#also y’all KNOW i had to do the bucket thing with my ocs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

youare-mysonshine · 4 years

Text

todo cambio || chapter 1

Summary: One drunken night between best friends Camila and Oscar changes everything between them.

Pairing: Oscar ‘Spooky’ Diaz x (OC) Camila Martinez, Jose ‘Sad Eyes’ Guzman x (OC) Sofia Diaz

Warnings: cussing, smut in future chapters, angst.

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: Alright y’all, I’m really excited about this story. It’s a collab with @spookysmujer. We’ve been planning and planning this for daaays. Camila is my OC and Sofia is her OC. We is excited lmao. Also, since Sad Eyes’ name is never mentioned in the show, we decided to make one up for him; MEET JOSE LMAO. This is more like a filler chapter, to kind of get the ball rolling. Enjoy!

—————

*four years ago*

“Here, I got your nasty ass red bull.”

Camila walked up to the Diaz household, clutching a plastic bag full of chips, snacks and drinks from the bodega only a block or two away. She walked over to Oscar who was standing in front of his precious impala, tinkering with something under the hood. He’d always tried to teach her about cars, about how to fix something under the hood should she ever find herself stranded - the only thing she managed to retain was how to properly change a flat tire.

“Nasty ass? You just don’t have good taste, Mila.” Oscar wiped his hands down with a rag, turning to look down at the short, dark haired girl. He threw a smirk her way as he took the cold can from her hand, opening it and having a drink. She gave an airy chuckle.

“Clearly I don’t if I’m friends with you.” The raven haired female started walking up the path that led up the front steps of the house.

“You should consider yourself lucky, shorty.” Mila lifted her hand, middle finger up. She heard Oscar’s rumbling laughter behind her and a smile of her own came to her face. She pushed open the wooden door, walking into the familiar house that she’d been in plenty of times before. Sitting on the couch was Sofia, Oscar’s younger sister.

“Hey bambii,” She greeted the young teenager. “I got the water balloons. Where’s Cesar?” At her words, the youngest Diaz sibling came bounding into the living room.

“Right there.” Sofia said, giving Mila a sarcastic smile. The older female rolled her eyes.

“I can see that, smart ass. Hola Cesar.” She walked over and ruffled the young Diaz’s hair, to which he promptly pushed her hand away, but he wore that big smile on his face. “Ruby’s coming later. Mama made him stay and clean his room.” She snickered. “But I got the water balloons. Are you traviesos gonna help me?”

With young Sofia and Cesar standing beside her, the three got to work with filling the colorful water balloons up with water - they were laughing, smiling, and definitely making a mess with the water. “Oscar’s gonna be mad that we’re spilling all this water.” Cesar sad as he tried tying one of the balloons, some of the water spilling onto the floor.

“Not at Mila, you know he can never be mad at his girlfriend.” Sofia teased, wearing that smirk that was so similar to Oscar’s. Camila rolled her eyes, gently pushing the Diaz girl.

“Callate mocosa. You know I ain’t his girlfriend.”

“Mhm, whatever you saaay.” From beside Camila, Cesar was snickering, laughing at the playful bickering between the two females. The older of the three wet her fingers with the water running under the tap and she flicked it at Sofia.

“Shh. Cállate, Nina. Come on, grab that. Let’s go. Maybe if we sneak up on Oscar, we can get him with some water balloons.” Armed with a bucket of water balloons, the three sauntered out of the kitchen, past the dining room, the living room and finally out the front door. Camila grabbed a red water balloon from the bucket that Cesar was holding, meanwhile Sofia grabbed another. Together, the two females crept forward - Oscar was busy under the hood of the car, some music playing softly from a speaker.

“One.. two.. three..” The two threw the water balloons at Oscar, though their aim was a bit off - Camila’s balloon hit the drivers side door meanwhile Sofia’s hit the hood. Oscar stood up straight, on high alert - his eyes were darting back and forth, looking at his surroundings, but he deadpanned when he saw the culprits. Cesar was laughing, as were the two girls.

“You two are lucky that shit didn’t go inside the car.” He spoke. He grabbed the hood and slammed it down, closing it.

“Yeah? What would’ve happened if it had?” Sofia questioned her big brother, crossing her arms over her chest, giving him that devilish smirk that she was perfecting. But Mila could see the playfulness shining in her big brown eyes, sparkling under the afternoon sun.

“Aye Cesar, come here.” Ever the loyal little brother, Cesar went bounding over to Oscar. Oscar ruffled his brother’s hair and then reached into the bucket to grab one of the water balloons, tossing it from hand to hand. Camila had started backing up, a little smile creeping up onto her face. Sofia had started backing away too. “I don’t know. Wanna find out?”

“Oscar.. Oscar, don-“

Oscar raised his arm to throw the water balloon at Camila and Sofia, who had fully prepared to run back up those steps and into the house, but it never came. It never came because the sound of police sirens filled their ears.

Now, considering that they lived in Freeridge, an inner city riddled with gang violence and crime, hearing police sirens and gunshots wasn’t out of the ordinary. They grew up around it, they were used to it, as sad as it was to say. Especially the Diaz siblings who’d grown up in and around a gang. But what was alarming was the fact that police car came racing down the street that Oscar lived in.

It almost seemed like time slowed down as the cop car came to a halt in front of the house - people poked their heads through their windows to watch the scene unfold, some people had stepped out of their house to watch. The smile that Camila wore was wiped off her face in an instant and it felt like someone had dumped an entire bucket of ice water on her. It felt like she was watching a scene straight out of a movie play out in front of her.

Two officers stepped out of their police cruiser and approached Oscar, hands hovering their guns. Oscar’s face had gone deadly serious - his jaw was clenched, but his eyes.. his eyes had a sort of.. acceptance in them. Almost as if he knew what was coming, almost as if he knew it was gonna happen.

“Oscar Diaz?” One of the police officers asked him. Oscar said nothing, just nodded his head. “I’m gonna need you to drop that, put your hands above your head.”

“Oscar?” Cesar asked. “Oscar what’s happening?”

“Oscar, what’s going on?” Sofia spoke up, sounding every bit as alarmed as they were all feeling. But Oscar.. Oscar kept that stoic expression on his face. He didn’t resist. He didn’t fight. He didn’t run. He did as told. The balloon he was holding in his hand exploded against the pavement as he dropped it, water wetting the concrete. He raised his hands up and the police officers stepped closer to him.

“Oscar- No. No what are you doing! Stop!” The bucket of balloons that Cesar was holding fell to the ground in a heap as he rushed forward. Mila sprang forward, gathering the youngest Diaz and pulling him back. Tears had gathered in her eyes as she locked eyes with Oscar. She could see the emotion swimming in those chocolate pools of his - a thousands wordless emotions coming at her all at once.

“W-What’s going on? Why are you arresting him?!” Mila finally found her voice, albeit shaky and heartbroken, as she cradled Cesar’s cry and shaking form close to her body. She walked back over to Sofia and cradled the young 14, soon to be 15 year old in the same fashion. She was holding them in a desperate attempt to shield them from watching their brother, their only parental figure, be hauled off in handcuffs.

“Stop! Let him go!” Sofia cried out as the officers handcuffed Oscar once they searched him for any drugs or weapons. With his hands handcuffed behind his back, Oscar was hauled off to the cop car, and that was when the real screaming and crying started. Sofia started thrashing in Mila’s arms, desperately trying to break free from Mila’s hold. And Cesar, he did the opposite - he was holding onto Mila as tight as he possibly could, crying out for Oscar.

“Oscar! No, please! Let him go!” Mila couldn’t keep the tears at bay as she watched her best friend shoved into that police car. By now it seemed that the entire neighborhood was standing outside and watching the heartbreaking scene unfold. Watching as young adult Oscar Diaz was arrested, watching as his young best friend did her best to console his crying siblings all the while her own heart was completely shattering in her chest.

“No! Oscar!” Sofia managed to break free from Camila and rushed forward, but one of the police officers attempted to stop her, keep her from reaching her brother. “Get away! If you come near me, I will fight you!” She choked out between cries.

“Stay here, papito. Stay, okay?” Mila rushed over to Sofia and grabbed the girl who was desperately fighting, desperately trying to reach Oscar. “Fia.. Sofia, please.. Come on, come on..” Her own words were broken, completely full of hurt, but she needed to be strong. She had to be.

It was then that Sofia completely broke down. She stopped fighting, she stopped struggling - she buried her face in Camila’s shoulder and cried. All the older female could do was hold her. Hold her tight. She couldn’t say that everything would be okay because she didn’t - she didn’t know if everything was gonna be okay. Cesar walked forward, red faced and teary eyed and hugged his older sister and the girl that had almost become like a mother figure to him in the time that he’d known her.

With her arms locked around the youngest Diaz siblings, Camila locked eyes with Oscar, sitting in the back of the cop car. Their eyes met and his face faltered for a bit - his hardened expression dropped, his eyes shining with what she perceived as unshed tears. She could almost read the thought that was at the forefront of his mind;

‘Take care of them.’

And so she did.

—————

Four years ago seemed like a lifetime ago. An eternity. Yet at the same time, it felt like just yesterday.

Camila Martinez and Oscar Diaz had met back in high school. He was a sophomore and she was barely a freshman. Her first year in high school and she had been rather nervous. Excited to finally be in high school, but she couldn’t shake those nerves that she felt. She had ended up meeting Oscar when she was trying to get her locker open - she had been an overzealous little freshman, holding way too many books than her small body could even support, and on top of that, she couldn’t seem to figure out how to get her damned locker open.

Oscar had been walking by with a few of his friends and he’d spotted her struggling. She was barely balancing her books in her arms all the while trying to open her locker and while he found it completely comical, the young sophomore couldn’t just walk pass like everybody else seemed to be doing and let her completely make a fool of herself. The teen with a head of curly black hair had sauntered over and asked her if she needed some help and the rest, as they say, is history.

Camila and Oscar were two completely different people with two completely different personalities yet they got along so well. Whereas Camila was a bit more shy and calm, Oscar was the firecracker, saying what was on his mind without a second thought. They balanced each other out perfectly.

The more time they spent together, the more the two learned about each other - she learned about his ambitions, his hopes and dreams to become a professional chef. He’d told her about how he always watched his papa cook and how he wanted to do it too. He’d told her about how he had two younger siblings - Sofia and Cesar, and she’d told him about her own younger brothers, Mario and Ruby. It was almost comical to them that only a few years later, their younger siblings would become friends as well.

However, Mila soon learned more about his life - his mother wasn’t around, having finally chosen the life of drugs over her children, and his father, gone too. Not a word to his young children. No phone calls, no letters, nothing. Oscar found himself having to raise his younger siblings with no help except from those that were in the gang with his father. It was a life that Mila had desperately hoped he’d stray from - she wasn’t naive. Sweet and nice, sure, but naive, no. She’d grown up in Freeridge, she knew how gangs worked, she knew what happened once you were in a gang - there was no getting out.

That once vibrant, hopeful curly haired teen who wanted to become a chef became Spooky. By her sophomore and his junior year in high school, Oscar had been jumped in - she still remembered the night that he came knocking on her bedroom window. She remembered ushering him inside, Oscar hissing in pain with every move he made - it wasn’t until he was sitting on her bed that she saw the extent of his injuries. Bruises littered his torso, he had a split lip, a blackening eye. But the look in his eyes? The defeat? That was the worst of it all. It was horrible and she hated it. She hated knowing that Oscar was in the gang, knowing that he’d never be able to get out.

Those hopes and dreams he had were gone. He didn’t care about going to culinary school anymore - the one thing he was focused on was providing for his siblings. The one way he knew how to ensure they had a future, to ensure they had a roof over their heads and clothes on their bodies was by joining the gang.

Camila remembered the fight that they’d had when he joined - a lot of words were said, a lot of yelling was done;

“You don’t get it, Camila! You grew in a stable house with two parents. You never have to worry about how you’re getting your next meal, or how to pay the bills. I don’t have that luxury! I’m doing what I have to do to make sure that Cesar and Sofia have a least a little bit of a good life. They deserve that and I don’t need you giving me shit!”

The two of them hadn’t talked for a week or two after that but she eventually went around to his house, littered with a bunch of Santos. She told him that while she didn’t like that he joined the gang, she’d be there for him because he was her best friend, because she wasn’t gonna leave him to raise his siblings alone, she wasn’t just gonna leave him alone to deal with it all.

That tanned skin of his became inked with a Santos cross on his neck, and soon he started adding more tattoos to his collection. The teardrop tattoo was the most startling one of them all because Camila knew the meaning behind it. She just knew. The Oscar that she once knew was gone, but she never turned her back on him.

After Oscar had joined the gang, her parents had been less than thrilled at her affiliation with him. They hadn’t wanted her to hang around him anymore but they knew better than anyone that Camila and Oscar were practically glued at the hip. Nothing could tear those two apart from each other.

She had been fresh out of high school, 19 years old and saving up money from her little job at the grocery store to get herself her first car. Oscar, at the time of his arrest, was 20 years old and she still remembered that day like it had just happened. It was fresh in her mind. The tears, the crying, holding Sofia and Cesar in her arms and trying to figure out where to go from there on out.

He’d been arrested and charged with a felony drug possession that landed him an eight year sentence in Corcoran. She’d been devastated - she was angry, heartbroken, and more than anything she wanted her best friend back.

Now, here she was 4 years later, 23 years old, and on her way to pick up Oscar and she was practically buzzing with a nervous excitement. Due to good behavior, the Santo was being released early and she couldn’t have been more thankful for that. Of course, during his extensive time in prison, she’d visited him and talked to him on the phone but.. it wasn’t the same. She saw him in that orange jumpsuit, handcuffed, behind a thick glass, only speaking through a telephone. She was actually gonna see him in person. She was gonna be able to touch him and hold him.

“You okay?” Camila spoke up as she spared a glance at Cesar, who was sitting beside her. They were in Oscar’s cherry red impala, driving down the vast open road that she’d driven down before to go and visit him. She could just barely begin to make out the looming building up ahead. Cesar was fiddling with his thumbs, looking out the window. She could practically sense the nerves radiating off of him.

“Hm? Oh yeah.. yeah I’m good.” The youngest Diaz looked to Camila and offered her a small smile.

“It’s okay to be nervous, you know. I’m actually pretty nervous myself.” She admitted, giving him a warm smile. “It’s gonna be fine, okay? He’s coming home, Cesar. Your brother is finally coming home.”

Sitting in the backseat wearing her headphones, blasting music louder than hell, was Sofia. The middle child. The rebel, as Camila had taken to calling her. When Oscar had gotten arrested, it hit both siblings really hard but it hadn’t hit Cesar quite as hard as Sofia. Camila had taken responsibility over the two and she saw the downfall of the young girl - her grades began slipping, she began going out more and more, partying and getting drunk. Mila knew there was resentment towards Oscar because of his arrest, she knew it stemmed from the fact that their parents had abandoned them as well. Despite the drastic change in Sofia’s attitude and personality, the two females found themselves getting close, despite the age difference. Sofia looked at Camila like an older sister - always there for her, always calling her out on her shit even though it pissed Sofia off sometimes. They fought and argued but it was Camila that kept Sofia from really going off on the deep end.

“Has he.. has he changed?” Cesar piped up. It was Oscar that said he didn’t want Cesar visiting him in prison. Cesar had went once - it was when he had just barely gotten locked up. Camila had gone down to see him with Sofia and Cesar and when the hour was up, she remembered hauling away a crying and screaming Cesar. Oscar had called her the next day and told her that he didn’t want her bringing him out anymore. He didn’t want his little brother to have to see him like that. Camila also knew that Oscar really couldn’t handle seeing Cesar cry out like that for him.

“He’s still bald,” She chuckled. “Um, he’s gotten taller too. More muscular. But um.. I think prison kind of hardened him up. I think this life hardened him up, changed him.”

“Do you think he’ll ever go back to how he was? Before everything?”

“I don’t know. Only time will tell, right?”

Another 15 or 20 minutes and the three were anxiously waiting outside of the looming gates. Camila stood leaning against the car, Cesar beside her on her left and Sofia on her right. The younger dark haired female still had those headphones on, blasting music, looking down at her phone as she scrolled through her instagram. Camila sighed, nudging the female Diaz.

“What?” Sofia asked with a bored tone, looking at her. But Camila had grown to know her better in the last four years that Oscar was gone, she had learned to read her, gauge her facial expressions and reactions. She was just as anxious, she just hid it better.

“Take those off.” Camila said. “Please?”

Sofia sighed but did as told, removing her headphones. She leaned thru the window and tossed them into the backseat before straightening up, resting against the cherry red car, arms crossed over her chest. “I don’t see why I had to come. I could’ve stayed home.” She spoke.

“Because he’s your brother? Our brother?” Cesar spoke, looking over a his older sister. “And he’s finally getting out. Why are you acting like a bitch for?”

“A bitch? Shut up, little boy.”

“Basta! Enough! Jesus Christ, you’re worse than the twins, and those little shits stay trying to glitter and fight each other all the time.” Camila spoke up, exasperated, recalling the many many incidents where her younger twin siblings fought each other mercilessly. “Looks I know you don’t wanna be here but.. Oscar’s coming home, Bambii. He’s finally coming home, okay?” Mila’s words were soft, hopeful and caring. “Just.. don’t look so miserable. Please, for me?”

Sofia gave the older girl a small little smile. “Only for you, and because you said please. And because you’re buying me a michelada after.”

Camila chuckled, turning to face the gates once more. “Alright fine, bitch.”

It seemed like hours had gone by when really, it was only just minutes. Camila swore she felt her heart stop beating in her chest when she heard a buzzing sound. She could’ve sworn her heart jump started once more at a hundred beats per second when she saw Oscar, flanked by two correction officers, walking over to the gates. It was like the breath was stolen from her body when the gates slowly rolled open and Oscar walked forward.

Camila couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t contain her excitement or emotion. She ran forward quicker than lightening and jumped into Oscar’s arms, wrapping her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. Oscar gave a deep chuckle - she could feel his chest vibrating against her own. His arms strong arms wrapped around her small frame and held her close. Both of them, they stood there holding each other for a few good second, just savoring the feeling of each other.

“Dios mio, I’ve missed you Oscar.” She said, unable to keep the emotion from her voice.

“I’ve missed you too, Tiny.” Pulling away, she looked at him, at his face. He looked older now, hardened, just like she’d said to Cesar. The teardrop and Santos cross tattoo stood out against his tan skin, and his eyes shone brightly under the bright, blistering sun.

“I’m gonna forgive you for calling me Tiny, just because of how much I’ve missed you.” She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek before unwrapping herself from around him. Her feet planted themselves on the floor, her head barely coming up to his shoulders. He looked down at her, smirking.

“Not my fault you’re so short, Mila. Four years and you still haven’t grown at all.” Then, his eyes fell on his siblings, on Sofia and Cesar.

Cesar took a few hesitant steps forward, and Oscar motioned him over. “Come here, kid.” The youngest Diaz sibling walked forward and fell into his brother’s arms. Oscar wrapped an arm around Cesar, leaning down to press a small kiss to the top of Cesar’s head. His face was serious, but Camila could see the emotion shining in his eyes, she could see a thousand emotions swirling in them. So many emotions that he didn’t know how to convey or say. “I’ve missed you.” He spoke firmly, voice hard.

“Um, yeah.. yeah me too.” Cesar spoke, giving his older brother a small smile. Oscar’s eyes then came up on his unenthused sister, still leaning against the car, arms still crossed across her chest.

“Bambii.. look at you, you’re all grown up.” Oscar said. “I can’t get a hi or a hug?” He asked.

Sofia gave her brother a sarcastic smile, sarcasm simply dripping from every single pore. “Hi, Oscar. Welcome home. I’ve missed you.” She walked over, wrapping a single arm around his muscular torso. “It’s just so good to have you back home.” The tall Santo clearly wasn’t amused or impressed, giving his sister a deadpanned look. Mila simply sighed, scratching the back of her neck.

“Okay! Let’s go, yeah?” Camila spoke up, clapping her hands together. She dug the car keys out of her pocket and dangled them on her finger up at Oscar. “Did you forget how to drive or do you want me to?” She teased.

“Gimme those.” Oscar snatched the keys from her finger and walked around the vehicle, eyes taking in every little minuscule detail. Everything he missed in the last four years. Sofia climbed back into the backseat, with Cesar following beside her, occupying the spot next to her, meanwhile Mila sat in the passenger seat.

“I didn’t crash your car Oscar, there’s not even a scratch!” The brunette said to her best friend as he finally got in the car.

“Yeah, four years later and I still remember how you ran over the curb when you were trying to park. Fucked up the rim.” Oscar put the key in the ignition and started the engine. A little smile came to his lips, dimples just barely poking through. “Sounds the same..”

—————

Sofia had just put the finishing touch on her makeup when she heard the front door open and shut in quick succession. She sighed to herself, pursing her plump lips, deep chocolate eyes surveying herself in the mirror. She had a party that she’d been invited to and she certainly was not gonna miss it. Yeah, her brother was home, finally, but truthfully, the last thing that she wanted was to be near him.

“Don’t you own anything that goes past your knees?” Cesar asked as he leaned against the doorframe, watching as his sister put on the sandals that went with her outfit. She wore a cute spaghetti crop top, a form fitting short denim skirt with a little slit on the side, showcasing her smooth, tanned legs. The female Diaz turned and looking at her younger brother, shooting a sarcastic smile his way. “You know Oscar’s not gonna let you go anywhere like that.”

“Hm, well Cesar, unlike you - I don’t live to kiss his ass. I didn’t even know that you could kiss anybody else’s ass other than Monse’s until Oscar got back.” She snickered. Cesar’s face went serious, eyes giving her a nasty look. Meanwhile Sofia went about her business, grabbing her purse and stuffing her phone side, as well as her house keys and other necessities.

“Bitch.” Cesar muttered as he walked away.

“Pussy.” Sofia called back out to him. After making sure she had all her things, after spritzing a little bit of perfume on, the ebony haired female walked out of room, shutting off the light in the process, and walked down the hallway. She reached the living room and found Oscar sitting on the couch, flipping through the channels on the t.v. Upon hearing her enter, Oscar turned his head to look at her and nearly did a double take.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” He asked, sitting up straighter. She rolled her eyes, heading for the door.

“Did you suddenly go blind in prison? I’m wearing clothes.” She said. Oscar stood up quicker than lightening and blocked her path to the door, looking down at her with his brows furrowed.

“And where are you going?”

“A party. Move.” She said, trying to get past him but he still stood in her way, not budging. Sofia sighed deeply, looking up at her older brother with those intense eyes that mirrored his own. Perhaps it was a Diaz trait.

“A party? Dressed like that? Nah. You ain’t going anywhere.” He said, shaking his head. The female scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest in an act of defiance. Oscar really realized then how much she’d changed in the four years that he’d been gone. It was thing seeing her every other week for an hour at a time, but now that he was back, he noticed the difference.

“Uh, claro que si voy a ir. I’m 19, Oscar. I’m not a little ass kid anymore. In case you forgot when your ass was locked up - I grew up. I don’t need your permission.” Sofia could see the annoyance, anger beginning to shine in his eyes, but she didn’t back down. Oscar took a step forward, running a hand over his face.

“You live in my house, so yeah - you gonna go by my rules. I ain’t letting my baby sister go out to some party with a bunch of dirty putos.” He spoke, voice deathly serious. She chuckled bitterly.

“Your house? It hasn’t been your house for the last four years.” Using Oscar’s momentary lapse of surprise, Sofia skirted past him and pulled the door open, stepping out into the slightly humid night, the warm breeze blowing her hair back. As she walked down the front steps, she spotted Camila climbing out of her car and walked up the path.

Camila noticed the incensed look on the young woman’s face and raised an eyebrow. “Sofia, get over here.” Oscar called out to his sister, walking past the threshold. Sofia didn’t stop though, she kept going, in fact.

“What happened?” Camila asked as the two walked past each other.

“Your best friend is an asshole. And I have a party to go too.” She said, turning back around, beginning her walk down the sidewalk. The older of two merely gave a deep sigh, knowing that there was nothing she or anybody could say that was gonna get her to come back or stay - especially when she harbored some resentment towards her brother.

“Don’t get back too late, Sofia. I’m serious!” She called out. Sofia raised an arm up, signaling that she’d heard her. Turning back around, Camila walked over to where Oscar stood, leaning against the house, watching his sister walk away. She walked up the steps and took a seat on one of the chairs that decorated the small porch. She set the brown paper bag in her hand down on the small table, looking up at Oscar.

“What’s her problem?” He asked, occupying the chair across the brunette. He reached up and grabbed the blunt that rested behind his ear. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter, lighting it up and taking a hefty drag, after which he offered the blunt to Camila. She took it from him, bringing it up and wrapping her lips around it. Oscar eyed her, watching as she took a drag, holding the smoke in before letting it billow out of her mouth.

“I told you; she’s not the same Bambii from four years ago.” She said, grabbing the brown paper bag. She pulled out two beers, setting one in front of Oscar, grabbing the other for herself. She opened the cool can and brought it up to her lips, taking a drink of the bitter liquid. “She’s angry, Os. She took it hard when you got arrested. Started partying, going out, drinking - I’ve been there for her and Cesar but, there’s only so much that I could tell her before she get’s all pissed. Like you.” Mila nudged Oscar’s leg with her foot, shooting him a little smirk.

“You sayin’ I have a bad attitude, nena?”

“Nah, I’m just sayin’ you don’t like people telling you shit. Fia is the same way.” Camila said. “Just give her time. You’ve only been out for a few hours, she’s still not used to you being around again.”

Oscar said nothing, just gave a little ‘hm’, bringing the blunt up to his lips again. For a few minutes or so, the two said nothing - cars could be heard driving room, music playing from a block or two away, crickets chirping. Mila suddenly felt like she was a teenager again, hanging out with Oscar. Sneaking out of her house to meet up with him and drink some cheap beer and smoke some weed. But they were older now. Things had changed, shit was different. “Are you mad?”

“Hm?”

“At me. Are you mad at me?” He asked her. Oscar was looking at Camila, the same way he always did - like he was reading her, her body language, gauging every expression or movement. He knew better than probably anyone else. She stayed silent for a few seconds, bring her beer up to her lips and taking a drink. After she’d gulped some down, she set it back down and shrugged.

“I was. I was pissed at first. I always told you that that would happen if you joined the Santos. That or worse. So I was pissed but I can’t say I was really surprised either. Pero, overtime I got past that anger - there’s no point in being angry all the time. You’re back home now.” She smiled, eyes shining brightly. “Besides, if you ever get your ass arrested again, I’ll kill you my damn self.” She said. Oscar chuckled, a smug smirk pulling at his lips.

“Yeah? How you gonna reach, with your short ass, Tiny? You gonna use a step stool like them little kids?” Camila scoffed, but ended up laughing towards the ends.

“Asshole!” She reached her foot out and just barely missed her foot against his leg.

“See! You can’t even reach me.” Oscar teased her furthermore.

“Callate pendejo. This is what I get? Years and years of friendship and you’re still clowning me? Fuck outta here, with your rude ass. I’ll still bust your kneecaps.” Mila pouted, trying hard to keep that smile at bay, but she couldn’t hold it. She felt complete now, as cheesy as it was to say. When Oscar was in prison, they talked almost every night, but it wasn’t the same as actually speaking to him in person. As being able to touch him, to hug him.

“Nah seriously though,” Oscar’s expression and tone turned serious, blowing some smoke out. He looked at the brunette, their eyes meeting. “Thank you, Mila. For taking care of Sofia and Cesar. You didn’t have to-“

“Yes, I did.” Mila cut him off. “And you don’t have to thank me. You’re my best friend, Oscar. You know that I’d do anything for you. For you, Sofia and Cesar. Just like I know you’d do anything for me and my family.”

Oscar cleared his throat, sniffing slightly. He nodded his head at her, unable to really say anything. He looked away from her, looking out across the street. “How’re your parents? Abuelita, Mario, Ruby?” He finally asked, changing the topic.

“Mom is good, dad is good. Abuelita too. Mario is up Angelica’s ass, como siempre. And Ruby can’t wait for him to go to college so that he can finally get his own room.” She chuckled, running a hand through her dark, thick hair. After graduating high school, Camila had decided that she didn’t want to go off to some big university. At least not yet. She knew that she’d disappointed her parents when she told them - they wanted her out of Freeridge, wanted her to make something of herself. But they supported her nonetheless and supported her decision to stay back, to attend the local community college nearby.

Now, she worked a steady job, had her own car and her own place. It wasn’t big, but it was enough for her. It was something and she was thankful for it.

“Sad Eyes said the Santos wanna throw me some welcome back party,” Oscar said, finally opening his beer to take a drink from it. “You down to come?”

“Is that even a question you need to ask? Of course I’ll come.” She said. “Maybe I’ll finally meet a fine ass Santo.” She snickered, eyes shining with mischief. Oscar let out a little ‘tsk’.

“Mamas, you got me right here.”

Sitting there with Oscar, drinking and smoking, Camila felt like things were gonna be good, back to normal. Simple again. She finally had her best friend back. But nothing could’ve prepared any of them for what was to come.

—————

tagging: @spookysmujer @ugh-jalynn @lovleyajoitee @curly-haired-holland @babienay @harringtoncastle @spookysnena @eggshaustedd @firebenderwolf @clemmingstylins0n @xiomarlyn @lana-loves-stuff @dolanackles @briskiiat420 @lossantosprincesa @princesstiffxoxo @xbrujababyx @juul4jesus @audreydiane96 @angelreyesgirl100 @khiaraaa-in-spacee @poppaxannie @deviilbby @mrs-spookyd1az @eriksjournal @socialistavocado @pananegra @demure-doll @skathan-omaha @kingbouji3 @animesstuffsposts @moanlightbaby @thenameishayley248 @cheshirecat107 @bellaguarneri @liaari @cedricheart @amethyst09 @flamingweasley @littlxmiss @mellisophilia @fairygardenss

309 notes · View notes

vennilavee · 5 years

Text

The Countdown

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: you and bucky have a small fight before a mission during the holidays and you’re both irked at each other.

Warnings: cursing, alcohol

Word Count: 2791

A/N: inspired by s1e14 of the oc titled ‘the countdown’. i only watched the first season, but i always thought the new year’s kiss moment was beautiful. i listened to dice by finley quaye a lot while writing this (also found this song on the same episode of the oc)

_______________________________________________________________________

“You were supposed to be home for the holidays! And for the new year!” You say, irritation stewing in your belly. You cross your arms and shift your weight to your right side.

“I was home for Christmas! Doesn’t that count for something?” Bucky retorts.

“Neither of us even celebrate Christmas like that…”

“So? I was still here!”

“We were supposed to ring in the new decade together!”

“So what would you have me do? Tell the world to pause just because you want a New Year’s kiss?”

“Well, excuse me for wanting to start the new year and the new decade with my boyfriend! I guess I’m asking for too much from you, huh?”

“I guess you are!”

You roll your eyes so far to the back of your head that you are certain you can see the whites of your skull. You look away from him, so he can’t see the hurt in your chest. Why is he so nonchalant about it? Doesn’t it mean as much to him as it does to you?

Evidently not.

“Whatever. Have fun. Be safe I guess. Don’t get too injured. I won’t help you with anything more than bruised knuckles.”

I love you, you stupid idiot.

Bucky lets out a chuckle despite himself. He’s already dressed in his tactical suit, buckles and velcro done and all. You knew he had to go, but damn, would it kill him to look a little sad about leaving you for over a week and missing New Year's Eve and New Year's Day with you?

You can hear Sam calling for him out in the kitchen of your apartment.

“Well, I guess you’ve gotta go,” You shrug, “Have fun on your trip. You guys are going to Bali, right?”

“Don’t be like that,” Bucky murmurs, a faint cloud forming in his normally clear eyes.

“Enjoy your beers and your Mai-Tais, Samuel,” You call out, narrowing your eyes at Bucky.

“Leave me outta it, baby girl,” Sam replies.

You hand Bucky his black duffel, trying to thrust it at him and failing because of how heavy it was. He quirks his lips in amusement but falters when you send him a searing glare.

“I’ll see ya when I see ya,” Bucky says. You’re about ready to bite his head off. Why can’t he see it? Why can’t he feel it the way you do?

“Yeah. See ya when I see ya,” You echo, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

***

“‘See ya when I see ya?’ That was the saddest string of words in the English language I’ve ever heard,” Sam says, thumping Bucky on the back of his head.

“Oh really? Thanks for your opinion,” Bucky snarks, “She knew I had to go!”

“So? She’s allowed to not be happy about it.”

Bucky silences him with a glare and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Y’all are both some idiots.”

***

Bucky hadn’t even kissed you goodbye or told you he was going to miss you. The thought that he wouldn’t miss you leaves you motionless and in tears.

Does he still love you? Does he even like you? How could he look at you like that, like you were annoying him? As if he didn’t love you more than life itself, as if he didn’t spend every night falling asleep to your soft, rhythmic breaths? As if his crevices didn’t match yours, as if his stormy blue didn’t seek your brown warmth?

Had he even looked at you like that? As if you were an annoyance to quell?

He hadn’t kissed you. He hadn’t said goodbye to you.

You can’t help but wonder- is he thinking about you?

***

You haven’t sent Bucky a single text, emoji, meme or photo. It’s been four days since Bucky said ‘he’d see ya when he sees ya’, and the words (or lack thereof) rattle in his mind mercilessly.

They could replace Hydra’s trigger words, he thinks darkly.

But you hadn’t even kissed him goodbye or told him you would miss him. He can’t get your sad, brown eyes out of his mind or the way you had folded in on yourself with your arms twisted together like vines after you had handed him your duffle bag.

He’s half expecting you to dump his stuff out in front of your apartment, indicating that you’re through with him and the darkness and the missions and the waiting and just… all of it.

You deserve better, he tells Sam grimly as they are staking out a Hydra base in the middle of Mount Batur in Bali. Bucky can’t help but think that Hydra is incredibly stupid for building a new base in such a heavy tourist location. But maybe they needed a change in scenery.

Sam had sent Bucky a glare, as if to say ‘is this really the best time?’

Bucky sighs, “Why was that so dramatic? ‘I’ll see you when I see you? Seriously? God, I want to electrocute myself every time I remember that I said that.”

“Tell Zemo that. He’ll be more than happy to fulfill that wish of yours,” Sam snorts.

“I miss her,” Bucky whines, “I’m so stupid, Sam.”

“So tell her,” Sam says simply with a small smile, “Including that last part. Multiple times.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t even kiss her or say goodbye. I’m the worst. But I wouldn’t blame her. If she wanted to go, I mean. I feel like I’m too much and not enough at the same time,” Bucky confesses softly, anxiety filling his voice.

“Sounds like you both need to sit down and talk. But before that, just call her-”

Bucky’s already calling you, eyes automatically searching for your name and the star emoji next to it. International fees be damned.

“I didn’t mean right now!”

***

You’re absent-mindedly scrolling on your phone, the blue light from the screen keeping your mind stimulated despite the fatigue behind your eyes. It’s 3:12 AM, you’re sleeping on Bucky’s side of the bed and you miss him. You wonder what he’s doing- is he safe? Is Sam safe? Is he protected? Does he know that you love him?

You can’t believe you let him go without saying goodbye, without a kiss, without telling him you loved him. You just said ‘you’d see him when you see him’. Well, in your defense, he said it first.

Hovering over his name, you contemplate calling him. Nah. He’s probably busy.

But he always told you he’d never be too busy for you. And that was true- you had called him a few times in the middle of anxiety attacks, or during a bout of insomnia- just to name a few instances. Despite the fact that he had been in the crux of a mission, fighting people off, dodging bullets left and right… He had tucked his cell phone in the crook of his neck and ear to calm you down in his low, comforting voice. You had been able to hear the rhythmic beats of his footsteps, with the occasional yell as he told you about his day, told you to follow his breaths, and listed the things he liked and loved about you. His voice was your favorite melody, a melody that fills you up with warmth and familiarity.

You sigh and stare at the ceiling before feeling the buzz of a phone call in the palm of your hand.

Bucky’s name with a yellow heart emoji, along with a photo of both of you pops up on your phone and you accept the call quickly, butterflies strumming in your belly.

“Hi,” You say breathlessly.

“Hi,” Bucky says, sounding equally as breathless. You can hear Sam yelling at him for being distracted, you can hear commotion, glass breaking and doors slamming. But it’s all background noise.

“Are you okay?” You ask, “It’s like… 8 AM over there. Early morning Hydra base break in?”

“Yeah. I haven’t even had a coffee yet, can you believe it?”

“Those Hydra guys won’t know what hit ‘em,” You chuckle.

There’s a beat of silence between both of you.

“Hey… I’m sorry I left things so weird before I left. I’ll see ya when I see ya? Who the fuck says that,” Bucky mutters and smiles when you laugh, “I miss you, I’m sorry I won’t be there to start the new year with you, sweetheart. I’m such an idiot. And I’m sorry I made you feel so small.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye to you,” You whisper, “I miss you, I always do.”

“I know, honey. I always do, too,” Bucky murmurs, closely evading a punch to the stomach and a kick to the shins, “Save a kiss for me, will ya?”

Bucky groans when he gets punched in the nose and you wince at the cracking sound.

“Ouch, that didn’t sound so good,” You remark, “Come back to me in one piece, will ya?”

“I will,” Bucky promises, “I gotta bring you out here someday. You’d love it.”

“I think I would, too. Bali looks beautiful. We’d both get nice and tan on those pretty beaches.”

“You’re already tan,” Bucky snorts, “You’d get that nice, bronzed glow.”

“And don’t you forget it,” You yawn widely.

“Get some rest, honey,” Bucky murmurs. You hear a muffled explosion in the background and somehow you still yawn.

“Be careful out there, sweetheart,” You reply mildly and then after a second, “I’ll see ya when I see ya.”

“Stop making fun of me,” Bucky whines and you laugh.

“Goodnight, honey.”

***

Specks of gold sit on the walls of your friend’s apartment, glittering at every turn of your head. It’s simple, paired with a large balloon of a bottle of Moet champagne, with smaller balloons coming out of the opening of the bottle. Strings of pale yellow fairy lights line the ceilings of the apartment, casting a slight glow on everyone in attendance.

Your friends have outdone themselves this year. They had asked for your recommendations on decorations, which had been your duty. So truly, you had outdone yourself this year. There is a station for champagne bottles chilling in buckets of ice and champagne flutes. And another station of liquor, mixers and solo cups to drink out of, as well as finger foods and snacks. It had been a potluck style party and everyone brought different entrees to have for dinner.

You had objected to the red solo cups- “We can afford to drink out of something nicer than red solo cups!”

And the subsequent retort- “And who’s going to wash all the glasses, huh?”

So the red solo cups stayed and you tried your best to not think about how out of place they looked with all of the gold and glitter. Everyone was wearing a mix of black, silver, gold or burgundy. And you? You were wearing a silk, olive green camisole, black pants and a black blazer with a glittery finish to it. Golden teardrops hang on your earlobes, swishing with every turn of your head and a necklace that Bucky had bought you sits along on the column of your throat. You had left your chunky heels at the door- of course you wanted to show off your New Year’s manicure and pedicure to your friends.

Several rounds of games go by- Cards Against Humanity, What do you Meme, and of course, beer pong and flip cup and then more food and drink. It’s about thirty minutes to midnight and you haven’t heard from Bucky in a few hours. You had sent him photos of yourself getting ready, selfies with your friends and of the decorations. All of the texts say that they’ve been delivered. But maybe he’s busy.

You’re starting to feel the sting a little bit when couples start to get cozy with one another, some cuddling subtly and some cuddling not so subtly. You check your phone once more, wondering where in the world Bucky could be. At least you have the solace that he’s safe- he had told you that everything was okay, they had gotten the information they needed. Him and Sam were safe.

Sticking your phone in the back pocket of your pants and fixing yourself a mixed drink, you rally everyone together for toasts to end the decade off. With Bucky burning brightly in the back of your mind.

***

You call Bucky at 11:56 PM. You’re not sure where he is, if he’ll even have cell reception, but you do it anyway. He doesn’t answer and you go straight to voicemail. It’s 11:58 PM by the time you decide to leave him a voicemail.

“Hi,” You begin, “Um… It’s probably already next year where you are, right? Happy new year, honey. To many more new years, new adventures and new… everything. I’ll text you in the morning, miss you, love you.”

With your heart feeling a little lighter, you join your friends in the living room to watch the countdown live. You don’t notice that one of your friends has disappeared and another one has a sly look on her face when she glances over to you.

***

Bucky is sweating bullets. He’s been running around the city for the last hour, from one edge to another. Sam and Bucky had finished up their mission late on the day before New Year’s Eve and Bucky thought it would be cute to surprise you before midnight on New Year’s day.

But of course, their quinjet had had a few technical difficulties, they had run into some trouble, and it had taken them behind schedule a few hours.

So now, Bucky is currently sprinting to Williamsburg from the subway station because the subway car going to Brooklyn is currently out of service for the next forty-five minutes.

Just his luck. This is the most stressed Bucky has probably ever been.

***

It’s 11:56 PM when Bucky feels his phone vibrating. He quickly checks who it is, silencing it when he sees that it’s you calling. Bucky is currently running up twelve flights of stairs to get to your friend’s apartment building. The elevator was taking far too long, and Bucky was far too impatient to wait.

To the twelfth floor he goes.

Bucky hears his phone buzzing again, but just for a second. It’s a voicemail and he’s certain it’s from you. His heart sputters for a moment at the thought of you missing him. As it always does.

Just two more floors to go. Sam would mock him for how long it’s taking him to get to the twelfth floor.

With wide eyes and his chest heaving, he sprints down the corridor to apartment number 12-303. He has to make it, he has to get to you before…

Ten!

Apartment 12-295 is on his right.

Nine!

Apartment 12-299…

Eight!

Apartment 12-301…

Much to his relief, the door to apartment 12-303 is unlocked. He had texted your friends hours ago, asking them to please leave the door unlocked. At least that had gone according to plan.

Your friends peek over to see him at the doorway and each give him a smug smile. Your back is facing away from him as you’re watching the countdown on the television screen. You turn your head a fraction, looking over your shoulder to call out for everyone to come watch the countdown, and then you see him.

You gasp loudly, hands over your mouth in complete surprise. Your heart is singing for him, begging you to to join him. You’re tethered to him, feet moving of their own accord. Time stops for a moment, the faint sounds of the seconds counting down were nothing but static in your ears. All you can see is Bucky. Bucky who had done who knows what to make this special for you.

Bucky’s right in front of you with a small smile. He pulls you to him, not wasting a second before pressing his lips to yours just as the raucous cheers of happy new year go off around them. It’s just Bucky and you standing there with his hands cupping your cheeks and your hands light on his wrists. Glitter and confetti gently falls on his shoulders and your dark hair, giving you a crown of sparkles. Your soul is aflame, and you’re unable to keep yourself from smiling into the kiss.

He pulls away with bitten lips and rests his forehead against yours. He pulls a speck of confetti from your nose and kisses you once more.

“Happy new year’s, honey,” Bucky murmurs.

“Happy new year’s, baby,” You say, kissing his chin, “Thank you for doin’ this for me.”

“I told ya,” Bucky grins, lopsided and your favorite, “Told ya I’d see ya when I see ya.”

***

tags: @coal000 @hootyhoobuckaroo @buckyforbreakfast @lesqui @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes @sergeantbarnescaptainrogers @whothehellisbucky

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fluff

414 notes · View notes

vertanimeni · 4 years

Text

the ice will start to break, the day will fade away (9/18)

Summary:

“Have you heard? The Elephant of Caocin has committed high treason!”

From Trikru’s most reputable war hero to Trikru’s most wanted traitor, Kova found themselves stripped of their titles and trapped between a clan that wants them dead and a camp of invaders - the same ones who kidnapped and tortured their brother.

But Kova was willing to do anything to stay alive and keep their family together.

Pairing: Bellamy Blake/Grounder OC

Word Count: 5,040

TW: Canon typical violence, virus outbreak/illness, Wells fingers and phantom pain, "Medical Procedure" if you could call it that + Some nasty stuff*, PTSD + Traumatic Memories*

*Note, Nasty part starts with "The morning came and went" and ends with "The ramp of the dropship". Includes vomit and blood. **Note, Traumatic memories is the italicized part starting with "A mountain road" to "bows and arrows in hand" if you want to skip that.

I’ll be leaving a summary at the bottom just in case anyone wants to skip.

A/N: Hello friends!! This chapter... is a lot. Sorry it took so long, finals week was pretty rough and I didn’t have time to edit it until recently. I’m yeeting Kova back at y’all. If you’re reading through my blog, the read more does not show up due to Tumblr’s new formatting, so please click on the post itself. As of right now, I will be updating every Friday at 4pm EST. Enjoy, and please read the trigger warnings! It’s a heavy chapter.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

⟻ Previous Chapter || Masterlist || Next Chapter ⟼

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ix. impotent (or not).

When the curtained entrance of the dropship fluttered, a wave of much needed fresh air entered and spread throughout the three levels. Unfortunately, this also meant the delinquents camping near the dropship would get hit with a wave of pained groans and the murky scent of old blood. Under Clarke’s orders, those delinquents had to move their tents away, and no one was allowed to enter the dropship, with very few exceptions.

Wells was one of these few exceptions, and he wished he wasn’t, as much as he hated the thought.

He could barely hear himself think, let alone have some (desperately needed) alone time. With every delinquent he attended to, two more would try to kick the bucket, and some of them had even refused his help. It was needless to say why, given his status within the group, but that didn’t stop the shock and irritation gathering at the pit of his stomach.

And it was barely dawn — much too early for this bullshit. At some point, he snapped when a group of delinquents at Death’s door rejected his help, complaining of the pain and mocking him in the same breath. “Listen,” Wells had grit out, hands clenching into fists, “either you let me take care of you all, or I’ll let Kova and Murphy deal with it.”

The way the group looked like they had bit into a particularly sour lemon gave Wells a satisfaction he hadn’t known was possible.

Oh yes, Kova (and surprisingly Murphy) had offered their services to help Clarke with the sick. Last time Wells saw Kova, they had changed into old, worn out clothes and their long dreads had been pulled back in a low bun, all done as if they had had experience with handling the sick. Most delinquents had only allowed Kova’s help when they were told the only other option would be Murphy.

Needless to say, the group fell quiet after that.

Wells was already stressed out to the max, even with three people working by his side. Wells and Murphy took care of those who had started improving while Kova and Clarke would take care of the sick at at death’s door.

Every once in a while someone would switch over when somebody needed a break, but Clarke wouldn’t allow Murphy and Kova to work together, not after their fifth argument before the sun could even peak over the horizon. He had no idea how Clarke had originally planned on helping the infected all by herself, and frankly, he didn’t think he would be able to handle her answer.

“Wells!”

Speaking of. “Yeah?”

“Could you leave a bowl of water by Eva? Don’t worry about finding a cloth, Kova’s on that.”

“Yup!”

He grabbed an unused bowl and reached into the water bucket, only to find it empty. He picked it up and made his way to the front of the dropship. Wells couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Something told him it wasn’t Kova - they had a habit of bringing in a new bucket once the old bucket was only 1/4th full. ‘I already reminded Murphy to replace it before.’

At the front of the dropship, the water crew were kind enough to leave them a row of filled buckets, replaced every half hour. Thoughts preoccupied, he picked up a heavy bucket with his injured hand, curling non-existent digits around the handle. Pain shot up his nerves and the bucket tumbled out of his grip. He recoiled, waiting for the clatter of metal against metal—

“Careful.”

He didn’t realized he had clenched his eyes tight until he heard the familiar voice. He forced his eyes open, only to see the top of a boot holding up the handle of the bucket. Kova stood before him, balancing on one foot, a bundle of clean(ish) rags in their hands. Slowly, they brought up one of their legs and took the bucket with their free hand.

“You strained your fingers.” They pointed out with a jut of their head.

Still in a state of shock from the sudden pain, he looked down at the bandages, now blotted with blood at the stump, and a meek “Oh” left his lips.

Before he could say anything else, Kova put aside the bucket and the bundle of cloths and took his head in theirs. The pain had dulled down to a throbbing ache, but still, he flinched, urging his body to not move away as much as he desperately wanted to, but he was surprised to find that their fingers were gentle despite calloused, nimble, and most importantly, confident. “You seem like you know what you’re doing.” He commented.

“Not my first time handling amputations.” A far-off look glazed over their eyes, one that Wells had seen a few times already when Kova thought of home (or, at least, that’s what he thought). “It feels like your fingers are still there, right? You try to curl them, but it only hurts?”

“How’d you know?”

“I’ve seen patients who lost appendages at the joint during my internship years.” The corners of Kova’s lips upturned, not enough for a smile, not a grimace either. “When they try to curl with a prosthetic, the nerves flare up in the only way they can — through pain.”

Now, that was a lot to unpack. Wells could only manage to say, “Sorry, you—? Patients?”

“Mn.” They dropped his hands. “I used to work in prosthetic handling before all this. Find Clarke and ask her to check if the stitching popped.”

“Sure, after I do this real quick.” Wells reached for the bucket—

The placed their arm across the bucket. “I got it. You deal with that first.”

For the first time in a while, anger sparked in his stomach. “I’m not fragile—”

“I never said you were. Unless you have a death wish, you shouldn’t be helping a bunch of sick people with an open wound.”

Ah. That… That’s fair. Wells glanced between Kova and the bucket. They weren’t planning on relenting any time soon. “Yeah. Alright. I’ll find Clarke real quick, but…” He hesitated, “do you mind if I… I just have a few questions—”

“Find me afterwards.” They nodded. “I can try my best to answer.”

He had never looked for Clarke faster.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was only when the sick would cough up less blood, the dropship would grow quieter and quieter, and the crease between Clarke’s eyebrows would start to relax, did Wells get a chance to ask Kova quesions. Although truthfully, when he plopped down next to them around the corner of the Ark during their break, drinking boiled water, all he could think about was how Clarke handled his wounds with such care, the gentleness of her fingers as she unwrapped his bandages, that one stubborn baby hair curling just above her eyebrow, the worry lining around her eyes—

“—Wells.”

He startled out of his thoughts. Blood rushed to his cheeks when he realized Kova had been trying to catch his attention for the better part of the past few minutes. “Ah— Yeah, sorry. I, uh,” He motioned to his hand, hopefully directing attention from his burning cheeks. Kova’s look told him otherwise, but thankfully they obliged and looked away. “I’ve come to terms with it. But. Well. How much do you know about our home in space, the Ark?”

“Octavia explained somewhat at the bridge.”

“To put it simply, the rules there were very strict."

"Death for any crime, even for having a second child.”

Ah. Truthfully, after the initial reveal of the girl under the floor, Wells hadn’t put in a lot of thought about the second child. He was quite young when it happened, and by the time he grew up, he had other things to worry about, like the state of the Ark, his father’s expectations, Clarke, and her family, especially after her father died and she was sent to the Sky Box. To him, the Blakes were just another family torn apart for breaking the rules, just like the Griffins.

But down here, he had to face the consequences of such thinking. Down here, he became eye to eye with the remnants of said broken families. At first, it was difficult to unlearn what his father had taught him, to unlearn that exceptions were not allowed. There was a difference between a 16 year old boy who murdered for fun and an 8 year old girl who stole extra food after her parents had been floated. And now, to explain and try to justify the rules of the Ark, he wondered how he couldn’t see that before.

Regardless, there he was, nursing his boiled water, explaining how his father, the Chancellor, enforced the rules, and how most people wanted revenge by taking vengeance out on him. Not once did Kova give him a pitying or judgmental look (’or, maybe they hid it well,’ his mind unhelpfully supplied.)

“Then, there was this little girl named Charlotte, who watched her parents get floated. She uh…” His hand went up to where the scar on his neck was, laid out for all to see, and his voice wavered. “She tried to kill me. She only nicked me. I tried to stop her, but she swung the knife around and cut my fingers off. I passed out, and she left me there because she thought she killed me.

“I was knocked out for a day and a half from blood loss, shock, and an infection, but they couldn't tell my father I was still alive because they had already lost contact with the Ark. The problem is before all of this happened, Murphy threatened me for the same reason — my father — and Charlotte had used Murphy’s knife. When the camp found the knife, they accused him and tried to punish him in the same way.”

“By trying to kill him?”

He nodded again. “They tried to hang Murphy, but I guess the guilt got to her — she confessed during the hanging. He practically hunted her down and by the end of the day, she killed herself by jumping off a cliff. The group banished Murphy afterwards.”

“And now he’s back.”

“And now he’s back.” He repeated with a heavy sigh. “With a flu.”

The two stared off into the distance, falling quiet. “The son shall not bear the sins of the father,” Kova quoted, turning to him, “but the son should acknowledge his father’s mistakes. This,” they gestured behind them, to the dropship, “is not your fault. You and your father just so happened to be connected to it.”

“Is it not the same?”

“No, They’re different.” But, if he had asked them three years ago, they would have said the opposite. This was no longer a few years ago.

The sound of the camp rising and getting to work filled the silence that fell between them, until Kova said, “The pain you feel in your fingers — it’s called phantom pain.”

The fact that there was a name for his condition shouldn’t have made the pain lessen, shouldn’t have made Wells relax a little easily, but it did. A name. It wasn’t just him. “Oh.” He managed to murmur, cradling his hand with the other, gently pressing it against his chest. “Oh.”

Back into silence. He was grateful Kova let him settle with the new information for a moment, but he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you a doctor?”

They couldn’t help but snort. “Not a doctor. Just a prosthetist. I help shape and attach prosthetics to the amputated part. If you want, I can try and find some spare finger prosthetics and fit them for you myself—”

“Why?”

Kova paused. “Why what?”

“I… I don’t mean to sound rude, but why? Why would you do that?”

“…hmm.” How could they possibly explain that their once hateful view of the invaders— no, sky people — changed? That he and the others remind him of the children and teens at their village? Instead, they answered with, “Octavia told me that, besides her, you were the first one who stood up for my brother when Bellamy and Clarke tortured him. I will forever be grateful for that. And…”

“…and?”

“…You remind me of someone.” They left it at that, patting his shoulder and standing up. “C’mon, let’s go back and help your friends.”

Wells stared at them, and for a moment Kova worried he would press for more answered, but in the end all he did was nod, a smile on his face.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The morning came and went. By the time Wells could take a break, four delinquents had died and Murphy and Kova only got into two arguments. Technically, it wasn’t even a break. He sat outside the dropship on the ramp, eating his rations while updating the other delinquents how the sick were doing. So far, everything had calmed down—

“Make way! We got an infected kid here!”

Wells stood too quickly and his knees cracked. He recognized that voice.

Shocked gasps came from the group of delinquents. They parted, allowing Raven and Fox to pass through, carrying a feverish looking child between them. “Wells! Emmie’s sick, we need help!” Raven called out.

Wells wouldn’t have hesitate to carry Emmie himself if it weren’t for his newly bandages hand. With the warnings from both Clarke and Kova in the back of his mind, he didn’t want to risk hurting Emmie or opening his wounds again, so as soon as he heard Raven, he stuck his head through the curtain and called for Kova.

Fox already had skin as pale as river rocks from the nearby stream and was just as anxious as the disturbed tadpoles by its shore, but she blanched further and her hands trembled at the call of the grounder’s name. Said grounder emerged from the curtains, eyebrows creased in worry, but Fox gripped Emmie’s legs ever so slightly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Raven whirl her head sharply to give her the most angriest look Fox had ever seen on her, as if Raven knew exactly what Fox had been thinking. She couldn’t help but flinch as Raven opened her mouth—

“You can trust them.” A voice interrupted from the side. Fox turned to the crowd around them. She saw Finn jut his head towards the grounder. “Kova has been helping Clarke and the others all night and morning. They know what they’re doing.”

Seemingly composed, Kova wordlessly dipped their head in gratitude, but Fox noticed the uncertain tremble in their hands. Finn acknowledged it with his own nod.

Wells placed a comforting hand on her arm (when did he get so close?) and Fox looked down at the young girl she had been taking care of since they landed. Her breaths came short and rapid, her forehead beading with sweat and creased with a pained frown.

Without realizing, Fox nodded. Her arms, shaking with Emmie’s weight, relaxed as she and Raven passed the girl to Kova’s arms. With one arm across her back and the other holding up her legs, Kova hoisted Emmie on their hip and sped back to the dropship, calling out “Wells, let’s go!” over their shoulder.

But with the sudden change in position, a wave of nausea and dizziness hit Emmie quite suddenly. Her body tensed and saliva built up in her mouth and throat—

Years of training couldn’t stop the falter in their step, the disgusted shiver running up their spine, nor the goosebumps scattering across their arms as Emmie promptly vomited streaks of bile and blood over Kova’s shoulder, some of it catching on their clothes.

Well, not really their clothes, thankfully. But still.

Wells ran into the dropship first. The group of delinquents gasped and gagged, even as the two made their way inside.

At first, Kova thought the wet spot on their shoulder was vomit and had pointedly ignored it. Until Emmie started trembling, her forehead against their shoulder, and the wet spot grew bigger with every audible sniff.

“It’s alright, I got you.” They soothingly rubbed her back. “I’m here.”

“Kova, I’m sorry.”

“Here!” Wells suddenly called out.

“Coming! What are you apologizing for?”

“Vomiting on you.” Her voice cracked with another sob.

“No need. That’s not something you need to apologize for, but if it helps, I forgive you.”

Emmie nodded against their shoulder and Kova gently placed her on the makeshift bed. “I’m scared.” Another sniff, another whimper, and her arms wrapped around herself across her middle. “My stomach hurts.”

Their hands clenched into fists, but Kova kept them out of sight. There was nothing worse than seeing someone else in pain and not being able to do anything about it. Before they could speak, Wells stood and said, “It’s alright, we’ll take care of you. I’ll get water.”

Kova watched him leave until they felt a small hand on their knee.

“How come you’re not wearing the mask today?” Emmie’s question came with a shortening of breath and a weak smile that faltered with every wave of pain.

Ah. That’s why they felt lighter together. “I left it at my tent. Why, is it strange to see my face? Am I scary? Should I go get it?” They couldn’t help but tease, wiggling their eyebrows ever so slightly.

With every question, Emmie’s grin grew wider and wider and she shook her head vigorously. But one wrong move and her body tensed, her smile became a grimace, and her hands fisted her shirt across her middle, sweaty and clammy.

Wells came back and sent Kova a look, but they didn’t let even a hint of panic show on their face, and instead calmly asked, “Emmie, could you take a deep breath for me?”

She tried, but her chest hitched after a certain point. She winced and shook her head. “It hurts too much.”

“I see. You’re probably just sore from vomiting. Would you like for me to put your hair up?” They pushed back a curl making its way towards her eye. “So it’s out of your face?”

“Could you put it in a bun?”

“Mn. Wells, could you get a hair tie from Clarke?” Wells nodded, but before he could stand up, Kova caught his sleeve and whispered, “She has a hemothorax. Get Clarke. Bring a needle.”

Not wanting to alert Emmie, he nodded and left as fast as he could. Meanwhile, Kova kept her occupied and dipped a rag into the bowl Wells brought. “I see you’ve learnt my name. I will admit, I will miss being called ‘pretty stranger.’”

Emmie gave them a weak smile. “Fox told me after I bumped into you.”

“Ah. The girl outside? The one holding you?”

“The one with straight hair is Fox, but the one with the ponytail is Raven.”

Raven… Kova felt they had seen her before when it hit them — the meeting at the bridge. She was one of the gunners. “I see.” They dabbed at her forehead with the damp rag. “Are you close with both of them?”

“Yeah! Fox hangs out with the kids around here, mostly to keep us out of trouble, but before we landed I never really talked to her, but I knew she existed.”

If Kova hadn’t known much about the Ark, they would have been confused, but it made sense — of course Emmie would at the very least know of Fox’s existence, since the Ark was a closed and tight population, but that didn’t mean they really knew each other. “Right, right.”

“Same thing with Raven, but I think she’s, uh, an… en… engineer?”

“Raven’s a mechanic.” Came a voice from behind. “Don’t let her hear you call her an engineer, or she’ll get really upset.” Clarke dragged the word out playfully before she dropped to her knees besides Kova. Wells came up behind the two and passed Kova a hair tie before going to check on the other patients. “I heard you’re not feeling good, is that right?”

Emmie nodded, her head lolling loosely. “My chest was hurting, but now my back hurts too.”

“I see. Do you think you can roll on your side for us?”

She nodded once more, and with the help of Clarke and Kova, she rolled onto her left side. She coughed once, twice, then after the third time each cough came out deep and rattled. Kova sent Clarke a questioning look.

“It’s pretty common, I wouldn’t worry about it.” Clarke assured them—

—Blood splattered across the blanket, the floor, and specks landed on Kova’s knees. A scared whimper, more blood, and Emmie’s breathing came in quick and shallow—

“Lay her down on her back!” Clarke ordered.

Kova did so, and when Clarke took out the needle from behind her back, they blocked Emmie’s view of it.

“Kova—”

“I’m here.��

“It hurts!”

“I know, I know,” They gathered her hair into a bun, using the sweat beading at her forehead to keep strays away from her face. “It will get better, I’m here. Give it time.”

Kova only realized that no, it wouldn’t get better with time, when Clarke said, “It’s not working.”

They leaned back and tapped Well’s leg, silently grateful he was still close by, and motioned for him to keep Emmie occupied. As soon as her hazy attention switched from them to Wells, Kova moved next to Clarke. “What’s not working?”

She stuck the needle at a different angle and pulled the plunger back. “Her blood pressure is too low, I don’t think she’s eaten or drank anything today, and the blood isn’t coming out—!”

With a pop!, the plunger came off of the syringe.

What… What kind of luck?

Alerted by the sound, Wells looked back, only to turn back to Emmie with the most neutral face he could possibly manage. Clarke and Kova stared at the plunger, hanging uselessly from the former’s fingertips.

As quietly as possible, Kova gritted out, “Get another one.”

“That was the last one. Bellamy sent out a team to get more from the bunker, but I don’t know how long it’ll take.”

“Those are over 200 years old—” Kova cut themselves off with a deep breath, closing their eyes. When they opened up again, both Clarke and Wells were sweating with anxiety. “Alright. Fine.” They pulled out the syringe and twisted the barrel off, leaving just the needle and its hilt. They turned to Clarke. “Get me two buckets — one empty, one with water — and a cup.”

“What are you—”

They stuck the needle in, just slightly lower than where it had been last time. Emmie flinched, and Kova patted her arm with an apologetic smile. Then they leaned forward—

With a sharp intake of breath, Clarke stumbled onto their feet and ran off. Alerted by the clatter, Wells glanced back only to turn and give his full attention to Emmie with a conversation on food, discreetly scooting closer to block her from the view.

Kova’s ears perked up at the sound of one heavy and one light clank in front of them, and one softer clank closer to their face. They reached for the empty bucket and spat out blood before returning to the hilt of the needle.

They repeated this until halfway through the fourth suck, Kova suddenly flinched. But before Clarke could react, they pulled the bucket underneath and spat out the last of the blood in their mouth while blood flowed freely from the needle. Emmie’s breathing, albeit shaky, deepened, and her eyes fluttered closed. Clarke checked her vitals with two fingers on her wrist and nodded. “She’s alright.”

A cup filled with water entered their vision. Kova took it with a thanks and swished it in their mouth before spitting it into the bucket of blood. Wells wordlessly took the cup, filled it with water, and passed it back. The two repeated this for a while until the tang of stale metal lessened. After Kova spat out their last swish, they said, “The blood.”

“What?”

“It tastes old.” Kova paused and looked between the two. “We will have to check on the others for early signs of hemothoraces, too.”

“Ah. Right,” Clarke nodded weakly, “of course. Here.” She offered a napkin, but Kova shook their head and gently pushed her hand back.

“Save it for her and the others.” They wiped their mouth with the end of their sleeve, smearing blood across their cheek. “I will…” They looked down at their dirtied clothes. “Go to my tent. And wash up.” They paused. “Will you two—”

“Please go. Take your time.”

“We’ll watch her.”

“…mn. Thanks.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The ramp of the dropship creaked as Kova made their way down, but instead of heading to their tent, they turned and walked around the corner of the dropship. As soon as they were out of sight from the rest of the camp, they braced themselves against the wall with a forearm and dry heaved. They gasped for breath—

A mountain road. Hundreds of dead bodies at its feet. The ends of a long jacket fluttered against their calves, cut apart with a rough knife, leaving threads to hang loosely. Fabric covered the lower half of their face. The pungent tang of blood coating their tongue. Throat so sore they just want to stick their fingers down inside and scratch—

They stumbled up the steep road alongside their fellow warriors (ones they had sent on a death mission—) Dehydrated, exhausted, bleeding out. It was a wonder how they got so far up before they finally collapsed. They can't move. Any fight they might have had disperses when their body finally— finally —slumped against the cold ground. They close their eyes. They rest. And they wait.

“Duck!”

Their eyes snap open at the sounds of bodies dropping around them. Kova found themselves face to face with one of their warriors, a young one at that, staring at them with wide eyes, body seizing as if trying to reject, trying to fight the two arrows stuck in their neck, and far too suddenly to be natural, the warrior stilled, but not before coughing out a last burst of blood, specking across Kova’s face. They flinched.

A thunder of footsteps tremble the mountain against their ear. Kova looked down, still at dirt level, only to see Azgeda’s army sprinting up the road, bows and arrows in hand—

“—Kova? You okay? Did something happen?”

Someone’s hand lightly grasped their shoulder, and even though being touched was the last thing they wanted, the warmth seeping through their shoulder grounded them, pulled them back from where they were spiraling towards. Instead of leaning against the wall, they found themselves sitting against it. They let out a deep breath, trying to calm down. “Yeah. I’m alright.” They turned to the voice—

Ah. The girl from before. Raven. Kova couldn’t control their shocked look, and Raven’s eyebrows creased in concern. “I saw you run back here. What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.” The last thing they wanted to talk about was on their mind—

“You don’t look it.”

They looked down at their trembling, clammy hands. She had a point. They let out a resigned sigh. “Children.”

“What?”

“You have children here.”

“…yeah. We have more on the Ark.”

“The people down here are prisoners. They committed crimes. How do children commit crimes?” Raven fell silent. Kova continued. “Not just that, but Trikru knows.”

“Your clan? What do they know?”

“That you have children here.” They looked around the dense forest around. Now that they thought about it, they hadn’t seen any scout activities, nor did they hear about any grounders running around from the sky people. Did they leave already? “Trikru knew. But they still sent Murphy here with this disease. That breaks the Coalition Conventions.”

Raven was still silent, as if she were waiting for Kova to get all their thoughts out.

“Disgusting.” They spat to the side, far away on the poor grass. “I never would have expected them to go this far. They claim they want vengeance for the lives lost by the invaders, but how can they take vengeance knowing there are innocent children? Non-combatants? None of you all know what you’re doing, you had no idea there were people living here.” They took a deep breath. “Your people aren’t right, but neither are mine.” They couldn’t help but let out a loud, bitter laugh. Raven eyed them, as if watching someone break their sanity. “And somehow, you all had the luck to land here during a time of political unrest and the instability of the Coalition.

They hadn’t meant to spiral into a rant, but they were tired. They just didn’t realize how much until they planned the bridge scenario with Lincoln that one fateful day, and now? Now, here they are.

They snapped their head up, Raven watching them with wide eyes and a parted mouth. “My apologies, I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no, you’re good. I just—” Raven let out a light laugh, shoulders slumping with relief, as if Kova’s rant took off a heavy burden. “I wasn’t expecting that. Nice to know there’s someone on our side.” She lightly bumped her shoulder against theirs.

“Like I said, you all aren’t in the right, either. But,” They sent her a small reassuring smile, dipping their head slightly, and said, “neither is Trikru. And I’m not the only one thinking that.”

“Mmh, I sure hope so. Is…” Raven paused, glancing to the dropship. “Is Emmie okay?”

“Yeah. She had an issue with her lungs. But she was getting better, last time I saw her.”

“Good, good. Well, you definitely have my full support now.” She sent them a grin.

“Mn.” The corners of their mouth upticked. “You thought I was trying to sneak back to Trikru, didn’t you.”

Her eyes widened and she sputtered, her cheeks darkening slightly. “No! I mean. Well— Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“I think that was the first time I’ve ever seen proper security around here. Don’t apologize. Trust your gut.” They would have done the same if the situation were reversed, after all. “I’m glad you did. Want to come check on Emmie with me?”

“God, yes please. Fox has been going crazy in her tent.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

⟻ Previous Chapter || Masterlist || Next Chapter ⟼

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A summary of TW notes for those who didn't want to read:

1) Illness - Same illness as before, the virus Murphy spread. More people are sick.

2) Wells' fingers - He tried to pick up a bucket with the wrong hand and ended up with phantom pain, something he didn't know was a real thing until Kova talked to him about it.

3) Medical Procedure + Nasty Stuff - Emmie gets sick with the virus and vomits. She also has a hemothorax, so Kova uses an unconventional way to drain the blood build up in her chest. I'm not a medical expert and wouldn't recommend doing it that way, but I've seen this done in my home village in Ecuador where there aren't many good/non-corrupted doctors. And it’s gross lol.

4) PTSD + Traumatic Memories - After #3, Kova recalls a traumatic memory from Mount Caocin that implies that they a) had to deal with this virus multiple times before, b) had done the unconventional way to drain the blood before, and c) had vaguely suicidal thoughts during their Mount Caocin era.

#the night our stars aligned (and our breaths touched)#bellamy blake x oc #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake x grounder oc #the 100 imagines #bellamy blake #the 100 #bellamy blake fanfiction #my writing #writeblr #wip fanfic

15 notes · View notes

be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

Text

A Family of Five- Part 6: Ready

Calum and Harlowe’s marriage hasn’t always been easy, but it has always been filled with love. This is a collaborative experience with In Sorrow and In Joy. Dad!Calum. Black OC.

CW: Over the course of this series, there are mentions of pregnancy, therapy, and postpartum depression. There is also 18+ Content (Smut)

Enjoy my masterlist | Series Masterlist

Support me on kofi

No one has my permission to repost my work of fiction. This includes translations as well.

_____________________________________________

Luke finishes the last of the dishes. Noor’s at the bar, reading over her lines before the bus. Zahara dangles the keys to her car on her finger, waiting for Zeek to grab the charger for his tablet from his room. The house is quiet. He finds himself wondering how long that it will last. The question is answered a minute later when a shout rings out, “Babe!”

“There goes the silence,” he chuckles, wiping hands on the dish rag. “Yeah?” he calls out, taking the stairs two at a time to the bedroom.

You turn around, dressed in black jeans and your pajama shirt. “Where’s that heart button up shirt?”

“That’s actually Calum’s shirt,” he grins leaning up against the frame of the door.

A groan falls over your lips. Out of habit, you reach up and fix the bun of your curly hair and mutter to yourself. Of course, your favorite shirt to steal wasn’t actually Luke’s. He probably took it from Calum’s case on their last tour, last year, and only just recently realized that it didn’t belong in your closet. You could go without the shirt. But it annoys the crap out of you, that you couldn’t finish the outfit that you had been planning for days now for the first day back to school.

“Now that I think about it. That’s definitely his t-shirt too. Forgot to give it back,” Luke states.

You look down at the gray t-shirt covering your body. “So, you’re telling me, Harlowe’s gonna call asking for this shirt eventually.”

He shrugs. “Only if she knows the shirt is gone.”

You roll your eyes, peeling off the shirt and stealing inside the blue button up of Luke’s. “Honesty, one of these days y’all need to go through your closets and figure this shit out.” You’ll call Harlowe. She’ll know where that heart button up is. And more importantly, she’ll be willing to trade.

“You and Harlowe end up stealing stuff from us!” he laughs. “It’s not all our fault.”

“Shush, I said that you two need to figure out what belongs to who and then she and I can figure out what’s up for trading and what has to stay. You didn’t let me finish.” Tossing the shirt at Luke, you laugh a little at his flail, startled by the action. “Start a load of laundry please. Use the kid’s detergent. Harlowe’s skin is sensitive.”

“For one shirt?” he jokes, his high pitched shout cracking a little on the the word ‘one’. “I’ll at least wash some of the kids stuff too.”

“That’s the idea!” you shout to his retreating figure. With the last of the shirt buttoned, you pick up your phone. As you open to your recent messages, Harlowe’s name is right at the top.

The phone rings twice before you can hear her shouting in the background. “Esha, it doesn’t even take me this long to put a face on in the morning, c’mon. You’re beautiful and I will fight anyone that says otherwise.”

Calum’s laughter filters in from the background before his voice fills the line. “You’ve reached Harlowe’s phone. She’s currently helping Esha figure out mascara. Can I take a message?”

“She’s really letting Esha wear makeup to school, huh?” you ask. The debate on whether Esha could wear makeup to school was definitely a long one. You remembered just a couple months ago when it first started, during the summer. Harlowe and Calum feared she’d go off the deep in, but didn’t want her to feel like she couldn’t explore in the world of make up or self expression. You just had no idea that they had agreed on anything yet. Granted, you all kept up well, some things inevitably would fall through the cracks. Between getting syllabi together and raising kids, some news unfortunately fell to the waste side.

“It was a long battle. We agreed to mascara and lipstick. Nude lipstick though. Specifically a nude lipstick.”

You nod. “Sounds like a smart choice.”

More laughter floats in from the background. “Keep looking up, you’re not going to poke yourself I promise,” Harlowe chuckles.

“But I could!” Esha retorts. “This is scary.”

“So,” Calum says, “I know you called for a reason.”

“I was trying to see if a certain item of clothing could be up for trades. It appears that I, really Luke, but by extension me as well, have a certain t-shirt that belongs to you. And a certain heart button up shirt was not Luke’s, which is disheartening.”

“The gray one with Conway studios on it?”

“That’s the one.”

“She was looking for that last night. Hold on second.” There’s muffled talking in the background. “So, while Harlowe’s sad about losing the heart button up, she’s willing to trade.”

“It’s your shirt, technically.”

Calum laughs. “She has taken my closet. Nothing is mine anymore except my shoes. If she could wear those, she’d probably take them too. Like right now, she’s in my green plaid pants. It’s a great outfit, but I was the one that pulled the pants down this morning.”

“You’re going to the studio! You know you would’ve opted for jeans anyway,” Harlowe bellows.

“I would’ve at least like the option, baby. At least give me the option.” There’s a shuffling sound and Harlowe finally speaks.

“Ignore him, girl. He’s just pissy this morning.”

“So tonight we’ll trade shirts. I had this whole first day look planned, but of course, the shirt I wanted, wasn’t Luke’s shirt.

“Okay, normal table. I’ll see you then.”

Even before opening the door, you know what the place smells like, sounds like. You and Harlowe have been coming here every Wednesday before the twins were born. It’s ritual to walk in, hearing the clack of pool balls on the smooth red velvet and a white buzz of voices. It’s ritual to smell beer, but also the famous cheese fries cooking in the back. The place is old, but it somehow feels right. No, this wasn’t always your cup of tea. But Harlowe fell in love with the place, her second collection of poetry was birthed here. So on Wednesdays, this is where you two sat, chatting about the week previous, the week ahead. Talking about husbands, and kids. Talking about students and universities. You two worked at different schools. You do this for cheese fries, the laughs, the gossip. But more importantly, you do this for her, because she needed something to look forward to after the post partum depression from Esha.

Inside, you spot her afro at the bar, “the normal table.” “If that’s a virgin rum and ginger ale, today was fine. But it’s a virgin Caribbean Rum Punch, someone’s trying to fuck themselves up,” you laugh, sliding into the bar stool next to Harlowe.

She laughs, slinging an arm across your shoulders, resting her head for a moment onto your shoulder. “Yo got me. Just ginger ale. How were your classes?” She straightens, pulling her arm away.

“There’s a freshman in my 300 level class. The fear was real in there eyes, looking at the syllabus.”

“How did they get into that class?”

You shrug. “No one asked for an override into class. My assumption is that they thought they were hot shit and signed up.”

“Didn’t even check RateMyProfessor, I bet,” Harlowe grins, flagging down a bartender.

The man walks over with an easy grin, closing his eyes and taking a deep breathe. “Let me guess.You’re going to order a plate of cheese fries. Ranch dipping on the side.”

“It’s like we’re regulars or something,” Harlow laughs.

“Or something,” he chuckles, then turns to put the order in.

“Well not all of us teach poetry and fiction. Some of us have to have reading lists a mile long,” you counter.

Her laugh fills the room practically. “You make the syllabus. It does not have to be a mile long. You clearly just like suffering and taking your students down with you.”

Feigning shock, you gasps, turning around. “I don’t need this kind of negativity in my life.”

She chuckles, watching you. “Go ahead then. Run from the truth. But who’s the one that complains everything you have to reread those sections--you.”

“I cannot believe you’d read me like that in this here fine establishment.” This causes both of you to laugh, Harlowe falling into you a little, her laughter bouncing around in your eardrum. “How were your classes?”

With a smile resting on her face, she leans onto her elbows, toying at the glass. “Good. One girl came up to me after class and said she had signed up specifically for my section of poetry workshop because I was the only Black professor. Like I know this isn’t Kansas, to use a really dated expression, anymore. Like I know this isn’t the States, but it still means a lot be there for someone that needs it.”

“When’s your Fiction workshop?”

“Tomorrow. I’m teaching that in the morning and then the second section of intro to creative writing in the afternoon.”

“Must be nice,” you tease.

Harlowe barks a laugh. “I’m not the one that spent years getting their Ph.D. in History, only to bitch about being the exact thing they wanted to be. So yeah, it is nice to enjoy my job.” Both woman laugh and the steaming bucket of fries is placed between them. Two glasses of water also thuds against the worn wooden counter.

“How are my babies though?” There’s something in the way she asks that. You watch her face as she rummages into the depths of her bag. You catch nothing on her face. She pulls out the black button up and hands it over to you. You wipe your hands on a napkin and find the soft gray cotton in your backpack. You guys trade shirts.

“My babies are good.”

Harlowe huffs, biting hard into the fried potato. “Oh hush, I’m their aunt. They are effectively my children too.”

“What do you know that I don’t know?”

Harlowe shakes her head, reaching for her drink. “If I tell you, I break code.”

“It’s irksome that you know things before me,” you sigh. But you respect it. Your kids and Harlowe have a code. Though you desperately wish you weren’t always the last one to know about things, you understood. Sometimes the kids wanted to handle stuff by themselves, they didn’t want to always come to you or Luke. They maybe felt embarrassed having to go to their parents about everything.

“They know they can talk to you, girl. They know.”

“I’m just the last to know. I feel so left out.”

“If you think Te Koha, Esha or even Nikau even tell me everything, you’re wrong.” Harlowe downs the her glass. “Children will not tell parents everything. Did you tell your mom everything?”

“Hell no.”

“Exactly my point.”

The first plate of fries is just about empty. Harlowe’s ordered a second drink when a presence slides up to the left of you. The cologne is familiar. As you giggle at Harlowe’s story about the disaster at the printer today before her class, you feel Luke’s hand resting gently on your lower back. You wondered when they would come up. When you walked in, you made a beeline for Harlow at the bar. Luke went to the table Calum had on the floor somewhere. You guys always do this. Split up, just for a little bit to have a little time away from each other. To talk all the junk you couldn’t do when your spouse was right there. It was always nice to have these moments away, to yourself, to be quiet and listen to Harlowe dramatically retell her adventures of the day or week.

Her story finishes, an exasperated sigh falling over her lips before he speaks. “Can I get a pretty girl like you a drink?”

With an eye roll, you gently press into his chest for a quick hug. “Buy us another round of fries, and then we’ll talk.”

He laughs, palm brushing up and down your satin covered back. “Sounds reasonable.”

“Ranch on the side for my friend here,” you add on, gently tapping his chest.

“Please,” Harlowe adds, batting her eyelashes.

“I’m right here,” Calum laughs, settling down next to her.

“Are you buying me french fries?” she shoots back, resting her head into his chest.

His arm wraps around her, almost protectively. “I’m the one you go home with.”

She reaches up, tapping the end of his nose with her finger. They’ve always been way more affectionate. You pretend to gag, before burying your face into your glass of water. She just buries herself deeper into him before raising her middle finger to you. “That’s rude!” Luke interjects, voice turning up into a laugh.

As the second and third, due to Calum’s ordering, basket of fries comes out. It feels like old times, like being twenty three again during the summer before your second year for your Master’s program. When you forced Harlowe to get up on that dinky stage and read her poems. When Calum and Luke approached the two of you at the end of the night. It feels like you’ve got nothing but time, nothing by belly laughs and Harlowe and Calum’s antic, the lovingly nagging, the teases, you and Luke’s quiet moments, whispers. It’s nothing but being twenty three again.

Until a phone chimes. The time of youth is over. You finish off the last few fries, cleaning off your fingers. Luke’s hand slides into yours. It’s Harlowe’s phone and she sighs. “Gotta get back to relieve Te Koha of babysitting duties,” she mutters.

Calum leans in close to her, “Can I come home with you?” He’s only a few beers in this evening. Nowhere near as far as he can go.

“Hmm,” Harlowe chuckles, nails dragging under his chin, “Depends on how well you handle three kid.”

“Some might say I’m an expert,” he laughs.

“An expert in making them,” Luke jokes, with a whistle.

“That’s all you,” Calum teases. “Some of us made the choice a lot time ago to shoot blanks.”

“We are not having this discussion right here,” you interject.

Harlowe pushes on Calum’s shoulder, to get him walking towards the door. She digs into his jacket pocket, retrieving the kids. “I’ll talk to you probably in an hour,” she laughs. “Good luck, getting your drunk giant home.”

“Do not remind me,” you call before adding, “Love you.”

She shouts over her shoulder. “Love you too. I covered half the bill.”

“I covered half,” Calum corrects loudly.

“Will you be quiet and walk you drunk piece of man. Let’s go. Kids. Kids. We gotta get to our kids.”

You drive the two of you back. Luke hums quietly along to the radio for a while. His leg bounce. You watch him at a red light. “What’s up?” you ask, pressing your palm into his denim-cladded thigh.

“Do you know what’s up with Ra?”

You had noticed she was way more quiet than usual. This is whatever Harlowe knew but you did. Luke continues, his voice panicked. “I tried asking her what was up, but she wouldn’t budge. I’m not sure if you know.”

“I don’t know either.”

His sigh is heavy. You can imagine his fingers carding through his hair as the stress settles onto his forehead. “Is it college stress? Boy trouble? If it’s boy trouble, I’m kicking someone’s ass,” he murmurs.

“Call Harlowe too.”

Luke chuckles, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “Yeah, I can’t forget her. What do you think it is?”

You don’t even want to try and think about that, what darkness is potentially overcoming your baby girl. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens. You’d go through hell and back for your kids. Sure you weren’t always the most affectionate person, but you’d be damned if your kids were going through some shit and didn’t at least know you were in their corner for them. The rest of the drive you and Luke try not to envision all the terrible scenarios. Had someone hurt her? Touched her the wrong way? Was she failing a class? Did something happen to a friend? Did she think that you and Luke weren’t there for her anymore?

With the car parked in the driveway, you two climb out of the car and share a concerned glance before walking inside. Ra’s chilling on the couch, Noor passed out in her lap, the TV’s on. It’s not barely nine. “You’re free of being pretend mom,” Luke says softly.

Ra looks up with a small smile. “How were drinks?”

“Good. Anything happen here?” you asks.

“If it had, trust I would’ve called. After you guys left after dinner, we all finished up some homework. Or rather they finished up, and then Zeek showered and start drawing. Noor and I watched some TV. She had those physical fitness test today, so she’s pretty exhausted I guess.”

Luke nod, kissing both their foreheads. “We’ve got her. Finish up that work, yeah?”

Ra nods. “How many pints, Dad?” she laughs.

He shakes his head. “Hush. Only a few more months and then I’ll take you out.”

“Oh, God, please spare me that embarrassment.”

“Okay, so Auntie Harlowe can take you out on my dime, how about that?”

She grins. “Now you’re talking.”

Luke pulls her in for one last hug, kissing her hair. “Go finish your work, missy.”

As Ra ascends the stairs, you wait until she reaches the first landing before stopping her, a gentle hand on her back. “Hey,” you start, looking into her eyes. The twinkle is gone. She looks tired. “You know I’m here right, for you. Both your dad and I are. You can tell us anything.”

She nods, lips pursing close. “I know. Thanks, Mum. Got a paper to finish though.” She lifts her thumb over her shoulder to the stairs, to her room, to her escape. You nod. She turns and takes them two at a time. She’s not ready. You can’t force her.

It’s another two weeks. Zahra walks in through the door behind Noor and Zeek, closing the door behind her. “Hey guys,” you call out, tending over the pot of pasta.

Zeek kisses your cheek and Noor buries herself in a giant hug. Ra doesn’t round the corner. You peek around and see her leaning against the glass, hands covering her face. Her shoulders shake once, twice. She’s crying. Before you can set yourself in motion towards her, she throws herself into you, tears staining her cheek, streaking her make-up. “Fuck,” she whimpers, shaking against you.

Your heart thunders in your chest. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay.” Part of you is frozen. What the hell is happening? But the other part is ready to fix whatever it is. Whatever is heavy in her soul. “Talk--talk to me, baby. I’m right here,” you attempt to soothe.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know,” she hiccups. “I know emotions are totally not our thing. But god, I’m so tired of holding this in anymore.”

The two of you stand there, you rubbing at her back and she sobs into your skin, her tears feeling like fire. What else could you have done to get her to open up sooner? What else could you have said? “You’re ready now,” you whisper. “It’s okay.”

It takes a few minutes for Zahra to collect herself. Her cheeks are streak a little. But she takes a deep breathe. “Did my mascara run?”

You shake your head, a smile cracking through the fear. “No. Told you that shit would hold.”

She laughs. The two of you head into the kitchen, you hand her some tissues. She’s much taller than you, taking her height from Luke. You have to look up at her a little. Rubbing her arms, you find yourself at lost for words. Wait until she’s ready, you think to yourself. Wait until she’s ready. Zeek hands her a glass of water. “Your face didn’t melt too bad.”

“Thanks,” Ra mutters, taking a sip. “And you’re still a pain in my butt.”

“I’m the best pain,” he smiles, hugging her.

“Can I talk to you and Dad, when he gets here?” Ra says quietly behind her glass.

You nod. “Of course.”

Luke arrives home about an hour later. Just as dinner is finished. He immediately notes the pink to Zahra’s face and flashes you a look. You respond with a gesture of your hand, telling him to wait, to not jump the gun. But Zahra knows when her hug is a few seconds longer than usual. Dinner goes by nicely, though Zeek does make one comment, “So we’re not going to discuss the emotional breakdown or?”

“Shove your mouth with pasta or there’s gonna be another breakdown and not from me,” Ra smiles.

Zeek huffs, “No need to take my head off, okay?”

Noor reaches over, holding Ra’s hand, while shoveling more food onto her fork. “Some of us know our manners,” she quips.

Luke and you try to swallow the snickers. Your children did learn from the best. Zeek and Noor get excused from the table. You know the kitchen’s a mess but that can wait. Zahra looks up from her empty plate. “So, like, what if I said I wasn’t sure I was straight?” she asks all in one breathe.

You blink for a second, all the air rushing out of your lungs, before you smile. “I would say I’m very happy you told me.”

She looks to Luke. He takes her hand between his palms. “I would say that I love you no matter what. Straight or not, you’re still my daughter and I love you dearly. And it’s mighty brave of you to admit that.”

Zahra blinks rapidly, eyes welling up again. “It’s--” her voice is thick, she takes a moment. “It’s strange. To always have known something was different with me. Not just skin color or religion. But like something different. I don’t have a label for it. And I tried to push it down, ya know? Not think about it amongst all the college application deadlines, and dances, and school work mixed in with my job. I just….it’s been too long for me not to say something.”

You hand her a napkin. She dabs under her eyes. “You don’t need a label, sweetie. You don’t have to be afraid of us. We will always love you.”

“Always?” she questions.

“Of course,” you and Luke chorus.

“So, on top of that, I also don’t think artsy is my thing, Dad. I like the idea of Med school.”

Luke grins, placing one hand over his heart, faking a groan of pain. “I still got two more shoots at one of my kids turning to the arts.”

Zahra laughs looking over to you. “Every Brown parent’s dream, isn’t it?”

You nod, laughter bursting out of you. “Maybe just a little bit. I don’t care what you do, just as long as you love it, sweetheart.”

“That’s really a one two punch,” Luke jokes, later as the three of you clean the kitchen. “Really breaking your old man’s heart.”

You slap his bicep. “Now’s not the time.”

Zahra hugs him though from behind, cheek squished by his back. “I figured if you guys could handle me being a giant question mark in the sexuality department then maybe changing from arts to sciences would be easier to swallow.”

Luke turns in her embrace, wrapping her up tightly. “Yeah, a good way to deliver the news.” You let your cheeks lift, watching Zahra happily rests in her father’s arms for a beat or two longer before going back to putting the dishes up. It’s no longer heaviness in her shoulders, she no longer drags. That makes you happy.

Not even two hours later though, there’s a knock at the door. Luke answers it, his laughter erupting from him. You watch as Harlowe comes barreling down the entryway, a rainbow flag in her hands. She wraps Ra up in as she hugs her, rocking them both side to side. “Welcome to the club!” Harlowe laughs.

Calum, Te Koha, Esha and Nikau follow in slowly behind her. If you had to equate the two of you to weather, Harlowe is a hurricane and your just the run of the mill thunderstorms. But you wouldn’t have her any other way. Esha walks over, prying her mother away from her life long friend. “So, we’re going to pride together or what?” Esha jokes, giving Zahra a hug. Esha has been out as pan for a year now. Calum and Harlowe took her to a few pride events since then.

Ra laughs, “Yeah, yeah I guess we can.”

Te Koha steps dish out a hug too. “That’s very brave and you. I’m proud,” he says quietly. Zahra and him are in the same boat, not straight, not gay, just questions, just queer. Te Koha has not said anything. She hopes this pushes him. You watch their silent conversation before Nikau hugs her too and it ends.

“Momma brought you cake,” Nik informs to Ra.

She laughs. “Of course, you did Auntie Harlowe. Only you.”

“I’ve been quiet for weeks! Weeks, I told you i would not say anything until you came out. But I hope you’re ready because now, I’m not holding back!” Harlowe laughs, walking into the kitchen. That’s when it comes evident that her rainbow clips are holding back her two-strand twists from her face. You laugh at the detail, but happily take the slice of cake she hands you.

“Thank you,” you say to Harlowe as the kids chat in the background. Ra’s still wearing the flag. “Thank you for being there for her.”

“It’s what I’m here for. I do not take the title aunt loosely.”

“Clearly,” you mutter, motion to the cake and the flag. “You make that abundantly clear.”

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood imagine #calum hood series #dad!cal #dadl!cal series #dad!calum #h writes #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer imagine #calum hood x black oc

9 notes · View notes

lady-olive-oil · 5 years

Text

Brown Sugah Baby: Chapter 6

Here we go with another installment of Brown Sugah Baby! I only own the OCs in this story and the events. There is a hint of abuse mentioned in here, I was once a victim of mental abuse and I’ve gotten better. If you need someone to talk to, my box is always open. Without further ado, here we go! Let me know if you wanna be in the tag squad! Feedback is always appreciated!

Word Count: 3,434

Warnings: mentions of physical abuse and language

Tag Squad: @maddiestundentwritergaines || @destinio1 || @designerwriterchic || @terrablaze514 || @themyscxiras || @sirenmouths || @chaneajoyyy

In the midst of everything going on, winter break finally made its way to Southern University. This game of ‘not talking’ between M’Baku and Nefe, went on longer than anticipated. But for the holidays, Nefe to Miami for Christmas and Nattie went to Wakanda with T’Challa. At this point in time, he told her his true identity and what he was doing at an HBCU for.

Nattie didn’t know how to take it at all. She did however pass out in the middle of the throne room and hadn’t woken up for a good few hours or so.

“So you mean to tell me that, you’re about to become king of Wakanda. The most technologically advanced country in the world?”

She asked with a questionable expression on her face, sitting next to T’Challa as he held an ice pack on her head, on his bed. His room had overlooked the city below that was breathtaking.

“Yes I am. Nakia is a war dog, she presented the idea to go to school in America. I hope this doesn’t change anything about how yuh feel about me.”

Placing a hand on her cheek to ease her pain, Nattie placed hers on top and smiled sweetly. Breathing evenly before responding.

“It’ll take me some getting used to, but I also know that I have to tell Nefe. We promised no more secrets after the whole Sean and Melanie thing. She chewed my ass out over that and I hate myself for it.”

“You did what you had to do. She is your best friend, and sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the greater good.” Holding her close to him, a gentle kiss was laid.

“Oh and about telling Nefe, you can't tell her anything. At least not yet.”

“Ok pause. What do you mean I can’t? You know how she gets T’Challa, I can’t hide shit from her anymore.”

Feeling her head throb in pain, she laid back down to close her eyes and center her breathing more.

“You can’t say anything because,” T’Challa sighed heavily and closed his eyes before continuing on.

“Because what-”

“Because M’Baku has to tell her. That’s why.”

What was he talking about now? None of this made sense at all and she needed to to know more.

“What does that have to do with M’Baku? It’s not like he’s detained to be king too.”

There was a poignant silence in the air, as her eyes got wide in astonishment.

“No way. You mean to tell me that M’Baku is going to become-”

“King of the mountains. Jabari Land to be more accurate.”

All of this didn’t make sense to Nattie at all, but then a thought came to mind. She remembered the metal looking bracelets she saw on Nakia and Okoye’s wrists at a party one time, but never questioned them.

“You guys have these thick metal bracelets right? Y’all never leave the house without it.”

“These are kimoyo beads. Made out of vibranium and somewhat holographic.” T’Challa explains as he tapped on the bracelet and a hologram of his sister popped up.

“Brother, is everything ok- oh my. You told her!” Shuri shrieked through the projection, causing Nattie to chuckle a bit.

“Yeah he uh- finally told me. I now have to keep it a secret from Nefe. Which will be hard to do, seeing as though she scares the hell outta me and we promised to not keep secrets anymore.” She directed her attention towards T’Challa who looked apologetic for all of it.

“If I know my brother well, he’ll let you know when to tell her. Or have M’Baku do it. Has he told her yet, after finding out they’ve known each other since they were kids?”

Nattie rolled her eyes at T’Challa, knowing he told his sister.

“You really can’t hold water can you?”

“You told me, so I told my sister. Who I’m sure told all of Wakanda.”

Shuri shrugged, waving goodbye to them both before disappearing.

“We have to get back to school tomorrow, and I want a bracelet.” Nattie looked at T’Challa with a sweet expression, causing him to smile and chuckle.

“Are you indicating, that you see a future with me already?” The soft caress on her cheek made her look into his eyes lovingly.

“Maybe. Only time will tell, my Prince.” She kisses him sweetly, holding his face in her hands before breaking it.

“Time to pack?”

“Time to pack.”

-24 Hours Later-

Nefe made it back to Shreveport safe and sound, with focus on finishing junior year strong. Only one more yet left and she couldn’t handle all the pressure of drama; boys and possibly failing classes. She needed this degree in science of music. At least she’d have something to fall back on.

Before everyone left for Christmas break, Nefe made sure to talk to Nattie about not keeping secrets from each, other or the crew ever again. To be completely honest, Nefe was already breaking it by not telling anyone that Sean had hit her a few times. The only person who probably noticed the marks under the makeup, which was hidden very well with an untrained eye, was M’Baku.

He knew but didn’t say anything because he knew how much she loved Sean, yet saw his true colors a few months ago. All that is behind everyone now, and everything should go back on track. The weather is nice out, the crew is back to normal or so they thought.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Nefe mumbles to herself as she unravels a scene before her very eyes.

Melanie all over M’Baku again, in the courtyard, even after the whole fight that broke out. She wanted to scream; she wanted to cry, but she knew she couldn’t do any of that because it would be held over her head. She had feelings for M’Baku and didn’t know how to tell him at all. It broke her down so much.

Shooting a quick text to Nattie to meet her in the yard, she could’ve sworn Melanie looked at her. For a split second she sent a menacing smile and wink, towards Nefe, and kissed M’Baku. She couldn’t look or think straight, the rage boiled up in her with rage and fury as she stormed off.

Nattie came once she saw her best friend walk off in tears. Curiously over the scene 20 feet away, she saw the beginning of the fight between the two. She couldn’t tell her best friend yet till she was calm and ready. So she comforted her with buying her lunch and decided to have a sleepover with the Deltas.

“Melanie! What the fuck was that?!” M’Baku growled in rage as he pushed her off him, wiping his mouth off in disgust.

“Giving you what you missed all winter break, baby.” She placed her arms around his neck, and was pushed off once more.

“I told you once, and imma tell you again: I don’t want you anymore. We are done. Why can’t you get that through your thick skull?” M’Baku was beyond pissed off at this point.

“Why do you like her?! I don’t fucking get it! What does she have that I don’t?!”

Giving Melanie a once over, he scoffed while rubbing his chin. Shaking his head before responding, he arched a brow at her.

“Self respect and integrity for one. You just get on my nerves. I put up with your shit for too long, just go to Sean. He knows how to deal with you better than I can.”

He stormed off leaving Melanie in shock and embarrassment, causing her to storm off as well in anger.

Meanwhile, M’Baku took his anger out at the gym like always. He couldn’t stand the fact that Melanie didn’t understand that he wasn’t into her like that anymore.

“Girl troubles I see?” T’Challa asked as he leaned on the weight bar, occasionally spotting M’Baku to help out.

“You have no idea. She won’t leave me alone at all.” M’Baku didn’t know what to do anymore about Melanie, and it put a strain on his friendship with Nefe. Which frightened him.

“Forget about her. You need to focus on Nefertiti, mainly because she saw you earlier.” Erik chimed in, taking his Beats out of his ears.

“Damn it. I’m gonna have to talk to her.”

“I’d rather you let her cool off. She looked pretty peeved about it. It might’ve been karma? Which is a bad example and imma shut up now.”

“At least you tried T’Challa.” Erik snickered a bit, causing M’Baku to join in. He sighed gently and rubbed his face with a tired expression.

“Are the girls busy tonight?” He asked with caution.

“Yeah they’re having a pj party, tonight. The welcome back bash.” T’Challa responded while getting his stuff to head to his Greek house.

“I’ll probably talk to her tomorrow then. Cause I saw Sean with her earlier too. This can’t go on forever.”

M’Baku left the gym with god boys with determination on his mind to talk to his best friend.

-PJ Bash-

“Nefe! Can you grab the China Glaze polish case please?” It was the annual DST pj bash, as an event to say welcome back to school. Knowing that Nefe wasn’t in any mood to talk about what had transpired over the last few hours or so, she faced the music anyway.

“Yeah I got it.” Getting up from her spot on the couch, after deleting all her pictures of her and Sean from her phone, she grabbed the polish bucket from the cabinet.

The bash was going outside in the grand hall building, where every party was held and was occupied by many students for the bash. Not just the divine nine. Heading down to the bash with the girls, with the supplies, she felt comfy yet sexy in her pajamas. The were a simple silk tank top and shorts set with a matching robe, that floated behind her every time she walked. Her hair was in a high puff ball, in all its wash day glory. She saw M’Baku walk in with his friends and immediately felt her heart beat out of her chest.

She wanted to talk to him. No she needed to and now was a good time as any. ‘Man he looks good’ she thought to herself. She watched as his dri fit white shirt cling to his muscles, as his grey sweatpants accentuated his ass like a god that he is.

“Damn..” she mumbled to herself eyeing him over and over again. Thinking about the possible things she wouldn’t mind doing to him.

“Hey sis. I gotta talk to you about something.” Nattie grabbed the polish box, breaking her friend’s concentration, and guided Nefe towards the balcony.

“Uh sure. What’s up?”

“Well you know how over winter break I went to Wakanda with T’Challa? And before when we promised we wouldn’t hide anything from each other?” Nattie started off shakily and fiddled with her red robe string.

“Yeah. What about it? Need to tell me something don’t you?” With an arched brow, Nefe leaned against the railing, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yes yes I do.” Nattie sighs gently and braces herself. “Over winter break I was Wakanda, obviously, and T’Challa had mentioned something to me. Something important.”

Nefe furrowed her brows and was waiting for her friend to finish.

“Go on.” She urged her.

“He told me he’s next in line for the Wakanda throne, Nefe. He and Shuri are royals; Nakia and Erik are war dogs, Okoye is his badass general and M’Baku is a royal too. But he’s next in line for the Jabari Land throne.”

Once she got it all out in one breath, the space between then two was silent. Nothing but silence and it was broken by Nefe laughing. She held her sides as she continued on.

“Oh that’s a good one. An African prince coming to America for school, that’s rich. On top of that, his friends coming along as well.” Nefe couldn’t believe her friend at all. What would a prince come to America for school?

“You think- you think I’m lying? You’ve really gone down to that point in our friendship. Wow, can not believe that my best friend is calling me a liar.” Nattie shook her head in disbelief at her friends accusation.

“I’m not calling you a liar. I would never do that to you. We’ve been through too much growing up and I would never, I swear on my Nikes.” If she swore in her Nike’s, she meant business.

“Why would royalty come to America for school? They’re from one of the most technologically advanced countries in the world, and they came here. That doesn’t make sense to me.” Nefe felt out of place and not in the right space.

“Listen, I accept your apology if we go get gelato tomorrow. Who you need to talk to is him.” Nattie moved her head in M’Baku’s general direction, to where he was at the party.

“Deal on the gelato. I’m so very sorry for accusing you and I appreciate you for telling me the truth. I’ll talk to him about it soon, along with something important.” Nefe hugged her best friend tightly before heading downstairs.

Making her way towards the dance floor, in a busy sea of college kids it their pajamas, Melanie and Nefertiti glanced at each other for a split second before minding their own business. Feeling her nerves rush towards her again, as she journeyed closer to him.

“H-hey, ahem. Can we go somewhere and talk?” Tapping his shoulder gently, Nefe saw his smiling face for the first time in a month since they last talked. Receiving a gentle nod from him, she took his hand and headed towards the door to head her sorority house. Which was literally next door.

“Uh where you think you’re going?” Melanie stood in front of them, blocking their way.

Nefe didn’t have time for this again. She got in her face and was real personal about it.

“Move, or be moved.” She gritted her teeth and flared her nostrils. Making her fear her. Melanie gulped and moved out the way.

With a roll of her eyes Nefe continued her path with M’Baku in tow. Heading upstairs to her room, and locking the door just in case.

“What do you see in her? Honestly that’s got to be one of the dumbest choices you’ve made.” Nefe scoffed and walked around the room with her hands on her hips.

“Oh my dumbest choice? That’s funny coming from someone who dated the score keeper.” This was the chance M’Baku has waited for. He wanted to tell her off but also express his feelings.

“Score keeper? What are you talking about? You went out with Melanie and watched her make my life hell cause I’m friends with you!”

“Nefertiti you went out with Sean, that was the stupidest shit you’ve ever done. We’ve tried to tell you over and over again, he was using you!” He never called her by her full first name and it scared her. Yet she was never one to back down.

“I know how to handle my goddamn battles M’Baku. You know me, damn it! Melanie thrives on making my life hell-”

“Sean tried to make mine hell but I beat him to it every time.”

The tension could be cut with a knife between theses two and their bickering. Nattie and the gang had followed them of course to be nosy, trying to listen against the door and the walls.

“You need to make a god damn choice, M’Baku! I’m not gonna be waiting forever.” Nefe was fuming mad over all of this and needed to get it through his head that he needed to make an choice.

“I have to make a choice now? What about you? This isn’t just on me Nefertiti! Me or Sean?” Once he got in her face, his voice dropped a few octaves, making it extremely hard for her to focus.

It took her a minute to collect her bearings; felt her rage build up all at once, and had the courage to talk back to him.

”Me or Melanie? Take your pick, because at this rate I’m done playing charades with you. Your highness.” The grit in teeth and the emphasis on highness, made it worse.

The color seemed to drain from his face as he looked into her eyes, when the moon reflected upon them. His breathing was heavy and caught in his throat. Who told her?

“How do you know about that? How told you?” He was more worried than he should be.

“Nattie did. Told me all about her winter vacation to Wakanda, to meet his mother. I’m surprised Melanie doesn’t know. Ha, she’d go through hell or high water just to keep your demanding ass.” The snarl didn’t help her case anyhow.

“My demanding ass? Wow ok. You’re the one whose demanding, you’re the one who was stuck up so far Sean’s fake ass that you couldn’t see the truth. You couldn’t tell anyone, expect me, as to why he hit you!”

“He what?! Imma kill his ass.” Erik mumbled in a whisper on the other side of the door.

“Not until I get him first.” Nattie added with him. No one hurts her best friend and gets away with it.

This time Nefe’s face fell in embarrassment and regret.

“I-” her words were choked up.

“Nothing to say huh? It hurt me when you said it. My best friend, from childhood I might add, was being hit because she told him no. But when shit hit the fan, you finally left and let go.” His voice was softer and soothing. He lifted her chin to look into her eyes, to make sure she heard every word.

“I didn’t know what to do after the third time. It was all a shock that it happened to me. When I told him I needed a break he wasn’t happy and stormed out. He tried to get me back that day before our date, and I told him that we’re done. He gave me one last hug and I guess you saw that.” She explained and then remembered all of it, scene for scene.

“I did and that’s why I broke our date. I thought he got you back.” His thumb caressed her high cheekbone, as her eyes shifted.

“I was gonna talk to you too, but Melanie kissed you earlier and just infuriates me how much she craves-”

M’Baku couldn’t take it anymore with their constant bickering, so he took matters into his own hands, and just pinned her to the wall kissing her with everything in him.

The sudden gasp that left her lips, as they kissed, made her light headed. She didn’t know what to think or do, so she just went with her gut and returned the kiss in all its entirety.

“You...you just kissed me.” Her voice was hushed. Their breaths mingling in synchronization with their heavy breathing, as the kiss was broken. The shear moment alone took her breath away, freezing the muscles in her body as he kept her hands on his biceps. Having dreamt of this moment for years but never thought it would happen. Thankful to the gods that it is.

“And uh, I’m about to do it again.” He whispers against her full lips, pulling her curvy body closer to his rigid torso. Letting his rough hands take their perspective journey along her back, as if they were destined to be there. Her hands were locked around his neck, debating on what to do next. Throwing caution to the wind, going with what her heart wanted, she looked up into his soft loving brown eyes with her golden brown ones, and bit her lip.

“What’s stopping you?” She whispered back, kissing him harder than he did before. A pleased groan escaped from both of them, all the pent up frustration leaving their bodies into the atmosphere. Their lips fit together like a puzzle piece as the moves in sync, holding on to each other for dear life. Her nimble fingers moved under his shirt, tracing the hard working muscles. His hands traveled as well, from her hips to over her voluptuous ass and gave a hard squeeze. Earning a shaky moan from her, while she dragged her nails against the back of his neck. There was no turning back now, and neither of them cared.

#mbaku imagine #mbaku x oc #wives of mbaku #mbaku x nefertiti #mbaku x nefertiti adisa #winston duke #winston duke x amara la negra #Amara La Negra #brown sugah baby #M'Baku #mbaku fanfiction

26 notes · View notes

edge-of-bizarre · 6 years

Note

Headcanons for the future snotlout, fishlegs, and hiccup families!

You should definitely read @e–wills take cause she takes the words right outta my mouth

Hiccup/Hiccup and Astrid

I always picture Hiccup and Astrid as a very hectic couple, but seeing as families would come after the absence of dragons, it would probably quiet down. Hiccup would not have the issues of handling dragon attacks like his father, nor have to handle balancing the two worlds seeing as… there’s just one now.

Obviously, this could open up a plethora of other dealings, but I think Hiccup is thrust into an incredibly intense time and anytime afterwords would feel at least peaceful, somber, tired, and quiet. After the dragons leave Hiccup would put more focus into his own self aka his role, his wife, and then expanding the family. I can see Hiccup and Astrid not exactly rushing to have kids? During this time i doubt there are any means of true prevention, but i think they’d have a “if it happens now, then so be it” that is until the other friends have kids of their own. I love the idea of Hiccup and Astrid having kids second, or even third. I feel like they are a comparison to a perfect relationship, and theirs is a very long one at that, and perhaps they do not follow the intended path aka they say if it happens then alright, while Hiccup is perhaps a little nervous about becoming a father, but then welcomes it wholeheartedly, while Astrid is getting a little competitive because “WE HAVE BEEN COURTING FOR SIX YEARS AND MARRIED FOR ALMOST TWO-”

Astrid is Hiccup’s right hand, they probably equally delegate responsibilities, but she also represents tradition, and the ability to change tradition, while Hiccup is the ability of change and traditions influences on new. So, Hiccup is perhaps the one to nudge that maybe they should actually try to have a kid now, like try try, and soon enough! I like to imagine they have three, Hiccup would never want just one cause he is an only child, two is pretty good, three even better. Possibly a surprise fourth. I also like the idea of the child inheriting more… stoick features. This towering guy who’s father is this thin dude and his buff wife, who is pulling said towering guy by the ear. Hiccup isn’t always the most present, not to say he’s not there, but he had a pretty touch and go relationship with his dad and he has a village to run, so he’s a little spooked/nervous until they get older and he can answer questions and guide them. Obviously they eat out all the time because no one can cook and when Astrid does cook, the kids know exactly where to hide the food, aka pockets full of yak mush, boots of fish pudding “WHO KEEPS PUTTING EYE JAM IN THEIR HELMET?!” and Hiccup backs out of the room.

Hiccup and Astrid balance each other very well, and they would be very good parents, obviously they butt heads over some matters. I think astrid might push for training/fighting while Hiccup wants the kids to make their decisions on their own but it’s very hard to determine if a kid is crying because they’re actually dying or if something minor happened cause kids don’t know and don’t care and i think Hiccup is pretty sensitive towards forcing his kids to do things. Obviously kids don’t want to brush their teeth, but when it would come to more traditional viking etiquette, i think there would be some debate between hiccup and astrid. Astrid also is much more fixing the problem head on, aka doing it herself and her kids learning from her action, while Hiccup is more for kids learning from their own actions.

Snotlout/Snotlout and Ruffnut

I always picture Snotlout and Ruffnut having an on off deal. They were secretly having flings, which satisfies the both of them enough until Snotlout perhaps brings up the idea of… actually being a couple? and Ruffnut laughs that off. Snotlout acts big and tough, but he’s also deeply sensitive, and deeply is influenced by tradition (he is the “example” viking, but not really haha) He has watched Astrid and Hiccups relationship bloom and he probably would like something at least closer to that. He also started chasing Ruffnut with the purpose of… marrying her? at least that’s what is assumed. So Snotty gets his heart broke. Ruffnut probably has some feelings for him, and probably can see why he’s upset, and they also do sorta like each other, and they eventually make up after a brief time apart, and then its on off sorta dating but not really but maybe? until ruffnut wakes up and “hmm…. it’s been awhile since i last was visited by natures battle axe… two months?”

Modern au i see them having a kid and getting married a bit afterwards, but this is viking times baby! y’all really think spitelout is gonna let this slide? Very much rushed into it. I can picture weddings on Berk, especially now being a whole ordeal, the whole island is involved. Plus you usually wait until spring/summer, and do the whole bride dowery (if they did that), getting a house, etc.

Upon the whole village finding out Ruffnut was pregnant, a wedding was arranged within two-three weeks. Ruffnut perhaps tried to make a break for it, but was sitting in an oversized bucket looking bathtub she stole to use as a boat and decided… perhaps married life wouldn’t be the worst? besides, they’ve been banging for a while now, and they were the talk of the town so that’s some drama. She likes snotlout. It’s not love on either part, or at least really love, until a few ways down the line. They get married in the middle of winter. They go by tradition and make them have it outside in like five feet of snow. People are huddling to keep warm. It’s a short ceremony, not a huge party, Ruffnut is moved into Spitelout’s house with Snotlout until they can find a proper home, or they just end up staying there and Spitelout has a constant headache. I picture him much nicer than how they portray him in the series. A complete asshole and a hardass, but not… that much of an asshole as scene. He has to put up with a lot of shit, and perhaps he was reasonable at a time… but he just glares as snotlout hands him a foxy grandpa mug. He’s very upset, and probably doesn’t talk to the couple for a long while, but is more supportive once the baby arrives. Snotlout is so sure it’s going to be a boy, a strong jorgenson man. It’s a girl, perhaps a little premature so very tiny, and when i tell ya he cries and wouldn’t let anyone else hold her

Snotlout plans on being the best dad but so far his kid barfs on command and only once he puts on a clean shirt. I see Snotlout and Ruffnut having two or three kids in total. None planned. All of them just roaming the countryside of berk like a pack of vicious animals jk jk. They’re all very mischievious and Snotlout is the tired dad that is picking up their kid and returning stuff like “hey fishlegs, you dumbass left this at my house” “First off, i don’t go to your house unless i have to” “ok fine, the youngest one stole it from you“ Hiccup is always glaring and holding up a kid or just silently motioning to a fiery wreck and ruffnut’s like “how could they not blow it up??? it was right there??? you did nothing wrong-” “RUFFNUT” “haha ok, you did something wrong and that was being caught… people that get caught get put in the time out corner”

Fishlegs/Fishlegs and his wife (imma put my oc but this is just a generalization for him cause who will be his wife)

I think fishlegs has sort of always wanted a family, at least his goals were get married and have kids right away, which is also what spurred the ruffnut thing. He meets his future wife, it starts of friendly and quickly evolves into a little something more. The two perhaps see each other in secret, at least for a few weeks or month because who’s business is it anyway? Besides, people don’t really notice all that much as Fishlegs slips out of a meeting to go be with this woman. Both very into romantics, both very into each other, perhaps a lil too cheesy.

They get married a year or two later and have kids immediately. By that i mean, it’s so fast there is gossip. There will always be gossip but “I can’t believe she was pregnant before they got married!” Which is a little disheartening, but Fishlegs and his over protective self are ready to ensure that is not the case, and his wife shrugs because she’s too bloated to care that people are dumb. I’d say its very close to the wedding, i may be so bold to say it’s nine months after the wedding but that’s very close, just know it was close enough that the good boy Fishlegs Ingerman got a lot of side eye until it was proven. I think also fishlegs has big kids, and his wife is on the heavier side so looks more pregnant/bigger so eyebrows were raised but of course the same people who were questioning were also there to drink all the meade in celebration.

For Rosethorn, she works out of home. So Fishlegs toodles off to work, comes back to lunch or meets friends/wife in meade hall for lunch, before going to work and finally coming home for dinner. Rosethorn stays home with the kids and bakes and delivers if she must, it’d be cute if fishlegs builds a little window shop/awning deal off the side of their house so people can come to her and pick up premade goods instead of having to run and deliver. Fishlegs comes and helps during lunch, such as wrangling kids while Rosethorn haggles for some fish. I always picture fishlegs having a lot of kids. first is a boy, then the rest are girls, five or six in total, yikes. Fishlegs has his work cut out for him, as does his wife. They have huge dinners and often the Haddock kids or Jorgenson kids will wiggle in for a free meal and “Hey honey! since when did we have eight kids?” “Are all ours here?” “Uh- yeah?” “Since now i suppose” and they feed them and Fishlegs brings them back home with a doggie bag for Hiccup and “You left these at our house” “oh good, my maps” “oh also this” Fishlegs says, holding this guilty looking kid up who is eating a scone and “I don’t recognize that one, Legs, all MY kids are supposed to be in bed. This is one of those wild ones” and Fishlegs plays along, and “well, i guess you’ll be sleeping outside then-” “DAD”

Fishlegs’s kids are pretty good unless they are otherwise influenced and i can definitely see Fishlegs and his wife slumping down after a long day and “… fishlegs” “… i hear it too” “It’s way too quiet” “… what if we sit for like… five more minutes” “Fishlegs” “oh i was going! I am going and- OH MY-” as Fishlegs finds the oldest daughter cut the hair off the youngest one, or is currently eating his dragon cards, or decided ink was the best thing to put all over mommy and daddys bed

#httyd #httyd3 #hiccup #astrid #hiccstrid #ruffnut #snotlout #rufflout #fishlegs #fishthorn

50 notes · View notes