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goldenagenonsense · 9 months

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Action Comics #4 [September 1938]

Since I don’t have anything particularly witty to start off with, I’ll just dive right on into things.

The cover, once again, is not superhero-related, but damn if that’s not the most sinister mountie I’ve ever seen, like what the fuck. What kind of horror movie nonsense is happening elsewhere in this issue that I won’t be seeing because I’m focusing only on the superhero related stories?

[Insert from friends:

[Solem] Funny thing is, that cover has absolutely nothing to do with the contents of the book. The RCMP did occasionally get action heroes in comics or radio (my father is a childhood fanboy of "Sargent Preston of the Yukon") but they didn't ever run one in Action Comics that I can find.

It wasn't uncommon in the Golden Age for covers to not match up with the contents of the book, it had to do with their production schedule. For Action Comics they'd go for communicating "manly action" to draw readers in with the vibe; pulp magazines and books did similar things.

Though my favorite example is one of the old Blue Beetle comics, where the cover proudly boasted the introduction of his new sidekick Sparky, only for the first page to sheepishly admit that they didn't get the story finished in time and actually Sparky (real name Sparkington J. Northrup, swear to god) would be introduced in the next issue.

(Fun fact -- Sparky's technically in the public domain, but DC recently brought a version of him back into continuity in the Stargirl and the Lost Children miniseries)]

Right, well, I can consider names for the theoretical mountie-themed supervillain later. For now, let’s see what Superman is up to.

Oh boy, this is a flashback to high school and those whole ‘drunk driving’ seminars. Our high school even staged an accident in the parking lot one year and made a whole big deal about it, police officers and everything. Wild.

A crowd gathers around the victim, sticking close while waiting for an ambulance to arrive. High overhead, Superman leaps into action, having witnessed the hit-and-run (called a hit-skip in the comic). Probably from the Daily Star office? And so he’s ducked out in order to help? Hard to say.

Superman’s leap carries him all the way to a railroad track, where he just barely keeps himself from face-planting into a high-speed train. Coincidentally, this is the same track that the hit-skipper has stalled on, and the train is approaching fast. Which has me wondering if this is gonna be the first instance of the whole ‘Superman stopping a train to save a person on the tracks’ thing.

Inside the engine, one of the drivers is sneaking a bit of alcohol while his co-driver’s back is turned. Only, when he peers out the window, he is stunned on seeing a man outracing the train. The driver tries to tell his co-driver about it, but the man dismisses it as a drunken hallucination.

Meanwhile, Superman reaches the car and warns the man that they need to jump. The man tries to get away, but Superman is having none of it, since the train would kill them both. Which, what? Would a speeding train be enough to kill Superman? I mean, his introduction DID say that ‘nothing short of a bursting shell could break skin,’ and a train by dint of sheer mass probably has a lot more force behind it. If it did kill him, it’d probably be akin to seeing a bug smashed on a car windshield.

(I will do my best to resist the urge to put in too many Ant-Man jokes.)

But then again, he did take the force of a plane face-first without any issue, so… was that simply not enough mass+speed to affect him, or was he just being cautious because he wasn’t sure if he could take a train to the face or not? I imagine that, even if you are super-durable, you probably don’t want to test your luck on something that much bigger than yourself.

Eh, in any case, Superman leaps out of the car with the driver in hand, just in time to avoid the train hitting the car at full speed - which, yikes, I know cars were made with a lot more metal back then, that can’t have been good for the train even if it’s the bigger vehicle. Speaking of not good, Superman checks on the driver, only to find that he’s dead of a heart attack. Which is not exactly shocking considering he was drunk and already stressed from the hit-and-run PLUS the train PLUS the weirdo in spandex who outran and out-jumped a freaking train.

With not much else to do, Superman slips in through one of the train’s windows into a private room of the pull-man car - just as someone else is entering. He ducks behind a couch and listens in as the men comment on the train stopping because of the auto (figures, hitting that much metal can’t be good for the train) and then turn to more sinister discussions. Specifically, football.

Yes, sinister football. Apparently, one of the men - Randall - is the football coach at Dale, and is at risk of losing his job if he doesn’t win the upcoming game against Cordell. So no matter the cost, he has to win it. The men with him agree to help him out with his plot, calling themselves expensive but effective. He accepts their offer, and reminds them that they need to get several players out of the game immediately. The hired hands assure him that rough stuff is their specialty.

I would bet there’s at least a dozen jokes to be made here, mostly with regard to that one movie with the angel playing baseball. Like, I know the premise of that movie is supposedly the angel rigging the game, while Supes here is counter-rigging the game, but like, it’s the same kind of premise. And hey, Supes is even from the heavens, technically! Narrative parallels.

Superman waits for the three to depart before mulling over what he heard - a crooked coach hiring thugs to play football - just the sort of set-up he likes to tear down!

The next day, Clark Kent looks at Cordell’s football material, trying to find an in. He comes across a photo-clipping of Tommy Burke, who he looks similar enough to, in order to disguise himself. When he gets home, he dons a bit of grease paint, and comments on how even Tommy’s own mother wouldn’t be able to tell them apart.

Speaking of Tommy, we switch over to where he’s talking to his girlfriend Mary. Or, well, ex-girlfriend - she’s decided to dump him, since despite sixish years as a substitute, he’s never once been in a game. She’s ashamed of him, wanted a proper football hero. He asks if she’s gonna look for a new boyfriend; turns out, she already has one - a tennis champ by the name of Wallace Dood, a real athlete.

Tommy walks home, despondent, too caught up in his own frustration and dreams of making it big to notice the man trailing him. Eventually, the stalker calls to him, causing him to startle and turn, wondering if this is a hold-up - only to get the shock of his life at seeing another him.

Clark tells him he’s mistaken - he’s not looking at Tommy Burke, substitute, but Tommy Burke, the greatest football player of all time! For some unknown reason, this distresses Tommy further, pushing him to attack. However, his attack is interrupted with the sting of a hypodermic needle, which quickly knocks him out.

I have absolutely no words to describe the emotional journey I went through on this page. I felt bad for Tommy over being dumped and cheated on, then rolled my eyes at his minor (but I would say somewhat justified) venting, then surprise at Clark somehow managing to exactly match Tommy’s suit, and then a touch of horror at Clark actually stabbing Tommy with a knock-out drug with plans to outright kidnap and replace him. Like, what the FUCK, Superman???? What in the actual goddamn hell is wrong with you????

The next page doesn’t get much better, what with Tommy waking up to find himself a prisoner in his own apartment. The drug is still in his system, keeping him from getting up or doing more than moving his arms a bit (or so it seems). He’s scared and wants to know what was done to him and why; Superman tells him not to worry, that he’s just been rendered passive, and that Supes is borrowing his life for a few days, before cheerfully leaving Tommy to himself in his apartment.

While drugged, so he can’t even get up to feed himself, or use the bathroom, or any other number of things a person needs to do each day. Which, again, I understand this is a comic book, but also, WHAT THE FUCK. Superman is so fucking. I can’t even with him. Not to mention, Tommy is in university. What classes is he taking, who is he friends with outside of football, does he have any tests, SUPERMAN YOU CAN’T JUST DO THIS TO SOMEONE.

Supes reports to the locker room, wondering if he’ll be able to get away with it. He walks in as casually as possible, greeting the others, and in turn being mocked by the others for being a professional bench warmer and that they want to see what a ‘real football player’ looks like. Supes ignores the taunts and starts trying to guess which locker is Tommy’s, ultimately just guessing at random. Naturally, he’s wrong, and gets an annoyed football player in his face for it. The guy tries to throw a few punches in Supe’s face and gut, but Supes just takes them with a grin and a taunt of his own.

Alright, fantastic, time for the beginning of my ‘out of context panels’ collection, this time featuring some of the boys talking about how well ‘Burke’ is taking those hits. Or taking something, anyway.

The first man’s smirk is exactly my expression when I realized this panel was a gift. I should save it as a reaction image.

Despite Superman’s inhuman ability to take a pounding, he decides to end things with a love tap, one strong enough to throw Martin back into a wall, knocking him right out. Cordell’s coach, Oliver Stanley, comes in to check on the noise, only to be shocked by Martin’s state. Supes plays meek, but the coach is having none of it, telling him to get out of uniform and off the team.

As the rest of the team goes into their practice game, a benched player(?) laments how things just don’t feel the same without Burke on the bench. The coach is also concerned - Burke’s usually meek as a lamb, but today…

Back in the locker room, Supes groans about his fuck-ups so far, before shaking himself off and putting on the rest of the uniform. Orders or no orders, he’s going out there to show the coach a thing or two!

The other players notice him quickly, and prepare themselves for how mad the coach will be when he sees ‘Burke’ out on the field. A ball flies towards an open part of the field - only for Supes to dash out and manage to snag it. This, unsurprisingly, catches the coach’s attention, his temper already taking off as he snaps at the other players to grab him and throw him out of the field on his ear.

As for the other guy, I guess they’re a sub-coach? Student learner? I don’t know enough about sports, but the guy’s shirt says ‘coach’ and he defers to the guy in the trenchcoat, so like. I’ll just refer to him as the sub-coach from here on out.

Superman doesn’t let the other players converging upon him bother him, content to leisurely trot towards the opposite goal with a cocky attitude. The coach doesn’t buy it, eager to watch ‘Burke’ get taken down by the rest of the team.

Martin’s the first to reach him, throwing more punches in revenge for the locker incident and the love tap. Supes quickly gets around him, much to the sub-coach’s shock, but the coach waves it off as an accident - he’d have to be an acrobat to get past the rest! …which Supes proceeds to pull off by leaping on the next player’s shoulders, and using that to spring over the head of two others. Sub-coach is shook, commenting on how ‘Burke’ is halfway down the field and probably going to make it. Again, the coach dismisses it as fool’s luck, and that there’s no way he’ll get past the ‘unbeatables,’ aka Stevens, Burns, and Lewiston.

The entire team piles onto Superman, which elates the coach… only for it to be a trick, since Supes is able to just keep dashing down the field with the rest of the team hanging onto him. Very normal and non-suspicious there, pal. He shakes off the players just before crossing the line, with sub-coach calling out the touchdown.

The entire team is impressed, with the coach demanding to know if ‘Burke’ has been holding out on him. And to think he’s left the guy on the bench for six entire seasons! Sub-coach replies that ‘Burke’ can be in their last game, the one that decides the championship.

Soon after, Coach Stanley calls in to the newspaper to brag about ‘Burke’ to the sports editor. Said editor, probably for a local paper already familiar with the players on the team, thinks it’s a gag call, since everyone knows Burke is the joke of the team. Despite that, an article does get printed - satirical, but still good publicity. At least according to Supes, who’s reading said article in Burke’s apartment, while Burke himself is drinking tea or coffee or something.

Again. What the fuck. Why is Burke not doing anything about this??? Comic books, man.

Over at Dale, coach Randall thinks that, even if the paper is playing up Burke as a clown, it’d still be better to make Cordell’s star player ‘disappear.’ The hired thugs reply that they’ll make sure he’s gone until the game is over.

Over the next few days, the Cordell team practices for the big game, while the coach and sub-coach wonder how ‘Burke’ got so good overnight. If the coach knew, he’d be the greatest in the world. As that game wraps up, the coach tells the players that the big game is the next day, so remember: early to bed, no drinking, no smoking!

That evening, the hired thugs from Dale approach Burke’s apartment, breaking in and tying Burke up. They only briefly wonder at his lack of struggle, not noticing Superman observing them from the molding overhead. Seems he had already drugged Burke with a sleep-inducer once again, like, what the FUCK Superman. Despite the seediness of this situation, it does leave him in a perfect position to chase after the kidnappers’ car, somehow without being noticed in his suit.

Burke wakes up in the abandoned house the thugs brought him to, and he’s nervous and confused as well. When he asks, the thugs tell him he’s been put somewhere he can’t get to tomorrow’s game. He tries to tell them he’s just a substitute, and that he’s not - the thugs cut him off, clarifying his name and that that’s all they need to know before gagging him.

Damn, Tommy has had a really shit week, hasn’t he? Dumped by a girlfriend who was already cheating on him, drugged and kidnapped by a lookalike pretending to be him for the next week, and then kidnapped by thugs who are clearly after the lookalike and not him. Please, someone get this man a break and maybe a milkshake.

Superman, observing all this, just shrugs at this situation with a grin; Burke is off his hands, and they mean him no physical harm! I want to say this is a dick move, but considering that he’s also culpable of basically the same thing, I am not surprised that he’s like this. : V

The next morning, the crowds pack into the stadium, unaware they are about to witness the most amazing football game of all time. Coach Randall drops in on Coach Stanley to gloat about Burke being missing, only to be shocked when he sees ‘Burke’ sitting there, ready to be introduced by Stanley. Soon after, Supes manages to get Randall alone, and threatens to expose him and all his shady shit if he doesn’t fire the thugs and resign as coach. Randall plays dumb, but is furious; when he gets to the locker room, he chastises the thugs for letting ‘Burke’ escape and so risking their exposure. One of the thugs pull out a knife and reply that he won’t. When the Cordell team hits the field, the thugs prepare to attack Supes. The game starts, and Supes is already off like a shot, ball in hand.

Meanwhile, the real Burke has escaped his binds and managed to flag down a taxi, asking them to get him to the football field as fast as possible. I wish him luck in figuring out all this nonsense happening.

Down on the field, Supes is bowling through the opposition like bowling pins, scoring a goal - and then another goal right after the next kickoff. The commentator, much like all the rest of the crowds, apparently doesn’t think something is wildly suspicious about a man scoring two touchdowns in the space of a few seconds, which is like ??? Sure, okay.

His teammates, at the least, are not too enthused about being sidelined while ‘Burke’ takes the spotlight. Even when Martin gets the next kick-off, all ‘Burke’ does is clear the way in such a way that makes the goal feel meaningless - even a two-year-old could have done it!

The real Burke, denied admittance at the player’s gate, enters the bleachers instead, watching with astonishment as his counterpart scores goal after goal. He’s all but ready to call the cops on the guy - the one sensible man in this entire situation - only to stop when he hears his ex’s voice just in front of him. Turns out that she’s enamored with ‘Burke’ and so ignoring her fancy tennis boyfriend, calling him a lily. Burke gets caught up in the enthusiasm of the crowd soon after (possibly in part because of spite) and enjoying the idolization that he’s technically getting because of his counterpart.

Dude. Like, I get why, but also, dude.

The two thugs finally make their move, only for Supes to quickly body them, forcing them to be removed from the field via medical staff. This is the last straw for Randall; he hands over a note with his resignation to the waterboy(?) and tells him to bring it to Dale University’s president.

At the end of the half, Superman meets with Burke and tells him they need to change clothes. Burke is now eager to go along with this, accepting Supe’s mission and getting himself out there on the field. It’s pretty obvious how much more awkward the real Burke is, missing the kick-off and chasing after it, only to get piled on the second he grabs it.

Despite that ignoble takedown, he wakes up to his ex wanting to get back together, while also asking him to quit football, since the game’s just too brutal. Tommy agrees to it, probably in part because he knows he’s never gonna be able to live up to his counterpart, and in part because of still being shaken by the week he’s had.

And so the issue closes out - and hey, there’s that freaking exercise routine that was promised two issues ago! It’s pretty simple - start with small weights, gradually add more weight, and soon enough you’ll be lifting even heavy objects with ease!

…still have to admit this issue was a wild fucking ride. Like, what the fuck, Superman. At least I got a funny panel out of it?

Also, looking back, I realize that like, literally no further mention of the dude taken out in the hit-and-run ever happens, nor do we ever learn more about the dude Supes actually fucking killed when saving him from being hit by a train. Like, the fuck.

#action comics #dc comics #superman

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homoose · 3 years

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Love Has a Learning Curve: Part V (x reader)

Summary: Y/N meets Diana, and it goes better than she expected. Y/N meets the team, and it doesn’t go completely as planned. Spencer’s spidey senses are tingling.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: hurt/comfort, fluff

Word Count: 5k

Warnings/Includes: alcohol/drinking, reader gets drunk on accident and is incredibly insecure and self-deprecating, I think that’s it

a/n: Thank you all for your patience and kind words in this really sad and weird moment of my life. This couple brings me so much joy and I’m absolutely dreading the hurt that’s coming in the next part. Sorry in advance 😭 But also, you can re-read Lighthouse and First of Many before the angst!!!!!! If you haven’t read those fics, I recommend it because there are some relevant connections. ♥️

Series Masterlist

———

Y/N felt his hands sneaking around her waist, rubbing low over her tummy, and then the press of his warm body along her back. She tilted her head to make room for him to settle his chin on her shoulder, smiling as his hands completed their journey and wrapped her up tight.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she answered, pressing their cheeks together.

“Are you almost done?”

“You made quite the mess, doctor.” It was the last weekend of Spencer’s sabbatical, and he had spent the afternoon cooking all of her favorite foods— a sort of preemptive gift for when he was back on the BAU’s unpredictable schedule. She’d taken on the responsibility of the dishes in return, which was no easy undertaking considering it seemed as though he’d used every single pot, pan, and utensil in her kitchen.

“If you’d let me help, you’d be done by now,” he complained, hugging her a little tighter and turning his head to drag his lips across her cheek.

“Let me just finish this pan, and then I’m all yours.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then another to the spot behind her ear, and one more to her shoulder. Then he propped his chin once more and rubbed his thumbs where they rested against her sides.

She laughed a little as she ran the dish brush along the edges of the pan. “Comfy?”

He hummed his confirmation, and she could feel his smile as she lathered the inside of the pan, then rinsed it, and finally drained the sink. She dried her hands on the kitchen towel and turned to face him. He didn’t remove his hands, instead just let them glide over her hips and then settle on her lower back.

“Thank you for all of that.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the fridge, packed full of leftovers. “My mom will be so honored to know you made her pot pie.”

“I could eat it every day for the rest of my life and be very, very happy.” He dropped his gaze and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Speaking of moms, I… I was wondering if you, um— if you’d want to meet my mom?”

Her eyes went a little wide, and he took her silence as an answer, continuing, “You don’t have to. It—it’s too soon.”

She brought a hand up to cup his chin between her fingers, bringing his eyes back to hers. “I would love to meet your mom.”

…

Spencer shut off the engine of the Volvo, turning in his seat to face her. She tried to settle her nerves without also spurring his own anxiety, which had been quite obviously flaring all morning.

“I’ll check in and visit for a few minutes, try to gauge what kind of a day it is, and then I’ll text you to come in or not.” He ran a hand over his face. “I really should have had you drive separate, because if it’s not a good day I don’t want you to have to wait around while I visit with her, but she’s been having a lot of good days recently, and—”

“Honey.” She found his hands where they were clutching a little aggressively at his leg and covered them with her own, running her thumbs soothingly along his skin. “It’s okay. Either way— whether I meet her today or we wait for a better day— it’s okay.”

He closed his eyes and breathed a relieved sigh. “Have I told you how much I love you yet today?”

“Mm, I don’t think you have,” she smiled.

He brought her hands up to his mouth, kissing the back of each. “I love you so much. The most.”

“I beg to differ.” She leaned over the console and kissed his nose. “I definitely love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree.” He shifted to meet her lips in a quick kiss. “I’ll text you in a few minutes?”

She gave him another kiss. “Sounds like a plan.”

Spencer dropped the keys into her hand and then climbed out of the car, closing the door and practically trotting toward the building. She would have laughed if it weren’t for the raging anxiety that was nearly suffocating her. She opened her door and put her legs out the side of the car, taking a deep breath and looking out over the parking lot.

Y/N knew that meeting Diana was a good thing. That Spencer wanted her to meet the most important woman in his life was a testament to their relationship. But the closer she got to it, the more she felt completely and totally out of place. What did she have to offer this woman’s remarkable son other than a mountain of student loan debt, an endless supply of expo markers, and an ever growing collection of toilet paper rolls?

She loved teaching kindergarten, and she was the first to defend the profession in most settings. But she was about to be in a room with two of the most brilliant minds on the planet, and she couldn’t help but wonder what she would possibly have to contribute. More than that, what would Diana Reid think of her son settling for someone so… ordinary?

Her phone buzzed with the incoming text message, and she bit back a sigh.

Spencer: It’s an incredible day. She’s already asking about you.

Y/N turned her face up to the clear blue sky, feeling the sun on her face and taking a deep breath. Then, she hoisted herself out of the vehicle, locking it and turning to walk toward the building. DC was hot and sticky this time of year, and she was grateful for the blast of air conditioning as she entered the facility.

The woman at the front desk— Suzanna, by her name tag— smiled kindly at her. “How can I help you?”

“I’m, um— I’m here to visit with Diana Reid.” Y/N began signing into the visitor’s log, smiling a little at Spencer’s hasty signature right above. “Her son is here, too— Spencer.”

“Ah, yes, you must be Y/N. Diana’s been so excited to meet you.” Suzanna chuckled lightly at her expression, and Y/N wondered just how much everyone already knew about her. “They’re just through there— in the sunroom.”

Y/N mumbled her thanks and turned in the direction of the sunroom, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from the skirt of her dress. She’d spent far too long getting ready this morning, including steaming the dress— a simple number with a black bodice and a skirt covered in books. It was her own personal nod to the incredible legacy that Diana had left— not only as a professor of classic literature, but also as the mother of the most incredible reader— and man— she’d ever met.

And now she had a moment of panic, wondering if maybe it was too on the nose, or if Diana would think it was silly and immature. She briefly considered turning and heading back out to the parking lot, but then Spencer appeared in the doorway to the sunroom, waving his thanks to Suzanna and then positively beaming at her . How could she deny him this?

He held out his hand to her, and she accepted it, instantly more at ease from the simple touch. He pulled her gently into the room, and there was Diana, perched on a floral sofa and looking quite elegant in a soft purple shawl.

She stood immediately, an absolutely radiant smile stretching across her face at the sight of them. Y/N watched as she clasped her hands in front of her and felt Spencer squeeze her hand at the same time.

“Y/N,” Diana smiled. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Y/N returned her smile. “It is such an honor to finally meet you, Mrs. Reid.”

She scoffed and waved her hand. “Just Diana, please.” Y/N saw the moment she noticed the dress, her eyes crinkling a bit at the corners. “I can already tell you’re perfect for my son: the lover of books.” She motioned to the seating area. “Come, sit.”

The three of them sat, Spencer in the armchair just across from them as she and Diana sat on the sofa. Y/N folded her hands in her lap and tried to straighten her posture. Diana leaned back against the couch with a smile.

“I really have heard a lot about you,” she repeated, sliding her eyes over to a blushing Spencer. “Spencer tells me you teach kindergarten.” Y/N nodded, and Diana shook her head. “I deeply admire the patience and energy you must have for that age group.”

Y/N laughed a little. “They can certainly be a handful. I hear you were a teacher as well.” Her eyes went a little wide at her mistake. “A professor, I mean.”

“Oh, yes, yes— 15th century literature.” Diana tilted her head, considering Y/N with a knowing gaze. “But teaching is teaching, no matter the age. And where would any of us be without our kindergarten teachers? The ones who teach us the very foundations of learning. Who not only teach us to read and write, but also to inquire and investigate and discover.”

Y/N felt unexpected tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and she had to take a moment to breathe before speaking. “Thank you for saying that. Sometimes people assume that kindergarten is all play doh and finger paint.”

“What’s that saying about making assumptions?” Diana pondered.

“Issac Asimov said, ‘Assumptions are our windows on the world,’” Spencer offered.

“Mm, thank you for that, honey, but the one I’m thinking of is from an episode of The Odd Couple , I believe,” Diana corrected, winking at Y/N. “When you assume, you make an ass of you and me.”

“Ah.” Spencer held back a laugh, and Y/N’s heart felt just a little bit lighter.

Diana smiled brightly at her. “Your students must absolutely adore you.” Diana gestured vaguely to Spencer before continuing, “Spencer loved his kindergarten teacher— hm, Mrs. Hudson, was it?”

Spencer nodded in confirmation. Diana looked back to Y/N with a slightly mischievous grin. “His report cards always came back with the note that he was ‘helping’ the other students just a little too much— always the professor, even at five years old.”

Spencer let out an indignant squeak, and Y/N laughed. “My parents got a very similar note.” She gave Spencer a smile. “We just couldn’t help it, apparently.”

“I’m sure it didn’t help that he’d been reading for three years before he was even enrolled,” Diana mused. “Did he tell you that he originally considered studying the classics?” Y/N shook her head. “Well. When you’ve already read and discussed all the course material, it seems a waste of money, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed, I suppose it does,” Y/N agreed.

“Oh,” Diana tapped Y/N’s arm affectionately before gesturing back to Spencer, “and then there was the time that he became so fixated on the idea of becoming a magician that he somehow managed to trap a rabbit in our backyard.”

“ Mom ,” Spencer choked out.

“Oh my. No, no— please go on,” Y/N begged, waving her hand dismissively in Spencer’s direction and leaning closer to Diana. “I need all the embarrassing stories.”

Diana let out a lilting laugh. “The poor thing spent the better part of a weekend in a storage bin while Spencer tried to figure out the top hat trick.”

Y/N turned to him with a bewildered grin. “The storage bin was well ventilated!” he defended. “And she had plenty of food and water.”

“Did you figure out the trick?” Y/N asked.

“No,” he admitted sheepishly. “Mom found out about the rabbit before I could. And you need more than just the hat for the trick anyway.”

“We fed her one last carrot and then sent her back out to be with the rest of her bunny family, who must have been missing her dearly.” Diana winked at Y/N. “At least that’s what I had to tell six year old Spencer.”

“Rabbits are incredibly social and live in large colonies, so that actually was most likely the case,” Spencer supplied.

Diana smiled fondly at her son, and Y/N could practically feel the love radiating off of her. “Either way, I had one very sad little boy for the next week or so.” She turned back to Y/N. “We actually took a break from some of the more... advanced reading material so that I could read him The Tale of Peter Rabbit .”

“A classic in its own right,” Y/N said.

Diana nodded. “I’ve always said that children’s literature encompasses some of the most profound and imaginative storytelling. We can learn a lot from Peter and Ferdinand.”

“I love Ferdinand!” Y/N gasped. “Gosh, that’s one of my all time favorite books. My mom read it to me when I was little, and I read it to my kids every year.”

Diana threw her hands up. “And that right there tells me everything I need to know about your teaching. Well— that and everything Spencer’s already gushed about, of course.”

The three of them spent the better part of the afternoon laughing and trading embarrassing childhood stories. Diana was even more lovely than she could have imagined, and Y/N was grateful to be so quickly accepted into the small but incredibly loving family unit.

Every so often, she would catch Spencer’s eyes on her— soft and content and practically sparkling— and her heart would leap into her throat. He was uncharacteristically quiet, letting Diana lead most of their side of the conversation, only chiming in here and there to offer context or defend himself in a particularly mortifying tale. Diana unwittingly (or perhaps purposefully) revealed just how much Spencer had spoken about her; she already knew about Y/N’s home, her family, and most of her interests.

Spencer may have been quiet, but he was also blushing profusely— caught in the act of being absolutely enamored with her. Y/N found that she didn’t know how to feel about that. She should be happy. She should be thrilled. And in some ways, she was. Being with Spencer had made her the happiest she’d been in a very long time— maybe ever.

It was the happiness that scared her.

She deserved happiness. That’s what Anita would tell her. But the way she felt with Spencer— comfortable, natural, easy — was the rising action. She was still anticipating the climax, the mountaintop, the apex of joy. She hated herself for it, but she couldn’t help it. She’d learned that every mountain had a valley, and the falling action always dragged her against every jagged stone on the way down. She never failed to plummet from the heights into the depths of where she’d learned to live, quiet and lonely and a little bit bruised.

This knowledge didn't stop her from soaking up every second of the highs.

“I’m starting to get a little tired,” Diana admitted. She reached across the couch and patted Y/N’s hand, squeezing gently, and then she looked to Spencer. “I start to— forget when I’m tired.”

The smile that had become almost permanent that afternoon faltered slightly, but he nodded and checked his watch. “Four hours is pretty good.”

She hummed. “They’ve been longer as of late.”

Y/N watched as his nose twitched. “Does Dr. Kincaid think that’s good or bad?”

Diana gave him a sympathetic smile. “She’s not sure.”

It was quiet for a long moment, and then Y/N stood. “Let me give you a minute together.” Diana stood as well, and Y/N clasped her hands together. “I don’t think I can articulate how incredibly happy I am to have finally met you. And I— I definitely don’t have the words to properly thank you for raising such a wonderful man.”

Diana took her hands, squeezing them gently before pulling her into a hug. Y/N returned the embrace, and Diana murmured, “Thank you for loving him. Through the highs and the lows.”

Y/N blinked back tears for the second time that day, nodding into Diana’s shoulder and hugging her tightly.

With a final squeeze, Diana released her, and Y/N excused herself back out into the foyer. She signed out of the visitor log and waved to a grinning Suzanna, and then headed outside to catch her breath. She made it to the car, unlocking it and settling into the passenger seat before leaning over to turn it on and get the windows rolled down.

Spencer emerged from the building, his hands in his pockets. He quickly made his way to the vehicle, practically running across the parking lot and sliding behind the wheel. Before she could even say anything, he was surging across the console to grab her face in his hands and pull her into a kiss.

She steadied herself with her hands on his chest, clutching at his shirt and returning the unexpected passion with a slightly bewildered smile. When he was finished, he pulled back to lean their foreheads together. She caught her breath and asked, “What was that for?”

“She loved you, and I love you, and I’m so glad you got to meet her.”

She could hear the emotion in his voice, and she slid her arms around his back, pulling him into a hug. “Me, too.”

He leaned into her for a minute longer, breathing into her hair and pressing another kiss to her shoulder. Then he pulled back, smiling widely. “How would you feel about meeting the other family?”

…

Spencer drove them to meet up with the team at O’Keefe’s, a favorite haunt of theirs on the evenings when they’d wrapped a case at a reasonable hour. They headed up the sidewalk hand in hand, with Y/N leaning a little into his side. She was feeling slightly more at ease this time around thanks to the buffer of knowing Penelope, Luke, and JJ already.

Spencer held the door open, trailing in behind her with a hand on her waist. She spotted Penelope’s bright green dress immediately, and Spencer raised his hand in greeting. The group gave them a raucous cheer, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile.

Spencer kept his hand on the small of her back as they approached the table. He greeted the group and then turned to Y/N, gesturing around the table. He introduced her to Tara, Matt, and Emily, the three of whom greeted her with warm handshakes. Penelope was practically vibrating with excitement as she scooped her up into a hug.

“Gosh dang it, you are just so cute ,” Penelope squeaked. She pulled back from the hug to take stock of Y/N’s outfit. “The books, I love it. And the shoes!”

Y/N laughed, twirling her ankle to show off the pink t-strap heels. “I’m definitely going to regret them in about an hour. But they look cute anyway.”

Tara sidled up to the two of them, raising her glass in solidarity. “Here’s to cute shoes and pinched toes.” She took a sip of her scotch and then turned to Y/N. “What’s your poison?”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Y/N insisted.

Tara waved her hand and gestured to Spencer. “You got grandpa to come out to the bar. You’re not paying for a single drink tonight.”

“I come out with you guys!” he squeaked indignantly.

A chorus of exasperated groans made their way around the group, followed by good-natured laughs. Tara raised a single eyebrow in Spencer’s direction, and then turned her attention back to Y/N. “Like I said, you won’t need your wallet tonight. What’ll it be?”

…

She did not, in fact, have to reach for her wallet at all that evening. Between the seven of them, Y/N’s cup was always full and her smile was nearly permanent. She heard endless stories about Spencer, complete with photo evidence— much to his dismay.

She learned that Tara had a doctorate in forensic psychology, and Emily had worked internationally for years becoming the Unit Chief of the BAU. Luke had been an Army Ranger and a member of the Fugitive Task Force, and Matt had traveled the globe with the International Response Team.

They were all incredibly kind, asking about her family and her work, listening with interest as she recounted growing up on a farm and her days spent teaching kindergarten. Despite their apparent interest, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little… silly. Stories of field trips and finger painting felt incredibly juvenile in comparison to the lived experiences of this remarkable team of people.

She did her best to steer the conversation back to the team whenever possible, which in some ways made the whole thing worse. But she managed to keep a smile for the evening, and she lost track of how many drinks made their way down the hatch. Luke ordered an assortment of snack foods for the group, and she gratefully accepted a few fries and a mozzarella stick to soak up some of the alcohol sloshing around in her stomach. At some point Spencer returned from the bar with an extra glass of water, sliding it her way with a knowing smile and a press of his lips to her cheek.

Eventually, Y/N had to excuse herself to the bathroom, patting Spencer’s arm and carefully navigating the dim bar. In the way that it so often did, the level of her intoxication made itself abundantly clear in the harsh lighting of the restroom. She stumbled out of the stall to wash her hands, using the countertop for balance and cursing under her breath.

She raised her head to analyze her appearance, groaning a little at the smudge of mascara under her eyes. As she swiped at the black rings, she considered that she had never quite figured out the ideal amount of alcohol— somehow always managing to get a little too drunk. And now she was too drunk in front of all of Spencer’s friends— his family.

Not only that, but for the second time today, she couldn’t help but feel so overwhelmingly ordinary . Surrounded by the team, all extraordinary and awe-inspiring in their own right, she was… plain, unaccomplished, boring . Spencer had called her remarkable; she felt anything but.

She closed her eyes against the tears that were threatening to spill over, remembering the last time she’d cried in a bar bathroom. She’d spent that evening wondering what was wrong with her… wondering if she deserved to have someone like Spencer at all.

“That’s just… the alcohol talking,” she reminded herself out loud into the empty bathroom. She stared at herself in the mirror. “Stop bein’ a weirdo.”

She pushed out of the bathroom and back into the bar, walking a little more cautiously as the alcohol started to course through her bloodstream. As she approached the group again, Spencer’s eyes found her immediately, and he reached for her, pulling her underneath his arm and into his side. He brought his mouth close to her ear and murmured, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just—” She slid her hand around his waist to keep herself steady. “Just more tipsy than I thought.”

He ran a soothing hand along her arm. “Do you wanna go home?”

She shook her head. “No, no— ‘M fine. ‘S nice to be with your friends.”

“You’re sure?” He squeezed her shoulder and lowered his voice. “Because honestly I’m kind of ready to go.”

She looked up from where her head was resting on his chest to see him smiling softly at her. “Whatever you want.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then turned back to the team and cleared his throat. “We’re gonna head out.”

Tara made a show of checking her watch. “10:45? I’m surprised you stayed this long, old man.”

…

Y/N’s eyes opened slowly and came into focus as Spencer’s car came to a stop outside her apartment. “Why’re we here?”

Spencer shut off the ignition and pulled out the key with a small smile. “I have a feeling you’re going to feel… less than stellar tomorrow. I thought you might like to wake up in your own bed. Hang on.”

He climbed out of the vehicle and closed the door before coming around to her side. She could feel the tears welling up as she fumbled with the buckle on her seatbelt. Everything was a little uncoordinated, and she felt absolutely ridiculous.

The door opened, and she carefully swung her legs out one at a time. Spencer stood slightly to the side, and she knew she should hurry up and let him get home, but she didn’t move to get up.

“Do you need help?”

She shook her head, and the action sent a tear rolling over her bottom lash line. She tried to swipe it away, but of course Spencer caught it.

“Hey— what’s wrong?” he asked gently.

She sniffed. “Are you just dropping me off?”

He cupped a hand underneath her chin to tilt her eyes upward, and his eyes were soft but concerned. “I was planning to come upstairs with you. Unless you don’t want me to.”

She shook her head. “No, I— you can come upstairs.”

“Okay.” Spencer cocked his head. “Honey, what’s going on?”

Y/N didn’t know where to begin. She was drowning in self-doubt— had been since about the one month mark. It seemed that every day there was something new to feel insecure about. The confidence she’d had on his doorstep in March was nowhere to be found.

That was too much for her slow moving brain to articulate at the moment, so she settled on: “They’re all so smart and funny and cool and interesting.”

“Okay…” he prompted.

“And I’m not,” she admitted.

His mouth turned quickly down. “That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is,” she insisted. “I’m just— a kindergarten teacher and I— I don’t have any cool skills or stories, and I don’t even have any muscles, and they’re all so pretty —”

“Hey, stop— stop.” Spencer squatted down to be eye-level with her. “First of all, you’re not ‘just’ anything. And you’re my favorite kindergarten teacher and the best one I know.” He grabbed her hand and laced their fingers together. “You have lots of cool skills and stories. And I don’t have any muscles either.”

She lifted her free hand to squeeze his bicep. “Yes, you do.”

“Muscles are overrated.” He smiled and brought a hand to her face, smoothing her hair back and then letting his fingers linger on her cheek. “And frankly, pretty is too mundane a term to describe you. I’d go with something like radiant, or ethereal, or incandescent.”

“You have to s‘plain your jokes to me,” she slurred, swiping her forearm under her nose.

“Not always. And besides, I have to explain my jokes to basically everyone,” he reminded her. He squeezed her hand. “But unlike everyone else, you let me explain them to you. And you actually listen to the explanation.” He shrugged. “I think I like that more than I like telling the joke.”

She was quiet then, eyes focused on a particularly interesting piece of loose gravel. She knew the list of her flaws was longer, but her brain couldn’t string them together in her current state.

Spencer shuffled closer and waited patiently until she finally looked at him before continuing.

“I love you. And not because of your job, or your cool stories, or your muscles,” he clarified. “I love you because you’re you. And, a little selfishly, because I love the person that I am when I’m with you. Okay?”

He smiled tentatively, and she let out a long breath. “Okay.”

He leaned forward and kissed her nose. “Now, come on. Let’s get inside.”

Spencer helped her navigate up the walkway and the three flights of stairs. Rather than rummage drunkenly through her purse, she passed it off and allowed him to retrieve her keys and unlock the door.

He supervised and provided balance support as she haphazardly swiped a makeup wipe over her face and fumbled into her pajamas. Finally he got her settled into bed with a bottle of water on the bedside table.

He pulled up the covers around her. “I’m going to go to the bathroom,” he murmured.

This was the moment that he’d realize what an absolute fool she was. He’d finally be alone in the bathroom, and it would become abundantly clear that she couldn’t drink responsibly, that she was boring, that she was obnoxious. She was sure of it, and her heart was fracturing into a thousand tiny pieces.

Spencer’s nervous laugh broke through her haze of insecurity. “Whoa, I thought we were done crying?” he joked. “Honey, c’mere.” Spencer pulled her up into his arms, rubbing a hand over her back.

She hadn’t realized she was making any noise until the sound vibrated against where Spencer had tucked her into his shoulder. As if she hadn’t been foolish enough tonight, now she was blubbering into his nice cardigan. Despite herself, she clung to him like he’d disappear like smoke between her fingers.

“I’m— I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed; it’s not funny,” he apologized. “Shhh, sweetheart . It— it’s okay, it’s okay .”

“I don’t want you to go.” Her voice was full of tears and cracked pathetically at the end.

“Okay, okay,” he agreed, a tinge of confusion in his voice. “I’m— the bathroom can wait, I suppose.”

That only made her cry harder, which poor Spencer responded to with even more aggressive soothing. He stroked over her hair and hugged her tight, shushing her and rocking her a little bit back and forth.

He was just so sweet . Kind and thoughtful and considerate— three things she hadn’t experienced from a significant other in a very long time. And it was exhausting waiting for the shift— for the moment that he realized she wasn’t worth the hassle. She was so tired of anticipating the end.

“I don’t want you to leave.” She hated how ridiculous she sounded, gasping and hiccuping.

Spencer froze for a full second and then squeezed her impossibly tighter. “I’m not. Baby, I’m not. I am right here.” He stroked a firm hand up and down her spine. “I need you to take some deep breaths with me. I’m gonna do it, too, okay?”

He led her in a series of deep inhalations and long exhales to the rhythm of his palm on her back. He murmured quietly to her, reassurances and promises and love. As her breathing came closer to normal, he pressed a soft kiss into her hair.

“I love you, Y/N. You know that, right? I wouldn’t change one single thing about you.” His hand on her back slowed to a stop, and she could practically hear him considering his next move. “I’m pretty sure Billy Joel wrote a song about it, actually. I love you just the way you are. ”

She couldn’t stop the laugh from bubbling up in her throat at the tone deaf melody, and she felt him smile against her hair. “Okay?”

She wasn’t okay, but that wasn’t his fault. She sighed and sniffed. “Okay, off brand Billy Joel.”

“That’s not very nice,” he chuckled, pulling back to swipe his fingers over her damp cheeks.

“Yes, it is,” she insisted. “I love off brand. Just as good as the real thing, and with some fun quirks.”

“Somehow I don’t think he’d appreciate the comparison.” He smiled softly at her, and then his expression melted into something a little more serious. “But I mean it. There is no place I’d rather be, and no one else that I wanna be with. When I say that I love you the most, I mean that I love you more than I have ever loved anybody. Ever.”

He looked at her so earnestly that she wanted to cry all over again. How was he so wonderful, and gentle, and loving, and perfect ? He’d promised to do better on a chilly night in January and then spent every single day since then doing exactly that.

“But I actually do have to pee,” he admitted sheepishly. “Are you going to be okay here for a few minutes?”

He was speaking to her as he would a child, and she was utterly mortified. She waved her hand. “ God , I’m bein’ so annoying.”

“No, you’re not. You’re a little drunk. And a lot adorable.” He tapped gently on her nose. “But you’re also kind of sad, and I don’t want you to be sad.” He propped the pillow up behind her. “It’ll be the fastest pee ever— four minutes, tops. Most of it will be hand washing. Okay?"

“Okay,” she smiled, and she really meant it.

He hopped up and trotted to the bedroom door. “See you in four minutes. Have some water while you wait.”

She followed instructions, sipping carefully from the bottle he’d left for her. She also rummaged through the bedside drawer for the Advil, popping two and washing them down with another swig of water.

Spencer returned to the bedroom with his cardigan and pants already discarded. He quickly slipped out of his button up and into his pajamas before sliding in beside her and holding out his arms. “All right, c’mere.”

“Hmm?” she hummed.

“I’m demanding snuggles,” he clarified. “That’s the price you pay for my chauffeur and caretaker services.”

Another smile slowly turned up the corners of her mouth, and he returned it, pulling her against his side. “There she is.”

She allowed herself to settle and melt into his warmth, the soft fabric of his t-shirt under her cheek and his fingers brushing lightly over her arm. She willed herself to stop waiting for the shift. She begged herself to stop looking for the end.

Maybe this time there wouldn’t be an end. Maybe she could have an infinite middle with Spencer Reid. Maybe she had earned that.

———

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds self insert #homoose writes #lhalc

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massivetyrantduck · 3 years

Conversation

We're back! Incorrect quotes part 3 let's go

Warriors, texting in the group chat: I wonder what Apple shots would look like?

Steam(im experimenting with names for him): *Sends a picture of of a syringe with an apple slice shoddily edited inside*

Legend: *Sends a picture of a shot glass with an Apple poorly drawn inside*

Hyrule: *Sends picture of person dunking a Basketball into the hoop but replaced the basketball with a poorly resized apple*

Warriors: I hate all of you.

Steam: It’s nice to be wanted, you know?

Legend: Not by the law!

First: I’ve invited you here because I crave the deadliest game...

Wind , nodding: Knife Monopoly.

First: I was actually going to play Russian roulette, but now I'm really interested in whatever knife Monopoly is.

Twilight: It’s impossible to make a sentence without using the letter a.

Legend: Despite your thinking, it is quite possible, yet difficult, to form one without the specific letter. Here’s one more to further disprove your theory.

Sky: Fuck you.

First, seeing a banana on the car seat: What the FUCK??

First, buckling the banana up: Fucking buckle UP, it’s the LAW!

Time: Wake me up-

Steam: Before you go go

Wild: When September ends

Warriors: WAKE ME UP INSIDE

Time: Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons!

Wild: Bet you I can!

Steam: *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial, and goes back to reading the paper*

Time: Guys where did Wild go?

Twilight: They got arrested.

Time: How the hell-

Wild: *bursts in through the window* The cops are after me, I thought it would be fun to steal crackers and throw them at people.

Wind : I like to think of myself as a semi responsible adult here.

Hyrule: Sky is 70% of your impulse control and you know this Wind .

Sky: I feel like Wind is the more responsible one of us two though.

Wind : We are both 70% of each others' impulse control.

Sky: Just two lil beasts in pinwheel hats spinning on the merry-go-round at dangerous velocities, holding each other’s hands so the other doesn’t fall off.

Wind : Oh, my God. Do you know what this is?

Time: It’s a book. There’s a lot of those in here, this is a library.

Legend: Maybe the real monster was the friends we both literally and figuratively murdered along the way.

Twilight: So... what’s goin’ on?

Steam: You want the long version or the short version?

Twilight, hesitantly: The short one, I guess?

Steam: Shit’s fucked.

Twilight: Oh. Well, yeah, that’s definitely not an optimal situation.

Hyrule: I am very small and I have no money, so you can imagine the kind of stress that I'm under.

Time: Hey, Joe said he's coming over this afternoon.

Hyrule: Cool.

Time: Do you know who Joe is?

Hyrule: JOE MAMA!

Wind , not even looking up from their phone: Damn, that backfired.

Time: I have an idea.

First: A good idea?

Time: Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Legend: We’re about to do the tazer challenge. You want in?

Twilight: What's the tazer challenge?

Steam: We taze eachother, then drink. (no Steam my hc is that ur 17 and my hc is drinking age in hyrule is 18 dont underage drink)

Twilight: How do you win?

Legend: What are you, a lawyer? You want in or not?

Warriors: Do you have a bobby pin?

First: Yeah. *searches in their hair*

First: Oh, no, wait. I’m not a nine-year-old girl.

First: Some of us are still ‘it’ from a childhood game of tag.

Steam: way to just fuck me up on a Tuesday.

Time: I left instructions for everyone while I'm gone.

Hyrule: Mine just says "Hyrule no."

Time: I want you to apply it to every possible situation.

Twilight, peeling a banana: May I take your jacket, sir? Hahahaha.

Legend: Do you think other people can’t hear you?

Hyrule: My assistance will be an act of beneviolence.

Legend: ...Don’t you mean benevolence?

Hyrule: No.

Legend: *proud mentor noises*

Legend: I'll offer you some friendly advice-

Wind : I don't want your advice.

Legend: Well, then consider it unfriendly advice.

Hyrule: You know, studies show that keeping a ladder in the house is more dangerous than a loaded gun.

Hyrule: That's why I own TEN guns.

Hyrule: Just in case some maniac tries to sneak in with a ladder.

Time: Stressed.

Four: Depressed.

Twilight: Possessed.

First: Obsessed.

Wind : Impressed.

Warriors: Chicken breast.

Everyone: ...What?

Warriors: I just wanted to join in.

Hyrule: Good morning.

Wind : Good morning.

Wild: Good morning.

Warriors: You all sound like robots, try spicing it up a bit.

Four: MORNING MOTHERFUCKERS!

Warriors: Be right back, gonna hit the toilet for a quick power sob.

Four(Blue and Vio): BWWAAAAAAAAAA! Oh, you hear that? That's the wrong opinion alarm.

Time: That is not something you actually have installed.

Four: Sorry, say again? I couldn't hear you over my alarm that YOU SET OFF with your WRONG-ASS OPINION.

Time: If I run and leap at First, they will most certainly catch me in their arms.

Time, running towards First: Coming in!

First: No! I’m holding coffee!

First: *Drops coffee and catches Time*

Time: You know you can die from that, right?

Sky: *smoking a cigarette* That’s the point.

Wind : *drinking alcohol* We’re trying to speed this up.

Legend: *Eating raw cookie dough and nodding*

#linked universe #lu four #lu wild #lu time #lu legend #lu wind #lu sky #lu twilight #lu warriors #lu hyrule #lu first #lu spirit #lu incorrect quotes #incorrect lu quotes

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dameronology · 3 years

Text

love in the time of PTA meetings {marcus moreno} - 1/5

summary: despite what pinterest shows, being in a parent in the twenty first century is hard; especially a single parent. your kid takes up your entire life and the idea of finding a fairy tale is laughable - that is until you finally attend a p.t.a meeting and cross paths with a certain marcus moreno. {series masterlist}

warnings: i do not have children. i don’t know children work. this written entirely what i have seen them do in the sims 4. also, swearing.

- jazz

Leaving work early was never a good look.

Leaving work early because your child had managed to set fire to a trash can was...well, it was something else entirely.

After rushing out of a very important meeting and parking your car in a did-you-park-it-or-crash-it manner, you were sprinting across the play ground and towards the front entrance. Having given up half way through, you’d kicked your stupidly high heels off and held them in one hand, trying to organise your slightly disheveled hair as you entered the building. Most parents might have been nervous to collect their kid after a call from the principle, but this was a regular Tuesday for you. Jack was a good kid, perhaps just a little...misguided. In your books, it was impressive that a five year old had managed to discover pyrotechnics, though you sensed the school might have been a little less lenient about it.

‘Hey!’ You greeted the principle with a smile as you breezed through the doors.

Jack was in a chair by the front desk, a gleeful look on his face when he saw you. As far as he knew or cared, he got to go home early and watch Paw Patrol for the rest of the day.

‘Afternoon.’ He replied. ‘You’re lucky it was only a phone call.’

‘I know, I know.’ You grumbled. ‘I’m sorry. He’s...adventurous-’

‘ - he singed off his class mate’s eyebrows!’ The principle cut you off. ‘Given Monday’s biting incident, I see it fit that Jack take the rest of the week off.’

‘Right.’ You sighed. ‘Thank you. And sorry again.’

‘I’ll email you a list of...behavioural specialists.’ He muttered.

‘There’s nothing wrong with my kid. He’s just...curious.’ You insisted. ‘C’mon, buddy. Let’s go home.’

Jack sprung up from the chair, taking your hand in his and skipping out the door beside you. Parenting had been hard enough when you’d been married, and even harder now that his dad was out of the picture. It meant that everything fell on your shoulders; school runs, packed lunches, earning money, staying sane. You barely found the time to sleep, let alone go to soccer matches or take him to extra curricular activities. It meant that the stay-at-home mums - the ones who drove minivans and had specified walking shoes and shared memes about parenting on Facebook - muttered about you.

I heard Jack’s mum couldn’t make it to the parent-teacher association meeting because there was a divorce hearing.

Look at the kid’s lunch! Oh the saturated fat, the horror!

What do you MEAN your five year old isn’t vegan?!

Frankly, you wanted to whack them over the head with their own damn vision boards. So what if your kid was a little rough around the edges? He’d discovered fire today! If it had been in the stone ages, that would have been impressive. The kind of thing that would have earned him a McDonald’s, had the fast food chain been around at the dawn of time. With the way things were going, paired with the fact you knew your fridge was empty, it looked like you were heading for a Happy Meal anyway.

‘So do I get all week off?’ Jack peered up at you, tugging on your arm.

‘Yup, all week.’ You sighed. ‘But it’s not a reward, okay? It’s...’

You stopped in your tracks when you saw Marcus Moreno’s car pull up in the lot. Naturally, it was expensive and electric and perfectly between the white lines. He gave your less-than-stellar parking a frown as he breezed by - not that you noticed. Frankly, you were too busy admiring him. You saw his face more on the news than you did in person, but he was beautiful. Talk, dark, handsome and mysterious, but also...friendly and approachable. He’d held the door open for you once two years ago and that had been it for you. There had been whispers about the fact he was a widow, though you’d tried not to pay attention to them. It wasn’t anyone’s damn business. You knew he was a good dad; you’d had the chance to meet Missy when Jack had got his head stuck between the playground fence and she’d helped pull him out. She was sweet and well-behaved and clearly well brought up. Could you say the same for your own kid? Eh, parenting was all trial and error.

‘It’s what?’ Your son’s voice dragged you back to reality. ‘Am in trouble?’

‘What?!’ You jumped at the question. ‘No, I just...’

‘Because Principle Eikner said I’d done something bad.’

A small sigh escaped your mouth; placing his backpack on the ground, you knelt down to his height, gently placing your hands on his shoulder. ‘You haven’t done anything wrong, little man. We're just gonna take a few days out to talk about the rules and what it means to do the right thing, okay?’

‘Dad always said not to listen to the rules.’

‘Your dad said a lot of things.’ You reminded him. You stood back up, offering your hand to him. ‘Let’s go home.’

After a few minutes of bartering and the promise of a McDonald’s, you finally made your way back to the car, now with Jack attached to your back. If giving him a piggy back ride meant getting home quicker, it was a price you were willing to pay, especially since the other mums were starting to arrive to pick up their kids. The parking lot was slowly filling up with minivans - compared to your decade-old Honda Civic. It had seen better days, and one too many run ins with other cars and parking lot bollards. Still, it got the job done.

‘Oh, I’m so glad to see you!’ You froze in your tracks again. This time, it wasn’t because of Marcus Moreno’s otherworldly presence, but rather due to the sound of the resident soccer mum.

‘Carol.’ You turned around to face her (slowly, given the five year old on your back) with a forced smile on your face. ‘Hi.’

‘I take it you’re here for the parent-teacher’s association meeting?’ She gave you a phoney grin, handing you a leaflet. ‘I know you couldn’t make the last one, because of your...d-i-v-o-r-c-e hearings.’

‘I can spell!’ Jack chirped from behind you.

‘It’s okay, buddy.’ You reached up to ruffle his hair, smile not faltering. ‘But yeah, you’re right. And what about it?’

‘Nothing.’ Carol quickly shook her head. ‘So you are coming to this one? It starts in ten minutes.’

Truth be told, you’d no idea there was even a meeting tonight. You usually ignored the damn things until the news letter came out, and then you could read it from the comfort of your sofa with a glass of wine. There was nothing you stopping going tonight, aside from your intense hatred for them.

‘I wanna get home and watch South Park!’ Jack chirped from behind you.

‘I don’t - I mean...I don’t let my five year old watch South Park.’ You said. ‘He walked in on me watching it one time and...point is, yes, I’m here for the meeting!’

‘No, you’re not-’

‘- Jack, just sssh!’

Carol blinked in surprise, but her phoney smile returned a moment later. ‘Excellent! I’ll see you inside.’

You inwardly groaned. Why had you just done that? You fucking despised sitting in a stuffy gym for the better part of an hour, listening to the perfect mums bang on about healthy eating and limiting their kids’ internet time. You already questioned your parenting skills as it was - the meetings only made it worst. You didn’t assimilate into that crowd; they were all married, with big houses out in the ‘burbs and bank accounts that could cover their kids ever-expanding interests and activities. Meanwhile, you were living on one wage and your two-bedroom apartment had a balcony, not a back garden. If Jack wanted to go on a field trip, you usually had to save up for months. You didn’t know if you envied the other mums’ lives, but you certainly weren’t jealous of how they viewed working mums and single parents.

‘That lady is mean.’ Jack murmured from your shoulders.

‘Yeah buddy, I know.’ You nodded. ‘Guess we’re going back to school.’

Lugging the kid and his bag back up the school yard and towards the building was exhausting - at least it was your work out for the week done. By the time you’d reached the gym and placed Jack back on the ground, your shoulders were aching and you were disappointed to see that the refreshments didn’t have any alcohol. Was it too late to sneak out? The fire exit was right there and-

‘- shame this thing doesn’t have any wine, huh?’ A man was stood next to you, arms folded across his chest as he stared at the luke-warm jug of coffee on the table ahead.

Tall, dark hair, stubble and with a faint hint of expensive aftershave you pretended not to notice? Hello, Marcus Moreno. Goodbye, ability to form coherent sentences.

You blinked in surprise. ‘Yeah. I could do with a glass. Or ten.’

‘So you hate these things too, huh?’ He smiled.

‘With a passion.’ You returned the gesture. ‘I’m only here because Carol and her Karen Committee kept muttering about me not being at the last one.’

‘Yeah, same here. I was attending an emergency meeting about nuclear arms in Vienna, but I guess this is more important.’

‘I was...’ in court, signing documents to end my marriage, ‘otherwise occupied too.’

Marcus nodded in understanding. ‘Kids alone are a full time job, huh? ‘Specially when you’re the only one who’s running around after them.’

He knew about your situation and in return, figured that you knew about his. He’d heard the whispers about the divorce and presumed that the loss of his wife had been subject to similar gossip. The environment amongst the parents was shockingly similar to high school and things got around pretty quickly. You both hated it, especially given the nature of both your circumstances; death and separation was not something other people should have been talking about. Especially when you all you wanted to do was mind your own business and raise your damn (chaotic) kid.

‘Yeah, tell me about it.’ You replied. ‘My kid is like...a baby crackhead, as well. He’s been sent home twice this week and it’s only Wednesday.’

‘Oh, Jack’s your kid?’

You let out a groan, holding your face in your hands. ‘Yeah. Famously so, apparently.’

‘No, it’s not a bad thing!’ Marcus chuckled, pulling your hands away. ‘He played a brilliant baby Jesus in the Nativity last year.’

‘Aside from when he bit one of the three wise men, yeah.’ You could feel your cheeks heating up. ‘Missy actually helped him once. She seems really...not at all like my child. Which is good.’

‘She told me about the fence incident.’ He nodded. ‘May I ask why he was shoving his head out of the school gates?’

‘He saw an interesting looking slug.’ You replied.

Your conversation was interrupted by Carol, who had now climbed up on stage. She tapped the microphone and cleared her throat, gesturing to everyone to sit down so that the meeting could start. You wanted to curse her. Whatever giddy conversation you were having with Marcus was a thousand times more interesting than the PTA. At least you could revel in the fact he didn’t want to be here either.

‘Shall we?’ Marcus gestured to two empty seats a few rows back.

‘I mean, it’s an aisle seat, which is good for a quick escape if Jack decides to be Jack,’ you nodded in agreement. ‘Hey kid, c’mon!’

Turning away from the other kids, Jack sprinted towards you, hurling himself into your lap as he sat down. You let out an oof! and a groan. He wasn’t as light as he used to be a toddler. He stayed still for a moment, tiny hands clasping yours, before he realised who you were sat next to. The kids’ impression of Marcus was not quite the same as yours - he’d only seen him on TV, with the likes of all the heroes. You couldn’t remember their names (but in your defence, they were kind of ridiculous).

‘Are you a superhero?’ He reached up, poking Marcus in the cheek.

‘Jack!’ You hissed. ‘You can’t-’

‘- yeah, buddy.’ Marcus ruffled his hair. ‘But it’s my day off today, so I’m doing all this boring stuff instead.’

‘Can you fly? Do you know Miracle Guy? Have you fought aliens? Do you have a super suit? Do you know Iron Man? Wait! Can I be a superhero?!’

‘No, yes, yes, no, no and maybe when you’re older.’ He counted the questions off on his fingers. ‘But for now we have to keep quiet for the meeting. That would make you a superhero.’

You wanted to marry Marcus Moreno.

Seriously, you wanted to marry him.

His little comment had kept Jack quiet the entire meeting. And it was a long fucking meeting indeed. The last time he’d shut up for that long was...probably before he learnt to talk. You loved he was full of curiosity and questions, but he didn’t always understand that there was a time and a place. At least now you knew what would shut him up.

‘How does Miracle Guy fly? Is Batman real? Are you rich? Do you know Wonder Woman? How does her lasso of truth work?’

‘Jack.’ You groaned.

You were walking out of the school now and down towards the car park. Missy was in tow, tapping away on her phone, whilst Jack trotted alongside you and Marcus. He’d been spewing questions at the poor man pretty much since the meeting had ended - and yet, he seemed happy to answer them. Excited, even. It was clear that he loved his job.

‘You gotta give Mr Moreno a break, little man.’ You said.

‘Hey, just Marcus is fine.’ He replied.

‘Hey Just Marcus, I’m dad.’ Missy chimed from beside you, not even looking up from her phone. It was...impressive, actually.

‘I already regret buying her that.’ Marcus murmured.

The two of you eventually reached your cars. The Civic was still terribly parked across two spaces - you were a good driver, you’d just been in a rush. The dents and scrapes all over the doors and bumper implied other wise but hey, we move. You had a thousand and one other things to save up before a new car. Putting down the deposit on a house - one you could actually own, maybe a little further out from the city - was your number one concern. Paying off your divorce attorney came after that.

‘It was nice to meet you properly.’ You pulled your keys out your back, tugging four empty packets of crisps and three bags of gummy worms with it.

‘I’m not done asking questions-’

‘- you gotta let Marcus go, JJ.’ You peered down at Jack. ‘Sorry. He’s a little obsessed with the Heroics, but I guess you’ve worked that one out.’

‘Can I visit your base?’ He continued, ignoring you.

Marcus knelt down to his height, a grin on his face. ‘I’ve got a free window tomorrow afternoon. You wanna come by? Your mum tells me you’re off school for the rest of the week.’

‘Really?’ You blinked in surprise. ‘I mean, I’m sure he would love that but I’m at work and he’s gotta go to my mum’s.’

Your mother also doubled up as your baby-sitter. In an ideal world, you would have been able to afford a professional, but this was very much the opposite of an ideal world. It was the real world, and you were constantly juggling a thousand things at once. Never in a million years would you have changed it but there were days when you wanted to cry. When it was 9PM and Jack suddenly chimed in that he had a science project due the next day, or when he refused to eat his dinner because his chicken nuggets weren’t shaped like dinosaurs and fed them to the dog.

Marcus looked, on the surface at least, like he had his shit together. He worked in a public facing job and he always looked put together. His car wasn’t covered in bumps and bruises and the inside probably wasn’t covered in yoghurt like yours. He seemed as though he got more than five hours sleep a night and his child was well-behaved.

‘I’m sure we can work something out.’ He said. ‘If you give me your number, I’ll give you a call.’

‘Uh, yeah! Of course.’ He’d asked for your number. No big deal.

You switched phones - naturally, his was much more high-tech than yours - and entered in your respective numbers. The whole thing made you admire Marcus even more; he didn’t have to have your tyrannical son over to his office, yet he offered to. He’d clearly seen how excited he’d gotten and it seemed like he’d found it endearing.

‘Are you okay?’ Marcus asked quietly, suddenly putting his hand on your shoulder. ‘You suddenly zoned out.’

‘Yeah, sorry.’ You rubbed your eyes. ‘I got about three hours sleep last night. I would blame it on the terrible twos but I guess it’s the...fucking awful fives?’

He quickly turned his attention to Jack, opening the car door for him. ‘You wanna hop in? I’m just gonna talk to your mom about you visiting, yeah?’

'There’s Cheetos in the centre console!’ You called after him.

Once Marcus had shut the door, he turned around to face you. There was silence for a minute, and he just kind of...stared at you. You couldn’t read his expression or quite figure it out, but he had an eyebrow quirked and a look of...concern? Sympathy?

‘I recognise that look. It’s the help! I’m suddenly a single parent to a five year old and it feels like the world is eating me alive look.’ He said. ‘It’s the exact same one I had six years ago. Missy was about Jack’s age when...when it became just me and her.’

You softly smiled. ‘It’s not been easy.’

‘You’re doing a good job, okay?’ He gave your shoulder a light squeeze. ‘And if you ever need him off your hands for a few hours, I’ll gladly give him a tour of our headquarters.’

‘Thank you. So much, for both of those things.’ Your eyes fell to the ground. ‘It’s a refreshing change from Carol and her Pinterest boards and half-assed invitations to potlucks.’

‘God, I can’t stand all that.’ Marcus chuckled.

‘I gotta get back now because I can see that Jack is about smush Cheetos over my break pedals but I’ll...’ you trailed off, forcing yourself to look at him and smile. ‘I’ll call you.’

‘I look forward to it.’

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno imagine #marcus moreno x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character headcanons

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a-froger-epic · 3 years

Text

Interview with a Queen “groupie”

Cross-posted to AO3. I encourage you to leave any comments you have there.

---

I compiled this interview following a long email exchange with J, a very sweet lady who went to Ealing Art School between 1972 and 1974. She knew all four members of Queen personally and was part of their larger circle of friends.

First off, you may find this hard to believe. I don’t blame you. But I assure you I’m not pulling your leg. As well as the pictures I share in this post, I have seen current pictures of J (which I will not share to protect her privacy). There is no indication as far as I am aware that she isn’t who she says she is.

Nastally, hold up. How exactly did you find this lady?

She found me. It turns out that she has been following my story Dawn of Aquarius for quite some time. The story is set in 1969. A lot of research about the era went into it, because I wanted to portray that time period - and Freddie’s and Roger’s surroundings - as accurately and realistically as I possibly could. That was what drew J in. She tells me it brought back a lot of memories for her. One of the reasons I love DoA so much is the nostalgia, she says, which genuinely means the world to me. Eventually, she talked to me in the comment section. Of course, I freaked out!

And then, I asked her for an interview, to which she replied: I will give it a go, but you must remember that I am 65 and there were great drugs in the 70s, and at 16, away from home, I had a lot!

And so...

Here’s what is IMPORTANT TO KEEP IN MIND when you read this interview.

These are one woman’s 50-year-old memories and subjective impressions. J has been incredibly kind to let me pick her brain, trying to recall everything as best as she can. In her own words:

Just remember that when I answer the questions, it is from a 16-year-old who is 9 years younger than Freddie and a little girl with no family and friends in a strange country trying to fit in. The only reason I was there, was because some hippie thought I had a unique art style.

---

J as a teenager.

[I have edited the interview together from our long, and somewhat messy at times, email exchange. Typos have been fixed and some punctuation added for clarity, but I have not changed anything J has written to me. Again, bear in mind these are personal opinions and impressions.]

So, J, how did you end up at Ealing Art School in 1972 and what was it like?

This was the painting done for the Australian school-leaving certificate.

It placed first and gave me a scholarship. I could pick France, the USA or England. As a dual citizen of the UK, the choice was easy. The scholarship paid for board and fees, so had to be and sell whatever for spending money.

This picture is from the dorm. We all had a 10pm curfew and a very thick rule book that, I am proud to say, I broke every one of them, one by one. The rooms were on the 1st and 2nd floor. We were on the first floor, rooms one side and admin staff the other end. We had two bathrooms for 18 girls. One of them had two baths. The walls were your standard half wall, so it was a given that if you had a bath you run the risk of having a bucket of cold water dropped on you. Downstairs was the kitchen and lounge room.

I want to ask you a few things about life in London in the early 70s, to get a picture of what it was really like. For example, was there alcohol at the music gigs you went to?

If it was a school, church or community hall, no. If it was a pub, yes.

Did you and your friends drink as much then as young people tend to drink now when you all went out?

No, we didn't. I think it had a lot to do with money. We didn't have the disposable income, and it was unheard of to still be living at home with the parents after the age of 20.

Was weed and LSD as big and easily accessible as depictions of the 60s and 70s would have us believe?

The drugs! Got to have drugs. Pot (weed) was easy to grow, very cheap. Used to smoke it in bongs rather than joints, more bang for your buck. Trips [LSD] were cheap, I think. About 2 pounds and you were on the high for over 24 hours with no sleep. My drug of choice was hash. Either the oil or the block. It was a nice high, but you could not function well. But if you listen to the music of the time it really does reflect what it was like, to have a group of friends over for a session. Having said all that the most outlandish and shocking drug I ever saw anyone use was the birth control pill. Didn't you have to hide that stuff away?!

Can you tell us some 70s slang that isn’t really in use anymore? What in the world does “ultra-blagging” mean? (As written in a letter penned by Freddie to his friend Celine in 1969.)

Abso-bloody-lootely!

Man, I thought I was the bees knees to be on a scholarship in London. But that didn't stop me from jigging or having a skive day. They were the days that I blagged my way into a pub, had too many lagers and ended up chundering in the gutter. That was how you knew your night was ace. I would get a right bollocking if anyone found out. It would be a bugger when all that you could find at a car boot sale was chavtastic, but sometimes you could be Jammy Dodger and tickety-boo you find something brilliant. Bob's your uncle. Anyways, I need to see a man about a dog.

[It seems to me that J uses a bit of Australian slang here, like chundering, which makes sense because she is, after all, Australian. She also provided the translation:]

Cheers

It would be my honour.

I felt very privileged to be given a scholarship that let me study in England. But being so young and having no family to guide me, it was often tempting to not turn up or give a false excuse for being sick. (I had a lot of food poisoning). These would often happen if the night before I had been drinking beer and ended up vomiting outside the pub. But in my young mind that was a good night. If any of the teachers found me drinking I would be in a lot of trouble. Often I would have to say I was holding it for someone else. Not having much clothes with me, I would buy them second hand from church jumble sales or other students and, yes, Kensington market (the market). Some of the stuff would not be very tasteful or in good condition. But sometimes you would find something that was cheap and in good condition. I will stop this text now as I must go to the toilet.

PS: Ultrablagging sounds very Freddie. Blagging was used, but not ultra, meaning to persuade someone to do something or act better than you are. They were always rock stars.

Sincerely

[It was at this point that I realised I was talking to an absolute legend. She also told me then that the majority of her old photographs had sadly been lost when her house was flooded in 1988, including most of the photographs from her stay in London. Noooo! :(]

When you went out to dance, did you have only live music? Were there DJs yet?

You know, that is hard. We did not have a DJ. Sometimes there would be a band. Often we looked for places with a band or the jukebox. I think pubs closed at 10pm and some stayed open to 12 or 1, but public transport stopped at 9. So if you had not arranged a lift then you had to make the last bus. Most of the time we would be heading back to someone's place to get stoned and then crash there. In the morning you would have to work out where you were. When I got back to Australia, the discos were all the rage. They could have been in London too but it was not cool to like disco.

How many people would show up to Queen’s gigs when they played in pubs or at, for example, the Imperial College?

Depending on the location and the night: 10 to 1000!

So how did you first meet the Queen boys?

I was at the pub talking about a band we saw last week when Brian stuck his head into our booth telling us he knew a better one. Thinking about seeing them at the stall... Roger not often, Freddie quite a lot. Often on different stalls, I think that is why I can't remember the name. [The name of the stall. Other sources confirm that Freddie also worked at Alan Muir’s stall, for example, selling shoes.]

How well did you know them?

Just looking at your tumblr account. [she has had a look at my blog, where somebody asked if ‘groupie’ meant she had slept with the band] No, I never slept with the boys. I would not say I was a close friend, but I started at Ealing Art College in ‘72 and moved in the same circles. I loved the music and could be called one of the first groupies. I had to sneak into the pubs because I was 16. Roger always teased me for being so young. They all did seem to be one very large family, not just the band. It was a group of about twenty regulars, both male and female. Everyone knew that Fred was too gay to function. We were all at the gay rights march in London in 1972, had to run after the march. Lots of sharpies [Australian slang: youth gang, thugs] wanting to bash us. Back then I was in every protest that was going, student union rights, even the secretary protest. Just part of the times, stick it to Man or Woman. I left London in ‘74 for Australia, been here ever since and lost track of the boys but have never stopped being a fan.

What do you remember about them? How would you describe their personalities?

Don’t let the trolls hate me, but I did not like Brian. I found him to be rather full of himself. Space was a subject you never brought up around Brian or you would die of old age before he stopped talking. He was always the first to speak and start a conversation and then quickly passed you off to John, who was always tired and shy. Roger was also quite shy at times. He was very self-conscious of his looks, as he felt being pretty, nobody would take him seriously. Fred, well, he was not yet the big star, so I think he was working on his stage persona. When talking to groups at parties, he had the best stories of things that had happened to him or close friends. They were very funny and very descriptive. He was the life of the party. When he had a few to drink or was the centre of attention, he would take a cigarette out of the closest person’s hand and start smoking. Now remember this is the point of view of a 16-year-old girl that was a fish out of water, trying to fit in and not having much worldly experience.

It is said that Freddie and Roger were very stylish. How did they dress in everyday life?

Fred would do his hair and makeup to check the mail. Yes, he was always turned out, but so were a lot of people. Freddie did go over the top with hats, scarfs and jewellery. With Roger, it is a surprise he was able to have kids his jeans were that tight. And his shirts were always open unless he was in a jumper. I think it could have been so that you knew he was male, as it was the start of the unisex clothing. When I travelled out of London I realised it was a London thing. When I got back to Australia everyone thought I was a show-off.

There are some disagreements about how tall especially Freddie was. I know this is a difficult thing to try and remember accurately. But do you remember?

Freddie was taller than me but everyone was. Roger was shorter than Fred, but I never saw Roger in platform shoes. I did meet up with the band by chance at Sydney airport in 1984, said ‘hello’ but they did not remember me, or if they did then they did not say anything and I did not want to be a dork. At that time Fred was the same height as me (5ft 8in/1.72m), Roger was taller than me. It made me think at the time that he had a growth spurt! John was shorter than me and Brian has always been tall. [I have a feeling the platform shoes - or lack thereof - played a vital role here! Although 172cm for Freddie seems likely.]

You said everyone knew Freddie was “too gay to function”. Attitudes towards homosexuality have changed so much that it can be hard for us, now, to fathom what exactly people must have thought of him. Was it more of a joke that he was so camp? Was it something he would have been teased for? Also, he had a girlfriend. Did you ever meet Mary or the other girlfriends?

In 1972 a whole group of us - and I am pretty sure that Fred, Roger, Brian and Tim were there - were in a gay pride march. [Since then, J has found and showed me a picture of a boy she thought was Tim Staffel, and it wasn't, so Tim was most definitely not there. Whether Freddie, Roger and Brian really were there or if J is misremembering, who knows?] Us youth believed you could not choose who you fell in love with and if it was same sex, so what? However, if it was two girls then it was every guy’s duty to change her!

It was also a time that the gayer the guy was, the more the girls were interested. Also, if a guy was gay then you did not have to worry about him and he was a good person to take with you if you were going out drinking. However, the police, parents, teachers and anyone of authority were horrified and treated them badly. I did meet Mary a couple of times at pubs and once after a gig. This is just my opinion, but I found her a bitch. It could be that I was so young. It could be that I was very Australian. It could be that she felt threatened as my accent was a magnet to people around. And the boys (Queen) were no exception. Brian had a cousin in OZ and was always asking questions. I remember that my close group of friends thought that Mary made the perfect girlfriend for Fred as they were as fake as each other. Having said that about them, I often wonder if I would think the same now and if my perceptions were just because she would not give me the time of Day. Chrissy and Jo were a lot of fun.

This was before your time, but I read that Freddie's nickname at Ealing Art School was ‘Freddie Baby’. Any ideas how this came about? His showmanship or maybe personality traits?

I don't think so. There were an older crowd that would talk like that. I think the slang ‘baby’ was a 60’s thing, like groovy baby.

How long, roughly, did Roger and Freddie have their stall? I can't find anywhere when it closed down. What did it actually look like? Was it a sort of wooden stall type of thing? Or an actual room? What were some of the other things people sold at Kensington Market? Mostly clothes or all sorts?

The markets were little divided shops. The back was brick and the walls wood. I have been trying all day to remember the name. [Of the stall.] I think it was something hard to say. More often than not it would be Freddie's dad in the store. It was still open when I left. Roger and Freddie were both in the store on Saturdays and some Sundays. There was a girl, I think Jill, who was in the store more. And during the week it could be anyone. You name it and you could get it at the markets. Second hand or designer clothes, shoes, jewellery, pot and assortments. Hair cuts, food, bric-a-brac.

Wait, wait. What? Freddie’s dad? Really now?

Yeah, it was an older Indian man. so we just assumed it was his father. It was my understanding that he started the stall then the boys would work it as the whole markets were set up for younger people, but if needed he would work there. I don't think the boys would be able to pay the rent on their own. [I have since found out that the stall closed in late 1971, and Freddie continued to work at the Market until '74, for Alan Mair and possibly others. So the stall J witnessed wasn't their original stall - explaining all the different people she saw there - but she had no way of knowing that it wasn't.] They always had incense burning that was very big in the 70s. I still occasionally bring out the sticks, but it does not last like the candles and diffusers of today. If you could get in touch with Robert Daniels, he ran ChaChaDumDum it was the stall across from Freddie. He would know the dates.

[J says it’s this look, in a picture she happened across while looking at my tumblr] Yep, that is the one. It usually means that he does not believe or agree with something that was said and is working out how to respond, or he has lost the plot.

You mentioned Roger seemed shy to you at times. Was he also quite charming? We read a lot about what a chick magnet he was. Was this the impression you had?

My favorite subject! I had a thing for Roger. Everyone has a type and mine is the blue-eyed blond. Now, before you ask, was he brunet? No, he was a mouse/dirty blond. If it was summer he would have blond streaks mostly at the ends. He knew he was pretty and was always dressed in the latest fashion and had the current hairstyle. So, being my type I was constantly watching him. Everyone slept around during that time. I did not notice Roger doing it more or less. 80% of the time he was with Jo. Yes, he was a chick magnet, but he did not do the chasing. He was always very polite to everyone. If it ever looked like there would be any conflict he would be the first to leave it. It was not that he was a coward, just not into conflict. If he saw anyone that needed help he was right there, and often had to have Freddie's back. I never saw him in a fight. He could always talk his way out of things. He was also very patient and would listen for hours to other people talk. However, he would get this vacant look in his eyes at times.

And Freddie would either click his fingers, change the subject or just give up. I don’t think that Brian noticed, and it would be fair game for John, he would see how far he could push it. Roger liked to drink a fair bit and when drunk he would be hanging all over Jo. If she was not there then he missed Jo. If, however, he thought that he or his friends were not being respected, then look out! It was a verbal volcano heading your way. That is what happened to me one time. I was trying to talk with my friends close to where a drunken Roger was and I yelled at him to shut the hell up, you wannabe blond. We/I coped a mouthful back, all in the same sentence, that finished with: Sorry, I didn't realise you were on your rags (period)! I have to have the last word, so I told him the truth: I don’t get them yet! (I was a late starter.) He went so red in the face and called me JB [jail bait] from then.

You also mentioned Roger’s cat Ziggy having kittens. I read about this but never when exactly it was. Do you remember?

I think it was winter ‘73. I remember being cold when he was asking around the pub. [To find homes for the kittens, I gather.]

Is it quite strange reading fictional interpretations of real people you knew? When did you first find out there was Queen fanfic?

No, we used to make up stories about people all the time, a verbal fanfic. Was looking up Adam Lambert and came across the fanfics. Some had me in stitches! Others, like DoA, had me hooked.

Please, allow me to be a little self-indulgent at the end. What's one thing I got totally RIGHT in DoA?

All the Ibex stuff.

What's one thing I got totally WRONG in DoA?

Roger did not have a temper, and I don’t know what the go with his father was, but he would talk about him quite a bit and was always visiting his mum. [Absolutely fair, not only did I change the timeline of Roger’s parents divorce in DoA - for lack of information at the time - but also created a completely fictional narrative around it for the sake of storytelling.]

J, thank you so much for all this, sincerely. Can you tell me a little more about yourself? Are you still an artist?

I don't paint or draw any more. At the age of a 50 the doctors operated on an aneurysm or three, and now my eyesight is very bad, I have no fine motor skills and a tremor. I was married in January 1984 and have just celebrated our 37 year anniversary. I have one daughter who is 30 and two great, although tiring grandkids. A girl, 11, and one boy, 5. I have lived my life as the average middle class Australian with great memories. Talking with you has helped me a lot to remember a time when the world was mine for the taking. When I returned to OZ I started nursing, met my best friend, and we planned that once we graduated we would go back to London to study midwifery. But I fell in love instead.

J's wedding in 1984. As you can see, she found her own blue-eyed blond.

---

Upon request, J has shared some of her past and present artwork with me.

These are from her time at Ealing Art School:

These were done later, back in Australia:

J: Did this just before Christmas as you had inspired me. It did not require fine motor skills!

So there you have it! I hope you found this little glimpse through a 16-year-old girl’s eyes as much of a fascinating read as I did. I urge everybody one more time to remember that J did not have to share any of this, and I think we all owe her a big thank you for delving into her memories. She is likely to see the responses on AO3, so I have comment moderation enabled there as I will not let anybody harass this lovely lady. The tumblr she created is @since72, but she isn’t really an active user and also very new to it all. Again, I can only urge everybody to be respectful.

If you have other burning question for J, feel free to leave them in the comments on AO3. I will either pass them on, or she may want to reply to them herself directly.

#Queen band #Freddie Mercury #Roger Taylor #John Deacon #Brian May #interview #i am so excited about this #so much into #information #JB

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johnkrrasinski · 3 years

Text

baby, just say yes

full masterlist

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 3,324

Warning: fluff!! pure feelings, inaccurate depiction of middle-age relationships (?)

Summary: inspired by taylor swift’s “love story” and a bit of bridgerton. james barnes was the son of your father’s rival. what happens when two star-crossed lovers fell in love? will their love conquer their families’ bad blood?

a/n: in honour of taylor releasing re-recorded version of love story, i wanted to write something inspired by it because i’m a sucker for fairytales (HA!) i wanted to post this on valentine’s day but it turned out to be longer than i planned. also, bridgerton might have influenced some of my writing. so enjoy! reblogs and comments are always appreciated. :)

The party was in full swing as the music enlivened the masquerade revellers in ball gowns and fancy suits. You stepped into the party in your best dress with your hair half pinned up in braids. You wore your fulgent jewellery proudly, not caring what anyone thought of your confidence. As the daughter of an aristocratic family, you never once had to worry about fortune or popularity. Your father was a powerful man and everyone knew and worshipped the ground you walked on. But really, you were smart enough to know that these people were merely a bunch of bootlickers. They wished to get close to you for your wealth and repute.

The ball that was held by your father bored you. You never really liked any of his associates. You were a naturally an introvert, you preferred to be alone in your room and read books or be with your dog. However, keeping up a good appearance, well your father’s appearance, was necessary to maintain the family’s name. So you had no choice but to get up, get ready and show your face.

You greeted one of your cousins, Bella, who had come all the way from France. She looked dazzling as always. She hoped to meet a rich husband in one of these balls, but none of them had been captivated by her enough to get down on one knee. Somehow, they always turned their heads to you even when you never displayed any interest in marrying any time soon.

People were chatting, laughing and drinking left and right, some were on the hunt for a match. A few men had come up to you and asked for a dance, you always came up with a reason to dodge them. So you ran to the nearest table to get a glass of champagne. A bit of alcohol could soothe your nerves.

And then, as if the world stopped moving and time froze. A man with short dark hair and navy blue velvet suit made an entrance to the ball. He folded his hands behind him and his walk displayed confidence and power. You couldn't see his entire face for he was wearing a mask but even with only half of his face was shown, you could already tell how handsome he was. The scruff on his lower face added to his sex appeal and there was a mysterious way about him.

He walked further into the ball until his eyes found yours, and it was like the butterflies in your stomach had been possessed. He boldly made his way towards you until you were standing face to face. You could make out his features more clearly now from this proximity. You couldn't help but instantly noticed his eyes; how translucent it was, not only in the colour but also the way it spoke to your soul wordlessly. And the blue in them made you think that God created him and inspired the ocean to seize the colour. And his smell was intoxicating. He had a masculine scent to him, filling up your thoughts with obscene scenarios. It piqued your curiosity about the man behind the mask.

You were a respected woman despite your age. Not only because of your family’s power but also because you carved out your image as this ‘untouchable, implausible’ lady to any man. It would take a true magnetic man to charm you and so far, you haven't crossed paths with one yet…. Until tonight.

He broke the silence first by greeting you, “hello there, milady. Quite a warm night, isn’t it?” Oh, how his voice was making you feel things you’d never felt before. Is this what love at first sight felt like?

“Yes, milord. It truly is.” You replied in a calm manner despite the hurricane inside you.

The orchestras began playing a lively tune, inviting men and women to pair up and dance. He held out his hand for you, “may I have this dance, milady?”

He led you to the centre of the ballroom. He stood in line with other men facing their partners. They bowed their heads and so did you with other women. They held out their hands for their partners to take and began putting their hands on their partners’ shoulders and waists.

You held your breath as he laid his hand on your skin, closing the distance between the two of you. He began to take the lead as your feet were moving in sync, trying not to step on him. You had taken dancing classes before but you almost never danced in the ballroom, so you were a little nervous about forgetting the lessons you had learned in front of this beautiful man.

“I never caught your name, milady.”

“I never caught yours either.” You snarked.

“I asked you first, milady,” the smirk on his face showed his amusement.

You chuckled, “My name’s y/n.”

“Such a lovely name for a lovely lady.”

“Oh, please. Cut the coquetry, milord. Plenty of men have told me that before.”

“Oh, have they?”

The choreography made you switch partners and you danced with this stranger. He looked delighted to have a chance with you but you merely smiled politely at him, until they switched back to your previous partners.

“Did that man tell you the same thing?”

“No, but I could tell from his expression that if we had danced a little longer, he would’ve found a synonymous flattery for me.”

“Are you used to having men throw themselves at your feet?”

“Yes, milord. I eat it for breakfast.”

You danced with him a little bit more until he spoke a hushed tone, “this party bores me. Would you like to meet me in the garden once this dance is over?”

“That would be splendid.”

The dance was finished and you bowed to each other and he kissed your gloved hand. “I’ll see you in the garden in 10 minutes.” He walked past by you, brushing your shoulder with his. You turned your head in his direction, deciding whether you should hold onto your words or not. But without much thinking, you took a glass of champagne and then snuck out, avoiding your parents’ scrutiny.

You found him standing there with his hands behind his back in the middle of the garden where flowers surrounded him, making the sight seem romantic. “Are you expecting someone, milord?”

“Not anymore,” he smiled. “I’ve persuaded you into a clandestine meeting, seems like I am winning the game.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, milord. I sneak out to the garden every day. Which reminds me, I didn’t quite catch your name back there.”

“My name’s James, milady. But, you may call me Bucky.”

Your furrowed your brows in a questioning look, “Bucky?”

“Yes. My mother bestowed me that nickname and the people that are closest to me call me Bucky.”

“Hm, is this another of your flattery that I get to call you ‘Bucky’?

“Yes, milady. I don’t take a lot of women to the gardens as well, so you could say you’re pretty special.”

“Let’s see how tonight goes and I will know.”

You and James talked some more. He told you stories about his family and you told him about yours. He also opened up about how his mother died. Though he looked dejected while telling stories about her, most of the times he was charming, with and clever, making you feel at ease in his company. You had met plenty of men but none of them had made you feel as comfortable as James did. He made you laugh several times with his jokes and you exchanged thoughts about social issues such as marriage, love, children with him. You always thought you’d never marry or perhaps you’d marry in your thirties or forties but it seems as if your heart is tossing away those ideas.

You were really enjoying your time with him that there was a moment where it was just the crickets and your soft breaths. You laid your head on his shoulder as his warmth engulfed you. You nearly fell asleep until the voice of your father disrupted your moment. “Y/N!” The sounds of footsteps were approaching and then your father’s incensed face came to view. “Y/N! What do you think you are doing?!”

“Father, calm down, I was merely promenading with James.”

“Milord, forgive me. I asked for your daughter to meet me in this garden. Please, don’t rebuke her.”

“You shut your mouth, young man. I know who you are and I would never let you lay a hand on my daughter, ever again. You should be ashamed o yourself.”

“Father, what are you so furious about?”

“Don’t you know who he is, y/n?!”

“No, who is he?” You looked at James then back to your father. James looked shocked at the intrusion.

“He is the son of that bastard, George Barnes. I had told you many stories about the lies and betrayals they did years ago. I would never forget them.” Your father enunciated those words as he stared into James’ eyes.

“Is that true?”

James looked doubtful, “yes.”

You felt dizzy. The first man that had truly captured your heart was the son of your families’ number one rival. It was as if the world didn’t like the idea of you finding love.

“Y/N, I swear, on my mother’s grave that I didn’t know. I didn’t know you were-”

“You stay away from my daughter! Do you hear me? If I ever see you anywhere near her, I will kill you with my own hands.” You father grabbed your hand then dragged you back to your carriage where your mother had been waiting for you both.

You tried to free yourself out of your father’s grip but it was to no avail. You looked back at James who was still standing there one last time before the carriage took you away. You cried all the way home.

It’s been three days since the debacle in the garden. You didn’t regret one thing about your feelings, but you blamed the universe for the circumstances. Out of all the people in the world, why must the man that you’d been waiting for was the one you couldn’t be with?

You missed James. You missed the warmth of being in his arms, the gentleness in his eyes and the way his voice soothed you. You wanted to see him more than anything but since that night, you begged your parents to let you see James, you fought tooth and nail to make your father change his mind, but all you got was being locked in your room after you threatened them to run away from home. They even went as far as hiring a guard to stand in front of your bedroom all day.

You sat by your window, looking up at the moon in your nightgown, wondering if James was thinking of you too until your reverie was disrupted by a knocking sound on your window. You instantly looked down to see what was the cause and the sight before you blew away the dark clouds above your head. James Barnes was standing below, with pebbles in his hand.

He smiled when you saw your face and you opened your windows, “James! What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you, of course. Are you able to come down?”

“I’ll try, but be quite okay? Don’t let anyone see you.”

You opened the lock of your door as quietly as possible. It was nearing 2 AM and the guard was snoring in his seat. You minded your steps like a ninja, not wanting to cause any noise. You held your breath when he stirred in his sleep but he thankfully he didn’t wake up. So you sprinted downstairs under the darkness of your mansion.

You quietly unlocked the door of the main entrance and immediately ran to the backyard, where James was waiting for you.

“James!” You shrieked. The joy in his face was palpable, so did yours. You ran to him, lifting your nightgown so you wouldn’t stumble and jumped on him and he caught you.

“I’ve missed you, princess,” James whispered breathily while hiding his face in your shoulder.

“I’ve missed you too. How did you know where I live?”

“I got connections. I’ve spent the last three days endlessly thinking of you.”

“I haven’t thought of anything else other than you too, James.”

He smiled then kissed you deeply, pouring all his longing in the last three days for you.

James took you to the outskirts of the town and you walked hand in hand, wandering around in the night. You talked about the history of your families and how your father wouldn’t let you go out alone knowing that you would try to see him and he told his father about you and what went down in the garden. You sighed, knowing that there was no chance for you and James to be together but then a fleeting thought came.

“Let’s run away,” you recklessly uttered.

“What?” James heard every word you said, he was just taken aback by what it meant.

“Let’s just… Get out of here. We can leave at midnight, I’ll pack up my things and we can be together.”

“Y/N, we can’t.”

“Why?” You were exasperated. “Don’t you wanna be with me, James?”

“I do, however, I can’t do that to you, my love. It’s too dangerous. Your father is a powerful man, I can’t imagine what he would do to us both if he found out.”

“We can, we just have to be careful! C’mon James, I’ve felt so alone my whole life until I met you. I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

“You won’t, darling. I promise you. I’ve got plans, okay? You just need to trust me.”

“Okay, I trust you.”

It had been a week since you last saw James and you were losing faith every day. You had no clue of what James was planning to do. You trusted him but you wished he had been more clear of his intentions. Now, all you could do was wait for him in silence, unable to do anything, like a kite in the wind.

“You haven’t touched your food, dear. Is everything alright?” Your mother asked from across the dining table.

“Yes, mother. I am simply not famished.”

“Eat some of your food, will you? I’d hate to see you ill.”

You wished you could sneak behind your father to vent to your mother about your feelings for James, however, you knew that your mother was loyal to your father and there was no secret between them. You used to hope that one day if you’d ever find a husband, you would have the same foundation in your marriage as your parents had, now you would be delighted if they announced their divorce so you could be free from your father.

The majordomo interrupted your dinner by informing that you had a couple of guests. By the look on your father’s face, you could tell that he wasn’t expecting any tonight, but he got up to welcome whoever was waiting outside anyway.

You heard your father’s booming voice from the dining table and you and your mother exchanged glances. You instantly followed him to see what was going on.

“You dare to show your face here after I’ve warned you of staying away from my family!”

And you stopped in your tracks when you saw James standing next to an older man facing your father. “James…”

“Y/N…” Without a second thought, you ran to him, wanting to hold and kiss him more than anything. For a second there, you forgot everyone was watching. But your father caught you and your guard held you back.

“Let go of me!”

“Now I want you out of my land and never to return or there will be a huge consequence.”

“I am here to make peace. My son told me about your daughter and I wasn’t keen on the idea of uniting our families but I am willing to try for him. Let’s end this bad blood between us, Robert. We shall not let our children suffer simply because of our pride.”

“I’d rather die than to let my your bastard of a son touch my daughter.” Your father gritted through his teeth. “Now leave or you will be removed forcibly.” Your father turned around but before he could close the door on them, James stopped him.

“I’m in love with your daughter, Sir Y/L/N.” That stopped your father in his tracks. “I have met many women yet, I have never felt this way for anyone,” James gazed into your eyes.

“In the last two weeks I have known her, I have learned that you raised a bright, courageous, loving, beautiful woman,” he paused, as if he was trying to show you the sincerity behind his confession. You didn’t realize tears have welled up in your eyes.

“From the very moment I saw her in that ball, I knew I’d live in regret if I didn’t catch her name before I leave. Your daughter stood out like a diamond in the dirt and it was an honour to held her hand while dancing. It was an honour knowing her. And it would be an honour to have her by my side until the end of my life,” He paused. “I know I am undeserving of your daughter but I will never let her doubt that she is loved and she deserves everything good I could offer.”

A single tear cascaded down your cheek. “So, Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?” He moved closer toward you, and your father was left speechless by James’ words. James got down on his knee and presented a velvet box with a gleaming diamond ring inside it.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes, thousand times yes.” James put the ring on your finger and you jumped on him and he caught you. For a minute there you forgot that there was still an unresolved animosity between your families, though your mother had a huge smile on her face and she nearly teared up at the sight of her daughter being so in love. George Barnes was smiling ear to ear as well, looking so proud of his son.

He thought that with his son’s reputation of being a rake, he would never settle. But he finally found his match and though he didn’t take it so pleasantly at first, James talked it out to him and George learned to be happy and accept it. George recalled the moment he fell in love with Winnifred, she didn’t come from an aristocratic family. She was merely a singer and his family didn’t approve but he opposed them and married her anyway until they had James. George also hoped that their marriage could end the bad blood between him and your father.

James set you back on the floor and you looked at your father. “Father? I love him and I may never fall in love again. Please, let me be with him. If you love me, you won’t stand in the way.” Your father was baffled, but the resentment in his eyes had softened. “Do you really want to spend the rest of your life waiting for me to find someone to marry and keeping enemies? I’m marrying him whether you approve or not. But I wouldn’t want you to be absent from my wedding.”

Your father sighed, “are you happy?”

“More than I have ever been.”

“Then I suppose, I shall put my pride aside for the one person I love the most in the world.”

“Thank you, father.” You hugged him and he kissed the top of your head.

You grew up being cynical toward fairytales, but for once in your life, you believe that you have found your fairytale ending.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes medieval au #bucky barnes royal au #bucky barnes royalty au #prince!bucky #romeo and juliet au #romeo & juliet

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softrozene · 3 years

Text

Sacrifice

@luna-hatake-uchiha requested: Hi. First of all, I want to wish you a happy new year. I read on Archiv of your Own that your request box is open... Soo could you please write a scenario where Law and his s/o are having a daughter and after a few years their daughter shows symptoms of the Amber Lead poisoning? And Law doing everything he can to heal her? (This is my first time doing this and I'm sorry if I sound rude somewhere.)

You were perfect in requesting Hon! Apologies for how late this is (I hope you had a good start to the new year!) but omg- That would be so heartbreaking ahhhhh. This came out pretty angsty but I tried to give it a neutral ending! I hope you enjoy it!

This turned into a one-shot oops.

Trafalgar Law x Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff/Angst- Spoilers of Law’s past. Can be considered a good or sad ending! Uhh Post-Pirating au? Law is retired from the pirate life lol, grammar

*Instead of 2nd pov I wrote this in 3rd pov for a change. : )

Also, yeah- I am pretty sure that Law would be able to cure his daughter of this because of his Devil Fruit and it’s “Miraculous” abilities but I went for the more angsty side, so I made it more complicated than that lol. I just love the idea of protective dad Law.

Words: 1983

The smell of coffee is usually a scent that brings the pregnant woman, (Name), a comfort since that means she can sneak a sip from her husband’s cup but right now… It is too early for coffee. He should be in bed with her, but the sun is not even up. With exhaustion evident on her face and the goal of finding Law and bringing him back to bed- She regretfully leaves the warm bed.

The house they have is a decent-sized home. Two bedrooms- The one they share together, and the guest room, a nursery that Law and (Name) have been working on and of course, Law’s office to store his medical books and journals, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a small cozy living room.

It felt like bliss living here.

Even more so with the bun in the oven. Law was in shock when he realized his wife was indeed pregnant, but it made the joy of retiring from piracy to enjoy a domestic life with her all the better. It most certainly eases his thoughts that most of his crew also retired here on this peaceful island.

Things could not have turned out more perfect for them.

Though… That was about to change as (Name) walks into his office- The light from it leaking out into the hallway. The smell of coffee gets stronger, and she smiles upon seeing how serious her husband is looking through some of his books.

No matter what he is doing, he looks so handsome.

Something he got used to arguing with her saying how she is crazy for thinking his eyebags are attractive. It was all jokes sure but (Name) was serious and proud to say he was handsome. His personality definitely that too. She can rely on him and him on her and that is something hard to do for the both of them.

Law is too in the zone in the book so (Name) uses that to her advantage. She sneaks up behind him and is quick to wrap her arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his cheek. His tense body immediately relaxes within her hold and he turns to offer her a tired smile.

“Did I wake you?” He asks softly as a hand comes up to meet her swollen belly.

(Name) laughs and holds his hand to her stomach. “Yes, but it is fine. I just got cold without your warmth. That and the beautiful smell of coffee. I think our daughter wants a sip.”

Law’s face turns into a scolding one immediately making his wife laugh as she continues, “Hey! You said I could have some in moderation! I think a tiny sip is less than that and yes, I know we do not know if our child will be a girl, but I just have this feeling…”

Law sighs but… Then smiles as he just shakes his head. He gives in knowing full well that his wife’s point was mainly about getting her daily sip of coffee in. He pulls away from his wife’s loving hand to reach for his mug of coffee. Being careful of the still-hot contents in it. He hands it to her and watches as she smiles and takes her desired sip. Handing it back to him he puts it on the desk and immediately pulls the pregnant woman onto his lap earning himself a giggle from her.

“Anyway, what are you doing up, my love?” She asks as she nuzzles her face into his neck the best she can.

At this question, Law turns tense. His sigh comes out stressed as he hesitates to speak. He thinks it would be better now to share his concern, especially when it is such a valid one.

“I… Fear that our child may get Amber Lead Poising. It is a hereditary disease,” Law mumbles.

This makes his wife freeze up. She knows his pain with that. The fear of it. He must have been bottling it up until he just could not ignore the possibility. With a gentle sigh, (Name) places a tender kiss on his lips, momentarily distracting him from his painful thoughts.

“My love, please come back to bed. After a few more hours of sleep, you can come back in here… And no matter what happens with our child- I have faith that you will find a cure. Until then, try not to worry. Otherwise, you are going to send yourself into an early grave by putting all that stress on your heart,” (Name) says as a yawn escapes her.

Law can only smile now. She truly is his best friend. His other half. She knows how to ease his worries even if it is temporarily, but what she said… It also rings true. He vows to find a cure in the case that their child will get that stupid disease.

~*~

The rest of the pregnancy goes by quickly and as soon as the baby, a girl, is in their arms it feels like total bliss for them. It is everything they never imagined having but makes their lives totally complete. Her middle name is in memory of Law’s younger sister. The full name being Trafalgar Lami Lin.

“She looks like you already- Look at those wide (eye color) eyes,” Law says with a gentle smile on his face.

He never imagined he could allow himself to be this soft and vulnerable. To share it with (Name). His wife laughs as she leans against his arm as he holds their little girl in his arms. Both (Name) and the baby are exhausted.

“Thank the gods she does not look like a mini sleep-deprived version of you. Well, if she takes my looks, I only hope she gains your intelligence,” (Name) jokes.

Law smirks at the playful tone and as if he remembers sighs- “I forgot to tell you. What is left of the crew will be coming here tomorrow. They were even more excited than us combined.”

“Looks like we got a couple of free babysitters… I trust Bepo with her. Sachi and Penguin might drop her.”

Law sweatdrops at this and wishes he could argue back but… His wife is right. He makes a mental note to have Bepo be their go-to babysitter.

~*~

Days pass by fast when you feel joy and they pass even faster when you feel like the world suddenly has a time limit on it. Law promised his wife to enjoy the days with them and he did, but he spent countless nights trying to find a cure- Getting so close to finding something that can help in the case his daughter gets the disease.

The baby grows quickly into a child, but it was the age of five when Law realizes that she has those stupid white spots on her skin- Meaning she has Amber Lead Poisoning. He felt like he was suffocating. She was not supposed to get it. He paid his dues during his piracy. His loss of Rosinante. His loss of family. He paid whatever the hell life thought he owed it, so she was supposed to be in the clear.

She was not.

He knows that is just wishful thinking. His whole family got it and Amber Lead is a hereditary disease. He was supposed to die at age thirteen. He did not all because he ate a fruit thanks to Rosinante. Just because he ate a fruit and cured himself does not mean he could actually cure Amber Lead with his fruit.

He could try and cure Lin as he did himself. Using the fruit’s "miraculous" properties which is having the ability to cure any kind of illness. However, this requires some extent of medical knowledge in order to be utilized effectively. He has that knowledge, but he does not have the full knowledge to cure others of this disease. He cured himself because he ate the fruit.

He needs a real cure. One to ensure that this disease does not follow into the genes anymore. He wants to ensure that if his daughter wants a family of her own- If she makes it to that age, he wants her to be able to not have to think about her own children having the disease.

He estimated she would only have a few years left. Until those white spots grow big enough to almost devour her. His blissful life turned into a nightmare for him. He always could not stand the thought of losing (Name) and the feeling was deeper with their daughter Lin since she was only a child.

She deserved a long and happy life.

He was going to sacrifice his time to ensure that.

It was during one of these nights when he cursed out life for being cruel that Law had an epiphany. Something in his research began to make sense for a cure- It was uncertain, but it was something and it was this night that his wife was woken up when he got up out of excitement to begin writing on a large board he put together. He accidentally dropped a book nothing too alarming, so he was surprised to see his wife checking on him.

Her large eyes watching the board- Trying to decipher his valid obsession of finding a cure. He could not contain his excitement as he pauses briefly to place a kiss on his wife’s lips.

“Whoa. You are super cheery for once,” She notes.

Law can only smile. “I think I am close to finding something. A cure. It would still be a while before I have something solid but… This is it. It has to be it.”

Hearing this fills (Name) up with excitement too. Only to see Law experience a crash. He is at his limit for tonight since he spent all day shopping with his daughter and wife to go to Penguin’s birthday (definitely an alcohol) party. He should be totally spent after today.

(Name) only hugs him feeling his body immediately relax into hers and he freezes upon remembering something. Pulling back slightly he looks at his darling wife and places a kiss on her forehead.

“Hey… I do need to tell you something. If this lead goes nowhere. I am going to use the Ope Ope no Mi fruit on her,” Law states.

(Name) freezes in his grip. Understanding these words. That means he is going to sacrifice his life for their daughter if he can’t make a cure. He is willing to use the fruit’s powers for what others have wanted it for. Immortality.

He is willing to grant their daughter “eternal youth” if it means she can experience life without the disease affecting her.

His mind is dead set on that backup plan so all (Name) Can do is nod. He smiles at her though as to reassure her.

“That is just a backup plan. We still have a few years left but as of now, I do believe it is time to get in contact with that crazy pirate- Luffy. I need him to bring Chopper here. With Chopper’s help this should work,” Law murmurs more to himself.

He is exhausted.

“Alright Love- I will go get in contact with them. I will send a letter. Though… I think you should head to bed. You did well. You are such a good father,” (Name) murmurs.

Hearing this… Law really feels like he might break. All of these restless nights are going to be worth something. He is going to do what his dad almost did for his younger sister. He will cure his daughter and be able to watch her grow.

“Law… You are getting my hair wet with your snot and tears.”

“Shut up,” He mumbles as he holds his partner.

She laughs and the two stay like that- Content that there is hope for their daughter.

#my writing #one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #fanfiction #one shot #one piece fanfiction #one piece one shot #fluff #angst #female reader #mentions of pregnancy

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hobidreams · 4 years

Text

october 1865.

you never thought you would smile like this again, but here you are. and here he is, by your side.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: fluffy fluff words: 5k 😳 contains: historical au, chuseok date!, eunuch kim!, so much cuteness, guest appearances hehe

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 13. start from the beginning?

“How do I look, mom?”

Standing before the mirror, you nervously smooth the delicate sash of the pink hanbok for the hundredth time, careful not to lean down too much and dislocate the floral ornament carefully pinned in your hair. There have been doves fluttering in your stomach the entire afternoon; you don’t know if you tied this correctly or if your hair is braided right, and you can’t ask any of your nearby neighbours for fear of discovery that your plans are different than theirs tonight. Mother would know exactly what to do and what to say to make you feel at ease. But want you want most is for her to see you all grown up like this. Finally able to properly wear the outfit you coveted for so long, and hold your head high in it too. You think she’d be proud.

You manage a smile as you run your fingertips along the edge of the ornament, a gift from mother on your twelfth birthday. It’s almost been a year since her passing, and you still miss her more than anything. But you also know now that the best way to honor her is to be happy, and to carry on her work, her legacy. So far, you’ve begrudgingly won a few scraps of respect from the male physicians, and it’s a start.

“I hope you’re doing well up there,” you say, letting your gaze drift out the window to the beaming Chuseok moon, hoping the wind might take your words and your love all the way to her.

“Hey. Are you ready?”

You are grateful that the door is closed because the way you snap to attention is frankly embarrassing.

"Yes, just a moment, seja-jeonha!" you say in a nervous half-whisper, half-exclamation as you allow yourself one last glimpse at the mirror. This is going to be fine. You're going to be relaxed and have a good time, even if you are sneaking out of the palace with arguably the second most important person in the country.

Putting on a smile that hopefully looks effortless, you pull open the door and practically gasp out loud at the sight of him.

It's perhaps the first time you've seen the prince out of the traditional royal robes. It's an excellent disguise -- the clothes of a young yangban lord, done in a deep-dyed scarlet that contrasts his usual navy. A cinched belt fastens the coat deftly, juxtaposed against the dragging, silky sleeves beside it, making him seem somehow more elegant in the way he holds himself. Completing the look is the gat that sits atop his head, its wide-brim tilted low so it covers enough of his face that he wouldn't be recognized, at least not to anyone who spared him a passing glance (not that they would know his face to begin with). The gat strap hangs low in front of his chest, the intricate beading betraying just how truly expensive this hat is. He is, in short, unfairly, unfathomably handsome.

You are forever grateful that you chose to dress up; if nothing else, at least you will look suitable standing next to him, at least for a night.

If Yoongi thinks anything of your outfit, he covers it with a slight cough, his cheeks faintly reddened from the cold. “Good. Come on. We have to be quick.”

You nod, following him out into the night air.

With swift steps and strategic maneuvering, it doesn't take you long to reach one side of the imposing wall that separates palace from town. There, you find a familiar face waiting for you.

"Good evening," Eunuch Kim says with a bow. He’s wearing a different, muted set of green robes and donned a gat as well. “As you instructed, the select guards have been informed to keep quiet, and all else has been taken care of. Let us go."

He likely insisted on coming, as one of the caveats for your illicit excursion. You don't mind, since this isn't the first time he's had to do such a thing, always so worried about his rebellious, stubborn charge. You watch as he lets Yoongi go past first, then gestures for you.

“You look lovely tonight, uinyeo-nim,” Eunuch Kim says, and you share a small, furtive smile that feels like he’s cheering you on. Then you step past the official gates, feeling so acutely the pattering of your pulse because this is truly happening.

For the first handful of minutes, you remain both terrified and anticipatory that you'll be snatched back by the royal guard and accused of kidnapping the prince or something equally ridiculous as being on an actual outing with him. Beside you, Yoongi doesn't seem to have these worries as he walks by your side (though still a respectful, proper distance apart), letting his arms slightly swing while he kicks up dust with his slippers.

Just as you're wondering if you're being an awful companion and not making conversation, he says, "haven't been outside the palace in ages."

“Me too. It's… a little strange, having all this freedom to roam and do what I want. Even if it’s just for a night.”

“I'll say.” Yoongi makes an exasperated noise. “There are too many rules in that place. Can't do anything without being watched.” He gives a minor tilt of his head towards your chaperone, though it's more a tease rather than actually spiteful. Eunuch Kim, for his own sake, pretends not to see or hear the jab.

You smile. “It's for your safety, seja-jeonha.”

“So they say. But they'll regret it when I die of boredom first.”

He rolls his eyes and you laugh, and the palpitations in your stomach ease just like that.

As you draw ever closer to the town, the harmony of string and wind instruments crescendo and build with the jubilant chatter of the townspeople. It's getting to you in the best of ways; you're becoming so elated at the prospect of the festivities that you start to speed up, soon practically rushing towards the town square at a pace that forces Yoongi and Eunuch Kim to run to follow.

"…Wow!"

At the base of the square, your entire face brightens with the wondrous sight unfolding before you. There are people everywhere. Some down celebratory alcohol, others munch on sweet treats, and more still singing along to the traditional folk tunes with robust vibrato, regardless of whether they’re on key or not. You can’t find a single frown amidst all this mirth, and that’s just the way you like it. It’s overwhelming: the sights, the sounds, and the mouthwatering smell of something delicious and fried.

Yoongi eventually jogs up to you, forced to inhale a few quick breaths to refill his lungs. “Are you that hungry?” He asks, the corner of his lips curling up.

Oh god, you just made the prince run.

"No...! Not at all! I’m deeply sorry, seja-jeonha. I got too excited, didn’t I?”

“Not at all. Shall we get something to eat first then?”

You avert your eyes, though you really haven’t had dinner tonight. “No, please. Let us do what you would like.”

Yoongi grins as if it is of no consequence. “What I want? Well, then, I want to go this way.”

As is his habit, he begins to walk in the direction he chooses without notice, though this time he has to weave through the people that crowd the area. His disguise is working well; he is largely ignored as he passes, leading your little group all the way to an open alleyway where stalls line each side, lit up with lamps and vividly colored banners.

A twinge of sadness squeezes your heart as you look at the spread. You faintly remember a decade ago that there used to be a full row of assorted delicacies and sweets for purchase; now it’s mostly merchants with tables of books and hairpins, food becoming too scarce for most to sell with the grain shortage, even if they need the funds. Still, everyone seems to be doing their best with what they’ve got.

Sudden shouts ring out right beside you, nearly blowing your ears out with how loud they are.

“Jeon! Freshly fried shrimp and fish jeon for sale!”

“Hot, hot, hot nokdujeon over here!”

“Gaah!” you exclaim, eyes wide. You wouldn’t be surprised if the monks up the mountain heard about this jeon! When you turn to see who the hell is making all this commotion, you’re met with the scowling faces of two men, glaring furiously at each other in-between tending to their sizzling pans in adjacent stalls. The bearded one looks about seconds away from giving the other younger man a good smack with the fishing rod leaning on the wall behind him.

Said younger man gives a snicker. “No wonder my sales are beating yours. Why would anyone want your shrimp when they could have my delicious mung beans?”

“Say that again, if you dare.”

“Why would anyone want your gross shrimp when—”

“Yah, you can take your beans and shove them right up your nasty sokgot—”

“Excuse me,” Yoongi cuts in between them with a smirk. “I’ll take two orders of each. Preferably not ones shoved anywhere.” He drops coins on both counters, more than enough to cover the food.

“Ahem.” They levy two very similar glares at each other before beginning to package the orders for consumption, switching to polite honorifics in the process. “Yes, sir!”

“Right away, sir!”

They work deftly, obviously very practiced in the art. Neither of them drop so much as a crumb, even though they seem to be racing.

"My lord, here is your order," Fish Jeon says, only to be roughly shoved aside by Mung Bean in a rush to hand over the goods first.

"Please enjoy, sir!"

Yoongi takes the round and crispy nokdujeon, all wrapped in parchment paper. His amused chuckling makes you feel a little warmer, a bit fonder than you should. Especially when he then promptly passes the package to you.

"Seja--" You cut yourself off before you make the mistake. "Um. My lord, this is for me?" You ask, even though you're practically drooling at the scent.

"Did I give it to someone else? Eat."

He turns, hands off one of the assorted jeon plates to Eunuch Kim behind him, who accepts gratefully with a bow.

You, and your stomach, don’t need to be told twice. After blowing on the golden batter, you take a generous bite, accidentally smearing a bit of it on your cheek in the process but god, it tastes incredible. Mung Bean may be loud, but he clearly doesn’t tell lies. You have to hold yourself back from inhaling the pancake whole, instead savoring each nibble on your tongue.

“Come on. Keep going before the crowd grows,” Yoongi says, urging you forward with a jerk of his chin before biting into his own pancake. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile this much before, and it’s with slight regret that you tear your eyes away to look where you’re going.

From behind you as you start to walk, you hear, "Jungkook, you brat, shouldn't you be more respectful to your elders?!"

"Whatever, hyungnim. Nokdujeon! Better-than-his-fish nokdujeon!"

There is a very distinctive thwap as you move into the merchant area.

The first booth you come to belongs to a woman that you recognize, selling the latest romance novel by a rising author, Taehyun. She recognizes you too, waving you over with enthusiasm. “Oh, hello! We just received this last week. A tale of forbidden love between a yangban lady and a fisherman! Full of tension and…” she lowers her voice conspiratorially, “more than a few kisses!”

“Do people actually read things like this?” Yoongi mutters, staring at the covers.

“Huh? No! Well, hah, I certainly don’t!” You hope your face looks plausibly innocent. “But thank you,” you turn to say to the woman before hurriedly walking on before she can expose your ruse. The prince doesn’t need to know about the precious books you keep in a secret stash in your room. A lady can’t only study all day, right?

(You make a mental note to come back to town and pick up a copy later.)

Down the row you go, reluctantly finishing off the pancake on the way. Yoongi hands you the entire second plate of jeon not long after. “I don’t want it,” he says, watching you brighten at the prospect of more food. He does end up stealing a piece of shrimp from within your grasp later, throwing it casually into his mouth before you can even react.

The next display to really catch your attention is one laden with delicately handcrafted ornaments, pins, bracelets, and perfumes. “Wow!” You gush, leaning over the table as you try to calculate how much money you brought with you because you want it all, even though you rarely have the occasion to dress up. Still, you want at least something as a keepsake, to hold your memories of this precious day. Yoongi stops and waits for you; you forget it should be the other way around.

“Oh my, Eun-a-ssi? Is that you?”

What? You look up, breath hitched.

“Oh, my apologies.” The woman behind the booth is elderly, her hair grey, eyes wrinkling warmly as she smiles. “My mistake. My eyesight isn’t what it was. You… look a lot like a woman I know. I haven’t seen her in a long time now.”

“Eun-a… Eun-a was my mother,” you murmur. “She passed away last year.”

The woman’s eyes widen as she clutches her hands to her chest. “She did? Oh… Oh no… I’m so sorry, child. Then you must be—” She thinks for a moment, then says your name. You nod, and a small smile slips back on her lips, though now tinged with sadness. You know the feeling. “My name is Hong Sook-ja. I used to live right here in town with Eun-a-ssi, until all those years ago when she moved into the palace and I moved to the countryside. Your mother used to bring you into town for Chuseok and we got to know each other then. These days, I just come back every once in a while to see my granddaughter and great-grandson, so I must have missed the news.”

“It’s alright, Sook-ja-ssi. Mom lived well,” you say, ignoring the twinge in your chest. Any glimpse into mother’s life before she had you fills you with a certain homesickness, alongside the joy. “She was happy. And I’m sure she’d be happy to know that you are living well too.”

“Good. Good. She deserved happiness.” Sook-ja sighs, letting the information sink in. Only after one last kind smile does she finally seem to notice Yoongi standing beside you, trying his best not to intrude. “Now, is this handsome lord your companion? Perhaps your betrothed?”

“N-No!” You immediately cry, not wanting Yoongi to misunderstand, to think that his rank could be dragged so low as to match yours. Sook-ja should know that these class lines, even between yangban and cheonmin, are not so easily crossed. But the mischief in her gaze seems to suggest she doesn’t care much about that. “No, we’re just out. Together.”

“Yes. Out. Together,” Yoongi echoes, just as the door behind Sook-ja starts to open with a noisy creak.

A young woman dressed in a pretty hanbok steps out of the house with a smile. “Grandma, are you interrogating the customers again… Oh, hey! Kim-nim!”

All three of you turn your heads to look at Eunuch Kim, who couldn’t look more surprised at the woman’s appearance if Yoongi started growing a tail. He flusters, stepping back as if that could protect him. “Ahh, Chun-ja-ssi…! You’re, um, here! And you look, wow—” He almost drops the last piece of jeon altogether. “I was not expecting you to be here— I mean, not that I was thinking of you being elsewhere— Uh, not that I think about you that often—”

“This is my granddaughter,” Sook-ja explains, saving the poor man. “Chun-ja. She and her son, Han-jae, are the best parts of my life. She’s so clever, she can even read and write, you know!”

Chun-ja flushes under the praise. “My grandmother likes to exaggerate. But it’s very nice to meet you both,” she says, bowing in greeting as Sook-ja excuses herself, exiting through the same door.

Yoongi is once again smirking. “So, how do you know Kim-nim?”

“Mm, it was about two years ago? I was helping one of the merchants bring grain into the palace. Kim-nim saw me struggling with a particularly heavy pot, and so he helped me carry it. Since then, we chat for a bit every time he’s in town on an errand, and exchange the occasional letter! When he remembers to write me back, that is. Though his letters are often so lovely that I don’t mind the wait.” Chun-ja offers Eunuch Kim a grin that he can’t quite return with ease.

Yoongi has to work hard to keep his face relatively straight as he says, “hmm. So that is why he’s always disappearing from the palace with those weak excuses? And using all that ink? He always said it was for something important.”

“Seja— My lord! Please!” Spare me, Eunuch Kim’s wilted expression pleads. You have to hide your amusement behind a hand, lest you burst out with inappropriate laughter.

Once again, Sook-ja comes to the rescue as she shuffles out of the house, holding two familiar objects that make your eyes light up. “You’re both in luck. I knew we had a few extra this year, even after that rascal great-grandson of mine ruined a few with his roughhousing. He’d still be causing trouble if he weren’t off with his friends right now.” Sook-ja sighs. “I wish my grandson were still around to scold him. But anyway, I’d be happy if you’d take them!”

“Wish lanterns!” You exclaim, taking the lightly orange cloth contraption with glee. “Oh, I haven’t seen these up close in years.” The palace celebrations don’t usually include them, leaving you to try and catch the sight of the tiny, almost imperceptible lights floating into the sky from so far away. You’ve always loved the thought of the lamps surging towards that boundless sky, endlessly drifting, free to follow the wind.

“Do you know how to start it?” Chun-ja asks. You shake your head. “Let me show you.”

As Chun-ja explains the mechanisms behind the lantern to you, Yoongi reaches for his coin pouch. “We must give you something in exchange.” Yoongi produces several mun coins that are at least five times the lanterns’ actual worth, and tries to give them to her.

Sook-ja pushes his hand away. “No, no, it’s a present!”

“I insist.” Yoongi tries again, only to be rejected, again. He wonders if she would be so obstinate if she knew who he really was. (Probably yes.) “Alright… What if I take another item from the table to make it a fair trade?”

“Stubborn, aren’t you?” Sook-ja bursts into laughter, her belly shaking beneath her skirt. “Fine. Take your pick!”

Yoongi barely scans the accessories; he snatches up the bracelet you were looking at before and tucks it into his jeogori with a secret smile. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Sook-ja says warmly, before her smile dips down conspiratorially. “It’ll look good on her. Anyway, have fun! Enjoy the night.”

“I’m sure we will.” Yoongi shifts his attention to you. “All done? Then let’s keep going.”

“Yes, my lord,” you say, happily clutching the lanterns. “Thank you so much, Sook-ja-ssi. Chun-ja-ssi.”

Chun-ja beams. “Our pleasure. I hope we see each other in town again soon. And Kim-nim, don’t forget your letters!”

“Yes, of course, I will. I mean, I won’t. Forget, that is. Uh, I’ll write. G-Goodbye.” Eunuch Kim bows twice in quick succession before hurrying after you two, trying his best not to look back for one last glimpse of what he’s left behind.

You continue your wandering through the rest of the festival, marveling at the sheer strength of the wrestlers and then the elegance of the dancers. Absently, you wish this atmosphere could stay in place forever, and that everything else could just vanish into the smoke and ash of the burning campfires, but you know too well that life is a balance. And right now, with the prince’s silky sleeve pressed almost right against yours as you walk past a chorus of singers, the scales have temporarily tipped in your favor.

Eventually, all your wandering takes you to almost the outskirts of town, to an area you visited before with your mother. It takes some squinting but you eventually recognize the obscure path among the bushes, and immediately gesture towards it. The prince has shown you so much tonight; you want to return the favor, especially since his steps are beginning to slow. “This way! Please come with me.”

“Are you sure this is safe?” Eunuch Kim calls. “We cannot let anything happen to our lord!”

You start down the road. “Completely!”

It’s been so long since you last took these steps, but it all comes back to you effortlessly as you take the lead. It takes a few minutes, just a few, to reach the clearing you seek. And it is exactly as you remember it — the nature growing with a wild, greedy virility, the oddly shaped rocks studded in the dirt, and the reflecting pond, its water rippling from the drag of the autumn wind across its surface. There is no one here, which is exactly how you expected it to be.

“Here it is, seja-jeonha.”

“It’s quiet,” he marvels, and steps further in. He stops at the edge of the pond, staring not down but out, at the reflection of the full moon in its depths.

“I thought that you could use a change of environment. You look a little tired.” At this point, you know him well enough to tell that the neutrality of his expression shows subtle signs of weariness.

“The noise. It can be overwhelming at times. I’m not used to so much of it, usually. But I like the songs.”

You nod. “I understand perfectly! That’s why mom took me here in the first place. It used to be her secret spot when she was growing up.”

His arms shift, sleeves brushing the sides of his jacket. “She was a kind woman.”

“Very much so.”

You feel the breeze swiftly pick up, weaving through the strands of hair that have come loose from your up-do. The curling leaves around you rustle with welcome relief, bathing in the atmosphere, the rare tranquility of such a beautiful evening.

“Shall we float the lanterns?” You suggest after a spell.

“Sure.” Yoongi indicates for Eunuch Kim to bring the lanterns over. “Matches?”

Eunuch Kim fumbles in his robes for a few seconds before he realizes with a start that they’re just not there. “My apologies!” He bows. “I must have left the matches back at the booth!”

Yoongi sighs. “Too distracted by Chun-ja-ssi, hm?” Eunuch Kim flushes. “Go get them then.”

“But to leave you alone—”

“I’m not alone.”

Eunuch Kim looks between the prince and you a few times in rapid succession, his thoughts evidently as wavering as his eyes. He finally lands back on the prince.

“…Understood. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

You both watch him go, the quick pace of his steps no doubt brought on by anticipation.

“I can’t believe he’s been involved with a woman without any of us knowing,” Yoongi says, his tone betraying his real fondness.

“It’s sweet.” You smile, wondering if Eunuch Kim will ever manage to stop the stuttering long enough to actually tell Chun-ja how much he appears to like her. He is a mature man with most aspects, but apparently you’ve happened upon his one sole weakness. “But… He’ll probably be gone for a while. We won’t be able to light the lanterns.”

“I thought as much when I told him to go.”

“Well, it’s nice to take a break.” You don’t mention that you’d probably go anywhere and do anything, even if it’s just sitting around waiting, if it was with him. Instead, you look down at the pond, the water stilling enough for there to be a slightly blurry reflection of yourself awaiting below. “Hm. The water’s gotten a bit murkier these years. It used to be clear enough to see perfectly in. But it’s not so bad! Come look!”

Yoongi does. His pale face, all dark eyes and that rough, obvious scar, appears beside yours.

You fully intended on saying something else but that thought falls clear out of your mind when you realize just how undone your hair has become in all the bustle of the celebrations. I look like a mess, you think in a panic, hurriedly feeling for the strands to tuck them back. You’ve only managed to get one side fixed when a rock comes flying out of nowhere, plunging into the water with a noisy thunk! It disturbs both your reflections and wrecks the temporary mirror as cold droplets splash back.

“Hey!” You cry, leaping back from the pond to Yoongi’s grin. “What was that for?”

He has the audacity to look innocent. “Nothing. Haven’t you ever skipped rocks?”

“That was more a throw than a skip,” you grumble, checking your skirt as you hope it didn’t take too much damage. Thankfully, only a few drops actually landed on the precious fabric. “But yes, I love skipping rocks. Properly.”

“Here then.” You open your palm at Yoongi’s behest and he drops a stone into it. “Show me how to do it properly.”

You accept the challenge and plant one foot behind you, staring down a point in the middle of the pond, angling your arm as you position the stone in your hand. You most definitely look the part of an expert as you let the thing go. It shoots towards the water at a rapid speed, whooshing right through the air like a tiny bullet as it hits the surface at the angle and then proceeds to instantly sink to the bottom like, well, a rock.

Yoongi’s raucous laugh is no less than a roar, his entire body wracked with the exertion as he practically doubles over. He only gets louder when he sees the embarrassment on your face, the absolute mortification.

“I never said I was good at it…” You mutter, deciding to try a second time. This rock plummets right down to the watery floor too, refusing to save you even a little bit of face.

Yoongi’s settled into an infuriatingly smug look. “So, you can’t actually skip a stone. But you still love doing it?”

“That’s right.”

“Why?” He effortlessly makes a single skip before his pebble capsizes.

“I have a theory.” His curiosity piques at that; a turn of his head. “That it’s not up to us if the rock skips or not. Even if we have all the technique in the world,” you pick up another stone, “if the wind just happens to blow a bit harder, or if a fish from beneath disturbs the rhythm, or even if the tides themselves decide to surge up… It’ll fail. Or only skip the once. But—” You clutch the rock tightly in your hand and feel the weight, the cold, steady shape. “But if we wish hard enough. If we just keep trying every time we have the opportunity again and again…” This time, your rock is truly flying as it smacks the rippling water and skips a miraculous four times before finally dropping into the deep. “The universe might just make it happen.”

“…Or you need more practice.”

You shrug. “I’d rather believe that there are some things in the world simply out of our control. But that we can still hope for those things to shift, to change for the better if we never give up.”

Yoongi falls silent, staring at the ground through his downcast, delicate eyelashes. Maybe you said too much, you think. You didn’t mean to ramble. It’s just something you’ve thought about often. For these past months, it’s been the only thing keeping you going on the hardest, loneliest days. But you’ve made it. You’re still here. And by some miracle, he’s right here with you.

(You think maybe this is happiness.)

“I like that.” His eyes flick up to meet yours with an intensity that says he’s listening. He’s contemplating your thoughts and taking you seriously. He rubs the back of his neck, scratching at an invisible mark. “It’s a good theory. I… I understand it.”

There’s a weight to those words that you feel in the pit of your heart. A pull that draws you to him like the reckless tides towards his moon – a gravitational longing to know what truth vibrates beneath. You wonder if he feels it too.

“Seja-jeonha, I’ve returned!”

Eunuch Kim comes rushing back into the clearing, wielding the packet of matches. You both turn to him, letting the moment be whisked away with the wind whipping past the emerald robes, though you keep it safe in your memories. The eunuch has brought ink and brushes too, for you to write your wishes on the fabric itself. Increases the chance of their coming true, or so the legend goes.

After a few swishes of the brush, it doesn’t take long to light the fires. Your darkly inked characters are lit up by the flame, flickering staunchly beneath the opening as you each clutch a lantern in your hands and look at each other.

“What are you wishing for?” Yoongi asks.

“For more jeon,” is your reply, followed by an easy laugh that he echoes.

Then you let the lantern go as he does — two firebirds soaring side by side into the twinkling night.

a/n: *cue Can You Feel the Love Tonight playing softly in the background even though it hasn’t been invented yet*. hope you’re all enjoying sweet Yoon 🥺

#ficswithluv #bts fluff #bts imagines #yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #min yoongi #historical au #rain writes #moonlit throne #... this is still a drabble series i swear haha #can you spot the members? 🤭

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lomlmarvel · 3 years

Text

As The World Caves In (Fred Weasley x fem!reader)

Summary: Song imagine based on “As The World Caves In” by Matt Maltese. We see Fred and the Reader’s relationship timeline leading up to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Word count: 3k

A/N: so sorry in advance. it’s angsty but with some fluff¿

My feet are aching

And your back is pretty tired

And we've drunk a couple bottles, babe

And set our grief aside

Fred Weasley remembered the summer after the Triwizard Tournament. It was a dark time for everyone. The days felt cold and gloomy, with a presence of death. Cedric Diggory’s death had shaken the wizarding world. No one imagined that a teenage boy would die in the first reinstallment of the Triwizard Tournament. No one imagined that a boy would die.

Many didn’t believe Harry Potter when he stated that He-Who-Shall-Be-Named was back. They thought that Harry killed Cedric in the maze and lied to cover up his cruel act. But Fred knew Harry, and he believed him. He remembered when Harry apparated with Cedric at his feet during the last challenge of the tournament. Fred’s best friend, Y/N, who also happened to be Harry’s older sister, was the first to jump out of her seat when she saw the younger Potter on the arena floor.

He remembered her screams and sobs. Sometimes at night, when it got tranquil, the painful cries sounded through his mind. The rest of that day was a blur. He remembers dragging Y/N away from her boyfriend’s corpse. Not even his dad was able to pull her out, but somehow he and George managed to ease her back from Cedric. Cedric’s dad clutched onto his body as his cries were heard from the entire audience. Dumbledore made quick to move Cedric away from the students’ prying eyes. Still, once he was able to, everyone knew what had happened.

After the term ended, Arthur had invited Y/N to stay at the Burrow over the summer. She turned of age a few days into the summer and therefore wasn’t legally bound to stay with the Dursley’s. Harry admitted that it would be best for her to take some time for herself and enjoy a stay with the Weasley’s. He assured his older sister that he would be fine alone with them.

Ginny had generously agreed to share a room with Y/N, stating that she didn’t mind at all and had wanted to spend more time with the eldest Potter. Over summer, the Weasleys tried their best to console the young teenaged girl as she grieved her former boyfriend. After a while, Molly and Arthur began to notice a change in her attitude. She seemed like she was starting to move on, and she smiled on most days. The letters between her and Harry became less consistent as the younger boy stopped replying to every message she sent.

One night, after a big dinner with the Weasleys, Y/N and Fred hung out in the field to watch the sunset. Fred had stolen a Firewhiskey bottle from his parent’s secret cabinet, and the two shared the full bottle. Fred had laid on his back to look up at the sky as the girl in front of him sat with her legs crossed. She had managed to sneak back into the house and steal another bottle as she swung a big sip of it.

“Harry stopped replying to my letters, and I think I know why,” Y/N hiccupped. She was halfway done with the bottle, and her world was upside down.

“He feels alone, I know it. He just doesn’t wanna talk to me. He thinks he’s at fault for—for what happened to Cedric,” Y/N managed to let out. Fred leaned over to take the bottle from her hands. She pouted at the loss of alcohol at her reach and waited for Fred to finish taking a sip.

“I know you’re still not over it, Y/N. You can’t lie to me. I see right through you,” Fred admitted. He had watched as his best friend had put on a show for the rest of his family. She pretended that she was okay, that she had finally accepted his death, and was ready to move on. But he could read her like an open book.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Can we talk about the shop instead?” She asked her best friend. The one who had been in love with her since he stopped thinking girls were gross. The one who had put his feelings aside in fear that she didn’t feel the same way as him. He silently watched as she dated a Ravenclaw named Mark and then Cedric. The most painful part was watching her fall in love with Cedric when he was still in love with her.

The Papers say it’s doomsday.

The button has been pressed.

We’re gonna nuke each other up, boys.

‘Til old satan stands impressed.

Fred remembers that day he and George decided to drop out of Hogwarts and pull one last prank before they left in style.

Umbridge had made Hogwarts a living hell. She had taken away everything that made school fun. The last straw was when they caught a young boy outside of her office, crying in pain because of the new scars on his forearms.

That night the twins talked about leaving Hogwarts, something that had been on their minds since Umbridge began setting rules. The following morning he met with his best friend, privately telling her the new decision he and George had decided to take. They would plan their grand exit for three days and leave just before the weekend to catch their parents by surprise.

Y/N knew that the boys had a dream job of running their own joke shop. She knew they had the talent to run a shop successfully. Hogwarts hadn’t been the same upon her return. Even though a whole summer had passed, being back on school grounds brought back memories that she wanted to push away. She spent the first few weeks crying, unable to contain the emotions she felt while the memories flooded through her head.

When Fred had told her about their plan, she asked if she could tag along. She was willing to drop out of Hogwarts to help the boys start up their joke shop. She never really knew what she wanted to do after school, but now she knew she would never get the chance at a proper education with Umbridge in charge.

Their prank coincidentally fell on an OWL’s exam. As Fred and George lit up their fireworks and flew above castle grounds for the crowd of students, Y/N filled Harry in on the details. Saying goodbye before hopping on her broom and flying away. The magical fireworks canceled exams for that day, destroying all the encased rules that Umbridge had set. The Weasley Twins left in fashion and established a loyal customer group for their new business career.

And here it is, our final night alive.

You put your final suit on

I paint my fingernails.

Oh, we’re going out in style, babe.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron were on a mission to destroy all of Voldemort’s Horcruxes. The Order of the Phoenix, now joined by Fred, George, and Y/N, kept themselves on a low radar. After the attack at Fleur and Bill’s wedding, they needed to remain alive and safe. Fred and George continued to open their shop and operate like a regular business. The Ministry began to arrest Muggle-born witches and wizards, causing the wizarding world to fog up in the presence of an incoming war.

The death eaters and Ministry were hunting the Golden Trio, but no one knew where they were. Y/N laid awake one night, staring up at the ceiling as she thought about her younger brother out in the world fighting to end this war, as she laid in a warm bed in the arms of her boyfriend.

She thought about her journey to where she had gotten. After leaving Hogwarts with the twins, they were met with an angry and disappointing speech given by Molly to the three of them. After discussing the joke shop idea and showing Molly all the work and thought they had put into it, she knew her children were following their dreams, something she had taught all of them.

As the weeks went on, Y/N started to realize that she was beginning to feel better. Moving into a small flat with her best friends and starting up a new business gave her time to start doing something in her life. She no longer grieved Cedric. Before, he was a painful memory that she couldn’t even think about without crying herself to sleep. Instead, he became a memory that warmed Y/N’s heart whenever she thought about him. They had had a generous and loving relationship, and he was no longer in the world. It still hurt that he was gone. But the world kept spinning, and if she didn’t start to keep up, it would leave her behind.

After a few months, she began to notice something different about Fred. There had always been something she felt with the way he looked at her. It was like if he was feeling real joy whenever they shared looks. She had always felt the pit in her stomach whenever he put his arm around her or made a flirty comment, but that was Fred. He was casually flirty and had always been that way. But because he was her best friend, she had pushed away those feelings to the back of her mind. However, they lived and worked together, and the emotions she was feeling for Fred only began to grow.

She couldn’t remember how it had happened. But on a night out after drinking, the two laid in their living room and drunkenly confessed their feelings. Things led to another, and the two had finally kissed after years of being in love.

“Hey, is everything alright, love?” Fred’s groggy voice took Y/N out of her thoughts. She turned to see her sleepy boyfriend staring at her figure.

“Yeah, I’m just worried. Harry managed to send me a message with the fireplace the other day. I didn’t want to alert you or George, so I let your father know,” Fred sat up to comfort his girlfriend as the tears began to build up in her eyes. “They’re headed to the Lovegood’s for help. That’s all he was able to tell me. He just wanted any one of us to know.”

“They’ll be fine. Those three have managed to survive and defeat any obstacle set in their way. They’ll be alright,” Fred assured her. She nodded and leaned to rest on his chest as he comfortingly soothed her arm.

And everything’s on sale.

We creep up on extinction.

I pull your arms right in

I weep and say goodnight, love.

No one had heard anything from Harry, Hermione, or Ron. No one wanted to admit anything, but they hoped that they were all safe and alive. For the past two days, tensions had been high with the Ministry and the Order. A close watch was being held on previous order members.

Molly and Arthur advised Fred, George, and Y/N to close up the shop and travel to the Burrow to be with the family. They had rejected their offer, stating that during dark times was when they were needed the most. They had to keep hope running, even if it meant keeping their joke shop open. But as the days got colder and darker, fewer people traveled through Diagon Alley, forcing the three to close shop and travel back home.

Molly and Arthur received them with broad smiles and open arms. The relieved hugs that they offered were not hidden insight as their worries faltered. It was nice to see their sons’ faces again and welcome in Y/N once again. She, Harry, and Hermione had already become part of the family, and it was nice to know that they would have company for the next few days.

“Mum loved the Muggle cookbook you gifted her. She was showing me some of the recipes earlier; she was excited for me to try some of her favorite dishes,” Fred explained as the two got ready for bed.

During the rebuilding of the Burrow, Molly and Arthur had received tremendous help from Harry and Y/N. They offered to help rebuild the Burrow. Molly and Arthur had at first refused to take money from them. Still, the Potters agreed that they deserved so much more, and they were doing it to return the hospitality and love the Weasleys had given them for years.

The Burrow rooms were now more prominent; with only Ginny living at home, they didn’t need as many rooms to fit their children. This resulted in two guest rooms that were occupied by George and, in the other, Fred and Y/N.

“Yeah, we baked a recipe earlier for your dad, who loved it. If you and George would’ve finished clearing the garden from gnomes faster than you did, then you might’ve been able to try the dessert before your dad ate it all,” Y/N chuckled at the memory of Arthur not resisting the temptation to finish the entire batch of brownies.

The two settled into the bed and cuddled up against each other—the quiet of the night set in as the two laid wide awake.

“I love you; you know that, right?” Fred broke through the silence. His voice calmed Y/N down. She relaxed in his arms and nodded.

“I love you, too,” she replied, pressing a kiss to his chest.

“I know you’ve been feeling anxious lately, and I just wanted to let you know that I’ll keep you safe,” Fred whispered. Y/N felt his grip on her tighten a bit before he relaxed against her skin. “Tonight, tomorrow, and every day after that. I’ll be by your side.”

“I love you, Freddie. Goodnight,” Y/N leaned up to kiss him goodnight as the older twin laid wide awake till the early hours of the morning.

And here it is, our final night alive.

And as the earth runs to the ground.

Fred and Y/N walked through the sea of Hogwarts students, offering aid to whoever needed it. As Harry, Hermione, and Ron delegated roles to Dumbledore’s Army; the Order worked to protect the castle in whatever way possible.

As they waited for the inevitable arrival of Voldemort and the Death Eaters, the twins rested against the hall bridge fence that overlooked the grand entrance and the great hall. They spent years finding the knicks and knacks of the medieval castle. At some point, these walls were victims to their pranks and were filmed with memories of laughter of students and causally professors. It had been their second home for years.

“Remember when Filch ran into that wall after he was the test subject for the first successful boxing telescope,” George asked his older brother, pointing to a brick wall by the grand entrance.

“You two tried the daydream charm on me when I was walking down those stairs,” Y/N pointed out as she joined the twins on the upper levels. The twins erupted in a small chuckle. That day they had caused Y/N to score detention with Snape after she had fallen to their prank during Potions.

The three mellowed in their silence. They tried to enjoy the memories that appeared in their heads, but all that they could think of was that they were going into a battle. A battle that they had no assurance to come out of alive.

“It was a pleasure, mates,” Fred jokingly stated, causing the two people at his side to shove him playfully.

“I would do it all over again with you two,” George added.

“Me too,” Y/N stated. The three looked at each other in gratitude and with love.

Oh, it’s you that I lie with

Yes, it’s you I welcome death with

As the world, as the world caves in

George laid defeatedly against the ground. He had stopped crying hours ago. The aftermath of the battle consisted of a mixture of emotions. They had won, but they had also lost.

George leaned over to soothe the back of the woman still clutching onto his brother’s dead body. Arthur had tried everything to pull Molly away from the body of their deceased son, but he had had no success. Just like Ron had failed to remove Harry from the grip he held on his sister’s corpse.

The two had fought together till the end. Successfully deflecting hexes and curses sent by death eaters, until they were ambushed and both lost their lives protecting their loved ones. They hadn’t died instantly. Y/N and Fred laid on the clock tower grounds, staring into each other’s eyes with their hands intertwined and held on tightly until they both shared a mental and mutual decision to let go. The fallen heroes of the Battle of Hogwarts were never forgotten, but it never stopped hurting.

Fred Jr. nervously walked through the castle grounds at night, whispering lumos to guide him through the dark. It was his first time trying to sneak into the kitchen after curfew, having heard that many students managed to do it successfully. He had been lost for the past ten minutes, and his worst fear was being found by the groundskeeper or a professor. His small body turned cold when he heard a voice in the back of him.

“I think the kitchen is that way,” Fred Jr. turned around to see a familiar face. Only that she didn’t look exactly the way he had seen her. Her pictures hung in his house and at his grandparents and uncle’s house. Her grey appearance didn’t frighten him but instead made him feel at home.

“It’s never too late for a midnight snack, don’t you think, Y/N?” Another voice sounded through the dark hall. Fred Jr. spun around to see another ghost, one that looked a lot like his father.

“Never, Freddie. So, how about we help Fred Jr. here find the kitchen?” Y/N responded, flying down to meet Fred Jr.’s level.

“Are you sure we won’t get caught, Aunt Y/N?” Fred Jr. asked, tightly holding his wand.

“With us? You have nothing to worry about,” Y/N replied smiling widely at the young Weasley. A smile broke out on his lips, and he followed after the two ghosts.

#imagine #imagines #cedric diggory #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagine #cedric x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x reader #Fred and george

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smelted-applejuice · 3 years

Text

Peace Treaty, 00

(IMPORTANT) this fanfic was made before Fundy and KSI made their disgusting jokes, but I said it on my Quotev account; I want to go on with this book because I’ve had this planned for weeks, Fundy in this book is NOT AT ALL streamer Fundy but Dream SMP Fundy. I won’t write for him after this fanfic is over. Pairing(s): Fundy x Reader, Sapnap x Reader Pronouns: she/her Pre-picked: LAST NAME, FATHER'S NAME, MOTHER'S NAME. TW: brief mention of alcoholic shots, death of a parental figure, Next part

“Liz is pregnant” Gregory said busting into the room, his cheeks rosy from smiling. Wilbur looked up from his papers, a message urgently sent from the doctor to his room. “Congrats! Fundy will have a friend.” Wilbur laughed standing up with a large smile, both bringing each other in for a tight hug. They both made a promise when their children were born into this unforgiving world, and it was to protect them at all costs. Even if it meant war. A few years would pass, [YourName] rushing between trees at the prime age of five squealing as the fox and human hybrid chased after her making an excitable squeak. “[YourName]! Stop being fast!” Fundy yelled, “That’s the point of ‘tag’, Fundy!” she said throwing herself against the tree, which they determined to be their safe spot and timeouts from games. Fundy huffed, blowing some of his mother’s red hair out of his view, and took a seat next to his friend. [YourName] panted as she looked up into the tree leaves, “We’re going to be friends forever, right Fundy?” the little girl asked, tilting her head to the side and glancing over to her friend. Fundy made a shocked noise, “Of course so! Why wouldn’t we? Our daddies are best friends!” the little boy explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I just wanted to remind myself, stop being a meanie!” [YourName] said crossing her arms and quickly looking to the side, her cheeks becoming a soft hue of red. And that’s the beginning of [YourName]’s crush on her childhood best friend. She watched from the side as they walked through the small paths of a growing L’manberg, Fundy being flirted with because of his father’s rank. Wilbur had grown and matured next to [YourName]’s father, becoming head of one of the largest armies in case of war. Though, it seemed unstable peace of being kept up with- at least it had been for the last seventeen years. [YourName] had made her way to her and Fundy’s old timeout spot, taking a seat against the tree. She carefully traced a finger across the bow her mother had given to her, she closed her eyes to stop any sobs. Her mother, Lizzy Florence, had lost a long battle with the deathly flu, and [YourName] didn’t have the heart to tell Fundy anything that had happened that morning. She just wanted to be little again, sit against this tree because she ran out of breath from tag and hide n’ seek, and return home to a home-cooked meal from her mother. She just placed the boy next to her, bringing her legs close, she sobbed into them as quiet as possible. Within town, Fundy’s fox ears twitched when he heard his friend’s name be spoken by people within the shop. ‘Did you hear? [YourName] and Gregory lost Lizzy.’ a civilian whispered to their friend, Fundy’s ears perked up getting as much information as he could before setting the item in his hand and making his way home. He knocked on his father’s office door before entering, “Dad, did miss Lizzy die?” he asked, tilting his head. Wilbur bit the inside of his cheek and nodded, “She passed on earlier this morning, I thought [YourName] would’ve told you by now, Son.” Wilbur said, turning toward his son. Fundy shook his head, “No.. I haven’t seen her all day.” he whispered sadly. “Well, perhaps she went to get fresh air, Gregory said she left this morning to do so,” Wilbur said, returning to his paperwork. Fundy nodded, knowing exactly where [YourName] would go for some private time- their timeout spot. So he took his leave, grabbing a few snacks and drinks, he walked through the forest. He finally came across the tree where they always sat and after walking around it, he found [YourName] sitting there with tear-stained cheeks and a drained look on her face. “[YourName], I brought berries and water..” He offered to take his seat next to her, [YourName] placed her head against Fundy’s shoulder, no words being exchanged. “I’ll feed you.” Fundy offered, making a soft snort come out of the female’s mouth, “No thanks, Fundy..” she whispered, opened the bag, and ate some berries. “I’ve heard, and I’m here to keep you company” Fundy explained resting his arm around [YourName]’s face, his fingers placed in her hair. She closed her eyes in comfort, the only thing that was heard was their soft breathing and the noise of the wind brushing through leaves now and then. And that’s when Fundy realized he had a crush on his childhood friend. It wouldn’t be until Fundy’s twentieth birthday that any moves would be made. [YourName] and Fundy sat alone in the dining room, Wilbur and Gregory had left for the month, leaving Fundy and [YourName] to celebrate Fundy’s birthday together. “To you, and L’manberg.” [YourName] said clanking the shot glasses together before they took their shots. [YourName] made a sour face, disgusted with the taste it left in her mouth while Fundy laughed. This would be the only alcoholic drink of the night. “Happy birthday Fundy, apologies for not being able to get you a gift, but being together tonight can be my gift.” [YourName] said softly sighing out as she held her hands together on top of the table, Fundy smiled toward the female and shook his head “I’m perfectly fine with that.” he comforted. He and [YourName] would dance the night away, finally landing on the last track of the disc. It was slow, smooth, and truly finished the disc off with meaning. [YourName]’s arms gently wrapped around Fundy’s neck, her head against his shoulder, while Fundy’s hands rested softly against [YourName]’s waist. They both swayed to the beat, their eyes closed, soaking in the moment for they had no idea when the next peaceful moment like this would come around. “[YourName], I love you.” Fundy randomly spoke, his heart racing, but he thought right now would be the perfect moment to confess his feelings. A peaceful night on his twentieth birthday. [YourName] froze for a moment, but smiled as she picked her head up. “I love you too, Fundy. Have for a while.” She whispered, the two chuckled at their sweet yet awkward moment of confession. “Glad to hear, god this would’ve been awkward if you didn’t.” Fundy said, leaning down to press his forehead against [YourName]’s, his ears back against his head blending well in with his curly red hair. “You fuckin’ tell me.” [YourName] laughed, leaning up softly placing a kiss against Fundy’s lips. “Happy Birthday, Fundy.” She softly whispered as she pulled away. The two saw no point in telling people they were together, and that including their fathers. Fundy still wanted to fight in the war and being with [YourName] gave him the chance of being denied, and [YourName] wanted to watch her boyfriend succeed in life. She didn’t have a problem keeping their relationship under wraps for as long as possible, plus the sneaking away, makeouts in the forest and random hush-hush dates were glorious. She loved the risk of wandering around. [YourName] and Fundy were able to keep their relationship public but secret all for the fact they’ve been friends since birth. It was natural for a close friend to be clingy, so Fundy having [YourName] on his arm as they ran through L’manberg was in the ordinary. All the lovey-dovey stuff was behind doors, and that included cuddling on the couch in front of the fire when one of their fathers were over at the other’s house, dinners at their timeout tree, and rushing through ankle-high waters, ending the night with Fundy wrapping his jacket around [YourName]’s shoulders. It was puppy love growing into true love with each passing day. After [YourName]’s twentieth birthday, Fundy now being twenty-one, L’manberg had gone to war with their opposer. The unstable peace between the two finally broke and Wilbur, who was now in charge of the growing area, had enough and threw his foot down. This meant Fundy and [YourName]’s father also would go to war, and it brought so much anxiety to her. Many nights she slept restlessly, having to sneak into Fundy’s room a few houses down and fall asleep to his hand running through her hair. The downside of this was waking up early in the morning to return to her own home. Fundy understood why [YourName] was so worried, if things were to go south she would no longer have a thing to her name. Her father, Wilbur, and himself would be gone. Fundy wished he hadn’t signed off placing himself in the conditions of war, but it was too late and if he was being honest- he loved fighting for his home. [YourName] knew this and he was beyond thankful that she was as supportive as she was being, even if she didn’t want him to leave like he had to. [YourName] sat in front of Fundy in front of the fire, Wilbur and Gregory were spending the night at base which left their children to their own devices which meant dinner at Fundy’s. The girl scooted closer, offering a berry for Fundy to snack on despite dinner an hour ago, he took it. “Are you alright?” [YourName] asked, sliding her hand into his free hand, “Yes, just.. Worried.” he explained leaning his head against his girlfriend’s. “Not having second thoughts? You leave tomorrow to prep for next week” [YourName] said trying to explain why it was too late for second thinking, Fundy dramatically groaned laughing as he leaned back “Don’t remind me!” he huffed. [YourName] laughed looking back behind her and toward her boyfriend, “Seems personal, darling” she said twisting and fixing herself so she sat on her legs, watching her boyfriend. Fundy sighed, “I’m not having second thoughts, I just worry about the outcome of this war. If anything happens, know I love you, my dear. My Carrot.” Fundy said. “Carrot?” [YourName] asked, Fundy flustered “Shut up! I’m trying to be romantic!” he said lightly hitting her arm. “I kid, I kid, I love you too.” She leaned over capturing his lips. War was hellish. The reason Fundy had been calm because he was working beside his father and he knew he had [YourName] to comfort him once he returned home. He and [YourName] talked about their status in the relationship, and after a year of sneaking around, they decided after this they would expose their relationship to their father’s at dinner. No matter the outcome they would finally come clean to their father’s, perhaps this could be good news in a fog of a bad outcome from war. Fundy was careful with his sword, taking down as many people as he could before a bomb threat was called in and that someone was a traitor, working from the inside and feeding information to the opposing side. When [YourName] got the letters from Fundy and her father, she was distraught. She had no one to distract her, she only had herself in a large empty house, pacing. She couldn’t even write a letter back in fear it would expose their hiding location. After another week, there were letters sent out to all of L’manberg; “ INDEPENDENCE GAINED BY WILBUR SOOT, TOMMYINNIT, AND GREGORY FLORENCE ''. The cheers that rang out through the place [YourName] called home were beautiful, tears were shed, and hugs were given. Soldiers would return home within the same week, so [YourName] made dinner for her, Fundy, Wilbur, and her father. After tonight. she and Fundy would be able to share loving embraces and not be scared of possibly getting caught by one of their dads. [YourName] was gitty and from the letter Fundy had sent her, so was he. Gregory brought his daughter in for a tight hug, Wilbur and Fundy joining in as they entered the house making [YourName] giggle. “Go! Go! You all stink, go change! I made dinner!” [YourName] scolded all males, all three laughed before taking turns cleaning up. It felt nice to feel warm water and not just lake water and to be inside a warm home and not the cold weather of the winter around the warzone. The soldiers finally felt safe at home. But poor Fundy and [YourName] had no idea what type of bomb would be dropped on them at dinner. Fundy was the youngest, so he was allowed a shower first. He assisted in setting up the dining table. Fundy had tied his hair back, his ears perked up, and his tail swaying with excitement. The two glanced into the hallway before returning to the kitchen, [YourName] brought her arms around his neck and brought him for a returning home kiss. “God I was so worried!” She confessed in a whisper, Fundy softly laughed and nodded his head “I know, I’m sorry, but we’re home, we tell them everything tonight. We come clean, Carrot.” he said in the same tone kissing her head. After the table was set, [YourName] placed everyone's plate and dinner began. [YourName] got caught up on all the latest drama within the unit that Wilbur, Gregory, and Fundy were in- and my god it was funny. This Tommy kid seems to be a hassle too, but nothing Wilbur couldn’t handle! That’s exactly how independence was given to L’manberg, right? No funny little deals were involved, sure bloodshed was done, but there was a traitor and they had fallen to last-resort situations. Gregory glanced over to his old friend and focused on his daughter, setting his fork down and wiping his mouth with the cloth. “Dinner was delicious, sweetie.” He complimented making [YourName] smile, Fundy squeezed her hand ready to finally explain their relationship- but Gregory would come first with news, “I have to tell something to you, [YourName], both Wilbur and I do.” he said as if it was the worse thing ever, this placed the girl on edge. She looked over to Fundy who shrugged his shoulders in confusion, so she returned to focus on Wilbur and her father. “For our home to gain independence, deals needed to be made. I was the second oldest at the meeting, and also the only one with a daughter.” Gregory said starting, this didn’t sound too good to Fundy or [YourName]. Gregory closed his eyes, Wilbur placing a hand of comfort on his friend’s shoulder, “[YourName] you’re to marry Sapnap from Dream smp.” he said, coming clean of his own situation. [YourName]’s jaw dropped while Fundy’s eyes widened. “WHAT?!” [YourName] yelled, dropping her hand out of Fundy’s grasp, Wilbur flinched while Gregory sighed out “It was the only way!” he argued with his daughter. “Are you sure?! So you just placed me up there! ‘Haha! I have a daughter, it doesn't matter about her feelings or personal life! Might as well force her into marriage!’” [YourName] yelled, mocking her father, making him even more upset. “Do NOT disrespect me like that in front of company, [YourName].” He said in a stern voice, “Well you’re disrespecting me when you placed me in this- this fucking peace treaty!” [YourName] said slamming her hands down on the table and storming out of the house. Gregory sighed holding his forehead, Fundy excused himself and followed [YourName] out. He stopped her once they got to the lake, letting [YourName] and himself soak their feet. [YourName] sobbed as Fundy held her close, fighting his own tears off. “I’m a human peace treaty, Fundy.” She cried, holding onto her boyfriend, or soon ex-boyfriend, as she let out all her tears and feelings. Fundy let out a shaky sigh, “I didn’t know about any of this, I’m sorry..” he said kissing her forehead. She just let it all out, because she knew she was right. She was just a human peace treaty, used to get L’manberg out of a large oopsy known as war.

#dream smp x reader #Sapnap x reader #Sapnap #Wilbur Soot #Fundy x reader #mcyt x reader #dream

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afictionalwhore · 3 years

Text

The Sweet Death of Kurono Hari

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A/N: This man is so fine, and for what? Chrono needs more love and I will die on this hill. Shoutout to @jadequeen88 for beta reading 💕 I’d be lost without her.

Tags: Daddy kink, Age gap, Violence, Quirkless AU, Mafia AU

Words: 4K

Rating: 18+

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"Daddy," you whimpered, grinding down on Hari's growing erection and pulling on his tie. "Daddy please I need you."

Weakly, the silver haired man pushed you down and away from him. You were going to be the death of him one of these days.

"Please," he protested, grabbing your hips to still you on him. "We can’t. Not here."

He was in the private library of your father’s estate. Hari rarely ever had time to himself and decided to wind down the day in the cozy privacy of the library.

Kurono Hari, right hand man to the leader of the nation's most feared criminal organizations, Chisaki Kai, did not have much of a love life. This didn't bother him in the least. Cold and callous, Hari didn't understand the need for love, fearing it would only get in the way of better serving Kai. That was until you, Kai’s only daughter, had pushed yourself onto him.

You had been out drinking with friends and had called Hari to pick you up, per your father’s request, refusing to allow you to the risk of a riding in a pubic taxi. Those were breeding grounds for diseases. You were too important.

As Hari drove you back to your estate, your fingers danced along Hari’s thighs over his crisp black pants, nails scratching him ever so lightly.

“It’s so hot,” you had whined, slipping out of your fluffy white fur half jacket. You wore your black mini dress, the one that hugged your chest and every other beautiful curve. The one with the tiny slit in the side to show the slightest peek of your thighs. The one that drove Hari absolutely mad.

Hari couldn’t help but to glance, but thankful that he had to focus on the road and couldn’t risk ogling at you.

“I can turn on the air, Miss,” Hari coughed. Eyes straight ahead on the road. The way his grip tightened on the wheel did not go unnoticed by you.

“No, it’s fine. That jacket was beginning to get itchy anyways.”

After Hari had pulled into the gated driveway of your estate, he tried to unbuckle his seatbelt, fumbling in his hurry to get away from you and take care of his growing need.

“Hari,” you called. You felt your heart pounding in your ears and prayed that Hari couldn’t hear it as well. You had never used his given name before, only his family name or the old nickname your father had given him when they were younger.

Hari froze upon hearing you. He let go of the seat belt, letting it snap back against the car with a clink that got lost in the thick air between the two of you, and slowly turned to face you. You had crawled over the center console and were no more than a few centimeters away from him, gazing at him with those bright starry eyes.

Before either of you knew it, you had crashed forward onto Hari, crawling fully out of your passenger seat to sit in his lap in the driver seat to smash your lips against his in a frenzied kiss.

She’s drunk. She’s drunk. She’s drunk. Hari chanted in his mind like a personal mantra. He could taste the lingering alcohol on your tongue. Yet he continued to kiss you, not finding the strength within himself to pull away. This is wrong.

Finally, the lack of air became too much, and you pulled away from Hari, the both of you panting and fogging up the driver window.

“I’m not drunk,” you said after a few moments to regain your breath. “Only enough to give me the confidence to finally act on this.”

“Act on…on what?” Hari trailed. The lack of air flow to his brain caused him to get drunk off you.

“Don’t play dumb with me, old man. I see the way you look at me, like you just want to swallow me whole. And believe it or not, I want you too” you sprinkled kisses along Hari’s neck and jaw. “For months now, all I’ve wanted is you. I want you on me, all over me, in me.”

You had ended the night in a heated tangle of limbs and breathless promises against foggy windows that it was just that one time.

It was supposed to be just the once, but Hari couldn’t get enough of you, and you couldn’t get enough of him. Once turned into twice, which turned into every possible moment, as little as sneaking glances across a room or stolen kisses as Hari played his part as your chauffeur. You loved the thrill of quickies in Hari’s office, teasing him under his desk until the usually composed man broke and bent you over said desk. Hari would never forget the one night your father was out and he had stayed the night with you in your luxurious four poster canopy bed. Hari let you push him down on the soft down comforters, giggling the whole time.

Hari never felt younger. The excitement that came with the secrecy had added a spring to his tired, worn steps. You felt like you had blossomed. There was a glow about you and a spring in your every step. You were like Romeo and Juliet, except Juliet was the daughter of a yakuza leader, and Romeo was said leader's most trusted, and perhaps only, friend.

About a month into your little affair, Hari realized that he loved you, but he never pushed it, afraid that to you he was nothing but a thrill. You were young, and could easily drop someone as old as Hari, who up until recently would have contented himself to being simply a father figure.

While he was reading in the plush, red chair illuminated by the glow of the crackling fireplace you had slipped into the library. The high back of the chair faced away from you, allowing you to sneak behind Hari.

“What’re you doing?” you asked, poking your head around the back of the chair to peer at the rather small book in his hands.

Hari jumped at the sudden sound of your voice before dropping his book on the floor with an unceremonious flop.

“Nothing to concern yourself with," he said. "Just thought I’d read a bit since I had some free time."

“Why didn’t you come see me?” You pouted before moving around the chair to face Hari.

Finally seeing you, Hari noticed you had dolled up. Your cheeks were flush with blush and eyes round with black liner. Your lips were Hari’s favorite shade of red.

You were wearing your favorite, his favorite, robe: sheer black with fur lined cuffs and edges; gracing the floor and trailing behind you long. The robe that screamed, “I didn’t kill my husband, officer, I promise,” or in your case, “I’m the daughter of the nation’s most feared mafia leader and sleeping with his equally terrifying right hand.” In short, the robe meant power, and you were all too aware of the power you held over Hari.

“I thought you were asleep.”

You looked at Hari through thick lashes and quirked an eyebrow in silent question: “really?”

“Clearly, I’m awake, and truthfully, I’m having an awful time falling asleep Mr. Kurono.”

“Kai’s home.” Hari hoarsely whispered, his throat going dry.

His excuses and protests fell upon deaf ears and altogether stopped when you shed that fateful robe to reveal black lace underneath. You settled yourself into his lap, straddling his now hard length teasing you from under his suit pants. With your smaller hands planted firmly on his shoulders, you gave a slow roll of your hips, moaning softly.

“Daddy, please,” you whined, rolling against him once again.

“We should stop.” Thick hands gave a gentle squeeze on your hips.

“Hari, please,” you whispered, looking up at him from under your lashes, stars in your eyes.

How could he ever say no to you, the only woman he had allowed himself to fall in love with?

Hari cupped your face in his strong hands, holding your gaze for a moment before descending down on your lips in a hungry kiss. Your arms came up off the chair to wrap around Hari’s neck, pulling him deeper into you as your mouths melted together.

This is wrong, Hari always told himself. He was old enough to be your father, even if just barely. Yet, Hari never found the strength to pull away from you completely, melting in chocolate left out on a hot summer’s day the moment you laid your sweet round eyes on him and called out to him in your honeyed voice. It was supposed to be just that one night, but you had managed to wrap him around your delicate, manicured finger, and Hari was willing to take a bullet for you not out of loyalty to your father but of love for you. You were going to be the death of Kurono Hari.

Hari stood, strong hands holding your ass as you continued to kiss. He laid you gently on the deep red rug by the fire, holding you tight against him as though he were afraid you could slip right out of his grasp. He trailed kisses down your neck and along your collarbone.

“This has to go,” Hari breathed against your sternum and tugged on the lace covering you from him.

You giggled before pushing yourself up, Hari moving to give you the space to sit up and unclasp the black lace. You tossed your bra away just in front of the fireplace. Once undressed, you tugged on Hari’s tie, pulling him down to eye level.

“Your turn,” your breath washed over Hari, causing him to fall deeper into the spell of you.

Hari wasted no time. Loosening his tie just enough to slip out of it before hastily undoing the buttons of his crisp white shirt. He tossed them both on the seat of the chair then dove back down to swallow you in a greedy kiss.

He crawled back over you to force you back down to lay under him. One large hand kneaded at your breast while his mouth enclosed on the other one, sucking until your nipple had grown hard.

With a lewd pop, Hari pulled off of your breast to give attention to its twin and rolled your wet and sensitive bud between his fingers.

“You’re delicious,” Hari breathed against your skin, causing goosebumps to prickle. He continued trailing kisses down your navel until he reached more black lace.

Slowly, as if to savor every second, Hari pulled your panties off of you. You had already grown wet from your earlier grinding, and his kisses did nothing to help.

“Lift up for me, baby girl” he said, tugging on the lace.

You obeyed, lifting your hips enough to allow Hari to shimmy the scanty soaked fabric off of you before throwing it to be with his discarded clothes.

With nothing barring you from him, Hari pulling your legs onto his shoulders. He gave teasing nips and kisses up each of your thighs, delighting in your pussy’s clenching.

“Please, Daddy,” you begged breathlessly. “I need you.”

Hari dragged a finger up your dripping slit before spreading your lower lips.

“You have such a pretty pussy,” he cooed. “And I just love how it tastes, too.”

With that, Hari licked a teasing strip along your pussy before giving a flick of his tongue to your clit. His lips enclosed on your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud. You moaned at the contact. In earnest, like it was his last meal, Hari drank in everything you had to offer.

He poked a teasing finger at your hot entrance as he continued to suck at your clit.

“Hari, please,” you bucked your hips and grabbed his silver locks in an attempt to gain more contact, more friction.

Hari held you down and shushed at you.

“Patience, baby girl. I got you.”

He pushed the finger into you to the knuckle, feeling your sticky walls pulse around him at finally being filled with something. Sparks flew up your spine, heating your body with every curl of Hari’s thick finger.

As your cries grew in volume, Hari knew you were reaching your end. He added a second finger, relishing in the ease with which he could slip into you.

“Please Hari, please,” you cried. “I want to cum.”

Curling his fingers to hit the spot he knew would push your over your edge, Hari hummed against your clit.

“Cum for me then, baby girl. Come on Daddy’s face.”

That was the last push you needed. Your grip on Hari’s hair tightened as you pushed his face further into you. Your mouth fell open in silent cries of Hari’s name, and you swore you saw stars dancing along the library’s high ceiling above you.

As you were climbing back down from your high, Hari pulled away just enough to rid himself of the rest of his constricting clothes. You drank in your lover’s face, his chin glistening with your juices in the flickering light of the fireplace, while he admired your body, the way the color of your skin complimented the deep red of the carpet below perfectly.

Hari crawled towards you once the last of his clothes had been discarded to lay with the rest. Holding his thick cock in his hand, he dragged it up your convulsing heat, collecting your slick.

“Is this what you wanted, baby girl?” he teased, smirking down at you.

You were in no mood for games and immediately set to begging.

“Yes, Hari! Please,” you whined.

“Anything for you. You’re such a good girl.”

Hari laid back down on you, placing his hands on either side of your face. He placed sweet kisses along your temple as he pushed into you. While he wasn’t the longest, Hari was thick and stretched you in all the right ways. You were always hot and welcoming.

You hissed at the initial burn, going from Hari’s finger to his cock was always a welcome stretch. You clawed at his back as Hari pulled out slowly, only to slam back into you, his tip kissing your cervix with every thrust.

“Daddy! There!” you wailed as Hari hit your sweet spot.

Hari set a steady pace, not wanting to go too fast to ruin the romantic atmosphere, but already halfway to his end from teasing you. This was your favorite, and Hari knew you wouldn’t last long with the feeling of the slow drag of his cock pulling out of your tightness.

Your hot, gummy walls seemed to pull him into you, as though you were made for him and him alone. You fit him like a glove, wrapping perfectly around his cock and pulsing around him. You could say the same of Hari, as the man was curved just enough to hit against your sensitive spot with every push and pull of his cock.

"Hari!” you squeaked as Hari hit that sweet spot within you. “Hari, I love you.”

Hari stilled.

“What did you say?” he asked, steel eyes bored into yours.

“I love you.”

“Do you mean it?”

“Yes.”

Hari felt like his heart would burst. He bent down to swallow your lips in a hungry kiss.

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” Hari panted into your mouth before moving to kiss your jaw, your neck, chest, and any place his lips could find, continuing his chants of love between every warm kiss.

Just hearing those three little words were enough to drive Hari to his end, his kisses getting wetter and his thrusts sloppier with each passing “I love you”. With wet kisses to swallow each other’s moans, it didn’t take long for either of you to finish. You threw your head back with a cry of Hari’s name and he sunk his teeth into the soft skin of your shoulder.

Hari understood why they called it “la petite mort”, a little death. Laying on you, dizzy with breathlessness and lulled by the soft, rhythmic sound of your pulse, Hari felt that he could, and possibly should, die in that moment, and you were an angel come to take him away.

A bang on the door brought Hari back to life and sent you both scrambling for your clothes.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” You pulled your robe over you, as Hari slipped on his pants.

You hid behind Hari, soft hand clutching his shoulders, and waited for whatever was behind the door. Deep in your heart you already knew. You buried your face into Hari’s back and cried.

Hearing your soft sobs behind him, Hari felt his heart sinking, knowing already how the night was to play out.

━━━━━━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━━━━━

Chisaki Kai was not a man to be ruled by his emotions. When it comes to you, his sweet daughter, his good girl, he occasionally bent this rule. You were supposed to stay pure and innocent, stay clean, not be tainted by some perverted older man who had committed acts that would have your skin crawling in fear of him.

Kai slammed his glass down, spilling the smooth, honey colored whiskey over the edges and onto the wooden desk, dripping down onto the plush carpet.

Your smile had grown a little brighter, your face full of life, like a little girl experiencing her first love. Kai had simply assumed it was a fleeting and childish crush on someone from your university, not Hari, a man who had watched you grow up, practically raised you alongside himself.

Everything added up. The glances and sly smiles you exchanged when you thought Kai wasn’t looking. Hari’s newfound eagerness to stay late nights or to act as your personal chauffeur. How could he been so stupid? And how long exactly had it been going on?

Kai knew that Hari was no saint. Having ruthlessly carried out countless inhuman orders of his, Kai did not expect Hari to possess the most accurate moral compass. Kai knew he had not been the present father you deserved, and to Kai, Hari had taken advantage of that. Not only had Hari stooped to new lows of pandering to your daddy issues. Hari had betrayed the man who had given him everything, the man he had sworn allegiance to above all things. All just to get his cock wet.

Kurono Hari was a dead man.

Kai took in a deep breath before picking up his phone and dialing Hari’s number.

“Kurono,” he said blankly as soon as the man in question picked up.

“Yes, sir?”

“I need you to come to my office immediately.”

“Yes, sir. Right away.”

Before Hari could ask for further details, Kai hung up.

As he waited for Hari to arrive, Kai took the liberty of lighting a cigarette.

Within a few minutes, Kai heard a few gentle knocks on his magnificent oak doors before they freaked open. Hari stepped in.

“Sir?” he asked. “You called for me?”

“Kurono,” Kai said as Hari made his way further into the office. “Do you know why I called you?”

Hari felt like a schoolboy being called into the principal’s office.

“Chrono,” Hari flinched at the use of the nickname Kai had given him in their youth. “You’re my best friend. My only friend.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You wouldn’t do anything to betray me.”

“No, sir.”

“Why are you lying to me, Chrono?”

“Sir, I don’t—“

“How long have you been fucking my daughter, Kurono? And how long did you think it would last?”

Hari froze, his blood chilling with fear.

“Do you understand the danger you could put her in if the wrong person found out she was romantically involved with you?” Kai continued.

Hari had understood you to be invaluable even before due to your position as the sole Chisaki heir. Now, you were important not only to Kai, but to Hari as well. Hari shuttered to think about what could happen if you fell into the hands of an enemy.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill the both of you now.”

“She’s your daughter, sir.”

“That didn’t stop you.”

“Sir, please. I love her.”

“And does she love you?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“I guess we’ll just have to find out.”

Hari swallowed thickly.

“Yes, sir.”

You really were about to be the death of Kurono Hari.

━━━━━━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━━━━━

After a few more loud bangs for theatrics, the library door flew open to reveal your father. Kai stalked towards the two of you, golden eyes on fire.

“You’re a dead man, Kurono,” Kai said, voice devoid of emotion.

Without hesitation, Kai reeled a fist back to slam into the side of Hari’s head. You screamed as Hari stumbled back.

Kai didn’t relent despite your crying, beating Hari with his fist until the man dropped to his knees. Watery silver eyes looked up to meet crazed golden ones. Hari gasped for breath as Kai landed another blow on him, this time knocking Hari completely over.

Your screams continued as your father continued to beat your lover, blood spilling onto the matching red carpet. Hari had fallen on his side and was coughing more blood as Kai kicked him. A fierce kick to the ribs followed by a sickening crack sent you running to stop your father.

“Daddy, please,” you sobbed, dropping to your knees and clutching your father’s pants. Your tears caused your mascara to run down your cheeks and drip on the carpet below. “Daddy, please don’t.”

“Don’t you dare call me that!” Kai pushed you away, but you clung tight. “Not after you called this piece of filth by that same dirty name when he’s buried in your whorish cunt. You will address me with the proper respect.”

“Father, please don’t hurt him. I’m begging you.” You tugged at Kai’s leg in a pitiful attempt to keep him from swinging at Hari.

Instead, Kai simply kicked you off of him before pulling Hari up by his hair, the beaten man coughing and spitting blood as he set his half-focused gaze on you. Kai tapped the barrel of the gun against Hari’s temple, blood matting the hair to his skull.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t pull this trigger.” His glowing yellow eyes locked onto your puffy ones, wet with tears.

Hari weakly opened his eyes to see your pained face. To see such an expression on you was enough to kill him. Your makeup running off your cheeks in streams of tears and snot, your mouth hanging open in utter agony. Even if he got to spend the rest of his days with you, he’d never forgive himself for putting you through this.

“Please,” you choked on a sob. “I love him. Please.”

Kai took a deep breath before releasing Hari from his grasp. The broken man fell heavily to the floor and coughed up blood. You ran to catch your lover.

“You are both dead to me,” Kai looked down at the pair of you in disgust. “If I so much as sniff you in my territory, I will not hesitate to kill you. Do you understand?”

You weakly nodded while clutching Hari’s bruised and bloodied body.

“Good. Now get out, both of you.”

“Father?”

“I said get out!”

“Come on,” you whispered gently to Hari as you wrapped one of his arms around your shoulders to help him off the ground. “Come on, love. Hari. Hari, stand up. Come on. We have to get you to a doctor.”

Weakly, Hari managed to stand up and lean against you, limping out of the library with you. Unknown to you, Hari had snuck the small book he had been reading previous to your little rendezvous into the back of his pants.

Kai had drafted up the death certificates for the both of you immediately after his little meeting with Hari. Though he had originally planned to shoot you both dead, Kai realized that this could be a way to keep you out of this bloody life, of which you had shown no previous interest in.

Kai had passports ready for the both of you under new names and had even set up bank accounts in another country under these names with enough to keep you comfortable in someplace new.

Prior to sending him off to the library for “late night reading”, Kai had snuck these passports, along with airline tickets to the other side of the world, to Hari.

Officially, Kurono Hari was a dead man.

#hari kurono #chronostasis #hari kurono x reader #bnha #give my boy some love pls #I would risk it all for this man

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homoose · 3 years

Text

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part V (x OC)

Summary: Maggie meets Diana, and it goes better than she expected. Maggie meets the team, and it doesn’t go completely as planned. Spencer’s spidey senses are tingling.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC

Category: hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings/Includes: alcohol/drinking, reader gets drunk on accident and is incredibly insecure and self-deprecating, I think that’s it

Word count: 5k

a/n: Thank you all for your kind words in this really sad and weird moment of my life. This couple brings me so much joy and I’m absolutely dreading the hurt that’s coming in the next part. Sorry in advance 😭 But also, you can re-read Lighthouse and First of Many before the angst!!!!!! If you haven’t read those fics, I recommend it because there are some relevant connections. ♥️

Series Masterlist

———

Maggie felt his hands sneaking around her waist, rubbing low over her tummy, and then the press of his warm body along her back. She tilted her head to make room for him to settle his chin on her shoulder, smiling as his hands completed their journey and wrapped her up tight.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she answered, pressing their cheeks together.

“Are you almost done?”

“If you’d let me help, you’d be done by now,” he complained, hugging her a little tighter and turning his head to drag his lips across her cheek.

“Let me just finish this pan, and then I’m all yours.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then another to the spot behind her ear, and one more to her shoulder. Then he propped his chin once more and rubbed his thumbs where they rested against her sides.

She laughed a little as she ran the dish brush along the edges of the pan. “Comfy?”

“Thank you for all of that.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the fridge, packed full of leftovers. “My mom will be so honored to know you made her pot pie.”

Her eyes went a little wide, and he took her silence as an answer, continuing, “You don’t have to. It—it’s too soon.”

She brought a hand up to cup his chin between her fingers, bringing his eyes back to hers. “I would love to meet your mom.”

…

Spencer shut off the engine of the Volvo, turning in his seat to face her. She tried to settle her nerves without also spurring his own anxiety, which had been quite obviously flaring all morning.

He closed his eyes and breathed a relieved sigh. “Have I told you how much I love you yet today?”

“Mm, I don’t think you have,” she smiled.

He brought her hands up to his mouth, kissing the back of each. “I love you so much. The most.”

“I beg to differ.” She leaned over the console and kissed his nose. “I definitely love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree.” He shifted to meet her lips in a quick kiss. “I’ll text you in a few minutes?”

She gave him another kiss. “Sounds like a plan.”

Maggie knew that meeting Diana was a good thing. That Spencer wanted her to meet the most important woman in his life was a testament to their relationship. But the closer she got to it, the more she felt completely and totally out of place. What did she have to offer this woman’s remarkable son other than a mountain of student loan debt, an endless supply of expo markers, and an ever growing collection of toilet paper rolls?

Her phone buzzed with the incoming text message, and she bit back a sigh.

Spencer: It’s an incredible day. She’s already asking about you.

Maggie turned her face up to the clear blue sky, feeling the sun on her face and taking a deep breath. Then, she hoisted herself out of the vehicle, locking it and turning to walk toward the building. DC was hot and sticky this time of year, and she was grateful for the blast of air conditioning as she entered the facility.

The woman at the front desk— Suzanna, by her name tag— smiled kindly at her. “How can I help you?”

“I’m, um— I’m here to visit with Diana Reid.” Maggie began signing into the visitor’s log, smiling a little at Spencer’s hasty signature right above. “Her son is here, too— Spencer.”

“Ah, yes— you must be Maggie. Diana’s been so excited to meet you.” Suzanna chuckled lightly at her expression, and Maggie wondered just how much everyone already knew about her. “They’re just through there— in the sunroom.”

Maggie mumbled her thanks and turned in the direction of the sunroom, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from the skirt of her dress. She’d spent far too long getting ready this morning, including steaming the dress— a simple number with a black bodice and a skirt covered in books. It was her own personal nod to the incredible legacy that Diana had left— not only as a professor of classic literature, but also as the mother of the most incredible reader— and man— she’d ever met.

She stood immediately, an absolutely radiant smile stretching across her face at the sight of them. Maggie watched as she clasped her hands in front of her and felt Spencer squeeze her hand at the same time.

“Maggie,” Diana smiled. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Maggie returned her smile. “It is such an honor to finally meet you, Mrs. Reid.”

She scoffed and waved her hand. “Just Diana, please.” Maggie saw the moment she noticed the dress, her eyes crinkling a bit at the corners. “I can already tell you’re perfect for my son: the lover of books.” She motioned to the seating area. “Come, sit.”

The three of them sat, Spencer in the armchair just across from them as she and Diana sat on the sofa. Maggie folded her hands in her lap and tried to straighten her posture. Diana leaned back against the couch with a smile.

“I really have heard a lot about you,” she repeated, sliding her eyes over to a blushing Spencer. “Spencer tells me you teach kindergarten.” Maggie nodded, and Diana shook her head. “I deeply admire the patience and energy you must have for that age group.”

Maggie laughed a little. “They can certainly be a handful. I hear you were a teacher as well.” Her eyes went a little wide at her mistake. “A professor, I mean.”

“Oh, yes, yes— 15th century literature.” Diana tilted her head, considering Maggie with a knowing gaze. “But teaching is teaching, no matter the age. And where would any of us be without our kindergarten teachers? The ones who teach us the very foundations of learning. Who not only teach us to read and write, but also to inquire and investigate and discover.”

Maggie felt unexpected tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and she had to take a moment to breathe before speaking. “Thank you for saying that. Sometimes people assume that kindergarten is all play doh and finger paint.”

“What’s that saying about making assumptions?” Diana pondered.

“Issac Asimov said, ‘Assumptions are our windows on the world,’” Spencer offered.

“Mm, thank you for that, honey, but the one I’m thinking of is from an episode of The Odd Couple, I believe,” Diana corrected, winking at Maggie. “When you assume, you make an ass of you and me.”

“Ah.” Spencer held back a laugh, and Maggie’s heart felt just a little bit lighter.

Spencer nodded in confirmation. Diana looked back to Maggie with a slightly mischievous grin. “His report cards always came back with the note that he was ‘helping’ the other students just a little too much— always the professor, even at five years old.”

Spencer let out an indignant squeak, and Maggie laughed. “My parents got a very similar note.” She gave Spencer a smile. “We just couldn’t help it, apparently.”

“I’m sure it didn’t help that he’d been reading for three years before he was even enrolled,” Diana mused. “Did he tell you that he originally considered studying the classics?” Maggie shook her head. “Well. When you’ve already read and discussed all the course material, it seems a waste of money, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed, I suppose it does,” Maggie agreed.

“Oh,” Diana tapped Maggie’s arm affectionately before gesturing back to Spencer, “and then there was the time that he became so fixated on the idea of becoming a magician that he somehow managed to trap a rabbit in our backyard.”

“Mom,” Spencer choked out.

“Oh my. No, no— please go on,” Maggie begged, waving her hand dismissively in Spencer’s direction and leaning closer to Diana. “I need all the embarrassing stories.”

Diana let out a lilting laugh. “The poor thing spent the better part of a weekend in a storage bin while Spencer tried to figure out the top hat trick.”

Maggie turned to him with a bewildered grin. “The storage bin was well ventilated!” he defended. “And she had plenty of food and water.”

“Did you figure out the trick?” Maggie asked.

“No,” he admitted sheepishly. “Mom found out about the rabbit before I could. And you need more than just the hat for the trick anyway.”

“We fed her one last carrot and then sent her back out to be with the rest of her bunny family, who must have been missing her dearly.” Diana winked at Maggie. “At least that’s what I had to tell six year old Spencer.”

“Rabbits are incredibly social and live in large colonies, so that actually was most likely the case,” Spencer supplied.

Diana smiled fondly at her son, and Maggie could practically feel the love radiating off of her. “Either way, I had one very sad little boy for the next week or so.” She turned back to Maggie. “We actually took a break from some of the more... advanced reading material so that I could read him The Tale of Peter Rabbit.”

“A classic in its own right,” Maggie said.

Diana nodded. “I’ve always said that children’s literature encompasses some of the most profound and imaginative storytelling. We can learn a lot from Peter and Ferdinand.”

“I love Ferdinand!” Maggie gasped. “Gosh, that’s one of my all time favorite books. My mom read it to me when I was little, and I read it to my kids every year.”

Diana threw her hands up. “And that right there tells me everything I need to know about your teaching. Well— that and everything Spencer’s already gushed about, of course.”

The three of them spent the better part of the afternoon laughing and trading embarrassing childhood stories. Diana was even more lovely than she could have imagined, and Maggie was grateful to be so quickly accepted into the small but incredibly loving family unit.

Every so often, she would catch Spencer’s eyes on her— soft and content and practically sparkling— and her heart would leap into her throat. He was uncharacteristically quiet, letting Diana lead most of their side of the conversation, only chiming in here and there to offer context or defend himself in a particularly mortifying tale. Diana unwittingly (or perhaps purposefully) revealed just how much Spencer had spoken about her; she already knew about Maggie’s home, her family, and most of her interests.

Spencer may have been quiet, but he was also blushing profusely— caught in the act of being absolutely enamored with her. Maggie found that she didn’t know how to feel about that. She should be happy. She should be thrilled. And in some ways, she was. Being with Spencer had made her the happiest she’d been in a very long time— maybe ever.

It was the happiness that scared her.

She deserved happiness. That’s what Anita would tell her. But the way she felt with Spencer— comfortable, natural, easy— was the rising action. She was still anticipating the climax, the mountaintop, the apex of joy. She hated herself for it, but she couldn’t help it. She’d learned that every mountain had a valley, and the falling action always dragged her against every jagged stone on the way down. She never failed to plummet down from the heights into the depths of where she’d learned to live, quiet and lonely and a little bit bruised.

This knowledge didn't stop her from soaking up every second of the highs.

“I’m starting to get a little tired,” Diana admitted. She reached across the couch and patted Maggie’s hand, squeezing gently, and then she looked to Spencer. “I start to— forget when I’m tired.”

The smile that had become almost permanent that afternoon faltered slightly, but he nodded and checked his watch. “Four hours is pretty good.”

She hummed. “They’ve been longer as of late.”

Maggie watched as his nose twitched. “Does Dr. Kincaid think that’s good or bad?”

Diana gave him a sympathetic smile. “She’s not sure.”

It was quiet for a long moment, and then Maggie stood. “Let me give you a minute together.” Diana stood as well, and Maggie clasped her hands together. “I don’t think I can articulate how incredibly happy I am to have finally met you. And I— I definitely don’t have the words to properly thank you for raising such a wonderful man.”

Diana took her hands, squeezing them gently before pulling her into a hug. Maggie returned the embrace, and Diana murmured, “Thank you for loving him. Through the highs and the lows.”

Maggie blinked back tears for the second time that day, nodding into Diana’s shoulder and hugging her tightly.

With a final squeeze, Diana released her, and Maggie excused herself back out into the foyer. She signed out of the visitor log and waved to a grinning Suzanna, and then headed outside to catch her breath. She made it to the car, unlocking it and settling into the passenger seat before leaning over to turn it on and get the windows rolled down.

“She loved you, and I love you, and I’m so glad you got to meet her.”

She could hear the emotion in his voice, and she slid her arms around his back, pulling him into a hug. “Me, too.”

…

Spencer drove them to meet up with the team at O’Keefe’s, a favorite haunt of theirs on the evenings when they’d wrapped a case at a reasonable hour. They headed up the sidewalk hand in hand, with Maggie leaning a little into his side. She was feeling slightly more at ease this time around thanks to the buffer of knowing Penelope, Luke, and JJ already.

Spencer kept his hand on the small of her back as they approached the table. He greeted the group and then turned to Maggie, gesturing around the table. He introduced her to Tara, Matt, and Emily, the three of whom greeted her with warm handshakes. Penelope was practically vibrating with excitement as she scooped her up into a hug.

“Gosh dang it, you are just so cute,” Penelope squeaked. She pulled back from the hug to take stock of Maggie’s outfit. “The books, I love it. And the shoes!”

Maggie laughed, twirling her ankle to show off the pink t-strap heels. “I’m definitely going to regret them in about an hour. But they look cute anyway.”

Tara sidled up to the two of them, raising her glass in solidarity. “Here’s to cute shoes and pinched toes.” She took a sip of her scotch and then turned to Maggie. “What’s your poison?”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Maggie insisted.

Tara waved her hand and gestured to Spencer. “You got grandpa to come out to the bar. You’re not paying for a single drink tonight.”

“I come out with you guys!” he squeaked indignantly.

A chorus of exasperated groans made their way around the group, followed by good-natured laughs. Tara raised a single eyebrow in Spencer’s direction, and then turned her attention back to Maggie. “Like I said, you won’t need your wallet tonight. What’ll it be?”

…

She did not, in fact, have to reach for her wallet at all that evening. Between the seven of them, Maggie’s cup was always full and her smile was nearly permanent. She heard endless stories about Spencer, complete with photo evidence— much to his dismay.

They were all incredibly kind, asking about her family and her work, listening with interest as she recounted growing up on a farm and her days spent teaching kindergarten. Despite their apparent interest, Maggie couldn’t help but feel a little… silly. Stories of field trips and finger painting felt incredibly juvenile in comparison to the lived experiences of this remarkable team of people.

Eventually, Maggie had to excuse herself to the bathroom, patting Spencer’s arm and carefully navigating the dim bar. In the way that it so often did, the level of her intoxication made itself abundantly clear in the harsh lighting of the restroom. She stumbled out of the stall to wash her hands, using the countertop for balance and cursing under her breath.

Not only that, but for the second time today, she couldn’t help but feel so overwhelmingly ordinary. Surrounded by the team, all extraordinary and awe-inspiring in their own right, she was… plain, unaccomplished, boring. Spencer had called her remarkable; she felt anything but.