”

“Crowley. I’m sorry I landed on you.” She takes Aziraphale’s hand, forgetting to wipe hers off before and smushing creamed spinach between them. Crowley groans in embarrassment, but Aziraphale laughs.

“No worries.” Aziraphale doesn't let go immediately the way Crowley thought she would, her smile becoming brighter the longer she holds on. “It’s the most exciting thing that’s happened all evening.”

“So... I take it you’re running away from a bad date, too, huh?” Crowley asks, regretting when Aziraphale finally lets go.

“I'm afraid so.” Aziraphale glances down with a long sigh. “A friend set me up, but I swear, the only men she knows are unemployed, torpid, and skeevy.”

“Wow. That’s some A-plus word usage right there.”

“Yes, well, the written word is my passion."

“Does that mean you're the one who wrecked the silver rubbish bin?"

“Did I?” Aziraphale looks up at the window and grimaces. “I should probably offer to replace that then, shouldn't I? What about you?” Aziraphale turns her soft blue eyes back Crowley's way. “How bad was your date going?”

“I can now perform an appendectomy with my eyes shut.”

“Yikes. I take it that’s not a turn-on for you?”

“Not in the slightest. I appreciate medicine as much as the next gal, but I’d rather not know the gritty details." Crowley stares at Aziraphale until Aziraphale notices, then the two look away, blushing like giggly teenagers flirting in a coffee shop instead of two adults stuck in the trash. Crowley can't help herself. Regardless of the stench of curdled butter and cheese that will probably be with her for life, Aziraphale is a calming presence. And she looks like an angel. An honest-to-God angel!

And Crowley found her in the trash.

What are the odds?

“You know, we might want to get out of here before anyone else drops in,” Aziraphale suggests, rising to her feet and lending Crowley a hand.

“Yeah,” Crowley agrees. "Guess that's my night over. Though... " She looks down at her blouse and trousers, positively caked with sweet potatoes, chicken grease, tomato sauce, and chutney "... I’m not looking forward to driving home like this.”

"How far do you have to go?"

"I'm in Mayfair."

"Oh!" Aziraphale gasps. "Isn't that a lovely part of town?"

"I enjoy it," Crowley replies, never having felt quite so proud to live in Mayfair as she does in this moment. "And you?"

"I have a shop in SoHo."

"Lucky. You're just a hop, skip, and a jump, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am... " Aziraphale chews the inside of her cheek as her words hang, balanced in the air between stopping a thought or continuing it. “I hope you don’t think I’m being too forward, but if you come back to my shop, I have a shower. We could clean up there... " Aziraphale sputters when Crowley's eyebrow arcs sharply upward. "S-separately, of course! A-and order in some pie. I know a great spot nearby. I dare say they have the best pie in the world! And they deliver.”

“I don’t have a change of clothes,” Crowley says, wary of taking Aziraphale up on her invitation. Garbage notwithstanding, meeting her has definitely been an improvement to the way things were going.

"I might have something that would work for you." Aziraphale sizes Crowley up, but not in a creepy way. In a surprisingly nurturing way. "It would be nice to salvage the evening, don't you think?"

"It would." But one disastrous date is plenty for the night. Should Crowley jump straight to another with a woman she met in a dumpster? Then again, it would be wrong for her to assume that spending time with Aziraphale would be disastrous. Plus the story of how they met is way too fantastic to waste on self-doubt.

Crowley took a chance on jumping out a window with only hope to guide her. She’d be stupid not to take a chance on this.

“Sure,” Crowley says, confident with her decision. “Your car or mine?” The words slip out before she considers the fact that she's talking about her baby. A vintage car that she, due to an extreme case of sheer luck, has been the sole owner of. She won't even wear muddy shoes in her car. Or rayon! On top of her own ruined outfit, which will need to be dry cleaned twice and then set on fire, if she lets Aziraphale in her car, she'll have two sloppy, food-stained seats that she’ll need to have scoured.

Maybe Aziraphale will laugh her off and offer to take her own car. Why would she want to leave it behind, anyway?

“Oh, I didn't drive,” Aziraphale says, looking down sadly at her own destroyed dress. “I took the bus.”

Crowley's heart clenches. There's that decision made. There's no way she's going to suggest Aziraphale take the bus while Crowley drives her car. She just prays that, with time, her baby will forgive her.

“My car it is then.” Crowley loops her arm covered in soup through Aziraphale’s arm covered in whipped cream and leads the way. Aziraphale smiles, holds Crowley's arm a wee bit tighter, and Crowley becomes certain this new development will be worth the money she'll spend detailing her car in the morning.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable wives #ineffable idiots #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby.

Day 10: Shop Till You Drop

Warnings: Bad Language words

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: Instalment 10 of mine, @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @ohthankevans13 telling of Ransom’s quest to become a normal human being. This time Ransom takes on a Super Market…

Series Masterlist

“Will you stop!” You sighed, exasperatedly.

“Stop what?” Ransom frowned, tossing another box of Pop Tarts into the trolley he was pushing round the Supermarket

“Loading the trolley full of crap!”

“Why?”

“Because we don’t need it.”

“So?” he shrugged “I want it.”

You let out another groan “That’s all it ever boils down to with you isn’t it?”

“What the fuck is eating you today?” he snarked back, folding his arms across his chest. “Or is more a case of nothing has eaten you, if you get my drift?”

“God you’re a fucking…” you growled and shook your head, “frankly the thought of you going near me at the moment makes me wanna puke. I’m tired. I have back ache and my legs are sore. We came in with a list and it should have taken us twenty minutes tops but oh no, you just keep stopping for a load of shit we don’t need and its taking us twice as long and I just want to go home!”

“Fuck off, Ransom.” You pulled away.

“Okay, okay!” he chuckled. “Look, why don’t you-“ he fished into his jeans pocket and handed you the keys to the Merc “-go wait in the car? I’ll finish up.”

“You’re going to finish getting the groceries?”

“Yeah.”

You blinked, before you shrugged “Fine, but don’t forget anything on that list or I swear to God you’ll be couched for a week.”

“Jesus, Y/N.” He plucked the list out of your hand, rolling his eyes “Just go for fucks sake.”

**** Ransom watched Y/N stalk off away from him an exhaled, loudly, whilst also giving himself a mental pat on the back for being smart enough to tell her to go and wait in the car. Allowing her to rest whilst he complete the shopping was most certainly going to put him in her good books. And, if he played his cards right and even unloaded the groceries at the other end, he’d most certainly get a bit of bedroom fun later on.

Yup, Ransom Drysdale was a clever bastard.

He glanced down at the list, there wasn’t that much left on it. So, he hastily made his way around the store allowing himself only one little detour for an unlisted item- some Lavender and Camomile bath salts for Y/N which he intended to use later when he drew her a bath to help her relax- and then made his way to the check outs.

Job well done, even if he did say so himself.

He pushed the trolley over the car park, stopping only to hurl abuse at some absolute moron in a Toyota who nearly took him out when he skidded round the corner, and opened the trunk to the car. He loaded the bags, took the trolley back (well, he pushed it to the spare space besides he car because fuck walking over to the Trolley Park, that’s what they paid the simpleton in the hat and hi-viz to do) and made his way to the driver’s door. He dropped in besides his girl and she turned to face him, a smile spreading across her face as he handed her the Hershey’s.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Its ok baby.” He smiled at her as she leaned over to give him a soft kiss “Cooking my boy is zapping it outta you huh?”

“Just a tad.” She shrugged “But I shouldn’t have snapped. Thank you for finishing up.”

Ransom shrugged “No big deal.” he gave he another quick kiss before he put the car in reverse and drove towards the parking lot exit, a soft smirk playing on his handsome face

Yup, he was off Santa’s Naughty List for sure.

***** “Go and put your feet up, I got this.” Ransom assured you as you made your way to the trunk to help unload the shopping.

“Sure?”

He pressed a kiss to your neck and you bit your lip. You had to admit, that did sound like a damned fine idea. And, to be honest, he was pretty good at unpacking groceries, that was one area he was actually trained in after years of you whipping him into shape.

“Okay.” You tilted your head round to look at him, giving him a quick kiss “Can you keep the mincemeat out for tomorrow’s dinner and the rest of the meat-“

“Can go in the freezer, yeah, I know.” He stepped back, reaching for a bag “I’m not a complete moron.”

“Debatable.” You muttered, ignoring the eye-roll that came your way as you turned around. You headed to the front door, your pace slow as your baby was doing what felt like the tango in your belly. He seemed to be doing that a lot recently, and you were convinced he was reacting to Ransom’s voice, something which you’d told him the previous night making him positively beam at you with pure unadulterated love on his features, something which you were sure no one but you saw. You rubbed your belly, a soft smile on your face, telling your unborn son to quieten down a little, and you’d just unlocked the door when you heard a loud yell, followed by the smashing of glass and a string of expletives from your husband.

“Mother fucking, asshole, bastard crap bag!”

“How much did you just drop all over the drive way?” you asked and he peeked up at you and grimaced.

“Eighty bucks worth. That was some quality merlot.”

You blinked, before you scoffed and shook your head “Do you know where the brush and dustpan is or should I draw you a map?”

“Fuck you.” He shot back, his eyes narrowed in a glare and you grinned, shrugging.

“Maybe later.” and with that you headed inside leaving him to grieve for his precious alcohol, which had been taken from him far too soon…

#real life tasks with ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale

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ereardon · 1 year

Text

My Girl [Chapter 7][Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OC]

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Lawyer Natalie West]

WC: 3.6K

Warning: Age gap, cursing, fighting

Series masterlist here

Please fill out this form here to join my tag list

Jake hadn’t left any clear instructions on what to do with Ellie. He had been so caught off guard, you assumed, by the last minute call to base that he had wrongly assumed you knew important things.

Like if she went to daycare on Tuesdays and what she ate for breakfast and what time you had to drop her off and where.

So when you woke up to Ellie’s small hands tapping on your face, you were startled to say the least.

“Natalie,” she whispered and you shook awake, her tiny face only inches from yours. “I have to go potty.”

“Oh,” you murmured, sitting up and stretching your arm. “OK, sweetie, the bathroom is over here.”

You led her to the en suite bathroom. You weren’t sure if you should stay or leave. You knew nothing about raising kids.

“Do you need help?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“OK then,” you said. “I’ll just be out here in the bedroom OK? I’ll get your clothes and toothbrush from the stuff your daddy packed you.”

You wandered out into the kitchen and started to unpack the bags. Jake had sorted her clothes into outfits, and there was a small plastic ziplock bag with a tiny toothbrush, a comb and some baby shampoo. You grabbed the bag and hurried back into the bathroom where Ellie was trying, fruitlessly, to reach the sink to wash her hands.

“Oh!” you said, rushing over and dropping the bag on the marble counter, lifting her up under her armpits until she could reach the faucet. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” she murmured and you looked at her in the mirror and smiled.

“OK, do you take a bath in the morning or at night?”

“At night.”

“Perfect,” you said, pulling out her toothbrush and getting it wet before spreading on some toothpaste. “Can you brush your teeth and then I’m going to have you pick out an outfit, OK?”

She nodded and rubbed one eye with her hand. It didn’t occur to you until that moment that your alarm had never gone off. Beyond the window, it was dark outside. As Ellie brushed her teeth, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand. It was 6:15. You had to stifle a laugh. Ellie had gotten you up earlier than you’d risen in years.

“Honey? What time do you usually get up?”

“I don’t know,” she said through a mouthful of toothpaste and you lifted her again to spit and rinse her mouth into the sink. When you put her down, she laid the toothbrush on the counter. “Daddy says I get up too early.”

You laughed. “Think I’m going to have to agree with him. OK, let’s get you dressed.”

Once you had gotten Ellie dressed in a pair of small corduroy pants and a sweater, you sat her down with a glass of juice and a bowl of cereal. It was lucky you even had food in the house, let alone not-expired milk, and you made a mental note to keep kid-friendly food on hand in the future.

“Are you OK?” you asked softly. “I have to go get ready.”

She nodded, watching the news that you had popped on the TV in the kitchen.

You smiled and made your way back to the bathroom, calling Rebecca. “Pick up, pick up,” you muttered as the phone rang.

“Hello?” She was groggy.

“Becks, it’s Natalie,” you said and you heard her cough.

“Nat? What the fuck its like five in the morning.”

“It’s six thirty,” you said. “And I have a problem that I need advice on.”

“Oh God,” she murmured. “What is it?”

“Jake left Ellie at my house in the middle of the night. He got called in to some mission with an hour’s notice, and just left her here. I don’t know what to do. Does she go to daycare? Do I take her to work with me? What do kids eat for lunch? Do they nap?”

“Jesus,” she said and you heard her sigh. “OK, so he left zero instructions?”

“None. Wait, let me check my messages.” You pulled your phone away from your face, tapping the screen. There was an unread message from Jake.

Nat, I’m sorry. I promise we’ll talk when I’m back. PS, Ellie’s car seat is on the porch. Daycare was canceled. Love, Jake.

“Should have done that first.” You sighed. “Daycare was canceled. Guess she’s coming to the office.”

“You could call in sick.”

You shook your head. “Not with the Blackstone case almost done. I’ll just have to ply her with candy and drop her in a conference room with an iPad for most of the day.”

“I’ll help you,” Rebecca said. “Go shower and I’ll see you in an hour.”

***

Ellie’s tiny hand slotted into yours as the elevator doors opened. She had her glittery pink backpack slung over her shoulders, and you smiled at Tracy, the receptionist who did a double take when she saw Ellie.

“Well who do we have here?” Tracy said, walking around the desk and crouching down. “Aren’t you sweet?”

“This is Ellie,” you said. “She’s my friend Jake’s daughter.”

Ellie smiled. “Good morning.” Her voice was like liquid sunshine.

“Hi Ellie,” Tracy said, her aging face crinckled with a smile.

“Tracy, would you mind getting Ellie settled in conference room D?” you asked. “I reserved it all day so it should be clear. I just need to grab some stuff from my desk and then I’ll be right in.”

“Of course, Ms. West,” she said, offering Ellie her hand. “Ellie, do you want to come with me?”

Ellie looked up at you with wide green eyes and you nodded, giving her a soft smile. “Go on, sweetie. I’ll be right there.”

She nodded and took Tracy’s hand, waddling down the hallway. A few associates shot questioning looks your way as you booked it to your desk, grabbing your laptop and paperwork. Rebecca slid into view. “Where is she?”

“Conference room D with Tracy, no doubt already eating some kind of powdered donut from the break room.”

Rebecca leaned against the desk. “I can’t believe he left her with you.”

“You’re telling me,” you said, shoving pens into your tote. “Becks, I don’t know what to do with a kid. This morning I fed her Captain Crunch cereal with nearly-expired almond milk, and I kept sticking my head out of the shower every twenty seconds to listen and make sure she wasn’t screaming because she had somehow fallen from the couch.”

Rebecca laughed and put a tender hand on your arm. “You’re insane and I love it. Take a deep breath. When is he coming back?” “Tonight, allegedly. But I have no idea if that’s going to be true, or what time.” You glanced over at the far wall of conference rooms, spotting Ellie’s blonde curls from afar. “At this point, I’m operating under the assumption that I’m her guardian for the interim.”

“Does he have a living will?”

“God, you sound like such a lawyer,” you groaned, starting down the hallway. Rebecca fell into step next to you as you made your way to the kitchen to grab a coffee. “I have no idea. He sprung this on me. I don’t think he planned for anything like this to ever happen. He’s supposed to be a full-time instructor now, not flying the jets. This was unexpected.” You poured coffee into Rebecca’s outstretched mug, and then into your own. “She slept in my bed last night. I woke up with her tiny hand on my face.”

She laughed. “OK, that’s pretty cute.”

“It was fucking adorable, that’s the problem.”

“How is that a problem?”

You sighed. “She’s so cute and sweet. And it fucking terrifies me. Who does she think I am? She must be so confused about what’s happening. I don’t think he’s ever left her before, not like this.”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Rebecca said, leading the way toward the conference room. “She’s just a kid. Tonight, when Jake is back, you can figure the rest out. But right now you have to go in there and put on a smile so she doesn’t get worried that her dad isn’t here.”

“You’re right.” You grabbed the door handle to the glass conference room and Ellie looked up with a grin. “Do you want to meet her?”

“Obviously.”

“Hey there,” you said, setting your stuff down on a seat across the table from where Ellie was coloring with Tracy. “Thanks, Tracy,” you added. “Appreciate it.”

The older woman stood up and smiled. “Of course, Ms. West. Ellie, it was really nice to meet you. Maybe later we can see if there are any treats in the kitchen?”

You rolled your eyes toward Rebecca who stifled a laugh. Ellie waved as Tracy exited the room before turning her eyes to Rebecca. “Hi!”

“Hi Ellie,” Rebecca said, sitting down in a chair next to her. “I’m Rebecca, I’m one of Natalie’s friends. Heard you’re our special guest today.”

Ellie blushed, suddenly shy. You settled in with your laptop as Rebecca slowly got her to warm up, putting together a puzzle from her backpack that Jake had packed.

The day passed quickly. Ellie was the hit of the office. All of the secretaries popped in to chat with her, as well as some of the younger associates.��

After lunch — you had called in sandwiches, chips and sodas from the local deli and Tracy had eaten with you and Ellie in the conference room — there was a page on the conference table speakerphone.

“Ms. West?”

You leaned forward, pressing the green button. “Yes?”

“Patrick Donnovan wants to see you in his office.”

Shit. You pressed on the button again. “Tracy, can you come sit with Ellie please while I meet with Patrick?”

“Of course.”

Across the table, Ellie looked up from her iPad. You stood, smoothing your dress and grabbing a notebook and pen. “Ellie? I’m going to be right back, OK? Tracy is going to sit with you and then after this we can go home sweetheart.”

“OK!” You smiled and ran your hand over her hair softly as you walked out of the door that Tracy held open for you. Thank you, you mouthed and she gave you a tight lipped smile. You both knew what it meant to have a meeting with Patrick. He was exclusively the bearer of bad news.

Your legs wobbled a bit as you strutted down the hallway toward Patrick’s corner office. Before you had even raised your fist to the door, you heard his gruff voice. “Come in.”

“Patrick,” you said assertively, closing the door behind you.

He stood looking out the window and held out a hand toward the two plush leather chairs facing his desk. “Natlie. Take a seat, please.”

You were thankful he didn’t shake your hand. He would have found it sweaty and clammy and shaky all at once.

The silence was agonizing. Patrick had a pinched face, with a slightly crooked Owen Wilson nose, but offset by a dark mop of hair that you knew he had paid extra to get replaced in Turkey, hair plug capital of the world.

“So how can I help you, Patrick?” you asked. If it was going to happen, you needed to get it over with.

“Is that your kid out there?” he asked, tilting his head toward the hall.

You shook your head. “She’s my partner’s daughter. Her name is Ellie.”

He nodded. “Cute kid.”

“She is.”

Patrick paused and you jiggled your foot in your heel. Finally he sat down in his chair across the massive wooden desk. “So Natalie. Can I assume that things are serious if you’re bringing this little girl around?”

“Um.” You thought maybe your hearing wasn’t working. What the fuck was Patrick getting at. “Yes, I guess it is.”

“Well then, I thought it would be time for us to chat,” he said, leaning forward and pressing his meaty hands against the desk. “The team went out on a limb to hire you. Rebecca, too. I know you two are close. It’s cut throat here and the economy is down. We’re short staffed and we’re short on budget. I want to know if I can depend on you or not.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking.”

“I’m not asking anything, to be clear,” he said and the realization dawned on you. Legally he couldn’t ask if you were pregnant or planning to become pregnant. But he wanted to know if you were going to cost the firm maternity pay. “I’m just telling you that these next few fiscal quarters are not going to be easy ones. Just something to keep in mind.”

You stood up, the chair rocking behind you on its back two legs before plopping loudly to the ground. Patrick’s eyes grazed over your hips, up your chest until they met your own. “I know what you’re doing,” you said, voice low. “You can’t ask me if I plan to start a family, Patrick. You’re a lawyer, you should know better.”

“Natalie,” he said, holding up a hand. “I’m not asking. I’m just telling you that you’d be putting your career on hold if you did.”

Your fingers were already on the door handle. “Not your place to tell me, Patrick.”

Your breath was shaky as you walked down the hallway. You had to pause and catch your breath before you entered the conference room. The clock over the whiteboard said it was only two o’clock, but after that conversation, you didn’t care if it looked like you were leaving early. You no longer cared what Patrick, or any of the other partners, though.

“Ready to head out, sweetpea?” you asked. Ellie nodded feverishly and Tracy helped her pack up her sparkly backpack.

“Thank you,” Ellie said sweetly and Tracy smiled.

You held the door open and she rushed out into the hallway. Tracy turned to you. “Are you leaving for the day?”

You nodded. “Patrick knows why.”

Her frown spoke volumes. No one went up against Patrick Donnovan. It wasn’t going to end well.

***

Everything with Ellie went more smoothly than you had expected. Ellie was easy to get along with. Back at the townhouse, you let her watch some TV while you finished a few briefs and contracts. Still no text or call from Jake.

Any other day you would have tried to impress Jake by cooking a healthy meal for Ellie. But your fridge was empty save for a few bottles of wine, some carrot sticks and yogurt, almond milk, bread, and the last thing you needed was the hassle of going out again to buy groceries.

“How do you feel about pizza?” you asked and Ellie jumped up and down in little hops, demanding pepperoni.

The two of you settled down into the couch eating pepperoni pizza off of paper plates and drinking sparkling water while watching a movie. Outside, the sun slid down beneath the horizon. You kept your phone on the couch arm, ringer on, just in case.

Once the movie was over, you helped Ellie take a bath in your marble tub, letting her pick out a book to read before she went to sleep.

You turned on the nightlight in the bathroom and then pulled the covers up to her chest.

Ellie’s tiny hand reached out and grabbed yours. “Natalie?” Her voice was small and shaky.

You knelt down next to the bed, keeping her hand gripped in yours. “What is it, sweetie?”

“When is my daddy coming home?”

You sucked in a breath. “He’ll be home soon,” you whispered. “Do you miss him?”

She nodded and you reached out, smoothing the hair over the top of her head. “Me too,” you murmured.

Ellie’s green eyes searched yours.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” you whispered. “When your daddy gets home, I’ll have him wake you up, OK? So you can give him a big hug.”

She smiled, her eyelids fluttering closed. “OK.”

“Goodnight, honey.” You set her hand down gently, tucking the covers up around her before shutting the door most of the way, leaving it slightly ajar.

In the living room, you started to pace, your phone gripped tightly in your hand. The December darkness outside obscured your sense of time, until you finally felt a vibration from your phone, fumbling to swipe one finger across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Nat, it’s me.” Jake. You nearly collapsed in relief hearing his voice on the other end of the phone. Your knees gave out and you stumbled onto the plush ottoman. “We just docked. I can be there in thirty minutes.”

“Don’t rush,” you said, your voice crackling. “Drive safe. I’m just, fuck, I am so glad to hear your voice.”

“Baby,” he cooed and you felt a small tear slip out. “Honey, I’m on my way.”

Once you hung up, it hit you how worried you had been. Your flight or fight response had kicked in and your desire to take care of Ellie had surpassed any anxieties about Jake and the mission. But knowing that he was on his way, back on land, somehow opened the flood gates. He was safe.

Jake didn’t ring the door, instead sending a text and you tripped down the hallway, trying to be as quiet as possible as you flung open the door, crashing into him on the front porch. Jake’s arms immediately wrapped around your body, pulling you in closer, his lips trailing kisses across your head as you buried yourself against his chest. “Nat, sweetheart, I’m right here. Shh, I’m right here.”

You didn’t even realize you were crying on him until you pulled away and saw the dark wet spot on his green flight suit. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, running one thumb under your chin. “Don’t apologize.”

You pressed your hands to either side of your face. “Thank God you’re back.”

“How was she?” he asked softly. “Where is she?”

“Sleeping,” you replied. “She was perfect. But I promised that you’d wake her up when you got home. She misses you.”

He let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you for looking after her.”

Something about the way he said it flipped a switch in your brain. You pulled away. “Jake, I just have to know. What is this?” you asked. “What are we doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“What is this?” you demanded, crossing your arms. The relief of having Jake back on solid land was gone. It was replaced with anger at how he had left the situation. Dropping Ellie in your lap with no plan or instructions, wrongly assuming you had what it took to step seamlessly into their lives. What you had overheard him say to the dagger squad during dinner continued to pay rent in your mind. “Am I a babysitter? Am I your girlfriend? Where do you see this going? Because I am getting extremely mixed messages from you, Jake. And I can’t just be whatever you want me to be on a whim. I have a fucking career to think about!”

“Fucking Christ,” he muttered, running one hand through his hair. “Nat, I really can’t fucking do this right now. I haven’t slept in two days. I just want to see my daughter. Take a shower. Get some rest.”

A part of you registered that you hadn’t made his list of needs. “There’s always going to be a reason not to have this conversation,” you replied and he audibly groaned. “What?”

“I did not miss this,” he said sharply. “This is the worst fucking part about having a wife.”

“So I’m your wife now?” you said angrily. “Funny, I don’t remember a proposal.”

“What do you want me to say, Nat?” His voice was climbing and you were thankful the houses were far enough apart that you wouldn’t raise suspicion. “I don’t have my life together, OK? I’m a fucking mess. I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m just doing what I think is best. Today, going up again in those jets was the scariest fucking thing I’ve done in a year. Do you know what was going through my mind? That I might never see my daughter again. The literal love of my life. You have no idea what that’s like. She’s my entire fucking world. So I’m sorry if I don’t have a plan and I’m sorry that I can’t give you more right now. But she’s my priority.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks. You knew he was right. But that didn’t stop you from being jealous. And angry.

Were you ever going to feel like a priority in his life?

“I think you should wake up Ellie,” you whispered hoarsely. “And take her home.”

Jake nodded, jaw firm. “I think you’re right.”

You watched him go inside and you quickly brushed away the tears from your cheeks. Jake emerged a few minutes later, Ellie’s bags slung on his back and over one arm, carrying her on the other side, her tiny face lolling on his shoulder.

You helped him move her carseat into his truck, and watched as he gently lifted her into the seat, strapping her in carefully.

Jake moved to shut the door, but Ellie’s eyes fluttered open. “Natalie?”

You sniffled and stepped forward. “Yeah sweetie?”

“Thank you.”

Tears threatened to spill from behind your eyes. You simply gave her a tight smile and a small wave. “Goodnight pumpkin.”

Jake shut the door gently, and then turned to face you. “Nat.” There was longing in his voice.

You shook your head. It wasn't that easy. “Goodnight, Jake.”

He hung his head and you saw the exhaustion in his eyes. “Goodnight.”

You watched as he jogged around to the driver’s side, sliding in and starting up the truck, slipping down the driveway. Your eyes followed his rear lights as they disappeared around the bend of the street. It wasn’t until they were out of your line of sight that you let yourself collapse on the porch steps in tears.

A/N: My work travel schedule + holiday travel schedule (3 trips in the next 2 weeks) means Ch. 8 will probably be a little delayed, just FYI!

Tag list: @double-j @seresinhangmanjake @topguncultleader @hangmandruigandmav @momc95 @minamisulemisa @shawnsblue @blue-aconite @brehonodea @crthurston @angelbabyange @jason-toddsthighs @secretsicanthideanymore @taytaylala12 @mandylove1000 @mizzzpink @showmethewayhomehoney @tvjunkie08 @mygyn @wkndwlff @sadpetalsstuff @shanimallina87 @averyhotchner @oneelleandaneye @starrynightskyz @daddymack01 @buxkybarnez @pookie-cleary @clairedelarosa-blog @princessofglitterland @tiredqueen73 @lovingjakeseresin @lilyevanswhore @kurtkunkle17 @amortentiadrops @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @abaker74 @xoxabs88xox @novagreen04 @townmoondaltwistle @rosiahills22 @indynerdgirl @entertainmentgal8 @misshoneypaper @starkleila @ebonyhogan24 @rosewritesitout @sammysimpin @khaylin27 @localhockeygirl @eyesthatroll @wildxwidow @wildlyobserving @bellaireland1981 @wittywhispers-blog

#jake hangman imagine #jake hangman fic #jake seresin #hangman fanfiction #jake hangman x reader #hangman top gun #jake hangman x you #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin x oc #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #my girl

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starbuckie · 4 years

Text

𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐩

challenge: clair’s 22nd birthday bash by @romantic-barnes

prompt: soda pop

pairing: 40’s!bucky barnes x reader

words: 1222 words

warnings: fluff, a lil baby bit of angst, a smooth fucker named james barnes, and language

summary: getting to work early wasn’t so bad after all.

a/n: happy birthday clair! i hope you like this, cuz i had a lot of fun writing it. this prompt was super fun to play around with, and 40′s bucky is a little sneaky charmer. also, i had to look up forties slang, so i have no clue whether it’s accurate or not. as always, thank you to my sassy but amazing beta @transparentfestivaltiger. anyways, enjoy, and if you haven’t already, you should join @romantic-barnes birthday celebration! thank you so much <3

main masterlist || sebastian stan characters masterlist

The diner was empty when she went in. Sighing, she headed to the back of the dimly lit room and hung up her coat on the hook in the kitchen. The first shift on Wednesday morning truly was the worst.

“Callie, Sue?” Y/N called out, but no answer came back except for the echo of her voice. Today wasn’t her day. Of course, it had been her choice to stay out at the dance hall, but her bastard of a date, Richie, had left her to dance with another girl, and she spent the rest of the night wallowing in the corner and drinking her woes away. The bin of dirty white aprons wasn’t under the sink like usual, so she went up to the front counter and saw that there was already someone waiting outside the glass doors.

This early? She could’ve sworn it was eight-thirty when she entered, so she checked the clock right above the jukebox. Yup, it was only eight forty. Figuring it was another drunk, she unlocked the door and spoke. “Good morning, sir, can I help you?”

The man looked up from the ground and smiled at Y/N. Boy, was he a dreamboat. Nicely pressed uniform, neat chestnut hair, pretty blue eyes, and a charming smile that could knock anyone off their feet. Y/N’s knees nearly buckled on the spot.

“Yes, I was wondering if I could come in and get some soda from a beautiful gal?” She visibly flushed at his words, and he grinned wider when he saw.

“We don’t open for about another fifty minutes, but if you’d like, you can sit until the others start coming in.”

She opened the door for him, and he stepped in with a quick, “thank you.” He seemed to have never been there before, and he looked around in wonder. “I’ve gotta be honest, this place is a whole lot nicer than some of the diners where I’m from.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed as she walked behind the counter and found the aprons. “Are you not from around here?”

“Just across the bridge in Brooklyn.”

She smiled. “So you're another one of those Brooklyn boys, aren’t ya?”

“Ah, so you’ve heard of us?” When she just rolled her eyes and walked to the back, he grinned. “What about you, sugar, where are you from?”

“My daddy moved up here from Virginia, but I’m from Manhattan, born and raised.” The workers in the kitchen started entering, and they both could hear the clanging of metal in the back. “I should probably go and check-in with the guys. Anything you want while I’m back there? Or I can get you a good cup of joe?”

“How about a cola, with two straws, so we can share?” He posed it as a question, a lopsided smirk accompanying it.

She leaned over the counter, her face inches away from his. “And why should I be sharing a drink with a stranger?”

“The name’s James Barnes, doll, but you can call me Bucky. Close friends only.”

Y/N scoffed and walked to the back to grab his soda. Truthfully, her heart was racing, because this handsome man was charming her socks off, but she had a history with men like them. They were sweet in the beginning, then they used and cheated her. Maybe she had been corrupted at a young age when Carl had left her for another girl in high school, but her mantra remained the same: love is for fools. Regardless of that loud voice screaming at Y/N to stop interacting with him, she grabbed a cola from the icebox, waved to the boys who had started working, and grabbed two red straws walking back out from the kitchen.

“So, Mr. Barnes, I see that it’s fair that I tell you my name now that I know yours. I’m Y/N L/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Bucky.” He winked at her and took the opened bottle from her.

“Now, we aren’t strangers,” he smirked, “so how about that soda pop?” Seeing her rolled eyes, he laughed, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel her heart skip a beat to this man.

“Okay, but I start my shift in,” she checked the clock, and saw it was nine at this point, “thirty minutes, so you best be gone by the time other customers start coming in or they’re gonna think I’m sweet on you.”

“Are you not already, sugar?” He mocked an expression of offense, and she laughed. “Well, damn, I was putting on my best show!”

That was what struck a chord in Y/N. A show. It never lasted long, did it? Once they got bored, they stopped the show, the circus, and moved on to their next location. Her sadness must’ve shown up on her face because Bucky noticed her small frown. “What’s wrong, Y/N? You feelin’ okay?”

“Are you a heartbreaker, James?” Her harsh tone surprised him. “Because I don’t waste my time on a silly boy, who’s gonna take my love and trample over it. Who’s understanding and kind, but then sees another sweet thing and leaves. I don’t want that anymore.”

Her eyes teared up at the confession, but she couldn’t help it. There was no luck for her at this point and the night before had just been proof. Bucky immediately took her hand and placed his lips on it.

“Doll, I swear on my life, I have no intention of breaking your heart, and I’ve gotta say that if anything, you’ll be breaking mine.” With a sigh, he continued. “Maybe another guy showed up, and maybe the fella did you wrong, but that doesn’t mean that that’s all love is. He’s a rotten man if he couldn’t see the gem that was right in front of him. Love, it’s real Y/N, and giving it out is scary, but when you find the right person, it’ll all be worth it. And right now, my heart is in the hands of a pretty beautiful dame who’s standin’ right in front of me.”

Tears silently trickled down her face, smearing her mascara, but he didn’t care. Y/N had held his heart from the moment he saw her through the diner door. “What do you say, doll, you trust me?”

Her face broke into a small smile. Nodding, she grabbed the two straws and dropped them into the opening of the cola bottle. “How about that soda, then we can start talking about when you’ll pick me up for our date?”

He grinned and took a sip of the cold soda. “Tomorrow night, seven o’clock, at the Roseland Ballroom. You’ll wear your nicest dress, and I’ll have my hair all slicked back, and I’ll pick you up from your house. I’ll make some talk with your daddy and mother, and we’ll hold hands as we walk, and eventually spend the whole night dancin’ until our feet fall off. Then, I’ll walk you back home and kiss you sweetly by your front door, and give you my number so I can take you out again. How does that sound?”

Y/N’s lips widened into a full grin, and she managed to nod before taking a sip of their shared soda pop. “That sounds real swell, Bucky.”

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whattimeisitintokyo · 3 years

Text

Somos Familia Ch 46: A Tale of Woe

Ch 46: A Tale of Woe

Pacing outside of the shack she just exited, Leti bit the end of her thumb and whined a little. This did not go according to what she had planned. This was supposed to be a joyous occasion. How often had Nieve said how she wished she could see her son at least once to tell him that she was sorry, to let him hear her side of the story? She was supposed to cry in happiness and embrace Papa like she never got to in life, and he would return it in kind. A mother and son reunited after over fifty years.

It should have been a happy occasion. It shouldn’t have ended up with Nieve being furious at her and Papa looking like he was going to throw up.

“I made the right decision, sí?” she asked the two animals sitting outside with her. “I mean come on. This is the kind of situation that would make for a good story. Haven’t these two always wanted to meet each other?”

Dante yipped in what seemed to be approval of Leti’s question, while she could have sworn she saw Frangipanni’s eyes dart slightly to the side.

“What? You don’t think this was a good idea?”

Frangipani just looked at her with what Leti swore was a wince, and let out a puff of air from her trunk.

“Well why didn’t you tell me before?!” Leti moaned. “Some spirit guide you are…” Easily dodging Frangipani’s attempt to splash water at her, Leti fought to put a confident grin on her face. “Well no matter! It’s been over fifty years since she’s seen him, and no doubt Papa would have tons of questions for her. I’m sure they have loads to talk about!”

-----------------------

…..

“I like your jacket.”

Jumping slightly after the break of near dead silence, Héctor looked down at his jacket and picked at the purple sleeve. “Oh, gracias. It’s Balenciaga.”

“What’s that?”

“He’s a fashion designer. From… Spain…”

“Oh.”

…..

This was excruciating. They both knew that this couldn’t go on forever, let alone for the next few minutes. Héctor was obviously running out of time, the slow disappearance of his skin a clear indicator. But for some reason Héctor couldn’t leave his seat. He just kept looking at this girl, trying to take in every curve of bone and every twitch of facial features. Trying to burn them into his memory. Several times he tried to say something, his throat constricting every time, until Nieve broke the silence once more.

“Look, we don’t have a lot of time.” she said. “And I know you must have questions.”

“Not really, no.”

His answer surprised them both, and Héctor knew that it was a big fat lie. Maybe it was because he was on a tight schedule and didn’t have time to ask her his many questions, or maybe he was too afraid to know the answers. But seeing her face crumple a little at what he said, and feeling a small bit of satisfaction at causing it, Héctor could conclude he was just being petty. Letting his long-buried feelings of hurt and anger from his childhood come back up, he wanted her to feel even a little bit of the pain he had felt.

“No?” Nieve asked in confusion.

“Fine then, just one.” Héctor relented. “Are you really my mother?”

“…Sí.”

It was confirmed. Héctor felt his belly drop and he sucked in a quick breath of air before pursing his lips and nodding. Okay, that was all he needed to know. He could just leave and never see this girl again.

Girl…

“How old were you when you had me?” Héctor asked. “You look so young.”

Nieve winced and lowered her eyes. “I was fourteen.”

Perfect, just perfect. He was the product of a teenage love affair. But his quick flash of disgust was quickly subdued when he remembered he was not that much older when he and Imelda had Coco. He had no right to be offended by that, especially since he assumed she was unwed at the time she had him.

Still, she seemed so young.

“And… how old were you when you died?” He had to ask, fearing the answer.

“Fourteen.”

Ay, Dios.

“Wh-what?” Héctor choked out, suddenly horror-stricken. “You mean? Are you saying that I-… That it’s my fault you-”

“No no!” Nieve reached out to touch him before stopping herself and drawing her hands back. Still she dared to venture a step closer to him. “No, I didn’t die in childbirth. It was hard on me, but all ten pounds of you made it out in the end.”

“Hah, good.” Héctor sighed in relief and sagged back onto the crate. “I was worried that-wait, ten pounds?!”

Nieve nodded and for the first time her bony lips turned upward into small grin. “You were a very fat baby. The nuns said that meant you were healthy.”

Laying a hand against his flat stomach, Héctor shook his head in disbelief. “Well I can assure you that the fatness didn’t last long.”

Nieve’s smile faded, sorrow finding its way back. “Yes, I’m sure there were many nights where you went hungry. Didn’t you?”

There were. More than Héctor would have liked to admit. The nuns were kind and Padre Mateo did all he could to make sure that the children under his care were well looked after, but Santa Cecilia used to be a poor town and food was lean then. Many a night Héctor found himself curled into a ball with a fist driving itself into his cramping stomach, trying not to cry through his hunger pangs. Even now it was difficult for him to gain weight, no matter how much food was available to him. It had made a lasting effect on him.

As Héctor stayed silent Nieve studied him some more and hummed in approval. “You look like me.”

“I do?”

Nieve nodded. “Of course my facial features look better on you as a man, not so much on a young girl. I always felt I was too homely to turn the boys’ heads… until I met your father.”

“…What?”

“You look nothing like him, by the way. Well, you have his height and a full head of thick hair. All the men in my family were short and bald.”

“Wait, you… know who my father was?” Héctor asked, not sure how many more surprises he could handle tonight.

This time it was Nieve’s turn to look a little angry, crossing her arms across her chest and tsking. “Really now, I’m not some common street walker. There was one man in my life and one only.”

Héctor mumbled out an awkward apology and had the decency to look ashamed of his unintentional rudeness. Looking around he had to ask. “… Is my father… dead as well? I mean, is he here?”

With a disgusted shake of her head and a sneer, she said, “No, that cabrón is still alive. Only the good die young, they say. He should be about… sixty-seven right now.”

“I see… So he was young too.” Héctor concluded after doing the math in his head, relieved that his father wasn’t some viejo who had taken advantage of a young girl.

There was a pause, Nieve processing what Héctor had just said, her face thawing into something more wistful but still hurt. “Sí… He was sixteen, considered a man by society but… Dom was still in his boyhood in so many ways. He was so regal and charming, but he was also silly. I can’t count the number of times he made me laugh with his antics. And so handsome, he could have any girl he could have wanted. I still don’t know why he chose me.”

Héctor found himself listening intently as Nieve described the beginnings of his parents relationship, hungry for the information. It was only natural, being an orphan, that he would want some inkling of what his family was like.

“He didn’t live where I did in Guerrero, he was sent to stay with his tío to learn more about the silver mine business and was set to leave for home in the summer. I met him at a New Year’s Eve party at his tío’s mansion where my parents had sent me to work at as a waitress. I don’t know why he came over to talk to me, but we really hit it off. He didn’t seem to care that I was a poor, he just liked me for who I was. And eventually… we fell in love.”

“We spent an incredible two months together until the wait staff found us one day mid kiss, and of course they informed his tío about us. Needless to say his visit was cut short and he was sent back to Santa Cecilia while I went back to my parents in shame. It was during that time while I was dealing with losing the love of my life and my parents’ coldness and harsh punishments… that I realized that I was pregnant.”

Shifting uncomfortably, Héctor didn’t know how to feel about that. He sensed that this was where the story was about to take a dark turn, and that he was the catalyst.

“My parents kicked me out, naturally. My brothers and my sister wanted nothing to do with me, neither did my extended family. I was alone in the world, but there was one shining light at the end of the tunnel: To head to Santa Cecilia to be with your father.”

“It took months to earn enough money to cross the state line to get to Oaxaca, and even more to get to Santa Cecilia. By then you had grown so much, so it was that much harder to make the distance. But in the end I did it! I made it to Santa Cecilia, found out where Dom lived, and walked straight to his house. I was so happy to see him, and he… just…”

Héctor watched as Nieve let the sentence die off, almost looking choked up and about to cry. But there was also simmering anger in her expression as well. He could easily guess what happened way back when, and if she couldn’t say it out loud then he would for her. “He rejected you.”

“…He did…”

“But I don’t understand?” Héctor said. “I thought you said he loved you. Why would he-?”

“’Because I am the son of a family descended from the richest houses in Europe, and you are a filthy peasant that came from savages and slaves.’” Nieve spat acidly, like the words had been burned into her mind and left to rot for decades. “He called me a whore, told me to never come to his house again, and slammed the door on me. Oh, after asking his servants to gently escort me off the grounds. My arms were bruised for weeks.”

Héctor grit his teeth. “Bastardo… What happened then?”

“I was alone in a town I was a stranger in, but luckily the nuns took me in and helped me get settled in the church. At least until you were born I had a roof over my head.”

Héctor nodded with a small smile. The nuns at his church were stern, for sure, but they were always kind to him. But a thought still bothered him. “So you never tried to pursue my f-… Dom… again?”

Nieve laughed bitterly. “Of course I did. Several times. Never at his home, though. Ever since my arrival it was guarded like a fortress. He dismissed me very time until the last time. Then he got physical. He grabbed me by the arm tightly, so hard it hurt, and shouted at me to never bother him again, or I would soon learn that no one messes with the Cavalleros.”

….

“WHAT?!”

Héctor’s outburst startled Nieve into such a state that she automatically moved into a defensive position, looking like she was ready to karate chop the air. “What?! What’d I do?!”

Héctor started to pace the room frantically, wildly gesturing as he went. “The Cavelleros?!” he shouted. “I’m related to the wealthiest family in-Oh no, my family is the wealthiest now… But the former wealthiest family in Santa Cecilia?! In Oaxaca?! I mean they’re not wealthy anymore, just today I got a business request from Ignacio and his father Dom…in…go…”

The fire that had lit underneath him sputtered out until there was nothing left. Shakily he sat back down onto the crate, feeling like he was going to be sick. Domingo Cavellero, the man who had never once talked to him but had often sneered at him if they came across each other in the plaza when he was just a small boy. Who forbade any of his children to listen to him play music with the rest of the crowd. The man who had actually bought his shoes from Rivera Zapatos, though always through a servant instead of in person.

“Domingo Cavellero… is my father…”

“A father is someone who loves their children and raises them, that cabrón did neither. Just forget him.” Nieve said. “At least one of us has to.”

Héctor had to agree to that. Domingo never did anything for him, it was best to just pretend like he was just another citizen in Santa Cecilia. But then he thought back to what Leti and her had discussed before he entered the room, and things didn’t make sense. “You have an ofrenda. One that you refuse to go to… Is it his?”

“… It is.”

“Why would he have an ofrenda for you if he rejected you?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care to know. He told me to never return to him, and I am content to do just that.”

Héctor could tell that she was not content at all, far from it, but Héctor was not about to argue with a teenage girl. Wait no, his mother. Damn, this was all so confusing. And some aspects were still not synching up.

“Wait a minute.” he said, “I thought I was abandoned on the church steps. Padre Mateo and the nuns never told me that you were there with them until I was born.”

Nieve’s eyes lost their fire quickly at that, almost looking deadened, and she quickly turned back to the window. Looking out into the fog, she stayed silent for a few moments to the point where Héctor felt like he had to ask what had happened. Then she spoke again, quietly, “I assume they thought it was best you didn’t know about me.”

“Why?”

“…Because the cause of my death was not… condoned by the church.”

Héctor was confused for about a second before the meaning of her words set in. With a quick intake of air he stared at her, heartbroken and a little angry. “Did you… kill yourself?”

Nieve kept looking out the window, trying not to meet Héctor’s gaze, and sighed. “You were such a beautiful baby; I’ll never forget the way you looked at me when you first opened your eyes. I could tell, even then, that you were going to be what your father wasn’t: A good person to his very core. There was only one obstacle, I thought, that was standing in your way of happiness. That was me.”

“I was so confused, so heartbroken, my brain was going crazy at the time. For weeks I tried to care for you, but every time you cried I felt more and more like a failure as a mother. There were times I would just stare at you as you cried, couldn’t make myself to move and reach for you for comfort. Sometimes I wanted to just shut you up for good, and those times scared me the most. It was when that darkness kept overtaking me that I made the decision to stop it before something terrible happened.”

“But something terrible did happen.” Héctor said, his throat constricting painfully. “You killed yourself.”

Nieve slowly nodded, still looking away. “I gave you one final kiss and left you in the care of the nuns. They had no idea what I was about to do until days later when my body, otherwise they would have tried to stop me... I walked down to the creek in the middle of the night, waded in, and let it sweep me away. December 31st, 1900. Exactly one year after I had met your father… I thought I was being very poetic, as most stupid little girls do.”

Héctor sniffled and scrubbed his face with a boney hand, tears blurring his vision. When Nieve finally looked back at him she was saddened to see them fall down his cheeks, but still she dared not touch him. “I’m sorry Héctor, but I thought I had lost everything. I felt I had no other choice.”

“You didn’t lose everything!” Héctor snapped, wiping the tears away. “You had me. All my life I wanted to know who my parents were and why they left me. And now that I do know I feel cheated! I could have!...” trailing off he pursed his lips tight, looking up at his mother with watery eyes. “I would have been a good son.”

That was it.

Without a seconds hesitation Nieve crossed the threshold and pulled Héctor into a fierce hug, pulling him close to her and knocking off her straw hat at the same time. It didn’t seem like it would be compatible for a teenage girl and a grown man to hug, but they fit perfectly together. Even though he had grown, and she remained the same, Héctor was still able fit into his mother’s hold. Hesitantly he put his hands on her back, eyes wide, before he too melted into the embrace. An embrace fifty years in the making.

“I know you would have been a good son.” Nieve whimpered into his ear. “You would have been the sweetest boy from the stories Leti has told me… And that is part of my punishment, knowing that.”

“Punishment?” Héctor mumbled.

Nieve nodded. “When I took my life I didn’t care about what happened next. All I wanted was for the pain to stop. But it didn’t stop, it stayed and grew. Only difference now is that I’m in this gaudy, technicolor party town where everyone celebrates their death and does whatever they want that they couldn’t do in death. While I had something so precious in my life that I couldn’t see through my pain. Now I’m just an old woman, living in isolation in the slums while pining for something that I threw away.”

Pulling back, Nieve cupped Héctor’s cheek lovingly and smiled. “You deserved so much better, Héctor.”

“So did you.” Héctor said. “I’m sorry your life turned out so bad in the end.”

Nieve shook her head. “It could have been prevented. I knew something was screwing with my head and I just let it fester. I should have just asked for counsel with Padre Mateo or the nuns, or maybe gone to the doctor or an institution. Maybe then I would have been a better mother for you, if I had just… asked someone to help me, I guess.”

Héctor felt something in his chest drop at what Nieve had said. That seemed… familiar. Staring off a ways, thinking about earlier conversations he’d rather be forgotten, he barely mumbled, “Yeah, maybe…”

Smiling tightly, Nieve pulled her hand away from him. “Are you all right?”

Sighing a deep, cleansing breath Héctor nodded. “I think so. I just don’t think my heart can take any more surprises tonight… But I do have one more question.”

Bracing herself to what it might be, Nieve wrung her hands. “Okay…”

“Why did you name me Héctor? Is it a family name or something? I just got teased a lot as a child.”

Sighing in relief Nieve nodded. “In a way. I named you after my pet pig Héctor.”

“… What?”

She nodded fondly, “He was a very good pig, so pink and squishy. Until he got too big, and we had to eat him. That’s probably why he didn’t turn up as my alebrije.”

“You named me after a pig?!”

“I was fourteen years old! Of course I would name you after something I loved! And need I remind you that you were a fat baby!”

Crossing his arms in a huff, Héctor seethed while Nieve continued. “I had a lot of good memories with that pig, thank you very much. Riding on his back, rolling in the mud, eating fruit and chapulines. They were good times.”

His pout fading away, Héctor looked back up at her. “Did you say chapulines?”

Nieve nodded, smiling again. “Sí, they’re my favorite dish. Dios, I must have eaten my entire body weight in chapulines while I was pregnant with you. Why?”

His lips quirking up, Héctor shook his head in wonderment. “No reason.”

Again there was a long stretch of silence between the two of them, but it wasn’t awkward or painful anymore. They just stared at each other, smiling in contentment and newfound affection, before Nieve finally sighed.

“You need to go. Get that curse removed.”

“Yeah… I do.” Héctor said, a part of him aching to stay with her and learn more. But staring down at his boney hand he knew that that wasn’t an option for him. He made move to leave when Nieve suddenly put her hand on his shoulder.

“Wait, one more thing.” She said with a warm smile. Bending down and picking up her straw hat off the ground, she shook the dust off of it and raised it up. “I know it’s twenty-seven days until your birthday, but since I’m fifty years behind on your other birthdays I need some catching up. It’s not much, but…Feliz Cumpleaños, mijo…”

Reaching up, Héctor touched the frayed edges of the straw hat that had been plopped down onto his head. It wasn’t much at all, really. Especially when he had designers to make proper clothing for him and his entire family. Not to mention he had never been much of a hat person outside of performing. But this was a gift from his mother, his first gift, and it had instantly become a treasured heirloom passed on to a son.

Still touching it with reverence, Héctor fought the urge to cry again as he choked out, “…Gracias.”

“De nada.” Nieve whispered. “Now go.”

With a jerky nod Héctor stood up and away, pausing at the exit. “I… I will see you again, right?”

“Of course. All souls end up here eventually, though hopefully you’ll last a few more decades yet.” Nieve said with a grin.

Returning the smile Héctor peeled back the tattered curtain and, with one last look back, was gone. Alone now Nieve let her smile fall, sorrow filling her entire being, and collapsed to the floor. Trying to suppress the deep sobs in her chest, Nieve couldn’t keep herself to comparing this last time seeing Héctor with all those years ago. With a little sleepy baby, innocent to the turmoil he would face without her, looking at her with half lidded eyes in the arms of a nun. An imaged practically burned into her retinas.

And as she wept she said the same thing she told him almost fifty-one years ago.

“Goodbye, my little baby…”

#coco fanfic #somos familia #pixar coco #coco pixar #Hector Rivera

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staywritten · 4 years

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All In│Bang Chan «Chapter Thirteen» ◄Back «Masterlist» Next►

Chan had been staring at his ceiling for almost an hour. You soundly napping in his arms, unknowing of the emotional turmoil he’d been dealing with since his talk with Felix. He’d been racking his brain on how to tell you, but there wasn’t anyway to put it without it sounding sketchy. The two of you kinda just fell into this perfect rhythm and he didn’t want to disrupt it. You were everything he’d ever wanted. He’d never been able to open up, and feel so comfortable before. Sure, he had his friends and he could tell them anything, but he was always the big brother. He never wanted to burden them. But with you he didn’t feel that weight. You welcomed everything with open arms.

He smiled seeing you pout in your sleep. You still had another thirty minutes set on your alarm. He brushed your hair out of your face, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.You relaxed almost instantly to his touch, cuddling into his chest.

He waited a couple more minutes to make sure you were comfortable before quietly slipping out and heading to Felix’s room.

“What’s up Man?” Felix opened his door letting him in.

“Can I vent? I think I just need to talk it out first.” Felix could tell just how disheveled Chan was. He just looked so mentally exhausted. Felix sat on his bed watching Chan pace. “I don’t want to hurt her… I’m terrified of hurting her”

“Then don’t. Just be honest”

“Honest? If I’m honest I’ll lose her...and I don’t want to lose her Felix I think I’m in love and I don’t want to let it go”

“Noona is understanding, and she loves you too I can tell. Friends don’t look at each other like that” he chuckled “I mean I love you, but I’ve never stared at you the way she does.”

“Felix I’m serious.” he groaned “If she asks me about Rosie what am I supposed to tell her? Hey this is Rosie, technically my long distance girlfriend but don’t worry we’ve been on a break for like three years but everytime I go back to Australia we always pick up where we left off, sleep together and go on dates and stuff. But we’re on a break” his tone sarcastic as he rolled his eyes, crossing his hands over his chest.

“See! It’s that right there. Girlfriend. You need to call Rosie right now and break up properly, that way you don’t have to lie" He grabbed his phone, getting ready to call Rosie himself. “You can just break up and that way you don’t have to tell her anything because-”

Chan watched as Felix’s eyes widened, trained on the door behind him. It’s like he knew before he even turned around. His shoulders slumped in guilt before his eyes met yours. “I-”

“...You have a girlfriend…?” your voice breaking, tears already spilling from your eyes. “I was so stupid…” you shrinked back, you couldn’t even look at him. “A girlfriend…” you sniffled, wiping the tears furiously from your eyes.

“It’s not…” he reached out, his body reacting before he could even form a sentence. “Baby please...”

“Don’t touch me!” you stepped back immediately, hugging yourself.

“I never meant to hurt you” his eyes widened, panicked. He knew he was losing you and he didn’t know what to do. “Please… just let me explain everything and… I know you hate me right now but-”

It was like suddenly you were in your sophomore year again in the same toxic cheating relationship. All of your anxieties about opening up, trusting someone, loving someone. It all came rushing at you. Suddenly you were that same, weak, naive sophomore that let a guy manipulate you. All of your insecurities about Rosie that your friends tried to brush off, were justified.

Your body stiffened, Chan reached for your cheek to wipe your tears away. “I’m so sorry”

“I said don’t touch me!” you pushed him back keeping your distance.

“Baby please…” he held his hands up, approaching you slowly; Like you were some frightened animal. “Let me explain...I-”

Your body panicked, your anxiety rising. Your fight or flight instinct kicked in. You felt cornered, heart broken, deceived. You bolted down the hall, not even bothering to grab your things. You shoved your foot in your sneakers, stepped on the backs of them and ran down the stairs from the apartment building.

The cold night air hitting you hard in your thin t-shirt and sweatpants. There was almost an immediate regret once you got down to the main street. You regretted not wearing a sweater, you regretted not grabbing your phone first, you regretted being in an area that wasn’t within walking distance from your house, and most importantly you regretted ever giving another person your heart.

You ran at full speed for as long as your legs could manage, your lungs screaming for a break, your feet in pain from the rubbing of the sneakers on your bare foot. But you couldn’t stop because stopping would mean thinking.

As long as your body was in some sort of visceral response mode, crying and overthinking became second priority.

“Chan you gotta give her some space” Felix grabbed him, stopping him from going after you.

“I can’t! Felix she’s crying and out there in the middle of the night! She doesn’t have her phone- I-I gotta go find her!”

“Hyung! You’re the last person she wants to see right now. If you find her she’s gonna run again.” he took his keys. “I’ll go find her. You stay here in case for some miracle she comes back.” he ordered before heading out.

It was rare that Felix ever took initiative like that but Chan was falling apart.

He drove down the block, looking for you, the only good thing about the whole situation was that they lived in a rather nice area, it was well lit and close to the college so you should be familiar with it, but it was still dangerous for you to be out there alone.

Felix drove the entire path from his apartment to yours, even stopping at a few shops along the way. But still nothing. Chan was blowing up his phone wondering about an update, but there was nothing to tell him. He couldn’t find you. After driving back and forth twice he was starting to worry. But he needed to hold it together because if he panicked Chan was definitely going to lose it.

Somewhere along the way you’d gotten lost, it was bound to happen. It wasn’t like it was a straight shot from North to South campus, and you weren’t even thinking straight. It just hit you how alone you really were. It wasn’t like you had anyone's number memorized, you didn’t even know where you were. You couldn’t even remember the last business you saw, the few you passed were closed for the night. This was as good as it was gonna get, because your legs couldn’t manage a step further. You finally stopped running and collapsed to the ground of what looked to be a park. At least it was decently lit. You hugged your knees panting heavily,, your legs exhausted from the sudden sprint.

Was this your fault? The only reason you got up early from your nap was because Chan wasn’t there. Maybe you should have just stayed asleep. Living in this warm, blissful ignorance, slowly falling more in love with something you knew was too good to be true. You scoffed, sniffling into your t-shirt. Your heart was filled with regret, because deep down you convinced yourself that you didn’t get happy endings, at least not in love.

Felix drove to your apartment once more. It’d been over an hour since he started looking for you. Even if you walked straight home, you should have made it there by now. He hesitantly knocked on the door.

A very groggy Momo opened the door, yawning and wiping the sleep from her eyes. “Felix? What in the world? It’s like 1am I have practice tomorrow morning.”

He nervously looked up at her. “I...Is yn-Noona home?”

“What? No, she’s at your place” she laughed at the silly question before reading his face. “Wait...Why? Where is she?” the worry was rising on her face.

“She...Kinda got upset at Hyung and ran out...she left her phone and stuff at the house…”

“What?! She left your house on foot? Felix! When? I- What did he do to her!?”

“I’ve been looking for her for like an hour.” His shoulders slumped “Momo, focus here, I’ll tell you that later but we gotta find her I’m getting worried…”

“An hour?!” She grabbed her purse and phone to call Hyunjin “Drive me back toward Chan’s house, I’m getting her stuff. And tell me every single thing that happened.”

Felix and Chan called everyone they could gather to go and help look for you. It was still too early to file any form of police report, especially being that you left willingly, and it’d only been a few hours but they called just in case.

Chan paced back and forth, he’d had to explain the situation more times than he could count, and there was never a gentle way to put it. He fucked up. He completely and wholeheartedly fucked up. The whole swim team and anyone else he could gather was out looking for you, and all he could do was wait.

Momo walked inside the apartment to get your things. Walking passed Chan without a second look. She grabbed your phone, books and bag packing them up in a furious silence. “Momo I’m so-”

“Save it.” she glared at him. “My best friend is missing because you cheated on her. And if ANYTHING happens to her I swear-”

“I deserve it…” his head hung low. “This is my fault… I.. I should have…”

She gripped her small hands, almost shaking before taking a deep breath “I don’t give a shit about this pity party you’re throwing yourself. This whole woe is me, this is all my fault, I deserve this self hate thing, it’s a little pathetic given the situation. My friend is missing. Our friends are out there looking for her in the middle of the night, and you are doing nothing”

“She doesn’t want to see me”

“You pick a hell of a time to start being considerate for her, where was this when you forgot to tell her you had a girlfriend.”

“Momo you don’t know the whole story”

“And I don’t care to! You are full of excuses!” She let out a breath, visibly shaking. “You know-It doesn’t matter. There’s plenty you could be doing. You could be calling places, calling people, getting out there and looking for her anyway. Yes, it’s your fault. But it’s also mine, I should have never encouraged her to talk to you. I should have never said you’d be different and that you were a nice guy. But I’ll have plenty of time to blame myself after we find my best friend and that she’s home safe.” She rolled her eyes “But hey, if you wanna throw your pity party help yourself. But I’m gonna go find my friend” she grabbed your bag before leaving his apartment.

Chan knew Momo was right, he was falling apart from the guilt. It was like everything he feared was coming true and he felt helpless. He just wanted you to be safe. He took a deep breath.

To Be Continued…

Hi friends! （ﾉ´д｀）I’m sorry, I had to plot ;_;

All In│Bang Chan «Chapter Thirteen»

Synopsis: After a messy break up your sophomore year, you decided that the best thing for you was to finish off your college career single. You wanted to focus on yourself, grow as a person and finish off your degree strong. There’d be plenty of time for love after college. But after losing your camera you become friends with the seemingly perfect boy that threatens to ruin your plans.

Genre: SocialMedia!AU, College!AU, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut

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∘Tags List:

@vhschs @thelustasylum @lunnanunna @yooniversalstudios @aiyalix @ph0ebevix @zaratanveerx @channieboyo @hannahdinse8 @got7-yeah-got7onmymind @itisjustpaula @ann0325441904 @etherealchangbin @7829-kamie @ateez-babygirl @lazyliyah

#stray kids #stray kids scenario #stray kids fluff #stray kids reaction #stray kids x reader #stray kids social media au #stray kids sns au #bang chan #bang chan scenarios #bang chan imagines #bang chan sns au #bang chan social media au #skz #skz scenario #All in series #staywritten

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gameofdrarry · 3 years

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Wizards Hearts Recs: Kid!Fic

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 On Your Shore by xanthippe74 Rated: Mature Words: 35113 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Mystery, Scotland, Dark Magic, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Pining, Sharing a Bed, First Time, Non-Explicit Sex, Demisexual Harry Potter, Bisexual Harry Potter, Gay Draco Malfoy, Closeted Draco Malfoy, Curse Breaker Harry Potter, Antiques Appraiser Draco Malfoy, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Good Parent Draco Malfoy, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Married Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, H/D Sex Fair 2020 Summary: Clearing out a remote house full of cursed collectibles in the Outer Hebrides? Not a problem for an experienced curse breaker like Harry Potter. Spending a week with the straight, happily-married man that he’s starting to have feelings for? And sharing a bed with him at night? Surely Harry can handle that, too. But both the house and Draco Malfoy have secrets to uncover, and Harry might be in deeper water than he thought. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Every Breath You Take by hephaestiions Rated: Mature Words: 19252 Tags: Major Character Death, Death (Harry Potter), Suicide, Child Death, Miscommunication, Angst, Angst and Tragedy Summary: It starts and ends with Death. Scorpius was just caught in between. Like always. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Misunderstandings are as easy as A-B-C by VeelaWings Rated: Teen and Up Words: 3418 Tags: First Day of School, Kindergarten Teacher Harry Potter, Professor Harry Potter, Single Parent Draco Malfoy, Parenting Woes, mild anxiety, Miscommunication, HP Fluff Fest 2020 Summary: A slow blink and Potter seemed to catch himself, clearing his throat and nodding, his smile friendly and bright when directed at Scorpius and Draco. “Hey Mal—” “Mr Potter,” Draco spoke up rudely, but necessary. “This is my son, Scorpius Black. He’ll be one of your students this year.” Potter looked completely wrongfooted for a few seconds before his mind appeared to latch onto the most likely conclusion. His expression cleared up as Scorpius took a step forward and offered a tiny hand. “Hello, Mr Potter. It’s nice to meet you,” Scorpius said, enunciation steady and practiced. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Teddy's Favourite by iRavenish Rated: Teen and Up Words: 2032 Tags: Fluff, Secret Relationship, Relationship Reveal, Day At The Beach, Jealous Harry Potter Summary: It didn't come as a surprise when Teddy demanded to finally go to the beach. In fact, he was asking for a trip to the seaside for a while now and even though Harry wasn't really keen on going, he was powerless when it came to his godson, and just couldn't say no when confronted with the pleading eyes of a sad five-year-old. There was only one little problem with the whole trip. Teddy insisted on inviting his favourite cousin, the one he reconnected with in the last year and the same one that quickly earned Teddy's trust and love, becoming his favourite person. Said cousin was of course none other than Draco Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Way Home by Boshfaker Rated: Teen and Up Words: 15729 Tags: EWE, Mpreg Summary: Draco wakes up one morning to realize he is a father of 4 and is expecting. After an accident/spell gone wrong from his Auror days, he developed retrograde amnesia. The very last thing Draco remembers is falling down after the hit. That was close to 8 years ago. Healers can't explain what suddenly sparked him to recall his past either. Harry needs to start trying to make Draco remember that the 8 years he can't remember were good times with him and their 4 sons and his expected daughter. This is not at all the sort of life plan Draco had for himself. ❤️ Read on Dreamwidth

📜 Stain of Silence by brummell Rated: Explicit Words: 28356 Tags: Minor Character Death, Crossdressing, Babies, HP: EWE Summary: After the war, Draco serves out his sentence in Harry Potter's house ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 DIY Messiah by scoradh Rated: Mature Words: 26687 Tags: N/A Summary: Harry stopped hating Draco Malfoy on Bring Your Kids to Work Day. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Catch Me If I Fall by keeli_marie Rated: Explicit Words: 38281 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Post-Hogwarts, POV Alternating, Kid Fic, Divorced Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley, Mutual Pining, so much pining, Slow Burnish, Light Angst, Open Marriage, Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Hugs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Boys Kissing, Cooking, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, First Dates, Astoria is a good bro, Fluff, Smut, Switching, Fluff and Smut, First Time, Masturbation, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Rimming, First Time Bottoming, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Romantic Gestures, Birthday Presents, Birthday Sex Summary: When Draco Malfoy collides with Harry Potter one morning while dropping the kids off at school, things don’t go quite the way either of them would have expected. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Strongest Affinity by eidheann Rated: Teen and Up Words: 17694 Tags: Family, Romance, preslash, wandmaker!Harry, Single Father!Draco Summary: Trouble finding a wand for Scorpius leads Harry and Draco to something they never imagined. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Out of the Woods by Janieohio Rated: Teen and Up Words: 34987 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, POV Alternating, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Background Relationships, supportive friends, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Mind Healer Harry Potter, Shop Owner Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Harry Potter Raises Teddy Lupin, Sassy Harry Potter, Sarcastic Draco Malfoy, Minor Violence, Minor Injuries, Mystery, Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Cute Teddy Lupin, Misunderstandings, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Explicit Language, Yoga, Into the Woods References, Therapy, Custody Issues, Minor Character Death, Minor Character Engagement, Dismissive Attitudes about Mental Illness, Childhood Trauma, Fae & Fairies, Brothers Grimm, Fairy Tale Elements - see notes for more details, H/D Erised 2020, Harry Potter Has Long Hair, Kid Fic, Minor Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Neville Longbottom/Hannah Abbott/Luna Lovegood, Background Polyamory, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Past Draco Malfoy/Original Male Characters Summary: Teddy closes his eyes, wishing beyond wishes that the two men in his life whom he loves more than anyone would just learn to get along. A light flares. Teddy cries out, and the room falls silent. Harry and Draco struggle to find a way to escape a world of dark fairy tales and get back to Teddy, but the challenges they face are not all hidden in the woods. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 For The Want Of Five Minutes (And a Locked Door) by postjentacular Rated: Mature Words: 4333 Tags: Kid Fic, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter Epilogue Compliant, Domestic Bliss, Parent Harry Potter, Parent Draco Malfoy, Coitus Interruptus, Humor, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, H/D Sex Fair 2020 Summary: It’s hard enough to get five minutes to yourself in a house of five kids, nevermind getting five minutes with your boyfriend for anything else. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A Big Black Sky by AlexMeg Rated: Mature Words: 90343 Tags: Parent Draco Malfoy, Parent Harry Potter, Abusive Relationships, Domestic Violence, Child Abuse, Homelessness, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, dark themes, The Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter) is Terrible, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Harry Potter Raises Teddy Lupin, Everyone Needs A Hug, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Slow Burn, Pining Draco Malfoy, But it's very very subtle and repressed, Panic Attacks, Protective Harry Potter, Falling In Love, Smitten Harry Potter, Mutual Pining, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Down and Out Draco Malfoy, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Kid Fic, Post Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con Summary: Draco shifts his head as he turns to look at Scorpius, his cheek touching the pillow. "Did you know that…" He pauses, his throat convulsing, and it sounds audible in the silence, besides Michael's steady, even breathing from the other bedroom. Scorpius is staring back at him, in wait of something new to learn, a beautiful and intelligent child. He has Draco's mind. He has Draco's eyes and nose and mouth and hair. He is his. All his. All he has of Michael are his wild curls and the green of his eyes, and sometimes he looks into them and imagines that they aren't Michael's, but someone else's. Draco leans his head closer, biting the quiver out of his lips before he breathes a laden and shuddering exhale, and he whispers, "You are my star in a big black sky." ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Guest by BummedOutWriter Rated: Mature Words: 59826 Tags: Kid Fic, Mpreg, Time Travel, Boggarts, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Auror Harry Potter, Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy, Seer Draco Malfoy, Grimmauld Place, Chudley Cannons, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Visions, Potions Accident, Prophecy, Truth Serum, Humor, Animagus, Family, Bottom Draco Malfoy Summary: In consequence of an accidental spell, Harry and Draco's five-year-old daughter is sent ten years into the past, where she meets her teenaged parents. Awkwardness ensues ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Rock-a-bye Sweet Baby James by Femme (femmequixotic), noeon (noe) Rated: Explicit Words: 28402 Tags: Post Mpreg, Kid Fic, Postpartum blues, Secret pregnancy, Pregnant Harry Potter, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Switching Summary: Harry Potter knew that having a baby by himself would be difficult, but when his son's other father arrives on his doorstep, furious and upset at not being told about Harry's pregnancy, Harry's already messy life becomes a thousand times more complicated. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 No Place Like Home by dracogotgame Rated: General Words: 4005 Tags: Teddy Lupin/Victoire Weasley (mentioned) - Freeform, Family, Fluff, Next Gen, Kid Fic, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff Summary: James Sirius has been at Hogwarts for exactly one day, and he knows he doesn't belong. All he wants is to go home. A late night Floo call fixes everything ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Mine by xxdrarryrebellexx Rated: Mature Words: 45877 Tags: Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, I LOVE DRARRY OKAY, Domestic, Single Parent Draco Malfoy, Andromeda is kind of a bitch, Little Scorpius is cute AF, Lil Scorp, Ravenclaw Scorpius Malfoy, Professor Harry Potter, Good Draco Malfoy, How Do I Tag, Self-Indulgent, Made For Each Other, Their Family - Freeform Summary: Harry Potter works as Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, but while picking Teddy up from the Primary Wizard Academy he notices a young crying child and decides to help. Draco Malfoy has had a pretty hard time trying to raise his son since his wife's death. While signing his son up for classes at the Primary Wizard Academy the young boy happens to wander away, luckily the Golden Boy is always there to help. Can they let the past be in the past to forge a better future? "Whose kid is this?" "He's mine, Potter." "No, seriously..." ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 the trembling of the moment by porcelainsalt (bluedreaming) Rated: General Words: 5325 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Non-United Kingdom Setting, Single Parent Draco Malfoy, Asexual Draco Malfoy, Asexual Character, Child Scorpius Malfoy, Inspired by Poetry, H/D Erised 2020, Present Tense, Luna Lovegood & Draco Malfoy Friendship, unusual careers, Quidditch Player Harry Potter Summary: “You’re the last person I’d have expected to stumble across on the other side of the world.” In which Draco's quiet single-parent life is not so much interrupted as unexpectedly harmonised. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 These Tender Moments by theartfulldodger Rated: General Words: 1380 Tags: Christmas Fluff, Fluff, SERIOUSLY ALL THE FLUFF, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Kid Fic, Sickly sweet medicine for all your despair, A warm hug, Domestic Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE Summary: A Christmas Eve filled with overindulgence, a sleeping toddler, creatively altered expressions and slow dancing in the kitchen. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Made with Love by MysticKitten42 Rated: Teen and Up Words: 1143 Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death - Narcissa, Grief/Mourning, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, Single Parent Draco Malfoy, Tenderness, Christmas, Christmas Cookies, Hopeful Ending, POV Second Person, POV Draco Malfoy, Early Bird 25 Days of Harry and Draco 2020 Summary: After tragedy strikes, Draco finds support where he least expects it. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Scary Snowman by dracogotgame Rated: General Words: 1030 Tags: Humour, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Family, Oneshot, Old Fic, reposted, Harry Potter Next Generation Summary: Draco steps up. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Cassiopeia Lily Malfoy by GallaPlacidia Rated: Not Rated Words: 37312 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst, Letters, Post Mpreg, Kid Fic, Hurt/Comfort, harry is a dick at the beginning Summary: In eighth year, Harry had a toxic fling with Draco Malfoy. Ten years later, a little girl shows up, begging for Harry's help. Could the two be connected? And did Harry misunderstand what Draco was trying to tell him, the last time they spoke? Feat. angry 8th year Harry being truly horrible to Draco, Draco writing a lot of letters he never sends Harry, and the most Gryffindor-Slytherin hybrid ten-year-old you've ever seen. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 To Love and To Cherish by jamesilver Rated: Mature Words: 1091 Tags: Married Couple, Married Life, Quidditch, Fatherhood, Parenthood, Domestic Fluff, Domestic, domestic married couple, Children, Cute Kids, Kid Fic, Flirting Summary: Or, Harry and Draco are married with children and a lot of heavy, married flirting ❤️ Read on AO3

#kid fic #drarry #drarry rec #game of drarry #wizards hearts #wh masterlist

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