#sister!oc

[andiesfolder]

dreams connor bedard x blaire celebrini (oc)

summary; no one knows better than blaire and connor that being in love is like a dream.

meet the cast

blaire celebrini

fics

funny seeing you here

thoughts/drabbles

family dynamics blaire's first blackhawks game

social media

crafty and stylish

(* = smut)

[linaslore]

spn ✩ the middle sister [part 1]

sam & dean winchester x oc!sister

author's note: so what if sam & dean had a sister with lorelai gilmore's personality? (things i think about in the middle of the night). since i don't have the time to write a series re-write, i worked on this long headcannon/mini fic. it will probably have at least 3 parts.

warnings/tags: canon divergence; spn canon violence; mentions of bullying, su1cide and death; angst; john winchester being father of the year (i’m being sarcastic); language; english is not my first language. trust the process!

⭐️ pics aren’t mine, credits to their owners.

🚫 please do not copy, repost or translate my work without my permission.

now, without further ado...

John and Mary’s daughter was named Camille, as a tribute to John’s mother, Millie. Throughout her life, though, she’s rarely been called like that. She was simply Mila.

She was two years younger than Dean and two years older than Sam.

At first, the-two-year-old Dean was reluctant to have siblings. Sharing his parents, especially his mom, seemed unfair since he hadn’t been able to enjoy them for that long. The night Mila was born that changed completely.

John led Dean into the Maternity Ward room where Mary cradled his newborn sister against her chest. Despite his short age, he remembered thinking she was the smallest thing he’d ever seen. When he stepped closer to introduce himself as her ‘big brother Dean’, Mila’s tiny little fingers curled around his slightly bigger ones, and from then on, Dean swore he’d always take care of her, no matter what.

Dean and Mila grew up side by side. 

He was fascinated by her – her laugh; how smart she was, even for a baby; and the way she’d repeat everything he uttered. Whenever he had to introduce her, he’d say 'She’s my little sister’, standing a bit taller and his chest puffed out with pride. If he heard her cry, even in the middle of the night, he'd be the first one to comfort her.

Mila was just as captivated by her big brother. She’d follow him around the house, whether to play with him and his army men toys or simply to check what he was doing or where he was going.

Mila’s relationship with her parents also developed smoothly. Both John and Mary would always deny having any favorites, but it was crystal clear that Mary saved a certain softness for Dean, just in the same way John did for Mila. She was a complete ‘Daddy’s little princess’, as he’d often call her. Yet, she still found some bonding moments with her mom, like when she helped Mary bake chocolate-chip cookies or when they’d walk around their block on a summer evening.

Then, Sammy was born. Dean, already protective of Mila, felt the responsibility double on his small four-year-old shoulders.

Mila, at two years old, couldn’t quite grasp the concept of sharing her parents yet, so she’d sometimes tug, with a puzzled frown, at John’s trousers while he was rocking the baby to sleep, demanding some of his attention. 

Dean, witnessing how John asked Mila to go to her room, promising he’d read something to her later, was quick to explain to her, while holding her hand for reassurance, that they were ‘the big kids’ so they had to take care of Sammy. Dean described it as if it were the coolest thing in the world, so Mila’s eyes lit up at her new role in the family. 

Needless to say, after that fateful night in November 1983, the Winchesters’ precious family dynamic was forever shattered.

Dean’s freedom and innocence were replaced by duty and obedience the moment John told him to ‘watch out for Sammy and Mila’. That order became the core of his identity. He wasn’t just the older brother anymore. He was the one who had to make sure they were fed, bathed, and kept safe while their father was away.

As Mila grew older, and as John started to tag Dean along on the hunts, she had to step into the caregiver role as well. She carried that vow with pride, just as Dean did, but beneath all that, the ache of a boy and a girl who had been forced to grow up too soon, too fast lingered.

It was during her teenage years that Mila’s prominent features began to consolidate. Each day, she grew more and more like her mother – she had Mary’s eyes and smile as well as her gentleness. But she had also inherited her father’s stubbornness and anxiety. She was unmistakably her brothers’ sister, too. She shared Dean’s bravery and sharp wit, their reliable way of masking pain and fear, and she matched Sam’s restless curiosity and the hope that their world could orbit around something other than hunting. 

It was also during this time that her relationship with her father became more strained. John deemed it almost impossible to look at Mila without seeing his beautiful Mary, so he banned Mila from hunting 'for her sake'. Instead, he’d always put her on research duty in the safe confines of whatever motel they happened to be at. At first, Mila accepted her place almost without question. Her hunger for knowledge made the old lore books and newspaper articles feel like a puzzle she had to solve to prove her worth to her father. But, as the years went by, the paper grew heavier under her fingers, and the motel walls tightened more and more around her until the room started feeling more like a cage rather than a refuge.

Doubts about her father’s stance slowly crept in when he started allowing Sam to go hunting. Watching her two-year-younger brother walk out the door with John and Dean stung more than she cared to admit. She did pitch the idea of joining them, at least on ‘milk-run cases’, but John would always brush it off, saying that he’d think about it later, but he never did.

Fed up with being the only one that stayed behind, only feeling useful when she had to pass information along or when she had to patch up her father and brothers' wounds, Mila asked Dean to secretly train her. “Hell, no. I’m not disobeying Dad. Are you nuts?” Dean snapped, his brows knitting together tightly. “Deano, come on! Think about it for a sec. Neither you nor Dad will always be ‘round to protect me. I need to know how to take care of myself if somethin’ happens. Don’t you think?”She had a perfectly reasonable, valid point. Dean huffed – that was all it took to convince him. And her puppy eyes, of course.

From that day on, whenever John was away on a hunt, Dean and Mila would get up very early in the morning to go to the nearest park so he could teach her hand-to-hand combat, how to identify the different creatures, and how to kill them. Weeks later, curiosity killed the cat, and Sam caught them sneaking out of the motel room, which resulted in him tagging along. Sometimes, Mila’d find herself wrestling against both her brothers, at the same time, 'for the sake of practice'. These training sessions usually ended up with the three of them lying on the grass, with their breath ragged and a big grin on each of their faces.

Digging through old books and newspaper articles wasn’t Mila's only skill. She definitely had the fighter’s instinct that ran in her family’s bloodline. Dean saw it in the way she’d learnt to anticipate his moves and in how resourceful she was when she was caught between the hammer and the anvil. Even Sam realized his sister was far more capable than John had ever given her credit for.

And then, the long-awaited moment came. Dean allowed her to go on her first hunt – her 17th birthday gift, as she liked to say. Not that he was 100% onboard with it, but they’d found a series of mysterious deaths in a boarding school for girls in the proximity of their motel, so she was the only one who would be able to get in. Besides, it wouldn’t take more than a weekend. So, John, being away on his own case, shouldn’t have any way of finding out either. 

Once she was ready, Dean took her to the school, asking the Headmaster to kindly admit his little sister. Their cover story was simple: both of their parents had died in a tragic accident when you were younger, so your older brother had to step up and take care of you. Not that far from the actual truth, huh? As Dean charmingly looked into the older lady's eyes, he said he wanted to ensure that his little Beth had the best education possible. Mrs. Vernon ate every bit of the story up and started her registration with glassy eyes. Once everything was set up and she said goodbye to Dean, Mila had to blend in and talk to the other girls, ask around about what they knew and had seen, attend a couple of classes to keep an eye on the teachers, and check for any signs of what she might be up against. Later in the evening, she called her brothers to pass the information along. She found out that a year ago, five of the students had bullied another girl to the point she ended up taking her own life, so now, the spirit was probably coming back to get its revenge. That night, while everyone was sound asleep, Mila helped Dean get into the schoolyard, where this girl had been buried so he could dig her bones up to salt and burn them. Despite her enthusiasm to finish the job, she was crazy if she thought he would let her see a body. He still praised her for the great job she had done.

The following morning, Dean went to pick her up, using a not-so-believable excuse, but surprisingly, nobody refused to let her go. Once they were back at the motel with Sam, they bought some burgers and fries to celebrate her first successful hunt. Dean couldn’t contain a chuckle from escaping his lips when he caught her devouring her food. She threw him a questioning look.

“After all that crap you learned ‘bout good manners and ‘social etiquette’,” his fingers mockingly curled into inverted commas, “you end up eatin’ like that?” She huffed, but then she lifted both her pinkies up, holding her burger in a more lady-like manner. “Happy now? Man, being a lady is hard,” she exclaimed as she shook her head and then proceeded to give the burger another big bite.

The months, and then years, kept passing by, and Mila continued secretly hunting with Dean. 

Everything was going fine – well, as ‘fine’ as it could be for the type of life they had, but then, one night, when it was just Sam and her at the motel room, he revealed she was thinking of going to college. The moment caught her by surprise but she wasn’t really shocked by the news itself; it wasn’t the first time that her younger brother said something about a life outside of hunting. She’d be lying if she said it wasn’t the first time she had ever considered one either. Working with Dean was ok, even a bit fun at certain times, but she was tired of going behind her dad’s back. Not that she hadn’t circled back on the idea of hunting now that she was older; the old man was too set on his ways and turned her request down again. So, she had been feeling like she was wasting ‘the best years of her life’ trapped inside a motel, without a real home, friends, a normal job, or any of the mundane things girls in their early twenties should experience.

And she would also be lying if she didn’t admit the other reason why she wanted a way out of her current life. She didn’t enjoy being around her dad as she used to. Although he always claimed to be ‘keeping her safe’, he was actually controlling her movements, her decisions, and almost how many times she took a breath. The obsession with finding the thing that killed Mary made him sharper over the years, less patient. Every time he said something, it felt like he was barking orders rather than speaking to his children. She also began disliking the way John spoke with or of Dean: dismissive, belittling, sometimes outright cruel. Dean took whatever his dad said without questioning because the man was his hero, but to Mila, it was clear John saw him more like a low-rank soldier rather than his son. The realization hit her like a blow to the gut: the father she once knew was long gone, replaced by a stranger whose voice she could recognize anywhere, but whose warmth had disappeared years ago.

Sam and Mila made the decision to go away together, and they wished to talk to Dean and try to convince him to join them, but unfortunately, John found out before they got the chance. He overheard how Mila reassured Sam that there was nothing wrong in pursuing his own dreams, and all hell broke loose.

“So you think you can just pack your bags and leave?” John’s voice thundered through the room, his anger barely masking the betrayal. “You think you can abandon your family?” “We’re not abandoning anyone, Dad. We just want something different.” Sam explained, using the same soft tone he employed with victims or their families when talking to them during a case. “Yeah, we can still help you with research and -” John interrupted Mila with a scoff. “Don’t you dare say anything, Camille.” He spat, deliberately using her full name as if it was just another weapon, a curse he needed to get rid of. “After everythin’ I’ve done to protect you, this is how you repay me?”  Mila fell silent, her fists tightening at her sides and anger bubbling inside of her. But, when John turned around to ask Dean if he already knew anything about this, ready to tell him off, that was when she lost it. “Oh, no—no, no, do not dare bring Dean into this. It’s not his fault,” she found herself biting back. “There is no one to blame here. Hunting is simply not our thing.” She saw John open his mouth to speak but she cut him off immediately. “I’m not done talking. It’s your turn to listen.” She shot him a glare that seemed to pin him in his place. “I get it – whatever we’re doing here, we’re doing it for Mom, but this is no life, Dad,” she made a pause as she sighed, her voice breaking, “not for me, not for Sam, not even for Dean and you.” She searched his eyes, desperate for something: regret, softness, anything, but he had a habit of proving her wrong. “You wanna find that apple-pie life? Fine. Don’t dare comin’ back when it crumbles down.”

The youngest Winchesters left shortly after that fight. They could tell Dean was pissed off too – his jaw was tight and his silence weighed heavily with disappointment – but at least he pulled both of them into a hug before they walked out. It wasn’t too long, ‘no chick-flick moments’ as he often said, but it was tight, even a bit desperate, clearly not ready to let them go. Their father, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found, and this echoed louder than any words or screams.

Within weeks, Sam had already started studying at Stanford, aiming for a law degree, and Mila was able to get a job at the school’s library. She had also managed to find a small, affordable apartment near the campus. For the first time in years, they both felt their lives were moving forward, shaping towards something that resembled a happy and normal future.

Mila hadn’t stopped talking to Dean, though. He was still her big brother, and she loved him a lot. She usually called him once a month to check if he was still alive and to share her life updates. And Dean sat and listened. Because, despite disagreeing with her and Sammy’s decision, he could always detect the pang of guilt in her voice when she asked how he and their dad were doing, and, because he also loved her a lot, he couldn’t add any more pain to her plate. Besides, she was the only connection with his younger brother those days since he wasn’t so keen on talking to him. It seemed that Sam held a grudge against him for still being ‘Dad’s good little soldier’.

She had once or twice voiced the idea of Dean joining them. He could find a job he actually enjoyed and live with her until he found his own place, but Dean always shrugged it off, saying that somebody had to stay to ‘take care of the old man’. Their conversations would usually end with a ‘Stay safe’ and a toothless smile that masked everything left unsaid.

Over time, and away from the ghosts of her past, Mila grew up to be a quick-witted, charismatic and confident woman, who made everyone want to fall in love with her or be her.

Sam swiftly became the main receiving end of her playful yet sarcastic remarks and high levels of energy.

One regular Tuesday afternoon, Mila dropped by Sam’s dorm demanding to spend some quality time with him, as if they hadn’t hung out already during the weekend. Although he was busy studying for an upcoming test, he still invited her in. She said she was going to quietly watch TV in the small living room. Sam should’ve known better than to believe her. “Oh, the news is on!” She turned the volume louder than he would’ve liked. “For our top story tonight,” she started speaking as if she were a news reporter, “a grisly horrible thing happened in a small town where no grisly horrible things ever happen. Everyone shocked!” She talked over the actual reporter’s voice, eyes fixed on the screen. “Wonder if it was actually a werewolf or a wendigo.” Sam sighed, trying to bring his focus back to his textbook.  Seconds later, Mila turned off the TV and tossed the remote control on the other side of the couch. “Hey, let’s get ice cream!” She exclaimed before getting up from the couch to walk towards her brother. “I’m bored…” As he paid no mind to her, she knocked on his book. “Hello???” “Mila, I’m studying,” Sam replied, his tone more serious than usual. “Yeah, but I’m talking ice cream,” she repeated, as if she were explaining the best idea ever. “Can’t you take a break?” “I can’t take a break right now.” “Ok… when?” She threw him a hopeful smile. “What are you, 4?” He retorted, slightly more annoyed. “No, I’m hungry!” She protested, pouting at him. “Well, there’s some leftover pizza in the fridge.” “But it’s cold.” “Then heat it up.” “But it’s not the same.” “Camille, go to my room.” Sam almost yelled, as if he were a parent telling off his kid for her insistent behaviour.  “Wow, nerds are mean!” He sighed for the second time. “Tell you what… if you let me study now, we’ll go out for dinner later. It'll be on me.” “Alright, you’ve got yourself a deal, mister.” “Good.” She started backing away, but then she turned around again. “So, I’m sorry. Where have we landed on the whole ice cream issue?” Sam rolled his eyes, grabbed all his books from the table, and went to his room, slamming the door. Mila stood there, watching the door with an incredulous look on her face. “Ugh, guys are so sensitive these days.’

Not only did Mila match Dean’s devotion to food, but her love for coffee was extraordinary, too. She started drinking it from a young age, during all-nighters spent scanning through lore books or after long drives in the Impala, when she had to push through the day without any proper sleep. Over time, it became so much more than a drink. It became her ritual, her lifeline, the only constant that followed her from the crappy motel rooms to her own apartment and the campus library. Sam had actively tried to save her sister from liver failure, offering her tea, but it was pointless.

“Sammy – please, please please!” She begged, handing him her mug, her puppy eyes making a stellar appearance. “How many cups have you had today?” “None.” She replied quickly, but he wasn’t buying it for one bit. “Plus?” “Five… But yours tastes better!” “You’ve got a problem.” “Yes, I do.” She put the mug straight in front of his face this time, batting her eyelashes at him. Sam sighed, finally understanding how Dean hardly ever said no to her, and took the mug from her hands to fill it up, not to the top, but enough that she’d be content. “Junkie.” “Angel.” She said with the biggest smile on her face and took the first sip. “You’ve got wings, baby brother.” She threw him a wink before going back to the living room where she had left her book open around page 100.

Then, one of the days Sam had been unnecessarily dreading arrived: the day she'd met Jess, his girlfriend. He knew Mila would like her; how could anyone not? Jess was charismatic, optimistic, and made Sam want to be a better man every day. She also had a particular sense of humor that surely wouldn’t go unnoticed by his sister. But he couldn’t avoid doubts and old fears from creeping in. When the moment of Jess and Mila meeting finally came, it went worse than he had pictured it.

“So this is the famous Jess,” Mila said, her tone dripping with mock suspicion. “I’m actually glad you’re not a figment of my brother’s imagination.” “It’s soo nice to finally meet you, Mila!” Jess replied enthusiastically while she gave her a quick hug. “Honestly, I’m glad I’m real too. Sam would crash and burn without me.” “Ohhh, good luck trying to save him from turning into a full-time robot. That’s the real challenge.” She linked her and Jess’ arms and got closer to her, as if she was about to reveal a secret. “He’s been practicing his ‘serious face’ since he was twelve. It’s exhausting.” “I knew this was a mistake.” Sam fake-groaned, faking betrayal. “You two have known each other for five minutes, and you’re already plotting against me.” “You'd better get used to it, baby brother. You’re officially outnumbered.”

Not so long after, Jess invited Sam and Mila to spend Thanksgiving with her and her parents. It would be Sam’s official introduction as her boyfriend. Mila would be there for moral support. And the free food and wine, of course. At some point, they were doing the typical small talk about what they did for a living, and Jess’ mom asked Sam about his degree.

“So, Samuel, you want to become a lawyer, right?” “Uhm, you can call me ‘Sam’, ma’am.” He offered her one of his sweet smiles. “And that’s correct. I’m in my third year.” “Good for you, honey. A good education is the most important thing in the world, after family.”  “And pie.” Mila let the comment slide past her lips before she could even process it. The room fell into an uncomfortable silence while Sam shot daggers at her from across the table. “Sorry, just a joke.” She clarified, and everyone nodded before going back to their plates. Jess, however, stifled a laugh and shot her a look that said ‘Don’t worry, I get you’. It was true. Mila loved pie, maybe as much as she loved her brothers and coffee. She instantly thought of Dean and how she hadn’t spoken to him in quite some time, which made her a bit sad. She made a mental note to call him later in the evening. 

Fast forward to a random Friday night in 2005, Mila was coming back home from her shift at the library when she felt somebody following her steps. Her old hunter instinct kicked in, and she took a different path to double-check if the stranger was actually following her. It turned out they were. She hid in a dark corner, trying to keep her breath steady. When the person passed by, in one swift motion, she grabbed them from behind, pressing the sharp, cold edge of the blade she carefully kept in her boot against the stranger’s throat. 

“Why the hell are you followin’ me?” she hissed, her voice low and as sharp as the knife. “Mila, wait. It’s me!” Her eyes widened as she recognized the voice. She loosened her grip just enough to see the face in the dim light. “Dean?” Relief and anger collided in her chest. “You idiot! Couldn’t you call like a normal person? I almost gutted you.” He gave her a sheepish smile, though his eyes were tired. Mila wrapped her arms around his middle while his own slipped around her shoulders, and he kissed the top of her head. “Y’know I like makin’ an entrance.” “Why are you here? Did somethin’ happen?” “It’s Dad. He’s on a huntin’ trip. He hasn’t been home in a few days.” He said with the most serious tone she has ever heard him use. “Are you sure he’s not just -,” She didn’t want to blatantly say ‘ignoring you’, but it wouldn’t be the first time. “No,” he interrupted her before she could find the right word. “He wouldn’t spend so much time without callin' or textin'. You have to help me find him.” “Dean…” she sighed. “Even if I did help you and we found him, I don’t think he’ll be very happy to see me… not after what I’ve said to him.” “That’s water under the bridge, Mila.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “I know you think he was disappointed in you, but he never was. Not even in Sammy. He was just scared.” “What are you talkin’ ‘bout?” “He was afraid of what could’ve happened to the two of you if he wasn’t around. But, even after you left and you weren’t talkin’, he used to swing by Stanford and your place whenever he could…  to make sure you were safe.” “How - Why haven’t you told me any of this? Have you talked to Sam?” Dean shrugged.  “It’s a two-way street. And he hasn’t been picking up his phone. So, are you gonna help me or what?” “Yeah, but we need to get Sammy too.”

Sam put up more of a fight when his siblings tried to convince him to go with them, especially because of his interview the following Monday, but Mila assured him they would make it back on time for that.

Sooner than later, the three Winchesters got in the Impala and started driving up to Jericho, California, where their dad had been working on a case for about a month.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

end note: i'm sorry i had to end it like that, but tumblr wouldn't let me include all the scenes i wanted for the first part so it made more sense to divide it there.

what do you think? did you like it? would you be interested in a part 2?

i know it's still pretty early, but do you like ila's character? what do you think about her relationship with the three winchesters?

thank you for taking the time to read it and if you liked it, please leave a reblog, like and/or a comment. i’d love to read your feeedback and interact with you ❤️

lots of love,

lina.

next part ⋆  series masterlist ⋆ complete masterlist ⋆ asks/requests

[lovelyflower23]

Imagine Takemichi having a little sister:

(Sailor Venus!OC x future Kakucho)

Warning: contain Tokyo Revengers spoilers 

Takemichi’s little sister would be a year younger than him like she’s in her last year of middle school (14) while Takamichi is in his first year of high school (15).

She’s in the same classes as Emma and Senju, and unlike Takamichi she is a star student.

She would be very yellow sailor moon Venus girl coded with blonde hair, blue eyes and a personality that is cheery, positive, childish, kind, and silly.

Definitely everyone has a soft spot for her, but a potential love interest would be Kakucho (it’s a cute childhood friend trope and she thinks he’s beautiful with his eye and scar.)

She would have a different closeness to everyone in the gang: Mitsuya makes her outfits that she models, Draken asks her for tool as she “helps” him repair bikes, Mikey and her eat sweets together, Chifuyu and her have cat play dates since she owns a white kitten.

She would have been there the moment Shin gave Takamichi his time leaper gift:

Takemichi marching in front of Minako

Takemichi: “Hurry your feet Deputy Hero! We have civilians to find in need of saving!”

Minako: “Right Michi-ankiki!”

Takemichi: “Mimi - I mean Deputy Hero, it's not michi-aniki. It’s Hero.”

Minako: “Okay Michi-aniki.”

Takemichi: “Mimi-chan!”

Minako: “I thought it was Deputy Hero? I don't think you know how to play “Hero” Hero.”

Takemichi sighs but then they hear a sound of a kid getting beat up and he dragged Minako to a playground where in the distance bullies are in front of Hina.

Minako: “Oh no aniki I think she’s in trouble!”

Takemichi: “Hero!” Runs in. “The Hero has arrived!”

Middle schoolers ganging up on a lone girl Not on Takamichi’s watch. 

Bully: “He’s shaking like shit.”

Bully​​ Two: “You think you’re hot shit, kid?”

Takemichi: “Shut up!”

But the bully dodges and trips Takemichi and kicks him, and fearful for her brother Minako looks around for help and spots Shinichiro. Shinichiro watching feels a tug on his pants to see Minako teary eyes.

Minako: “Mister you look strong please help my aniki! He’s just trying to be a hero!”

Shin: “Strong?” He does it because he doesn't want her to cry. “Oye-eee! Will you knock it off already!”

Bully: “What the hell do you want, bastard?”

Shinichiro punches a pole and scares them away.

Minako: “Wow mister you are strong!”

Shin: “Ha, yeah I guess.”

Minako: “You’re like a real hero, so brave and handsome.” 

Shin: “Hero… Wait, you think I’m handsome??” He wants to rub it in Mikey’s face but it's weird to flex about being called handsome by a child, a cute one tho. 

Takemichi: “How can I be strong? I want to be strong like you! Like a real hero!”

Shinichiro remembers his actions.

Shin: “A hero huh?” 

Minako: “Michi-aniki is not the strongest but he’s brave like one.”

Takemichi: “Mimi-chan…” He whimpers then hugs her. 

Shin: “It's okay not to be strong right now but you’re definitely going to be.” He looked at his hand. “I can give you this power if you want to protect and if all else fails use this power.”

Takemichi & Minako: “?” 

Shin: “See you around kids. Huh?” He kneels to Minako’s level. “Do you need something Princess?” He’s surprised by a thank you kiss on the cheek and hug from her. Shinichrio walks away with his chest lighter.

Takemichi: “That was weird, let's go home Mimi-chan… Mimi-chan?”

Minako: “Aniki, I'm going to marry someone just like the handsome Hero.” 

Takemichi: “MARRY!? Mimi-chan you’re too young!”

Minako: “Let’s go home Michi-aniki. Mama’s making dumplings.” 

Takemichi: “Get back here!”

It’s funny how that day became a distant memory, a blurry one, to Takemichi years later as he finds out about the death of his ex-girlfriend in his sad, loser apartment.

He hadn’t spoken to his little sister in a few years…almost like she was missing…

[jodeswrites]

Of Queens and Usurpers | Chapter One

Main Navi | HOTD Masterlist | Of Queens and Usurpers Index

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen II x Visenna Targaryen (sister!oc) Synopsis: In a shattered realm where the Greens have won a victory, Princess Visenna's fate is decreed: a political marriage to her brother, Aemond. In desperation, she ignited a forbidden spark with her broken king, Aegon II. As Alicent's control slips and Aemond's cold fury threatens to start a new war, Visenna and Aegon must fight to build a lasting legacy from the ashes. Word Count: 2,507

Chapter One - The Princess's Plea

The silence in her mother's apartments was thick with ghosts of the Red Keep. It was a silence Visenna Targaryen hated. It pressed against her ears and roared louder than any dragon in the Dragonpit. She stood before a high, narrow window, her back to the room, her fingers tracing the stone of the sill. Ten and six years old and she felt the weight of the world on her shoulders like a chainmail shroud.

Outside, King's Landing stank of slow renewal. The Dance of the Dragons was over. The words were said so often they had lost meaning, a hollow chant. The Dance is over. The King has won. Yet Visenna's family, the triumphant Greens, were a collection of broken things in a gilded cage.

Her mother, Queen Alicent, moved through the Red Keep like a stern, green-clad ghost, holding the bones of the realm together with sheer will and brittle prayers. Her brother, King Aegon the Second, sat the Iron Throne with a body as scarred as his spirit, seeking solace at the bottom of cups of Dornish wine. And Aemond... Aemond moved with a new, deliberate stiffness, his shattered body now mended but forever altered. The sapphire in his socket seemed to burn colder now.

"Visenna."

Her mother's voice cut through the silence. Visenna turned. Alicent stood by the great, oak table, her hands resting on a scroll. She looked older than her years these days. "Come. We must speak."

"Is it about the petition from the Reach?" Visenna asked, crossing the room. She tried to sound engaged, every inch the dutiful princess. "Ser Tyland said their grain stores-"

"It is about your future," Alicent interrupted, her gaze unwavering. "And the future of our house."

A cold trickle, like meltwater from the Blackwater, traced Visenna's spine. "My future?"

Alicent unrolled the scroll, thought Visenna knew she did not need to read its contents. They were etched in her mind. "The war cost us everything. Your father, your grandfather, your nephew, your brother and sister..." Helaena's fate was a wound too fresh. Alicent closed her eyes, steadying herself. "The line of succession is... perilous. Aegon sits the throne, but his heir is Jaehaera."

A sweet, shattered girl who jumped at shadows and spoke to spiders. The last child surviving of a union that had brought only grief.

"The realm will not accept another queen regnant," Alicent stated, the political reality as hard as iron. "Not after Rhaenyra. Not after the blood that was spilled over that very question. The precedent is set, however foul the means. The throne must pass through a male line."

Visenna's breath began to feel tight in her chest. "Aegon could remarry."

A flicker of profound exhaustion crossed Alicent's face. "He will not even entertain the notion. Between the wine and his injuries, it is... uncertain if he even could."

The vulgar truth, laid bare.

"That leaves Aemond," Alicent said, and the name hung in the air, inevitable as a sword's fall. "Aemond is the last viable Targaryen male. He secured our victory in the God's Eye. When Aegon's time is done, the throne will pass to him. But to secure the succession, to bind our claim with unassailable strength, he must marry and his heirs must be of pure Valyrian blood."

Alicent's eyes finally softened, a tragic softness. "It must be you, Visenna."

The world tilted. The stone floor beneath her seems wobbly. "Mother... no. He is my brother."

"You are Targaryens," Alicent replied. "Your father and I, we planned for Helaena and Aegon. This is no different. It is necessity. It is duty."

But it was different. Visenna had seen how Helaena shrivelled in Aegon's presence. They were not suited.

And Aemond... Aemond was not Aegon. Aegon's attentions had been an occasional neglect. Aemond's attentions were a constant pressure. Since she had bloomed into womanhood, his single eye had followed her with a intensity that made her skin prickle. His "kindness" felt like a branding. You are mine. He never said it, but she heard it in every word, saw it in every glance. His adoration was a cage, his possessiveness a shackle. To be bound to him, for life, to share his bed, to bear his children... It terrified Visenna.

"I cannot," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please, Mother. There must be another way. A cousin from across the sea..."

"There is no other way that keeps our family on the throne!" Alicent's composure cracked, her voice rising to a desperate hiss. "Do you think I want this for you? Do you think I am blind? I see how he looks at you." Visenna stepped back. Alicent smoothed her hands down her dress. "But he will protect you when I am gone. He will secure the blood of our house and he will do it with you by his side. It is all that matters now."

The finality in her mother's eyes extinguished Visenna's hope. Alicent had made her calculation, weighing her daughter's fear against the cold arithmetic of power.

Visenna fled. She did not run to her chambers. She ran through the serpentine passages of the Keep, her slippers whispering on stone, until she found herself outside the doors to the King’s solar. The two knights of the Kingsguard stiffened at her approach. She was dishevelled, her eyes wild.

"I must see my brother," she demanded, her voice hoarse.

"His Grace is not to be disturbed, Princess," one intoned.

"He will see me." She put every ounce of royal will she possessed into the words. Perhaps it was the ghost of her father in her face or the desperation in her eyes, but after a moment’s hesitation, the knight nodded and opened the door.

The stench hit her first: sour wine, unwashed bodies and the cloying scent of medicinal ointments. The solar was shrouded in gloom, heavy drapes drawn against the afternoon sun. Aegon the Second, the Conqueror Reborn, sat slumped in a high-backed chair by a dead fireplace. A goblet dangled from his fingers. He was gaunt, the handsome youth burned away by fire and grief, leaving a craggy, pain-ridden man of three and twenty. His unkept silver-gold hair falling over eyes that were glassy and distant.

"Who dares…?" he slurred, then squinted. "Little sister? Have you come to scold me for skipping council again? Tell Mother I’m contemplating the realm’s… the realm’s…"

"I am to be married," Visenna said, the words bursting from her.

Aegon blinked slowly. "Good. Fine. You should be. Pretty thing like you. Get you out of this… this... whatever this is." He took a long drink.

"They are giving me to Aemond."

The goblet stopped halfway to his lips. For a long moment, the only sound was a drip of wine hitting the Myrish rug. Aegon’s bloodshot eyes focused, sharpening from a drunkard’s haze into something darker, more alert. A muscle twitched in his jaw. Then, deliberately, he drained the cup and reached for the flagon. "So? He’s a prince. You’re a princess. Targaryens wed. It’s what we do." He poured, his movements careful, too careful.

Visenna stepped closer, the desperation breaking like a wave inside her. "He believes I belong to him. He always has. You know this. Mother says it is for the succession, because Jaehaera is a girl and you will not remarry."

Aegon let out a bitter, wet chuckle. "Smart man, my brother. Knows what he wants." He swirled the wine, not looking at her. "It solves a problem. Let him have it. Let him have the throne and you with it. I’m tired of problems."

This was going all wrong. He was supposed to be angry, to be protective, to be… a king. He was her last hope. The truth, the dangerous, secret truth she had guarded since she first understood the flutter in her chest when he smiled, broke free.

"I have always loved you."

The words fell into the stale air, stark and undeniable.

Aegon’s head snapped up. His gaze locked onto hers, the drunkenness burned away in an instant by a shock so profound it was almost comical.

Visenna pressed on, the dam broken. "When I was a girl, it was you I followed. You I dreamed of. Not him. Never him. And I know… I know you were wed to Helaena. I know I was too young. But I am not young now." She took a final, trembling step, her voice dropping to a whisper. "If you have ever cared for me, even a little, you will not let them do this. You are the king. Stop it."

For a heartbeat, she saw it. A fire, long buried, flickered in the depths of his sunken eyes. It was jealousy, yes, raw and possessive. It was memory of a time before the war, before the scars, when he was a careless prince and she was a bright-eyed child who adored him. It was something akin to hunger. Then, as if a shutter dropped, it vanished. His face smoothed into a mask of royal indifference. He looked away, back to his wine.

"Leave me, Visenna."

The dismissal was a physical blow. She stood frozen, humiliation and despair washing over her hotter than dragonfire. She had laid her soul bare before a man who had none left to give. Without another word, she turned and fled the room, the sound of his renewed drinking following her into the hall.

Time became a blur of silent tears and cold dread. Her maids prepared her for bed, their faces pitying and wary. They knew. The whole keep would know by now. She dismissed them, wanting only the merciful silence of her chambers. She stood in her shift by the window, watching the torches flicker in the yard below, feeling like a prisoner awaiting execution.

A soft knock at the door.

"Go away," she called, her voice thick.

The door opened anyway. Aegon stood there, framed in the torchlight of the corridor. He was sober, or as close to it as he ever came. The drunken slouch was gone, replaced by a tense rigidity. He had changed his tunic, and his hair was damp, as if he had dunked his head in a basin. He stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind him.

Visenna pulled a robe around herself, her heart a frantic drum. "What do you want?"

He didn’t speak at first. He paced a short track on her carpet, his boots soundless. He looked at her things - the books, the lute, the portrait of their family painted in happier times - as if he’d never seen them. "You told Mother you refused," he stated.

"She did not listen."

"You came to me."

"You did not listen either."

He stopped pacing and faced her. The mask was gone. In its place was a raw, unnerving intensity. "I listened." He took a step closer. "You said you loved me."

Visenna held her ground, lifting her chin. "A foolish girl’s confession to a king who only loves his wine."

A ghost of his old, crooked smile touched his lips. "The king is tired of wine." He ran a hand through his damp hair, the gesture agitated. "You were right. About Aemond. About the succession. About… all of it." He let out a short, hard breath. "I went to Mother. I told her to stop the wedding."

Hope, fragile and dizzying, burst in Visenna’s chest. "And?"

"She asked me how. How could it be stopped, without inviting chaos? Without insulting Aemond. I gave her reasons of state, of… of stability. She looked at me as if I were still a child hiding behind her skirts." His eye twitched. "There is only one way to stop it, Visenna. One reason Aemond could not contest. One solution that answers every question of blood and succession."

He closed the final distance between them. He smelled of soap and the faint, lingering scent of iron and smoke that never left him. His hands came up, not to grab her, but to hover at her shoulders, as if she were a dragon he feared to startle.

"Marry me."

The world stopped. The words hung in the air, not as a question, but as a stark, terrifying proposition.

"You… you refused to even consider remarrying," she breathed.

"I was considering the wrong bride." His eyes searched her face, desperately seeking something - agreement, absolution, perhaps just an echo of his own madness. "It solves everything. The realm gets a queen of pure blood. The succession is secured through me, the sitting king, not a brother. And Aemond…" His jaw tightened. "Aemond cannot have what is the king’s."

What is the king’s. The words should have chilled her. Instead, they ignited a defiant fire. It was escape. It was victory. It was the fulfillment of a forbidden dream, twisted and born of desperation, but real.

"You would do this? Defy Mother? Defy Aemond?"

"I am the king," he said, and for the first time since his coronation, it sounded like a fact, not a burden. "I let them steer me through the war. I let them pick my wife, my council, my battles. I let them have my children, my dragon…" His voice cracked. He swallowed, his gaze burning into hers. "I will not let them have you."

He was broken, cruel, unpredictable, a shell of a man clinging to a throne of swords. But in this moment, he was hers. And she had loved the man he might have been for so long, it was easy to pour that love onto the wreckage that remained.

"You said you loved me," he whispered, his voice rough. "Was it just a trick to sway me?"

She looked up at him, at the scars, the pain, the desperate need in his eyes that mirrored her own. She thought of Aemond’s cold sapphire stare, his crushing possession. She thought of a lifetime as a broodmare for a man who saw her as a prize. Then she thought of this - a shared throne, a chance to heal a broken king and save herself.

"No," she said, her voice finally steady. "It was not a trick."

Relief, profound and shocking, washed over his face. He leaned closer, his breath warm against her lips. "Then say you will be my queen."

It was madness. It would ignite a different kind of war within their own walls. Alicent would rage. Aemond… she dared not think of Aemond’s wrath. But it was her choice. Her rebellion.

"Yes," she breathed.

The word was still hanging in the air when his lips met hers.

It was not a gentle kiss. It was a seal. A claim. It tasted of wine and desperation and a bitter, bloody victory. It was the first move in a new, more intimate dance of dragons. And as Visenna kissed him back, pouring every ounce of her fear, her hope, and her long-held love into it, she knew with certainty:

The war was not over. It had only just begun.

[54fangirl]

Can’t Wait (Pt. 2)

Requested: [Y]/N - “Can I get a FP Jones imagine ... and if you want add a part where they’re both raising their kid? Please” + 6 requests for Part 2.

Summary: She’s been pregnant, her boyfriend has been in prison, her family was on the outs, what was she supposed to do? Have her baby and make the family she wants to be in, that’s what.

Pairings: FP Jones x Andrews!Reader

Words: 2751

Warnings: Swearing, pregnancy (ADULT PREGNANCY. NONE OF YOU TEENAGE HOOLIGANS), I feel like children aren’t a warning but warning there’s a kid in this one (and I think she’s fucking cute)

A/N: This took so much longer than I thought it would, again. And of course, it wound up being a lot longer than I originally intended. And, super lowkey, if anyone wants, I’d be interested in writing a blurb or two with the kid being a teenager or something, but y’all gotta show interest (sorry, not sorry)

Disclaimer: I do not own Riverdale (CW) or any of its characters.

Part 1 => Part 2

“Well,” Y/N looked down and rubbed the small bump of her protruding stomach, “looks like daddy is coming home. I know he’s just gonna flip when he hears the news. But it’s okay, baby girl, he’s not going anywhere, soon we’ll all be together and I can’t wait.”

***

Jughead and Betty were working on the bar being set up for FP’s retirement party. Y/N doubted with her whole heart that he was giving this up. The serpents? They were his family, his legacy.

Y/N was sat in her trailer, not really wanting to get up and do anything. It was the first time she’d really been on her own. When there was no brother running around for her to keep her eye on and no dad to worry about, she found she really had a lot of free time.

Free time gave her a lot of time to think.

She was pregnant with FP’s kid, yes. But she hadn’t really thought past that. As of last night, he was going to be in jail, for a while to say the least. But now he was coming home.

Where was home exactly?

Originally it had been her dad’s house, with her brother and her dad and Vegas. Then it was FP’s trailer with him on the occasions she was able to sneak away for hours at a time so she could just lie around with him. Now it appeared to be her practically empty trailer with her unborn daughter.

How was she supposed to split a kid between three different homes?

Well, two now I guess… she thought back to how her dad hadn’t fought her once on moving out. How he hadn’t even been home when she was packing all of her stuff.

Regardless, she didn’t think about the living situation.

It’s why she’d gotten her own trailer, it wasn’t fair to just assume that once her dad kicked her out that she could just immediately move in where she felt at home.

Jughead still lived in his dad’s trailer, and as far as Y/N knew he was going to continue to do so, even with FP coming back.

I can’t just expect him to move in here either, that’s his trailer originally.

Having all these thoughts attack her reminded her why she never let herself have free time before.

She called Toni.

“What’s up girl?”

“I need help decorating my place…” Y/N whined.

Toni laughed, “Alright, I’ll be over soon and we can do some stuff.”

“My Savior.”

Y/N loved Toni like the little sister she never had. The pink haired girl was the first person Y/N told about her love affair with FP last year.

***

“C’mon, Y/N, you’re here all the time. You have to be coming here for someone.”

“How do you know I’m not here for you?” Y/N smirked and winked.

Toni laughed, “Well for one, I’m underage and I know that isn’t your type.”

The two laughed. There was an eight year age difference between you and your brother’s age group, but Y/N always felt like Toni was mature enough to handle being actual friends with a 24-year-old.

“But seriously- you come in for one beer, wait like ten minutes, then disappear into the back…” Toni trailed off, but you didn’t dare fill in those blanks for her.

It wasn’t illegal by any means, but both Y/N and FP had understood how wrong the relationship would look in the eyes of the public. A 48-year-old man and a girl half his age, not exactly front page news, but in a small town like Riverdale they might as well be mass murders.

“What’s your point, Topaz?”

“I’m just trying to say if you’re...I don’t know, hooking up with someone, maybe you shed a little light on the scenario for you’re good friend Toni Topaz.”

Just as she finished speaking, you saw FP descend the stairs, scanning the room, and wander into the back. But not before making eye contact with you first and nodding his head to follow him.

“Maybe someday, Topaz,” She rose from her bar stool and handed her empty beer glass to her friend with a smirk, “but not today..”

She followed FP to the backroom where they had originally found the shred of privacy that began their relationship.

Toni didn’t find out that night but she did find out a few weeks later when Y/N was panicking about it all.

She’d come directly as Toni’s shift started, knowing FP wouldn’t be there for at least a couple hours.

“Hey, Y/N, I never see you here this early.”

“Yeah, well, I’m in the mood to drink and possibly ‘shed a little light’?” She mocked her friend’s comment from before.

Toni threw the rag down on the bar, served the girl a beer and positioned herself to listen.

Y/N went into detail about how she had known this guy basically her entire life, he always took care of her, and never questioned why she got into the shit she got into.

“It’s like growing up with the person who does everything for you and when you grow up you just kind of...idolize them, unintentionally.” She explained. “Idolize is the wrong word- no, I guess it’s not. I saw him as this super-person who just knew everything I needed and took care of it without hesitation.”

“Sounds like a keeper. Why haven’t I met him?”

Y/N scratched the back of her neck and dodged the question.

“The problem is, now that we’re together...we’re not really together.”

“I….don't get it. Like friends with benefits?”

“Kinda, but with more feelings. It’s more like we’re in a whole relationship, we just weren’t meant to be together so we can’t actually have the whole shebang.”

“Shebang?”

“I stand by what I said.” Y/N took a sip of her beer.

“Okay, so you’re together- but it’s like a forbidden romance sort of thing so while you’re together you can never truly be fully together.”

“Yeah.”

“Shit, Y/N/N. Can I ask who it is?” She hesitated, now getting the full sense of the relationship’s vibe.

Y/N pounded down the rest of her beer and passed the glass back to Toni.

“It’s FP,” She muttered.

Toni dropped that glass, shattered it.

***

Y/N was web browsing baby furniture while waiting for Toni.

Maybe it wouldn’t be all bad like she thought. Maybe there’d be some good times.

No. There will be some good times, she asserted.

She’s having a baby, regardless of her relationship with FP, she’s still having his baby. And having a baby brings so many good things, that she’s only mildly panicking about the bad ones.

Before she can go into a full on panic that her baby has the mild chance of being born with some incurable disease, there’s a knock on her door.

“Alright, so I know it’s kind of old fashioned but what if we just went to a baby store in Greendale or something and looked around,” Toni suggested as she walked through the door.

Y/N let out a watery laugh, screw pregnancy hormones.

Toni noticed and saw the tears forming in her friend’s eyes, “Or not, we can online shop from the comfort of your trailer too.”

Y/N laughed again before sniffling, “No, we should go to some baby store, I like that idea.”

“Then why are you crying?” Toni tried to joke.

“Because I was sending myself into a panic and then you showed up and saved me and I’m just remembering how often you do that for me. I appreciate you so much,” Tears were freely flowing down her face now and Toni walked over to hug her.

“Okay, I appreciate you too, hon. Now let’s get to baby shoppin’.”

***

The whole day was eaten up by Y/N and Toni just window shopping through the baby sections of so many different stores they lost count.

“We should probably head back soon, the party at the Wyrm…”

“Oh shit! FP!” Y/N made a mad dash for the car, Toni chasing after her.

“What? That’s where we’re going, right?”

“Yeah, but when we were talking on the phone he said he’d come to my trailer as soon as he got to the Southside, and it’s not like I could’ve texted him that I was going out baby shopping with you, so…” Y/N panted as they came to a stop, a little out of breath from running to the car.

“So he might be wondering where you are?”

“Yeah, and I think we both know how fun a worried FP is.”

Toni laughed, “Yeah, that’s fair, I’ll text Jughead just in case they already got them.”

They drove back to town, the radio humming along.

“Okay, Jughead said don’t worry... Alice Cooper took them to lunch?” Toni said, questioning it already.

“Alice Cooper. Like Southside enemy number one Alice Cooper? FP’s old flame, that Alice Cooper?”

“Old flame?” Toni tried to stifle a giggle.

“Yes, I’m old people, I use old-timey lingo.”

“You’re 25,” her friend reasoned.

“Okay, but that’s still older than you.”

“Sure, but to answer your question: yes. That Alice Cooper.”

“K.” Y/N tried not to hold any hard feelings, but it was hard when she knew what the two used to be to each other.

***

Y/N drove the two straight to the Wyrm, Toni letting Jughead know they went there instead of the trailer.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Toni said.

“Me too, why would it be something? Just because they were in love in high school and still constantly flirt to this day even though they were both married and had kids, I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Y/N didn’t like to acknowledge FP’s marriage considering it was technically still in place.

“Well, as long as you’re not hyper-focusing on it or anything…” Toni said sarcastically, earning herself a punch in the arm.

Walking into the bar it was mostly all decorated but to her surprise, Archie was there with Veronica setting up the remaining decorations.

“Archie?” He flipped around.

“Y/N!”

Dropping down off the ladder, he ran over to his sister and engulfed her in a bone-crushing hug.

“I was hoping you’d show up here.”

“Yeah? Is that how you got roped into decorating?” She laughed.

“Nah, while I don’t completely get you and FP, he’s still Jug’s dad and- y’know, he’s been around our entire lives. I figured I could at least help set up his retirement party.”

The two talked while Archie hung streamers, Veronica popping over.

“I know it’s kind of rude, but can I ask how far along you are?” She wondered hesitantly.

“Uh, yeah, I’m just about 4 months along.”

“Oh, that’s so exciting! Are you having a shower?”

Y/N knew Veronica helped Betty set up Polly’s baby shower, but she didn’t want her brother’s girlfriend’s pity.

“Yeah, I might with some of the serpent girls…”

“Oh yay!”

They talked for a bit while the teens continued to decorate, but soon enough people were showing up for the party.

***

The moment she’d been waiting for.

Y/N was sitting at the bar, talking to Toni when the bar erupted in cheers. Tall Boy’s voice carrying the farthest.

“The man of the hour, ladies and gents, FP Jones!”

Everything seemed to slow down. She turned on her stool and found his face in the crowd.

She’d seen him regularly throughout his time, keeping him updated on the appointments, but he still seemed older and more worn down. She expected nothing less though, he went to prison. It wasn’t like he was going to come out the other side unscathed. But it was still hard to know the man she loved went through this suffering relatively alone.

He was smiling at the crowd surrounding him, talking to his friends when he spotted her. The grin he had on grew into a genuine smile that looked it might just break his face.

Tears sprung out of her eyes as she hopped off the bar stool and ran towards him.

Arms thrown around each other, they clung to each other. As if the other would disappear if they let go for even a second. She felt alone in that moment; as if everyone in the bar ceased to exist beyond her and FP.

Archie watched his sister erupt into tears and launch herself at the man she loved. He knew his dad would never see them like this, clinging to each other, the love they have pulling them together. He still can’t say he understands it, but seeing how happy his sister was and how right she felt in this life, he knew he didn’t have to understand it. Because it wasn’t for him, it was for them.

***

“FP’s been arrested,” Y/N told Jughead at the front door.

Laughter could be heard from within the trailer.

“No! Daddy, you can’t leave, you’re in jail!” A small voice whined from down the hall.

Jughead laughed as he followed her inside. FP wandered down the hall.

“Jug, my boy!”

Little footsteps thundered down the hall, “Juggy!”

“Hey, Barbie!” Jughead kneeled to embrace his 5-year-old half-sister, wrapping his arms around her and swinging her up into the air.

The little girl’s laughter filled the room, bringing smiles to the three adults faces.

It took a while for Jughead to come around to the idea of Y/N and his dad, simply because, like Fred, it was two people he’d known his entire life and it felt like a sort of betrayal. But, like Archie, Jughead saw how happy the two were together and how right they felt together, and he couldn’t be the one to break it up. Despite Archie’s best efforts, Fred still can’t accept the couple, but he doesn’t voice his thoughts in exchange for getting to watch his granddaughter grow up. It’s not exactly where Y/N thought she’d be at 30, but she’s pretty happy with what she’s got.

“As I was saying before, it appears FP can’t go with you on your trip because he’s been arrested.”

“Oh yeah?” Jughead looked to his right to face the girl on his hip who was now pointedly looking away from him.

“Now he can’t go and you can’t too because daddy’s not going so you can’t go either,” the young girl announced, positive she’d found a solution.

Jughead looked back to the couple with a mischevious look on his face, then said in all seriousness, “Well it looks like we’re gonna have to have a prison break then.”

“I’ll call Toni and the other Serpents,” Y/N played along, running off to pretend to find her phone.

“Alright, dad, you should probably hit the road, the cops are gonna be looking all over for you.”

“On it.” FP dashed to the back of the trailer, following Y/N and leaving his kids alone.

Jughead set his sister down, “Alright, Dahlia, you get the most important job, you need to run into your room and pack a bunch of your clothes.”

“Why?”

“Why? Well obviously if dad and I are going on the run we have to bring you and your mom.”

“Really?!”

“Of course! We’re Jones’! We’ve got to stick together, otherwise, who would we have?”

Dahlia ran back to her room in the trailer and found her backpack already packed, a card that said surprise on it was sitting on her bed next to the luggage.

FP and Jughead had a tradition of driving up the coast each year. After they did it the day after FP was released from prison, they just kept doing it, using it as a time for them to reconnect.

Considering Dahlia wasn’t born yet for the first trip, and she was just a baby for the others, it didn’t really affect the plans. She was confused as to why dad was gone, but he was back before she knew it and she never remembered, so it wasn’t a problem. But this year when the father and son started making plans, the younger girl was having none of it. Since then the three adults have been secretly planning the trip, this year including plans for the mother and daughter to come along.

Running back out to the front room of the trailer, Dahlia found her family with their light luggage for the small trip.

“C’mon baby girl, you know I’m not going anywhere without you,” FP stuck his hand out for his daughter to grab on to, ready to lead her to the car. “Are you ready?”

She gripped his fingers in hers and beamed at her father, “I can’t wait.”

[steves-on-a-plane]

The Volatile Waynes

Words: 1384 Pairing: None Cast Of Characters: Bruce Wayne, Sister!O.C., Alfred Pennyworth Summary: Bruce Wayne has had enough of his younger sister wasting her life sneaking into clubs and partying all night. Things finally come to a head during lunch one afternoon. 

"Maddi? Are you still asleep?" Bruce Wayne whispered from just outside his sister's bedroom door. She didn't answer, so he cracked the door open. "Mad, it's the middle of the afternoon." There was still no response. He swung open the door to find his sister sleeping soundly in her bed. "C'mon, you can't sleep all day." He strode across the room and nudged her gently. She just swatted his hand away and rolled over.

"Madeline Wayne, get up!" In one swift motion, he pulled layers of blankets off his younger sister. She shivered.

"What do you want from me, Bruce?" She groaned.

"I want you to get out of bed." He stared down at her, still in the dress she had worn out that night. Most of her make-up had rubbed off, but there was a track of mascara running down her cheek. Madeline rolled over and rubbed her eyes.

"But it's so early." She blinked up at him. He was wearing one if his best suits. Expensive and grey, it made his eyes look stormy. He typically saved that suit for important business deals because of the intensity it brought out in him.

"It's one in the afternoon, Madeline." He told her through gritted teeth.

"Then shouldn't you be at work?" She dragged herself into a sitting position and ran a hand through her hair.

"I was at work. Until I got a phone call from Alfred asking if I wouldn't mind stopping by the house to make sure you weren't dead."

"So dramatic." Madeline giggled. This wasn't the first time they had this conversation, though coming home from work in the middle of the day was a new variant. She looked over at her nightstand where she knew a glass of water and a few ibuprofen would be waiting. "Just go back to work." She said, reaching for the medicine.

"I'm not just going back to work. Clean yourself up and come down to lunch."

"Sure thing, Dad!" Bruce had been on his way out of the room when his sister shot off her mouth. He paused in the doorway but decided against opening up that old wound again.  

It took a great deal of effort for Madeline to get herself out of bed. It wasn't as if she didn't already realize she was the sole disappointment of the Wayne legacy. All of Gotham knew about Thomas and Martha's efforts to restore Gotham to its former glory. When they died, the eyes of the city were turned to their children. Eight-year-old Bruce and four-year-old Madeline. She had tried fit into the mold that had been laid out for her. In school, she studied hard and it paid off with exceptional grades. She was active too with her hands in nearly every social club possible. But as she flourished, Bruce only seemed to become more successful. Like their father, Bruce was a natural with business.

Unaware of the pressure his sister was putting on herself, he was also trying to leave a legacy his parents would be proud of. Bruce and Maddi were once very close despite their four-year age difference. As they got older a schism seemed to form. He barely knew who she was now. Nineteen years old sneaking into clubs and getting so drunk she could barely find her way home at night. Alfred had thought it was simply a phase at first. After all, Bruce was known to have his fair share of rough nights, Especially at that age. But now, even the family butler was worried.

Freshly showered and dressed in leggings and an oversized t-shirt, Madeline made her way downstairs. From the base of the main staircase she could hear Bruce on the phone, most likely on a work-related call. He can't lecture me, if he's on the phone with someone else. She decided, and made her way into the dining room.

"Ah Ms. Wayne, you've decided to join the land of the living at last." Alfred quipped as his youngest charge slid into her usual place at the table.

"Only the good die young, Alf." She replied with a smirk.

"I should appreciate it if you would keep that sentiment to yourself Miss Wayne. In truth, it is the foolish who die young."

"So Mom and Dad were foolish then?" The smirk disappeared from her face. Alfred knew better than to engage with Madeline on the subject of her parents. Aside from the fact that she thoroughly enjoyed arguing any point to exhaustion, the subject of Mr. and Mrs. Wayne always sparked a disagreement between the siblings. Across the table Bruce was still on the phone. He was talking, it seemed, to his secretary.

"Caroline, the man is the CEO of a toy company! If he doesn't understand that family comes first, I'm not sure Wayne Enterprises should be doing business with him any way. Yes, please do tell him that I said that...No, I don't know when I'll be available to reschedule...Caroline, please just work your magic alright? Thank you." Bruce ended his call with a frustrated tap.

"My apologies Miss Wayne. It was not my intention to make light of your tragedy. Lunch will be served momentary." Alfred excused himself from the room, leaving Bruce alone to glare at his sister.

"Why do you have to say things like that to him?" He groaned. "You know as well as I do, it tortures him to hear you talk about them like that." Maddi didn't have an answer. Of course she knew it tortured Alfred. He had been a part of the family long before the death of her parents. He always seemed to know the right thing to say and he was always around when he was needed. There was no logical reason for her to torment the butler the way she had for the past fifteen years.

"I don't know what you expect from me, Bruce. I was four years old. I was home with the butler because I had the flu."

"So now you blame Alfred? Same old Madeline," Bruce folded his arms over his chest. "Nothing is ever your fault!"

"Let me make something perfectly clear, I still blame you for what happened to them!" She pointed a well manicured finger at his heart. "If you hadn't made such a big deal about me getting 'all of the attention' Mom wouldn't have taken you out for a special trip to the movie theater and they would both still be here."

"I was eight years old Maddi!" Bruce exclaimed jumping to his feet. "You can't hold a grudge over the petty jealousy of an eight-year-old!"

"I was four!" She snarled, now standing up as well. "Four years old. I had a fever of a 102! Alfred woke me up in the middle of the night, but I was too sick to understand what was even happening! At least you were old enough to remember them!"

"You forget them on purpose!" Bruce burst out. "Drinking away your problems! Squandering responsibilities! Be glad that you can't remember them, because you're such a disappointment to their memory, the guilt alone would crush you!"

A beat past and neither spoke. There they stood, the volatile Waynes; each glaring at the other from across the table. Fists clenched, lines drawn. Hate mounting with every new churning thought. Too long the pressure had been building, childhood pettiness had grown into adult resentment. It was a recipe for disaster.  

"I despise you." Madeline spat. She turned on her heels and stormed out of the room. Bruce chased after her.

"Where are you going?"

"The movies! Ha, wouldn't that be ironic?" She said, ascending the main staircase. "Maybe I'll head over to the Iceberg Lounge? Or maybe Disneyland! Anywhere's better than here!" She disappeared from view when she reached the top of the stairs.

"You are actually the worst person in the entire world!" He hollered, not caring if she could hear him or not. But she reappeared at the top of the staircase with her purse and a jacket in her hands.

"That's rich considering the man who murdered our parents is probably still running around somewhere!" She scoffed, climbing down the stairs. "Have a nice life!" She called over her shoulder as she stepped out the front door.

[linaslore]

spn ⋆ the middle sister [part 2]

sam & dean winchester x oc!sister

but first, read part one to catch up.

author's note: i loved writing this part bc u can truly see mila's personality and the dynamics with her brothers.

warnings/tags: canon divergence; spn canon violence | angst; platonic fluff | mentions of injuries, blood, death, grief, john winchester | language.

⭐️ pics aren’t mine, credits to their owners.

🚫 please do not copy, repost or translate my work without my permission.

without further ado, enjoy, my loves! 🩷

It only took a few days on the road for the Winchester siblings to fall back into their familiar routine: inspecting crime scenes; talking to the victims, their families, or other locals; researching old news articles and lore, and killing as many sons of bitches as they could. 

In between cases, they also tried to keep track of John’s footsteps, by following the coordinates he sometimes sent.

One day, while they were at a motel in Pennsylvania, they received a big box addressed to Agent Ted Nugent, Dean’s usual FBI fake badge.  Mila found it outside their door when she first stepped out of the room to get her first cup of coffee of the day. “Hey guys! Look!” She called her brothers as she read the little note attached to the box. “I think it’s a package from Dad.” She kneeled to lift it up, but it was a bit heavier than she'd anticipated. “God, it’s heavy.” She let out a frustrated sigh and let Sam and Dean carry the box inside. “Must be his hopes and dreams for us.”

Despite their time apart, not even after a week together, Sam had already teased Dean at least three or four times about his ‘outdated cassette collection’. And on each occasion, the eldest would remind him of his famous ‘driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole’ rule. Mila witnessed her brothers’ bickering from the backseat of the Impala while she nursed a cup of coffee and read the newspapers for any information relevant to the case at hand.

Once, when they stopped at a diner, Mila was craving some pie, but Dean had already paid for their food with his (or Hector Aframian’s) card and was already inside the Impala discussing something with Sam about the roadmap. She discreetly went back inside the diner and started talking to the lovely old lady who owned the place. Mila asked her about her grandchildren, her life in general, and in one of her clever moves, she casually mentioned it was her birthday. Francis, in an act of true kindness, gifted her a piece of cherry pie, her favorite.

When Dean saw his sister approaching the car with the sweet treat, he tried to steal some, but she was quick to smack his hand away.  “It’s my birthday gift, Deano.” “No, it’s not. It isn’t until two months.” He retorted, his eyebrows knitting together. “Francis doesn’t have to know that”. Sam shook his head at his sister. “Do you think it’s right to trick that old lady into giving you free food?” “Baby brother, what is right anyway?” Mila replied while grabbing a bite of her pie. “Y’know… who defines right actually? And if eating pie is wrong, I don’t wanna be right.” “Amen, sister,” Dean exclaimed, a proud smirk appearing on his face. Sam rolled his eyes at both of them.

Needless to say, Mila had both brothers wrapped around her nail-polished fingers.

One morning after a rough hunt, Dean was still dead asleep. He’d spent the night at a bar ‘blowing off some steam’. But by 9 am, Sam had managed to find a case in a town three hours away from their current location, so he asked Mila to wake Dean up while he quickly headed out to get some breakfast to take on the road. Mila grinned mischievously as she plopped down on the narrow free space on the bed beside her brother. He was lying on his stomach, completely knocked out, his mouth slightly open. “Dean… wake up.” She nudged him on the shoulder several times. “I have a huge dilemma that I need your opinion on.” “What?” He groaned, rubbing his face into the pillow, his voice muffled. “Am I more beautiful today than I was yesterday?” She asked nonchalantly, twirling the ends of her long hair. “Son of a b-” He muttered, dragging the pillow over his head. He didn’t feel like dealing with her nonsense this early. “I’m just not sure. I looked in the mirror, and I thought, ‘Well, yes, definitely, huge improvement’.” “Can you quit it and let me sleep?” Dean’s tone dripped with annoyance. Mila ignored his request, snatched the pillow, and threw it across the room. “Then I thought maybe it’s not that I’m more beautiful today. Maybe I was just as beautiful yesterday… only I lacked the self-esteem to recognize it.” She emphasized the last part by poking Dean’s cheek. Dean scoffed, abandoning any hope of having five more minutes of sleep, and got up from the bed. “I’m gonna take a shower.” He muttered, his voice thick with irritation. Just as Dean reached for his duffel bag, Sam swung the front door of their room open. “Breakfast’s here” He said as he held out a cup towards Dean. “No, thanks.” “Why so charming this morning?” Sam's eyebrows knitted together, but a hint of amusement could be detected in his voice. “I had an annoying visit from the Winchester wake-up fairy,” Dean grumbled before padding towards the bathroom and slamming the door shut. Mila smirked at Sam from the bed, clearly proud of herself. Sam shook his head, biting back a smile as he handed her the coffee. At least now he wasn’t the only victim of their sister’s shenanigans. Another day, the Winchester siblings stopped at a gas station for snacks. Dean stayed in the car while Sam and Mila went in. They grabbed a couple of chips, chocolates, and a protein bar, and while they were waiting in line to pay, Mila grabbed a magazine full of puzzles and other brain teasers. “I hate crossword puzzles.” She said as she huffed. “They make me feel stupid.” “Then don’t do them,” Sam replied flatly, already bracing himself for whatever twist his sister was about to deliver. “No… you see, if you don’t do them, you’re not only stupid. You’re also a coward.” She said while she flipped the page in the same know-it-all tone Sam was sometimes guilty of using. Sam sighed at a loss for words. Thankfully, the cashier called them forward before he had to come up with something to say.

However, Mila wasn't just the comedic relief in her brother’s lives. She was an amazing hunter – ok, maybe slightly better –, and her brothers's rock.

She comforted Sammy after Jess’ passing. She let him rest his head on her lap while he bawled his eyes out as she gently caressed his back and played with a few strands of his hair. She couldn’t help shedding a few tears of her own. Not only because she genuinely liked Jess and mourned the potential sister she had seen in her, but also for her little brother. He didn’t deserve any of this suffering.

She also sat with Dean on some occasions, usually in the middle of the night, sometimes in a dark motel room, or some others on the hood of the Impala, when she saw his hope of finding their dad alive faltering. She reassured him with a kind hand squeeze and a toothless smile, just like he used to comfort her when she was a little girl.

Mila also found a lot of comfort in her brothers. Yes, she often found herself playing mediator when Sam and Dean’s opinions acted like water and oil, but her presence and thoughts were rarely overlooked.

Sam and Dean had an unspoken agreement to protect Mila. They knew she could handle herself, but, in their eyes, she was the best of them. So, if anyone even attempted to mess with her, they’d find her brothers already standing there, guns ready, daring them to make the first move.

They had also developed a sixth sense to realize when she wasn’t doing well. It wasn’t rocket science, though. Whenever Mila was sick or unhappy, she usually got really quiet. The storm of thoughts racing in and out of her head was pretty noticeable too.

Dean, not being great at talking about feelings – or so he claimed–, preferred sliding the cassette box and telling her to pick one to listen to (the only occasion where he broke his sacred music rule). Sometimes, he’d even go far enough to share some of his food or let her drive Baby. 

Sam was more of the ‘let’s talk about our feelings’ kind of guy, so he’d sit with her and start coaxing her thoughts out of her. Especially when the hunts went south, and not everyone made it back safely. He’d remind her that it wasn’t her fault and that sometimes saving everyone was impossible. Sometimes, that was just it – she’d give him an acknowledging small smile, and she’d try to talk about something else. Other times, she’d be too far into her own mind, so Sam would just sit there with her, keeping her company and holding her hand in quiet reassurance. 

One day, after months of searching, they finally found John – or better said, he found them.

When they opened the door to their motel room after a tough encounter with the black-eyed bitch Meg, they found someone standing in the dark, looking out of the window. The person turned around and their hearts skipped a beat. It was their father. The three of them stood there, frozen in their places, questioning whether this was real or if somehow they had gotten a collective contusion and were having hallucinations. “Dad?” Dean was the first to speak, his eyes glassier. “Hey, boys. Hey, princess.” Dean instantly walked towards John and gave him a tight hug. Surprisingly, John returned it. Sam and Mila exchanged an incredulous look. Then, John took a look at his younger children, taking in how much they had grown up in their four years apart. “Hi, Sam…Mila.” They talked about the previous fight with the demon, about how John had figured it was a trap, and how the demon that killed Mary was aware he was on his way to kill it. However, true to his nature, John didn’t provide much more detail. Then, Sam suggested they go with him to hunt this demon but John refused, arguing he didn’t want them to get caught in the crossfire. Mila watched how the scene unfolded without saying anything, as if she were just a person watching some characters reciting their lines in a TV show. When John whispered, with tears in his eyes, that he was the one who had to protect them because he was their father, she saw a glimpse of the loving father he used to be. Sam and Dean seemed to have seen it too. “Listen, Sammy, Mila… Last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight.” “Yes, sir.” They were both quick to reply. John nodded and then bowed his head, sniffling. “It’s good to see the two of you again. It’s been a long time.”  “Too long,” Mila whispered while Sammy nodded at their words. John gave each of them a tight hug as well, and more tears were spilled on all sides. Dean watched them with a tiny smile, feeling relieved that his father and siblings were starting to mend their relationship.  Then, out of nowhere, John was shoved against the wall by an invisible force and the sentimental family reunion was shattered to pieces.

⋆ ｡ﾟ ☁︎ ｡ ⋆ ｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

end note: i had to split this into different parts again because it was too long, plz don't hate me!! anyways, mila: you're a true icon.

thank you for taking the time to read it and if you liked it, please leave a reblog, like and/or a comment. i’d love to read your feeedback and interact with you ❤️

lots of love,

lina.

previous part ⋆ next part ⋆  series masterlist ⋆ complete masterlist ⋆ asks/requests