#he’s like “woah woah you never told me you spoke french and stuff” and she’s like “oh yea it never came up”

[the-record]

The City of Romance

Summary: On Spencer’s mandatory leave, he plans a trip to Paris, France where he meets an unforgettable face.

A/N: I got this idea during my language class. Please excuse my terrible French, I am still learning. This might be 2 parts? Maybe 3? I’ll figure it out. Anyways if you have any ideas for this or other requests let me know! 

Italics: Translation French to English.

This is more of an introduction <3

Part 2, Part 3

Check out my masterlist here!

For as long as you remembered, you had stayed with your mom in France during summers and worked at her café. Specifically her café in Paris. It was a dream. She made lots of business and your family was already pretty well off. You met lots of people working this job, however one seemed to stick out to you.

“Bienvenue! Que puis-ie vous offrir aujourd’hui?”  “Welcome! What can I offer you today?”

“Sorry, I don’t speak French.” You smiled at the tall man in front of you. He was handsome and seemed kind but nervous.

“No worries. Welcome, what can I get you today?” He seemed relived at the fact you spoke English. You would’ve too. 

“Can I get a coffee, 2 boxes of macarons, and 3 chocolate croissants?” You smiled and typed in the order on the computer on the counter.

“Of course. Will that be all?” He smiled and nodded. “Great. Your total is 24.50.” He handed you the foreign currency and you started to make his coffee and box his treats. “Here you are. Have a great day...”

“Spencer. You too,” He looked at your name tag, “Y/N. I should be on my way, I have a flight. Bye!” You smiled and waved. 

The rest of the day you couldn’t get that boy out of your head. You were a little disappointed that he would have already left France but the thought of visiting your uncle made it better. You stayed with your mom in the summer and your dad the rest of the year. After he passed, your uncle had promised to take care of you while you were in America. You were a grown adult but that didn’t stop him. Even 3 weeks later, as you boarded the flight, you couldn’t stop thinking about Spencer. What did he need 3 chocolate croissants for? You need the delectable treats you brought for your uncle. He was going to meet you at his work and asked you to bring something for him. You couldn’t bring something just for him though, so you brought something for all of his team. You had never met his team but that didn’t stop you. They were his family, so they would be yours too. 

He met you downstairs on the ground floor after you got through security.

“Bella!” You smiled and basically ran to hug him.

“Uncle David!” He squeezed you tight. 

“How was Paris? And your flight?” You giggled a little.

“It was beautiful as always. You have to come visit me and mom some time. My flight was weird. Not in a bad way, I just met someone I guess and, never mind. How are you?”

“I’m good. I think coming out of retirement was definitely a good idea.” You both talked all the way up and all the way to his office. 

“Oh, I totally forgot. I brought you guys some stuff from the café. Mom started working with a local bakery and their macarons are just perfect. And don’t even get me started on the croissants.” You pulled out the boxes from your bag and placed them on his desk.

“I know just the person who would love some of these. Come on, I will introduce you to her first.” You smiled and followed him to a dark room with a wall covered with monitors. 

“Wow.” In such a dark space sat a bright colored blonde. Her outfit had lots of fun colors and her hair was curled. Her makeup and earrings were fun and exciting. Everything about her radiated good energy.

“Rossi what’s- And who is this beauty next to you? Hoping she’s not wife number 4.” You laughed.

“This is my niece Y/N. Y/N this is Penelope Garcia our technical analyst.” You held out your hand.

“It’s great to meet you Penelope. I heard you like pastries?” You held out a box and her face lit up.

“I love them! Ok wow, these look amazing, where are they from?” Her smile was huge as she looked at the croissants.

“Actually they’re from Paris.” Her jaw dropped. “My mom owns a café and bakery in Paris France. I’m just here during the year for school.” She is still stunned.

“Well wow. I don’t know what else to say. Wait yes I do. Thank for these!” You smiled.

“Of course. If you ever need some just tell David and they will be sent to your front door.” She held her arms out for a hug which you gave her.

“Alright, well I am going to take Y/N to meet the rest of the team. Bye Garcia!” She waved as you two walked out.

“I like her. She’s very fun. Not boring like you.” You joked. You saw a group of people standing over by a counter and that’s when you saw him. The man from the café. “Long time no see.” He was a little confused when he heard you, but when he saw you he understood.

“Oh hey Y/N. What are you doing here?” 

“I’m just visiting my uncle. So this is where you were rushing off to then?”

“Yeah.” You saw a small smile creep on his face. It wasn’t a lot but you noticed it.

“Woah let’s slow down here pretty boy. Rossi, who is this?” You stared over at the man next to him. He was tall with a strong build and holding a cup of coffee.

“This is my niece Y/N. Y/N this is Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, and I guess you already know Spencer.” You nodded.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” They all stared at you both positively bewildered. “Oh, uh he came by the café I work at. He got a bunch of macarons.” 

“Wait, you work where those came from?” The lady who was apparently known as Emily.

“Yeah, my mom owns it and I work there during the summer. Speaking of.” You pulled out a smaller box filled with cookies and macarons. “These are for you guys.

“Thank you gorgeous. I guess we may have to thank Spencer then for introducing us to these.” You giggled softly.

“I guess you will.” Your phone rang and you noticed the caller ID to be your mom. “Sorry. I have to answer this real quick.” You walked a few feet away before answering. “Salut maman!” “Hey mom!”

“Salut bebe! Avez-vous atterri?” “Hi baby! Have you landed?”

“Quais. Je parle en fait aux collegues de David. Puis-ie vous appeler un peu?” “Yeah. I’m actually talking to David’s colleagues. Can I call you in a bit?”

“Bien sûr. Je t'aime.” “Of course. I love you.”

“Je t'aime aussi. Au revoir.“ “I love you too. Bye.” You hung up the phone and headed back over to them.

“Well genius what did she say?” You laughed as you walked back.

“He wouldn’t know.” They all gave you an odd and ashamed look for asking him. 

“She’s right. I don’t know French.” 

“Spencer Reid. You have an eidetic memory and went to a new country and didn’t learn French?”

“Well I learned a little but I didn’t really need to learn any. A lot of the natives knew English.” You nodded.

“He’s right. And it was my mom, she was asking if I landed.” Suddenly another blonde woman popped over. JJ. You had met her before by accident. Last time you came to visit you had a late flight in and so when you came by David’s house he was having a dinner party but everyone had left except her. She wanted to get to know you and you got coffee. “JJ!” 

“Oh my goodness Y/N! What’re you doing here?” She pulled you into a quick hug.

“I’m staying with David now for school because of what happened.” She gave a sympathetic smile.

Your father had passed away from a house fire. He was a bit older and already had health issues so the smoke inhalation was too much and he sadly passed.

“That’s great. How’s school been going?”

“Pretty well. I take some extra courses during the summer so I am looking for a job currently because I have everything I need done.”

“What career are you going into?” Derek questioned.

“Teaching. Specifically elementary because I can’t stand teenagers. They do not hold back, and as great as some of them are, I want my kids to be able and come see there first or kindergarten teacher years from now. I think I may have found a school around here but they haven’t gotten back to me yet.” They all nodded. “Well I was going to get some coffee if anyone wants to come along.”

“Reid why don’t you go?” Derek was patting him on the break to try and convince him to.

“Uh sure. If that’s okay with you of course.” You smiled.

“Of course. Let’s go I guess.” You walked with Spencer out to your uncles car that he so kindly lent you for the time being. He kept your car at his mansion so you wouldn’t have to worry about it. “Where should we go? I don’t normally come down here with David so I don’t really know a ton.” You asked as you got into the drivers side.

“There’s a little coffee shop not to far from here.” He gave you the directions as you drove. When you got there you ordered a coffee and a sandwich. Truth be told you were starved.

“So what degrees do you have?” He sipped his coffee before answering.

“I have a PhD in math, physics, and engineering as well as 3 BAs.” You jaw was 6 feet under. You assumed he was smart but damn.

“Wow. That’s... Impressive.” You laughed softly.

“Yeah. What about you? You said you wanted to be a teacher.”

“I have a bachelors in elementary education and one in special education. That is more so I can be more inclusive in the classroom. Honestly it’s pretty smart to get one because all children learn in very different ways. Like me, I loved reading when I was a child but I learned better by listening and looking at pictures. Some children think noise is distracting or that bright fun colored pictures are so we have to think about all of them and not just the majority. So far I have found a lot of different teaching methods to cater to all students. It’s really interesting. Sorry I’m rambling aren’t I? I do that when I get excited.” He chuckles and shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it. One time I told a detective that it’s safer to kiss instead of shake hands.”

“Ooh. Yikes. Don’t tell that to kids though, they will run around kissing each other and get some kind of disease I swear.” Conversation flowed easily between you both. You both took turns rambling while the other listened. It was comforting to have someone who actually listened and could understand you when you spoke a mile a minute. 

He couldn’t help but think the same. Most of his friends had teased him over his facts. You listened and asked questions. You didn’t cut him off or laugh. You were actually interested as was he when you spoke. You talked pretty fast but he managed to keep up. Before you realized it was no longer 1:30. It was 4:15. You had talked with him for hours and it only felt like minutes. You texted your uncle that you would just wait in the car for him but when Spencer got out you felt like you had to do it.

“Wait! Spencer!” He stopped and spun to see you running towards him. “Would you like to go out for dinner sometime? Maybe this weekend if you’re not on a case?” His smile was blinding.

“I love that.” You exchanged phone numbers.

“Perfect. Hopefully see you this weekend.” You placed a quick kiss on his cheek before running back to the car. He felt weak in the knees and thought he might collapse right then and there. Luckily he kept himself up until he got to the office. He was so excited and while he may not be religious, he prayed there wouldn’t be a case.

[sixtyeightdays]

Apologies don’t change anything

helloo so i did this today bc i probably would’ve procrastinated if i left this for tmr but i really wanted to write this bc i love the idea of it alot so yes here goes (yes i ended up writing half then procrastinating again but its done now so yay)

also the idea of this goes to this post by @flufflepuffle296 

⚠️TW: Mentions of murder

-

Marinette stared blankly at the airport she had just reached. Her class had gone on a trip to New York City, where Lila had oh-so-humbly bragged about all the famous people she knew here.

Lila had gotten Max to tamper with her alarm, setting it to go off a few hours late, at 5.30am instead of the 2am alarm she’d set it to, especially since their flight was at 6 in the morning. 

Marinette had gotten to her hotel room late because everyone hadn’t bothered to get their own luggage to the car, and Marinette was reprimanded for not ‘helping her classmates bring their bags on to the bus’, especially because of Lila’s ‘sprained wrist’. 

She had then been forced to carry all 30 luggages and carry-ons onto the bus by herself. Thankfully, the bus driver, who was staying at the same hotel as them for convenience had noticed her trouble when she’d tripped while carrying Lila’s huge baggage.

Lila had convinced the rest of the class not to bring suitcases that could be wheeled for no good reason, and everyone had brought large duffel bags, apart from Adrien, to which Marinette was very grateful for, even if the blonde boy was still bending to Lila’s whims.

Marinette had never appreciated lifting flour bags in the bakery more.

It had taken over two hours to get al the bags on the bus, especially since her class was stupid enough, or maybe they did it on purpose, and forgot stuff in their room, which they would then come down carrying, and forcing Marinette to unpack all the bags she’d piled on top of one another so they could put their item inside.

Marinette almost screamed when Max came down for the eighth time, carrying a stupid battery that could’ve easily fit into his pocket or Markov’s tail compartment.

Marinette was no exception and her stuff was on the plane, which was now on its way back to Paris-- without her.

She probably would’ve been more mad if she’d hadn’t seen it coming, and prepared a small backpack with her, with her phone, wallet, the binder she used to plan the class trip, a bag of cookies for Tikki, the box of power-up macarons, a jar of sugarcubes for Kaalki, and a spare change of clothes.

Tikki and Kaalki were safely hidden within the pouch Marinette had at her hip, which she was eternally grateful for. The Miracle Box was hidden in Ladybug’s yoyo, which was convenient for the girl so people wouldn’t steal it.

She let out a small groan in frustration until a hand gripped her shoulder. Panicking slightly, Marinette reared back her fist and clocked her attacker in the nose.

He yelped and staggered back as the lady with him looked slightly shocked. The lady faced Marinette, who was still on the defensive, but relaxed slightly when in the scuffle, the man’s badge fell out of his pocket, showing the golden unmistakable symbol of the NYPD.

‘Oh my gods, I am so sorry!’ Marinette helped the man up blushing slightly and panicking because she’d just punched a police officer in the face.

Marinette was very grateful she spoke fluent English.

He just groaned and with the help of Marinette and the lady, he stood up, clutching his bruised nose.

She introduced herself as Nette, because even if he was the police, she didn’t really want to give her name out to someone she punched in the face. You know, so she could run away, maybe Jagged would let her stay at his old apartment in Gotham--

She snapped out of her stupor as the lady tapped her on the shoulder cautiously and introduced herself as Amy Santiago and the man Jake Peralta.

‘What are you doing here, all by yourself? You can’t be more than 16.’

Frowning, Nette evaded the topic slightly and said she was here on a class trip, but she missed her flight back. The police officer looked disapproving until she noticed the binder peeking out of Marinette’s bag.

Her expression gave way to a happy delight as she plucked the binder out of her bag, gushing about how neat it was, how she used the correct fonts to emphasise everything, and she squealed when she saw the itinerary inside of it.

‘I am so sorry for her, she’s a bit of a nerd and she loves binders.’ Jake waved his hand side to side, making a tsk sound. Marinette could tell they were either dating or married, from the way he looked at her.

‘Why don’t you come with us to the police station? It’s about a 5 minute drive away, and we’re heading back anyway. We just had to drop my sister off.’ He explained, and Amy winced at the mentioned of Jake’s sister.

Huh, wonder why.

Marinette, still slightly wary but followed the couple to their car. He was a legitimate officer, and besides it wasn’t like she had anything to lose.

She clambered into the backseat and Tikki nudged her from the purse, a small show of support and a way of saying “i’m here for you”. She pressed her hand against the purse in response, listening to the somehow comforting banter between Jake and Amy.

When they arrived at the precinct, Marinette fidgeted in the lift, slightly nervous. Paris’ police department wasn’t the most friendly, and she was not welcomed there, since apparently Sabrina had complained to her father about Marinette.

When the lift doors opened with a small ding, Marinette clutched the string of her purse tightly, led around by Amy’s comforting hand o her shoulder. As she sat down in the seat Amy asked her to, facing Amy and away from the pigsty that was Jake’s desk holy shit were those rats?

Marinette placed her bag on the ground, making sure to keep it away from Jake’s crumbs.

She looked around her, taking in her surroundings before facing Amy who had a clipboard in hand, ready to write down her statement or Mlle. Bustier’s number she didn’t know.

She looked past Amy and her eyes widened when she noticed a familiar someone in the office behind Amy. She gasped, and somehow he winced totally not hearing it from a bug in Peralta’s desk and looked up.

His eyes widened and he strode out of the office, the door opening with a small bang which made Marinette raise her eyebrow.

Amy looked confused and turned around but shot to her feet when the captain stood behind her. He was not paying attention to his detective at all, staring at Marinette like he was seeing a ghost.

‘Uh, Captain? You look like your favorite detective just died, which he didn’t I’m right here, what’s up with the look?’

He ignored Peralta and started speaking in french, which Mari reciprocated.

‘Marinette? Is that you?’

‘Yep. Your detectives picked me up at the airport when I missed my plane back to Paris.’

‘I’m going to call Kevin.’

He switched back to English, looking to Jake and a rather dumpy looking man. ‘Boyle, do you remember when I told you I shared a croque monsieur with Kevin in France? And I made one for Kevin?’

The dumpy man, Boyle, nodded.

‘Guess who gave me the recipe?’ Raymond Holt smirked, pressing send on his phone. Marinette could make out a ‘Dear Kevin, Marinette is at the precinct. Sincerely, Raymond Holt.’

Dumpy man looked slightly awestruck.

She looked at him and deadpanned. ‘Still type like an old man?’

He smirked back, much to the dumpy man, Jake and Amy’s shock. ‘Still after model boy, Marinette Agreste?’

Marinette winced. ‘Consider me divorced.’

Holt looked slightly concerned. When he had gone to Paris with Kevin maybe a year or so back, the bluenette had blushed over the blonde model Adrien Agreste, her wishing that she’d have a relationship with the boy as successful as Raymond and Kevin’s.

The elevator dinged once more before he could question the girl that was so much like a daughter to him. Marinette noticed that two more people, a woman in all black that had a dagger in her boot and a katana strapped to her leg in a discreet way --badass, she noted-- and a buff man in suspenders that made Marinette want to gouge her eyes out.

Before she could rip into him, she was attacked by a blur of plaid and ginger. It was Kevin! The girl hugged the man fiercely and him likewise.

She socked him in the stomach as soon as he let go. 

‘That’s for not telling me you were leaving Paris.’ She glared at the man as he doubled over.

Badass lady smirked and whispered to Buff Suspenders. ‘I like her.’ Not that Mari couldn’t hear of course.

‘Thank you, Badass Lady.’ The lady in question looked mildly flattered. ‘My name’s Rosa, pinky.’

‘My name’s Nette!’ She chirped, the badass aura lessening slightly. ‘I like your dagger! Can you teach me how to throw one?’

Amy looked rather puzzled. There was no visible weapon on Rosa. ‘What--’

Rosa was staring at the bluenette with shock and newfound respect. Rosa reached into her boot and drew out her dagger, and it glinted in the light.

‘How’d you know it was there?’ The dagger was small enough so that while it fit snugly in her palm, the blade was still long and sharp enough to cause bodily damage. It was small enough so that it couldn’t be seen petruding out from her boot.

Marinette just smiled and shrugged, wiggling her fingers.

‘Magic.’ 

Marinette eyed Rosa’s pant leg that held her katana.

 Rosa looked very impressed by the petite girl.

Suddenly, a groan came from behind them, and whipping around, Marinette could see two men, foodies probably, gorging themselves on Tikki’s cookies.

‘Woah woah woah, my cookies are off limits!’ One of them, the shorter one, scoffed. 

‘Like you can finish this much food anyway.’ Marinette raised an eyebrow and the other man glared at the bluenette, and the two men waddled over to a room. 

Marinette followed and when she entered, she could see different types of chips, cookies, cakes laid out on the table. Jake let out a low whistle.

The two men were already seated there, napkins tied around their necks as a sure sign that they were going to eat.

Mari plopped herself on the chair opposite them and the taller man, looked at Marinette disbelievingly. No way that tiny girl could eat more than him and Hitchcock.

She took it as a silent challenge and waited a few seconds before starting to eat. The squad looked shocked at the fact that not only was the girl not vomiting from eating so fast, she was keeping up with Hitchcock and Scully.

The two had evidently noticed this as well, and shovelled more food in their mouth, causing cream and icing to drip everywhere. Their napkins, clothes and the chair.

But Marinette was still eating calmly, although her jaw was working at a furious pace. However, not one thing spilled anywhere which made Dumpy Man and Buff Suspenders look thankful, muttering something about a Marge.

But by the end of the race, contest, whatever, it was evident that it was a tie. While Hitchcock and Scully had eaten more food, Marinette had not made any messes at all. Plus, Marinette was only one person, while Hitchcock and Scully were two.

Needless to say, by the end of the day everyone had grown fond of the girl who could kick everyone’s asses and still look like a ball of sunshine.

She had ripped into Buff’s stupid suspenders, and he had been insulted until Marinette used the old sewing machine in Holt’s office that he had marched into the break room because he knew firsthand how amazing Marinette was at designing (Kevin had also been on the receiving end of her fashion administrations and it was not pleasant, although the end product was)

She fixed Terry’s suspenders, making the colors match for kwamis’ sake, and he had been very proud and paraded around the whole of the precinct.

Gina, who had just come back from the bathroom where she was totally not watching monkeys walk into an invisible wall had noticed Terry’s new suspenders and walked to the break room, and looking at the bluenette sew, fixing Charles’ tie because “yellow does not go with light orange what the hell were you thinking, dumpy”.

Gina asked Marinette if she wanted to be a fashion designer, because she definitely had the talent, and Mari smiled, saying that she was already one, but she went under an anonymous alias.

‘Ooh, we do love a good mystery. What’s your alias? Maybe I’ll commission a piece from you, I’ve been telling Charles to burn that horrible yellow tie for ages.’

‘My brand’s called MDC.’ 

She said this with the most innocent face she could as everyone around her freaked out that this barely 16 year old girl was one of the most up and rising designers, beating Gabriel Agreste in sales.

Even Jake knew who MDC was, but that was mostly because MDC was Jagged Stone’s personal designer. (He did freak out when Gina told him that MDC designed Jagged’s album covers from Rock Giant onwards)

Gina spent half an hour coaching Marinette on how to strut down the runway “like Catwoman slinking off into the night like the sexy queen she is”. Turns out, Marinette was a natural. (‘You need to work on that blushing though.’)

Eventually night fell and Marinette didn’t have anywhere to stay. Everyone offered their homes, even Rosa. 

She eventually decided to go with Terry because why not, and she also wanted to fix the rest of his suspenders and maybe make him a suit that wouldn’t tear when he moved.

Turns out, Sharon took to Mari immediately, Cagney and Lace even more so. Marinette had loads of experience babysitting, she babysitted terrors on a weekly basis, ahem Manon, Ella, Etta, Chris, and so Cagney and Lacey were bascially nothing.

She loved the two and they loved her too, saying that “Mimi” was definitely the best babysitter they’d had, and Sharon and Terry agreed after seeing how easily the three got along. Marinette knew what made them tick, what made them tired and what made them happy, and nothing got past her.

When Lacey tried to steal cookies, Marinette was there, booping the girl on the nose and handing her one and telling her that she would’ve given them one if they had asked, but since they didn’t, only one cookie for the night.

That had the two of them sharp at attention and they went to sleep without a fuss for once, Sharon and Terry cried at the peaceful silence they hadn’t had in almost a decade.

Rosa taught Marinette to throw knives, which was kind of the same as a yoyo, just with more force necessary and a different angle of throwing. Marinette, using her cool guardian voodoo, summoned an undetectable dagger, that couldn’t be detected by metal detectors.

‘Why do you have this?’

‘...Why not?’

‘...Fair enough.’

Dumpy Man, also known as Charles, had taken to Marinette almost immediately, firstly because of the brilliant croque monsieur, and secondly because of the amazing paella recipe she shared with him.

Nikolaj had declared Marinette his ‘big sister Arin’ after trying one mouth of the paella and saw the girl talk back to his dad. Genevieve loved Marinette, who had made her a new scarf as soon as she noticed the drabby scarf that she was wearing.

Amy loved that Mari could keep up with her puzzles and riddles. The bluenette was amazingly clever and even gave Amy ideas on making a new binder. Jake loved that the girl was the MDC and even more so when he saw how well Amy and Mari got along. 

Jake, Amy, Kevin and Holt got into a fight on who should have custody of Mari while she was here. (She ended up alternating the days she stayed with everyone in the squad.)

Marinette had ended up bonding with Hitchcock and Scully the most, forcing the two to clean their desks, goddamnit, and Hitchcock happened to be a big fan of Clara Nightingale, who was one of Mari’s closest friends and clients. 

The fact that Scully spoke French, Hitchcock loved French pastries and Marinette living in a bakery helped matter loads too.

Eventually, the fact that Marinette was Ladybug became the squad’s most closely guarded secret. She’d gotten caught because Holt was a nosy parent and decided to pry into Marinette’s purse and conveniently found a cookie nibbling Tikki and a haughty looking Kaalki. 

Jake had fangirled big time when Ladybug, looking rather grumpy, swung in and smacked the baddie on the head with her yoyo, hard enough that he’d go unconscious. Turns out, Ladybug was a very popular figure in New York.

After about a week in New York, Mari finally had to leave for Paris again. She was dreading it because of what lies Lila probably spun into making everything Mari’s fault, which made the girl dissolve into a small panic attack, and Rosa, Terry, Kevin, Amy, Jake and Gina wanted to commit cold blooded murder to the people that made this girl as sad as she was when she deserved the whole world. 

Holt was very tempted to let them.

The squad and Kevin took a week of leave and followed Mari back to Paris, escorting her all the way to her classroom. Mr. Damocles had tried to stop them but a glare from Rosa and the sight of Terry’s muscles made him squeak and back away.

They could all hear the false tales pouring out of Lila’s mouth as soon as they reached the outside of the classroom.

‘Mlle. Bustier, surely Marinette will be punished for skiving off school and playing truant?’

They could hear Mlle. Bustier’s voice dripping with disappointment. ‘Rest assured, Lila, she will be punished accordingly.’

This made Amy extremely mad, hearing them talk so crudely about the girl she cared for very much, and she slammed the door open. The class jumped at the sound of the door hitting the wall, and Mlle. Bustier winced when Holt’s deadly glare looked her straight in the face.

It was then that the class noticed Marinette, who was feeling afraid and hiding behind Charles and Jake. 

Max shot up to his feet when his eyes landed on Kevin. That was the Kevin Cozner, one of the most famous and respected teachers known to all of humanity.

Said Kevin had both hands on Marinette’s shoulders, pinning Max with a stare that made the boy’s feet turn stiff and he sat back down.

Murmurs and yells broke out in the classroom and Mlle. Bustier internally sighed at the trouble Marinette was causing. Really, if the girl didn’t skip school and cause a dramatic entrance, she would have been going through the lesson and maybe even getting a promotion, considering Kevin Cozner was here.

She mentally groaned and composed herself, wrenching Marinette out of Kevin’s grip and dragging her to the front of the classroom, where she proceeded to berate the girl loudly for skipping school for a week and causing an unnecessary scene in school.

Instead of looking frustrated or upset and cowing like the teacher though Marinette would be, Marinette only smiled coolly at the teacher. Amy strode forwards, plopping a stack of papers in the hands of the teacher before turning to Marinette and checking her arm, which now had purple bruises standing out in contrast to her pale skin.

Charles looked furious, and when Mlle. Bustier spluttered upon looking at the papers, which in bold, had the words ‘Sued’ on them, he took great pleasure in saying loudly, “You just got served, Caline Bustier.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but then seemed to remember her students’ presences, and those students were currently looking at the exchange between the foreigners and their teacher with rapt attention.

Mlle. Bustier smiled nervously and raised her hands as if to placate the squad and change their minds about suing her.

‘Let’s talk in the corridor. More privacy.’ She explained, striding to the door. She stopped adruptly a dagger was pressed to the teacher’s throat.

She gulped and went slightly crosseyed looking down at the dagger before saying that the children shouldn’t see this and repeating that they should go out in the corridor to talk.

Suddenly, a voice spoke up from the room. It was Sabrina, looking confident and proud and very unlike the meek and timid student who constantly answered to Chloe’s every whim.

‘You didn’t give Marinette that liberty.’

Chloe didn’t look surprised when Sabrina stood up, looking up at the girl proudly. She then stood up and put in a word.

‘You just dragged Marinette to the front of the classroom and tried to scold her when you were the one who listened to Lie-la and didn’t bother to do a headcount before leaving the hotel, hell, before boarding the plane.’

‘You left her in New York City,’ chimed Sabrina, leering at the teacher, who shrunk back into herself.

‘Who do you think paid for her ticket back?’ Chloe smirked.

‘Goodbye, Caline Bustier.’ They spoke in unison.

Mlle. Bustier paled. Gina looked like she wanted to run away with Chloe and Sabrina, and Marinette looked to the two gratefully, the former giving the girl a nod while the other smiled broadly.

Amy spoke again, grinning manically at the redheaded teacher, reciting everything that she’d done wrong in her years as a teacher, whether it be when she was teaching old students from almost a decade ago, or now, when she was teaching Marinette’s class.

“Yes, Rosa, I learnt French specifically for this. I took a seminar, called The French Way to Reprimand A Crap-sack.”

Mlle. Bustier dug herself an even deeper hole as she frantically tried to pile the blame on Marinette, who was pressing the bruises on her arm with morbid fascination.

Gina leaned towards Caline, her breath hot against the teacher’s ear as she drawled in a rather threatening voice. “I know every little secret you have. It’d be best if you’d just mosey on out.”

Bustier shook her head even more, doubting Gina, who took great pleasure in calling out Mlle. Bustier’s shortcomings and dirty little secrets that she’d tried so desperately to bury.

“Caline Bustier. You had a student named Bridgette Jaeng a few years back. She died. Her death was written off as a accident, when that really wasn’t the case, was it.”

Her voice, although rather soft, echoed loudly in the room, ringing in the ears of Marinette’s classmates who turned to look at their teacher with horrified expressions on their faces.

“No! She--” Gina continued as if Mlle. Bustier hadn’t said anything at all.

“She fell down the stairs.” Gina made air quotes when she said fell. “She was pushed down the stairs by her bullies. She broke her neck on impact, and Bustier?” She laughed wryly.

“She saw the whole thing, but didn’t do anything to stop her students. She even went so far as to turn the security cameras off.” 

Caline was growing increasingly pale but didn’t say anything for fear of making it worse.

“You bribed the principal of this school to hire you.” Gina’s voice, quiet and deadly cut through the tension in the room, and as if a dam broke, all hell broke loose and chaos was ensued.

Gina spoke up again, effectively making the class quiet down.

“You told Marinette to be the ‘best Marinette she could be’. You told her to not do anything when Lila and he posse bullied her. You turned off the cameras again when Lila walked down the stairs and sat there, bawling and lying about how Marinette pushed her down the stairs.” Gina’s voice came out in a hiss.

“You didn’t tell them how Marinette was expelled, huh. It was because Lila framed her for stealing a necklace that was found in her locker. But none of the students here are allowed to use locks for some stupid reason.’

The evidence was overwhelming. The contrast of the yelling from minutes ago was now replaced with a deadly silence as they mulled over Gina’s words.

Officer Raincomprix had shown up and arrested Caline a few minutes later, courtesy of Sabrina. 

As Caline Bustier was dragged out of the room, she yelled on last time. “What gives you the right to arrest me? I was only looking out for my students!”

Holt smirked smugly, and everyone in the squad, bar Gina and Kevin, held up their badges, with the very unmistakable logo of the NYPD. 

Caline was forcefully dragged away, shocked. And as she sat in the solitary confinement of her prison cell almost a month later, thinking about what she’d done, there was a knock on the door. The one person Caline thought she’d never see again stood in the doorway, the bars being the only separator between the ex teacher and her ex student.

Caline didn’t trust herself to speak, only staring at the girl. 

Marinette stood there, patiently waiting for her to speak.

When she did, the only thing that came out of her mouth was, “I’m sorry.”

Marinette smiled. Not a pitying one, not a smug one, no. It was a sad smile.

“Apologies don’t change anything.” Marinette told her old teacher. “I can’t speak for Bridgette, but for what it’s worth, I forgive you.”

- 

4.2k words

well yes. feedback and thoughts appreciated

i didnt reread this bc i dont like reading my own works they make me cringe so if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes im sorry oops

Asks are Open!

[black-streak]

Waiting for the Worms - In the Flesh?

Part 14

Happy New Decade present. Soo this part got split up as well since I got really long winded on some parts and now this is almost 3k and it was getting ridiculous. No warnings that I can think of here?

CLOSED list of people who deserve good things: @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

Falling back into Marinette's body felt surprisingly gentle. It offered a sense of nostalgia from back when they use to settle in for switches back before… Well, before.

Lifting his head, Jason realized he was leaned into Marc and surrounded by the entire group all watching him wearily in a semi-circle as though to keep him from running. He had to wonder if that's what she'd been in the middle of when they swapped back. Preparing to run to him the same way he planned to hunt with Damian for her.

"What happened?" His voice came out rough and harsh around the French, having switched to English when speaking to the kid.

"Mari? Oh thank god you're back!" Chloe exasperated, moving closer to his side as Juleka spoke up.

"I thought Kagami said you lost your soulmate, but that was them, wasn't it? They're here then?"

"Did you want to find them? We can help, did you find anything out from where they were?" Marc asked next, keeping some distance.

"Horrible timing if you ask me. Must've freaked out, considering they got launched into a rogue's attack. Honestly, I can't say I blame them for taking off the way they did, or panicking when we essentially cornered them," Kagami went next.

"Ran off? Panicked? You cornered them?" Jason spoke in an almost frantic rush, "What the fuck happened?"

"Fear gas, apparently. Took us all out into lala land. Woke up to a bunch of masked guys laying all over the place. No one died, but it was a bloodbath," Juleka offered a dark smile at that, "You were gone though. Nowhere to be found, so we ran out the back door and started calling for you."

"Only when we found you, you shoved me up into a wall and started speaking in something that definitely wasn't a language you knew," Marc pursed their lips.

"Whoever they are, they stood there in a daze and suddenly tried to bolt away. Marc yanked them back and here we are. Not surprised, we are pretty intimidating," Chloe huffed, tossing her hair.

"She wasn't intimidated."

"Why wouldn't she be? Bunch of overly strong strangers crowding her in speaking in a language she doesn't understand? I'm surprised she didn't fight back more now that I think on it," Kagami gave a thoughtful hum, picking up on the pronoun use immediately and adjusting accordingly.

"She understands French just fine. It's her first language after all. English is her second. And she wasn't running away from you."

"Well then, miss know-it-all, why was she running? In a direction that was decidedly away from us," sarcasm thickly layered Chloe's tone at that.

"There's a kid in her apartment. He was shoving me out the door to go find her. She probably wanted to get back to him to make sure he didn't freak out," Jason explained, not really thinking his words through.

"Woah, what? She's got a kid? How much older than you is she?" Marc piped up.

"No, God no, not her kid, like, like a little brother or something. It's complicated. Point is, she probably felt desperate to get back to him. She wasn't intimidated by you four, hell she probably took down Scarecrow and his goons herself. Fuck, I need to find her." He rattled on at this point.

"Mari, what's going on?" Kagami finally moved closer, grabbing his hand and tilting to look him in the eye.

That's when it truly hit him. They didn't know. He never told them the truth and had assumed he never would. Had assumed his soulmate was gone forever and this particular omission would never come to light. Glancing down to where Tikki peered out from his jacket, he saw the little goddess give a solemn nod and look towards a nearby fire escape to direct him. Looking back at the people gathered around him, people who had laid their trust in him for years. Who stuck by his side all this time, never knowing the truth, looking at him with concerned eyes, he took a deep breath and prepared himself to lose them all.

"Come on, I can't have this conversation here," he gestured them forward and led the way up to the rooftops where he peered out in all directions to be sure they were alone, despite knowing the aftereffects of the miraculi made all of their senses too strong to possibly be caught unaware by a non-holder. Taking a seat on the roof edge, foot propped up against the brick and arms folded, he waited for them to gather round and settle in, either on the ledge beside him or against random pieces left up there, before he began.

"I know she understood you. She wasn't afraid or intimidated or any of those things. Wouldn't make sense for her to be. Honestly, she knows more than I do. I have no idea how she's alive. Considering she died for me three years ago."

He was met with confused looks, some more critical than others, but no one interrupted. Letting out a sigh, he decided he might as well start from the beginning.

"We switched often when we were young, but we learned to act like each other. She didn't want anyone to worry and later on, I couldn't afford for us to not switch flawlessly. No one could tell when or if we switched, though you were all aware I had a soulmate. We both lived dangerous lives. We knew the risks. Knew the consequences. We switched in the middle of her morning class three years ago, a week after her fourteenth birthday. I jolted in her seat and had a panic attack. Only a moment before, I had been held captive by the Joker. I tried to switch back, but she wouldn't let me. She held my body hostage. We'd done that before, you know. Taken an injury for the other and held on until it healed up. Been sick for one another. It wasn't that surprising that she wouldn't let me back in. And the tug calmed down, ao I assumed she was fine and going to heal up and we would switch back. Fucking stupid of me. It took a week before I realized something was wrong."

Juleka stepped in here, quiet but sure, "You're not Marinette. Are you?"

Clenching his fist, he shook his head.

"Marinette died, didn't she? She's dead?" She asked.

"Only she isn't, otherwise you wouldn't have switched today. It makes sense why you're so sure then, she would have no reason to be afraid of us," Kagami interjected before he could respond.

"I thought it was you recognizing me when you loosened your grip, but it was actually her realizing what happened, wasn't it?" Marc offered up.

"That's all good and well, but it begs the question. Why didn't you tell us?" Chloe turned towards him, slight betrayal pushing through.

Jason went quiet as they all turned to wait for his answer. How do you explain that? That the depression and guilt became too much? That you couldn't handle being treated as an outcast and stranger by the people closest to her. That you couldn't look them in the eye and tell them it was your fault that she was gone?

Tikki took this moment to come out.

"I knew. Plagg and all the other kwamis as well. He chose not to tell you. But if he hadn't, we would've stopped him ourselves. Even if he wanted to tell you, we wouldn't have allowed it."

"Why?" Kagami narrowed her eyes, flicking her gaze between her and Plagg, who had just now come out of hiding.

"At the time, we were facing an emotional terrorist. It was bad enough he could've been compromised at any given moment, was better suited to me, and had to deal with Chat all the damn time. It'd be idiotic to allow him to emotional screw all of you up. What a mess that would be," Plagg growled, looking grouchy and put out, despite a slight joy hiding in the glint of his eyes, "She's really alive?"

Tikki nodded, moving over to pull the other god into a nuzzle, "I felt it. It's definitely her."

"And after Hawkmoth was defeated?" Marc this time.

"It'd been around two years by that point. And all of us were releasing a lot of pent up anger. How well would that have gone over without the knowledge that she's alive?" Juleka cut in, saving him from having to explain.

All four of them looked to each other, having a silent group conversation, one he was left out of for once. Seemingly coming to a decision, they turned to him once more.

"So what's your name then?" Chloe demanded.

Eyebrows pinching in a weary, guarded expression, he slowly answered, "Jason. My name is Jason."

"Well then Jason, it's good to finally know who we've gotten so close to all this time," she teased.

"You're," he struggled for the word, "okay with this?"

"She's alive. Has been for who knows how long. We've worked by your side for three years now. We know you even if you weren't who we thought. Honestly, this explains a lot about some of the personality changes recently." Kagami shrugged.

"There's no use in getting upset over it now. It wouldn't help us to move forward," Marc added.

"Sure, we're hurt and annoyed and put off, but we get it. It makes sense and we're not going to hold it against you. And you heard the literal gods. You wouldn't have been able to tell us if you wanted," Chloe continued on.

Juleka nudged his side, pulling him from his shock and awe, "You know where to find her? I think I'd like to meet this new Mari."

"Y-yeah. I know where she is."

"Lead the way then," Kagami nudged him on. 

And with a small, shaky smile, taken off guard by their response, he led them back off the roofs and through the streets of Gotham towards her home.

…

Finding the place didn't take long, though he hesitated at the front door to the apartment, a shock of fear and uncertainty pulsing through for what was to come. With a nudge from behind, he knocked thrice and moved away.

After a moment, the door opened two inches and Damian peered up at him, assessing the situation and closing it an inch.

"Who are you?" 

"It's Jason," he breathed out.

The kid glared as he glared at the others behind Jason and turned ever so slightly to the side, switching effortlessly to a language he couldn't understand. A gruff response returned it and suddenly the door closed further only to open up.

"That's the same speech pattern from before!" Marc whispered excitedly.

The open floor plan of the kitchen and living room gave an open view of the dark haired figure sitting on the couch facing away from them. At his confused look, Damian spoke up.

"You need to sit down before the two of you speak. I assume you know why. You four will wait here by the door until addressed."

"Excuse me?!" Chloe gave an indignant screech.

The person on the couch tensed either and Damian growled lowly.

"We do this on our terms or you will be removed forcefully. If you're lucky, it'll be by my hand."

"Damian," the figure called, still facing away but letting off an ominous aura, as though they are aware of everything behind them without needing to see.

Damian glared and stayed in the doorway until Kagami gripped Chloe's hand and nodded their agreement.  The kid gave a huff and moved so Jason could pass. He would've just past him when he started acting up, but Jason knew better for now. Damian was closer to Marinette than any of them were and any cue from him that they were making him uncomfortable or anxious and she'd shove them out in a heartbeat. Well, the rest of them. He's not sure on himself.

Moving slowly, he moved around the far end of the couch and sat down beside her, calming himself. He could see his old body in the corner of his eye, larger and taller and way further built than it'd been the last time he saw it. A white tuft of hair curled in the front. The eyes seemed to have more green from what he could make out. His body looked very much alive. Although he was sure there were far more scars than three years ago. That was okay, hopefully she could forgive him for the scars added to her own body.

He could tell she was viewing him as well. Seeing her body as it is now, at seventeen years old and put through its own hardships and training. It felt very surreal to be sitting next to their own body, feeling like a stranger to it. No longer knowing how it would feel or react or how it moved. It was even more surreal to be sitting next to each other. Knowing that after all this time and everything they'd been through, this would be their first meeting. 

In the next minute, they would greet each other and the bond would solidify. They would either get locked in each other's body or be violently thrown back for what could very well be the last time. They couldn't know for sure which body they would settle more permanently into until they made that step though. Jason could feel the bond strengthening and vibrating between the two like a live wire, but he waited nevertheless.  This was under her terms even if he did feel like he deserved an explanation. He knew she wouldn't keep him in the dark for long, so he waited.

With a soft, almost inaudible sigh, she turned towards him at last and he mirrored her movements, meeting eyes for the first time.

Within a fraction of a second, a crackle of electricity bolted between them and they found themselves looking at the body they occupied moments before with a jolt. This time without any blackouts or confusion or yank on either of their parts. Both were glad to be sitting however as the shock wore off. As he looked at the small woman he once occupied the body of, he watched a soft smile grow on the surprisingly delicate features. How had he never noticed how she looked? He had seen that face nearly everyday for three years whether he avoided looking in a mirror or not and yet he never saw that glow to her eyes. Saw the sweetness to her smile, even when miniscule and sad. Never saw the curve of her jawline and the way her hair framed her face perfectly. How could he not notice how beautiful his soulmate was? He was in awe and he was surprised to see it reflected back at him from where he suddenly found himself looking down at her. They had moved closer as though on instinct. Reaching forward, she laced her fingers with his already partially outstretched hand and softened further as a warmth spread from their point of connection. Opening her soft pink lips, she spoke in a soft, melodic tone, one he could never manage in his time with her voice.

"Hello Jason."

"Marinette," he breathed out the name like a prayer.

Tears sprung into her eyes and with a soft laugh that doubled as a sob, she launched herself towards him, wrapping him in a tight hug and pressing her face into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Jason. You must be so confused and upset and angry with me and I'm so sorry you had to find out like this," she whispered soft enough he was sure even the trained and animalistic hearing in the room wouldn't catch it. Tightening his grip, he curled himself over her, unused to his new size, but taking full advantage to engulf her into his chest in a protective manner.

"It's okay. I. I would've done the same for you," he admitted.

Suddenly a small figure appeared at his side, tugging on his sleeve. Turning to look, Damian stood there, wide eyed and shaking ever so slightly, staring at Marinette.

"What's happening? Why is she crying? What'd you do to her, Jason?" The boy shot him an accusing look. Marinette must have warned him that upon meeting, she would possibly return to her old body and was able to spot the change when it occurred.

"She's just a little overwhelmed kid, relax."

"She's never overwhelmed. Marinette doesn't cry, what did you do to her?" he lashed out once more, expression growing in anger, but also fear.

She chose this moment to pull back, untangling a limb and reaching out for the kid.

"It's okay Dami, he didn't do anything wrong. I never meant to scare you," she soothed, her voice immediately smoothing out and the watery texture to her eyes retracting as if on command. Damian's shoulders came down from their hunched state as he eased forward into her grip, still darting his eyes in Jason's direction as he was drawn towards them.

Jason felt annoyance at her forcing her emotions back into a bottle for the kid but couldn't really say anything without being a hypocrite what with how he avoided the topic like the plague with the others. 

Oh shit, the others. Turning slightly, he caught sight of their bug eyed expressions, taking in the scene before them. Tapping on the back of her hand with the fingers still intertwined with hers, he caught her attention and felt as she steeled herself. Lifting her gaze towards them, demeanor calm and assessing, she looked over the group still in the entrance way. 

"You can come over now."

[sierraraeck]

How to Make Friends (Pt.1)

Spencer x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Spencer’s had a problem with Aundreya since the start. How is she going to earn his respect? Story four.

Category: Some angst, some fluff.

Warnings: Cussing. Quick mention of normal CM stuff and the quick retelling of two rough childhoods. Mentions of bullying.

Word Count: 5.3k

So I’d been going about this all wrong. The whole time that I’d observed the FBI from the outside, they all seemed to be strictly business. I knew they cared about each other but I never expected them to be family. I was going to have to start slowly nudging my way in if I ever wanted to earn respect and do what I was hired to do. I had to stop thinking about this like a co-worker situation and had to start thinking about it like a client situation.

I had good social skills, I just hadn’t been using them correctly thus far. Whenever I needed to talk to someone that was vital for my survival, or the survival of my ring or gang, I could always be very charming. Usually, I would take them to a high end restaurant and we would talk things over. That’s what I decided I needed to do with each member of the team. They were my clients, and I was going to sell them Aundreya Chambers.

The first person I decided to take to dinner was Aaron. He was the nicest to me, by force or by choice I didn’t know, but either way, he’d be the most inclined to accept my offer. Plus, if it was okay for the Unit Chief to go to dinner with me, hopefully it would show that it was okay for the rest of the team to go to dinner with me. The night with him went well. We talked about work of course, but I also got to know about his family. He already knew what happened to mine, so he didn’t ask about it. That’s probably another reason I picked him first. I knew I wouldn’t have to answer as many questions.

Next I asked Emily. She was the first to voluntarily share a personal story with me about her tattoo, and I figured she’d be the next I could get to accept. She was also a big personality on the team so getting to know her would only be helpful. Emily was a lot of fun to go out with. She ordered wine for us, something Aaron did not do, and we talked until the restaurant closed at 11. I learned about her childhood, she taught me some French, and I heard all about her new cat, Sergio. She didn’t tell me about her time with Interpol (a fact I’d learned when I was privately investigating each member), which I knew she wouldn’t, but it was still interesting hearing about everything else she’d done. She asked me about my childhood so I told her and got the same sappy reaction I got from everyone. As much as I hated being pitied, I needed the team to soften their view of me. My childhood story was the most efficient way to do that.

After that, I asked Penelope, then David, then Jennifer. That’s when the easy part ended.

By the time I got to Derek, he already knew I was going to ask. Apparently, the rest of the team had already filled him in. I was just curious to see how much they told him. He clearly wasn’t ashamed to let on that he’d heard a lot, because he started asking me deeper questions, skipping over the surface level talk. I didn’t mind. Why repeat the same conversation I’d already had four times? For the first hour, he didn’t have any reaction towards what I told him, but as my backstory kept going, I could tell that he was softening up, just like everyone else. However, I saw something different in his eyes that I hadn’t in the others’. He was relating to me. He finally let me ask him questions, and I learned about his father’s death, how it was living with three girls, and how he worked hard to move up the ranks in Chicago PD to eventually get to the FBI. He didn’t neglect to remind me how much of a pain in his ass I was though, running around as The Figure. I joked that I made him a better investigator and he finally cracked a smile.

So that left one more person to win over. Doctor Spencer Reid. I was leaving the best, and the hardest, for last.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I was sitting with Derek and Emily while I waited for Spencer to show up.

“So is it finally pretty boy’s turn to have to suffer through dinner with you?” Morgan teased.

“Oh come on. You know you enjoyed my company,” I said to him with a wink. Ever since getting to know one another better, Morgan was more inclined to tease me like he had when we first met.

“Or maybe you just aren’t as good at profiling as you think,” Derek replied.

“Oh, there he is,” Emily said before I could respond. I watched Spencer casually walk into the bullpen, then pick up the pace when he saw me watching. And those goddamn back muscles were twitching again.

Look, I understand that I make people uncomfortable. Some I make really uncomfortable. And I know that Reid is kind of awkward around a lot of people, but come on. After five weeks of me constantly being around, he still could barely stand to be in the same room as me. What was going on?

He rushed right past us to his own desk, not even stopping to say hi to Derek or Emily.

“Woah, woah woah. What’s going on, kid? Where’s the fire?” Morgan said, brow furrowed. I gave Emily a knowing look.

“Nothing. No fire,” Reid said, setting his bag down, then quickly moving toward the pot of coffee across the room from us.

Derek turned to look at me. “You sure you want to take him out?”

“We’ll see. First I gotta keep him in my vicinity long enough so I can actually ask him,” I retorted.

“What? Three seconds isn’t long enough to ask him to dinner?” Morgan said sarcastically. I rolled my eyes at him and sighed.

“What is it?” Prentiss asked.

I laughed. “I’ve been in a gang, an underground ring, drugged, hunted by the police, trapped by the FBI, and sent to prison. But of all things, what’s really going to stop me in my tracks … is an angry genius?”

Morgan laughed with me. “He can be pretty feisty.”

“But hey. You have made it all the way to the FBI, far enough so that you can even consider that a problem of yours,” Prentiss pointed out. I nodded along as she spoke, “And you're still alive.”

“That’s true,” I agreed. “I mean, it only cost me four ER visits, three ribs, two bullets, and a knife. Well, and now an angry genius.” Both of them whipped their heads toward me, shock taking over their face. I wish I could have captured their priceless reactions on tape.

“W-Wh-What?” Derek said through a confused laugh. Emily just stared at me open mouthed.

“But you’re right,” I casually continued, “being alive is important.”

“Guys we have a case,” Hotch strode into the room, holding up a case file. Morgan and Prentiss were still just staring at me. I tilted one side of my mouth up and shrugged at them, leaving our spot to head to the briefing room.

“You can’t just leave us hanging like that?” Derek called after me.

I turned around while walking so I could face them, putting my hands up in surrender. I tried to sound as innocent as possible. “We have a case.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

The case was standard, you know, just your usual headless bodies in a lake. The unsub was quickly devolving, so it wouldn’t be long until he made a mistake and we could catch him. I was getting the silent treatment from Reid, as always. On day two, him and Jareau went on air to alert people in the area.

The very next day, we had an odd visitor come into the precinct. And by ‘we’ I mean ‘Reid’. She was about average height, blonde, probably five years Spencer’s senior, and enthusiastic. Too enthusiastic for a person in a precinct.

She walked right up to him and started talking to him. I couldn’t really hear what they were talking about, and I couldn’t see her face because Spencer’s back was shielding it. Across the room, I saw JJ look over at them, but then quickly dismiss it. I was about to do the same when a familiar sight caught my eye. Spencer’s back was twitching.

He had a variety of tells of discomfort, but when he wanted to, he could keep himself completely composed. Except for his back muscles. They had become the number one thing I looked for every time I saw him, because every single time, they told me he was uncomfortable.

The longer he talked to this woman, the worse the twitching became. I was initially going to just leave it alone and let him figure it out, but my curiosity got the best of me. Who was she and why was he so uneasy?

I decided I’d pull one of the oldest tricks in the book, and hoped he’d pick up on it.

I approached the two of them, placing my left hand on Spencer’s right shoulder blade, slowly moving it up his back to rest on his shoulder. I knew he had a germ thing, so I didn’t want to get too cozy. I interlaced my fingers so it looked like I was leaning on him. I could feel the twitching beneath my fingertips, but he didn’t flinch or faulter at my sudden presence. I peered up at him through my eyelashes. “Hey,” I tried to sound as seductive as possible. “Who’s this?”

He cleared his throat. “Oh, uh, this is-”

“I’m Kristy,” Kristy said, holding her hand out to me. I ignored it and instead looked her over.

“I wasn’t asking you, sweetie,” I said. She opened her mouth and let out a noise of offense. She practically had the words ‘shallow bitch’ written on her forehead. I turned my attention back to Spencer.

“She and I went to CalTech together,” his voice was dry and he swallowed, like he was in desperate need of water. I hadn’t gotten the whole story, but I knew that he was relentlessly bullied in high school, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it continued on in college. If I had to guess, this girl fell into that category.

“Oh really?” I asked. I turned toward her again and she nodded at me eagerly. The level of fake radiating off of her definitely equalled ‘mean girl’, which to me meant she deserved to taste some of her own medicine. I aimed to be as demeaning as possible. “So, Kathy-”

“Actually, my name is Kristy.”

“Whatever,” I said, fluttering my eyelashes. I could already tell I was getting under her skin. “What brings you in?”

“Well, I work for a magazine, The Triplehorn Tribune, you’ve probably heard of it-”

“Nope,” I interrupted. It took all of my willpower to not roll my eyes.

“Anyways,” she said slowly, about to continue on.

“Anyway,” I corrected. She looked at me confused. “You meant to say ‘anyway’. ‘Anyways’ isn’t a word and is grammatically incorrect.” Out of my peripheral, I saw Spencer quickly press his lips together, fighting a smile. I’d just pulled his signature move. At this point, JJ had looked back to see what was going on, and had nudged Prentiss to pay attention. It wouldn’t be long before the rest of the team was watching.

Meanwhile, Kristy-bitch was starting to fume. She released an annoyed breath through her teeth. “Anyway, I’m here because we want to do a story on what it’s like to be in the FBI. I saw Spencer on the tv yesterday and figured he’d be the perfect person to interview.”

“Oh, so you only want to talk to him now that he’s been on tv?” I asked.

“What? No! It’s not like that-”

“Then what is it like?” I asked. When she didn’t respond quickly enough for my liking, I decided I’d answer for her. “See, I think that you’re only here for you. I think that you got out of college and got a crappy job working for a crappy magazine. You want to be recognized and appreciated which means you need an interesting article. This serial killer thing would be big, but what would be even bigger would be interviewing one of the top profilers in the top unit of the FBI about the serial killer, who has also been on tv for press conferences. Lucky for you, this top profiler just so happens to be the easily manipulated kid you bullied in college, so you think that you can just show up here out of nowhere and request he give you the big break you supposedly deserve. How’m I doing so far?”

Her mouth dropped in unspoken shock. She was floundering and I was more than happy to let her. Behind her I saw the team and at least half of the precinct watching. I hadn’t noticed that Reid’s back stopped twitching for a while until it started back up again at the increased attention. I gently squeezed his shoulder, trying to help him calm back down. Kristy finally regained her ground.

“What are you, his possessive girlfriend?” she spat, incredulous.

“Something like that,” I said. I could barely get the words out before I was left speechless by the arm that wrapped around my waist. His hand landed just above my hip and subconsciously brought us closer together. I was surprised, even more so at the slight swimming in my head, but I forced myself to keep my wits about me. So he did figure out what I was going for. I smirked at her.

“Well why don’t you let Spencer speak for himself,” Kristy hissed at me.

“Why don’t you show Doctor Reid the respect you neglected to give him years ago,” I returned, just as fiery. I felt Spencer’s shoulders straighten just slightly at my comment. I removed my hands from his shoulder and reluctantly moved my body out of his grasp so that I could step forward and look down at her.

“Look, Cassy-”

“Kristy.”

“Whatever. You clearly are one of the bitches that thought it’d be funny to pick on the young kid in your class. You didn’t accept him for who he was then, so you sure as hell don’t deserve him for who he is now. I think you should go.” I stared her down, and I have to admit, girl’s got balls to continue to stand her ground.

“I’m only asking for a simple favor-” she started.

I took another step forward, cutting her off. “Back off, he doesn’t owe you anything!”

She took a step back, clearly surprised by my sudden change in volume. “You need to control your girlfriend! She’s a psycho!” She gave Reid a quick glance before marching toward the door.

“That’s what makes me good at catching them, Misty!” I called after her.

“My name is Kristy!” she yelled as she stamped out the door like a toddler. It made her look like the pathetic, insecure fool she was.

Once the door shut behind her, I couldn’t help but start laughing. I turned to look at Spencer who was still in shock. I scanned the room and saw that the entire precinct had stopped what they were doing to observe the scene that I helped create. I made eye contact with the rest of the team, all of whom were gaping at me. I stopped laughing.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, turning back to Spencer. I was starting to worry that I’d misread the whole situation and just caused something to go horribly wrong. “I hope you don’t mind that I did that. I could just tell that she was making you uncomfortable and I figured that I could-” I was cut off mid-sentence. Spencer had suddenly erupted in laughter, which triggered an entire laughing fit to wash over the whole precinct. Even Aaron was laughing, which never happened. I let the joyful feeling I’d felt moments ago fall back into my grasp.

“I absolutely didn’t mind you stepping in. You have nothing to apologize for,” he said to me with a smile. The first one I’d ever received from him. It was contagious and I couldn’t help but return it.

“Thank god, I was starting to worry. I’m glad you picked up on what I was putting down,” I stated.

“Oh, yeah. The fake girlfriend trick, one of the oldest in the book.”

“It was the best one I could think of on short notice,” I joked.

“How could you tell he was feeling uncomfortable?” Jennifer asked, approaching the two of us. The rest of the precinct had gone back to what they were doing, but the team’s attention was still on us.

“Yeah, I looked over at them and all I saw was the normal level of awkward,” Derek stated. Spencer glared at him.

“That’s because you were looking at him from the front,” I said, raising my eyebrows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Reid asked, his voice raising an octave.

“It just means that I’ve gotten very accustomed to your tells of discomfort, from all angles.” The mood of the group shifted at my reminder of the reality that Reid still had a very high level of dislike for me.

“Sure, but that still doesn’t make sense. Reid does a great job composing himself, but I think we all know him well enough to detect if he’s uncomfortable,” JJ pressed. I just shrugged my shoulders, not really knowing how to respond.

“Okay, let’s refocus,” Hotch said to us with a serious nod. I could tell when I made eye contact with him that I was in trouble. “Aundreya, that was inappropriate.”

“I know. That was well deserved, though,” I pointed out, unapologetic.

Aaron toyed with a half smile and let out a sigh. “Let’s just get back to work?”

“Fine with me,” I said with a grin. I got a nod from him and Rossi, a smile from the ladies and a clap on the back from Morgan. Reid gave me a small, closed-lipped smile, and directed his attention back to the maps and pictures hanging on the board.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

It took us the next three days to find and catch the killer. Three days full of Reid avoiding me at all costs. Maybe I was crazy, maybe I was hallucinating, but I thought we had a moment. I thought that I’d done something good for once, something to prove to him that I wasn’t a terrible human. But no. Nope. Not a chance, because for the rest of that afternoon and the three days following, the avoidance was actually worse than it was before. I didn’t even think that was possible. It had earned me more respect from the rest of them, but not him himself. Did I embarrass him? Was he weirded out that I touched him? Was his loathing for me just that strong? It didn’t make any sense and by day three, I was at my wits end.

“Emily.” I stated.

“What?” she asked me.

“What did I do wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Our profile is good and we hav-”

“No, not about the profile. About Reid.”

“Oh,” she said, seemingly surprised. “How do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I get it, I’m bad news, but this feels like more. Was it something I said the other day with Kristy..?”

“Ha! So you do know her name,” she said with a grin. I rolled my eyes. She was trying to get me off topic.

“Seriously, though. He’s not this cold to everyone.”

“Well, he can be a hard person to get to know,” she said, avoiding the breadth of my questions.

“But not this hard?” I tried to finish.

“No, not usually,” she replied. She clearly knew something I didn’t, and was very hesitant to give it up.

“If you aren’t going to tell me, at least tell me it wasn’t something I did the other day.”

“No, not really.” She was keeping herself distracted with the pictures in front of us, even though they were useless considering the rest of the team was already headed to a barn where the unsub kept his victims before decapitating them.

I sighed. “Fine.”

She looked over at me. “Sorry.”

It was all she had to say.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

They ended up finding the killer in the barn with his next victim, and were forced to fire because he refused to put the machete down. It was late Thursday night when we were getting on the jet to go home. We were all exhausted.

“Shouldn’t you be doing something?” Derek came to ask me a few minutes into the ride.

“Huh?” I asked, completely confused.

“With pretty boy?” he prompted. I’d lost all hope, at that point, of ever getting to know him. Even after he thanked me for swooping in and saving him from that bitch, he still seemed utterly disinterested.

“Probably not,” I said, tiredness running through my voice. Other thing: since when did Derek Morgan suddenly care and become my friend? The dinners must really work. All the more reason to lift myself out of my chair and go talk to Reid.

Morgan was still staring at me expectantly.

“Ok, alright, I’m going,” I said, getting up. He raised his eyebrows at me and flashed me that pearly smile of his. It made me want to praise him and hit him all at the same time.

I walked over to where Reid was sitting, thankful that no one else decided to sit across from him.

“Friday or Saturday?” I asked.

He looked up at me, puzzled. “What?”

“Friday. Or Saturday?”

“What are you asking me for?”

“Why can’t you just answer the damn question?” I asked a little too harshly, sliding into the seat across from him. He leaned back in his chair, putting as much distance between us as he could without just getting up and leaving. It seemed to me he’d rather just be swallowed up by the wall.

“Look,” I tried starting over with a softer tone. “Clearly you have something against me. Something more than the criminal thing. I’ve been killing myself for the past six weeks trying to figure out what it is but I’m at a loss.”

He scoffed, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

That set me off. I was trying to be nice, make an effort, but he just kept shooting me down. So I decided I was done being nice.

“Okay, Doctor Reid. I’ve been refraining from judgements because, who knows? Maybe I remind you of someone who hurt you. Maybe I remind you of someone you lost. I don’t want to push it if that’s the case. And, hell! If anything, you guys are the ones who are supposed to be judging me, not the other way around. You all have a six to ten year head start on making connections with each other. I’ve been here for six weeks. I’ve been doing this dinner thing with everyone because I’m trying to get to know the members of this team. I mean, you are considered part of the team right?” I looked around the jet to the audience I knew I had. “He is considered a part of this team, right?” It was rhetorical and they all knew it. Even if it wasn’t, I think they were all too flabbergasted that I was going after their baby to actually answer. I turned back to him.

“Like, I understand that you are up here in ‘Genius Stratosphere’,” I said, waving my hand around above my head, “but if I were to make a list of all the team members, you would be on it, right?”

“Yes!” he finally answered, exasperated.

“Great. So go to dinner with me,” I said. It was the most compelling argument I could make in the moment.

“Why?”

I sighed. He was not making this easy for me. Not like I expected him to.

I tried to make my voice sound neutral again. “I’m just trying to get to know you. If you ever decide to stop acting like a little bitch about it, or you finally wanna help me out and tell what your problem is … or just tell me exactly what you need from me, even if that is avoidance, let me know. Because I’m getting pretty sick and tired of … all this,” I said, gesturing to the air. Spencer was looking down again, and I figured he would continue to ignore me.

I got halfway out of the seat and was about to turn away when he said, “Friday.” It was barely more than a whisper and he was still looking down when I turned to face him.

“What?” I demanded.

“Friday,” he said with more confidence this time, meeting my eyes.

“Spectacular choice,” I said, lacking any emotion. I reached for the napkin sitting next to his coffee cup and the pen I had in my jacket pocket. I scratched my number on it. “That’s my personal number. I gave it to everyone in case you can’t reach me on my work one or it is for something non-work related, which this occasion would be. Text me the place. I wouldn’t want you to have to suffer through bad food you didn’t like, as well,” I stated, crossing my arms. I walked back toward my seat, Morgan long since evacuated. I gaged the reactions around me as I walked, and clearly no one had ever talked to Reid like that before. It didn’t surprise me since he seemed like golden boy number one and no one ever had any reason to get short with him. But I didn’t feel bad. He’d treated me like a pile of shit, almost less than human, and I was over it. I was going to earn my respect from him one way or the other, and it was now up to him to decide. We were either going to be working friends, or working enemies.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

Spencer just sat there the rest of the plane ride home, not really being able to focus on the book in front of him. No one had ever snapped at him like that, or at least, not in the last few years, and definitely not from a teammate. But she was not their typical teammate. She was not their typical anything. He may have been in ‘Genius Stratosphere’ but she was in a whole new stratosphere of her own.

He didn’t know why she got to him so much. Well, he did, but he wasn’t willing to admit it. Not even to himself. Plus, he didn’t have to justify why he didn’t like a top-notch criminal. She’d killed people and that in itself was enough reason. But the fact that she seemed bothered by him not liking her, and her genuine confusion and interest as to what was going on struck a chord. Maybe he had been too harsh in his treatment of her.

Spencer was sitting there recounting all of their interactions, or lack thereof, and started to question himself. Especially once he got to their more recent interactions.

Reid was bewildered, which rarely ever happened, and it made him all the more annoyed. Why’d she step in to help me? Did she really mean everything she said? Why was her touch so calming? The last thought took him by surprise, and he tried to shake the feeling.

He could remember the way she just lightly brushed up against him, resting her hand on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. He could also tell that she was being as delicate and considerate of his ‘not-a-fan-of-touching’ thing as she could while also selling the illusion. He remembered how it felt to have his arm around her and that slight squeeze she gave him to let him know she was there to help…

He forced himself to snap out of it. He could hardly stand to be in the same room as her, yet having her right next to him was fine? It didn’t make any sense. But the one thought that was driving him crazier than the rest was why, out of all the people on the team, was she able to detect his discomfort better and faster than anyone else? Yes, like she said, she’d gotten quite used to seeing him uncomfortable, but so had the rest of the team. They’d known him for six years plus and she’d only known him for six weeks. How was it that they couldn’t pick up on it and she could? Had she really been paying that much attention to him?

No, he concluded, definitely not. Someone like Aundreya would not care enough to pay that much attention to me. She was probably just doing her job. She was very skilled, after all.

But he still felt weird.

Once the plane landed, Aundreya bolted like her life depended on it. She’d never been one for sticking around longer than necessary. It made sense, considering she had gotten used to avoiding the police and now she was constantly surrounded by, not just police, but FBI. The rest of the team slowly made their way to their cars, and Spencer decided to stop Derek and ask him about it.

“Hey Morgan,” he said. Derek turned around to face him.

“What’s up, pretty boy?”

“Have I really been that awful to her?” That caught Emily and JJ’s attention, who turned around to walk a few paces back to where Spencer and Derek were standing.

“Are you asking about Aundreya?” Derek asked. Spencer nodded. “I mean, I get where you’re coming from.”

“That wasn’t my question,” Reid pointed out. The three of them stared at him, but he waited for an answer.

“Maybe a little bit,” JJ said.

“Look, Reid, we all had reservations about her going into this. But Hotch was right, she’s had a troubled background but she’s not a horrible person. I think it would benefit both of you, and the team, if you just tried getting to know her,” Emily said. She was always so good at making sense out of every situation without seeming to take sides.

“I know. I just feel … weird about it,” Reid stated. It was hard for him to describe what he was feeling and what the issue was.

“I understand how you feel. I didn’t want to go to dinner either because I just kept telling myself that she’s a criminal and I didn’t want to get involved,” Derek said. Spencer was looking at him intently. “But it was actually kinda good. It helped me understand her, and it’s been a lot better coming to work now that I feel like I can at least somewhat rely on her to help us out.”

“I agree. Talking to each other will only help,” JJ reminded him. They were right. It would help him feel more comfortable at work if he felt more comfortable with her.

“Okay. Thank you,” he said to them. He turned to walk toward his car when Derek’s voice stopped him.

“Oh, and uh, Reid,” he said, “Clearly she’s willing to put in the effort to make it work. She did step in to help you out the other day. I don’t think a cold-hearted criminal would’ve done that.”

Spencer nodded at Derek and he nodded back. Spencer got into his car and started driving back to his apartment, trying to think of the best place he could, to meet Aundreya for dinner.

Part 2

[madamsixx]

Beyond The Leather Chapter 6: Trouble After Paradise

Warnings: Drug use                       I was scared in fact I was terrified. She was pacing the room using all kinds of profanity that I have never heard before. I didn't even swear so it was shocking hearing her swear. Theresa was in the room sleeping she was out of it.

"This is unacceptable I cant.... I can't believe you Iman." She stared at me. "Your just beginning your career, and your going to let some crush with a junkie ruin it all for you!" She yelled waving her hands in the air.

"Tamara I'm-"

"Do not interrupt me when I am talking. Your mom trusted me to take care of you and I am trying my best. What on Gods earth made you go out. Especially with Nikki fucking Sixx! What do you think your doing by going to the Rainbow! Do you know what that place really is?"

I shook my head no. By this point I knew I messed up.

"That boy dosen't give two shits about you, your a game to him. That boy only cares about himself and drugs ok drugs nothing else. He can never love you or any one else."

Tears started coming down my cheeks and I started to cry because I knew she was right.

"Iman listen." Tamara sighed and walked towards me. She sat down on the couch." He can never love you ok. He's a junkie just like all the other guys he parties with. He will ruin you. None of those guys are worth your career." She whispered.

"I'm sorry." I hugged her and cried even more.

She rubbed my back and kissed my head. "Your better than he is. You need a decent guy a respectable guy. Not Nikki Sixx. But all that will come to you when your older. Right now you need to focus on you and your career. And also your schooling, cause your mom will kill me if you dont." She chuckled

"My mom must be really angry." I sniffed

"I didn't tell her, but you are going home for the rest of this month." She said with a stern voice.

"Ok." I wiped my tears.

"I'll deal with Theresa tomorrow, you go get some sleep. Your leaving tomorrow." She got and walked towards Theresa's bedroom.

I sat there staring at the walls. Tamara was right. I heard the way they talked about woman and saw the amount of alcohol they drank. But she was wrong about something.... the drugs. I haven't seen Nikki or any of his band members actually doing it. But who knows, people do things behind closed doors so that know one can see them for what they really are.

Next Morning

"I'm heading over to management I think I can get you into a big magazine shoot. And I got an audition for you for an up coming movie next year December."

"Ok" I sighed

Tamara walked out of my room and headed towards the door. But stopped and turned to Theresa who was nursing her hang over.

"I hope you learned your lesson." She spoke sternly.

"Uhhhh my head hurts and yes I did."

"If you want to go out get drunk and do drugs do it by yourself. Do not take my creation with you. I've worked to hard on her." She whispered down to Theresa.

"Shes a human being Tamara, also dont forget that shes a teen wanting to have fun. Not everything should be about work." Theresa responded back with an angled voice.

"Like I said I've worked hard on her. Do not fuck this up for me or your ass will be on the street." She snapped.

Tamara walked out the door slamming it shut.

"Hey you ok?" I asked coming out of the room.

"I'm alright hun, I had fun last night." She smiled.

"Oh I know."

I headed back to the room to finish packing.

Ring Ring Ring Ring

"Hey Theresa can you get the phone please!" I called out to her.

I continued packing trying to get all my stuff together. I heard the front door open and close and heard Theresa talking to somone. It sounded like a guys voice.

"Hey princess."

I look up to see Nikki standing by my door way. The nerve of this guy. To come over to my place and call me princess after what he did last night. If I was somone who swore there would be a lot of things I would call him.

"Why are you packing your suit case princess, where you going?" He asked with a confused look.

"I'm going home Nikki, so get out!"

This is where my temper starts to come in.

"Wait why I thought you said you were staying till the end of December?" He asked coming closer and sitting on my bed.

"Well I'm not so get out!" I yelled at him.

"No I'm not leaving till you tell me what's going on!" He shouted back at me.

"Ok what's going on is that I decided out of my better judgement to go out to the Rainbow with an alcoholic junkie." I sneered standing up.

Nikki's eyes went wide. He got up from my bed and walked towards me.

"Dont you ever fucking speak to me like that Iman.!" He pointed and shouted in my face.

"Whatever Nikki!" I pushed him and went down to zip and pick up my suitcase.

"Dont fucking touch me Iman!" Nikki yelled.

"Just get out Nikki what the hell do you want from me!?" I snapped pushing him again.

"I want you to fucking calm down and talk to me like a normal person not a fucking psycho bitch!!" He yelled grabbing on to my hands.

"Look Nikki, Tamara thinks it's best that I don't associate my self with somone like you ok. Our life styles are different. You drink, smoke, and treat woman as if there nothing. And you probably do drugs. I'm better than that, I'm better than you." I say pulling my hands away from him.

"Your better than me." He scoffs pointing at his chest.

"Yes I am." I say crossing my arms over my chest. "I don't want someone like you in my life. My career is taking off and I don't want to be dragged down by your decadent and excessive ways."

Nikki just stared at me putting his one hand on his hip and the other in his hair.

"Look let's just talk ok." He says with a lower voice. "If this is about last night I'm sorry I got fucked up ok. It won't happen again I swear to you." He says walking closer to me.

I felt bad but at the same time Tamara was right he will just ruin me. I'm a respectable good girl who needs to surround my self with people who are just like me. Not Nikki Sixx.

"I'm done talking to you, I said what ever I needed to say. Now get out Nikki. I'm going home."

"Fine run home to your mommy." He scoffs turning to leave.

Oh so he wants to start bringing mommy's and daddys into this argument ok.

"Well at least I have a mom. A mom and family to go home to. What do you have Nikki?" I smirk.

Nikki was seething with anger. He told me these things because he trusted me and I used them against him.

"Fuck you and fuck your family you fucking whore!" He yelled and I punched him in the jaw.

He turned to me in shock. His once calm expression turned into something I can't even describe. Maybe the hulk.

"You cunt!" He yelled shoving me back.

I tripped over my suitcase and fell on the ground. Theresa came running in the room as Nikki towered over me.

"Nikki stop!" She yelled.

Nikki held one hand to his jaw and the other reaching down to take my hand to lift me back.

"Dont touch me." I snapped slapping his hand away. "Just get out Nikki." I said with a shaky voice.

Nikki turned away with a clenched jaw and left my room.

"Nikki I'm very sorry shes just-"

"Listen you, her, and that stuck up bitch Tamara can all go fuck your selves." Nikki turned around and interrupted Theresa.

"Nikki plea-

"I SAID FUCK OOOOFF!" He shouted right in front of Theresa's face. He turned on his heel and walked out the door slamming it hard. Theresa was really scared almost shaking by his outburst.

Theresa came back in the room and sat by me. She placed her arms around me and hugged me tightly. I just wanted to go home at this point. I needed my family and to get away for a bit.

Nikki's POV

"Fuck her, fuck that fucking bitch and her cunt friends." I barged through my apartment door slamming it shut.

"Woah Sixx calm down, what's eating you up?" Robbin looked up from snorting coke.

"Fucking Iman is what's up. I tried fucking talking to her and she went all psycho on me."

"Hmm wow." Robbin responds laying his head back on the couch.

"Dude you save some for me?" I furrowed my brows.

"Yeah, oh by the way Neil called, he asked if you wanted to go on a club Med holiday with him to the french own island of Martinique in the Caribbean."

"Mmmmm yeah sounds good. Its not like I have a house, or friends, or a girlfriend here. You gonna come to?"

"Yeah bro I think I will." Robbin shifted over and made room for me to sit on the couch.

"Great I'll call him back, after I have some blow." I made a line on the table and snorted it up. ____

Saturday, December 1st, 1984

Nikki's POV

I came to the Caribbean Island of Martinique with Robbin Crosby and Neil Zlozower. I couldn't remember how I even got here because I was too drugged out.

"Wow this Island is beautiful. I stated as I was sipping a margarita.

"Shit sure is. So what do you got planned for us Neil?" Robbin asked.

"Well we should go on a hike later on in the day. I hired a tourist to take us around." Neil says while opening up a map. "He's going to take us up on a water hike.

"Why do we need to hike when there are topless woman to look at every where." I lifted my head while bringing down my sunglasses to look at women.

"Cause were on vacation Nik. Site seeing places is better than site seeing woman you dont really want." Neil stated.

"What's that suppose to mean?" I scoffed.

"Iman." Neil raised his eyebows.

I glared at Robbin.

"Look I only told him so that he could plan a good trip for us to take your mind off of her." Robbin waved his hands.

"I dont want to talk about her anymore. Let's just fucking go site seeing."

____

December 9th, 1984, Tornto, Canada

Iman's POV

I had been home for a couple of weeks now and I was very happy. I went shopping with my sisters, went to the movies, went to church, and had a chance to catch up with my school work. Some of my friends even visited me and we went out to eat. The only thing I didn't miss about being home was the winter. LA was hot all year round.

"Wow the tree is looking nice girls, let maya put the star up when you guys are done." My mom stated

"Yayyyyyy!!!" Maya jumped up.

"Bet you miss the LA heat huh." My sister Felicia nudged me.

"Oh man I do, but I rather be here in the cold with you guys than in the heat in LA alone." I smiled.

"So Tamara tells me you have an audition in February for a movie in December next year. That's good." My mom says as she sits down on the couch.

"Yeah I'm excited. I'm also excited too because I have some interview coming up next year. So that will be great."

"As long as you continue with your school work with the home school teacher." My mom says with a stern voice.

"Ughhh mommy whyyyyyy." I whine.

"Iman, you need something to fall back on in case acting doesn't work out. You getting a high school Diploma will benefit you, and also make me happy.

And that's something I always wanted for my mom to be happy.

"Sorry off topic but when's the last time you talked to Ola?" My older sister Selena asks walking into the living room

"Oh it's been a while. I should call her one of-"

I was interrupted as the phone began to ring.

"Hello." My mom answers the phone.

"Oh hi Tamara it's good to hear from you. Hope everything is alright?"

It was Tamara calling. My mom continues talking on the phone with her until she calls me over to talk with her.

"Hey Tammy how are you?"

"Hi honey listen dont freak out or anything, but I need to yell you something important. Vince from Motley Crue was involved in a car crash.

"Oh my God is he alright?"

"He is, but he had a friend in the car with him named Razzle and he didnt make it."

"Oh no."

"Vince and that guy Razzle were driving drunk. They also hurt three other innocent people. You see why I said these guys were bad news and to stay away from them. I hope you understand what im trying to tell you now."

"Yeah I... I do."

"Alright honey well I'll let you go. I'll send Theresa down to get you when it comes closer to your audition day ok."

"Alright thanks Tammy, bye." I walked over and put the phone down.

Wow this was shocking. I couldn't believe Vince would drink and drive. Well actually I feel like I could, words like responsibility and consequences meant nothing to those guys. They didnt care about anyone but themselves. Now three innocent people were hurt, due to two drunk drivers. I will definitely stay far away from them.

[santoteez]

A Manhattan Tale - Seonghwa (4)

Parts: 4 of ?

Masterlist HERE

Genre: Chef!Seonghwa, FormerDrugdealer!Seonghwa, FormerKingpin!Hongjoong, Bad boy/ Good Girl kinda??

Warnings: Love interest is a Black Female, sexual contact (kissing and stuff), swearing, eventual smut, mentions of abandonment (kinda)

Requested: yes

NOTE: This fic does NOT, in any way, shape, or form, portray the way I view any member of Ateez nor does it depict their true personalities or actions. This AU is just that. An AU. All family members are FICTIONAL.

They walked into Seonghwa’s studio apartment after retrieving Zelie’s things. The curly-haired girl looked around before setting her bag down. Seonghwa’s place wasn’t much, but it was home. A full-sized bed in one corner, with menu drafts and a laptop on the nightstand. The other side was the kitchen/ dining area, where clean pots and pans sat atop of the stove, and a set of knives tucked away on the marble countertop. Along the one was a small, black leather couch.

“I know it’s not as nice as your place is. Or…was.” Seonghwa said, his footsteps resonating on the hardwood floor.

Zelie shook her head. “No! This is a great place!”

Seonghwa chuckled. “I know you’re just saying that, but thanks.”

“I’m serious. It’s great because it’s yours. You took an empty space and made it a home. Even if it was a cardboard box, you should be proud.”

Seonghwa sighed. “I said I was going to explain the situation to you when we got here. Have a seat.”

Zelie sat down on the bed. “You look like you’re sweating. Maybe we should turn the air on?”

Seonghwa shook his head. “I’m fine. I just haven’t acknowledged this part of my past in a long time.” He sighed. “It started when I was 17. I had recently graduated high school. I didn’t want to go to med school and become a doctor like everyone in my family. My parents were furious when they found out I wanted to go to culinary school. Said I should be more like my older sister. The great Dr. Minseo Park. When they found out I was enrolled in culinary school, they kicked me out. Said to find my own way to put myself through school. I ended up on the streets, didn’t even bother to show up to class. With what money? Supplies? I pickpocketed, attended soup kitchens, did what I could to survive. But it wasn’t enough. My health was deteriorating, and despite the free food, I still starved. So, I swallowed my pride and when in search of my sister.”

Zelie frowned. “That’s a lot to handle at that age. Did she help you?”

Seonghwa scoffed. “Like hell she did. She saw me from the glass door outside her private practice and sent her receptionist to escort me out. I broke down in tears. Begged her for help. A dollar for a slice of pizza, anything. She told me enrolling in med school would help. That my parents might take me back in. But that she couldn’t help me. I couldn’t stay with her and her snooty ass husband. Told me to leave. That I was disturbing her patients.” Seonghwa rubbed his knuckles, remembering the ordeal.

“But you managed to make it through culinary school. You’ve made a whole life for yourself. How did you do it?” Zelie tilted her head in confusion.

“That’s the part I’ve been afraid to tell you. One night, I was wandering around the streets. Starving. Filthy. I was dizzy from lack of food, and I bumped into this man. He told me to watch where I was going. I told him to fuck off. So the guy that was walking with him whipped a gun out and pointed it to my face. I was terrified, but I refused to flinch or let it show. Man said ‘Look at that, boss. He ain’t flinchin or nothin.’ The man asked me what I was doing on the streets, I said I was hungry and needed a shower. He said his name was Big Ross, and that he could help me.”

“Isn’t Big Ross that kingpin that disappeared off the face of the earth a couple years ago?” Zelie asked.

Seonghwa nodded. “He took me to Subway, bought me a sandwich. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a good meal. I dogged that shit immediately. Big Ross said, ‘If you work for me, you can have that and more.’”

“Woah, wait. So, you…?”

“Yup. He brought me back to his warehouse, gave me some clothes and let me shower. Said he saw something in me he needed on his team. He took me under his wing, showed me the ropes. I learned how to make product. Sell it. A couple months later, another guy came in, and we became close. Like the brother I never had.”

“Something tells me that’s the guy I met last night. HJ?”

“Beauty and brains. That’s him. I won’t get into every little detail, but he was appointed kingpin when Big Ross left, and during an errand, he got caught up in some shit. They had him up in Sing Sing for something he didn’t do. The problem is this: Someone has it in for us. We don’t know who or why. A customer came in yesterday, questioned why I wasn’t arrested for my involvement. How did I avoid jail time, and what would the city think if they found out my restaurant was bought with dirty money.”

“Dirty money? So you mean you bought a restaurant with drug dealer money which probably wasn’t in circulation for years?”

“Mhm.”

Zelie shook her head. “As cute as you are, you sure are dumb. I still don’t get where I come in.”

“HJ and I believe that it’s more than just us they’re after. It’s everyone around us. Friends, loved ones. HJ received a threat regarding Santana and their baby. My best guess is that I was unknowingly being followed when I saw you on the street. When they saw me drop you off and walk you in, they must’ve assumed you were my girl or something. Old drug dealer trick.”

She nodded. “A hustler is most vulnerable around his woman.” She sighed. “Well, how do you plan on fixing all this? Not to complain, but I can’t just hide here forever. Won’t me being here cause your house to be targeted too?”

“Nah. HJ received a threat written on a rock left on his doorstep. Whoever it is, they’re smart enough to not enter our actual houses. That’s another thing Big Ross taught me. Always meet in a neutral place. Meeting in one’s home makes the other vulnerable. Plus, HJ and I already spoke to an old friend, who’s gathering intel.”

“An old friend that’s still in the business?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you afraid this will just drag you right back in?”

He shrugged. “Honestly, I’m afraid this is always gonna be my life. I thought I could run from it; forget it ever happened. Three years later, this shit happens. Maybe this is just destined to follow me no matter what. And that’s why I’m so cold with people. I’m a bad person. I only bring toxicity wherever I go. That’s why I don’t want to get close to you. And you should stop trying too.”

Zelie stood up, walking over to where Seonghwa stood. “Seonghwa. If I may, and excuse my French, tell you why that is absolute bullshit. First off, I’m a grown-ass woman. I will associate myself with whoever I feel like it. Two, you have to stop putting yourself down. You are not a bad person. I was just a student fresh out of culinary school, no experience and you were willing to give me a chance. I fucked up time and time again and even when you could’ve fired me, you didn’t. You said ‘Fire up the grill. Try it again.’ And let me tell you, bad people don’t sponsor soup kitchens and donate the end of the day servings to homeless shelters. Your story makes so much more sense now. You know what it’s like to go without, so you want to help those who have none. If anything, I like you even more than before.” She reached up to cup his face, causing him to flinch slightly. “You’re just a work in progress, that’s all.”

Seonghwa looked deep into her eyes. He saw sincerity. Honesty, and compassion. Before he could realize, he was leaning in.

Zelie was taken aback when their lips met, but she recovered quickly, kissing him back passionately. Her hands moved from his face to the back of his neck, tugging his hair lightly. Seonghwa groaned, his hands grabbing onto her waist and pulling her closer. He hadn’t felt this way in forever. He lowered his hands to her ass, deepening the kiss.

Just as Zelie’s hands crept further into his hair, Seonghwa’s phone rang. The pair jumped apart, startled not only by the phone call but by their actions.

“Shit. Sorry. I-, sorry.” Seonghwa said, fishing into his pocket. He checked the caller ID. “It’s HJ.” He said, confused. “Didn’t we just leave?”

“Then it must be important. Answer it.” Zelie said, still catching her breath.

“Hello. Slow down, I can’t understand a word you’re saying. Wait, what? By who? Where are they taking him? Fuck. Shit. Okay, okay. We’re on our way. Just hang on.” He hung up, running his hands through his hair. “C’mon Zelie.” He said, frantically rushing out of the room.

“Where are we going?” Zelie asked, right behind him.

“The hospital. It’s Minjoon.”

Stephie here! Just a quick update until I can write again, which will probably be in 2 days or so. I know I’m still dragging it out but it’ll all make sense next chapter so please please bare with me!

[odderancyart]

A Yellow Sky

Chapter 2

First

AO3

Ten foster homes in three years. Alexander Hamilton is chronically unable to just shut up and do what he’s supposed to, even when he’s trying, which has certainly had consequences for him in his short life. The Washingtons are his best shot, his caseworker keeps telling him, but Alexander is a realist. They’ll realize how annoying he is, hate how much smarter than them he is, and after a couple weeks they’ll send him away.

But it’s nice there, he finds. Far too nice. Almost like the calm before the storm.

Alexander was just in time when he stashed away the last of his belongings, placing the unimportant ones – clothes, old schoolbooks, etc – in obvious places and the ones he treasured inside the armchair. There was a flap beneath it, he’d found, and he could just fit everything there. The same moment as he straightened, he heard the thundering of footsteps in the staircase and he quickly made his way back to the bed, grabbing the book lying on top. It was from an elective in Political Science he’d taken at his last school. Just as he laid down on the bed, eager knocking came from the door.  

Expecting them to just step in, he waited for a few seconds. When they didn’t, he blinked, and hesitantly called out, “Come in.”

The door immediately flew open and a dark-skinned, black-haired boy stepped inside, grinning from ear to ear as he saw him. Alexander just stared at him. His dark-grey jeans were artfully ripped, he wore a black and white-striped shirt with a brown leatherjacket over and a pin with the French flag. There were two black rings in one of his ears and a small white stone in the other. With heavy Dr Martens’ like that, it wasn’t strange he’d been so loud in the stairs. And fuck he was tall.  

“Bonsoir!” the boy exclaimed, jumping up on the bed next to him. Alexander flinched, quickly sitting up and drawing back a bit, putting distance between them. The boy held out his hand. “Je m’appe- My name is Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier. But you can call me Lafayette.”

Cautiously, Alexander reached out and shook his hand. “Bonsoir. Je suis Alexander Hamilton,” he replied, continuing in French. Their accents were different, but it felt good to speak the language again with someone who wasn’t incompetent at it or a teacher. “Lafayette?”

With a thrilled gasp, Lafayette clapped his hands together. His eyes almost sparkled. “Tu parle français?”

He nodded, smiling hesitantly. “Oui. It’s my first language. English is my second. You didn’t answer my question.” As he added that, he braced himself. Maybe he wasn’t allowed to question the son of the house either.

“Pardon moi.” Lafayette threw an arm over his shoulder, pulling him close. Alexander stiffened. He spoke quickly, so fast most other would’ve tripping over their own words, but his were perfectly enunciated. “You’re my best friend now. None of my other friends have bothered to learn my language, so they can go fuck themselves.” He looked betrayed, but the sparkle in his eye told Alexander he wasn’t actually upset about it. Despite his better judgement, he liked the other immediately. “And Lafayette because these Américains couldn’t pronounce my name properly if I held a gun to their heads. Not even George and Martha, though they insist on calling me Gilbert. At least Lafayette doesn’t sound awful when they say it. It’s my title, you see, mon ami.  Je suis le Marquis de La Fayette. Though we call ourselves Lafayette instead in honour of our ancestor who fought in the Revolutionary War.”

A grin had begun to form at Alexander’s face as the other talked, but it fell, and he jerked back, staring at the other boy.  

“Que?”

“Marquis?” Alexander repeated, gaping. “You’re nobility?”

“Oh, yes.” Lafayette nodded, gesturing at his pin. “Not that it means much since the revolution, especially not here in America. The people seized the power then, as I’m sure you know. With all right! My family was lucky enough to keep our land and riches, though. Anyway!” His grin returned. “It’ll be so fun to have you here. My friends are excited to meet you. We’re going shopping tomorrow, getting you some new shit and stuff to decorate your room with. You’re from the Virgin Islands, non?”

Stunned into silence for once in his life, Alexander only nodded.

“Maybe you’d like the flag painted on your wall then! You must miss it. I know I miss my homeland, even if America has been very good to me.” He gestured toward the wall opposite of the bed. “I have Le Tricolore painted there myself.”

“Wait,” Alexander said without thinking. “Wait, wait, wait. Why are you talking like I’m staying? And that’d be much too expensive anyway. I can’t afford that.”

Blinking, Lafayette cocked his head. “Because you are staying, mon ami, are you not? George and Martha are your new foster parents.”

He let out a curt laugh. “Yeah. For now. No one wants me around for that long.” They were intimidated by his brains, or annoyed by his inability to shut up, or got too mad that he wouldn’t break beneath the pressure. He refused to break.

Lafayette raised an eyebrow, and Alexander leaned back. Shit. That big mouth of his acted again, indeed. There was something about his new foster brother that made him talk too freely, he started to realize already, and that was dangerous. He couldn’t trust anyone. Especially not a member of his foster family.  

“Sorry,” he forced out. “I didn’t- I didn’t mean-”

“Ah, Alexander.” Lafayette smiled, rolling the R on his tongue. There was something akin to concern in his eyes, which confused him. “Don’t underestimate us. The Washingtons are very kind people and I’m quite used to getting what I want.” His eyes glittered. “And I am thrilled to have you here.” Fishing up his phone, he looked at the time. “Merde. We are late for dinner already.”

He stood, grabbing Alexander’s wrist and pulling him toward the door. Alexander only just managed to hide his wince as he squeezed some old bruises that had almost healed, and followed. He pursed his lips, nervous. Would they be mad they were late to dinner? It wasn’t his fault, Lafayette had obviously been supposed to tell him. But they wouldn’t care about that, now would they?

As they came downstairs, a heavenly scent of cooked meat laid over the ground floor and his stomach grumbled loudly, causing Lafayette’s grin to widen. “Martha is an amazing cook. Not as good as the one home at my châteaux in Chavaniac-Lafayette, but really fucking good.”

Alexander smiled nervously back, filing that information for later. Chavaniac-Lafayette. Once he was allowed to go to school and could get on a computer, he’d google his new foster brother. If he really was a marquis there had to be some information available somewhere.

“Language, son,” an amused voice came from inside the kitchen.  

Lafayette chuckled. “Pardon, George! She’s really hecking good.” He rolled his eyes at Alexander as he spoke.

Clenching and unclenching his hand nervously, giving the other a small smile, Alexander followed the other into the kitchen. Just like the rest of the house it was huge, but it was a weird mix, which somehow worked, between old and new. A firewood stove covered a lot of one of the walls, while the one opposite of it, there was a modern one and marble-covered kitchen benches in front of which Mrs Washington stood. The floor was grey stone and in the middle of the room a huge wooden table that could easily fit ten people stood. Mr Washington was putting out white plates painted with flowers on it. Alexander frowned. Why was Mr Washington helping? Sure, many of his foster families had forced him to assist in the kitchen but that was because he was, well, unimportant in their eyes. A nobody. But in none of the homes he’d been in, including his own back when his father was still around, had he seen the husbands help, and his mother had never asked him or James for help.

This place was already weirder than he’d expected, and he hadn’t had many expectations for normalcy.  

“Ah, boys,” Mr Washington said, and Alexander stopped dead in the doorframe. The commanding tone almost made him want to stand in attention. “Take a seat, you’re just in time.” He grinned at Alexander. “We suspected that Gilbert would keep you busy so we sent him up early.”

That made Lafayette scowl as he slid down into one of the chairs, and he stuck out his tongue at Mr Washington. “Connard.”

Mrs Washington turned around, a wooden spoon in her hand. She stared at him strictly, though Alexander saw the corner of her mouth twitch. “We may not be fluent in French, Gilbert, but we still understand you when you insult us.”

Blushing slightly, Lafayette opened his mouth, likely to apologize, before he suddenly sat up straight. “Oh! But Alexander does! He speaks French. Fluently!” he exclaimed, bouncing in his seat.

Alexander swallowed as all attention was suddenly on him where he was still standing in the doorframe. Hesitantly, he made his way over to the table, nodding. “Oui.”

“Impressive,” Mr Washington said, looking at him up and down with a hint of a smile on his face. “Do you speak anything else?”

Once again, he nodded. “English, obviously,” he began hesitantly. They wouldn’t ask if they didn’t want to know, would they? Except that two years ago he lived with a family who’d constantly ask him things and then get furious every time he revealed he knew more than them. “Spanish, almost fluently, and I understand Hebrew and some Danish.”

“Danish?” Mrs Washington asked, sounding confused.

“St. Croix belonged to Denmark for a long time,” he explained softly. “Most of them left when they sold it to the United States, but when I lived with my first foster family before the hurricane, we had some neighbours descended from Danes who still spoke it between themselves. They taught me some.”

“Woah.” She stepped back, gesturing toward the food on the stove. “That’s incredible, Alexander.” Her voice was warm, and his heart skipped a beat from the unexpected praise.

“Re- really?”  

When was the last time someone had told him that in such a motherly tone? He swallowed. Not since he left St. Croix, he was sure. His foster family there had been wonderful, but he’d only stayed there for a few months before the hurricane tore the island into pieces. Eventually, most of the orphans had been shipped off to the mainland.  

Mrs Washington stepped up to him, reaching out to stroke his cheek. Alexander flinched away, his breath catching in his throat, before he realized what she’d actually done. Blood rose to his cheeks as he stared down at the floor, embarrassed. Now they’d think he was a coward. Scared of something that small. Or worse, that he was broken.

Her hand had stopped mid-air. Pulling it back to her side, she nodded instead, still smiling gently. “Really. We saw from your grades that you have to be smart, but that’s astonishing.”

“Indeed, mon ami,” Lafayette agreed, watching him closely. He grinned again when he saw that Alexander was looking at him, leaning back in his chair. It turned into a smirk, and he raised an eyebrow at Alexander, almost in a challenge. “Maybe I’ve finally, how you say, met my equal.”

Turning around, Mrs Washington slapped him gently over the head, and Lafayette turned to grin at her instead. “Very modest of you, Gilbert.”

“You know me,” he replied, grin widening. “L’homme le plus modeste sur la terre.”  

The most modest man on earth. Alexander snorted, causing Lafayette to wiggle his eyebrows. “Sit down, Alexander.”  

He pointed toward the chair next to his, and Alexander obeyed automatically, folding his hands in his lap. He eyed the food on the stove, wondering how much he would be allowed. His stomach ached, and he hoped it’d at least be enough to soothe it if not enough to really sate him. I’ve never been satisfied used to apply to his place in the world, but lately, the words had taken a much more literal meaning.

With a smile, Mrs Washington gestured toward it. “Bon appetite, boys.”

Immediately, Lafayette was on his feet, plate in his hands as he rushed up to the stove and started shovelling food from the pot. At Mrs Washington’s urging gaze, Alexander followed. His hands trembled as he slowly made his way to the food, looking it over. A stew in a pot and potatoes, and there was so much of it and he didn’t know how much he was allowed to take. His breaths grew shallow as he reached out for the potato spoon. Careful not to spill a single drop, he put two potatoes and a spoonful of stew on his plate. It wasn’t enough, but it was safe.

“Non, mon ami,” Lafayette said, grabbing the spoon from him and laying on more food. “You are a growing boy. Eat.”

As the tower of food on his plate grew, Alexander stared at it in pure shock. He didn’t think he’d had that much food at once since he left the island. His eyes were wide and confused as he looked up at Lafayette. “I don’t- I don’t need that much,” he got out, eyes flickering to Mr and Mrs Washington. He desperately hoped they wouldn’t mind it, wouldn’t get mad at him.

“Fadaises.” Nonsense. ”You are my age, non?”

He nodded. “I think so. Sixteen.”

“Oui. I know me and my friends are hungry all the time. You must eat, Alexander. You are much too thin.” With that, he went back to the table and Alexander followed, watching the other beginning to devour his food while Mr and Mrs Washington went to serve themselves. His stomach growled, but he laid his hands in his lap, squeezing them together as the delicious scent filled him. He hadn’t been given permission to eat yet and he really didn’t want them to take the food away because he rushed into it.

They sat down as well, opposite of him and Lafayette, and Mrs Washington nodded encouragingly at him as she grabbed her own cutlery. “Aren’t you hungry, Alexander?”

“I’m fine, ma’am,” he replied as neutrally as he could, but his stomach protested, growling again. He winced.

Mr Washington chuckled, though there was an odd undertone to it. “It doesn’t seem to agree. Eat, son, or Martha will think you don’t like her cooking.”

“Thank you, sir,” he mumbled before grabbing his fork and shovelling the first forkful of it into his mouth. He only just held in a moan as the thick flavour spread in his mouth, full of spices, and he closed his eyes for a moment, savouring it. When he opened them again, he found the others watching him in amusement. Going red, he ducked his head. “It’s delicious, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” When he dared look up again, Mrs Washington was watching him with warm brown eyes. It sent another rush of blood to his cheeks. It was so weird to have anyone look at him like that. And while it was nice, it also made him uncomfortable. Left him wondering when the penny would drop and there’d be no more sweetness. When they would realize how annoying he was.

“So, Gilbert, what did you, Hercules and John get up to this time?” she asked Lafayette, and Alexander sighed in relief as the attention was moved away from him. He ate quickly, determined to get as much into his stomach as physically possible before they decided he’d had enough. Still, he raised an eyebrow. Lafayette had a friend named Hercules?

Lafayette lit up. “We went to the mall! John needed to buy new art supplies and toys for Juggler – his dog,” he added, obviously for Alexander’s sake. “John’s family is from South Carolina where they have like, an enormé farm, and he brought with him this big hairy sheepdog they moved here. Then we tried out the new coffee shop. They’ve got the fanciest fucking drinks, it’s delightful!”

Unable to help himself, Alexander perked up at the mention of coffee. Maybe if he was good, they’d allow him to go out on his own and he could go there. He had a few dollars saved up.

Noticing this, Mr Washington turned to smile at him. “You like coffee then?”  

“Yessir,” he replied quickly, fiddling with his fork as he sat up straight. Dammit, if they were talking with him, he couldn’t eat.  

“Maybe you’d want to go with Gilbert and his friends there someday?” he suggested.

“They’ve been dying to meet you!” Lafayette exclaimed, gently punching Alexander’s arm, and he couldn’t help his flinch. The other boy’s hand froze mid-air and he dropped it again, but kept grinning.

The idea of going out with Lafayette and his friends was foreign in Alexander’s mind. Why would they want him to come with them? A stranger, a nobody, and an orphan. There was no good reason for it. At least not one he liked. His eyes flickered to Mrs Washington, who was the only one who hadn’t given her opinion yet.

“I think that sounds like a marvellous idea, if you’re feeling up to it,” she agreed. “Of course you don’t have to if you don’t think you’re ready yet, but it might be good to know some people other than Gilbert when you start going to school.”

School. Oh, right. With his last family, he’d been home-schooled so no one would notice the very suspicious bruising. He couldn’t help but grin at the thought. School. Fuck, he couldn’t wait until then. “If you think it’s a good idea, ma’am. When will I go to school?” He couldn’t hide his excitement.

“We’ll have to get you written in first,” Mr Washington said, a smile on his face. “But if you feel you’re ready, I’m sure we can have you start at Monday.”

He nodded eagerly. “Please sir.”

“I’m glad to see you’re that interested in going to school.” He hummed, amusement written over his face as he looked to Lafayette, who made a face. “You’ll find not everyone in this house is.”

“It’s so fucking early,” Lafayette moaned. “It should be illegal to make teenagers get up at that time.”

“I don’t mind,” Alexander said timidly. Not like he slept much anyway. That reminded him, he was going to need a new journal soon. Hopefully he could get to a bookshop or steal one from school. And maybe also some instant coffee powder. It was what kept him alive during those times when he wasn’t allowed to go downstairs and make coffee whenever he wanted.

Lafayette gaped, looking between Alexander and his adoptive father with wide eyes. “You can’t be a teenager, it is simply not possible.”

Mr and Mrs Washington laughed, and even Alexander couldn’t help but smile. He just couldn’t dislike Lafayette... yet.

“So, Alexander,” Mrs Washington eventually said, just in time for him to start to feel full. He looked up from his plate, where there still was food, debating how the hell he was going to manage to finish it all. “Why don’t you tell us a little about yourself?”

Dread filled him. “There’s- There’s not much to tell, ma’am.”

“Call me Martha, dear. And I’m sure there’s something. What do you like to do?”

‘Call me Martha’. Alexander almost laughed at the mere thought. Thanks, but no thanks, he’d like to keep his teeth. But then a cold feeling washed over him. “I- I like to write, Mrs Washington,” he replied quietly.  

If she didn’t want him to say ma’am he wouldn’t, though he couldn’t imagine why. He sent out a quiet prayer to the God he’d stopped believing in many years ago that they wouldn’t ask to read what he’d written. The last family had forced him to give him his journals, and then laughed in his face over the fact that he dared to dream he could become someone.  

She looked interested, and so did Mr Washington and Lafayette, leaning in over the table. He swallowed.

“What do you write?” Mr Washington looked at him in interest.

“...Mostly essays.” He didn’t want to be here. Leaning back in his chair, he stared down in his lap.

“Mon ami,” Lafayette interrupted. “You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to. We understand.” When Alexander looked up at him, wide-eyed, he smiled gently. “Have you finished?”

After a moment of hesitation, he nodded, glancing at Mrs Washington to check if she got mad he hadn’t eaten it all. To his relief, she didn’t stop smiling.  

“I’m sure you must be very tired, it has been a long day.”

When he said that, Alexander realized he was right. After all that food and all the excitement of today, his body felt heavy. He hid a yawn behind his hand.

“Oh of course,” Mrs Washington said. “Go to bed, Alexander.”

He nodded, standing up at the clear dismissal. “Thank you for the food, Mrs Washington. Goodnight.”  

Annoyance hit him, but he hid it well. He was sixteen, and had taken care of himself since his mother died. He hated when his foster parents told him to go to bed. Particularly after all the times he’d been sent to bed ridiculously early as a punishment. Better than being beaten, but still fucking awful. Especially if it was before dinner.

“You’re welcome, dear.” She smiled warmly.

“Sweet dreams,” Mr Washington said. “I’ll pull some threads and see if I can get you written in before the weekend ends.”

“Thank you, sir.” He was grateful, he really was, but resentment still simmered in him as he turned around and went upstairs, back to his bedroom. Go to bed, Alexander.  

How controlling would the Washingtons be, was the question. Alexander almost didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he was scared to find out.

[newspaperburritos-forbreakf-blog]

Tutor Time || Tittie

A/N: This was probably like two months ago?

Tito, newly (secretly) back in school, needs help with his essay writing, but he definitely wasn’t expecting his tutor to be Lottie

TITO

It was no secret that Tito wasn’t the most educated guy in Swynlake, but what was a secret was that he was doing something to change it. In between shifts at the garage, he’d been taking a few Pride U classes working towards a degree. He didn’t know what it would really do, but he knew it’d keep him busy, distracted, and maybe he’d end up better than before, ya know?

Tito was doing fine. Engineering classes were cake with his hands on experience and math never gave him a problem. English? Core classes like history and writing papers and shit? That wasn’t any walk in the park for sure.

The New Yorker never really asked for help, but his professor told him it was get a tutor and make up as many points he could on the rest of the assignments and the final or fail. And he definitely  wasn’t about to fuckin’ let half a semester go down the drain to do it all over again next semester.

He was expecting some brainiac nerd to come in at any moment. Some chick who probably had as much social skills as a plank of wood and was about to start spitting all sorts of grammar shit at him. Whatever, he’d have to grin and bear it. Get through it and maybe learn a lil to help him get by in the future.

The mechanic sat back in his chair at one of the large tables in the library. His books piled up next to him as he scrolled through his phone at some dumb shit Dodger was talking about, just waiting for his tutor.

LOTTIE

Lottie had meandered her way into the library, two cups of coffee in hand (one already stained with her pink lipstick), bag balancing on her shoulder as she looked around the room for her newest friend for the next few weeks. Or semester. She didn’t really know how long she’d be around this guy.

She had received an email earlier in the week asking if she might be interesting in helping to tutor a first year leveled student with his English. Writing to be more specific. Which, for the record was a little strange considering Lottie had never taken English at PrideU, It was something she had actually taken while she was still in high school, but apparently had done well enough in it that they thought her to be more than capable helping this student. Regardless of why they asked her, Lottie happily agreed, the person on the other end of the email providing her with the name of the student (Ignacio…...something. He had a lot of names) as well as where the tutors typically met their tutorees.

Which is why she found herself looking for him that particular day, the coffee warm against her very cold fingers (Lord, did she hate English weather). She wanted to start their meeting off right, bringing him some coffee to hopefully warm him (ba dum tss) up to her and the idea of her helping him out. Considering you know, one look at Lottie would lead you to believe that she was not the brightest bulb on the Christmas strand.

She saw a guy though sitting alone at one of the tables, his back was towards her so all she could really see what his curly brown hair as she began to slowly approach. When she reached the table though, she offered the (woah, cute) guy a bright smile. “Hi, are you Ignacio?” Her southern accent absolutely butchering his name, but truly it was the best that she could do considering she wasn’t entirely sure how to pronounce his name.

TITO

Having forgotten where he was completely and busy texting Dodger about how stupid he sounded right now, Tito did not notice the person coming up behind him until his government name was used (and kinda butchered with a Southern accent) which sent him jumping in his seat.

He whirled around to see… definitely not a nerdy looking girl. Hell, she was fine. He could get used to this shit. Instant Tito charm turned on, his racing heart and phone (which was now on the floor) forgotten. “Yeah, that’d be me. Ignacio Alonzo Julio Fredrico de Tito. But you can just call me Tito, chica if that worst best for you. And you are…?” He grinned at her, leaning against the back of the seat like he was the smoothest motherfucker that didn’t just look like a spazz.

The mechanic turned back around and cleared some of his stuff into his area to make room for her to sit wherever. “You aren’t really the tutor I was expectin’ to be honest. Not that that’s a bad thing or whatever, I’m just sayin’ sometimes you like have an image in your mind of people and shit and… well, it’s a nice surprise or whatever. Plus like my professor set this up and I don’t really know her all that well so...” He shrugged, trying to keep his smirk from growing too big on his face. Blondes were his type after all, and with the way she dressed, he seemed to be falling right into old habits with the rich ones.

LOTTIE

Now being that Lottie was Lottie, she felt absolutely horrible for the reaction that Ignac...Tito had had. She hadn’t meant to sneak up on him, only wanted to make sure that she had the right person! Without even thinking about it, Lottie set the coffee cups down on the table, bending down to pick up the not so stranger’s phone. “Lord, I am so sorry,” Lottie spoke out, placing his phone in front of him as she sat down in the adjacent seat. “I didn’t mean to startle you like that, sugar!”

Again, probably shouldn’t call people you just met sugar, but Lottie never really was one to play by those sorts of rules.

She let out a small laugh though, “That certainly sounds a heck of a lot better when you say it than when I try.” Lottie mused, no, STOP IT LOTTIE. You are here to tutor this guy, not flirt with him. You need to stop. “But it’s a pleasure to meet you Tito. Did I say it right that time? My southern accent just makes it sound so wrong.” Which was true, she really felt like she wasn’t even saying it correctly still.

Her hand shot out next to her for him to shake, “My name is Charlotte Rose La Bouff, but you can just call me Lottie.” She lightly teased, giving him her full name since he had for her. “Oh! And I brought you a coffee.” She brought the cup without the lipstick stain in front of her a bit more. “I wasn’t sure how you’d like it so I just had them put a little bit of cream and sugar in it, but I mean, if you want more, you can always just have mine. So long as you don’t care about the lipstick.” Another small laugh. “And that’s alright, really. Don’t worry about it. Can’t say that I haven’t heard it before.” Lord knows she had played into that stereotype for long enough.  “Your professor had emailed me about it too, we’re workin’ onnnnnn….” Lottie began, pulling out her iPad to check her email but it hit her before she even had the chance. “Your writing? Right? Got an essay comin’ up here in a few weeks if I remember right.”

TITO

Her voice was so fuckin’ cute that it didn’t even matter that she fucked up his name (most people did, shit was long af and full of accent shit). He smirked at her slightly, was she flirting with him or just being really fuckin’ nice to get a good review? ‘Cause in his years of bein’ himself, he’d take that as flirtin’.

“Yeah, you said it real good, chica. Perfecto.” He chuckled and leaned back in his seat a bit, “Believe me, I ain’t one to judge on accents.” He poked fun at himself because well, if you ever heard him talk you’d know how much New York and then Mexico kinda fucked together to combine his way of talking.

Lottie. Chica was fuckin’ fine and had a cute name (and apparently was smart af or at least smarter than him). Tito was pulled out of his inner thoughts on how best to proceed with this attractive female when she offered him the coffee and then all the thoughts just kinda leaked right out like someone had punctured his oil tank right out from under him by giving him a coffee.

His eyes softened and he took it. It was a small act of kindness. And that’s what it felt like, kindness, and not some piece of charity or something because she didn’t even know him or see him before she got him the drink, there’s a difference right there, Ignacio Alonzo Julio Fredrico de Tito didn’t do handouts. His whole demeanor kind of changed from hormonal fool to focused pupil. “Nah, yeah, that’s good. You picked right.” Tito didn’t drink a ton of coffee in general (when you had as much energy as he did you just got shaky and hyper with the added caffeine) so he’d probably just sip on it.

The mechanic took a sip to appease her and grinned a small little grin before looking down at the prompt he’d brought on paper on top of his legal pad because well, he didn’t really grow up with laptops and fancy gadgets (even if he did there wasn’t a way for wifi to happen). So he liked to do outlines and stuff on paper first. Laptops just sorta distracted him.

“Yeah, I, uh, I brought the prompt. My professor said that I need like grammar and structure improvements on my last paper. Like the concepts are there, I just can’t communicate them well, ya know? Like I got the bullet points lined out but words get all messed up and mixed together and it turns into like a run-on rant or somethin’.” He scratched his head slightly and looked over at her, kind of feeling vulnerable telling her about all this weakness shit that he’d never admit to in front of people, but he couldn’t flunk out, not when he’d put in so much work. He let out a small huff of a laugh and shrugged,  “Guess I just got a lot of pasión when I write or somethin’ so my thoughts kinda all come out at once and don’t make a lot of sense to other people but make sense to me.”

LOTTIE

Okay, perfect. That meant perfect, right? See, Lottie could get down with this Spanish thing. All her years growing up learning French and a little bit of Creole hadn’t prepared her for a meeting like this, but well, that word was easy enough to get down and close enough to the English word that she was able to at least figure it out!

“Can I take a guess at where you’re from?” Lottie questioned, hoping that maybe the idea of getting to know each other to him would potentially get him even that much more open to the idea of her tutoring him. “Well, besides the Hispanic heritage of course.” She added with a bit of laugh. That much was obvious. “New York? Or New Jersey? No, definitely New York. That’s what I’m bettin’.” Her hand coming down to slap the table gently.

She watched him carefully as he took the coffee though. He had leaned up in his seat, not exactly leaning back and putting on that “cool” demeanor that he had first exhibited once Lottie revealed herself. (Which for the record, she thought was a little silly. If anything he just looked like he was trying a little bit too hard, but who was Lottie to judge?). Regardless, she had noticed the softened look on his face as he took the coffee and had wondered why exactly something as simple as a warm drink had affected his attitude so much. “Good.” She finally replied with a smile, “I was debatin’ on that my whole way over here. I was like, shoot, I shouldn’t have added any cream and sugar and just brought it with me because what if he didn’t like cream and sugar? Or what if he doesn’t like coffee entirely? It was a mess, I probably looked like a fool.” Another laugh escaping her.

Lottie arched her neck so that she could see the prompt that he had been assigned since the professor had not sent her that much. It looked easy enough, a simple essay from an intro level course. This wasn’t going to be too much trouble to get him all squared away! But she listened carefully as he spoke, turning back up to face him as she nodded her head. She imagined that it must be hard. Sometimes it was hard, and she imagined it must be especially hard for him if English was his second language. “Hey, no worries,” She smiled, quickly resting her hand on top of his as reassurance. “That’s what I’m here for. To help you. And it’s a good thing that you have passion, that’s what that word meant right? In your writing. It means that you have a lot of good ideas that you want to get down on paper. We just have to figure out a way to bring it in just a teeny bit.” Her hand coming off of his, her pointer finger and thumb coming very close together but not quite touching.

TITO

The mechanic quirked a brow at her when she offered to figure out where he was from. Most of the time people guessed right. It was sort of a specific accent and when people weren’t from the US, the first place they named was New York. (Not that she wasn’t from the US, that southern accent definitely gave her away). Shit, would he have to guess where she was from? Most Southern accents sounded the same to him.  

Sure enough, she guessed right the first time. Then went to New Jersey which wasn’t a huge hop from NYC but she corrected herself. He let out a chuckle as he pushed the coffee cup between his hands on the table. “You’re right. Born in the Bronx. Lived in Brooklyn. Regular New York City boy in Swynlake.” He squinted at her slightly, “I’m not too great with Southern accents but Imma have to say you’re from… Texas?” Really he was drawing a blank and she didn’t sound like some Alabama or Mississippi hick to him. Geography was not his strong suit either so he was glad he could name a few southern states off the top of his head to choose from.

Tito debated on telling her about his relationship with coffee, but after realizing she might bring him more in future sessions he decided it would probably be best. “I mean, I like coffee. It don’t necessarily like me.” He laughed slightly, looking down at his papers, “I don’t drink a lot of it. I already got too much energy in me so it just sorta supercharges me.” He looked back at her slightly with a small smile on his face, “But yanno, I was feeling a little tired today so I appreciate it, Lottie. You definitely aren’t a fool, chica. I’m the damn fool. You’ll never look like the fool when you’re around me, promise ya that.”

“Yeah, you got it. You learn any Spanish? You’d probably be good at it.” He winked at her before listening to the rest of her words, except he totally got distracted by her hand covering his. It was nice. A warm feeling he hadn’t felt in a while. Her hands were so soft compared to how rough his were from scraping them up as a kid and working on cars all day. No one touched his hands anymore. Oddly enough it was more personal than anywhere else on his body that got touched. It was a gesture. He couldn’t really read her too well, which was interesting because girls had become so easy to him. Lottie was a mystery so far.

“Sounds good, chica.” The dark haired boy pulled his hands back to him, not wanting to keep them in that spot anymore looking like an idiot. “So uh, where should we start? Like, what’s your process for this shit? You got some sort of like writing formula/guideline or something.”

LOTTIE

So yeah, maybe Lottie was a little proud of herself for getting the answer right, but really, shed have to be a little stupid to not put together the fact that he was from New York. It was as strong and stereotypical of an accent as it could possibly get, coupled with the Hispanic accent. It was cool though, Lottie enjoyed it. It wasn’t a pairing that she had expected to ever hear before, but that’s what made him unique!

She let out a bit of a laugh, her head bobbing around a bit. “Closeeeeee, so I’ll give it to you. Just go one state over and you would have had it. Born and raised in Louisiana. New Orleans to be more specific. But I’ve been up to New York a couple times. Of course, we mainly stayed in the touristy areas which I’m sure you steered clear from.” Her hand sweeping out in front of her as she let out another laugh.

Oh, this was awkward then now wasn’t it? He didn’t even like coffee and she had gone and brought him one! Stupid Lottie. She should have asked him somehow first. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry. You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to then, I ain’t gonna be mad or upset.” She replied, offering him a smile. “Next time though you’ll have to let me know what you like so I can pick that up for you instead!” Another smile, but totally understanding the feeling of being supercharged with energy. Sometimes when she drank coffee she felt like she was bouncing off the walls. The following comment though had caused Lottie to smile even brighter. She hadn’t known if it was meant to be a joke, but it definitely was sweet to her and made her smile. “I don’t know if I believe that.” She teased before getting out a couple supplies of her own.

“Never learned, I just got lucky with that one I guess.” Her shoulders popping up into a shrug. “Only know French and a little bit of Creole. That’s what some of the people in Louisiana speak. Not a whole lot though, just a teeny bit. Hey! How would you feel about maybe teachin’ me a little bit of Spanish though? I help you with your English, you help me with some Spanish?” It was an idea that got her excited, the thought of learning a brand new language. She just hoped that he would be on board too.

Though she’d understand if he wasn’t.

Lottie nodded her head, “I do, yes! But it sounds like you’ve already sort of been doing the same thing. The first thing I start with when I get a prompt is I go back and look at it. Highlight the keywords that are gonna push me where I need to start. That way, when I’m pulling everything together, I know that I didn’t miss anything and won’t be losing easy points. Why don’t you go ahead and do that.” She replied, offering him one of her (pink, of course) highlighters.

TITO

Louisiana. It all clicked now. Shit, rich french blonde was apparently his type. He never learned did he. Only difference was that he wasn’t exactly in his prime Tito flirting self. He was more grounded. Probably because he was legit here asking this girl for help when he never asked for help from nobody. He did shit for himself. He’d been on his own longer than he’d had anybody so askin’ for help didn’t really come too easy for him. On the streets, asking for help showed weakness, showed you gave up on yourself. It was hard for his pride to sit here and have someone else (no matter who it was) help him.

He scratched the back of his head with a nervous chuckle, “Nah, I mean, you can’t exactly avoid Times Square or Central Park. But yeah, mostly Brooklyn and the Bronx were my stompin’ grounds, yanno?” Usually those were prime locations for pick pocketing. He and Dodge could make a fortune just by doing the old fake out, bump and sneak as kids. He shook his head, making sure to take a big appreciative gulp of the coffee, which did not exactly get swallowed correctly causing him to cough slightly and say between coughs and a small wheeze. “Nah, it's really okay.” He took another sip to clear his throat and then sat the cup down away from him giving her a smile like he hadn’t totally just fucked up being smooth.

Tito shrugged and looked down at his paper, “Guess we’ll find out then huh.” He gave her a little mischievous smirk before looking back down, trying to decipher the prompt a little bit better before she started asking him questions. He didn’t want to seem underprepared or something.  Unfortunately, she was pretty distracting so he read the same sentence about five times before looking back up at her and giving a chuckle, “Yeah, sure. Least I can do, yanno for you helpin’ me out. And hey, that’s pretty impressive, I mean… Je parle un peu de français” From Daisy. His accent was never quite right in French. Most of his words tried to lean towards his Spanish accent. “But I’m no expert in languages or anythin’.”

He listened to her, prepared to learn some new techniques and shit. He smiled at the highlighter. Of course it was pink. Right, key words. Figuring out what all this bullshit in this prompt meant. Good start. He started highlighting some stuff and immediately he could tell that he was highlighting too much. The whole paragraph mostly looked pink. He sheepishly looked up at her, his voice kind of quieter, “How do you know what things are the most important? Kinda just.. I dunno everything looks important to me so it's hard for me to focus on the more important things, yanno?”

LOTTIE

“Sugar, I said you don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to, not chug it down to the point that you start chokin;.” Lottie laughed out as she placed a han on Tito’s shoulder to try and steady him. Because, yes, in order to help someone who is choking you needed to steady them by holding onto their shoulder. (Lottie’s brain worked in mysterious ways). “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing, are you okay Tito? I can’t have you dyin ‘on me this early.” Or you know, at all that would certainly be tragic and definitely would make Lottie probably the worst tutor in the history of tutors ever.

It was weird. Because from the get go Tito had seemed so cool, calm, and collected. Or at least try to play like he was. The way that he had leaned back in his chair when Lottie had first walked back, the fact that he called her chica with that grin of his (which yes, it was much different than Lottie calling everyone sugar because she did not flash people smirks like that), and pretty much just his entire demeanor. Whatever it was though, he had already seemed...well…not like that at all. The way that he had sort of choked on his coffee because he was trying to appease her (which was sweet that he still was going to drink it) and how that wall that she assumed he put up came down when it came to the actual work she was there to help him with. Whatever it was, Lottie felt like maybe not a lot of people saw that side of Tito so she was at least happy she got a hint of it now.

He seemed like a nice guy!

Lottie clapped her hands quietly though as Tito agreed to help her with her Spanish before the French had rolled off of his lips. Her expression had changed into one of surprise, even bucking her head back just a bit, “Ahhh tres bien!” Lottie mused, already a bit impressed since he had managed to put together the sentence that quickly. She knew the two languages were a little similar, but she was still impressed nonetheless.

She let out another small laugh as he began to highlight the entire prompt. Definitely not what she had been going for, but mistakes were alright! That’s how you learned. “Here,” She replied, taking the notepad he had brought as well as the prompt so she could quickly write it down once more. “My go-to rule with highlighting is,” Lottie began as she jotted it down, “To try to stay to only highlighting like, five words, eight max.” She added, shooting Tito a playful glare before glancing back down to the pad as she finished up. Lottie pushed it back towards him so that he could see. “See look, this bit at the top is really only giving you some background information.” She spoke, using the pen to point out the sentence. “This really isn’t telling you what you need to write about, it’s just getting you to start thinking. Usually what you’re looking for is in the middle or right at the end. Try again, I think you got it this time.” Lottie offered with a smile. Positive affirmations. “Remember, try and look for those ‘buzz’ words. The ones your professor wants you to see. Not all that junk at the beginning.” 

[sher-lock-your-doors]

researching my family history is so wild

like, my mom’s family is icelandic and icelanders love geneology, for what I assume are three reasons: Island country so you want to know just how related you are, they are a scandanavian country and love that kind of shit, and 3, they kept being told they had no distinct culture (by like the norwegians I believe, who kind of took them over and took power away from their ancient democracy to give a lot of it to the norwegian monarchy, but if I remember corectly the danes were worse, don’t quote me in a history paper). And they were having none of that shit. 

SO onto the fun part, a few interesting stories: First one is sad as hell, so there was an old fisherman who had gone blind over time due to the glare of the sun off the ocean, and he and his daughter are out riding horses in the fjords in spring, well, there is a lot of runoff from snowmelt in spring, and so suddenly a freak flood avalanche happens and washes away his daughter who he can’t see but he can hear her screams and is helpless to stop. The end.

Story two is fun: There was a very large man with fire-y red hair who was kind of prone to fighting those he considered deserving in defense of the innocent. And one day he is walking along and these I think french sailors are at the docks drunk as hell and they decide it would be ball bustingly funny to just throw some poor kids basket of fish in the harbor. Well, my great something grandpa was having none of that shit in his town, so he fights them, and it is a close one, but in the end this giant redhead overpowers three grown men and throws them in the ocean. And that is not the last story we have of my fave finger old timey avenger, there is another story from when he came to america.

SO there was this icelandic kid who was being a shit. He was messing with these american guys at the worksite and they decide, fuck that kid, which is understandable, let’s beat him, okay I guess, to death, woah there chill your tits! So yeah, five guys try to beat an icelandic boy I am picturing as young teen draco malfoy as to how annoying AND pale he is, to death, which is a bit much on the death part. And in comes our orange bearded hero, defender of those in need, Thorgil!!! He fights FIVE MEN after they don’t listen when he asks them if they could not kill this kid who has clearly learned his lesson, being bloody and bruised. And they say no, AND we will fight you over it. So they did, and Thorgil kicked five men’s asses. The men then tried to tell the supervisor at the construction site to fire him, but the boss is like, damn, I know Thorgil, he is a decent guy, let me ask him what happened, and he asks him and Thorgil is like, they tried to kill a boy, who was a little shit, but didn’t deserve death. ANd the boss is like, fuck, so he tells them, you were shitty and I know thorgil is probably my best worker,you on the other hand, I can fire. And that is our last story of thorgil the ginger avenger of late 1800s north dakota.

We have more stories, but these are my faves to tell. On my dad’s side we don’t know much of anything before they left their farms in 1910 or something, and I think my norwegian contact is dead. But we do have one story, from america, that I know. My great grandma died when I was about 5 at 102 years old, and she had this story that kept changing each time she told it, but part of it was true since before they died her siblings backed it up I think. This is the story of how Minnie Killed 15 rattlesnakes (read 1) she was out playing and I think her siblings were there too, and one of them finds a snake, in some tellings she was 2 years old but I think over 5 is a safer bet. Someone runs into a rattle snake while they were like playing or farming or something, and everyone flips there shit and they think minnie is dead but as the snake gets ready to strike and goes in, she decapitates it with a shovel. Now, I don’t condone violence to animals unless it cannot be avoided, but imagining a 2year old fighting 15 rattlesnakes with a shovel is pretty amusing.

Two more stories before I am done: 

Mom’s side, There was this group of people going down the river in winter because there were no roads to take and the land canada had given these icelanders fleeing a volcano wasn’t great, so they thought lets try north dakota, idk why north dakota, but whatever works I guess. They are traveling on carts and foot and this old lady starts to flip her shit about the ice breaking. Everyone thought it was just old whatever her name was being batty, but she would NOT SHUT UP, so they were like, FINE! WE WILL GET OFF THE ICE! and as soon as they did THE WHOLE DAMN RIVER BREAKS OPEN AND THE ICY DEPTHS WHOULD HAVE SWALLOWED THEM ALL had they not listened to her.

Last story for today is of the man who wasn’t actually psychic. There was this icelandic dude and he like, read tea leaves or did tarrot or something, anyway it was divination, and as he did he would speak in icelandic saying stuff like “I am scamming you out of money” “I am a fraud” but these american ladies had no idea what he was saying in icelandic and thought it was a trance or something, but my Amma who was a child then knew what he was really saying, and he winked at her as he said it.

And then, I lied, one more story, the most relatable one yet: One day my great grandma was chasing the dog because he was getting into trouble, and she chased him out the door yelling his name. Now, you should know, that their neighbor, and sibling of her daughter’s future husband, but she didn’t know at the time, was named the same name as the dog. And he just so happened to be talking to her husband I think, in the driveway. And he was there to look up in confusion when she yelled something like “DAMN YOU (NAME) YOU SCOUNDREL!” and once she noticed he had heard and was staring she promptly turned around, walked into the house, and never spoke to that boy again out of embarassment until the day she died.

Now I’m really done. I have no idea if anyone will even read this whole thing or if it will just be a long nusance, oh well. Forgive my spelling errors. Idk why I’m posting this, I guess I just thought these were too good to just leave in the family memory books for no one to see.

[elisiyawritesfics]

Chapter 3; Nathan Drake & Victor Sullivan

Series: Path of Pyrite Fandom: Uncharted: Drake’s Fortune Word Count: 2141 Words

—

Kathryne wasn't quick enough to draw an arrow from her quiver the moment she had heard the gun cocking, but Tyler was quick enough to aim his crossbow and the gun holder. It was an elder man who was starting to grey and had a cigar in his mouth. "Easy there, old man, that's my little sister you're aiming at," Tyler spoke sternly.

"I'd lower the crossbow if I were you, son," the elder man suggested, even though he showed so sign of losing the gun. 

"After you drop the gun. 'Cause if you do anything else, chances are one of these arrows are going through your eye socket."

"Tyler," Kathryne intervened with a sigh before addressing the stranger. "Look, grandpa, We're not here to start anything. I just wanna take a peek in the U-Boat."

"Yeah, uh-huh," he didn't sound convinced in the slightest. "Why should I trust you?"

"I'm an archaeology student at Harvard University researching the legend and the location of the Golden Man," well, she wasn't lying. She was an archaeology student, just not yet. "I know for a fact you guys are looking for it, and I have no interest in taking it and selling it."

"How'd you know there's more than just me?"

Kathryne arched a brow. "Really? You wouldn't be out here waiting. Guess you can't do the whole climbing thing." That last part was more to herself than directly at the man. She then turned to Tyler, reaching out to make him lower his crossbow. "Wait out here, I'll check it out."

"But, Kath," Tyler started, but whatever she was about to say was shut down by the look she gave him. With a drawn out sigh, he nodded. "Fine," he looked back to the man. "Whoever's in there, tell them she's going in so they don't shoot her."

Sullivan gave him a look for a moment, but complied none the less. Once his walkie talkie was out, he held down the button to speak. "Heads up, Nate, someone's coming in. Don't shoot her."

"The hell, Sully?" there was a response immediately. "Who's coming in? More importantly, who are you letting come in?"

"An archaeologist. Just, don't shoot, her brother already threatened me for almost doing so."

Kathryne snickered, and Tyler just rolled his eyes. "Well, you guys can make up while I'm in there. Keep us posted, and try not to kill each other." With a salute, she turned and dove into the water. It was days like this where she was glad she learned how to swim. Unlike Rya. Swimming up to the U-Boat was easy, and once she had reached the structure, Kathryne took a deep breath and dove under. There was an opening in the rusted hull that was big enough for her to swim through. When she reemerged from the water, she surfaced onto the floor of the sub. There was a path that she followed up onto the upper level and into a broken up corridor. Each of the hatch doors had been opened and at the end of the hall, she could see a man standing in the captain's quarters. She made her way up, but she then stopped at a corpse by the last hatch door. Well, there's what smelled terrible. But it wasn't the corpse that caused her to stop. It was the gold coins that were scattered by him. Kathryne squatted down to pick one up. Spanish gold, definitely. But two things came up in her head; why did a German have a Spanish gold coin from centuries ago, and where is this coin from? It was stamped with a symbol she had never seen before. 

"I see you met my pal, Sticky Fingers, here." She heard a voice say.

Looking up as she stood, there was a man at the entrance of the captain's quarters. he had a similar appearance to Tyler; tall, a little built from what she could see, brown hair. The only difference was this man had blue eyes. She held up the coin. "Who has Spanish gold with a mint that I haven't seen before and a face that was torn to shreds. Yes, we got friendly with each other." 

The man shook his head. Sarcasm, he liked it. Mainly because that meant someone could take his shit. "So, you're the archaeologist, huh? Aren't you a little too young to be out here?" 

"Just 'cause I'm short doesn't make me that young."

"Did you get through your proseminar, yet?"

Kathryne made a face, and the man shook his head with a small chuckle. Well, this is awkward. "Okay, so what? I'm going in the fall."

"Aw, look, we have a baby on our hands. Still, it's impressive you made it this far," he held out his hand to her. "Nathan Drake. The old geezer outside is Victor Sullivan."

Since she was used to the baby jokes, Kathryne didn't even call him out on it. She took his hand and shook it. "Kathryne Catreel. I would ask if you had any relations to Francis Drake, but he had no kids."

"Touché, my friend. If that were true, I wouldn't be here towering over you. Besides, how would I have known where this baby was?" He held up a little red notebook, and Kathryne's green eyes widened. 

"Holy shit, is that—?"

"Drake's lost diary? You bet your ass it is."

"So that's why you're out here, to finish what he started." 

"Yeah, well, that. And, y'know, gold and glory. The good stuff." 

Emerald eyes rolled. "Guess I should have expected that," pushing loose strands of hair out of her face, Kathryne looked to the charted map behind them. "So, where to now?" 

Nathan held up his hand in front of her to stop her. "Woah, woah, woah, wait a second, doll face. We? You're not in on this." 

"Oh, you think I'm going to give up now. You're funny. I already told your pal that I'm not interested in taking and selling the thing, just finding it." 

"Y'know, I find that very hard to believe."

"You and the old guy outside have had so many things done wrong to you that make you both so untrusting, haven't you? Need me to swear on a Bible? A Catreel never breaks their word."

He narrowed his eyes at her, as if making a judgment on if he should tell her what he knew. One thing was true, and that was that so many things, so many people, turned on him and Sully that finding someone they could actually trust was a hard time. But, if he could admit, Nathan was impressed how far she had came with little to no information and a world full of false claims, since the only truth of El Dorado was in his hands, and off the coast of Panama for the last four centuries. And maybe, just maybe, a soon-to-be archaeologist (and anthropologist, since that's part of it at Harvard) is what they needed.

Nathan placed the diary in his palm laying down, then held it out to her. "We're short a Bible, this should do." 

Kathryne arched a brow once more. Was this his way of actually letting her and Tyler tag along? He actually is giving her the benefit of the doubt? Wait, she stopped mid-thought, he was probably only doing it so he could benefit from her in some way. Not that she cared about that, as long as she still found El Dorado. So, she placed her right hand on top of the diary, and held her left hand up. "I, Kathryne Elizabeth May Catreel, solemnly swear that I—"

"I swear to God, if you quote Harry Potter,"

"—will keep my word when I say my only interest in this hunt is to find the Golden Man, and nothing more. Y'know, I thought about it, but then you probably wouldn't take me seriously. Despite Prisoner of Azkaban was a great book and movie," she then lowered both her hands. "So, monsieur, what have you got so far?"

"French, huh? Y'know, you probably should have taken Latin in high school. It'll help so much more here," none the less, Nathan reached down to pick up a piece of paper with a map on it, the very one he had pulled off of the corpse of the captain. "Off the coast of Perú, there's an island that these guys were trying to find, from the looks of it. The best assumption is that there is where we'll find El Dorado."

"And the worst assumption?"

"We waste our time there and the trail goes cold." 

"Okay, lets just hope for the best." 

"One more question," Nathan started. 

"I possibly have an answer," Kathryne mused. 

"I see you got a bow and arrow and all here, but you can hold your own, right? I don't need to baby you, because babysitting is not in the j-"

Kathryne didn't let him finish because she grabbed him by the wrist and flipped him completely over her shoulder to where he landed on the ground back first. She quickly placed her foot on his chest as she drew an arrow from her quiver and pulled it back to aim at his throat. "Dollface, I grew up with two military buffs who taught me how to aim with this baby, two Asians who taught me what they know about martial arts, a drug dealer who taught me how to shoot, and a Latina who taught me how to manipulate with words," with a grin, Kathryne slowly released the bow and placed the arrow back in her quiver. Once her boot was off his chest, she held his hand out to him. "well, and a mom who taught me how to fence. You don't have to worry about me."

It was one thing to get Nathan Drake off guard, but completely knocking him over was a completely different thing. He wouldn't lie, he liked a strong woman. (Nate, buddy, don't go there.) "well, then, I guess this will be an interesting hunt," he said with a chuckle, then stood up with her help. 

"Hey, Nate," Sullivan's voice came through on the radio. "you still alive, or do I need to give you two a few more minutes to finish up?" 

At that, Kathryne couldn't help but laugh, and Nathan just rolled his eyes before holding down the button to respond. "Haha, very funny, Sully. I happen to have a little more class than you do. Anyways, get this," 

"Yeah?" This time, both Sullivan and Tyler's voice could be heard. 

Nathan held down the button, but let Kathryne do the talking, since she looked like she wanted to say it. Kathryne grinned. "We found out where the Spanish took El Dorado. The Germans were after it, too, and they just so happen to leave behind the map that'll lead us right to it."

"You're shitting me," Tyler sounded astonished. 

"Kids, this better not be a wild goose chase, or—" it suddenly cut off. 

"Or what?" Nathan asked as he held down the button, but there was no response. This caused him to furrow his brows. "Sully? You there?" He asked again, but no response. 

Kathryne leaned his hand down to press it down. "Tyler, what happened?" she asked, and that, too, was a question left unanswered.  

Suspicion lingered between the two as they exchanged a look. It didn't need to be said, Nathan just gestured Kathryne to follow him as he approached the hatch to the next corridor, pushing it open with a grunt. Following that was a loud metal clang and the sound of what was the mechanics of a machine starting up. "Oh, that can't be good." 

"Drake what did y—" the question didn't even need to be completed for her to get an answer, she saw the torpedo just as she had gotten partway through her words. "Son of a..." 

"We should probably get the hell out, like, now."

The two booked it, Nathan going first into the last opening and then Kathryne followed. Once past that corridor, they went down the ladder and into the lower level that Kathryne had originally came in through. While Nathan looked slightly panicked because it looked like there was no way out, Kathryne then took the lead here, diving into the water once more and swimming under, to which Nathan soon followed. 

Exiting through the breach in the hull, they swam out and towards the shore where they beached themselves onto the rocks. But they weren't alone. Standing before them was a man with gray, almost white, hair, and a younger looking man standing to his left who was armed with a rifle. 

"Hello," the man greeted Nathan as he extended his hand out to him.