#I think I put too much angsty thoughts about his absent father in this

[spicyboelives]

Tony Stark Mopey & Drunk as requested on my Kofi :)

[courtforshort15]

Would be willing to ever give us a sneak peek to one of your future fics? No pressure if you don’t want to, Tuesday just seems so far away for me 😭😭

Hi anon! Sure!! I'd love to do that :)

I was going to give you a small blurb from one of the fics I was posting the next week and the week after, one of which being the third installment of the Coffee Shop Woes series, but they're both on the angsty side, so I thought I'd spare you some sadness today.

Please keep in mind that this fic is EXTREMELY unfinished. I have some chunks missing, and it needs to go through a few rounds of thorough editing, so I probably won't post it for a while. But on the bright side, it's already at 8,000 words, so it'll be even longer once it's finished.

I present to you a fic in which reader meets a man at a bar, gets man's number, only to find out he intentionally gave the wrong number, leading to funny, random conversations with one Matthew Murdock.

I think it's quirky and entertaining, and hope you will to!

Without further adieu....Call Me, Beep Me

It's 6pm on a Friday night and you're home alone…again. An old re-run of a sitcom is on, the static hum of the characters arguing filling your apartment as you stare blankly at the bottle of wine perched on your coffee table. A small smile graces your face when a stupid joke hits your buzzed awareness, but it quickly fades.

You'd had such grand hopes for moving to the city from upstate, expecting new friends and an active social life. But you've failed to establish either, which isn't exactly surprising, when you think about it.

You're an awkward human being. Clumsy, random, so much sadness seeping from your pores sometimes that you don’t know how to connect with people in a way that always seems healthy. People sometimes shy away from you, as if already knowing you’re too much to handle.

You never know quite what to say, and when you do talk, you either say too little or way too much, never quite finding the right balance of what to share. In all your dreams of living in the big apple, you had failed to realize that moving wasn't going to magically solve your inability to socialize.

It's why Ryan had been a brief glimpse of fresh air, the random blonde man who had seemed interested enough to keep a fun, light conversation going while keeping his sole attention on you. Someone who had drawn you out of your shell, someone who had been able to get you to open up, even if only for an hour and a half. It was why you had been upset to realize he had probably thought you just as weird as everyone else.

But…Random Phone Man had somehow managed to stick around for a longer conversation the other night on the phone that you had been expecting, and it hadn’t exactly been unpleasant.

You down the rest of your glass of wine, looking for a little liquid courage, before you snatch up your phone, fingers twitching in some sort of twisted anticipation. You scroll down to your previous calls, unsurprised to find it relatively near the top. Between an absent father and abandoned friendships, your time on the phone is extremely limited. 

You press on his phone number, open it up in the text message format, and think about what you want to say. The words you end up typing aren’t anything special, more random than anything, but the wine flooding through your system doesn’t care.

Text Sent by Me: So…I was wondering if you wanted to be my phone buddy.

Text Sent by Me: Totally fine if you don’t want to be

When there’s not a reply for a few minutes, you put your phone on the cushion next to you with a sigh, but the phone has barely left your fingers when it buzzes.

Text Received from Unknown: I'm sorry, who is this?

You flush, the effects of the wine and embarrassment flooding your cheeks, deciding this was already a bad move on your part, but yolo and all that jazz.

Text Sent by Me: It's the random girl from the bar who someone gave the wrong number to

Text Sent by Me: We talked on the phone the other night

Text Sent by Me: Sorry, this was a bad idea. I'll leave you alone. 

Text Received from Unknown: You saved my number?

Cringing slightly, look up from your phone with a loud sigh, because now that you think about it, maybe it comes across as a little weird. You pour yourself another large glass of wine, and you’re not quite sure if it’s to help you move past the awkwardness of the random conversation, or to help you drown your sorrows at spending yet another Friday night alone. It’s probably both.

Text Sent by Me: I mean, not exactly. It's in my call history. I can delete it though and stop texting you.

Text Received from Unknown: It's no issue

Text Received from Unknown: What exactly is a phone buddy?

Text Sent by Me: Just something new I made up like thirty seconds before I texted you. I’m new to the city and don’t have many friends, so maybe we could talk sometimes?

Text Sent by Me: God, I hate how pathetic I must sound. Sorry.

Text Received from Unknown: If it makes you feel any better, I don't have many friends either.

You can’t help but snort. Men who sound like him, raspy and sarcastic and in control, usually aren’t the type who hurt for company. You imagine there’s a permanent smirk on his lips, eyebrows raised in question, face open in some sort of combined look of amusement and curiosity.

Text Sent by Me: So you're as pathetic and alone as me

Text Received from Unknown: Seems so

Text Sent by Me: Well sounds like maybe you need a phone buddy, too.

Text Sent by Me: You in?

Text Received from Unknown: What do I get out of it, random girl from the bar?

Text Sent by Me: The pleasure of my voice and sporadic text company? My dry wit? My random commentary on all things mundane that you probably will never ask for?

Text Received from Unknown: You’re really selling this.

Text Sent by Me: Part of my awkward charm

Text Received from Unknown: Sure, I guess.

Even in your (more than) buzzed state, you’re still somewhat shocked at the response. With a laugh that borders on manic, you reply, fingers flying over the letters on your screen. You have to retype the words a few times, misspellings frequent due to the way your hands twitch in something akin to excitement. You’re sure you look like a hot mess; cackling, drunk, and shaking hands.

Text Sent by Me: Really?

Text Sent by Me: Don’t sound so excited

Text Sent by Me: You really don't have to

Text Received from Unknown: SURE

Text Sent by Me: Now you just sound like you’re angry

Text Received from Unknown: If you are reading this text, does it really sound like anything?

You groan. He’s one of those guys. Maybe he’d prove to be just as much of a dork as you, filled with shitty jokes people can’t help but laugh at because they’re just that bad. Or maybe he’s just a sarcastic little fucker.

Text Sent by Me: Oh, what an awful dad joke

Text Sent by Me: I revoke my phone buddy invitation

Text Received from Unknown: Too late

Text Received from Unknown: So how does this phone buddy thing work? What does it entail?

Leaning back against the cushions of your couch, you pause to think for a brief moment because you honestly hadn’t thought the conversation would get this far. Your head swims from the wine, warmth coursing through your veins and stomach, and you hiccup loudly. With another drunken laugh, you turn your attention back to your phone, ideas stuttering across your mind. 

Text Sent by Me: Oh, you know. I tell you about the man I saw in the subway station who was humping a trashcan, you tell me about how much you hate your boss. The usual.

Text Received from Unknown: People hump trashcans?

Text Sent by Me: People will hump anything down there. No one really bats an eye

Text Sent by Me: Don’t you live in New York, too? Do you not use the subway?

Text Received from Unknown: Yes, I live in New York. And no, I don’t really use it. 

Text Sent by Me: I guess it's part of the NYC experience, but it's kind of awful. I use it every day to and from work.

Text Received from Unknown: Luckily I only live a few blocks from my office. 

Text Sent by Me: Ugh, I'm jealous now. What do you do?

Text Received from Unknown: I’m a lawyer.

Text Sent by Me: No wonder you don’t have many friends.

Text Sent by Me: Do you work in one of those fancy high-rises? 

Text Received from Unknown: Definitely not

Text Received from Unknown: My partner and I have our own law firm, so our office is pretty small. It’s just him and I, plus a friend of ours.

You’re mildly disappointed at his reply, but you push past it with a laugh.

Text Sent by Me: Oh, nice. How long have you been together?

Text Received from Unknown: We met back in college, so a little over ten years.

Text Sent by Me: Aw, that’s almost disgustingly cute. 

Text Sent by Me: Are you guys married? Got any kids?

Text Received from Unknown: What?

Frowning, you stare down at your phone, curious as to why the question had tripped him up. Tilting your head to the side, you type out the same question.

Text Sent by Me: What?

Text Received from Unknown: Why are you asking if we have kids?

Text Sent by Me: Because he’s your…partner?

Text Received from Unknown: Law partner

Text Received from Unknown: He’s my law partner

Oh.

OH. 

Text Sent by Me: Well I feel incredibly stupid now. I’m also drunk on too much wine, so take that into account.

Text Sent by Me: Please don't sue me for any emotional distress I've caused 

Text Sent by Me: That's a thing, right?

Text Received from Unknown: It is

Text Received from Unknown: I’m drafting up the paperwork as we speak

Text Sent by Me: Fuck

----

[bludhavents]

things that each greaser struggles with:

these are mostly headcanons i came up with. also, this gets pretty angsty.

content warning: alcoholism, addiction, anxiety.

darry:

- maturity. he thinks everybody looks at him like the “dad” of the group instead of just another friend, and he loathes it. he misses whenever he was able to skip work to catch a movie at the drive-in or take ponyboy and sodapop up to the dingo for lunch.

- accidental intimidation. his build is very large and strong, which is good for his job and for when he’s actually trying to, well, intimidate people, but other than that it just makes him feel guilty for being so unapproachable.

- relationships. specifically, darry is very insecure in his relationship with pony. he especially hates it whenever pony dogs on him for forgetting things or accusing him of not caring.

- emotional intelligence. he knows he comes across as cold. and he hates it. he has lots of emotions and he doesn’t air them out in a healthy way, so he tries his best to cut all the emotions off altogether in hopes that the negativity will stop, but it just makes him feel even more insecure.

- social skills. in high school, it was all much easier for him, but now that he’s working full-time and running the household, he’s fallen majorly behind in the social scene. he never goes out to the drive-in or to the dingo, and at first it was because he was too busy, but now, even if he doesn’t have a shift, he’ll make up some excuse because he’s too nervous to go and have to talk to people again since he feels like he’s gonna mess up.

- identity. darry was just starting to feel comfortable in himself and in his role in the world right before his parents died, and when they did, he stopped trying to figure out what made him happy. it has made him insecure of the emotional stint that is centered around his ego and sense of self.

sodapop:

- smarts. it’s canon that he’s insecure about this.

- growing up. while everybody else moves on to new things and grows up, he feels like he’s stuck in the same place watching everybody else progress while he stays behind. this was especially true after sandy left, because marrying her was going to be this huge exciting step in his life and when she left, he didn’t have that fulfillment anymore.

- reassurance. he feels a constant need for approval, and he will take it wherever he can get it. there’s a sort of pride he gets whenever he sees a girl checking him out, but there’s a deeper feeling telling him that she’s gonna run away once she finds out about how ‘stupid’ he is.

- authority. soda has a really hard time talking to people who are in a position of power. he gets all nervous and his hands get sweaty and his face goes sheet white in panic. his charm and social skill is enough to satisfy a conversation with a person his age, but he feels silly trying to be confident in front of an adult. he feels like they look down on him and will laugh.

- fatherhood. he’s very insecure about having a family in the future. he feels like he never appreciated his dad’s skilled parenting while he could, and since then darry has been a sort of fatherly figure in the house, but it’s hard for soda to see it that way. he grew up for 16 years with darry as a big brother and for him to suddenly be forced into a father role is troubling for soda. because of this complicated dynamic between soda and fatherhood, he feels like he won’t be able to be the best father possible for his children.

- legs. he hates his legs. you will never see soda in a pair of shorts, not even when he’s swimming. he doesn’t like the way they’re shaped and thinks that they make the rest of his body look odd, so he wears loose jeans to hide them. he’s also embarrassed of being embarrassed about them, so nobody knows, not even steve.

dallas:

- emotional intelligence. his lack of emotional intelligence is something he battles with a lot. he understands what people are feeling, but he has a hard time understanding why they feel that way. he says it’s because he’s too tuff to deal with emotions, but deep down he knows it’s because he was thrust into a traumatic childhood so early on that he never had time to build emotional bonds with people that would strengthen his empathy and understanding.

- his past, another canon take. he hates talking about it, even the good stuff, because when he thinks about new york all he can picture is 10 year old dallas watching a man being covered in a white sheet by the paramedics on the side of the road. he thinks about his friends from there and knows they’re all either locked up or dead, and it ruins any enjoyment he gets from reminiscing on the good times.

- health. he definitely has crohn’s or IBS or something else that makes his stomach hurt whenever he eats, and it embarrasses him to no end. he’s always anxious that his stomach is going to start hurting when he’s with the gang and is going to have to find some excuse to leave. he smokes so much while he’s out with them to keep from getting hungry until he gets back to buck’s place.

- his friendships. the shepherd gang is close-knit. then, the curtis’ are brothers, steve has known them forever, and two-bit is outgoing enough to make himself fit in to the group. johnny is the closest person dallas relates to, and it’s the friendship hes the most secure in.

- his smile. he knows smoking ruins his teeth, and he knows they’re crooked all over, and he knows that when he smiles his lips crack and stretch out.

johnny:

- his appearance, canon insecurity. he looks young for his age, and when the gang found him in the lot after he was beaten by Socs, they all started treating him like he was young too. he didn’t think the scar on his face was tuff, it just reminded him of being attacked.

- his voice. this is less about how it sounds and more about him not being able to speak over the shouting at home. he hates yelling, and he won’t stand in to speak up for him cause he’s too afraid of being told to “stop yelling”.

- being average. johnny feels painfully average in everything he does. he’s tried to find a skill that he truly loves and wants to take time to be good at, but he always gets frustrated and quits before he can improve.

- romance. almost every aspect of it terrifies johnny. he doesn’t know what a healthy marriage looks like, what he does know was from Mr and Mrs Curtis, but seeing them die together warped his sense of love. he doesn’t understand why you would want to love somebody so much if you didn’t have to. he doesn’t like the “til death do us part” aspect of marriage, because it makes him feel trapped. he’s not afraid of commitment, he’s afraid that he will end up in a marriage like his parents’ and not be able to leave.

two-bit:

- alcoholism. he’s an alcoholic and he knows it, but he’s been stuck in the vicious cycle of addiction for such a long time that the only way he knows how to cope with the emotional baggage of addiction is to drink more.

- social awareness. as of now, he’s very self-aware and extremely skilled in reading a room, but he didn’t used to be. he used to crack jokes at the wrong time and get scolded for it, and it made him feel horrible. like he wasn’t able to experience all the same sad feelings as everybody else because they reacted differently to the sadness than he did. they wanted to process the sadness while he wanted to ignore it.

- being absent at home. he knows he spends the majority of time at the curtis house, and he also knows that his mother spends the majority of her time at work, which leaves his little sister at home alone. he has a good relationship with her, but he doesn’t like for her to see him drunk, and as his alcoholism progresses, that gets to be more and more often. he knows this, and it’s one of the main reasons he’s so insecure about his addiction, because she’s the one who let him know that it wasn’t a one-way street. his problem affected him and her.

- commitment. two-bit is young, but he feels old enough to know how relationships work. he saw his dad walk out on them, and he was never able to process how you could go from marrying someone to leaving and never looking back. at first, he thought that his dad was just a selfish jerk, but when he met johnny and saw that his parents were also married and simultaneously abusive, he convinced himself that all marriages were bound to end up that way. he believes that if the curtis’ lived longer, they would have eventually gotten bitter and tired of each other, because in his mind, that’s just what couples do.

ponyboy:

- confidence. he has a lot of insecurities, and they’re shared pretty evenly between physical and non physical. he doesn’t like his body or his eyes. he doesn’t like how impulsive and dramatic he is.

- security. not in himself, but in life. he’s permanently on edge, feeling anxious about who’s going to be around the corner and what would happen if he got jumped and how many Socs he’d be able to fight off in case anything happened. his parents’ sudden deaths did not help this. he feels like life is constantly tossing him around, and he never feels completely safe.

- emotional outbursts. this isn’t exclusive to ponyboy, but he struggles with it the most. he hates getting upset with people, and he hates hurting other people’s feelings. when he’s feeling too many things, he starts to speak without a filter and gets mad at the littlest things, and he knows that it makes everybody around him feel bad.

- fitting in. in contrast to johnny’s insecurity, ponyboy wants nothing more than to fit in. he’s tired of being the only greaser in his classes, he’s tired of his isolated taste in movies and theatre, he’s tired of being a track star, and he’s tired of all the pressure put on him since he isn’t average.

steve

- masculinity. his dad always enforces an unrealistic standard of being strong, independent, and logical. steve is inherently all of these things, but the pressure he feels to keep it up weighs him down.

- comparing himself to others. it started in middle school when he noticed all of the people liked sodapop more. from then on he couldn’t help but feel like soda was more attractive and charming, darry was stronger and smarter, two-bit was funnier and cooler, dallas was tougher and unbothered, johnny was more likeable and down-to-earth, and ponyboy was more creative and well spoken.

- addiction. there was a time in steve’s life where he was getting high every day. at first it was fun, but then he had to quit track because he wasn’t as athletic as he used to be. it ruined his health and motivation. he started working on cars more to keep himself busy, and it helped a lot, even got him a job.

- hyperindependence. steve’s biggest character flaw is that he can’t ask for help. whether it’s asking for help in school or asking for soda to hand him a tool in the garage, steve can’t bring himself to do ask. it makes him feel like he’s not good enough to do it on his own.

[manchasama]

This idea is a darker themed AU, but I would like to say it's not meant to be angsty.  It's just bad things happening to the good good bois.  Still, since a lot of it is darker, everything will fully go under the cut.  

An alternate history for the subway boys.  What if Nimbasa used to be a more dangerous place.  Full of gang activity, poor and exploited people, the works.  What if Ingo and Emmet decided to make it their mission to clean up their town?

Mother abandoned them with their father after birth.  Father took on a girlfriend to help support him with the twins, but she's kind of horrible.  It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, but she hates it, and he puts up with it.  He does love his sons, but he is always tired, absent often, and…

Nimbasa city is honestly a cesspool.  Gangs run rampant, using the subway center of power.  There's plenty of hiding within the tunnels, it provides transport for their goods, etc.  The subway is one of the most dangerous places to go for the average person as well, all sorts of bad things happening daily.  And the gangs have their territories that they extort people in.  The one their family lives in taxes homes based on how many people live in them.  So early on, probably at the insistence of the girlfriend (or maybe it was his idea which is even worse), the father hides one of them away.  

Very rarely are both allowed to be out in the house, for fear of someone overhearing and telling on them to gain favor for themselves, or in case of an unexpected "inspection" of the home.  Initially he hides Emmet away, favoring Ingo as the elder son.  (If one were to survive, it should be the elder is his thinking.)  Emmet spends way too much time in isolation, hiding in a dark closet, playing quietly to himself.  The best times are when he and Ingo get to play together, but they must be quiet, always so quiet.  They learn to communicate with no words, able to read each other closely.

However Ingo hates this.  So much.  The injustice is burning acid in his stomach.  He can see, even at this young age, how much this isolation is hurting Emmet.  He doesn't even bother asking his father.  He knows well the man's paranoia from previous times they had innocently asked why they couldn't play together.  He just goes to Emmet's closet and insists that they switch.  After all, who could tell the difference?  (Even now Ingo was a serious child, and Emmet's smile a frozen grimace on his face.  But kids were kids were kids, and no one noticed.)

Emmet didn't really grasp the situation, back then.  He was just overjoyed at being allowed into his brother's world.  And the closet wasn't that bad, surely.  He'd spent so long in it, if it was really terrible, well, that would be horrible right?  So it couldn't be horrible, so it wasn't terrible.  (But Ingo learns to hate the dark and the cramped.  It messes him up a lot more, probably some PTSD there.)

They take turns.  Whether their father and the girlfriend catch on is unknown, but if they did realize they didn't do anything about it.  And since the twins already share all the details of their lives (Ingo in a desperate attempt to give Emmet something of the outside world, and Emmet in relief to being able to interact with SOMEone), it's not like Emmet didn't already know what to do.  In theory at least.  So now Emmet is allowed to go outside, to attend school.  Parts of it are overwhelming.  The sky is so vast.  That first step out the door was almost enough to wreck their plan.  But Emmet thought of his brother, thought of going back into the closet without ever experiencing anything outside, and steels himself against the hysteria bubbling in his mind.  

(Emmet tries to interact with their peers, the ones who would tolerate Ingo.  But his manic energy turns them off, drives them away.  He admits guiltily to Ingo that they don't like him, afraid Ingo will be mad he scared the "friends" off.  Ingo just assures him that he'll always be there for him.  They are together, forever.)

Emmet tries harder to gain at least one friend for them.  When he finds one boy who doesn't immediately call him names or walk away, he tries so hard.  He's not good at talking, but he tries.  When the boy turns away disinterested, he desperately tells him he has a secret.  The boy is intrigued, and Emmet (poor desperate Emmet) tells him that he is actually a twin, that he is Emmet and not Ingo.

Nothing comes of it at first.  The other boy doesn't believe him, leaving Emmet sadder than before.  But later…

Emmet is back in the closet, finding comfort in the dark and solitude (because he deserves it for doing badly at making friends), when the door is kicked in.  The gang have come to make a surprise inspection/collection.  But this time it's different.  Because a little birdie told them something funny.  Emmet can hear the voice moving around the small apartment, hear his dad's stammered protests, the girlfriend's voice rising in hysterics.  See, the funny thing they heard was that the father was holding out on them, that they were harboring more people than they claimed.  And if so, then the gang was owed some /money/.

Emmet can hear the steps getting closer.  He can hear Ingo, his brother, raising his voice in protest.  Too close, he must be in front of the closet door, trying in vain to protect his brother.  He hears it when the gangster hits Ingo, knocking him out of the way.  Then the door opens, and he's been exposed.

It's not a pretty scene.  Perhaps the gangster demands what's owed in "taxes", perhaps even demands the backlog of money.  In the end, whether the father can pay or not, the gangsters don't really care.  They kill both the father and the girlfriend, kick around the brothers, and leave with everything of value.  No need to kill the children, let them suffer a bit.  Or maybe they beat them hard enough to think they were dead or dying.

But the brothers aren't dead.  Ingo struggles to move, to get to Emmet.  Helps his brother up despite their protesting bodies.  They look at their dead father.  They wish they could do something for him.  All they can do is make their way to the phone and call the police.  (It takes them too long to get there.  The bodies are long cooled, the brothers huddled in the closet together.)

It's a whirlwind after that.  A stop at the hospital to tend their wounds, then off to an orphanage/foster care system.  They are sad, but also somewhat relieved.  Because it's horrible, and yet…they are out of the house.  Away from the bad things.  Together.  Maybe this will be better.  When someone adopts them.  Surely it couldn't get worse.

(It can)

Because the first family that shows interest in Emmet's sunny disposition offers to take him, foster him.  Alone.  They don't have the resources to support two children (and Ingo's serious demeanor is a little creepy if they are honest.)  Ingo learns of this from the foster attendant, and is loud in his protests.  She had taken him aside to tell him, anticipating the separation wouldn't go quietly.  Emmet is unaware of what is in motion, waiting patiently for the return of his twin in their room.  

But they can't be separated, Ingo protests.  How could that even be suggested?  The foster care attendant sounds so understanding, even as she says terrible things.  Don't you want what's best for your brother?  This is a big chance, where he can go live with a loving family.  And surely another family will come along later for Ingo too.  But she leans into the idea that it is for Emmet's benefit for Ingo to stay quiet and allow the adoption to happen.  Does he understand?  Doesn't he agree?

Ingo is frozen in horrified shock.  She takes his silences as assent, and sends him back to their room, reminding him to not tell Emmet just yet.  It will be a nice surprise for later!

(Ingo goes, numb and blind in horror and grief.  They wouldn't survive this separation.  He knew.  He knew.  He couldn't say later how he got back to their room, got back to Emmet.  He says nothing.  Emmet understands.  Without a word between them needed, they escape.  Later, once Ingo has told him what happened, Emmet just clings to his brother, almost as hard as Ingo is holding him.  They are scared that if they let go, they'll be separated, even though there is no one here but them.)

They have hidden out in a tunnel.  They have no idea what it's for, but it's big, it goes on forever, and there are little alcoves along the way.  So many places to hide in, surely they won't be found here.  Huddled in the dark, they shiver in fear, stress, and cold.

As they huddle together, waiting for the night to recede, they realize that there IS a light source.  Despite their fatigue, they are curious boys.  It didn't look like a search party, just one small flame.  They wander out into the main tunnel, and see that it is coming from a pokemon.  A little candle type.

And sure, they've seen pokemon around, usually in the company of the powerful and dangerous people.  They hadn't been able to see one this close, for this long.  They huddle around it, imagining the flame was actually producing a little heat for them.  They talk about it, wondering what kind of pokemon it is, why it's here, admiring its lovely flame and adorable countenance. (Litwick is only half listening, simply swaying as it slowly sucks at the young lifeforce bleeding out of the two)

The cold sets in, the fatigue.  Ingo realizes it first maybe.  That their little friend is causing it.  He mentions as much to Emmet.  Emmet thinks about it, but cant bring himself to be bothered.  Maybe it's better this way, they wonder.  At least they are providing something for their new friend.  And they are together. 

Before the thought can really settle, a LOUD sound comes echoing up the tunnel, the ground rumbling.  They leap to their feet in terror (Ingo scooping up the litwick unconsciously), all but diving into the nearest alcove as something large and fast zooms by.  Without their realizing, morning had come, and the subway was beginning its day.

They are wide-eyed at the spector they'd just seen.  Emmet is awed, wondering in excitement what it was.  Ingo isn't much better.  Sure, they maybe had almost just died, but the sound, the speed!  It was so exciting.

(Litwick had lost track of time, not realizing how early it was.  Normally they'd have been safely away from the tracks long before the trains started, but they had been distracted.  If it hadn't been for Ingo taking it with them, it would have died.  Realizing this, it cant help but feel a bond starting with these strange boys, who hadn't pushed it away when they'd realized it was eating their life force.  It stops doing that, and has decided it wants to go with them.)

(Side side note, being feasted upon for so long left a few minor side effects, such as slightly glowy eyes in the dark.  Perhaps Litwick tries to give back some of the lifeforce to the twins.  Perhaps the twins find, later on, that being around people energizes them, though it tires people out.  Ghosty thingssss)

The boys spend the day watching the trains speed by, quickly catching on (Emmet first) that they were timed perfectly and predictably.  They are enamored with what they are.  They THINK they know, it's not like they dont know what a train is in concept, but this was so much more than they could have imagined.  They realize that litwick's light is no longer so cold, and take turns cuddling it for warmth.  Eventually they do sleep, lulled by the roar of the subway around them.

When they wake again, it is quiet.  (Neither of them like the quiet.)  Litwick is happily flickering nearby, watching over them.  Hunger drives them out of their hiding spot, back into town to try and figure out what to do.  Ingo had been absently cuddling litwick as they started walking, before realizing that this would be where they part ways.  They can't just take a pokemon with them, after all.  Litwick has other plans.  Through some pantomimes, the brothers realize that Litwick wants to go with them.  They don't have a pokeball, they say.  Like it cares.  They give in without too much of a fight.  They don't know yet enough about battling to think about it, but they like the company.  Anyway, dumpster diving, probably.  They do not steal (they are good boys still), so it's much harder to get enough to eat.  They manage.  (They are about 8 at this point)

So begins their time on the streets.  They quickly fall into a routine.  Waking up before dawn, going to the front entrance of the subway where they can observe the first train's departure (without going through the turnstile/paying), and wish the first train a good morning.  They spend the day scavenging for food and resources, avoiding the bad people, and mostly just surviving.  At the end of the day without fail they make it back to the subway entrance in time to wish the last train goodnight.

The night gate guard observes this ritual for a while, before one day offering to let the two see the trains up close.  It's after hours, and he feels kinda bad for the pair to never get any closer.  The sparkly eyes he receives, my dudes.  The twins are ecstatic, drinking in any bit of information he has about the trains.  His thoughts turn maudlin, however.  He mentions how this place is doomed.  Shocked, they ask why.  The town is too full of crime, the subway being the worst of it.  It stays just enough under the radar for the local police to be ineffective in quelling them.  Once he realizes he's basically crushing the dreams of two children, he apologizes nervously, telling them to never mind.  But the seed is planted.

That night the twins are contemplative.  They love the subway more than anything they've ever loved before.  The thought of it going away because of bad people is too terrible to bear.  So, they decide, it's up to them to clean up the subway, get it back into working order.  Make it safe.  Make everyone happy to take it.  However they need to get strong to do that.

I am very tired so just a few outlines.

They like to spend time outside of town watching the trains that travel across the country.  They are fewer and far between, so it's not often.  While out there (various times), at least 2 things happen.

One is a pokemon trainer runs into them, challenging them to a little battle.  Ingo agrees, but since they only have Litwick only one of the twins can "battle".  Ingo wins, and the trainer is disappointed but still happy about the fight.  They pass the twins a little money, explaining at their bewilderment that it's customary to at least give some pocket change after a battle.  The twins get some more information from the trainer (that you need a license, you can get it at 10, etc), before parting ways. They now have a Way to get money.  

(Eventually they use some of the money to buy pokeballs, and Litwick gets its proper home.

Second is that Emmet stumbles across a pond that has a bunch of Tynamo.  This is where he gets his first.

They slowly learn more about pokemon as they grow up.  They also learn how to fight, because their goal remains.  They want to drive the gangsters out.  When they turn 10, they have to make a decision.  Do they go on their adventure, get stronger that way?  (Abandon their home?)  Or do they stay, and focus on their goal.

In the end, they probably do a little of column a and a little of column b.  They don't leave, at least not then, but they sometimes go on shorter journeys.  Especially if they take a train to another city.  Their focus is on what they can do now.  And unfortunately a couple of ten year olds with one pokemon each isn't enough to do much.  They need to get stronger.  It's not like they don't already scuffle with gang members either.  Attention on the streets is dangerous, and they've been caught out before.  So they aren't unfamiliar with fighting either.  They probably help at least a couple of people over the years from being robbed or attacked.  They are underestimated, so their feral energy is enough to win the fight most times.

As they hit about 14, they are getting good at both pokemon fights, and driving off people.  They don't just beat people up willy nilly.  Their effort is more coordinated, and more gentle than one would think.  They are trying to drive the bad people away, not kill them or anything.  Their cleanup begins more in earnest.  They have many more pokemon now, and are verrrry good at battles.  For gangs who utilize pokemon, they do their best to stick to pokemon battles, though it does get a little down and dirty. For those that do not, they dont use pokemon to fight and just stick to their fists.  It's wrong, in their mind, to use pokemon against other people.  They refuse to fall to that level, refuse to force their friends to be like that.

They get jobs at the subway, some lowend clerklike position.  Very much grunt/gopher work, less legal than one would hope (they are still young, no credentials or proper paperwork), but it gets them an in to the subway.

As the years go by, they gain a reputation.  Two, actually.  They make so many improvements to the subway experience that their tired manager is inundated with praise for them.  More people start taking the trains with less fear.  The gangsters are furious, but also starting to get dang scared of the terror twins.  They are as ruthless as they are kind.  The spark returns to the subway, while the dark underground roils.

During some fight, Emmet gets downed by a blow to the head, and Ingo goes a little crazy in retaliation, so scared that his brother is dead.  Most would expect the berserker to be Emmet, with his unhinged grin and lack of impulse control.  It's what makes it all the scarier that it's Ingo.

Timeline wise I think…

After they became the bosses but very early in their career, they are ambushed by some gang.  The gang wants more than to beat them up, they want to humiliate them, show everyone that these so called subway bosses are nothing to be feared.  Could push it to a rape, humilation online broadcast.  They only get so far before the brothers retaliate.  What should have been a straightforward humiliation turns into a vicious brawl the brothers win. (The gangsters think the brothers must have gotten soft with how upstanding they appear in the subway.  They were wrong.)  The ripples that go out from the video don't reach too far, but what's on the internet stays, and will probably make a reappearance.  

The thing is, the brothers aren't easily intimidated, or broken.  "You think you're the first to try this?" Emmet taunts.  "You think we won't fight to keep our subway safe?" Ingo interjects.  The fact that the assault doesn't worry them or put a dent in their confidence shakes up the underground.  The broadcast of them overcoming such overwhelming odds is intimidating and terrifying.  You do not want to cross the subway bosses.  Just don't.

(Later, Ingo is trying to sob as quietly as he can, Emmet holding him tightly.  It wasn't the first time someone had tried, no.  It wasn't the first time they'd succeeded either.  They repress the horror, the remembered pain.  It can't hurt them now.  Except it does, Ingo especially.  They don't feel safe.  For a while afterward, their gazes are a bit too sharp, even in their normal job.  There is a buzz of manic energy just waiting to break over.)

So they've succeeded in raising the reputation of the subway and cleaning up the town, both above board and below it.  The battle subway is initiated, and for a while it seems like they can leave their violent life behind them.  Things are good now.  They become friends with Elesa.  (Would love to add a bunch of platonic friendship stuff, like the danceeee)

Somewhere down the line tho, some remnant of the gangs make a bid for revenge.  They get Ingo, send threatening taunts to Emmet, etc.  Their plan is actually pretty complex, aiming for destruction and pain.  Locking Ingo away where Emmet will never find him before it's too late.  Sabotaging the subway somehow.  But they have activated the trap card of vengeful Emmet.

(Ingo is tied up, gagged, stuffed in a box and left.  Not sure where yet, if it's deep in the tunnels, or aboard a train that's destined to crash.  I think the slow death is worse, so I'm leaning that way.  Also Ingo trapped in the dark, in a small space, injured.  He is Not Okay.  Perhaps he is left in a place that's intended to be destroyed by the sabotaged trains, where it would seal him in and make him unreachable in time.)

Emmet leaves behind his hat and coat, the symbols of his position.  Because he's going into revenge mode, something not befitting an upstanding subway master.  (The change is shocking to many who couldn't believe the brothers were anything but kind, mild mannered as it were.  Shake it up.)  Anyway, the boy absolutely outsmarts the gang and destroys them (leaving them to be arrested and all), and manages to figure out where Ingo is.  I'm way too tired to detail it out.  Emmet is a smart boi tho.

One other thought now that I've had some sleep, but maybe both Ingo and Elesa are taken, the gang trying to force Emmet to choose.  Emmet can't not go for Ingo first, but when they are both together they would be able to rescue her as well.  Would also open the door for other trainers/gym leaders to be involved in the effort.

[letarasstuff]

Doesn't she love me anymore?

(A/N): This was requested by an anon, I hope you like it as much as I do!

Summary: Spencer's daughter starts to question why her mother left the small family early on

Warnings: Mentions/undertones of bullying, an absent parent and descreptions of the concequences for the child, So. Much. Angsty. Feelings.

Wordcount: 2.5k

✨Masterlist✨ _________________________________

“Daddy?” Spencer turns around from the frying pan to look at his daughter. Against common belief, he is quite the cook. But this only started when he became a father, after he realized a child won’t be able to live off of a diet consisting of coffee and anxiety, just like he did at the time. “Yes, Sweetheart?”

She looks down to the piece of paper on the kitchen counter in front of her. “Why did Mommy leave us?”

The spatula falls to the ground. It’s a question the father did not expect on a Tuesday morning before school. “It’s because of me, isn’t it? She saw me the first time and didn’t want me anymore. It’s my fault Mommy left us, left you, just like Linda said.” Tears begin to stream down her face.

“No no no”, her father is quick to turn off the heat and walks around the island to hug his daughter. “None of this is your fault. I don’t know what this Linda said, but it is not true. Your mother had her own reasons to stay out of our lives, but it has nothing to do with you.”

This doesn’t calm her down. “What are her reasons? Why did she leave us? Why did leave me?” Frantically she tries to keep her sobs down in order to speak. Spencer never has seen her this upset.

“Sweetheart, are you sure you are in the right state to talk about it now? Why don’t we calm down and get something for breakfast on our way to school and talk about it after I pick you up this afternoon?” He suggests, hoping the thought of a cup of hot chocolate from their favorite bakery would help her.

(Y/N) looks up at him with bloodshot and glassy eyes. Snot runs down from her nose. Spencer is quick to get her a tissue and make her blow into it, cringing internally about all those germs. “Do you promise to tell me more after school?” Big eyes look up at him and the father hurts. It hurts him, because there are so many things in her future that will break her and all that because of her mother. He can’t shield her from all of it, as much as he wants to he isn’t able. Because there always will be people, people like this Linda, who will make the girl conscious of her absent mother.

“I promise”, he tells her and holds his little finger out for her. (Y/N) smiles while linking hers with his, knowing her father will keep this promise just like any other of his. “Good, and now pack up we got a bakery to visit!” Quickly the girl grabs the piece of paper in front of her only to shove it into her backpack.

A little later she sits at her desk and looks at her teacher expectantly, just like her fellow classmates. “Ok children, today we won’t work further on our addition and subtraction worksheets-” The teacher’s sentence is cut short by the eruption of cheerful shouts. Just (Y/N) looks at the multiplication sheet in front of her.

The teacher is quick to quiet the class again. “Instead we will continue our work on the mother’s card you started doing yesterday. Linda was so kind to tell me that you don’t have the chance to finish them at home, because your moms are there. That is why you do it here and your worksheets at home.”

With a frown on her face (Y/N) pulls out the blank piece of paper that made her feel bad ever since her teacher handed it out to her yesterday. While everybody around her chatters happily with other classmates, she just stares at the paper. It is a reminder of something she doesn’t have, something she lacks and will never get: A real mother. A hug from her mother. Not even the motherly reassurance one gets after a nightmare. Nothing.

“Hey orphan. Ya realizing your mom doesn’t love you and that’s why she left you?” Linda, someone (Y/N) later learns to call a Mean Girl, struts up to the younger one’s desk. A sigh leaves her lips before answering. “You do know for an orphan I need to have neither a mommy nor a daddy. And I do for a fact have a dad, a loving one actually.”

A more light than hard slap on the back of her head makes the girl’s body jolt. “I don’t care, but I know that your mom hates you enough just after looking at you to know she doesn’t want anything to do with you.” After that Linda goes back to her table, leaving (Y/N) feeling more miserable than before.

Some starring on the paper later her teacher passes her table. “Is there something you want to talk about, Sweetheart? You seem very sad.” That is an obvious fact. Finally the girl is able to lift her gaze. “Miss Ramirez, I don’t know what to do.” This is probably the first time ever she said this sentence in school.

“Mother’s day is in a few days, Sweetie, and this is why we all make these cards. It’s a thank you to your mom and a way to show her how much you love her. You love your mom, don’t you?” The shake of her head shocks the teacher. Immediately an alarming signal rings through her head, because this is a red flag. “Why? Did she do something?”

“Miss Ramirez, I don’t have a mommy. She- she left Daddy and me.” Tears fill (Y/N)’s eyes. Her teacher is quick to hug and sush her. “Oh Sweetie, this is not a bad thing. I’m sure your mom loves you very much, even if she is not there with you. Do you wanna go out for a bit to calm down?” Meanwhile she connects the obvious signs of a single dad in her mind. Missed parent teacher conferences, unnecessary hovering over the child and the tendency to be categorized as a helicopter parent. Yes, Dr. Reid ticks all of those boxes.

It’s the second time of the day that an adult asked (Y/N) to calm down, and frankly it doesn’t really help with the situation at hand. “Can I do my homework outside? It’s too loud in here”, she asks between sniffles. Both of them know that the class’ volume is not the real reason for the request. “Of course, Sweetheart. If you need something, just come in and ask me. Alright?” (Y/N) nods and gets her multiplication sheet and a pencil before leaving the classroom.

At the end of the school day, Spencer is there to pick up his daughter. For days like these, where are no cases, Hotch gave him a free pass on (Y/N)’s very first day at school to leave the office earlier to be able to pick her up himself. As a father and someone who works the same high demanding job as him, he knows that little things like these are often the most important. And even if there were a case today, Spencer would have stayed back. He promised his daughter the truth and this is what he is going to tell her.

“Hey Dr. Reid. Do you have a moment?” Her teacher greets him at the classroom door. Concerned about his child’s wellbeing he nods and follows her back out of the room. “I gave the children the assignment of creating a card for their mothers, because mother’s day is rolling around. Today (Y/N) told me her mother left you, is that right?” This is the moment Spencer connects the dots. This is the kick off that made her question her mother’s motives about leaving all of the sudden.

The young doctor clears his throat. “Uhm yes, that is right. Actually, I’m going to talk to her about it right after school on her demand.” Miss Ramirez nods with an understanding nod. “Thank you for your honesty, Dr. Reid. I also want to warn you, in two days we will hold a celebration in honor of mother’s day with the kids’ mothers. You are invited as a father, because this is a special situation. But I also give (Y/N) a free pass for this event. It can be very traumatic for her.”

The dad thanks her, but his thoughts are somewhere else. He is mad. He is mad for his daughter, because she will always be the one with a “special situation”. The odd one, because yeah, it isn’t uncommon for fathers to leave (which isn’t anything less sad and traumatic), but an absent mother hits differently.

But Spencer is also hurt. Hurt, because for her young age, there is already the word “traumatic” thrown around. No, it isn’t enough that her dad works a job with the risk of him not coming home from a case again, or being the target of an enemy. No, she also has to go through the experience of missing a parent, never knowing how her life would be if it wasn’t for someone like her mother.

Even with Spencer trying to fill that role, there will be a time where (Y/N) will ask herself all of the “what ifs”. He can’t stop it from happening, and that is his biggest pain right there. Because he can’t shield her from her own thoughts. At the age of six she already is a bright, brilliant and talented mind. Now in a few years or maybe just months, she will start to think about her mother being the root of her pain, bad experiences and hurt. Her thoughts will lead to a downward spiral of how a person can do something like her mother, who acted like that with the knowledge of which consequences will follow. And Spencer can’t stop this from happening.

“Daddy!” A small thud comes from (Y/N) colliding with his leg. Just by the way she squeezes it he knows that she hasn’t had a good day at school. “Hey Baby. Do you want to go to the office for a bit? I think your Auntie Penelope told me something about a new science set she got for you. Or do you want to go straight home?” Spencer asks after lifting her into his arms. Immediately she hides her face into the crook of his neck. “Home”, she murmurs. Home it is then.

“Aaaaaand here comes the little missy’s hot chocolate!” The father says in a funny voice while carefully putting the cup into his daughter’s hands. She sits covered in a blanket on the sofa, looking expectantly at her father.

Spencer sighs at the lack of reaction. “Are you sure you want to hear it?” (Y/N) nods adamantly. “Ok, but I got to go a bit back for this story

“It was about eight years ago, I worked on a case with your Aunties and Uncles back then. I was the one who had to get the last round of coffee for the night at a small 24/7 diner. As I walked in I thought I died, because I was sure an angel stood right in front of me. Well not-” “Is that Mommy?!” (Y/N) cuts him off excitedly. Spencer smiles slightly. “You need to listen to the story!” The girl shifts in her seat. “Right, sorry.”

As I was saying: well in front, because she sat at the bar waiting for her order. I nervously ordered the coffees and had to begin three times, because I kept messing up, mesmerized by her sole atmosphere. As the waiter went to put the coffee pot on, the woman turned towards me and introduced herself. After that she asked me what I was doing late at night in a small town like that and we somehow forgot everything around us by just talking. After that we stayed in touch. Six months later we became a couple, she moved to DC in order for me to still be able to do my job here.

“Two years later your Mom got pregnant with you, and it was quite a surprise to us. But we felt ready at that time and so she moved in with me and we had you. The first few months were great, we couldn’t be happier. BUt then you continuously became ill. At first just a cold, then the pocks and so on. I think it was the third night in a row where you held us up all night. I took a year off from work to care for you with your Mom. I carried you through our apartment the whole night, giving you a bottle, singing, reading, doing anything.

“Then I saw her standing in the doorway. Even though there was baby vomit on her sweatpants and I had never seen her eye bags being this dark, she was the most beautiful woman to me. I approached her with a smile, but her frown only deepened. I thought it was because she worried about you and your health. Instead she told me she can’t do it. She can’t be a mother, that she wasn’t cut for this job.” Her exact words still resonate in Spencer’s ears to this day. He knows exactly what she said, word for word, and they never stopped to sting any less.

“So Mommy left us because I was too much trouble?” (Y/N)’s voice sounds even sadder than before. “No, it never was because of you. She knew exactly what it meant to have a child. Your mother knew what kind of work it takes and what the future brought. You have absolutely nothing to do with it. Some people are just not made to be parents and it’s better when they realize it themselves and leave the situation.”

(Y/N) nods, her mind running wild. All of that makes plenty of sense but at the same time not. “Sweetheart, that doesn’t change the fact that I love you and I will never leave you. You are my everything and I’m so happy to be a dad to such a wonderful little girl like you. I want you to remember that your Mom may not be here with us, but she still loves you. And I’m here for you, for anything you need, want or don’t want. Do you understand me?”

She nods again and curls up into her father’s lap. “Can we watch something?” She asks after a bit of silence, where both of them indulged their own thoughts. Quickly the TV turned on and some kids movie plays. The rest of the day the small family spends all the time cuddled on the couch, because at the moment they need to feel the other there with them.

The next two days Spencer calls (Y/N) in sick at school and himself at work, because together they fly to Vegas. Just because her own mother wasn’t ready for the job, doesn’t mean they can’t appreciate the work her grandmother did as a mother. That and you never know how much time you have left with the people who are dear to you.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187 @kneelforloki

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

[bullyhunter--69]

"She's so sweet, really."

Pairing: Izuku x fem!reader

Summary: When you and Izuku started dating, you were as happy as could be. He was beyond sweet and caring, and helped you forget about the bad in your life. But after he introduces you to his mother, Inko, and you start to be a more frequent visitor at the Midoriya household, you realize it's starting to take a bigger affect on you than you thought it would. Why can't your mother be like that?

Tw: mentions of family issues/absent family/family death, bottling up emotions and eventually breaking, a stressed Izuku, ends with soft fluff

A/N: This turned out so much longer and more angsty than planned but I'm really proud of it, tell me what you guys think! 🖤 (This is also my first ever angst written so--)

-----------------------------------------------------------

Today was a beautiful fall day. Colorful leaves fell around you, the sky was tinged with a deep orange, and the soft grass beneath you made your time all the more comfy. You were snuggled next to Izuku beneath a huge tree on campus, who was currently going on and on about his latest quirk findings. The goal you guys originally had set was to review for the upcoming test, but the topic quickly shifted to Izukus day once your fingers intertwined with his and you inquired about it.

"-and so then once I asked Mr. Aizawa about it I found that- Hey.. are you okay (Y/N)?" You really were listening, but had found that you zoned out. Izukus concerned, soft voice brought you back to reality, and a small smile crawled it's way onto your features. "Yeah 'zuku, I'm all good.. I just was thinking about some stuff and was focusing on your voice. It always helps." You ended your reply with a squeeze of his hand, which all together resulted in his face blooming into a shade of deep red.

"Well, uh.. T-thank you, I'm happy to help!" He stuttered out as he felt butterflies all throughout his body. "Oh, also!" Izuku started, turning his body to face you more, holding your hands in his lap with a nervous look in his eyes. "(Y/N), I was wondering.. we've been together for a bit now and I.. I want my mom to meet you."

As soon as the word 'mom' reached your ears, you tensed up. It was always a sensitive topic, even if it wasn't your parental relationships in question. You knew Izuku had noticed, as the hold on your hands got tighter. "I understand if you're scared or nervous but I know She's gonna love you! She already says you're really pretty and smart just basing off what I've shown her.. she really is looking forward to it, and we don't have to stay long if you don't want to." The gentle rub of his thumb on the back of your hand and the puppy dog eyes was enough to soothe your nerves. If Izuku talked so highly of you to her, and if she was anything like him at all, you figured it wouldn't be that bad to meet her. She would be your mother-in-law someday, so you might as well get it out of the way now and not later.

When the day finally came, you were beyond nervous. The thought of meeting Izuku's mother and her not liking you made a wave of sickness and dread fill every inch of your body. Whether it was a friend, or a boyfriend, meeting mothers always gave you a bad taste in your mouth. It brought back all the feelings that you tried desperately to hide away and fight daily.

See, you were almost fully open with Izuku, but there was one thing he didn't know. Your family, to put it bluntly, was shit. Your mother always belittled you for every single little action you ever made and everything about you. Nothing was ever good enough. As a small child, it was always under-the-table, backhanded compliments with passive aggressive undertones, but after the passing of your father, it turned into raw, brutal words. She was never proud, and never actually loved you, she just used your desire to be a good daughter against you. It was cold, hard, manipulative behavior which resulted in you finally refusing to talk to her after you got accepted into U.A. The mental gymnastics you had to go through to hide all of this, especially from Izuku, was taking a toll on you. You never talked of family and never left the dorms, and had an.. unusual amount of luggage stored away in your room. It seemed like you packed your entire life up in a suitcase and ran.

Which is essentially what you did.

As bad as it sounds, you never planned on telling your love any of this. You just needed to forget all of the childhood trauma you were put through and focus on showing your mother she was wrong. Everything she said about your quirk being useless, to you being intolerable and a bad daughter, would be proved wrong. But, the biggest thing you planned to show her? Is that your father would be proud. She always used him against you, and you'd be damned if you wouldn't prove that point the most ridiculous of them all.

A soft knocking on your dorm brought you out of your deep thoughts, and your gaze slid to the door. Your hands shot to your face and you quickly dried your tears. "O-one second, I'm still changing!" You knew in the pit of your gut that it was Izuku coming to pick you up, and your thoughts were confirmed when you heard him on the other side of your locked door. "Alrighty baby, take your time!" God, he sounded so sweet.. this was hell keeping from him, but it kept him from worrying.

The night went on so much better than expected, and it genuinely surprised you. You had never met a woman as sweet as Inko was. She cooked your favorite food and had your favorite drinks, and even baked you your favorite dessert. She asked about how you were doing in school and once the topic of your quirk was brought up, she was beyond ecstatic to hear you talk about it. She even added on how she felt it would be useful in battle. The night was amazing. Nothing felt real, it all was like the fantasies you made up while lying in bed at 4am sobbing, so sleep deprived you almost can't move to get ready for your class that starts in just a few hours. It's what you've always wanted in a mom-- a beautiful, sweet woman who cares.

Why can't your mother be like that?

As the weeks went on and Izuku kept inviting you over for weekly dinner and game nights with him and Inko, you found it harder and harder to conceal exactly how much your mental health was struggling. Yes, you absolutely adored both your loving boyfriend and his equally loving mother, but it was just so fucking.. hard. Every smile she gave you, the loving, motherly twinkle in her eyes when she talked to Izuku, the amazing dinners, the endless support for both of you, the pictures she insisted on taking of you and Izuku-- it was all too much. You started to dwell on this every single night, and resent yourself for how much anger and jealousy you felt. This wasn't right, but you couldn't help it. It wasn't your fault that your mother hated you for every fiber of your being and Izuku had the best mother imaginable. He was your boyfriend, you should be happy.. right?

You didn't realize how hard you had been sobbing until there was a hushed yet firm knock on your dorm door. The tears that blurred your vision made it even harder to read the clock on your nightstand through the pitch black room you sat in, huddle up in a pile of blankets, All Might plushies and Izuku's hoodies.

9:54 p.m.

The pain that was radiating through your torso from the wreck you had become from however long you had actually been crying was torture. It felt like needles were being shoved into your lungs and your heart was being squeezed in a vice grip. Breathing felt impossible. Your throat was raw. But the thing that hurt the absolute worst, out of everything?

"(Y/N)? Baby, please let me in.." Little Izuku's voice sounded like the biggest bomb going off, the jiggle of your door knob making emergency alarms go off in your head. There wasn't any possible way to get out of this, and this might just be your biggest fear. Facing those soft emerald eyes and that sweet smile that has been open and honest with you over the entirety of your entire relationship, and even before. Telling the love of your life all the trauma you've endured, and then willingly decided to hide from him. No.. it's the disappointment that you're positive will shine through his features that's truly your biggest fear.

You don't know how long he had been listening, but one second was more than enough for you to know Izuku wasn't going to leave. He loved you endlessly and never left without making sure you had a smile on your face. So, with limbs that felt like cement, eyes that felt as if you were crying spikes, and an aching heart, you got up and made your way to unlock the door. It took a minute-- your hold on the cold knob firm and extremely hesitant.

3... 2.. 1.

Finally, Izuku had enough room to gently push your door open, and his breath was taken away when he saw you as the golden light from the dormitory hallway illuminated your entirely wrecked appearance.

Bloodshot eyes, make up filled tears streaming down both checks, snot dripping down to you mouth. The cuffs of his hoodie that covered your shaking body were soaked in black, wet mascara. Your hair was messy and tangled. You were.. broken.

After taking in every little detail of your appearance, a struggled gasp last your body when his arms were suddenly around you. The touch of his warmth around you was electrifying, and instantly brought you to your knees. As Izuku shut and locked the door behind him, still holding you in his strong arms, he sighed softly. "What's wrong?"

These are some of the only words that you really didn't want to come out of his mouth. They stung and tore through your heart like the sharpest of blades. They made you regret not opening up sooner, his tone overflowing with worry, fear, and dread. You knew not to make eye contact, but you couldn't even if you wanted to. Once those words entered your ears, soft and delicate as if you would shatter into a million pieces if he spoke too hard, another strangled sob was unleashed out of what felt to be your core.

"S-she's just so sweet.." Your voice, although strained and crackling, came out with an emotion Izuku had never heard from you before. A mixture of jealousy, rage, disappointment, and disgust is all he could pick out, but it sounded like something was hidden beneath it all. Something that you didn't know how to express, so emotions just came seeping out of you in the easiest way.

Picking you up was an easy task, as your body had long ago given up the fight to stay standing. The sweet boy made his way to your bed and sat with you cradled to his chest, your nose tucking away in the crook of his neck instantly to breath in his scent. It calmed you-- he calmed you, but you couldn't help but to shamefully pull your head away and look across the room.

"(Y/N), you have to tell me more. Who is 'she'? I want to help you.." His voice still held a delicate tone, his fingers combing through your hair with one hand and the other still holding you tightly. After what seemed like forever of Izuku just holding you and letting you cry every single ounce of emotion you held in your body out, your sobs slowly came to a stop and you took a soft, shaking sigh.

It was time to come clean.

"'Z-zuku, I'm sorry.." You started, slowly and steadily while trying to steady your breath further. The gentle back rubs from his warm hands helped sooth you, and gave you the strength to continue.

"I haven't been exactly.. truthful with you." As you took a second to find your words and sniffle, you could sense Izuku tilt his head to the side curiously. "You always ask if I'm okay-- if I'm happy-- and I always say that I am. I love you so incredibly much and you do make me feel happy and safe and welcomed and-" Your ramble was cut off with a kiss to your temple, which was a silent signal of Izukus trust and time.

"Because of how incredibly happy you make me, I dont want you thinking that this is your fault at all. Its mine.. I shut you out and bottled myself up when I should have just told you in the first place. I just.. don't know how to say it other than to say it outright."

Your shakey tone made Izukus heart race even more. He was staying calm and supportive on the outside but on the inside, he was a wreck. He was currently going over every single one of his actions, words, and notes that made what you and him were-- absolutely scraping the bottom of the barrel for anything and everything he could have done wrong. That stuff, though, was shoved deep so he could help you, because that was what was important right now.

"I don't.. Izuku, I love you and I love your mother so incredibly much. I feel at home with you guys but it's just so hard. Seeing how sweet and caring she is, how She's invested in both of our lives, how she.. s-she said she loved me.." You body was quickly starting to shake again, so Izuku pulled you in closer. "Why can't my mother be like that?"

There it was. It finally clicked in Izuku's mind. Everytime you avoided the topic of family, how you never had pictures with them, how you never had a place to go to during break, how every day after spending time with him and Inko you seemed drained the next morning as if you had stayed up all night.. it clicked as to what might be wrong, and his suspicions were confirmed when you continued.

"M-my mother hates me and she has my entire life. I have never received an ounce of love or respect from that filthy woman and it's always on my mind. Her degradation and her mocking laugh and her hideous presence. She used my dead fucking dad against me to make me feel like I'd never make it in this world and I just-- I-I want to escape the horrible memories but I can't. I just want a mother like yours.. it's what I've always wanted and I don't understand why I had to be the one stuck with a dead dad and a mockery of a mother. Seeing how absolutely amazing your mom is fills me with love and happiness and a sense of home I've never gotten before but at the end of the day, it just reminds me of how shitty my life was up until I got to U.A. I don't have a mom. I don't have a home. And its not fair that I'm upset over the fact that you having those things happens to remind me of that. I'm sorry."

Izuku was speechless. His comforting ministrations had stopped and he just looked at you. Even with the pitch black void that was your room, his emerald eyes shined bright.. and brimmed with tears.

"I.. I had no idea, baby, I'm so sorry.." Izuku was choosing his words incredibly carefully. He held nothing against you, nor was he upset or disappointed at you. He was a person that could put himself in someone else's shoes very easily and see through their eyes, and your emotional monologue was enough to paint your story for him. He just wanted to comfort you and show you everything was okay.

"I don't want you to be sorry, there isn't any need for you to be. You can't help what your mother put you through, and how horribly unfair to you that it was. Nobody can control how others actions affect them-- it's just how humans are.." Strong arms turned your body to face him, your limbs wrapped around his torso and your cheeks gently held in his hands. As tears streamed down his cheeks, he stared deep into your eyes. "You're so strong and beautiful, and I understand as much as I can. I love you so much.. Baby, to hell with her. I know it's hard, but she doesn't have to mean anything to you anymore. Me and you, and mom, can be our own family. We're your home now.."

A sob managed to choke it's way out of your throat, but this one was different. Your head fell into Izukus neck and you held him as tight as you possibly could, soaking his chest with more snot and tears. His arms held you back just as tightly as he peppered soft butterfly kisses along your hairline. This is how you stayed for the rest of the night until you calmed down and passed out on his firm build. Laying back softly, Izuku tucked you both in and kept his tight hold on you.

"Goodnight, love.. You're home."

[buckstaposition]

Don’t wanna miss a thing

Birthday song challenge for @din-damn-djarin (prompt 37)

Marcus Moreno x widowed f!reader, Missy Moreno & reader 

1999 words

summary & warnings: Just days before your wedding to Marcus, your emotions are going a bit haywire. Starts angsty but turns fluffy I promise! Themes of loss and grief, loss of a spouse/family member

Sobbing in the bathtub a couple of days before your wedding was not where you thought this evening was going, but here you were. Bawling your eyes out. You had just meant to take a quick shower to freshen up before bed, as your day had been mostly filled with last minute preparations and you were sweaty from hauling around decorations. Maybe not hiring a wedding planner had been a mistake, in more ways than one.

“Honey? You in there?” Marcus’ voice sounded after a hesitant knock on the bathroom door. You knew you should answer him, but you just didn’t have the strength to at this moment.

“Sweetheart?” He tried again, and you could hear the worry in his tone and it only made you feel worse.

“I’m coming in.” Marcus warned after another two minutes or so. It was endearing how considerate he was of your privacy even though you’d told him it was okay to come into the bathroom with you on numerous occasions. If you really didn’t want anyone to come in you’d lock the door and he was the man you were going to marry in less than 48 hours.

The door creaked open and Marcus padded across the bathmat, slowly pulling aside the shower curtain.

“Darling?” Hesitantly, he reached out his hand to you, gently nudging your shoulder. Still sobbing, you gripped it and held it to your face, kissing his palm between tears and hoping he’d understand. Even if you didn’t.

“Is this about Sean?” He asked softly, thumb caressing your cheekbone. You nodded. Marcus sighed; he hated seeing you upset. Just like Sean had. Marcus nudged your chin up and pressed a kiss to your forehead, not caring that the water got on his glasses.

“If you want to be alone for a bit longer that’s alright, but please let me get you out of the shower? You’re shivering.”

It was true enough. The water had gone cold a while ago and now, taking stock of your body you realized you were freezing. You nodded and let Marcus help you up and wrap you in the big fluffy towels he’d bought the two of you as a house-warming gift when you’d moved in together. You leaned on him as he dried you off, suddenly exhausted from your outburst of emotion. You let him help you dress yourself in your fluffiest pyjamas, the shivers slowly subsiding when he pulled your extra fluffy socks onto your feet.

“Okay?” He asked, kneeling on the ground between your feet while you were sitting on your shared bed. You nodded absently, catching his hand and bringing it up to your face. The tears had stopped but the deep sadness lingered.

“Please stay?” You whispered. He kissed your knee, then your free hand.

“I’ll just tell Missy good night, okay?”

A noise from the hallway drew your attention. Missy stood in the doorframe like summoned, and your heart broke at her anxious expression.

“Hey bunny.” You tried to smile, but it didn’t quiet reach your eyes. Missy looked between you and Marcus in concern, her lip starting to quiver.

“Bunny, what is it?” You patted the space next to you, inviting her to sit. After a look at her father, she rushed over, instantly wrapping her arms around you. You exchanged a worried glance with Marcus, and he rose to sit down at his daughter’s other side.

“What’s wrong, bunny? You know you can tell me.” You coaxed again, your own undefined sorrows forgotten in face of her obvious anguish.

“Diyouchangeyourmindaboutthewedding?” It rushed out of her in one breath and she clung to you harder. You hugged her back, squeezing her smaller frame tightly and caressing her hair.

“Oh sweetie, no! Why would you think that?”

“Cuz I heard you crying and-“ she hiccupped a sob into your shoulder, her voice small when she continued. “Please don’t leave us!”

“Oh bunny!” Your own eyes were starting to water again. “I won’t! I won’t ever leave you! You two are my whole world!”

You squeeze her tightly to you, feel Marcus’ arms enveloping you both and look up briefly to see how he’s doing with all this. The look on his face is heart-breaking, and you lean over quickly to press a reassuring kiss to his lips.

“Then why are you so upset?” Missy sniffled. You sighed and ordered your thoughts, mad at yourself for causing anguish to this girl you’ve grown to love so much.

“It’s sort of a silly thing really.” You began. “You know how I was married before?”

“Yeah.” You’d taken her to see his grave once, just like Marcus and Missy had taken you to meet the previous Mrs Moreno. It felt only right. “You still miss him?”

“Yes. Yes, I do. I always will, but that’s not what made me cry. It was… I feel guilty for being so happy, with you two. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah…no… I don’t know.” Missy scrunched up her nose in thought. She was a smart girl, very mature for her age, but in the end she was still only a twelve-year-old girl.

“You see, when you lose someone you love very much, that grief never really goes away. Like you still miss your mom, right?”

“Every day.” She sniffled a bit less now, and looked up at her father, who nodded silently. “But I’d miss you, too!”

“I know, bunny.” You kissed her forehead, wanting to soothe her. “You won’t ever have to choose between us. Your mom is your mom and that will never change.”

“I don’t want to have to choose.” Missy whispered, wiping her tears away. “But I still want her back.”

“I know, bunny, I know. I want my husband back all the time, too.” You exchanged another glance with Marcus, glad to see that he understood and let you take the lead in this discussion. It warmed your heart to know how unconditionally he trusted you with his daughter. “It’s so unfair, isn’t it? It makes me so angry sometimes that it happened to me.”

“It does?” Missy’s eyes went wide. She turned to her father to confirm and he nodded, mouthing a soft ‘yeah, me too’ to her.

“The point is, it’s okay to feel all these conflicting things. And sometimes they might overwhelm you, like they did me today, and that’s okay too because I have people who are there for me when that happens.”

“You know you can always talk to me, us, about anything. Or grandma. Or your friends.” Marcus hugged her close and wiped away her tears, like he had yours earlier. “And if that’s not enough we will do anything to help you, okay?”

“Okay.” Missy smiled a watery smile, snuggling into her dad while holding your hand close. The three of you huddled together for a few minutes, giving everyone the chance to settle. Missy, being a kid, bounced back fastest.

“Can we have a movie night?” She looked at you both with the big puppy eyes she had inherited from her father and perfected over the course of her young life. You didn’t even need to look at Marcus to know the answer.

“And what movie were you thinking?”

“Mulan!”

“Okay, you prep the TV, I’ll get on the popcorn.” Marcus prompted, motioning for her to go ahead downstairs. She was out of the room with the speed of lightning.

“You sure that kid doesn’t have any powers? Super speed maybe?”

“Positive. You okay, honey?” He cupped your cheek and looked deep into your eyes, gaze searching.

“Positive. This actually really helped.” You smiled and leaned in for a small kiss. “So, I think we’re not too bad at this parenting thing, huh?”

“Are you kidding? You’re amazing at it!” Marcus hugged you close, kissing your forehead and then your cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

---

The reception was in full swing and everyone was enjoying themselves. There had been no mishaps save for the kind that would make for funny stories later and the cake was almost gone. Almost being the operative word. You were in your seat, relieved to be sitting down for a while and re-braiding Missy’s hair where the decorative ribbons and flowers had come loose during the day. Marcus was weaving his way through the guests back to your table, grinning triumphantly.

“Swiped the last slice of cake while Colin wasn’t looking.” You looked behind him to see Miracle Guy frowning at the now empty cake stand.

“Oh darling, you shouldn’t have!” You protested insincerely. It was your wedding after all. You felt you were entitled to some cake.

“He’s already had two!” Marcus put the plate down in front of you and produced some clean cutlery from his pocket. “Besides, anything for my girls.”

“Awww, you’re the best husband and dad!” You pulled him in by his bowtie to press a kiss to his lips.

“Gross.” Missy commented, snatching up one of the small fancy forks and starting to dig in. The two of you paid her no mind, too engrossed in your new marital bliss. You took turns feeding each other cake in between kisses and whispering sweet things, but really Missy got most of it. You didn’t even notice the band switching to a new song. Or the announcement they had made just before that, apparently. At least not until Anita planted herself right in front of your table and brought her cane down hard on the ground.

“You two! Stop canoodling! It’s time for your dance!”

“Mom!” Marcus whined, mostly for show as he was already pulling his tux jacket back on in the same motion, then holding his hand out to you. “May I have this dance, Mrs Moreno?”

“Gladly, Mr Moreno.” You smiled and rose, letting him lead you to the middle of the dancefloor. The band had been stuck playing an intro to your chosen song for several long moments now and launched into it one last time as you took your positions. Aerosmith – I don’t wanna miss a thing. Your song. Marcus took your hand, smiling softly, and when the vocalists started so did you, twirling around the dancefloor. You felt like you were floating, a moment of near perfect happiness.

“I love you so much.” You mouthed to Marcus as he led you across the dancefloor, his hand warm at your waist. He smiled, spun you out and then reeled you back in, closer this time to press a kiss to your temple.

“I love you.” The song ended and you paused for a moment to receive the applause from your guests. The band faded into another song and people started filling the floor around you while you swayed in place for a moment.

“You know, there’s only one thing missing.”

Marcus’s brow furrowed. “What’s that?”

You nodded towards the table where Missy was still sitting, chin in her hands and looking out towards the dancefloor, a picture both wistful and yet a little forlorn. You waved to get her attention, then motioned for her to join you two once that was accomplished. She started, her brow furrowing in the exact same adorable way as her father, then stood hesitantly.

“Come on, bunny!” You called, letting go of Marcus just enough to make space for her. Her whole face lit up and she came running over, long hair swooshing after her. She all but crashed into the two of you, throwing one arm around your waist and the other around Marcus.

“Wanna dance?” You smiled at her, drawing her as close as the volume of your skirt allowed for a little side hug.

“Yes!” She exclaimed, already starting to sway to the music. Marcus surreptitiously wiped at his eyes before hugging the both of you close. It took you all a moment to adjust your footing, but you managed it soon enough. This was truly, absolutely perfect. You could stay lost in this moment forever.

- - - 

author’s note: I started this whole thing over like five times, with different concepts and characters, and somehow landed on this. It turned more into bonding with Missy than the pairing, but hey. Hope you’ll still enjoy it. 

and yes, I named Miracle Guy Colin. He just looks like a Colin to me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[damn-stark]

The mayhem of the Goblet of Fire

Chapter 2 of Different Light

A/N- I had so much fun writing this chapter!! I hope you guys like it too. Also thank you for all of the support on the first one ❤️ let me know what you thought?!

Warning-swearing, angsty (light), SLOWBURN, long chapter

Pairing- Harry Potter x Malfoy!reader, Fred Weasley x Malfoy!reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

You dig your nails into the wood of the stool and notice the murmuring crowd all going silent as the hat speaks to finish. “Oh, I see now, better be...” It inhales deeply before he gets the chance to announce the choice—as if the bloody thing had lungs.

It made you more nervous and get the thought to snatch the bloody thing off your head to throw it on the floor and stomp on it, but you stopped such a thought before it could become a reality as you heard it finally boom out its response. “Slytherin!”

The Slytherin’s on the table jumped from their seats to share in an uproar of cheers, whoops and applause, hearing your family name being chanted here and there. The excitement they had made you smile warmly and shyly as you stood from the stool. Letting your eyes find your brother who was almost unseen behind the crowd of the other Slytherins around the table; with a happy and prideful grin as he also joined in the cheers and applause.

The slight excitement created by your new house members however did not make you go unaware of the reaction and attitude of the other three houses as you walked back to your seat; some clapped while most sat in silence with bored looks on their faces, hearing as well, soft but loud enough ‘boos’ that scattered amongst the crowd of the other houses. Making you think who were the real snakes in this school.

“I knew it.” Draco shared excitingly, “see I told you that you’d be placed in Slytherin where you belong.”

You sighed softly, a gesture he didn’t catch before you answered with a small smile decorating your lips. “You did. I should’ve known.”

He shared one last smug smile before he sat back down and you smiled and thanked the congratulatory and excited pats on your back and shoulder you would receive from the other students around the table; hearing as the table silenced moments later to let Dumbledore continue with the rest of the placing.

In that moment noticing before you got distracted with something else how when some of the first years were placed in Slytherin, they received the same reactions you had; the same ‘boos’ and bored looks, something that made you regret thinking that you wanted to be placed somewhere as Gryffindor, and made you prouder that you actually got placed here instead of somewhere else that was filled with such spiteful people.

Not everyone did it, but plenty did you notice before your attention was taken away by catching the gaze of a certain dark haired boy sitting on the Gryffindor table. Neither of you looked away when you locked eyes, instead seemed to focus on each other and almost seemed to get lost in each other’s eyes. It felt almost as if you were trying to read each other's thoughts or, trying to notice a difference in the small premises of your eyes; a flicker of emotion, or a reflection of the candle lights above and or the reflection of each other. And of course you knew it was difficult to detect something of the sort from the several feet separating the both of you, but it wasn’t hard to notice his curiosity, the questions running wild in his mind that reflected in his eyes and face.

It made you question yourself as you looked away, what exactly he thought of you? Why did he stare like you did? Why did he stare at all? Maybe he’s trying to figure you out? See if you were anything like your brother sitting beside you, or just something completely worse. You were like neither...but people never saw that….he wouldn’t be any different.

“Well, now that we’re all settled in and sorted.” Dumbledore announced brightly, pulling your full attention away from your mind and back to the events happening around you. “I’d like to make an announcement. This castle will not only be your home this year, but home to some very special guests as well.” At that Draco lightly hits your shoulder with his to pull your attention on him and his smug knowing smile; something only obvious to you since you knew what it meant, unlike the rest who were clueless to what there was to be excited about—“you see, Hogwarts has been chosen—”Dumbledore pauses as some man who someone whispered was called Mr. Filch came running to him, whispering something in his ear after he caught his breath.

“So, Hogwarts has been chosen.” Dumbledore continues, “to host a legendary event. A Triwizard tournament; and now for those of you who do not know the Triwizard tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests; from each school a single student is selected to compete. And let me be clear, if chosen, you stand alone and trust me when I say, these contests are not for the faint hearted, but more of that later. For now please join me in welcoming the lovely students of Beauxbatons academy of Magic and their Headmistress Madame Maxine.”

A group of beautiful girls in light blue silk uniforms walk past the doors not seconds after the announcement, making every student's attention instantly go their way. Everyone's eyes (especially those infatuated with the girls) widening in amazement just as their lips parted; while some others whispered amongst themselves like Draco and his two friends, but not like the small brunette who sat almost glued to your brother, scoffing and rolling her eyes like some other girls around as well; a couple that looked at you expecting the same bitter reaction when in reality you didn’t think much of it, just that it was all exciting and entertaining and more lively than days in Durmstrang.

Of course there were fun days (mostly because of what you would pull—especially to get expelled) but Hogwarts was far more exciting, with their visitors and their especial entrance; the way they walked in with a delicate swing of theirs arms and made blue butterflies appear out of thin air that soon turned into blue sparkle as they finished their “performance”. Even the school you once used to go (as boring as you thought it was) made an effort to impress the school. With their loud entrance that unlike Beauxbaton caught the attention of everyone; with the rhythmic smacking of their canes against the stone floors that caused orange sparks, the way they dealt with them and flipped them around before they ran forward to the front and revealed their “best” student and famous player, Victor Krum. A revelation that caused some students to gawk at him. While you, the only other student who’s been to that school and seen the man some admire just clapped almost absent-mindedly and instead focused on what Draco had to say to you.

“You’re going to enter the tournament right?”

You shrug and pull your eyes on him. “Father would want me to, it would make him proud if I did.”

“And you’re far more capable than any other student here, father knows that, which is why he would want you to do it.” Draco agreed.

You hum softly and think; entering would make your father proud, it would definitely make him forget the things you did to get expelled from Durmstrang. And entering is also something you want, for the risk of it all. Not only the praise.

So turning back to give Draco the answer he was waiting for, you let a small smile tug on your lips and words to come out more excited than you thought, “I’ll do it.”

Draco shoots you a smirk before his attention is stolen by the brunette still at his side, leaving you alone in a hall full of excited students all still yammering away about the events announced and the students that traveled here, everything just becoming louder as the food was out. All while you just sat and watched quietly, eyeing the people in the same table as you as they glanced at you and whispered. It was something you've grown used to, but still never liked. It truly just made you feel isolated like before—and yes, Draco was here, but he was doing his own thing and he was also a year below you, so to say that you would always have someone to really talk to was a lie.

Hopefully soon you actually will have others that weren’t just Draco to confide in, also someone who didn’t whisper behind your back. Or in this case right in front of you. Maybe also someone to distract you from all these bloody announcements too!

“Your attention please!” Dumbledore spoke out once more, “I’d like to say a few words. Eternal glory, that is what awaits the student that wins the Triwizard tournament, but to do this that student has to survive three tasks, three extremely dangerous tasks, for this reason the ministry had it seem fit to impose a new rule. To explain all this we have the head of department of international magical cooperation, Mr. Bartemius Crouch.” The exact moment Dumbledore finished and said man walked towards the Headmaster, lightning and thunder erupted from the ceiling, an action that startled you, but was hastily stopped by an old man named Alastor Moody that had one eye and walked with a limp. He said nothing, just moved to the corner and let the man from before finally start.

“After due consideration, the Ministry has concluded that for their own safety, no student under the age of seventeen should be allowed to put forth their name for the Triwizard tournament. This decision is—”

An uproar amongst students erupted at the news Mr. Crouch announced. A news that made even you scoff and throw your hands to protest against it; feeling your eyebrows furrow and hearing the words you thought of be shouted out loud by other students. “That’s rubbish! That’s rubbish! Boo!”

“Silence!” Dumbledore interrupted, his outburst making people calm down and watch as he made the gold statue beside him gently cascade down to reveal a goblet with blue flames burning above it. A sight that made your anger subside and be in a state of awe for a brief moment until voices broke through the crowd again. “The Goblet of Fire. Anyone wishing to submit themselves to the tournament need only write their name on a piece of parchment and throw it in the flame before this hour on Thursday night. Do not do so lightly, if chosen there's no turning back, as of this moment, the Triwizard tournament has begun.”

Yet you couldn’t enter anymore. A dream you had once was now nothing but dying particles that only had whispers of wishes to be seventeen to enter.

Being left staring at the blue flames longley, until something sparked in your mind. A crazy idea that made the corner of your lips lift into a smirk.

——

“Welcome sixth years and….fifth year. My name is Alastor Moody and I’ll be your defense against the dark arts professor.” The man with one eye announced as he wrote down his name and underlined it with a white line, turning back to address the crowd about the first lesson; something you tuned out as you looked amongst the crowded class for an empty seat that was preferably not next to the Gryffindor ginger, or really next to anyone.

Not because you wanted to isolate yourself precisely, but because what you’ve been trying to plan all day, almost all week to get your name in the Goblet of Fire needed to be done discreetly in order not to get caught beforehand. You had done so successfully in except for in Arithmancy next to Hermione, the small, big haired Gryffindor girl; but as nosy as she was throughout class, she very secretly in her own way trying to get you to pay attention as well, you managed to find some charms and potions; not the right one yet, but that’s why you were still trying. Incredibly hard.

Which is why you needed to be on your own to not get snitched on, but...by the looks of it and by Professor Moody’s persistence you had to take a seat by the Weasley boy. Who says nothing just like you don’t as you sit next to him, noticing right away before anything else, a familiar yet bitter smell of gunpowder that offended your nose radiating off him like strong waves. It was overwhelming for a couple seconds but you managed to move past it and pull out your notebook of notes, ignoring what the teacher had to say and instead focusing on your solution.

Ignorant to the fact that the boy, whichever twin it was, was looking over your arm and peeking at your notes, (so much for not wanting anyone to find out) it took him a minute to understand what you were quickly writing, but he caught on quick and you didn’t notice. It made a smirk tug on his lips. And as he was going to comment something, your last name was called out.

“Malfoy!”

You snap your head up and your eyes widen as your eyebrows lift at the sudden, startling call. “Yes?”

Professor Moody blocked the board with his body before pointing to the board behind him, “the question.”

Your lips form into an “oh” and your eyes search the crowd for an answer, but you go clueless to what he had been talking about. Right as you were going to simply give up, the Weasley boy discreetly passed a note with the two words,‘unforgivable curses’ written on the parchment and it right away let you give your answer with ease, having known and been taught this before. “The three unforgivable curses are the Cruciatus Curse, the Imperius Curse and the Killing Curse.”

Professor Moody grunts and turns back to the board whilst throwing back a comment at you. “Next time pay attention.”

“Yes sir.” You mock in a whisper before not even seconds later taking the parchment and writing ‘thank you’ and sliding it back to Weasley boy. Earning not seconds later a quick note back with the words, ‘I’m Fred.’. It made you smile shyly and write down, ‘y/n.’ Before returning it and expecting nothing back, but in that getting surprised at the next note. ‘What are you writing down there on your notes?’

A sigh leaves your lips this time and you turn to shoot him a glare and a simple shake of your head. Not trusting him enough with your plan—even if he was the first person to ever fully acknowledge you throughout your first week at school. No one else dared talk to you. No one in your care of magical creatures….well there was your brother's friend...girlfriend? Pansy, but she was all kinds of annoying and rude, so no thank you, you’d rather be friendless. Like now….

Even if a friend or two wouldn’t hurt.

So maybe telling Fred what your plan was wasn’t all bad?

Maybe?

….no….he’ll know soon enough. Plus like he’d want to be your friend. After what your father and brother told him and his family at the World Cup, you wouldn’t even try being friends with yourself; even if you weren’t like them. Or tried not to at least.

Regardless he’d know your plan if it came out successful, which you had the full confidence it was going to turn out fine. It was to make your father proud so it had to. It was going to work.

——

“Look at them, they wish they had half a brain to even know how to rig the goblet.” Draco snickered behind you, his little posse not hesitating to follow along with much more strained laughter, but something that slowly dwindled as Draco pushed past them to sit next to you and peek over your notes as you nervously tapped your ring on the bench and muttered to yourself the plan you had been working on all week. Thinking that all of it, all the brainstorming, late nights studying, hours of reading, researching and missed out opportunities to do anything really on your first week, accumulated to this, your findings on a self made charm to rig the age ring and enter the TriWizard tournament.

Of course you knew that if it worked and you somehow got chosen there would be hell to pay, but let’s just face that when the time comes and focus on getting this right.

“You’ve got it?” Draco asks beside you as he pulls away to sit up straight.

You sigh, but manage showing a confident smile as you lift your head to face him, lifting your hand from the bench to stop the tapping and turn your ring back into its normal position. Proceeding to jump off your seat to land on the ground with a thud the moment your boots hit the ground; smiling wider at your brother as you answered. “I’ve got it.”

Dracos lips turn into a wider grin right as he cockily crosses his arms over his chest and points his head to goblet. “Go on then.”

A shaky breath escapes you while you turn around, reaching inside your robes to pull out your wand. Tracing the silver snake wrapped around the handle of your black wand with your thumb for a couple of long moments; waiting for what seemed to be even longer as you inhaled and exhaled deeply before lifting your hand and letting the tip of your wand get close to the side of your head to move your wrist in a fluid swift movement to cast the charm on yourself. This time only waiting briefly to see if you were going to maybe explode, or turn into some old woman, but luckily noticing none of those results and turninh to Draco one last time to offer him a half smile before turning back to walk towards the goblet.

Hesitating at the point the tip of your boots had an inch left before they touched the light blue hovering age line. Breathing in deeply and exhaling slowly before catching, Harry Potter's curious gaze from across where the Goblets age line drew, shooting him a small smile that made you finally step in. An action that you thought was going to fail, but as you remained unscathed you were proven wrong; the fact making your smile turn into a smirk that motivated you to go on the tip of your toes and drop the piece of parchment with your name written on it, into the blue flames that instantly burned it as a sign that it was actually accepted.

The smirk on your lips turned into a happy grin as your name was never shot back and actually accepted, meaning your charm worked!

It bloody worked!

Quickly you turn back and rush back to your spot, in that missing the way everyone around gawked at you; especially the Weasley twins who commented amongst themselves on your achievement, “wicked.”

Before you reach your seat, Draco met you halfway showing a proud grin of his own; giving you a congratulatory pat on your shoulder that turned in a light squeeze, then ended with his arm around your shoulders as he talked you up. “I knew it. I knew it would work. Father should hear about this, he’ll be proud.”

Wrapping your own arm around him, you probe his comment further. “You really think so?”

“Even if you don’t get your name picked, I know he’ll be proud that you created your own charm.” Draco assured you with a sly smile.

You nod and smile, “I’ll write him of what happened soon.” When you reach your spot, you’re congratulated by the few Slytherins that were gathered around—a couple in your year and others below or above.

“Good job, Malfoy.”

“Way to go.”

“You’re a genius.”

A burning feeling grows on your cheeks after hearing your fellow housemates compliment you. Gestures that you weren’t really accustomed to. The only usual comments you would get from other people before would be, “death eater” (even if you weren’t!) “Daughter of a death eater.” Or, and here’s the best one, “bastard child.”. So that’s why small compliments such as those made you all flustered, they didn’t criticize or alienate you; at least not your fellow Slytherins. Or at least not yet.

“Look.” Draco called your attention, making you turn away from the other students and look at the crowd he was pointing at. Not joining the rest of the crowd and instead watching the Weasley twins somehow inside the ageline; hyping the crowd with their achievement before they both symontionsly inserted their names, grinning proudly and celebrating too early as seconds later two blue flames shot up and shot back at them, throwing to the ground out of the line. The scene making Draco and his friends chuckle with mischievous intent; with even more reason as the twins begin to fight as they turn old, growing white hairs and white beards.

All while you suppress an amused smile and only hide it by rolling your eyes. The commotion just like your amusement dying down as Krum, Karkaroff and his friend walked to watch said quidditch player insert his name as well. His sudden entrance however turned everyone starstruck. But not you.

All you were thinking of now was, how inserting your name in the Goblet worked, and the sudden chest tightening, nerve wracking and giddy feeling you had as you now counted down the minutes until the picking ceremony happened.

Hoping as you did so, that your name would be chosen.

——

How would it turn out if it worked and your name was chosen from—no, better not think of it anymore, not until the time came later today. There's been too much overthinking done during that time and now (lunch and the last class of the day). But that’s all you could think about; even during potions, a class you usually liked going to and did well in—even while you were purposely failing all your classes in Durmstrang.

However thankfully the picking was going to be soon and this worry was—

Suddenly your train of thought is interrupted as a piece of paper hits the back of your hand. You blink and feel your eyebrows pinch together at the sudden feeling; Lifting your head shortly after from its resting position on your hand and looking towards the direction the paper could’ve come from. Noticing the Weasley twins looking your way with mischievous smiles on their thin lips whilst they also pointed to the note with a move of their heads.

Right as you were going to reach for the note, Professor Snape spoke in a much louder commanding voice. “All right, group up and try mixing the potions yourselves. Carefully. I see any mistakes, I'll take off group points.”

A sigh leaves your lips and you drag yourself off your seat while also dragging your notebook off the table and walking towards the group you had been assigned to; seeing right away and almost regretting sitting down in the same table as these twins—who by the way didn’t hesitate to speak, rather ask the question you knew was written on that note; “so, Malfoy how did you do it?” One of them asked first, your mind unable to tell them apart at first, not until you noticed his nose and the nose of the other still quiet twin—this one, who you now identified as Fred, had a straighter nose, wheres...the other twin had a more slanted one. It was a weird thing to notice, especially since you had only just met one officially earlier today, but it was a fact that when you examined Fred’s face stuck with you. Good thing too.

“Yeah, Malfoy, tell us how you managed to put your name in the goblet,” The other twin asked as he walked to stand on your other side, having both twins trap you from each side. “When we couldn’t?”

You shrug, “I’m seventeen.” You lie with a smirk threatening to show as you pushed Fred to the side to begin doing your given work.

Fred scoffed, “liar, we know all the kids from our year and our father said you were one year older than Ron, you’re not seventeen. How did you really do it?”

This time the smile breaks through as you can’t help but focus on what he had already paid attention to about you. A smile that was sadly short lived as you recalled to the time your father had been rude to their family; a memory that burned in your mind and made you wonder why they even tolerated talking to you and didn’t treat you like the youngest Weasley boy? With a cold glare that had every ounce of hatred for you shown through it.

Of course you liked that they didn’t treat you that way, but it was well deserved.

Thinking so made you comment on it. “Does it matter? Why are two even talking to me considering what my family name is?”

Unbeknownst to you while you’re concentrated on your “team work” they look at each other and share a light hearted scoff before remarking just the same. “So? That doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah.” The still nameless twin agreed in a voice that got louder the more he seemed to get excited, “you, a fifth year managed to rig the age ring and enter your name in the Goblet of Fire.”

Your head snaps to him and you shush him, “be any louder?”

He shrugs as a response and continues in a loud whisper, “it was bloody wicked, that's what we think.”

“Enough so that we want you to be our friend….”

Your breathing falters and your heart seems to stop at the comment Fred shared, the suddenness and boldness of it almost causing you to drop your flask and gasp. Albeit you were lucky enough to not actually express that out loud; oh and not drop the actual flask. But it did take a couple of seconds to grasp the idea of it and refocus your mind on his words.

“...tell us your secret.”

Dropping the last ingredient into the cauldron you put the flask back on the table and begin to unknowingly rub your wrist with your other hand. Feeling every level of flustered before questioning his comment. “What?”

Fred smiles, “tell us your secret first.”

Oh.

“Well, I’m smarter.” You manage to snap back with a smirk.

“We know that.” Fred scoffs. “But what did you really do?”

“I—”

“You three chatty people in the back.” Professor Snape interjects. “Why don’t you show the class how you did the potion.”

“Well,” Fred speaks up only to get cut off right away.

“Show us, Weasley. Up here.” Snape points to his Cauldron.

The three of you share a look before slowly pulling yourselves to the front of the class, avoiding every pair of eyes and instead focusing on what you had to do—them more than you since they didn’t actually do any of the work.

“Actually you two,” Snape points, “demonstrate for us. Miss Malfoy, you stand beside me and watch alongside your other classmates.”

Doing as he said quietly, you stand by him and begin to mentally swear to yourself; once more sharing looks with both boys as they looked to you for help, lifting potions as “discreetly” as they could to not call a lot of attention. But of course that didn’t work, the professor caught on and rapidly lifted his arm to block your face with his book. Leaving you blind to their actions, going off only by the small explosion shortly after as a defeating sign.

“Points off. Get back to your seats and focus next time or else I’ll give you all detention.”

The three of you return to your table in silence, remaining that way all until class is finally over. Returning as expected to the topic from before. Something that you didn’t mind at all.

“Alright then, spit out.” The nameless twin spoke out as he fell by your right side and Fred fell by your left.

Crossing your arms over your chest you shrug nonchalantly, “tell me your name first.”

“George.” He answered impatiently.

A smile tugs on your lips as you finally reveal it. “I made my own charm that would only last for a few minutes to help me trick the ageline.”

They both look at each other to comment simultaneously, “wicked.”

Fred then grinned down at you and added excitedly, “well what are we waiting for? Let’s hurry to see if your name gets picked.”

An excited grin grows on your features, just as your heart flutters with the same emotion before the three of you are rushing down the halls to make it to the great hall. Thinking to yourself as you’re feeling the air hit your face, if it’s really true they’ll be your friend now?

No matter who you are?

Hopefully.

——

“Now the moment you’ve all been waiting for!” Dumbledore exclaims over the crowd, “the champion selection!” He turns to point to the lit fires to dim their light. The sudden change in light that signified what was to come made your heart madly beat in your chest, made you instinctively tap your ring on the table; whilst you also tried to ignore the curious gaze of Harry Potter, as well others and the burning glares of other fellow Gryffindors around the table George and Fred invited you to sit on.

Instead fully focusing on the Goblet of Fire, watching nervously and excitedly as the flames turned red and burned with more rage as it threw out the first name, Dumbledore didn’t wait to announce. “The Durmstrang champion is, Victor Krum!”

Why is that not a surprise? Of course it was him.

Regardless of your thoughts you clapped along with the roaring crowd, continuing to watch as another name got picked and called. “The champion for Beauxbatons is, Fleur Delacour!”

Again you clapped, but at the moment you could feel your chest tighten with all the nerves you felt at what was to come, knowing the Hogwarts champion was next. The twins also knew and showed you excited, goofy grins, whilst Fred also playfully hurt your shoulder as a single parchment was thrown out and Dumbledore finally announced what you’ve been anxious to hear. “The Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory!”

Bloody hell.

At the sound of the name announced you can’t help but frown in disappointment for a moment, clapping slowly and with added bitterness.

“Excellent!” Dumbledore continues, “We now have our three champions! But in the end, only one will go down in history, only one will hoist this chalice of champions, this vessel of victory, the TriWizard cup!” The crowd booms with excitement, while you try and make yourself feel as excited in your disappointment. Stopping albeit as the blue fire emitting from the Goblet began to dance upwards, turning red once again and spitting out another piece of parchment that made you feel as if your heart had stopped.

Only being disappointed one last time as, Dumbledore announced someone completely unexpected that made you and everyone grow shocked and silent. “Harry Potter?!”

.

.

.

.

A/N-also just to clarify two things, I know it might’ve been too quick for the twins and reader to be friends, but legit they knew what she did and wanted to, no matter who she was!! And also with Draco I know here he might act different, but that’s only towards his sister, he looks up to her, so that’s why he’s nice (for now) one last thing....any Trio name ideas??

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[in-tua-deep]

Angsty au idea, five makes it back except he arrives dead and only Klaus and Ben can see him. (What happened to his body? Could be that his body got stuck between space time or he drops off as his thirteen year old sib and thats gonna traumatize the sibs probably) (Ig he could have also either died from wounds because the commision figured that he'd be turning and got strained from the time travel or an error in equations)

me, resurrecting myself over here

okay okay okay i’m going to take your idea and tweak it just a teeny tiny bit and produce:

Time travel isn’t viable.

Not the way five travels. Not without a conduit. Not when he’s essentially harnessing all of time, all of those endless possibilities, within the heart of a human being. It’s so much. It’s too much. Five died the moment he blinked away on that street outside of the Hargreeves mansion. 

But Five doesn’t know that. 

He doesn’t notice that no one gives him a second glance when he appears out of nowhere on those bustling streets. He just jumps again, because why not! He’s excited, he’s proving his father wrong, he’s liberated! And then.

And then.

He’s in the apocalypse.

He doesn’t notice that he can’t interact with anything until he touches his Luther’s corpse and his hand goes right through. And then, his first thought isn’t - I died. It’s - something went wrong with the last jump.

Which makes sense to him. He’s managed to get himself trapped on some kind of in-between plane. And that’s why his time travel powers aren’t working! Because they don’t work right on this plane! 

Five wanders the apocalypse, and it’s a little better than in canon because he doesn’t need to eat.

(Oh, he misses eating.)

He’s a smart boy. A brilliant boy. He’s thirteen, and he thinks he’s invincible. But his powers are jumping, and he can take himself apart molecule by molecule, and eventually eventually after years and years have passed he manages to solidify his hand enough to pick something up.

The first time he turns a page in a book feels like victory. 

He camps out in the destroyed remains of a library. Being solid enough to pick something up is... exhausting. He can’t do it for long periods of time. But he has a little stack of useful books, a little pile of chalk, the store mannequin he likes to talk to (he named her Dolores), and a blanket that has seen better days. He can’t exactly feel the ground when he curls up on it, and he can’t really sleep in this messed up pocket dimension or wherever he’s stuck, but he closes his eyes and pretends with all the power of the child he isn’t.

He’s in the apocalypse for a long time, trying to figure out a two-fold problem: how to get out of his pocket dimension and back into the ‘real world’ and also how to get back to his siblings when he does. He isn’t stupid. Time travel when he was capable of it was a crapshoot, he needs a way to get more exact.

And then the woman comes. Pristine and blond and carrying a suitcase. She frowns when she steps over the rubble in heels that click click click and frowns harder when she presses gloved fingers against Five’s equations written in chalk.

Five hides behind some rubble, but gets brave. Gets curious.

(Curiosity killed the cat.)

He comes out, he says “Hello?” and isn’t sure what he expected when she doesn’t even turn around. Five goes towards her with silent footsteps, footsteps that don’t disturb the dirt and chalk dust of the apocalypse because they don’t exist. 

He doesn’t know who she is, but he’s curious what’s in her suitcase, and waits patiently for her to open it. He’s also planning on following her back to whatever settlement she came from? He hadn’t thought there were any people alive, but clearly she is proving him wrong. 

So when she walks away, he puts his hand on her suitcase so that he doesn’t lose her, because even if she wouldn’t feel it putting his hand on her and watching it go through would be... demoralizing. 

And then she opens the suitcase, and suddenly they’re somewhere else. Except not somewhere else. Its bustling with people and the woman’s heels click loudly against the tile floor and someone walks right through Five and he trails after the woman because everyone seems to give her a wide berth and being walked through sucks. 

Someone addresses her. The Handler. That’s not - that’s not a people name, Five is pretty sure. That’s a title. But no one addresses the woman by name, so the Handler it is. 

Five doesn’t know how old he is, but he still looks thirteen. (He doesn’t feel any different, because he isn’t. His growth is permanently stunted, he will always have died at thirteen-years-one-month-and-nine-days-old.)

So he lives at the Commission headquarters for a few years, invisible and a tiny bit mischievous. He can travel through the walls if he wants, so no door is locked to him. He makes himself a little den in one of the vents where he gets a small collection of office supplies that he steals from the assholes as punishment. He doesn’t do anything major. 

He finds out what the commission does. He tags along with some assassins on occasion. He once distracted Cha-Cha by shoving a glass off a counter and breaking it to try and give a child witness time to flee.

(Hazel found her in the closet, terrified and silent with huge glassy brown eyes. He lifted a finger to his lips and quietly closed the closet door. He yelled “Clear!” to Cha-Cha, and then he and cha-cha and Five all left. Five looks at Hazel differently, after that.)

(Hazel has a soft spot for kids and bird-watching diner owners. This is important.)

Five scribbles equations on the walls of the vents. He gets more data every time he travels with the agents so he starts traveling with them a lot, even though he hates it, even though he sees so much death and destruction and he can’t stop it. He helps, sometimes. As much as he can. It’s not enough.

Five finds something, one day, when he’s wandering around. He finds a picture of Vanya, framed. He recognizes her immediately, from the back of Vanya’s book that he found in the apocalypse. They have lots of pictures of famous people around the commission, and lots of pictures of ordinary people. All of them significant in some way to the ‘preservation of the timeline’.

He goes to the Handler’s office, and among her many souvenirs he finds a cracked violin, and he remembers the background music that made up his entire childhood. 

(He steals the violin and puts it in his vent nook. He flips it over and traces the tiny V that’s shallowly carved shyly into the bottom, the same one Vanya has been putting on every violin she’s ever had since she was seven-years-old, after Diego and Luther broke hers and tried to claim that it was just a random violin, not her violin and it wasn’t their fault she didn’t take care of her possessions -)

(Why is Vanya’s violin in the Handler’s collection of weapons?)

Five is aware of something. He thinks the commission has something to do with the apocalypse. They protect the timeline of whatever, right? And yet the apocalypse happened. Which means it must be planned. 

Five has been trained to fight ‘villains’ since he was tiny, and he recognizes a villain when he looks at the Handler’s shiny smile and too long nails. 

Vanya has to have something to do with it. Do the commission kidnap her? Do they kill her? She’s important, somehow.

(Maybe before he traveled he would have doubted that. Vanya was ordinary. Why would she be important? But Five has tagged along on so many missions where they killed perfectly ordinary people in order to spark a chain of events. In fact, it’s almost always ordinary people.)

Five solves one of his equations on a regular, ordinary day. It’s the time travel one. Not the one about his... unfortunate circumstances.

So Five finds a nice empty room, and he gives it a try. He’s not expecting much, since the pocket dimension bullshit fucks up his time travel anyway (though he can still spatial jump curiously enough) except - it works. He splits the world apart, and it’s hard. Way harder than he remembers it being. 

He chalks that up to the whole pocket dimension effect.

He pushes and pushes and then - something breaks. Like ice shattering for a spring thaw, and he’s through. He’s on the ground, winded. He looks up and - it’s them. His siblings. Older than he remembers, clearly the equation wasn’t exactly right, but they’re here and they’re alive and Five can feel himself tearing up and he lets it happen because none of them can see him anyway and - 

“Five?” 

Two voices, overlapping. Five’s head snaps over, eyes wide with shock and alarm and - 

It’s Klaus and Ben. Both staring at him, equal alarm and shock in their eyes.

“You can see me?” Five demands loudly, patting at his body frantically. Is this it? Did he kill two birds with one stone? Did coming back undo whatever bullshit he put his body through - ?

“Klaus, why would you say that.” Allison scolds automatically, “That was in poor taste.”

Five looks at her, and her eyes scan straight over him, in the way that’s been familiar for - for - 

(Five didn’t bother to keep track of the years. Not when he was unaffected by time, by seasons, by weather. What was the point?)

Five’s eyes snap back to Klaus’s, who hasn’t taken his eyes away. It’s weird, Five thinks absently. His skin crawls under the attention, not used to it.

(Isn’t that strange, in a boy who used to demand attention with every breath he took? Isn’t that odd?)

There’s a hand on his arm and Five just about jumps out of his skin, whirling around and flailing and - oh look, that’s Ben on the ground, looking absolutely shocked. Five is also shocked, because he hasn’t been touched in - in forever. 

“Ben?” Five half-asks, voice smaller than he’d like with a tremble that he kind of wants to kick in the gut. 

“Five.” Ben responds, kind of sounding like he’s been punched in the chest. Actually he might have been, Five was never very gentle when it came to removing his limbs from others grasps.

“Well!” Klaus says loudly, making Five and Ben look over. “If the crisis is over, and we’ve lost a perfectly good fire extinguisher to the void, i’m going back inside!”

Klaus gives Ben a significant look as he turns on his heel and marches back in, and Ben winces. “Come on,” He whispers to Five, getting up and brushing himself off. “It’s better to talk when no one else is around.”

Ben hesitates, and Five hasn’t spoken to anyone but himself in a very long time. It’s been even longer since - well. And Ben looks so lost all of a sudden, that it’s really for Ben’s benefit when Five takes Ben’s hand in his own and tugs him in the direction of the mansion, “Well get a move on.”

Ben looks like he’s about to cry, looking at their joined grip, but nods and leads Five into the building. He gives Five’s hand a squeeze, as though making sure he’s real, and Five allows it gracefully.

Finally, they’re tucked into Klaus’s bedroom, Klaus sprawled across the bed and staring at Five like he’s something entirely alien.

“I don’t understand.” Five says, because the silence is getting awkward. “How come you guys can see me, but the others can’t?”

And Five is very confused when Ben’s face just - crumples. He looks like he’s about to cry. And Klaus, the contrary bastard, starts laughing, just a tiny bit hysterically.

“Take a guess shortstack.” Klaus wheezes out, “What’s my power?”

It’s seeing the dead, of course. But Five isn’t dead he’s just - in between. Right?

Besides, there’s a glaring flaw in Klaus’s theory.

“Uh, Ben can see me.” Five points out, lifting his and Ben’s conjoined hands where Ben’s grip is actually getting a little bit painful.

But isn’t a good kind of pain. Five hasn’t felt pain in - equally long. 

Klaus’s laughter cuts off and Ben makes a noise like a squeaky toy that’s been stepped on. “Yeah,” Klaus says, uncharacteristically serious, “Well. You missed a lot, kiddo.”

“Ben’s not dead.” Five protests, because he’s not. Five can see him. He’s right there, and he’s never had Klaus’s powers. He turns to Ben and - 

Ben envelops him in a hug, a tight one. The kind that Five would never have allowed unless absolutely necessary before he’s left, but now just sort of - melts into. It’s the pressure of it, honestly. Ben’s a good hugger.

“Five I’m so sorry.” Ben whispers, pressing his face against Five’s hair. It tickles a little, where Ben breathes out. “I’m so, so sorry.”

He pulls back, and brushes trembling fingers against Five’s hair. “Five, Five. Haven’t you - haven’t you wondered why you can’t - Five. You’re still - it’s been so long and you’ve been alone and - ” Ben breaks into sniffles.

“I’m just stuck.” Five says blankly, trying his best to process, “I’m just - I jumped wrong, and I got - I got stuck in between. I’m not - I’m not dead.”

“You’re deader than a doornail, kiddo.” Klaus interjects loudly.

Five, never one to take that lying down, untangles himself from Ben just enough to pick up a knicknack and hurls it at Klaus’s head with a scowl. “I’m not a kid.”

Except now they’re both staring at Five again, even as Klaus presses a hand against his forehead where Five had whalloped him (his aim was a good as ever, clearly).

“How -” Ben stutters, staring between Klaus and Five with alarm.

Klaus sputters as well, “What the fuck! How did you do that!”

“Well you see, Klaus.” Five says, voice toxic with the sweetness he exuded, “When someone leans down, and picks something up, they can exert a force on it. This force interacts with other forces to form the trajectory of an object - ”

“Not that!” Klaus sputters, “You picked something up!”

“Yeah, that happens sometimes.” Five says dryly.

Ben prods him in the side, making Five look over (up, if we’re being technical. Grown-up Ben is... kind of tall, actually. Compared to Five.) “How did you do that?”

And Five isn’t dead. He isn’t. But - he remembers the early days. How terrifying they were. How he couldn’t interact with the world around him at all. And if Ben is going through the same thing - “It... it took me a while to figure out. Um. It’s - it’s kind of hard to explain? Because like, when I jump it’s - it’s kind of like taking myself apart and then putting myself together somewhere else. And it’s like, like taking that feeling, except instead of putting yourself together somewhere else you like, layer it over yourself as you are? Like, making yourself denser somehow, I dunno.”

“If you can do it, then I can, too.” Ben says ferociously, a determined glint in his eyes. “I’ll finally be able to throw things at Klaus when he’s being an idiot.”

“Hey!” Klaus protests, looking very offended.

This is all very nice, but Five did come here with a mission... so he tugs at Ben’s arm. “Ben, what’s the date?”

Ben shrugs, because why should the dead care about the date? He looks at Klaus. Klaus looks like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Um.” Then he brightens, “Right!” He grabs something from his pocket, it’s rectangular and flat. There were lots in the apocalypse, though Five has never figured out their functions. Except when Klaus clicks his, it lights up. 

“Uh, March 24th.” Klaus says, squinting at the screen.

“What year?” Five asks, leaning forward.

“2019.” Klaus says.

“Fuck,” Five says, with feeling. “A week.”

“What’s a week?” Ben asks warily as Five flails and untangles himself from his grasp to stand up and pace.

“You don’t understand.” Five says, turning to them both, “I haven’t just - just been traveling the world as a fucking ghost. I time traveled. It worked. But - the future - ”

“Five?” Ben asks, all concern and love and it’s painful.

“The world ends in seven days.” Five tells them both, voice cracking, “There’s nothing but - but rubble and ruin and - and - ”

He remembers their bodies, remembers them splayed out in the rubble. 

“You died.” Five told Klaus, “You all died. The whole world died. Everything was - ash everywhere. I was there for - for...”

“The courtyard scene.” Ben realizes, reaching out as something like comprehension dawns on his face. Five dances back a few steps, his breaths coming in funny little pants. “You came back from - the future?”

“Breath, Five.” Klaus advises, sounding a little bit worries himself.

“If I’m dead why do I need to breath?” Five snarls, and Klaus’s face drops and he curls in on himself a little looking pathetic. It’s enough for Five to toss out a mildly panicked “Sorry” because? That’s what you do right?

(Five hasn’t interacted with people who can talk back in decades and it shows.)

And Five tells them everything, in halting uncertain breaths. He winds up curled up on the bed with Ben’s arms around him, steady as a rock, while Klaus manages to somehow sit in the desk chair in a manner that makes Five a little uncertain that his brother possesses bones and ligaments. 

He tells them about the future, about finding their bodies, about learning to - to condense himself just enough to interact with the world. He tells them about the woman, about the suitcase, about following her. He tells them about the Commission, and how he’s sure they have something to do with it - the Handler had Vanya’s violin - 

By the time Five is finished talking, he’s exhausted. The sun has slipped below the horizon already, and he feels like dead weight in his brother’s arms. At some point, Ben had started running a hand through Five’s hair, and the repetitive motion is soothing.

“That’s - that’s a lot.” Klaus says, and something must have shocked him a little bit out of his goofy persona. 

“I just wanted to go home.” Five mumbles.

“You are home.” Ben tells him, squeezing him tightly, “And we’re going to make sure the apocalypse doesn’t happen. Right, Klaus?”

Klaus shuffles, awkwardly. “I mean. I’m not exactly uh, number one choice for team apocalypse you know?”

“Ben’s number one choice for team apocalypse.” Five points out, flopping his head against Ben’s arm. “You’re an okay second choice though, I guess.”

It makes Klaus bark out a laugh, and Five can feel Ben’s snicker through his chest.

“Vanya’s gotta be on the team.” Five mumbles, loud enough for them to hear. “She’s important. Gotta make sure, make sure no one uh, no one kills her or anything.”

Ben and Klaus exchange a look over his head that he doesn’t see.

“We’ll plan everything tomorrow.” Ben tells him gently, “In the morning, okay?”

“Mmkay.” Five agrees absently.

The dead don’t sleep, but they can get - tired. Being in the living world is exhausting, and Five closes his eyes and just. Ignores the world. Just for a little while. The dead don’t dream, but that’s okay, because Five’s dreams have never been anything approaching peaceful.

Five made it back. He might be a ghost, but he made it back. An impossible goal, and he accomplished it. After that, taking on the apocalypse will be a piece of cake. 

(And if Ben and Klaus think Five is going to give up on his idea to un-dead himself, they have another thing coming.)

[rosy-wooyoung]

Husband series [7/8] | Wooyoung

Word count: 5.6k Pairing: ex-husband! Mingi x single mom! reader x accountant! Wooyoung Genre: (angsty) fluff A/N: okay near the end i tried (yes, tired) to make Wooyoung sound sassy but i’m not good at writing comebacks so,,, cringe.

With your husband, you had opened a library-coffee shop together, and you were working in teams. Mingi was putting the books on the shelves while you were at the cash register and taking orders for the coffee area. You were a busy couple, but you loved this way of living. You never felt bored. Everything started slowing down when you learnt about your pregnancy, to the point of completely stopping as it became difficult for you to comfortably move.

To make it concise, Mingi was an anxious husband and father. He didn’t trust any baby-sitter, the only people allowed to near your babygirl was your families, your friends, and you two. He was too scared that something bad could happen to your daughter, to the point of almost becoming exhausting. You had tried to reason him by the past, but he didn’t want to hear anything about it. He started going to work earlier, and you found yourself stuck at home a lot of times since he took the car that you shared. You felt like he didn’t want you around the shop anymore, making you sad as it was your idea to open that shop at first. His behaviour made him look like a theft, stealing your good ideas to make a profit from it. 

One night, you decided to confront him about it. It was almost one of the toughest things you had to face in life. “Let’s switch roles sometimes, then,” you offered, crossing your arms on your chest. “But baby, no one takes care of Soyoung the way you do,” he tried to seduce you with compliments, but it only got you suspicious. You knew in his tone that he meant it, that he was honest, but something felt off. You shook your head. “Do I need to remind you that you are also her parent? You’re her dad, you can also take care of her.” “But baby,” “No, Mingi, there’s no “but baby” now,” you replied, and Mingi took a step back, “it’s either you let me do what I want and take your father role seriously, or I leave.” Mingi’s eyes widened at your words and shook his head, immediately taking you into his arms. This embrace only felt comforting for him, even if he wanted it to be for the two of you.

During the following weeks, he let you do your things, becoming more present as you “teach” him the basics to take care of a newborn. It wasn’t really teaching since you had no experience in this field, it was more showing him how you did it without hurting the baby. He was paying attention a lot, and you started seeing progress in his once clumsy movements. He became more comfortable around your daughter, and she felt it too, smiling and enjoying more being in her dad’s arms. However, after two months of what you thought was progress, everything got demolished in a matter of days. Mingi’s worries came back, hitting your small family like a truck, fragilizing it. Mingi became the same as before; worried for you and the baby, and thirsty for money. You could see the hunger in his eyes when he looked at your bank account online, dollar signs almost showing in his orbits. That was the last straw for you. By chance, you knew a lawyer, she was a regular customer to your shop, and you had befriended her. You enjoyed the same types of books and one day, she happened to come around the store for a cup of coffee after buying a book for her mom’s birthday. You quickly asked for divorce details, and her face immediately fell when she heard your question.

“Isn’t it going well with your husband?” you shook your head without a word, and she gave you a comforting smile, finishing her coffee in one go. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she whispered as you took her empty cup, “I’ll go back to the office and prepare documents for you. Maybe we can schedule an appointment together?” “Only with me if it’s possible, I haven’t warned my husband about that yet.” She nodded with an understanding smile, laying a comforting hand on your shoulder. “We can meet up as friends if it makes you more comfortable,” she winked and you faintly smiled, wishing her a great afternoon as she made her way out the door.

During the entire afternoon, you looked quite absent. You were misplacing things, mistyping totals, and apologising to customers a lot more than on the daily. Even when you were heavily pregnant, you didn’t make as many mistakes as you were now. You came home, beating yourself up and head filled with thoughts. Were you making the right decisions? Would you regret it after a while? If you regret, will you regret Mingi as a person or just the feelings he was giving you? What would your parents think of you? Will your daughter once hate you and accuse you of preventing her from growing up with a dad? Is that selfish?

All your worries and questions vanished when you entered the office you shared with your husband. You whispered a small “I’m home” but didn’t even receive an answer. You sighed and turned around, going to your daughter’s bedroom to check up on her. You had to admit that Mingi did a pretty great job, a semblance of braid on each side of her head. She looked quite uncomfortable, tugging on her hair, so you took her in your arms, whispering sweet words to her sleeping form. She smiled in her sleep as she fell your hands working in her hair, making you beam as well. After fixing a few other things, you kissed her head and made your way to the deserted kitchen. You had expected to see leftovers for you, as you always did for him, but the fridge was empty of prepared food. You sighed another time, and boiled water, preparing yourself a warm soup before going to bed.

That night, you pretended to be sleeping when Mingi laid down next to you. He still kissed your shoulder, but it didn’t bring you as much joy as it used to. Your husband stayed on his phone for quite some time, until the clock reached one in the morning. You didn’t even know what he was doing, and honestly, you didn’t care. You remained awake for the major part of the night, going to your daughter’s bedroom each time she cried of hunger. Whilst you fed her, you couldn’t help but think of a solution to avoid becoming a housewife, because that’s what you were becoming to be. Stuck at home, ironing, cooking, taking care of your child, and it wasn’t the future that you had planned with Mingi when you started getting into serious dating. Soyoung looked at you while you fed her, smiling to her as she looked up at you with eyes filled with adoration.

“I love you, sweetie, do you know that?” She blinked and kept on eating, her eyes never leaving yours. Her tiny hand clung to your pyjama top, and you rubbed your thumb against the soft skin of her chubby leg. A few days later, you went to another coffee shop to meet the lawyer, accompanied by your daughter. Her eyes were full of concern as you sat down in front of her, your efforts giving in that you’ve been restless and stressed. They instantly sparkled when she saw your daughter, babying and playing with her as you spoke about your decision. Going home from your “friend appointment”, you sighed and fed your daughter before putting her in her cradle next to the couch. You sat close to her and started to carefully read the papers, pondering whether it was the right solution or not. One day, as you came home from another tiring day of work filled with complains and disappointment on your customers’ faces, you saw Mingi sitting on the couch, papers stacked in front of him on the coffee table. You gulped before making your way next to him, caressing your sleeping daughter’s head in her cradle as you looked at him.

“Can you explain me this?” he said, not even looking at you as he pointed the papers. He was calm and you already hated this. When he was mad, he was used to making big movements and speak louder than usual, as everyone did. Here, on the other hand, he was calm, too calm to be even normal. “I… I want a divorce,” you hesitantly said as you sat near your daughter, keeping an eye on her sleeping form. Mingi looked at you dead in the eyes, and you saw nothing but hurt. He was in pain, but you were aching too. “Listen, I-” “So you’ve been doing this behind my back?” you nodded, and he sighed, taking his head in his hands. You wished you had hidden the documents better. If you did, you wouldn’t have this painful conversation like you are right now. You never wanted him to discover the documents like this, you really wished you had done a better job at hiding everything. “I thought we were close enough, bonded enough to tell each other everything,” he said as he looked up to you, only to sink his head back down on his hands as he saw your defeated face. “Mingi. You know that we are not the same anymore. Since we had Soyoung, you changed. I don’t recognise the Mingi I married 3 years ago. I don’t know what’s gotten into you so suddenly, but I don’t feel like I’m with the same person.” From your spot on the couch, you almost heard his heart shattering, and yours was already bleeding. Your words deepened the already opened wounds, hurting you just as much as he currently was.

“So everything that we built together, you’re ready to throw it away?” “Yes,” you said without pausing and cleared your throat, “look at me. Look at you. Us. Haven’t you realised that everything changed? I love you, a lot, sometimes too much to be human, but I’m at a point where I can’t do it anymore, and I can see that you’re not willing to change.” Mingi’s face progressively started to become livid, this sight increasing the guilt that you already felt deep inside you.

“Mingi, I want a career. I wanna work. I don’t wanna spend my life at home as a housewife, waiting for my sweet husband to come home from work, placing a freshly cooked plate in front of him. I don’t want to be at home, spending my day cleaning, cooking, ironing, and taking care of Soyoung on my own. I don’t want you to be only financially supportive, I want the two of us to grow old together, take care of her together, switching roles here and then. I know it’s hard to be good parents, there are no instructions to that, but I don’t want to do it on my own. I know what it is, my mother is a housewife and see how my parents ended. A divorce. I know not all the marriages end like that, but I don’t want to go through all the pain and exhaustion my mother went through, it’ll kill me. I’d rather get divorced now than suffering for years and ending it for saving my life. We’re not in the past century anymore, I wanna work, and it’s my decision. You could give me all the reasons in the world, I’ll stay in my opinion.” You deeply breathed as you ended your monologue. Mingi didn’t pronounce a word, voiceless as he listened to you. For once, he didn’t interfere, he let you prove your point. Deep down, he wanted to fight to save your marriage, but on the other side, he knew that you were right. It was something that he did without thinking, and he couldn’t help it. Letting out a breath, Mingi stood up, confusing you. He swallowed thickly, and you saw tears gathering in his eyes, guilt forcing them into your eyes as well. He walked to the pen holder on the chest of drawers, clicking it open and signed the papers.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should have done better, I shouldn’t have treated you like this, but I caused enough damage to fix everything. I’m terribly sorry, I know it won’t change your opinion, but I really am. I'd do anything to fix us, but I think it's too late now.” You nodded and took the pen he was handing you, swiftly signing the paper next to him. There was no turning back, and you took your daughter from her cradle, kissing her before taking her to the bedroom, leaving Mingi alone in the living room. You started deserting the library-coffee shop, actively looking for another job. You found something in a pretty big company as a secretary, and you started feeling better. Your boss wasn’t rude at all, but he was quite strict. He allowed you to take your daughter some days at work since she was very peaceful and shy, but of course, he couldn't let that happen every day.

Moving out of your house was something quite hard too since you had to keep an eye on your daughter while moving out pieces of furniture and boxes filled with memories. You had asked two of your co-workers to come and help, which they gladly did, offering them drinks and dinner as you finished moving everything into your new apartment. A few weeks later, you hurried to work as you put your daughter to day-care, a pretty busy day preventing you from taking her with you. You’d rather have her with educators and other children than leaving her unattended near your desk at work. You barely had enough time to settle down at your desk that the first guests of the day arrived: Choi San, a pretty rich, handsome CEO, followed by his secretary and accountant. They all greeted you, the former being colder than his employees. You took the lead and guided them to your boss’ office, letting them come in as you hurriedly went back to your desk to grab the files and something to write on.

The exchange between the two bosses was quite warm, Choi San’s cold face immediately dropping as he smiled to Seonghwa, your boss. You placed the files in front of him, and he made room for you when he saw you roll a chair near him. The other secretary was smiling at you while you both took notes, nodding each time your respective boss mentioned something important. The accountant, who introduced himself as Wooyoung, was quite discreet and didn’t speak a lot, only when he was asked to. However, you could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t pay attention, focusing on your boss’ words instead. Once the meeting was over, you all bid farewell to each other, smiling at your boss as you rolled the chair back to its initial spot. You went out of the office along with your boss, talking about the report when he stopped you.

“Y/N, we’ll talk about that later, because I think someone is waiting for you.” You frowned and looked up, only to find the accountant pointlessly pacing back and forth around the elevators. Seonghwa excused himself from you and walked away, leaving you no choice to go and talk to the accountant. “Can I help you?” you hesitantly said, startling him and he turned around. He timidly smiled at you and cleared his throat, replacing his files in his grip. “I, hum. I just wanted to say that you looked very pretty earlier,” his words shocked you, expecting something more formal and professional from him. “And, I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch together, you know, to get to know each other?” you giggled and smiled, replacing your bag on your shoulder. “Oh, sure!” you answered, and his eyes widened, expecting to get rejected. “Let me just go back to my desk, I forgot something.” He nodded and smiled, letting you rush back to your desk. You emptied your bag from the files that you took to work on during lunchtime and opened your pocket mirror to replace any wild piece of hair. Once you felt pretty enough, you paced back to Wooyoung, who was observing the plants next to the elevators.

Wooyoung was someone particularly shy at first, but he started warming up when you asked a bit more personal questions, his centre of interests or even his work. He spoke a lot about his passion for dancing and running with his Beagle named Berry and you really enjoyed his company over this lunch. (sorry I know that’s Chan’s dog, but I can’t come up with a name for a doggo)

This meal started everything. You exchanged phone numbers and started talking, waking up every day with lovely encouraging messages from the accountant. You came to like this kind of gesture from him, eagerly answering each time as you prepared breakfast or got ready. Dates after dates, you got even closer, to the point of starting to get comfortable around each other. After a dinner out together, Wooyoung walked you home, timidly swinging your hand back and forth in his. Once you arrived in front of your building, you turned to face him with a huge smile on your face. He let go of your hand and stared at you, looking at your lips before replacing a strand of hair behind your ear. The sun was setting behind you, creating a sort of halo around your head, making you look like the sweetest angel ever. 

Wooyoung got closer and cupped your cheeks with his warm hands, sending goose bumps along your spine, deeply inhaling as you waited for his following move. Closing your eyes as his thumbs rubbed the soft skin of your cheeks, your soul ascending to Heaven as he crashed his lips onto yours. The kiss was feverish yet gentle, your stomach churning as your mouths danced together to the rhythm of love. You gripped onto his shoulders to keep your balance, moaning into the kiss as he grabbed the back of your head to deepen it. After a few minutes of heavy make-out in the middle of the street in full view of everyone, Wooyoung ended the kiss and stared at you, synchronising his heavy breathing with yours. For a split second, he looked at your lips and kissed you again, a bit more rougher this time. You stepped backwards, Wooyoung holding you tightly against him as he pushed the door of the main entrance open. You broke the kiss and giggled, hurriedly pressing the button to call the elevator. Wooyoung couldn’t keep his hands to himself, touching your sides, hips, and waist as he kissed your neck. 

Finding that the elevator was taking too long to come, you grabbed his hand and rushed upstairs, fumbling with your keys as you arrived in front of your door, Wooyoung's kissing you prevented you from seeing anything. Finally sliding the key into the slot, you immediately came back to earth as you heard the TV playing and a foreign pair of shoes in the hallway. Wooyoung stumbled on you, almost making the two of you fall on top of each other but you caught yourself just on time. The accountant discovered for the first time your apartment, looking around the hallway, hesitantly walking to the remaining rooms of your place. How could you explain to him that you had a child waiting for you at home?

You didn’t even have time to open your mouth that you saw him do a double-take at a picture on the wall. It was a picture of you and your daughter in the park. Mingi was taking the photo, capturing this beautiful moment on his Polaroid camera. You sighed as you dropped your bag on the floor, hanging your jacket at its usual place. Wooyoung turned around to face you, and you stared at the ground, suddenly feeling full of regrets. You should have told him earlier about your private life, it would have prevented the two of you to imagine scenarios that just got ruined by this picture hanging on the wall. You cleared your throat, getting ready to explain everything to Wooyoung but someone interrupted you. The babysitter appeared with your daughter in her arms, her smile vanishing as she stared at you and Wooyoung. The latter looked at her, then at your daughter, and finally you. She grimaced behind his back, going back to the living room to give you some privacy.

“Wooyoung, I can explain,” “No need,” he sternly said and walked past you, freeing himself from your grip as you tried to hold him back. Tears gathered in your eyes as you watched him run down the staircases, hearing the main door slamming not long after, his steps still echoing in the corridors and your brain.

You closed the door and let the tears run down your cheeks, the babysitter slowly approaching you. “You can go, thank you for looking after her,” you mumbled, and she hurried to get her stuff, not wanting to disturb you one more minute. 

The following day, you felt like a zombie; the events that took place last night plus the lack of lovely messages made you feel shitty and empty. You slowly got ready for work, feeding, and dressing up your daughter, carrying her in one arm as you grabbed your bag and coat with your free hand. Soyoung noticed your sad face and, with her tiny hands, she cupped your cheeks and squished them together, laughing at the result. It got a smile out of your face, slightly brightening your dull day. After putting her to the day-care centre, you slowly walked to your workplace as everyone around you was rushing. You sniffled and pushed the door open, walking to the elevator, head hanging low. You gave a fake smile to your colleagues as you walked past them and immediately got to work, trying to forget about Wooyoung for at least a few hours.

You went on with that routine for almost a week. You hated to admit it, but you needed to move on; Wooyoung wasn’t coming back. He was absent during your last meeting with his company, excusing himself for “personal emergency”. As if. He just didn’t want to be in the same room as you, but you didn’t mind. It’d be better this way anyway. One day, you came from another floor and ran into a colleague that seemed to be in a rush.

“Ah, Y/N, it’s good that I see you!” she said, almost out of breath as you exited the elevator. “What is it, Junhae?” you asked, frowning, closing the file you were reading. “There’s a man that is waiting for you at your desk. With the colleagues, we tried to remember him because we think that we’ve seen him somewhere and-” “Thank you,” you put a stop to her rant, and you paced to your desk, hoping that it was the person you were waiting for.

And it was. Wooyoung was leaning against the edge of your desk, hands in his pants pockets, blankly staring at the marble floor. Once he heard your heels clicking, he looked up, and your heart cracked at the view. His hair was dishevelled as if he had run his hand hundreds of times through it, his eye bags were pretty prominent, and his complexion was as pale as a ghost.

“Y/N,” he whispered, and your breath got caught in your throat at his voice. You inhaled and slowly nodded, getting closer to the accountant. “I’m sorry,” he said, and your shoulders immediately relaxed, feeling something lift off your shoulders, “I shouldn’t have left like that, I’m an asshole.” You stared at him, and you could see in his eyes that he was honest. “You’re not an asshole, Wooyoung. It’s okay to react like that—” “No, it’s not,” he retorted and grabbed your hand, softly drawing you towards him, “even if you are a strong woman, you needed support, but I gave you the exact opposite.” “It’s okay, I forgive you. I should probably told you about her in the first place.” You shyly smiled and let go of his hand, going around your desk to grab your bag and coat. “Can… can I meet her?” he suggested, and your head shot up, staring at him with wide eyes. “She looks so cute and… I might be the one to take care of her in the future, so I wouldn’t mind meeting her as early as possible. If that's okay with you, of course.” You pursed your lips to refrain a beam and nodded, an honest smile appearing on the man’s lips. “It's more than okay, Wooyoung. You can come with me to the day-care centre if you want, I need to pick her up.” He agreed and grabbed your hand, starting to walk towards the elevators.

The atmosphere between you two was still a bit awkward. Wooyoung was embarrassed to have left you like that and you, well, you didn’t really know what to say. You had always been better at showing what you felt with actions, so you squeezed his hand, which made him look at you. You stared for a moment at each other, and you faintly smiled, looking away as the elevator doors opened.

“Aren’t we taking your car?” you asked as you saw him press the button of the main hall and not the parking. “No, not today,” he sheepishly answered, and you frowned. “I got into a car crash the other day. Fortunately, I came out of it unscathed, just a bit shaken, but my car… it’s a whole other story.” Your heart missed a beat and you exhaled in relief when you heard that he was alright, finally noticing the bandage around his other hand. “And what’s this?” you said as you stood in front of him and delicately took his hand. “Oh, this… I just hurt myself with a broken piece of window glass when I tried to get the other person out of their car.” “Did they survive?” you worriedly asked, grimacing a bit. “Yes he did, he’s in the hospital but out of danger.” You nodded and stared at him, worriedly looking at him in the eyes, “I was just a bit shaken, but you don’t need to worry about me.” “Is it the reason why you weren’t there at the meeting?” “Yes, I asked my boss to report my absence as “personal matters” because I knew it would have worried you to death.” He reached out to take one cheek in his hand, leaving a kiss on the other. “But, I have to admit that it was also because it didn’t want to be in the same room as you. I couldn’t look at you in the eyes at that time, and I knew that my boss would have questioned me about it, although he can get pretty busy with his secretary.” You giggled at his remark and so did he, taking your hand back in his as you got out of the elevator.

The day-care centre wasn’t far from work, and once you reached it, it was as if nothing had happened. You were laughing and sending love glares to each other, the cheesiness almost making you both gag. Wooyoung’s attitude changed almost immediately as you stepped in the centre, linking your hands together as you greeted other parents that you knew by sight. “You’re the hottest mama I’ve ever seen in my life,” he said in your ear as you waited for your daughter to say goodbye to her teachers, his words sending warmth to your cheeks. He had his arms around your waist, his hands resting on your middle, mouth laying soft kisses from your cheek to your neck. “Woo stop, there are children around,” you hissed, and he chuckled, not listening to a single word of your scolding. “I don’t care. You see all those dads around us? I wanna make sure that all of them know that you’re mine and only mine,” he whispered, and it was your turn to chuckle. “Are we dating now?” you questioned, and Wooyoung turned you around to stare at you deep in the eyes. “Of course we are, I thought I made it clear when we kissed each other for the first time.” “I don’t know, you never asked me properly to be your girlfriend and ran away the first time you saw my daughter, but I’ll take it.” You said before crouching down and take your daughter in your arms as she ran to you.

“Oh.” You heard a voice say behind you, and it wasn’t Wooyoung’s. “Y/N?”

Hearing your name, you turned around and noticed Mingi, standing next to a day-care educator, an arm wrapped around her waist. You caught a glimpse of Wooyoung frowning, feeling his grip around you tighten. “Mingi, what a surprise,” you coldly said, readjusting your daughter on your hip. You could see a mix of guilt and anger in his eyes, orbits going back and forth between you and Wooyoung. The latter grunted, clearly not happy to have this unexpected encounter now. He had just managed to make you smile and come back to before his cowardly act, and this man he didn’t know seemed to have ruined all of his efforts. Wooyoung annoyingly sighed, as well as the day-care supervisor, who was staring at you with questioning eyes.

“Honey,” you said to Wooyoung, jaw clenching as your eyes never left Mingi, “this is Mingi, my ex-husband and Soyoung’s dad.” Soyoung turned around at the mention of her dad, only to nest her face into your neck, a huge pout on her face. This played with Mingi’s heartstrings, yet he had to stay strong. In front of him were the two people he cherished the most in his life, but he had lost everything because of his thirst for money and recognition. 

Wooyoung bitterly chuckled at your words, only to grab Mingi and the educator’s attention. He remembered you telling him that you were married at some point, explaining to him the reason for the divorce with a hint of sadness in your voice. Yes, you had omitted to tell him that you had a child but saying that you were married to someone you had just started seeing wasn't as scary as it was to tell them that you had a daughter. His eyebrows were mockingly raised, clicking his tongue as he looked at Mingi. Your ex-husband looked mad, eyes sending lightning to your boyfriend.

“Well, nice to meet you,” he said, arrogantly walking towards Mingi, hands in his pockets. He pushed his hair back and stared at him with nothing but scorn in his eyes. Mingi was taller than Wooyoung, but this difference didn’t stop your boyfriend to look powerful. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said, his voice completely sounding like he meant the exact opposite, “it looks like money and fame were more important to you. But it’s alright, it doesn’t matter anymore, she’s with someone way better now, as you can tell. At least I don’t chase after money, I manage it and, most importantly,” he said and got closer to Mingi, as if he was telling him a big secret, “I have it.” He whispered and shot a wink to him, turning around and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, kissing your cheek as he dragged you away, not letting you look back at your past partner. You heard Mingi fumble behind you, his girlfriend keeping him calm and composed.

A breeze of fresh air helped you come back to reality, still a bit stunned by Wooyoung’s boldness. He had enough guts to say aloud the bitter truth, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling. Your daughter was falling asleep on your shoulder as you waited for the bus, Wooyoung caressing her little leg. People fondly looked at you as you climbed the bus, your daughter asleep against you as she held Wooyoung’s forefinger tightly in her tiny hand. He kept you close to him, bringing warmth to your daughter as she was peacefully starting her night.

“She’s so cute,” he whispered with a smile, and you nodded, softly caressing her back. “I can’t wait to go home,” you said as you stifled a yawn, only to have Wooyoung replacing a piece of hair that fell during the process. “Let’s put her in bed and then I’ll shower you with cuddles, how does that sound to you?” he offered, and you blushed. “Sounds like the best plan I’ve had in ages,” you said, and Wooyoung gasped. “What do you mean by best plan? What about all of our dates together?” he frowned and crossed his arms on his chest, tearing his eyes away from you. “Okay, let me rephrase that,” you let out a chuckle as you touched his knee, “it’s one of the best plans I’ve had in ages, along with the dates with my lovely Wooyoung.” You managed to force a smile out of him, a light blush decorating his cheeks and ears. You raised your hand and caressed the back of his head, only to have him looking at you fondly.

“Does that make you feel better?” “More than you can ever think,” he said and leant to give you a kiss on the cheek, careful of not squishing your daughter under him. “Let’s go,” you said as you pressed the button to open the doors, Wooyoung grabbing your hand to help you get off the vehicle without waking your daughter up. This evening sounded extremely promising.

[2manyfandoms2count]

#LadynoirJuly Day 1

I’m back for Ladynoir July! I’m really glad I got an excuse to write something for this side of the Lovesquare :D Hope you like this first piece, it started out slightly angsty but then I decided to save most of it for the Breakdown prompt 😉

Thanks @ladynoirjuly2020 for organising the event!

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Day 1: The Wall Between Us

“Ladybug, wait!” Chat Noir jogged up to his partner, who’d been about to yoyo away. 

“Yes, Chat Noir?” She interrupted her movement and waited expectantly. The patrol had been very quiet, for once, so it wasn’t as if she had to be somewhere. 

The pair had long abandoned their nicknames for each other, some time between their battle against Miracle Queen and their first relationships. It hurt somewhat, at first, but they’d quickly learned how to interact without them. There was something slightly uncomfortable about lying to Luka and Kagami about their comings and goings, which wasn’t helped by the fact Ladybug felt like she was cheating anytime she’d call Chat by his pet name. Chat Noir refrained from calling her ‘my lady’ or ‘Bugaboo’, afraid he’d slip up someday with Kagami.

Unfortunately for Marinette, the secrecy and sneaking around had  done little to help her develop a lasting relationship with Luka. Add to that the fact that her boyfriend had been singled out by Jagged Stone as a back up guitarist after a competition and was now touring Europe, one could say that long distance, both emotional and physical, had signed the death of romantic Lukanette. They did remain friends, Luka sending her postcards of every city he stayed in. They were gradually replacing Adrien on Marinette’s board. 

“Did you think about it?” Chat asked.

Ladybug sighed as she finally let her hand fall to her side. She should’ve known Chat wouldn’t drop the topic. The previous month, drunk on lack of sleep from repeated Akuma attacks and anxiety at the idea that her relationship was slowly, but surely unraveling, Ladybug had carelessly told her partner that she was getting tired of secrets and that they deserved to know more about each other, if only just to facilitate out-of-costume communication. She tried not to rely on Chat too much with the Guardian job, but she was determined to make him realise how important he was to her (and, incidentally, to Paris) by delegating more tasks to him. She was tired of the mystery that surrounded their identities, which prevented them from communicating as freely as they should’ve been able to. With all due respect to Alya, Chat Noir was her best friend, and something told her that she officially held the same place in his life now that he had a girlfriend. 

They were the only ones who shared the burden of saving Paris every day, while still having to juggle friends, family, school, and extracurriculars. All of their conversations, however, were censored by the looming wall between them, a filter which she thought it was high time to tear down. She couldn’t take the duality of their conversations anymore, either far too mundane or way too deep, the constant being the vagueness that surrounded their anecdotes. She just wanted something in between. Chances were they didn’t know each other anyway, so what difference would it make to be able to talk about the Françoise Dupont shenanigans without making the story convoluted enough that it couldn’t be traced back to the Collège?

At first, Chat had been ecstatic at the idea. He’d dreamed about this moment since the first time they’d gone home from fighting an Akuma. He’d daydreamed about a proper way to reveal his identity at least a thousand times, but scrapping all his ideas as either too sappy, stupid, obvious, in short not right. It had actually made him rethink wanting to tell her who he was. 

There was no way the person behind the mask hadn’t heard about him. His father had made sure of that by apparently buying the ad spaces on all the Paris billboards, buses and whatever else could hold a perfume poster (not to mention the fact Ladybug had saved him a good dozen times), and that was the problem. What if her opinion of him was tarnished by his celebrity? Worse, what if she started treating him differently because of it? He desperately wanted to get to know her, to share his whole life with her, but the wall between them did provide a shelter he was reluctant to give up. As much as he tried to be himself in his day-to-day life, he could tell he got special treatment from a lot of people, and many of the remaining crowd was intently studying his every move, waiting for him to slip up. With Ladybug, as Chat Noir, he got to be… well, not completely ordinary, but they did share a status. He could slip without worrying about what his father or the press would say, and he knew that the fall wouldn’t be long anyway with his partner around. He was terrified about losing what they had.

Ladybug shook her head lightly, looking at her feet. Chat Noir took her hand in a reassuring gesture, and helped her sit down facing him.

“I’m sorry.” She said, hiding her face in her hands. “There are a million reasons why we should do this, but I always feel like why we shouldn’t outweighs them all.” 

Chat placed his hand on her knee tentatively. “It’s alright, LB. I actually wanted to tell you… I don’t think this is the right time.”

Ladybug’s head snapped up. Of everything he could have said, this was probably the last thing she would have expected. She looked attentively at her partner, who looked more serious than she’d ever seen him before. 

“Really?” She breathed, squeezing his hand in hers. She didn’t quite know how to feel, frustrated that they were putting off something inevitable again, offended that he didn’t want to know anymore, or relieved by it.

He gave her a sad smile in response, his eyes filled with fondness and something else she couldn’t quite make out. “M’lady,” her old nickname rolled off his tongue before he could register what he was saying, his thoughts directed solely towards his very best friend. “If this was it, we’d know. And maybe it won’t even happen then, purr-haps we’ll be caught off guard when the time comes, but it should be something we don’t lose sleep about.” 

“I guess you’re right, Chaton.” She smiled softly, absentmindedly stroking the back of his hand with her thumb. “What made you change your mind?” She asked curiously.

“The reasons why we shouldn’t started being louder than the others.” He shrugged, his gaze losing focus as he looked into the distance.

“You know you can talk to me if you need to, right?” Ladybug said tentatively after a short pause. “Maybe we’re not ready to know who we are, but I still think we should loosen the rules a little.”

 “That could work.” Chat nodded. “How do we do that?”

“We could change the names of the people we talk about. And the exact story.”

“Okay, so for example… My girlfriend’s name is... Kelly?” He tried. She nodded encouragingly. “I met her because we both… play tennis in the same place. I like her very much, but I’m afraid she’ll get tired of me finding flaky excuses when the city’s attacked by Akumas. It’s not very honourable.”

Ladybug patted his knee with her free hand. “As long as you know you’re doing the honourable thing by protecting her and this city, I’m sure you can find a way to compensate. I promise that someday, she’ll know why you couldn’t stay by her side. And if you need me to talk to her, I’ll gladly do it! She should know how amazing her boyfriend is.”

Chat was thankful for the darkness around them, which concealed his blush. Ladybug’s compliments were becoming less rare, but they generally concerned his skills or actions, not himself directly. He cleared his throat. “What about you? Didn’t you say you have a boyfriend?” 

“Had.” She corrected. “Louis and I are still friends, but he left town to… study.” It wasn’t that far from the truth. “He’s a little older, so we didn’t get to see much of each other, anyway. Especially with the whole Guardian business and everything.” She gestured vaguely at the city at their feet.

“Was he the boy you had talked to me about before?” Chat pried. 

Ladybug thought about Adrien. Seeing him so happy with Kagami, she had abandoned her pursuit, which had led her to Luka. In both cases, she thought, the outcome would have been the same anyway, especially since Adrien had an even busier schedule than the blue-haired boy. They would have barely seen each other if they’d dated. “No. That was… Arthur. He was a very accomplished musician. He wouldn’t have been happy with me; like you said, I would’ve been very absent for a supposedly caring girlfriend. We’re good friends, though, and I’m satisfied with that.”

“His loss, I guess. And who meows, maybe it’ll work out someday.” He winked at her.

They continued chatting for a while, moving to the edge of the roof to get a better look at the illuminated streets. Soon, they had more or less rebuilt their lives and were talking freely, Alya becoming Alice or Audrey, Nino, Nathan or Nicolas, Marinette, Madeleine… The way they distorted things, or pulled up older events they’d meant to talk about earlier made them unrecognisable, although there were times where the stories felt familiar, without them being able to put their finger on it. They laughed, more than they’d had in months, talking about their excuses to justify their absence during a fight. It felt good to finally talk about something else than strategies, Akumas or Sentimonsters. 

When the Eiffel Tower flickered for the third time since the beginning of their conversation, Ladybug and Chat Noir agreed it was probably time to go home. As they walked away, both turned around before leaping off the roof, giving each other a small wave and a wide smile before leaving, already looking forward to the next patrol. Ladybug realised they hadn’t shared a moment like this in a while, if ever. 

Maybe they’d be okay sitting on their own side of the wall, after all.

[musicallisto]

without fail tag

THE “WITHOUT FAIL” TAG — List five things that you, WITHOUT FAIL, weave into or explore in your stories, whether it be specific themes or tropes, character archetypes, allusions to other literary works, what have you! It really can be anything that you consistently include in your narratives for whatever reason. Then invite others to share theirs by tagging them!

I was tagged by @deadlymodern - thank you so much for tagging me, this tag is amazing and I loved reading your answers! I can tell you have a very thorough approach to your writing & themes, it’s so cool!

(tagging people at the bottom of the post if you want to skip)

1. flowers, skies & words

grouping them together since they're all related to a wider, general literary device: symbols and allegories in my stories. Without fail, I’ll always use flower symbolism to evoke certain themes, places, characters... withered petals for death, blossoms for youth, you name it, it’s probably been in one of my stories. just consider my main WIP’s title, The Grave of Roses (Le Tombeau des Roses). It’s a little basic, and has been used time and time before in literature, but I still love it.

Other elements that often make it into my stories as symbols are planes (because I love aviation obviously, but also as a symbol of breaking free, independence, of man’s domination on mortality, what with having tamed the skies, but also his frail condition and how everything hangs on a thread). Also, the sky is pretty.

And lastly, words, stories, novels always have their place in my stories, and more often than not one of my characters is a writer, or someone who uses words and stories as some kind of comfort, outlet, or a driving force.

At its [the tombstone] foot, below the name, red roses piled up, enough of them to cover ten graves. A single vermilion bud, a wind-swept poppy, clashed with the rest of the bouquet, and Samuel knew that it was William's children who had placed it there. Only they knew that he didn't even like roses anymore, and that he would come to lay poppies on his father's memorial every time he returned to London...

The tomb was both smaller and prettier than Samuel imagined, less opulent than England would have wanted to give its precious child. The morning sun, like a caress, illuminated the epitaph, a Latin verse that Samuel had known in the past. “Bury me southward,” he heard William say so clearly that he almost turned around, "so that I can look at England and France in the same breath." His name, however, was drenched in full light, facing east, and inexplicably this saddened Samuel.

“And there it is... it's pretty, don't you think? I don't know if he would have liked it... You probably know it better than I do...”

“And why do you care about that, huh? You don't even believe in God.” “He's a writer. He believes in symbols.” “He believes in vanity, alright.”

“I think he would have liked it anyway,” he nodded in agreement, his eyes glued to the lonely poppy. (Translation)

2. parental roughnesses

this was bound to come, because I feel like we were all pretty fucked up at some point in our lives from our upbringing. I didn’t go for straight up “parental issues” because I don’t deal with like, abusive or absent parents or anything, just complicated relationships between parents and their children, but who still love each other. Oftentimes it has to do with one of the children idealizing the heck out of their parent and slowly realizing that they make mistakes and are not a hero at all, and/or unmeetable expectations and parental pressure. but it’s not like I’m projecting or anything lol

“You never knew Father, William,” Grace stopped him immediately [...]. “Don't you dare pretend you know what it's like.”

“Growing up without a father is not necessarily better than losing him in childhood! Everyone here has suffered from his disappearance, Grace. You have no idea how much I miss him, despite never meeting him. But that's all in the past now. And there's no reason for there to be another war.”

“Of course there is!” she retorted ferociously, despite the tears spilling from her eyes. “Of course there is, and they're going to send you there like Father, and you'll want to play hero like Father, and then you'll get shot down like a dog! Where's it going to be this time, huh? Above Luxembourg, just like him, or maybe somewhere in your beloved France?” (Translation)

3. patriotism

One way or another, all my stories always deal with patriotism, nationalism, pride in one’s country and more broadly speaking one’s relationship to it. It questions what it means to belong to a country, to share one culture, one language; does it justify acting in the benefit of one’s country, and where do you draw the line before you intentionnally harm others’; what even is a country, a nationality, and it what sense do you belong to one, and what do you owe it, if you even owe it anything? Is it wrong or right to feel love and attachment to your place of origin? And what does it mean to fight for your country, for its values, for its people? & other things of the like. It probably stems from my own experience as a binational person; growing up, I was always asked stuff like “but who do you root for in a football game” “but are you like really French or not?” “if Spain and France got into a war what would you do?”, and this all lead me to question “am I more French or am I more Spanish - which one am I, and which one would others perceive me to be - do I need to pick a side? And how can I express my affection to these places that raised me both differently, without undermining the other - or others? can I still be proud of my heritage given the horrors my countries have committed in the past?”. I still haven’t found a definitive answer, so my writing is just me throwing trails out to the world and hoping I’ll figure it out someday. that’s why my stories often have a war setting; firstly I just love historical fiction, and secondly it’s the perfect backdrop for all these questions to unfold.

William laughed at the idea - he, a true Frenchman! It was a very silly thought. He may have loved what he had seen of Charlotte's country, but England was not to be ashamed of any other land, for it was the only one he would love until his last breath. (Translation.)

4. just a hint of supernatural

I love me a good ghost story, and I’m a fan of everything spooky, but what’s subtly spooky, and not the gory, in-your-face horror. This particular theme may have increased since I saw The Haunting of Hill House which completely OBLITERATED ME with how it uses the house and its ghosts to tell a story of family and trauma and memories... but I’ve loved ghost stories forever. Another piece that truly resonated with me was One Hundred Years of Solitude (Cien años de soledad) by Gabriel García Márquez. It was my first dive into the world of magical realism and I didn’t make it out of there the same person I was when I entered. This one is not necessarily included in every piece without fail, because some are just too anchored in reality, but if it’s not a straight-up spirit or an otherworldly creature, I’ll always find a way to include an aspect of superstition, a myth, a legend, a tale from faraway that is neither proved nor disproved throughout the story. It truly adds to the atmosphere of the world, even in a very realistic and gritty setting, I believe.

I hear murmurs of legends among the soldiers. [...] One of those stories caught my attention, I must admit... It is not very special, nothing more than a children's tale, but I thought it was beautiful enough to please your Romantic soul. Some pilots speak of a cemetery, somewhere in the countryside north of London, which has something mystical about it, lost in the flowers that sway as far as the eye can see, in the calm rhythm of the wind, wrapped in the heady scent of eternal spring, and where the bravest warriors would go to rest forever, tired of their exploits and the continual explosions. No one knows exactly where it is or what to do to be buried there, but this beautiful image simply floats like a dream in the minds of many and, I confess, in mine as well since I first heard about it.

It is said that there only flowers dare to disturb the heroes in their sleep... This fragment of silence is called the Grave of the Roses.

So if I were to leave you, if you were to hear that I am gone...

With a bit of luck, that is where you will find me.

5. love

this one is broader and less obvious than you might think. Of course, I’ll always, always implement an element of romance to my story (and more often than not it’s angsty with star-crossed lovers or insurmountable obstacles or forbidden romances and whatnot), but there’s more to it. I don’t think I have ever written a story that is entirely grim and bleak, simply because I do not believe the world is built like that. I’ve said time and time again that love is my favorite thing in the world, and I believe it is the force that drives us all forward and connects us all together; love is, to me, the truest power of humanity, and its inherent purpose. And love covers all subjects and all types of relationships, but my absolute favorite ways to explore and show love in my stories is through long-lasting, rock-solid friendships (because friendships are often overlooked both in fiction and real life), and just a grandiose love letter to humanity as a whole. I’m an optimist, and many people who have suffered more than I have would deem me naive for thinking this - and I cannot blame them -, but as Anne Frank put it more bravely than I ever could, “despite everything, I still think humans are good at heart”. My stories are always born out of love and made for love. For the love of humanity and kindness and literature and love of myself, too, because sometimes I just like rereading the words and thinking, “wow, I’ve made it this far. look at me go.” In a word, yes, I would say that is what it boils down to; my work, but also what I hope my entire life and being will be. An ode to love.

“He admired you and truly loved you, you know. You were a good leader, I'm sure, and a good friend, above all.”

He thought she was going to put her hand on his shoulder, and prepared to bend to avoid it, but instead she came to rest on the polished marble of the tomb, which was already beginning to erode at the corners. The soft light bathed her hand, and Samuel's on the other corner, still resting above William's surname, the only thing he had been proud of from beginning to end.

“And I loved him too. I loved them all. If you only knew...”

well, I got carried away, as I always do when talking about my writing, but it made me miss it so much. I haven’t worked on any of my projects since literally October and I’m feeling the void rn. anyway, thank you again for enabling me to ramble about what I love most, Thais! and I’m tagging @softeninglooks, @lxncelot, @myriadimagines​, @swanimagines & @randomfandomimagine + plus any writer who wants to talk about their marvelous work <3

[varls]

Title: About Courage Chapter: One Characters: Reader and her family Pairing: Blake x female Reader Request: Not sure where to put this and idk if you have any use for this but I need to get this off my brain. I had this idea: the reader dressed up as a man to go to war instead of somebody from her family (Mulan-Style if you want) and Tom Blake finds out. Again, idk if you want to make it fluffy or angsty or if you want to use it at all. I just needed to get it of my mind and I like your writing/blog a lot so here you go. — anon Summary:  Two of your brothers already died during the Great War and you could see your mother getting sadder and more desperate every day. When your youngest brother is referred to as missing, you make the decision to go to France as well, to find him and bring him back home. But when you arrive, you soon realise you may have not thought it through. Acting like a man isn’t as easy as it sounds and Lance Corporal Blake is a lot smarter than most other men. Warnings: none Word Count: 2.642 A/N: I never planned on making a multiple chapter fic for 1917, but here I am. I will only post this on Tumblr so all I ask for is, that this fic won’t be reposted anywhere else. Also, this first chapter will only include the reader and her family. Just to explain how she got to France. Tom will appear in chapter two.  Special Thanks To: @rubinstein1798, who’s an amazing proofreader. I’m so glad you’re doing this. 

Until the 28 July 1914, you were living a happy life. Your family wasn’t rich nor poor. Still, you had everything your heart desired. Worries seemed so far away that you would have never believed in the things that were about to come in the next following years. You were your parent’s only daughter. Then they were Harvey and Milton, your older brothers and Finley, your twin brother. You barley ever argued with them. Milton was a little annoying sometimes, but just in ways, every older brother was. Harvey was a nice man. One of the kinds every girl dreamed of. Cunning, kind and strong. He was intelligent but not as smart as Finley. Your twin was a very quiet person. You could nearly always find him sitting on the armchair in the living room, reading one of his many books. He and mum would spend hours sitting there in silence — him reading, her knitting. Your father spent a lot of his time at work. The only times you’d see him was in the late evenings and on Sundays. But he liked it that way. He loved his job and valued the time with his family even more than most other men who’d be at home more often than him. You always knew you had an extraordinarily beautiful family. There has never been a day on which you weren’t thankful for them. But things changed on the 28 July, when you felt the ground falling from underneath your feet. As the war started your father was one of the first ones who had to leave to fight — alongside Harvey and Milton. It was a devastating day for all of you. You still remember your father’s pale face and the sadness in his eyes as he was caressing your cheek, telling you everything would be fine again and that he’d come back soon. In March 1915 your mother received a letter. A letter which made her cry as she took the framed photograph of your father from the stack and vanished into her room. It was at this moment you and Finley realised your father wouldn’t come back. It took your mother three days to come back to both of you. She would still seem a little absent from time to time, but you never said a word about it. As always you let Finley and your mother sit quietly in the living room. The radio was silent for once. No one dared to turn it on. It wasn’t until February 1916 when you received another letter. This time it was you the postman handed it over to. There was a sad look on his face. You didn’t want to know how many of these he had to hand out every day. Probably far too many. This time it was Harvey who didn’t make it. You were beginning to feel anxious. Milton was now the only one left. That meant until April when Finley would finally be old enough to leave home and to join the Great War. You couldn’t say these to words without sounding disparaging. There was nothing great about this war. Young men were dying every day and for what?

The day Finley had to leave was horrible. Your mother was screaming, crying, begging him not to go. She looked like she’s gone mad. It took all your strength to hold her back as Finley was joining seven of his classmates. The uniform didn’t seem to fit him. And he wasn’t wearing it with pride like the others. It hurt how much he reminded you of your father. The following weeks seemed to be a lot longer than they used to before. Your mother barely ever spoke a word. She wouldn’t leave the house anymore, while you were strolling through the nearby forest more often. The feeling at home was oppressive. Being outside alone, breathing fresh air made you feel a lot better. Just cleaning your head until you’d go back to your mother. You felt like it made no difference if you were there or not. It was like your mother was gone as well. A huge part of her seemed to have died alongside your father and Harvey. So you wrote a few letters to your brothers, but they never responded. You weren’t sure if they couldn’t answer or if the letters simply didn’t reach them. You couldn’t wait for Christmas when both of them would come home for a few days. You missed them terribly. And you were just as worried as your mother. Maybe she’d feel better if she saw them again. Though you were already afraid of when she would have to say goodbye again. But the war wasn’t kind to your family. In September 1916 it was Milton who lost his life at the German front line. And in November you received a letter saying that Finley was missing in action. You mother suffered yet another mental breakdown. It was worse than ever before. You hadn’t had the time to mourn Milton’s dead or to worry about Finley. To take care of your mother, so that she would eat and sleep and take the medicine she got from the doctor took all your strength. In the end, it was too much to handle and so you finally wrote a letter to your uncle.

Chester Thompson was your mother’s older brother. He was one of the few men who didn’t have to go to war. He was leading a big cloth mill. Of course, he delivered the fabric for the soldiers’ uniforms. That was his duty during this time of war and you know he was glad that he hadn’t had to leave home. After he received your cry for help he didn’t hesitate. He would send you and your mother a car that would bring you to London, where he lived in a mansion outside of town. He told your mother in a letter that it’d only be for Christmas and that she wouldn’t have to stay for long, knowing that otherwise, she would have declined his offer. The truth was, he was going to get her to stay longer than just a few days. If necessary until the end of the war. He loved his sister dearly and just wanted to make sure she’d feel better soon. That she’d be able to live on her own again.

It was Christmas eve and you were sitting in the living room with Chester and his son. Your cousin was a bit younger than you and Finley. Smaller and very thin, he still looked like a thirteen-year-old boy. But soon it was his turn to leave home to fight for his country. Just by looking at him everyone could tell he wouldn’t last long. You felt sorry for him, but there was nothing you could do to help. “Your mother really doesn’t look well.” Chester broke the silence between the three of you while lighting his pipe. You finally looked up at him again. He was wearing an expensive suit, but he didn’t put much effort in his hair today since a few grey strands would fall into his face as he leaned over a bit. His hair was just as curly as your mother’s. “It was a wise decision to write to me. I haven’t heard from her in a long time. But you know me, (y/n). I’m not worried about something until I know for sure there’s a reason to fret.” “Father always tried to make mother write to you, but she always refused to do so. She said you should be the one to speak first,” you explained with a tiny frown on your forehead. You haven’t seen your uncle a lot in all your life, so you always thought he and your mother wouldn’t get along. But a soft laugh escaped his lips. “That’s exactly what has always been the problem between me and your mother. We’re both too stubborn to make the first move.” Sometimes adults made no sense. You couldn’t imagine not speaking to your brothers. You could be stubborn, too, from time to time, but not like this. You always tried to be as honest as possible. And if you missed your brothers, you told them. Just like you told them when they were being annoying. To not talk to them simply because you were waiting for them to talk first… That just sounded weird to you. It was silent again. You looked away from your uncle to watch the snow falling outside the window. It looked beautiful. Was it snowing in France as well? You let your mind wander. You know it was possible that you lost everybody except for your mother and yet… “Ches? Do you think, Finley could still be alive?” you spoke quietly. If you wouldn’t have spoken to your uncle directly one would think you were talking to yourself. Chester didn’t answer right away. He puffed on his pipe. Now he was the one frowning. Your cousin was moving on the couch as if he was feeling uneasy. You know it wasn’t a nice topic to talk about on Christmas. But hell, you should have been here with your brothers, your father… But they weren’t here. Even your mother prefered to go to bed early instead of spending some time with you. Yes, it made you sad, but you were also feeling anger. This damn war was destroying your entire life. You still didn’t know what you’d do if it ended. You never thought about a life without your family. All of this wasn’t meant to happen. “Well,” your uncle began to speak slowly. “He’s missing in action, right? They didn’t find his body. He could still be alive. But…” Oh no. You didn’t like the word but at all in this case. “Where could he be? Maybe he ran away. You know, many young men flee from the war. Or maybe his body just hasn’t been found yet.” “Excuse me, please.” It was your cousin who stood up at a pace that nearly made you jump. You looked at him through wide eyes. “I’m heading to bed. It’s late and I’m tired. Good night, father. Good night, (y/n). I hope you’ll sleep well.” And with that, he vanished into his room. Your uncle and you stayed silent until you heard a door being slammed shut. Chester sighed. “You have to excuse Charlie’s behaviour. He’s not feeling well for a couple of weeks now.” “He’s scared,” you stated. It wasn’t even a question. “Yes, very much. He believes he will die as soon as he arrives in France. He… He-” Chester’s voice left him. The older man closed his eyes. You could feel his pain as if it was your own as you were watching him from your seat opposite of him. He was going to lose his only child. You knew he didn’t have much hope for him from the way he spoke about Finley. He was trying to be optimistic, but he couldn’t. Charlie was going to die in just a few weeks. The training at the barracks wouldn’t help him. Chester already told your mother in private that Charlie’s skills weren’t improving. As if his mind resisted learning something that could harm others. Charlie had one week left at home. Just one week. Finally, you stood up as well. “I’m going to bed, too, uncle.”

It was a terrible 25th December. Yes, all of you were handing out Christmas Presents, but no one was as happy or joyful like it should have been. None of you got, what you really wanted. All four of you wished for things which were impossible to give. But you had an idea. A foolish one that could go awfully wrong, but… Maybe it could save your brother and Charlie’s lives. Just as expected you stayed longer at your uncle’s place. One week passed and finally the day you were waiting for came. It was early in the morning and Charlie just went to the bathroom to get ready. You’ve seen him walking through the floor. His legs and hands were shaking. He was so scared. It would be a lie to say you weren’t, but you felt like you needed to do this. Not just for yourself, but also for the rest of your family. Chester and your mother went to church. Probably to pray for Charlie before they would have to come back to say goodbye. So it was just you and the boy. Carefully closing the door to your bedroom, you sneaked over to the bathroom. Nobody seemed to have noticed the missing key you took the night before. Now you used it to lock Charlie up in the bathroom. You hated yourself for doing this, but otherwise, he’d probably stop you from following your plan. “I’m sorry,” you whispered to yourself, before walking away to get into your cousin’s room. His uniform was spread out on the bed. It was clean and neat, ready to be worn. Your hands touched the fabric carefully. Were you really going to do this? You knew the risk. You knew it was going to be dangerous. And you had no training at all. But all you wanted to do was to find Finley. To make sure he was alright. And if your family would play along, it would give Charlie a little more time to stay at home. He wouldn’t have to die. You took a deep breath. You still could have changed your mind, but there was no going back for you. You needed to do this. You had to try. So you took on Charlie’s uniform. To your surprise, it fit you perfectly. You even managed to hide your breast by binding them. You also spend the night cutting your hair. It was short now. Looking into the mirror you found there was not much left of you. You looked like a boy now. And that’s exactly what you wanted.

A sudden and loud noise made you jump. It was Charlie. He was banging his fists against the bathroom door, screaming for help. Again you felt guilty for locking him up so you ran through the floor to talk to him. You knew you had to leave. Your mother and uncle would come back soon and you needed to be gone until then. “Charlie, I’m sorry,” you said as your hands touched the wooden door. “I can’t let you out.” “What? Why?” Your cousin sounded like he was having a panic attack, which did not necessarily make this whole situation easier for you. The uniform felt just as heavy on you as the guilt. “I’m going to find Finley. And… And you are going to have some more time at home,” you tried to explain, knowing what you said sounded insane. “(y/n), what-” “Just hide, okay? Don’t let anybody see you’re still here or we’ll both be in great trouble.” Your voice was shaking. “(y/n), you can’t just-” “Goodbye, Charlie… And good luck.” You let go of the door and turned your back on it as you were walking down the hallway to leave the house. You could hear Charlie screaming your name. He punched his fists against the door again, but it wouldn’t stop you. You were certain to do the right thing. You stopped abruptly in front of the chest of drawers. There was an old picture. It showed your uncle and your parents. Your mother was holding a baby. It must have been Harvey. You touched the cold glass of the picture frame. They all looked so happy. Your eyes filled with tears, but you didn’t allow yourself to cry. Charlie’s screams seemed far away. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you whispered again before stepping out into the freezing cold.

[ravenforce]

In Another Life

Prompt: "Hi again! I always look forward to reading all your work, would you be interested in doing a cross-over?? One where the reader is dating Carol at the beginning but then they break up (you can decide the reason why) and the reader moves to National City where she meets Lena. Then the reader falls in love with Lena and they begin dating. After a while, Carol returns and tries to win the reader back. You can decide how it ends - reader ends up with Carol or Lena or they start a poly-relationship??”

Requested by: @lmaodrag1037​

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader, Lena Luthor x Reader

Word Count: 6103

Warning/s: DC X MARVEL Crossover. Angsty with a happy ending (depending on who you ship R with.)

A/N: This prompt sat on my pending list forever. I’m so sorry it took so long but here it is. I hope you guys like it. I’m sorry if there are any grammatical mistakes that still escaped me. And lemme know what you guys think! Stay bright, my darlings. xx

***

You didn’t know what went wrong. You were okay. You were more than okay, together; even though she’s away in space most of the time. You manage, you make it work. Then just after putting the world back together, your world started caving in. This is supposed to be a happy moment! You just defeated a titan and revived the dusted half of the population. So you’re confused as to why Carol is mad at you again. 

“Y/N are you listening?” Carol snapped her fingers at you. 

“I’m sorry, I was elsewhere.”

“Clearly,” she said annoyed.

You haven’t seen your girlfriend for three months since she volunteered to go with Gamora on a short mission off-world. You realized it's happening a lot recently. Every time she’s on Earth, she’s always rather pissy with you.

You sighed heavily. “What’s happening, Carol?” you asked, exhausted from all the day's work of being an Avenger and also an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. All you wanted was to come home and maybe cuddle with your girlfriend or your best friends Nat and Maria (since Carol’s always, well absent).

Carol spun around to look at you. There’s some anger reflecting on her beautiful hazel orbs. “What’s happening is, I’m breaking up with you,” Carol says plainly like she’s not breaking your heart. 

“Excuse me?” you blinked at her twice.

“I didn’t think you had it in you,” she said gritting your teeth. 

“What are you talking about?” you asked confused as hell what she’s on to. 

“You and Maria sleeping together!” Carol said angrily. 

You wanted to chuckle but one look at her face and you know she wasn’t joking. You looked at her defiantly. “Did you snort some space drugs or something?”

“Agent Johnson said,” Carol tried to say but you cut her off. 

“Agent Johnson?!” you asked incredulously. “You believe her word more than mine?” Your voice shaking, and it wasn’t from the pain you’re feeling inside. 

“She saw Maria come out of your room in the wee hours of the morning!” Carol tried to defend her accusation. 

You thought back of the last time, Maria slept over in your room. It was a few weeks ago. You were training the new recruits, you were sore and awfully lonely. You’ve been missing Carol a lot. So you settled for a movie night with the girls but Nat’s on a mission, Pepper’s with Tony and Morgan in the lakehouse, and Wanda’s out on a date night with Vis. You were close to crying when Maria knocked on your door.

”I take it’s just us tonight?” she asked after you nearly dragged her inside your room. 

“Yes. Nat’s still on a mission. If she wasn’t she’ll be here,” you said while popping the wine open. Maria flops down beside you on your extra expensive couch care of one Tony Stark.

“Of course she will, I won’t let her miss it,” Maria said before reaching for the remote and flipping through your watchlist on Netflix. You ended up doing a marathon of How I met your mother, again. Both of you falling asleep after a season or two. You felt Maria hopelessly try not to make too much fuss getting out of your extra soft sheets. 

“Doing the walk of shame?” you mumbled your futile attempt at a joke, before burrowing deeper into your warm sheets. Maria chuckled. 

“Yeah, Nat’s home,” Maria said before kissing the top of your head and jumping off the bed. 

You just hummed and chuckled then went back to sleep. 

You shook your head to clear away the memory and look at your girlfriend. 

Ex-girlfriend, rather. She broke up with you a minute ago, you had to remind yourself. 

“I gave you my word, Car. No matter where you go, no matter how long it takes, you’ll always have me, didn’t I?” you finally let the tears roll. You have minor injuries from today’s mission; you’re exhausted, and now also heartbroken. 

“You know what my father did, I told you the story,” you tried to continue but you’re full-on crying now. Carol knows the story of how your father cheated on your mother multiple times, and how it ruined you and your family. Carol knows, Carol remembers you promised you’d never do that to her no matter how long she’s gone. 

Carol wanted to reach out. A part of her head is screaming abort! Abort! Abort! But instead, she frowned deeper and crossed her arms. She couldn’t ignore what she heard.  

“I gave you my word, yet here you are accusing me of being the very thing I loathe,” you said looking up at her, tears already drying on your cheeks. “You’re throwing away everything we had for five years, to take the word of a girl you know for months. I hope it’s worth it.”

You wiped your face using the ends of your sleeves. Before Carol can say anything else, you opened a portal behind you and disappear through it.

***

Opening portals through space and time is your power as a mutant experiment. Opening portals are very serious business, it requires intent and total concentration to land where you wanted to be precisely. It can be dangerous, potentially disastrous to open portals when you’re unfocused. You certainly didn’t want to suddenly open one 35,000 feet above the ground, and free fall from the sky without a parachute ever again. So, you’re extremely grateful that you’re standing on concrete after leaving Carol behind. 

“Who the hell are you?” you heard someone ask behind you. 

When you turned around you saw a beautiful woman with the greenest eyes you ever laid eyes on. You held your hand up to show her you mean no harm. 

“Who sent you? Who do you work for? Are you working for Agent Liberty?” the pretty lady asked; face completely neutral but voice slightly shaking. 

“No one sent me. I don’t know who Agent Liberty is,” you tried to explain. You wanted to introduce yourself and explain further but suddenly your vision blurred and your knees gave out. 

***

Lena gasped when your body hits the ground. She didn’t know what to do, she didn’t know who you are or where you came from exactly. All she knows was you walked through a portal. She walked closer to you and inspected your body. You’re wearing some sort of latex suit, a little like Alex’s D.E.O uniform but with a different logo on it.

“Alex,” she whispered before pulling out her phone and calling the older Danvers’ sister.

Lena didn’t want to explain on the phone. Alex sent Supergirl ahead to check if you were a threat but when Supergirl arrived she had to hold back the urge to take a photo of Lena; sitting on the concrete floor of her rooftop in her expensive suit and cradling your head on her lap.

“Lena,” Supergirl said to catch her best friends attention. “Are you okay? Did she hurt you?”

“No. She didn’t hurt me. She passed out before she can tell me anything though. Help me bring her to the lab,” Lena said without taking her eyes off your face. Kara had to bite her lip to keep herself from actually squealing.

“Alex said we should take her to the D.E.O. If she needs medical attention, Alex can take care of her.”

Lena knew it was the best thing to do. So she nodded for Kara to take you.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Lena said before Kara flew away with you.

***

When Kara arrived at the DEO, Alex was already ready to receive you with her medical team.

“What do we have, Supergirl?” Alex asked while she fusses over you on the gurney.

“Lena said all she knew was she came through a portal,” Supergirl answered while keeping at pace with her sister.

“Portal? Like Cisco’s portal?” Alex asked while checking your vitals.

Supergirl made a quick sweep of your person to check on anything that could trigger a portal, like the watch Barry gave her but there was nothing on you except your skin-tight suit. Alex noted the black insignia that’s blending in your suit.

"Querl,” Alex called as he passed by.

Querl walked towards the sisters. “You need me?”

“Scan our database for this insignia. We need to know who she is, and where she came from.”

“I will do that,” Querl affirmed before leaving the medical ward. As he exits, Lena came in the room.

“How is she?”

Alex quirked an eyebrow at her sister. Supergirl just smiled and shrugged.

“She’s gonna be fine, Lee. She’s fatigued and extremely dehydrated,” Alex assured their friend.

***

You blinked once, twice before the room came in focus. You’re in a medical bay but it’s certainly not a hospital. It’s very reminiscent of the one at S.H.I.E.L.D actually.

“Oh, hey! You’re awake! I’m Supergirl btw,” a blonde woman with blue eyes in a red and blue suit introduced herself. She reminds you of Carol because of their suits color scheme similarities. You tried not to flinch at the memory of her. Kara noted the sudden sad look on your face.

“Where am I?” you asked before a redhead in a black tactical suit came in. She smiled at you briefly before standing against Supergirl. Together they look like a powerful duo, like Nat and Carol, actually.

“You’re in the D.E.O, Department of Extranormal Operation. I’m Alex Danvers, I’m the Director.”

“Aren’t you a little too young to be a Director?” you asked feeling a little silly. It must be the medically-induced drugs. Alex couldn’t help but smile.

“Maybe,” Alex answered.

“I’m Y/N. I’m an Avenger, and S.H.I.E.L.D agent,” you said full-on beaming before lying on your back and passing out again.

***

When Kara and Alex arrived at the conference room, Lena was already there and talking with Querl. 

“Any updates, Querl?” Alex asked as she looks through the monitors. 

“There is no Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D anywhere in our databases. I run facial recognition as well but nothing came up either,” Querl explained, clearly frustrated by the situation at hand. 

“I called Barry but they said they got nothing,” Kara piped in, their backs turned towards the door. 

“Who’s Barry?” you asked so suddenly that everyone nearly jumped out of their skin. Including Supergirl. They turned towards you wide-eyed. No one gets to sneak behind these team. 

“How did you?” the blonde stammered.

“Oh! Hi again! I woke up alone in my room, and I thought it was rude of me to pass out mid-conversation. So I thought of the Director, and opened a portal to her,” you explained while glancing at Alex. 

“Told you she’s can open portals,” Lena murmured low enough but she still caught your attention. 

“Hi! I’m Y/N. You’re the lady from the rooftop.”

“I’m Lena. Lena Luthor,” she said cautiously.

You beamed at her. “Sorry for passing out on you too. It happens sometimes, when I open a portal too far from my starting point,” you explained. 

A man name Querl asked how you’re portal jumping without any tech with you, which prompted you to tell them about being a product of mutant experimentation. It was kind of weird that they don’t know what that is or what mutants are. So, you ended up explaining that too. 

***

It took several hours of storytelling, interrogation, and an alien mind reader before everyone decided you’re not an actual threat. Another hour before you decided that you can trust them. Another hour to set up a fake identity for you, and at the moment, Kara, Alex, and Lena are arguing where you would be staying.

You cleared your throat. “If it’s all the same to you ladies, I’ll stay with Querl.”

Querl just grinned smugly at them. “Brainy? Why?” Alex asked, angst by your choice.

“He offered. I agreed,” you answered simply. Thankfully, Nia didn’t find anything wrong with that. 

Lena laughed before walking up next to you. “I’m sorry, we should have asked.”

You beamed at her. “You should have. I would have gone with you,” you said cheekily before following Querl and Jonn out of the conference room. Had you not walked away, you would have seen the blush that crept up on Lena’s face and the teasing she had to endure from both Kara and Alex. 

“Someone has a crush,” Kara sing-song. 

“Oh, shush! I do not,” Lena tried to lie but Alex and Kara knew better.

You know you just got out of a relationship but you’re currently stuck in another universe, might as well make use of your fresh start. You need to heal before anything else. 

***

The decision to live with Querl was tactical on your part. You’re not trying to leave immediately but you still need to find a way back to your universe. Maria and Natasha will give you hell for leaving without telling anyone. Even though you didn’t exactly plan on being stuck on a parallel universe at all. Your heart ached thinking about home, thinking about your friends, thinking about her.

Your heart ached as you lie on Querl’s guest room, thinking about all the times Carol came home to you after a mission. How the strongest Avenger likes to cuddle like a baby when she’s bone-tired. Your heart aches remembering the sound of her laugh and how it used to give you so much joy watching her goof around with Thor and Peter. Your heart ached reminiscing the way her arms made you feel safe, her lips made you feel at home. Your heart broke a little more remembering the last time she told you she loved you. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Querl asked from the threshold of your room. 

“I’m just wondering if there is a universe where she and I ended up happy together?” 

In the course of your interrogation, the D.E.O along with James and Lena asked thoroughly about your life and the event before you landed on their Earth. You didn’t have a choice but to tell the truth, even if it’s still a little raw for you. Querl know who you’re talking about, and he wisely didn’t spout a formula that calculates the number of universes in which you and Carol are happy together. He just wished you a good night. 

***

You’re not quite sure how time flows between parallel universes but you’ve been on Earth-34 for three months now. Figuring a way back home has been fruitless, to say the least, and it has been taking a back seat since you finished D.E.O training and started a more active role in the organization. Alex assigned you as a D.E.O liaison officer at L-Corp, which you didn’t have a problem with. In the three months, you’ve been on their earth, and after being inducted as an official member of the Superfriends, Lena is secretly your favorite. 

It’s a harmless schoolgirl crush, you didn’t pay any mind. Lena is an amazing human being, a lot of people admire her. She’s intelligent, sassy, and quite literally, breathtaking. It’s not like you stand a chance to date someone as amazing as her if you’re ever stupid enough to ask her out. Which you aren’t, so you’re sticking with friendship. Friends are good; friends rarely break each other’s heart.

So you’re bewildered as to why Lena’s hellbent on arguing with Alex at game night nonetheless about why she didn’t need you as her additional security.

“Alex, L-Corp has the most advanced security since our latest upgrades last month,” Lena says as quiet as she could inside Alex’s open kitchen. 

“We know but having Y/N on the ground with you at all times makes me feel more at ease. She has powers, and her fighting technique is unprecedented,” Alex tried to argue. 

“I’m not a child, Alex.”

”I didn’t say that you are, Lena.”

“Agent Dallas,” you suddenly spoke from where you’re sitting on the floor. Alex and Lena turned to look at your back as you continue to play monopoly with Kara. 

“What about Agent Dallas, Y/N?” Alex asked before taking a sip of her beer. 

“Agent Dallas has superb fighting abilities. Not to mention she’s an excellent markswoman too.”

Lena and Alex scrunch their eyebrows together, trying to figure where you’re going with this. Kara nodded towards their direction that caused you to look at the two over your shoulder. “You can assign Agent Dallas as Lena’s security detail if she didn’t want me,” you said simply before rolling the dice.

Lena looks angst at the suggestion. 

“Oh no, she thinks you didn’t want her,” Alex whispers in Lena’s ear teasingly before walking towards you and the others. 

***

Lena was awfully silent through game night. She participated, of course, but there’s a pensive look on her face all night. When it was time to go, you tried to insist that you’ll walk to your new apartment but Lena shoot it down with one look.

It’s fascinating how one person can remind you so much of your family. With one look, Lena can shut you up and shut down any of your crazy ideas just like Natasha. Her intelligence and love for all science and technology can rival Tony’s. Her superb leadership skill can match Steve’s. Her loyalty is like Maria’s, and her caring nature’s just like Wanda’s. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you watch National City in the comfort of her Porsche.

“Thanks for driving me, Lee. Goodnight,” you said when you felt the car come to a stop.

Before you can exit the vehicle, Lena reached out and caught you by the sleeve of your white polo.

“Y/N,” she said softly. You turned to look at her bewildered. “What’s wrong?”

She licked her lower lip, and no one could fault you when you got entranced by the movement. “The reason why I didn’t want you to work at L-Corp was…” she paused.

You quirked your eyebrow to prompt her to keep going. “…was because I think it’ll be inappropriate to ask you out when you do,” she rushed out in one breath. You blinked once to clear away the fog that suddenly hangs in your head. One more to let what Lena sink in.

“Well. Technically, you’re not my boss; Alex is,” you said slowly and seriously before breaking out into a smile.

“Y/N!,” Lena whined before crumpling the sleeve of your polo. You couldn’t help but laugh. You leaned against the center console of her car and gave her a quick kiss on the cheeks before exiting the car. Leaving a blushing happy Lena Luthor.  

***

You give it to Lena to know how to make a girl feel special. On your first date, she arrived at your apartment promptly, and with your favorite bouquet of flowers at that. She then took you to the most expensive and exclusive restaurant in National City, where you had a five-course meal and talked the night away. Lena drove you home way past midnight but didn’t stay the night. Plans for the second date was made the next business day.

Your second date didn’t happen until after another month because Lena got busy and you got busy making sure she’s safe always. On your second date, you took Lena out to ride your new Ducati motorcycle to a rustic restaurant outside the city limits. The place was warm, inviting, and private even for a Friday night. Lena absolutely loved it that you ended up staying in a cheap nearby hotel because you both were too sleepy to drive back. Lena argued that she can call her driver and pick them you up but she relented when you question her sense of adventure.

That night the only available room in the hotel only had one double bed.

“I can take the couch,” you said as you both stare at your current predicament.

She walked to the bed and sat down in front of you. “Y/N, we’re dating. We can share a bed.”

You tried not to blush but Lena’s just too beautiful that you couldn’t help but kiss her.

“What was that for?” she asked breathlessly.

“Nothing. I’m just really happy I’m here with you.”

It took a while to get where you are but you’re better now. You still miss Carol, a part of you will always be Carol’s but you’re happier now. Lena makes you so happy.

***

Dating Lena is possibly one of the most beautiful experience you had in your life. And you’ve had so many in this lifetime. You survived being tortured and experimented on. You defeated a titan, twice! Heck, you even managed to go out in space. You thought you’d lost your home when Carol broke up with you. You thought Earth-34 was just another adventure but it turns out it has become home too and without fully realizing it, a year has officially passed since you arrived on their universe.

You were supposed to be celebrating your “Earth-34 birthday” as Alex and Kara call it but an emergency occurred. A group of possibly hostile vigilante’s are spotted downtown. Kara and Jonn flew at the scene first. Querl and Nia drove there next. Alex went directly to the D.E.O, while you drove Lena first to her penthouse where another agent was to take over your place for the time being. 

When you arrived downtown, you were floored to see Carol sizing up Kara while the rest of the Avengers are aiming their weapons at Jonn, Querl, Nia and a few D.E.O. agents. You would have laughed at the hilarity of how the two blonds look almost identical but the scowl on everyone’s faces stopped you. Instead, you yelled at the top of your lungs, 

“Stand down!”

Your family immediately turned towards your voice. You walked towards the center and in front of Natasha. She holstered her gun, when she turned towards you, you expected her to pull you in a hug but instead, she threw a punch at your face. You stammered a step backward, you held your hand up to signal everyone to stand down. Your lips are bleeding, and before Kara can fuss about it; Nat pulled you in a tight hug. 

“I miss you so much, idiot,” she murmured against your hair. You wrapped your arms around her sturdy frame. Maria joined the group hug immediately. 

“You know these people?” Guardian asked. You can hear Tony mocking his suit from Nat’s comms. You had to reign in the chuckle. 

“They’re the Avengers,” you answered before leaning your forehead against Maria’s.

“We,” someone said behind you. You didn’t need to turn to know who it is. You know that voice in any universe. “You’re still a part of our team,” Carol continued. 

***

“You didn’t tell me Carol and I’s suit are almost identical,” Kara whispered as you walk side-by-side at the D.E.O.

“I’m surprised she even told you about us,” Nat quipped, clearly overhearing Kara as she and Maria walk behind you. You turned on your heels to look at Natasha. She might be joking but you know the hurt was real.

“Tasha,” you said. She smiled at you; she’s gonna be pissed again when she found out the truth.

“She couldn’t stop talking about you actually,” Kara supplied excitedly as the three of you entered the training room, which is the only room big enough to house the lot of you.

“Are we still waiting for someone?” Tony asked on his typical bored CEO demeanor.

You couldn’t help but smile because god you miss him. Lena’s gonna freak when she finds out he’s here, and they can finally meet. Speak of the goddess herself, Lena burst through the door of the training room in her signature CEO entrance. Carol, Maria, and Natasha noted the way all your focus going in on the newcomer. Carol frowned deeper.

“Y/N?” Lena asked for you immediately.

“I’m here,” you said unable to untangle yourself from Maria’s embrace. Maria narrowed her eyes at Lena. Lena frowned as she watches Maria’s slender figure, hugging you from behind. You pleaded for Lena to remember all your stories.

“Who are you?” Carol suddenly asks. Steve bristled at her tone.

You watched Lena take in Carol before standing ramrod straight (not that she’s one to slouch). “Lena Luthor, CEO of L-Corp. Y/N’s girlfriend, who are you?”

Tony snorted. Maria and Nat tried to snicker quietly but failed miserably. “Carol Danvers. Captain Marvel,” Carol introduced herself. And then a thick, awkward silence descended upon the room.

“Okay, ladies. Play nice,” Alex asserted her power. “I’m assuming you came here for Y/N?”

Steve affirmed after introducing himself and the whole team.

***

Everyone turned to look at you. Maria noted your stiff posture in your arms. She knows you too much to know your decision even before you can make one. She smiled sadly at you. You need to come clean now.

“I can’t..” you stammered out. Everyone waited for you to continue. “I can’t go back, Steve.”

Tony didn’t speak, he just watched you. Before anyone else can say anything, Carol spoke. “Tony worked on the simulation and technology in half a year to get to you.”

You have no doubt he did. Your heart hammered in your chest. Kara looked at you sympathetically, clearly picking up on your heartbeat. “I spent the last half, jumping from one earth to another to find you.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” you nearly yelled. And there it is, the anger that you felt when Carol accused you of cheating on her suddenly bubbled up inside you. “Heaven knows I appreciate you all coming here but no one asked you to find me because I found my way back.”

You can hear a pin drop at the silence that followed. Everyone waited with bated breath for you to continued. You saw the realization dawn on Tony’s face faster than everyone else.

“I figured a way back to our universe on the sixth-month mark of my landing here,” you said slowly.

***

Everyone gasped, except Querl. Carol motioned for you to step outside the balcony. You followed her without question, you owe her at least that. Carol didn’t speak for a minute, and you just watched her regulate her breathing.

“Did you hate me that much?” Carol asked. Eyes closed, face turned towards the sun.

“I never hated you, Car,” you said as you watch the side of her face. “I was mad when you accused me of cheating on you. I was heartbroken when you took Daisy’s word over mine but I never hated you. I love you far too much for that.”

Carol noted the use of present tense and you know her well enough that she caught it. You tried to smile at her. “I will always love you, Carol but I’m in love with Lena,” you said softly. There’s no use beating around the bush.

You watched every emotion that passes through her face as she processes that she’s going home without you. Regret, jealousy, sadness, surrender.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I was stupid,” she said with tears running down her face that you immediately pulled her into a hug. You’re both aware that you’re still in full view of both your teams but at that moment you didn’t care. “I love you,” Carol sobbed against your hair. You rubbed soothing circles against her back.

“I know. I love you too,” you said tearing up too. “Maybe in another life, we can try again.”

***

All goodbyes are bittersweet, only you know this isn’t one. There’s no way, Nat and Maria won’t be portal jumping to you whenever they can, now that they have a way to you and vice versa.

Steve came up to you first. “I’m really proud of what you achieved here. You know S.H.I.E.L.D is always open for you,” he said before pulling you in a brotherly hug, which you gratefully returned.

Tony came up next. “Stark Expo is opening again soon. Come home and bring your girlfriend, she’s a delight,” he said before ruffling your hair like the annoying brother that he is.

Maria and Nat came up together. Maria pulled you in against her in a back hug; which you thought might be Maria’s favorite position to hug because she’s taller than you and Nat. Nat stood in front of you, reaching out to touch your cheeks.

“Kara gave us this,” Nat said showing what seems to be a normal phone. “She said we can use it to communicate seamlessly. So call us, anytime for anything, like always and we will be there.”

“I will,” you promised before leaning towards Nat’s hand.

“And please, visit often. We miss you terribly. Friday’s still movie night when we’re not out on a mission; do come and bring your superfriends. Alex said, you have game nights on this universe, maybe we can all hang out sometime,” Maria said hopefully.

You smiled before turning your head and kissing Maria’s cheeks. “It’s a date,” you said before you turned back towards Nat and saw Carol walking towards Lena.

***

“Hey,” Carol said a little self-consciously to catch Lena’s attention who’s talking to Alex.

Alex smiled encouragingly before excusing herself. “Hello, Carol,” Lena answered. Less hostile but still very much guarded.

“I was rude awhile ago, I’m sorry.”

“You are but nothing I’m not used to. I deal with it every day with my investors trying to always undermine me,” Lena answered matter-of-factly.

Carol rubbed the back of her neck. “I know Y/N is strong and can take care of herself but please, take care of her,” Carol pleaded.

Lena smiled, before extending her hand. “She is and she does but rest assured, I will see to it that she’s well-taken cared of; I promise.” Carol sighed before smiling up at Lena and shaking her hand. This isn’t the result Carol wanted but she doesn’t have the heart to stand in the way of your happiness.

***

Tony opened the portal when everyone bid their farewells, and one by one the Avengers walked through and back to their universe. Before it closes though, Nat turned back to you.

“Hey, by the way, you need to come home on December,” she said vaguely. You quirked your eyebrows at her.

“December 4th to be precise,” Maria piped in.

“Why?”

Nat laughed before taking Maria’s hand and showing you a diamond ring around it. “We’re getting married, idiot.” You look dumbfounded for a second.

Maria looked past you. “You’re all invited, I’m sure HQ can accommodate. Promise you’ll come.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you said after you recovered from your initial shock. Maria and Nat waved at you before the portal closed.

***

Alex and Kara stood by your side for a minute or two to offer their silent support before walking away and back to the command center. You stared at the wall where your family walked through for another minute before you heard the telltale sounds of heels behind you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you found a way home?” Lena asked quietly.

You turned to look at her. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t think it matters. I wasn’t gonna go back,” you answered; worried that she’s pissed at you.

“When did you know you’re not gonna go back?”

“The morning after our second date.”

Lena raised her eyebrow at that. “When we woke up at a dingy hotel?” she asked surprised.

You tried to stop it but when the memory surfaced, you couldn’t help but break into a goofy smile. “Yeah,” you said dreamily.

“Why then?”

You blinked the lovestruck look in your face and focused back on Lena. You grinned at her. “Oh,” you paused for dramatic effect.

“Well, you smelled divine while drooling all over my arm,” you said cheekily while closing the gap between you two.

Lena gasped. “How dare you accuse me of being unladylike?” she asked in mock offense but you can clearly hear the playful tone in her voice.

You laughed before pulling her hips flush against yours. “Life’s all about choices, and on the cusp of knowing how to leave or staying, I choose you.”

Lena shakes her head affectionately before pulling you in for a passionate kiss.

[goldensunflowers98]

Aurelie | l.h. |

O N E

Nestled in the small corner of the wood just off Primrose Path and by a constant, babbling brook sat Aurelie Stone's cottage. With the drive lined with cobblestones, the walls covered in ivy, and just off the outskirts of her small village, it was quiet there with only the sounds of the tiny, woodland animals and nature callings being her friends.

She was content with that; the lack of human interaction. She only needed the quick chat with the bakers downtown when she waltzed inside to pick up her favorite bread flour for the week and that was it. She enjoyed being secluded, her only daily interchange being with her three year old cat, Clover, and her six month old kitten, Cotton. She wouldn't have moved into the quaint cottage when she turned twenty-three if she didn't.

She was used to being alone with her mother being dead and her father making sure he was so swamped with work that he didn't think about his wife's early death. When Aurelie was fourteen, her mother found a lump on her breast and after a trip to the doctor, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was a long and rough battle, lasting over two years, and the already introverted Aurelie sunk further into her shell the day when the heart monitor stopped its repetitive, slow beeps and the final breath escaped her beautiful mother's lungs.

She was "the loner" at school, nose always buried in a thick novel in the corner of the library. She sat in the back of class, never raised her hand to answer questions and her face would flush bright pink when she was called on, her blonde hair falling forward to curtain her overwhelmed, blushing face.

It got to a point where the teachers didn't even call on her anymore. The jocks, the cheerleaders, the nerds, the musical teens, and the punks and greasers would walk past her like she didn't exist and she wasn't the least bit upset about it. She actually enjoyed being invisible. She could be in the midst of an angsty teen, mental breakdown and no one would be the wiser.

The only person she really spoke to high school was the librarian, Mr. Hopper. He was an older gentleman with a warm, relaxing tone that reminded her of her grandfather and had a head full of snow white hair. He lived on a farm just off the village and adored dear Aurelie, the only student that would come in to visit the library when they didn't have a school assignment making them do so. So, when she graduated college and didn't want to stay home with an absent father, she jumped at the chance when Mr. Hopper told her about the small cottage at the end of his land.

With being so quiet and secluded, rumors were ought to start pouring from the bored, young adults mouths. She laughed at the one where people thought she was a thousand year old witch who lived off the blood of children to stay young and she found the rumor that she killed her own mother to be despicable.

She never let them bother her though and she took a job at the local veterinary clinic as the secretary. She didn't need to speak much as just handed a clipboard with paperwork for patient's owners and the animals didn't mind her silence as long as they got belly rubs and ear scratches in the meantime.

She was happy with her quiet life, lonely at times, but she never was able to give into the urge to go out. So, in her spare time, she baked pies from the fruit trees and shrubs around her little home, gardened and pruned her flowers, or read a good novel with a cup of piping hot earl grey tea - with just a hint cream and sugar - in her hands.

She also enjoyed taking long strolls along the towering garden walls that were littered with pink, climbing roses and she had to stand on her tiptoes to see over them and get a glance at the Hopper's farmhouse way across the fields. The way the sun glinted off the old window panes giving a golden haze and how the bright red shutters contrasted the white washed picket fence was breathtaking. Her small cottage could never compare to the dreamy farmhouse across the way.

Now, she stood at her small stove, two fresh eggs straight from Mr. Hopper's chicken coop cooked slowly in the pan in front of her. Two slices of bacon sizzled in another skillet next to it while a piece of bread toasted nearby.

She wipes her hand on her white apron as her baby blue skirt brushes across her ankles as she moves. Her golden blonde tresses are halfway pulled back in a lazy braid with the rest laying limp against her shoulders and her silky, white blouse feels soft against her skin.

Hearing the toast spring out from its fiery confines, she hums as she picks it out with the tips of her fingers and smoothes butter over the top of it. With a tiny, disgruntled noise in the back of her throat, she makes a mental note that this was the last of her bread and she needed to make her weekly trip to the village bakery for her favorite bread flour.

Finishing up her cooking, she is quick to scarf it all down, her stomach now full and content. With a quiet slurp, she finishes her morning tea and lets out a long sigh as she places the cup against the wooden countertop.

Her fingers drum against the wood and with a annoyed sigh, she blows a tendril of hair away from her face. It was her day off and she didn't wish to spend it with other humans in the village, but she did need to eat to live.

Feeling something soft circle her ankles, she looks down to see her two cats brushing against her lovingly as if to say, 'good morning, favorite human.'

She is about to lean over and pet their soft fur when she suddenly hears a ruckus outside and a melodic whistling outside her window. "What on earth?" she starts to say, heading straight for kitchen screen door. Peering through it, her eyes widen as she spots a boy -well, man- with golden curls on his head, a white cotton shirt, brown trousers, and brown suspenders completing his look. He's tall and lanky, his skin a bit sunburnt, and blonde, coarse hair covers his cheeks and chin, making his baby face look at bit older.

He is beautiful, a bit too beautiful to be real, but why is he in her yard and why is he carrying an axe, Aurelie wonders. He looks up when she swings the screen door open with a loud creak and she nearly stumbles when he gives her a glistening white, beaming smile so bright the sun was nearly put to shame.

"Hello," he gleams with respectful nod of his head, resting his weight on the axe. "Mr. Hooper said you liked a fire in the fireplace most nights and that you were running low on wood, so I took it upon myself to make sure you had some. Ladies like you don't need to be cold, especially with the chill coming next fortnight."

"Oh," her gaze turns towards the growing pile of wood next to her house before turning back to him. "Thank... Um, thank you... I'm sorry," she babbles, shaking her head and tucking her hair behind her ear nervously. "Who are you exactly?" She winces as she knows she sounds quite rude but there was a gorgeous man in her front yard with a sharp axe and she needed some answers.

"Oh, right!" He lets out an adorable laugh as he steps forward and reaches his hand out. "Lukas Hemmings at your service." She pauses for a moment, rubbing her sweaty, nervous palm against her skirt before she gingerly reaches out and his large palm overtakes her own. "But, most people just call me Luke." She barely is aware of him speaking as she oddly enjoys the feel of his callused fingers against her own.

It's a long moment before she snaps out of it, snatching her hand back quickly as she realizes she was shaking his hand way longer than necessary, but by the smile on his lips, he either didn't notice or was too sweet to say anything.

"You know," she looks up at him under her lashes as he begins to speak, amused. "When people tell you their name, it's polite to introduce yourself as well"

Her face blanches as he grins boyishly down at her and she bunches up her skirt with her fists. Idiot, she inwardly curses herself. "Aurelie," she chokes out. "Aurelie Stone."

"Well, it is a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss. Stone," he says as her eyebrows furrow in confusion. 

"What do you mean finally meet me?" She says puzzled, her toes curling against the soft grass under her bare feet.

"Mr. Hopper speaks of you fondly from time to time. He told me you lived at the cottage, but being his farm hand is a lot of work and time, so I've never been able to introduce myself... I wish I would have come sooner though because you are certainly breathtaking, Miss. Stone."

Her mouth drops in a perfect 'o', everything now making sense before she processes his last sentence, her face flushing instantly. "Oh! Well... I'm sorry for disturbing your work," she stumbles backwards and he watches with an amused smirk as she nearly tumbles over her own feet. "Um, thank you for the wood. Okay, alright, I'm leaving now. Bye."

She nearly falls as she scrambles into her home, slamming the door behind her. She breathes heavily, overwhelmed with her encounter with the beautiful man, and leans over to take one last look at him through the window. He is laughing to himself amused, shaking his head, before he wipes his sweaty brow and walking back over to the pile of wood.

She only watches his back muscles and biceps bulge for a mere second as he swings the axe before she pulls back the curtain, eyes wide. "No man should be that pretty. It's a sin," she mutters to herself as her two cats make their way back over to her.

Finding this human interaction to be enough for her today, she decided to go to the bakery tomorrow before work and hides in her house for the rest of the morning. When she hears no more noise from the Greek god outside and the beaming afternoon sun finally sets a bit, she pries open her front door, breathing in the cooler, fresh, afternoon air.

With an impish, excited smile, she shuts the door behind her and bunches up her skirt a bit before taking off. She loves the wind breezing through her hair as she runs, her bare feet in the soft, spring grass, and the sweet smell of honeysuckle fills her senses.

She follows the babbling creek, her feet hopping from stone to mossy stone, before she finally reaches her destination. If you follow the brook long enough, you'll find the hidden treasure at the end, a brilliant, glistening, blue lake where geese and swans graze the surface elegantly and fish fly out of the water as if to show off.

Her feet hit the wooden pier with a loud slap and she twirls a bit as she runs down it.

Standing at the edge, she closes her eyes and inhales deeply, loving the way the sun felt on her skin. She loved this lake, her perfect hideaway. No one else really knew about it or didn't bother to show up and she could be finally be alon-

"Miss. Stone, what are you doing out here?"

Her eyes pop open with a startled squeal and she loses her balance. She tries to catch herself, arms flailing, but the last thing she sees before she plunges into the cool water is a worried Luke Hemmings rushing towards her.

So much for being alone.

[essieeeeeeeee]

For the I wish you would write a fic where... post I’ve got non angsty: Deckard or Hattie or Owen or Luke or all of them chaperone Sam’s class field trip Or angsty: Deckard comes home bruised and broken after a mission gone horribly wrong and Luke takes care of him

I’m already working on a one-shot for the second one, so here’s a little fill for the first. I had to cut it off, because it was getting way too long, so sorry if the ending seems a little stilted, lmao. Thanks for the prompt!

———————

Shaw nearly fumbles the burning hot frying pan when Sam first asks the question. He’s an international spy with reflexes that rival a cat’s, though, so instead of dropping the pan and splattering pancake batter across Hobbs’ kitchen, he pauses.

And slowly, incredulously, turns to look at the kid.

“… come again?” he asks, and Shaw can feel the way his face is twisted in a moue of disbelief. He tones the expression down just a touch, though, as Sam glances away and fiddles timidly with the pen in her hand.

“We’re supposed to go on a field trip next week. My class, I mean. To the San Diego zoo.” She scuffs her foot against the ground, eyes still firmly Not Looking at Deckard. It’d be endearing, if the subject matter wasn’t so baffling. The next part falls out of her mouth in a rush. “And I’ve never been there before, and I’ve always wanted to go, but Dad’s usually pretty busy, so we’ve never had the chance, so I was really excited about the field trip, but Mr. Brougher said there’s not enough parents signed up yet, and that if we don’t get at least three more adults to chaperone by the end of today then–then–”

Her shoulders hunch in. It’s almost painful seeing it. Shaw feels guilty just witnessing the sight.

“… then he’s gonna cancel the trip,” she finishes quietly.

Silence follows her monologue. Neither of them try to fill it–Sam, because she’s too absorbed in staring at the floor, spinning the pen round and round her little fingers in skittish habit, and Deckard because he’s too busy choking on his own tongue in surprise to say a word.

The butter from the pan decides to fill it for them, apparently, as it hiss-pops and bubbles, and splashes a few drops on his hand. Shaw cuts off his own hiss of pain from the burn of it, and turns back to the stove; the motion is half to distract from the alarming subject of conversation, and half to prevent the food from burning.

“… are those pancakes?” Sam asks behind him, shuffling closer to glance curiously at the pan. Apparently, the sight of food was a sure-fire way to tempt the kiddo out of her little bout of nervousness.

Apples and trees, Shaw thinks, the corner of his mouth ticking up somewhat before he has a chance to smooth it over.

“Pull out a plate and the syrup, and I’ll get you some before your bus gets here.”

Sam skips over to the cabinets to do as told, and Shaw takes the moment to wonder how the hell he ended up here: Hobbs’ kitchen, cooking pancakes for a child, being asked to babysit schoolchildren.

He’s a mercenary. An ex-special ops assassin. A cold-blooded, red-handed, rap-sheet-bigger-than-Luke-Hobbs’-biceps murderer.

He’s not some–some fucking nanny.

So what if he occasionally shows up at the Hobbs homestead post-mission, bruised and scraped and in need of a place to sleep and lick his wounds where he doesn’t need to keep one eye open in paranoia? If he occasionally stays a few days here and there, bickering and bitching the time away with the lawman; if from time to time he glances over Samantha’s shoulder while grabbing a glass of water from the fridge, and absently tosses out advice and corrections for her assignments. If sometimes the two of them even manage to coax Shaw to the dining table for meals, like he’s some stray cat that’s grudgingly wandered into their home. 

And so what if maybe, occasionally, when Sam is away at Hobbs’ sister’s or a friend’s home, and the house is otherwise quiet and empty–if he lets the bickering turn into something else. Lets Hobbs slam him up against a wall or a counter or the fucking dining room table, any flat sturdy surface that can take the roughousing. If, maybe, he lets Hobbs do things to him he wouldn’t otherwise permit.

So fucking what?

It’s not like any of that makes him the kid’s step-mother.

“You’re burning them,” Sam points out absentmindedly. Shaw glances down at the pan in his hand, and lo-and-behold, the flat little pastry was starting to char around the edges. He scowls, and flips the pancake onto its other side with a quick flick of his wrist.

Still looks salvageable, at least.

He stops to process that thought for a moment, and–Deckard doesn’t even like pancakes. 

Why was he making pancakes?

“Can you make one shaped like a star?” Sam asks cheerfully from her stool at the kitchen counter, scribbling in her glitter-pink notebook. “Dad’s really good at making shapes.”

And Shaw, because he wasn’t about to let Luke fucking Hobbs upstage him in anything, acquiesces. He shapes the runny batter into something that resembles a lopsided star, perhaps, if you happen to squint and spin around three times before peeking at it sideways.

Shaw stares at it for a moment. And then, briefly, glances back and forth between the pan, with it’s demented star-cake starting to brown, and the little girl next to him, still happily absorbed in her drawing. Realization builds in his chest like dread.

… Jesus Christ.

He was being domesticated.

“So, can you?”

Samantha peers up at him with big, brown, apprehensive eyes, and bites her lip as though worried about the answer. It takes Shaw a moment to remember what exactly the question had even been.

Ah. Yes. The… field trip.

No, he wants to say, blunt and brutally honest. No chance in all the realms of hell was he about to chaperone a bus full of screaming niblets. The concept was–completely barking, really. Hattie would certainly get a laugh out of it, if she had even an inkling that the idea was put out on the table.

But the kid looks half-way to hiding herself under her own hair again, and even Shaw isn’t heartless enough to ignore that. “Probably not a good idea,” he says instead, slowly, to take any bite out of it. He flips the pancake over to avoid having to look at the disappointment he just knows is on the little bit’s face at his answer. “You even ask your dad yet?”

“He said he doesn’t get home from his next trip until two days after,” she answers, and even without looking at her Shaw can still hear the dejection in her voice. He winces. God, he’s such a bastard.

Really, though, that’s all the better reason for him not to be around a group of young and impressionable children.

“You know if your dad ain’t gonna be here, I won’t be either, don’t you?” he asks, still beating around the bush. Shaw doesn’t really want to face the music and put that defeated look in her big bambi eyes.

Stall, he thinks. When was the fucking bus getting here?

“But he’s only going to be gone for a couple days! And if you watch me, then Aunt Lisa won’t have to cancel her beach trip next week. It’s perfect.”

The kid really had it planned out, didn’t she? Sneaky little bugger.

He wasn’t about to fall for it, though. And if she really thought her father, of all people, would willingly leave his nine year old daughter in the hands of Deckard Shaw, then the kid was only deluding herself.

“I don’t think it’s gonna…”

Work like that, he wants to say, but her pouting face makes him hesitate. Goddamn big brown bambi eyes, he thinks, and tries to steel himself to finish the sentence–

“Please, Uncle Deck?”

… aw, fuck.

Shaw rubs a hand across his face, and swallows down the bitter taste of defeat with as much grace as he can muster.

“Your dad ain’t gonna let me watch you, kid,” he says. Sam’s face starts to fall, but it perks back up instantly as he finishes it with, “but I can… chaperone. Your trip.”

The cheer Sam makes gets muffled into his stomach as she flings herself at him, and Shaw catches her in alarm. He’s not quite sure what to do with his hands as the nine year old wraps her own arms around his waist in a hug that was tighter than he’d expect from someone her size.

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you–” she babbles delightedly. Deckard decides patting her head is probably safe enough, and does so awkwardly until she lets go, humming, and dances back to her seat.

The next few minutes pass in a blur of serving the kid breakfast, with a background chatter of Sam rambling about a social studies project that was due in two weeks. Shaw can’t really say he’s paying much attention, though; the cringing dread welling up in him was too distracting.

By the time Sam grabs her bookbag and darts in to steal another quick hug before rushing off for the bus that was idling out front of the house, Shaw’s regretting every decision that ever lead him to Luke Hobbs’ doorstep.

A chaperone. For a fourth grade field trip.

It may have only been seven thirty in the morning, but Christ, he really needed some alcohol.