#(though ironically only one of said cousins was named after our grandpa. the other was named after his dad who married in to the family)

[yardsards]

mostly joking toh theory: amity and emira are both trans girls, and the fact that they got to choose their names themselves is the only reason why neither of them ended up getting named "odalia jr."

[millylotus]

Liminal Sanctuaire

“Be back soon, and don’t stay in the plaza Okay!” His mother yelled after him as he opened the room door.

“Yup-yup.” Noah said, closing the door behind him and skipping to the iron and slightly rusted stairs of the dirty motel.

The eleven-year old stopped at the end of the stairs and looked up at the blinking vegas style sign.

“Lee-le sach tori?” Noah tested the words on his tongue, they were strange and the spelling didn’t look right, not really english, and it was in cursive not exactly his strong suit.

“It’s pronounced Le Sanctuaire actually, French.” A voice said right next to Noah. He whipped his head around and saw a boy maybe a year older than Noah.

“French?” Noah asked the boy, taking his time to look at him. He was pretty with coily well cared for hair, and pretty soft looking features. His eyes stood out though they were a bright brown almost yellow that stood out from his dark complexion.

“Yeah, French the language.” He said, tilting his head as he surveyed Noah. He smiled at him and turned to look back at the sign.

“Why French, people only speak like Spanish and English in the US?” Noah asked.

The boy turned back to him slightly. “Well this place is close to the Canadian border and they speak alota French, it’s like their second language or something. I’m Álmos by the way, nice to meet you.” Álmos lifted his hand for a handshake.

Noah fumbled, but quickly took the hand and shook it. “I’m, uh Alias.” His mom had told him to not tell anyone his name. She didn’t want to risk dad finding them, not after they had gotten so far and were so close to their promised land, as she called it.

“You’re really fany for a kid ya know, never shook someone’s hand before, only ever saw it in movies, and even then it was adult doin’ the shaking.” He blurted out without thinking. Noah snapped his mouth shut and blushed deeply. He didn’t want to be rude, Álmos was so nice, and Noah needed more friends nowadays.

Álmos giggled. “Of course, I’m proper. I just turned twelve so next year I’ll be thirteen and thirteen is when you become a teenager, and teenagers are fancy, like my cousins they’re always fancy. Saying things like mis, mrs, and mr. So I gotta be fancy, makes sense right.”

Álmos said happily, as he bounced on his feet looking at Noah with a glimmer in his yellow-brown eyes. Noah nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah my granny is fancy, but she is old fancy. So the older you get the fancier ya gotta be, right?”

Álmos smiled wide and bright. “Yeah! My grandpa is proper like a soldier. He says sir and ma’am but also has this accent from back then, he’s all like. ‘Don’t slouch boy, our family is proud and so we look proud.’ Gosh-gee he’s really cool, I mean fancy, he’s really fancy.”

Noah smiled back and nodded. Then he realized they both were standing out in the open close to the plaza, that wasn’t good. “Hey uh how about we go to the pool and hang out there.” He said, hoping the older boy would follow.

“Sur- Of course, of course let’s go! When you can play cards on one of the tables. I have cards by the way!” Álmos said, taking Noah’s hand and leading him to the pool area.

Noah stared down blankly at his hand in the boy's hand. Álmos’ hands were warm and soft, not a rough spot on them. Unlike Noah’s which were cold, lightly scraped up and dirty. A smile slowly spread across his face and a hot burn on his face ears, a clear sign that he was blushing furiously.

Before he even knew it Álmos had let go of his hand and was sitting down on one of the two chairs under the umbrella table. Noah snapped back to reality and sat down quickly on the other chair, as Álmos put down the deck of Starry Night themed cards.

“Those are pretty.” Noah says softly, watching as Álmos carefully removed the cards from the pack.

“Yes, my aunt gave them to me for my birthday, we're actually coming from her place in Quebec, where me and my sister Jolie had our party. Jolie is my twin by the way she’s up in the room with our Mom.’ Álmos started passing the cards between the two of them, setting up for a game of war. ‘Dad went to get the car fixed, it broke down while we were driving home, that’s why we're here. What about you?”

Noah froze, his mom didn’t want him telling anyone about their life. “I wait, my mom and I are staying here for the night, then we're going to her uh cousins house for a vacation.”

“That sounds like fun.’ He handed Noah one of the stacks. ‘You know how to play war right, it’s alright if you don’t. I can show you if you like.”

Noah nodded his head, he’d seen his dad and his friends play it before, but had never played it himself. But he wanted to impress Álmos. “I’ve played before, yeah.”

Álmos smiled. “Okay! One-two-three.”

The two boys quickly flipped over their top card and placed it onto the table.

Álmos slammed down the Seven of Hearts. And Noah quickly followed with the Five of Clubs. What a way to start a game.

---

Francis sat in her bus seat, letting her worry slip away as they got further from the US and Canadian border, and further into Canada. She intended to go somewhere rural, after stopping at Ruth’s, somewhere the bastard wouldn’t be able to find the two of them.

Sighing Francis glanced over at her son. Noah was all tuckered out and half asleep he’d spent most of the night before playing cards with a young boy, at the pool. She hadn’t seen him that happy since they left New Jersey.

“Noah honey you gotta eat your breakfast.” She took his small hand in her’s and placed a granola bar in it.

The boy sleepily held onto the bar and opened it slowly before taking a small bite.

“I saw you playing cards with that other kid last night. Did you have fun?” She asked softly.

Noah lit up like a Christmas tree. “Yeah! Álmos was really nice and fancy, he’s really good at cards. He showed me a bunch of other games instead of war. Like Slap Jack, Speed, Trash and Bull. And look.’ He opened his old ratty blue backpack and pulled out a deck of cards. ‘He even gave me his old deck of cards, and look, the box is all neat and not tearing much! We can play card games now!” He said gleefully, showing the cards to Francis.

“That’s amazing honey, I’m glad you had fun.” She said, smiling at her excited child.

The situation was sweet, and she was glad Noah was happy. She didn’t have the heart to tell her son that he'd probably never see Álmos again. She’s had friendships like that when she was younger as well. They were short and sweet, and if it ever lasted longer than the first meeting the spark tended to fizzle out.

She remembered meeting Ruth at a summer camp, and by the luck of the draw they ended up going to the same high school the next year.

But Noah and Álmos didn’t have the coincidence of seeing each other at school again. If what her son was saying was true, the two boys were on opposite ends of the money spectrum. Álmos would likely be going to a private school Francis could never afford for her son.

She only hoped his young heart didn’t break when all of it set in. Francis didn’t think she would be able to take that.

Motel’s were always home to liminal friendships, and Le Sanctuaire was no different.

[gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights]

Rating: G

Summary: When Marinette has to cook for her family reunion, Adrien offers to help. Only one problem: he has no idea how to cook. With Plagg's help, Adrien proposes a Disney-inspired solution that will either keep him from making a fool of himself, or backfire terribly. (Spoiler alert: it backfires terribly.) A university-aged Adrinette reveal fic.

Word Count: 6437

XXX

“Plagg, what am I going to do?  I don’t know how to cook!”  Adrien pulled at his hair as he paced circles around his apartment.

Plagg, meanwhile, lazily hovered with his paws crossed behind his head.  “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you tried to swoop in like some kind of superhero.”

“I am a superhero.”  Not that it mattered, because his superpower was destruction. Maybe his Lady would’ve been able to help Marinette cook dinner for her family reunion, but Adrien was … well.  Even though the cat miraculous didn’t actually make him more disaster prone, he had enough bad luck in the kitchen on his own.  He’d survived on spaghetti and takeout since moving into his own apartment this semester.

“Why don’t you just tell her you can’t do it?  Something came up.  You fell headfirst into a pool of cream cheese.  You got zapped by an akuma and all your hair fell out.”

“That hasn’t happened in at least a month.  Besides, I can’t flake out on Marinette.  She needs me.”  He stood up straighter.

“What she needs is someone who won’t turn soup into an explosive.  What about your friend Alya?  Isn’t her mom some kind of chef?”

“She’s out of town for Christmas.  Nino too, or I’d ask him to help me.”  Did he know anyone else who could teach him how to cook in one night?  Kagami was back in Japan, Chloe wouldn’t touch an oven to save her life, Luka was on tour with XY… Ladybug was pretty much his only friend still in town.  She would probably be willing to teach him, but on their last patrol she’d mentioned she’d be busy the next few days with her own plans.

“You need to get some more friends, kid.”

“It’s kind of late for that,” Adrien murmured.  Too many people in his classes were more interested in the Gabriel name than in him.  Besides, he might not have made a lot of new friends, but he’d gotten much closer to Marinette and his old friends now that he had more control over his schedule.  

“Well, as your very first and best friend—”

“Chloe was technically my first friend.”

Plagg glared.  “As your first and best friend, I will help you for the low low price of two wheels of Camembert.”

Adrien stopped pacing.  He only realized he’d ended up in the bathroom when he caught a glimpse of his reflection.

“Wait.  You know how to cook?”

Plagg scoffed.  “I’ve been alive since the dawn of time.  I’ve picked up a thing or two.”

Adrien raised an eyebrow.  “You also thought that my blender was a jet tub for kwamis.”

“Okay, so you humans have invented some fancy new gadgets since I was last out, big deal.  I still know more about cooking than you.”

Unfortunately, he was probably right.

“Alright.  Deal.”  Adrien held out a finger, and he and Plagg shook on it.

“Alright, loverboy, let’s get cooking.”

XXX

“No, not like that!  What are you trying to do, knock someone out with that thing?”

“At least I wouldn’t do it with the smell!”  Adrien instinctively waved the frying pan in front of his nose, and the burned remnants of roux glopped out onto the tile.

“Coward.  It’ll taste good once you put it all together.”

Adrien wasn’t convinced.  But then again, he hadn’t followed Plagg’s instructions exactly.  Plagg never gave him quite enough time to pour the ingredients in the pan or measure the spices with the little spoons.  

“I wish you’d be able to help me while I’m there.”  Adrien sighed.  “I’m going to forget all of this as soon as I leave.”

“You can’t be good at everything, I guess.”  Plagg shrugged.  “You can still always call your girlfriend and say you gave up.”

“She’s a good friend.  We’ve been over this.”  He’d promised not to call Marinette ‘just a friend’ on the grounds that she deserved better than that.  But she still wasn’t his girlfriend.  Which was fine, so why did his stomach sink slightly?  Probably just nervousness about the task ahead of him.  

“And I’m not giving up.  What if you just … hid in my hair and whispered advice?”

Plagg tapped his chin.  “Maybe if you wear a hat …” A grin suddenly split his tiny face.  “Hey, what if you wore that ug—uh, that beret Ladybug gave you?  You know, from your fan club?”

“Great idea!”  Adrien bolted out of the bathroom and towards his closet.  He wore the hat every once in a while—its ridiculous energy was too good to leave hidden like it had been in lycée.  He made a special point of wearing it to every meeting with his dad, though he did feel a little bit nervous of wearing it around Marinette.  She was in their university’s design program; she’d probably think it was tacky.

Oh well.  He’d probably been tackier around her before.

“You sure you’ll fit in here?”  Adrien squinted at the underside of the beret before pulling it over his hair.

“Looks cozy enough to me.”  Plagg slipped under, and Adrien felt him shuffle around. Unfortunately, his voice was too muffled for Adrien to make out after that.

“Plagg?”

“Blegh.”  The kwami scrambled back out and scraped his tongue with his paws.  “Your hair tastes like shampoo.  I can’t talk without getting a mouthful of it.”

“Guess that isn’t going to work …” He pursed his lips as he adjusted the beret.  “It’s too bad real life isn’t like Ratatouille. You could just tug on my hair and do all the cooking for me.”

Unless …?

“Oh no, don’t give me that look.”  Plagg crossed his arms.  “That’s just a movie.  Though it would be nice to show you what it feels like to get dragged around for a change …”

“It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”  Adrien didn’t really think it would work either, but Plagg was magic.  

“Fine.  But I’m upping my price to three wheels.”

Plagg slipped back under the beret, and Adrien felt a tugging sensation on his scalp.  But nothing seemed to happen.

“Guess that was a pretty dumb idea,” he admitted sheepishly.

Then green light crackled from his ring.  

His arms flung into the air.

“Ack!  Plagg, did you do that?”  

Adrien heard a muffled cackle from under the hat.  Then his legs started walking towards the refrigerator.

“Okay, so this is … working?  This is working!”

Plagg missed a few times before guiding his hand to pull open the fridge.  Of course, his next step was to reach for a wedge of Camembert and hold it up to his head.

“The sweet taste of victory,” Plagg said while popping out to swallow the wedge whole.

“More like the rotten taste of old cheese.”

But Adrien still grinned.  However Plagg had pulled off his puppeteer trick, Adrien wasn’t going to make a fool of himself tomorrow.

XXX

“Adrien!”  Marinette threw her arms around him as soon as she opened the door.  “Thank goodness you’re here. My parents just called and they got a last-minute order and—eep!”  She sprung back, her eyes wide as she stared at his beret.

“Come on, it’s not that bad.”  He rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to feel embarrassed.  Marinette wouldn’t judge him based on what he wore.  “It was an old gift.  I like that it drives my father crazy.”

Plus, Ladybug had hand-delivered it, but she probably didn’t care about that.

“W-well then, it’s perfect.”  She grinned too wide.  “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a hat before.”

“You’ve definitely—”

“Anyway, no time for that!  There’s only five hours before Uncle Wang gets here. Nonna is already at my parent’s, and my other grandma and grandpa are coming for the first time since Mom moved here.  Not to mention fourteen of my cousins I’ve never met and their parents!”  Marinette rushed towards the small kitchen, which was already full of steaming pots and used pans. She threw on her pink oven mitts and pulled a tray of golden-brown pastries out of the oven.

Adrien swallowed.  Marinette’s kitchen might look like a war zone, but she clearly knew what she was doing.  What if he just got in the way?

“How did you end up in charge of the food?”  he asked while throwing on a mint-green apron from inside the pantry door.  Her great-uncle was a world-class chef, and her parents owned a bakery.  Her grandpa Rolland had even taught mice how to bake.  

“I’m not in charge.  I just need to help a little since Uncle Wang is running late, and the reunion starts tonight, and Grandpa won’t bake anything in bulk because ‘that’s not how it’s done’’—she used a gruff imitation of his voice—“and my parents have so much bakery work to do. I’m just trying to do what I can.”

She sighed as she stirred a pot of wonton soup.  “Unfortunately, I can’t do a lot.”

“What are you talking about?  It looks like you could feed an army with all this.”  

He carefully dodged Marinette as she scrambled in a drawer for a fork.  She tested the rice noodles boiling behind the soup, then grimaced and slumped against the counter, fork nearly slipping from her fingers. Her hair was falling out of her bun, and flour smudged her pink apron, contrasting with the splatters of dark sauce.

“I hope so.  There’s just … so much to live up to, you know?  Everyone on both sides of my family cooks.  And now I have to merge styles from two different cultures in a way that will please everyone …”

Her gaze swept across the counter, where dumplings and quiches, brothy soups and thin crêpes—even ratatouille, ironically—lay in various stages of completion. The savory and sweet fragrances somehow melded together in harmony.

“I know I can’t understand how hard that must be. About trying to bridge two different sides of your family, I mean.  But you’re amazing, Marinette.” He stepped closer to her and brushed a streak of flour off of her cheek. “You’ve already worked so hard on all this; I can’t see how anyone wouldn’t love it.  May I?”

He gestured to a spoon sitting in one of the soups, and she nodded.  He raised it to his lips and sipped the tangy broth.  A bit of crunchy bamboo shoot added texture to the savory liquid.  He didn’t want to eat too much—it was for her family, not him—but if it weren’t for that, he could’ve downed the whole bowl.  He could practically taste the love and care she’d put into it.

“See? Amazing.”  He grinned.  “Just like the rest of the food we’re going to make.”

At least, the food she made would be amazing.  He just hoped that what he made with Plagg’s help would be edible.  And not offend her family.

Her lips parted before curving into a smile.  “Right.  Thank you, Adrien.”

She paused, staring for a moment, until one of the shallow pots started bubbling over.

“Ack!  The filling!”

She rushed to switch off the burner and remove the lid before sighing loudly.  “I think it’s still alright.  Now I just need to fold this into the dough …”

“Can I help with that?”  he asked, feeling like a rock in the middle of a river as Marinette flowed between the cooking stations around him.

“Huh?  Oh—um, why don’t you work on filling the crêpes instead?  This baozi is a Chinese dish, and it’s my first time making it by myself.  Not that I don’t appreciate the offer!  You were so sweet to come at all, and—”

“Marinette.”  He squeezed her shoulder gently, wishing he could relieve some ot the tension there.  “I’ll do the crêpes.” 

She let out a breath.  “Thanks.  I was going to do a pear-hazelnut filling, if you’re okay with that?  The pears are in the bottom right drawer of the fridge, and the hazelnuts are on the middle shelf in the panty.  All the spices are up there.”  She pointed to the cabinet above the sink.

“Sounds perfect,” he said with the fake confidence he usually saved for his modeling jobs.

Before he could ask for a recipe, she went back to work, leaving him to his own devices in front of a stack of unfilled crêpes.  A mixture of the rich smells and his own nerves started to turn his stomach.

“Are you ready, Plagg?”  he whispered, adjusting his beret.

In response, his scalp twinged, and then his hand rose and formed a thumbs-up.

“Well, here we go.”  He cracked his knuckles.  

He rinsed out a pan that it looked like Marinette had previously used for some kind of stir fry.  That wouldn’t be a problem, would it?  It looked like every other pan in the apartment was in use already.  

Marinette didn’t stop to correct him.  Then again, she seemed to be in ten places at once, adding spices and stirring and adjusting dials and rummaging through cupboards, all in between filling her baozi.  Watching her work was so mesmerizing it was almost too easy to ignore his own job.

Until Plagg started tugging his hair again, anyway.

This is going to be weird, he thought while Plagg directed his hands to chop the pears.  He was pretty sure he could’ve done that himself—he didn’t want his kwami chopping off one of his fingers.  But resisting at this point would just increase his chances of accidentally getting stabbed.

Besides, Plagg was fast. He diced the five pears in the time it probably would’ve taken Adrien to cut up one.  Granted, he also left a juicy mess on the counter, but it sounded like they were on too much of a deadline to worry about that.

Plagg tossed them into the pan, cores and all.  Adrien frowned at that.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he muttered.

“What?”  Marinette asked from where she was stretching out dough.

“Um, nothing!  I just, uh, talk to myself while I cook.”

“Oh, me too.  I was just trying not to do it in front of you.  You know, in case I sounded crazy.”  She laughed, seeming to release a little bit of tension. “I think I picked it up from my mom.  She always says the steps out loud as she does them so she doesn’t forget which one she’s on.”

He smiled at the image of her doing this with Mrs. Cheng.  “Did you cook with your mom a lot?”

“I don’t think I’d say a lot.  I was pretty busy in lycée, and I didn’t appreciate her culture as much as I do now.  I wish I would’ve learned more.”

“It looks like you learned a lot if you can put all this together.”

She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.  “Thanks.  That means a lot.”

He retrieved the hazelnuts and tossed them into the pan.  She still had her back to him, the baozi taking up most of her attention.  Should he ask her to check his work so far?  Plagg didn’t hesitate to nab some spices from the high cabinet and start sprinkling them into the pan.

“Wait—not that one!” he hissed, trying to drop the shaker that read chili powder before Plagg could add it.

“Adrien?  Is something wrong?”

He spun, quickly shoving the container behind his back.  “No!  Everything’s just peachy—er, pear-y.”

She giggled at his joke, even though it had to be one of his lamest puns yet.

“Okay, but you can let me know if you need help.  Sorry I just kind of threw you into this.”  Her arm gently brushed his as she dialed back the heat on the noodles.  “Um—is there a reason you’re holding chili powder?” 

“I was just moving it so I could reach the, uh…”

Plagg helpfully directed his arm towards a different spice.

“... garlic salt?”

Marinette blinked, and he hastily shoved the garlic salt back, selecting cinnamon instead.  He should’ve known that trusting the kwami who liked eating rotten cheese would be a mistake.

“You’re so funny, Adrien.”  She laughed again.  “But, um, you might want to double check your pears.  I think some of those still have the cores in them.”

His face flushed.  Thanks a lot, Plagg.

He picked out the cores with a pair of tongs, hoping that his kwami wouldn’t try to take over again.  Adrien might be bad at cooking, but at least he wasn’t going to try and poison Marinette’s family.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have much idea of what to do next.  He’d turned the burner on high, and the pears were starting to sizzle.  How did nuts cook?  That didn’t make a lot of sense to him.  He probably needed something liquidy to go with them, right?

Aaaand the pears already smelled like they were burning.  He quickly flipped back the knob while he searched for something to turn into a sauce.  Milk?  That would make it nice and creamy, right?

He grabbed the half-gallon from the fridge and splashed a bit into the pan.  Drops splattered the counter, and he winced.

That was when Plagg again decided to take over.  Adrien grit his teeth as he selected the block of muenster from the cheese drawer.  That definitely didn’t belong in the crêpe filling, but Adrien couldn’t get him to stop without making a scene in front of Marinette.  Who would then wonder why he was yelling at himself, and either think he was insane or find out his secret identity.  Both of which would be unacceptable.

He growled, hoping Plagg would get the message.  If he did, he didn’t show it.  At least Marinette didn’t hear over her own soft humming.

The sliced cheese went into the pan, plopping wetly in the milk.  Maybe the finished product would surprise him, and cheese and pears would create a tasty sweet-savory combo, and Marinette would be super impressed by his originality, and she’d invite him over to cook with him again, and they’d make a cute romantic dinner together …

He banished that daydream before he could think too much of it.

By that point Plagg was using his arm to whisk the milk and melting cheese together.  The pears and hazelnuts had settled to the bottom of the pan.  He frowned as the whisk failed to unstick them.

“This isn’t working,” he said under his breath.  “We might need to start over.”

He swore he could hear Plagg’s irritated sigh.  But the kwami jerked the pan up, taking it towards the sink.

“Hey, what are you—Plagg!”  he shouted before he could stop himself.

Plagg dropped the pan in the sink, spraying hot milk-cheese-pear slime all over the backsplash.  And all over Adrien’s apron.  

And, most importantly, all over his face.

“Adrien!”  Marinette dropped her unfinished dumpling back on the counter.  Filling spilled out as she rushed to his side.  “Are you okay?  What happened?”

He hurriedly tried to splash cold water on his face, but spilled it more down his shirt than anything.  She offered him a damp hand towel, which was much more helpful.

“I’m so sorry.”  His face still burned, but not from the hot food.

“It’s okay!  Accidents happen—trust me, I would know.”  She smiled before her eyes widened.  “Oh no, your beret!”

“What?”  He slapped his hands to his head, prompting a tiny yelp from Plagg.  So he was still there.  Under his hat.  Which was still on his head. Phew.

“It’s got milk on it.” Marinette reached up like she intended to take it off.

“No!”  he shouted, and she stepped back, startled.

“S-sorry!  I just thought I’d help you clean it off, since it seems so, um, important to you.”

“I like it with the milk on it.  It adds, uh, character?”

He heard Plagg snicker from beneath the beret.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”  she asked.  “If you need to take a break, or, um, get a new shirt … n-not that I want you to take off your shirt!  Uh—forget I said that.”

She shook her head, and more strands fell out of her bun.

He frowned down at his shirt.  Unfortunately, the splatter had made it under his apron, and his shirt was pretty gross.  He even felt a slimy pear sliding down under his collar.

“I’m okay,” he said.  “Finishing all the food for your reunion is more important.”

“No, don’t worry.  I can handle it.  Just having you here to keep me from freaking out has helped more than you know.”

She took the towel back from him with a smile.  Frankly, he was still surprised she wasn’t angry with him.  He’d come to help, and all he’d done so far was waste her time.

“I’m really not bothering you?”  he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.  Bad idea.  His hands were still a bit wet and sticky.

“You could never bother me, Adrien.”  Her cheeks pinked before she turned back to fiddle with the soup.  

“Really?  I thought …”  He bit his lip, remembering how many times he’d startled Marinette before.  How many times he’d seemed to make her uncomfortable, or awkward, or … he wasn’t really sure what.  There had always been something keeping them apart, no matter how close they became.

Maybe it’s just your little crush, Plagg would’ve teased.  Thankfully, he wasn’t going to talk while trapped under the beret.

“Thought what?”  she asked once she’d added some seasonings to the soup.  

“I thought I’d be your last pick for cooking help,” he said, which wasn’t quite a lie.  “I didn’t want to tell you, but I … well, I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Best to just admit it now, rather than after he’d ruined her family reunion.  

Marinette blinked before covering her mouth.  “I’m so sorry.  I should’ve known you probably never cooked at your house.  And here I am just asking you to throw together a crêpe filling!”

“It’s okay!  I’m the one who’s sorry.  I should’ve told you, I just … I wanted to impress you.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have admitted that much.  He was sure he heard Plagg laughing from under his hat.

“You … wanted to impress … me?”  She pointed to herself, as if there was anyone else in the kitchen he might have been talking about.

“Is that really so surprising?”

“Uh—yeah, actually.” Marinette stared at him like he’d grown a second head.  Plagg hadn’t peeked out, had he?  “I might be able to cook, but you’re good at everything.  Fencing, basketball, Mandarin—which took me ages to get halfway decent at—not to mention you’re drop-dead gorgeous—”

His heart stopped.  Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head.  

“I mean—you’re a model; of course you’re gorgeous!  It’s literally your job.  I bet people call you gorgeous all the time.” 

“Not when I’m covered in slimy food, though.”  He grinned.  She thought he was drop-dead gorgeous!  Maybe he hadn’t made too much of a mess after all.

“Well—you would be a lot more gorgeous if you took off that stupid beret!”  She pointed at his head.

“W-what?”  He pulled it down over his ears.  “This is my emotional support beret.  I can’t take it off or I’ll cry.”

“Why did you have to pick that one, though?  It’s so—I don’t know!” She gestured vaguely.  “It looks like a fourteen-year-old made it!”

He pouted at her.  “Hey, be nice.  It was probably fashionable in Brazil at the time.”

It did look pretty silly, but that was its appeal.  Fashion-savvy Marinette probably wouldn’t understand that.

“R-right.  In Brazil.”  She shook her head.  “Why do you like it though?”

He blushed.  Aside from spitting in the face of the Gabriel brand, it also reminded him of the day Ladybug had appeared in his room.  That serendipitous event had never happened before or since.

“How embarrassing does it sound if I say my old crush delivered it to me?”

“Your—your crush?”  She blinked.  “But then—you had a crush on Ladybug?”

The soup started bubbling again, but she made no move to quiet it.

“Of course I have a crush on Ladybug.  I’m pretty sure all of Paris has a crush on—wait, how did you know Ladybug was the one to deliver it?”

Marinette’s face went pale.  “I—um, well, I … I think the soup is burning!”

She rushed to stir it again, but Adrien caught her hand.

“Wait, Marinette, please.”  His heart beat faster.  He’d never told anyone about Ladybug’s visit.  She hadn’t been surprised when he mentioned Brazil, either.

But what could he say?  Come out and ask her if she was Ladybug?  That would be too good to be true, right?  Marinette couldn’t be Ladybug; he’d seen them together once.  But he’d pulled crazy stunts to protect his identity too.

She bit her lip, but didn’t pull her hand from his.  

“I can’t answer that question, Adrien.”

It wasn’t a confirmation.  But it wasn’t a denial either.

It had been five years.  Five years, and he still didn’t know who his partner was.  If she was here, in front of him, after all this time …

… he’d still respect her choice not to tell him.  As much as it hurt, he’d do it.

“Alright.”  He sighed.  “I get it.”

An uncomfortable silence pushed between them, punctured only by the bubbling soup and beeping oven.  The first batch of Marinette’s baozi was done; she removed them without speaking.

Why couldn’t they go back to five minutes ago, when she’d called him gorgeous?  He was already thrilled to hear Marinette say that.  But if she was his Lady too?  He’d melt just like that cheese in the pan.

It was going to drive him crazy if he thought about it too long.  He turned on the faucet, hoping that the loud water would drown out his thoughts as he did the dishes.  At least that was one task he could accomplish without ruining any more of Marinette’s food.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, barely audible over the running tap.

“What for?”  He was the one pushing the boundaries between them.  If she was even Ladybug at all.  Maybe he’d managed to misinterpret everything, but he couldn’t see how.

“For not being honest with you.  I wish I could, I swear.”  Her hands squeezed her dough, and it oozed out between her fingers.

“I’m sure you have your reasons,” he said with resignation.  Ladybug was the Guardian.  She couldn’t risk revealing her identity.  Even if it felt unfair, he should be used to it by now.

But before, you didn’t think Ladybug was one of your best friends.

Even more than that, if he was honest with himself.  He’d wanted to be closer to Marinette for a  long time now.  What if he was just deluding himself with wishful thinking?

“I wish I didn’t, sometimes,” she murmured.

He switched off the faucet and turned to face her.  Maybe some things needed to stay secret, but not everything.

“Marinette?”  He swallowed.

She looked up from where she’d been absently rolling the dough again.  So much for not wasting her time.

“Y-yeah?”

He didn’t expect to confess to her while standing in her kitchen, with Plagg hiding under his old beret, with his clothes covered in the ruined crêpe filling.  But it was important, and if he could finally admit it to himself, the least he could do was admit it to her.

“I don’t just have a crush on Ladybug.”

“You—you don’t?”  

Was it just his imagination, or did she deflate a little?

“She’s still very important to me.  I know she always will be.  But I’ve come to realize how important you are to me, too.”  He watched her face as he spoke, but her wide eyes were impossible to read.  Hopefully he wasn’t ruining everything with what he was about to say.

“I like you, Marinette.  As more than a friend.  And I would never want to make you uncomfortable.  All I’ve ever wanted is to be closer to you.”

For a moment, her face didn’t change.  She just stood there, staring blankly, like someone had pressed a pause button.  He would’ve thought Bunnyx had stopped time to reset his screw-up if it weren’t for the soup continuing to boil over.

“Marinette?”  he prodded, his stomach beginning to bubble as nervously as that soup.  

She jumped.  “Yes, I—comfort you me make—yike lou—”

A stream of incoherent noises followed that.  Oh no, he’d broken her!  Why couldn’t Plagg have taken over and stopped him from talking?  

“—ugh!  I thought I dopped stewing this years ago!”  She dropped her burning face into her hands.

Adrien reached out to touch her shoulder and then thought better of it.  His arm fell limply to his side.

“I’m so sorry.  You can just forget I said anything.  I’ll—I’ll let you finish up the food and get out of your way—”

“No!”  She waved her hands, startling him so bad he stepped back—and slipped in a puddle of spilled dishwater.

“Adrien!”  She caught the front of his apron as he fell, but that just meant she was pulled down on top of him.

He yelped as his head cracked against the linoleum.  At least she landed on his chest, his arms cradling her.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry—AAAAAH!”

“What, what!?”  He sat up as she scrambled off of him.

That was when he caught sight of the striped beret lying in the puddle next to him.

Oh no.

Plagg laughed nervously from where he was tangled in Adrien’s hair.  “Hey, Pigtails.”

“Chat?”  Marinette smacked her hands to her cheeks.  “You’re—you’re Chat Noir?” 

“Surprise!”  Plagg wasn’t in Adrien’s line of sight, but he could hear the grin in his kwami’s voice.

“Where’s Bunnyx when you need her?”  Adrien groaned.  Not only was his confession a total bust, but he also ended up giving away his most important secret.

And he still didn’t know for sure that she was Ladybug.

“You’re Chat Noir.”  Marinette plopped down into the puddle beside him.  “Adrien is Chat Noir.”

“Yeah, yeah, we got that,” Plagg said.  “Are you gonna put the poor kid out of his misery or not?”

“Huh?”  She blinked.

“He’s in love with you.  Hopelessly, stupidly in love with you.  He loves you almost as much as I love cheese.”

That was a pretty big point in favor of Marinette being Ladybug. He guessed he should count himself lucky, but that also meant he’d just slipped and fallen in dirty dishwater in front of not only Marinette, but Ladybug.

He closed his eyes.  “Plagg, please let me die in peace.”  

“... Adrien?”

He felt her breath fan over his face, and his eyes back snapped open.

Her gray-blue eyes were hovering right above him.  Well, he had said he wanted to be closer to her.

“Y-yeah?”

“Please don’t die,” she said softly.  Her hand came up to cradle the side of his face—or maybe she was just trying to make sure he hadn’t bruised himself. “I l-love you too.”

Every one of his brain cells fizzled out.  She.  Loved him?

“I think I am dead.”  He smiled, reaching his arms around her.  “I’m pretty sure I just went to heaven.”

Her face flushed.  “You’re always going to be that cheesy, aren’t you?”

“Are you really surprised, Princess?”

“No.”  She leaned in, brushing her nose against his.  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Ew, gross.”  Plagg gagged.  “This isn’t the kind of cheese I signed up for.”

“You’re the one who said she should put me out of my misery.”

“Yeah, well I think you both need to put this food out of its misery.  The soup’s burning.”

Marinette sprung up, eyes wide.  “Oh no!  We still have to get everything ready!  And the crêpe filling isn’t done and I haven’t finished the baozi—” 

“It’s okay!  We can still get it all done … somehow.”  Adrien winced as he stood up.  Now they were both covered in a mix of dishwater and crêpe filling.  “Just keep Plagg away from it all.  He’s the reason I ruined the pears.  Oh, and he’s the reason I was wearing that beret, too.”

She went back to work as if nothing had changed between them.  It was honestly kind of amazing how quickly she had the noodles and soup under control, like she hadn’t just been freaking out moments before.  

“He’s got as awful taste in fashion as he does in food?”  she asked.

“No—well, probably, but that’s not important.  The beret was to hide him so he could help me cook.  Like in Ratatouille.”

She blinked.  “That works?”

“It would work better if my kwami knew how to cook, but yeah.”

“Hmm …”  She tapped her lips—lips he would hopefully be able to kiss once all this was taken care of, he thought with a giddy grin—before snapping her fingers.  “That’s it!  I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before!”

“What’s it?  Wait—Marinette, where are you going?”

“You’ll see!”  She winked before disappearing behind her bedroom door.

He gave the soup a careful stir while waiting for her to come back.

“You’re welcome.”  Plagg crossed his arms and smirked irritatingly.

“For what?” Adrien scowled.  “All you did was give away my identity and embarrass me in front of the love of my life!”

“Love of your life?”  Marinette appeared behind him.

He nearly knocked over the pot of soup.  It was what he deserved for startling her so much back in lycée, he guessed.

Plagg snickered.  “Bold words coming from the guy who called her a good friend earlier.”

“She is a good friend!  And the love of my life!  She’s Ladybug, Plagg!”

He pointed to the giant red-and-black egg in Marinette’s arms.  The Miracle Box.  She was Ladybug!

“You didn’t know that when you said it five seconds ago,” Plagg pointed out.

“Yeah, well—I guessed it,” he huffed.  

It had been the only answer that made sense.  And it was true.  Hopefully he could blame the tears pricking his eyes on the onion in the soup.  If not, though, crying over his amazing partner (who loved him!) was probably still the least embarrassing thing he’d done today.

Tikki poked her head out of a cookie jar.  By now he’d been startled so many times that her presence hardly registered.

“Don’t worry, Adrien.  Marinette has said way more embarrassing stuff than that.”

“Which we won’t repeat in front of him,” Marinette said dangerously.

His head was still spinning from all the revelations.  Of course, he wasn’t too surprised—who else but Marinette was amazing enough to be Ladybug?—but it was still a lot to take in at once.

“While I definitely want to hear about that later, what’s the Miracle Box out for?  Is there a kwami of cooking?  Or do you think Sass could give us a Second Chance on all this mess?”  he asked, trying to bring his focus back to the problem at hand.

“What you said about Plagg gave me an idea.”  She punched in a code on the spots, and the egg cracked open to reveal the miraculouses.  “He might not know how to cook, but I’m sure some of the other kwamis do.  And if not, I’m sure they can follow directions.”

“Great idea, Marinette!”  Tikki clapped.  “Wayzz and Pollen are pretty good at cooking, from what I remember.  Orikko is too, but you shouldn’t cook chicken in front of him.”

“Makes sense.”  Adrien nodded before turning to Marinette.  “You think they’ll be enough to make up for how badly I messed up?”

“Of course they will.  We’re Ladybug and Chat Noir; there’s no mess we can’t fix.”  She smiled as she equipped the bracelet and hair comb, then passed the Miracle Box to him.  “Have Tikki help you pick out a few more kwamis.  Together we’ll get this done in time. I know it.”

Relief washed over him, and he smiled back.

“As you wish, My Lady.”

XXX

“You’re sure I won’t be intruding?”  Adrien asked as they pulled up to her parents’ bakery.

“Of course not.  There’s no way my family would leave out my boyfriend.”  She shifted her tupperware to her other arm and reached up to adjust his (newly cleaned) beret.  “Even if he has terrible fashion sense.”

“It’s a Marinette original!  There’s nothing more fashionable than that!”

“An original from when I was fourteen!”  she pouted.

“It’s too late, Bugaboo. I’m never taking it off.”  He kissed her forehead.

“I’ll make you a new one.  Anything would be better than mixing lacy hearts and stripes.”

“I guess that’s fair.  But I’ll still treasure this one forever.”

She rolled her eyes affectionately as she pushed open the bakery door.

Not long after, Adrien, Marinette, and her family were settled around the dining room table, a feast of French and Chinese cuisine in front of them. The two sides of her family mingled, mixing as seamlessly as the dishes.  Rolland was deep in conversation with Wang about traditional cooking techniques in France versus China.  Gina (who’d insisted he just call ‘Grandma’) was regaling two of Marinette’s cousins with tales from her travels.  More of her younger cousins ran around the table, barefoot soles slapping against the hardwood floor, their hands occasionally reaching up to snag a dumpling or croissant.  It was a tight fit, but Adrien didn’t mind.  He was thrilled to be included at all.

While they ate dinner, he kept catching her looking at the hat.  But every time she did, he’d make eye contact with her, and then she’d blush and smile bright enough that it was worth every glare.

“So, what are you up to these days, son?”  Tom asked over his bowl of wonton soup.

Son.  Already, Marinette’s parents felt more like family than his own.  He would love to be part of her family for as long as she would let him.

Hopefully forever.

“Oh, not much.”  He put an arm around Marinette.  “Just learning how to cook from your amazing daughter.”

He winked, and she blushed again.  Red was her color in and out of the suit, it seemed.

“He needs all the help he can get.  You should’ve seen what he almost put in the crêpes today.”

Tom laughed.  “Well, it looks like it all turned out perfect.  Thanks for your help, both of you.”

Under the table, Adrien and Marinette shared a fistbump.  This wasn’t the first adventure they tackled together, and it wouldn’t be the last.

[theawkwardterrier]

things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 32

AO3 link here

“Goodness,” says Peggy, folding herself down with slow grace onto the sofa. “I have no idea how we managed this for all those years.”

“We stopped at four, and only had one toddler at a time?” Steve suggests, picking up the last of the toys and tossing them into the chest they keep around for these sorts of occasions. Usually they try to enforce cleanup before bed, but Tess and Julie had gotten so worked up after dinner, chasing each other around hysterical with laughter, that it was a wonder they got to bed at all. Then there had been a fight between the older ones, Max furious that Will and Luke were leaving him out of their game, which had necessitated a quiet group discussion on kindness and inclusion, apologies, stubbornly rejected apologies, consolations...After all that, they barely got to play at all before it was time for them to go to bed too.

Steve and Peggy have taken Luke and Tess on a pretty regular basis over the past couple of years - Eleanor had really struggled after Tess was born, and though she and Nate don’t need the respite the way they once did, a sleepover with the grandparents about every month is routine. When Eric had asked if they would take the other three too (he wanted to take Emma away for the weekend, a combination birthday celebration and brief vacation from her - most likely first - term as councilwoman) it had seemed manageable. And, Steve supposes, they have indeed managed: the children are safe and fed and still in possession of all the limbs they were dropped off with. It was just more effort than he had thought it would be.

(He wonders if Cam, the only cousin who doesn’t live in the area, considers himself lucky that he can avoid all of the craziness outside of holidays spent together, or if he is jealous at missing out. For his part, Steve wouldn’t have said no to spending this evening reading with Cam, or watching him play around on his new computer or whatever he might be doing.)

The living room floor finally tidied, Steve takes his own spot on the couch. He puts an arm around Peggy, readjusting when she shifts to rest her head against his chest. Pressing a kiss to her hair, he notices the roots of silver and white strands joining the iron gray. He kisses there again, firmly.

It’s very quiet - no whispers from upstairs or feet creaking quietly from one room to another, and the January chill has chased away even the birds and crickets. “I keep thinking,” Steve says after a few minutes in the silence, “that in fifty or seventy or a hundred years, these kids might be the only people who remember us.”

“That’s a bit morbid.”

“Maybe, but it’s true. Your name might come up in the history textbooks - ‘groundbreaking head of SHIELD from 1949 until…’” He trails off leadingly and barely catches her smile; she’s stepped back quite a lot and has for about ten years been setting up her succession, but she still hasn’t let go entirely of her position or her title. It’s a running joke between them, and he thinks she might be as surprised as he will the day she finally decides to retire completely. “But the people who truly know us...In a generation, those memories will be mostly gone.”

She makes a slight humming sound. “I think that’s likely the way things are meant to be. Immortality, as you know better than most, sounds quite exhausting. But we’ve done all we can with the time we’ve had, and we’ll do more with the rest of it. And after that, even if the two of us aren’t precisely remembered, think of the immortality of what we’ve created: all the good that the next generation does, and the one after that, that will be ours in a way too. A seed we planted, even if we aren’t there to see it.” Despite the eveningtime contemplative tone of her voice, there’s a sadness there too. He knows that she is thinking of Howard, gone two months now without seeing his son married, without meeting any grandchildren that may come, and of Jarvis too, whose memory lapses are growing larger and no longer excusable as small slips of the mind.

“Then let’s hope that the fort Julie and Tess were building earlier isn’t a precursor to a lair, or that will reflect pretty badly on us,” he says with soft humor, and she rewards him with a laugh.

He closes his eyes, just sitting there, holding his wife. “I think we’ve done pretty well, though,” he adds finally, the quiet pride obvious even to one who doesn’t know him as well as she.

“We have.” She sits up a bit to look around the room. “And we were right to keep the house, too. Sometimes it might be too big, but at times like this, it seems to me precisely the right size.”

“We would have to stack those kids in pretty tight if we were in an apartment,” he agrees. He pushes himself up to stand. “Hard to dance in one, too.”

“I can’t imagine what sort of dancing you’re thinking of that would require much space,” she says, looking with pointed politeness at his outstretched hand. “I think my more athletic days are fairly far behind me.”

“Only with that sort of attitude.” He can feel the smile crinkling the skin by his eyes. “Come on. They’re playing our song.”

He’s said that so often over the years, with all sorts of music, or as is the case tonight, none at all. She places her hand in his and rises to her feet. His arms around her, the hush broken only by their feet against the carpet, the lights low and the children asleep upstairs...she wouldn’t trade any of it.

Nate drives over in Emma’s van to pick up the whole carload of kids on Sunday, thanking his parents and turning down the offer of pancakes, no, Dad, it’s fine, oh they’re chocolate chip? Maybe just one or two...

(He doesn’t show up forty-five minutes early just because of the distance between his house and his parents’.)

Will is just tall enough now to sit in the front seat, and he takes it as both a solemn responsibility and his absolute right.

“Gran and Grandpa were dancing,” he reports as Nate starts down the long driveway to the road. “Right in the living room. I got up in the night and saw them.” He sounds slightly scandalized, like a nosy neighbor discovering topless sunbathing going on next door.

Nate laughs. “Oh, believe me. That sounds just about right.”

“Well, how come they were?”

Shrugging at his nephew, Nate turns on his blinker, although out here they don’t really need to; there are rarely other cars driving by. “It’s just the sort of thing they do. It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last. If you’re in love one day, you’ll understand.”

“I don’t think so.” Will turns to look out the window. He speaks to the glass. “It was a little bit nice, seeing them like that.”

His parents have been married forty-five years and despite everything they’ve gone through, because of everything they’ve gone through, are still the strongest couple he knows. One day he hopes his own kids or grandkids will look at him and El and think of them that way.

“Trust me, kiddo.” He reaches over and ruffles Will’s thick hair. “I know exactly what you mean.”

More chapters here

[everly-kindred]

Everly’s Diary - Entry #2

Synopsis: Eve enjoys the chaos and wonderment of the winter holidays, and the wait for her Hogwarts letter continues!

Words: 1,360

Date: 27th of December, 2025

Dear Diary,

It’s been a few days since nearly all the holiday celebrations have been… well, celebrated. Now we simply await the new year! I’m saddened to say that my Hogwarts letter has not yet arrived, but mum and dad say I have nothing to worry about. I certainly hope they’re right, though my cousin did once say I might not get in since my family isn’t ‘pure-blood,’ whatever that means. But then my uncle scolded him and said that ‘no one has given a rats tail about blood purity since the nineties,’ so, who knows.

Things have gotten crazy since my birthday. So many things to celebrate, after all! Of course, I know it’s all separate, but my brain kinda mashes everything together as one big winter celebration that lasts about a week between all the family members I have to see. There’s the Winter Solstice, otherwise known as Yule, which is more so recognized on my dad’s side, while my mum’s side prefers Christmas. Either way, the traditions, while amazing, have put me in a perpetual state of sleepiness.

I guess I’ll start with the things we did at my dads. For Yule, we got our Yule Log which we had carved from an oak tree and burned with runestones for light, warmth, and happiness in the dark days ahead - Kaunaz, Peorth, and Wunjo. After the Yule Log was lit, we did a candlelight walk with several witches and wizards my mum and dad are friends with.

In this celebration, we both greet and say farewell to the darkest day of the year, and know that from here on out, we will be gradually granted more sunlight. When the sun had gone down, we lit a pathway through a forest nearby with candles and lanterns. Everyone gathered around a bonfire and sang a song, which, I wish I could remember the words to. I should have written it down right after, truthfully. It reminded me very much of the kind of song a phoenix would sing - rebirth, and light in the dark. With everyone singing it all together, it was quite haunting but also filled me with an odd sort of hope. I'll ask my parents what the song was tomorrow, I think.

We then walked the lit pathway with our own lanterns and candles in hand, in complete silence. The world around us seemed an endless black oblivion, with only tiny flames to follow. I nearly slipped once or twice, too. It was, like I said, dark, but on top of that, it was also quite muddy.

When we got home, we all had a dinner of soups, bread, and roasted vegetables, and I did a tarot reading with a Yule-specific spread I had gotten from a book my mother gave me. It was designed after a Christmas tree, with five questions for me to answer. The first was called ‘the star’ and asked me what my life had looked like the past year. For this, I drew the Empress in reverse. Based off of what the book that came with my tarot deck had to say, this means that I’ve felt like something has been lacking in my life, and I am unsatisfied. It suggests that I take a step back from things that lack creativity and look to myself to see what I am craving.

Next was ‘the branches’, which asks me what I appreciate most about myself. For this, I drew the one of coins, which suggests that I appreciate inspiration and positivity, and am willing to work hard to achieve these things. After that was ‘the needles’ which ask me what my greatest weaknesses are. For this, I had drawn the nine of swords, which says that I torment myself with my own thoughts, which means that ultimately, my own anxieties are my greatest enemies.

Following that is ‘the pinecones’ which asks how I can make positive changes for my future. At this I pulled the knight of coins, which tells me to apply determination and perseverance in the future, to maintain my goals and push through any trials I may face. Lastly, for ‘the trunk,’ I am asked what I should pay attention to, to keep me moving in a good direction. For this, I ironically enough pulled the Emperor in reverse. This warns me that someone with authority over me may abuse my ‘good nature’ and that I should be cautious of manipulation. I can’t think of anyone I know who is like that, but I’ll be sure to keep an eye out…

After my Yule reading, my dad and I made ‘witch balls’ which are glass ornaments that you decorate. Muggles believe that the ornaments by themselves will be enough to ward away negativity, but dad put a few charms on them. ‘Just in case,’ he said. I filled mine with some pine needles, cinnamon, hazelnut, powdered ginger, citrine, and garnet, and then painted a star on the outside with gold paint. I decided against hanging it on the tree and instead hung it in my window.

At that point, it had gotten quite late, so I went to bed and had very peculiar dreams. I dreamed as though I were but a few inches tall, and climbed on my windowsill. I used a candle like it were a broomstick, and flew into the sky. I had an old-timey nightcap on like the kind my grandpa wears, and I used it as a sort of bag to collect the stars from out of the night sky. It was a pleasant dream, really.

The next day, I had gone to my mum’s house for Christmas. I had a very long debate with her about how Santa is probably just a really old wizard who borrowed the Philosopher's stone, and how he probably uses floo powder and apparition to get everywhere with his red velvet bag that has obviously been enchanted with an extension charm and featherlight. Mum laughed and says it’s impossible, but sometimes I hear about Christmas miracles that make me think otherwise.

When we got home, I helped my mom make gingerbread ornaments to hang on the tree. Mine didn’t turn out quite as nice as hers had - I was particularly messy with the icing. By the time we had finished, mum and my stepdad’s family had arrived, and it was time for dinner on Christmas Eve.

I ate enough to make me sick. Mostly mashed potatoes, but I also had a great deal of chicken pot pie, and this baked fruit my mom makes - yams, prunes, and apples with brown sugar. Then, we opened presents. I didn’t get a whole lot this year, which is fine, honestly. I’d had such an amazing birthday, after all. Though I did get this stuffed fox with snowflakes printed on its velvetine fur, and it’s probably my favourite present so far.

Only one other thing happened that night, something I haven’t fully wrapped my head around. If I were a muggle, I’m sure it would have been quite frightening. While I was trying, and quite frankly failing, to fall asleep, I heard a clattering in the living room. I thought for sure that my theory about Ole’ St. Nicholas had been correct, but when I poked my head around the corner, I saw someone of transparent silver, who seemed to be the saddest creature I’d ever seen. She looked and sounded like a woman, and drifted around the Christmas tree. It seemed like she was trying to put out the candles that were hung from it.

I sat there watching her for a long time, all wrapped up and hidden in my blanket with my fox in my arms. But eventually, I drifted to sleep, and by the time I had woken up not more than an hour later, she was gone. I’m not sure I’ll ever see her again or know her story, but according to mum, ghosts are common in our world, and all muggles really fear is ‘that of the unknown.’

I’ve written quite a bit, and that’s about everything that happened, so I suppose I’ll stop for the night. I’ve managed to stay up late, again, but luckily, I can sleep in. See you next time, in 2026 perhaps?

Sleep well! - Everly

About the Character: Everly Rosemary Kindred is an imaginative Hufflepuff attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She keeps up with her magical journey through a series of diary entries, dream journals, and tarot readings, all documented for future reflection. Her diary is a small glimpse into her enchanted life, and her adventure into the wizarding world and all its splendors. If you’d like more information about Eve, visit her wiki page. 

About the Author: My name is Elowen! I am a 21-year-old Hufflepuff & Pukwudgie from Louisville, Kentucky. This page is my creative journey into the magical world, through the lenses of Second Life. Here I post diary entries, dream journals, and tarot readings all from my character’s perspective. If you’d like more information about me, visit my Flickr! 

Outfit Credits:

Hair - TRUTH / Beatrix

Fox - EF: Spirit Animals: Winter - Fox

Nightgown - hazy . dreamer baby . M 9

Necklace #1 - .Atomic. {Unicorn Horn} Necklace

Necklace #2 - Kibitz - Magical moon and star necklace - copper

[imagines-dreams]

Please Be My Fake Boyfriend - Connor Murphy Imagine

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: feelings of low self-esteem, mentions of alcohol, kissing i guess???

Summary: You love your grandparents, and they’re coming over for the holidays! You were paranoid though. You weren’t going to see them for a long time after that, and they desperately wanted to see your boyfriend. Problem is you don’t have a boyfriend. You do have a close friend by the name of Connor Murphy, though.

Word Count: 3843

“You want me to” -Connor shook his head and pulled on his bag’s strap- “what?”

You bit your lip. “I know. I know it sucks, but my grandparents really want to see me with a boyfriend and I won’t see them for another few years, and…” You trailed off. “Connor, I know it’s crazy and weird, and you probably won’t, but I’m…” You rubbed your hands together. “You’re the only one I trust, and my grandparents aren’t exactly healthy.” You smiled nervously. “Sorry. You don’t have to. It’s insane.” You pursed your lips. “You know what, I’m going to go. I’ll see you-”

“Fine.”

You blinked. You smiled sadly. “Connor, you don’t have-”

“No, it’s fine.” He shrugged. “Your family can’t be crazier than mine.”

Your eyes widened.

“They’re not crazy, right?”

You inhaled through your teeth. “Well, let’s just say, if you accept this challenge, we’re gonna have to, uh, set our story straight.”

“You mean…”

“How we met, first kiss, if we want to get married, how many kids, where we want to live.” You stared up at Connor, his eyebrows raised up to his hairline. “And etcetera.” You tried to laugh it off, but it came out as a few short huffs of air.

Connor blinked a few times. He tilted his head back and let out one long breath. “Apparently, I’m doing a lot of shit to get away from my parents this year.”

You beamed. “Thank you!” You leaped onto Connor and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You pulled away and held his shoulders. “You are the absolute best, Connor.”

He rolled his eyes. “Someone’s dramatic.”

“But, until after the reunion, you love me for it.” You smiled. “Um, are you ok with talking about our story after school?”

He nodded. “Yeah sure.”

You smiled. “You’re amazing, Connor!” You kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you after school!”

Your friend was glad you didn’t turn around.. You didn’t see him blush, blink so many times, or lift his hand to his cheek to touch where your lips brushed his cheek. He wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to get away from his family, but that definitely wasn’t his main reason for saying yes to you. That and he couldn’t say no to you. You were too beautiful, too caring, too genuine. All the things he didn’t think he deserved or needed, but there you were.

Connor licked his lips and went through the motions, all while thinking of you.

You pointed at another uncle in the picture. “Who’s this?”

“The cook who will make me eat more than I can.”

You smiled. “All of them will do that, but yes, the cook of the family.” You pointed at another family member. “This one?”

“(y/n),” he whined.

You huffed. “Fine. Ok ok, then tell me where we met.”

“Class?”

You glared at him.

“I first saw you in English class. You saw me reading a book you’ve read recently. Approached me and the rest is history.”

You opened your mouth, but Connor interrupted you. “You asked me out to dinner a few weeks after my birthday because you were going to ask on my birthday but you chickened out. We dated for three weeks, then kissed on our fourth date when I dropped you off. We are a year into the relationship, so marriage is a thought for after college. I want two kids. You want three. We argue about it. Am I done?”

You gasped. ‘Well, Connor, I honestly didn’t think you were listening, but you are great at surprising me.”

Connor shrugged. “Had nothing better to do.”

“No, really.” You held his hands. “This means a lot. I rarely see my grandparents, and you doing this just…” You met his eyes and felt your heart swell with admiration. “Thank you.” Connor didn’t look up from the table, but you didn’t miss the slight shift in his posture. His shoulders relaxed, and he hid his face behind his hair, a certain sign that he was smiling a bit too wide.

Your phone rang, and the silence splintered. You quickly picked it up. “Hello?” You gasped. “Grandpa, how are you?” You smiled at Connor. “Yeah, actually, I do. I know.” You nodded. “Yes, grandpa. You’ll meet him there. Ok, I’ll see you soon. I love you.” You hung up and took a deep breath. “That was your fake future grandpa-in-law, and he’s very excited to meet you.”

Connor licked his lips. A kid who was accused of being the school shooter meeting an old man and woman who wanted the best for their wonderful granddaughter. He tapped his fingers nervously against the table.“Maybe Evan would be better off for this.”

You blinked. “What? Evan?” You shook your head. “He’d probably end up telling the truth.” You tilted your head. “Look, if you want to back out, you can.”

He smirked. “Nah.” Connor smiled a bit too wide for a second or two, elated that you were still choosing him. Sure it wasn’t his idea of choosing him, but you were still choosing him nonetheless. “It’s fun watching you run around like a headless chicken.”

You smacked his arm. “You’re lucky you’re my friend, Murphy.”

The day arrived. It was a few hours before the reunion just when Connor called you. You smiled at your laptop. “Hey, Con. Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready?”

“I am.” He gestured to his outfit, a nice black tuxedo with a black ribbon for a tie. “I was just wondering if I needed to bring anything. My mom used to nag me to bring shit to other people’s-”

You laughed. “First off, even though you look amazing, it’s way too formal for this. Maybe some black jeans and shirt. Second, um, I was going to say not bring something, but maybe a bouquet?”

“So high maintenance,” he teased. Connor opened his closet as he searched for some clothes. “Bouquet for you?”

“Nah, for my mom. She’d love it.”

“Ok.” He groaned. “Uh, what about this?”

You looked at his outfit and woah. Connor in a tux was one thing. Attractive, yes, but a bit out of his personality and circumstance. But him in that black turtleneck and ironed black jeans. You’d never seen that before. Maybe you had but Connor always wore his favorite hoodie over everything.  It as so Connor, and it took your breath away. If only the school could see past the rumors and stereotypes, they’d be able to see what you’s see. A boy so unapologetically true to himself, so honest and blunt, and so passionate about everything he did.

A warm feeling blossomed in your stomach. You were one of the only ones to see Connor like this. What blessed you to be this special?

“You don’t like it,” Connor stated.

You cleared your throat. “No, not at all. Black was always your signature color, huh?”

His shoulders slumped. “I am not changing for my fake girlfriend’s fucking family, (Y/n).”

You laughed. “Oh, please, I wasn’t going to tell you to change. I was going to say at least put your hair up in a red or green ribbon at least.” You held your breath as an image of Connor with his hair tied up with a colorful ribbon popped into your mind. Unapologetically himself and so beautiful. You licked your lips. “Just to be festive. It’s the holidays after all!”

Connor looked around his room and shuffled through a few drawers. “I don’t think I’ll ever find a green or red ribbon.”

The words stumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them. “You can come to my house.” When Connor stared at you like you’d grown horns, you stuttered, “I-I mean I have some festive ribbons and things. I-I can lend one to you.” You bit your lip. “You can come here on time, many people won’t be here yet, and I can give you the ribbon?” You smiled a little, trying to convince both your friend and yourself that what you said was totally normal.

Connor blinked. He tried to smile a little. “Then I’ll see you at six.”

“Yeah. Bye, Connor.”

“See ya.”

You hung up. You took a deep breath and settled into your chair, letting your body rest against the chair. Your heart was racing. Your fingers trembled as you placed your hand over your heart. Ye, it was still racing. What was wrong with you? Connor was your closest friend. You didn’t know him for long, maybe a few months, but it felt like you knew each other forever. He was someone you looked up to and went to for everything. You couldn’t possibly…

You shook your head. You had to get through the family reunion first. Past drunk uncles, questioning grandparents, and Connor coming to your house.

Connor was coming to your house!

Shit, you had to get ready!

“You must be Connor!”

You gasped. You excused yourself from your cousins and rushed to your mom at the door. “Connor!” You smiled at the bouquet in your mom’s arms and pulled Connor inside by the hand. You tried to keep your mind off the fact that you were holding his hand while you told your mom, “Mom, this is Connor, my boyfriend.”

Your mom smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Connor, and thank you for the bouquet.”

Connor was still staring at you. You looked beautiful. Stunning.

You nudged him.

He cleared his throat. “Pleasure, Mrs. (Y/l/n).” Connor even bowed his head a little as an awkward sign of respect.

You giggled and once your mom left to put the bouquet in a vase, you turned to Connor and held up a festive clip and a green ribbon. “Which one?”

Connor stared at both of them. “Both are so… cheesy.”

You laughed. “Connor, you can curse It’s fine.”

“Ok, both are shitty. I said it!”

You beamed and motioned for Connor to turn around. You held both of the accessories up to your eyes. You bit your lip and went with the red and green clip. You gathered the top half of his hair and fastened it with the clip. Then, to make it more festive, you tied the ribbon to the clip. “There, perfectly festive.”

“You used both, didn’t you?”

“That’s what you get for putting me in charge.”

“Ey!” A cousin bumped into you and wrapped an arm around you. “(Y/n)! It’s been years.”

“You’re drunk,” you stated. “You’ve only been here thirty minutes?”

“Not drunk, tipsy.” Your cousin stood straighter and eyed Connor. Your fake boyfriend glanced at you before glaring at your tipsy cousin. Your relative sent a hard stare back. You looked between the two, feeling like you should probably do something. “Uh, this is my boyfriend, Connor.” Your statement turned into a question when neither acknowledged you.

You groaned. “Guys!”

They didn’t move. What was this? A masculinity contest?

“Please, Connor!” you whined.

Connor broke. He sighed and went to your side. He held out his hand politely. “I’m Connor.”

Your cousin stared at Connor’s hair. “That’s cheesy.”

Your fake boyfriend put his hand down. “Nevermind.”

“My sweet (Y/n)!” Your grandmother grabbed you by both cheeks and kissed your forehead. “I haven’t seen you in so long, (Y/n). You are so skinny. What happened to you? Has my child not fed you in the last year?”

You laughed. “Grandma, I’m fine.”

“Does grandma get all the love?”

You laughed and hugged your grandpa. “I’ve missed you so much, grandpa.”

“Not as much as I have you.”

Your grandma beamed when she saw Connor. “Is this who I think it is?”

You pulled away from your grandpa and pulled Connor to your side. “Grandpa, grandma, this is Connor. He’s my boyfriend.”

You could feel Connor shaking in your grasp. You rubbed his knuckles. His eyes met yours. They were questioning, worried, terrified maybe. You just smiled and squeezed his hand. You tilted your head towards your grandparents.

Connor took a deep breath and smiled at your relatives. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Your grandfather gasped. “Did you see that? That look they shared?”

“Oh, I saw it alright!” Your grandma squealed and held Connor’s hand. “You are a nice young man. Come, sit next to me and Grandpa.”

You gave Connor’s hand one last squeeze before letting him sit between your grandparents.

“Sweetheart, go talk with your cousin,” your grandpa told you.

You opened your mouth to protest, but your grandma interrupted. “We won’t torture him, I promise.”

You stood still for a moment. You smiled at Connor and gave him a thumbs up.

“(Y/n), please,” your grandma said.

You nodded and smiled at Connor one last time before leaving.

Once you were gone, your grandma turned to Connor. “You do know that (Y/n) is a horrible liar.”

His heart stopped. “W-What? I don’t-”

“Even if she was, she couldn’t lie to us,” your grandpa continued. “I knew she was going to pull something like this, like from one of her stories.”

“Can you blame her?” your grandma shot back. “We barely see her.” She took Connor’s hand in hers. “You do feel something for our (Y/n), don’t you, dear?”

Connor denied this truth immediately. “I am her boyfriend. Of course I-”

“I will repeat. You have feelings for (Y/n) and you’re not currently dating because she put you up to this.” She smiled. “Please, don’t lie to an old lady.”

Connor blinked a few times. Then, he sighed. “Fine, you…” He bit his tongue to prevent a curse. He could at least not curse in front of elderly. “Found out. We’re not dating.”

“You should be,” your grandpa teased. “Honestly, I saw those looks you two shared. How long have you known her?”

His eyes darted around the room. “A few months,” Connor admitted.

“And you look at each other like that?” your grandma scoffed. “I don’t understand how you’re not dating. Now, I’m going to give you life-changing advice. If you really feel something for her, tell her. If I know anything about (Y/n), she’d want to know.” She tilted her head. “You’re a handsome young man” -she gestured to his outfit- “with personality and caring enough to go along with this. You deserve someone like her.”

Connor looked at your grandparents. His stomach twisted into knots as he thought of saying something. They thought he was worthy of you? Clearly, they didn’t know him well enough. They didn’t know what people said. They didn’t know what he has done. They didn’t know his family and how he pushed everyone away.

He locked his jaw. “Thank you for the advice.” Then, he got up and left. Your cousin got that liquor from somewhere.

Ok, so you were trying to keep an eye on Connor, but you lost him in the crowd of relatives. You pushed through aunts and uncles and family friend. Then, you spotted your black-clad knight. “Connor!” You reached out and grabbed his hand.

He didn’t turn back to look at you.

You blinked a few times. You maneuvered your way through bodies to step in front of him. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Connor still didn’t look at you. He was too busy staring at the ground.

You squeezed his hand and tried to catch his eye. You gently placed your hand on his cheek. “Connor, please” -his eyes met yours and he looked so hopeless and you were heartbroken- “what’ going on?”

Connor opened his mouth, but then your cousins shouted and yelled. “Mistletoe!”

“Now’s not the time!” You glared at all of your relatives. “Stop it!”

But the booze and festive spirit kept them going. It was one of you against all of them. “Guys, stop it, please!” They continued to chant and tease, and you growled. “Stop it!”

You gasped as Connor’s hand was ripped from yours. He kept his head down as he slipped past your relatives and right towards the door. A few of your cousins were surprised but went onto the next couple to tease them with mistletoe a few seconds later. You, you couldn’t get your mind off of Connor Murphy. What did your grandparents say? Were they too hard on him? Did they criticize him? What have you done?

This was all your fault. If you had just let Connor back out, none of this would’ve happened. You just had to be selfish. You just had to want to show your grandparents that you had a boyfriend. You wanted to go through that ritual of Grandpa telling your boyfriend embarrassing stories about himself or of you. You wanted your grandma to compliment you on your choice and to ask you a few too-private, too-early questions. You wanted to experience that.

Why did you have to drag Connor into it?

“Connor,” you whispered.

You didn’t even know where you were. You were somewhere outside your house. It took a while to track Connor. But you found him. That’s what mattered. “I’m sorry,” you let out. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I’m sorry about whatever grandpa and grandma said to you. I’m sorry about that mistletoe thing.” You gasped for air and stared at the ground. You couldn’t lose him. You couldn’t lose Connor.

“You’re crying.”

You looked up. Connor was in front of you, confused and unnervingly calm. You straightened yourself and wiped your tears haphazardly. “Sorry.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets. Connor laughed a little, but it sounded more like a wounded cry than that of laughter. “You didn’t do anything. It’s all me like it always is.”

“What are you-”

He rolled his eyes and turned around. He walked away from you again.

“No!” You grabbed his wrist. “Connor-”

“Let go, (Y/n).”

“Please, I’m not losing you. You’re too important.”

Connor glared at you. His voice grew stern, dark, almost threatening. “(Y/n).”

For a semi-second, you were scared. Scared of Connor Murphy. Guilt immediately washed over you. You knew what this meant. You knew what Connor was going to do.

You let go of his hand. Just as he turned around, you said, “Connor, if you’re mad at me, take it out on me.”

“(Y/n)-”

“Please.”

Connor froze for a while. He threw his back as if he just wanted to stare at the stars above. Then, he said so softly, “I’m not mad at you.”

You blinked. “You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not fucking lying.” He stared at you over his shoulder. You could see a shine in his eyes, tears. You wanted to reach for him, to give him physical comfort of some sort, but you were worried about him and how he would interpret your actions. You dug your nails into your palm and rooted yourself to the spot. “Then, who are you mad at?”

Connor turned around fully. “Aren’t you mad at me, too?”

That was a punch to your gut. All the air escaped your lungs, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Connor was mad at himself? For what? Nothing bad happened because of him. Did your grandparents say something? Your cousins? You?

“You can’t be that fucking blind? Look at me!” Connor scoffed. He took the clip and ribbon from his hair. He held it in his hand for a second before looking away and letting it drop to the ground. “I fucking told you. I told you to get Evan. Anyone would be better at this shit than me.”

That was it. You grabbed Connor’s hands as gently as you could. “Connor, I chose you for a reason, ok?” You tried to smile as you wiped the tears from his cheeks. “You’re one of my closest friends. You’re important to me, and I trust you like no one else. Why do you think I let you see all of those embarrassing baby photos and stories from my family, huh?” You bit your lip as you racked your brain for more things to say, but then Connor’s eyes met yours.

Fuck, you couldn’t exactly concentrate on forming and saying coherent sentences when he was looking at you like that. He was looking at you like you were the light at the end of the tunnel. He wasn’t aware that on most days that’s what he was for you.

With all the confusion, feelings, and storm in your brain, one thought shone out. “I’m proud of you, Connor Murphy.” You rubbed his cheeks and sighed when his forehead touched yours. “I’m always proud of you.”

He laughed a little, a pure little melody against the scoffs bitterness from before.

“Are you still mad?” you asked.

He nodded. “I don’t think anything you can say will make me otherwise.”

You shuddered as you breathed. “Why are you mad?”

Connor gulped. His hands roamed from your shoulders to your hips. His touches were so light that if you weren’t concentrating hard enough you would be sure he wasn’t touching you at all. Then, his grip on your hips tightened.

You gasped and reveled in the rush that came along with his touch.

“I’m mad at myself because…” He trailed off to look you in the eye.

You opened your mouth to tell him that it was ok to continue, but his lips came crashing onto yours. Your eyes widened as you felt everything and nothing all at once. You could feel his fingers digging into your dress and putting pressure on your hips. You could feel his hair tickle your cheeks and neck ever so slightly. And his lips were pressed so firmly against yours, trying to force some sort of reaction from you, whatever it may be. It was a question.

You answered happily, kissing him back with everything you had. Your hands went from his cheeks to his hair. You were grateful he took the festive accessory off so that you could tangle your fingers in his hair. You pulled him closer and closer and god it felt so good. You wanted more of it. You didn’t want it to end.

Connor smiled against your lips, apparently more than satisfied with your reaction. He pressed himself against you, and his hands held you as close as he could.

The kiss itself was messy, a combination of pent-up feelings and passion and electricity. You were sure the air around you was crackling with whatever it was that the two of you felt for each other.

Too soon Connor ran out of air and pulled away from you.

Under his trance, you leaned forward to kiss him again. Connor laughed and happily obliged to kiss you sweetly once more.

You took a few deep breaths before finally gasping, “Still mad?”

“I don’t think so.”

You smiled. “Good.” Your lips were dangerously close to his. You hesitated. Your thoughts were still a confused tangle of Connor and feelings and holidays and-

“Kiss me again,” Connor whispered. “Please.”

You giggled. “Gladly.”

Guys its not a drill! I actually updated!!! And its for the holidays too? What the heck?

[kneesheee]

Stark Sibs

Stark Siblings for the Win

Warnings: Details have been manipulated and shifted to fit to the flow of the story. This is NOT TeamCap friendly like at all. So yeah, I wouldn’t recommend reading if I were you.

The Stark Siblings all watched as the news began coverage of the battles with the Winter Soldier and Captain America. Their dad had told them from the start to not get involved. That didn’t stop them from reading over the accords. They made notes to give to their Dad when he started his campaign to change them.

But as they watched everything that was happening. People losing their family members and the destruction of their property. They all glanced over to James. He nodded determinedly and pulled out his phone. He had calls to make with Aunt Pepper to help with getting people jobs for those that loss a member that was their source of income, condolences baskets, paying for hospital bills. Selene may be the one that can put fear into her enemies’ hearts, but James (and Azari) was the one who was equipped to deal with public assistance. Azari took that as his cue to call upon the rest of their father’s lawyers to go ahead and pull them into the loop.

Their Uncle Rhodey was in the hospital. They were all furious. Their existence wasn’t made public yet. Only Aunt Pepper, Uncle Rhodey, Uncle Happy, and Grandpa Fury knew of them being Tony’s children. They couldn’t even go see their Uncle.

Then their father didn’t check in and their hearts stopped.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. pinpoint Dad’s last location and send Vis there. I don’t care what the Accords have to say. Dad could be dying!”

Fri immediately actively Protocol TPS.

Siberia.

The suit had been offline in the area for three hours. Vision found their dad there delirious and slowly freezing to death. Captain America’s shield was thrown not too far away and the Winter Soldier’s broken mental arm was also in the vicinity.

This time all of their siblings turned towards Selene and Francis. Both unconsciously bringing forth the power of the Grecian gods.

“I’m going to fucking slaughter them all,” Selene hissed before leaving out of the room to begin searching for them. -- Selene was never of fan of her father growing up. No matter how many stories of his bravery and unwavering loyalty and kindness and all around good intentions her Uncle Tony told her about him… Selene hadn’t believed any of it. No one was that perfect and Uncle Tony did used say her father had his faults, but he was a good man.

It had taken going to another dimension to finally get proof that she was right.

Captain America. He didn’t deserve that named after what he did to Tony. She knew her and her pseudo siblings had made the right decision in waiting to tell the respective parents about their existence. Now look, her biological parents were world class fugitives alongside her supposed Uncle Clint. Her supposed Uncle T’Challa were harboring said fugitives and her suppose to been Uncle Hank is old enough to be her granddad and hates her dad (because Uncle Tony is Parent Tony in this dimension) and her Uncle Thor was off doing gods (Greek gods because sorry Torunn, your Asgardian blood is filled with assholes) knows what.

She basically hated them even Uncle Bruce because he ran out on her dad. Dad always said not to put too much trust into people. They all leave eventually.

So one can imagine her distaste when they all started to crawl back into her dad’s life.

She had been in her room looking for something to wear with F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s help to the Father-Daughter dance she had signed her and Tony up for. She heard a long crackle of something and set out to find the source. She was surprised to see Thor Odinson stroll into the living room.

His gaze swept over the room before landing on Selene standing in the doorway staring at him.

“My apologies for arriving unannounced, is the Man of Iron around,” Thor asked her. Selene could feel it in her bones that F.R.I.D.A.Y. awareness shifted back to the room no doubt telling her father that he had a guest. “Ah, I’ve been remiss. I am Thor, Son of Odin, Prince of Asgard, God of Thunder, Wielder of Mjolnir, and a proud Shield Bearer of Midgard.”

A flash of amusement coursed through her veins and she smiled all teeth at the Prince. “I am Selene, Daughter of Tony, Champion of Poseidon, Wielder of Τσουνάμι, and Protector of Earth. I’ve been waiting on your return. I have some things I would like to say to you.”

Thor, at least, had good sense to know that he should be wary of her intentions. It wasn’t like she was Poseidon’s Champion or anything. Selene gestured towards the couch for him to sit down and crossed the room to stand in front of him.

“I’m going to say this once. When my father is outside of the Iron Man armor, he is human. Remember that time when you walked up to him and wrapped your godly hands around his neck. And what was it that you said he had done? He messed with forces he didn’t understand. Let’s remember those forces are magical and who in the vicinity were hefting around magical items that day. That’s right, YOU. Your little light show with your hammer set off a spark that awoken the powers of the Mind Stone that had corrupted Ultron’s initial programming. Those forces he didn’t understand came from you awakening them. So the next time you dare lay a finger against my father,” Selene clothing shifted to the traditional Ancient Grecian armor and her trident appeared in her hands. “I will gladly rip you apart from the inside out and I will show you why I was chosen to be the Champion of Poseidon.”

She took a deep breath and willed her clothing to return to normal before making her move to leave. “There is also someone else, you should meet. Dad had it arranged earlier, but you disappeared to Asgard before you could meet her. And I warn you now, Shakespeare in The Park, if you break her heart; all of the armies of the nine realms will not stop me, dad, or any of our other family members from killing you.”

Selene walked away and headed back to her room. Not even half a minute later, she heard her father excitedly and little suspiciously greets the Asgardian prince. That didn’t matter to her though. His return only meant things were about to get messy.

Selene needed to start her training again. -- James Rogers had always been just a boy that had wanted to get to know his father. He was Captain America’s number one fan. When the Tony from his dimension presented the hologram shield disguised as a watch, James happily took it whereas his sister sneered at it. She couldn’t see the appeal. She just couldn’t understand how their father was a good man. She resented him; always ready to point out any faults he had.

It had taken going to another dimension to finally get proof that she was right.

Captain America was not the guy from the stories Uncle Tony used to tell them. He didn’t care about the little people. He only cared for himself and his happiness. He wasn’t just a bully. He was a selfish one too.

And don’t even get him started on his mother. She surely did a wonderful job of being a backstabber. He didn’t think he could forgive any of them. “Team Cap”. Ha! Aunt Pepper and Cousin Hope were already working to tarnish that name. He did not stand for the hope nor freedom or protection unless it benefits him and his best friend Bucky. And yet thinking about Bucky didn’t bring the wave of disgust he thought it was, but James was still ashamed to be named after a man who killed and attempted to kill innocent people while following behind Steve Rogers and his delusions.

James’ shook his head to clear his thoughts. He had suppose to been training, but he zoned out. He tapped his wrist and let the holographic shield disappear. James needed to take a shower before heading towards the living room where he could hear his now reinstated Uncle Thor loudly retelling tales of Asgard. James didn’t know what his twin said to the god, but Thor had put a lot of effort into making amends with his dad after choking him. Thor was even being patient establishing a relationship with his daughter. Which is good, James would hate to have to kill the god. He would’ve begged and pleaded to one of the Grecian gods that blessed his sister and his cousin Francis for all the strength he would’ve needed.

After James got out of the shower and dressed, he headed towards the others but stopped and got into a defensive position of the man standing idly in the hallway. James had no idea who he was until he turned to look at him. With a jolt of shock, James realized that he was staring at a younger version of Bruce Banner. The Hulk. Well, James had a few words for him. His twin couldn’t be the only one to strike fear in the hearts of those that hurt their dad.

“Robert Bruce Banner. Born on December 18, 1969. Place of Birth Dayton, Ohio Caught in the blast of gamma radiation, now cursed to transform in times of stress into the living engine of destruction known as Hulk.”

James leaned against the wall. Bruce looked at him strangely and defensively. “Who are you?”

“James G. R. Stark. And I have a few things I need to say to you.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow and took a deep breath to maintain his control over the Hulk. James’ facial features dropped into a scowl.

“You turn your back on dad again and I swear I will steal ‘Lena’s trident and stick up yours and Hulk’s greenly ass. Dad had your back through everything and was not above showing you that just because you could transform into the Hulk meant you were a monster. He calls you his science bro and when things get too tough, you run away. I can understand the need to calm down and gain some control, but you could have at least sent something out to let dad know that you held accountability for your hand in creating Ultron. No, you condemn him instead. Says he gives you too much stress and you’re not the kind of doctor that listens to problems. Newsflash, Raging Green Asshole, you were his friend and friends listen to each no matter how big or small the problem is.” Taking a deep breath, James glared at Bruce who had green slowly pouring into his irises. “If you think you can come back here and be friends again, you got another thing coming. I have three family members that can take down the Hulk using strength. I have two siblings that can give a electrical charge so high that you’ll think that Thor and every other gods of thunder and lightning all conspired together to shock you. And I and my youngest sibling each have the authorization to call on V.E.R.O.N.I.C.A. and we won’t stop fighting even if you crush us like a pop can. You gotta earn that spot back, buddy and none of us will make it easy.”

James said no more and walked away from the new arrival. He had more important things to do than sit around and worry about someone’s delicate feelings. -- A mug of hot chocolate hit the floor as Selene stared at the woman before her. Her heart sped up in awe before she calmed herself down. She hated this woman with everything in her. She shouldn’t be delighted to see her.

“Who are you,” the Black Widow asks. Selene cocks her head to the side. She’s not a good spy, she muses internally.

Before she could even think to answer her question, her father rushed into the room to check on her. He ignored F.R.I.D.A.Y. report saying that she was fine. He checked her over for injuries, produced a small flashlight out of nowhere and shined it in her eye, before he hugged her tightly.

“Little Red, I was scared.” She was happy. He had a hard time expressing emotion more likely from just about everyone in his past. Selene was more than happy that he was willing to open up to her. She wouldn’t even dream of abandoning her dad.

She smiled sweetly at him ready to reply before he cut her off again. “Romanov, I’d like to know what you are doing in my home.”

Her dad turns to fully face the woman effectively cutting off her view of Selene. Selene could basically feel the Black Widow eyes on her through her father. A shiver ran through her before she patted her dad on his back twice before stepping around him and back into her room.

She’d let him handle the Black Widow, then sic Francis on her later. -- The Rogue Avengers ended up getting presidential pardons. In the face of the upcoming invasion (oh, look Dad was right.), the UN has agreed to temporarily clear their charges until after the battle

. The kids were not amused. The UN begged and pleaded for the Avengers to be housed at the tower since the compound was turned into a school for enhanced individuals and were all willing to pay for their cost of living. Some of the countries even agreed to donate toiletries and weaponry for the rogues to use if it made the transition easier.

It didn’t.

In the end, the Avengers were to be housed at Stark Tower until after the Infinity War. They were to keep their distance away from Tony Stark and his family in any case that is neither training nor talking battle strategy. Then they were to face the consequences of their actions with no option of signing the accords.

The Rogue Avengers made their way to the living room unnoticed. They all watched confused as the New Avengers and the Next Avengers laughed and chatted it up in the room. A short, petite red head stood proud and tall in a sleek black jumpsuit holding on to what look like a trident talking to the Black Widow. Beside her was a carbon copy of her except male with the original Captain America shield rested on his back and an impressive and expensive looking watch perched on his wrist talking to Ms. Marvel.

Not too far away, a platinum blonde male stood in a corner talking seriously with another golden hair teenager and the female Hawkeye. They all had bows and arrows on their persons. Running a hand through her hand and talking excitedly with Thor stood a blonde female in what looked to be traditional Asgardian armor. Bruce Banner stood to the side and was talking animatedly with a small boy in what looked like a male version of the Wasp suit with a vaguely familiar woman standing beside them dressed in the actual Wasp suit. A short African male was perched like a cat on the couch and was speaking seriously in English and some Wakandanian with T’Challa. Tony, himself, was caught up in a four-way conversation between him, Spiderman, Vision, and Rhodey who was slowly, but surely walking on his own.

“What the hell,” Clint questioned aloud. All heads turned in their direction before scowls crossed all of the unfamiliar children faces. The redhead female’s clothing shifted into a form of armor and the trident in her hand seemed to spark with power. The blonde male with arrows nodded at the platinum blonde teen before disappearing in thin air.

“Welcome back.” Tony waved, but there was no friendliness in his movement. “Congratulations on receiving pardons for your impressively long list of crimes.”

“Tony,” Steve started before he cut off at the growl of anger from all of the teenagers present.

“It’s Dr. Stark to you,” Francis sneered. Selene’s gripped tighten on her trident as the champion of the Twin Archer gods’ came to her side. He placed a calming hand on her shoulder despite the fact that he wanted to grab his arrows and stick them far up all of their self-righteous asses, Thanos be damned.

“And who are you,” the Scarlett Witch questioned. Selene decided to take over from there. She shared a look with her family and they all looked at their dad. Tony nodded his consent before turning to leave.

“When you learn the truth, remember you left and torn apart one family already, Mr. Sometimes-My-Teammates-Keep-Secrets-From-Me.”

Then he walked away without as much as a fleeting glance at the rogues. Spiderman and Rhodey followed after him each giving a glare to the rogues.

“Free range, huh?” Selene started moving closer towards the rogues. An icy smile crossed her features that had Bruce and Thor twisting uncomfortably. Their time amongst the Stark family over the past few months has led them to see how vicious and defensive she could be. Even though she had somehow found it in the glacier that she calls her heart to forgive them, that doesn’t stop her from keeping them up on their toes and making sure they tread lightly and carefully in regards to her dad and siblings. “Oh, I’m going to have fun with this.”

“You didn’t answer her question; who are you?” Scott asked meekly. He was staring at Hope, but was still glancing at all the teens surrounding him.

“Oh, me? We’ll get to that. Let’s talk about you,” she sneered. She gestured towards her youngest adopted brother Pym. “Pym, take the stage.”

Pym, sweet little Pym, turned to look directly at Scott. He glared death into the soul of the man that broke his biological sister’s heart and stole from his biological father.

“I’m Hank Pym, Junior. The current Antman and the next in line heir to Pym Technologies. I’m also the adopted son of Tony Stark. And you? Well, you’re not important,” Pym slowly made his way towards Scott who looked on warily. With lightning fast movements, Pym snatched the Antman suit from Scott’s pocket. “This does not, has never, and will never belong to you. You have been defaced to the engineer of your team and hold no rights to the Antman name. You’ll be hearing from my father’s lawyers in the next twenty four hours.”

Pym reached a hand out towards his sister who then handed him another set of papers. “You also have a meeting with your Parole Officer, another with your divorce attorney, and here is a restraining order to keep at least one hundred and twenty feet away from Hope van Dyne unless on the battlefield which of course you’re not able to appear on. Effective in the next twenty four hours of you receiving this.”

Then he stepped back and to let whichever one of his other siblings give it a go. Selene and James had wicked smiles on their faces as they looked at the renegades. All of them looked so hurt and angry in their teammates honor.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised. What did you think was going to happen when you run across the globe, stealing someone else’s property to fight a battle you knew nothing about just because Steve Rogers called?” Azari questioned from his seat beside his father.

“Pathetic,” the twins’ sneered.

“I am Prince Azari of Wakanda. Black Panther in training. Heir to the throne of Wakanda. Adopted son of Tony Stark,” was all he said before turning back to his father.

A small electrical charge ran up his arms that had Sam, Scott, and Bucky take two steps back. The blonde girl that was talking to Thor turned to look at the renegades.

“I am Torunn, Adopted Daughter of Tony, Daughter of Thor, Princess of Asgard, Goddess of Thunder, Wielder of Rezača, and a proud Shield Bearer of Midgard.”

“And you, Clint Barton, you have a lot of things to answer to. Mama B, you can come out now!” Francis’ yelled out as Laura Barton made her way into the room and marched directly over to her husband.

“Well this is going to be entertaining,” Selene laughed. -- The Next Avengers were in the training room just hanging around and half-assing their routine. The Black Widow was in there also watching them trail around. It’s not like they needed the training, but Selene and Francis had training with their godly mentors soon and no one wanted to risk either of them getting even the slightest injury.

Then Captain Righteous and his team of bandits walked into the room.

“Francis, wanna go a round?” Selene called out to her brother from where she was doing pull ups. Francis stopped over in the archery range and looked over to her. She had her famed wicked grin on and it continued to send shivers down Sam’s, Steve’s, Wanda’s, and Scott’s spines. Even Bucky, himself, had to suppress his own tremors.

“Sure, you wanna do that Little Red?” Francis pulled a similar grin to hers even as he made his way over.

“Let’s do it, Katniss,” Selene mocked moving over to the mats. “I’ve been practicing, teaching Dad a couple of tricks. You?”

“Did you now? His form has been looking good,” Francis admitted. “Bet. I could make it better.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Selene shrugged. “Full Out or Half Assing?”

“You should watch your language,” Black Widow called out. “Steve doesn’t like it.”

“Do I look like I give a damn what Steve likes,” Selene drawled before her and Francis began their match. James and the rest of their siblings laughed aloud.

“Rude. Just like their father,” Wanda sneered. “It doesn’t surprise me that they don’t respect those that deserve it.”

Selene growled before kicking Francis in the stomach. He flew away from her and she turned towards Wanda.

“Respect those who deserve it? Like your precious Steve Rogers?! RESPECT HIM WHEN HE LEFT MY FATHER TO DIE IN SIBERIA WITH A BROKE ARC REACTOR? RESPECT HIM WHEN HE HID THE FACT THAT HIS LITTLE BFF FROM THE ‘40s KILLED MY FATHER’S PARENTS?”

“IT WASN’T BUCKY!” Steve immediately defended.

“THAT’S NOT BUCKY! GET THAT THROUGH YOUR HEAD!” Selene screeched. The ground around her was shaking like an earthquake. Her eyes’ connected with Steve who looked like he was struggling to contain his anger. “Bucky Barnes died when he fell off that train. That is James Buchanan Barnes. Former Hydra operative. And because of you, Steve Rogers, because you couldn’t sit your ass down and do something to protect your already fragile life. Because you signed up for Project Rebirth and became Captain America. Hydra took your friend and made him a killer. Made him kill my grandparents.”

She took slow steps towards him and the wicked smile began crossing her features again. “Look at you, Steve Rogers. You hated bullies so much that you became one. And you work alongside them. Former Hydra operatives. One by your own unconscious hand and another by her own choice. The Accords made the way for them to be free.”

“What do you know about the Accords?” Sam asked warily. Red Wing was perched on his back delicately and Selene scowled. He may have gotten the Falcon wings from the army, but the upgraded Red Wing was supposed to be hers. He was suppose to keep his little army wings. She will be taking her back.

“What I know? I know when they came to Dad he read them over, laughed for an hour, then called all his lawyers up to get to get them fixed for you. I know when he walked out the room that I had F.R.I.D.A.Y. copy every sheet of paper and we all read them. Every single one of us read through it. Paragraph by paragraph. And yeah, they were shit. So we kept reading them. Every new clause that was added. Every one that was changed,” Azari laughed cruelly. “And you, Rogers, were going to sign them.”

“Wait, what?” Sam questioned aloud thoroughly shocked.

“Here’s a little secret,” Francis said as he walked up beside his sister. “You see, you might have magical powers, Wanda. But Dad is tons of more powerful than you.”

“When a person with unquestionable and unrestricted power kills over 27 people, the public gets angry. And they want death. YOU KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE WANTED YOU DEAD!? My dad was trying to protect you and you threw it in his face! You messed with his mind! You put the idea of Ultron into his head! You killed your own fucking brother! You pushed our brother down seven floors! You dropped cars on our damn father! You threw my mother into a truck! I should kill you for all of that!”

“What” Natasha gasped and took a step back in shock. Steve was bursting to the seams with anger. “She saved lives!”

“You think the public cares about how many lives were saved when faced with how many died? Yes, she saved them from the bomber but let’s talk about those she killed because she doesn’t have full control of her powers. Let’s talk about those she mind-raped. Or the stress she cause in the creation of Ultron. Or those deaths that she had a hand in because she sided with Ultron before she realized that he was going to kill her too. What did you tell her? That it was collateral damage. You told Dad that you can’t expect people to not die in a war. Weren’t you supposed to be Captain America? The Man with the Plan? The Best Strategist to ever live? So her brother’s death was a necessary sacrifice? The only family she had left was collateral damage? Please. That’s a load of bullshit,” James sneered.

Shaking her head, Selene glared at Wanda, who looked like she was trying not to cry. “You killed your own brother, and condemn me for not respecting someone.”

Selene’s body armor changed into traditional Grecian armor that shimmered like water.

“You want me to respect Steve Rogers?! Respect the man that can’t take what he dishes out?! He was going to sign the accords! None of you of would have become criminals if he trusted my father because that’s what it comes down to.”

“He had Wanda locked up! She’s just a kid!” Steve objected.

All of the Stark Siblings glared at him. They didn’t even register when F.R.I.D.A.Y. called out for their father. Selene sneered and felt a deep pleasure when he hit the ground screaming in agony as she burned his blood and the serum running through his veins.

“Don’t raise your voice at her. She has the power to undo the serum running through your bloods. That witch is not a child. She’s over the age of twenty-one. Not only that, you may technically over ninety years old, but you are biologically roughly twenty four years of age. Are you a child? We didn’t think so.”

Tony stopped outside of the door and looked in as Selene let Rogers up. She was breathing heavily as her twin came and wrapped an arm around her carefully. “My dad only wanted the absolute best for you. He gave you a home. He gave you a family. He gave you somewhere to train your skills. He upgraded your suits and your weapons. He didn’t have to do that. He wasn’t supposed to do that. He closed down the weapons program, so he wasn’t suppose to continue to make weapons. He broke the Accords for you. It’s not that you didn’t trust the accords, Rogers. You didn’t trust him, so don’t ever think he can trust you.”

“The Avengers were always Tony’s family,” Steve tried to argue.

“His family? So that’s why they all ended up in exiled in Wakanda with you, huh? Yeah, Dad knew about that,” James snorted.

“We’re his family,” Torunn declared.

Selene shook her head. “I think that hippie juice did more than mess with your body, Rogers. It messed with your mind too. A good man? You’re still the little scrawny asshole from Brooklyn that doesn’t know when to back down. And that’s going to get you killed one day. Funny thing about it? I pray I’m the one that does it.”

Francis and Selene turned their heads to the sky as the call from the Grecian gods played in their mind. Selene took a deep breath before walking over to her siblings and giving them hugs. Tony decided that he was cue to walk in.

“What’s going on?”

It was quiet for a moment before the Pym replied, “We were just having a talk about respect?”

The other siblings nodded their agreements enthusiastically as Selene held onto him tightly. Selene drank in his presence before she went away. She needed to reassure herself that he was there and alive and not slowly freezing to death in a Hydra base in Siberia.

“Gonna miss you too, Little Red.” Her dad said as he wrapped her up in a hug. He used to be so awkward with showing affection, but Selene was her mother’s daughter. She always got what she wanted no matter how hard she had to fight for it.

Francis moved in to get a hug from their father while Selene stood off to the side with her siblings. She glared ahead at the renegades, but she spoke quietly to her siblings. “Take care of dad. Keep him safe and keep them away.”

“No problem with that. We’ll take on a schedule to make sure they never end up in a room alone with him,” James assured as he also glared at the renegades.

“Pretty sure the Black Widow is going to do some more snooping around,” Pym pointed out. “I can keep her out though. Can’t have her figuring out all of our secrets.”

“Perhaps, we should put our information to the team back on clearance level,” Torunn suggested.

“Reasonable. We did make everyone else have to work hard for information on us,” Francis stated as he walked up to the group. Their father was standing off to the side moving the little amounts of things blocking the wall the two champions were to use as their passage.

“Keep basic information. Adopted by dad. Skill set. Only what they know so far,” Azari started. “Anything more about where we’re from needs to be level 10 clearance level?”

Selene snorted. “I don’t care what number of clearance you give it. Our secrets should stay secrets as long as they can. Give them hell.” She walked slowly over to the renegades ignoring how the Black Widow stared intently at her. “Not a single piece of hair. No chip teeth. No broken bones. I have the reports from today on my dad’s health. It better be the same when I return because if it’s not, I can’t promise that your pardons will mean anything.”

She threw her hand out to the wall and let the power take control of itself. The portal slowly began forming, but once it was completed; it was beautiful. Lord Poseidon, Lady Artemis, and Lord Apollo were standing in front of it on the other side. Beautiful smiles crossed their features at the sight of their champions.

The feeling of returning home danced across the hearts of the champions as they shared one last glance at their father and siblings before crossing the threshold. -- Without his twin at the tower, James felt uneasy. He didn’t feel complete. Selene was more than just his other half. She shared the womb with him. She was what she affectionately dubbed, “his wombmate”. The Yin to his Yang. He hated when she was gone, but he was dealing with it. Training with their other siblings and learning his way around their dad’s workshop really helped with his coping.

It didn’t help that the renegades had all tried engaging their dad into some type of communication outside out of anything Avenger related or the fact that Natasha or Natalia or as dad says, Natashlie, took to spying on him. The firewalls and clearance level kept her from snooping around into too much their business.

And then one day, she just stops. She stopped trying to talk to dad outside of the field. She kept her distance from them and kept the renegades at a respectable distance.

Pym and Azari believed that she could have finally taken the hint. Torunn has not paid her any attention instead talking to her birth father and learning as much as she could about his Lady Jane. But James was his sister’s brother and he was his mother’s son, he knew she was up to something else.

Which why it wasn’t surprising to him when dad started speaking to her more outside of the field. He didn’t spill all of his secrets out to her, and he essentially made himself harder to read to the spy. He slowly started to treat her as more of a friend.

He was; however, surprise when the renegade ask for a meeting with him. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair and wished for his twin to hurry home. He hated having to be the go-to person out of the official Stark Siblings.

She was in one of the office rooms that Selene only used to hide under the desk to sleep. Selene’s Iron Man blanket was even poking out from under the desk. Selene’s blood red leather jacket was thrown carelessly over the back of the chair. Tony Stark’s Daughter written on the back with the t in daughter shaped somewhat like an hourglass.

“I know who you are. I don’t know how, but I do,” the Black Widow stated. He just raised an eyebrow at her. He pressed his watch to scan for hidden comms.

“Who am I?”

She pursed her lips before turning towards him. Her face was set in an indifferent mask, but after years of spying on the spy, James could see the unease, doubt, and disbelief dancing across her features.

“You’re my son. I can see every bit of me in you. I don’t know how, but you are. You look how I imagined my father to look like,” she stated. On the inside, he was panicking. He didn’t know what to tell her. He wanted to tell her the truth, but what about Selene? How would she feel? Then he remembered that Selene basically outted the information herself so she couldn’t be too mad that he told their mother.

“I’m from another dimension,” he admitted. “You’re my mom and this is my first time meeting you as my mother.”

Natasha took a deep breath as she gazed at him. She took in the red locks on the top of his head, the sharp blue eyes that watched her every move, his strong build. This was her son and Tony took him in and took care of him. He somehow managed to one up one of the greatest assassins in the world. She didn’t know if she wanted to be offended or impressed.

“What did you know me as in your world?”

“You were dead,” James stated bluntly. He took deep satisfaction of the way her mask drop and complete and utter shock crossed her features. “Tony Stark raised me in that dimension, and he’s raising me in this dimension. I couldn’t ask for a better parent no matter who I’m biologically related to.”

She paused for a moment to take in his words. He didn’t care for her or whoever his father may be. And isn’t that all kinds of fucked up. Another version of her apparently could have children and still missed out on their life. Tony Stark. The man with an ego bigger than the sun took in her children twice in different dimensions and she had betrayed his trust in more times than were acceptable.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to inform my remaining siblings that you know the truth. But let me be frank, if this information ends up in any of the sub-par Avengers hands, I won’t go to Selene or Francis. I will end you myself, biological mother be damned.”

Then he turned to leave the room. He may love her to some extent, but Tony Stark was his father. Maybe he should get a Son of Stark leather jacket made.

Now where did Mrs. Laura hide the chocolate chip cookies? -- Francis made it back to the tower before Selene. An eclipse was coming soon. Artemis and Apollo needed to prepare for it. Then they also had their own godly training for the upcoming war against the titan Thanos. He still didn’t understand how Selene managed to punk the King of the Gods into aiding the Asgardians.

Shaking his head, it was late at night when he portaled home. He was faintly sure one of the only people that would still be up was his dad. Adopted dad. Not the biological father that decided that Captain America was more important than his wife and kids.

Francis made his way to the kitchen to see what his stepmom (can she even be his stepmom? His dad was never with his mom in this dimension and wow, this is just a completely different level of messed up) cooked and if there were any leftovers for him.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. where’s my, uh… Where’s Mama B?”

The comforting and familiar Irish accented voice replied, “Welcome back, Arrowhead. Mrs. Barton is currently reading a novel in the family room of her floor. Shall I let her know you’re looking for her?”

“I see Pym’s been having fun with messing around with your name protocols. But no, tell her that I’m on my way up though.”

“Of course.”

By the time Francis made it to the Barton Family sans Clint Barton floor, Laura had already had a game of Scrabble set up for the two of them to play. It was his way of opening up and talking to her about things that were bothering him. He needed motherly advice, but his mother was on the run from the Russian Government with her ex-husband (or reinstated husband... he didn’t care for the details when he learned that he’d never exist in this dimension).

Laura Barton meant a lot to him and he’d be proud to call her his mother stepmother. So that’s why he decided to tell her the truth…

“Uh, Mama B, I got some things I need to get off my chest,” he started. He looked down at his pieces. He knew if he looked in her eyes at the moment that he might chicken out.

You’re the champion of the god of truth. I don’t want you lying or lying by omission. I understand you humans have a flawed sense of understanding and we gods are no better. But you are the champion of the archer twins. Zeus’ favorite kids no matter what anyone else says. Be better than us gods. Prove that you are worthy to be our champion. (Yeah, no pressure or anything, Lord Apollo. And can you please stop staring at my little sister?)

“I’m listening,” she replied. Francis could imagine her giving him an encouraging smile with a completely worried look in her eyes. He wondered if he would’ve grown up in better times back in his own dimension would his mother ever look at him like that.

“Me and the rest of my siblings have been keeping a secret for you all. Dad… Tony just gave us permission to be able to tell anyone we want. It was our secret to tell... We just had to wait until it was the right time and… this is harder than I thought it would be.”

“Francis, take a deep breath.”

He did what he was told before trying again. “What I’m trying to say is… me and all of my siblings are from another dimension. We showed up in this dimension around the time of Ultron being defeated…”

He was finding his voice. The flow of how he was going to tell her. He found his footing to say. “You see in our dimension, the Avengers had never parted. I never even heard of the Scarlet Witch. Hank Pym went by Henry Pym and he was around Tony’s age. Hope wasn’t born. Janet, the original Wasp, was still around. War Machine wasn’t well War Machine. The lineup for the Avengers was Iron Man, Captain America, Black Widow, Black Panther, Hulk, Thor, Antman, Wasp, Vision, and Hawkeye.”

Francis was so deep into his story that he didn’t notice when Clint slipped into the room. He didn’t hear the patter of his half-siblings' feet. He didn’t notice when his adopted dad slipped in through the elevator. He needed to get this off his chest and besides, Tony (and Pepper and Rhodey and Happy and Vision and Thor and Bruce and F.R.I.D.AY. and the Greek gods); Laura was the only person he trusted.

“Everyone had split off to live their own lives. They were in a peaceful, ready for the call to action at any given moment but peaceful retirement. In my dimension, Hawkeye ended up marrying another SHIELD agent…Bobbi Morse. Code name Mockingbird. They had one son. Raised him together for a few years when Iron Man’s coding went haywire. Ultron was supposed to do the same thing he was initially created to do in this world. Be the extra fire power for a great war. Outer space police force. But the coding scanned through all of mankind’s history and decided it didn’t like what it saw. It killed nearly everything. The Avengers were plowed through. Mockingbird went down with them. Only five survive. Iron Man, who had been given the orders from Captain America to get four of the other Avengers kids to safety. Thor had return to Asgard during the times of peace to take over as king. Hulk went into hiding. Vision could stay hidden by remaining intangible. And Hawkeye was always good at staying out sight and living on the streets. Not too long afterwards, Thor sent his daughter to earth. To continue to prove his father wrong about Midgard. That left Tony with five kids to take care of. Hawkeye raised his son on his own while Ultron continued to wipe out humanity.”

“Fast forward to around the time, Hawkeye’s son was 9 years old. Hawkeye slipped up. Ultron killed him. In honor of his father, his son took on the code name Hawkeye and continued to lead a group of rebels that went by the name of the Scavengers. They took out whatever bots they could and scavenge what they could get by with. It was in the name. Five years later, one of the kids under Tony’s care set off some bots. Avenger Robots that Uncle Tony had made to battle against Ultron in case their location was ever compromised. By then, Ultron was able to integrate his programming into other pieces of machinery. Tony sent the kids off alongside Vision to go find somewhere else to hide while he distracted Ultron.”

He shook his head and laughed. “I did say these were the kids of the avengers so they were all pretty stubborn. They figured that Ultron had kidnapped Tony to lure them out, so they convinced the youngest and more technology intrigued sibling to fly them to what was called Ultron City. That’s where they met up with the young Hawkeye after he basically saved their lives and formed a somewhat better plan to save Tony. It worked for the most part and the young Hawkeye had to save them again. I’m pretty sure a part of him was getting tired of saving their behinds. Later on with some guidance from one Betty Ross, they escaped to the desert to hide out with the Hulk until they could come up with a better plan. And well, these are the children of the avengers and they hadn’t had much guidance when it came to making plans. Well except for the bossy little redhead girl who deemed any and everybody as a threat and wanted details ways to take everyone down rather it be emotionally, mentally, or physically. She was frightening pint size ball of pure fury and distrust.”

“The kid from the beginning that activated the bots modeled after their parents came up with a plan to bring Ultron to them. And well, let’s just say, they defeated everybody and Hulk was declared the strongest there is. Antboy was also purely threatened to never shoot at Hulk again and Thor said Hi. A few years later, our dimension Thanos decided to grace them with his presence. When they heard about him, they nearly wished for Ultron back. But Thor, Vision, Tony, and Hulk decided that Thanos wasn’t worth the risk of losing them. Tony had had come to love all of them like his own even the new Hawkeye who had more attitude than he had arrows. Tony’s words. They all plotted together and with the help of some Asgardian technology and magic, they had made a dimension transporter. They knew the kids were gonna go snooping. Antboy had thing for wanting to know how things work. The little redhead female didn’t trust it. Thor’s daughter recognized the Asgardian magic within. Younger Hawkeye went wherever the little redhead went. They were two peas in a pod once they got over their arguing and baiting each other. The defacto leader of them wanted to see what it could do. The last of the group wanted everyone to get away from it without Tony’s permission, but also wanted to know what it did.”

Francis’ eyes gained a faraway look as he stated his next piece. “They didn’t notice Vision fade in, slip a disk into Hawkeye’s and the little redhead’s pockets, and activate the transporter. One second they were all standing in front of it, the next second the little redhead female was calling out for Tony as they were all being sucked in, and then the last second we all woke up lying in the medical wing of the tower. Selene and I later found out from the gods that our dimension had been destroyed in an epic battle of magic, technology and strength. We’re stuck here for the rest of our lives.”

He cleared his throat before he looked up at Laura. He still didn’t seem to register anyone else in the room as he said, “So what I’m trying to say is…”

He trailed off as his gaze flickered over to Clint who was staring at him wide-eyed like he couldn’t believe it. But Tony ran the tests that showed signs of Asgardian magic and influx of power source not yet created and data streams not from around them that were attached to each of their persons. He had the videos from the disks that was sent through with them that detailed why they were sent to that dimension and who they were. Videos ranging from their childhood on up and videos as them as a new family after Ultron’s defeat. Lists of the foods they were allergic to, etc.

The smirk that crossed Francis’ face was filled with bitter loathing as he stared at the stunned Clint. “Hi dad.” --

Selene was walking around the ponds in Olympus gardens. Lord Poseidon had a meeting to go to with his brothers regarding their monthly visit to the titan’s prison. They always went to see who was worthy of rehabilitation and becoming an ally to the gods. Selene didn’t think they actually cared as no one had been freed, but it was Lady Hestia’s idea so it made sense for them to put on a show.

Selene was just ready to get planet side to be back with her family and give the Pardon Avengers hell. She had already managed to scam a promise out of King Zeus and the rest of the Olympians to fight in the war against Thanos. Chaos would look favorably on them for not destroying one of his favorite planets.

Then the leaves in the trees rustled, but no one was there. Selene’s eyes narrowed before she moved ankle deep into the war.

Something ran past her and brush against her arm, but it couldn’t get far before Selene willed the water to anticipate and throw them down. There was a big splash as the water knocked the mysterious figure down. Before they could recover, Selene rushed over and wrapped her arm around their throat making sure to cut off their airways. She pressed one of her daggers to their heart.

“Oi! I didn’t see that coming,” a rough Sokovian accented voice made its way to her ears. She heard that catch phrase before. When she was rewatching the Avengers battles from the recordings of her dad’s suit, she heard this voice mocking them in the comms. You didn’t see that coming.

She remembered hearing it again as the man the voice belong to DIED!

Selene growled fiercely and squeezes her arm tighter around his neck. “Welcome to the Pond of Truth. For every attempt to lie, the water will give you third degree burns. For every truth, I may think about releasing you. Understand?”

She waited for him to nod his head before she began. “Are you Pietro Maximoff?”

“Yes.”

Selene risked a glance down at him instead of the water surrounding them. His hair was a perfect shade of white with flecks of brown at the roots. He sort of reminded her Lord Hermes and somewhat of Lord Poseidon’s son Perseus (“It’s Percy.” “You don’t like Perseus?” “No. I prefer Percy.” “Okay, Perseus.”).

“How old are you? Earthling terms; not godly.”

“Physically 17. Actuality, I’m 25 years old. I died.”

Selene’s suspicions were confirmed. But she had more questions than answers. Like what the hell he was doing in Olympus instead of doing on Earth keeping his sister sane.

“I could not return to Earth. At least, not yet. Lord Hermes said that I could not leave until another champion of the gods found me. I have spent the better half of my time here trying to capture the champion of the archers’ attention. It was more of a desperate hope with you.”

That answers that then.

“Lord Hermes?”

“I am the Champion of Hermes. God of trave-“

“I know what he’s the god of,” Selene cuts him off.

She released him as she felt the presence of Poseidon draw closer alongside the familiar presence of Hermes that she was used to. The two champions bowed before their mentors and rose with the gracefulness that was blessed upon them.

“I see you two have finally found each other. I had hoped that it would have been sooner instead of keeping you up in the lands of gods for pointless endeavors, noelani.” Poseidon stated as he looked at her proudly. “You are like my own daughter and only one I have blessed with near all of my powers and you have made me extremely proud of you. My latest test for you, is for you to guide him back onto earth.

“How-how did he survive? He was killed by Ultron. I saw the footage!” Selene was getting angry and even Poseidon was wary of her angry. She made the three furies of the underworld look tame when she let out all of her anger.

“His cellular structure broke down except he had accelerated healing. Though instead of healing him from his wounds, they continuously broke down. I had previously been watching him when it was brought to my attention that his cells were reversing his aging process and killing him quicker than the blasts from Ultron. I visited the fates and stole his life thread freezing it until I had the proper chance to steal his body away from the earthlings around him. I saved him, but he was already years younger than previously. I made him my champion and he has partial immortality like you and the rest of your family.”

Selene blushed a little as remembered how she basically threw the biggest fit inside of Olympus throne room to get her father, Aunt Pepper, Uncle Rhodey, and Uncle Happy partial immortality alongside her other siblings including the nonofficial adopted siblings Peter and Harley. She just hoped they all be careful and not get themselves killed to realize what she did. She didn’t need them dying just for the immortality to become fulltime and they realize that they cannot die. It was bad enough that Lord Apollo had to hold off on healing her Uncle Rhodey because she didn’t know if they were going to be mad at her from making such a decision of their lives.

“I will take him back with me to earth. I won’t let you down.” She declared as she stared determinedly into Lord Poseidon’s eyes. He nodded once before waving his hand and a portal opened. Pietro gazed into it in awe and longing. Selene smiled fondly and felt the shift of her clothes. Another leather jacket (courtesy of Lady Aphrodite and Lady Athena) perched onto her shoulders. Hot pink with bold gold lettering stating 5tark Child. She placed her new pair of Christian Dior shades on before she bowed to the gods and led the newly younger Maximoff twin back to earth.

People to see; lives to ruin; families to reconnect; threats to be put into place; biological parents to ignore; adopted parent to love

“Welcome back, Little Red.”