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#i just love kili with his angry fists yelling DROP HIM
greeneyed-thestral · 1 year
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cassiabaggins · 4 years
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Where There’s a Will (There’s a Way): Part Two
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A/N: Part two of the single dad, mechanic Fili AU. Thank you all so much for your sweet comments suggestions! They really give me life! I love you guys so dang much! <3 <3 <3 <3 (See if you guys can guess where I got the idea for Fili and Will’s last name!)
Parts: one, three
Warnings: bullying
Rating: K/T
Taglist: @legolaslovely​ @d3-iseefire​ @strictlynofrills​ @i-am-still-bb​
Fili doesn't think anything is wrong with Will at first. Sure, his son gets in the car and barely talks the whole way home, but that's not unusual. As an introverted child, Will is often left exhausted after school and needs time to himself to recover. Fili never denies him that, he remembers feeling that way as a kid in school, too. Will spends the afternoon in his room, until Fili calls him out to do his homework as he makes dinner.
"Dad," Will says. 
"Will," Fili replies. "What's up?"
"Am I retarded?" 
Fili nearly drops the kitchen knife on his foot when his son says that, and turns fully to face him. Will is sitting on the kitchen floor, his first grade homework sheet in front of him, a pencil in one hand, and a fidget toy in the other.
"No." Fili says, crouching down in front of him. "You aren't. Why do you ask?"
Will fidgets and looks away, clearly uncomfortable with the discussion. "Someone at school said I was."
"They did?"
"Yeah…" 
Fili sits down on the ground. "Who? Another kid?"
His son chews nervously on his pencil. "No. A grown up."
"A grown up? What, like a teacher? Did your teacher say that to you?!" Fili can feel his face starting to get hot like it always does when hes angry. He really, really wants to punch something. Preferably someone.
"No," Will says, "Mrs. Johnson wasn't there today. She had her baby last night the principal said. So we have a sub for the last month of school."
"Did the sub call you that?"
"Yeah."
"What happened, kiddo?"
Will looks down, his eyes filling with tears, and Fili immediately gathers him into his arms, pulling him onto his lap. "You can tell me, and then Dad will go down and fight whoever hurt you," he mumbles against Willie's blonde hair. "Promise."
The boy sniffles, rubbing at his eyes. "We had a pop quiz today an' I was playing with my fidget toy like Mrs. Johnson always lets me, and he came and took it!"
"Did you tell him Mrs. Johnson and you have an agreement?"
"Yeah! And he yelled at me for talking back!!!"
Will throws his arms around Fili's neck and sobs. "Its not fair!!! He threw it in the garbage!"
"'Course it's not fair," Fili says, stroking his back. 
"Then he made me stand in the hallway and ripped up my quiz and said 'stupid retarded kids bringing toys to school'!"
Fili holds his son as he sobs, feeling rather like he wants to cry himself. "I'm gonna bring you to school tomorrow and talk to your principal, okay?"
"Okay," Willie sniffles, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "You promise?"
"Cross my heart," Fili says, making the motion.
That reassurance relaxes his son, and the two of them finish the homework and eat dinner and Will climbs into bed.
"I got a new book from the library while you were at school," Fili says, sitting down on the edge of Will's bed. "Since we finished Percy Jackson."
"What book is it?" Will asks.
"It's one I remember reading as a kid and I remember really liking. I saw it on the shelf and had to pick it out." Fili pokes at Will with the book. "Scooch over, kiddo."
The boy does so and Fili leans against the pillows beside him. "This is called Redwall. It was probably my favorite book."
Will leans his head against his dad's shoulder and looks with interest at the book. It's pretty thick, thicker than Percy Jackson, and it looks like it's kind of old. It has a mouse in a green tube holding a sword and a shield and Will decides to give it a chance.
"Okay," He says, "let's go."
Fili laughs and opens the book. "Redwall," He reads, "by Brian Jaques…"
.
Not long after Will falls asleep, Fili gets a call from his mom while hes sitting at the kitchen table checking his email.
"I'm not sending Willie back to that school next year," Fili says, tapping his pen on the table in front of him. 
"Why?" Dis asks. “Did something happen?”
"I'm sick of him being bullied. You won’t believe what people say about him, and to him!”
“Kids are cruel, Philip,” his mom says, using his full name.
“If it was just kids, maybe I’d be less angry. But it’s adults, too. People who are supposed to protect him!” Fili tells his mom what Will told him earlier.
“He ripped up his quiz?!” Dis splutters, “He’s six! Who does that?!”
“This substitute,” he says, “apparently. I’m looking at the email from the school right now.”
“About the incident?”
“No, the one telling parents about the sub. I didn’t have time to check my email today.” Fili rubs the back of his head. “Man, I wish I had seen this earlier. Will doesn’t do well with change like this. I could have warned him.”
“Hey,” Dis says, “Don’t worry about it too much, you can’t be perfect.”
“I know that, logically. But I just want to be. So bad. He depends on me.” “I know, sweetie.”
Fili sighs. “I’m going to bring Will to school tomorrow and talk with his principal. I was just about to call Kili and tell him I was gonna come in late.”
“Oh, he’s right here. You want me to tell him?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Fili finishes his call with his mom and cleans up around the apartment and goes to bed.
.
"I don't wanna go to school," Willie says during breakfast the next morning.
"You like school," Fili says, pouring him cereal. 
"I not when Mrs. Johnson isn't there," he replies around a mouthful of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. "I don't want the teacher to call me stupid again."
"Yeah, me neither," Fili tells him, pouring himself coffee. "But remember, I'm going to school with you to talk to him."
"Can you get me my fidget back?"
"Probably not. But you can bring a new one."
"What if he throws this one away, too?"
“Then I’ll talk to him about it.”
Fili walks over and strokes Will's blonde curls. "Go get dressed, kiddo, okay?"
"Okay."
.
Will hops out of the car and trots over to Fili to take his hand. "What are you gonna say, Dad?"
"I don't know yet, kiddo," Fili says. 
"What if they think I'm lying?"
"Now, why would they think that? You're an honest kid."
.
"He's lying."
"Excuse me?" Fili says. 
"He's lying," Mr. Alfrid, the substitute reiterates. "I never said such a thing to him."
"My boy," Fili snarls. "Is not a liar. You ripped up his quiz and took his fidget toy, which he has permission from his teacher to use."
"Well, then he should have told me that."
"He told me he tried to, but you punished him for talking back."
"Is this true?" The principal asks.
The substitute teacher splutters wordlessly for a moment. "How was I supposed to know that? I deal with dozens of unruly children every day, how am I supposed to know who is allowed special treatment and who isn't?"
"Reasonable accommodations," Fili spits, "aren't special treatment."
"Tell that to the other kids."
Fili turns to Will, who's been slunk down in his chair behind him. "Do the other kids think its unfair to them that you get to use a fidget?"
Will shrugs. "I dunno. I don't really talk to them. I guess not."
"Are they mean to you because of your fidgets?"
"No."
"Mr. O'Turner," the principal says, "where is this line of questioning going?"
"I'm just trying to get a feel of what the classroom is like. On Will's IEP, part of it is allowing him to have a fidget to use in class to help him stay calm and on task, especially during tests and quizzes."
"IEP?" Mr. Alfrid asks.
"Individualized Education Program," the principal explains. "And yes, as I recall, that is part of Will's plan." He looks at Will. "Why don't we send him to class, though, school is about to start."
Will looks up at his dad, who nods at him. "Have a good day, kiddo," he says, bending over and kissing Will's head. "I'll pick you up after school."
"Okay. I love you, dad."
"I love you, too."
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"Did you make the substitute be nice to me?" Will asks.
"Was he nice to you?" Dad asks.
"Nicer." Will buckles his seatbelt. "I don't think he's ever nice. But he didn't yell at me."
"Well," Dad says. "I suppose that's true. To be honest, I don't really like that school. I sent you there because it was the public school and it's the place most kids go, but… well…" he sighs. "I don't really like the way the other kids treat you. I want you to have friends."
"I don't need friends," Will says. "I've got you, Dad. And Kili, and Gran, and Uncle Thorin, and Uncle Frerin. And everyone else."
"Yeah," Dad says with a laugh, "you do, but you need friends your own age, too."
"Why?"
"Because you need people in your life, peers, who are going through the same things you are going through, who you can turn to for help. Also, it's just fun to have friends."
Will frowns. "I guess you're right. Does this mean I'm going to a different school?"
"Not this year. Next year. I've been looking into the smaller school, uh, Shire Academy. I think it might be a good fit for you. Smaller class sizes, so you don't have to be with as many people all day, and they are very open to kids like you, and seem willing to work with your accommodations."
"Wow, dad, you found all that out today?"
Dad laughs. "No, no. I've been looking around for a while. You think you can stick out a few more weeks here?"
"I think so," Will says.
"That's my boy." Dad holds his hand back so Will can give him a fist pound. "We're moving onto bigger and better things, my dude. Bigger and better things."
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maxskulline · 4 years
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"I, um---" Her lunch break's nearly over so he's gonna keep this brief, like she probably wants. "I made you somethin' while you was gone last year." He hands her a package, the unmistakable emblem of ReSkull Clothing printed on the plastic. "Don't open it here, a'ight? Wait 'til you home. Thought I'd never see you again so I jus' been lettin' it catch dust in my trailer. You don't hafta keep it but, it's better wit' you than me, ya feel? See you 'round." He's gone before she knows it.
A few hours later and the parcel still lies unwrapped on the end of her bed. Within Max’s proximity, close enough to reach out and discover its content, yet she ignores the call of curiousity with all of her might like it’s not yelling to unravel the big secret. Guzma has had mentioned his new, his own clothing brand with a new kind of pride he never wore like this before. She knows the present must be related to it, if the ever familiar skull and its new crown of the ReSkull Emblem was any hint towards it. 
When Guzma handed her the parcel, he gave Max no chance to utter a response or to reject the gesture - before she could, he had left the young woman in a stupor and disappeared as fast as the wind. Max remembers how she stared after him until she was called back inside by her colleague. Something about the act, the way Guzma left before facing the possibility of rejection, had felt so bittersweet that she could not bring herself to leave the parcel at work. 
Still, it’s been hours. And the parcel remains wrapped. And Max picks up plenty other things that suddenly need doing. Like cleaning up - yep, it’s been a while since those shelves had had a proper dusting. And the state of their TV! With Pokémon fur clinging to every possible surface and screen in this cozy little apartment, she’ll be kept plenty busy and surprise Rosie with a clean home, uh huh. Max, of course, doesn’t just leave it at dusting - not when she can hoover and sweep the floors as well. 
With music turned up to full volume and upbeat songs she loves to sing along to blasting from the speakers, she passes and crosses the untouched package at least fifteen times before Max ultimately decides that there’s no putting off anymore. The rooms are squeaky clean, she has had a shower, no dishes need washing anymore, and as nice as keeping distracted had felt, the evergrowing tightness in her chest to get it over and done with wins this battle in the end. Besides… this needs to happen before Rosie gets home. 
Her fingers tighten in the hem of a loose, purple shirt she had gotten comfy in. Then tells herself to take a deep breath because - because it’s just a present.
                                  ‘But it’s a present from Guzma, Max.’
Something he had made, for her, while she kept hundreds of miles away from these islands. When Max was on his mind when he wasn’t on hers. 
                                   ‘Bullshit. Why do you keep telling yourself that?’
He made it not knowing if he could ever give it to her. Despite everything, the very least she can do for him is open it. Securing that Kili is still napping in his usual spot on the sofa, Max closes her bedroom door ever so quietly. With every passing second her heart beat picks up pace until the drumming of blood pulsates in her ears. Then, at last, she takes her place on the edge of her bed and crosses her legs beneath her body. Her fingers pick at the plastic and pull it closer to herself. Chants within her mind to not dissociate now, that she can do this, that all she needs is to take a breath and then another. 
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There we go. Once the parcel is placed in the center of her lap and a pair of scissors slice along the upper edge, it feels a little easier to proceed. She peels away the plastic, lets it drop to the floor and lays out the garment across her duvet. A black leather jacket. It’s lined with dust pink taffeta while pink stitches decorate the seams and adorn the piece of clothing with something equally feminine and coarse alike. She can tell that every stitch was placed by his own hands, that the pieces were cut out and sewn together to fit a sheer visual memory of her shape. Nothing about it looks artificial. And it is its very uniqueness that holds Max’s heart in a deadlock because it was made only for the person who he hoped would wear it one day and that’s why he held onto it until now. A beautifully crafted garment and testimonial of his talents. She traces the silver and pink studs before turning the jacket to inspect the back - and that’s when her heart stops.  
                                               Babygirl
The hot pink letters stretch all across the back, shoulder to shoulder, in Guzma’s unmistakeable, artistically messy handwriting. Slightly misplaced to the left and beneath the letters, silky, purple stitches shape a fist-sized embroidery of the ReSkull emblem. 
Her hands snap back immediately as though she had burned herself, pushing the jacket off of her legs when she jumps up, chasing to her coat to fumble for her pack of cigarettes and the lighter. The balcony door falls shut hard, but even two cigarettes after, her nerves don’t feel any calmer. She’s shaking all over, arms crossed atop the railing and forehead pressed down on her palms. No, she needs a third - fuck her lungs, or that this habit will really kick her in the ass soon, Max’s already fishing out another and hisses a curse when it nearly takes a five story dive. “Fuck,” she whispers in between every exhale, drowning herself in blue smoke and nicotine. “Fuck.” 
What the hell was he thinking? By giving her that - it’d could’ve been a present she’d easily, happily accept, but the meaning behind the letters ran too deep, triggered too much, opened a hole in her chest that she just hasn’t managed to close yet. Entwined with a familiar beast she simply cannot feed, for it hungers for the past, for something new, starving for the one thing she never had moved on from. The beast’s name is longing, and it’s rearing its head with a loud, deafening growl. 
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What was he thinking when he made it, though? Was he holding on to the past, or was he maybe processing the things he had lost with it? He did say he thought he’d never see her again…. so, wishful thinking perhaps? Some part of Max feels angry he gave her the parcel today, but he’s always been really fucking impulsive, hasn’t he? The empathetic part within her can’t blame him. Sitting on something for so long, while telling yourself you never, ever get to show it to the person it’s meant to be for - it must hurt. No, it really fucking hurts. She knows what it’s like. Still. Max scoffs very loudly while she squeezes the cig dead in her ashtray, and flips off the unsuspecting sky as a substitute for everything that has gone wrong in her life. 
She goes back inside.
The jacket remains untouched for the rest of the night. 
The next day, she hangs it up in her closet.
The day after, Max finally feels like she’s getting over something and takes it out again, when Rosie’s gone because Rosie can’t know. Appreciates the front side only without turning it around, allowing herself to feel impressed by Guzma’s craftsmanship. He’s always had a knack for designing, but this? A crazy step up from Team Skull gear. It’s - it’s really good. No, it’s beautiful.
Max skips two days before she’ll look at it again,  but this time, she decides to face her fear and takes in the whole thing. Heat rises to her face nonetheless when she traces the pink letters, drowning out memories of all the times she has loved him call her ‘babygirl’.Max 
Part of Max wonders how she’d look wearing it. This part’s quickly being shut up, though, and instead, Max finally reaches for her phone. Writing and reading comes easier now, she doesn’t rely on voice-to-text as much anymore, but this text still takes up a very, very long time to compose.
Guzma’s phone will buzz twice that night. 
[Text] You weren’t kidding when you said you found your thing. The jacket looks beautiful. Keep doing what you do. 
[Text] i do mean that by the way
It takes a fortnight and some days for Max to muster up enough courage for the final step. For the picture she is about to send him, she even dolled herself up with make-up, a pair of skinny, torn jeans and pink boots with black laces. Though the real eye catcher is the jacket hugging her shape so perfectly for the very first time since he gave it to her, it’s like she had been born into it. Guzma really had memorized her so perfectly, hasn’t he? It’s a bittersweet feeling, but…… she turns to the mirror nevertheless and crooks her red lips into a half-smile. Snap ….. and hit send a couple hours and a double-shot later. 
[Picture Attachment] Perfect fit! Gonna wear it to my gig tonight. Come if you want?
[Text] Hey… thank you, by the way. i needed some time, but i love it
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