#when the loud kiddo says exactly what you want to hear
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Daddy Issues
older rockstar eddie x band mates daughter fem!reader
summary: you finally get to see corroded coffin live, and you really want to fuck the lead singer/guitarist, the only thing is he’s your dads best friend and your dad is the bassist.
⚠️warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI, pictures are purely for aesthetic purposes, mentions of alcoholism, little mention of eddies past drug abuse, mentions of childhood trauma, age gap (reader is 21, eddie is in his 50s), dom eddie, oral sex (m & f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, hair pulling, dirty talk, spit play, cream pie, daddy kink, eddie and reader are bi.
A/N: another one shot, I actually enjoy writing these. Let me know what you think, I’m not sure whether I like this or not but, fuck it! It was fun to write.
It’s been four years since your dad became the bassist for corroded coffin, when he got the call after his audition you were already packing your things up for college—being accepted into Perdue university majoring in psychology.
You and your dad had a rocky relationship almost all of your life. He was an alcoholic and chronic womanizer, he cheated on your mom and every other woman that gave him the time of day—of course you loved him, but there were just too many things said and done that could never be taken back. He lived the rockstar lifestyle in every sense of the word for as long as you could remember, even being kicked out of bands for his rowdy behavior—so it was an utter miracle when he finally decided to go to rehab and get help, that was two years before he started touring with corroded coffin— now he’s completely changed his life around, which you couldn’t be more happy about. Since, he’s gotten extremely close to his band mate Eddie who is the guitarist and lead singer —they’ve apparently become best friends, Eddie even helping your dad with his sobriety since he had a drug problem years back, almost acting as his sponsor and trying to sway him from going back to that life as often as he could. You’ve never been able to meet any of the guys but you’ve watched some of their interviews during long nights of studying and have said hi through FaceTime calls, on occasion—you might have also developed a mini crush on the guitarist, but you’d never admit that.
After finally graduating college and returning home, you’ve been staying with your dad and his new wife Catherine—until you can fully get on your feet. Things have been great, but trying to hook up with men and women in your fathers house is just weird, even though he allows you your privacy and tries not to ask questions. In college you weren’t really the hook up type—you focused more on your studies, you may or may not have been fucking your English professor on the side, but we’re not gonna get into that.
It’s a lovely Friday afternoon when you get a FaceTime call from your dad, he’s been out of town for a couple weeks touring surrounding cities, and he has a show tomorrow night in town.
“Hello?” You say raising the phone to your face
“Hey, angel” your dad says—you can hear loud instruments in the background so they must be doing sound check
“Hey, dad what’s up?” You say with a sweet smile
“Just missed you kiddo, wanted to call and check in” he says warmly
“Miss you too, how’s tour?” You question
“Tours good, as good as it can be, now.” he says with a chuckle
You giggle back, knowing exactly what he means.
“Hey, listen angel, would you want to come to our show tomorrow night? Meet the guys and hangout backstage?” He questions with hopeful eyes
“Yeah, of course I’d love to!” You answer back with a big smile
“Okay, cool. I’ll put your name down on the list, when you get here just give it to them and they’ll bring you backstage” he says with excitement
“Cool, can’t wait! I’ll see you tomorrow then, be safe dad” you say shooting him one last smile
“Bye angel, see you tomorrow” he says before hanging up
As the day goes on and rolls into the next, you start getting ready for the show. You’re excited to see your dad—but you can’t lie to yourself, you’re really excited to see the sexy guitarist/lead singer, so of course you’re going to dress to impress— not that you have a chance, but a girl can dream
You have an hour before the show starts, you took forever to get ready perfecting your makeup and hair— you decide to wear your white corroded coffin shirt your dad sent you awhile back tucked into a plaid mini skirt, socks and your low platform doc martens. Finally you climb into your little Prius and head out to the show.
When you arrive it’s packed, the line is almost down the street, and there’s hints of weed smoke in the air. You walk up to the entrance door and give your name to the gentleman wearing a headset— as you give him your name, he says something into it and then ushers you off to head backstage.
You finally get backstage after pushing your way through a crowd— your dad spots you before you get the chance to look around, calling out to you with his hands cupped around his mouth, as you see him you smile and saunter over to him.
“Angel, I’m so happy you made it” he says as he fidgets around— he always gets nervous before a show no matter how many he’s played
He leans in and gives you a hug while kissing the top of your head— “of course I made it” you say as you both pull away
“I want to officially introduce you to the guys, let me find them first” he says
“It’s okay dad, just wait until after the show” you insist — “actually, where can I find a bathroom?” You ask
After your dad directs you to the nearest restroom you begin your quest but quickly get lost, you come across a couple red doors, as you’re walking down the hall one of them swings open and you come face to face with Eddie Munson, the man that has been haunting your dreams for 4 years, he walks out with a pretty blonde girl but she continues walking back to the crowd.
“Well hello,” he says with a smile — “you lost?” He asks
“Oh uh, no no I’m not lost” is all you’re able to stutter out
“You sure?” He says with curious eyes “pretty girl like you shouldn’t be back here, alone.” he says with a smirk
“Yeah,” you say clearing your throat “I’m not lost, I’m actually looking for the restroom” you say with pink tinted cheeks matching those of a cherub
Eddie’s eyes trail all over your body and back to your face as he licks his lips “I’m Matt’s daughter, y/n” you spit out as you hold out your hand. Fuck, why did you say that? He’s not gonna want you, after learning you’re his best friends, daughter.
“Oh, shit. Um, hi nice to meet you,” he says as he shakes your hand
“I gotta head back, we’re about to go on stage.” he says as he does his best to avoid looking at any other part of your body
“Ok” is all you can say, tone laced in disappointment
After you head to the backstage area, you decide to watch your dad and Eddie play from the side stage. The show is amazing, the crowd is crazy; with crowd surfers and pits, the whole band looks totally in their element, like they all really love what they do, which warmed your heart.
After the second encore is over, the guys clamber backstage, sweaty and out of breathe. Your dad picks you up and swings your body around, still buzzing off the high from performing, placing you down. He starts to call out to his band mates
“Guys, guys” he says as he waves his hands around. “this is my daughter, y/n. Y/n, these are the guys: Eddie, Gareth and Jeff” he says as he points to each individually
They all say “hi” in unison with a wave. All, except Eddie.
You wave back as you let out a shy “hi”
As you continue with your night, hanging out with your dad and the guys backstage. Some talks of going to a bar come up, and obviously your dad declines per suggested by Eddie. You see how close, him and your dad are. Laughing at only jokes they understood and silently talking with their eyes. You’ve never known your dad to keep friendships or relationships for that matter, so it was refreshing to see.
Your dad comes up to you to bid you a goodbye. He says that he needs to go home to see his wife and avoid all this temptation, you and Eddie chuckle at that.
“Well, I’ll go with you.” you say to him
“No, no. You stay here, hang out, get to know the guys, have fun, angel” he says as he heads towards the exit.
As the night went on you talked a lot with Gareth and Jeff about your dad, touring and how corroded coffin started. They were older and married so there were surprisingly no groupies backstage like you normally picture at a metal show. Eddie wasn’t married but he was trying to cut back on his sexual appetite of both men and women alike. He had his fare share of hook ups, and by fare share you mean he’s had a lot of sex and a lot of different partners all over the world since the 90s. But, as much as eddie was trying to control his “appetite” he couldn’t help but secretly sneak looks at you and your hot little body. Fuck, if you were both around the same age and you had come to one of his shows in the 90s, he would’ve definitely snatched you out of the crowd. He couldn’t deny your beauty, you must’ve gotten that from your mom, he thinks to himself.
Gareth and Jeff both head to the bar with their manager to have a couple drinks, while you and Eddie decline. As they leave Eddie whispers out a “fuck” while looking at his phone.
“You okay?” You ask
He looks up from his phone, as his jaw clenches.
“Uber keeps canceling” he says through gritted teeth
“Where are you headed? I drove here, I can just drop you off where you need to go.” you offer sweetly
“You sure?” He says with his eyebrows raised and eyes wide
“Yeah of course, I’m parked just over here.” you say as you head to the car park. You glance back to check if he’s following behind, as you do he shoots you a little side smile
You press the button on your keys unlocking the doors and before you can even get to it, Eddie is racing around to open it for you.
“It’s the least I can do” he says sending you a wink, that almost made your knees buckle. He gets in and after putting his hotel address in the maps app on your phone, you and him get to talking, laughing and maybe even a little flirting, if you’re reading it correctly, It’s almost like you both had known each other in a past life. You’ve never understood, why people say cheesy shit like that but woah, now you do.
Eddie can’t help but look at you when you talk, he’s enamored by your beauty and how eloquently you carry yourself, but you’re also witty and sarcastic, which he loves. You kind of remind him of himself just way prettier with an almost old soul maturity, he’s never had
As you pull up to his hotel, you don’t want to say goodbye, you wish you had the balls to ask if you could hang out more with him, but that might be weird considering you’re his friend/band mates daughter, and if your dad ever found out you were hanging out with Eddie one on one in his hotel, who knows how he’d react, your dad was kind of a loose canon in that way.
Suddenly Eddie’s voice broke you out of your all consuming thoughts—“do you want to uh, come up? I have a bottle of wine I don’t wanna finish alone” he says with a smile and the most adorable puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen
“Um” you says as you stare at your dash board “yeah, shit why not?” You say as you smile back, you park into one of the open spots and head up to Eddie’s hotel room.
Once inside he tells you to get comfortable, and says you can sit or lay on the bed if you’d like, so you choose the latter— you toe off your docs and crawl onto the king sized bed, plopping your head against the fluffy pillow—as you lay there your eyes follow Eddie around the room, his pants hanging low on his hips, shirt hiked up a bit from him rubbing his hand underneath it, he grabs two glasses and the bottle of wine out of the small fridge and walks back to the bed setting them down on the nightstand— “I’m gonna take a quick shower, is that okay? Like five minutes I just want to rinse off” he says — “be my guest” you say as you gesture towards the bathroom, making him smile
He wasn’t lying when he said five minutes because once you heard the shower stop you looked at the time on your phone and it had been exactly five minutes—butterflies began erupting in the pit of your stomach, you’re alone with this man you have fantasied about for years, thinking those thoughts would never come to fruition, since the whole situation was completely taboo—but holy shit here you are in his hotel room alone with him, if you wanted to make a move you totally could.
Eddie walks out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel around his hips water droplets adorning his skin, holy fuck was all you could think as you gawked at him from your place on the bed
“You like what you see?” He says to you with a devious smirk
“I do” you accidentally blurt out, cherub cheeks returning from earlier
“Oh?” Eddie says with his eyebrows raised “is that right?” His tone becoming increasingly more sexy and almost dark
At this point you’re so turned on you say “fuck it” and decide to indulge in his little game, hoping the prize is his dick buried deep inside of you by the end “mhmm I do, Eddie” you say as you bite your lip—that’s the first time you’ve said his name all night and it made his dick twitch, well that and that sexy fucking look on your face—he can’t hold back any longer, he knew what he was doing inviting you up, but he held out hope that he could be strong and just have a little night cap with a friend who he’s instantly clicked with, but Eddies not as strong as he thought he was.
“Watch out baby, not sure you know what you’re asking for, there” he says with a pleased look on his face — “Eddie I’m a grown woman, I know exactly what I’m asking for” you challenge back with a raised eyebrow -oh you were good- he thought to himself
“You sure that’s what you want, princess?” He asks eyes almost as eager as yours—the pet name made your pussy flutter
“Yes, Eddie I want you, please?” You say with innocent eyes as he’s walking up to the side of the bed you’re sitting on, the wine on the nightstand completely forgotten about
“Mmm, not sure you can handle me, baby” he says back with a shit eating grin
“Well then I guess your gunna have to stretch my tight little pussy out so I can, handle you” you shoot back with a smile matching his—Eddie’s face instantly dropping into a look of hunger that made a chill run down your spine, and made your heart speed up
As his thighs hit the side of the bed, you get up on your knees and crawled over to him, he reaches out grabbing your lower back and pulling you flush against his body— but instead of kissing you like you expected, he reaches to put some hair behind your ear as he whispers out a “so beautiful” that made your eyes slightly water—growing up you never heard words of affirmation, like that and now every time you did, it made you want to cry
“Thank you” you whisper back with a wobbly voice
Eddie grabs your chin and brings your eyes up to look at his—“you okay, sweet thing?” He asks and you nod with a smile
“I really want this Eddie” you whisper back “I have for awhile”
He seems taken aback by your words as his eyes widen
“What do you mean for awhile?” He says curiously
“Ever since I watched a stupid interview of yours after my dad made the band” —- the mention of your dad, slightly making him cringe but not enough to stop
“Did you have a little crush on me, baby?” He says cockily
“I did”—“I do” you say as you correct yourself
“Aw, that’s cute, that’s real cute”—“what the boys in college not doing it for you?” He teases
“I’m not interested in boys” you shoot back “I only associate with men” you say with the same eloquence he thought about in the car
“Well lucky for you baby, I’m all man” he says making you snort out a laugh at his cheesy line
He tackles you onto the bed playfully, as he kisses all over your face—this felt too perfect, like it’s something you both had been doing for years, not like you’d just met for the first time tonight
Finally he kisses your lips, giving you a few pecks before it starts to turn heavy, he slips his tongue into your mouth rubbing it against yours, he was an amazing kisser—you definitely didn’t want to think about how he’d gotten that way—but woah you’ve never gotten wet from just making out before—his hands start to roam over your body, down to your thighs, spreading them apart so he can fit between them. He breaks the kiss to look down at your spread legs—pretty red see through panties on display for him “fuck” he moans out as he notices the wet spot, just for him—“look at that baby” he whispered down to you “fucking pussies already so wet for me”—“did my kisses do that to you, baby?” He asks
“Yes, everything you do gets me so wet” you whine out
“Mmm, is that right?” — “I like the sound of that, maybe I’ll keep you, princess. Use this wet little pussy every time I come back from a show, would you like that?” — “I would, daddy, I would love that” you moan out
“Daddy?” Eddie says as his eyebrows raise into his bangs
“Shit, sorry if that’s weird” you say back tone full of embarrassment
“Ya know, it shouldn’t turn me on coming from you, but fuck, everything you do is so sexy”—-“well lucky for you I never call my dad that, it’s only reserved for someone special” you say as you bite your lip—“oh really? Special you say?” He says with a smirk—-“okay yeah, I can be your daddy, that means something different to you kids today anyway, right?” He says “I’m not a kid, but yeah exactly” you say back
Eddie begins kissing you again, this time with more passion and desire, he reaches down between your thighs rubbing over you clothed pussy—“can I take your panties off, sweet girl?” He says as his eyes bore down into yours
“Yes, please” you say in a sweet tantalizing voice
He begins ridding you of your red thong as he shoots them toward his nightstand, they land on the neck of the wine bottle and you both laugh—“I’m keeping those” eddie says to you as he brings his fingers down to your dripping sex, he gently runs his calloused finger tips over your little bundle of nerves, making you moan out—“that’s right baby, let me hear you” he whispers as he begins nipping at your neck— Eddie moves his fingers down to gather your slick and then returns back to your clit—“can I taste you, baby?” He asks sweetly
“Please Eddie, yes” you can’t help but moan out
He decides to lift up your shirt to take it off—“cute shirt by the way” he says as he pulls it off of your body and over your head, making you giggle. Once your shirts off, Eddie reaches behind your back expertly unhooking your matching red bra with one hand, letting the straps fall down around your arms, he picks it up and throws it haphazardly across the bed, landing in front of the desk on the other side of the room
He begins moving down your body, with soft calculated kisses, occasionally sucking different spots, he stops and lays in front of your most intimate area, grabbing your thighs to spread them a bit more and getting a good look at you all wet and bare before him—-he growls as he sees your pussy on display for him “fuck, you have such a pretty pussy, baby”—“bet it tastes even better” he says as he kisses the top of your mound where a little patch of dark curly hair sits, you bite your lip at the intimacy of it—-this didn’t feel like just a one night stand or random lay, it felt special— Eddie begins by licking you from your little hole to your clit finally giving it the attention it so badly wanted, you moan out as he swirls his tongue around it and then takes it into his mouth, lightly sucking—-nothing but loud moans and filthy sounds of sucking and licking fill the room—-“oh my god, Eddie yes right there, that’s so good, daddy” you borderline scream out—god this man knew how to use his tongue, he was incredible.
He continues to lick and suck as he brings two fingers to your entrance, he gently pushes them inside of you stretching you out for what’s about to come, your moans get louder and he can’t help but smile—your moans sound like the best song he’s ever heard, he wants to hear them over and over again forever
Once he curls his fingers up and hits that spot deep inside that you were never able to reach, the coil in your belly begins to tighten and your legs shake as your hand reaches down to tangle in his hair—“that’s it baby, cum for me, cum for daddy” he says pulling you over the edge, your pussy clenching around his fingers as he works you through your orgasm, you grip his hair and mewl out obscenities—- after you’ve fully come down from your high, Eddie moves up your body, You can feel the hardness rubbing up against your overstimulated sex, you grab the towel around his waist and rip it off as you look down waiting to see the dick you’ve had wet dreams about, it springs out all pretty and pink, thick and curved, pre cum oozing from the tip, it twitches a couple times and all you can think about is having it buried deep inside your throat—“can I please suck your cock?” You ask up at him with puppy dog eyes, silently begging and Eddie can’t believe how such filthy words could come out such a beautifully, innocent looking face—but it makes him growl, makes another side of him, he didn’t want to show you, come out.
“Get on your knees on the floor, now” he demands, change of voice throwing you off
“Now, don’t make me say it again!” he growls back — “yes, daddy” you say as you hop off the bed and fall down to your knees in front of his leaking tip “open up wide” he says, voice laced in desperation, you open your mouth as wide as you can while sticking your tongue out—“good girl, that’s a good fucking girl, you take direction so good baby” he says “good girls get rewarded, okay? So keep listening to daddy and he’ll take care of you, understand?” He says, you nod as you wrap your hand around the base of his cock
He grabs your hair and pulls your head back while he bends down to get in your face “nope, I need words baby” he says through gritted teeth “yes, daddy” you whimper out in shock at his behavior, no one has ever been this rough with you but you would be lying if you said it didn’t make your pussy gush, you were loving this—“that’s it, good girl, open that mouth up wide again for me, sweetheart” he says—you open up and stick your tongue back out, Eddie let’s a glob of spit fall right onto it, making you moan out—-fuck this man was gunna be the death of you, you didn’t know you could get this turned on from such filthy acts you only seen done in porn—but here you are wetness dripping down your thighs from how worked up you’re getting
You leave Eddie’s spit on your tongue as he begins to work his cock into your mouth, spit mixing with yours to make the tip and base extra wet, he bucks his hips hitting your throat, you breath through your nose and take him to the hilt, eyes watering and jaw tingling— “that’s it, that’s a good girl” — “fuck baby that mouth of yours is amazing” he says as he begins moving in and out of your mouth. He moans out your name and a couple fucks as he gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail, guiding you up and down on his cock continuously hitting the back of your throat—finally he lifts you up and off of him back up to your feet. Your lips and chin filled with spit and pre cum, cheeks and eyes filled with tears—“fuck you’re so pretty, baby, look so fucking pretty for me” he says as he kisses your lips, backing you up until your legs hit the bed and guiding you to lay down as he grabs and spreads your thighs, he gets down into your face as he asks “are you ready, sweet girl?”
“Yes, yes I’m ready please” you respond with a whine
“Whatever princess wants” he said with a gentle smile, a complete 360 to how he was just treating you earlier, but you didn’t care, you really liked both sides of him
He begins to line himself up with your entrance, cock still wet with your spit, as he pushes in, you can feel yourself stretching for him, but it felt so good, so full. “Oh my god, yes! Don’t stop please” you moan out “I know baby I know, i won’t stop, I won’t fucking stop” he says as he begins thrusting deeper and faster inside you, he brings his forehead down to yours as you both moan into each others mouths—-this wasn’t fucking, this felt like love making and so different from any sex you’ve ever had—-it felt intimate and sensual, like Eddie fit your body like a missing puzzle piece
“Oh fuck, baby, your pussies so tight, it feels so good, so good”… he continued repeating
Your belly filling with that familiar burn as your second orgasm hits you like a freight train, your pussy tightening around his cock even more, making him moan out—“fuckin pussy just milking my cock, where do you want it baby?” He says as he bites his lip “inside me please, please cum inside me daddy” you grunt out “fuck, fuck I’m cumming!” He shouts as white spurts paint your insides.
Eddie falls on top of you, kissing all over your face again, making you laugh—“I’ll be right back” he says, after a couple minutes he’s coming back to clean up his mess between your thighs. You move back to your place on the pillow as Eddie lays beside you, pulling you into his chest “that was”…”wow” he says —-“yeah” you say back, you both laid there in silence staring up at the ceiling
-fuck I’m in trouble- Eddie thought to himself
THANK YOU FOR READING! 💗
COMMENTS & REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED
#eddie munson#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x reader#eddie x reader#eddie munson series#eddie munson x female reader#rockstar!eddie#rockstar!eddie munson#eddie stranger things#eddie x you#eddie x y/n
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happy birthday, reese <3
For @r33sespieces :)
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“Shh, no, you have to be quiet.”
Sirius pauses outside Harry’s room, cocking his head. Harry’s been holed up in there since shortly after dinner, but Sirius hadn’t thought too much of it. It’s been pissing down all afternoon, and Sirius figured both of them could use a lazy day. For his part, he took a luxurious nap earlier, and the newest book in a romance series he’s been following arrived by owl post this morning. He’s looking forward to curling up with it in front of the fire. If he’s lucky, maybe Harry will come downstairs with his chess set later and ask to play a game together.
There’s a whine from behind the closed door, and then a soft yip. Sirius blinks.
“Hazza,” he says, rapping his knuckles softly on the door, and he hears Harry curse. “Everything alright?”
“Fine!” Harry says quickly. “I’m just--”
He’s interrupted by a loud bark, and Sirius’s eyebrows fly up to his hairline.
“Can I come in?” he asks, and he hears Harry sigh.
“Yeah.”
Harry’s standing over by the bed, dripping wet and clutching a soaked brown-and-white puppy against his chest.
“Well, hello,” Sirius says as he steps into the room. “Who’s this?”
“Dunno,” Harry says, cuddling the puppy close and shrinking away when Sirius takes a step forward. Sirius freezes. “Found him out in the garden.”
“Poor thing,” Sirius says. It’s been miserable outside for two days now. “Can I take a look at him?”
“Why?” Harry asks, instantly suspicious.
“I just want to make sure he’s okay, that he doesn’t have any injuries or anything like that.” Sirius starts to pull out his wand, but Harry backs away, so he quickly pockets it. “Can we sit down?”
They sit on the circular rug in the middle of Harry’s bedroom, and Harry gently places the puppy in front of him. The puppy shivers, and then takes a few uncertain steps. He’s wobbly, but that seems to be due to how young he is, not any injuries. Sirius puts out his hand, and the puppy sniffs him. His tail wags.
“Aren’t you mad?” Harry asks softly, not meeting Sirius’s eyes.
“I’m not thrilled you snuck a puppy in here without talking to me first,” Sirius says. “But no, Harry, I’m not mad. If you’d told me you’d found him in the garden, I would’ve had you bring him inside, too. We can keep him warm and dry for a night, and then tomorrow we’ll take him to a shelter. Speaking of, can I dry him off? He’s shivering. You as well, kiddo.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Harry nods, and Sirius pulls out his wand. He performs a quick drying spell, and then a cleaning charm, and then casts a heating spell over both Harry and the puppy.
“I bet he’s hungry,” Sirius says. “Why don’t you bring him down to the kitchen, and we can feed him?”
Harry hesitates again, then gathers the puppy in his arms and goes down to the kitchen, Sirius following them. He doesn’t know what exactly is causing Harry’s reluctance, but he has a suspicion.
He cuts up some leftover chicken for Harry to feed the puppy, and then goes into Remus’s office to gather up the rope toys Moony likes to use, as well as the crate he sometimes curls up in to nap off the Wolfsbane during full moons. Harry eyes the crate warily when Sirius comes back into the kitchen.
“So he’ll have somewhere warm and safe to sleep tonight,” Sirius says. “I doubt he’s house-trained, and sorry mate, but I don’t fancy him pissing all over the house all night.”
Harry reluctantly nods. “Yeah, okay.”
The puppy eats and drinks his fill, and then Harry entices him to play with one of the rope toys. Sirius can’t help the smile that touches his lips as he watches them, the puppy having the time of his life and Harry giggling--giggling!--while they play.
The puppy eventually tires himself out and falls asleep curled up in Harry’s lap.
“There was a dog in the Dursleys’ garden once.” Harry’s not looking at him. He strokes one of the puppy’s ears with a gentle finger. “She was a stray. I brought her scraps from the table whenever Aunt Petunia sent me outside to do chores.”
Scraps that Harry had probably needed for himself, but he’d split them with a stray instead. His heart ached. “That was really kind of you, Hazza.”
“She was my first friend,” Harry says softly. “My only friend. She lived in the garden for most of the summer, until Dudley found out about her.”
“Oh, Harry.”
“He and his friends chased her off. Hit her with sticks and threw rocks at her. I never saw her again.”
“She probably found a home,” Sirius says. “She sounds friendly. I’m sure someone took her in.”
“Yeah,” Harry says. “I hope so.”
Sirius hears the Floo roar, and then Remus calls out a hello.
“In here, Remus,” he says.
Remus comes into the kitchen, and his eyes widen. “Well, you two were certainly busy today.”
“Harry found him in the garden,” Sirius says. “The weather’s shite. I don’t see a problem with letting him stay tonight, and then we’ll take him to a shelter tomorrow.”
“Sure, of course we will,” Remus says, sounding amused.
The puppy wakes himself up with a yawn, and then eyes Remus curiously. He gets out of Harry’s lap and trots over to the other man, sniffing him curiously. Remus holds very still--animals tend to have very strong reactions to him. Either they adore him, or they’re terrified of him.
The puppy is apparently in the former category, because his tail starts to wag and he lets out a series of happy yips. Remus crouches down to pet him.
“You’re a handsome fellow, aren’t you,” he says. “Yes, you are. And much better behaved than Padfoot.”
“You hear how he talks to me, Harry?”
Harry laughs, and Sirius wishes he could bottle the sound. It doesn’t happen enough.
Harry and the puppy are inseparable for the rest of the evening. Remus keeps throwing Sirius significant looks that he tries to ignore. They’re not getting a pet. Hedwig is enough. In the morning, they’ll take the puppy to the nearest shelter, and Sirius will personally make sure he goes to a good home.
When it comes time for bed, Harry lines the crate with plenty of blankets and sets the puppy inside. He closes the door and locks it, and the puppy immediately begins to whimper.
Harry chews on his bottom lip. “You’re sure he’s going to be alright in there?”
The puppy whines, and Harry looks distraught. Remus squeezes his shoulder.
“He’ll be fine. He’s got toys and water and soft blankets. He’ll probably make a mess, but that’s alright. That’s what magic is for. He’ll settle down as soon as we all leave him be.”
***
The puppy cries for an hour after they all retire upstairs.
Sirius stares at the ceiling. He’s not going to give in and check on the puppy. He’s not.
“Don’t even think it, Sirius,” Remus murmurs from his side of the bed.
“I’m not,” Sirius says. “It’s just--do you think he’s cold?”
“We gave him blankets and cast a heating charm.”
“Maybe he’s hurt.”
“You checked him over before bed. He’s perfectly fine.” Remus rolls over and rests his head on Sirius’s chest. “He’ll settle down eventually.”
Remus is right--the puppy does eventually quiet down. Remus’s breathing evens out soon after that, and Sirius quickly follows him into sleep.
Sirius wakes up before dawn, his new normal, and pads downstairs to make some tea. Harry will sleep for at least another couple of hours, and they won’t see Remus until almost noon.
But when he comes into the kitchen, the first thing he notices is his godson curled up on the floor. The crate is open, and the puppy is nestled in Harry’s arms, also fast asleep.
“Sirius?” Remus comes up behind him, knuckling his eyes.
“What are you doing up?” Sirius whispers.
“Needed a piss, and the bed’s cold without you. What--” Remus finally catches sight of Harry and the puppy, and immediately softens. “Oh.”
“That’s why the puppy stopped whining last night, I bet.”
“Probably,” Remus says. He wraps his arms around Sirius’s waist and props his chin on Sirius’s shoulder, though he has to stretch to reach it. “You can’t make him go to a shelter.”
“No,” Sirius sighs. “I won’t. Looks like we’ve got a pet, Moons.”
“Looks like it. Where are you going?”
“I’ve got to write to the Board of Governors,” Sirius says. “I have six weeks to persuade them to add dogs to the list of approved pets for Hogwarts students.”
#i wrote you wolfstar raising harry b/c that's how we first bonded on here#also i tried writing moonseeker blowjobs but failed sorry#imp is writing#wolfstar#wolfstar raising harry#sirius black#remus lupin#harry potter#cw animal neglect#but it's only very brief and then it's animal happiness#also i wrote this before i knew you were getting a puppy lmao
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One Door Closes & Another One Opens
Joel x OFC!Divorce Lawyer
Explicit, 18+
I Need Help
Main MasterList & Series Masterlist - My AO3
Summary: She’s a divorce attorney and he’s a husband looking for help to save his daughter, and himself, from his gambling addict wife. Renae Russo is a woman who fights for her clients and wins. She’s satisfied with her life and what she does - but she wishes she could have a little more. What happens when Joel Miller becomes her client and she gets to see this man fight for the safety of his ten year old daughter, Sarah. Will she be able to keep it professional?
Chapter Summary: How can a diner affect two peoples lives and the way they live? It’s like the butterfly effect and weird coincidences all wrapped into one, for both Joel and Renae.
Word count: 10.1k
Warnings: Angst, verbal fight
—
Joel can feel the tension in the truck between him and Sarah, it seems every other second he’s glancing over at Sarah next to him in his rear view mirror and he just watches the way her small face contorts, like she’s trying to find a way to talk about it. He can only imagine the questions she has about this morning, or the situation as a whole. But frankly, he’s more worried about his answers to her - how would he explain it in a way she would understand, but without totally degrading Annie?
Because she is still her mom.
His palms can’t help but sweat and constantly re-grip the steering wheel multiple times, and his stomach softly growls but it’s hidden by the country music that flows through the truck. He’s so nervous and the lack of sleep has him feeling even more on edge. He’s never been like this around Sarah - but she’s also never witnessed first hand, or at least to Joel’s knowledge, how bad Annie actually is.
“So, dad,” the sweet angelic voice soothes his ears, but also scares him, “What exactly is going on with mom?”
There it is - the one dreadful question he didn’t want to hear, especially today. Umm, well, he’s trying to think of something, really anything to say to her while he’s focusing on the morning traffic in front of him, only about a block away from her school.
“She just isn’t the same. Did- did I do somethin-“
“No,” he blurts out and turns his head, loud enough to startle her for only a second, and look back at him as he stares into her beautiful doe eyes, “Don’t ever say that alright? Mama’s just got some of her own things she’s gotta sort through - I can’t help her, Grandma ‘n Grandpa can’t help, only she can. It's never your fault, ‘kay?”
Sarah just nods her head and whispers, I love you. Joel can feel the water glaze over his eyes, so he glances back to the driveway that leads to her school, then back to her. “I love you too baby girl. Now,” he clears his throat as he pulls up to the front of the building, puts the truck in park and twists his torso to look at her fully. “I don’t want this mornin’, or the things about Mama, to mess with your head. Go have fun with your friends, learn somethin’ new that you can tell me at dinner t’night, alright? I love you so much, my little princess.”
A genuine smile takes over the meek one she had, and she leaps out of her seat and wraps her arms around Joel’s shoulders and tightly squeezes. You’re the best, she whispers into his neck and he’s somewhat surprised, but he whisks those thoughts away and mindlessly hugs her back.
This is his daughter, and Annie may be her mom, but Joel will be damned if he continues to let her act like this, especially since he knows that it’s starting to affect Sarah.
“Alright, dad,” she laughs, “I’m gonna be late!” Joel lets go of her, sorry sorry kiddo, and watches as she slides over to her door and hops out the truck, but before she closes it she tells him she loves him one more time. Joel blows a kiss to her and waits until she’s in the school to pull away.
Sarah picked out her outfit today and surprisingly, it turned out cute; A simple light purple t-shirt, white capri cargo pants, and her purple and white sneakers. Her gorgeous brown hair was pulled back into a low bun, one of her favorite hairstyles for school.
He can’t help but feel warm and proud about his intelligent, beautiful daughter. He pulls out from the school and continues down the main road to his house and he dreads having to face the reality that waits for him.
—
With his house key in the door knob, Joel takes a deep breath before he twists the key to unlock it and deal with Annie. This is the last time, he mumbles as he pushes the door open and locks it behind him. Deciding to not dwell on this anymore than he has to, he walks down the short hallway that leads to the kitchen where he sets his keys down and grabs cleaning supplies from the cabinet under the sink.
Again, this has become part of his egregious routine and Joel despises it every single time, mainly because he never would’ve guessed this is how his life would’ve turned out to be. He married Annie because he genuinely loved her, and she loved him.
Maybe they were naive to get married only after two years of dating and knowing each other. But Joel felt that she was the love of his life, he was acting like a teenager trapped in a thirty year old body.
Their chemistry was like they were meant to be, Annie completed him in ways he never imagined and he matured a lot in their relationship - more than her it seems now. The sex was nothing Joel expected out of her, it became one of the main reasons he loved her was because of her skills in bed. The way she could take his whole cock in her throat and let him ruin her face how he wanted, had Joel obsessed. A major red flag now that Joel looks back on it. But they were so happy the twelve years before Sarah and the couple years after but Joel’s love for her has vanished completely; all he cares about is Sarah and Tommy.
When Annie was hammered one night about a year ago, she told Joel that she simply fell outta love with him because he gives so much time and attention to Sarah. Joel absolutely lost his mind that day, he came this close to kicking her out then and there but he just packed a bag for Sarah, picked her up from school, and they stayed at Tommy and Maria’s for the weekend.
This has happened more times than he’d like to admit and Joel is not proud of it or himself for allowing it, but he is proud of Sarah and how well she’s been handling herself.
Her grades have never slipped past a B-, she’s never been in detention, she still is the bubbly little girl that Joel remembers, and she’s still very involved with her group of girlfriends - Joel just worries a lot about her, always will. He just prays that it stays that way, even though he knows as she gets to be a teen, she may have some issues with things, in which Joel will be there every step of the way with her.
“Joel?” Annie’s tired voice comes from the living room, “Is that you baby?”
“Yep.” His voice monotone as he stands up with a small plastic bag full of dirty paper towels in one hand and cleaners in the other. “Be there in a minute.” Although Joel wants nothing more than to eat some greasy food and go to sleep - he’s probably accumulated four hours of sleep this whole week - Joel knows that he’s not going to be able to do any of that, this Wednesday is going to kick his ass.
After throwing away the soaked rags away in the trash can that sits behind the garage, he heads back inside, washes his hands, and grabs a small brown wash cloth and runs it under cold water, making sure to ring it out so it’s not sopping wet, otherwise she’ll complain about it dripping down her neck, and he doesn’t wanna hear it.
Joel walks into the living room and spots Annie laying on the brown sectional that’s against the huge front window. The suns blocked by the blackout shades that are partially over the window, a beam of light shines through the sliver in the middle.
“There you are,” Annie purrs, shifting to her side to look at Joel. “Worried me for a second.” He can tell she’s sobered up since he left her in the bedroom over an hour and a half ago. She showered, her damp blonde hair clings to her shoulders and neck, she’s wearing Joel’s gray sweatpants and his Texas Longhorns shirt.
Before he lost his love for her, this would’ve had Joel drooling while crawling to her, then fucking her into oblivion. But now, he has no physical reaction to her anymore, hasn’t for two years. Any time she tries to initiate anything sexual, Joel’s body doesn’t react - April fifth, two-thousand twenty-two was the last time they fucked and there was no attachment from Joel. He only did it to see if the chemistry and spark was still there, which it was not. It’s pretty sad if you really think about it.
Yeah yeah, Joel mumbles as he slightly bends over and sets the washcloth on her forehead while she just stares at him. He can’t help but feel livid about this morning, it’s the latest she’s come back and he can’t stop hearing Sarah’s, dad, on loop. It breaks his heart every time.
“You can’t keep doin’ this Annie.” Joel scolds her as he takes a step back, folding his arms over his puffed chest, “This is not healthy, or safe for you.”
Annie sits up, moving the cloth to the top of her head, and stares back at Joel, her bright blue eyes glowing, he can see the gears turning in her brain. “Wait…what?” Her expression is one that Joel hasn’t seen since she was sober, it’s like she’s actually listening to what he has to say. Which rarely happens anymore.
Now he’s getting angry, because she’s acting like she’s done nothing wrong or that this is all normal - which it’s not. Joel can’t help but scoff at her, “You’re a piece of work, ya’ know that? Did you not hear Sarah this mornin’ when I had to carry your drunk ass to bed?”
“No, I-“
“Didn’t think so.” He turns to walk away, he can’t have this conversation right now because he will snap on her. Then that will be something he will regret.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Annie stands up and walks to him, the cool rag being thrown to the floor, “Huh?”
Joel spins around and in seconds in her face as he calmly, but strongly tells her, “I’m filing for divorce ‘n full custody of Sarah. That’s what I mean.”
“You can’t- Joel, no-“ Annie can’t form a sentence, she’s speechless from his threats, which she knows he’ll act on. Joel knows it too and he’s not scared, so he starts to walk away again. But Annie snags his left forearm, forcefully spinning him to face her, the pleading demeanor now forming into an evil one.
“You are not taking my daughter.” She snarls, her eyes never leaving him in a death stare, her body is vibrating from the adrenaline flowing. “Over my dead body, Joel.”
Joel can’t help but smirk at her sudden confidence, even though he knows she somewhat means it, there’s no way she’s gonna stick to it. “You’re already halfway there,” he leans down so he’s inches away from her face and whispers, “Why don’t ya’ go finish the job for me?” He knows he shouldn’t say it, but he can’t help himself - he’s been a doormat for so many years.
Something changes in Annie’s eyes, something dangerous. Joel should’ve seen it coming, but he doesn’t or at least not until it’s too late. Annie winds her right hand back and smacks Joel across the face, her acrylics scraping his cheek and tip of his nose. Fucking asshole, she whispers behind tears filling her eyes. Joel can’t do anything but smirk with his tongue in his cheek as he stands back up and just turns around to leave.
“You know,” he’s about to reach the corner that leads to the garage when he hears it, “A real husband would help his wife, not abandon her when she really needs him.” This punches Joel in the gut more than the slap did, because all he’s done for the past four years is be the husband who takes care of his wife who has an addiction, multiple, that she won’t admit to.
He’s the one who’s given up everything for her, he can’t remember the last time he had fun or a night to himself - his life revolves around Annie. But he has no fight left in him, he wants to give up on this and he has every right to. Joel knows there’s nothing left for him to do or to try to fix - this is the end.
“Same could be said ‘bout the wife.” He mumbles loud enough for her to hear and he sees the vengefulness and pain spread across her face before he continues to leave. Snagging his keys off the counter where he left them, Annie continues to cry and shout at Joel; everything from I’m sorry, to fuck you, Joel, to you’re not taking my daughter, until he slams the door behind him.
Now in his truck, Joel flips between skipping work or sucking it up and going in, but he decides there’s no way he could have a good work day, or even be productive. He’s simply too exhausted to be any kind of help to anyone right now. As he exits the cul de sac and hits a main road, Whitney st, he grabs his phone from the seat next to him and calls Tommy, he knows he’ll understand. Tommy’s the only one who Joel can really talk to about the things going on with Annie, so he knows how bad it is.
After the first four or five rings, he picks up, “Hey Joel, what’s up?” With one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding the phone to his ear, Joel sighs and tells him he’s not gonna make it in today.
“Annie again?”
“Yeah, I’ll talk to you tomorrow ‘bout it all.” He sighs, turning down one of the million dirt roads, Cherry Ave, in silence.
“Alright, go get some sleep, big bro. Tell Sarah I said hi for me. ‘Kay?”
Will do, see ya. Joel hangs up and throws his phone back on the leather seat next to him, then moves to turn up the radio so he can mindlessly listen to it.
“There are days every now and again
I pretend I'm okay
But that's not what gets me
What hurts the most
Was being so close”
“Damn song,” he mumbles as he leans to his left and grabs his pack of Marlboro Red cigarettes while listening to the music. He grabs one and lifts it to his lips where it sits between the top and bottom, he flicks his baby blue lighter on and holds the flame on the end of the cigarette, quickly glancing to the road and back while he inhales lightly at the same time, making sure it’s lit. Once he feels the rush of nicotine hit his throat and flow through his chest, and a cloud of white smoke fills the truck and billows out the window, a sense of calmness swarms him from the inside out.
Joel continues to drive aimlessly for the next two hours, losing count of how many cigarettes he smokes, just wishing him and Sarah could just run away and start somewhere else. A place where she could flourish without the fear of her mother, where Joel could be the father he knows Sarah needs. And who knows, maybe even find someone for himself, to be an actual partner.
The dinging of his gas tank brings him back to reality, he glances down and sees the light is on, god damnit. He did not mean to drive that much, he needed this tank to last him till Friday but looks like he’ll have to fill up now and be broke for the rest of the week. Luckily he was on his way back, so he’s close to the city so he can make it to a Speedway that’s less than a couple blocks away.
“Three eighty-six?” He can’t help but laugh in disgust at the ridiculous gas prices as he pulls up to a pump,“What a joke.” Shutting his truck off, he rubs his eyes with his fingertips to help relieve the fuzziness that sits behind them. After recouping himself enough to go inside, he pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and checks how much cash he has, pulling out two fifties and six twenties. Not as bad as he thought.
While debating which would be the best financial decision, his stomach growls like a pack of wolves. It hits him that he hasn’t eaten anything - he glances at his wrist watch that reads eleven twenty-two - in about twenty hours and it’s starting to affect him.
Joel remembers Jes’s Diner is only a mile away from here, his favorite place for brunch, which sounds fantastic to him right now. So he decides to use one of the fifties and one of the twenty’s, seventy should get him close to a full tank. So he puts the rest of the cash back in his wallet and hops out his truck to go pay for his gas before he heads to the diner.
—
Renae takes one last puff off her cigarette before she throws it to the sidewalk and smooshes it with her larger part of her heel, squishing it making sure it’s out. She’s meeting up with Gia and Bianca at the same restaurant they always do when they come home, Jes’s Diner, it’s just before noon when she gets there. She feels relaxed mainly because she doesn’t have any appointments until three thirty PM, so she can spend a good chunk of her time with her sister and niece.
The restaurant has an outdoor seating area with multiple large fans on the ceiling which helps to keep the air flowing, and since it’s the middle of May in Austin, it's warm.
“Auntie!” Bianca basically yells and leaves her chair to run to Renae when she spots her about two tables away. “Hi Lovebug!” Renae cheers back as she holds Bianca under her armpits and lifts her up into a tight hug, slightly swinging her small body side to side. I missed you so much, Bianca mumbles into the crook of Renae’s neck, and she tells the girl the same before she walks on over to the round table where Gia sits with rosy cheeks and a warm smile.
The cement causes her white colored heels to take over the slightly enclosed area, if she’s getting looks or stares she doesn’t care. Renae always has heels on her feet - it’s a rare sight for her not to. The only place she doesn’t is at the gym - other than that, you never see her without them. She knows the clicking of them on hard surface floors can annoy or distract a lot of people, but she doesn’t let the opinions of others influence things she loves.
And her main love will always be her heels - next to Bianca and Frankie.
“Alright B, sit down please.” Gia looks up at Bianca, who’s still in Renae’s arms, “You’re gettin’ too big for that, soon you’ll be as tall as Auntie Renae.” She can’t help but laugh as she watches Renae let Bianca down to the floor and turn to face her.
“And hi, Mrs. New York!” Renae smiles and slightly bends over to hug Gia, so she doesn’t have to stand up from her chair. Gia coined that name for herself when she first moved and, when Renae started saying it, it just stuck. So she calls her that every time, it’s even Gia’s contact name in Renae’s phone. Hi baby, Gia hugs her tightly for a moment, then let’s go and let's Renae walk to the other side of the table and sit down.
As she sits down she adjusts the hair clip that holds her vibrant loosely curled hair so it’s off her neck. Even with the fans, the Austin heat is rampant this time of day and year almost unbearable if not taken seriously. Gia always tells Renae she’s crazy for still having her vibrant long, thick hair down or how she wears jeans a lot of the time but Renae has become accustomed to the weather by now, after living in Texas for her whole life.
“So what’s new? Give me all the ‘deets!” Renae questions as she rests her chin in her right palm, while her left hand lays on the table. Bianca’s coloring one of the kid menus that they have here while Gia starts talking about their wonderful little world.
“Well, little miss Bianca here,” she lightly pinches Bianca’s cheek before letting go, “just finished her fifth grade class and will be at the middle school next year!” Renae looks over to her and she can’t help but grin from ear to ear about her niece. Look at you lovebug, she raises her left hand causing her jumble of thin gold bracelets to slide down her arm, for a high five and Bianca returns with a slap. She then goes right back to her coloring and not really paying attention to the conversation between Gia and Renae.
“Hi, welcome to Jes’s! I’m Ariana and I’ll be your server today. What drinks can I start you beautiful ladies with?” The cheery waitress asks as stands between you and Gia with her small notepad and pen.
“Chocolate milk, please!” Bianca tells her, lifting her eyes off her menu for a second before going back to it. Alrighty, miss? Ariana nods her head towards Gia. Just a water with a lemon, thank you. Renae’s thrown off by her request, usually the two of them would get the bottomless mimosas. She cocks her head to the side at Gia, who’s now trying to avoid eye contact.
“And for you miss?”
“Uh, I’ll do a mimosa, please.”
“Perfect, I’ll be right back with those for you guys!” Then she’s off to retrieve their drinks.
“Just water? What is goin’ on?” Renae can’t help herself, she’s gotta know if something is up because the only time Gia will order only a water is when-
“Wait- are you pregnant?” She doesn’t mean for it to come out as loud as she did. Gia can’t help but laugh and nod her head at Renae’s expression. Oh my god, Renae squeals as she scoots her chair back enough for her to stand up and slide over to the other side of the table where Gia is.
Gia stands up and Renae is finally able to see the medium sized bump that she’s been hiding. “Holy fuck- congratulations!” Renae says in pure love and shock as she hugs her younger sister, “What are you having?” Renae can't get the words out fast enough before she proceeds to pay attention to her bump. Hey, little thing in there, she whispers as she lightly holds her hands over the sundress that covers her sister's growing belly.
“We’re not sure, so we decided we wanted to find out in the delivery room. Robert is excited, he’s gone out and gotten piles and piles of things for the baby - a mix of boy things, girl things, and neutral things. I almost feel like he’s more excited than I am,” Gia laughs before Renae hugs her for the last time before returning to her seat.
“How do you feel, lovebug?” Renae asks Bianca, as she dabs her waterline with the napkin, trying her best to not ruin her makeup. I can't wait to be a big sister, I’m gonna be just like you auntie! The three of them giggle amongst themselves as Ariana comes back with their drinks.
“Are we ready to order or do we need a couple more minutes?” She asks with her animated hands and voice, the three of them look at each other and agree they're ready. Bianca orders first, followed by Gia, and then Renae. Ariana tells them it should be out soon and to just wave for her if they need anything until then.
Gia and Renae get back to chatting about Gia’s life in New York and with the new baby on the way. Renae is ecstatic for the both of them; but that hidden jealousy creeps up on her even though Gia and Robert totally deserve this. She just wishes those kinds of life changing experiences would happen to her before they did with Gia, or even in Renae’s life at all.
Maybe it’s an older sister thing. Always wanting to be the first to do something special, which she did; Renae was the first one in the family to get a college degree and to become an extremely successful woman, a lawyer even. She’s highly proud of herself for believing she could do it, but there’s still something missing and with Gia having it all, it hits Renae directly and hard. But after really thinking about what exactly that something is, she gets it.
Love.
“I have to pee, I'll be right back. B, do you have to go?” Gia asks her daughter, who agrees and goes along. Renae’s left by herself, with her second mimosa in hand, she decides to chug it so she can get a little buzz to take the edge off. She wasn’t expecting to hear this wonderful news from Gia but something about it just hurts Renae’s heart.
When she swallows the last bit of the mixture of orange juice and champagne, she spots this handsome older looking man on the other side of the outdoor patio, seated and eating by himself.
The man looks disheveled, but in a hot way, and Renae feels her heart skip. His hair is curly, but messy, she wonders if the grays she observes are natural, or from a source of stress - maybe a mix of both. What really convinces her is the scraggly beard that also has grays throughout. His age lines prove her point more. The two scratch lines on the tip of his large nose catches her off guard just a bit, she’s not sure what to make of them. His bulky arms stretch out the fabric of his soft dark shirt, she can visibly see the sweat stains that are forming in his armpits while he cuts his food up and brings it to his mouth.
Renae can't stop staring. Her light green eyes won’t leave the man that sits on the other end of the restaurant, who’s simply eating. There’s just something about him that has her feeling foggy and dazed, maybe it’s the way his sharp jaw moves as he chews or the way his large hands grip his silverware and wrap around the handle of the coffee mug making them look like they’re meant for a mouse to use.
Who are you? she whispers to herself right before Gia and Bianca return from the bathroom. At the same time Ariana comes back with a tray that holds three different plates of food that is steaming hot.
—
Joel’s been to Jes’s Diner many times over the course of his life, so much that he doesn’t need to look at the menu. He gets the same thing every time; An omelet with all the fixings, a side of potatoes, two over-easy eggs, and a small side of bacon.
”No Sarah today?” Polly, the forty year old waitress asks, as she pours the black coffee into the mug that’s on the table. Polly and Joel were neighbors growing up, she was like one of the guys. So whenever Joel comes in, she gets his order.
“At school. It’s her last week as a fifth grader ‘n I don’t like it. Not ready for her to grow up ‘n leave.” He states as he grabs a packet of sugar and opens it, pouring it slowly, then picking up the silver spoon to stir the mixture. “It’s not easy, but you got this. I’m sure about it.” She chimes, trying to perk him up even just a little.
Thank you, he puts a weak smile on his face as he takes a sip of the steaming coffee, wake me up just a little bit, he thinks to himself. “I’ll be back with your food, dear.” He nods and thanks her again, taking another sip trying to jump start his head for the second time since Annie came home this morning.
While he waits for his food he does a quick overview of the patio; ten large round metal tables spaced out and about 8 of them are filled with small groups of families or women chatting amongst themselves. Then he spots her. This woman is stunning, even though his view is somewhat obstructed because of the other woman and young girl with their backs to Joel.
Her vibrant orange hair seems like it’s clipped back, but a few pieces hang in front and on the side of her face. Joel can tell she’s younger by the way she maintains herself, her eyebrows are thin but arched and her lips plump with a light red tint to them. Her skin is tan, like she was just at the beach or somewhere similar, strong thin tan lines from a bikini lace her skin. The way her eyes light up and her smile gleams in the conversation she’s having has Joel almost drooling into his coffee.
Her black tank top sticks to her skin perfectly, like it was made for her, causing her cleavage to spill out a little. He leans back in his chair a bit so he can catch a glimpse of her legs and he has to stop himself before he gets caught; light washed jeans that hug her waist, thick thighs, and calves perfectly.
Exactly his type.
Joel feels his cock grow in his pants as he continues to watch her. He shifts from in his seat and his belt buckle to try to relieve himself, then shifts his eyes back to his Home Screen on his phone that sits flat on his table, trying to think of anything other than this woman that has him feeling like a creep.
“Omelet, potatoes, eggs, and bacon for you, sir!” Polly comes back to the table and sets down his couple plates of hot food, his stomach grumbles again. Joel clears his throat and thanks her again and she’s off to work other tables.
Joel instantly dives into his omelet, eating like someone who hasn’t eaten in days - which he kind of understands, to an extent. Hopefully he won’t have to feel that way anymore, which brings him back to his fight with Annie and the divorce. He starts building a quick checklist of things that are his; The house, his truck and her car, has a full time job, all the bills are in his name - even her phone bill - and still has plenty of time for his daughter.
He shouldn’t have much of a hard time getting what he wants out of this situation, the only thing he could see is Annie trying to come after Sarah. Which Joel has a reasonable concern about because he knows first hand how bad her addictions are and that she has shown no interest whatsoever in trying to better herself. She’s simply not mentally competent to be a parent to Sarah, not even the slightest.
Joel has given her chance after chance to get help and she denies it each time. Says she’s gonna do better and actually try, but that never lasts more than two weeks, at most.
After two hours of breaking down everything and eating about ninety percent of his food, he’s finished everything but his couple strips of bacon that are left. He spots Polly walking his way so he stacks up the few plates and silverware he used and slides them to the edge of the table for her.
“Thank you, baby, you treat me so well,” she blushes, “but I wanna ask, everythin’ okay?” She points to her nose, suggesting what happened to Joel. He’s quick to dismiss it, Tommy’s kitten got me yesterday, he knows it comes off as a lie but he’s not ready to talk about his failed marriage with people. “Damn cats,” she fake laughs, catching onto his subtle warnings, “Well, here’s your check, just go up to Ben in the front and he’ll take care of you! Tell Sarah I say hi and I miss her dearly!”
“I will, dear, hope you have a good rest of ya’ day.” Joel nods his head and hands her two twenties before she picks up the dishes, you’re too kind, she smiles then starts her clean up process and she’s gone.
But before Joel stands up out of his chair he turns his head and looks for the gorgeous redhead from before, but he’s not prepared for how close she is to him. She’s a few feet away from him, her and the two others she was with are walking to the front door but they pass his table.
She’s even more beautiful in front of him; she looks to be around Joel’s height, five ten-ish, the heels make it difficult to tell. The sight of her under the table before was an absolute understatement of how she actually looks, her ass and thighs look like they could suffocate Joel - in the best way - and he can’t help but melt at the sight of her belly not being flat, she looks healthy. Proportional to her body type. Far too many women don’t have the love handles that Joel loves to grip or the plush skin he can bite into - his cock twitches again, making Joel incredibly aware of the situation.
Just wanna tear her ass apart, fuck her until she’s pleading for me to stop. Mhmm. Wonder if she likes it rough? Or if she’s a sweet little thing, who doesn’t have much experience… ‘n will let me show her a good time.
It’s quick, maybe three seconds but it feels like eternity the way they stare into one another. He’s infatuated with her and he hasn’t even spoken to her. Joel and her locked eyes, he memorizes the color; forest green with a hint of brown in the middle. He’s hit with the scent of vanilla, jasmine, and a faint smell of cigarettes, a smell that he would love to come home to everyday and take over the smell of his sawdust and sweat.
Instantly he can feel his cheeks warm and his lips curve into a dumb smile, and to his shock, she does the same thing - then she’s around the corner and gone, like an apparition.
Joel shakes his head twice, what am I doin’? He waits a minute or two for his dick to calm down, so he doesn’t make a fool outta himself, what is goin’ on? Joel can’t remember the last time he felt like this. It’s not like he doesn’t get the random moms of the neighborhood or in the PTA that flirt with him and try to be extra friendly. They’re nice and all, but he’s never been attracted to anyone other than Annie and if it wasn’t her, it wasn’t anyone.
After about five minutes of him yelling at himself in his head, he stands up and heads towards the front to pay, leaving him only eighty bucks left for the week, and heads back to his house.
Now back in his truck, only about ten minutes away from his shell of a home, he’s now back in his head about what to do. He figures the best thing tonight is to grab Sarah from school and head straight to Tommy’s. He wants to avoid as much trouble as possible because he hasn’t told Sarah anything about his decision, he just hopes he can do it before Annie manipulates the whole thing like she always does.
Pulling into the garage, he notices Annie’s Toyota gone, thank fuck. Joel for the second time today feels totally relaxed, parks his truck, takes the key out of the ignition and heads inside to shower and pack for him and Sarah. He wishes he didn’t have to do this, but he knows it’s the only way to stay separated from her because she won’t leave when asked to. That’s when the real problems begin.
As he walks into his house he’s instantly confronted with the smell of weed, it smells like it could be coating the walls. Joel never understood why she smoked in the house when they have a balcony from their bedroom and a back patio off of the kitchen. Joel doesn’t have a problem with weed, he smokes more than most people know, but he absolutely despises when Annie smokes in the house. It takes forever to get the smell out of the rooms and furniture, clothes even.
A part of him feels like she does it on purpose, because she knows that Joel is going to take care of it before Sarah gets home. So it’s almost like her form of punishment for whatever Joel did is response to her bullshit behavior.
“So much for a shower,” he grunts and begins opening all the windows and doors that have screens in them to avoid bugs getting in. He turns on any and all ceiling fans, lights some incense, and begins wiping down countertops in the kitchen - where he found his rolling tray and his weed, not hers of course.
About twenty minutes later, Joel’s alarm starts blaring on his cell phone in his back pocket, causing him to jump and drop the towel he was ringing out in the sink. He pulls it out and hits the stop button and checks the time. Two fifty five PM it says, informing him that he’s got thirty minutes to get to Sarah’s school. It usually takes at least twenty-five to get there from any of his job sites, so he gives himself plenty of time. But from the house the school is no longer than ten minutes away, which is nice, one of the main reasons why Joel picked the school - other than it’s the number one public school is his county.
Shit. He’s still gotta pick up around here and pack up her things, he really doesn’t want to come back later on. He needs to get outta here, preferably sooner than later. After double checking the house smells clean, closing all the windows and doors, he goes into Sarah’s room, which thankfully her door was shut and the only room that didn’t reek.
Joel can’t help but release a heavy breath and lean all his weight on the door, bringing his dry hands to his face and massaging his whole face in distress. He’s hit his breaking point; the lack of sleep, aggravation, disappointment, and sorrow that seep out of his skin and soul are escaping the strong man act he has to maintain.
He starts to weep into his hands as he holds himself up - he refuses to sink to the floor, he can’t bring himself to do it without feeling like a chump. Mainly because he’s breaking down in his ten year old daughter's bedroom. He’s had to keep a secret life for so long to other people, they just don’t know how bad it really is. He’s been through so much shit with Annie these past few years and he hasn’t asked for help, even though it’s been offered by Tommy and some of Annie’s friends who have come to Joel.
It used to mainly be that Joel was ashamed that he found himself and his daughter in this situation, and he didn’t want people to know his business. But now, he doesn’t care about that. He cares for Sarah and making sure she’s okay, that’s all that he needs to worry about right now.
He sighs, wiping away the tears he let slip through the cracks, and pushes himself off the door so he can grab his daughter's things. He grabs her empty soccer bag, sets it on her lavender purple bedding, and turns to her dresser and begins to grab clothes; shorts, shirts, leggings, socks, underwear, and her bathing suit. He slides over to her bathroom and grabs her toiletries that she has in a little bag in a drawer, bringing it over to the bag and zipping it up.
Joel figures they’ll stay at Tommy’s the rest of the week and all weekend. He just needs to leave the house, it’s suffocating for him to be here, too many memories - bad ones - for him to enjoy being here. Even though he’s by himself.
Takes him a shorter time to pack; his toiletries, work clothes, comfy clothes, and his bathing suit - it’s all he needs. With Sarah’s bag in one hand and his on his shoulder, he jogs down the stairs and moves to snag his keys so he can leave.
A sense of security takes over. Just knowing that he told Annie what he’s planning on doing and that Sarah is with him and not her, it’s relieving. He doesn’t have to worry about Sarah wanting to see Annie or asking questions about why, she already knows, most of it not all. He heads out to his truck and he’s on the way to grab Sarah.
With fifteen minutes to spare, he sits in the pickup line that’s full of a variety of trucks and cars waiting for their kid to come tiredly walking out. While waiting for her Joel decides to get a jump start and at least take a look online for some kind of divorce lawyer. If he’s gonna do it, he might as well start now. No backing out now.
Lawyers near me, he mumbles as he types into google, he has to scroll twice until a name sticks out to him. Without reading anything he clicks on R&R Law Firm, and he’s shocked when he sees a picture of two women and the one with red hair sticks out. It then clicks, that’s the woman from the diner.
Renae Russo.
—
Right after brunch, Renae took Gia and Bianca back to her apartment where they’ll be staying until Sunday afternoon. They’ve stayed at her place numerous times before so they know to make the place their own, and now with Frankie there Bianca has a little friend.
Renae has enough time to change out of her casual clothes and into her skin tight black dress, that covers her chest and goes to her knees, with matching black heels. She lets her curls fall from her hair clip as she teases the roots of her hair, creating volume and letting the curls loose; it’s a cute, messy but natural looking style that suits her perfectly.
“I’ll be back no later than six-thirty, love you guys!” She tells her sister and niece before she’s out the door and walking to her BMW. Shockingly, the weather calmed down a bit, it can’t be any hotter than seventy-eight or nine - way cooler than the ninety degrees it was earlier.
Traffic isn’t terrible, yet. She’s sure on her way home, it’ll be awful. It always seems like she gets caught in the worst traffic on the way home. She just can’t seem to find the right way back, she thought after ten years she would be a pro. But guess not.
Searchin’ kisses, the man she misses, the man that he longs to be.
Renae sings along to the one and only Amy Whinehouse, her favorite artist of all time. That’s her girl. It was her first concert at sixteen and Renae has been in love with her ever since then. She knows all Amy’s songs and has been to fifty percent of her concerts. Renae actually made it to her last show in twenty-eleven in Serbia, and we all know how that turned out. It was truly heartbreaking for Renae to witness and listen to, live.
So he tries to pacify her, cause what’s inside her never dies.
Suddenly her phone starts vibrating in her purse that’s sitting in her passenger seat, since she’s at a red light she reaches over and grabs it. Now more of a mumble than actually singing, she reads the name on her screen and she can’t help but smile. Her cheeks turn redder and redder, she can’t help herself from slightly biting her lip as she stares at the ten letter name.
Dominic Amaro</3
Renae’s favorite and most recent ex, the one that she just can’t let go of, but knows that she ultimately has to. After two years of dating, he had to move back to Italy to take care of his mother who became extremely ill and help with his two younger siblings, and although Renae understood completely, it doesn’t mean she wasn’t hurt by it. She saw herself marrying him, even having kids. She thought he was the one, but she was wrong.
But even after breaking up three years ago, they randomly call each other and will chat about anything and everything. Sometimes leading into phone sex… Or, quite often, if she’s honest. It’s one of the highest reasons why Renae hasn’t lost her mind completely. Dominic has the voice of an Italian man - that of a gentleman, not a mobster - his octave is low but his accent is smooth, almost like an Idris Elba, but Italian.
The traffic light switches to green as she hits the green accept button, raising the phone to her right ear as she manages to fly towards her job. Hi Dominic, she purrs with one hand on the wheel and the other on her phone, anticipating his smooth voice.
“Hi amore mio, how are you?” His voice is relaxed and Renae can tell he’s had a couple drinks, his accent is loose, not as strong as sober Dominic.
This kind of irritates her, but also not, because he can’t hold his liquor and that’s usually when a lot of their fights start, and Renae does not want to do that right now. If she was at home, she would absolutely rip into him and let him fight back - then fuck herself with her fingers while he talks her through it and strokes himself to the sound of her arousal and her deep moans.
Renae chuckles at his words as she pulls into the parking garage of her building, “Things are goin’ well, work has been busy and Gia came into town for this weekend. So I’ve been pretty happy.” She confesses, pulling into a parking spot and turning her car off, throwing her keys into her lap.
“Va meglio?” Are things getting better? Last Renae knew, Concetta had liver and kidney failure, but that was a couple months ago by now.
Before he says anything, she hears him heavily sigh and take a sip of whatever alcohol his choice is. That’s not a good sign, she mentally says while she quickly pulls her phone from her ear and looks at the time. Three twenty five. Fuck me, she mutters. Raising the phone to her ear again she hears him mumble something. What, baby? she asks him with sincerity.
She hates that she’ll have to shorten the conversation because from the context clues she’s picking up, this isn’t going to be good news. But Renae always puts her work first, which might be why she messes things up for herself - like marriage or kids. It’s just how she lives her life right now and she’s content in living with it, until otherwise she’s going to continue living this way.
To be less of an asshole than she already is, she lets Dominic vent about his mother and how she only has a little less than a year to live, and how his younger siblings are rays of sunshine but he feels terrible for them because they’re so young. Renae can’t help but feel her stomach tie into knots at the news while she walks through the parking garage and waits in the elevator. She met Concetta once when she came and visited Texas for a month, the sweetest little Italian woman ever - feisty too, Renae and her were two peas in a pod really. So even though she doesn’t have much to go on about her, Renae still feels awful for Dominic because no one, especially him, deserves to go through anything remotely similar.
“Amore,” she drags out, leaning her ass against the back wall of the elevator, “I’m sorry. I mean like, Damn- I wish you and your family didn’t have to go through this.”
“Prego, um- but the real reason I called is cause, uh“ Renae can tell he’s having a hard time getting his words across, she’s not sure if the language barrier or if he’s just struggling. Dominic’s English isn’t bad by any means, but Renae can tell after he moved back to Italy, he’s reverted back to speaking Italian all the time because of the way he speaks.
She’s now out of the elevator and on her office floor, waiting to walk into the long hallway that leads to her destination. Since she knows her office is occupied, she decides to finish her phone call. It's just something personal that she doesn’t want people to know about. Gia doesn’t even know that she’s still in contact with Dominic, not because Gia would be disappointed about it but just because Renae doesn’t want to have to explain any of this to anyone.
Another big reason she doesn’t want to bring it up is because she doesn’t even know how to break it down to herself. Renae has zero idea of what to make of the situation-ship with Dominic and she hasn’t needed a reason to. As far as she’s concerned, Dominic is just another man that she can’t let go of and she feels like he knows it.
She checks the clock on her phone one last time and she’s two minutes from being late, but there’s also no way she can just hang up on him, even if he understands that she has a client. Renae can’t help herself, she still loves him, or at least thinks she does.
“In a month I’m coming to Texas for a couple days-“
“You can stay with me!” she blurts out, and she’s not sure why she says it. Maybe it’s the desperation for some touch, a familiar one, or it’s the empathy in her that has made her feel for him. “Just send me your flight information and I’ll grab you and give you a place to stay. ‘Kay?”
A second of silence comes from the other end of the phone before he coo’s, “è così difficile non amarti…thank you.” It’s so hard not to love you.
This hits Renae directly in the heart, hard. She wishes she could jump through her phone and hug and kiss Dominic, but she can’t. This thirty-five year old man has her wishing she never lived in Texas and met Dominic in Italy, just living their happiest lives together.
“Well,” she bites her bottom lip again in a poor attempt to hide her smile, “you don’t make it easy yourself, Dominic.”
With both her shoulders occupied with bag straps, she leans her back against the wall outside two wooden doors, and stares at her pointy black heels. She hears a tiny chuckle leave his lips, she can visualize the slight pinkness that overgrows his face - much like herself.
Suddenly Rachel Yonkers - the other half of R&R Law Firm - walks out of the double doors. Causing Renae’s attention to come back full force and on her as she says, I’m headin’ out for lunch, see ya’ in a bit.
Slightly pulling the phone away from her mouth she responds, enjoy, as she smiles and waves her free hand. After the elevator doors close on Rachel, Renae’s attention is back on Dominic who correctly guesses she’s at work and then lets her go.
“Ciao, my love.”
“Ciao, Dominic.”
She hangs up and gently throws her head back until she rests on the wall with her eyes closed. What am I doing? This is gonna ruin me. He’s gonna ruin me forever. Somehow, she stops herself from falling down yet another spiral.
Throwing her phone into her purse, she takes a deep breath as she stands herself up, slightly shaking her whole body to get rid of the jitters that flow through her entire nervous system. Smoothing the sides of her black cotton dress, then swiping a strand of thick hair on her left side behind her ear, her fingers drag along the shape of her medium size hoops that hang from her ears, before walking through the double doors.
“Hi, Riley!” She chirps as she struts through the lobby of her office, head on to her assistant who’s behind her desk. Riley is fresh out of college, she has her criminal justice degree and is currently studying for her law degree - so she’s been with Renae for the past year and she told Riley this can be a permanent job for her.
“Afternoon, Ms. Russo. Jackie Cora is waiting for you!” She informs Renae as she staples a stack of papers together, setting them down on a pile.
Awesome, thank you, Renae smiles as she adjusts her black Micheal Kors purse that hangs on one shoulder and her laptop bag that hangs on the other. Her three thirty appointment is with Jackie Cora, who wants to file a PPO on her ex husband, Charlie Frey. He won’t stop harassing her with phone calls and emails about wanting to try again with her or come back to get some of his things, even though they aren’t there anymore.
Police can’t do anything other than tell him to leave while they’re present because there’s nothing legally they can do. But he hasn’t stopped since the divorce which was 5 months ago, and Renae was the one who did their divorce, so she knows how dirty and hasty Charlie is.
“Hi Jackie!” Renae chirps as she enters her office and walks to Jackie who’s sitting on the opposite side of her desk. Jackie stands up and shakes Renae’s hand, returning to welcome, then sitting down as she begins to divulge into the things that have been happening and what she wants done about it.
—
Staring at the printer, Renae’s right hand sprawls on the counter and her pointer finger taps impatiently, her nails causing a tink tink noise that echoes through her office. She glances away from the stack of papers that are slowly piling, to the clock above her and it’s been two hours since her and Jackie Cora have been together. She sighs as she goes back to the almost dead printer and she only needs one more page, which thankfully comes out with no issues.
“Here we go,” she announces as she grabs the stack of papers and turns around to bring them to Jackie. Who sits at the table surrounded by two large envelopes, her and Renae’s laptop, and Renae’s notes. “The last of your copy of things. This one is the letter that you’ll read in court on the thirtieth, so two weeks from today.”
Renae grabs the last envelope and seals the papers, then hands it over to Jackie who then collects her belongings putting them in her large tote bag. “Thank you so much Ms. Russo, god.” She stands up, her long brown hair thrown behind her shoulder as she steps to Renae and hugs her, which Renae returns warmly. “I’ll see you in two weeks. Please call me if anything escalates, please.”
After a few minutes of back and forth farewells, Renae is left alone in her office. She can finally relax, she did not realize how bad Jackie’s situation actually was. The amount of text messages and calls that she had printed out for evidence was staggering, Renae has never dealt with anything quite like this. But she has no doubt in her ability, that she’ll be able to help Jackie out - if anything it should be easy.
“Fuck, man,” she groans, throwing her curls up in a messy bun that sits on top of her head with loose strands all over - it’s more of a real messy bun than the cute, intentionally messy kind. She digs through her purse that sits underneath her desk - I need a cigarette after that fuckin’ debacle, aha - she feels the box with her finger tips and quickly snags them out.
Her mood swings instantly as she sees her Marlboro Reds in her hands. She’s not proud of it but her cigarettes are her anchors in life; always there when she needs them to. But she’s not a crazy smoker, a pack will last her four to five days a week sometimes. It’s something that works to take the edge of just a little while.
Which is exactly what she craves right now.
Phone in one hand, Marlboro Reds in the other, Renae struts to her door but just before she pulls her glass door open. Her phone on her desk rings. Motherfucker- she mumbles as she hangs her head down while shaking her head, every goddamn time.
It takes her a second before she commits to turning around and answering her phone as she plops down in her office chair. Renae Russo, she forces herself to sound light and cheery, because work comes before cigs.
“You have a call on line two, saying he wants to talk to you specifically,” Riley tells Renae, “I don’t recognize the voice at all.”
“Hmm, okay thank you, hon’.” Renae doesn’t waste any time. She’s quick to switch lines, putting the phone on speaker so she can move around freely without the problem of the cord. Pushing herself out of her chair, she stands up and leans over her desk just enough so her hands support upper body, rocking back and forth on her heels.
“Good evening, I’m Renae Russo and who do I have the pleasure of speaking to right now?” Even with her voice forced, she still genuinely wants to help whoever this person is - they just happened to catch Renae at a bad time. It’s a good five seconds of silence from her black phone that she now stares at from her position.
She knows some people have a hard time reaching out to divorce lawyers, which is why she gives them a chance. Uhh, he starts before he clears his throat, Renae can hear a faint mumbling that somewhat sounds like encouragement to continue.
“Hi Ms. Russo, um. I’m Joel Miller n’ I wanna- well, need to file divorce papers against my wife. Shit, ex-wife I guess now.”
Renae is trying her best to pay attention to what Joel just said because of the way his voice flows so effortlessly, but has much effect. Most southern accents sound the same to Renae at this point, she hears it all day long, she’s gotten so good that she can guess some towns or parts of the state based on their accents alone. However she’s stuck on his, there’s something about his that has her feeling gooey and mushy on the inside. Enough for her to have to sit back in her chair, leaning back just a bit as rests her elbows on the arms of the chair and she intertwines her fingers on her belly. Trying to contain herself and hide the butterflies that dare to escape.
“‘n I need to get full custody of my ten year old daughter.”
Her stomach drops and her nerves grow larger.
“Well, Mr. Miller,” she charms, leaning forward to grab a pen and a sticky note, “It’s a good thing you called me.”
#joel miller#joel miller fanfic#joel miller smut#joel miller series#joel x oc#joel and sarah#joel the last of us#joel tlou#daddy joel#tlou joel#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x ofc#joel miller x original character#joel miller x oc#fluff#joel miller fluff#eventual smut#ANGST
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Remember, Remember
I was just rereading "Care and Keeping of Idiots" (amazing btw) and in the beginning Patton has a notebook that Janus takes from him? Patton protests that it helps him "remember stuff" and Janus counters that it actually helps him to feel guilty. Uh, this really piqued my interest so maybe could you write a fic about Patton and this notebook, what exactly it is? (and the sides helping him with realizing he doesn't have to use it <3) – anon
Read on Ao3
Warnings: light guilt tripping of self
Pairings: dlampr, can be platonic or romantic i don't care
Word Count: 2061
Listen, Patton doesn't understand what the big deal is. This is what notebooks are for, after all. Notebooks are for taking notes! They are for helping you remember things! They are for whatever words or feelings make their way from your brain down your arm, through a pen or pencil—or marker—and onto the paper. That's their purpose! It would be silly to not use a notebook if you have things you want to remember and you need some place to write it down.
As would anyone who cares deeply about anything, Patton has a lot of things he wants to write down. Recipes that he wants to try out, shows he needs to catch up on, books he wants to read…books he has read and wants to talk about, things he has to do, there's a lot. And, also, because sometimes talking about feelings is really hard, he writes about them instead. Listen, they've all be working on being more open with each other, but the truth of the matter is that some of them are more easily able to tap into that vulnerability and be able to share it than others. That's a true fact about the world, whether Patton likes it or not, and he's not totally unaware here. He knows that he's contributed to that in his own way, and it's not his place to demand the others be open about things with him if they're not comfy with it yet.
So, because notebooks can be very useful things, he writes about it.
He's penned long pages about how much he adores Roman's passion and drive, but sometimes he worries that when it doesn't come as easily, Roman will get upset with himself. How it's okay if he just needs to make stuff for Roman, not the rest of them, not even for Thomas. How much he's sorry that he's contributed in any way, shape, or form to the insecurity that his kiddo tries so hard to cover up, but he knows is there. Sometimes he makes himself cry as he's writing those, not just because he knows Roman's particularly upset right now, but he's dredged up all the emotion in himself and, well, it has to go somewhere.
He keeps little short lists of how much he appreciates Logan's efforts—he does his best to say them out loud too, but sometimes Logan's not in the place where he wants to hear that, so he writes them down to save them for later. He's been trying to be better about asking Logan when he doesn't understand things, but sometimes the conversation moves too fast and he doesn't want to be a bother and slow everyone way down just so Logan can explain the thing he mentioned, like, five minutes ago. So, in the name of efficiency, he writes them down and looks them up later and does his best to recontextualize the conversation with his new knowledge. He's pretty sure Janus has a notebook that automatically transcribes conversations for him for when hearing is hard and lip-reading is harder, maybe he'll ask if he can learn a bit of that too.
Speaking of Janus…oh, he's written way too much and not enough at all about Janus. He's still not entirely sure what his own personal feelings are about the whole…Dark Sides/Light Sides thing, especially because it sort of feels like they're trying to do away with it entirely now that they've just found out the lines exist. Which isn't really fair, he knows, since he's the one who pushed them away to begin with, but they haven't—it's not—this is the first time he's really interacted with them in a long time, and so it's impossible to slide back into what it once was, and they're not quite at the place where they can start forging something new. Not yet. So, because he needs somewhere to put them, he writes.
Virgil, as will come as a surprise to no one, does not like being confronted with sentiment. (He actually wrote that one word for word and tried not to giggle at how much it reminded him of the look Virgil had when Roman tried to rope him into singing Disney songs together.) And so, because he's not above making his kiddos admit how great they are but he doesn't want to make them uncomfortable, he writes them all down instead. About how he's so proud at how much Virgil is trying to come out of his shell, how much he loves hearing about what Virgil's interested in now, or how much he secretly agrees that yeah, that story really was kind of edgy and not in a good way.
With Remus, who he doesn't know that well, he mostly writes down questions. Some of them are…in better faith than others, he'll admit. Why did he put his bear trap in the fridge? Why is there a water balloon filled with hot sauce in the sink? Where did his deodorant go? How did he come up with the idea of making every single doorknob make a different sound? What's his Kraken's name? That sort of thing. And maybe, sometimes he wants to ask things about him and Roman. How it feels being two parts of Creativity, or sharing the Imagination, or why, in the middle of the night, if he's very quiet, the walls sort of feel like they're shaking.
But! Maybe that's none of his business. That's why it's better to write it down, see? That way he can work out all his thoughts on paper and not have to bother anyone with them. Also, that means that if he needs to remember something, but he doesn't necessarily want them to know he's having trouble remembering it, he can write it down! Like how Roman doesn't like it when you ask about projects he hasn't talked about in a while, or how Logan doesn't like be disturbed unless the sign on his door says he's disturbable, or how he needs to ask Janus first if he's being serious or not about doing something, or about how Virgil needs time to himself away from everyone, or how he needs to leave Remus alone, that sort of thing. He should just know those, so he writes them down so he remembers them, but that's all.
That's what notebooks are for, isn't it?
Well, from the way everyone's staring at him with a mix of frustration, pity, and confusion, maybe he doesn't know what notebooks are for after all.
"That's not—you are not incorrect in your assessment of what a notebook is used for," Logan says slowly, "but the way in which you are choosing to use it…"
"Yeesh, Pop Star," Virgil mumbles, toying with the strings of his hoodie, "you're…damn, you're kinda giving me a run for my money."
"What? What do you mean, kiddo?"
"Having lists of things you need to do to monitor your own behavior?" He jerks his thumb at Roman. "That's both a him thing and a me thing."
"And it doesn't sound like it's particularly healthy either."
Patton laughs—surely, they can't be serious—but then everyone else is still looking at him like that and he tugs on the hem of his shirt. "I think you're overreacting a bit, kiddos, it's not that bad."
"You're keeping lists of ways in which you should behave in order not to upset us," Logan summarizes, "is that right?"
"Well, yeah, I don't want to upset you! And you have boundaries, those are important—"
"Boundaries like 'leave Remus alone?'" Remus looks up from his little huddle on the couch. Patton's heart sinks.
"N-not as in leave you alone alone, just that—I know you don't like being bothered by me, so—"
"How do you know that?"
"W-well, it's just that every time I try and come and talk to you, you're always—it feels like you don't want me there."
"Yeah, because the last three times you came, it was when I was handling the newborns from my side of the Imagination or working with the corrosive chemicals that Ro said aren't allowed in the Imagination anymore. You could've been hurt." Remus frowns. "Your sense of timing is shitty but it's not like I don't want to spend time with you."
"O-oh. Um, I'm…sorry?"
"Shit, no, I didn't mean it like that, I just—" Remus sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face— "I'm not going to try and blame you for your brain being spicy, but I am going to point out that you jumped straight to 'don't interact' as opposed to asking me why I wanted you to leave in those instances."
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Logan lean over to Janus to ask what 'brain spiciness' is, but he's too distracted by how Virgil's frowning at him. "What?"
"Are you—do the things in your notebook also consist of you reminding yourself of mistakes you've made in the past?"
"…yes? If I write the mistake down, I'm not likely to forget it and make it again, right?"
"How often do you reread them?"
"Every day, why?" The collective wince that happens is enough to let him know that was the wrong answer. "O-or! I mean, it's not everyday, every day, but—"
There's a low hiss from Janus and he shuts up.
A pause.
Then Logan takes a deep breath, adjusting his glasses.
"I will admit, when you first started talking about this, I was…not so much intrigued as I was curious as to why you'd never brought it up on your own before, considering how much we've all been talking about getting better at communicating. And if it were truly just an outlet for your emotions, I don't believe anyone would be reacting as strongly as they are, myself included."
"But that is what it is."
"But you're using it to amplify your own guilt and shame," Roman breaks in softly, "and that's not good, Padre."
"What? That's not what I'm doing at all! I'm just—"
"Then why were you so hesitant to tell us?"
Well.
He's sure there's a good answer for that.
Somewhere.
He just needs to think of it!
Yeah.
Yeah…
…yeah.
…
…oh.
Oh.
Oh, no.
Distantly, he registers the soft noises of concern and the gentle touch to his face. His head moves. There's someone standing in front of him. The thing on his cheek strokes the skin gently again. He blinks. Oh. His vision is all blurry. There's a lot of movement happening. There's someone calling his name.
"Patton? Sweetie, can you hear me?"
He thinks he nods. The thing on his face cups his jaw and then slides around to the back of his head—oh, that feels nice. He likes that feeling. He tries to lean into it. There's another quiet noise and then there's another touch on his shoulder.
"Sweetie, come sit, please, come sit with us. Let's give you a cuddle, okay? Look, the twins are right here—"
He's passed to another set of hands and then his hands are trying to wipe his face because he's crying, that's why his vision is so blurry, and then Roman—it has to be Roman, it's all red—is pulling him close and it's really warm, and soft, and quiet, and—
"Shh, there you go," Roman murmurs, "just take a moment, okay?"
"Remus, budge over a bit."
"L, can you get the—"
"Yes, I've got it."
"Shh," Roman says again when Patton hiccups with the force of the sobs, "here, cry this out for me, okay? Just get it all out, that's it, you're okay…"
He doesn't have the words, not really, to figure out how to remember this, but as the feelings wash over him and the world becomes a little smaller, just for a moment, he thinks he might not need to write anything down to remember what this feels like.
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#dragonbabbles#fic#sanders sides#roman sanders#remus sanders#sympathetic remus#deceit sanders#sympathetic deceit#janus sanders#patton sanders#logan sanders#virgil sanders
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Karissa's 31 Days of October Fun
Day: 2
Prompt: "You promised to go trick or treating with me." from this.
Fandom: Marvel
Characters: Tony Stark x Daughter!Reader
Warnings: None
Tony barely keeps the annoyed sigh in when he hears small yet loud footsteps running down the stairs to his workshop.
He feels a stab of guilt hit his chest, hating the fact that he gets annoyed when his own daughter comes down to see him.
"Are you ready, Daddy?" The seven year old asks as she bounces on her heels. She's been waiting all day for this, and she's just about ready to burst if she has to wait any longer.
"Y/n, I'm busy." Tony says, almost snapping at the girl without even looking her way. "We can do whatever I promised I would do tomorrow."
If he would just look at her, not only would he see the pain in her face; but he would see just what he promised to do with her. He would see that tomorrow will be too late.
"But you promised." Y/n cries out, hoping her father will hear the tears threatening to spill, hear the disappointment in her voice.
Tony releases the sigh this time. "I know, Y/n. I'll make it up to you. Tomorrow."
The young girl stares at her father, who keeps tinkering with whatever new project of the week he's working on.
As time ticks on, her sadness drains away and is replaced with anger. Stark's are supposed to keep their word. They don't back out of promises.
"I'm not leaving without you."
Tony pauses at her new tone. "Excuse me?" He finally turns to face her, an eyebrow raised high.
The scolding he plan on giving dies on his lips when his eyes see exactly what his daughter is wearing.
She looks just like a mad scientist. Instead of wearing a wig, Pepper took the time, and with the use of a lot of hairspray and gel, to make Y/n's hair stick out in all different directions.
Tony's face turns as white as paper. The guilt overwhelms him so much that he drops the tool in his hand. "It's Halloween."
"Yes! Today is Halloween. You promised to go trick or treating with me!"
Dammit! He's acting just like his father. He made a promise to himself the day Y/n was born. He would never be his father when it comes to raising his kid.
With that memory fresh in his mind, Tony stands to his feet. "Y/n, baby. Give your old man enough time to shower and get dressed. Then we're going trick or treating."
Y/n crosses her arms over her chest. "You promise?"
"I promise, kiddo."
She turns on her heel, climbing the stairs. "Jarvis?"
"Yes, Miss Stark?"
"If Daddy goes back to his workshop, you tell me." She orders the A.I.
"Of course, ma'am."
Tony will never tell his kid that he could've easily overridden her order. He doesn't want to ruin her moment.
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into gold IV {rooster bradshaw}
synopsis: rooster bradshaw’s emotional baggage could fill a cargo container ten times over. he is the single father of a precocious and bubbly six-year-old, and despite his best efforts, has fallen head over heels for someone arguably more damaged than him- his daughter’s first grade teacher.
characters- bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw, frankie bradshaw, female ooc scout wallis (she/her pronouns)
or- the one where they break each other's hearts.
word count- 3200+
part one
part two
part three
Scout spends the better part of her Saturday evening declining drinks from what she can only assume are some of San Diego’s finest gentlemen. So, she is surprised to find that come one o’clock in the morning, her entire world is spinning on its axis with no intention of letting up anytime soon. She reckons it might have been the three tequila shots taken at her grade partner (and dear friend) Lou’s behest. It could also have had something to do with the whiskey flight she consumed that Lou had ordered but never actually touched. Whatever it was, has led her out into the balmy evening air, with her finger poised precariously above Rooster’s phone number.
All the text messages he’d sent since the last time they shared dinner, had gone woefully unanswered. Scout could easily pin the blame on ‘end of the year chaos’ but something told her he’d see right through it. Someone bumps into her from behind just then, causing her finger to graze the number and with a sudden gasp, she hits decline. For a moment she thinks she’s successful; the moment passes, and her phone begins to vibrate with Rooster’s incoming call.
“Hello?” She hiccups.
“Scout, are you alright?” He immediately sounds concerned.
Fighting the bile rising in her throat, she takes a breath of fresh air, but all she gets is a lungful of acrid cigarette smoke- compliments of the young woman standing a little too close to her.
“Hey, I know this is a long shot because we haven’t spoken in a while and it’s totally okay if you can’t because of Frankie, but I was wondering if you would be able to pick me up?”
If she were any less inebriated, she might have heard his feet hitting the hardwood floor beneath his bed. She might have heard him bounding down the staircase, or the jangle of his car keys as he fished them out of the ceramic bowl in the front hallway.
“Frankie’s with Mav and Penny tonight. Where exactly are you?”
Scout turns to the person beside her and asks where they are. “I think it’s called the Whiskey House?”
She hears the Bronco roar to life in the background. “Alright, hang tight Scout. I’ll be there in about thirteen minutes, give or take.”
A sudden rush of loud music emanates from the open door as Lou stumbles out next to her. She wraps her arms around her frame and kisses her cheek, and Scout’s grateful for the cuddle as it helps to ward off the evening chill.
“How are ya, kiddo?” Lou asks.
A violent shiver wracks her before she hiccups and says, “I’ve been better. Who knew tequila and whiskey weren’t friends?”
Lou laughs. “We’ve always known that haven’t we? But rules go out the window when we play.” Reaching into her clutch, she retrieves a cigarette, positions it between her perfectly stained lips and lights it. “How will you get home?”
Scout’s bashful gaze travels to the ground and Lou laughs, breathlessly.
“You absolute minx. You called him, didn’t you?”
Scout’s cheeks burn and she nods. “Yeah. I did.”
“Good for you,” Lou takes a drag off her smoke and nods her head in approval. “He’s a good egg, Scout.”
Scout swallows. “How can you tell?”
Lou’s gaze drifts to her; there is something unreadable in those beautiful orbs of hers. “Well, for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve built up walls around your heart. And for good reason, I suppose.” She takes another drag and rests her head against the black brick of the building. “I can only imagine what losing a husband does to someone. But for as much as you want to resist it, you have let him, and Frankie dismantle some of those walls.”
Scout wants to say something else, but a wave of vertigo washes over her and she must lean against the wall to keep from losing her balance. The Bronco rolls to a stop in front of the bar. Rooster cuts the engine and joins Lou and Scout outside the entrance. And- goddamn, the man is a sight for sore eyes.
“Fun night?” He simpers and leans in to give Lou a quick hug. “Happy birthday, Miss Rutherford. Do you have a ride home?”
Lou ashes out the rest of her cigarette beneath the heel of her worn cowboy boot. “Sure do, thanks Rooster.”
“Of course.” His gaze travels to Scout’s, assessing her level of inebriation. “Let’s get you home, hmm?”
Lou presses another kiss to Scout’s cheek. “See you on Monday, sweet Scout. I do love you.”
Scout grins drunkenly at her friend. “I hope that you had the best birthday, Loumeister.”
Rooster helps her into the passenger seat, gently buckles her in and then settles in beside her. She mumbles her address to him, and then they’re off. Halfway through the ride, she asks if she can have the window down, knowing that the cool evening air will do wonders for the waves of nausea roiling in her belly. Rooster does as he’s asked and then says, “Scout if you think you’re going to be sick, you need to let me know, alright? Because I can pull over, I just need to know.”
She shakes her head, already feeling much better with the brisk saltwater breeze in her face.
“Don’t worry babe, I won’t be sick.” She murmurs, sleepily.
The term of endearment had been an accidental slip, but if she had been any less inebriated, she would have seen the smile that nearly split Rooster’s face in half.
When he gently shakes her awake fifteen minutes later, she is disoriented. He helps her from the car and holding her by the hand, leads her up the stone path to the front door of her duplex. When she drops the keys twice trying to fit them into the lock, he picks them up, unlocks the door, and follows her into the front foyer. Shrugging the jean jacket from her shoulders, he hangs it up in the front hall closet and follows her down the darkened hallway to her bedroom.
“I should go.” He murmurs.
And that’s the last thing that she wants, so she tries her luck a final time. “Please don’t.”
Regarding her in the low morning light, he finally relents. “Okay, Scout. I won’t.”
She tells him to come in after sixty seconds have passed. Shutting the door behind her, she frantically kicks stray pieces of clothing under her bed. Changing into a pair of pajama pants and a worn tank top, Rooster enters her room just after she’s thrown the last sock into the wicker hamper by her bed. She taps the space of made-up sheets next to her. “Let’s talk.” She yawns.
Rooster hesitates but does as he’s told and settles down next to her. “I’m not sure how much talking we’re about to do.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been so silent lately.” Scout whispers.
Rooster shakes his head. “No apologies.”
She gazes at him, and though her thoughts are the farthest they’ve been from sharp in a long time, she doesn’t think she’s ever seen someone more clearly.
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it was rude to stare?” He whispers, his honeyed voice is thick with the weight of looming sleep.
Scout smiles. “You have the most beautiful eyes, has anyone ever told you that?”
The smile fades from Rooster’s face, and the razor-thin scars on his cheeks stand out amongst the blush that floods them.
“Thank you for picking me up tonight.”
Rooster nods against the pillow. “That’s what friends are for, right?”
“Oh, poppycock.” Scout yawns.
“Poppycock? What are you, eighty?”
She shrugs. “Maybe.”
“You look amazing for eighty.”
She attempts a wink. “My plastic surgeon is a wizard.”
It’s silent for a little while before Rooster clears his throat. “That’s what we are though, Scout. We’re friends. And there isn’t much I wouldn’t do for a friend.”
And in her alcohol-induced drowsiness, Scout doesn’t realize she’s mumbled, “But I’ve always wanted more than that with you, Rooster,” out loud.
She wakes up the next morning to a dull throbbing behind her eyes- nothing a strong cup of coffee can’t remedy. The expanse of the bed next to her is empty, and she wonders if she dreamt Rooster had been there with her at all. It had seemed so real at the moment; the heady warmth of his hand in hers, the subtle dip in the mattress from his weight as he laid down beside her. She wonders then, with a fleeting feeling of shame, if she had said something to him in the clutches of whiskey that made him leave. With a sigh, she gets out of bed in search of coffee. To her amazement, Rooster is seated at the kitchen island, and when he sees her, he sets his phone down and offers her a slow smile.
“I was beginning to wonder when you might surface.”
She stands on tiptoes to retrieve two mugs from the cupboard beside the fridge.
“I thought I’d dreamt you.”
He clears his throat. “You didn’t. But if you require further confirmation, I could pinch you.”
She laughs. “No need. How do you take your coffee?”
“Black, please.”
It’s silent in the kitchen while she focuses most of her energy on making their drinks. There are a million things she could say, but none of them feel quite right so she settles for, “I’m sorry for last night.”
Rooster waves it off. “It’s not a problem, Scout. I was happy that you got a hold of me- happy to know that I was able to take you to a safe place.”
When she turns to view him in the growing morning light, she wonders for the first time, what it would have been like to meet him at the right time. She does her best then, to ignore the voice in her head that says, but now is the right time, Scout.
“Can I be honest with you about something, Scout?” Rooster asks.
She tries to fend off the sudden feeling of unease as she pours cream into her coffee. Joining him at the island, she slides his mug over and nods her head.
He purses his lips as if trying to figure out the best way to go about it all. “I don’t think that I can be just friends with you.”
Scout knows then that this is it; knows that if she can’t decide one way or the other, she will likely lose him and Frankie forever.
Rooster clears his throat. “And friends would be one thing- but Scout, I can’t even get you to respond to my messages.” Guilt manifests as a hard lump in the hollow of her throat. “I’m laying this all out on the line for you because I’ve had my fair share of loss and it’s made me hyper-aware of what I want for my life, and what I don’t want.”
She’s on the precipice of throwing it all in for him; she was there last night. But something is holding her back. Perhaps it’s the idea of finally having everything she’s ever dreamed of, and then having it all ripped away in the blink of an eye again that scares her so much.
“I was pregnant,” Scout says, softly. And she isn’t doing this for sympathy; she’s doing it because if she doesn’t get it off her chest, it may just crush her one day.
Rooster blanches and the color drains from his face.
She continues, knowing that if she stops, she may never start again. “I found out two weeks before Beau passed. I had meant to tell him, but then the mission happened, and I figured it would have been a pretty good welcome home surprise.” Scout swallows. “But then he died, and every fibre of my being wanted to die too. But I had the baby to think of. Even though it was only ever just going to be the two of us, I knew we’d be alright.” She clears the emotion building in her throat. “But when I went in for my next scan, they failed to find a heartbeat. And when I left the clinic that afternoon, it was just me again.”
Sorrow washes from Rooster in palpable waves.
“So, I know a thing or two about loss as well, Rooster. I know what it can rob a person of.”
Time, love, life.
“I am so sorry, Scout.”
She shakes her head. “That’s life Rooster. It’s no one’s fault. But I’m not there yet; I don’t think I’m capable of giving you and Frankie the kind of love you deserve.”
Words are meaningless after that; the shattered look in Rooster’s eyes says everything he can’t. He parts only after he's pressed a last, lingering kiss on her cheek. Scout feels the sharp knife of his absence immediately; where sunshine followed in his wake, a shadow now looms over her. She retreats to the darkened stillness of her room, crawling back under the weighted protection of her covers. After a while, her eyelids grow heavy and she gives in to the alluring siren song of sleep.
When she stirs awake hours later, her room is still bathed in the same indigo hue from the morning. She reaches over to the space of bed beside her, where Rooster’s body had been hours earlier and the ache to have him back in her orbit again is almost overwhelming. Something flips inside of her; and before she can talk herself out of it, she’s en route to Rooster’s house. She’s had the entire ride there to formulate what she would say to him when she saw him again, but the minute he opens the door to her, any semblance of an explanation evaporates into thin air. She almost expects him to be angry with her, but he’s anything but.
“I’d be out of my mind to let the two of you go, Rooster.”
This is me, laying everything out on the line for you.
In one swift motion, he has her pinned against the wall of the front hallway. His warm, slightly calloused hands (a product of working on planes in his spare time) caress her face as if it were the most precious thing in the world. His lips hover mere inches away from her own, and she shivers in anticipation as his breath washes over her in warm waves. He searches her gaze for anything in her eyes that might tell him to stop, and when he doesn’t find it, he gets closer to her still.
A small, wet cough sounds in the distance behind them, and Rooster pulls away from her as if he’s touched fire.
“Papa, I threw up.”
Frankie’s raw, fragile voice shatters the tension as if it were glass. Her Moana nightgown is covered in pink vomit, almost as if someone had thrown a full bottle of pepto bismol at her.
Rooster's transition into dad mode is seamless as he bends down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Oh, sweetheart. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”
His sympathetic gaze travels to Scout’s. “Do you mind getting her into the tub while I change her bed?”
Scout shakes her head. “Not at all,” She walks over to where Frankie stands and takes hold of her small, clammy hand. “Come on, Frankie. I know just what to do to help you feel better.”
Once in the bathroom, Scout helps Frankie rid herself of her soiled nightgown and gets her into the warm, bubble-filled bath. She watches the little girl carefully, searching for any sign that she may be sick again. “How’s your tummy doing, Frank?” She asks.
Frankie settles back into the lavender suds and sighs. “It’s much better now, Scout. I think I ate too much bubblegum ice cream before bed.”
Scout lets out a small, relieved laugh. “I’d say so.”
They’re quiet a moment before Frankie asks why Scout’s at their house so late.
Scout shrugs. “I missed you guys.” And it’s god’s honest truth.
This answer seems to satiate her because all she says in response is, “We missed you too, Scout.”
By the time she’s finished getting her cleaned up, Frankie’s eyes have started closing on their own volition. Scout manages to get her out of the tub, dried off and into fresh pajamas before she’s comatose. Rooster tucks his girl in, and they’re about to leave before Frankie’s tiny, mouse-like voice rings out into the humid air before them. “Please stay, Scout.”
“Of course I will, Frankie.” She squeezes Rooster’s hand, knowing that as soon as the little girl is asleep, she’ll find her way to his room.
“Goodnight, Papa.”
Rooster smiles. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”
“Alright, scooch over kid,” Scout whispers, climbing into bed next to her. Frankie’s head fits perfectly into the rounded nook of her shoulder blade, and the notion of it causes a happy tear to gather in the corner of her eye.
“Will you tell me a story Scout?”
She realizes now that the chances of ever denying Frankie of anything are entirely non-existent. “Anything you want, Frank.”
A persistent banging on the front door downstairs jolts Scout from a surprisingly sound sleep. She waits to see if the noise has roused Rooster yet, and when it doesn't, she peels herself from under Frankie’s impossibly warm body to investigate. Tiptoeing down the stairs, the banging grows ever louder. “I’m coming!” She calls out, somewhat irritated. It can’t be any later than seven o’clock in the morning. With a sigh, she swings open the door to reveal a beautiful, waifish blonde woman on the front porch. They stare at each other expectantly, and the longer Scout looks, the more she realizes how much Frankie resembles this woman.
“Can I help you?” Scout asks.
The woman scoffs. She’s about to answer when Frankie’s girlish squeal reveals her identity.
“Mommy!”
Scout doesn’t have time to register this information before the woman pushes past her to gather Frankie into her tan arms. She peppers the little girl with kisses and then turns to Scout, her expression disgusted.
“I’m Frankie’s mother. I’m taking care of her until Bradley returns from some sort of work thing.”
A mission.
An invisible trapdoor opens beneath Scout and she’s powerless to do anything but tumble right down through it.
Rooster appears from out of nowhere then, his beautiful brown eyes wide with shock and anger. “Sara, we’ve been over this before; you cannot just show up here like this,” His helpless gaze travels to Scout’s. “Scout, I can explain, just please don’t leave.” He pleads.
Scout’s mouth is void of any moisture; she couldn’t bring herself to say much even if she wanted to. She grabs the car keys next to Rooster’s and turns to Frankie, and all she can manage is, “You feel better today, Frank?”
The little girl nods her head, with tears swimming in her eyes.
Scout swallows back her own tears. “That’s good. Remember to tell Papa to keep on top of your medicine if your tummy starts hurting again, okay?”
Frankie nods and reaches both arms out for Scout to take her. Scout shakes her head, clears her throat and kisses her goodbye.
She doesn’t allow her tears to fall the way they need to until she’s put as much distance between herself and Rooster Bradshaw as possible.
#oh rooster#rooster bradshaw#rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley 'rooster' bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#tgm#rooster bradshaw x oc#rooster bradshaw fluff#into gold#writing#miles teller#tw: vomit
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Spooky Nights - 24 Hour Fears! (2022)
A Halloween Special! Only one of the most important nights in horror, how could I not! I’m taking this into a more comedic and lighthearted way, making this as fun as possible for you!
I know I've skipped 2 whole years with this but I think from now on I'm going to try to keep up with All the major holidays from here on out!
Have a Happy & Spooky Halloween kiddos!
Jason
His Fear: Small Rodents
How Its Handled: You're saying you want to witness the absolute most gut wrenching and haywire seen with a deadman and a bunch of rodents trapped in the same room for 24 hours? It looks like a cartoon tornado with machetes, arms, and small furry legs sticking out of the sides. Jason is the elephant to their mice and he's going to be climbing up walls to get away from them the entire night. Notice how you haven't seen a single squirrel in his forrest 🤔
Does He Survive: It's a close call, check his pulse- oh... wait.
Michael
His Fear: His food touching
How Its Handled: The small metallic trays. The silent lunchrooms. The monitors. The cold cafeteria floors. The slop of food on his tray, that was the only thing the ward ever did right; section his food. Who knows what would have happened to the lunch ladies if they but his green beans on his mashed potatoes. You're going to need the heaviest restraints you have when you serve his food looking like one single clump of grease on that plate. Get him a god damn stack of ZooPals
Does He Survive: Absolutely, but whoever's serving him doesn't
Freddy
His Fear: Astral Projection
How Its Handled: What's worse than him seeing what you're dreaming about? Seeing that you're the only controlling it. You sick fucks dream of the most god awful things he's ever seen he feels the need to take vacations from the sights he's seen. You're able to almost stand toe to toe with him when he attempts to terrorize him. Power addict much?
Does He Survive: He'll be fine, he'll suck it up but god does it tire him to sit and watch you guys make out with fictional men and kill your family members.
Thomas
His Fear: Bugs, but mainly the roaches.
How Its Handled: Much like Jason, he's the elephant and the roaches are the mice. Tommy just about has the worst breakdown he's ever had stuck in the barn full of roaches on the rotten meat. Normally he's alright with a few here and there on the meat he's getting rid of but more than 3? Absolutely not. He looks like he's breaking it down on the dance floor with all the swatting and stepping he's doing. You should hear the crunches.
Does He Survive: He think he's dead and gone
Billy & Stu
Their Fear: Their sexuality
How Its Handled: Billy's toxic masculinity will catch up with him eventually, this challenge is just like spending a whole day with Stu and Stu only and for Stu just spending it with Billy. These two are a walking contradiction that share two brain cells every other day and don't realize that they radiate the same energy. Billy is constantly suppressing his thoughts and that's why he's a killer. Angry closeted cis white men are a dangerous force let alone TWO OF THEM WHO JUST NEED TO MAKE OUT ALREADY
Does He Survive: Just wait until Billy finds out he's in the closet with you all
Norman
His Fear: Loud Noises
How Its Handled: Norman is a chihuahua on the Fourth of July: shaking with no thoughts and crying. You should seen him every New Years shut away in his house with the entire room blacked out and everything you can imagine on and running to drown out any noise. Having to sit and just listen to balloons popping and alarms is going to make him crawl up in the fetal positions covering his ears and screaming to drown it out
Does He Survive: Let him pop some Paxil and he'll survive
Hannibal
His Fear: Germaphobe warning!!
How Its Handled: You want to see a man scrubbing his skin off and bleaching away his own senses in an endless loop? It's like watching a man on the verge of life or death if he doesn't make a room spotless (that's actually exactly what this is). This is the most unprofessional you will ever see him and probably the only time you will ever see him sweat bullets. He doesn't even get this nervous when someones onto him about his... diet.
Does He Survive: Hannibal? Yes. His Fingertips? No
Bo
His Fear: Rejection
How Its Handled: Bo needs to get laid and he thinks he's entitled to it. You put him in a room full of people and NO ONE wants to get with him? Bo no longer has an ego and will make it known with his salty little 'tude. God forbid he thinks it may have something to do with his personality or the way he speaks to and about people, no no no it's all you guys are you suck.
Does He Survive: He throws a little fit, but ignore him and he'll get up eventually
Vincent
His Fear: Cats
How Its Handled: They're fine from a distance far far away from Ambrose. Vincent would absolutely be a cat and a kitten person if he wasn't slightly allergic and they weren't filled with spite. Watching those demons get hair everywhere and lie all over his sketches and get cat hair in every single thing he has ever made? He's mortified
Does He Survive: He's puffy, but he lives to see another day.
Lester
His Fear: Chainmail
How Its Handled: It's like that one episode of Spongebob where Patrick's being told to "Get outta town!" and he thinks someone is going to show up to his shack and murder him. He doesn't even have a phone but you send him a bunch of mail directly and a bunch of emails to the family computer and get Bo to convince him that these are real and he'll be on the look out for the man that's supposed to show up at the foot of his bed tonight.
Does He Survive: He will, but he'll be on edge for a year until he's certain they won't be able to find him if he's constantly moving
Brahms
His Fear: Vegetables
How Its Handled: Be deadass with me and tell me he wouldn't throw a complete fucking tantrum if you but a few pieces of broccoli with his dinner and made him eat it. This is a man child who will never in the life of him eat something green that isn't candy or maybe even a drink. Brahms has the nose of a hound dog so don't think you can even slip something into his food without him knowing and calling you a dirty liar and traitor
Does He Survive: You might not having to pick him up off of the floor after his countless meltdowns
Asa
His Fear: Dairy
How Its Handled: ow tummy hurty ploorp oh god plffft brrrrmpt oh no pfft sploosh grrgle
Does He Survive: It burns
Pyramid Head
His Fear: Pregnant women
How Its Handled: It grosses him out and he's not scared of anything in this entire world besides the wrath of a pregnant woman and will do anything to stay out of their way. He can small the little shit in there and the pheromones radiating out of yall. What's worse, Pyramid Head himself or a pre-school on a week day? He knows what his answer is.
Does He Survive: Financially? Not if it's his
Pinhead
His Fear: Hand sanitizer/Rubbing alcohol
How Its Handled: At first it's pretty good, kinda smells good and makes his skin kinda glossy, it's great. But then... it goes into his eyes and bit and into his silly little pinholes. The first sting catches him off guard but it's nice, he thinks. Then it burns and burns and burn and it keeps burning. His impulses has finally gotten to the best of him when he's on the ground suffering from too much pleasure and as stiff as a board, overstimulated to the max as it takes 30 entire minutes to just dry the first coat.
Does He Survive: Not an enjoyable experience at all, at least not for a whole 24 hours
#jason voorhees x reader#friday the 13th#michael myers x reader#halloween#freddy krueger x reader#nightmare on elm street#thomas hewitt x reader#leathreface x reader#texas chainsaw massacre#bill yloomis x reader#stu macher x reader#ghostface x reader#scream#norman bates x reader#hannibal x reader#bo sinclair x reader#vincent sinclair x reader#lester sinclair x reader#house of wax#slasher x reader#brahms heelshire x reader#the boy#asa emory x reader#the collector x reader#the collection#pyramid head x reader#silent hill#pinhead x reader#hellraiser
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candy -> kim jiwoo ver
aka the fluff alphabet
admiration (what does she absolutely adore about you)- you’re childish, like her! she loves that you feel so close to her :(( you’re two kiddos in love i don’t make the rules
body (what’s her favourite body part of yours)- see that pout on the pic above? that’s the face she makes when you don’t let her squish your cheeks >:( don’t resist it
cuddling (how she likes to cuddle)- a very specific position, jiwoo likes your head on her chest while she’s on her back <33 she can hog you tightly and you’re legally not allowed to complain
dates (what’s her ideal date)- pls take her to build-a-bear :(( YOU CAN GET MATCHING ONES OMG CNDNDSBB jiwoo will make sure you have a collection of stuffies from every date ever
emotions (how does she express her emotions around you)- very open bby <3 she’s young but like understands exactly why communication in relationship is important
family (does she want one)- she was born last month i don’t think y’all be planning family
holding hands (does she like to hold hands)- yes 🤭🤭🤭 also swinging them as you walk? me thinks yes 🫶🫶🫶
injuries (what would she do if you got hurt)- call one of her unnies or the hospital. her emergency contact is haewon and if something minor happens, like you cutting your knee on a glass piece while on a will, jiwoo calls the leader. if you broke your leg she’s riding with you the ambulance 🛣️
jokes (does she like to joke around)- yes, you’re both very goofy. i feel like jiwoo is the type to start prank wars with you 😭😭 beware, she’s good at coming up with new ones
kisses (how does she like to kiss you)- she’s a baby and gives you the softest cheek kisses. THEY NEED TO BE VERY LOUD THO. when she gives you a smooch during the practice, bae throws you two a disgusted look, as she could hear it from the other side of the room
love (what’s her love language)- the prank wars i mentioned? jiwoo likes to joke with you, that’s her love language. you have so many inside jokes it’s hard to keep up
memory (what’s her favourite memory together)- your first date- arcade. she won you a plushie and she will spend the rest of her life bragging about it (she won’t mention the part about how many tries it took her tho)
nighttime (how does sleeping with her look like)- similar to cuddling honestly. but she’s the big spoon 🐢 she wants to hog you, awake or asleep
oddity (what’s a quirky thing about her)- i’m sorry, everything about jiwoo is a bit odd 🥲 i’m a good way ofc. her obsession with your cheeks is a bit weird, but say something and i’ll break your legs
pet names (what does she like to call you)- baby, bear, my love, you name it. jiwoo likes the classics but won’t mind if you call her something different
quality time (how does she like to spend time with you)- she sits you down with her and you both once again go over every single plushie she owns, what’s their name (and why), when they were ‘born’ and where is it from!
rush (does she rush into things)- yes 👹 you want kids? ok, bear plushie or frog plushie? house? 🤨 which legos? jiwoo does rush into things, but she rarely takes them seriously
secrets (how open is she with you)- you don’t have secrets, you have TEA. all the juicy things about jiwoo’s members 😼
time (how long did it take for her to confess)- two weeks maybe? she met you, was starstrucked, wanted to go on a date with you. it would actually take no time only if she didn’t spend the two weeks on planning out the actual first date
upset (what’s her reaction when you’re upset)- pouts with you and gives your cheek a loving smooch. that’s if she wasn’t the cause of your sadness but spoiler alert, she never is 🫶
visibility (is she afraid of the public opinion)- she isn’t afraid of what people’s say, but rather how it would affect your relationship. of course you both would push through anything, but still, things could be tough
warrior (how often do you fight)- y’all are kids, the worst fight you had was when you and jiwoo argued who would be the father and the mother of the new plushie. no other fights
x-ray (is she able to read you)- she’s great at that 🤭 emotion wise, craving wise. jiwoo is smart 🫡 and does her very best for you 🫶🫶
yes (how would she propose to you)- she is FIVE no marriage for any of you 🤨 go watch gabby’s dollhouse or smth
zen (what makes her feel calm)- jiwoo’s stressed? hand my girl your hand pls :( she’ll be happy with that! the little touch really makes her calm
part of [the fluff series]
#haewon#nmixx imagines#nmixx x reader#bae#jiwoo#lily morrow#jinni#kyujin#sullyoon#kim jiwoo#kim jiwoo x reader#jiwoo x reader#nmixx
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Very Normal, Totally Regular Human Intern
For: @oriocookie
Written for @friendly-neighborhood-exchange
Summary:
Peter being Peter, he insisted he came along.
“I’ll be like a… like an emotional support dog!”
And Tony being Tony couldn’t say no to those puppy eyes. The kid was just good like that. Always offering to help.
“All right. But keep your head down, you hear me? I’m merely taking my very normal, totally regular human intern for a joyride, not Spider-Man.”
~~
Rogers and his merry band are granted a parole they are to serve at the Compound. Tony made Peter promise to keep his powers hidden, but when he wakes up kidnapped along with the kid and the Rogues, it takes Peter about ten minutes to break the whole totally regular human intern façade.
Word count: 5262
Ao3 link
Consciousness came slowly to Tony. It felt like he was trying to swim up to the surface of a deep pool, except the water was replaced by tar. But he was getting somewhere. The muffled sounds became clearer, turning into human voices. The closer to the surface he was, the more he could distinguish. Several men’s voices, one feminine, and one that was very familiar. Young.
Huh. Who was it?
Tony swam higher to get to the answer.
“I mean, I don’t have to talk to you. I take stranger danger kind of seriously, you know?”
Ah. What a bold lie. He knew exactly who that was.
“I have the right to remain silent.”
“Then by all means feel free to do so,” Tony murmured against the hard cement floor, tongue feeling like a sandpaper. God, his head hurt.
“Mr. Stark!”
Tony grimaced. “Yeah, not helping, kiddo.”
“Oh,” Peter said, lowering his voice, “sorry.”
Still, the relief in Peter’s (loud) cry set Tony on the edge. Something smooth and steely hit his face when he moved to rub the foggy feeling from his face. With more effort that it should take, he opened his eyes, only to be met with… something that began to ring alarm bells.
Firstly, the steely thing that hit his face was actually some pair of thick cuffs connecting him to the ground with a short chain. Secondly, there was Peter looking at him from across the circular room with low ceiling, his hands disappearing behind a thick pipe. And the third thing…
The kid was sitting between Black Widow and Winter Soldier, who were chained in the same manner as Tony. If it wasn’t for the fact that both of them were out of the kid’s reach and Barnes’ metal arm being nowhere in sight, Tony would’ve gone into a cardiac arrest there and then. He’d never thought he would be happy about some chains.
“Nice of you to finally join us.”
Next to Natasha sat Barton, who by the looks of it would be no help either. Beside the two of them, the left side of the room was empty, except for the door. Tony went to inspect the right side of the room, skipping Barnes altogether. Next to the Manchurian candidate was Wilson, and next to him—
“Oh come on,” he groaned.
It was Steve’s turn to grimace. “Tony,” he greeted awkwardly.
“Alright, not to be a… Karen?...” he glanced at Peter, wondering if he used the slang correctly, “but I want to speak to the manager of this – what I assume is – kidnapping. I want a different chainmate.”
Unbelievable. Just unbelievable. He, Peter, four Rogue Avengers and one ex-Hydra assassin – all a bit worse for wear – were trapped in some concrete room, and after the whole publicized fiasco, someone had the gall to put the two of them next to each other.
Pettiness aside, it was time to figure out how they got here.
The Rogue Avengers were granted a parole, and if they manage to uphold it, the parole will turn into a full pardon. In order for that to happen, they needed the place to stay. Since Tony wasn’t known for making the best decisions most of the time, he offered the Compound.
So far the memories tracked.
One of the conditions was no weapons, so Tony had all their ‘dangerous’ stuff loaded on a Quinjet and went to meet them halfway. There they would switch planes. Weapons out, Avengers in.
Peter being Peter, he insisted he came along.
“I’ll be like a… like an emotional support dog!”
And Tony being Tony couldn’t say no to those puppy eyes. The kid was just good like that. Always offering to help.
“All right. But keep your head down, you hear me? I’m merely taking my very normal, totally regular human intern for a joyride, not Spider-Man.”
“Regular human, got it!”
The memories got hazy after that.
“Hey, kid, did we make it to the meeting point?” Tony asked.
Peter’s eyes quickly went over the room, then shook his head. “We were about ten minutes out I think when the Quinjet started to go down. The controls weren’t working so we strapped in, but we still bonked our heads pretty hard. Everything was fuzzy and you weren’t reacting,” he swallowed around the world, “then some people showed up and… I don’t remember anything after that.”
Ah. That would explain the bump and some flaked skin on the kid’s forehead. And if Peter looked like that, Tony had to look way worse. He definitely felt like it. A concussion, most likely. How he wished for the kid’s ability to bounce back from concussions like it was nothing.
“That’s how they got our plane too,” Barton said.
“How long have we been here?” Tony – reluctantly – looked at Steve, who then looked at Natasha, who looked at Peter, who pressed his mouth into a thin line and shrugged. “So you woke up first, huh, buddy?”
God, he must’ve been terrified. Waking up injured in some dungeon surrounded by lifeless bodies of the Earth’s mightiest heroes.
“Tony, who is this?” Steve asked.
“None of your business,” Tony snapped defensively, followed by hissing through another painful wave.
“I’m Mr. Stark’s intern. Totally very normal human intern.”
Yeah, a bit on the noose there, kid.
They had to get out of this place, if only for the fact that Peter’s presence started raising questions Tony forgot his previously prepared answers to. “Rhodey had to notice the plane went down. I bet he already got Happy on the case and sent out a rescue party.”
But who would come to save them? Rhodey was still in no condition to operate the suit, most of his former teammates were here, his Iron Legion wasn’t in fully operational condition yet after the move, and Vision was who-knows-where with Wanda. Essentially, there was no one capable of springing them out besides maybe King T’Challa… who was on a different continent.
Damn it.
“We might as well start to think of a plan in the meantime,” Wilson proposed in an attempt to sugar-coat the bitter reality. He wasn’t the only one to realize the rescue wouldn’t be coming any time soon.
The few ideas they came up with were mostly ruled out to be useless or relied on the kidnappers to reveal themselves – there had to be an opening when they are taken to the bathroom or for interrogation or something. Breaking out using brute force was out of question. Whatever they were shackled with, it was enough to contain Captain America, one of the strongest people on the planet.
If Tony were to guess, they found the stolen vibranium from Wakanda.
None of them could break free. None except Peter. The zip ties he was tied up with were sticking out like a sore thumb.
There were seven of them in the room, but only six of them were chained to the ground. It appeared that their kidnappers, no matter how ready, didn’t account for Peter’s presence on the plane. He couldn’t blame them, really. Peter wasn’t supposed to be on board in the first place.
Tony should consider themselves lucky. After all, the kidnappers could’ve dealt with the unexpected cargo… differently.
It didn’t take Peter that long to notice the looks sent his way. “I could—”
“No,” Tony stated firmly.
“But Mr. Stark—”
“No buts, Peter. I said no.” Regular human, remember? he tried to say with his eyes.
“Kid, even if you wanted to, you won’t be able to get out of those,” Barnes rasped, keeping his eyes on the floor. “Those are some type of heavy duty zip ties. They have tensile strength of about 300 pounds. Nothing like the zip ties you might’ve seen.”
Yeesh, even if the baddies didn’t know about Peter’s powers, it felt like an overkill.
Tony could see the cogs turning in Peter’s head. He knew that look too well. “Kid, don’t,” Tony warned. Regular human, regular human—
Peter’s expression turned apologetic before turning into steely determination. He tensed his muscles, took a deep breath and snap. His arms were spread out, one plastic ring still wrapped tightly around his wrist, the other one dangling from his sleeve.
“Didn’t you say those things can hold 300 pounds?” Wilson whispered loudly to Barnes. “You had to lie, man. No way that bean string ripped something like that with no effort.”
“No, no,” the kid said as he tossed the ties to the ground, “I’d say these were only around 200 pounds in tensile strength.” He gave no one the time to ponder or ask questions further. He jogged to the door, followed by a chorus of panicked “no, no, no”s and “what are you doing”s, but instead of grabbing the handle and recklessly throwing himself into the hallway, Peter dropped to his knees and pressed his hands and ear against it.
“Son, what are you—”
“Shh!”
“Now hold on for a—”
“Shh!”
Wow. Tony never thought he would see Captain America being shushed by a highschooler. And that it would actually work.
Seconds passed until Peter squirmed and sheepishly turned to Clint. “Uh, Mr. Barton, your heart is beating kinda loud,” he addressed the man. “Can you maybe… do something about it?”
The archer looked at loss of words. “Wh- no! Because why do I have a feeling you’re about to something dangerous?”
Oh yeah, Peter was about the same age as one of Barton’s smaller agents if Tony remembered correctly. It was understandable the kid’s presence would pull at his dad strings.
“It’ll only be dangerous if I can’t hear properly.”
Clint’s mouth opened and closed several times, swallowing whatever retort was on his tongue. He exhaled loudly through his nose – letting everyone know he didn’t agree with anything – then quietly inhaled. Satisfied, Peter closed his eyes again and resumed his previous position.
It might’ve been only a minute of the soul-crushing silence, but to Tony it seemed like an eternity.
“All rooms and hallways near here are empty,” Peter said, finally breaking the silence. “I don’t hear any electronics, so it’s safe to assume there’s no surveillance.”
And there it was. That Peter’s trademark look screaming I’m about to do something you can’t talk me out of it.
“I’m going out.”
That statement alone was enough to elicit a wave of protests from the others.
“There’s a 50-50 chance you’ll get killed, don’t be stupid,” Natasha said
“50-50? Are you kidding me?” Peter exclaimed, and for a moment, Tony was thanking whatever deity currently in charge that the kid saw reason. It didn’t last. “Those are the best odds I’ve had in years!”
“Kid, you’ve done enough,” Sam said. “We can figure out something different.”
Peter huffed. “I can’t just go sit back down and wait. What do you think will happen when whoever took us appears and sees me unrestrained?”
He had a point. Heavens, Tony knew he had a point, but that didn’t make it any better. He clenched his jaw.
The door opened, and Tony wanted to smack his forehead. Vibranium cuffs or not, one should not simply leave the cell door unlocked.
“I’ll be right back,” Peter whispered.
“Wait!”
The kid stopped halfway through the door, looking at Tony expectantly. There really was no stopping him, huh?
Well, so much for regular human.
“Stay out of trouble, okay?” The rest of his former teammates’ head snapped towards him, disbelief and outrage visible clear as a day. “Don’t engage with anyone. Just… just try to find a key to these, yeah?” he said, lifting the cuffs a bit.
Some of the tension bled from Peter’s face. “Okay,” he said, and just like that, he was gone.
For the third time in a short span of Tony’s regained consciousness, the room was plunged into deathly silence. In his humble opinion, it was getting old.
At least he could enjoy some peace and let it work its magic on his head.
“What the hell, man?!” Clint cried out.
Or not.
“How can you be comfortable with sending him—"
“Stop!” Tony cut him off. “He was going to do it anyway. The least I could do was tell him to stay safe. Christ,” wincing, he pressed his hands into his eyes to battle the pressure behind them.
This wasn’t Tony’s first rodeo when it came to kidnappings, but it’s different this time around. He couldn’t defend himself, nor fight back. No box of scraps to aid him with escaping. And with Peter here – hurt, no doubt scared but still incredibly brave – it was worse.
Yinsen was an adult and he still didn’t make it. What chance did a kid—
No. Tony won’t let his imagination go there.
“He didn’t say anything about your heart,” Steve told Tony.
“Come again?”
“He asked Clint to do something about his heartbeat but yours was beating louder.”
“Oh, that. Yeah, the kid is causing me heart attacks on a regular basis, so I guess the sound of my heart wanting to give up on itself is like a background noise to him by now.”
“When did you even get yourself a kid anyway?” Barton asked.
“Ah, you see, after our little skirmish in Germany, I was taking a nice night stroll around a lake. The stars were shining brightly, the moonlight was shimmering on the surface… I found him in a nearby trashcan and he stuck to me since.”
Instead of laughs and ‘oh, you’re so hilarious Tony’, he was rewarded by unamused looks. And for what? It wasn’t like he was pulling everything out of his ass!
The lake incident happened after Germany, it was nighttime when he had a suit to fish Peter out of the water, though the trashcan was a whole separate incident that might or might not involve an alien substance that made them stick together for several hours.
Natasha stretched her legs in front of her. “Do you think he can make it?”
“You don’t know my kid at all, Romanov,” Tony frowned, tone indicating a firm finality.
Approximately ten minutes later the door opened again, revealing Tony’s panting mentee. A single glance at him betrayed that something was wrong. Peter’s eyes were blown wide, clutching something wrapped in a blanket to his chest. From Tony’s position, it looked like a baby.
Please, don’t let it be an actual baby.
In a heartbeat, Peter chucked the bundle to the side and ran towards his mentor. The bundle made a loud, metallic clang as it hit the ground.
Okay, not a baby. Phew.
“We have to leave. Now!” Peter said, kneeling in front of Tony, examining the cuffs. The lack of key in the kid’s hands didn’t escape him.
“Why? Did anyone see you?”
“No! No, but… uhh… well, I might have been forced to clock someone in the face and hide him in the closet—” oh dear lord “—but Mr. Stark, do you remember that one politician that was demanding to give your suit to the military shortly after you became Iron Man?”
Senator Stern. Your everyday corrupt politician. The man swearing at him on national television was one of Tony’s fondest memories of him, second only to seeing him being escorted by feds for collaborating with Hydra.
“Yeah?”
“Well,” the kid continued, not taking his eyes off the sleek metal, “currently, there are several people elbows-deep into one of your older suits. They stole everything on your Quinjet.” He tugged at the chains. “Vibranium, right?”
Shit. Them being here was bad enough, but their kidnappers taking apart everything that was on the plane made everything worse. If they figured out how the suit worked and learned how to replicate it… Tony couldn’t afford to let any more dangerous weapons appear on the black market.
Shaken, Tony nodded.
“Okay,” Peter said and got ahold the left cuff. “Okay. Here goes nothing.”
“Son, Tony told you those are vibranium,” Rogers said. “You might’ve gotten out of the zip ties but—"
The metal creaked, bending ever so slowly.
“What the shit?”
“Language!” everyone absent-mindedly said in union, too focused on the teen.
Peter adjusted his grip, hooking his fingers around the inside and kept pulling until there was enough space for Tony to pull out his hand. Peter smiled and made a quick work with the other cuff.
Tony looked between the bent metal lying on the floor and the kid kneeling next to it. “Do you practice bending one of the strongest materials on the planet in your free time?” he muttered.
“The warehouse… took… more effort… to lift…” Peter said between the pants.
“The what?”
“Nothing!”
“What do you mean nothing? Peter, what warehouse—"
The kid – pointedly ignoring him – stood up, looking around the room, biting his lip. He then spun on his heel, kneeled over the bundle and picked up a metal arm from it. Left arm…
Oh no.
To Tony’s horror, Peter was heading right towards Barnes. “Need a hand?”
The man in question was looking at the kid – his kid, Tony couldn’t lose him too – with a mix of shock and surprise and juts a smidge of dumbfoundedness.
“This is vibranium too, right?” A nod. “So you should be able to bend the cuffs with it too, right? Can it cancel out? Like when we fire nukes at nukes so there won’t be any nukes, yeah? No?”
“You ramble a lot under stress, don’t you?”
“…sorry.”
Tony wanted to scream, wanted to move, wanted to throw himself at Peter and drag him away before he could free the man that killed his parents, but he couldn’t. It felt like the discarded chain at his feet coiled around his whole body, pinning him to the ground. Frozen and unable to move like in that bunker. The walls around him shifted, and for a moment, he was back there, on his back, unable to move and with coldness seeping into his aching bones—
“There.”
Too late.
Tony blinked, and the Siberian bunker dissolved. Instead, there was Peter, holding out the arm to Barnes like he didn’t use to be one of the most dangerous people in the world. Though, there was something else. The way he didn’t look Peter right in the eyes, the way he sat hunched in on himself, slightly leaning backwards.
It was almost like he was shying away from the kid's touch.
Suddenly, Peter’s breath hitched, shoulders tense. He threw himself at the door, listening for something none of them could hear. “We have to hurry,” he said and went to free Barton with a renewed vigor.
Barnes circled his arm, something mechanic in his shoulder clicking, and began to work on Wilson’s restrains. It was taking him longer than Peter, but it was better than leaving all work to him.
Barton rubbed his now-freed wrists, looking in bewilderment at Peter, whose focus was now on Natasha. “Damn, Tony, what are you feeding him?”
“Pizza. Lots of pizza.”
“He lets me pick any topping I want!” the kid beamed, his smile tight under the strain.
“Yeah, and you choose to commit several violations against Geneva convention with some of those combinations.”
Once everyone was free, Peter spread the blanket out, revealing the rest of his haul. The Rogues huddled themselves around him curiously. It wasn’t much. Still, it was better than nothing. Several widow bites, Tony’s gauntlet watch, a stun gun, some electric baton he wasn’t sure was theirs and several throwing knives.
“I would’ve gotten more but there were people in the next room. I’m sorry.”
Tony put his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Don’t apologize. You did as you were told.” Partially.
Everyone who could took their own gear, which was only Tony and Natasha. Wilson took the gun, Steve the baton, and Clint and Barnes shared the knives. Peter remained unarmed.
Tony couldn’t decide whether it was a blessing or curse he forbade the kid from taking his webshooters before they left. On one hand, he had nothing to defend himself with. On the other hand, his secret identity remained secret.
Well, more or less, since there were bound to be questions about his super hearing and the ability to bend a freaking vibranium.
Until then, Tony will protect the kid with his own body if necessary.
The two of them were in the front, with Peter leading the group and Natasha at Peter’s side to provide support should anyone get past Peter’s senses. The rest covered their backs.
“How many people did you hear?” she whispered.
“About fifteen, but there could be more. Six were in the room with Mr. Stark’s armor. The rest was scattered nearby.”
Fifteen confirmed baddies against six avengers, one ex assassin and an enhanced teenager. Not too bad odds, compared to New York or Sokovia. And if they managed to get to their stuff, Tony will like those odds even more.
Both the storage and the adjoined room were empty. “On a lunchbreak, huh?” Tony peeked in through a small window and nearly burst into tears. “Barbarians. Look what they did to my baby!”
Sam, now equipped with his wings, peeked in as well. “Don’t be such a drama queen – isn’t it supposed to be an old model? And besides, you can always fix it, no?”
“It’s about the principle!”
Peter wedged his way through into the other room. He sat behind the nearest computer, fingers immediately dancing across the keyboard without a pause.
Tony glanced at the monitor, trying to make sense of the string of letters and numbers being typed into the search engine. “What are you doing?”
“Making myself useful,” Peter replied. “I honestly never thought I would ever use that code.”
Code? What co—
Ooh.
After some reflection on all the mishaps and sticky situations, Tony had tailored a special emergency code for each person he held dear. He had them memorize it. They called him paranoid. Now look how handy it came. All the person needed was a device with internet access. Once the kid hit Enter, Friday would alert anyone available to come and help.
He couldn’t wait for the bragging rights he was about to get.
“Done!”
“Great job, kid,” Tony smiled softly and ruffled Peter’s hair.
“How long until the help arrives?” Cap asked.
“Depends on where we are. Friday can pinpoint our exact location almost immediately. She can’t exactly make people get here faster. As advanced she is, she doesn’t have the ability to teleport.”
“That would be cool, though,” Peter chimed.
“Yeah, I guess that would be pretty cool.” Huh. Would making that be possible? “I guess I know what we’re going to try when we get back home.”
“Okay, teleporting AI aside,” Clint jumped in, “do we wait for the rescue party here or do we sneak our way out?”
The question was answered by the other door being opened; a man dressed in all black (how original) walked in with a steaming mug in hand. He was out as fast as he appeared, dropping the mug in the process.
“Neither,” Natasha said as she loaded her pistol, a smirk on her face betraying her excitement for revenge. “We’re fighting our way out of here.”
Steve raised his shield in front of him. “Let’s go before the—”
The lights turned red, a shrill sound blaring all around them.
“—alarm sounds.”
Tony leaned close to Peter, whispering. “Stay close. Best not to draw more attention to yourself, okay?”
“’kay.”
Based on the lack of windows, the base was underground. So, up it was.
They managed to make it up a single flight of stairs before a small canister landed at their feet and everything fell into chaos. The canister exploded in an onslaught of light and noise rendering Tony’s progress regarding the concussion useless. Everything turned dark.
Tony came to someone patting his cheek and his ears ringing.
There was no sign of the Rogues. As his eyes were struggling to focus, all he saw was a black blur here, blue one there, and the sound of someone fighting over there.
The biggest blur hovering over him moved. “Come on, come on.” He was being pulled to his feet, his arm slung over narrow shoulders. “Let’s go, Mr. Stark! We can’t stay here.”
Tony’s legs wouldn’t budge. No matter how much he tried, they simply refused to support his own weight.
Useless.
He was useless.
“You’re not useless, Mr. Stark.”
“Watch your back! The rooms are all connected!” someone shouted a warning.
Peter looked into the room they were passing by to determine if any hidden danger lurked in there, missing the two that were barreling straight towards them. Despite it probably not being the greatest idea, Tony lifted the whining gauntlet and tried to aim. “Pete, watch out!”
Could he hit the goons without risking injuring anyone else?
A third figure sprinted out from one of the rooms, shoulder-length hair flying everywhere. Barnes headed right towards them. He slammed into the attackers with his full body, sending all three of them plummeting down the stairs.
“Get to safety!” he shouted.
Today’s been one hell of a twist after the other, Tony’s mind supplied. But he could ponder about it more after they made it back home, not down the hallway.
Another man holding some sort of weapon with thick cylinder turned the corner, immediately stopping once he spotted them. “You,” he hissed. If the dark spot on his chin was anything to go by, it was safe to make an educated guess about what drew the man’s hostility.
“In my defense,” the kid replied, “it was a defense. You guys attacked us first.” A tiny smirk played on his lips. “Besides, you kinda deserved it, Mr. Criminal.”
Mr. Criminal’s face contorted with rage before changing it into a sick satisfaction. “I’m gonna enjoy this.” He aimed his weapon, finger on the trigger.
Peter shifted on his feet, ready to pounce.
All of a sudden there’s Steve, striking like a snake with his shield at the weapon. The man reeled back as his arm was yanked to the side. The weapon went off followed by an explosion.
Ah. A grenade launcher.
Tony went over the weapon’s design. Based on the shape of the cylinder, it was able to hold six rounds. Now only five.
To the goon’s credit, he regained his bearings quickly, switching back to offensive. He fired two grenades in succession. Steve deflected both of them. Three grenades remained.
“Fine,” the man huffed, “time for plan B.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small injection, a vial filled with a pale orange liquid attached to it. He took the cap off with his teeth and promptly stabbed himself in the arm. A shudder ran over his body, his back arching. When the spasm passed, he fell back into a relaxed position, pupils blown wide and a predatory smile showing all his teeth.
Peter took in a shaky breath, his body moving in a way that reminded Tony of a frightened cat. Did his Peter-tingle go off?
“That’s more like it,” the goon growled. He took of running towards Steve, swinging. “Show me what you’ve got!”
The two of them were moving too fast for Tony to keep up. He chanced a glanced at the kid. His eyes were darting around; he kept track of every move. “Don’t worry, Pete,” Tony said. “Cap can handle it, trust me.”
Another grenade got launched, hitting the inside of Steve’s shield, leaving the man wide open. The kidnapper reached to the back of his belt, pulling out a knife.
Peter sprung to his feet. “No, he can’t!”
The knife was fast approaching towards Roger’s neck. He wouldn’t be able to dodge that. And by the looks of it, he realized it too.
That’s when Peter jumped in.
Literally.
The kid flipped over the man’s left shoulder, swinging his full weight at the right arm wielding the knife like it was a trapeze, flipping the left-wide-open scenario. However, it wasn’t enough to flip the scales. The goon spun around, smacking Peter into Steve’s shield, pressing the barrel of the launcher into the kid’s stomach.
There were still two rounds left.
Tony’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
In a blink of an eye, the telltale bang of an explosion filled the hallway, hiding the three of them behind a smoke screen. The place where they stood was occupied by dust and rubble raining down from the damaged ceiling. The grenade-launching maniac was picking himself up about six feet away from it. Steve was rolling down the hallway.
No sign of the shield or Peter.
The kid couldn’t just get… vaporized, could he? Certainly not. Not with the shield too. Then – where was he?
There was a metallic clang followed by a sound like someone got the wind knocked out of their body coming from the adjoined hallway. That had to be Peter, right? Steve had to throw him in there just before the man pulled the trigger.
Tony’s sigh of relief caught an unwanted attention.
The goon advanced towards Tony at a leisure pace. “I liked you all better when you were unconscious. But since we’re already here…” He twirled the knife in his hand, looking at Tony like he’s a prey. “Your turn, Stark.”
“Bite me,” Tony spat back and aimed. His double vision receded enough to give some of the billionaire’s confidence back to him.
He needed one lucky shot.
A cacophony of familiar footsteps was rapidly approaching. If worst came to worst, they could help out; but could he hold his own that long?
No. No lucky shot. That asshole hurt his kid. He was going down!
“Hey!”
The goon turned around, Tony looking past him. There stood Peter, Captain America’s shield in front of him.
“Look at me! I’m the captain now!”
Tony deadpanned.
“You’re annoying,” the goon grumbled. With no hesitation, he aimed the grenade launcher at the kid and fired.
To Tony, time seemed to slow down. Peter’s eyes briefly widened before he raised the shield up. A deafening bang followed, sending Peter soaring through the air backwards.
“Peter!” The scream ripped from Tony’s throat as his mentee’s body hit the ground, the clang of the shield as loud as the explosion to his ears. He wasn’t moving.
Peter wasn’t moving.
In blind rage, Tony aimed his gauntlet and fired four shots at the goon. Two hit him in the chest, the other two into the dark spot left behind by the kid. He hit the wall and crumpled to the floor like a sack of rotten potatoes. Tony paid him no mind as he stepped over his body, stumbling-rushing to his kid.
Peter was sprawled on his back, his grip on the shield limp, weakly smiling up at him. “Good thing… ugh… good thing the bad guys never aim for ze legz,” the chuckle broke into a cough, then a long groan. “Shit, that hurts. Totally worth it though. That was awesome.”
“Are you out of your mind?! You should be glad I won’t ground you until you’re twenty-five!”
Geez, this kid. Tony always felt full of energy when Peter was around, but it were times like these that actively took years off his life span.
Tony slumped down just as the others appeared, putting his palm on Peter’s knee. “Looks like making Friday into a teleporter will have to wait.”
“Yeah,” he winced. “Not a word about this to May?”
“If you promise to keep this to yourself too.”
“Deal.”
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Could I have an emergency request please? I feel like I still have to be nice about it.
Not only is a triple blow, but I’ve relapsed, another time with my eating disorder and had suicidal thoughts from family. It’s just getting so bad and loud again I’m so sorry.
Could I have Reki kyan comforting his s/o with this kind of problem?
Hell yes you can.
I’m pushing this up so far because Reki is such a comfort character and I FEEL EXACTLY AS YOU DO RN.
I’m so damn proud of you for reaching out to me. Please let me know if you need anything at all.
I love you, anon.
CW BELOW THE CUT: ED behaviors, Suic1dal Thoughts.
𝑅𝑒𝑘𝑖 𝐾𝑦𝑎𝑛
Anyone who sees you and Reki together will immediately argue that the two of you are soulmates.
You both fit like peas in a pod, mutually loving and supporting each other no matter the issue. So, when you suddenly distanced yourself from him, Reki was instantly concerned.
His attempts to keep his daily life at bay failed, for he was only worried about you and what was eating you.
Mr. Oka noticed, telling him to take a few days off. So, he hung out at Sia La Luce during the evenings. He met with his friends, mind swimming.
Langa and Miya noticed, asking him if he had been taking care of himself. Shadow noticed, offering to fight whoever Reki needed him to. Finally, Joe and Cherry noticed, the pink-haired male cutting into the thick tension.
“Reki, what could be causing you so much stress?”
“(Y/N).” He answered breathlessly, taking his head through his hands, “They’ve disappeared on me. I haven’t spoken to them in about three days, and I’m just so worried about them I-“
“I saw them yesterday.” Langa interrupted suddenly, “They were at our spot in the park last night. I tried to say hi, but they ignored me. If I’m being honest, they’re probably there again tonight.”
Reki’s eyes widened as he jumped out of his seat, immediately looking to Joe for permission.
“Go, Kiddo. I’ll keep your plate warm.” The man said, wrapping the boy in a jacket.
Reki wasted no time grabbing his own jacket, in the event that you would need one, and raced to the park on his skateboard. To his relief, you were exactly where Langa said you were.
“(Y/N)!” He called, sprinting toward you, “Sweetheart, hey, can you hear me?”
You look up at him, shivering violently with tears in your eyes. Your boyfriend carefully placed the jacket on your shoulders. He sat down on the bench next to you, “I’m here when you’re ready to talk to me, love.”
Instead of talking, you simply fell forward into his chest and let out all of your lamentations. Reki held you securely, rubbing the top of your head with one hand, and holding your waist with another. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you. It’s alright.” He whispered.
Your love held you as you finally were able to cry out all of the pent up troubles. You inevitably stained his signature yellow hoodie, but he couldn’t give two shits right now.
“Reki I-I’m… I’m so sorry,” you whimpered.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Your boyfriend reassured you, “Keeping stuff inside will just tear you apart eventually.”
“I- I don’t.. I don’t know if im ready…” you whisper in reply.
“Then don’t be. I have as long as you need.”
After a few more minutes of quiet reassurance, you were finally ready to tell Reki of your week.
“M-My family…” you began, “They’re uh.. heh, being themselves again.”
“I see.”
“I just don’t really want to be here anymore.” You admit. “I-I hate who I am. I can’t stomach a single thing. Even the thought of eating makes me so sick. You shouldn’t be here, I don’t want you to be burdened with taking care of me.”
“(Y/N), sweetie-pie, there’s no place I’d rather be.” Reki replied with a gentle smile, “If it means that I can get you to acknowledge that how you’re feeling is okay, I’ll stay with you till infinity.”
“I want you to know first and foremost, that I love you to the moon and back. There isn’t a thing about you that I would change, and I hope that one day I can help you see that. You are the most incredible person I’ve ever met, that’s precisely why I’ve fallen so in love with you.”
“I want you here by my side until we’re both old and wrinkly, playing card games in a nursing home.” This comment got a watery chuckle out of you.
“I love you, Reki.” You replied, wiping your tears.
“I love you too, (Y/N). You’re so amazing, and I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. You’re worth so much more than you think you are, and there’s just something about you that makes me love you so much more every time I see you. It will get better, I promise you. We’re not going to be stuck here forever, the clock will continue to run.”
“Now, if you’re feeling up to it, I can ask Joe to make you something very light at Sia La Luce, so you can join us for dinner. If not, you are more than welcome to come home with me. We can watch that one video compilation of the cats that you love so much.”
Regardless of your decision for dinner, you opted to join Reki at Joe’s restaurant. You were very pleased to see everyone, especially after a very enthusiastic hug from little Miya(who promptly let go and muttered insults along the lines of “stupid slime, making me worry”).
It would be a long journey to self love and re-discovery. But, you knew in your heart that if Reki was by your side, there’s nothing that you couldn’t do.
—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————
#sk8 emergency requests#ducky’s emergency requests#sk8 x reader#sk8 the infinity x gender neutral reader#sk8 the infinity x reader#sk8 the infinity#sk8 imagines#sk8 the infinity imagines#sk8 comfort#sk8 the infinity comfort#reki#Reki kyan#kyan reki#Reki x reader#reki kyan x reader#Reki comfort#Reki x reader comfort#Reki kyan imagines#anime#anime imagines#anime x reader#anime comfort#tw ed#cw ed#tw suicide#cw suicide
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That's a no-no word
This is a tickle-related ff, if you are not interested in it, please keep scrolling
Summary: Nefeli (16) curses at her older brothers
Warnings: None
Notes: None
Lots of love Nef 💕
Nefeli has had enough of it. It was the third time this month her brothers wouldn’t take her with them to the park with their friends. She was 16 years old, she was old enough to participate in their conversations and joke around with them.
But no! The three lads wouldn’t take her with them “Sorry kiddo, maybe next time” Jimin smiled sympathetically at her and patted her head as if she was a little kid.
Nefeli frowned and folded her arms over her chest frustrated.
“Jimin! C’mon man, we’ll be late!” Jungkook yelled from the front door with their car keys in hand.
“But that’s not fair!” Nefeli kept whining with frustration well glued on her face “I’m 16! I’m mature enough!”
The young boy sighed and shook his head “No is no, Neffie”
It was making her really mad. She didn’t want to stay in the house any longer. All her friends were away for Christmas break. She was the only one from the friend group who had stayed behind and she didn’t have what to do all those days. On the other hand, her brothers were always out with their friend group and were leaving her all alone almost daily.
“Jimin?” Taehyung poked his head into Nefeli’s room. Jungkook followed close behind “What’s taking so long? Namjoon and Yoongi are already complaining in the group chat”
“I’m just explaining that Neffie can’t come with us this time” Jimin patted your head again. Ugh, so annoying.
“That’s right. And we need to go. Now! Bye bunny!” Jungkook was bouncing on his heels impatiently. The bunny-toothed boy was ready to run a marathon in order to leave the house as soon as possible.
“Right! Bye, sissy!” Taehyung blew a kiss to the young girl and rushed out of the room to race their youngest brother.
“Hey! Wait for me! Be good, kiddo!” Jimin squeaked and followed the two.
This whole time, Nefeli didn’t say a single word. She was just staring at her brothers madly with the same upset expression on her face. She was burning in anger, and at the same time dying from boredom.
“Ugh! Fuck you, assholes!” she cried in a moment of burst and threw her pillow at the door where they left.
She thought they had left when she cried like that. But loud gasping, coming from downstairs, proved her wrong. Uh-oh. They were still there! Indistinct chatter and fast footsteps were coming toward her, increasing her heartbeat.
The Kim house had three rules for the underage siblings.
No drinking. No smoking. No cursing.
And the only current underage sibling right now was Nefeli. And she had just broken one rule.
Nefeli gulped. The last time she broke a rule and got drunk at a party, she was made to do everyone’s chores for five whole weeks. And they were a lot.
“Did I just hear a no-no word?” Taehyung’s voice echoed throughout the whole house moments before the Kim brothers entered Nefeli’s room. Jimin though tripped a little onto Pete, Nefeli’s stuffed black cat.
The young girl giggled nervously “Uh, would it save me if I said no?”
“No, it would make you a liar” the youngest brother chuckled and folded his arms over his chest, exactly like his little sister did some minutes before.
“Which is strike 3” Jimin picked up Pete and placed him on the desk next to the door.
“Three?! That’s two!” Nefeli cried softly.
“Aha! So you admit you broke one rule!” Taehyung grinned widely and pointed at his little sister proudly.
“No!”
“Strike 3”
“No! It’s 2!”
“Did you curse some moments ago?”
“No!”
“Now that’s strike 3”
“Which means punishment” Jimin smirked widely.
Nefeli groaned inside her and gave out her best puppy eyes “Please no more chores! My back still hurts from last time!” she mumbled as cutely as she could.
But it didn’t work.
The three lads looked at each other with mischievous smirks on their faces “Well, who talked about chores?” Jungkook cracked his knuckles alarmingly, which only made Nefeli flinch. She knew perfectly well that they would never hurt her, but yet, this cracking was a signal something was gonna happen.
Nefeli tilted her head confused. That was the usual punishment. That or not going out with her friends. Or sometimes both depending on what she did. But now, the only option was chores.
“Well Neffie, do you perhaps remember what your favorite punishment as a kid was?” Jimin’s smirk got wider as they all started approaching and encircling the bed.
Nefeli shook her head no. How was she supposed to remember something from 10 years ago?
“Let us remind you then”
“Get her!” Taehyung squeaked and pounced on Nefeli, as well as Jimin and Jungkook.
In a matter of seconds, the young girl was pinned on her bed with her arms above her head and Jimin sitting on them. Jungkook had sat on her ankles and pulled her toes behind as Taehyung was also sitting on her thighs.
Nefeli kept wiggling around the whole time with an obviously confused yet irritated face “What are you doing? Lemme go- Agh hehehey!” she let out a sudden, mini giggle and Jungkook trailed once his finger down her sole fastly.
“We’re just going back some years when you were still a toddler” Jimin smirked and fluttered his fingers in the crooks of Nefeli’s neck. The poor girl hadn’t seen this coming. She scrunched up her shoulders and squealed again, trying to hide her wide, giggly smile.
“And giving you a proper punishment” Taehyung smirked at the giggly state of his little sister with just a few strokes “And looks like it’s already working” he softly chuckled as his fingertips were already poking and pinching gently all over her bare tummy. Nefeli’s shirt had raised a little from the stretch of her body, allowing the evil lad to have access to her bare tickle spots.
The three lads were wearing their best, most evil smirks, and their intentions were even eviler. Take advantage of their little sister’s ticklishness and also cheer her up a little. But mostly take advantage of their little sister’s ticklishness.
“Stohohop it! It tickles!” the youngest Kim sibling squealed between her giggles and soft squirms.
“Wehell, that’s kinda the point, bunny!” Jungkook rolled his eyes chuckling and now full-on scribbling the poor girl’s soles with his blunt nails.
And as if this was the signal, the two older brothers followed with their personal tickle attack.
“NYAHAHAHAHA PLEAHAHAHASE WAHAHAHAIT! WHAHAT IS THAHAHAT AHAHAHA?!” Nefeli shrieked at the top of her lungs from the sudden feeling of hypersensitivity before she fell into loud and deep belly laughter.
Oh, she knew perfectly well what this was. It was indeed her favorite when she was little. Tickle monsters! They were paying her a visit almost every day. Sometimes even twice a day!
“Welcome to the tickle jail, little ticklish brat!” Taehyung smirked before he blew a short raspberry onto Nefeli’s poor bare tummy. Only to get back an even louder scream.
“Your only chance to get out is you apologize to us! Or else you’ll be a prisoner for the rest of your life!” Jimin smirked from above her. His thumbs were drilling all over her armpits, getting every single ticklish nerve on them.
Anyone else would be now begging for mercy. But this wasn’t anyone else. This was Nefeli. The most stubborn among the Kim siblings. Even more than Jungkook. Apologizing wasn’t in her near future plans.
“NEVEHEHEHER AHAHAHA!” she argued screamingly. But she immediately regretted it.
Jungkook’s nails moved to the base of her toes and Taehyung’s pokes turned into fast, merciless squeezes all over her tummy and sides.
“Alright then, suit yourself, cutie” the middle brother chuckled as his long, slim fingers were sending shots of ticklishness all over Nefeli’s body.
“NAHAHAHAO STAHAHAHAOP I DIDN’T MEAHAHAN TO CURSE!” the poor girl could only lay there and take it. She was thrashing around and trying to pull her arms down to protect at least one tickled stop, but nothing was working. Too ticklish for her own good looks like it.
“Still not the answer we are looking for” Jungkook’s voice was ringing into Nefeli’s ears as a threat. But she couldn’t filter them properly. Jungkook was torturing her poor feet and was driving crazy with each soft but hypersensitive stroke.
“Aw, looks like someone loves big brothers’ tickles” Jimin used his best baby voice to make the small blush on his little sister’s cheeks even deeper.
The poor girl indeed loved it. Ever since she was a little kid, she loved it. But she couldn’t reveal that. So she only kept laughing stubbornly and didn’t say a thing.
“Mmm still not talking huh?” the three brothers exchanged looks of mischief “Well, I guess it’s time for Taehyung to do what he’s best at” Jungkook exclaimed happier than ever and he and Jimin pulled away.
Nefeli wanted to tilt her head confused, but panting and air giggling wouldn’t let her. She was just lying there panting and giggling “Whahat are you gonna dohoho to me?” she asked with a wide smile on her face from all the cackling.
“Oh don’t tell me you don’t remember mr Jaws, cutie” Taehyung smirked as he was getting into position. He laid on top of his little sister, with his mouth facing her poor sides.
Oh, that really hit a bell. A serious bell. A bell that had as a background hysterical laughter, begging, and tears of laughter.
“EEK! NO NO NO OKAHAHAY OKAY I’M SORRY!!” she squealed loudly in hope they’ll show some mercy. After all, this was what they wanted her to do. Say sorry.
The three brothers froze in their tracks.
“Well, she apologized” Jungkook looked at his older brothers.
“I guess we should let her go” Jimin pressed his lips into a thin line.
But still, no one moved. They just kept looking at each other in mock confusion “Nah” they finally said all together laughing, and pinned the poor girl down again.
Jimin and Jungkook started mumbling The Jaws theme song and Nefeli’s face was getting redder and redder “No... No no no pleahahase no! I apologized, you’re not being fair guys you are- BWAHAHAHAHA NAHAHAHAO AHAHAHA PLEAHAHAHASE STAHAHAHAP!” Nefeli let out the loudest scream so far when Taehyung teeth suddenly touched her poor, bare side and started nibbling on it mercilessly “PLEAHAHASE I’M BEGGING YOU AHAHAHA!”
“Ah! Works every time” Jungkook smirked proudly and squeezed a little Nefeli’s kneecaps, earning a loud yelp from her.
“We should do this more often!” Jimin giggled amused as he was trying to hold Nefeli in place. But it was like he was on a rodeo, the little girl was thrashing around like a fish out of the water!
“Nom nom nom! You’re still as tasty as I remember, little cute” Taehyung chuckled proudly on his little sister’s side, earning a mini jump from her.
“NAHAHAHAO!!!! PLEAHAHAHASE YOU’RE KILLING MEHEHE TAE PLEAHAHAHASE HAVE MERCYHYHYHY I’M SOHOHORRY!” Nefeli cried one last time before the three lads decided to have some mercy on her.
Pulling away, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook got away from their little sister with proud grins on their faces “You’re ahahall meahahan!” she breathed out giggling, and immediately curled up into a tight ball of herself.
“Watch it, kiddo, we are still down for a round 2 if you still haven’t learned your lesson” Jimin warned playfully wiggling his fingers towards Nefeli, who only squealed and curled up tighter.
“Nohoho! Leahahave me alone, they’re waiting for you!” the poor girl giggled out. She now didn’t want them around her, who knows what they’ll decide to do.
“Alright, it’s time to go”
All three brothers took turns kissing Nefeli’s cheek goodbye “Bye Neffie!” they all yelled before they rushed out of the room, leaving the poor girl behind all flustered and shy.
“They are assholes after all” she mumbled with a wide smile on her face. She had missed all that, even if she wouldn’t admit it. Her favorite tickle monsters were always there.
#bts#park jimin#bangtan#jeon jungkook#kim taehyung#bangta boys#jung hoseok#kim namjoon#kim seokjin#min yoongi#bts x reader#tickle bts#tickle#bts ticklers#bts tickle#bts x reader tickle#bts reactions#bts tickling#bts tickle reaction#tickle community
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Flight, Fight, or Freeze
Day 24 of Whumptober
Blood covered hands/ ‘I don’t want to do this anymore’/ Catatonic
Characters: England, Prussia/ FrUK
Context: Human AU. In the same universe as Day 2, Nowhere to Run
Day 23
----------
‘I don’t want to do this anymore.’
Gilbert watches as Arthur swirls the last of his ale, amber liquid thin and diluted against the clear glass.
‘Do what,’ he asks- a stupid question because he already knows exactly what Arthur is talking about. It’s why they’re here, just the two of them- two empty spaces loud at their sides.
Arthur shakes his head and tips his drink back.
Gilbert stares at his hands, tightly nursing his own drink on the grubby table- cork placemats damp and sticky with years of lost drinks, ‘You don’t mean that.’
‘Don’t I?’
Gilbert doesn’t answer.
‘Just- Christ.’ Arthur twists his wedding ring on his finger, fat plain gold catching the dim lights of the pub, ‘He wants us to go to therapy. Marriage counselling.’
‘And you don’t want to?’
Arthur hesitated, ‘I don’t know.’
‘I can't tell you what do to.’
‘I’m not asking you to, I just-‘ Arthur shakes his head and buries it in his hands, ‘What the fuck, Gil.’
Arthur’s voice is strangled, on the verge of tears out of nowhere and Gilbert panics. He reaches out and grips Arthur’s shoulder as best he can in a tight squeeze, ‘It’s fucked up.’
‘I can’t believe he’d do that.’
‘I know,’ if Arthur is feeling anything close to the fury that Gilbert is, it’s a wonder he’s managed to keep himself together at all, ‘I know.’
‘As if therapy is going to fix it,’ Arthur looks up, eyes filled with tears that search Gilbert’s face beseechingly as if he holds some sort of solution or sense in all of this. If only he could; Gilbert feels desperate for some as well, ‘I know that I fucked up, I get that he was upset but I never thought- shit, I didn’t-‘
‘Hey, fuck that,’ Gilbert slips out of his booth and goes to join Arthur’s, pulling him in close under one arm, ‘Nothing you did deserved this, alright? Jack shit; whatever you did to him was unintentional. What he did...’ Gilbert breaks off, furious again. He grabs for his drink and relishes the burn of it down his throat.
‘It feels like it’s my fault no matter what; he’s so adamant on this therapy bullshit, like it’ll fix everything, and I feel as though if I don’t go along with it then I’m the fucking problem. But I don’t want to go in there and talk to a stranger about all of this. After what he did...’
‘Listen-‘
‘And the kids- they don’t understand anything at all.’
‘Art.’
‘I’ve heard him sometimes talking to them when he thinks I’m not there: “Me and Daddy have had a fight” or “Your father and I have been naughty”, putting me on the same fucking level.’ Arthur smacks the table suddenly with a dull thud, surprising them both, and then presses a closed fist to his forehead with this eyes squeezed shut, ‘Fucking bastard.’
‘Why don’t you come stay with me? Or your brothers?’
Arthur shakes his head slowly, ‘I can’t do that to the kids.’
‘It ain’t great for them like this, you know. Kids notice, even if you try and hide it.’ And Gilbert doubts that Arthur and Francis were good at hiding this even slightly.
‘No, it’s not that it’s- they’ll only get his side, I won’t be able to defend myself. They’re only five, they won’t understand. And what if he takes them away, or uses me leaving them now as an excuse for me to not get shared custody.’ Arthur’s face twists, pained at the thought.
‘He wouldn’t do that,’ Gilbert says but even he can hear that he doesn't sound sure, words trailing up at the end. There were lots of things that he thought Francis would never do, after all, ‘You’re thinking too far ahead, anyway. And if he does, fuck him. Fuck him anyway, but especially if he does that.’
‘I can’t risk it.’
‘Art, you’ve got me. Eh?’ Gilbert shakes him, ‘I’m with you one hundred per cent and I ain’t letting go of those kiddos without a fight either.
‘Sometimes, I feel like I could hit him,’ Arthur admits quietly, ‘I get so angry- his arrogance, his desperation to share the blame between us. I can’t stand the sight of him.’
Gilbert clinks his and Arthur’s empty glass together, ‘Ditto, bud.’
Arthur watches it, mouth pressed so tightly together that his lips almost disappear entirely. They’re bitten, chapped- visible pieces of him crumbling away. ‘I still love him.’
Gilbert bites the inside of his cheek, ‘Yeah. Me too.’
Day 25
Full Masterlist
#aph england#aph prussia#hws england#hws prussia#fruk#aph fruk#aph#hws france#hetalia#whumptober wip#whumptober 2022#whumptalia#heroes writes#couples' therapy au#couples therapy au
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A Little Human (as a Treat)
Part 1/? - Un Voluntario
Part 2/? - Un Escursione
Part 3/? - Una Complicazione
Part 4/? - Una Famiglia
Part 5/? - Una Aiutante
Part 6/? - Una Ricerca
Part 7/? - Un Confronto
Part 8/? - Un'Emergenza
Part 9/? - Una Speranza
Part 10/? - Una Sera
Flavia and Perla help plan a prison break. Silvio tells terrible jokes. Ercole eats a bug. @dysphoria-sweatshirt @writer652
Giglioli returned a few minutes later, red-faced in anger and escorted part of the way by a police officer. About twenty metres from the shop door, Signor Giglioli shrugged the man's hand forcibly off his shoulder and stomped the rest of the way alone.
“A bunch of fools!” he declared as he went back inside. “I don't know how grown adults get caught up in this nonsense, but we have to do something before somebody gets hurt. Have you two heard of mass hysteria?”
Perla and Flavia shook their heads.
“It's when a bunch of people all get in on the same delusion,” Giglioli explained, “and it can lead to terrible consequences. During the middle ages they burned a bunch of people for being witches when there really weren't any such things. I'm not going to watch the same thing happen to supposed 'sea monsters' in my town. Let's get your friends out.”
“Really?” Flavia asked.
“You'll pay their bail?” Perla chimed in.
“They're not going to accept bail,” said Giglioli. “We're going to have to break them out.”
“How?” Flavia wanted to know. “There's so many people.” When she glanced throught he window, the crowd outside the police station seemed bigger than ever. Signorina Mulino's friend Felicia was hanging around in the back of it, asking people questions and getting shaking heads in reply.
Giglioli turned the sign in the window to say chiuso and locked the door, then smiled and ruffled Flavia's hair. “Don't worry, kiddo,” he said. “I know about more things than candy. Before that was the police station, it was Canepa's Drogheria. The wall at the back, where the cell is, is one of the oldest walls in town. It's a good half-metre thick.”
That didn't sound encouraging, but the confectioner didn't seem worried. He led the girls into the back room, the kitchen where the candies were made. A teenage employee was in there cleaning up, but she was focused on scrubbing burnt matter off a cookie sheet, and barely acknowledged Giglioli as he began rummaging in a cupboard under the stairs.
“That whole row of buildings backs onto the old wall,” he continued, moving brooms and buckets out of the way. “The Canepa family used to own the whole thing, but when the place went out of business after the war, they divided into separate units to sell. The police took the one on the left there to make into their station. So while the west wall could keep out an army, the north one is just a single layer of bricks.” He found what he was looking for, and turned to face the girls again, a smile on his face – and a sledgehammer in his hands.
“Are we gonna break through the wall?” gasped Perla, both terrified and delighted.
“We certainly are,” Giglioli told her.
“Won't people hear?” Flavia asked. Surely that would be loud.
“Not as much as you'd think,” the man said. “Stone walls muffle a lot of sound, but we do need a distraction, something else for all those rubberneckers to pay attention to. I believe your grandmother is looking for you, Signorina Pepitone,” he said to Perla, mock-stern.
“You think people need to come hunting for us instead of looking for the sea monsters?” Perla guessed.
He nodded.
“So we need to hide somewhere, and have everybody come find us,” said Flavia.
“Yes, exactly. Where do you two think you can go where people will believe you're in trouble and they'll all go to look for you?”
Perla thought about it. “If we were up somewhere high, Flavia would have trouble getting down.”
“I'm not going up anywhere high!” Flavia protested. She did some thinking of her own, and got an idea. “What about out on the water? If we went out in a boat on our own to find more sea monsters, people would be worried about us, right?” Children never went on boats alone – Flavia was pretty sure of that.
“That's a good idea as long as you two know how to be safe about it,” said Signor Giglioli. “Do you?”
“Yes!” said Perla eagerly. “You have to wear a life jacket so if you fall in you won't sink!”
“And you can both swim?”
“I can!” said Perla, “and Flavia definitely can!”
Flavia herself wasn't so sure about that. She had no idea how humans swam without tails, and wondered if Ciccio had much trouble figuring it out. She did know what a life jacket was, though. She'd once found one floating on the surface of the Gulf, far from land, and Papa Giorgio had told her it was something humans wore to keep their heads above the water. After nearly choking when she'd first transformed, that was definitely a good idea.
“Then let's find you a boat,” said Giglioli. “We'll also need one more person, who can tell everyone where you are. Remember, I'm going to be the one knocking the wall down.”
Perla and Flavia exchanged a glance. Who could they use? Flavia didn't have any ideas – she didn't know anybody in this town except for Perla and her family.
But Perla smiled. “I know exactly who!” she declared.
-
By this time, Signora Pepitone and her son had finished telling their story to the police. Leonardo Scorfano suspected they'd embroidered it somewhat – if nothing else, sea monsters didn't have horns and none of the kids were anywhere near ten feet tall in either form – but there was very little he could do besides stand there and wince every time Dionisia brought the subject up. When somebody actually asked him a question, he had to reply that he hadn't arrived until all this was already underway, and hadn't seen any of it.
Worse, the police were failing to keep the curious public out of things. Several people had come right into the front office using one excuse or another, and it was hard to miss that they kept sidling closer to the door that led to the cell room. Leonardo took it upon himself to make sure they got no further, leaning against said door and glaring at people who came too close.
One boy of about fifteen or sixteen was particularly insistent, coming closer and closer and watching Leonardo like a hawk. Leonardo glared directly at him and folded his arms, letting the boy know he wasn't going to budge.
“Come on,” the boy whined finally. “I just want to see the sea monsters.”
“My daughter is missing and you're worried about sea monsters?” Leonardo said.
The boy at least had the grace to look ashamed of himself.
Signora Pepitone was still sitting at the desk across from the tall police officer, and she frowned at Leonardo. “They've got to be connected,” she insisted. “That's the only other odd thing that's happened today. Don't you see it?”
“Madame, please, try to calm down,” the police officer sighed. “To find them, we'll need full descriptions of both girls...”
The boy trying to get around Leonardo looked over his shoulder. “The sea monsters took your daughter?” he asked.
“No,” said Leonardo. “Not necessarily, anyway. Nobody saw what happened so we...”
“We do know, that's what I keep saying!” Signora Pepitone interrupted. “I'm getting the idea you think I'm mad, Signor Scorfano, but I'm telling you, I know what I saw at the zoo, and...”
“It can't have been the sea monsters, though,” said the boy.
“Nobody's asking you,” the police officer informed him. “In fact, I think you should leave.”
“But I saw them!” said the boy.
“The sea monsters?” Leonardo asked.
“No, the girls,” the boy said. “At least, I saw Signora Pepitone's granddaughter, and there was another girl with her...”
Leonardo stood up straight. “Where were they?” he asked, his heart suddenly thumping.
“They were in the Signorina Mulino's French pastry shop,” the boy said. “They were in there sitting with a woman in blue. Perla Pepitone in a polka-dot dress, and a friend with short dark hair, right?”
Leonardo looked at Dionisia, and saw the shock on her face – this was the first she'd heard of this, either. She jumped up to talk to the boy face to face. “What were they doing? Was there anyone else?” she asked.
“They were eating cookies and talking to this lady... I think some friend of Signorina Mulino's,” the boy said. “She was wearing a blue dress. But it can't have been the sea monsters who took them away,” he added, “because I went in there to tell my brother, he works there, that they'd been caught. The sea monsters were already locked up, and the girls weren't with them.”
Signora Pepitone just stared at him, until Leonardo came to put a hand on the boy's shoulder. “You're sure,” he said.
“Totally sure,” the boy insisted. “I know Perla, because I've seen her bothering Pietro for free treats. She said if the sea monsters were caught, then it's safe and they could go, and they ran off.”
Leonardo let out a quiet relieved sigh. That didn't tell them where the girls had gone, but at least it was proof that Alberto and his friends weren't involved – proof nobody could deny. “What did I tell you?” he asked Dionisia.
She sat down again, eyes wide with apparent shock. “Where could they have gone, then?”
“I don't know,” the boy said. “Maybe they told Signorina Mulino.”
“We'd better go find her, then,” said Leonardo. At last, here was something to go on. “Maybe she can tell us...”
That was when the door opened, and a new person entered the room, panting and indignant after having elbowed her way through the crowd outside. This was a tall, thin woman in blue, with her hair under a kerchief. “Excuse me!” she said. “I need to get to... who is Signora Pepitone?”
“I am!” Signora Pepitone turned around.
“That's her!” the boy who'd seen the girls exclaimed, pointing to the newcomer. “That's the lady who was with the girls at the Patisserie!”
The newcomer nodded. “Céline asked me to watch them,” she said. “I've been following them half the evening but they keep getting away, but I've found them at last. They said they wanted to find these sea monsters everybody's talking about, and they've gone out on a boat.”
“What?” asked Signora Pepitone.
“What?” Leonardo said at the same time. A dozen horrible images danced in front of his eyes. Flavia had probably never seen a human swim. She wouldn't know how to keep her head out of the water. Did she even know she couldn't breath it anymore? No... no, she must know that, she'd come up gasping and sputtering when she first transformed. But she knew nothing about boats. What if she fell overboard?
What was she even trying to do? Was she hoping there were local sea monsters who could help them somehow? How was she planning to contact them when she knew she couldn't get in the water?
Maybe Massimo would notice them, but it was also entirely possible he wouldn't. What was Massimo doing right now? Had he figured out the kids weren't down there or was he still looking?
Signora Pepitone was equally distressed, but for a very different reason. “They went out on the water?” she asked, pale. “When they know there's sea monsters? Or... good heavens, were they lured.” She turned to another man, a tall fellow with red hair. “There's a painting in that museum of yours, the sirens luring the sailors!”
“That there is, Ma'am,” the man replied with a nod. He swallowed.
The woman in the blue dress, gestured for everybody to follow her. “They haven't got far yet. I'd've gone to get them myself but I can't swim. Come and see! Oh, I hope the sea monsters haven't found them yet!”
She led the way outside, with the intrigued crowd surging after her. Leonardo should have gone with them, but he kind of wanted to stay by the door, in case somebody else tried to go in and harass the kids. With everybody else gone, maybe Leonardo could have a proper conversation with them and piece this all together. Maybe he could even find the key and let them out, although he'd want to be really sure nobody was watching...
“Hurry, Signor Scorfano!” Signora Pepitone called from the street outside.
“I'm coming, Dionisia!” he replied. But once the room was empty, he went and tried the door that led to the room with the cell.
Of course it was locked – that was hardly even surprising. He had to find the key. Leonardo looked around, and his eyes went to the desk where the younger of the two on-duty police officers had been sitting until he, too, had gotten up to follow the woman in blue. When he opened the top drawer, Leonardo found it full of papers and pens. He started rummaging around, looking for keys.
As he did so, he heard the first thump.
Leonardo looked up. He was a lone in the room, and nothing seemed to have moved. Maybe something had fallen in an upper storey, or off a roof. He shook his head, and closed the first drawer before opening a second.
There was another thump. Then a third. This time, when Leonardo raised his head, it was in time to see a photo of the town's police force (all four of them) fall from the wall. Another thump made dust drift down from the ceiling. There was a sound like ceramic breaking.
With a chill, he realized that whatever was going on, it was happening in the cell room. Leonardo shut the drawer and rattled the handle again, then threw himself shoulder-first against the door. If he had to break it down to get to those kids, he would.
-
In the cell, the kids and Signor Macarello also heard a series of thumps, but unlike Uncle Leonardo, they could tell exactly where it was coming from – the wall on their left, where the police station butted up against the old greengrocers. Somebody was hitting it repeatedly with something heavy, making the whole wall shake and buckle. They got up and crowded against the other wall, worried the building would fall down on them.
After a few more thumps, a brick fell out and broke on the floor. Then a second. Then the head of a giant hammer came through, and the person on the other side used it as a hook to pull more bricks back towards himself. Soon there was a hole big enough to wriggle through, and a face appeared in it.
Luca couldn't believe his eyes. “Signor Giglioli!” he exclaimed, then immediately regretted it as somebody began shaking the door to the rest of the station. A moment later he realized that was silly – it was much more likely the sound of bricks falling had alerted them, rather than Luca's cry. It didn't matter, though. Whoever was outside shook the door harder, and then began trying to break it down.
“Hurry!” Giglioli held out a hand.
Giulia was the first to take it and wriggle through the opening. Luca came after her, and then helped pull out another couple of bricks so Alberto would fit. They dragged him through, but then the door burst open, and there was nothing they could do for Antonio. Giglioli herded the kids through an open grate in the floor, and pulled it shut after him.
“Can't stay here!” he said, reaching between the bars to replace a padlock that had been holding the grate shut. “Follow me!”
“What about Signor Macarello?” Alberto protested. He'd been nothing but helpful, even when he was obviously terrified. They couldn't just leave him.
“We'll have to come back for him,” Giglioli said. He turned on an electric torch, and ushered them through a door into another part of the old Drogheria basement, stacked with old fruit and egg crates. This door, too, he contrived to lock behind himself. “Maybe in the morning, when they've all calmed down and realized you're not sea monsters.”
The kids had begun to follow him further through the dark maze of basements, but now they stopped short. Signor Giglioli kept going and reached the next door, then realized they weren't there anymore and looked back, puzzled.
There was a moment of awkward silence. Voices could be heard shouting overhead, muffled by the stone and earth in between.
“What's the matter?” asked Giglioli.
Luca swallowed. “Um, Sir?” he said.
“We... kind of are sea monsters,” Giulia said.
Giglioli blinked. “I beg your pardon?” he asked, in a voice half-confused, half-insulted. “Kids, I just broke you out of jail. This is hardly the time to...”
Luca's stomach sank right down to his toes as he remembered what he'd said to Flavia earlier in the day... he'd thought Signor Giglioli wouldn't mind if he found out they were sea monsters. Had he been mistaken? Should they just take it back and lie? If they did that, though, Signor Giglioli wouldn't realize just how much trouble they were in here. He looked at Alberto.
Alberto sighed and, feeling rather like one of the animals in the zoo, transformed.
For a moment Signor Giglioli didn't realize it had happened, but when he realized both Luca and Giulia were looking at their friend, he turned to see why, and the electric torch fell from his hand. It rolled a metre or so across the uneven stone floor, and came to rest at Alberto's flippered feet. Alberto picked it up and offered it back to him, and Giglioli took it without a word. For what seemed like a very long time, nobody spoke.
“Are you going to put us back in jail now, Sir?” Luca asked timidly.
That seemed to bring Giglioli back to his senses. “Of course not!” he said. “If I try I'll end up in there with you. Anyway, you haven't done anything to deserve being locked up.” He paused. “Have you?”
“No, Sir!” said Luca. The others shook their heads in agreement as Alberto let go of his transformation and resumed human form. “We just wanted to show Flavia around. She's never been on land before.”
“Really? Huh.” Giglioli thought about that. “Well, I'm honoured you brought her to my place, then. All right, let's get you back to the shop. You can hide out there until everybody goes to bed.”
“What about Flavia?” Alberto asked, as they fell into step behind him again. “Uncle Leonardo will kill me if we don't bring her back.”
“She and Perla are currently providing a distraction so fewer people would hear me breaking that wall down,” said Giglioli. “They've probably been 'rescued' by now. Dionisia Pepitone is a little odd, but when she's not wailing about sea monsters she...”
He stopped mid-sentence. Luca nearly walked right into his back.
“I guess Flavia is a sea monster, too,” said Giglioli.
“That's complicated,” said Giulia.
“Complicated?” Giglioli raised an eyebrow as he looked back over his shoulder at her. “How complicated can it possibly be?”
“You'd be amazed,” said Alberto.
“All right,” sighed Giglioli. “We'll figure something out.”
-
While all these dramatic events went on in San Giuseppe, off the coast of Portorosso Ciccio and Ercole were sweeping out construction debris that had found its way into the Donzella house earlier in the day. The physics of doing this underwater were somewhat complicated and did very much require both of them to make sure no bits got away. Worse, Signora Donzella hovered over them and watched, and Ciccio expected at any moment to be asked how he could have gotten to his age without learning how to sweep a floor.
But she didn't seem to have noticed at all. She offered a shell full of what first appeared to be gumballs, until Ciccio realized they were actually colourful, sowbug-like creatures.
“Would you like some isopods?” she asked.
“Grazie, Signora,” said Ciccio, and popped one into his mouth to see what it was like. It turned out to be much like a gumball after all, with a crunchy shell and a soft inside that was both salty and sweet.
Ercole must have figured if Ciccio ate one then it must be all right. He took a handful for himself and started to much on them, only to make a sudden muffled noise of pain and spit one back out again. Now uncurled, the little creature turned itself right side up and swam away, wiggling its many legs.
“Oh, dear,” said Signora Donzella. “You do have to bite them before they bite you.”
Ercole stared at her in utter horror for a few moments, before remembering that he had another isopod still in his mouth. He looked at Ciccio, who calmly looked him right in the eye while taking another isopod out of the dish, placing it between his teeth, and biting down. Ercole took the message, and swallowed what remained of his, whole.
Signora Donzella smiled as she surveyed their work. “That's so much better,” she said. “You know, you boys really didn't need to go to the trouble, especially after you worked so hard earlier today.”
“Yeah, we really didn't,” Ercole said pointedly to Ciccio.
“It's no trouble, Signora,” Ciccio said cheerfully. “We wouldn't want to be rude.”
“You know,” said Ercole, “when humans have guests they don't expect them to do anything. All the chores are the host's job.”
“Really? I didn't know that,” said Giorgia pleasantly, then looked a bit worried. “Arturo's aunts do have him and Silvio do some garden work in exchange for watching the football games. Is that all right?”
“Its' fine,” Ciccio assured her. “I'm pretty sure Concetta and Pinuccia work by sea monster rules.”
Silvio himself darted through the door then, and the first thing he saw was the shell full of snacks. “Ooh, isopods!” he said, and went to help himself.
“Where've you been off to?” his mother asked him.
Silvio put several of the tiny arthropods in his mouth at once and crunched on them, leading Ercole to make several horrified faces. “I went to give Signora Trota her shovel back,” he said.
“Oh, yes, I'd forgotten that,” said Giorgia. “Good job for remembering.” She moved the dish away as her son reached for more isopods. “These are for our guests.”
“It's fine, Signora,” Ciccio told her. “Like I said, we're not that hungry.”
“Then I'll put these away, or they'll all be gone by tomorrow.” Signora Donzella shooed at Silvio, and swam off into the kitchen.
Ciccio and Ercole both took advantage of her absence immediately: Ercole by theatrically coughing and gasping and spitting out isopod legs that had gotten caught between his teeth, and Ciccio by pulling Silvio closer to talk to him.
“Did you tell Giordana where we are?” Ciccio asked. He was pretty sure that returning the borrowed shovel had just been an excuse, and Silvio's actual purpose had been to let the Trota children know what was going on.
He was right. “I told Arturo to tell her,” Silvio confirmed. “He said she's worried about you.”
That made Ciccio feel a little better. “Are they gonna be allowed on land anymore?” If they weren't... Ciccio didn't know what he'd do.
“Arturo's Mom didn't say, and him and Giordana are both too scared to ask,” Silvio said. He turned his head suddenly towards the door. “Hey, did you see that?”
“See what?” asked Ciccio.
“The light in the kelp.” Silvio went to the doorway to look outside. “It flashed twice and now it's gone. Maybe it's the giant squid!” he whispered excitedly. “Did you hear people talking about it?”
Ercole scoffed. “It was the only thing the servants talked about at dinner. I think you're all making it up to frighten me.”
“We had one here once,” said Silvio. “Ages ago. I wasn't hatched yet.”
“Giordana told me about it once,” Ciccio agreed. He hadn't been consciously thinking about that when he'd chosen it was something to threaten Ercole with it, but it must've been in the back of his mind.
“Dad said he and Mom had to take my egg and hide in the forge,” Silvio went on. “Giant squid usually live in the cold water out base Gibilterra, so they don't like when it gets too warm.” He turned to Ercole. “And they're not very fast, so probably even you could outswim one. Probably.”
“Don't try to bully me, Squaletto,” said Ercole. “It doesn't suit you.”
With the cleanup done to Signora Donzella's satisfaction, she led them out to the newly roofed barn, bringing along a string of softly glowing jellyfish which she towed by the tentacles like a bundle of balloons. Inside, her husband had set out mats of sponges and seaweed, and filled an old honey jar with bioluminescent plankton so they'd have a lantern.
“Here you go, boys,” he said. “I hope you'll be comfortable. If you need anything, you can wake up Junior.”
Ercole had just opened his mouth, presumably to ask why there were three sleeping mats instead of two. With the question answered before it could be asked, he closed it again and watched Silvio settle down on the nearest mat and grin.
“It'll be like camping out!” Silvio said happily.
“Thank you,” said Ciccio firmly. “I hope you guys can come up and visit us at the bakery sometimes.”
“We should,” said Silvio. “The bread him and Giordana make is really yummy. My favourite is the kind with the olives, but the one with the sardines is also great!”
“We should try putting isopods in it,” said Ciccio, mostly to gross Ercole out. It worked.
“Nah,” Silvio said. “They go mushy when you cook them.”
Ercole covered his mouth with one had, as if afraid he would throw up.
Giorgia Donzella gave her son a kiss on the cheek and wished him a good night, and her husband reminded the boy that he was responsible for looking after their guests. Then the adults left the three boys alone to settle down and sleep. Ciccio considered the bedding he'd been given, and decided he'd better sleep on his stomach. He still had sponge pieces all over his spines, but if any of those came off he might rip the mat to shreds. That was no way to thank the Donzellas for their hospitality.
Silvio was also on his stomach, but in his case it was because his stiff, shark-like dorsal fin could not fold down out of the way. Ercole was having no trouble lying on his back, although it took a bit of squirming for him to find a comfortable position without pinning his fin under his shirt.
“I hope Papá manages to sleep all right,” said Ciccio. Ottonello had been very specific about not wanting Ciccio spending the night underwater, but here he was, doing exactly that. It sounded as if he spent a lot more time worrying about Ciccio in general than he normally admitted.
“I could go tell him you're here,” Silvio suggested. “He knows Dad and me.”
Ciccio propped himself up on his elbows to look at the younger boy. His first reaction was that might be a good idea. Just knowing where Ciccio was would probably help a lot – but there was a problem. “Is it safe to go out by yourself after dark?” he asked.
“Normally I'm not allowed,” Silvio admitted, “but Mom and Dad said you could ask me for anything you needed.” He grinned mischievously. “I could talk to your parents, too,” he suggested to Ercole, “if you tell me where to find them.”
“Don't you dare,” said Ercole immediately.
“He doesn't want anybody to know this happened to him,” Ciccio said.
“And my parents won't care anyway,” Ercole added. “I've been away overnight before. They figure I'll get home when I get home. Sometimes I think if I just disappeared they wouldn't even look for me.”
“Really?” asked Ciccio. He knew very little about Ercole's relationship with his parents, having only met them once or twice. They'd seemed very permissive, even indulgent. He would not have thought of them as neglectful. Had Ercole spent the whole day wondering whether his parents would care if he never came back?
Ercole glared at him, and his tone changed abruptly. “They trust me,” he huffed, “unlike some parents who yap at their children's heels everywhere they go and send their friends to spy on them. Anyway, don't you say a word to them or anyone else,” he told Silvio. “If anyone in the town finds out about this, I will never be taken seriously again.”
Ciccio snorted. As if anybody took Ercole seriously anymore.
“Your secret's safe with me,” said Silvio cheerfully. He wiggled a little, getting his toes into the end of the sponge mat to stretched it out a bit. “Hey, why is the ocean blue?” he asked.
“How should I know?” Ercole said. “I think it's something to do with reflecting the sky.”
Silvio rolled his eyes. “It's blue because the land never waves back!”
There was a moment of silence as Ciccio and Ercole both figured out what that meant. Then Ercole snorted, and Ciccio groaned at the pun.
“Why did the lobster turn red?” Silvio tried next.
“Because they dumped it into boiling water, still alive,” snarled Ercole.
“Why?” Ciccio asked.
Silvio giggled. “Because it saw the ocean's bottom!”
This time Ciccio could help a snicker, even as Ercole scoffed.
“What's the strongest creature in the sea?” Silvio tried next.
“What?” asked Ciccio.
“A mussel!”
Ercole let out a bark of laughter, then quickly silenced himself. “Not bad, Squaletto,” he admitted grudgingly. “Not bad.”
#pixar luca#luca 2021#luca paguro#alberto scorfano#giulia marcovaldo#ercole visconti#fanfiction#a little human (as a treat)
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brother of mine (it's been a long, long time)
G, gen, Apollo Justice & Nahyuta Sahdmadhi
Word count: 2588
Five times in the past that Apollo called his brother "Yuty" (and one time after everything)
written for @khurainweek day 5: past/present!
read on ao3 here! (full fic under cut)
1 —
Nahyuta’s lying on his back in the centre of the room, Plumed Punisher doll in one chubby fist. He’s not playing, just staring at it, but Dhurke isn’t concerned — Nahyuta’s always been quiet; more reserved. If that’s how he prefers to play, then he won’t force anything else.
“A ga oo na!”
“You’re so right, Apollo, I completely agree with ya!”
“Aigh e ba!”
Dhurke chuckles to himself as he hears Datz and Apollo in the other room of their little house.
Apollo’s babbles are loud — everything that kid does is — but they’re slowly becoming closer and closer to actual words, almost sentences. Datz holds conversations with him regularly, treating him as if he understands perfectly.
Nahyuta lets out a hefty sigh— it’s a sound out of place coming from a toddler, and the absurdity of it nearly sends Dhurke laughing again. He lets the doll drop to the ground beside him, rolling over onto his stomach before pulling himself to his knees. “Dad?”
“Yes, ‘Yuta?”
“Why doesn’t Apollo talk?”
Dhurke simply smiles, crouching down so he can set a hand on his son’s head. “Apollo’s younger than you, remember?” he says, “give it time.”
Apollo’s already said his first words. There’s a special kind of guilt in Dhurke’s heart for them; knowing it was meant to be another man going by the title he has now.
Nahyuta frowns. “He knows Dad and Datz and Dragon,” he says, “why dragon?”
(“A dwago neh yee!”
“Dee!” Datz yelled excitedly, holding Apollo up. Apollo grinned, reaching for Dhurke. “Dee, listen! Apollo’s got it!”
“Dwago neh yeed!” Apollo shouted.)
Dhurke huffs out a laugh. “Datz thought it was funny,” he says, “‘sides, there’s not much of a difference between ‘dad’ and ‘datz’.”
“Dadada nn yoo!”
“Yeah, your dad’s in the other room, wanna go surprise him?”
Dhurke pretends he can’t hear that, instead keeping his focus on the boy in front of him.
“You didn’t start speaking all at once either, you know,” he continues, as Nahyuta turns his bright green gaze to him (he looks so much like his mother, and some days it aches), “in fact, you were older than he is now before you decided to.”
“Really?”
Dhurke doesn’t know how old Apollo truly is— hell, he doesn’t even know the kid’s real birthday, marking him as exactly a year after Nahyuta. When they get older, he’ll let Apollo choose what day he wants his birthday to be, but for now, his sons share one.
“Every kid’s different, son,” he says, “you’ll just have to wait and see.”
Datz steps out of the second room, Apollo held on one hip. Dhurke gives Nahyuta’s hair one last ruffle before he pushes himself to his feet, holding his arms out for his other son, and Apollo’s immediately reaching out himself, big smile on his face.
“Hey, you,” he says, and Apollo laughs as he’s transferred between hands, tiny little fists in his face and hair and clothes and anywhere he can reach.
“Dada,” Apollo proclaims, before twisting around as if he’s searching for something, “nnnyyu.”
“He keeps makin’ that sound,” Datz notes lightly, as Dhurke shifts his grip to keep Apollo from wriggling out of his arms.
Nahyuta’s picked up his doll again, shuffling off to a corner of the room to play by himself once more.
“Aa nyu!” Apollo’s getting louder. Dhurke catches one of his hands between his thumb and forefinger.
“What do you want, kiddo?”
“You da,” Apollo twists again, clearly turning his head about the room.
“Yeah, that’s me. Your da.”
“You da!” Apollo repeats, even louder, “you da!”
“Apollo, your old man’s right here, what else do you need?”
Apollo’s getting increasingly frustrated, leaning away from Dhurke, hand covering his mouth to stop him from talking. “Yuda!”
Datz, having been watching in interest, narrows his gaze, as if he’s just figured something out. Dhurke is about to ask what it is when Apollo whines, before shouting again, the loudest he’s been so far: “Yuty!”
Oh.
“Apollo?” Nahyuta’s voice is so quiet in comparison, but Apollo stops as soon as he hears it, turning to the noise. His face lights up instantly, and he’s holding his hands out once more, leaning toward him.
“Yuty!”
Nahyuta’s smile is small, and he ducks his head to hide it. “Nahyuta,” he corrects, “ta.”
Dhurke knows what Apollo wants, and sets him on the ground so he can make his way over himself, face bright and legs as fast as they can carry him.
2 —
Nahyuta sits beneath a tree, legs folded and hands set on his knees. It’s quiet in the mountains – he’s always preferred when they’re here, rather than hiding in the city; but he knows they can’t stay put for too long.
Nahyuta finds that with patience, the longer he sits, the more creatures find him and stay in his company; birds and rabbits coming to rest on his shoulders and legs.
Butterflies flock him, pink tail loops carrying restless souls. They’ve always sought him out, and he’s found if he closes his eyes and concentrates, he can sometimes hear them, sometimes speak to them in return.
A twig snaps and his eyes fly open, but he doesn’t flinch, and the animals remain, turning ears and heads towards the noise.
A deer creeps its way out from the undergrowth, and Nahyuta feels a small smile on his face. She bows her head to him, and he returns the motion, before she turns to look behind her. A fawn steps out to take its place beside her, and together the two of them approach Nahyuta, before lowering themselves to sit on the ground. Hesitantly, he reaches a hand out, and the doe presses her nose into his palm.
“Hello,” he says quietly, and she blinks her big eyes up at him.
“Yuty!”
The peace is shattered, and the deer scramble to their feet and dart back into the trees, the other animals leaping into the air or cover, butterflies disappearing in a flurry of wings.
Nahyuta lets out an angry sigh. “Apollo,” he complains, “be quiet!”
Apollo either doesn’t hear that or ignores it, because he’s grinning as he crashes his way through the undergrowth towards his brother.
“Hey, Yuty,” he says, and Holy Mother, how does one person make so much noise?, “Dad was looking for you.”
Nahyuta turns his head in the direction of their house, even though it isn’t visible from here. “I didn’t hear him call,” he says suspiciously.
“Duh, that’s why he told me to find you!”
He sighs, pulling himself to his feet and dusting himself off.
“Did he say for what?”
Apollo’s reply is a cheerful “Nope!”
3 —
“’Yuta,” Apollo coughs out, fingers curling into the dirt, “Dad—”
Dhurke is already gone, diving once more into the river.
Apollo coughs a few more times, water dripping from his hair and nose to splatter the ground beneath him. He’s shaking — though he can’t tell if that’s from the freezing cold or his own fear.
Apollo’s terrified. He doesn’t want to turn and face the fast-running waters again, but he has to know, has to make sure his brother is all right.
He tries to stand, tries to set one foot on the ground, but he’s quivering too much and nearly falls again, elbow slamming into the dirt.
Tears spring into his eyes. This was his fault. Nahyuta had called to him to be careful.
Apollo sniffs, valiantly pushing back his tears and turning to face the river, curling up with his knees to his chest, scanning the waters for any sign of Dhurke and Nahyuta. It’s hard to see anything through the blur of tears, but still— a glimpse of his father’s dark hair, or Nahyuta’s pale lavender, anything to say they’re okay.
He may not follow the same religion as the rest of his family, but hugs his knees tighter, a prayer in every bone in his body.
Dhurke bursts up onto the river bank with a shivering Nahyuta clinging to his neck. Apollo scrambles forward, desperate and frantic.
“He’s okay,” Dhurke says, and there’s exhaustion lining his voice, but they’re safe, and that’s all that matters, “you’re both okay.”
“Yuty,” Apollo gets out, choking around the lump in his throat. He’s long since swapped out the nickname for a less childish one, but it slips out anyway, along with every emotion he can’t keep inside his body, soaking wet and shaking. He’s trying to hold it all in, trying to be brave, and Nahyuta still hasn’t let go of their dad, eyes wide and frightened.
Dhurke smiles, and that’s when Apollo bursts into tears, throwing himself at him. With Apollo crying, the tears start slipping down Nahyuta’s face, and both of them bury their faces into his chest.
4 —
The jacket is too big on Apollo, sleeves coming down past his wrists. He fidgets with them, pushing one up past his bracelet, before looking up at Dhurke.
“You’ll grow into it,” he rumbles, something like pride in his voice, “it suits you.”
The atmosphere is heavy. Nahyuta hasn’t said a word in days.
Apollo’s been quiet, too, and he ducks his head, still playing with the sleeve cuff.
“You have to leave soon if you don’t wanna miss that window, Dee,” Datz says. When Dhurke turns to him, a million questions trapped under his tongue, he smiles back, jaw set. “We’ll be fine here, don’t worry about us.”
Nahyuta stares up at Dhurke, but the moment he notices his father looking back, turns his face away.
“We’ll be okay,” he says, “promise.”
He’s made a lot of promises to his kids, and he intends on keeping every last one of them.
They’ve packed light— of course they have, it’s only what they can carry on their backs, a single bag each, clothes rolled as tightly as possible and a few day’s worth of food each. There’s been extensive research into this, long nights of planning, even longer nights of wondering if this was the right thing to do.
(Apollo never belonged here, part of him reasons. He shouldn’t have let himself get attached in the first place.)
“Yuty…?” Apollo steps forward, out of Dhurke’s shadow. He’s still fidgeting with his cuff, rubbing the bracelet underneath.
Nahyuta bites his lip.
“It won’t be forever, will it?” Apollo’s putting on a brave face, “dad’ll bring me back again soon, and then I can tell you all about it and—” he cuts himself off, ducking his head down.
“Promise,” Nahyuta’s voice is raw, cracking around the edges. Apollo doesn’t respond immediately, and Nahyuta reaches out, grasping Apollo’s hands in his own. “You have to promise.”
“I promise,” Apollo says, before pulling his brother into the tightest hug possible. Nahyuta hugs back, fingers digging into the back of Apollo’s jacket, face buried in his shoulder so only a spill of pale hair is visible.
They don’t move for the longest time, and Dhurke doesn’t have the heart to break it up, instead using the time to do one last check of their inventory, go over the plan with Datz just in case.
“Stay safe,” Datz says, upturn to his lips as he gives Dhurke a light punch to the shoulder, “don’t get caught.”
“Hey, we’re dragons,” Dhurke replies, “even if we do, we’ll give ‘em hell.”
Both boys hold on like they never want to let go. Dhurke wonders, again, if he’s really making the right choice.
5 —
(“I dunno, they said they got some international prosecutor on the case,” Ema shrugged, “can’t really remember the name I got given right now, sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Apollo replied, “it’s fine. We can handle it. We’ll be fine, no matter who we end up facing in court tomorrow.”)
Apollo straightens out his file notes on the bench, sharing a glance with Athena. She nods, conviction sparking in her eyes.
They’ve got this. Apollo can feel the start of a smile on his face, determination surging through him.
Trucy’s innocent, and Apollo’s faith is unwavering. They just have to uncover the truth.
The doors open, and the prosecutor steps through.
His hair is long— so much longer than Apollo thought it could ever be; tied in a braid swinging freely down his back. A scarf floats behind his head, and he carries his case files in his arms with a sense of effortless grace.
Apollo can’t stop staring, feeling as if all the air’s been knocked from his lungs. Beside him, Athena furrows her brow, glancing back and forth between them.
“Are you okay?” she whispers, “do you know him?”
He must look like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth over and over as he stares.
It’s like he’s seen a ghost — in some way, he has; a ghost of his past, coming back to haunt him now, fifteen years later.
The prosecutor sets down his files, hardly making a whisper as he does. He hasn’t looked towards the defence bench the entire time he’s been in the room, keeping his eyes down.
Then, he brings his hands up into a traditional Khura’inese prayer position, mouth moving silently as he recites to himself.
The courtroom is silent— even the gallery has fallen quiet, watching the foreign prosecutor for his every move.
Apollo hasn’t seen him in fifteen years, and this is the very last place he thought he ever would.
“… Yuty?”
It's the quietest Apollo’s ever been. It echoes in the silence, bouncing off the high ceiling. He can feel Athena’s eyes on him, but can’t tear his gaze from the prosecutor standing behind the opposing bench.
Nahyuta Sahdmadhi opens his eyes, and for the first time, looks over to Apollo.
There’s no spark of recognition in his eyes. His expression doesn’t even change.
“Mr… Justice,” he says, and something in Apollo cracks.
+1 —
“Yutyyyyyyyyy,” Apollo whines, hanging over the back of the couch. Nahyuta rolls his eyes.
“Can I help you, o restless spirit?”
Apollo snorts. “You make it sound as if I’m dead.”
“You will be if you keep bothering him,” Rayfa pipes up.
“Thank you, Rayf,” Apollo says, dripping with sarcasm. He pauses. “Is that a warning or a threat?”
Rayfa purses her lips. “Threat,” she lands upon, “only I can bother braid-head.”
“Since when?”
“It is my sworn duty as the youngest S— youngest Sa—”
Both Apollo and Nahyuta watch her with casual interest as she grows increasingly red-faced.
“As the younger si—”
“Go on.”
“Oh, forget it!” she huffs, bells on her wrists jingling as she throws her hands out, “you’re both nincompoops, anyway!”
Apollo grins. “Love you too, Rayf.”
“Hmph!”
“But also being the youngest does not help your case as much as you think it does. We grew up with Datz.”
Rayfa scrunches up her nose, but ultimately decides to give up the conversation, sulking to herself.
“Oh. Right,” Apollo drapes himself further over the couch so he can set his chin on Nahyuta’s shoulder, “Yuty,”
Nahyuta sighs, but he doesn’t shift out of the way, and Apollo takes that as a victory.
“Hm?”
“I’m bored. We’ve done enough work today.”
“You used to be so diligent,” Nahyuta says, “what happened to the man who went back to work that day after a courtroom explosion?”
Apollo squawks, right in Nahyuta’s ear. “Don’t say that like it’s a positive!”
Nahyuta sets an entire hand on Apollo’s face, shoving him away with a smirk. The dragon inked on his palm shows dark and clear.
#khura'in week#aa6#ace attorney#spirit of justice#apollo justice#nahyuta sahdmadhi#aa fic#skarmowriting#nicknames and how despite everything and how you change there might still be a sense of familiarity behind it all
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Nightmares and Tea Parties
AO3
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Conner froze the second he walked into the living room of Lois and Clark’s. He’d been expecting his mentor or his mentor’s wife. What he hadn’t expected, was the small child he’d met over the summer who claimed she was his little sister (but that was a story for another time). He starts to back up. Maybe she hadn’t noticed him? Maybe he could sneak ou-
“Conner!” She chirps, her previous scowl immediately replaced by a wide grin. He nods at her.
“Hi Marinette. Where’s Clark? Or Lois?” He asks. She sighs, slumping back on the couch.
“Auntie Lois is on a call in her office and Uncle Clark got called away for work.” She pouts. Conner blinks.
“Oh. And they just left you in here?” He asks. She huffs.
“Duh. I’m five, I can watch a movie alone.” She says. He glances at the tv (it was off) before looking back at her.
“Right.” He says, glancing over her again. She was much angrier than she’d been when he’d seen her last. “Are you okay?” He asks.
“No. Well, yes, but no. Maman and Papa won’t let me get a dog.” She says. Conner raises an eyebrow. He hadn’t thought the kid was a brat before, but-
“Why do you need a dog?” He asks. He understood, to a point. He had Wolf, and would feel pretty lost without him. But to act like this? Over a dog? It was-
“Mme. Camille says it’ll help with the nightmares.” She says, her voice hollow and quiet. Conner jerks back slightly, as if he’d been slapped. Marinette had curled in on herself, obviously trying to make herself smaller. The nightmares? Marinette sighs, tugging her knees closer. “I have really bad nightmares. All the time. Maman and Papa took me to Mme. Camille to try to help. It doesn’t work. And since we can’t have a dog, they’re gonna make me take medicine.” Conner drops onto the armchair closest to the couch.
“I- I’m sorry, kiddo.” He says. She shrugs.
“Not your fault. ‘m just tired. But I’m too scared to sleep.” She says, and Conner can hear the exhaustion in her voice. Exhaustion that shouldn’t be present in such a young kid.
“Is there- can I do anything?” He asks. She shakes her head.
“No.”
“Do you wanna talk about the dreams?” He asks. She hesitates, eyebrows scrunching together.
“Sometimes, Paris is on fire. And sometimes the whole world is underwater. Because- because the stars are scared. And they’re really loud when they’re scared. And then I can’t stop thinking about the scary stuff that they’re worried about.” She explains, her voice barely audible. Conner just stares at her. That was- not what he was expecting. Weren’t kids supposed to have nightmares about clowns? And monsters under their bed? Not fires and floods. Before he can think too hard, Marinette begins to sniffle. Crap. Eyes wide, he moves so that he’s sitting next to her.
“Want a hug?” He asks softly. She doesn’t hesitate before throwing herself forward, wrapping her tiny arms around him. Conner, despite having super strength, is still caught off guard how strong the little girl is. “It’s okay, kiddo, I got you.” He says softly, gently petting her hair. He wasn’t exactly sure how to help her, but he could at least hug her. Maybe remind her she wasn’t alone.
“I’m sorry.” She sniffles after a few minutes.
“You don’t have to apologize, Marinette.” Conner says softly. “It’s okay.” AFter a minute, a thought comes to him. “Do you have a phone?” He asks. She pulls away from the hug, her eyebrows raised.
“I’m only five.” She says. Conner winces slightly. Right.
“Do you have a house phone?” He asks. She nods. “Can you use it?” Another nod. “Okay. How about I write down my phone number for you so that next time you have a nightmare, you can call me.” He suggests. She frowns.
“But Maman says the times are different and we can’t call all the time.” She says. Conner nods.
“Your maman is very smart, Marinette, but I’m saying it’s okay to call me if you have a nightmare or you’re scared. I’ll talk to your maman about it, too.” He says. Her eyes fill with unshed tears, and for a moment, he’s afraid he messed up.
“You’ll really help me?” She asks. He nods, pulling her back into a hug.
“I’ll always help you, kid.”
---
Letting out a long sigh, Clark puts the key into the door. Lois had apparently left for an emergency at the Daily Planet, but had assured him that Conner was a perfectly fine babysitter and that he could finish his League meeting before coming home. Doesn’t mean he wasn’t tired…or worried. Gently pushing the door open, he immediately raises an eyebrow at the sight. Conner and Marinette were sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, but that wasn’t the part that shocked him. The crown on his niece’s head and the tea set on the table also weren’t shocking. What was shocking was the feather boa around Conner’s neck. That and the floppy hat on the boy’s head.
“Lord Conner, you must remember to keep your pinky up.” Marinette chastises the boy as he picks up the tea cup. Conner nods, the twinkle of amusement in his eyes a contrast to the serious expression on his face.
“But of course, Princess Mari.” He says, before sticking his pinky out. Clark quickly snaps a picture with his phone before clearing his throat. Conner’s eyes widen slightly, before he grins lopsidedly.
“Having fun, kids?” Clark asks. Marinette nods rapidly.
“Conner’s the best!” She exclaims with a toothy grin. Conner’s grin becomes impossibly wider at the little girl’s statement.
“It’s my first tea party.” He says, shrugging. Clark ignores the slight twinge of anger in his chest. Not at Conner, of course. At the shit hand the boy had been dealt. The childhood that had been withheld from him. Even Clark had had a tea party when he was younger. Ma, Gina and Tom were all tea party fanatics. It hadn’t really occurred to him that it was an experience Conner might enjoy, too.
“Well I’m glad you guys have had fun. What do ya say we order a pizza for dinner?” He asks. Marinette cheers, and Conner nods. Clark grins at the two of them. Their family was odd, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.
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#supermari#supermari may#supermari may 2022#platonic supermari#maribat#maribat marinette dupain cheng#maribat conner kent#maribat clark kent#maribat lois lane#platonic#platonic relationships#found family#maribat found family#maribat platonic relationships
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*holds up a microphone*
Tello and the purple dragons. Is this anything do they intervene/get protective if these teens try to hijack or otherwise mess with Donnie’s tech? Does the cryptid steal a jacket just to flaunt it in their faces before destroying it?
These are the questions the public needs to know. Also here’s a kitten <3
KITTY HI KITTY WHAT'S THEIR NAME
*clears throat and leans into microphone*
As long as there is no serious danger at hand, Tello is quite willing to let the various teenagers of NYC bother each other. If you get hit, hit 'em back. Rub some dirt in it. You didn't die so stop complaining. They're on the opposite end of the child-care spectrum as Hamato "omg kiddo are you okay here's a band-aid and a lollipop" Leonardo.
Most of the time, Tello's content to let people mess with Donnie's tech to their heart's content, especially if it's a blue thing that's about to get a little exploded-y. Twins make funny noises when things blow up around them and Tello would never take away an opportunity for them to be loud and/or annoying.
The purple dragons are a constant irritation but not enough to bother Tello 99% of the time. Donnie complains about some new dragon interference and Tello just says 'skill issue' in a completely flat voice without ever looking up from their phone.
But as I mentioned the last time I went on a needlessly long turtle ramble, Tello gets very protective of their little mini-me. And that's where the problem-causing starts. Because occasionally, the dragons decide to do something that's a little more serious and puts the lil' raisinet in some sort of danger.
Donnie, having gone out on his own to handle some mission without his brothers' help interference, runs into a problem. Not wanting Raph to know that he's off doing shenanigans all alone, he calls Tello.
He probably should have asked why they started laughing.
Donnie is holed up somewhere with the humans prowling around when something they are not prepared for happens. A thirty-foot-long mechanical dragon divebombs them from the dusky heavens, a seven-foot-tall cyborg mutant turtle cackling wildly from their perch atop the dragon's head. It begins breathing fire without much apparent care for what exactly gets set ablaze.
All the humans are utterly terrified by this. Donnie starts also cackling wildly.
They're in a lot of trouble when the reds Hear About This Shit.
They also have their own matching purple satin jackets that exactly match their mask colours and have the mechanical dragon's head embroidered on the front. The back says
PURPLES RULE
BLUES DROOL.
Leonardo disapproves of the jackets and the dragon. Tello and Donnie don't care. (The dragon's name is Welldon, a play on Shelldon that's pronounced 'well-done'.)
#i love them so much look at them#they're both unhinged. not a single hinge between em. <3#rottmnt future donnie#rottmnt donnie#rottmnt
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