#like obviously you don’t bring a terrorist to your sister’s house but

[morganbritton132]

No particular reason, I just think it would’ve been funny if Sarah and Zemo interacted.

#helmut zemo #like obviously you don’t bring a terrorist to your sister’s house but #zemo’s got dorky dad energy #and he’s been in prison for seven years #it would’ve been great to see him try to be relatable to AJ and Cass by like asking them about their ‘Inster-gram’ or like American sports #he knows nothing about #and they’d be like this man doesn’t even know tiktok exists #baron zemo #sarah wilson #Sarah Wilson’s home for former enemies of the state

[harrysweasleys]

in this house, you are safe // s.w

summary: seeing sam for the first time after the events of the tfatws finale

warnings: obviously, tfatws spoilers!! mentions of food, alcohol, language, death

word count: 3k

a/n: i wrote this because i love sam wilson with my whole dang heart and i will forever. also yes i am sorry i’m so late on making my mcu taglist but i will make the form this weekend! :) x

After a few days, you had begun to feel at ease in Louisiana. The small town by the water had become a second home, and the people were some of the kindest you had ever met. Sam really hadn’t been joking when he said they’d welcome you with open arms.

Before he left for Latvia to hunt down Karli and the rest of the Flagsmashers, he had told you to go stay with his sister and nephews. So, unwilling to argue with him while he was already stressed, you agreed, and were now occupying the spare room in Sarah’s home. She had been impossibly sweet since your arrival — helping you settle down, driving you if you needed to go anywhere since you didn’t have your own vehicle with you — and you had repaid her by doing the chores. The cooking, the cleaning, the dishes, the groceries, things of that sort.

As a single mother with two boys and a family business to run, you wanted to bring her as little hassle as possible. The last thing you wanted was to make things harder for her.

Plus, all of these things served as a good distraction while Sam was away. Though you trusted him and knew what he was capable of, the constant nagging worry in your mind never seemed to ease. That’s what it was like to be engaged to a superhero, right? Never knowing when they were going to come back — if they were going to come back.

The last you had seen him, he had been fixing the boat with Bucky who had handed him a ‘gift’ from Wakanda. Sam didn’t show you what was inside it, but from the smirk that was on his face when he left with it, you had a feeling that you might know what was up.

So, you had been rather glad that there were so many things to keep you occupied around town and in the house, as you would most likely be losing your mind otherwise. You barely slept full nights, and every time you heard from Sam, whether it be by text or phone call, you always wondered if it would be the last. And that very thought prevented you from getting a good night’s sleep.

As another afternoon rolled around, your hands covered in dish soap as you scrubbed the plates from this morning’s breakfast, you couldn’t help but wonder when he’d be back. He had left earlier yesterday after realizing Karli might be planning an attack in New York, but you weren’t sure how long that was going to last. You hadn’t heard from him since him and Bucky had walked out the front door.

You were cut short of your panicked thoughts when quiet footsteps from behind alerted you that Sarah had entered the kitchen. You knew it had to be her as the boys had already left that morning for school.

“How are you holding up?”

You turned to face her, furrowing your eyebrows at her question, “I’m alright, why?”

She sat slowly onto a kitchen chair and patted the one next to her, “With Sam being away. I know it’s been tough on you. Now with the boys being out of the house I figured we’d have some time to ourselves to talk. You know, as future sisters-in-law.”

You dropped the towel you were using onto the counter and walked over with a small smile on your face, drying your hands on your pants before taking a seat, “Oh, that. I’ve been alright. I mean, it can’t be worse than him being gone for five years, you know?” A humourless laugh escaped your lips and Sarah gave a small chuckle.

“I get that,” she nodded, “I’m just letting you know that I’m here if ever you need anything.”

“I don’t want to burden you with all of my thoughts,” you grinned, leaning over the table, “You’ve got more than enough on your plate, super mom.”

She beamed at the nickname, shaking her head as she let out a small laugh, “You two are lucky to have each other. And I swear that boy will get an ass-whoppin’ if he ever makes you feel like you’re not a part of this family.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” you grinned, “He’s always made sure that I feel welcome. You really have an amazing brother, you know?” you could feel your cheeks beginning to get sore as you kept talking, “He’s never once made me feel like I didn’t belong. And it’s one of the reasons I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with him,” you began to toy with the ring on your left hand, “Because I know that no matter where we end up, it’ll feel like home.”

The kitchen was silent for a moment and you felt a bit of embarrassment at the fact that you just blabbed all of your lovey-dovey nonsense to your fiancé’s sister.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to rant,” you apologized, tilting your head so that you were looking down at the ring. In the shimmering light of the diamond, you could see your entire life with Sam. From the moment you first met him, to the day he got down on one knee, to the distant future where you two would be struggling to help each other off of the couch after watching game shows all day.

She placed her hand on top of yours, “You're part of the family now, and I think the boys really like you too. Yesterday they asked why you weren’t the one who was picking them up from school.”

Warmth spread through you at her words and you felt your throat being to sting as a wave of graduate flooded over you. You were a little overwhelmed, but in a good way. Sam’s family has been nothing but open and accepting since the moment you met them, and you couldn’t help but wonder what you had done to get so lucky.

You let out a small chuckle, “I can pick them up today, if you want. Saves you the drive.”

She raised her hands in the air, not arguing with you one bit, “Oh, you know I won’t be saying no to that. They finish at three and the keys are by the front door. Thanks, Y/N.”

You shot her a thumbs up, “Don’t thank me, super mom.”

As she stood and walked out of the kitchen, you could hear her laughter echoing down the hall, bringing a smile to your face as you made your way back to the sink.

——

The sun had set on the gorgeous town by the docks, and that meant that it was another evening where you found yourself wondering what Sam was up to. You hadn’t heard from him in over a day and your mind was running alight with possible scenarios as to what could have happened to him. This felt like a regular occurrence nowadays. It was as if the only thing that was written in your daily calendar was “8 o’clock: worry. 10 o’clock: worry.”

Luckily for you, though, tonight you had a distraction. As Sarah was tucking the boys into bed, you made your way over to the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine. She had bought one today in hopes of sharing it with you as the two of you watched crappy television after an exhausting day of cleaning up around the house. You two deserved it, as she kindly put it.

You grabbed the bottle, along with two glasses, and made your way to the living room. They were quietly placed onto the coffee table as you flopped down onto the couch, grabbing the remote and flicking it on.

The first channel that was on was the news. Usually you wouldn’t care and would just flip it to another channel, but your attention was caught rather quickly and you nearly dropped the damned remote to the floor.

On your screen, donned in a white suit with red and blue Stars and Stripes, stood Sam. His previously-destroyed wings appeared to be fixed, sticking out of the pack on his back as he lowered to the ground, holding the body of a young girl in his arms. You looked at what he was wearing and immediately you knew that your intuition was right; Bucky had given him a new suit.

“Holy shit,” you muttered, mouth hanging slack, “Sarah!”

She entered the living room nearly immediately as you called her name, shushing you by bringing a finger to her lips. However, she dropped it as soon as her eyes caught sight of the television screen.

“Is that…?”

“Yep,” you nodded, standing up and stepping closer to the screen. Sam was surrounded by cop cars and ambulances, but he wasn’t the one in danger. If anything, it seemed like his instinct was right about the attack in New York.

He lowered the body onto a stretcher and right away, you could tell it was Karli. Her face has been plastered nearly everywhere so it wasn’t difficult to identify her.

Both you and Sarah were silent as the stretcher was pulled away, the cameraman following Sam as he walked up to a couple of Senators — who you figured were probably the ones in danger.

You felt as if you were about to collapse as you watched him in the Captain America suit, both concern and pride bubbling in your chest. Your entire body was numb and tingly and your heart was damn near about to burst out of your chest.

It was hard to tell if Sam felt successful or not — a frown was etched onto his face and his eyes held a level of intensity that you rarely saw in him. You knew the whole John Walker situation had been difficult for him to deal with, but that really only made this moment that much sweeter.

He spoke to them for a couple of moments, asking a few questions about their future plans, before you could tell that he was about to snap. You couldn’t know what he had just been through, but you knew that he didn’t classify Karli as a villain. That she was just someone who got the shit end of the stick in a world that was struggling to reform. He didn’t want to kill her, he wanted to save her.

“You have to stop calling them terrorists,” Sam finally said, shaking his head a bit before facing the man across from him.

“Well, what else would we call them?” he asked, clearly unimpressed at the fact that he was currently being told off on camera. He started defending himself, but Sam quipped back. He had always been so well-spoken and intelligent, and that clearly wasn’t changing now that he was Captain America.

You slowly sat back down as you listened to Sam speak. You had always known him to be inspiring, caring, loyal, and strong. But now the world was going to see that too, and you couldn’t be more proud. Once again, you began to absentmindedly play with the ring upon your finger, twirling it and fighting a massive grin as you watched your future husband stand up for what he knew was right.

Sarah sat next to you, and neither of you could take your eyes off of the screen. You couldn’t even bring yourself to blink, too worried you might miss something.

“A few people have just as much power as an insane God, or a misguided teenager. The question you have to ask yourself is how you’re going to use it,” Sam’s voice was lower than usual, and there was no hint of amusement on any of his features. It wasn’t often that he was like this, but now that he was representing something bigger, something more, you could already sense the change.

You could feel the corners of your lips curve up into a small smile as you watched him walk away and join another familiar face; Bucky, who nearly looked as proud as you felt. The two of them walked away and the cameras panned back to a building, cutting off the conversation that the Senators were now having. You wished you could hear it so you could recount it to Sam, but at the moment, you were too filled with adrenaline and pride to even remotely focus on anything anyone was saying.

Sam was now officially Cap.

Your Sam Wilson was Captain America.

——

Somehow, Sarah had managed to make her way up to bed and sleep. After seeing what you two had just seen, you weren’t sure how she could even bring herself to relax. Because you on the other hand were extremely worked up — pacing around the living room, sending Sam a text every now and then, munching on any snacks you could find, and waiting anxiously to see if he’d be coming home tonight. Your mind was struggling to come to terms with the events of the last few hours and you weren’t sure what you wanted to do right now.

“Come on, pick up,” you mumbled, holding your phone to your ear as the dial continued to ring, signalling that he hadn’t answered your call. You knew he was probably insanely busy after what he just went through, but you were desperate to just take a minute and talk to him.

You let out a groan when his voicemail message popped up for the seventeenth time that night. He’d probably pick up his phone in about an hour and freak out at the amount of texts and missed calls, but who cares? You just found out your fiancé had become Captain America — you had the right to reach out. And you almost felt bad in advance for the amount of questions you were going to ask when you finally got the chance to speak to him.

The cushion of the couch felt soft as you sat back down, pursing your lips and glancing down at your phone screen on the off chance that Sam had sent a text within the last few seconds. Of course, there was nothing there, as expected.

“Sorry I couldn’t answer sooner.”

You jumped off the couch as a quiet voice spoke up behind you. Instinctively, you grabbed one of the unused wine glasses and launched it in the direction of the voice, but a hand came and snatched it out of the air.

“Sam?” you asked, struggling to keep your voice down and hoping to god that you weren’t about to get attacked, “Is that you?”

He stepped out of the kitchen and into the open room, goggles off and a bright smile on his face. He was still wearing the suit, having probably flown over not that long ago, but he looked a lot more at ease than he had on the television a few hours prior.

“Holy crap,” you exhaled, rushing over to wrap your arms around him. The suit felt unfamiliar under your embrace, but he smelled the same, and his skin was still warm under yours. You had a feeling you might be squeezing a little hard, but he didn’t seem to mind. His own arms wrapped around you, his head resting against yours.

“I saw you on TV and…,” you pulled away and placed your hand against his cheek, “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did you win? What happened? And is this what Bucky gave you? It looks really good.”

He chuckled at your rambling, “You think the suit looks good, huh?”

You nearly scoffed at the way he wiggled his eyebrows.

“All of those questions and you choose to respond to just the compliment,” you laughed, bringing your lips to his cheek and placing a quick kiss, refusing to let go of him. A small part of you was worried that if you did end up letting go, he’d have to leave again.

“I’m kidding,” he let out a small chuckle and brought one of his hands up to caress the back of your head, gazing into your eyes, “We can talk about all that tomorrow, I can’t do this tonight. But I do have to say this: I honestly couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

You frowned, furrowing your eyebrows, “That’s not true. You’re an incredible man, Sam. You deserve all of this.”

He nodded, “That’s not what I meant. You know that expression; behind every successful man is a successful woman, or something along those lines? Well, that’s you. You’re the one who has always pushed me to be better. You’re the one who has been there when I’ve failed. The one who was there to help me back onto my feet and keep pushing, keep believing in myself. I may be the one in the suit, but I think you’re the real superhero here.”

You felt a warmth creep up through your body at his words and you had to bite your lower lip to hide the smirk that was threatening to take over.

“I guess that’s why I’m wearing this, huh?” you raised your left hand, twiddling your fingers to show off the ring that sat there.

He leaned forwards, pressing a kiss upon the diamond, and grinned, “That’s exactly why you’re wearing that.”

You were certain that your cheeks would hurt tomorrow due to how much you were smiling, but that was just the effect that Sam had on you. He was alive, he was safe, and he was in your arms. And honestly, you couldn’t ask for much more than that.

“Now, I’m exhausted from kicking ass all night,” he let out an exaggerated sigh, “What do you say we head off to bed? I’m pretty damn happy that I got to come home to you, and all I want to do is go get comfortable with my princess by my side.”

Leaning forward on your tiptoes and pressing a light kiss against his lips, you mumbled, “I strongly support that.”

He removed the wing pack from his shoulders as quietly as possible and sat it on the kitchen table, following you upstairs with his hand linked in yours. His fingers held you tightly and you knew that he was more relieved than ever to be home.

Finally, you’d be able to sleep well, knowing Sam was safe and sound by your side.

#sam wilson imagine #sam wilson imagines #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson reader insert #sam wilson one shot #sam wilson one shots

[watchingeverysebastianstanfilm]

The Falcon & the Winter Soldier: Episode 4 (2021)

In this installment of Buddy Cop: Marvel Edition, Ayo therapizes Bucky through his codewords, one of which is benign. But if I had to guess, I’d say Bucky was packin’ more like benign and a half. That’s serum life, baby. Also, SebStan says ‘titi,’ Sam says ‘titi,’ Zemo says ‘titi,’ everyone says ‘titi’ way too much.

This episode is balls to the fuckin’ wall, there is so much to unpack here and I think I am officially an MCU zealot now because oh, the fanfic I will write.

We’re gonna skip the scene of Bucky and Ayo’s romantic fireside deprogramming for now, since I will be bringing that up later. Instead, let’s focus on how Ayo is very unimpressed they broke Zemo out, and there is a tense moment where Bucky speaks Wakandan, Ayo calls him White Wolf, and I very much want to be in that sandwich.

They seek out Flag Smashers Queen aka Ginger Terrorist in a weirdly fancy house that has seemingly fallen into disrepair. Zemo sings Baa Baa Black Sheep and lures children in with Turkish delight like a creepy ass Narnia character, then swears them all to secrecy, just like a pedo would. He’s obviously up to no good. Something that is reinforced later when the line ‘the end justifies the means’ is bandied about, so apparently Machievelli is gonna be a running theme.

Unfortunately, Captain American’t shows up and has a tantrum in the middle of the street. He does not want to be patronized. He is also impatient and ruins Sam’s Steve Rogers-esque moment where he gets through to Ginger Terrorist via empathy and compassion. Walker’s interruption causes a whole mess where Zemo smashes almost all of the super soldier serum that Ginger Terrorist drops in her escape - I say almost all, since American’t finds the only remaining one and pops a stiffy over it after giving Zemo possibly the worst concussion of all time since you know vibranium hits different.

But the action isn’t over! Not even close! The Dora Milaje, Wakanda’s sweet-ass warrior squad, are here to collect Zemo, and they also don’t wanna hear Walker’s bullshit. SebStan tussles with Ayo and oh my god I want them to kiss but WAIT - AYO TOOK HIS ARM OFF. AYO TOOK HIS ARM OFF. SHE TOOK. HIS ARM OFF.

(It’s cool, he puts it back on, guys.)

Anyway. Ginger Terrorist calls Sam’s sister to threaten her family, and Falcon is not happy. Things rapidly collapse from here as a rendezvous between the two of them - Ginger Terrorist and Sam - goes wrong, and American’t shows up. And surprise! He took the serum for presumably all the wrong reasons and now his partner, Lamar Hoskins, is dead. So he uses the shield to bludgeon a lesser Flag Smasher to death in a rage, a moment this is for sure gonna go viral. Gross. (The image of the blood on the shield is pretty sick, though.)

Sidenote: “and then we kill Captain America” is a sentence I never thought I’d be relieved to hear but damn if it doesn’t give me a lil thrill.

Sebacting: 191804/10

Bucky sits near a campfire while he cries and he looks up at Ayo with the most desperate, hopeful, disbelieving expression ever, before beginning to weep gently. She is freeing him from the mental prison that is the Winter Soldier. Hair falls in his face. The flickering fire carves flattering hollows in his cheeks. His cheeks are damp. I am damp. It is a scene that is seared into my brain for eternity. “

You are free,” Ayo says, and Bucky holds his hand to his mouth, eyes reddened and glassy, and dares to smile through his tears. Here, my heart explodes. Here, it is Oscar-worthy. Here, I short-circuit and ascend.

Sebstan Presence: 7/10

Too much American’t, not enough Daddy Buck. Gimme more.

Is it worth it? God, so much. Latest ao3 search: ‘punch me in the mouth with your metal arm Bucky’

Final: 9/10 Sebstans 

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #tfatws spoilers #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #marvel #mcu #episode recap #review #nonsense #y'all got so mad about my tagging last time #is this better you heathens #xoxo

[nebula-plays-cyberpunk]

Play with Fire

pairing: Kerry Eurodyne x Male!V , Johnny Silverhand x Female!V word count: 6333 (measly and weak but just u wait) summary: V has everything under control. He's not dying. He and Kerry are still going strong. He's now the King of the Afterlife. And Johnny Silverhand is alive and in his own body. He's not forgetting anything...or is he?  notes: Anyone ever want both a male and female V in game? Surprise motherfuckers! Post-Canon The Sun ending fix-it fic coming RIGHT UP! Enjoy two V’s!

Play with Fire — . . | 02 |

AOO Link

4307 hours, 258420 minutes and 15505200.1 seconds. 5.9 months. That’s how long it took to get Johnny back. Not just in V’s head, but actually back . Not only did V focus on getting his own body to stop slowly dying from the lack of Johnny’s biochip in his head, he also focused on how he would get Johnny back. The fucker grew on him...or in him, for better use of the terms. Johnny was a parasite that not only slowly killed V by means not of his own volition, but also slithered his way into V’s heart. Hell, the only reason V came back to his body instead of giving the thing to Johnny was because he gave control to Johnny at Arasaka Tower. V looked over at the man now...in the flesh and not just a fucked up construct in his head that only he could see and hear. Johnny was leaning on the railing to V’s penthouse apartment. The sun was slowly setting on Night City, and despite V being almost next door (or next skyscraper) to her old apartment, there was something so surreal about the scene. Johnny had an unlit cigarette in his mouth and was just leaning on the guardrail, looking at the city with a silent awe. His sunglasses were on top of his head and there was a sort of peace about it all. V blinked as a message came into view. V let out a soft sigh, turning back around and walking into the house.

V was going through his clients and fixers. After everything that happened at Arasaka, V was suddenly thrown back into his body. A living legend. Something V had wanted for a long time...and it felt strange. V was still learning how to live with being a legend. Taking over Afterlife and Rogue’s legacy was a lot more difficult than V had imagined. V hadn’t even imagined becoming a fixer himself...and now there he was. Every other fixer didn’t want Rogue’s position, and most of them now came to V for things. It was all just so...much more than what he expected. V kind of expected to die and become a legend, not live to tell the tale of his escapades. He was alive and now people whispered and tried to fuck him over far more often than he wanted to be fucked. V grumbled once more, throwing himself onto the couch. Kerry was on tour with the Us Cracks for another day and V desperately wanted to actually be fucked instead of having to deal with others who were trying to fuck him in a non-sexy way. “Bein’ a fixer a lot more difficult than you expect?” Johnny asked, pulling V’s attention to the door where Johnny leaned against. V let out a small grunt, looking back up at the ceiling. “I doubt Rogue ever took a fuckin’ break, but you aren’t Rogue. You can make new rules.” Johnny muttered, walking over and leaning over the couch, looking down at V. V looked up at him, suddenly mesmerized by how he actually cast a shadow...how he didn’t glitch when he talked. How he couldn’t just materialize his sunglasses and how stupid he looked with them on the top of his head. “Take a break before you burn yourself out. Didn’t go through all that trouble to clone a new body just to fuck it up by working too hard.” Johnny muttered. V stared at him for a moment longer and sighed. “There’s still a lot of shit I gotta deal with.” V grumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Ya know, I didn’t just get a fuckin’ manual of how to be a fixer and how to run shit smoothly.” V said, looking back up at Johnny. Johnny didn’t say anything, his mind obviously going back to what happened at Arasaka tower...the reason why V was a fixer now and not just a merc. Rogue was dead. Silence filled the air. V sat up and touched Johnny’s hand. Johnny didn’t say a word at the action. Didn’t move his hand either. It was weird being able to physically touch Johnny. Even weirder not to hear his stupid voice rattling around his head, but to actually hear it. Even without the fucker being in his head, he just knew shit with Johnny. That’s what happens when you share a brain and see into the other’s head and soul’s.The two had been through enough shit for a lifetime...and here they both were...living and alive. Clones of what they once were, but both alive. About 5 months into looking at ways for V not to just kick the bucket in the coming month, V decided to take up street fighting. The first place V fought was a little rooftop in Kabuki. There, he fought these two twins that were the same but different. They had split their personalities into two different bodies so that they were two different people but still 1 person. It made V feel hopeful. Sure, they were twins to begin with, but seeing how identical they looked, V got the idea of clones. V called up Hanako who didn’t answer, but V left a voicemail, explaining his reasoning for the call. Then he called Takemura who also didn’t answer. Arasaka fuckers were hard to track down, especially since what V was asking was a lot. V wanted a new body and he wanted Johnny’s engram back, Johnny on the chip...and then a clone of Johnny. It was a big request, especially wanting to bring a literal terrorist against Arasaka back to life...So, like a rational person, V broke back into Arasaka Tower, took Johnny’s engram back and booked it the fuck back to Vik’s. Then V had to go into Cyberspace to find the fucker, so he had to get some help from the Voodoo Boys to get back to the blackwall. Then he had to find him in Cyberspace and throw his ass back into an engram. Alt luckily let him leave willingly, even telling V to make sure when switching out his own engram into a clone to be quick, otherwise he would flatline. The next thing V had to do was find someone to copy Johnny’s DNA and then find out about clones. In less than 2 weeks...while trying to run the Afterlife...and dying. Kerry was a real lifesaver when it came to those 5+ months. Always helpful. Helping buy the best people to make identical clones of both V and Johnny. Fuck he missed the stupid rockstar. “Mind if I use that little Arasaka AV to get the fuck off this little penthouse oasis?” Johnny asked, pulling V from his own thoughts. “Got a hot date er somethin’?” V asked back with a smirk. Johnny returned the smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Johnny teased back. V let himself chuckle, waving his hand towards the front door. “All yours, Silverhand. There’s a key by the door...you know, so your old ass is able to get in it.” V snarked, standing up and grabbing a bottle of Centzon off the end table in front of him. Johnny didn’t have any modifications, minus his new cybernetic arm. His old one was a few decades outdated and despite V’s own cloned body being perfect, something in Johnny’s DNA left him without his left arm...Johnny didn’t seem to mind the new arm. Didn’t seem to mind the new body either. Apparently his cock was still impressive and that was all he really cared about. “Don’t go nukin’ any Arasaka towers.” V teased as Johnny started walking over to the front door. V looked over and saw his middle finger up in the air as he grabbed the key from the door. V sighed, hearing the doors slide shut behind Johnny and the AV starting up and flying off. V sat back on the couch and closed his eyes. +++

“Open the fucking door you fucking gonk!” Johnny shot up from his spot on the couch at the sudden pounding and screaming at the door. V got a new penthouse and lovingly gave Johnny his shithole of an apartment. Another louder pounding of the door followed as Johnny got up from the couch which he had fallen asleep on after eating far too much Chinese food. “I swear to fuckin’ GOD VINCENT FLOWERS!” The pounding of the door was somehow even louder as the woman’s voice continued to scream against it. Vincent Flowers ? Ooh V would not like to know some lady was saying his full name. Johnny was sure V only swung one way, but with the way this chick was banging on the door, it sounded like V had wronged her. Bad . Johnny opened the door mid-pounding, forcing the woman behind it to stumble forward into the apartment. “Take it easy, princess.” Johnny smirked as the woman let out a sharp huff, glaring up at him. She had red hair, a red and black trenchcoat. At least she matched. “What do I owe the pleasure of-” Johnny started before the woman kicked his feet out from under him, straddling his chest once on the ground and holding a gun against his forehead. He could have sworn he heard someone mutter something outside the door, but it slid shut before he could even process anything that was going on. “Vincent Flowers. Vince. V. Whatever the fuck he goes by. Where the fuck is he?” The woman snarled lowly back down at him. Johnny stared back up at her, his hands going up in defense as his breath came back from being knocked out of him. Still not used to that feeling either. “Who’s askin’?” The words came out far more growled than Johnny had meant. He had only had his body for about a week and now he was gonna lose it to some redheaded woman for being protective over V? Yeah that seemed about right. Kinda figured he’s flatline under a woman. “His sister .” The woman said through clenched teeth, glaring back down at him. Johnny’s brows furrowed as he stared up at her. V was around Johnny’s height, maybe a centimetre shorter than him, but this woman had to only be about 5’4”. Her hair looked long with how big her stupid space buns looked. V had dark black hair, while this woman had dark red hair. V didn’t have any tints of red in his hair. The only thing the two had in common were freckles across their nose, though this woman’s freckles were far darker than V’s and...her eyes. Their eyes. Purple. Johnny blinked. “I don’t remember you.” Johnny muttered aloud, more to himself than to the woman. Johnny had been in the prick’s fucking head for over a month, seeing his memories, feeling his feelings, and not once did he remember this little redheaded bitch in the fucker’s memories. Johnny stared at her for a moment longer before she punched him in the nose.  “ Fuck .” Johnny grumbled at the sudden pain. “ Tell me! ” The woman snapped pushing the gun now fully against his forehead. It felt warm. Like she had used it recently, but not so recent that it burned. “Where the fuck is V?” The woman said with a low growl, getting closer to Johnny’s face. “Where is my brother?” The woman asked, sounding a little less hostile at her own words. Johnny watched as her guard went down for a minute before slamming his head into hers. The woman let out a sharp hiss from the pain as Johnny took the opportunity to shove her off of him and quickly rush over to where he kept his gun. Gunfire filled the little apartment as Johnny dove over the couches and grabbed his own gun from the coffee table, staying low to keep from the gunfire. “Why are you lookin’ for him?” Johnny asked loudly, as the gunfire stopped for a moment. Johnny glimpsed over the couch before ducking and falling below where the couch ended and the step was to keep himself from being shot as she fired a few more shots. “I’m worried about the fucker.” The woman snapped back. “He went fucking dark about 8 months ago. Not a fucking word. Dropped off the face of the planet.” The woman explained. Johnny made sure his gun was loaded before quickly rushing over to the bed and jumping on it, to keep himself from being shot, firing a few warning shots back at the woman. “Is he alive?” The woman asked, her tone softening at the question. A moment of weakness. Johnny tossed a pillow towards the couch, watching it get blown to bits from gunfire, helping him figure out where she was by the way the fluff blew out of the pillow. Johnny’s ears perked up at the sound of clicking near the bathroom, knowing she had emptied her clip. Now or never. Johnny quickly rushed around the bed wall and the bathroom wall, grabbing onto the woman’s wrist, hitting the gun from her hand before flipping her over his shoulder and onto the ground, aiming his gun down at her now. The woman glared back up at him as Johnny kicked the gun towards the couches, away from this little hellfire. “He’s alive.” Johnny said, watching her glare subside for a moment as a wave of relief washed over her. “Good.” The woman sighed, staring back up at Johnny before reaching and pulling out another gun from just under her chest from a gun holster and aimed it back at him. Fuck. “Valley.” The woman said, staring back up at Johnny, expecting an introduction. Johnny found himself chuckling. “Johnny.” Johnny introduced himself. Maybe she really was V’s brother. Valley. Valley. This name didn’t sound familiar, but when he thought back of his time in V’s brain, he felt it was familiar. “V doesn’t live here anymore.” Johnny explained, keeping his gun trained on the woman. The woman let out an annoyed huff, setting her gun down to her side, staring up at the ceiling. “You know where he is?” The woman, Valley, asked, looking defeated as she lay on her back on the ground. Johnny slowly lowered his gun. “I just want to see how he is...not just hear it.” Valley muttered, looking back up at Johnny. “I’ve heard a lot of shit about him...It took me about a month to get to Night City and even outside of the fuckin’ city, I’d heard things about V...kinda why I didn’t just come and see what had happened when he went radio silent.” Valley muttered, more annoyed than anything. Johnny stared at her for a long moment before she sat up. “I only knew one number of his, and it was a client that got him into Night City...Jackie Welles. Do you know him?” Valley asked and Johnny felt his heart drop at the name. ‘Course he knew him. Knew that V never truly mourned. Felt the ache in his own damn chest from the grief. “Yeah…” Johnny muttered aloud, staring back at the woman. His heart clenched uncomfortably tight. Valley simply looked back up at him and nodded. “I mean, hell, I know it was about 2 years ago when V first left, but that was the only contact I had that could even potentially lead me to him…” Valley muttered, sitting up on her elbows. “Then he got kicked out of that stupid fuckin’ Arasaka job, so I couldn’t just ring them up askin’ for V.” Valley continued sitting up fully, leaning her arms against her knees. “Last thing I heard was he got this big gig with some big fixer. Thought it’d make him a legend.” V shrugged, looking back up at Johnny. “Then...nothin’.” Valley shook her head, looking confused by the silent act. “Don’t get me wrong, he would go off the map for a while, sure, but after about 2 months, a girl gets worried, ya know?” Valley asked as Johnny stood silent, watching as she explained herself. Johnny felt himself sigh, glancing back at the clock that sat on the ground beside the bed as it blared an obnoxious red reading 3 am. “Why don’t I take you to see him yourself?” Johnny asked, placing his gun on the bathroom sink. “If you really are his sister, then you have a lot to catch up on.” Johnny muttered, reaching out his cybernetic hand to help her up off his floor. Valley grabbed his hand, shoving her gun into her holster, looking at the arm for just a moment. “Where’s he live now?” Valley asked, walking over and grabbing her other gun off of the ground. Johnny, despite himself, watched her bend over. The more he looked at her, the less he could see them as biological brother and sister. For one, V had no ass at all, and despite the long and dramatic trench coat (that hugged this woman’s figure e xquisitely ) Johnny could tell this woman had an ass. And a nice rack on her. “And to think you were someone V would bone.” The woman muttered aloud, forcing Johnny to stop his gawking, only then noticing her staring back at him. “Sorry princess, but you did come banging on my door like an ex-lover at 3 in the fuckin’ mornin’.” Johnny snarked back with a smirk. The woman scoffed, walking past him towards the door, but Johnny caught the slight color change in her cheeks when she passed. Johnny chuckled lowly as he grabbed the key to V’s AV from from the desk beside the bathroom, shoving his gun into his holster. “Everythin’ alright in here?” Johnny heard as he popped his head around the corner, seeing that Valley had opened the door and a police officer was standing on the other side. “Got some complaints about gunshots and screamin’.” The officer muttered, looking around Valley into the apartment. Johnny walked up behind her and shook his head. “Nothing to concern yourself with, officer .” The words were spit out with venom as Johnny leaned against the door, nearly nudging Valley out of the way. “You know the area.” Johnny said with a shrug, glaring back at the man. Looked like the same cop that nearly got that ex-cop down the hall killed for not giving a shit. “We were just headed out.” Johnny stated sharply, grabbing hold of Valley’s arm and hitting his shoulder with the officer’s shoulder as he got out the door, pulling Valley along. The officer chuckled behind him as the door to V’s-er Johnny’s , he guessed, apartment slid shut and locked loudly. Johnny felt his blood boil from the sound. “Easier just to let people know you were bringin’ a joytoy back to get aggressive with. No need to be called out for a domestic with a cumslut.” The officer muttered aloud. Johnny stopped, just a moment after Valley did. Valley turned a lot quicker around than he did. “So if you knew that the noise complaints were involving a joytoy or doll, you’d ignore it?” Valley snapped quickly, her fists already in balls as she walked back up to the officer. The officer’s hand went to his hip and Johnny reached for his own gun at his hip. “Oh, I’m sorry, is being a slut a hard job?” The officer chuckled back down at her. “Is being a cum guzzling whore dangerous?” The officer asked, bending down with a smirk that Johnny suddenly grabbed hold of Valley’s arm and pulled her a step back. “Try being a cop.” The officer continued. “Not much of a difference.” Valley spit back. “Both get fucked by Corpos all the time. Only difference is that pigs don’t need to be paid extra to swallow.” Valley snapped. Johnny couldn’t help the snort that left his body as he watched the officer’s face drop. The small moment quickly died as the officer pulled his gun from his holster. Johnny quickly pulled Valley from the situation, vaguely hearing the police scream and curse as the two sprinted away from the scene, down the stairs, past the gym and into the elevator, quickly shutting the thing and going up to the roof. Even as they rode upwards, Johnny could hear the officer swearing and screaming. A few shots of gunfire followed. Johnny now laughed as he leaned against the side of the elevator. “Had my doubts ‘bout you bein’ V’s sister, but after that little show? No doubt.” Johnny chuckled, nodding back down to where they had been. Through the glass, Johnny could see the officer having a tantrum, now across the apartments to better see their elevator going up, looking for another way up to the roof. Johnny turned his attention back to the woman. She had her arms folded, obviously in her own head, glaring at the elevator doors. Johnny could have sworn he felt heat coming off of her. “V never mentioned he had a sister.” Johnny said, changing the subject, leaning against the elevator’s wall. Valley blinked, pulling herself back to where she was before looking over at him. “Should have just put a bullet to his head.” Valley muttered, looking past Johnny, out to the apartment buildings as they continued climbing higher. “Get rid of at least 1 corrupted fuckin’ cop.” Valley growled, her jaw clenching as she spoke. “Police station isn’t too far from here if you want to go burn the place to the ground.” Johnny shrugged, folding his own arms. Johnny watched as Valley’s glare slowly faded as she let out a small chuckle. “Know anyone with explosives?” Valley asked and Johnny nearly doubled over from laughter, but easily kept that in his chest, instead just chuckling. Maybe 50 years ago, but now, he was still new to being alive, let alone knowin’ where to get some more nukes. “Didn’t bring mine with me into the city. Hard enough as is to get into the fuckin’ place without havin’ explosives in the trunk.” Valley chuckled. Johnny stared at her for a moment before chuckling. The elevator doors opened. “I remember V had to smuggle in some kinda lizard into the City to get in.” Johnny chuckled, walking out the elevator doors. The sound of police sirens weren’t as loud the higher they were. Johnny suspected that one or two might be for the little commotion that Valley caused with the cop down in the apartments, but they wouldn’t even be in the same building when they got to the roof. Only way to get to the roof was by the elevator. Pretty shitty design, but Johnny didn’t give a shit. Place was meant to be torn down anyway, but enough people kept living there that they kept bringing in money into the Corpo’s pockets. Johnny pressed the key to the AV and the AV opened up. Valley followed behind, lookin at the AV and raising an eyebrow. “What? Don’t look like the kinda guy that owns an AV?” Johnny sassed as and got into the AV. “No, you don’t.” Valley stated as she hesitantly got into the AV. Johnny chuckled as she sat down beside him, flinching as the doors closed. “Please provide your destination.” The fancy British voice of the AV said. “V’s place.” Johnny stated, reaching over and grabbing two champagne flutes with clear liquid in them. Johnny knew V filled the fuckers up with vodka instead of the champagne that they were supposed to have in them. “Noted. En route.” The voice said again. “Here.” Johnny said, reaching to hand Valley the drink. Valley didn’t move her hand from the arms of her chair. Didn’t even look towards him. Her eyes were fixated on the floor. Johnny looked at her knuckles and saw them going white. “Don’t like flyin’?” Johnny asked with a chuckle in his voice. Valley shook her head. “Rather drive.” Valley muttered, shutting her eyes tightly as the AV got into the air. Johnny rolled his eyes, drinking the Centzon down. “Willin’ to stand up to a cop about joytoys than to fly in an AV?” Johnny snarked aloud. Valley glared over at him, snatching the drink from his hand before drinking it all before coughing violently. “Fuck!” Valley hissed, looking for a place to put the glass down. Johnny moved his own back to its original placement before grabbing the empty one from Valley’s hands. “Jesus!” Valley snapped, glaring over at the vodka flutes. “Couldn’t just be water er somethin’?” Valley snapped, more mad at the two other filled flutes than she was at him. Johnny chuckled, leaning back into his seat, spreading out as he usually did. “Can’t handle your liquor, princess?” Johnny asked with a smirk, reaching for his sunglasses and finding nothing. Johnny let out a small, displeased grunt at the fact that he couldn’t just materialize the fuckin’ things. Wasn’t expecting to leave the apartment till morning. Wasn’t expecting to be woken the fuck up by V’s long lost sister at 3 in the fuckin’ morning. “Initiating landing sequence.” The British voice announced. Valley looked both relieved and extremely stressed. Even if she was V’s sister, he could think of one way that she could relax. Johnny found himself adjusting his pants slightly. Fuck he needed a good lay. Shouldn’t be hard. Didn’t have any trouble back in the day... “We have arrived at your destination.” The AV announced. The door opened automatically and Valley quickly got out of the AV. Johnny rolled his eyes as he followed behind. Valley looked up at the penthouse building. “V lives here ?” Valley asked, gesturing towards the house. Johnny chuckled and nodded. “Oh, I’m going to fucking kill him.” Valley growled lowly, already grabbing one of her pistols. “Watch the guns, princess, there’s security drones around here.” Johnny chastised, catching up to her as she walked towards the front door. “Pretty sure if they nearly shoot my head off, they’ll take yours off without hesitation. ‘Specially with a gun in your hand.” Johnny muttered as he walked up to the front door. “Put the gun away.” Johnny snapped, nodding at her gun. Valley let out a sharp sigh before doing so. “Now. Stay here.” Johnny stated, taking the few steps up to the building, putting a code into the door. Valley rolled her eyes and folded her arms. “I’m not a fucking dog.” Valley hissed as Johnny entered the house. Johnny rolled his own eyes as he heard her following behind. Johnny hesitated for a moment as he heard noises in the house. Valley walked in beside him before Johnny grabbed her arm and forced her to stop. Valley glared back up at him before he tapped his ear, indicating her to listen. Valley stopped and listened, as Johnny slowly pulled his gun out. Valley followed suit with the action. Johnny and Valley slowly headed towards the gun stash. Fuck. Johnny wasn’t prepared. He was just in a tanktop and his leather pants. No bullet proof vest or nothing. Should’ve known he’d find himself in some shit sooner or later. Just expected it to be later and when he actually figured out what he was going to do in regards to money. May have tried out that rockstar life he sorta missed out on when Samurai broke up. After Alt died, he had kind of spiraled out of control...well, not ‘kind of’. He couldn’t remember much from 2013 to 2023. It all seemed like a blur of drugs and alcohol and deals that got him a nuke or two. It was a blur, and as much as V insisted that he needed to go to therapy for it, Johnny honestly felt at ease after coming back. New body and all kinda helped. Well he did feel at ease...did before he had a gun in his hand in V’s house. Johnny looked over at Valley and counted down from 3. Gave her a second or 2 to process, but that’s all she needed as she nodded back. Johnny counted silently aloud before hitting the door’s button that made it open. “Oh my God!” Valley screamed, quickly averting her eyes from the scene. Johnny let out a good laugh. The source of the noise? V fucking Kerry...or rather he had been for about a second before Johnny got to fully witness what V looked like while blowing his load. Had the pleasure of having an up close and personal experience when V and Kerry trashed and burned that shitty record guys’ yacht. “Johnny get the fuck out!” Kerry snapped as V quickly pulled out and looked mortified at the whole thing. Johnny laughed, leaning against the doorframe, much to both Kerry and V’s discomfort as the both grabbed something to hide themselves. Kerry going for a more modest plant while V grabbed a machine gun. “Forget that I’ve been in your head when you did this the first time?” Johnny asked V as he ushered Johnny out of his little armoury and shoved past him, rushing up the stairs. “You forget when we -” Johnny got out before Kerry punched him in the stomach, making him bite his tongue and fall to a knee from the force and cough. “T-Touchy subject?” Johnny coughed as Kerry quickly ran up the stairs after V. Johnny laughed with a hiss as he stood up, holding his stomach for a moment longer, trying to subside the pain by sure willpower. Didn’t miss that. Didn’t miss the raw pain of bein’ alive. When he was with V, he got a small snippet of emotions and feelings. None ever compared to the real thing. The only one that came close was whenever V thought about Jackie; gave him a call and left a voicemails whenever anything of importance happened. That was something that always hit Johnny with full force. Johnny walked back into the living room, noticing a slight breeze to his right. His eyes turned towards the source and saw Valley leaning up against the guard rail. Johnny walked out onto the terrace and leaned beside her, pulling a cigarette from his case in his pocket and putting it in his mouth. The lack of nicotine that V took in when Johnny was in his head really changed him. V really changed him. It was just a habit now. He didn’t light the thing. Just needed a little familiarity, but the taste didn’t do as much as it once did...even with a new and not-fucked-up clone body. “Was...was that Kerry Eurodyne?” Valley asked after a moment of silence. Johnny looked back over at her. Even in the neon lights, he could see that her face was flushed still. Johnny chuckled, feeling it go through his whole body. That was something he also wasn’t used to. Feeling so...so light . Sure, corpos were still shit, Arasaka was still around and doing shady shit and hell, the world was in a worse state than when he flatlined and got trapped in an Arasaka mind prison, but...he was alive . And Adam Smasher was dead...and so was Rogue. The lightness was quickly replaced with guilt. Johnny nodded his head, not letting guilt take over as he spoke. “And you’re some Johnny Silverhand impersonator, right?” Valley asked, leaning on one arm to turn and look at him. Johnny raised an eyebrow back at her. “You’re all in this poly relationship, but you forgot it was Kerry’s night with V.” Valley stated, looking serious as she spoke. “V and I really liked Samurai growing up so it makes a little sense that he’d fuck anyone in the band he could get his hands on.” Valley shrugged. Johnny stared back at her before laughing. “Disappointed you didn’t cash in on that option?” Johnny asked playfully. Valley raised an eyebrow back at him. “You know, Johnny was known as a player.” Johnny chuckled with a wink of his eye and a wiggle of his eyebrows. Valley snorted and shook her head. Johnny should have saved that for later. Her face was still a light pink from earlier and he couldn’t tell if she was even remotely affected by his words. “That your final guess on what he’s been up to?” Johnny asked, raising his eyebrow while leaning now to look at her. “That your brother ditched you to get kabobed by the leading men in Samurai?” Johnny asked playfully. Valley let out a snort through her nose before laughing. “Oh God ew!” Valley said through her laughter. “I don’t want to think about that !” Valley snapped through her laughter, punching Johnny in the arm before reeling back as she hit his metal arm. “Fuck!” Valley hissed, looking at her hand and then his arm. Johnny chuckled at the action, as she shook her hand and walked away from the rail. “Even went as far as choppin’ your arm off?” Valley asked, looking back up at Johnny. Johnny opened and closed his left hand, looking at the metal arm. “You could say I wasn’t made with one.” Johnny said, leaning backwards against the railing now. A cool breeze blew against his back, sending a shiver up his spine. Despite global warming and all the shit they were doing to keep the little piece of ice in Antarctica frozen still, it meant that summers were hot and winters were cold . Johnny couldn’t even imagine the weather after 50 years. It was in the middle of October, and that was the first cold breeze Johnny had felt. Didn’t help that Night City was beside the ocean. “Alright, what the fuck is so fuckin’ important that you need to show up here at nearly 4 in the fuckin’ mornin’?” V asked angrily as he walked out of his house and onto the terrace. Couldn’t really take him seriously as he was wearing a frilly little robe. Johnny didn’t say a word, only nodded towards Valley. Johnny watched as V turned and the anger in his face suddenly disappeared. Valley’s face was slow to respond. The two looked shocked to see the other. “V-Valley?” V asked hesitantly. Johnny watched as the anger V once had on his face was transferred to Valley’s. “What are you doi-” V got out before Valley walked up to him and punched him in the face. And then continued to punch him and tackle him to the ground and beat the shit out of him. “Hey hey hey! Knock it off!” Kerry snapped as he came running out in a similar skimpy little bathrobe that V was wearing, grabbing hold of Valley and trying to pull the girl off V. Valley was so caught up in beating the shit out of her brother that she didn’t even realize that she elbowed Kerry in the nose. Kerry let out a sharp hiss as blood came rushing out of his nose. “Little help Johnny.” Kerry snapped back at Johnny who had just stood and watched it all happen. Johnny rolled his eyes as he went and grabbed Valley and tore her off of V, his cigarette dropping in the process. Despite her desperate attempts to continue beating the shit out of V, Johnny pulled her off of him. “You promised me, Vincent!” Valley screamed as Johnny physically picked her up and held her from V as he lay on the ground. Valley kicked and screamed, trying to get Johnny to let her go, but luckily, the new cybernetic arm was helping keeping her restrained. “You promised, Vince, you promised me !” Valley continued to scream, but now Johnny had the unpleasant feeling of tears drip onto his arms. His cybernetic one was advanced, so he could feel the gentle droplets, but his non-cyber arm felt like they were heavier. Kerry was now kneeling beside V as he sat up. V’s nose was bleeding, he had a cut on his cheek and his head and would have a hell of a bruise under his eye. Johnny didn’t have to be in V’s body to know that hurt...but it wasn’t the physical hurt that V was worried about. He looked as if his heart was breaking and Johnny could almost feel the phantom feelings as if they were his own. Valley soon slowed down her kicking and screaming that it stopped all together. Johnny slowly put Valley onto the ground where she seemed to crumple up. A heart wrenching sob left her mouth as she sat on her knees, her hands on the ground to steady herself, but even they didn’t look sturdy. “Valerie, Valley, please, Val fuck , I’m-I’m so-I’m so sorry.” Johnny took a step back from the scene as he watched V crawl over to Valley, grabbing onto her hand tightly. That only made Valley sob even harder. V pulled Valley into his arms and let out his own sob. “Val I’m sorry, please, Valley, please I’m so fucking sorry.” V sobbed as the two held each other. Johnny walked around them and grabbed Kerry’s arm as he looked at the scene, confused and obviously distraught at it all. “Come on, Ker, let’s give them some privacy.” Johnny muttered as he pulled Kerry into the house with a little force. “What the fuck is going on?” Kerry asked, blood from his nose still running down his face. Johnny led him into the kitchen and turned on the faucet before grabbing a towel and running it under the cool water. “Johnny, who the fuck is that?” Kerry asked as Johnny handed him the wet towel as Kerry continued to stare out where they both knew V and Valley were. Johnny knew Kerry was concerned, but he also felt the hint of jealousy in his tone. “That’s his sister.” Johnny stated seriously. Shock and disbelief crossed Kerry’s face. Johnny only sighed, grabbing a fresh cigarette from his pocket and lighting it up.

#im feral over this and i just started #anyways #johnny silverhand #johnny silverhand x v #Kerry eurodyne #kerry eurodyne x v #post canon #canon divergent au #fix it fic #fix-it fic #cyberpunk #cyberpunk 2077 #play with fire #PWF #they gonna have a happy ending or it'll kill me #long post

[zekroudon]

Passing the Baton

Coming back from work, Adrien never expected to find something from his past on his desk.  Raising and caring for your children is never easy, but sometimes, he wishes he could do more.

Discussion between a loving father and his son. You can read it on Ao3 here!

Stopping in front of the door to my home, I fiddle with the keys before unlocking the door and entering. As I close the door behind me, light rain starts to pour, as if the sky was crying. A heavy silence greets me. Growing up in a cold mansion, I’m used to cold emotionless silence, but in a house that was once filled with laughs, screams, and joy, it’s overwhelmingly out of place. I can’t say the lack of warmth pleases me, which has grown usual since everything that happened…

 I spot some camembert wrappings on the counter, probably left there by Plagg without Hugo noticing. I chuckle as I pick them up and throw them in the trash, remembering my teenage years living with the cheese-eating kwami. So much has changed since then. I notice the absence of Emma’s shoes and Louis’ sports bag, meaning they must still be out, probably with their friends, or Ethan in Emma’s case.

 As I walk past my wife’s office, the absence of humming and buzzing from the different sewing machines hits me like Stoneheart's fist. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Everything will be alright, everyone is safe. I turn around and enter my room.

 I drop my shoulder bag next to my chair. I sigh noticing the piles of papers I have yet to mark. I’ll have to work on some of them tonight if I want to give them back by the end of the week. The joys of being a teacher... I open the curtains to let the remaining light in my office. The grey clouds taunt me as if they know something I don’t. Something sparkles on my desk and catches my eye.

 A black ring with a cat paw symbol on top.

 What is it doing on my desk? Is it really the miraculous, or just another one of Plagg’s pranks? It should be with Hugo now, he’s been Chat Noir for nearly three weeks now…

 I slide it on my finger and it turns a silver-grey. My stomach sinks as the flash of green light fades, leaving the black kwami before me. All the blood is drained from my face, turning my skin as white as a sheet of paper. Not that I didn’t miss Plagg, and I’m glad he didn’t fall in the hands of an ill-intended person once again, but      why is he not with my son?  

 “Plagg? Why… Where’s Hugo? Is he alright?” I turn around and dive to my drawer, taking the Miracle box and opening it. Other than the ladybug, cat, dragon, snake, and butterfly, they all seem to be in their spot.

 “Meh, people were talking behind his back at school, some stupid journalists harassed him once again, he said he wasn’t worthy of my miraculous and that’s the last thing I remember before he slid the ring off.” He shrugs it off, but being my kwami for so long, I can see in his eyes that he’s worried.

     Oh    ... Those stupid journalists are trying to throw me and my wife into the mud by targeting our son. I’m disgusted at how they used the recent events knowing we wouldn’t notice their idiotic articles and pandering. It’s not the first time it happened, but Hugo has always been the most sensitive of the three. Louis thrives in their attention and Emma ignores them, but their baby brother would rather be left alone.

 Someone knocks on my door frame, bringing me back to Earth. I turn and see bright blue eyes filled with worry looking at me accompanied by a sad smile. Her black hair cascades past her shoulders, her mother’s spitting image. She steps forward to hug me, but she stops in her tracks when she notices the black Kwami hovering next to my shoulder.

 “He heard, didn’t he?” She asks Plagg, continuing once he nodded. “Louis called them out, and I felt that Hugo was hurt, Nooroo did too, but I didn’t think he’d relinquish you…”

 “He did, and now we should go and find him.” Says the Kwami.

 “He’s not in his bedroom, do you have any idea of where he could be?” She asks me.

 I’m startled by her certainty of it before noticing the small brooch in her hair. Right, I gave her the Butterfly Miraculous since she can’t be Ladybug any more. How could I forget that? She lays her hand on my forearm, trying to reassure me.

 “He’s going to be okay, he’s strong.”

 “I’ll go look outside, stay here and wait to see if he comes back. Try and call him.” I look at Plagg before adding “Like old times?”

 “Can I have some cam....”

 “Plagg, claws out!”

 A small smile stretches my lips at his antics while the magic costume appears on my body. The rush of energy is even stronger than what I remembered. The black fabric covers my body in the same design I wore a few years ago. The two ears stand on top of my head and the belt tail swooshes worriedly behind my back.

 I give my daughter the salute that was once so characteristic to me before opening my window and jumping outside under the cold autumn rain.

 I shiver as the freezing water flattens my hair and runs on my body. The cat part in me hates rain, even though it was raining the day I met Marinette and it grew to have a romantic significance for us. Using my baton, I raise myself over the buildings to scan the city from above. If Hugo is out in this weather, he’ll get sick in no time...

 The grey sky is barely distinguishable from the rooftops, the color has faded from everything. Cars still roam the streets, but most passersby have gotten cover. On the dimmed bright side, I’m more likely to go unnoticed as Hugo’s suit is quite different than mine and word of Chat Noir’s reappearance would spread like wildfire in Paris.

 I stop on top of the bakery, hoping to channel a bit of my wife’s good luck and extend my weapon once again. I make sure to be as silent as possible, there is no need to bother her with this right now.

 I’m a good father, I should be able to handle this myself, right?

 Anyway, it isn’t like I could ask her for help right now, I don’t know if she has remembered me yet…

 In the nearby park, the statue that was erected for us so many years ago, in our beginnings as Paris’ heroes, still stands strong against the wind and rain. Things were simpler then, yet I wouldn’t change anything that happened. I have three amazing kids, a loving wife, and a life I enjoy plenty.

 Something moves behind the statue, only noticeable with my enhanced sight. It looks like a mop of dark hair. A flicker lights up in my chest, it must be him…

 I land far enough to not startle the person, but they keep their head down, either ignoring me or hasn’t heard me. As I walk closer, I recognize Hugo with his usual Chat Noir t-shirt and hoodie. He took the saying hiding in plain sight very seriously, though he has always been one of my biggest fans. Hunched on himself like this, he looks as small as he was years ago when I cradled him in my arms as opposed to the strong young man he grew into, just like his grandfather, well, not      him    , obviously.

 I sit next to him, ignoring the squelching sound of the soaked ground under me. I snake my arm around his shoulders and he leans into me.

 We stay silent for a bit, the droning sound of the rain deafens, my ears focussing on my son’s breathing and sporadic sobs. I would like so much to give him a shell, which is ironic since he used the turtle previously, to protect him behind him and fight people who hurt him, but I can’t.

 I can’t overprotect him, I wouldn’t do him any favors. Some would say that he has to learn to grow a thicker skin, but I hate that. He was born into celebrity because of me, because of his mother. The last in a line of models and heroes. Grandson of amazing bakers, but also the biggest terrorist Paris has ever known. His brother and sister thrived in the spotlight, but he never liked it. Huge shadows cast by us and enormous shoes to fill for him.

 “I love you.”

 It doesn’t feel enough. It doesn’t feel strong enough for everything to convey to him, but I don’t really know what else to say. I want him to talk to me, to help me understand so I can help him feel better in return, but I can’t force him to. It has to be his choice, his decision. I tighten my hold on him and I lean my head on his.

 “Do you want to talk about what happened? I’m here for you if you want.”

 Here, I stretched him a pole, or a baton in our case, I just have to hope he takes it. He seems to calm down a bit, his breathing returning to something more regular.

 “I don’t know… I’m just tired, mad, I don’t know… It feels like everyone is against me, that the world is mocking me and punishing me for not doing my job and failed at protecting mom against Lady Papillon’s akuma… Because of me she had to give up guardianship and all her memories…”

 “It’s not your fault, just like it wasn’t mine or Emma’s… It’s Lila’s. She kept akumatizing people, she manipulated Ethan to akumatize him under her control, she tricked all of us. You didn’t do any of that. If anything, you saved the day. You protected the Ladybug and got back the Cat miraculous with Louis! You even dual-wielded before your siblings. To be honest, I was a mess having to fight your mother and seeing her lose all her memories as she said the incantation…”

 “But why make me Chat Noir? Wasn’t I better as Jade Turtle? Why give the grandson of Hawkmoth the Cat Miraculous? The press would go wild and…”

 “Then why give his son the miraculous? Was it a bad decision? What about your sister, did we make a bad decision making her Ladybug?”

 “Of course not! You were the best Chat Noir ever and Mom couldn’t have defeated Hawkmoth and Mayura without you! And even though Emma’s time was cut short, she was an amazing Ladybug too, just like Mom.” He looks at me with horrified eyes, offended that I would say such a thing.

 “So then, why would making you Chat Noir be a bad idea? You are kind, compassionate, caring, incredibly smart. You use Cata… um, your power in ways I would never have thought of. I wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with taking care of Plagg, you know how he is…”

 “Yeah, different in so many      ways    .”

 I chuckle at his pun, a true Chat Noir.

 “See, you even make great puns, that’s a sign of a great black cat!”

 Even though I don’t see him, I feel him rolling his eyes just like his mother.

 “So tell me, why do you think you are not suited to wield this ameowzing miraculous?”

 “People… the journalists, they keep saying that I’m becoming like      him    , that I’m a social recluse, that never goes to events and that I’m rude to people. And… I’m not...thin enough…”

 The last part is barely audible, less than a whisper. If it weren’t for my feline auditory senses, I wouldn’t have heard.

 But thin enough? I know he’s more on the bulky side, having inherited Tom’s stature and my height, but he’s not fat or overweight…

 “And I don’t love Coccinelle like you love Mom or Emma likes Ethan, even when you were in your ‘just a friend’ phase… I like her, sure, but only as a friend… Since I’m Chat Noir, shouldn’t I be in love with her? Didn’t you and Mom say that Ladybug and Chat Noir are always made for each other?”

 “Okay, slow down, one thing at a time. You need your space, there’s nothing wrong about it. You are more introverted and it’s okay. I don’t even remember any event you have missed, so they’re probably making stuff up for clicks and views.”

 I turn to him and place my palm on his soaked shirt, near his heart.

 “But, this right here, as long as it beats, you won’t become like him. You have so much love to give others, anyone on it’s receiving end knows how much you care and love, how lucky they are. Maybe you don’t show it in big gestures as I do, but in smaller ones and by being there for others. Gabriel never did. He was cold, distant, heartless, and cruel. To him, everyone was a pawn, a chess piece meant to be sacrificed if it meant he reached his goal. You two are absolutely nothing alike.”

 He looks at me with big green eyes, still red from crying, but for a second, it’s like I was looking at my four-year-old when he found a shiny stone for Plagg, his “imaginary” friend. Full of hope and kindness.

 “And I don’t know who said that you are ugly, but it’s also a lie.”

 “Well, only me… and maybe some of my classmates, I don’t know… They mocked me for not being a model like Emma and Louis, that it was probably because I’m too ugly to be a model… I guess it must have gotten inside my head...”

 “Mom offered it to you a few times and you always refused, we wouldn’t have forced you to do something you don’t like. And beauty doesn’t come from outside, but from what’s inside, and you’re shiningly beautiful. Many of the models I’ve worked with back then and now may look “good”, with six-packs and all, but they are mean and cold. Anyway, most of what companies sell us is fake, models are starving to be so cut, you don’t want to do that. Mari’s company is one of the only ones where models don’t need to starve themselves and she has lines for everyone.”

 I pause to breathe and think about what to answer to his last question. I always knew me and Marinette were meant to be, even if we had our moments of doubts, and I never questioned it. Emma and Ethan seem to love each other, even though I thought she would hate him for what happened. It shows how compassionate she is and understanding.

 “I don’t think that you are a bad Chat Noir for not loving Coccinelle. Feelings do change over time, and maybe later you’ll have those feelings for her, or never. Don’t base your worth as Chat Noir around whether or not you love her. Maybe you’ll be the first Chat Noir in history to not love his Ladybug, but it doesn’t mean that it is a bad thing.”

 “But, how do you know that you love someone? LIke that kind of love?”

 “I guess that they always brighten any room they’re in, you feel good when you are with them and make you want to spend more time with them. Your eyes are always following them and your body is drawn to them in surprising ways. You want to kiss them, hug, cuddle, which you can totally do with friends too! Well, maybe not the kissing part… Even though it's different for everyone, when it will happen, you’ll know. You will feel it in your heart. When I met your mom, I was amazed by how strong, and amazing she was. Mere seconds prior, she was unsure of herself and scared, but she faced Hawkmoth and talked back, assuring the city that we would protect them. I also fell in love with the girl whom I apologized to and gave her an umbrella under the rain. She made me laugh and smile in a way I hadn’t for a long time, it was like thunder had struck. For me, that was love, for you, it might be different, but it’s okay. Love is scary, it’s like jumping into the unknown and you can’t prepare enough for it, other than trusting and believing in yourself... Does anyone make you feel that way?”

 Maybe he’ll have the same bad luck, or good luck, to fall for his civilian partner as I did, but it would be unlikely since they never met before.

 “I think so…”

 To my chagrin, he’s closing himself again. But it’s okay, I’ll love him no matter what. I tighten my hold on his shoulders in a way I hope is reassuring.

 It seems to work a little, so I try to nudge him a bit farther.

 “Even if you don’t, it’s okay. Aromantic people still find happiness in life, romantic love is not necessary to be happy and have a fulfilling life, it’s not the only kind of love. I’m not well versed in the matter, but I did some research after I heard some students talking about it.”

 I must have said the right thing because he brightens a little and continues.

 “ I do feel what you described, sometimes, but it wasn’t… with a girl.”

 I feel him flinch against me and distance himself as if I was about to shout at him, disown him or something. It hurts a bit, but I’m more thankful and honored that he told me. I can’t imagine how scary it is to tell someone something like that.

 I snake my other arm around him and pull him for a tight hug. His cold wet clothes stick to his skin and my costume, but I feel him warming up against me.

 “Let’s go somewhere safe from the rain, you’re freezing.” I tell him softly.

 He nods and I take him on my back like we used to do when he was little and clad in his tiny kitty costume. Some people brought their restless kids on car rides, we took them to the Parisian rooftops as superheroes. It worked like a charm every time. He grew up a lot since then, they all did. They are becoming young adults ready to face the world together.

 Thankful for my enhanced strength, I make sure that Hugo is holding on tightly before leaping off with my baton.

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

 While he dried up, I went to a nearby coffee shop to get us something warm. It was one of our favorites when we were young and in collège. We used to go there often as friends, or on dates.

 it was still as cozy and welcoming as I remembered, though I had to detransform to not alarm everyone with Chat Noir’s very temporary return. Anyway, my goal wasn’t to stay for long anyway, only to order a cup of coffee and hot cocoa.

 I rejoin him on one of Notre-Dame’s towers. He’s wistfully looking at the Seine as if someone or something was calling him.

 I spot The Liberty 2, now Luka’s home, it’s windows lit up with warm and inviting lights. Turning to my son, I realize that he’s been looking at the boat all along.

 “So, that person that you like, how are they like?”

 “I… Um… He’s kind, grounding even. He’s always there to listen when I’m too far gone in my worrying or that I’m panicking. I know I can just go to him and he’ll play something for me... In a weird way, it’s as if spending time with him recharges my battery, you know?”

 “I know the feeling, I used to feel the same every time I went to the bakery to eat croissants because I had a particularly rough day or I spent an afternoon playing videogames with Nino.”

 “I’m afraid of telling him how I feel, what if it ruins things between us, what if he doesn’t want to talk to me ever again because of it? What if he’s homophobic, what if…”

 “Do you really think he could be homophobic? If he’s half as awesome as you make him up to be, he’ll accept you just as you are. You’re amazing too, and if he doesn’t return your feelings, it’s not the end of the world, I know that there’s someone out there for you.”

 “Probably not, well, I doubt it. I fell asleep on him once… Don’t look at me like that, it was an accident! I was tired, and he was playing his guitar, and when I woke up, my head was on his chest and he was sleeping too. I was so embarrassed…”

 “Well, you didn’t spend four years calling the love of your life a very good friend, I think Nino still has nightmares about that. You can’t even imagine the number of plans Marinette made with Alya and the girls to try and get me to notice her or her to confess her feelings to me. You falling asleep on your crush is cute, even though you think it’s embarrassing.”

 A comfortable silence installs himself between us, only broken by the sound of rain hitting the stone. He leans his head on my shoulder and I hug him once again. I feel my chest rumble in a small content purr, glad to have my son safe with me.

 “You can still purr?” He asks, surprised.

 “Apparently, it is not something you lose easily after being Chat Noir for more than twenty years…”

 “It’s okay, I always liked when you purred, it meant that you were happy.”

 “And you deserve to purr too. This is for you, you more than deserve it.”

 I take the silver baton from my back and give it to him.

 “      Je te passe le flambeau, le baton.    It’s your turn to be Chat Noir, your version of the black cat. If ever you are doubting yourself, or unsure, know that I will always believe in you and love you. You might be the first Chat Noir to like a guy, but it only means one thing, that you were born to make history.”

 “I’ll do it. I’ll protect Paris and forge my own path. I’m sorry for scaring you, I should have talked to you before doing something stupid like this…“

 He pulls me in a hug, a soft embrace. Stepping back, happiness and warmth return to his features, as if the dark clouds that were filling his mind had been pierced by the rays of sunlight. Smiling, I call off my transformation and slide off the ring from my finger. I expected to feel more nostalgic about it, but I know I did my time with Plagg, I already moved on. Anyway, I know that he’ll never be far, and I’ll cherish my memories of my time as a hero as long as I can.

 I extend my hand to him, the miraculous resting in my palm.

 “Hugo Dupain-Cheng, this is the miraculous of the Black Cat, which grants the power of destruction. You will use it for the greater good.”

 “Of course, I’ll try and not be as catastrophic as the last one. Clawsome as I am, there’s no one better for the job.”

 He definitely is my son, there are no doubts about that.

 He smirks as he takes the ring and slides it on his finger. As Plagg reappears, Hugo grabs him and hugs him to his chest. I hear the kwami groan a bit before accepting his fate. A small purr reaches my ear, but I’ll say that it’s the stones and wood of the cathedral to keep his “strong and intimidating” character.

 “I’m so sorry Plagg, I won’t give you up again, I promise.”

 “Alright, alright, but I’m starving! I want Camembert, and some Pont L’Évêque too.”

 My face scrunches in revulsion, hit by memories of how bad that particular cheese smelt. Hugo seems to be aware of it, but he’s too happy to be back with his kwami to care much. It’s obvious he’s not the one doing the laundry and finding melted cheese in pockets and socks…

 He transforms, doing his own little choreography as the green energy covers his body. Black and green ears stand on top of his head, black belt tail swishing behind him. His two peridot feline eyes filled with joy staring at me.

 I climb on his back and it’s my turn to be carried around Paris.

 “See, I told you that you’re a great black cat, but now let’s head home, I'm getting hungry too.”

#adrien agreste #chat noir #hugo dupain-cheng #dadrien #ml fic #hurt/comfort #Black Cat!Hugo #father-son relationship #miraculous ladybug #love square #future fic #adrienette #ladynoir

[temperancejones]

Some Kind Of Curse - Prologue

The tension in the air lurking around Steve and Kris McGarrett was the first thing to enter the armoured Humvee. Kris almost had to drag her twin brother and their prisoner to their getaway truck back in North Korea, as he didn’t want to leave Freddy, his best friend, who sacrificed his life for them behind.

Kris, who was already hotwiring the vehicle from the driver’s seat begged him to get in the truck, telling Steve they would come back for Freddy and bring him home. Hell, she even promised him, and that was a very special favour for her to hand out nowadays- nothing can be for certain in the life of a soldier, but Kris was certain that they would be back for Freddy’s body so he could get a proper burial at home like the hero he truly was.

Now safely at the convoy a few miles away from the tiny north Korean village they found Anton Hesse in, Steve lets his shields drop a little bit and mourn his best friend who gave his life for his and his sister’s safe escape. Sitting across from her brother and next to Hesse in the small cab of their armoured Humvee, Kris bangs on the partition to tell the driver to take off, and then puts a hand on Steve’s knee, trying to silently comfort him.

If they weren’t in front of a global terrorist right now, Kris would discuss what just happened to try and get Steve to open up and speak his mind a little bit before their debrief, where he would hold in all of his emotions and just do his job, showing nothing but strength. Deep down, Kris knows that Steve is still a scared sixteen-year-old boy who was sent off to the Naval Academy by their grieving father, who was too depressed from their mother’s sudden and unexpected death to take care of his kids anymore. Thankfully, Steve and Kris got to stay together at the Academy, but their younger sister Mary, who was only 10 at the time, got sent off to Los Angeles to live with their Aunt Deb. Now, fifteen years later, Steve and Kris only really have each other to rely on, as they have been inseparable since the day they left home, which was once on the beautiful island of O’ahu. The only time they really talk to their father and sister nowadays is on birthdays and holidays when they’re not deployed, which unfortunately isn’t often for them. Steve and Kris take pride in their work in the Navy and Army, and that’s because it was there for them both when their family couldn’t be.

Steve nods at his sister, silently thanking her for her support, which causes her to retract her hand from his thigh and put it back on her gun to stay alert. Steve then reaches across the small cab of the truck and pulls the pillowcase off of Anton Hesse’s head, revealing his greasy, dishevelled hair and face. If Hesse wasn’t wearing a TAC vest right now, Kris is pretty sure she would have just shot him on the spot, out of pure hatred and disgust towards this man. Hesse looks around for a moment to try and figure out who grabbed him, and where he is, since he was swiped away from the village so fast that he never got to see who snatched him. When Anton recognizes the McGarrett twins, he lets out a chuckle, which causes Kris and Steve’s stomachs to do a bit of a flip flop. Kris’ heart rises to her throat, getting a feeling that something bad is going to go down, since Hesse almost looked happy to see her and Steve. Staying silent, Hesse looks around the truck again, and then decides to stare at the twins, looking curious about something.

Kris is the first one to speak up at his weird staring. “hey,” she says loudly to him, getting his attention. “What the fuck are you looking at?” She asks him, trying to scare some of the cockiness and swagger out of him. Hesse just smiles and laughs a little bit, which definitely was not the reaction Kris was expecting. Steve leans across the truck and grabs Hesse’s collar, yanking him closer to Steve’s face. “she asked you a question, Anton.” Steve snarls, flashing his teeth a little bit, to try and show Anton that they aren’t going to take any of his bullshit right now. Steve and Kris have been tracking Anton and his older brother Victor across the world for years now and are a little mad that they have only caught one of them so far. Anton rolls his eyes and tests the zip ties on his wrists, trying to see how much room he has to play with. Steve shoots him a glare from across the truck, looking like he wants to reach across the truck and strangle the terrorist, but doesn’t actually act on it. A tense silence breaks out again for the next few minutes, allowing Kris and Steve to look over Anton and analyze his every move so they are prepared for a possible attack by him; they are always on high alert and attack mode, so they are ready for whatever Anton has planned. His extraction from the village seemed a little too easy, and only a bit of a fight was put up at their escape, costing Freddy his life. Deep down, Kris has a gut feeling that there is something else at bay here with Anton, but she doesn’t know what. She looks over at him, trying to read the smirk on his face and understand why he is acting so arrogant about his capture. He should be silent and terrified about being handed over to the American government, not like someone who just won the metaphorical lottery.

Anton sits up in his seat and begins to speak. “It’s funny. You two don’t look Hawaiian.” He says to the twins, obviously trying to get a rouse out of them. He fails miserably of course, because they both remain stone faced. They don’t even blink.

“you’re gonna tell us everything, Anton. Just give it time.” Steve says with a bit of a snappy tone, completely avoiding Anton’s question about them.

Anton just smirks in reply. “But you were born there, weren’t you?” Anton asks this time, still trying to hit a sensitive spot or something on the two soldiers. He probably knows that they won’t reply to any of his questions, but as long as he gets them talking to distract them, then he has completed his task.

Now it’s Kris’ turn to says something snippy to Anton. “Every terrorist cell you and victor helped arm, every supplier you ever worked with, all of your trafficking associates… Everyone you’ve ever sold weapons to… we will know once were done with you.” Kris says firmly, trying again to reiterate that they did not capture him to fuck around and become friends- Anton and Victor Hesse are global terrorists that must be stopped, and it is Steve and Kris’ job to take them down.

Anton wiggles his eyebrows, completely ignoring the glares and threats he is getting from the soldiers in the Humvee with him. “With you two chasing my brother and I around the world for five years… Like a doggy lookin’ for a bone… You don’t think we’d do our homework on you, would ya?” Anton smirks, just as Steve’s satellite phone rings, which makes his and Kris’ eyebrows furrow in confusion. Nobody should be calling them right now, especially when they’re on a mission as critical as this one.

Steve quickly pulls his phone out of his TAC vest and looks at the screen. He scowls at the caller ID, and quickly flashes the screen over to his sister to show her that it’s their dad calling him. Kris’ phone then rings too, which makes her heart rise to her throat. She knows already that this isn’t going to end well- there are too many red flags being put up right now. She pulls her phone out of her TAC vest and sees that the call is coming from her dad’s cell phone too. The McGarretts lock eyes momentarily, allowing each other to know that they know something suspicious is up and to be careful.

“You should probably get that. You two don’t speak to your old man nearly enough.” Anton suddenly says, which makes Kris see red. She immediately knows that this was Anton’s plan all along, and they easily fell into his to trap. All she can do is pray to god that her dad comes out of this unharmed.

After shooting Anton a vicious look, Steve answers his phone. Kris follows suit with hers. “Dad?” Steve asks, feeling his heart pound in his ears. He knows something bad is happening right now but has no idea what to do about it.

“Hey champ… Hey Tiger.” The gruff voice of their father, John McGarrett says, sounding exhausted. Kris and Steve now know that something is horribly wrong from his voice, and from the fact that he never calls them anything other than their names- the nicknames strike them as odd. Filing the nicknames in the back of her mind, Kris is the next one to talk. “You alright?” she asks cautiously, trying not to give anything away too early. John replies almost immediately. “Who are these people, guys?” he asks, now sounding a little scared. The fear in his voice makes Kris’ breath hitch in her throat. John McGarrett isn’t scared of anything, nor does he ever sound as vulnerable as he does now. Something is very, very wrong.

Then, the cocky, arrogant voice of Victor Hesse comes onto the call, which makes her see red. Before Steve can even say anything to her, Kris hangs up her phone and dials the Honolulu Police Department, as she has had that number memorized since she was a kid, since her dad still works there to this day. When a receptionist picks up the phone, Kris asks for Sargent Duke Lukela, who was dad’s best friend when Kris was growing up, and she hopes to god that he is still on the force too- she hasn’t seen him in about fifteen years, so anything could be possible at this point. Thankfully, she gets patched through to Duke right away.

Clearing her throat, she puts on her tough sounding commander voice once Duke answers the phone. “Duke. It’s Kris McGarrett. There is something going on at my house. I have reason to believe that my father is being held hostage by Victor Hesse, a global terrorist and an unknown number of hostiles there. We need your help. 2727 Piikoi Street, ASAP please.” She says as briefly as possible, hoping that Duke remembers her and trusts her enough to listen to this random call from her.

Duke stays silent for a moment, most likely to comprehend everything that was just said to him, interrupting his Tuesday morning, which was already filling up with lots of paperwork. Leaning forward on his desk, his brain starts to go a mile a minute. Why is it always the McGarretts that are getting into big trouble on this island, he asks himself, but then takes a deep breath before answering Kris on the line, who does sound a little scared, even if she was the United States’ first female Navy SEAL, meaning she was supposed to be fearless. “You got it Kris. We will be there in five minutes.” Duke tells her.

Kris thanks him quickly, and before she can hang up, an explosion rocks the Humvee, which jumpstarts her sympathetic nervous system and instantly puts her into fight or flight mode. Letting out a few choice words, she hangs up and throws her phone down, and braces for impact as another explosion hits, this time sending the Humvee toppling onto its side. Kris cranks her head hard enough off the seat in front of her to see stars for a few seconds, but she quickly regains her bearings and remembers the mission at hand.

Anton Hesse… who is currently trying to worm his way out of the Humvee. Kris grabs him by the back of his shirt and pulls him back down to the floor (which is actually the door of the Humvee) next to her. He tries to wiggle his way out of her grip, but she overpowers him and holds him in place as Steve slaps a spare TAC vest on him. Kris checks her gun, making sure that its loaded, and looks at Steve, already equipped with a plan. “I’ll go first and clear the way. I don’t know what’s out there, but your job is to protect the prisoner, okay?” She tells him, and he nods. Feeling her heart rise to her throat, she lets out a puff of air and walks out right into an ambush. Cursing silently, she opens fire on the unknown hostiles, who are head to toe in black, and seem to keep coming from black helicopters over the ridge. Kris takes aim at the helicopters and manages to take down one, giving Steve and Hesse a clear path out of the truck, which is about to be closed in on again. Kris shouts at Steve to move out and covers him as he drags Hesse by the vest to a new spot of cover, behind another transport, making sure that we come out alive from this ambush with Anton. Kris and Steve work on autopilot when taking down the hostiles, making sure to pick them off one by one, so they can manage an escape with their prisoner and figure out how the hostiles managed to locate them so easily. Steve and Kris spilt up, trying to cover more ground and make sure that the coast is clear- there are a couple more hostiles hanging around somewhere, but they haven’t been able to locate them yet, so they decided that splitting up would be the fastest way of finding them. Carefully, Kris walks out from in between two transports, trying to track down the remaining hostiles, when Steve shouts at her to get down. She hits the deck as fast as she can, but not fast enough to avoid getting hit with a bullet or two on the way down. The bullets tear into her left shoulder and her TAC vest, which knocks the wind out of her. Steve quickly eliminates the remaining hostiles, and then shouts something at Anton. Forcing out a cough to get her breath back, Kris scrambles to her feet and sees Steve drawing his sidearm. She does the same and runs over to him. “Put it down, Anton, don’t make me shoot!” Steve yells, and clicks off the safety of his gun. Anton does the same, and aims the gun at Steve, but before he can pull the trigger, Anton is put down by multiple bullets to his chest, fired from Steve’s gun.

Slamming her gun back into her vest, Kris runs over to Anton, who is now wheezing and bloody, gasping for one last breath. “Come on, Anton, please don’t,” Kris pleads quietly, but before she can even reach for his carotid to feel his pulse, Anton goes limp. She checks for a pulse to make sure, but when she can’t find one, its confirmed. She drips back on her knees and lets out a puff of air, wondering what the hell Victor is going to do about this. Before her mind can go to the worst-case scenario, Steve’s phone rings again. Kris rises to her feet and locks eyes with her twin brother- they both know that something bad is about to go down with this call from Victor, and don’t really know what to expect or how to really prepare for it. Kris just hopes to god that HPD can get there in time to stop Hesse from doing something possibly devastating. Steve picks up the phone with hesitation and puts it on speaker so Kris can listen in on it too. Before either of them can say anything, Victor orders them to put Anton on the phone. Stuttering, Steve and Kris try to come up with something that won’t give away the fact that Anton is dead, but only manage to say “Listen, Victor...”, which makes Victor mad. The line goes silent for a few moments, before Victor speaks up again.

“My brother’s dead, isn’t he?” Victor asks loudly. Kris and Steve don’t know how to answer. There is no way that they can say this lightly to him, or even avoid it without their father getting hurt. “Isn’t he?!” Victor shouts at their collective silence and doesn’t even let them answer before he says the worst thing they could possibly imagine. “Then so is your father.” Victor says flatly, then fires off a shot.

Kris lets out a guttural scream as she falls to her knees, begging anyone who would listen to spare her father’s life, as Steve shouts a loud “NO!” into the phone, and tries to yell at Victor, only to find out that he has disconnected the call. Steve curses and redials their dad’s phone, only to get no answer. He keeps trying until someone finally picks up after the fourth time, but it’s not John McGarrett answering, its Duke Lukela. Steve falls to his knees and puts his phone on speaker again so Kris can hear what’s going on too. Right now, she is looking at the ground and taking some deep breaths to keep herself relatively calm.

“Duke, is our father dead?” Steve asks, ripping off the Band-Aid in one go. Dukes silence speaks volumes to the two on the other end of the line.

“I’m so sorry, Steve. I’m so sorry Kris. We weren’t fast enough.” Duke says quietly. Steve lets out a quiet thank you and hangs up the phone. Feeling tears well up into his eyes, Steve takes a deep breath and puts a hand on his sister’s shoulder in consolidation, hoping that they can keep calm and get through this together. They can mourn their father once Hesse is caught and brought to justice for his murder, so for now, they have a mission to complete, and wont rest until Hesse is either in their custody or six feet in the ground.

Kris takes a deep breath and looks down at the green grass below her, Steve’s hand on her shoulder snaps her back to attention and into SEAL mode, remembering that she is still on a mission: Find Victor Hesse, dead or alive and make him pay for everything that he has done, no including the murder of her own father, John McGarrett. Kris pats Steve’s hand on her shoulder and they both rise up to their feet once again – Kris notices some sharp pain in her ribs from the two bullets her vest caught, and a throbbing pain in her shoulder from the bullet still lodged in there. She quickly rips off her scarf and ties a quick tourniquet around the wound to stop the bleeding; this is the least of her worries right now. Right now, Kris, Steve and the survivors of the ambush need to get the hell back to base and report so they can finish their mission and take Hesse down, once and for all, now that he made it very personal.

Fifteen minutes later, once all the casualties are loaded into a transport and the survivors are back on their feet, they continue to base, which is only a few miles away, thankfully. Kris and Steve just can’t seem to get the sound of the gunshot that killed their father out of their mind, though. They both know that it will haunt them for the rest of their lives; in a way, they were responsible for his death, and that is something they will have to carry with them until they die too.

——————————————————————————

also cross posted on AO3 and Wattpad 

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25176232/chapters/61013149

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/922940248-some-kind-of-curse-a-hawaii-five-0-story-prologue

#hawaii five o #Hawaii Five-O #Hawaii Five-0 #steve mcgarrett #kris mcgarrett #chin ho kelly #kono kalakaua #h50 #h5o #h50 fic #some kind of curse #skoc

[pretend-writer]

Down Below (Chapter 57)

Summary: After being sent down on Earth with the other prisoners from the Ark, Y/N Reyes faces series of events and learns about survival. With new things happening around her, she is now starting a new chapter in her life.

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader, Raven Reyes x sister!reader

Word Count: 1898 words

Warning: swearing, mention of sex, mention of death

Down Below Masterlist

✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤

'So what's the deal with those people? Diyoza and them?' I asked Bellamy as we walked together, back to where everyone was waiting.

'They were all prisoners in a ship. Eventually, they took over and now they're here back on Earth to take the valley.'

'The valley?'

Bellamy nodded. 'Yeah, Shallow Valley. Monty said that it's the last livable place on Earth and now both us and the prisoners are trying to get it.'

'And we're negotiating with terrorists because?'

'We have leverage.'

'What kind of leverage?'

'Just trust me, okay?' Bellamy then looked at me in my eyes, 'Do you trust me?'

My heart fluttered, it's been forever since he looked at me like that. Noticing me staring at him, he chuckled. 'What?'

It was a good feeling to finally look at him and genuinely be happy. After all the bad things that happened down at the bunker, I desperately needed this. 'I'm just happy you're here with me.'

'I am too, Y/N. You have no idea.' He smiled back and grabbed onto my hand.

'Where's the doctor?' I heard Diyoza yell angrily, 'You're not hiding her are you?'

Bellamy and I immediately ran towards her voice, hoping that the our deal was still safe between the two crews. When we caught up, a bunch of Diyoza's men carried a lethal weapon as if they were about to shoot us.

Diyoza looked around for Abby, then asked us again. 'Where is she?'

'Probably sneaking around with Marcus.' I jestered, 'She's an unreliable doctor anyway, why do you care?'

Diyoza squinted, 'Bring her out here or we wi-'

'You will what?' Bellamy stepped in, 'One move and I'll call my people.'

'Call them then.' She smirked.

Bellamy pulled out his radio and turned the nob to turn it on. 'Raven, come in. Do you read me?'

Instead of Raven dialing us back, there was nothing but silence coming from the other end. Shocked, Bellamy looked up with his jaw dropped.

'The deal is off but no one is going to get hurt. Just give us the doctor.' Diyoza said calmly.

Clarke popped up from the corner as she joined our group. As Diyoza noticed her, she questioned. 'Where is your mother?'

'Yeah, where is she?' One of Diyoza's men walked forward with his powered drill gun aimed at her.

'Hold your fire!' Diyoza yelled. 'We are not shooting them.'

'I'm here.' Abby's voice echoed through, eventually seeing her walking towards us. 'We will come without a fight. Marcus and I.'

Octavia glared at them, 'I bet you would. Traitor.'

'Running away from the mess you made, I see.' I chuckled jokingly as I glared at Abby. Then I eyed Marcus, who followed her towards Diyoza and her crew.

He stared at me, 'I'm sorry Y/N. It's for the best.'

'For you.' I clenched my fist, 'For you and your selfish girlfriend it is. Have a nice time playing house with a bunch of criminals, natrona.'

'Okay. Well, I don't know what you just said but the rest wasn't nice.' McCreary tilted his head.

'She called him a traitor.' Abby shouted. 'I don't blame him, especially after you treat him like garbage. He's been taking care of you since you were a little girl. Is that how you treat your father?'

Stomping towards Abby, I started yelling. 'You have no idea what you're talking about. No blood of his run through my veins and I'm glad that I'm not related to this man.'

Marcus mumbled, 'You don't mean that.'

'Just shut up and leave.' I took one more look at him before I turned and returned to my people.

'Some drama you guys have.' McCreary snickered, grinning as if he had nothing better to do.

'Oh McCreary, stop acting like you have your life together.' Diyoza joked. 'The survivable valley is ours now. As long as you stay here, we won't have any issues.'

'What about Raven and Murphy?' Bellamy clenched his fist.

Diyoza paused and looked at him before she continued. 'I'll use them as insurance, at least for now.'

Her and her men backed up slowly, then she commanded her people. 'Let's go back to the ship. Shaw is waiting for us.'

Suddenly, One of her men screamed loudly as he fired the drill gun towards Octavia.

'Blodreina!' One of the Wonkru warrior yelled as he jumped in front of Octavia. However the drill gun was so powerful that it blew him up and also caused Octavia to fall from impact.

'Szybunka, you idiot!' I heard Diyoza yell at her crew as they all scattered away back to their ship.

As for me, I ran straight to Octavia to check up on her. She screamed, holding on to her ears as I call out her name.

Bellamy and Indra dashed towards us, hovering over Octavia. Turning around and seeing Bellamy, I pushed him. 'What did you do?'

'I thought I had it covered bu-'

'But what? Because of you, Raven and John is taken. Not to mention we lost the only survivable place on Earth.'

'Don't worry, Y/N.' Octavia winced, slowly getting back up. 'My brother lost the valley for us but I'll get it back.'

Indra wrapped her arm around Octavia, helping her stand. 'How are we going to do that?'

'We go to war.'

✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤

Hiking towards the Shallow Valley on what feels like the same path, we walked on sand for hours.

'Why are we taking this route? It's shorter but these sandstorms are deadly.' Clarke reached out to Octavia.

'We don't have enough rations to last us the longer route. We're already walking this path, might as well keep going.'

Clarke stopped, 'We can always turn and go the longer way. I know this place, I took this path dozens of times.'

'I'm sure you do, Clarke.' Octavia continued to walk alongside of Wonkru.

Clarke pulled on my hand, forcing me to stop with her in the middle of the hike. 'Y/N?'

'Is it so important that you have to stop me?'

'Yes. Octavia is leading us to a path that will most likely kill a lot of us. She won't listen to me, but I know she will listen to you.'

I sighed, 'Blodreina is leading Wonkru for survival. It's not what we want, it's what she believes is the best for us.'

'So you don't care that some of Wonkru is going to die?' She shook her head, 'Octavia is your best friend, she'll listen to your reasoning.'

'It doesn't work like that.'

'How do you mean? Y/N, no one is telling me what happened to the bunker. Help me understand so I can help you guys.' I can see that Clarke was worried in the way she looked at me.

The six years that we spent in the bunker was over with but there were dark days where we will never forget.

'I'm sorry but you knowing is not going to help with anything.' Even if I wanted to talk about the Dark Year, which I never would, there was no going back to that.

-----

'Omon Gon Oson.' All of Wonkru murmured as we all gathered around the fire under the dark night.

Taking a bite out of my ration, my eyes locked with Bellamy's. He sat outside the circle with Clarke as if he was waiting for me to sit next to him.

'Go talk to him.' Indra mumbled. 'You two have been looking at each other since we stopped here for the night.'

'There's nothing to talk about. He betrayed Wonkru's trust and now my sister is probably dead because of him.'

Octavia huffed, 'I agree with Y/N. We can't just waste our time trying to make amends. We have a war to fight.'

'Are you really going to throw everything away because Bellamy made one mistake?' Indra shook her head, 'We all know the mistakes we made starting from the moment Skaikru landed.'

Throwing small sticks into the fire, I watched it burn. 'It's okay for everyone to make mistakes but not me, right? Skafaiya, the bitch from hell has to make everything perfect for Wonkru.'

Indra sat up, 'You know that is not true. Both you and Octavia did the best you guys could to make Wonkru work. Everyone knows that.'

'The actions of other people says otherwise.' I muttered under my breath softly.

'Can I borrow Reyes for a minute?' I heard Bellamy's voice from behind but I didn't dare to turn around.

'I doubt she wants to talk to you.' Octavia chuckled lightly, taking a bite out of her food.

Indra sighed. 'Y/N, you should go.'

'Please?' Bellamy begged, lightly touching my shoulder.

'Fine.' I said, finally agreeing to talk to him. Eating my final bite of my ration, I stood up. 'I'll be right back.'

Bellamy led me somewhere not too far from camp, 'I just wanted to apologize. I didn't meant for Murphy and Raven to be taken.'

'Please don't remind me that they're possibly dead.'

'Y/N, I mean it. Ever since we went to the Ring, we've all gotten closer.' Bellamy then looked down on the ground. 'At least Raven and I have. Murphy and I had some ups and downs. Mostly downs.'

'I don't want to hear your love stories about you and Raven. I've already heard enough about how you two had sex in the drop ship.'

Bellamy made a face, 'No. That's not what I meant. What I mean is that we've been stuck together for six years. We're all family and now more than ever, I want to rescue them from Diyoza and her crew.'

'Do you expect me to forgive you and give a kiss to make it feel all better?'

'Reyes, of course not.' Bellamy sighed and grabbed my hand. 'I've been trying to understand what's been going on-'

Shaking his hand off of me, I groaned. 'I'm tired of people asking us what happened down at the bunker.'

'It's obviously that something happened. I want to be there for you but I can't if I don't know what's going on.'

'There's nothing to talk about.' It was frustrating enough that people constantly reminded me of the Dark Year, now everyone is nagging me about it.

'It's just, you've changed. I didn't expect you to stay the same after six years but there's something about you that's different. Now you're angry at Kane and Abby about something that happened in the bunker, I'm assuming. Then the fighting pi-'

I stared at the ground, not wanting to make eye contact with him. 'What are you trying to say? Just get to the point.'

'The point is, I-' Bellamy paused, unable to grasp the thoughts in his head into words he wanted to say. 'I-I'm afraid of what happened to you. I hate that you had to go through whatever that happened, alone. I wish I was there to help you in the bunker.'

'Too bad there's nothing you can do about it.' I said as I raised my head to look at him.

'Reyes, you know that I’m always here for you right?’

I shrugged, ‘Honestly, I don’t know.’

‘I’m not going anywhere.’ Bellamy put his hands on his hips, his eyes were intense. ‘You can’t get rid of me.’

‘Okay, Bellamy.’ I walked away slowly, thinking if I can ever trust another person again.

✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤

tag list; @jodiereedus22, @coffeebooksandfandom, @bellamyblakemorley, @wisestydia-15, @dbtvluv , @hurricane–amelia , @lexalexy , @olkathefoxi, @lena-davina, @kellbell44, @thehakunamatara, @akelly4477, @morgannope, @littlegirl-fox, @captainam-erika-trash, @greygarbage, @nathaliabakes, @eternallyvenus, @rauwz, @broco8, @eridanuswave

#bellamy blake x reader #raven reyes x sister!reader #bellamy x reader #bellamy blake fic #bellamy blake series #the 100 fic #the 100 series

[andrew-eberhart]

Flashback: May 2020

The man dug his hands into his armpits, stamping his feet on the sleet covered ground in an attempt to generate some heat. The two days’ worth of stubble did little to shield his face from the fierce wind that was seemingly trying to rip the flesh from his bones. He stood alone in the alley, the collar of his coat turned up in a halfhearted effort toward off the bitter cold. “Damn this place,” he swore for the 17th time, checking the Omega wristwatch on his left wrist. He could just make out the time in the early morning light, the sun having not quite risen above the horizon. They were late, and Andrew was irritated. In this business late was disrespectful, and respect was everything. The British Intelligence Officer leaned back against the box truck that had the name of a moving company plastered on the side and Czech He’s been undercover for three months, solidifying his contacts and establishing in a reputation. He was no longer Andrew Eberhart, British Intelligence Officer and soon to be section chief of the Eastern European Division. He was now Alexander Petrova, an international arms dealer with a fierce reputation, who dealt in military grade weapons and explosives. He’d made a few smaller deals in the region to establish more credibility, and coupled with the favors they had pulled with confidential informants around the continent, had caused the HCA to finally contact him to set up a buy. MI6 had received intelligence from their sister agency, MI5, that the HCA was planning a large scale terrorist attack in the heart of London. The chatter indicated the attack was going to be a bombing, with the target being key political figures. Information was serious enough to turn heads, but the tip was not credible enough for the agency to invest in entire team in an investigation. At the thought, Andrew shook his head in annoyance and stamped his feet again. Only a bureaucrat worrying about a budget would classify such a threat is not credible. Consequently, the only back up the operative hat was sitting 6 miles away at an agency safe house, listening via small microphone hitting on the fire escape high above. The meeting was supposed to be a short introduction – and the equipment was being sold was a handful of secondhand beat up AK 47’s. Andrew had hinted he had access to much larger quantities of more valuable products for interested customers, and HCA had taken his offer. The initial buy was to establish a business relationship and – Andrew checked his watch – being 15 minutes late was not the way to build trust and mutual respect.     Andrew sighed in annoyance, reaching a hand deep in to the pocket of his coat. He retrieved a burner phone – a phone set up by MI6 to match his cover perfectly, and to be untraceable if lost or confiscated. He put in the passcode and sent a quick and to-the-point text.

If meeting by appointment is too inconvenient for you, I’ll take my business elsewhere.

After about 45 seconds, his phone dinged, indicating the receivable of a text message.

We are here, Petrova.

The message, obviously sent to unnerve, failed to elicit the desired response in the MI6 Operative. He resisted the urge to look around, such a move would should show surprise, vulnerability, and would relate to the terrorist that they’d gotten the drop on him.

 Instead he simply responded with another concise text. I don’t like to be kept waiting. I’m a busy man with other appointments to keep.

After about 20 seconds, Andrew heard the sound of a van door sliding open. He pocketed the phone and casually looked up from his position against the moving van, exuding an air of arrogant confidence. Two men were moving down the alley towards him, both of whom would not have looked out of place in the shopping mall on Sunday afternoon. They were dressed in business casual attire, except for the large overcoats which protected them from Prague’s frozen climate. Their appearance partially surprised Andrew, who had interrogated many Eastern European terrorists. The HCA seem to have learned those who blend in were the least likely to attract unwanted attention—something the other less organized terrorist organizations of the world had yet to realize.

“Finally,” Andrew said curtly, pushing off the truck as he continued in fluent Russian, “Is it customary where you’re from to keep your appointments waiting in the fucking cold?”

 To play the part of an international weapons trafficker, Andrew knew he had to walk the fine line of being pissed off with the two men, but not being so offensive as to make them shy away from for the business with him.

“You know how it is,” one of the main answered, pulling an envelope from the inside of his coat jacket as he remained in a conversational distance from Andrew. “Have to be sure before we show our faces. Too many cops sticking their nose is where they don’t belong. Surely you understand the need to be sure, especially when dealing with such ... Delicate matters.”

Andrew feigned hesitation, and then a reluctant night. “Did you bring the agreed-upon amount?” He motioned to the envelope in the terrorist’s hand.

The other man spoke up, his accent immediately telling Andrew he was a local. “20,000 for 100 AK-47 assault rifles, no serial numbers and fully functional.”

Andrew grunted in agreement and stated, “I should charge them extra for being late, but I wanted to get these out of my inventory.” The Undercover operative walked to the rear of the truck and unlocked the rolling door. With a metallic grown, it’s slid open, revealing several stacks of darks, unmarked crates. “Just as requested, with a handful of magazines thrown in. No charge, I had them lying around.”

The two terrorists moved to a position that they could see inside of the compartment. “No issues?” The non-local inquired, rubbing his bald head in a way that clearly told Andrew he had not done this before. Andrew put him at about 45, which meant he had other uses within the HCA and they had simply used him by necessity for today’s buy.

“None,” Andrew replied shortly, as if the question was offensive. “You are free to inspect them inside the truck if you’d like. As our mutual associate told you I’m sure, I have a money back guarantee for any fault equipment – my reputation is important and I will aggressively defend it.” A word of warning to the HCA, Andrew thought to himself. Alexander Petrova it was not to be trifled with.

The bald man cast to glance over his shoulder before motioning to his associate to enter the vehicle. The local reluctantly climbed into the back of the box man, opening the lid to the nearest crate to view the weapons inside. Though Andrew doubted he could see a little in the early morning light, the man seemed satisfied, and nodded to the bald man who is waiting outside. An envelope was exchanged, and the local got out of the van, closing back rolling door. “Thank you for your services,” the bald man said to Andrew, “we look forward to our next transaction.”

Andrew nodded as he pocketed the currency, not bothering to count it before he did so. They all knew that shorting someone in any amount in this business was suicidal. Trust and respect for everything, and should they try to short him the amount he was owed, they would never find another arms dealer who would do business with them again. Andrew nodded briefly to both men, shoved his hands deep in to the pocket to try to warm them up, and set off down the alley in the opposite direction of wish they’d come. It was agreed-upon prior to their transaction that they would take the vehicle to transport the weapons, and he left the keys in the ignition waiting for them. One buy down, many to go. But this was the price to be paid should he uncover the plot threatening the heart of London. He would spend years undercover, if necessary, if it meant he could save the lives of his fellow countrymen. Today’s transaction was an important step into gaining the trust of the HCA. As long as everything went according to plan, within the next couple months he would soon be in a position to either learn of their plans, or get close to someone who already knew.

#self para #flashback

[matildainmotion]

On Staying Put in the Pot of Life as Far as Possible

No, I don’t have a cure for the Coronavirus, though I hope there may be something helpful for our collective health in here. The virus was not the bug that started this blog. It was something, someone else.

Recently a woman, six years younger than me, mother to three children at my son’s school, died of cancer. I did not know her. I do not know her husband or her children, but I know plenty of people that do. Such a loss is felt across the whole community. I think of her, and of her family, daily now. Alongside the love I send them silently, is the thought that it could have been me, that it could be my husband, my children, left behind.

This is not a new thought. I have heard other mothers talk about it too, the sudden sense of responsibility they had on becoming mothers to do their level best to stay alive. “When I go to cross a road,” a new mother once said to me, “I now tell myself I mustn’t mess it up.” For me the thought pre-dates even motherhood because my maternal grandmother did not make it across the road – she died of Lupus when my mother was eight years old. The night after her death my grandfather committed suicide. As children do, I absorbed this story in my mother’s milk, in the smell of her, the sound of her. My father was a jewish refugee from Nazi Germany, so I had a dose of loss from him as well. Consequently, despite the fact that I have lived an incredibly privileged and protected life to date, I have a hidden ‘loss alarm’ inside me.

My loss alarm is like one of those annoying, over-sensitive smoke detectors that goes off every time you burn a bit of toast, as if the house were on fire. Except toast is not the trigger. Every time I hear a story of untimely loss, it goes off. Panic follows. There is no handy ‘re-set’ button on my loss alarm – it can sound out, keeping me awake, for weeks. The stories that trigger it can be newspaper headlines: terrorist attacks; aeroplane crashes; gun men; refugees who lose their lives as they attempt to flee. Or they can be more personal: a friend of a friend I knew who died in a fall at work; a boy near our village who slipped into a grain silo; someone’s sister hit by a car – each of these sets off my loss-alarm.

Let me be clear, the kind of panic I feel is not the same as that which is currently sweeping the world and causing the shelves in shops to empty of hand sanitizer and ibuprofen. I am not afraid of death. I feel nervous about death, but in the way I feel nervous before stepping on to a stage – a slight excitement about not knowing what is going to happen. At the moment bath bombs are all the rage in our house, and my latest fantasy of death is that it will be like fizzing away until there is nothing tangible left of me, whilst the ether around where I was turns a funky, joyful colour. The panic I feel is not about death, but loss – what those left behind will have to undergo. Before I became a mother I was afraid of the grief that I might feel. Now, whilst that still scares me, the loss-alarm sounds loudest when I think of my children, left bereft.

I have tried many different tactics over the years to shore up against this loss, different ways to try to muffle or mute the wailing of the alarm. Obviously, the best way to avoid it is to do what I can to help myself, and those I love, to stay alive. Just looking both ways and crossing the road with care does not seem good enough. There is still the risk of error, of bad luck, of reckless drivers, misplaced banana skins, or thunderbolts out of the blue. I am making light of it because it is hard to write about – it feels unbearable. I understand why the king and queen in Sleeping Beauty did not want to invite the thirteenth fairy to their baby’s christening, and then, after the fairy had gate-crashed with her curse, wished to rid the kingdom of all spinning wheels, to make misfortune, as far as possible, impossible. No needles allowed anywhere, so that their daughter may stay forever safe, awake, alive.

How to live with the knowledge that survival is not guaranteed? In fact the reverse is true – death is definite. Life, not so much. When I was younger I felt that if the facts were against me, I would have to resort to magic. ‘Magical thinking’ is a strange phrase – it sounds rather wonderful but it can refer to a form of mental disorder. On Wikipedia it is defined as “the false belief that one's thoughts, actions, or words will cause or prevent a specific consequence in some way that defies commonly understood laws of causality.” If I burn all the spinning wheels in the land, my daughter will be safe. If I count to ten and touch wood twice before I cross the road then I won’t get run over. When I was eight, in the mornings before school, I would ask my mother to promise me that she would not die that day. I knew she could not do this – there are dangerous roads to be crossed every day - but I hoped the promise had a magical power that might ensure her survival. As a teenager, my years of anorexia were another magical-thought practice, a way of starving to stay alive: if I can control my weight, eat impossibly little, then loss will never touch me. In my twenties I moved from magical thoughts to magical acts, training as a circus aerialist. Often aerialists are aligned with angels, people perfecting the art of flight. Not me. I was training in the art of holding on hard, with hands, toes, backs of my knees, neck, the fold of my hips. If I could get magically good at gripping, I would never have to lose myself, or anyone else.

The problem is, it doesn’t work. These are frightened magical practices. They put you under a spell of fear. The part of me that still engages in magical thought, believes that writing a blog like this is tantamount to suicide, that if I admit the possibility that loss could happen, then it will. It feels like signposting Sleeping Beauty towards the spinning wheel. But there are plenty of stories in which the protagonist’s very attempt to escape the feared fate, brings it about. Banish the fairy and she is sure to haunt you forever. Such a haunted life is not much of a life. I know - I’ve lived it. It’s not very magical. So here I am, a mother in my forties, still aware of that loss-alarm, wondering what better ways I could respond to it than by self-isolating, trying to avoid the many spinning wheels, sharp and whirring, in the world. And there is so much danger and loss around these days, loss of people, animals, entire landscapes, loss of life as we know it. So much loss that my alarm has been sounding almost constantly for months now and I have not been sleeping. I am tired. I’d love to sleep for a hundred years. But I can’t and anyway it’s not the answer. What’s to be done?

As ever I think the answer is right here, beside me. My daughter is on the bed, scribbling on my notebook as I type this. My children are beginning to teach me some other, more helpful responses to loss. Motherhood is fraught with loss. It comes with the territory. I don’t think you can make a life without becoming intimate with the possibility of losing it. Infertility, miscarriage, childbirth, still birth. I have been very lucky. I remember looking over my midwife’s shoulder as she filled in a form, after the birth of my daughter: ‘Infant born 10.08pm,’ she wrote in one square, and then in the next square, she noted down the word, ‘alive,’ and I thought at once of how it might have been a different word. One of our first jobs as mothers is to give birth. If we survive and the children survive, I think our last job is to die, to make way for them to step into the role of being the generation in charge. From start to finish motherhood is a glorious, dangerous business, not for the faint-hearted, which is not to say you need to be tough-hearted. It is, I hope, slowly teaching me instead to become more whole-hearted – to be able to hold the whole lot.  

A passage that has always helped me accept the spinning wheels and their sharp needles is the one in Kahil Gibran’s The Prophet on joy and sorrow, in which sorrow is framed as a creative act:

“The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain. Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?....”

Carving, containing, holding are the verbs used here for understanding and processing loss. An alarm instructs you to leave the building, evacuate the vessel. Here is a different response: stay put, Gibran says, create a container, to hold the joy and the sorrow. I think good art is just this - a container. Be it a story, a painting, a poem or a pot – each is good at holding things. At bedtime my daughter listens to the teachings of another great spiritual poet: Winnie the Pooh. In one Pooh story the sad, grey donkey, Eeyore has a rare moment of joy when Pooh gives him, “A Useful Pot to Keep Things in” for his birthday. “You can keep anything in it,” Pooh explains, even sad things, like Eeyore’s other present, a burst balloon, and Eeyore is delighted. So that’s what I need then. Not an alarm, but a pot. A pot, not only for loss, but for the lot. Spending my life, however much I have of it, making that kind of pot feels like something I can do. That is what the novel I am writing is meant to be. And when I have finished that one, I will start on another totally impractical, utterly vital pot, a holding vessel. This is a braver magic. 

I wonder also how I might integrate such a pot-making process consciously back within my mothering. Most evenings, as soon as it gets dark, my son declares that he is sad. He starts a count down, “By the time I get to ‘one’, I will have sadness overload,” he says, “You have to do something before that happens!” He starts the countdown, “Ten…nine…eight…seven….six….”  What can I do? I only have six seconds left! I am tempted to rely on frightened magic, to pretend that I can keep all the bad things away, banish the beasts and the viscous fairies. I can’t. “Two…one…zero.” My son collapses on the floor.

“How are you doing?” I say.

“I’m so sad I can’t move,” he replies.

“Can you move your toes?”

“No.”

“That’s bad. I’ll have to carry you upstairs.” And, for now, I can still carry my great long-legged eight year old, and he rather enjoys it when I make groaning noises to show how heavy he is.

“Can you make it up the last two steps?” I say.

“Just about.”

Bit by bit, day by day, we practice our pot-making, bearing the things that seem unbearable, overloading with sadness and discovering that actually we can hold the load. This is not a fire drill. We are staying in the building. I am grateful for every day we get to practice.

I am still determined to do what I can to stay alive. But I believe that actually writing a blog like this, letting loss come to the party, inviting the thirteenth fairy, leaving the land whirring with spinning wheels, is my best chance at surviving. Not because my words will immortalise me, but literally, that my writing helps me keep on living, just right here, sitting on the bed, after another sleepless night, with the sun falling over my left hand typing this, and my right in shadow. So by all means wash your hands for twenty seconds, the current advice for the prevention of the spread of the Coronavirus, but as you do so, also for twenty seconds, ask yourself this: What helps you not just stay alive, but stay put in life? How do you hold it all? What useful pots do you have or are you making?

Mothers Who Make is itself meant to be a pot – a place for women who already hold a lot to come together and help hold one another. We have, in turn, put out a ‘pot’ to the world recently to ask for help in our work as we are currently unfunded. I’m busking here, online. If you like this blog and want to support me, and other MWM-ers, to sustain us in our pot-making, then please go here, and for £3 per month, become a ‘Matron Saint’ of our cause. And ultimately, for me, the cause is as grand and as simple as the need to practice holding everything - both life and the loss of it.  

[andy-loves-corgis]

All of The Lights - Ch 4 (TRR AU)

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: well, now just the dysfunctional Rileyx Liam and the awful Liam x Madeleine

Rating: PG

Word count: ~ 3,300

Notes: I’m so sorry and I hated this chapter, that’s all I can say. Thanks, whoever is still here ♥️

WARNING: Read the Prologue! Every chapter has TWO timelines, Before (about a year before the Prologue) and After (two years after the prologue), if you don’t pay attention to that you might get confused!

Fast cars, shooting stars

BEFORE

Drake stretched his fingers absentmindedly, after a week immobilized he decided upon taking the gauze off and though a little sore, they seemed to have healed perfectly.

“What in the seven hells?!”

Liam was horrified, Drake could see by his contorted face looking outside the tinted windows of the limo.

Looking like every bit of a Cordonian Sweetheart, Riley stood in front of the press, half of her chocolate locks now a deep shade of red, some blonde spots seen between the brown and the red, redder than Liam’s livid face.

“I’m telling you, Drake. She has a very unique way of driving me insane” Liam said burying his face in his hands.

“I think it suits her” Drake tried to control the smirk in his lips.

Yes, Riley had her own way of bringing hell to Liam, or basically anyone who crossed her way. He knew she had been stressing over her broken ankle and not being able to care for herself, whether dying her hair herself or painting an entire wall of her home, she would always find a way to express her need of change.

Leaving the limo with a now very composed Liam, Drake spotted another livid individual, Madeleine’s nostrils flared under her perfectly done makeup, of course she would hate to divide the spotlight with Riley.

The press went wild as Liam walked to Riley, pressing a chaste kiss on her cheek, and whispering something on her ear that made her face fall as he turned smiling to the camera.

That’s none of your business

He just walked away from the frenzy of the crowd, who had just spotted Leo, poor guy, Leo was suffering so much he even lost weight, which could be completely related to his drinking habits and whole-night sex with his maids. The future king was doing anything to forget that he would soon to be married to one of those uptight bland women or worse... Madeleine.

On the far corner, next to the boats, Drake found his father’s pupil, looking as tired as someone could be.

“You look like shit, Bastien” Drake laughed, standing beside his only living father figure.

“Every night with Leo takes a week out of my life span” Bastien whispered.

Drake tried unsuccessfully suppress a laugh.

Looking at all the nobles in their exclusive designer clothes gathering around the harbor just to see those girls who never tied a knot in their life, Drake felt glad for living in the invisible sidelines, he always thought that he preferred the snarky comments and side outraged glances than the fake smiles and sugar-coated condescending words.

“I hate those stuff, how to you manage to survive to every one of these things?” Drake sighed as soon as the boats sailed. “It’s just so boring.”

“It’s just work, it’s not every time that we are breathing on some terrorists neck” Bastien simply said. “Sometimes you are in Bósnia-Herzegovina at 04:23 am to pick up a drunk heir to the throne.”

Drake snorted again, excusing himself to get some water.

“No, Liam, YOUR problem is that I didn’t tell you I was going to dye MY hair!” It was undoubtedly Riley’s voice behind the drink station.

“Well, if you wanted so much to look like Olivia, you should’ve dyed it all” Drake could almost picture Liam’s smirk, knowing he’d hit a soft spot.

“EXCUSE ME?!”

Drake cleared his throat and the voices turned to angry whispers, until he heard hard steps towards the Riva, Liam appeared chewing the insides of his cheeks and adjusting the collar of the shirt under his sweater, barely throwing a second glance at Drake.

The commoner made his way to the secluded place where Riley stood leaning on a fence massaging her temples.

He was about to greet her when they heard the cheering voices of the crowd.

“Shit!” Riley exclaimed.

Even though what unfolded in front of him wasn’t anything new, every time Drake saw Riley inhaling deeply before putting the most dazzling smile on her face, he was amazed - saddened to the core, but amazed nonetheless.

“Oh hi!” She said in a cheerful tone, if Drake hadn’t grown up with her, he might have believed she was happy. “Mind to help?”

One of her crutches had fallen to the ground and Drake quickly lowered himself to get it, he noticed her swollen calves and a crease formed in his eyebrows.

“Thanks” she smiled and left walking like with her head held high.

Sometimes he couldn’t understand what it took to be like that, to live like that.

Madeleine won, obviously, as if she hadn’t paid Nick Thompson to sail for her, but in the end, it was all power games during social season.

Imagine a dozen of the most well-crafted women of the kingdom, they were molded since they were able to walk to sit still, look pretty, pour tea and to think like true strategist.

No, Cordonian court wasn’t a complete sexist place, of course as in any patriarchal society men would have the upper hand on the ladder to success, but women were always behind that.

Drake watched as Madeleine hugged Riley while the other suitors clapped, those sweet smiles only hiding their next step.

“Do you like whiskey?” He heard Liam’s voice next to him.

“Was that even supposed to sound like a question?” Drake rose an eyebrow to his best friend.

“Hope McCallan isn’t too cheap for you” Liam’s smirk grew.

“Liam, every time you come up with the whiskey talk it’s because you’re gonna ask me to do something I don’t wanna do... what is it?”

Liam cleared his throat but kept the smirk

“Well, there’s whiskey... in Olivia’s yacht”

The prospect of that night becoming a huge nightmare has shifted to 112%.

“Please...?” Liam gave him a forced smile.

Gathering all the force he still had, Drake just nodded, rubbing his eyes to avoid the scowl.

Well, at least there will be whiskey.

Olivia’s yacht was big enough for a family of four to live comfortably, but oddly enough she gathered her guests on the small deck by the jacuzzi.

The sun was setting and they were a swimming distance from the shore, but the view was still a breathtaking, sipping from his whiskey, Drake noticed that Riley was focused on another view.

By the jacuzzi Liam laughed with Olivia, their elbows touching as they sat side by side in the hot water. To any spectator the scene unfolding would look as friends having a good time together, but to anyone who knew that little love triangle, it was way more than that.

York: I’m about to throw myself in the waters.

He tried not to laugh at the message on his phone, Riley was known for being dramatic, so he casually walked to the jacuzzi, under Kiara’s blushing gaze and Olivia’s scowl.

“Hey” he squatted next to Liam. “I don’t think Riley is feeling well, I’ll take her back okay?”

Liam’s knitted his eyebrows puzzled.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s feeling nauseous” Drake came up with the first excuse he could think of.

“Oh, well...”

“Leighton can take them to the shore, Li” Olivia interjected without looking at Drake.

“See you at the palace” Drake taped Liam’s shoulder, wetting his hand in the process.

He walked between the crowd, their champagne glasses glinting on the fading sun.

“Let’s get out of here, York” he looked at his miserable friend.

“Thank God” she answered grabbing his hand for support.

It was a short way to the shore and they made their way in silence as droplets of sea water splashed on their faces.

Drake helped her hop on his truck and finally felt at ease feeling Riley get comfortable turning the radio on.

Night fell as the black truck made its way through the woods near the palace where a clearing welcome then along with a smirk Riley couldn’t suppress.

“And I thought you were just going to leave me alone in my room to scroll through Twitter” she laughed as he helped her out of the car and proceeded to open the pick up truck bed where some pillows and covers awaited them.

“I got your back, York” he smiled as she got cozy on the pillows and he pulled his guitar.

After a minute of only the soft melody he was playing and the wind hushing on tree leaves she turned to him.

“Sing something”

He gave it a little thought, slowly striking the chords before he decided.

I wanna be drunk when I wake up

On the right side of the wrong bed

And never an excuse I made up

Tell you the truth I hate

What didn't kill me,

It never made me stronger at all

Love will scar your make up

Lips sticks to me, so now I maybe lean back there

I'm sat here wishing I was sober

I know I'll never hold you like I used to

But a house gets cold when you cut the heating

Without you to hold I'll be freezing

Can't rely on my heart to beat in

'Cause you take parts of it every evening

Take words out of my mouth just from breathing

Replace with phrases like 'when you leaving me? '

Should I? Should I?

Maybe I'll get drunk again

I'll be drunk again, I'll be drunk again

To feel a little love

“That’s beautiful... and sad. You should really start playing it somewhere” her small voice filled the silence. “Is it about Erika?”

Drake shrugged.

“I guess it was when I first thought about it”

“You never told me why you two broke up” she propped herself on her elbows.

“It just didn’t work out”

“Well, I never liked her” Riley laughed.

“You never liked any of my girlfriends, York” he threw a pillow at her.

“Hey! I’ll like her when it’s the right one okay?”

“Yeah, now shut up and look up” he adjusted himself next to her.

He heard her soft gasp at the sight of the falling stars, as if she was the same 10-year-old girl he brought there along with his sister and father to see their first meteor shower. He felt her hand grabbing two of his fingers and smiled.

“Make a wish, Walker”

AFTER

The sun wasn’t too high in the sky when he finished shaving, God forbids Madeleine saw a glint of facial hair on anyone at any of her events, not that he minded what she thought, but he rather be invisible at this event.

A cup of coffee and a croissant later, he found himself at the site of the barn raising, it would be so fun watch the nobles having the day to pretend they have any inclination to do hard work. Penelope and Kiara for example were wearing high heels, he betted 5 euros one of them would fall in 5 minutes.

Drake laughed to himself but got pulled out of his thoughts by a loud engine blasted on the road, the feeling of déja vu overcoming him, he knew exactly who loved loud engines drawing the attention to her entrance.

Shit

A white Bugatti stopped at the entrance and for a second, after seeing the frightened face of Hana getting out of the car, he forgot that he was pissed.

Although he remembered on the next second when Riley got out of the driver’s side laughing heartedly, she was wearing a simple plaid shirt, jeans shorts and sneakers, all the flashes were on her, the first press appearance since she was back two weeks ago.

“Lady Riley! Lady Riley!” The press screamed to get her attention. “How does if feel to be back?”

“Amazing!” She smiled, but he saw right through her, she didn’t get any better at hiding her lies and discomfort than she did at 18.

“Lady Riley! How do you describe your style today?”

“Riley York ready to build a barn” Maxwell made his way through the press to hug Riley and Hana.

“Lady Riley! Don Brine here! We see your coming with a new crew, Lady Hana and Lord Maxwell, does this has anything to do with your best friend getting engaged to your ex while you were away?”

Her smile faltered for a second, Drake held his breath without even knowing, across from the press he finally acknowledged Madeleine grabbing Liam’s arms forcefully while the future king didn’t blink watching Riley getting close to them.

“I think I’ll have to set the record straight” she pulled Madeleine’s hand into hers, locking them in an uncomfortable hold. “Liam, Madeleine and I all grew up together, and some people change along the way, some relationships change along the way.”

Riley’s angelic face gave the future monarchs the sweetest smile, Drake could almost touch the longing in Liam’s eyes.

“Liam and Madeleine will rule wisely and will be remembered for generations, and I couldn’t be more than happy for them. i guess that’s all.”

“One more thing Lady York. Ana de Luca for trend. We got an anonymous tip that you were away on a rehab clinic for self harm, what do you have to say about that?”

Drake saw Riley twisting Madeleine’s hand.

“Ana, some people don’t know when to shut up” she smirked and left them under the urges for more words and flashes blinking.

He watched as Liam cleared his throat and gave his speech on the barn raising, completely mechanical as he forced himself not to look over to Riley laughing with her friends.

Drake saw himself standing awkwardly with his hands buried in his pockets until he felt a light touch in his arms.

“It will all happen again, won’t it?” Kiara’s black eyes met his and wandered where Riley was. “She’s a bulldozer Drake, I remember how you were when she left, how Liam was, god, even Penelope...”

“Shall we start?” Liam started gathering everyone, not giving him any time to answer Kiara.

“Kiara and Penelope can help with the hay, Maxwell and Hana can take care of painting the fences and... Drake and Riley will work lifting the wood of the barn walls.” Madeleine smiled proudly at herself and Liam choked.

“It’s too much of manual labor for a Lady, my dear, I’m sure Lady Riley could trade places with Maxwell” Liam pondered.

“No way, it would give my hands blisters!” Maxwell interjected and Riley laughed.

“Don’t be silly dear, Lady Riley spent the last year as a working woman in America.” Madeleine’s fire gaze pierced through Liam’s blue eyes.

“Hey Liam, it’s okay really, I used to do some heavy lifting at work...” Riley finally spoke and Liam’s gaze went from her to Drake.

At that moment Drake understood why Liam didn’t want her inside the barn.

“Told you so..” Kiara whispered beside him.

“I can help you two...”

“No, you can’t!” Madeleine exclaimed more fiercely that she probably intended. “We need to make rounds and pose for pictures dear, it’s our engagement event after all.”

“Then we should go!” A completely anxious Penelope stated, wanting as much as any of them to be excluded from the awkwardness.

Drake sighed and made his way to the structure of the barn without a second glance to Riley. He was preparing the wood when she reached their spot.

“Hey, let me help” she said smiling and reaching for the wood he was carrying, he didn’t reply.

They worked in silence for almost an hour, she didn’t back up from any activity, from carrying heavy buckets of water for the horses, to helping him pulling up the wood.

“We’re still a good team!” She exclaimed after most of the work was done, he stole a glance and her proud look and warm smile, a drop of sweat descending from her neck.

“We’re not a team” he grunted at his relapse.

The smile vanished from her face.

“After everything, how you can say that?”

“After everything, how can YOU say that?” Drake spat turning fully to her. “Why the hell did you come back, Riley? Why didn’t you just disappear and let us live our pathetic lives here?”

“Why didn’t you let me drown, Drake? It would definitely be better than be here now, right?”

Drakes face fell, and suddenly flashes of that fateful afternoon flooded him like the gelid winter see, the white dress plastered on her numb skin, the muttering blue lips, his heart beating so hard in his chest, wanting to trade places with hers, to make her alive again.

He got close to her, closer than he should for the sake of his sanity, he could feel the heat coming from her body as her resolve slowly crumbled and his rage grew.

“Go to hell, Riley. Fuck you!” She shrank at his words, spat so cruelly it made her eyes watery.

Drake suddenly couldn’t breath so he left the almost finished barn to the hired workers to complete, the sun hanging low in the sky only heating his chest more, he wanted to scream, but he refused to be seen by anyone of the court, so, like a coward, he just sneaked out.

The humming sound of his truck engine was the only thing calming him right now, he drove aimlessly for more than an hour until night came and he saw himself somewhere he almost forgot it existed, somewhere he locked in her mind along with every other memory of Riley.

He sat on the empty boot of his truck, opening a can of beer and looking at the sky, as if he was a child, he was desperate for a shooting star so he could ask for everything to be normal again.

The loud engine once again pulled him from his thoughts, the white Bugatti now had several brown spots of dirt on its side, she sat on the hood, no respect for a €4 million car, one more reason he could add to the list for hating her.

“I’m sorry.” She said without looking at him, her tired eyes lost, miles away, in the sky.

Drake looked at the beer in his hands, then back to the sky.

“I shouldn’t have said that today.” He heard her sighing. “I actually never thanked you, so thank you, Drake.”

“For what?” He gave another gulp to his beer.

“For taking me out of the waters, whichever mean it has, you saved my life in more ways than that for years, but that day, that day I only came back breathing because of you.” Her eyes were full of tears once again, eyes pleading to him. “I didn’t come back to screw everything, I just... I miss my best friend, Drake.”

“I just can’t understand why, Riley?” He licked his dry lips, thinking of how to say it. “You gave up on us, you decided to stay, and then... why? You really meant it? You really wanted it?”

He really hoped she said no.

“Yes” Her voice was almost a whisper. “I wanted to die that day.”

“Why?” He tried in vain to keep his emotions under control.

“I don’t know” she dried her cheeks with her sleeves. “ I came back to try and find it out, it’s the only thing holding me back, I need to find out. Then I promise you’ll never hear of me again.”

.

If you wanna be out of the tags, just let me know

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[buckitybarnes]

Sticks, Stones, and Broken Bones [Eventual Bucky x enhanced!Reader] 1

Summary: When the Avengers catch wind of a HYDRA swarm at a local middle school, they’re there to see what’s up. What they find is beyond them. She’s mature for her age, she’s spunky and ready to bring the bad guys down to their knees, and most of all...she’s looking for her mom. They only want to help, but there are too many sides to this war, and very few you can trust. Bucky makes it a little more complicated when he experiences sympathy and becomes attached.

Warnings/Themes: violence/gore, Mentions of death, angst, fluff, Dad!Bucky, Reader is not the real mom, Nice uncle stevie and gang, Soft boi, humor, profanity, Mentions of a terrorist attack/school attack.

Author’s Note: For Bucky’s 102nd birthday, I give y’all a gift of starting a new dad!Bucky series because he makes me soft. This time, with a kid that’s as equally as sassy as mommy reader. This chapter has been looked over only once for spelling/errors, so keep that in mind. 

Last Chapter

Buy me a Ko-fi?

Chapter 1: Mable and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

They’re coming for her. They’re going to take her away and they’re going to kill her. Open your fucking door and help me, [Y/N]!

Quickly, you throw the dishcloth onto the counter. With one glance out your window from the kitchen sink, you pause in confusion. It’s a sunny day out. No clouds. No rain. And most importantly, no murderous government agents running around the streets of Uptown New York.

“Slow down, Jeanie, what the hell are you talking about? Who’s ‘her?’ and who the fuck are ‘they?’”

Before you hear her voice through the phone, frantic knocking at your door cuts the conversation short. You hear your sister-in-law’s voice muffled behind it. “[Y/N], please! There’s no time!”

Taking a pistol hidden in the back of your knife drawer, you tuck it into your pants and rush to the entrance. You unlatch the four locks and swing it open, ready for a fight.

Only, it was just Jeanie and a bundle of blankets in her arms.

“Jean, what the hell –“

She shoves the bundle towards you and yanks open her purse, pulling out a suspiciously large amount of cash. Whatever is in the blanket is heavy and begins to wail. Realizing it was a child, your niece to be exact, you readjust your hold on her, bouncing ever so slightly to try to calm her down. You weren’t good with babies. You never had been.

Jeanie was panicking. She was wearing her pink nightgown, slightly torn and burned at the hem. Tears roll down her cheeks and her eyes widen as she realizes the weight of the situation. Without a moment to spare, she inserts the wad of cash into your front pocket and nervously glances down at her child.

“I love you, baby, I promise I’ll see you soon,” she whispers brokenly, giving her a kiss on the forehead. When Jeanie glances back up at you, her bottom lip shakes. “The family safe house. You need to go there now – everything’ll be clearer, I promise, but you need to get the hell out of here. They’re coming to take Mable away and I need her to be safe. You of all people would know how to –” she whips her head around, thinking she’s heard approaching footsteps. Pulling the door to hide you, she keeps it open just a crack to finish. “They know, [Y/N],” she cries. “They know about her, and I didn’t know who else to go to –”

Realization dawns on you and you hold the baby closer to your chest. “What about my brother?”

The haunting look behind her eyes makes your blood run cold.

They’ve got him. He’s gone.

And if you don’t act soon, so will you, Mable, and Jeanie.

You swallow quickly and nod. “I’ve got her. I’ll keep her safe.”

She smiles softly, sniffling back more tears.

A barrage of stomping pulls both of your attention.

“I can buy you time,” she starts.

“Jeanie --”

“Get the hell out of here, [Y/N]!” she snaps, slamming the door shut.

You don’t know what to do. You haven’t used your powers in so long, but you’re willing to try to save her.

Men shout on the other side and Jeanie laughs bitterly.

“You’re too late!” she announces, and from the slam, you can tell she’s barricaded the entrance with her body.

She was risking her life for Mable, and if you didn’t leave now, this would all be a waste.

Setting the baby down on the couch for a split second, you scramble over to the coat closet and pull out your emergency backpack. Very quickly, you shove the money inside along with your weapon. Whatever clothes that had already been packed will last you a few days,

Bam!

The sound of a gunshot rings through the air, and silence follows right after.

Your heart beats faster, throat closing and stomach twisting in nausea.

“Time to fucking go,” you growl, throwing the bag over your shoulder. As Mable begins to cry, you pick her up and make a beeline for the window.

Down below, you see black SUVs and armed men on the streets. As people grow curious, they point weapons in their direction and threaten them to take a step closer.

You could climb down and get shot, risk running back through the front door, or…climb.

Pulling open the window and slashing the screen with your pocket knife, you take a deep breath. “Certainly not what I wanted to do today,” you mutter, hopping silently onto the fire escape. Mable was making this difficult with her squirming and whimpering. You had no other choice.

“Alright sweetheart, it’s time to bounce,” you mumble, side-stepping away from the open window. At this point, the door has been busted open, and they’re closing in on you.

Distraction. You need a distraction.

Oh god, you hope that your powers don’t fail you now.

You focus on the police car parked a few feet away. Your head begins to spin a little, eyes water in pain. Focus. Focus. Focus. Mable begins to reach for you for comfort, a small cry escapes her lips. Yet, you can’t hear her. All is quiet for a few moments.

When you snap back into focus, the siren of the car blares loudly, lights blinking and coloring the ground. Then, it combusts into flames, sending the crowd of people scurrying in panic. It’s utter chaos below. Powerlines have been struck down as a result of your recklessness and you know that a few have been injured.

A man shouts orders to the guards, gesturing for them to follow.

As soon as they run towards the explosion, you bolt the opposite direction, climbing down one ramp at a time.

--

“Alright, sweetheart, time to bounce,” you mutter quietly, ruffling the girl’s hair. “You got your lunch money?”

Mable pouts, eyebrows knit in frustration. “I told you I don’t wanna go.” She grabs your hand to still it, preventing you from pulling away. “This isn’t fair!”

“Oooh, is someone starting to lash out? I didn’t think you’d still be going through puberty,” you smirk, fixing her loose scarf. “It’s seventh grade --”

“At a new school,” she grumbles. “Again.”

You ignore the statement, standing up to your full height and sighing in exasperation. “What’s the worse that can happen? They make fun of you because your name makes you sound like you’re ninety-eight?” When her face falls, you quickly shake your head. It’s been twelve years and you’re still not good at parenting. “Which isn’t true, obviously. All the cool kids are named Mable nowadays.”

“I hate you.” A small grin behind her words brings a bit of relief into your system.

“And I love you, I’ll see you after work, okay?” you laugh. Before she pulls away, you call out to her. “And remember --”

“Don’t talk to strangers and if I see a big guy in a uniform, run, I got it,” she deadpans, brushing you off. “Don’t you have crap to be doing?”

“Excuse me!” you shout. A passerby on the street looks your way. You know it seems comical that a grown-ass lady is yelling at a little girl who doesn’t seem fazed one bit. “Language!”

She only smirks, waving you goodbye. “You know, you and Captain America would be best friends!”

That cheeky little shit. You needed to start signing permission slips to opt her out of watching ‘Rappin with Cap.’

You watch her leave, her mittened hands shoved into her petticoat. She looks both ways before crossing the street, and you can’t help but feel a bit proud in that moment. If Jeanie were here to see this….

You frown.

You wish Jeanie were here to see this.

“Excuse me miss?”

You turn around to see a man with graying hair. He smiles kindly before taking his hat off. “Do you think you could point me to Centre’s Bookshop? I’m not from around here, but I heard it’s popular with the locals.”

You smile back, nodding in his direction. “It’s a little confusing. I can walk you there though since I’m headed in that direction.”

For a moment, his eyebrows shoot up. “Really? I appreciate that very much. I’ll try to keep up,” he jokes, following right behind you.

“What kinda books are you into, Mister….?”

“Pathlocke. Doctor Pathlocke,” he answers without missing a beat. He holds his briefcase closer to his side, clearly not fond of the tight sidewalks in the city. “And I need a few anatomy references for research and whatnot.”

You turn the corner onto a quieter road.

“Oh, that’s awesome! Are you a professor --”

When you turn around, he has his heavy briefcase lifted in the air. He sends you a menacing smirk before slamming a metal corner into the side of your head.

At first, you feel nothing, the shock overcoming your senses. You blink in confusion before your ear starts to ring and you see double. You press your hand against your temple, and when you pull it down to your face, you see the crimson red of your own blood.

“A professor?” he repeats calmly. “No, I’m a little more elaborate than that.”

You open your mouth to speak when he pulls something from his pocket. A syringe. He yanks the cap off with his teeth and sinks the needle into your neck.

It goes quiet. the world around you sinks. Soon enough, you're falling. 

--

It’s the same, boring routine. No matter how many schools she’s transferred to -- and she’s been to quite a few -- it’s always the same. She really wishes she faked illness and got to stay home today.

“Class, this is Mable [Y/L/N], she’ll be joining us this year. I’d like you all to give her a warm welcome! Mable, do you wanna introduce yourself?”

She huffs in annoyance, messing with one of her pigtails.

You always said not to give away too much. There were bad people in this world after her, and she needed to lay low as much as she could. ‘Only the basics,’ you’d warn.

“I like Captain America,” she shrugs. “All superheroes, really”

“Don’t we all,” the teacher laughs, knowing that she’s had her fair share of fantasizing what life would be like if Steve Rogers strolled into her classroom one day. Of course, the kids didn’t have to know that. “Do you have any hobbies? Play any sports?”

‘The last time I played baseball, I got mad and broke a boy’s arm,’ she recalls. “Uhm...I like to draw...and watch TV. No sports.”

Her shy tone causes a few kids to snicker in her direction. Her face burns with red-hot embarrassment, but she tries her best to brush it off. “Can I sit down now?”

Not quite sensing her discomfort, the teacher shrugs. “Of course you can. And with that, let's begin today’s lesson.”

Mable likes to pretend she’s Charlie Brown from time to time. To her, the teachers sound like they’re constantly chanting ‘wah, wah, wah, wah.” If she told you, you’d be highly disappointed in her, but to be honest, she’s very good at winging tests. You’d never really find out about it.

Something breaks the white noise. The walls begin to tremble, the chalk on the board begins to clatter against the ledge. Her new classmates look around in utter confusion and she notices her teacher freeze in fear.

This wasn’t apart of the usual. This was odd.

The intercom turns on and the principal, trying his best to sound calm (but even Mable can hear the shake of his voice), calls out.

“This is a code red. Lockdown. I repeat lockdown.” He begins breathing heavy, shuffling heard behind the microphone. “Teachers, get your students to immediate --” His voice is cut off with a loud ‘wham!’ before all is silent.

Mable’s teacher is quick to yank down the blinds of her door, she looks around before ushering everyone into the back supply closet. “Everybody be quiet and stay down, please!” she demands, locking up all exits. She prays underneath her breath, and Mable’s heart begins to beat wildly out of her chest.

“What’s going on, Mrs.Hilde?” a stocky redheaded boy asks. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Can I go call my mom?”

Slamming behind the door causes everyone to jump and the teacher vehemently shakes her head, closing everyone inside the closet. She purposefully blocks the door with her body. “No. No one leaves this room until we’re cleared, okay? I need you guys to stay as quiet as possible!” she makes a “lock-and-key” motion over her mouth and silently begs the kids to follow.

“Open the fuck up! I know you’re in there! You’re hiding the girl!” a loud man shouts from outside.

Mable tears up, huddling against the far back wall. Her classmates pack together tightly, all eyes on their teacher for further instruction.

She feels an odd sense of deja vu, but she’s never experienced something like this before. Who were they and who are they looking for?

“Suit yourself...szhech' eto mesto.”

One last slam happens before footsteps come marching inside. Mable hears whimpering and sobbing from the kids around her. Still, she sees her teacher remain standing where she was, ready to give up her life if needed. It’s hot, insanely hot, and the bottom of the door lights up orange. For a moment, Mable’s teacher loses her composure, panic apparent in her eyes. “They’re gonna fucking cook us,” she chokes out, clenching her jaw. She needed to think fast, needed a game plan.

The high temperatures, nausea, and fear rolling off of the room create a terrifying stench like no other. It awakens something in Mable. She can stop this. She knows she can. Even with anxiety coursing through her veins, she stands from her spot, wobbling forward toward the older woman. “I can help, I can make them go away,” she whispers.

Mrs.Hilde has never seen such burning determination in a child’s eyes before, and she certainly didn’t expect to see it now, of all times. She shakes her head, smiling nervously. “I know you’re a strong girl, Mable, but this isn’t --”

“They’re in there!” another man outside shouts and the teacher bites down on her tongue, turning to face the door. She braces herself for whatever happens next.

But before they could open it, Mable steps in front of her, squeezing herself between the door and Mrs.Hilde.

“Mable! Stop --”

The lock is shot and the door is swung open, revealing a man clad in black. He aims his machine gun at the woman but then brings it down to Mable.

“There you are,” he snickers.

When the teacher reaching to pull Mable back, she’s pushed by the girl herself. Mable remains where she is, trembling but glaring murderous daggers up at the man. ‘When I see a big guy in a uniform, run,’ she mentally reminds herself, but something keeps her here, ready to fight. She’ll protect her classmates, and if not, she’ll die trying. It’s what you would be proud of.

“I’m gonna count to 3, sweetheart, and you’re gonna step out nice and slowly. We won’t hurt your friends in the pro --”

He flinches, choking on his own tongue. His breath grows rapid, staring down at Mable, whose eyes are now a wild magenta. He feels his gut twist and he cries in agony. “Y-you -- agh!” He coughs, a metallic taste filling his mouth. A bone inside him snaps, and it’s audible to everyone within a few feet radius. After a few seconds of struggling to breathe, he finally grows limp and falls to the ground.

Mable surveys the area and decides that the other soldiers are probably deeper in the school looking for their target. The classroom is now set ablaze and the building was beginning to collapse on its own. She notes the one door on the side that leads to the back parking lot. She turns, only to be met by a petrified closet full of classmates and her teacher.

“H-how….” her teacher squeaks, taking a large step back from the girl.

She sighs. Time to move to yet another school.

Unfazed by their terror, she takes a step out into the classroom. “You need to get everyone away, now, Mrs.Hilde,” she instructs. “Now!”

Hilde can argue with the crazy notion, but she’s seen enough strange shit today. She hurriedly commands everyone in the closet to follow her in an orderly fashion, trying not to gag at the dead body she has to pass on the way out.

Mable watches everyone head out, but something catches her eye immediately.

“Watch out!” She lunges forward, but it’s too late.

One of the ceiling beams screeches as it gives way, dropping quickly and slamming into a boy. He shrieks in pain as it pins his right leg to the ground.

Mable groans in frustration, running to him and barking orders for Hilde to continue on. “I’ve got him, go!”

“What hell do you mean, you’ve got him?!”

“You’re wasting time, Mrs.Hilde. I know what I’m doing!”

“This is fucking crazy,” she shouts, but yet another beam falls, this time, blocking her path to the two children. She gives one last look to Mable, who only smiles softly.

Oh, she’s so going to hell for this. Finally listening to Mable’s orders, she follows the rest of the class outside.

“I want my mom!” the boy cries, trying to pry the heavy material off of his leg. Mable stops him from straining himself further, shaking her head. “You’ll be okay…” she murmurs. In reality, she doesn’t believe her own words.

Where the hell were you? Surely, the news would have said something about this by now, and you being the raging mom who would walk through the depths of hell to protect her, well, you’d be here in a heartbeat.

Behind the crackle of flames, she can hear engines whirr and a cacophony of gunshots. She tries to muster up every bit of bravery and steps in front of her classmate to shield him just as her teacher did earlier. She broke a few bones of a man, she can break a few more.

“Everyone’s out, Steve, we’ve got them….all….” a voice echoes throughout the hall. Footsteps grow louder until they come to a screeching halt in front of the classroom entrance.

A tall bulky man stands with nervousness in his eyes. His mouth gapes slightly as he lowers his rifle and takes a step inside. Upon further inspection, Mable notices that his left arm is completely metal.

One of the bad guys, she thinks.

“Steve, scratch that,” he says into his earpiece. “There’s a kid here, I’ve gotta get her out.” When Mable holds up her hand to stop him, he breathes out a shaky sigh. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise,” he says softly. “My name is Bucky, I’m an Avenger.”

“You’re lying,” she mutters coldly.

Bucky glances past her shoulder and holds his breath when he sees a boy trapped underneath rubble. He’s got to admit that this girl’s got spunk sacrificing her life like this. Without hesitation, he drops his gun and holds out his hands in surrender. “I swear to you, I’m only trying to help. He’s going to bleed out if we don’t get him help.”

“I’m going to what?!” the boy yelps, squirming underneath and sobbing.

Bucky seems like a trustworthy man, but Mable takes precaution. She drags the gun away from Bucky, visibly struggling to hold it since it’s so heavy. Nodding her head over to the boy, she frowns. “Help him.”

Bucky doesn’t waste a second. He kneels down beside the beam, slips both hands underneath it, and lifts. His muscles bulge as he pulls it out of the way.

Mable had been too busy watching him to notice another presence entering the room.

“What took ya so long, punk?” Bucky grunts, dropping the beam. It lands onto the ground with a loud thump.

A man she’s seen before, Captain America, steps into plain view in all his spandex glory. He assesses the damage before pursing his lips. “Sorry, we were backed up by a few of them upstairs. You carry the girl out, I’ll help the boy. The paramedics should be here any minute.”

Mable can’t help but stare at her favorite hero in awe. She yelps in surprise, feeling two strong arms lift her up in the air. Instinctively, she latches onto Bucky’s shoulders, glaring up at him at the surprise. He merely grins down at her. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here, okay?”

She scoffs.

“This one’s feisty as hell, she unarmed me in a matter of seconds,” Bucky quips. Captain America merely rolls his eyes, leaving his friend to rescue the boy.

“Not my fault you’re weak,” Mable murmurs, lifting herself slightly in his arms to look over his shoulder and watch Steve Rogers at work.

She feels Bucky’s chest rumble in laughter. He’s out of the classroom in a few long strides. Captain America was now out of view, and what remains of her school’s hallway is revealed. Lockers are thrown open, a water fountain spews out water onto the floor, and what appears to be blood is pooled around.

Bucky hears the slight whimper coming from Mable as she stares at the wreck. He hugs her a bit closer, speeding up in his walk. “What’s your name?” he tries to ask in distraction.

She buries her face in the crook of his neck. “Mable,” she murmurs.

He hums in appreciation. “What a nice name. I knew a lady named Mable once. Made the best apple pies in Brooklyn.”

Mable looks up to ask him what the hell he’s going on about, but flinches when she sees someone down the hall. They’re wearing the same uniform as her earlier attacker. “Bucky, there’s someone coming!” she shouts, ducking her head and squinting her eyes.

Bucky’s quick to shield her with his metal arm. He holds her head close to his shoulder as he spins around.

“Fucking, shit,” he curses, seeing the HYDRA emblem on the soldier’s chest. He backs up quickly, scanning the area for cover, but the agent is already closing in. His gun’s out and aimed towards the two.

Mable can sense the absolute dread that makes Bucky’s stomach drop. When he tries to turn his back to the agent and pulls her head closer to the center of his chest, she resists and peers over his shoulder.

“Kid, what the hell --”

Mable’s eyes glow pink for the second time today. She feels her heartbeat pick up as she focuses on the sprinting form.

Within seconds, the form cries out in pain and slumps to the ground, his neck twisted in an uncomfortable way.

Bucky stumbles to a stop, looking over his shoulder in bewilderment and then back at Mable in realization.

She smiles weakly, her head feeling light.

“Holy fuck,” he mumbles, watching as her head hits his shoulder in unconsciousness.

#Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #bucky x reader #dad!bucky #soft boi #white wolf #the winter solider x reader #the winter soldier #reader insert #series #fanfic #fanfiction #romance #fluff #angst #captain america #The Avengers #the avengers x reader #wolf writes #writing #SSBB series #sticks stones and broken bones #mcu #Marvel Studios #marvel

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Half Blood, Whole Heart: Part 14

Pairings: Jax x Reader, sister Winchester!reader- SOA/SPN Crossover

Warnings: Swearing, angst, death canon to SOA, more angst.

Word Count: 3,967

A/N: So I decided to repost my novel- the story that someone stole from my old blog and put up on Wattpad. PLEASE don’t be an asshole and steal my stories. It CRUSHED me when it happened and almost ran me off Tumblr.

Half Blood, Whole Heart Masterlist    Aesthetic by @ravenangel33​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure this guy is going to show to take that Irish dick out?” Clay asked as everyone got setup at the parking lot. You nodded as you closed the driver’s side door to the Caprice solemnly with a trapped, gagged and tied up Irishman inside the trunk.

“Yea, I’m sure. The deal is done.” You look up at your husband who you knew would be going to jail today for the next year and sighed before looking at your father-in-law. “Just make sure the boys stay clear. Hellhounds are no joke.” Clay nodded and turned toward the rest of the crew as Jax wrapped his arms around you. You couldn’t stop the couple of tears that fell on his shirt. “We just get Thomas back and turn around to lose you.” You whispered as you held your husband close.

“You’ll come see me next week, babe. 14 months will go by like nothing.” You nodded as he dipped his face in your neck. “I love you.”

“I love you, too Jax. Always will.” He kissed your neck and shoulder before pulling back to rest his forehead against yours.

“Make sure you get yourself out after you finalize the deal with that demon. Don’t you stick around either.” You nodded your head as he reached up and brushed your tears away with his thumbs, cupping your jaw in his hands. “And call Chibs or Opie if you need anything.”

“I will. I promise.” You heard the roared rumble of bikes starting up and you both sighed. “I love you.”

“I love you, babe. Make it believable.” He gave you one final chaste kiss before pulling back and walking over to his bike. You wiped the remaining tears from your eyes as you got in your car and pulled out behind the half dozen motorcycles to bring Jimmy to his death.

——

As you followed the bikers, you and Jax knew you were about going to get stopped by the bitch who continued to ruin your life. Your plan was risky, with so many variables going on at once; anything could go wrong if one person stepped out of line and all hell could literally break loose. You suddenly saw the ATF van and an unmarked police car pull out in the middle of the road. This was it; show time for the Teller’s.

As the men stopped their bikes, you slowed to a stop a little ways behind them so that if Jimmy made any noise, it wouldn’t be heard over the distance and the hum of the engine but close enough that you could still hear. You rolled your window down to be able to hear and immediately heard the low growl of a hell hound right outside your car. Your hairs stood on end as you looked toward the invisible beast to your left and watched strips of gravel curl back under its nails.

“Easy Juliet.” Crowley said from directly behind you in the back seat. You jumped at the sudden close proximity and simply looked straight forward; pointing discreetly behind your dashboard.

“Woman in the pants suit; June Stahl. Her, any ATF agents dumb enough to stay behind and Jimmy in the trunk. My guys get to Jimmy first and your hounds finish him but everyone else is fair game.” You said as you listed off the souls Crowley would be given at the hands of SAMCRO that day. “Any other people who meet Mr. Mayhem from here on out, you will be notified as long as Jax and I have the heads up on it first.”

“Such simple payment for the collection of a child.” He said as he leaned around you to look at Stahl. “Seal it with a kiss?” He asked and you shook your head.

“I need to make sure they all believe it first. When I whistle; that’s when I will seal it.”

“You Winchester’s always have to make thing’s difficult, don’t you?” He asked as he disappeared along with the sound of the hell hound.

“It’s Teller.” You grumbled to no one. You watched Jax, Clay, Stahl and two officers walked toward you and you took a deep breath and got out of the car. Clay looked beyond livid and Stahl looked completely pleased with herself.

“Pop the trunk.” Jax told you. Despite being part of the plan, you still furrowed your brow. You popped the trunk as the rest of the brothers walked over toward the car. You looked at Jax as Stahl and her agents walked around to the back of the car.

“James O'Phelan, you're being taken into custody on suspicion of conspiracy of committing a terrorist criminal act.” She told him as her goons pulled Jimmy out of the trunk. They removed the gag and walked him past the Sons.

“Sorry, it didn’t work out for you lads. Luck of the Irish and all.” He said as the agents carted him toward the cars at the front.

“How did you know we had him?” Clay demanded angrily as Stahl opened a blue file she had under her arm.

“Oh! Your VP made a deal.” Your stomach dropped as you whipped around completely to face Stahl; this was not part of the deal Jax had made.

“Son of a bitch!” Jax shouted as he turned to hit her but the guys had him surrounded.

“What is she talking about?!” Clay asked as he looked at his stepson.

“You made a deal for Jimmy?!” Tig shouted

“You ratted?!” Bobby screamed.

“What have you done?!” You screeched at Stahl and she simply smiled.

“I did it for the club! I had no choice!” Jax shouted in his defense as his panicked eyes found yours.

“This whole time we were looking for Jimmy and you knew you were gunna turn him over to this cunt.” Clay said.

“We lost five brothers because of Jimmy!” Juice stated.

“No, Clay, she made him do it. He didn't have a choice! He’s not a rat!” You said as you tried to get your father-in-laws attention as cops came over to collect the guys.

“You’re dead! Do you hear me? Dead!” Clay shouted as the officers began cuffing the men.

“Hell yea you are. Done.” Tig shouted. Jax looked back in a complete panic and in the break, you ran towards him as tears poured down your cheeks.

“You just signed my fucking death warrant.” He told Stahl as he pulled against the officer to be able to kiss you once more. “Don’t let my son forget about me.” He said as he was dragged away.

“Never. I love you.” You called after him as he was loaded into the van.

“Always babe, always.” Stahl walked up next to you and handed you the blue file.

“Well that’s unfortunate. So obviously the boys will be out in three years, if they don't kill anyone and get caught. Parole in 14 months. My official statement that says Gemma wasn’t in the house during the shooting has been submitted so she is free to go.” She smirked at you as the doors to the van were closed behind the convicts and sighed. “Your mother-in-law was right. There is no trust between law enforcement and criminals.” You watched the van drive away and your heart broke for the man you loved. As it rounded the corner, you heard the low rumble you were waiting for and a smile crossed your face.

“See… that’s where you’re right.” You let out an ear piercing whistle and the woman cringed as Crowley popped up in front of you.

“About bloody time. She believed it, I see.” He said and you nodded.

“Leave the man in the car, my boys and me. The cops are yours including her.” You reminded him for Stahl’s benefit. He gave you a short nod and you stepped forward and sealed the deal with the King of Hell.

“What is this?” Stahl asked while pointing at Crowley as the flat bed to take the bikes home pulled up behind your car. Two prospects sped past you to catch up to the boys headed to prison and to tip them off that the club’s plan worked; that Stahl believed the club thought Jax was outed as a rat and that she had been running the show when in reality, the club was two steps ahead and she was now dead.

“This is SAMCRO’s… insurance policy. Like you said, there is no trust. She’s all yours.” You said as you turned and walked toward the flat bed to get out of the way.

“Sick ‘em, boys!” You heard Crowley shout. As you climbed onto the bed of the truck with Opie and Chibs, the area around you was suddenly filled with low growls before shrill screams filled the air. Cowley strolled over casually as Stahl was ripped to shreds before your eyes by an invisible monster. “This is how you reach me when you have business for me and you lot are only to deal with me.” He said as he handed you a fire red business card. “It’s been a pleasure as always. I’m leaving Juliet with you for now to finish the last one and my men will be around to clean up the mess shortly.”

“Thank you again, for everything.” He gave you a short nod and disappeared as the sounds of growling died down.

“I’ll never get used to that.” Opie said as he, Chibs and you jumped down to get Jimmy.

“You’d be surprised.” You heard the low growl of the hellhound begin to follow you and both men jumped at the noise, causing you to giggle. “Oh lighten up, ya big babies. They’re just hellhounds. Now remember; maim as badly as you want. Don’t kill or we lose the soul and I’m a dead woman.” Chibs nodded as he pulled open the back door of the squad car and yanked Jimmy out.

His feet hadn’t been on the ground completely before Chibs grabbed two knives and gashed his cheeks open in a Chelsea Grin; the same thing, you had learned Jimmy had done to Chibs years ago. You and Ope stood back and let Chibs take out all his hatred for the man that had taken his family and claimed them as his own. Just as you were about to step in and stop him from finishing the job, Juliet let out a growled bark causing Chibs to finally back off.

“No… NO!” Jimmy shouted as he realized his fate. Juliet pounced and began ripping him limb from limb. You looked at the boys and sighed.

“Alright let’s get these bikes loaded. I gotta get home to my son.”

“Didn’t realize you were working for Crowley.” A very familiar voice said and your heart clenched. You whipped around in complete shock to see Sam, standing against a tree, casually smoking a cigarette. Chibs and Opie both drew their guns as your jaw dropped.

“Sammy?” You stammered as you took a step toward your brother. “How…” As the reality hit you, you grabbed your gun and your angel blade from the back of your jeans and stepped back. “How are you here?” You demanded.

“I’ve been asking myself that for a while now. Here, save you the trouble.” He raised his hands in the air and walked over to you slowly before stopping a little over an arms length away. He extended his arm for you and bobbed it slightly. You quickly dragged the edge of the blade across his arm, drawing only a single line of blood. You lowered your weapons and looked at your brother as tears filled your eyes.

“Fuck… Sam.” You lurched forward and jumped into your best friend’s arm as he wrapped you in a hug. “God, I fucking missed you.” He nodded as he set you back down on the ground with a smile.

“I missed you too, (Y/N). Now, you need help with these bikes?” You nodded as you took a step back with a teary smile.

“Sam, this is Opie and Chibs. Boys, you remember my other brother, Sam.”

~~~~~~~~~~

As you sat on the couch with Thomas contently watching the fish tank screensaver you had on your laptop while eating mashed kiwi’s and mango’s, you could tell there was something off about your brother. You knew Sam like the back of your hand and you noticed almost immediately that he was a little more distant than was usual and his smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. You bit your tongue as he told you and Dean where he had been the last few months but you could tell Dean was beyond livid.

“So that’s all of it.” Sam told his siblings as he grabbed his beer off the coffee table. You and Dean glanced at each other and you sighed as Sam continued. “But I actually came because I have a case and I need Dean for it, so sorry (Y/N), but we gotta go.”

“Whoa! Hang on! Dean’s not going anywhere right this minute!” You said as you sat up a little straighter. “Jax just went to jail today. Dean is…”

“Dean is a hunter, (Y/N). He’ll come back when we are done with this case…”

“That’s bullshit Sam and you know it.”

“Button, it’s…” Dean tried and you shook your head.

“Don’t De. You told Jax you would look out for me. We both know you were on the fence about the apple pie life here with everything that goes on with the club. We both know you take the tarp off Baby and Charming is just another dot in the rearview.”

“Well… not really.” Sam said. “The Djinn I’m hunting is following me so he’s probably here.”

“You what?!” You shouted; startling Thomas who began to cry. “What have you done?”

“I need help. So I came for help.” Sam said as he took a pull of your beer. You picked up Thomas and shook your head.

“Sam… get out of my house. I am so pissed at you right now that I don’t even want to look at you. Dean, get him out and get the fucking Djinn out of Charming without drawing attention to yourself. I’ll call Ope or Chibs for protection.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“How do you do it?” You asked Chibs as the two of you sat in your living room essentially as Djinn bait. “How do you keep going on without your family?” He shrugged as he passed you the joint you were splitting and shook his head.

“’s’not easy, lovie. Jus’ keep remindin’ yerself ‘e’ll be comin’ ‘ome soon.”

“He’s gunna miss so much.” You sighed; you were still having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that it would be over a year before Jax walked through your front door again.

“Can’t look at it like that or ye’ll go mad.” He said as you passed him back the joint. “Take it day by day.” You nodded as the baby monitor you were using as a walkie talkie crackled on the table.

“Incoming through kitchen.” Sam said quickly; he was the look out from the front of the house while Dean was by the side door. You grabbed a baseball bat and triple checked that your skin was covered.

“Remember, no guns.” you told Chibs softly as the side door to the garage squeaked opened. You stood up slowly and raised your bat.

“FRONT DOOR! TWO INCOMING!” Sam shouted suddenly into the baby monitor. You had just enough time to spin in toward the man with symbols covering his body before you went flying across the room.

Your house became chaos as Sam and Dean charged into the house and the four of you battled the three Djinn in your house. The boys only had one silver knife and barely enough lambs blood for one kill so you had to resort to brute force to kill the other two. The four of you had the upper hand in being prepared for the attack; in that you were completely covered but that didn’t stop the sheer strength and agility the monsters had.

“(Y/N/N), drop!” Dean shouted as you stood toe to toe with a Djinn, trying to over power him unsuccessfully with a lamp you had grabbed. You hit the deck seconds before Dean swung from behind the monster. You heard a sickening crack over Chibs’ Scottish taunting and the weight of the monster landed on you.

“Damnit De!” You shouted as you grabbed the lamp and awkwardly bashed it against the Djinn’s head.

“Two down!” Sam shouted as you heard a second Djinn hit the floor.

“C’mon ye bastard!” Chibs shouted as he squared off against the last Djinn. He twirled the baseball in his hand with a mad smile on his face as the man started to glow blue. Suddenly, you heard someone call your name. You turned toward the noise and saw Jax standing in the doorway.

“Baby… run!” You said as you stood up and looked around the room at the chaos that was no longer there. You watched your living room burst into flames. Fear ripped through you as you went to look back at Jax and instead, you saw Cameron Hayes holding Thomas.

“Sorry love. ‘e’s not your son anymore.” He said as he turned and headed out the door. You went to run after him and the wall of fire increased.

“Tommy!” You choked as you tried to find a way to your son. “THOMAS!” Out of nowhere, Dean appeared before you and stabbed you in the heart. You gasped as your whole body lurched.

“Hey! Hey! You’re OK.” Dean said as you thrashed on your bed against him.

“No! He has Thomas!” you shouted as tears blurred your vision.

“Love, I ‘ave ‘im; ‘e’s right ‘ere. ’s’a’right.” You heard Chibs say. You sat upright in bed and scrambled to get to your son as sobs wracked your body.

“How… what happened?!” You shouted to the men in the room.

“The Djinn that landed on you got to you.” Sam said from the doorway. “We got to you just in time.” You glared at your brother full of hate and shook your head.

“Was it worth risking my life, Sam? Huh? Risking my son; our brother?” You turned your back on him and looked at Dean. “Did you get them?”

“Yea… yea we got them. Living room is a little worse for the wear but…”

“De, I love you and I’m don’t want to have to do this to you but get him out of my fucking house and don’t come back with him.” Dean sighed as you gave your oldest brother a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” Sam said and you shook your head as you sat down on the bed and looked at him.

“No you’re not because if you were, you wouldn’t have brought that shit show around your sister and nephew in the first place. You would have called when you came back from the cage. I don’t know who you are right now Sam Winchester but you are NOT my brother.” Sam simply shrugged and walked out of your bedroom without another word. You looked over at Dean with tears falling and shook your head. “Don’t worry about me. Chibs can stay here tonight if he doesn’t mind and I’ll move in with Gemma for a while if I feel unsafe. You are more than welcome to come back whenever you want… alone”

“Button, I’m really sorry about this.” He said as he stepped toward you and kissed your forehead.

“I know you are De but it’s not your fault… just, figure out why he’s suddenly such an asshole all of a sudden.” He nodded and kissed the top of Thomas’ head.

“Don’t be a stranger. Call me and keep me posted on my favorite sister and nephew.” You promised him you would and with a final sigh, he shook Chibs’ hand and left. You didn’t get up until you heard the front door close behind your brother.

“I’ll stay wit’ ye for a while if ye wish, (Y/N). I’m in the dorms anyways so it’s no skin off my back.” You glanced back at your friend and nodded as you headed into the nursery.

“I’d like that, actually if you don’t mind little man crying at unusual hours.” Chibs chuckled as you laid your son down for bed.

“Lassie, I’m a father, too. Wee lad couldn’t bother me one bit.” You smiled at the Scotsman and nodded as you headed toward the living room to clean up the mess you knew was waiting for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, you will never believe what you have missed so far.” You said as you passed Thomas to Jax and the two of you sat down at the table during your first visitation.

“Please tell me you didn’t burn the house down.” He teased as he looked up at you. You gave him a perfect bitch face and rolled your eyes.

“Not even close. First of all, Sam is back; we don’t know how but he is an absolute dick that has been banned from the house. Second, Dean moved out; I told him to go with Sam…”

“Wait, Dean moved out? So…” You held up your hand and giggled.

“Not even close to being done. So, since Dean left, Chibs has moved in, I’ve gone back to work at the shop and we hired a nanny.”

“Wait… hold on… So… what?” Jax asked as he tried to swallow all the news. You smiled and nodded. “So Sam’s alive, Dean is gone, we have a Scotsman in our spare room and a nanny.”

“And I went back to work.” You chipped in. “You got it.” He sat back and shook his head with a huffed laugh.

“I’m gone for less than two weeks and you move another man in our house. Little hussy.” You shoved his shoulder as he laughed.

“It was either Chibs helping out or I moved in with mom for a year. Want me to make that phone call?”

“No! No, Chibs is fine.” Jax laughed. “You and my mom are close but I think one of you would kill the other if you lived in the same house while raising Tommy.”

“We aren’t that bad.” You claimed. He raised his eyebrow and it only took you a moment before you rolled your eyes. “Ok, ok. We would kill each other.” The two of you laughed for a moment before an ugly weight fell over you. Jax searched your eyes as he reached up and brushed your hair behind your ear.

“How are you?” You nodded and pursed your lips.

“I’m alright.” You breathed before tears welled up in your eyes. You reached up and held your husband’s hand to your cheek and he rested his forehead against yours. “I’ve been sleeping on a couch in the nursery… well, trying to. It’s so weird.”

“Fuck… babe, I am so sorry.” He said softly as he brushed his thumb across your cheek, wiping away tears. “I never wanted this…”

“I know you didn’t but here we are.” You said as you brushed your fingers on the back of his hand and put your other hand on his arm under your son. “I know what I signed up for, Jax.”

“I should be home.” You nodded and looked up at him through your eyelashes.

“What, so you could watch me burn the house down?” You said trying to lighten the mood.

“Yea…” he huffed as he sat back and looked at you. “I’ll be home to man the fire extinguisher soon.”

Part 15

#Jax x Reader #Half Blood Whole Heart #SOA/SPN crossover

[dreamer-indisguise]

Day 1: Let’s go.

January 11, 2020

Now that you know a little bit about me, let’s go into my current thoughts and feelings about this day. I’m going to try and recount my day as closely as I can, starting with how I’m currently feeling. 

Tonight hasn’t been great for me, mentally. It’s currently 3am on Monday, January 11, 2021. I have to be up in 4 hours to go to work. I’ve basically resigned myself to staying up all night to try and reset my sleep schedule. My brain is going crazy with thoughts of my family and the recent terrorist attacks on the Capitol. Yes, they are somewhat related... but we’ll leave that there for now.

Starting in on the morning of Sunday, January 10th...

I stayed up too late playing video games. Shocker. So I didn’t wake up until close to noon. I felt like a zombie when I woke up. I had gotten like 10 hours of sleep, so it’s not that I was tired... I just didn’t feel “good”. My sister had her boyfriend over last night. He’s not my favorite person, so I stayed in my office for most of the day before, just to avoid him. 

I laid in before for a little bit after I woke up. Watched some TikToks and caught up on notifications. I wish I could be one of those people who doesn’t look at their phone first thing in the morning. Although I’m sure I’d miss something important if I ever tried. Just last week, my coworker called out because his wife had been taken to the ER and luckily I woke up early enough to see the e-mail and make it to work before 8am. (I was supposed to be working from home last week.) But I digress.

While scrolling, I saw a post on Facebook that was the most “American” picture ever. A family friend had a baby shower yesterday and one of the gifts that she received was a “My First Rifle”. Like... what in the white conservative hell? Obviously, I had to send a screenshot to my friend who lives in England.

After a little while, I got up and made some coffee. Making coffee at home is something relatively new to me. Back in one of my previous apartments, I used to make coffee occasionally... but more often than not, I would forget about it and leave wet grounds in the coffee maker for weeks. It got all moldy and then that’s all I could picture whenever I thought about making coffee. I cleaned it thoroughly, but still couldn’t get my mind around the thought that I was still ingesting mold spores. This is a regular occurrence and something that I really don’t like about myself.

I’ve been playing a lot of Stardew Valley recently. It’s just such a chill game that I can waste hours and hours on. A few days ago, I had sent a text to Peter and said: “I think the reason that I like Stardew so much is because it’s a productivity simulator.” For anyone who doesn’t know, Stardew Valley is basically Farmville meets Animal Crossing meets Harvest Moon. You run a farm with crops, animals, and fish. There are overall objectives, but essentially you do whatever you want. Every day in-game starts with watering your crops, selling grown crops, feeding/milking your animals. Then you do whatever you want to do that day. It’s raining, so why not go down in the mines and look for some diamonds? Bring the town’s residents some gifts and try to max out their friendship level. Then once it’s night, you go to bed to do it all over again. It’s the repetitive-ness that draws me in. I don’t feel that I have a handle on my real life... but Stardew allows me to simulate what a healthy routine would feel like.

I probably played Stardew for about 10 hours yesterday. Writing that was a little scary. I know it isn’t healthy... but it’s my escape.

At some point, my sister and her boyfriend left and went to his apartment. While saying goodbye, Amanda let me know that she’d be back some time on Wednesday so, you know... yay being alone. Before I moved in with her back in October, I was living with my grandparents. It was initially just supposed to be for a few months after a job change messed with my financials and I couldn’t afford to pay rent. But my financial situation didn’t get any better, so I ended up living there for 2 years. It was only thanks to the 2020 quarantine that I was able to start saving money to find my own space. The plan at the beginning of the year was to find a place with Peter, but that didn’t end up working out. My sister had just graduated high school and was ready to leave the toxic environment that is my father’s house, so we decided that we should live together.

Early in the afternoon, Peter asked if I’d bring him home from his friend’s house later that night. Peter doesn’t have his license, and I don’t mind taxiing him around if it means I get to spend time with him.

Now is probably as good a time as any to let you know that I enjoy recreational marijuana. Mostly edibles, because I can’t smoke in the apartment.

After I got that text from Peter, I figured that I had just enough time to eat some edible gummies and they should be worn off by the time I had to pick him up. I was, unfortunately, mistaken. Around 8pm, after playing a few hours of stoned Stardew, I left to go get him and realized that I was still pretty high. Driving ever so carefully, I managed to bring him home safely.

Guess what I did when I got back home! Did you say “play more Stardew”? Wow, how’d you know?!

A few hours of Stardew later and it was getting late... but I wasn’t tired. So I did what I do every night: crawl in bed with my cat and scroll through TikTok or watch some YouTube videos. I went to watch a BrandiTV video because her videos are hilarious. She takes way too much edibles and then does crazy makeup tutorials. Highly recommend. (See what I did there?) Before her video was an ad for “Jour”, which is a guided journaling app. They ask you questions about your feelings and then you write responses based on the prompts. It was pretty cool, but for $60/year... no thank you. 

When answering their questions, all I could think was: “I don’t want to write short responses. I want to be able to chronicle my days.” I consider myself to be an okay writer, but I hadn’t ever really sat down and written anything (other than for school). So I cancelled the free trial and opened up my second Tumblr. 

That brings us to now. It’s 3:48am and I should be sleeping. My UK friend just messaged me as he’s getting ready for work and was surprised that I’m awake. Guess I should go try and get a few hours of sleep.

Thank you for your time.

#january 2021

[historyrepeatsitself-phff]

Chapter Eighty-One

A/N: I really struggled with this chapter, so I do apologise and I hope you enjoy. Thank you all so much for the great reaction to the last chapter 😄 Also, thank you for 800 followers - it’s far more than  I ever expected and it means so, so much 💖

A week after being told she was not wearing appropriate clothes, Emmy had her next engagement. It was a Service of Hope in the wake of the terrorist attack, and while Emmy knew that the world had much bigger things to think about than what she was wearing, she also knew that Buckingham Palace would be keeping a close eye on how she looked. And would not hesitate to slate her for dressing badly again.

She examined her reflection nervously in the mirror that morning. April had arrived, and it was a drizzly grey day outside, which made the soft light of the house feel cosy and warm. Behind her, Grace lay on her playmat – she’d just started rolling over and she was amusing herself by doing so.

Harry came in, wearing a simple suit.

“How do I look?” she asked him anxiously.

“Lovely,” he said, throwing her a smile. “And a bit boring, so Granny will be happy.”

Emmy half-smiled although she could tell he was teasing. “I want to look boring. Maybe then your grandmother will get off my case.”

“I stand by what I said. You should just wear what you want,” he replied, scooping Grace into his arms and making faces at her. She giggled, reaching forward and patting his beard with her tiny fingers.

“Easy for you to say,” Emmy muttered. “All you have to wear is a suit.”

“Yes, but that makes it so much harder,” he said, somewhat dryly. “How am I meant to stand out in a suit? If I wasn’t so damn handsome I really do wonder what I would do.”

She rolled her eyes as a smile tugged at her mouth. “When’s Skippy getting here?”

“In a bit. He texted me to say he was on his way.”

Skippy arrived five minutes later, grinning as he sauntered through the front door. “There’s my favourite goddaughter!” he crowed, reaching to take Grace from Emmy. He swooped her through the air, making her squeal with delight, before sitting her on his hip and turning to her parents. “You guys alright? Em, you look nice.”

“No!” she said, almost wailing. “I’m not meant to look nice! I’m meant to look boring!”

“Em, of course you can look nice,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “Look at Kate. Kate always looks nice-” He cut off at the murderous glare that Emmy gave him at the mention of his sister-in-law.

The conversation returned to Kate once they were in the car on their way to Westminster Abbey, having left Skippy to babysit Grace.

“Try and be nice,” Harry was saying.

“I’m always nice,” Emmy retorted. “Kate’s the one who hates me!”

“She’d just had a bad week, and you being great at everything wasn’t making it any better,” he said gently. “I expect she’ll be fine today.”

“Hmm.” She wasn’t sure about that, but she hoped he was right. Today would be scary enough without having to worry about Kate tripping her up as they walked through the abbey towards their seats.

“You look lovely,” he said, changing the subject.

“I look boring,” she replied glumly.

“You don’t, you look very classy,” he said, lifting her hand to kiss it. His lips met her skin, sending tingles across it, setting the nerves alight. “The coat matches that hat perfectly.”

“Thank you, that’s what I was going for,” she said. “If I couldn’t look nice, at least look coordinated.”

“You do look nice,” he insisted, then he turned playful. “You got anything on under that coat?”

“And what would you do if I said no?”

“I would tell Rick to drive us as far away from the abbey as possible, somewhere where we can be alone so I could take that coat off of you and see if you were telling the truth.”

Her insides warmed; she felt a blush rising along her neck. “I’m afraid I must disappoint you. I’m wearing a dress underneath.”

Harry sighed theatrically, but before he could answer, Rick had spoken from the front seat. “Don’t apologise, Emmy, I wouldn’t have driven you away anyway. My job’s not worth that.”

She giggled lightly as Harry scowled. “Even if I asked you to?”

“To be frank, Harry, I fear Edward a lot more than I fear you. Imagine his face if you two didn’t turn up!”

As Harry snickered, Emmy nibbled on her lip. “Imagine what your grandmother would say if we didn’t turn up.”

“Who cares?” he said, desperate to stop Emmy from worrying about the Queen. “So what do you have on under there? ‘A dress’ is very vague.”

Emmy rolled her eyes, knowing exactly what he was doing. “Harry, it’s just a little black dress. Nothing special. You’ll see it later.”

“I’m just trying to spice things up a bit,” he said innocently, reaching over and taking her hand again. “I feel like since everything that happened with Kate you’ve been a bit distant.”

“I’m just worried that I’m not good enough for your grandmother,” Emmy said. “And I’m worried about upsetting Kate. And I’m worried about Grace, since England is now under a critical threat level. I just…have so much going through my head right now.”

“Maybe you need a night off,” he suggested. “You and me. Someone else can look after Grace.”

“No, I already feel like we leave her with strangers too much-”

“Em, you need a break,” Harry said. “Kate’s had two holidays this year and you haven’t even had one.”

“I don’t want a holiday,” Emmy said. “I don’t want any time away from Grace.”

He sighed, absently playing with her fingers as he tried to think of something they could do together to take Emmy’s mind off of everything.

And then, all of a sudden, an idea strolled into his head. Before he could voice it aloud, their car had slowed to a stop outside the abbey and Emmy was taking a nervous breath.

“William and Kate are waiting for you just inside,” Rick informed them, as Jamie and Kev appeared by each of the back doors, ready to let them out.

Harry shot a rushed smile at Emmy. “You’ll be fine, you look beautiful.”

He’d risen from the car before she could answer.

There were excited cheers and squeals at the sight of their arrival, with many signs showing the Londoners’ defiance in the face of the attacks. Emmy smiled and forced a wave, before hurrying to catch up with Harry and entangling her hand with his. She wanted his support in case Kate was still angry at her.

However, as they entered the majestic building in which they had become man and wife, they were greeted by smiles from both William and Kate.

“How are you both?” William asked.

“You look nice, Emmy,” Kate said, surprising her. Emmy almost did a double take, but she smiled and returned the compliment, moving slightly closer to Harry as he squeezed her hand.

“She was nice,” Emmy whispered to him, relieved.

“I told you she just had a bad week,” he said.

Emmy looked around – there were so many people gathered there to pay their respects to the victims of the attack, and for once they weren’t getting much attention. The royals were there to show their own support, not to get publicity.

Emmy’s outfit fit in well with what other people were wearing, however everyone seemed to be wearing dark colours, and a jolt of panic shot through her as she wondered whether she should’ve worn something more sombre. But it was a service of hope, not a memorial.

“Is my coat too bright?” she whispered anxiously as they followed William and Kate down the aisle – it was only cream, but it felt like it stood out a mile.

“Not at all,” he said, then grinned at her. “Stop worrying about what you’re wearing. You know I’d rather you were wearing nothing at all.”

She blushed deeply, but smiled. “I don’t think you’re allowed to say that in here, we’re in a church.”

“Another sin to add to the list,” he replied, with a shrug, and Emmy stifled a giggle as she took her seat beside him.

“Grace!” Harry cooed, scooping his baby girl into his arms from where she was sat on her playmat and lifting her up, blowing raspberries all over her face and making her giggle. Emmy watched with a smile, then looked at Skippy.

“How was she?”

“Oh, she was fine,” he said, grinning. “She’s a perfect little baby, she really is. She loved my phone, I let her play with it for a while, let her listen to all the ringtones. Although she nearly called my boss – that wouldn’t have ended well.”

Harry laughed. “She can’t have got you into any more trouble.”

“No, that’s true,” he admitted, chuckling.

“You’re in trouble?”

“Nah, I just don’t really get on with my new boss. It doesn’t matter, I’m looking for something new anyway,” Skippy explained. “Oh, how did Taylor get on in France?”

Taylor had been sent to France as part of her job, and she’d come back the day before, bringing Grace a cuddly version of the Eiffel tower with a smiley face on it.

“She enjoyed it, I think,” Emmy said. “Although she said it was a bit stressful.”

“Oh yeah? I’m going out for drinks with her tonight, I’ll see what she says,” he said casually.

“For drinks?” she answered, raising an eyebrow and wishing Taylor were here so that she could tease the hell out of her.

“Yeah, just to catch up,” he said.

“Right.” Emmy smirked, but tried not to make it obvious. However, once Skippy had left and Harry closed the door behind his best friend, Grace sat on his hip and cuddled lazily into his chest, he turned to her expectantly.

“You think there’s something going on between Taylor and Skippy, don’t you?” he said, somewhat unsurprised.

“Was it that obvious?” Emmy asked nervously. “I tried to be subtle about it.”

“Oh so subtle,” he teased, readjusting Grace who cooed and reached for the brim of her Mummy’s hat. “Really though, you might want to stop. Skippy’s got a new girl he’s been going out with.”

“Really?” She looked crestfallen. “Oh.”

He chuckled. “Your matchmaking didn’t work, I’m afraid.”

“I did nothing, I could just tell that they liked each other.”

“Obviously not,” he quipped.

She pouted at him, and he grinned, bending to kiss her. Their lips met briefly, and then again, and then as Harry pulled away Grace gripped onto Emmy’s hat so that Emmy was tugged with them.

“Oh, okay!” she gasped in surprise, laughing and pushing her hat back out of her face.

“You’re so strong, Grace!” Harry cooed, bouncing Grace in his arms and kissing the top of her head. “Look at you. So strong.”

“Are you going to be a weightlifter?” Emmy asked her, tickling under her chin. “I’m going to go get changed, okay?”

Harry took Grace through to the lounge as Emmy headed upstairs. She placed her coat and hat on the bed before grabbing her laptop and searching for the Daily Mail on it. The Daily Mail always commented on what she was wearing, regardless of the engagement she did, and she wondered what they’d said about her outfit.

The pictures of her from the day came up, standing beside Kate who looked far more solemn in her grey coat. The article, however, simply described Emmy as having “dressed for the occasion”. The comments, on the other hand, complained about the cost of her coat and purse, and some even said some nasty things about “if our taxpayer money wasn’t wasted on her clothes, we might be able to prevent some terrorist attacks”. That was a kick to the gut, and Emmy hastily slammed the laptop shut on that one, regardless of the fact that Emmy’s clothes weren’t bought with taxpayer money.

She tried to force the mean comment from her mind, but as she started to make dinner that evening Harry could tell that something was up.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling her into his lap. Emmy draped her arms round his neck and buried her face into his shoulder.

“Nothing.”

“Now that’s not true,” he teased lightly. She felt so small in his arms, wearing her little black dress from the engagement that day. He remembered when she had been huge, before Grace was born, and the contrast was scary. Emmy had lost her baby weight very quickly, and Harry was keeping an eye on her to make sure she’d done it in a healthy way and to check she was still eating.

“Just a mean comment about today,” she admitted.

“Why do you read them?” he sighed.

“I get curious!” she said. “And today I wanted to see what people thought of my outfit.”

“Your outfit was lovely,” he said. “You looked simple and classic, that’s all you needed for today. Please stop worrying.”

“But your grandmother-”

“Is being fussy,” he said. “Trust me, just ignore what she said. Wear what you want, I think you’d be happier if you did.”

“I at least have to try and do what she says.”

He sighed, then shrugged. “You can do whatever you want, Em. I’ll be here regardless.”

They were both silent for a moment, as his words washed over her, and she felt considerably lighter when she leant up to kiss his jaw. “Thank you.”

Harry kissed her forehead. “I’m your husband, what did you expect me to say.”

“Maybe “man up”!”

“Am I really that mean?”

She giggled. “No, you’re not mean at all.”

He smirked at her, holding her closer to him, enjoying just being together without any worries for once.

“How would you feel about having a day out next week?” Harry asked. “Just me and you. A little treat.”

“What about Grace?”

“We’ll find someone to babysit. I think it’ll be good to just have some alone time.”

“You mean, alone time like we’re having right now?”

“Do you want to hear what I’ve got planned or not?”

“Sorry,” she said, fighting a smile as she pretended to obey him.

“I know you like Harry Potter,” he said slowly, and she wondered whether he was actually nervous to suggest it. “I was wondering if you wanted to visit the studios in Watford.”

“Really?” Her eyes lit up in delight. “Oh my god, yes! I would love to! I’ve never been and I’m dying to go!”

“I went before,” he said, then smirked. “I opened the studios.”

“Oh shut up,” she said, shoving him playfully. “Royal privileges.”

“It’s royal privileges that will get us in,” he reminded her. “Still upset I’m a royal?”

Emmy hopped out of the car, wearing her very own Hogwarts cloak and beaming. She looked up at the studios, at the large yellow building, and a shiver of excitement went down her spine.

“You excited?” Harry asked, as he joined her outside and took her hand.

“So excited,” she said, laughing in anticipation. “Where do we have to go? Over to the tickets?”

“Nah, we’re VIPs, remember?” he teased lightly, leading her over to a member of staff. “Excuse me, I was told to visit Mr Martin Brown here to arrange a tour.”

The man looked so surprised as he took in the sight of Harry and Emmy there, and he hastily nodded, calling for someone to come and cover for him while he escorted them through a backdoor into the building.

“Martin could’ve warned us,” he grumbled lightly.

Harry laughed. “I do apologise for catching you off guard there.”

“Are you both here for a tour then, your royal highnesses?”

“We are, yes,” Harry answered, squeezing Emmy’s hand. “Emmy hasn’t visited before.”

“Harry Potter fan?”

“I love them,” she said, somewhat shyly.

“Well you’re in for a good day then,” the man said, grinning. “Get your husband to treat you to some Harry Potter merchandise as well.”

Emmy raised an eyebrow in interest, then cheekily she said to Harry, “I feel like I need some new robes. And a wand.”

Harry rolled his eyes at her teasing. “Whatever you want.”

The man chuckled. “Mr Brown is just through here, sir.”

“Thank you.”

It took a tediously long conversation between Mr Brown and Harry, reminiscing about his visit back in 2013 when the studios opened, and then, finally, Harry and Emmy were alone to explore the Great Hall.

Harry was worried someone would recognise them, for all the other visitors were running around enjoying all the displays, but it seemed that everyone was too busy being excited over Harry Potter to care. As someone who had never read the books, and someone who had visited before, Harry was happy to just traipse around after Emmy and watch her having fun. She gazed at Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall’s costumes at the front of the hall.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, eyes wide. “Harry, look!”

Harry felt like a PO himself as he followed her around, walking alongside Rick and Kev who discreetly admired their surroundings too. He watched all the other visitors, paranoid that someone would interrupt. Here and there he noticed a few people give them a second look, or do a double take; some even took pictures of them, and he saw one guy take a selfie with Emmy conveniently in the background.

He felt oddly protective of her. This was the first time in a long while that he and Emmy had spent the day without Grace, and whenever their daughter was there they both spent all their energy on her. This time, he felt a little lost without having Grace to worry about.

“Let’s try butterbeer!” Emmy said eagerly, pulling him into the queue. Then she peered up at him. “Please stop worrying about people recognising us!”

“Was I that obvious?”

“You’re spending more time looking at the other visitors than at the displays,” she said, with a pout. “Try and enjoy yourself.”

“I just want you to enjoy yourself, I don’t want someone else ruining it.”

She gave his hand a squeeze. “Harry, this is the most fun I’ve had in quite a while, you don’t need to worry about someone ruining it. I’ve noticed people taking pictures of us, yeah. They’ve been staring.” She shrugged. “I’m too excited about Harry Potter to let it bother me.”

“Oh yeah?” he said, then turned playful and pouted at her. “I thought I was your favourite Harry?”

“My love for Harry Potter comes first, I’m afraid,” she teased, then perched on her toes to kiss him. “But you’re making your way up that list.”

“By being father to your child?”

“That’s earned quite a few Brownie Points, yeah.”

He chuckled. “Maybe I can earn a few more later?”

Emmy felt a blush creeping up her neck, and she smiled. “Well, we need to take the chance while we still can, before Grace starts deciding she doesn’t want to sleep at all.”

“She’s very good, isn’t she?” he mused. “She sleeps a lot.”

“She does, I’m surprised,” Emmy said. “I mean, if you think about it she only really wakes us up one or two times a night, and that’s pretty good. I’ve heard some real horror stories.”

“I think it’s because of what you did at the start,” Harry said. “Not just going to her every time she cries. She knows that you won’t come running for no reason now.”

“Hmm, I’m happy to take full credit.”

He laughed lightly. “I wonder what she’s doing.”

“Probably throwing up all over Beatrice.”

“Probably.” They laughed together.

They didn’t really get another chance to talk until they were in the car on their way home. Exhausted after a long day of walking and delighted with all the souvenirs she’d bought – including a new Pandora charm – Emmy stared sleepily out the window as she played with the cuddly Hedwig that they’d gotten for Grace.

“Em?” Harry asked, wanting to discuss something with her. He’d just gotten an e-mail about it, and he realised he still hadn’t asked her opinion.

“Hmm?”

“You know last month, when you found out about me seeing a councillor?”

“Yeah.” She sat up a bit straighter, more alert now. This was the first time he’d mentioned it since their argument.

“Well, I was thinking…you know we’re patrons of Heads Together…and there’s so much going on right now about mental health…I was thinking about…maybe…giving an interview talking about my own…experiences…with it. With mental health.”

She looked at him for a moment, and Harry had the feeling that she was wondering how many secrets about his past that he kept from her. “I mean, it’s up to you. If that’s what you want to do then you should go ahead.”

“But do you think it’s a good idea?”

“I think it’s a great idea,” she said, with a smile. “I think it’s a really brave thing to do, and I think it could help a lot of people.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Have you spoken to Edward?”

“Yeah, I wanted to see if it was feasible before I completely considered it.”

“What did he say?”

“He likes the idea too,” he said. “He said the same thing as you.”

“Great minds think alike,” she said lightly, grinning.

“Pfft,” he scoffed, then chuckled and took her hand. “I’ll give it another think though.”

“Whatever you decide, I’ll be here with you all the way through,” she replied, squeezing his fingers.

“You’re only saying that because I just spent over a hundred pounds on Harry Potter stuff for you.”

She smiled sheepishly. “No, I’d say it anyway. But that does help.”

#historyrepeatsitself-phff #Prince Harry #prince harry fanfiction #royalfanficcentral

[thenamesreader]

Gonna say it again:

Antifa is not an organization. It is short for “antifascism”, which is a counter to the ideas and philosophies of fascism. If you don’t know what that is, here is a definition.

The reason we can’t pinpoint and call antifa a terrorist group is because Antifa as an organization does not exist and was made up in our heads, furthured by the media fearmongering about this (like they always do). It’s the same thing they did with the riots. They only focused on those to make it seem like everyone who’s protesting is just breaking stuff and burning everything. Now, some of these statue defacers are wrong, yes. But, that is not antifa because, as stated before, antifa is not an organization. (If it was, they should get a better name.)

The reason why statues are being taken down:

George Washington did not care for his slaves like we were taught. I was basically lied to in fifth grade and told that he wanted them to be free. I was also told just recently that he didn’t want to fight against slavery because the Union was “too fragile”, which I won’t doubt it was but, come on. “But he was a Founding Father!!!” I hear you cry. The Founding Fathers were all rich, too, and didn’t believe the general public was educated enough to vote on the President themselves, hence why the Electoral College was put in place.

Thomas Jefferson raped one of his houseslaves (Sally Hemmings) multiple times and had multiple children with her and kept them in slavery. They were not in love like the movies and some books. (Which is why I don’t support anything Hamilton anymore really along with some other things that LMM did). “But, he was one of our Presidents!!!” I hear you cry. Does not change the fact that he raped one of his slaves (who also happened to be his wife’s half-sister, too) and bought/sold people as property.

Christopher Columbus forced the natives to convert to Christianity and cut off their hands and put them around their neck.

Why do we need statues of slave traders? We could easily put their information in museums. I really don’t care if it’s “history”. We don’t need to celebrate someone who sold and/or bought slaves.

A great analogy I saw went along the lines of “The Devil is pretty important in Christian history but if you decorated your Church with imagery of him, people would think there was something off”.

Also, slavery didn’t end after the Civil War. They found ways to try and keep black people as slaves, just didn’t call it that. It was called sharecropping. My great-grandmother on my grandpa’s side of the family was a sharecropper. My grandfather grew up during intergration. The movie (and the book) “The Help” shows how they still pretty much kept black people (women, specifically, since that’s what they focus on) as house slaves. Then, there was the 13th amendment which is why prisons are the way they are.

I don’t know why this is so hard for people to understand. Yes, there were other people kept as slaves, too. Does that mean that black people accept that and don’t care? Why would you even bring that up when we’re talking about black issues? To be an asshole? Obviously. Black people know that. They gotta fix their issues first. That’s how everything works.

And also to those of you who argue “police kill more white people than black people”, here’s a short little video for you that I’ve already posted but will post again just for your stupid ass:

#tw rape #tw racism

[bowiesnippleantennae]

here’s the skinny on what I’ve been going through lately!

you MIGHT know that I’ve been out of work for like two months. I was laid off and it was awful and I also ended a really long, serious relationship at the same time. So basically all of my security was ripped out from under me in the matter of two days! 

i already struggle with severe anxiety and depression so I knew I was going to fall fast if I didn’t get a job soon! it’s been months and I’m off my meds and every other day is a bad day and I’m struggling to keep happy and busy and it’s a fucking LOT. 

but, I am seeing my therapist which I pay for myself, I know what clinic I’ll be going to to get my prescription and I will be getting back on a higher dosage of my meds asap. 

more disclaimer: my sister lost her dad earlier this year and this was her first father’s day without him.

another disclaimer: she hardly had a relationship with him. he was me and my mom’s abuser. he pushed angela away constantly and was just an overall terrible person who suffered a lot for his behavior. last year’s father’s day, she just sent him a text. so, keep that in mind.

and another disclaimer: my dad doesn’t give two shits about father’s day. i talk with him whenever i can and it’s usually for a long time. i don’t need a special day to appreciate him, just fyi. keep that in mind as well.

aaand one more disclaimer: my sister is a slob, it’s a known fact, and i live in close proximity to her and it’s embarrassing and i hate it :)

K SO! 

i bring up the fact that she’s a slob on father’s day right after waking up because our bathroom was disgusting and im sick of cleaning up after her. i don’t even know what day it fucking is. she immediately bursts into tears and my mom... like a fucking banshee, starts screaming in my face. i don’t really have fights with my mom. but lately, she’s been very cruel to me and like, she can’t stand being in the same room as me, and i’m super connected to her and empathic and i can feel it. 

so she’s screaming at me, saying that i’m pathetic, attached to her hip, and i should feel ashamed that i still live at home. i don’t do anything worthwhile, i’m nasty to everyone in the house, i’m constantly saying mean shit under my breath. she brought up something i said 5 years ago (i had to think about it specifically and it was 5 years ago about her old, old car lmao i INSULTED HER CAR??? and now she’s in debt from buying a new one and that’s my fault.) said the phrase “i love you victoria, but you’re a fucking bitch,” and this went on for a bit. like every sort of insecurity i have, feeling like no one in the house can stand me, that i’m a burden on all of them, like they’d be better off if i just wasn’t there, all of it was confirmed and screamed in my face. 

so... i went into my room and i cried and then i had to pretend i was happy for a birthday party (glad i was able to get out of my house) and the next morning, i woke up and just... didn’t leave my bed. because why should i? if i make everyone in the house so fucking uncomfortable, why should i go be around them? and i felt bad for picking a fight with angela on father’s day. i shouldn’t have done that. so i cried about that a lot. and i cried because, you know, obviously my mother resents me. obviously i shouldn’t be around. OBVIOUSLY i’m not worth anything. no one came in to check on me. no one asked if i was okay lmao. i didn’t eat until everyone was actually asleep around midnight. i tried to leave my room but i was so scared of seeing any of them glare at me or try to make me feel worse, so i suffered in bed and cried a lot and only got up to pee. it was really bad. and i was, and am, insanely embarrassed about it. 

i woke up today feeling better. no one was home so i cleaned the living room and the kitchen and made myself some lunch and watched some big foot thing and then my mom comes home and i just, feel a cold chill run through me and the first thing she says is “oh, so you’re out of your cave today?” cute :) and i ignore it and then she says she talked to my dad and they think i should go live with him for a while. 

now, i’ve done that before- it didn’t work, and it hit me then that she’s not doing it for my benefit. she’s doing it so that i’m not near her. so she can take a break from me. she doesn’t have the guts to kick me out of the house so she’ll send me to my dad’s to save her conscience. she asked me what i thought about that and i was in shock so i said “i don’t know.” and she was like “WELL. YOU BETTER CARE.” and walked away. meanwhile, because of some other stuff, i was already spiraling, and then that happens so im just on the brink of tears again and i go in my room and cry again and then she comes in and is like “did you eat?” and i said “yes.” and she was like “oh okay” and left. and then I was able to go to a friend’s house and just kinda... stew in that. 

here’s where it gets fucked up. i call my therapist and talk to her and apparently my mom made some stupid status about terrorists HAVING TO BE mentally ill or else they wouldn’t like, kill people. which is insanely wrong and not backed by anything but okay. my friend who has a degree in psychology jumped on that immediately and was like “no.” another friend of mine said some things and then my mom said something that just... really showed me she resents me! 

she compared me to terrorists. she said she KNOWS that the cause is mental illness because they must grow up surrounded by extreme views and that I’M A PRIME EXAMPLE. LITERALLY USED MY NAME AND COMPARED ME... LIKE....?????? WHAT THE FUCK???? a few of my friends were like “that really pissed me off” and honestly, i’d love to see my mom ganged up on for once because in person, i can’t defend myself because she’s louder than me, she screams, and like most parents, she’s always right :) but other people who aren’t related to her standing up and telling her she’s wrong? man. it felt real good, especially after all the things she said to me.

so that hurt my feelings a whole lot!

here’s the kicker.

i called my dad after he got off work because i wanted to know what she said about me and how she worded it and good thing i did! i explained all of it to him. about how i’ve been feeling lately, about how the fight started and what she said to me. how it made me feel and why i stayed in my room all day. 

and he told me what she said to him.

she doesn’t think i have this month’s rent. i do. i still have 3 month’s worth of rent. but that’s it and i’m scared and i’m still applying to places.

she told him that SHE’LL have to pay for my psychiatrist (??? i don’t have one and never have?) and my clinic visit and my prescription. ?? I don’t know where she got this from. my therapist writes my referral. i found a clinic and i’ve never had her pay for it since i started working. she’s blowing things up. she’s freaking out for no fucking reason. 

so, here’s what i’m going to do.

she wants a break from me? okay. i can leave but it’s on my terms and it won’t cost anyone a fucking plane ticket. i have friends i can stay with for long periods of time that are still in central florida, so if i get an interview, i can make it, and when i get my clinic shit sorted, i can get back on my meds, and i can keep up with my therapy appointments. THAT’S how i get better. not fucking running away to another state just to rot there instead. i know what i need. i’ve been in therapy for 2 years now and it’s helped and i’ve learned a WHOLE LOT about myself and what is healthy. i’m not going to trust someone who argues with fucking professionals on something they studied for on social media. 

tonight, i talked to my sister for a really long time about it and apologized and also explained myself. why i lock myself away and how mom made me feel and what my plan is. i also talked to her about grieving and how my therapist offered her a free session for it and she finally said she hasn’t gone because she’s scared and doesn’t want to talk about it but i talked about how my grief session went and how much better i felt. i even said i’d go with her to it if it would help her feel better. i don’t know if it would but like, i know what it’s like to feel vulnerable. and i told her it’s better to deal with it now than later. 

i think that struck a chord with her. i hope she goes. 

because my mom told me i never showed any compassion to her when it came to her dad. :) i’m the only one who kept bringing up the grief session. mom is an enabler and once angela started to seem uncomfortable, she went momma hen instantly and attacked me. so! 

tl;dr my mom bitched at me for seemingly no reason, is going through her own shit and taking it out on me, the family punching bag again, and i’m not standing for this shit anymore! :)