#Very grateful they put the English underneath it

[alexbkrieger13]

MPP and Stacey interviewed in a French speaking radio station in Québec

https://x.com/985sports/status/1791653431297421595?s=46&t=uPoEOaVb2-fE4gZYflIesQ

They appreciate Stacey making an effort to speak French and Stacey apologised for not speaking well. She said she hopes to improve next year.

The first season of the Montreal professional women's hockey team did not end as the players and managers would have hoped.

After finishing the calendar in second place on the women's circuit, the Montreal team lost in three games against Boson's team, each time after matches requiring overtime.

Captain Marie-Philip Poulin and her assistant Laura Stacey come to talk about it on Mario Langlois' microphone, at Sports Amateurs.

First in the running, Laura Stacey, largely in French...

Difficult to take, elimination?

"Yes. It's very difficult. But that's hockey. And I hope that next year, the series will end better.

The best moment of this inaugural season?

“My favorite moment, our first match in Verdun. The first time with the logo on our chest with legends, pioneers, who preceded us during the ceremony with the throw-in. Laura Stacey

Did this season exceed expectations?

"Yes. It was a magical year that exceeded our expectations. The welcome from the fans... It’s a year that I will never forget.”

What did the Montreal team lack?

“I think we could have won this year. We were missing a goal in overtime. We're going to rest this summer and come back next year. It’s more motivation for next year,” concludes Stacey.

Similar feeling for Marie-Philip Poulin.

“Media day brings you back to your emotions. This isn't the ending we wanted... It's the first year. You want to start a franchise with a championship. This is not the ending we wanted. This year, it was bigger than the results with all the excitement for women's hockey. All the people who came to support us. We can keep our heads held high.” Marie-Philip Poulin

His best moment?

“There have been many. It was so emotional. The first game in Verdun was remarkable, but the game at the Bell Center, full, 21,000 people, got a standing ovation for all the girls on the ice. I think it’s going to be my Top 1.”

What does she wish for the seasons to come?

“Let it continue to grow... We're going to want even more. We’re going to want to improve even more, as an organization, as a team.”

[terabyteturtle]

Fighter #01 - Mario

- Mario's actually a great cook! He and Luigi make Italian food every Monday, using tons of delicious recipes they've learned over the years. The bros even have a secret four-cheese pizza recipe that's been passed down within their family. Sometimes, Peach and Daisy help them in the kitchen and taste-test everything to make sure it comes out perfect.

- Don't tell anyone, but Mario secretly uses fireballs to heat up the pans when no one is looking. He knows it's not the safest thing to do, but hey, it gets the job done quicker (and if there’s one thing someone might need while feeding all of the Smash Bros, it’s speed!).

- He and FLUDD are usually in charge of watering the gardens. His favorite part of the job is helping Peach tend to her vegetables.

- He keeps his cape tucked underneath his overalls at all times. One never knows when they might need the power of flight on their side, and Hylia knows it’s helped him on more occasions than he’d like to admit. Plus, he gets the added bonus of being able to whip it out and make the most dramatic entrances possible.

- He has two large piggy banks that he keeps atop the dresser in his room. Bowser may tease him for it, but how else is he supposed to store all of those coins?

- Let’s be honest, he definitely has more hidden somewhere.

- If anyone ever needs money, Mario would be more than happy to give them however much they require. Wario has attempted to take advantage of this kindness numerous times.

- Ever since he visited Bowser's oriental palace, Mario has been really interested in Japanese culture. He and Ryu talk a lot about Japan's history and customs together. Mario wants to speak to Kazuya about it too but is afraid he'll get thrown off a cliff.

- He's very grateful that Kazuya didn't try to kill him at any point in the past (unlike some of the other DLC fighters), and he doesn't want to risk changing that at any point in the future.

- Cappy and FLUDD initially got off to a rocky start (Cappy didn’t like how literally FLUDD took everything, and FLUDD thought Cappy was too obnoxious), but over time, they became best buds.

- When a new fighter joins the roster, Mario is usually the one who gives them the mansion tour and introduces them to the rest of the crew. If, for whatever reason, Mario’s not around to do it, he trusts Luigi to take his place.

- Mario and Peach are both subscribed to the Cake of the Month club, in which they get a box with a cake recipe, ingredients, and decorations each month. As soon as they get their boxes in the mail, they dedicate the whole day to baking their cakes and eating them together afterward.

- He used to like brussel sprouts when he was younger, but grew to despise them as time went on. He'll often tell the kids to eat them even though he won't eat them himself.

- This guy’s got nearly every fighter beat in terms of leg strength. So far, he has the record set for highest amount of leg presses in one sitting.

- “It’s-a me, Mario!” is one of his favorite ways to introduce himself to folks.

- Mario, along with the rest of the original twelve, put tons of different safety protocols in place at the mansion, compiling all of them into a handbook for new fighters to read upon arrival. That way, fighters know how to respond to any and every situation, and the safety of the mansion is always ensured.

- One day, he wants to travel to other fighters' universes because he's genuinely interested in their hometowns and cultures. Not to mention the food; Mario is always down to try new food.

- Mario will sometimes ask fellow fighters to help him with advertising campaigns for his plumbing business. He’ll happily compensate them for their efforts and give them credit where it’s due, even if they offer to do it for free or don’t wish to be mentioned.

- He's the first one called whenever there's a plumbing issue. He's happy to help, but wonders why they can't just get Luigi to do it half the time.

- Mario primarily speaks English, but if he has to curse, he’ll do that in Italian. 

- That being said, Mario swears like a sailor in Italian. It’s rare to hear coming from him, but when he curses, it’s kinda scary. Most fighters are in shock because of how angry he is, but they don’t understand what he’s saying. Luigi, on the other hand, looks like he’s seen a ghost because he knows exactly what’s coming out of his brother’s mouth.

- Mario rarely ever gets sick. Lucas thinks this is interesting considering he doesn't eat his brussel sprouts.

- Mario and Luigi were bullied when they were younger, so whenever Mario sees someone getting picked on, he gets pissed and immediately comes to the victim’s defense.

- He’s an undefeated Whack-A-Mole champion. The only person who has ever come close to beating him is Luigi.

- Mario is adamant about not letting Waluigi onto the main roster. He wants to avoid as much headache for his brother as possible. Wario, as one might guess, is not a fan of this.

- Mario, Luigi, and the Toads played major roles in planning out, constructing, and doing the plumbing for Smash Mansion. They had to hire a professional to do the electricity, though.

- Mario loves Princess Peach, but never forcefully tries to win her affection. He learned his lesson after the whole ordeal on the moon. However, that doesn’t stop him from getting jealous protective whenever Bowser tries to court her.

- Mario sometimes invites Pauline and her band to perform live at the mansion.

- It makes him nostalgic to see the younger fighters playing together and messing around with each other. It reminds him of when he and Luigi were kids.

- Although he and Bowser are typically enemies, there are times in which they'll set aside their differences and not immediately try to get at each other’s throats. They’ve even been spotted playing Go Fish together once.

- Mario will never wear his hat on the mansion roof. There was a party up there once, and he was standing outside on the balcony when a strong gust of wind suddenly knocked his hat off. The poor guy nearly fell over the railing trying to retrieve it (and this was before he started constantly wearing that cape). Ever since that incident, Mario refrains from bringing his precious cap up there (and now that cape is on 24/7).

- Consider Mario and FLUDD professional firefighters because if there's a fire in the mansion, they’re always the first ones trying to put it out.

- Considering how long he's known them, the original twelve are like family to Mario, and he’ll stop at nothing to protect them. Over time, he’s built strong bonds with most of the later fighters as well. He’s still getting acquainted with the newcomers of Ultimate, but he believes that, in due time, they’ll become just as close.

- Every Valentine's Day, Mario gives Peach a bouquet of carnations with an adorable note.

[i-draws-dinosaurs]

Hi, sorry to bother, but in my country there's currently a petition to preserve and protect an important dinosaur track site, which has been practically turned into a trash heap and abandoned. I'd be very grateful if you could share the link but I understand if you cannot! The page is in portuguese but all you need to click is "assinar petição" and then put your full name and email. peticaopublica._com/?pi_=P2010N3717 (remove underscores). you can also search petição pegadas dinosauros 4the link

Help sign this petition to protect the Natural Monument of Carenque dinosaur trackway!

One of the longest dinosaur trackways in Europe, that track site in Carenque, Portugal is currently in a state of severe neglect. The site was at risk of being destroyed to make space for a highway, but was given Natural Monument status in 1997 after a long media and political battle. In 2000, plans were approved and begun to convert the site into a museum to preserve the footprints, but despite all the struggle to reach this point those plans were abandoned and site left neglected.

This is the cleaned site in 1997 with preserved footprints

And this is the site as it appears now, overgrown with plants whose growth risks destroying the fragile track site underneath.

This petition calls for the cleaning of the site and the completion of the already-begun museum project in order to preserve a beautiful and culturally significant trackway site. I would highly encourage you to sign it, as I have done myself!

English translation below, via Google Translate. Any Portugese speakers out there, please let me know if something about this is translated wrong!

"In 1986, a set of dinosaur footprints, 95 million years old, was discovered in a deactivated quarry in Carenque, in the Municipality of Sintra.

"After being classified in 1997 as a National Monument, this track measuring about 120 meters is currently in a catastrophic state of disrepair and degradation, having become a dump and a rubble deposit.

"It is also worth remembering that, in order to preserve this deposit, it was necessary to build two tunnels in the CREL, costing taxpayers the sum of eight million euros, which are in serious danger of being wasted.

"Therefore, it is urgent that the attack on this historic heritage is stopped as quickly as possible.

"For this, the immediate cleaning of the place is necessary, as well as a more frequent surveillance in order to avoid assistance like the ones that occurred.

"Finally, we call for the advancement of musealization [converting the site to a museum], through the construction of the "pegário", with the already thought-out glass structure on the various lanes, in order to definitively preserve the place."

For more information about the site, check out its Wikipedia page and this paper on the cultural heritage of Portugese dinosaur trackways!

[hallowdeaths]

Barnes' Bakery, Part One.

summary ; your boss at the bakery has a soft spot, but in his hidden business behind the shop, those aren't allowed, and he knows better. Yet, he can't help but want you, and perhaps that will be the cause of his fall.

author's note ; this was mainly inspired by baker!bucky aus and a tiktok i saw recently... basically this is just bucky being a mafia boss and using a bakery as a front, lol.

trigger warnings : there shouldn't be anything very triggering in this chapter. there is yelling and slight violence, though.

part two!

You always were your boss' favorite. You were told often by your co-worker, Stevie, that there was just something special about you. Some said it was because James Bucky Barnes never hired outsiders. His staff had been the same since the start, and it was well believed that it would remain this way. Until you. Until you came stumbling in one day, wind in your hair, your cheeks flushed and frozen with mid-december cold, your bags too heavy on your shoulders.

James had been at the register that day, counting the money and just getting ready for a close. At first, he had kept his eyes down, muttering something about the place being closed.

"I'm sorry," you had apologized again and again, causing his curious and breath-taking eyes to finally take you in. "My car broke down."

And well, the rest was history. Bucky had gotten one of his workers who was good in mechanic to fix your car while another made you a warm croissant and coffee. You explained how you were a college student drowning in stupid debt and your car was the last thing you could be worrying about right now with the eviction notice on your door and the school debts threatening to swallow you whole.

Bucky had saved your life. He'd offered you shelter in the apartment just above the bakery, had offered you a job down here and had made sure that all of your debt was quickly taken care of.

You'd tried to stop him from taking care of the debts, because it was at least a hundred thousand grands by semester, but when James Barnes put his mind to something, it was impossible to stop him.

Overall, there was still loads of unanswered questions from him. How had he gotten the money? Why had he taken you in? Why— amongst anyone he could hire, had he decided to hire you, an art history and english literature major good at nothing in the kitchen?

Perhaps it had be simple pity, but you didn't like to think about it too much. At the end of the day you were grateful, and you showed that in working hard and long shifts at the Bakery before retreating to your apartment once the place was closed and cleaned and ready for the morning.

"Will you tell the girl to fucking hurry?" You heard a costumer from the sitting area shouting to Steve as he walked back into the kitchen, the batting doors only allowing the loud voices to penetrate your focus for a split moment, causing your finger to burst open the orange you had been trying to peel for the last minute.

"I'm sorry," you muttered to Steve, who walked past quickly and began to fill plates with commands more important than the yelling man's.

"Don't worry 'bout it, tiny." He walked past again, full in confidence as he patted your back and rolled another orange onto the counter you were working on. "Bucky'll take care of him."

You quickly went to peeling again, this time focusing on the task instead of what might happen when you brought out the plate.

Once you were done, you straightened your apron and your dress underneath, trying to gather as much confidence as Steve had before walking out to the impatient costumer.

The costumer came in just about thirty minutes ago, demanding something that wasn't even on the menu. Steve had said no at first, but you had wanted to show yourself useful for once and prove both yourself and perhaps Bucky that you could do something.

You walked out towards the sitting area, getting an exasperated groan from the costumer as he noticed you.

"What took you so long, girl?"

"I'm sorry, sir," you prodded quietly, letting the plate down onto the table with shaking hands. "As my coworker said, the item you asked for wasn't on the menu, so not ready to be delivered."

"Pff," He rolled his eyes, poking at the orange on the plate and the piece of cake you'd made. You glanced at Steve who stood at the register, busy ringing out costumers though you knew he kept a careful eye on you.

There were the regulars sitting at their usual tables, too, all looking at the man with heavy glares and at you with comforting smiles.

"Will that be all?" You swallowed thickly, hands behind your back.

The man, tossing a grey mop of hair behind as he looked up at you, smiled a disgusting grin. "How about you take that door and never show your face here again?"

Silence fell all around, even Steve who was at the register had stopped to stare. You were shell-shocked, for a moment, wondering what had caused this sudden outburst.

"You call this cake?" The man roared, mushing the cooked batter between his fingers. It crumbled too easily in his palm, and the orange pulp left a cold lick of liquid down the man's arm. "I call this a plate of trash."

"I- I'm sorry, sir, but-"

And then you were covered in cake. You weren't very sure how it happened. One minute you were apologizing at the next you were being thrown his cake, the orange splashing down your apron and your cheeks.

The costumers, the regulars who came often, all rose from their chairs simultaneously, ready to come to your defense, but a loud door slamming stopped all of them.

You're pretty sure it stopped your heart, too.

There's loud footsteps ringing through the silence, army boots you know too well stop just beside you. "Steve, get tiny back in the kitchen."

You went to protest but quickly thought better of it when you noticed Bucky swinging his metal arm in a circle, knowing exactly what that meant for the man.

Steve caught you by the arm and quickly rushed you out through the batting doors of the kitchen. "Come, we'll clean you up."

Too dazed with the sound of plates and a table smashing against the floor, you follow Steve to the sink and let him take a damp cloth to your face and apron.

There's voices, Bucky's voice, but all you can make out is few words that make your blood run cold. Step a foot in here again and I won't be so kind.

The doors of the bakery are slammed open and than closed after the body of the man was tossed out like a filthy trash bag, the footsteps you know so well coming straight for the kitchen instead of back to his office where he usually spends his day working and doing whatever the boss needs to do.

Soon, Bucky is grabbing your shoulders and turning you towards him, his eyes roaming your face and apron for any injuries.

"Get back out there." He grumbled to Steve, his patience running obviously short. His long time best friends obliges, though, and returns out there.

"You okay?" He asked quietly once you were alone, his metal fingers wrapping against the edge of your chin.

"Yeah—" you croaked. "I'm fine, it was my fault, anyways."

Bucky frowned. "None of that," His words were matched with the shake of his head. "He was an asshole."

"What'd you do to him?" You attempted quietly, your fingers toying with the sink's edge behind you.

Bucky raised a brow at your curiosity, probably wondering when you'd grown to want to ask questions. "Only did to him what he was begging to get. You don't mess with my—" his words trailed off, before he picked up again. "My worker, and except me to sit there and do nothing."

Sure, that was understandable, but Steve also had his fair share of bad costumers and never had Bucky reacted so.. strongly. Perhaps he thought you were weak compared to his friend and you needed to start standing up for yourself more instead of always counting on the boys to make you feel safe.

"Thank you." You whispered, your face heating up when you noticed how close you still were, and how obviously lost Bucky was in the edges and panes of your face.

He cleared his throat before parting, running a hand through his wild hair. "You're dismissed for tonight."

"What- What?" You stumbled as you went after him. "No, no, I can— I can still work!"

"I said, you're dismissed, Y/n." He looked at you over his shoulder, his eyes pinning you with a seriousness that didn't go unnoticed.

Deciding he'd been challenged enough today, you faltered and sighed, pouting at his back as he retreated back to his office.

Perhaps he wasn't at all worried about you not being able to work. Perhaps all he wanted was for you to be out of Steve's way so the last hours of his shift could be smooth and without trouble.

Perhaps that was all you were to him. Trouble.

Giving a sigh as he disappeared, you began to take off your apron and headed for the circular set of stairs, up to your apartment.

Once you were home, you showered, coocooned yourself into all the blankets your friend Wanda had gotten you for your birthday and let your thoughts roam for a while.

If you didn't want this to happen again, you needed to get better, and as Steve often said, practice made perfect. Steve didn't even like baking that much before, apparently, he had simply grown good at it over time and had begun to grow fond of it through the costumers and his friends.

Decided suddenly, you swung up on your feet and dressed in a loose shirt and sweatpants. You tied your hair up on your head as it was earlier in a neat ponytail, and grabbed your baking books given to you by Steve before rushing down the stairs.

By then, the Bakery was closed and Steve was off his shift, but there was a small light still on in the kitchen and another over the register's counter.

You peered out to look into the bakery's free floor, watching as Bucky moved about the register counting the money up to make sure everything added up, and Steve who sat with a few other people you knew as Tony, Sam, Thor, Bruce, Cho, Peter, Natasha, Clint and Scott.

It was the usual people that lingered here after close. Bucky's friend and family. Sort of. You were never prime to their hang outs, always deciding that you didn't want to intrude and instead going to hide in your apartment above instead.

Tony was son of the Howard Stark, who owned an industry of guns and anything weapons, really. He was the one who had an upper hand in all merchandise and things money.

Sam, him, was a long time friend of Bucky's. You weren't sure when or how they had met, but you knew that you didn't ever remember a night where Sam hadn't been there.

Thor was a foreign man with a thick English accent and odd ways of speaking. He had a brother who was professor at your college, though you wouldn't know if you hadn't been told. He taught theater and dramatic arts, rendering those two classes your favorites.

Bruce was the mind of the group. He was the last braincell, as Steve had told you, and you liked to believe that without the quiet, awkward man Bruce was, the group would be even more of a mess than they already were.

Cho was a doctor, friends with the group because of her relationship with Thor. She was an exceptionally smart girl, having gone through her high school in so little time that she was only twenty three today and a full time Docor. Their relationship was quite unusual, anyone asked how her and her husband had gotten together, neither could tell. It was a curious thing, their relationship.

Peter was the youngest of them, and you were pretty sure you'd seen him around campus a few times. Your majors were different, no doubt, but it still gave you hope to see someone as young as him... fit in.

Natasha and Clint were two best friends from Russia, both of them having been through more than they cared to admit. Natasha was perhaps the most beautiful woman you'd ever seen. She had wide hips and a small waist, lips to die for and ginger hair that curled at the end beautifully. Clint was attentive and funny, mostly getting along with the youngest ones while the others liked to pick on Peter ruthlessly.

The last was Scott. He was the one who seemed the most.. out of place, to you. He was funny and kind and light with his actions, always reaching out for others to make sure they were okay and always making them laugh. You vaguely remember Steve mentioning Scott had a daughter who he had to stay home for a lot because since he'd gotten arrested he hadn't really gotten a lot of time with her. It warmed your heart to know he was trying his very best for her and working towards being a better father. You wished yours had made the same efforts.

The group talked with drinks and beers in their hands, some eating treats that hadn't been eaten today at the shop.

You could hear faint talk coming from the huddled group, but nothing particular stuck out to you, either. It was the usual banter and the usual business talk. At least, that's what you thought.

You were just about to turn back around when someone else walked into the Bakery, the clinks of the bell up front grabbing your thin attention.

Steve rose from his seat, all smiles, and even Bucky stopped counting and moving around. A sort of coldness filled your tummy, and you pushed your body further into the locked doors of the kitchen to listen in.

"Everyone, this is Sharon!" Steve said, wrapping his arm around the thin female's body. She had short shoulder blonde hair and a devilish smile that called for nothing good, along with a body that filled in well the dark dress she was wearing.

"Good to meet you," Scott cheered first, before all of the voices erupted.

"Gonna say something, boss?" Peter's sing-song voice called for Bucky, who was still staring straight with his back to you.

"Welcome. Your shift is tomorrow at seven."

Something flocked in your stomach, and you quickly found your knees buckling. Was Bucky replacing you?

"And try to keep yourself out of trouble, will you? I've already got enough with Tiny."

"Oh, give her a break," Steve laughed at Bucky's voice as if her bad luck and clumsiness was genuinely the joke of the year.

"That girl's gonna' be the end of you, Buck." Natasha mumbled into her beer, smirk on her face. Bucky cocked his head her way, but since his back faced you, you were unabled to tell what he looked like.

So you were only trouble to him.

"Anyways, I'm sure you'll get along with her." Steve reassured Sharon, who only beamed up at him with certainty.

"Oh, like it's hard!" Thor raised a big hand that had previously been on Cho's shoulder. "That girl is angel sent, my friends."

"Enough," Bucky growled, rendering his friends quiet. "Enough about her. Will some of you actually do what we came here to do or are you just gonna continue hogging my bakery?"

"You know what, Barnes?" Tony defied with a cocky smirk on his face. "Hogging sounds extra good right now."

You took a few steps back and sat against a cold counter, hoping to ground yourself. It didn't make sense, nothing did. Why would Bucky even keep you around if you were that much trouble that he would hire another outsider?

Oh, oh, was she just another pity case? Or was she perhaps.. involved with him? Nothing suggested that, but at this point you were ready to imagine anything to soothe your frustration.

Like this, with thoughts ringing between your ears and your fingers trying to get together recipes you were already taught by Steve, you spent the night walking around the kitchen and rushing to be better. To be less trouble for Bucky.

[ms-starflower]

Young Survivors — Part 6 — Maribat

<Previous | First | Next > AO3

Guys, guys, guys. This is it. This is what I've been waiting for since almost the very beginning of this story. Jason and Marinette have a conversation, with each other!

Ngl, I was lost on what to do with myself after I finished this chapter… But! I’m back on track, no worries!

Big shout out to @emistar0 for giving me this fantastic idea for the reunion! You’re fantastic, it has lived rent free in my head since our conversation, and I really, really hope I did it justice!

And the greatest of thank you to @buterflies-and-ladybugs (AO3) for beta-reading this chapter and saving it from unwanted French words and weird phrasing!! I’m very, very grateful!

Credit to @1rosebyanyothername (AO3) for Jason’s Raawr joke, I’m so glad I could insert it in the story!

Also, man, there is more feels in this than I had originally anticipated. And it continues in the next chapter soooo…..

Be ready, people.

Taglist:

@frieddonutsweets @imarivers8 @queenz-z @emistar0 @jayjayspixiepop @waffleyunsure @bigpicklebananatree @kking13 @redbullgivescaswings @ritacrow-blog @marvel--unsolved @redgemsposts @alexizlazy @toodaloo-kangaroo @gajer-1226 @adrestar @noisydeputyturkeybear @unoriginalmess @achaoticmess1

A dreary room appeared on the screen as the video started. An attempt at making it kid-friendly could be seen, but it was obviously a room from a police station, or some other kind of government-funded institution.

A little girl of Asian descent was sitting on a chair facing the camera. Almost out of frame, and a little underneath the camera, a man and a woman could be seen sitting, facing her.

“Come on, kid,” the man started with a soft voice, in heavily accented English, before leaning slightly forward. “Can you tell us your name, at least?”

The little girl didn’t react, beside a narrowing of her eyes.

“Alright kid, what about that? If you tell us your name,” he continued, one of his hands searching for something in his jacket. He took out a lollipop and presented it to her. “I will give you this—”

The girl cut him off with a scream. She screeched loudly, eyes closed shut and voice full of terror, quickly putting as much space between her and the lollipop as humanly possible. The man stood up, panic obvious in his movements.

The woman rushed to the kid, trying to calm her down and failing. The man made a move to follow her, only to bump into the table in his way. The kid, Marinette — Mei, opened her eyes at the sound, and screeched even louder when she saw the man trying to get closer to her.

“Okay, Mark, get out,” the woman said in French, turning toward her colleague.

“Quoi?” The newly identified Mark asked, freezing in place.

“You are stressing her out! We are not going to get anywhere if you stay here!” She hissed, turning to glare at him. “Get out!”

Mark’s shoulder slumped, but he turned around and got out of the room. The woman didn’t say anything until they heard the sound of the door closing.

“Alright honey,” she said in English, her French accent almost unnoticeable. “I got him out, he is not here anymore. See?”

Marinette nodded shakily, eyes staring unblinkingly in the door’s direction.

“My name is Laure,” the woman said slowly, still trying to get a name out of the girl, sitting down more comfortably on the floor. When she saw she wouldn't get an answer, she continued. “Can you tell me what about Mark scared you?”

Marinette turned her stare toward Laure for a moment, and when they were starting to think she was not going to answer when she opened her mouth.

“It’s not good when strangers give you candy,” she said softly, her tone making clear that she thought Laure wasn’t very bright, if she needed an explanation. “Because if they do, then they take you out of your home.”

“Gotham, right?” Laure asked, and Marinette’s eyes widened in surprise. “It was in the files we found with you. They knew where you came from, but not your name.”

“They didn’t ask for a name,” Marinette said flatly.

“Can you tell me your name?” Laure tried again, a little smile on her face.

“No,” Marinette stated, causing Laure’s smile to turn a little strained.

“Ah, okay,” Laure said slowly, obviously at a loss of what to say. “What can you tell me about the people who took you?”

“They had candy,” she responded without hesitation. “When can I go back home?”

“Well, it will depend on when we find you a home,” Laure said with a smile. “The child psych–”

“Just put me in one of Gotham’s children’s halls,” Marinette said with narrowed eyes. “Which one doesn’t really matter.”

“Sweetie,” Laure said with a grimace. “You’re not going back to Gotham.”

“What?!” Marinette exclaimed loudly, getting up from her position on the floor. “You can’t keep me from Gotham!”

“Sweetie–”

“Don’t ‘sweetie’ me!” Marinette cut in with a shrill voice. “I have to go back to Gotham! Annie is in Gotham!”

“Who is Annie?”

“Family,” Marinette hissed, trying to walk around Laure to run out of the room.

“Then tell us your name!” Laure exclaimed, grabbing Marinette around the waist. “We can find your family with your name, then we will send you back to them.”

Marinette stayed silent, glaring down at the floor.

“We — I can’t help you if you don’t give us your name, honey,” Laure tried again with a tired sigh. “Help me find Ann—”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What are you watching?” Bruce's voice cut in from behind them, and Duke saw Barbara push the spacebar to put the video on pause.

The three of them turned around to stare at him intensely, and Bruce’s head jerked back in surprise at what he saw on their faces.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s file on the Batcomputer,” Duke told him, wanting to see his reaction. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t for Bruce to shake his head in amusement.

“Tim already asked for your help? He gave up earlier than I thought,” he said with a chuckle.

“What does Tim have to do with anything?” Duke asked, confusion clear on his face and voice. He really didn’t know how Bruce came to this conclusion.

“What do you mean?” Bruce asked with a frown. “If not because of Tim, why are you looking at Miss Dupain-Cheng’s file?”

“Why is Tim looking into her?” Barbara asked, instead of answering, turning her wheelchair completely around to face Bruce.

“Don’t change the subject,” he told her with a frown. “What are you not telling me?”

“Why do you have a file on Dupain-Cheng in the Batcomputer?”

“Barbara, what are you not telling me?” He asked in his I’m-not-joking-around tone. She stared at him for a moment, before rolling her eyes with a sigh.

“Do you know her name? The one she had before being found in Paris?” She asked him slowly, and all three of them studied Bruce’s face carefully.

“No,” he said with a frown, his eyes moving to the paused video on the screen. “Mrs Perreault tried to get it out of her for another twenty minute in this video, but she barely even said another word. And if she told her family or friends after that, there is no mention of it anywhere. Why?”

“We do,” Barbara said slowly, her fingers tapping a rhythm on the arm of her wheelchair. “She was in the Riddler’s attack at the school, and it came up in the conversation between her, Dad, and Duke.”

“Alright,” he said, and Duke could tell that he was apprehending their next words. Bruce looked at him before continuing. “And what is it?”

“It’s…” Duke started, shooting a look at Barbara, who only looked encouragingly at him. The traitor just didn’t want to be the one to tell Bruce. He took a deep breath, before looking back at Bruce. “She said it’s Mei Leyton.”

Every muscle in Bruce's body visibly froze at this, all emotions were wiped out of his face, and he stared at Duke intensely. He then turned toward Barbara, silently asking her to confirm.

“It looks like it checks out. We don’t have pictures of Mei after her seven’s birthday, and she changed a lot between then and when the French police found her but,” Barbara started, turning her wheelchair back toward the monitor and bringing things up on the screen as she talked. “I put it in facial reconnaissance software and it’s a match.”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng is Mei Leyton,” Bruce stated more than asked with a quiet voice. He walked forward until he was standing just beside Barbara, looking at the screen with so much intensity, Duke was afraid it would catch fire. “The same Mei Leyton I’ve been looking for, for eight years now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were still looking?” Barbara asked with a tone of reproach, and Duke could say that she was pissed. “You told me that she was most probably dead, that I should stop looking. You forced me to stop looking, and then you go and look for her?”

“You were using the search for Mei as a way to cope with Jason’s death,” Bruce told her, not unkindly. “It wasn’t good for you, I couldn’t let you continue.”

“But it was good for you?” She shot back with a glare. “Don’t tell me looking for her wasn’t a coping mechanism for you, too!”

“It was different.”

“It was not!”

“Barbara,” Bruce said with a sigh, before seemingly deciding to let the subject drop. “Did you tell Jason?”

“Not yet,” Duke said when Barbara stayed silent, only continuing to glare at Bruce. “We found her file on the Batcomputer, as Marinette, and we wanted to know why you had it before talking with Jason.”

“It didn’t have anything to do with Mei’s search,” Bruce said, instantly understanding what Duke wasn't saying. “I wouldn’t have kept it from Jason if it had.”

“We just needed to be—”

“Then what is it?” Barbara cut him off, still staring at Bruce. “Why do you have a file on her?”

“For another reason,” he just said.

“We want to know this reason, Father,” Damian intervened for the first time, and Duke had almost forgotten he was even there, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Bruce.

“This is not something that I’m at liberty to discuss with any of you,” he replied, with his you-won’t-make-me-change-my-mind tone.

“No,” Barbara breathed out, and Duke looked at her to see her jerk back in surprise, eyes wide.

“Barbara,” Bruce said with a warning tone.

“I’m right, aren’t I? She is… You can’t keep that from Jason, Bruce,” she told him, with the same voice she used on Dick to make him stop using so much puns on patrol.

The tone she uses when she already knows the battle is lost.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss this with anyone, Barbara,” Bruce said again, more forcefully, and Duke knew the subject was closed. And that Damian and him wouldn’t be privy of the information Barbara obviously deduced. “You should call Jason, the earlier we tell him, the better.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why is she splitting up with her class?”

“How should I know? You’re the one with a crush, Timbo, work it out.”

“It’s not a crush—”

“No names in the field, Hood.”

“You sounded just like B, Nightwing.”

“Har, har. Hilarious. Also, totally a crush, Red.”

“It’s not! She made B react! And she acted weird at lunch—”

“You took her out already? Wow, you’re working faster than you were with Ladybug, congrats Red!”

“Ah, I don’t know about that. She knew you were there, at lunch, or were you just spying on her?”

“Oh my god, can you both shut up! B all but confirmed there was something going on with her, I just want to know what!”

“So you’re gonna follow her?”

“Yes! Nightwing, can you take over the class for me, please?”

“...Fine. But don’t be creepy with her, Red, okay?”

“Seriously?!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking through Gotham’s bleary streets as an adult was so different from living in them as a kid; Marinette couldn’t help but be amazed. And maybe it was weird, but it really was an amazing experience. She did tell Alya that Gotham had changed a lot in ten years, but she hadn’t really realized how much until now.

She honestly hadn’t thought her teachers would still let her go on her own, what with the Riddler’s attack, but they didn’t even protest a little. Apparently, the paperworks and waivers she and her parents signed that allowed her to roam free after school hours, were more than enough for them.

Now, she just needed to lose her tail.

She didn’t know why one of Gotham’s vigilantes — she couldn’t see them well enough to identify which one — was following her, but it was probably because of how she took care of the Riddler situation. And, honestly, she would have let them tail her, she could understand why they would be wary of her in their city, but not today. Not for what she wanted to do.

And maybe shaking a tail from one of the Batclan wasn’t a smart move to make them forget her, but…

She didn’t need, or want, spectators for when she was going to visit the closest thing her mother had to a grave.

So she worked her magic.

She walked straight into a dense group of passerby walking in the other direction, and started walking with them. She took off Ashley’s jacket, putting it in her bag, before untying her hair, taking out the cap and sunglasses she had in her bag and putting them on.

When her group merged slightly with a group going into the opposite direction, the one she was taking originally, she slipped in with them, losing the cap then. She changed groups again, putting Ashley’s jacket on backward and losing the glasses.

She did it a couple of times more, before she was totally sure she did shake them off. It was a detour, making her route longer than anticipated but, on the bright side, she was now in front of a cute little flower shop. Hopefully, they would have some Iris, they always were her mother’s favourites.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I lost her.”

“What?!”

“What do you mean, you lost her?!”

“I mean that I lost her tail! I’m not speaking Spanish Hood!”

“I speak Spanish, I would have unders—”

“That’s not the point and you—”

“Cut it out, guys. Can we go back to the fact that Red Robin just lost a target?”

“Yeah, Red, aren’t you like, the best stalker in this city? How the hell did a high schooler spot and escape you?!”

“I don’t know if she knew I–”

“She lost you, Timbo, of fucking course she knew you were following her.”

“Hood, no na—”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get your panties in a twist. Where was she when you lost her, raawr?”

“...”

“...”

“What was that sound at the end, Hood?”

“What? Raawr?”

“Yeah, that. Are you having a stroke?”

“Har har. No, but Nightwing is insisting on codenames only.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s his codename.”

“No it’s not. I’m pretty sure I would know if my codename was… Raawwrr.”

“No, not raawwrr, Raawr.”

“That was the exact same sound…”

“No it was not. The first is the sound you make when you’re having a stroke. The second is how you pronounce the double R.”

“Are you serious right now? Seriously? Can’t you just call me Red? Or Red Robin?”

“No, I’m not like other girls, Raawr.”

“What the hell, Ja—”

“Tututut, Nightwing said no name on the field Raawr.”

“And I’m now begging you to stop this torture, Hood.”

“You brought this upon yourself, Nightie.”

“No. Hood don’t—”

“Anyway! Raawr, her location?”

“...”

“Just tell him, Red. He will not stop, no matter what we say.”

“You betcha I won't.”

“...Fuck you. She was a little past the 4th, going south, I think. Why do you even want to know?”

“And she went there by passing through Main or Schnapp Avenue?”

“Schnapp Avenue.”

“And you said she was originally from Gotham?”

“Yeah… She said she was adopted at ten, but her Mom died at seven. She didn’t mention anything in between.”

“...What was she wearing today?”

“What? What does that have to do with anything?”

“I think I know where she is going, I just want to be sure.”

“And her clothes would help…how?”

“Just answer his question Ra–Red.”

“Ugh, alright. She was wearing a dress, blue and white, with black embroidery, some sort of flower I couldn’t really see, because she had a Gotham Academy’s jacket. I don’t think the jacket was hers, obviously.”

“I think it was a camellia. I know where she is going.”

“How?!”

“...”

“Hood, how do you know where she is going just through Red’s description of her clothes? For that matter, how do you know what flower— Oh.”

“Yeah, she is going to visit the Fallen’s Memorial, on Camellia Street.”

“What memorial?”

“Do you know how long the morgue keeps bodies, after the case is classed, Raawr?”

“A year in Gotham. Too much murder, not enough places in the morgue.”

“And do you know what they do if nobody reclame the body? If, say, they don’t have family left, or their family doesn't have the money to bury them?”

“They… Yeah, they incinerate them…”

“Yeah, and the people in Camellia are the most touched by that. Do you know how many workers are killed there every year? Too much. And do you know how many bodies end up buried every year?”

“...”

“One, maybe two. And only if they had a rich and generous regular… Not something that happens a whole lot. So they put up a memorial, it’s the closest those people have to a grave.”

“And you think she is going there?”

“Going by the directions Raawr gave me? It’s the most likely option.”

“Yeah, he could be right. And… The flower did look like a camellia, from what I could see.”

“I’m not far from there, I will try to pick up the trail again, see if she notices me as fast as she noticed Raawr.”

“She didn’t—”

“Sorry! I can’t hear you! I’m going dark, bye Raawr! Bye Nightie!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey Mom,” she started slowly, putting down the flowers, a couple of beautiful white Irises, in between all the other ones.

The Memorial wasn’t much, only names painted on a wall, but it was all they could afford to remember all the people who couldn’t be buried.

It took her a minute to retrieve her mother's names, taking the time to pass a hand on all the names that were added since the last time she was here. Jason had made it a point to take her here every couple of weeks, and even more regularly at the beginning.

She had missed coming here.

“I sincerely hope you and Jason are well, Mom. Although, you better be taking care of each other, alright?!” She told the wall, a sad smile on her lips.

She had talked to her mother while away from home, of course, in the dead of the night, or when she was in the middle of a crisis. But being here… It made her feel so much closer to her mother.

“You probably already know, but my life has been a mess for a while,” she said softly. “But it’s finally getting better! And I’m gonna be home, permanently, soon. I got admitted to Gotham U, for a double major in design and business.”

She put her hands in the pocket of her dress — one of the wonders of making her own clothes — and started to sway slightly on her feet.

“I met two of Jason’s brothers in the last two days. I don’t know if they knew him or not, I just…” She sighed, shoulders slumping a little. “I don’t know where he is buried. I know it’s not important to be there to talk to him but… I already let him down in life, I wouldn’t forgive myself if I never get to see him. If I don’t ask him to forgive me face to face. But I didn’t have the strength to ask them for the location. I’m not even sure they would have given it anyway but…

“Tell him I’m sorry, Mom. Please, tell him I tried to come back. Tell him I didn’t want—” She cut herself when she heard steps behind her, turning her head slightly to see what was happening.

She thought it would be another mourner, or maybe the vigilante picking up her trail again, but the smug smile on the man's face was not something a mourner would wear here. And he definitely wasn’t a Bat.

“Well, what a cutie like you is doing out there,” he said slowly, his words a bit slurred.

“Don’t you know where we are?” She asked, eyes narrowed. If she had known how much this trip would grate on her nerves, she would probably have made that deal with Lila, back at the library. “Don’t you have any respect?”

“What? Are you here to pay your respect, maybe?” He said with a small mocking laugh. “With how dolled up you’re? I don't think so.”

“How dare you—”

“Come on, babe, just give me a price,” he continued over her, as if she didn’t even open her mouth.

“I wouldn’t take you as a client even if you were to pay me with Bruce Wayne’s fortune,” Marinette snapped at him, letting go of her bag and taking a menacing step toward him.

But, of course, he didn’t take her seriously.

“Then I’ll just take what I want,” he said, stretching out an arm to grab her, and his smile turned vicious.

She grabbed his forearm before he could, turning him around with it and pushing him. She locked it in his back, pushing the pig’s face first in the wall opposite the Memorial, not without taking notice of the sound of someone landing behind her. When whoever landed there didn’t make a move, she put them on the back burner and focused back on the pig.

“Listen, you asshole,” she hissed in his ear, locking his arm higher. “I’m having a very bad week, and it started only two days ago, and now you’re trying to be the biggest salopard ever, when I’m at my Mom’s grave for the first time in years? You are lucky your nose is the only thing that I’m going to break tonight, shithead.”

He opened his mouth, probably to spew more bullshit, and Marinette grabbed his hair with her free hand, and made good on her promise. It had the fortunate side effect of getting him unconscious. Which was a plus in her book.

Satisfied, she turned around, only to find herself face to helmet with Red Hood.

“Oh. You are Red Hood,” she said dumbly, blinking up at him.

“That I am,” he replied, and despite the voice changer, Marinette could hear amusement in his tone. He looked down at the pig’s unconscious body.

“I’m not usually that violent,” she felt obligated to mention, tone a bit bashful.

“Hell, don’t feel bad about it, he had it coming,” Red Hood told her, his head slightly tilted, like he was studying her.

“Well… It was fun meeting you, I will let you take care of him,” Marinette said, pointing a thumb toward the pig. “I’m a big fan of your work, by the way.”

“Of my work?” He asked, tone incredulous, head jerking back in surprise. “You mean, Batman—”

“No. Well, yes, but at the moment I was talking about yours,” she said, walking back toward her mother’s name. “He did a lot for Gotham, but you, you changed things in Crime Alley more than he ever did.”

He stayed silent for a moment, and she could tell he was staring at her intensely. She ignored him, passing a hand over her Mom’s name.

“Bye Mom,” she said softly. She ignored Red Hood’s sharp inhale of breath behind her, used to this reaction when people learned about her mother. “I will come back before I leave, I promise.”

She turned around to grab her bag and leave, only to find Red Hood way closer than he had been a second ago. He was staring at her, there was no way he was not, fist closed tight by his sides. She couldn’t see them, not with his gloves, but she was sure his knuckles were white. She didn’t have the time to be surprised, because he said something she wasn’t expecting to hear.

“Sandy?” His voice was low, his tone broken, and the word was mostly choked out, but she knew what she heard. She tensed up, her features twisting with anger.

She was at the end of her rope, everything since the start of this trip kept piling up, but that? That was just too much.

“Where did you hear that name?! How do you know anything about that name?!”

She took a menacing step, even if she didn’t expect him to feel threatened by her, ready to keep questioning him nonetheless. But…

He took a step back, putting his right hand in front of him, the thumb of his left hand cracking his middle finger, and let out a nervous chuckle. And she… She paused.

Because it was impossible. Unbelievable. But…

“What name? I didn’t say any names, did I? I was just,” He said nervously, still laughing awkwardly.

It was right there. In front of her. Hitting her in the face like a brick. After all, she had seen weirder before, hadn’t she?

“Asking when you leave! Sunday! I said Sunday!” He added, almost crowning in victory.

And how many times did she see this reaction before? The position, the crack of his finger, the name. It was him. It could only be him. (She would break if she was wrong, she knew she would but… She couldn’t be wrong.)

“Because you probably leave on Sunday don’t y—”

“Annie,” she choked out, barely a whisper, but it shut him off. And that was the only confirmation she needed. Tears started flowing down her cheeks, the dam she put on years ago breaking off. She whimpered again, painfully this time, her breath staying stuck in her throat. Choking on her own words, she forgot how to breathe. “Annie.”

He stayed silent for a moment too long, and Marinette broke harder than if she had been wrong. He was here. He was alive, somehow, but… He hated her. And she knew why; she left him after all. He was right to hate her, he had all the reasons to.

And there were not a lot of things she could tell him to make him forgive her.

But she could try.

“I—” She started, only to be cut off by her own sobbing. She extended her right hand toward him, only to stop herself, bracing it against her chest with her left hand. She didn’t have the right to touch him, not when he so obviously hated her for what she did. “I’m so sorry. I know you hate me, I know— You probably think I choose to leave, but I swear, I didn’t— I tried to come back to you, I really did but they wouldn’t—

“And I know that doesn’t change anything about what I did. I know I still left you, and you probably can’t forgive me for that but— I know I have no right to ask you that, but please, just listen to me. Let me explain why—”

The pig she had beaten unconscious made a sound, reminding her of where they were, and what Jason was wearing. Because of course her brother would come back from the dead and become a vigilante with a side of crime lord.

“I can’t force you to listen to me,” she said, forcing herself into Ladybug mode — again, she hadn’t done it two time in a day since Hawkmoth. “But if you can give me a chance to explain myself, please, come find me. I’m staying at the Belle Monico, room 317.”

She turned toward the pig, but he was still out of it.

“Please, Jason,” she added quietly, and he jerked in surprise. She only called him Jason when she was feeling down.

Then, like the courageous woman and superhero she was, she turned around and fled the place.

She couldn’t stay to hear him say no. Hear him say that what she did was unforgivable, that no matter what she would say, nothing could convince him to forgive her.

That he hated her more than he had ever hated his father.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was frozen. Locked in place, his muscles refusing to listen to him. She was here. In front of him. She was not lost to him anymore. She wasn’t dead. She was talking to him, alive, breathing, healthy, crying. He could understand why, though. He was crying too. She was alive. His little sister was alive.

“I can’t force you to listen to me but, if you can give me a chance to explain myself, please, come find me. I’m staying at the Belle Monico, room 317,” she said, looking back toward the asshole — who had just tried to hurt his little sister. “Please, Jason.”

He jerked back, because what? She wasn’t supposed to be sad. They just found each other again, it was a happy occasion! Then, the words she had been saying to him finally registered. Explain herself? Forgive her? She wasn’t responsible!

He knew she didn’t leave him on purpose, that something else, something out of her control, happened to her. He never believed otherwise, not even for a second. How could she doubt that?

By the time he understood what was happening, she was already turning the corner. He was about to follow her, even if having Red Hood run behind her would be far from convenient. He didn’t really care at the moment.

But, before he even got one foot off the floor, he was cut off by Red Robin barging in with his bike.

“Turn on your comm Hood, that’s urgent!”

He closed his eyes, sighing. The timing was shitty, but the interruption made him rethink his project to corner Mei in his Red Hood get up.

“Take care of that asshole, Red Robin.”

Tim looked taken aback, by the sharp tone or the complet codename, Jason didn’t know, and didn’t care. He turned around, making his way back toward his bike. He really didn’t care what Bruce wanted him to do in tonight’s patrol, he had better things to do.

Still, to let him know he would have to turn on his earpiece.

He sighed, but reluctantly did it. Already opening his mouth to talk, but cut off by Oracle’s voice.

“—tter pick up, Hood. Seriously, what sort of idiot goes dark at the start of patrol?! If he is not on in two seconds, I will virtually end—”

“Calm down a notch, Oracle, would ya? I was busy,” he cut her off, not wanting to know what she would have done to him. She could be vicious.

“Hood! Great! Come back to the Batcave,” she told him, going directly to business. Fuck, that meant that, whatever it was, it was serious. “We got knew informations about Dupain-Cheng and—”

“You mean; that she is Mei?” Jason said, cutting her off again — not something he would have done, if he wasn’t a total wreck at the moment. He heard a couple of gasps, letting him know that this information had already been shared in the family. “Yeah, guess what. You're late to the party.”

“Jason, you need to come to the Cave,” Oracle said, and that actually made him pause. Barbara was almost as uptight as Bruce when it concerned codenames. That she would call him Jason in the suit…

Then he remembered why he had been tailling Mei in the first place. Bruce. What had he known, exactly?

“I’ll be there in twelve minutes,” he told her, voice dark.

“From your position it would be twenty,” she replied, and he knew she was frowning.

“Twelve minutes, Oracle,” he repeated, before turning his earpiece off. Despite knowing that it would definitely piss her off.

If Bruce had known that Marinette was Mei…

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took him eleven minutes to reach the Cave, and Barbara was impressed despite herself. She would never tell him, of course, or he would never shut up about it. Once he calmed down, at least.

“Jason, it’s not as serious as it seems,” she started, rolling her wheelchair to cut off his path. “He didn’t know.”

“He knows something,” Jason said, taking off his helmet and setting it on the seat of his bike. And Barbara very carefully didn’t stare at the tear track on his cheeks. Ignoring her, he walked around her and straight to Bruce. “You know something, and I want to know what.”

“Jason,” Bruce started, trying to stall him, but Jason didn’t let him have any words in.

“No. You know something, and it concerns Mei, I want to know what. Even if you thought her name was different, she is still my little sister.”

“I can’t share this information, Jason,” Bruce said tiredly, pressing on his eyes with his hand.

“Why not? She is my little sister—”

“You keep saying that,” Damian broke in, a confused frown on his face as he stared at the Batcomputer. “Yet, she didn’t ask for you.”

“What?” Jason choked off, eyes wide with surprise. And Barbara could see the disbelief there, too. He thought there was no way she didn’t ask for him.

“Here,” Damian said, putting the interview’s video on the screen.

~~~~

“You can’t keep me from Gotham!”

“Sweetie–”

“Don’t ‘sweetie’ me! I have to go back to Gotham! Annie is in Gotham!”

“Who is Annie?”

“Family.”

“Then tell us your name! We can find your family with your name, then we wi—”

~~~~

“Beside asking for this Annie from time to time, she didn’t say anything else for the next twenty minutes,” Damian continued, looking sincerely confused, while Jason was staring at the screen, in a daze. “She never asked for you.”

“She did,” Jason said softly, making them all look at him in surprise. He laughed softly, and Barbara couldn’t help but stare at him in amazement. She hasn't heard him laugh like that since… It’s been a long time. “I’m Annie.”

“What?” Damian looked only more confused, and she couldn’t even blame the poor kid, she wasn’t sure to follow Jason either.

Nobody acknowledged Dick and Tim’s arrival, who had probably been listening to everything through the comms anyway, waiting for Jason to continue.

“She called me Annie, growing up,” he said with a soft, amused smile, obviously thinking about this period of his life. “And I would call her Sandy.”

“Annie and Sandy? Seriously?” Tim exclaimed, just as he finished taking off his mask. He winced when everyone beside Jason turned to glare at him. He mouthed ‘what?’ at them, pouting, but Barbara could see that he already regretted his interruption.

“Yeah,” Jason said, thankfully not taking the remark badly. “Though, believe it or not, she called me that because she thought there was no way it would happen to any of us.”

“And Sandy?” Dick asked, seeing as Jason was in a surprisingly chatty mood.

“She did follow me around like a puppy,” Jason said with a smile and a shrug.

“How does that explain anything?” Damian said, making Barbara sharply remember how he was raised.

“It’s an old movie,” she told him simply, with a smile, not wanting him to think that she pitied him, or thought that he was an idiot for not knowing. “It’s really old, so I’m surprised Tim even saw it—”

“I saw the remake,” Tim cut off with half his mouth up in an insolent smile. Barbara only rolled her eyes.

“And it’s about an orphan girl, Annie, and her dog, Sandy,” she continued, as if Tim hadn't said anything. “Who is adopted by a rich man. Well, the girl is adopted, the dog really just follows along.”

“And she called you Annie because she thought it would never happen,” he said, turning toward Jason with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s a little more complicated but, essentially, yes,” he told him with a roll of his eyes. He opened his mouth to say more, but was cut off by a phone ringing loudly in the Cave.

Everyone turned slowly toward the sound, staring at Bruce. The man closed his eyes with a sigh, probably cursing his phone for putting him back in the spotlight, before taking out the offending object.

“It’s Gordon,” he said slowly, and he left nothing show on his voice or face, but Barbara knew he was feeling apprehensive.

“Then you better answer quickly, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, making everyone jump up in surprise. She shared a wide eyed look with Duke and Dick, but neither seemed to know when Alfred joined them, either.

“I—” Bruce said, trying very hard, and failing, to not let his own surprise show on his face. He sighed, and answered the phone. Looking up to see them all stare at him, he rolled his eyes and put the phone on speaker. “Hello Commissioner Gordon, how can I help you?”

“She is alive,” her dad said, not bothering with small talk. “You probably already know that, of course. I didn’t have a damn minute before now to call you.”

“I’m not sure to follow, Commissioner, I’m sorry,” Bruce said, and Barbara rolled her eyes. Her father was a good cop and he, at the very least, knew that Bruce worked closely with Batman.

“Batman knew you were looking for her too, Wayne, don’t take me for an idiot. There is now way Signal’s discovery didn’t reach your ears yet,” he told him, his tone sharp. “Mei Leyton is fucking alive. We’ve been looking for her for eight years, Wayne, and I found her by accident. Can you believe that?”

“It also took me by surprise,” Bruce said, looking at his phone and skillfully ignoring the surprised stare Jason was giving him. “I’m glad we finally have our answers.”

“Yeah,” her dad said softly, and Barbara winced at the words she knew would follow. “I’m sorry the kid is not here to see it, Wayne.”

“Me too, Commissioner, me too,” Bruce said after a short pause, eyes closed.

“I have to go now, Wayne, but, please, don’t crowd the kid,” her dad said after a minute of silence, he paused again, before adding softly. “I think she would appreciate it, if you took her to his grave.”

“I will be careful with her, Gordon,” Bruce said with a voice softer than she would expect from him. Then, he looked up, looking at Jason for the first time since the start of this conversation. “And I will let her know that she could visit Jason whenever she wants to.”

The conversation was wrapped up with a couple of goodbyes, Bruce not moving his eyes from Jason the entire time. They all stayed silent for a moment after Bruce hung up, at a loss of what to say.

“You looked for her,” Jason stated more than asked. “All this time, even after I died, you looked for Mei.”

“Of course I did,” Bruce said tiredly, sadly, sitting down on a chair, shoulder slumping slightly. It was the most emotion she had seen in him in a long while. Maybe even back before Dick left for Blüdhaven. “She was the only family you had left, I owed it to you to make sure she was safe.”

“Thank you,” Jason said softly, turning back to look at the screen.

Everyone stayed silent for a moment, letting all those emotions settle, before Jason suddenly coughed nervously.

“Ah, I should probably let you know that Mei recognized me as Red Hood,” he said bashfully, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“What?!” Everyone, beside Alfred, exclaimed with different levels of shock and loudness.

[silverynight]

Can you write a oneshot about the kamboko squad and their mission during the Entertainment District Arc? I could imagine the hashiras just keep on visiting Sumiko. (The poor ladies must be so confused on why Sumiko is so popular 😭.) If you want, you can also write about the boys putting on their make up before the mission. Either way I feel like the chaos would be great >:D (Sorry for my bad english!)

(This is not going to follow the main events of that arc, only Tanjirou posing as a courtesan for another mission)

***

If he's being honest, Tanjirou doesn't think too much about appearances, not even then as he's trying to pretend to be a girl. He just needs to find the demon who's been terrorizing the whole Red District and then go back to his friends.

"You're really pretty, Sumiko," one of the girls (her name is Kana, if he remembers correctly) comments carefully removing Tanjirou's makeup after he's been helping all of them carry heavy stuff around the house. She had said she wanted to pay her back by helping her with something. "You just don't know how to apply makeup. Don't worry, you have me now."

He thanks her sincerely, feeling grateful for the kindness the girl has showed him, but he doesn't even waste his time finding a mirror to look at the final result; he keeps moving around the house, helping all the girls while trying to get new information.

"You're so nice to us, Sumiko!" One of them almost sobs, wrapping herself around him. Tanjirou immediately feels bad again for hiding his true identity from all of them. They deserve so much better. "I really wish you find a nice, wealthy person so they can get you out of here!"

"But you know most of them wouldn't buy a scarred girl," says another, earning glares from the ones around.

"It's alright, really!" Tanjirou assures them with a huge grin. "It means I'll get to stay with you and help you as much as I can!"

Suddenly, he's surrounded by girls in an embrace that for a moment, makes him feel like he's back at home with his family again. He holds back a sob.

When he's back in his room he gets another letter from Zenitsu; despite him being usually talkative in most of them (he mentions Nezuko a lot, which Tanjirou is very much glad about) this just contains a couple of words, which surprises him.

All the hashira found out about your mission.

Tanjirou frowns, looking around to see if there's another page on the ground, another piece of parchment with more information.

He has no idea why Zenitsu thought that was something he should know.

***

Kana is aware the House she was sold into is popular, but she's never seen something like that before.

The first swordsman that arrives both scares the girls and attracts them at the same time; he's the most handsome man they have had in a while and of course everyone around wants to be the one to entertain him.

He's tall and even though he's completely covered from his neck to his feet in some sort of uniform, they all can see he's pure muscle underneath.

He's blond, but has red tips that make him look like a torch all the time. All about him screams fire.

Oh, they all like him.

The woman in charge looks at him with such a pleased expression as soon as she sees the money he's carrying.

"Let me show you the girls..."

Right then though, Sumiko walks out, carrying a huge chair over her shoulders; she leaves it near the entrance. Honestly, that girl is unbelievable strong.

Her dark red hair is a mess, her makeup is already falling off, but her cheeks are still pink because she's been doing nothing but heavy chores since she arrived.

The woman in charge is already pushing her away so the customer doesn't see her (because that woman believes the scar on her forehead is too ugly and therefore no one would ever want her).

"I want that one," the client says without hesitation.

"But she's–"

He purposely ignores her and takes Sumiko in his arms.

For a moment, Kana wonders if she's witnessing what some people call "love at first sight" because the man looks so in love already.

When he walks away with her, she thinks that maybe she'll never get to see Sumiko again and feels a little bit lonely because of it. The girls in the house have really grown fond of her rather quickly.

***

Sumiko returns and the beautiful people keep walking in the place asking about her.

A man with dark hair and deep blue eyes and a permanent neutral expression on his face arrives the next day. He's really handsome, but Kana notices he's less popular among the girls because of his somber demeanor.

"Leave him to me," one of Kana's friends winks. "I love quiet ones."

"I want to see Sumiko," he says, surprising everyone again.

Then, before he takes her, Kana swears she sees a fond smile quirking his lips up as Sumiko beams at him.

"Tomioka-san! Hi! Do you want a report?"

The last sentence doesn't make any sense so Kana convinces herself she just imagined it.

***

They have lost the ability to get surprised; as the third one walks in (a tall man with huge arms and a flamboyant personality) this time, they all know he has come to see Sumiko.

She's really popular now; Kana and her sisters (as she calls the other girls that work with her) have accepted it a while ago. However, they have never felt jealous of her; they really love her, the girl has charmed her way into their hearts with kindness.

"Look at you," the man grins at her; he's so tall he has to kneel in front of her. He's so clearly flirting with Sumiko, Kana has no idea how she isn't a flustered mess already. "So pretty. You look like my future wife."

Sumiko chuckles, like she's used to hearing things like that.

"You're so funny, Uzui-san."

***

It's not unusual to get female customers; many girls arrive at the House, looking for a pretty girl to have some fun with.

No, what surprises them is that the girl is really beautiful; she has long, pink hair and an innocent look on her face that tells Kana she doesn't get to visit that sort of places very often...

Perhaps it's her first time.

However, her shyness vanishes as she sees Sumiko, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her closer before kissing her on the cheek.

Kana gives the other girls a knowing look before they all leave Sumiko and the client alone.

***

Kana counts nine; they're nine loyal customers that only come to see Sumiko. They come really often and sometimes bring her gifts that Sumiko immediately shares with the other girls.

"I think it's more than... physical," Kana mumbles, saying out loud what everyone there has been thinking for a while now. "I think they're in love with you."

"Uh?" Sumiko blinks at her in confusion, after taking a sip of her tea. "What are you talking about?"

"The people that visit you," Kana insists, rolling her eyes. She's never met such an oblivious girl.

"They're just being nice."

Kana decides not to keep bothering her with that and instead asks about something that has been troubling her for a while.

"So... About the one with scars all over his chest," shs mumbles, remembering the first time she saw him; he's handsome, but he always looks like he's about to growl or bite someone. "The one with white messy hair. Is he... Has he been gentle with you?"

Sumiko blushes to the tip of her ears, quickly realizing what she's trying to say.

"It's not like that... Uhh, I m-mean, he's... not usually... He knows how to be kind," Sumiko stammers.

Kana nods, recalling the day; how she begged the master of the House not to let Sumiko go with him, but the woman just huffed that he had the money so they couldn't deny him.

She's glad he's not aggressive with her; part of her knows that he's also in love with Sumiko in his own way.

***

Shinobu can't help but smile fondly at Tanjirou as the boy puts back his haori. He seems happy to be wearing his uniform again, even though all the Pillars think he looked really pretty as Sumiko.

"I'm glad the demon won't hurt anymore people," Tanjirou grins, looking at Muichiro who swoons with delight at the attention. "Thanks for helping me fight him!"

"Anything for you, Tanjirou!"

Next to them, Tengen is already begging Mitsuri to give Tanjirou one of her skirts and assuring her he'll convince him to wear it in the hashira headquarters for their next meeting.

Shinobu rolls her eyes.

"Kocho-san, can I bring some of the girls to the butterfly estate so they can start working there?" Tanjirou asks, eyes opening wide. He looks adorable and he probably doesn't even know it. "Please, they don't like working in that House!"

Shinobu sighs, knowing that by "some" he means anyone who wants to come with him, which is probably all of them.

She doesn't even bother to ask her fellow hashira what they think, because judging by the ridiculous, fond looks on their faces they're ready to say yes to anything Tanjirou asks them.

"Fine. We'll get them out of there."

"Thank you!" Tanjirou beams and she can't help but smile in return as she ruffles his hair.

Kyojuro takes the opportunity to put him over his lap as Giyuu glares at the flame hashira, however, he takes Tanjirou's hand in his before kissing it gently.

They're hopeless; Shinobu has no idea how they didn't ruin the whole mission because none of them could stop paying visits to Sumiko. How did no one notice there was something weird going on there?

***

Patreon

[finelinevogue]

Hello! For the continued part of the blurb in which Harry and YN get casted together; this is the reminder :))

Also here’s a thought about it:

Maybe since like Harry met Olivia on DWD, when Tangled started they're like broken up and so so to make it more realistic (It was more of a suggestion but just do you, your readers would love it either way) :))

Have a great day!!!

yes we will definitely continue this!! okay let’s go;

First day nerves were always the worst.

Whether it was first day of school, first day of a new job, first day at university or, in your case, first day on set, you always got a really bad case of the nervous butterflies. It was just unnerving having to meet new people and try and fit into the way everything worked around here. You were a very social person when you came out of your shell, but you could be a hard one to crack if you weren’t with the right people. Luckily for you this set definitely had the right people. After briefly meeting him on the red carpet for Don’t Worry Darling and then having him text you afterwards, you have to say that now working with Harry Styles seemed like a dream. His music and his charisma shaped him into someone you really liked and really wanted to know more about. He was your all time crush and unfortunately, for you, he’d probably gathered that by now - what with your blushing interview over him.

The weather was beautiful and the buzz on set was amazing. Everyone was rushing around and trying to busy themselves until filming started at 8am. You had just been in hair and makeup and were on your way to set now. The movie wasn’t being filmed in its’ complete order, so the first scene that you were filming was where Flynn climbs up the tower and meets Rapunzel for the first time. Where Harry meets you.

You couldn’t quite believe you were actually here. You were a Disney princess, and your favourite one at that. The purple dress was everything you’d imagined and you felt like a dreamy cloud in it. Your flip flops and robe covered most of your outfit though, to keep you warm until you were needed on set. Instead of going straight inside the filming building, you sat outside on a nearby bench hoping to calm your nerves.

To keep your mind preoccupied you went over and over your lines in your head, cursing yourself when you messed up over something so small. Your fingers picked away at each other, damaging the nail-art that had only recently been put on.

“You’re going to cost the makeup department a fortune if you keep doing that.” You didn’t need to look up to know that it was Harry who was approaching you, but you did anyways. He looked beautiful. His hair was styled the same way as Flynn Ryders and you could see the outlines of his costume underneath the coat he was wearing.

“Oh, sorry.” You laughed nervously, putting your head back down to stop him from catching your blush.

“Hey no need for apologises. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He spoke honestly and you felt the warmth of his words spread over your body, like butter on toast.

“Just really nervous.” You admitted shyly.

“Can I…” He pointed towards the bench space next to you.

“‘Course, yes.” You patted the space encouragingly and watched him pull the trousers up from his thighs to sit more comfortably. God, those thighs. You cleared your throat to detach the dirty thoughts from the back of your mind.

It was quiet until he spoke again. “What’s your favourite Disney movie?”

“What?” You asked confused and Harry repeated the question as calmly as he did last time. You expected him to start giving you words of advice, not asking you your favourite Disney movie. “Oh, um, Tangled of course.”

“You know you don’t just have to say that because you’re the lead actress in the movie.” He nudged you with his shoulder, making you laugh as you swayed away and then back to him.

“Yeah I know.”

“Pity.”

“Why?”

“Just would’ve taken you for more of an avid Lion King fan.” He joked, his dimpled smile boasting its’ way onto his cheeky face.

“I am, actually. I just, there’s something about Rapunzel that draws me to her. I don’t know whether it’s her childhood was similar to mine—”

“Wait you were abducted by a weirdly attractive evil woman who claims to be your— wait! So you’re a princess?” Before you can answer he knelt down before you, capturing your hands in his - neither of your missing the tingles of passion when your skin touched skin - and holding them tightly, whilst he began speaking again, “M’lady, forgive me for being so simple.”

“Harry! What are you doing, y’fool?” You laughed at him, trying to get him to sit back next to you as you’d drawn the attention from a few crew members.

“I’m grovelling at the feet of my future Queen.” He said so matter-of-factly you almost, nearly, truly believed him. Chuffing actor.

“Get up you oaf!” And he did with a little more persuasion. “What I meant was that my childhood was quite isolated and lonely - I didn’t have many friends at all.” You spoke from the heart, not expecting Harry’s eyebrows to furrow with confusion or for him to look so sad.

“I’m sorry.” You knew he meant it.

“At least I have Flo, though, now.” You smiled at the thought of your amazing best friend, whom also happened to be Harry’s most recent co-star. Their performances in Don’t Worry Darling were second to none and you were so proud of Flo for delivering such an awe inspiring delivery to her character Alice.

“And me. Don’t forget me.”

“I could never.” You turned to look at him, unprepared to find him staring back at you with hearts in his eyes. You blushed and had to look away, but you rested the side of your head on his shoulder out of natural instinct. It felt right and it felt comforting. “Thank you, though Harry.”

“Always.” He rested his head back against yours, both of you just watching the busy people prepare for your first scene. The nerves had gone though, now, and you were feeling more at peace with yourself - and with him. “Oh and Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I think that you’re drawn to Rapunzel, because she embodies your courage, kindness, beauty and compassion.” Your heart swelled at his words. You never thought someone could think of you this way, let alone Harry. You pushed your head tighter against his shoulder, wanting him to wordlessly know that you were really grateful for him.

“Smooth, Harry!” He laughed with you, “How long have you been rehearsing that?”

“Too many other lines to remember to be learning them ones too. That, Y/N, was all ad-lib.” And your heart swooned a little more again. He was just so perfect and he made you feel safe. There wasn’t a good enough phrase or word in the English dictionary to justify how good of a person he was or how much he meant to you.

“You’re too good.”

“Too good to maybe ask you out for a drink after today?” You brought your head away from his shoulder in shock from what he just asked. Harry, the Harry Styles, was asking you, Y/N L/N, out for a drink. What?

“No, I think i’ll let you take me out for a drink.” You smiled at him, admiration sitting heavily in your eyes that there was no way he could miss it.

“Yeah?” His eyes glinted back at yours.

“Only if you stop with the compliments, i’m so bad for accepting them.”

“Hmm, no can do.” You rolled your eyes and reached over to take his hand in yours and he instantly linked his fingers with yours. It felt right. Warm. Safe.

“Fine, but don’t be alarmed if I just jump you for being too nice to me or something.” Your words came out faster than your brain could process and your eyes widened once you realised what you’d just said to him. You’d just threatened to jump Harry Styles. Fuck sake. And now he wad laughing, at you or with you you didn’t know.

“Alright, but you don’t be alarmed if I do nothing to stop you.”

Now you understood why he didn’t need to ask what was wrong or if you were okay, his presence was comforting enough to make your nerves dissipate and focus on the only thing that now mattered; him.

[fruitcoops]

hi eve ! i was wondering if you could write a fic where coops are at home just doing stuff and suddenly the electricity goes out because of a thunderstorm like it did that night at dumo's ? and coops just sit there and reminisce ? (man i hope that is how you spell that word, english isn't my first language hahah) idk i just thought that would be neat

There isn’t a lot of sitting and reminiscing, but this prompt was just too cute to pass up. Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for making out (courtesy of an anon who was enjoying the hot tub fic) and mentioned future spice

Remus’ hand was halfway to the popcorn bowl when the house went dark. The tv shut off, the dishwasher went silent, and the comforting hum of the fridge disappeared. “Uh. Hmm.”

There was a rustle next to him. “Did the power just go out?”

“I think so. Hang on a second.” Remus stood and padded toward the living room window, wrapping his arms around himself to stave off the chill as their heating cut off; the coming winter would be harsh. Outside, he saw nothing but a row of dark houses and car headlights in the distance under the place traffic lights should have been. Frost crept along the corner of the windowsill as his eyes adjusted. “Yeah, our whole block is out. There’s probably nothing we can do except wait for it to come back.”

Sirius hummed from the couch and opened his arms. “Nothing?”

“Not a thing,” Remus sighed, grateful for the darkness hiding his smile as he settled back down.

Sirius laughed and pulled him down by the arm, spreading his thighs so Remus could lay between them on his chest. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Do you?” Remus asked, only inches from his mouth.

“Mhmm. Can’t have you getting bored, can we?”

“Oh, no, definitely n—“ Remus’ words were cut off by warm lips and he smiled as Sirius’ tongue swept forward. A hand snuck up his shirt and he nibbled Sirius’ lower lip, drawing a low laugh from him; Remus set his elbows on either side of his head and wove his fingers into Sirius’ soft hair.

“Off,” Sirius mumbled with a tug to his tshirt.

“Pushy, pushy, pushy,” Remus tsked, though he separated for long enough to reach behind his neck and pull it over his head. The fabric of Sirius’ long-sleeve rubbed against his chest as he laid down and muffled a moan into his mouth, feeling him melt as Remus tugged his hair lightly. “Yours, too.”

Sirius’ pout was almost audible. “I’ll get cold.”

“I can keep you warm,” Remus said with a sly smile, drumming his fingers on Sirius’ ribcage. He skimmed a thumb over his nipple and laughed when Sirius’ breath caught. “Please?”

Sirius huffed and wiggled around until Remus—being the most accommodating boyfriend in history, thank you very much—sat back to straddle his waist and occupied himself by tracing Sirius’ abs until strong hands hauled him back down into a fervent kiss. “I love it when you ask me for things.”

“Hmm, really?”

“Makes me feel useful.” One hand came up to cradle Remus’ cheek, but the other wandered down his spine and only stopped once Sirius had a solid handful of his ass to knead.

Remus let out a harsh exhale into the side of his neck and pulled Sirius’ thigh up, relishing in his soft noise as he began rubbing the outside through his sweatpants. “This feels familiar,” he practically purred.

“Does it?”

“Making out in the middle of a dark and stormy night with no lights on? Now, where have we done that before?”

He felt Sirius’ pulse give a hard thud under his own. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“One year.” Remus felt some of his blinding want smooth out into affection and kissed the corner of Sirius’ mouth. “And a couple weeks, of course.”

“We should celebrate—“ Sirius nipped his lip and pushed down on the small of Remus’ back. “—more often.”

“Monthly anniversaries.”

“Does this mean we get to have sex tomorrow night after I get a hat trick?”

“It’s Kasey’s birthday party tomorrow.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Absolutely.”

“Fuck yeah,” Sirius said under his breath, though Remus could feel him smiling. They broke their kiss for a moment to laugh, but quickly returned, much slower than before.

“If we do this right, I get to wake up when you come back to bed and kiss you stupid without any warning.”

“Deal.”

“And you have to cuddle me all night.”

“I was going to do that anyway.”

“Just making sure.”

Remus tucked his face beneath the hinge of Sirius’ jaw and breathed deep as he sucked a small hickey into the shallow dip—he smelled like buttery popcorn and laundry detergent and home. His broad hands ghosted across Remus’ back before pulling him away by his hair to press another kiss to his mouth; he gasped as his stomach swooped. “What do you want to do?”

“This,” Remus managed between kisses. There was an urgency, but not for anything he could name. He wanted the closeness and the quiet of the night.

Sirius waited for a moment. “Anything else?”

He was tempted to say yes, but that would involve more fumbling and possibly even—god forbid—leaving the couch. Remus shook his head and tilted Sirius’ chin up with his finger. “Just this.”

“Okay,” Sirius said, sinking back into the cushions. He smiled into Remus’ next kiss and wrapped both arms around his back; he was hard against Remus’ hip, but didn’t grind into his thigh at all.

“I love you,” Remus mumbled.

“Je t’aime aussi.”

“Are you comfy?”

“Hmm, let me think.” Sirius’ mouth trailed down his cheek and neck before settling near his collarbones. “Laying on my couch, in the dark, with my incredibly sexy boyfriend on top of me just waiting to be kissed after putting up with me for over a year…yeah, I’m pretty comfy.”

“I don’t put up with you,” Remus scoffed, leaning his head to the side so Sirius had more space to work. “I love you. There’s a difference.”

He closed his eyes as tongue and teeth lavished his pulse point, sending a shock all the way to his toes. The winter cold was the last thing on his mind—he was warm everywhere, though the involuntary shiver when Sirius blew gently on the hickey he left was a greatly-appreciated exception.

“You’re sure you’re okay with not doing anything right now?”

“I was promised sexy times tomorrow.” Sirius gave his ass a playful squeeze, accompanied by a nibble to the hollow of his throat. “We have to follow tradition, mon coeur.”

He bent down to Sirius’ ear with a grin. “If the power stays out, we could do it right here. No curtains, no lights on, right in front of that big window.”

“Mon dieu,” Sirius said on the tail end of an exhale.

“We could.”

“I know, that’s the problem.”

“I don’t see a problem with that.” Despite his words, Remus felt himself succumbing to the cocoon of shadows around them and slid his hands under Sirius’ wingbones for a cuddle. He had already been drowsy when the lights went out, and being that close to the most comforting person he knew certainly hadn’t helped, no matter how horny they were. “We can pick this up tomorrow night? Gives us plenty of time to brainstorm.”

Sirius’ chest buzzed underneath him before he nosed along Remus’ cheek for a kiss. “Sounds perfect.”

“I can call the electric company and tell them to keep our block’s lights out,” Remus suggested.

“Love it.”

“We should go upstairs, shouldn’t we?”

“I don’t care, as long as I get to do this when we get there.” Sirius’ accent had thickened over the past half hour and Remus soaked it in like a sponge.

“Such a stickler about tradition,” he teased, resting his head on Sirius’ shoulder; the couch wasn’t quite wide enough for them to fit side-by-side. Not that he was protesting, of course.

A beat of silence passed between them. “If we go upstairs, we can make out properly without falling off the couch.”

“Oh, thank god,” Remus said immediately, stumbling to his feet and dragging Sirius after him. With any luck, the power would be out long enough that they wouldn’t be able to go anywhere for days.

[coraskeeper]

 ⤑ 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘴/𝘰

⤑ ft: shinsou, tamaki, kirishima, denki, fem!r

⤑ warnings: facesitting, unprotected seggs (don’t try this at home), choking, oral(m&f receiving), dumbification, slight femdom themes (only for tamaki), mastrubation, crying, use of the word cock bc it makes me giggle

⤑ file type: scenarios, smut

⤑ wc: 2.3k

⤑ an: def wanna write a whole shinsou smut now :’)

⤑ last edited: 1.25.21

⤑ 𝘦𝘪𝘫𝘪𝘳𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘢

his obsession with his best friends girlfriend started out innocent 

he wouldn’t say he was in love with you, more like a kiddie crush 

just wanting to be around you and that heart warming presence of yours all it took was for you to simply ask him how he was or, what he wanted to do saying that his opinion mattered just as much as anyone else 

it might’ve been then he fell for you, your interest in him was genuine, not many people cared much for his input on anything really 

not that he minded- it just felt nice, to know that someone had what he would think in mind

he liked you and if he ever got the chance he’d give you the world, but your world was bakugo and he respected that

but all it took was walking in on you and bakugo getting hot and heavy for his thoughts of you to become way less than innocent 

bakugos large hands splayed across your bare ass cheeks as he helped you move up and down along his shaft

your chest pressed into his as you released the most heavenly moans he’d even heard in his life 

your wavering whines telling his friend how you couldn’t take anymore but your hips still hopelessly bucking against his

now anytime the poor boy seen you his face flushed red and he’d cut your conversations short out of the guilt of have seen you naked without your knowledge

he felt bad that just the sound of your voice made him so hard it hurt and he’d have no other choice but to relieve himself 

thinking of you large hand palming himself through his boxers 

his head falling back in relief in his mind you tasted so sweet, he’d always wondered what you tasted like, or what you’d look like sitting on his face begging for him. he just knew you’d look ethereal.

his gripped your hips hard, helping you move your sopping cunt along his mouth, one of your hands threading themselves through his bright red locks giving them a tug.

tears falling from your eyes as you whine asking him to let you breathe just for a second, yet your body betrayed you, your hips rutting against his mouth with the little energy you had left, “ please kiri, i can’t “

his eyes coming to stare up at you lovingly, his lips releasing your clit, “ ‘cmon sweetheart, i know you’ve got one more left “

ruby eyes staring up at you as he flattened his tongue against your clit again, your face was sinful paired with your pretty moans falling from your lips as your hips rutted down harder against his mouth, body shaking before collapsing with a sweet whine of his name.

his hands rubbing soothing circles against your pelvic bone, “ what a good girl you are “.

knees weak, his muscular back arched off the cold wood of the head board as he cupped himself softly, spurts of hot cum soiling the inside of his boxers, “ i want.. to taste her “

⤑ 𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪 𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘫𝘪

he was actually terrified of you for a while before you became friends

you intimidated him to say the least

you and your boyfriend were very like minded, which would explain your random relationship with mirio

your presence was warm, and you often jumped into things head first and took everything that came your way with nonchalant attitude

though, your temper seemed to be a lot shorter and you were a lot more, uh- assertive for sure

he hadn’t known when it was he fell in love with you but no can say he never tried to prevent it

maybe it was when you’d make sure he got home safe, putting his life before yours on missions and coming to save his ass even when you needed to be saved yourself

or it might’ve been something as trivial as telling a waiter they got his order wrong at a restaurant

he wasn’t sure, but he was in too deep now and he was okay with just being your friend because you and mirio loved each other

he did pretty well at hiding his feelings for a while, 

well-

until he received a butt dial from his dear blond friend

at first there was silence and maybe some ruffling here and there, he’d contemplated hanging up until he heard mirio’s quiet whimpering from the other side of the cellphone

in a flustered haze he continued to listen, hearing your sultry voice loud and clear

low and stern, saying that if mirio wasn’t patient you wouldn’t let him cum at all, the blond boy begging for you and promising that he’d be good

he hadn’t mean to keep thinking about the phone call after that day but he couldn’t help but imagine what it be like underneath you and those attentive hands in the heat of the night

he tried not to touch himself at first- the guilt being too much, but your frequent visits to his dreams were becoming too much to deal with on top of his soiled sheets

so now- tamaki relieves himself of you the only way he knows how

your warm hand wrapped around his throbbing length trailing teasing kisses up his thighs, edging closer and closer to where he needed you, “you can cum again, can’t you tama? “

his lower half was starting to tingle almost painfully, the line between pain and pleasure was blurring, his eyes unfocused and body flushed in sweat, but he was so eager to take all that you were giving him, eager to be a good boy for you.

“ y-your mouth- bunny please “

he felt almost ashamed, yet the twitching of his ear and the lustful voice you used when you spoke was enough to spur him and the swirling heat in his stomach.

he wanted to be grateful and take all that you were offering to give him, anything to please you. anything to make you praise him.

the wetness of your mouth was all too surreal, he could almost feel your warm mouth sucking his cock into your throat, losing control bucking his hips up into your mouth with a whine, “ fuck, yes- ‘s good “

your pretty orbs staring up at him as he let out loud moans, his feet digging themselves into the bed sheets to fuck himself into your mouth at a harsh enough pace to give you a sore throat later.

his free hand slapping over his mouth, shaking body arching off the bed and knees clamping shut as he came with a tired scream of your name under his hand.

hot liquid dripping down his stomach and leaking from the tip of his softening length.licking the head of his already overstimulated cock, “ what a good boy you are, isn’t that right tama? “

his body falling limp with a whimper, “ i.. feel so dirty “

⤑ 𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘰𝘴𝘩𝘪 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘰

you and his friend midoriya were polar opposites

you were smart mouthed and sarcastic, blunt and insensitive and you were always picking fights with him

though with time, he had begun to grow quite fond with you, a crush maybe

starting to indulge in petty arguments with you and push your buttons more often to see that cute face you made when you were frustrated

just when he came to terms that he developed a bit of attraction to you, you started to plague his mind in more ways than one

in all honesty- he did no more than merely acknowledge your current relationship with his friend

if he wanted you, he'd have you. it was as simple as that

he would never make passes at you simply because he liked you, he was fine with the distance between you both

but he’d figured his friend would have enough sense to know when and where was the right time to get hot and heavy with you

you sat between izuku’s legs, tongue lapping at his glistening cock pitifully, body shaking and tears streaming down your face

the way you could barely speak stunned him- you’d always had something to say

pleading the green haired boy to fuck you, give you some kind of stimulation

shinso watched you both shamelessly, retiring for the night with you and your submissiveness heavy on the brain

after the incident, he’d let you take control of his desires, taking cold showers to relieve himself of the stress you’d cause him from then on

he’d have his hand wrapped around your throat for sure, just barely cutting off your air circulation, hips snapping up into your ass in a pace that had your head spinning and spit dripping from the bottom of your chin.

desperately trying to turn your face away from the mirror in embarrassment, “ look at my pretty slut, drooling for me “, his fingernails digging into your cheeks and holding your head in place so you could watch how your body wreathed in pleasure from him and him alone.

he’d already made you cum with just his cock alone, not giving you time to collect yourself after each orgasm. his strokes deep and harsh, bruising the insides of your walls and his teeth leaving marks all over your neck- you had nowhere to run.

you were powerless and had no other choice but to take him whole, “ ‘nt t-take- no more “. your fingers grasping at the bathroom counter to prevent you from flopping face first into the sink.

“ he cant fuck you like this “, the loud wet smacking against your ass became impossibly louder, “ fucking yourself stupid on my dick- fuuck “

his teeth catching his bottom lip hard enough to break the skin, wet strands of purple hair sticking to his forehead.

thumb pressing down on the tip of his cock edging himself once again trying to control his moans of pure ecstasy at the thought of overstimulating you until you could no longer speak basic english, “ i wanna feel that pretty mouth of hers, too “

⤑ 𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘬𝘪 𝘬𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘪

he knew how wrong it was wrong but, it was his guilty pleasure

you were always so sweet to him, cradling his head to your chest when the others would pick on him and such

all of his friends took a liking to you as seros girlfriend and accepted you into their friend group

you grew especially close to denki, who happened to have a similar personality as you

the inevitable happened- of course, the classic love cliche

 he knew you loved sero and he’d never come between you two but he just couldn’t help himself

once sero had been trying to show him a couple of pictures on his phone, swiping too far 

accidentally showing denki a very vulgar photo of you

tears in your pretty eyes and your hands tied behind your back with your ass wiggling in the air

a godly arch and seros hand in the center of your back taunting him every time the image plagued his brain

the flash of the camera making your gorgeous cunt glisten 

so here he was, late into the night with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth and quiet groans heavy in his chest

sweats and boxers pulled down just low enough for his erection to leak precum against his stomach

shutting his eyes and tilting his head back to let his mind run wild, stroking himself slowly

you’d looked so pretty laid out beneath him legs pressed into your chest and tears of pleasure falling out of your eyes. his tongue catching each one before they could trail down and mix with the sheer layer of sweat on your sweet skin.

your pretty whines for him spurred him on, crying and moaning for him to ruin you in anyway he wanted, to take care of you because no one else could do it the way he did. he thought it was so mean of him to make you cry but you looked so angelic to him crying tears of joy all for his cock, all for him.

“ please, kaminari “, your pretty lips swollen as he leaned down to press another kiss to your mouth thrusting himself deeper into your fluttering cunt, “ don’t worry princess- gonna pump you full of cum “

his cock hitting the special spot inside your warmth, filling you up so good you could just scream, he might leave bruise on the back of your knees and an aching pain in your hips from how rough he was fucking into you.

your scorching insides sucking him back in each time, just imagining the pulse of your pussy was driving him crazy, “ look at this pretty pussy taking me so well- gonna take good care of her “

he could almost feel your arousal dripping down his lower abdomen, your hands pulling at his messy blond hair in ecstasy, your lovely voice calling out for him, “ please kami, take good care of me “

“ kami “

“ kami “

his hips jolting up into his hand harshly as he came, cum spilling over his fingertips, releasing a heavy pant wishlist brushing stray strands of his blond hair away from his face, “ fuuck, please “ 

tags:

[polnareffenjoyer]

Uh unsure how many characters you’re willing to write for but can I have the SDC crew reacting to seeing their crush’s sketchbook filled with drawings and silly comics of them? On the case you do have a limit on how many, then I’m fine with either Polnareff, Kakoyin, Jotaro or Avdol (who can pick whoever if you want to!) Hope you’re having a lovely day!💕💕

This is such a cute idea anon, hope you like it. Also I don't really have a character limit, I wanted to do all of the crusaders but then I got tired and it already took me such a long time to finish it and ahhh. Sorry for all the grammatical errors, English is not my first language and it's already so late when I'm finishing it and it's just bleh. I hope you like it anyways, sending much love to you anon! ♥️

Stardust Crusaders finding their crushes' sketchbook

Jotaro Kujo

He notices that you've been spending most of your free time drawing in that sketchbook of yours. Truth be told, it bothers him a lot. Jotaro has had a big fat crush on you for a while now, and he secretly longs for your company. He can't admit that tho, he has a hard ass bad boy reputation to maintain after all. What would people say if the saw him all flustered for a girl? The fact that you would rather sit by yourself and draw than be around him and the others bugs him. So one day, when you're busy with something else, he takes your beloved sketchbook and decides to see what's in there. He knows he's being creepy, but he couldn't care less. Just trying to get to know you better, without actually talking to you. Exactly.

He's very flustered but would rather die than admit it. Has read through all of it, admiring every single little drawing. After he's done, he'll just put it back where he found it, it the exact same place just so you don't notice someone has been messing with it. You probably have no idea he had seen your sketchbook at first, but you surely notice the blush dusting his cheeks whenever he speaks to you from that day on. Probably avoids you for a little while because he's so flustered.

The rest of the crew also notices something is off, Jotaro is always lost in thoughts and smokes more frequently. He can't keep himself from thinking about those cute drawings of yours, reading through your comics was a true delight. It fills him with glee to know that HE, among all of the crusaders, is the one who's the main character in your stories. It makes him giddy on the inside.

His secret eventually comes to light one night, he accidentally admits to having read through your comics while a late night talk between the whole group. While you were talking, Kakyoin had brought up the topic of your sketchbook. Now it's your turn to be embarassed, blushing crimson while trying to get as much information out of him as possible. How much did he see? Did he read through ALL OF THEM?

The rest of the crusaders are shocked at first, but quickly they start to laugh at the scene. Jotaro is reluctant to give any information, but he eventually tells you that yes, indeed, he's seen EVERYTHING. However, doesn't admit what the content of the sketchbook really is. Despite everything, he would never embarass you like that.

After everyone goes to sleep, you catch Jotaro before he has a chance to fall asleep, lying on his sleeping bag while looking at the night sky. You want to apologize, say anything, just to talk to him, but you're unable to find right words. He just sighs.

"Yare yare daze, there's no need to be embarassed [Y/N], I'm not mad"

Your eyes light up at his words. You want to say something, anything, thank him, but before you get a chance to do so, Jotaro's deep voice cuts you off.

"To be honest, I think your drawings are amazing. I really liked them" you notice his face is slightly tinted red from underneath his cap "But if you wanted me to model for you, you could've just said so"

With that, he rolls over and away from you. Completely baboozled, you roll over as well and try to sleep, or at least pretend to be asleep. Honestly, neither of you had slept much that night.

Kakyoin Noriaki

Kakyoin had a thing for you since you joined the crusaders, and your sketchbook is probably the very first thing he had noticed about you. He's always been interested in art, his parents had signed him up to numerous art courses and whatnot through his life. He's always loved drawing and painting, using it as an escape from his daily problems, and seeing that you two might have something in common makes him incredibly happy, especially since he has feelings for you.

He'll try to approach you about your sketchbook very subtely, afraid that he might scare you away by being too pushy. Of course you get extremely flustered everytime he brings it up, but it doesn't discourage him. Kakyoin respects your boundaries and understands that you might not be ready to show him your drawings yet. Despite that, he's always willing to share his knowledge with you. He'll give you advices about proper shading while you two are waiting in the hotel lobby for the rest of the group to finish up picking rooms. During a long car ride, he'll talk to you about his favourite artists. If you want him to show you how to put certain shading techniques into practice, he'll be more than happy to do so. He'll just pick a random piece of paper and start drawing on it, you might want to lean in closer and maybe put your head on his shoulder to get a better look? He has no objections! Just sayin.

When he eventually gets to see your sketchbook, this man is so honored! He didn't mean to look, at first he though it was just some book lying around and wanted to take a look inside, out off boredom. Once he realizes what he's reading at, his face flushes with crimson. Your sketchbook is filled with sketches of him? This whole time you were actually drawing him, out of all people? He couldn't be more grateful that no one else was around, if someone saw him reading through your comics with this stupid smile on his face and red cheeks, they would've though he went mad.

Kakyoin wastes no time trying to find you. For a moment, he thinks that perhaps he should've waited a bit, just to get you alone and not embarass you infront of the whole crew. He can't think straight though, his mind filled with your cute little drawings, with his face drawn with black pen over and over again. With glee, he notes that you had used the very techniques he had told you about earlier. If you had drawn him so many times, does it mean that you have a crush on him too? It's too good to be true.

"[Y/N]! Can I talk with you for a minute?"

He goes to confront you immediately. Others give him a puzzled look, but he couldn't care less. He grabs your arms and leads you away.

"Don't be mad [Y/N], but I've seen your sketchbook and I have to say, I think your art is beyond amazing!"

You're at loss of words, your face red and you could swear that you've never felt so embarassed in your whole entire life. However, his reaction is making you feel a bit better. He's not mad, nor is he making fun of you. If anything, he seems enamoured.

"Please, [Y/N], we should draw together! Maybe next time we have a chance, I should paint your portrait?"

Despite the awkwardness, the whole situation turns out amazing in the end. How he's sure you must have feelings for him, and it makes him incredibly happy, hoping that one day, after your crusade is done, he'll get a chance to repay you and make that promised portrait.

Muhammad Avdol

With everything that's been happening lately, Avdol gets a little bit distracted from you. Before he would steal glances your way all the time, watching with curiosity as you would draw something in your sketchbook. Recently, he's been too busy fighting enemy stand users and... well, trying not to die. He still cares about you a lot and watches over you during fights, ready to shield you from danger with his own body, if it's what it takes to keep you safe.

It probably happens because of a mishap. While you are deciding on your rooming, you leave your sketchbook lying next to Avdol's things and go to the bathroom. After he's done helping Joseph with translating and getting everything done, he goes back and assumes that it's just one of his books that has fallen out of the bag. Not thinking much of it, he picks it up and leaves with Mrs Joestar to settle in their shared room.

You can imagine the panic and shock that nearly paralyzes you once you notice that your beloved sketchbook is gone, nowhere to be seen, reduced to atoms! You begin to look around frantically, looking under the furniture while sweating profusely. Other quests give you weird looks, but you don't even notice them staring. Polnareff is one of them, he asks if you're okay and tries to calm you down, but to no avail. After he leaves, you try to focus really hard and try to remember - when did you see it last time? It was on that chair for sure when you left. God, you can only pray that it doesn't end up in Avdol's hands somehow...

Meanwhile, Avdol is getting ready for shower and goes through his bag. He notices the book he picked up from the lobby isn't even a book, but a sketchbook! Now he's sure he must've picked it up by mistake, he decides it would be best to put it down and not look through it. It's someone's very personal art after all, it would be very disrespectful to - wait a damn minute, is that HIM?

Long story short, he goes through a good portion of your drawings before Joseph comes out of the shower and gives him a puzzled look, seeing how his eyes are literally shinning with adoration. He puts your sketchbook back into his bag, acting as if nothing happened and continues on with his nightly routine. Later on, when Joseph is already fast asleep, he contemplates about whether or not he should go to your room right now and ask about the sketchbook he had found. He's already suspecting it's yours, whose else would it be? He has seen you drawing often, could it be that you returned his feelings and had spent your time sketching him? Ultimately, he decides to wait until tomorrow to find out.

The very next day, he knocks on your door early in the morning. It startles you awake, running up to your door to look through a peephole, seeing a muscular man on the other side. Sighing heavily, you unlock the door and open it just a little bit.

"Excuse my intrusion, [Y/N], but I have found something that I think belongs to you."

Now that's embarassing. You see your sketchbook in his hand, a wide, knowing smile on his face. He knows it's yours. All it took is one look at your stupid red face to figure it out. God, he can read you like an open book, can't he? While you reach out to take it from him, your fingers touch just slightly.

"Don't worry, I swear I won't tell anyone about this" she winked at you, which almost made you gasp "If anything, I think I should maybe pose for you in private? So you can get a better look? You should think about it..."

Who would've thought this man could be such a flirt sometimes...

Jean Pierre Polnareff

You better watch out, because if this man has a crush on you, you bet he would go above and beyond to find out what's inside that sketchbook. I'm not joking. He forgets what personal space is, he's even worse that Jotaro, because while JoJo would make sure to be sneaky, Polnareff wouldn't even bother. He'll try to catch a sneak peak by looking over your shoulder while you're drawing, constantly asking you questions about art related things, everything always leading to your sketchbook.

He wants to know what's inside. Simple as that. You're like an enigma to him, I feel like all women are mysteries to him and he always works towards finding out what their secrets are. You are especially interesting to him, because of how secretive you are with your art. He's captivated, and while he never had any interest in arts himself, he had always fancied himself as a man with a great sense of beauty. That being said, he's always trying to get your attention while talking about how "France is a wonderful country for artists! You should come and visit after our crusade is over, [Y/N]! I'll show you all the greatest museums and art galleries!"

He's like a puppy, following you around and being just a bit too pushy. If you tell him you feel uncomfortable, he'll back off of course. He's not just some juvenile pervert after all! He's a honourable man who would never touch or bother a woman without her permission, no matter how desperate he seems sometimes.

When he finally sees your sketchbook, it's probably because he did it on purpose and not because of an accident. He wanted to make sure that it was him your were capturing in your drawing, and boy was he happy when he saw what's inside! It's all him, cute little sketches, little comics, it's better that he could've ever imagined! He's literally crying the tears of joy while reading them. Before it was all just wishful thinking, but now it turns out to be true! He's honoured, admiring every single little drawing with hit tears streaming down his face. He must look pathetic right now, if anyone was around they would think the was a mad man. He gets up and runs away with your sketchbook in his hand, trying to find you.

"[Y/N]! Ma cherie! Mon coeur! My love, my life! We need to talk!"

Did i mention that he doesn't shy away from nicknames? Yeah.

It's probably the worst confrontation compared to the rest of them, he's not subtle like Kakyoin and decides to talk with you about your drawings right then and there, in front of everyone. At first they're surprised, looking at Polnareff as is he was crazy, but slowly their shock is replaced with amusement. Joseph doesn't even try to hold back his laughter, while the rest of the crew is trying to keep it cool as not to embarass you any further while the Frenchman is just going on and on with his declarations of undying love. It's a bit dramatic, one of these moments that you will probably laugh about in the future, but you felt like disappearing right then and there.

"Your drawing are magnifique! [Y/N], my love, if you wanted to draw me, you could've just said so! Although I don't think I deserve to be potrayed by you, to be drawn by your skilled hands, ma cherie!"

You snatch the sketchbook from him. After that incident you probably try to avoid him, but he won't give up! He's more determined than ever, knowing that you feel the same way as he does fills him with hope, hope for a future life with you that is! He won't give up until he makes you the happiest woman on earth.

[sodadrabbles]

hear me out- one more littleboo but like if they were crying or like going through smt and ranboo just helps//comforts them if that makes sense? GEHDDH okay have a good day :]

THE PEOPLE DEMAND HURT/COMFORT. I SHALL FEED YOU, MY PEOPLE

Also, I wanted to address why I use ‘Ranboo’ in these fics, when referring to the actual CC- We don’t know Ranboo’s real name. I want to respect his wishes and not speculate, because that’s creepy. So, I just use Ranboo. A couple people were asking in my inbox. I know Tubbo said his name was Mark, but that was never confirmed, and, again, I don’t want to speculate on his personal information, that’s WEIRD.

LIttleboo IV: Hurt/comfort or bust.

Pairing: Ranboo x sibling!Reader (gender-neutral)!

Rating: Soft. Bad ending, I’m so sorry (NOT ANGST, IM JUST BAD AT WRITING)

Summary: Being a freshman sucks ass, but Ranboo bought taco bell, it’s all good.

To say today was a bad day would be an understatement. It was probably the most terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day of your 14-year-old life. The whole day the universe would launch bad thing after bad thing at you, as if it was somehow testing you in your will to deal with bullshit. Like it was asking you ‘What are you willing to put up with today?’

Your answer was ‘Not fucking this.’

You woke up to your brother shaking you softly, telling you the power had gone out and you were both late. For an upperclassman this wasn’t a big deal- But you were a freshman. Your teachers were going to give you absolute hell for being late, and knowing Ranboo was going to get off scot-free made you a little salty. You had to skip breakfast and had to leave with your hair still a bit messy, barely able to comb through it with your fingers while Ranboo drove you both to school.

Then there was a pop quiz first period- English. You were never terrible at english, but being on the topic of the last three chapters of the book you were reading for class- Chapters which you had not read yet- The test had been a little difficult. Not to mention the hunger clawing at your stomach, and the strange fog that was settled about your thoughts.

You thought you could catch a break through second period and lunch, knowing Chemistry would be an easy day and you could grab something good with your brother, but fate had other plans in mind.

During Chemistry, you were tasked with picking a partner and completing an experiment afterthought worksheet, going over the experiment you had done in class the day before. You were paired with the nice girl sat next to you- At least you thought she was nice. As the teacher dismissed the class to begin talking amongst themselves, you turned to start asking her how her experiment went yesterday. You didn’t have a chance to ask, however, as the girl snapped at you harshly. “Don’t even bother! I’m not doing this assignment. Do it on your own.”

Her voice was pitched and loud, and it caused you to wince back. You tilt your head and try to ask her, but she cuts you off by flicking the paper in your direction. It sends both your papers flying, and you try to catch them, but fail miserably and fall out of your chair unceremoniously. As you fall, your foot comes up to counter balance and you nearly kick the girl in the head- Keyword being nearly. You were sure you were able to stop yourself, and hadn’t touched it, but still the girl screeches and begins screaming bloody murder. The teacher comes over to check what’s going on, the girl sobbing and holding her head.

And then she lies through her teeth.

“Sir, she just kicked me! I was just asking about her experiment and she kicks me!”

She’s sobbing dramatically, and though you’re clearly not at fault, considering it was clear you had fallen out of your chair. Even still the teacher sides with her, giving you a short and disappointing talk about violent behaviour in the classroom, ending with “I have no choice but to give you lunch detention and a zero on the assignment.”

You don’t try to argue- Exhaustion was already settling on your body and you didn’t want to just make the situation worse than it already was. The rest of second period dragged on like a snail. You sat awkwardly at your table, twiddling your thumbs and staring at the walls. You could feel eyes boring into the back of your skull with each passing glance at the students. A few whispers that seemed much too loud yet indecipherable hitting your ears, somehow knowing deep in your soul that the other students were whispering about you. By the time the lunch bell rang you were starting to feel tears prick at your eyes as your own thoughts betrayed you.

During lunch detention, you were at the very least allowed your phone. You texted your brother, alerting him that you had lunch detention. He promised to bring you food before your third period began- The gesture brought a smile to your face. Your third period was your favorite, because Ranboo was also taking that class. US History. You were able to push through detention with Philza’s stream, starting a TTS war with Wilbur in the time you were able to watch. Of course, mentioning you were in detention earned you a little rant from Phil, not doing much to better your mood.

When third period came down to bless you, you could feel the tears welling in your eyes at the happy sight of your tall older brother holding a taco bell bag in his hand. You basically tackled him, nearly knocking him to the ground. His arms flew around you for stability, and you gripped the back of his shirt as an involuntary sob came out of your mouth. 

Ranboo stared down at you with his brows furrowed with concern, his mouth pulled into a tight frown. He pushed you to the side to allow other students to get into the classroom, and released you from the hug to look you in the face. Your eyes were puffy and your cheeks and nose were red, stray tears still rolling down your cheeks. He wiped one away.

“(Y/N), what happened? Why are you crying?” He asked, your eyes avoiding him. You hated to cry in front of people- But the stress of the day weighed heavy on your shoulders. You had just gotten too excited. When you explained this, Ranboo shook his head. “(Y/N) it’s perfectly okay, you don’t have to apologize.”

He hugged you again, and you hugged him back. After standing there for a moment, the annoying ring of the school bell sounded overheard, alerting you that class was starting.

“Tell you what,” Ranboo beamed at you, picking up the bag of food. “We’re gonna go in there, annoy Mr. Anderson, and eat chalupas until we explode. Sound good?”

You smile and nod your head. God, your older brother is so cool.

---

The rest of the day was smooth as it could be. You spent all of third period messing around with Ranboo- The assignment given for the day forgotten as homework that you would sit down and do together before Ranboo had to stream. You feared that your fourth period, Algebra, would once again break you down into a ball of anxiety and terror. But to your pleasant surprise, you would be watching a movie with a substitute for that class.

Your mood had been significantly raised by the time the bell had rung, releasing you from the confines of the building. You packed your things quietly, the hustle and bustle of an emptying school occupying your senses. You had rushed down through the hallways towards to doors leading to student parking. Ranboo was supposed to be waiting for you at the car.

But before you could reach the door, you felt a hand grip your bag, pulling you backwards. Your feet flew out from under you as you fell to the ground, your bag being ripped from your shoulders. You felt you back collide with the cold, tiled ground, pain shooting through spine. 

Shrill giggling sounds from above you. You groan and roll onto your front, staring up at a group of three girls laughing at you. You recognized the one holding your bag from your chemistry class. By the looks of the other two, they were also freshmen. You try to get on your feet, but the girl swings her leg, knocking your hands out from under you. You feel something press against your back. 

The girl from your class laughs as she bends down to look at you. “You thought you could get away with that little stunt?” She sneers, her hand grabbing your face. Not able to think of anything else to do, you snap your jaws, nearly biting her. She screeches and backs away.

“DID YOU JUST TRY TO BITE ME?” She screams, her face twisted in disgust. You feel the presume on your back worsen, and you strain your neck to see who was standing on your back. You recognized the guy as a junior on the soccer team. You vaguely recalled the girl mentioned she was dating a guy on the soccer team. 

You squirm, freeing your hands from underneath you. Just as you were about to grab the guy’s leg, you hear a familiar voice shout. The three girls in front of you scatter like rats- But the soccer player stays. He turns to look at whoever shouted, his chest puffing out as if he’s prepared for a fight. However the color seems to drain from his face when he sees the mystery person- And he runs away like a dog with its tail between its legs.

As you start to stand, someone grabs you by the shoulders and helps you up. You’re met with the mop of brown hair and concerned gray eyes of your older brother. He helps you to your feet, handing you your bag. You thank him as you throw the bag over your shoulders, giving your older brother a tight hug.

You don’t even realize there were tears in your eyes again, until Ranboo tells you to dry your eyes. “Sorry…” You whisper, hand wiping away the water. “I don’t know why I’m crying.

Ranboo smiles at you again, his hand patting the top of your head. You smile at him too, and he leads you out of the school, asking if you’re alright or if anything hurts. You spend the walk to the car feeling grateful you have someone to help you out like that. It has you smiling to entire ride home.

[five-rivers]

Is there any way we could possibly convince you to write more of the Eldritch!Danny au? As it's own phanfic? This, of course, would only be done once you are under considerably less stress, and can comfortably put the effort into that, if there ever could be such a time whilst writing Mortified and Stars Aligned. It could even wait until one or both of those has reached a point that you deem them Completed™. I'm just immediately part of Sam's Cult XD

It’s been a bit, and this is kind of random, but...

.

Clockwork’s avatar pressed the food to Danny’s lips, and he bit down, hard.  Juices dribbled down his chin as the food squirmed.  He moaned in something like relief as the pressure in the venom sacs in the roof of his mouth lessened.  He ate.

He kept Dreaming of himself with fangs and venom. Did that mean something?

A cold pressure under his chin forced him to look up.  Clockwork’s avatar inserted another piece of food into Danny’s mouth.  

Of course, it means something, it said. You are such a generous soul that you must give of yourself before you can even do something as basic and vital as eat.

Something about that didn’t sound right, but Danny wasn’t in a position to argue, not when he found himself so hungry.

Clockwork’s avatar fussed over him, feeding him more and more, past the point of mere satiation to the point where he felt bloated and slug-like.  He wanted to curl up and sleep real sleep.  The image of a caterpillar who, having gorged itself, began to form a cocoon, flittered across his mind.  

You are a long way from metamorphosis yet, dear one, said Clockwork’s avatar.  Come.  I have something for you.  

Danny followed the tug of the chained collar around his neck, blinking blearily, his footsteps just a little unsteady.  

The careful direction of the chain led him to a small table cluttered with trinkets.  Clockwork’s avatar leaned down to press its cheek against the crown of Danny’s head.  Its cloak fell to either side of Danny, cutting off his field of view to the left and right, leaving him with only the table and the wall behind it.  

A gift, said Clockwork’s avatar.

“Why?” asked Danny.  It felt odd to speak here, and much more so in English, but he was still learning how to use his True Voice.  

I wanted to give you something myself, before we celebrate your birthday.  

“My birthday is ages away,” said Danny.  

From some perspectives, perhaps.  But we missed so many of yours.  We must make them up before the next one.  

There was something ominous there, but Danny just leaned into the avatar’s touch, unwilling to devote himself to interpreting omens.  

Pick one, said Clockwork’s avatar, pick wisely.  Gifts received in the Dream become part of you.

Danny nodded and opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) to look at the trinkets—no, the gifts—again.  Gifts that, like all good gifts, came with strings attached.  

There was something off about that thought.

But it didn’t matter.  It wasn’t as if he could refuse a gift.  

He reached out.  

.

He picked the beaded pectoral necklace.  Mostly because he was curious to see how it went on, what with the collar around his neck and all.  Yes, this was the Dream, and multiple things could exist in the same place at the same time, but usually there was an… internal consistency, of sorts.

It turned out the answer was that the necklace merged with the bottom edge of the collar, which felt weird, but it was fine, because both were manifestations of Clockwork’s Love.  

The unfamiliar weight of it hung strangely off his shoulders, especially given the counterweight that hung down his back, and forced him to alter his posture.  He stood straight and… Well.  Not tall. But to his full height.  

Clockwork’s ticking sounded pleased.  An echo of something where Danny’s heart once was agreed with that assessment.  

When he left the Dream and went on with his life, it seemed as if not much had changed, except—

He felt more confident.  More coordinated.  He didn’t stutter as much.  People listened to him more.  

Even Sam and Tucker remarked on it.  

Only a few days later, Clockwork called him back, reeling him into the deep Dream by the chain attached to his collar.  He had another gift for Danny.  A bracelet.  Its weight joined that of the necklace.

Since you seemed to enjoy this so much, said the avatar, running its fingers over the faience beads.  

And so it went.  

Every few days, Clockwork would call him back and give him some new little adornment.  A ring.  A jeweled comb.  An anklet. A brooch.  A belt.  Each gift seemed to smooth away some almost imperceptible flaw in his waking self, seemed to draw more eyes to him, more attention, more praise.  People who would never give him the time of day before actually sought out his company.

He wondered.  Each thing he was given was a display of wealth.  Did that come across, somehow?  Or was it simply gravity, the mass of his presence pulling in their regard?

The improvements weren’t just in his human life. The others were easier to fight, to distract and ward away.  Their blows did not hurt nearly as much, nor did their ‘appearances’ distress him as much as they once had.  

He noticed, too, the weight of what he wore in the Dream.  Each ring, each bauble, made it easier for him to sink into the depths, made it harder for him to reach the surface.  

Sometimes, after a return, he would like on the floor in his room, panting.

But he was growing stronger, too, and he hoped—

It didn’t matter what he’d hoped.  

He could no longer reach the waking world. He tried seven times before the chain, vibrating with amusement, pulled him back to Clockwork.  

We must celebrate, said Clockwork’s avatar, pulling a sort of woven metal sleeve over Danny’s right hand.  It hooked neatly onto the rings on each of his fingers.  

“Why?” asked Danny, barely holding himself back from falling to pieces.  He had a responsibility to Amity Park.  Not to mention, he wanted to live there with his friends and family.  

Because it is a wonderful milestone, that you are too powerful to reach that place on your own.  The avatar placed a crown of knotted metal on Danny’s head.  This is what a cult is for, my little gem.  To pull you up.  

“What if…” said Danny, “I get too… heavy to be pulled up?”  

Another milestone.  

.

Except, no, Danny’s hand still hovered over the table, undecided.  He let it fall back to his side and blinked, shaking his head to clear it of the vision that had just overtaken him.  

Did it show what would be, what might have been? Or merely a possibility?  

Reality splintered.

.

He put his hand down on a stack of folded white cloth, jostling the bells sewn to the hems.  He didn’t actually know what it was, but it seemed harmless, and the fabric was soft.  

It turned out that the cloth was a set of folded veils.  The bells were weights, to make them hang properly.  

Clockwork’s avatar helped him put them on in front of a mirror, since Danny had never worn anything like them before.  The cloth was thin, diaphanous gauze.  Where the veils touched the clothing he was already wearing, it whispered away, like it never was.  In some places, mostly on his shoulders and back, for some reason, the veils merged smoothly, seamlessly, with his skin.  It was an odd sensation, made more so by the fact that his nerve endings seemed to extend partway into the cloth.  

Although, that might not be by design, but because Danny expected it.  This was the Dream, after all.  

Once all the veils were in place, the only pieces of his body exposed were his hands and bare feet.  It was strange, looking at himself in the mirror through the sheer veils over his face and head.  He almost looked like a ghost.  

It was… it was kind of embarrassing, being dressed like this.  The veils were the only things he was wearing, and even with all their frothy layers, he could make out the silhouette of his body beneath them.  

He spun in place, just enough to hear the bells ring with high, clear tones.  Like this, the subtle embroidery on the veils looked like feathers.  

When he woke again, normal clothes felt rough and coarse against his skin in comparison.  He gritted his teeth and bore it.  He couldn’t very well walk to school in the nude.

“Did something happen last night?” asked Sam, surveying Danny up and down.  

“Um,” said Danny, “yes, but why?”

“You look…”

“Mysterious,” said Tucker.  

“Ethereal,” decided Sam.  “But also…”  She hummed. “Untouchable, maybe?  I don’t know.”

Danny explained what had happened.  

It was in the course of just messing around that they found another effect.  

“Dude,” said Tucker, as Danny sat on his shoulders, “did you lose weight or something?”

“No?” said Danny, turning away from his sticky-note masterpiece on the classroom ceiling.  “At least, I don’t think so.”

“You just seem a lot lighter than the last time we did this.”

They weighed him later, at Sam’s house.  He was.  

The next time he visited the dream, there were changes.  One, the sensation in the cloth had extended.  He could feel almost all the way to the ends of some of the shorter veils. Two, his form beneath the veils was less distinct.  Softer. When he put his hand underneath them to check, his body felt softer, too.  Three, he was glowing.  

Of course, said Clockwork’s avatar, stroking its cold hand down his back in a way that made all of his new nerve endings overload.  As the illusion fades, the truth may shine.  

It did not elaborate, no matter how Danny pressed him.  It did, however, pet him until he was left as little more than a pleasantly chirping puddle of veils and feathers on Clockwork’s floor.  

He did not note the significance of the feathers until his next visit to the Dream, whereupon some of his veils had become wings, bells still attached and ringing with every motion.  He spread them out and flew.  

Flying was even better than he had imagined. Never before had he known such joy.

The changes continued, the form he wore in the waking world becoming progressively more and more alien to him, more grating and uncomfortable.  

“That only makes sense,” said Sam.  “You’re more than us.  Being constrained like this can’t be good for you.”

Tucker nodded in agreement.  “I mean, look at all of this.”

Danny looked around the cafeteria, catching several worshipful gazes.  

“You don’t belong in a cage like this.”

“I want to be able to help,” said Danny.  It had become easier, in some ways.  It was as hard as ever to fight the others, but human aggression stopped dead in Danny’s presence.  

“You’ll still be able to,” said Sam.  “But Tucker’s right, you should be trapped here. You should in a high place… on a pedestal.  Somewhere to give us hope.  Somewhere we can look up to.”

He stood in front of Clockwork’s mirror again. There was a suggestion of a human body beneath the wings, but nothing more than that.  Soon, even that would be gone.  

Even as he thought it, he let his wings shift, forming a more spherical shape.  The light at his center became blindingly bright, but Danny could still see the chains of Love attached to it that kept him grounded.  

One of those chains pulled taught as Clockwork summoned him, not even bothering with the avatar this time.  This time, Danny would be able to talk to Clockwork directly, and it would be fine, because Danny had shed that illusion of humanity and become more like Clockwork.

He entered Clockwork’s direct presence and—

.

Danny reeled as the vision simply stopped being something his mind could interpret.  He felt a part of what he called his sanity crumble.  

Perhaps…  Perhaps not that one.  Instead…

.

He chose the featureless white mask, lifting it with both hands.  It was surprisingly heavy.

Clockwork’s avatar reached out, the sleeves of its robes whispering past Danny’s ears.  Let me help you put that on, it said.  It took the mask and flipped it over, brushing the broad, white satin ribbon out of the way with its thumbs.  

Before Danny could think to protest, before he could decide if he wanted to protest, the mask was pressed against his face.

The soft inner lining fit perfectly snug against his features.   Perfectly enough that it forced his eyelids and lips closed.  The bottom edge of the mask cupped his jaw, preventing him from opening his mouth.  

He could not see, with the mask on. Somehow, this surprised him.  Part of him had expected to supernaturally be able to see through the mask.  

This was inconvenient.  On the other hand, not being forced to see the Dream and its denizens could be a boon in and of itself.  

Clockwork’s avatar finished tying the ribbon.  When you wear this, only those who know you will know you.  And only those who you keep in place of your may have their knowledge progress.  

Danny tested his ability to speak, first with human words and then with his True Voice.  The best he could manage was a sort of hum.  

I know you best of all.  One cannot progress past completion.  Remember, those who Love you will understand you, even without words.  You will be allowed to remove the mask if it pleases you.  

Danny nodded to show he understood, the weight of the mask making the motion more energetic than usual.  

It took Danny time to learn how to navigate the Dream blind.  The Dream was, well, Dream.  It did not follow the usual rules of object permanence.  Things Danny could not directly perceive existed only at the whims of others.  While he was with Clockwork, he could have faith that things would stay mostly stable, but once he left, his world shrunk to echoes and what lay against his skin.

But when he did finally make it home and opened his eyes, he was able to fully understand what the mask gave him.  

He could not see the nightmares and madness lurking just under reality.  His sight was human.  He turned to his mirror and saw not a monster, but simply his physical body.  

He found himself weeping in relief.  It had been so hard.  Even if it was an illusion bought by ignorance, for the first time in far too long, he felt safe, no longer exposed.  

Whether or not it pleased him, he might never take the mask off.  

He walked to Jazz’s room to tell her the good news, only to discover he could not speak.  

After some experimentation, Danny and Jazz determined that, when he wore the mask, his speech was as constrained in the real world as it was in the Dream.  If he wanted to talk, he had to slip into the Dream to take it off.  

It was inconvenient, but still.  A perfectly hidden identity and relief from seeing were more than worth inconvenience.  

With the mask on, he almost felt human again.

Before the school day began, he paused in the bathroom and braced himself.  He had gotten away with being quiet at home, but at school, teachers would require him to answer questions.  

He stepped into the Dream and reached up to untie the knot at the back of his head.  It would not come loose.  Danny pulled harder.  

If it pleased him.  

Well, it didn’t please him to be exposed in school.  Beyond that… Danny suspected that Clockwork also had a hand in when he was allowed to remove the mask.  

A few weeks later, the school psychiatrist diagnosed him with selective mutism.  

“It almost makes sense,” claimed Tucker, gesturing at Danny’s ceiling, “if you think of it like a parent keeping their kid safe on the internet.  Like, you don’t want their identity exposed, so you keep them from giving away personal information or talking to strangers.”

“That,” said Sam, poking Danny’s cheek, “or he wants your cute little face all to himself.  What do you even look like in the Dream?”

“Like me,” said Danny.  He raised a hand to touch his face.  “I don’t know what I look like with the mask on.”  The words came surprisingly easily.  Before the mask, he’d worried that he’d eventually be unable to speak English, what with how difficult it was becoming to translate his thoughts to sounds.

Later that day, there was an incident.  Danny couldn’t help.  He couldn’t see.  

(It was, however, very clear that the others could see him.)

(He couldn’t help but feel guilty.)

That night, Clockwork pulled him into the Dream.

There is someone I want you to meet, said Clockwork’s avatar as its fingers untied the mask.  

“Who?” asked Danny as the mask came away.  He nearly forgot his question as he once again took in Clockwork’s appearance.  He had forgotten how beautiful it was here.  Tears rolled down his face.  

Your brother, said the avatar, gently leading Danny forward.  I think you will get along.  You both like masks.  

It took a few minutes for Danny to distinguish this new presence from Clockwork’s, but once he did, the name came easily to his mind.  This was Nocturne, the Dream Eater.

“Why is your mask different from mine?” asked Danny, because he couldn’t make a good first impression to save his life.  

The mouth and eyes on Nocturne’s mask turned upward in humor.  It plucked Danny’s mask from the hands of Clockwork’s avatar, and, to Danny’s simultaneous horror and delight, Danny discovered that he could feel Nocturne’s claws on the mask as if they were on his face instead.  

That is because it is your face, said Nocturne, the one you show the world.  Why wouldn’t you feel it when it is touched?  When it is damaged?  Nocturne ran his fingers down across the space where eye holes would have been in an ordinary mask, and Danny found himself forced to blink.  For the other, it is because you are a child.  I see and speak for myself.  A child sees the world through their parent’s eyes.  A child has no voice, but their parent speaks for them.  

“Will it change when I get older?” asked Danny.

Nocturne laughed.  You will not grow older.  He moved forward suddenly, pressing the mask to Danny’s face, and putting one of his other hands against the back of Danny’s head.  You will always be the youngest of us.  The most… Human.

.

Is something wrong? asked Clockwork’s avatar.

“No,” said Danny, quickly.  “It’s just hard to decide.”

You could have them all, it said, if it is so difficult.  

Danny shook his head.  “No, I just need more time.”

Maybe if Danny were human, this would be about getting the best deal, choosing the gift with the lowest price, but he wasn’t, and it wasn’t.  This was about choosing the price he wanted to pay.  

It surprised him, how much he wanted to pay some of them.  

.

The set of bracelets clinked merrily when Danny touched them.  They were four bands, each about two inches wide and a couple millimeters thick.  The metal they were made of was smooth on the outside, but on the insides, they had the same fractal patterns as the collar.

The manacles are a good choice, said Clockwork’s avatar, approvingly.  

Manacles.

Not bracelets.  

Unfortunately, he didn’t think he was allowed to change his mind.  

The manacles went around his wrists and ankles, each one closing with a snap.  When they shut, the metal they were made of swirled, the hinges and seams disappearing to present a flawless surface and the overall shape shifting so the inside laid flush against his skin.  

As soon as he closed the last one, and it finished altering itself, Danny felt a sharp pain through the center of his wrists and ankles, followed by a radiating numbness, as if a rod had been driven through each manacle, through each wrist and ankle, stopping only when it hit the other side.  But the numbness soon faded, and as he flexed his hands and feet, he didn’t feel anything like that.  

Still.  The message was clear.  The metal bands were not coming off.  

Clockwork’s avatar took one of Danny’s hands, and examined the band.  The metal, which had warmed against Danny’s skin, turned frigid under the avatar’s touch. For a moment, Danny’s vision blurred, and he saw a multitude of delicate chains leading from the manacle in every direction, connecting it to Clockwork, the other manacles, the collar around his neck and who knew what else.  His vision cleared.  A few long, silent minutes later, the avatar released him.  

They were made with much skill.  I hope you find them useful.  

Danny nodded.  

The manacles weren’t visible in the waking world, but Danny imagined he still felt them.  Especially when he was doing things with his hands or feet.  

‘Made with skill,’ indeed.  

Lots of skills.  Skills like drawing, writing, dancing, sign language.  He didn’t trip or stumble any more but moved smoothly.  It was interesting.  It didn’t feel like the skills belonged to someone else.  They were his, now, wherever they had originally come from.  He knew how to do each thing he was doing, and he did them intentionally.  

Still, his art (which he had always considered at least decent) was now scary good.  He’d also outplayed Ember on the piano a few days back, breaking her hold on the people who had been listening.  She’d been… rather upset about that.  

It was worth it.  

The string attached to the gift didn’t make itself known for a while.  One day, while he was drawing, his wrists burned cold, and he found himself drawing something more than what he’d originally intended.  The general subject was the same, but the skill put into it, the effort, was far, far greater.  He’d meant to doodle a little, maybe for ten or so minutes before he went to bed.  

Instead, it was hours later and if it wasn’t on the back of his French homework the drawing could have been hung in a museum.

It would have been the easiest thing in the world to imagine that he was being puppetted, controlled, that the manacles made him into a marionette, but that wasn’t what it felt like.  Instead, it felt as if something had flipped a switch inside him.  

He understood, then.  The manacles granted him skills, but he couldn’t always decide when to use them.  Or how much.

It wasn’t the last time it happened.  He’d suddenly be seized with the urge to do something.  Make use of some skill.  And whatever he did when those urges settled over him was inhumanly good.  Dangerously good.  As in, attracting the wrong kind of attention good.  

Those men in suits had been there for him, and he was quite certain that, if he had been perceptible to people foreign to Amity Park, they would have tried to take him.  Tried, being the operative word.  

More importantly, the mural he’d been compelled to paint on the side of the supermarket last night seemed to be attracting a following.  He’d attempted to keep elements of the others out of it, but he knew they somehow slipped through, slipped past his attention, and into his art.  

Sam and Tucker thought it was fine, though. He was inclined to trust them.  

He was glad that the manacles did not seem to infer any violent or deadly skills.  He wasn’t what he would do if they did and the urge to act turned into an urge to harm.  

The manacles turned cold.  

Perhaps he’d bake a cake.  Something for Sam and Tucker, as a thanks for putting up with him.

.

Danny slumped against Clockwork’s avatar, who held him without complaint.  These visions were mentally draining.  They would be, what with containing weeks compressed into seconds.  

Were they seconds?

.

The picture frame caught Danny’s eye.  It was a picture of him, as an infant, being held by Clockwork’s avatar, the great expanse of Clockwork himself in the background. Danny wasn’t quite sure he knew the picture was of himself.  Really, he’d been a generic-looking baby.  But he did know.  

He took the picture.  

Nothing happened.  He went home, woke up, and went about his normal life.  On occasion, he would look at the picture when he dropped into the Dream.  It warmed something in him.

It took him a month to realize he was aging backwards.  

To be fair, no one else seemed to notice, either, even though the change was much more rapid than normal forward aging.  Danny suspected they were being blocked from noticing.  

No, that wasn’t quite right.  They treated the age he appeared as the normal state of things, but they also treated him as if he were his apparent.  Something which had bothered him all last week, even if he didn’t realize why it was happening.  

It made it slightly more embarrassing that he himself had only noticed when he’d gone to retrieve a cup from the top shelf in the cabinet and couldn’t because he was too short.  

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz were confused when he brought it up to them.  They seemed to be under the impression that he’d always been a few years younger than Sam and Tucker.  That he’d been skipped forward a few years to be in the same class as them.  Danny had let the subject drop.  He had no idea how to even begin fixing this.  If it even could be fixed.  

Every day, as he got younger and younger, he also seemed to attract more and more attention.  Positive attention.  People would smile at him, tell him he was cute, give him presents out of nowhere. Danny couldn’t say he hated it.  

Until he got small enough for people to carry around. Which they did.  Frequently.  Without asking for permission.  Even this wasn’t so much of a problem.  

Until the cult.  

Until the knife.

Until the sacrifice.  

(And Clockwork was so thrilled to be able to raise him from infancy.)

.

He hadn’t decided yet.  

How could he decide?  They were amazing gifts.  Terrifying gifts.  Gifts he could not refuse.  Gifts he didn’t want to refuse, at least on some level.  

But this wasn’t about what he wanted.  It was about what he could live with.  

The pectoral gave him power and the respect of his peers but took away his ability to use those things in the defense of Amity. Although being powerful in the Dream was an idea that tickled at the shadows in Danny’s mind.

The veils gave him something he always wanted – flight – but at the cost of his humanity and individuality.  

The mask would protect him, let him hide and return to a mostly ordinary life, but he would lose the chance to face his new existence on his own terms as well as some of his autonomy.  Not to mention, his ability to actually help his people.

The manacles gave him skills he’d enjoy, but also made him a hazard for others.  

The picture frame…  Something twinged inside Danny’s chest… The picture frame gave him a new life with Clockwork, from the very beginning.  But he’d lose everything else and kickstart an unmanageable cult.

He couldn’t give up his friends, his family, his human life.  He couldn’t give up his ability to protect Amity.  Perhaps all those things would fade from importance in his mind as he became more and more other, but for now they were razor sharp.  That made his choice clear.  

“The manacles,” he mumbled to Clockwork’s avatar. He could work around the drawbacks (even if part of him resisted the notion that the drawbacks were drawbacks).

The avatar stroked Danny’s hair.  An excellent choice.

“How,” said Danny, trying to recollect his thoughts, “how do they work?”

Danny’s eyes fluttered as he saw the chains on the manacles again.  The way they felt on his skin was just like what he remembered.  

Skills that go unused are lost in the Dream. These find them and bring them to you, bind them to you, so they are never lost again.  Clockwork’s avatar plucked one of the chains.  It felt as if someone had traced their fingers possessively up one of his arms.  Although some of the chains have other functions.  It nuzzled Danny as something deep below in Clockwork’s depths began to chime.  One can never be too connected to those they Love.  

Danny woke in his bed and moaned.  His pillow was wet with drool.  Evidently, he had left his body behind this time.  That happened, on occasion, when he went to the Dream. He was never sure how he felt about it.

He raised his hands up above his head.  As expected, the manacles were not visible, but he did feel more… connected to the world around him.  Being connected was good.  It meant that what happened before wouldn’t happen again.  It meant that he wouldn’t be lost.  

He lowered his hands, clasping them over where his heart would have, should have been.  

The connections, though, were mostly to Clockwork, who was as inhuman as any of the others Danny protected Amity Park from. Should that bother him?  He thought of what Nocturne had said in the other timeline, the one where he had chosen the mask.  He’d known, already, that as much as Clockwork protected him, he also kept him in a state where he needed that protection.  Wasn’t it natural?  Wasn’t it the desire to keep Loved ones close?

His breath hitched as he briefly felt the soothing mental weight of Clockwork’s Love increase.  

It was fine, wasn’t it?

[mxvladdy]

Hi! just finished reading your Tumblr request on AO3 and I just looooove your writing ;; if it's not a problem I wanted to ask how you imagine that Lucifer, Mammon and Beel would react to a MC who is usually very quiet and not very expressive, impossible to embarrass or make nervous, to suddenly, one day manage to make her blush for the first time (Also, English is not my first language, so I hope this is okey) I wish you a lovely week ❤

A/N: This is adorable! Sorry for the slow turn around, I hope you enjoy!❤

Lucifer

Stoicism is something he normally finds very attractive in a woman. To be able to keep such a level of calm outlook during even times that might even shake him. He loves the idea of a power couple, and the way you hold yourself. You definitely make one.

It does grate him that he can’t fluster you like you do him, especially during your time together in private. He tries multiple ways to even just draw some color to your cheeks. Flowers in the classroom, hand written invitations to private dining establishments and venues, he even went to the human realm just to find some kind of familiar comfort to give to you. You love them all he knows but he wants, craves to see an uninhibited reaction from you. He’ll get it one day, his pride depends on it at this point.

Luck graces him one evening after a hellish work day. A fight in the school yard leading to property damage he had to do extra paper work for. The only saving grace of that was it wasn’t one of his brothers, this time. Only followed soon after by a report of yet another racket engineered by Mammon. Then, to top off a horrible day one of Belphie and Satan’s little “pranks” blew up half his office.

All his loose or unprotected paperwork, gone. Nothing but smoldering bits of ash. He was now more than ever thankful to have you by his side. Before he could get his hands on the two you stepped in shooing him away to deal with the other fires that needed to be put out while you handled his office.

Things got done, in record time for once. He was able to rewrite his notes for the next council meeting, but at the cost of your weekday dinner together. A pity, but he knew you understood. Trudging up to his room he looked forward to perhaps a few hours of sleep before the next crisis struck. Then he found you.

He chuckles to himself quietly leaning against his door frame. You had beaten him to his favorite resting roost. You sat on his favorite armchair, rolled up tight in his comforter. All he could see was a tuft of hair and the very tip of your nose. Beautiful as always, but he wanted to rest. Well-two birds, one stone and all…

He scoops you up envious of how deeply you could slumber and places you on his lap. Kicking off his shoes he sighs blissfully before resting his head back on worn leather.

Mini fic

You didn’t expect to see Lucifer tonight. Today has been the absolute definition of a shit show, on nights like these it wasn’t uncommon for you not to see him at all. You would normally place your bets on him being unconscious at his desk. Though, he couldn’t really do that tonight. You pat yourself on the back mentally knowing that he would be pleased with the work you and the brothers did cleaning up his office. While you couldn’t get them to apologize to Lucifer you at least got them to clean up what was salvageable in his study.

After a few hours of cleaning his office was back in working order and your feet were screaming for a break. Bidding the two miscreants farewell and making them promise to hold off on the pranks for at least a week you let your body lead you to Lucifer’s room. The room was how you left it that morning. Your slippers next to his by the door and your robe tossed haphazardly on his linen sheets. You make a beeline for the only piece of furniture Lucifer loved dearly. How many nights had you snuck in only to see him melting into the old chain. His long legs sprawled out and tangled in his foot rest, while his body sinks into the imprints he has left from years of use like a lover's embrace.

Yanking the thin comforter from his bed you curl into the divots with a yawn. Before you know it your eyes close and the crackling of the fireplace lulls you to sleep. You awake with a jolt, confused and disoriented for a moment before your sleepy brain catches up. You fell asleep alone on the soft leather but woke to something unyielding beneath you now.

Lucifer sits underneath you snoring softly. His arms rest around your blanketed body. His head tilts down over you, his nose tickling your hairline. Like always he sports a mild look of annoyance. His lips were drawn in a scowl, brows crinkling in displease. You could tell his jaw was tense even while he slept.

Freeing your arms from your cocoon you reach up from him moving to cup his twitching jaw. With practiced ease you began to message the pin joints. You smile to yourself moving down to his tense neck and shoulders. This had become a nightly ritual for you when you shared a bed. When you knew he was asleep you would start trying to work away some of his tension from the previous day. You swear in the morning that he looks better on the nights you get the chance to.

This was your little secret though. You couldn’t bear the thought of him knowing you did this. Not that you thought he would disapprove. Lucifer appreciated acts of service, but just the thought of him knowing made your whole body heat in a flush. You push the thoughts away focusing instead on the extremely tight muscles underneath his brow line. It amazed you that he didn’t have any wrinkles after all this.

So engrossed in your perusal of his features you didn’t notice him stirring till his warm palm traps your hand to his cheek. Before you realize it his lips push a firm kiss into the flesh of your palm. Scarlet eyes meet yours crinkling around the edges. They were warm and radiant. “You’re blushing.” His voice was deep and husky from what little sleep he got.

“What?” You stammer.

Lucifer leans in tapping his forehead on yours. He studies your wide eyes and pink face for a moment before cracking a smug grin. “I’ve never seen you flustered before. Your blush looks good on you.”

“You caught me off guard.” He nods, kissing the tip of your nose tenderly taking impish glee in your squirming.

“Good-I will strive to do so more often. I wish to see you as undone as you make me.”

Mammon

Stoic MC? Rare pair? Rare pair. Mammon wears his heart on his sleeve. Nothing about him is slick. From week one everyone knew he had it bad for you. He is so open with his affections whether he likes it or not. Unlike you.

Honestly, how were you always so controlled. Ain’t the dame supposed to be all blushy and giggly too? It-it makes him think he isn’t doing something right. Is he not treating you right? Were you unhappy?

So he goes to do what he does best. Scheme. There has to be someway to crack that stoic disposition of yours. He gets clingy-well clingier now. He starts springing random vacations on you. Expect to skip class whenever he thinks he won’t get skinned alive for it.

He’ll take you anywhere all his internet research tells him to. Black sand beaches, crowded boardwalks to see the lights, deserted hiking trails late in the evening to watch the fireflies. He is sure it will work. But nope, nada. You love every moment of it and show him with a soul searing kiss and sweet words of praise. But damn you if you aren’t always so cool about it.

He is about to throw in the towel when he finally gets what he wants. At work no less. It was completely by accident but he isn’t one to complain. Perhaps he should go to work more often.

Mini Fic

“Pucker up!” Mammon’s make-up artist orders, squeezing his cheeks between her thumb and forefinger. “And for Diavolo’s sake put your phone down.”

“Shove off Cazzin.” Mammon sputters around the sour tasting lip stain and plumper. His eyes still glued to his screen. His freshly done nails swiping at picture after picture of fancy hotels and spas. Just thinking about taking you a private spring got his blood boiling in the best ways.

“Woooow.” Cazz whistles through her fangs looking at his screen. “Who is the lucky lady you are trying to impress this time?

“Mammon bristles, shooting her a murderous glance. The smaller demon blanches, purple skin turning ashy with fear. Her eyes drop to the floor immediately in submission, a sincere apology falling from her lips. “My girlfriend.” He says finally after cooling down. “I’m-I’m trying to impress her or something.”

“Well, pretty sure with a price tag like that anyone would be impressed.” Mammon only grunts barely glancing at the excessive amount of zeros on the page. Any other girl he knew would be a blushing mess after getting a gift like this. Hells, even Cazz was eyeing the site with open envy and excitement. Yet, this wasn’t the first time he had done something like this with you. Every time he did all he got was a blisteringly radiant smile and kisses that probably could send him back to heaven if he didn’t have a life long ban there. Not that that was a bad thing...but he just wanted more.

“You would think so…” He trails off clicking his phone off to focus on the rest of his routine. No sooner had his hair and make-up artist finished then his director was stomping and shouting down the hall for him to get his ass on set. Grimacing Mammon slides off his seat stretching to spare himself a few more seconds of peace. He stops at the door taking one last look at his get up for this shoot.

Damn, he looks good. It was time for a new spring collection, but more importantly, his most popular season. The light spring colors always brought out his best features. The pastel cotton shirt they “fashionably” threw him in hung casually around his frame. Buttons “tastefully” undone to show the smooth planes of his freely waxed and oiled skin. The linen board shorts and finishing touch of leather sandals gave him the perfect beach vibe. At top dollar mind you.

Hmmm-perhaps he could borrow this outfit for your next beach outing.

Unable to tone out his bosses shouting anymore Mammon makes his way to set. He thinks hard on what else he can go or take you to impress you, ignoring the poking and prodding of his camera men and set designers. His partners today, two incubus twins stood sourly next to him. They had been at this for hours and even he was ready for a break from the sweltering heat of the lights.

“Alright! Alright!” The director broke an hour later tired of the twins whining. He throws his hands in the air in exasperation. “We’ll break for an hour for lunch- lost the light as is.” He huffs stumping off for a smoke break.

“Finally,” Mammon sighs from his pose on the ground. “Think I got sand in my ass.” He gets up from the ground grimacing as he tries to brush the grit off his legs. “Shit starts to burn when they get hot.” One of the twins nods looking down at their own arms. Tiny burn marks showing on their fair skin, they will heal by the time the shoot resumes, doesn’t mean they will be happy about it.

“Want to grab lunch?” The twins ask tossing him a towel to blot at his sweating brow. “New food truck is coming in today.” Mammon shakes his head. You had packed him something to eat this morning and he kind of wanted to enjoy it in peace for once.

Waving the two off he hurries back to his room already salivating at whatever tasty food you got him. Halfway to the door he stops, the fine hairs on his neck standing up. Someone was in his dressing room. Devil’s please don’t let it be another rabid fan. He pleads before creeping forward to check. Whoever it was left the door ajar, peaking in he stares enraptured.

When did you get here? It wasn’t abnormal for you to just drop by while he was working, but you usually waited for him on set behind the cameras. You sit humming to yourself reading something on your lap, feet kicking out innocently while you wait for him. Flipping a page he gets a glimpse of what you’re reading. His feathers ruffle in satisfaction. He had plans on showing you these shots before their release date. They still needed approval from his director but he knew they were great. You flip through shot after shot humming or nodding at some. One shot makes you stop fully, eyes growing wide.

Mammon snorts to himself, knowing exactly which photo you stopped on. The next issue was focusing on “Elegance in the work space”, whatever that means. His designer for the projects went a little overboard with the cuts and designs of the business suites he was to model. The sketches and drafts she had thrust at him had made his head spin. They were all amazing in his opinion, but one had been killer, everyone had agreed on that. If he didn’t know any better he was certain that it would put him on the cover. By the way you were looking at it, he was hoping it would.

That suit really complimented all of his features. It was form fitting accenting his slim waist but hid the slight sloping of his shoulders. The gold of the threading of his vest was done up in soft floral patterns that popped against the dark navy blue of the suit's fabric. The dark blue really brought out the lightness of his eyes. The look was topped off with a bright yellow silk pocket square, polished leather wingtips and gold cufflinks. He was about to interrupt you when he saw it, that one thing he wanted more than anything.

The pink starts at your ears swiping across the bridge of your nose before blooming on your round cheeks. It was breathtaking. Thinking he was being sneaky, Mammon whips out his phone for a quick picture, no one would believe him unless he had solid evidence. But the flash gives him away.

“Mammon!” You jump caught, hands flying to cover your warm face.

“Oi! None of that!” Mammon moves quickly snatching your hands away from your face beaming. “I’ve been waiting for ages to see this face on ya, an’ all it took was a picture of me?”

“You- you clean up really nicely, Mammon.” His hearts flutter at your soft admission.

“Huh,” Mammon scratches his neck, feeling his own blush coming forth. “Well- I mean I could do that more often, so long as you keep looking at me like this when I do.” He picks up the stack of photos from the floor where you dropped them in surprise. “Ya know- I still got that suit.”

Your face turns molten- oh he was going to have a field day with this.

Beelzebub

Doesn’t even notice at first. He is kind of the same way with expressing himself too- unless food is involved. So if you are content then he is content, so who cares if you don’t show it on your face?

Well- he didn’t care, until Belphie brought it up. His twin didn’t mean anything by it; he knew that, but it made him wonder. He trusts you when you say you are happy, you have no reason to lie to him. But date nights, game nights, and family dinners you were always so impassive.

It makes him wonder, not enough to ask you though. Truthfully, he is a little embarrassed that he can’t read you as you do him. He won’t force it like his brothers might. He is patient and hopes one day it will just come naturally like it does for him around you.

Mini Fic

Beel watches you over his lunch. You two were silent as you ate, but that was to be expected on days like these. The school cafe was packed with students all jockeying to get a place in line for today’s special. He had gotten there early for the both of you to gap a few of the specials and sides before they were gone. “Are you ok?” He puts his fork down leaning in close to speak to you across the small table. It creaks dangerously under the weight of his elbows on it. You look up from your tea mug. He smiles at your perpetually mild expression, your eyes were hard but your lips and brows were relaxed giving away nothing.

“Of course.” You smile up at him, face smooth and controlled. “Just excited about tonight.”

Hmph, could have fooled him. Beel leans back, studying you intently. He hopes you were as excited as he was for tonight. A new arcade had opened on the edge of town last week and he thought it would be a great date night for the two of you. He had expressed to you on several occasions how he was looking forward to the roller rink and the hoop games. You seemed eager, giving him a closed lip grin every time he brought it up. “Me too.” Beel says finally turning back to his food. “Think we will win any prizes?”

You snort dismissively. “Us? The dream team? I would be surprised if we didn’t win something. Have you seen the plushies?” You pull out your phone and show him their Devilgram. “I want to try and get the hydra one…” You prattle on and scroll through all the cute prizes on their site. He nods along taking a mental note of all the ones that you pointed at, determined to get each and every one for you.

School goes by quickly, far too quickly for him. Each tick of the clock caught him by surprise, jacking his nerves up more and more. It wasn’t like it was his first date with you, but it never stopped the butterflies from starting in his stomach. After school he changes quickly and waits for you by your bedroom door. He fiddles with the zipper of his jacket until you finally open your door.

“Ready?” The smile you throw up at him is breathtaking. “Hope you don’t mind my get up. You mentioned a roller ring so I figured something sporty and functional would be appropriate.” You kick out a leg waving a hand over your bright sport leggings.

Beel chuckles offering you his large hand. “You look adorable as always.”

Being with you was as easy as breathing to him now. After all your time together in the house getting to know you you became one of his closest friends, even before you started dating. You shared many of his interests and wasn’t afraid to argue your point if you saw fit. You fill the train ride to the arcade with idle chatter, goofy selfies to send to his siblings, and annoying the other passengers with your ill-contained chuckles.

The place itself was packed but well spread out to handle the massive throngs of demons and beasts coming for drinks and a good time. “Come on!” You shout over the other very drunk and very loud customers tugging at his sleeve. “Let’s get some coins and find an empty station.” He lets you lead. You take full advantage of his impressive frame to part the crowds around you as you hunt for a free spot. “See anything?”

Beel peers over the heads of most of the demons and looks out. In the far corner sat a few jump rope games that were free. “Stay close.” He murmurs in your ear wrapping a protective arm your shoulders so you wouldn’t be swept away in the flow of the crowd. The games were...hard. Mentally Beel kicks himself. Of course an arcade in the Devildom wouldn’t be geared for humans. They were built for demons' fast reflexes and inhuman strength. You were a good sport about it though, cheering him on when the games began to move too fast for your senses. If a game broke in his zeal to get you tickets, well you were both fast walkers.

“Think we have enough?” Beelzebub asks hours later around a popsicle. His jacket pockets bulge with multicolored tickets screaming to be spent.

You hum around a scoop of ice cream. “Possibly-” Your eyes flick to the prize booth. “And extra, you want a plushie too?” He shrugs. No doubt the moment it got into his room Belphie will steal it to add to his horde.

You end up getting your stuffed hydra and a giant fuzzy minotaur to keep it “company”. You clutch them close to your chest, seemingly happy with your bounties. After that you spend a bit at the roller ring before you finally had to call it a night. Exhausted you lag behind Beel as you make your way back to the train station, feet dragging with each step.

Wordlessly, Beel stops just in front of you. “Here,” He squats, offering you his back, arms stretched out behind him. “I can take us the rest of the way to the stop.” He feels you hesitate for a moment before climbing on to his back.

“Thank you.” He thinks nothing of how soft your voice was, just barely a tickle at the base of his neck. Beel treks one once you are secure, stuffing his hands in his pockets to lock you in place. The rest of the walk was quiet but he didn’t mind it, your warm body and soft breathing in his ear was a comfort.

He stops at the benches with a few minutes to spare before your train. “We are here. Do you want-” He gasps quietly, cutting himself off before he could accidentally wake you. You sleep on unperturbed by his voice. Your hold on around his neck was tight, your head buried in his neck.

It seems only when you're sleeping do you let your guard down. A blush sweeps across your face, your lips pulled up into a serene smile. You looked-happy. Happy in a way he never saw before. He won’t say anything about it, he decides. He’ll cherish this tiny expression all the same. Perhaps one day he’ll see when you're awake too.

[chosenimagines]

To the rescue (Dr Spencer Reid)

Universe: (H) Criminal Minds Summary: Reader goes as every morning into the same coffee shop. The good morning turns into horror (Reader is named Alia) Used Prompts: - Warnings: sexual assault  Language: English Request: Yes/No

Request: Hey! So, I had this idea of Spencer meeting reader(can be fem, male,or GN; I don’t really mind) in a coffee shop. They’re both neighbours, go to the same coffee shop and order similar coffee everyday. Neither of them ever say anything, just wave and smile. It’s obvious that they both have a crush on each other. One day, either a persistent random or ex won’t leave reader alone, and Spencer comes to the rescue and pretends to be their boyfriend. Also, wanna add they both know each other’s names from when the barista calls out their names.Also, can Derek and Penelope feature! I just love them so much. Like imagine as Spencer is introducing himself as reader’s boyfriend and they walk in and hear. Honestly, you can tweak and change the request as much as you want. I just think coffee shop Spencer is a cute trope (by izraahh1)

Requests [Open]

A/N: Thank you very much for your request @izraahh1 I enjoyed writting it! Enjoy <3

 My requests are open on Wattpad and Tumblr

🖊️    🖊️    🖊️  

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Accompanied by a delicate bell, I entered the well-filled shop. Fortunately, no one stood at the checkout, but waited for her order off the beaten track. As joyful as I was, I stepped up to the counter. "Hi."

Friendly as always! Nevertheless, I put a radiant smile on my lips. "A wonderful good morning, Jazzy! I take a cappuccino with caramel sauce please and a chocolate croissant." "Name?" Was she being serious? Okay, the answer was obvious! But it was difficult to take seriously as I was here once or twice a day and often placed the same order and every morning Jazzy stands behind the counter. But that was fine with me! "Alia! A-L-I-A.", I spelled patiently. Not even Jazzy could spoil my good mood! I had had a great morning. I had bought a new book with a free bookmark; the course had been postponed and in a seconde I would get my life-saving coffee and something to eat. It couldn't get any better on a Monday morning! I was just happy, which I also showed uninhibitedly. Annoyed, Jazzy nodded, tapping rougher than necessary on the display of the cash register. Her fingernails caused a repetitive clacking, which I sometimes knew from myself when I used my phone. But when I typed it was not half as continuous as with the young cashier, because her modeled fingernails were longer than my natural nails, which is why the recurring tone made sense. "Next!", moaned Jazzy and I trotted to the side to wait for my name to be called. It was always a pleasure to see Jazzy! Sometimes I wondered why she was working at the checkout. I pushed the thought of her aside. I really shouldn't continue thinking about her negative nature! My foot tapped to the rhythm of the song that was playing in the coffee shop. But I didn't pay much attention to it, because I buried my nose again in my book. Much to my chagrin, I had barely read half a page when I was disturbed. Someone strangely pushed towards me. I took a step to the side over and over again, but the person just moved in. "Well! How are you?" I knew the voice! I jerked my head and Robert's dull blue eyes stared at me. There was a mischievous sparkle in them, which I didn't like at all. It scared me! "Leave me alone!", I hissed. I prayed fervently that my voice wouldn’t shake and that he wouldn’t hear my fear. I didn't want to show any weakness towards him! "Why so scratchy? Is that how you greet your boyfriend?" "Ex-boyfriend.", I clarified. "And this has been the case for three months." I must have dropped my book, because it was no longer in my hand when I crossed my arms in front of my chest. "Nonsense, we just took a little break," said Robert, stepping even closer. "No! I broke up with you. There was no small break, Robert and now please leave me alone!", I demanded. Even I heard how much my voice trembled. It didn't sound determined but anxious! That didn't help me in the slightest. My goose was cooked! "I'm really interested in whether I'm still going to turn you on." he said- quite loudly, considering that sex was less widely used as a topic in public. His fingers enclosed the waistband of my pants. "Leave me alone!", I said weakly. My panic paralyzed me. "The lady told you to stop!" Robert was already stumbling backwards due to external influence. I was more than grateful for the distance! My cute neighbor Spencer, whom I met here every morning, stood next to me protectively.  I had never been this happy to see him in my life! I didn't want to imagine what would have happened otherwise... "What are you supposed to be?", Robert blared at him. My fingers dug into the sleeve of Spencer's cardigan. I didn't notice it until he released them from his arm. Then he crossed the fingers of my right hand with his right hand and put said arm around my shoulders. "I am her boyfriend! If I may introduce myself, I am SSA Dr Reid." The words sounded friendly, but Spencer exuded strength, confidence and authority. Robert pulled up his shoulders. "SSA?", he repeated shyly. Spencer nodded. "I'm an FBI agent.", he added. "Sorry, sir! I didn't want to bother your girlfriend. I'm already gone! Have a nice day, sir!", my ex babbled to himself and run as fast as possible. Relieved, I exhaled. Immediately my muscles loosened and I felt comfortable in my own skin again. Spencer loosened our fingers. Then he stood in front of me, gently caressing my upper arms as he looked at me from top to bottom. "Are you doing well, Alia? Did he do something to you physically?", Spencer asked. But I shook my head. "Fortunately not. Thanks to you! I don't know what he would have done if you hadn't helped me. How am I supposed to thank you for that?" Suddenly, his cheeks took on a slight shade of red. "That goes without saying." he said. "It's not," I countered. That's when a idea came to my head! "It's not much for your heroic deed, but I invite you to your coffee. That's the least I can do!" My neighbor quickly gave in. "If you insist!" I grinned at him. "You said it!" But Spencer took a few steps away and knelt before coming back to me. He held something to me. My book! I had completely forgotten that. "It suffered underneath the feet of this-" Spencer broke off, took a deep breath before continuing to speak. "Your book unfortunately suffered a bit, but of course I wanted to help you first and then save the book." Smiling, I accepted it. "Two heroic deeds in one day! Spencer, a bit more and I will die in despair because I don't know how to thank you.", I teased him and gently nudged him with my shoulder. His cheeks turned darker. "The coffee is enough for me. Thank you!", he coughed. Once again, I noticed how cute Spencer was! I already liked him. "Spencer!" "Alia!" Now I had to laugh. "What a coincidence that we are being called out at the same time!", I said. Now my rescuer was also smiling. "Yes! A nice coincidence.", he commented. After I had paid, we walked together to exit. But Spencer suddenly stopped. "Morgan, Garcia, what are you doing here?" A remarkably dressed woman and a casual-looking man came up to us. Both wore a broad grin on their lips. I had clearly missed out on something! "We're going to university today, pretty boy! We should pick you up. Did you forget that?", said the man. Spencer shook his head. "We just wanted to get a coffee beforehand. Who can guess that our pretty doctor will save his beautiful girlfriend?", the woman added. Then she hold out her hand to me. "Penelope Garcia! Colleague and friend of Reid." "She's not my girlfriend.", Spencer croaked.  But I would like to be... "Then you should change that quickly! The way you two look at each other, I assumed that I have been swearing you two have been together for a long time." How do we look at each other? Puzzled Spencer looked at me. I swallowed hard and remembered the man's initial statement - I believed his name was Morgan. "Which college do you have to go to?", I wanted to know. He told me the name with the grin not leaving his face for a second. "I have to go there too! Would there be a problem taking me there as well?" Penelope raked in with me. "Of course not! And now tell me since when you know our beloved Reid!”, she demanded as pulling me out of the cafe. I could hear Morgan's laughter behind me. What unique people!

[omnivorousshipper]

Sisters of Mine

Summary:  Letty receives a call about her ‘brother’ Owen Shaw waking up from his coma after the events of F7. How will she and her family deal with this?

           Letty had been in their garage when she had gotten the call. After the Toretto family home had been destroyed by Deckard Shaw’s bomb, she and Dom had invested in a large farmhouse on the outskirts of LA with enough room for both of them and anyone who would visit. She couldn’t be more grateful for Dom and his willingness to accommodate her while she didn’t have her memory; he gave her space and let her come to him when she was ready. Even if she hadn’t regained her memory, she was willing to bet she would have fallen in love with Dominic Toretto all over again. Good thing she got her memory again, or else they might have gotten in trouble trying to get married again.

           So far it had been two months since they had rescued Ramsey, escaped Shaw’s vengeance, and even acquired the God’s Eye for Mr. Nobody. A pretty productive time for them, and only costing them a home and gaining a new sense of paranoia towards their mail. However, Letty was enjoying her newly regained memories and making up for lost time with Dom. At the moment, they were both working on rebuilding Dom’s car that he had wrecked when fighting Shaw. He had gone inside to fetch them something to drink and leaving her alone in the garage.

           Tightening a bolt underneath the car, Letty could hear her phone going off and pushing herself out from under it. Whipping off her greasy hands on her overalls, she answered her phone.

           “Hello?”

           “Good evening,” a British woman’s voice greeted her pleasantly. “Is this Hattie Shaw? I’m calling about your brother, Owen Shaw.”

           She almost dropped her phone in shock when she heard those words.

           There couldn’t be any reasonable answer to as why they would be calling her of all people about Owen. She should have been the very last person to learn about his condition or what he was up to. And besides that, had Owen listed her as his sister for some kind of new scheme? He had done so in the past with her faking an accent, or with him faking one, to carry out a heist, but this was going too far. The last Letty had heard about Owen, he had been in a coma after the events in Spain.

           And the name Hattie? Was Owen so unoriginal to simply change one syllable of her name to make something so silly sounding?

           “Hello? Miss?”

           “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.” Letty sighed and with minimal thought shifted her voice to have a slight English accent. After hours of being grilled on impersonating different British accents, it was almost second nature for her to take it on. “What’s going on?”

           “Your brother has woken up.” The woman told her plainly. Swallowing thickly, Letty couldn’t believe her ears. “He’s of course still being monitored by doctors and has a police guard around him, but he is conscious and showing greats signs of recovering.”

           “Really? That’s great.” Letty breathed out.

           “The officers didn’t want us contacting any of his family, um, since his transfer,” the woman stuttered on her last words. Letty had heard from Hobbs about Deckard’s little visit to Owen in the hospital and wasn’t surprised that had caused quite a stir. “However, in his files, you were listed as next of kin that has no criminal background. I thought you would like to visit him while he recovers and before…”

           “He’s sent to prison.” Letty finished for her. She wasn’t an idiot. It was obvious that Owen would be sent immediately to prison once he was healthy enough to be incarcerated for what he had done. His condition either had to be too severe for him to be sent to a prison hospital or that wasn’t how they handled things in the UK. Either way, Letty didn’t know how she felt about this new development. Her mind was going haywire. “How long before he’s put away?”

           “It’s a little difficult to tell at the moment. He’s recovering at a rapid pace, one the doctors are shocked by, and might be able to start physical therapy in only a couple weeks. Once he’s able to walk with an aide, that will most likely be when he’ll be moved.”

           Letty took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she processed the information. Owen was alive and awake. Apparently, he was recovering well without anyone there to help him. So, the question was, should she go along with his ruse and visit him as his sister? Too many thoughts and possibilities ran through her mind, and Letty was at a loss.

           Did she really care about Owen?

           “Miss? If you are planning on visiting him, I will need to add you to the system so the guards will allow you through.”

           Biting her lip, Letty nodded to herself.

           “I’ll be there. Thank you.”

--

           “You’re going where?” Dom demanded from where he stood inside the doorway of their bedroom with his arms crossed across his chest. Even though Letty was rushing back and forth between their closet and the suitcase on the bed, she knew he was sending her a severe look as she explained just as quickly as she was moving.

           “London. Owen is awake and they’re giving me access to visit him.” She debated on bringing a few classier outfits but decided against it. If she needed it, she would simply buy it there. No use in bringing things she didn’t necessarily need; this was a visit, not a heist so there wasn’t a need to be overly prepared.

           “Why the hell would you want to go visit him?”

           “Because…” Letty’s words fizzled out and she didn’t know what to say.

           She rarely talked about her time with Owen and his crew, almost never revealing what it was like to be with them to Dom. She should have told him from the beginning that she and Owen had been much closer than simply a member of a crew and the boss. Owen had been the one at her bedside when she woke up in the hospital and with barely any memory, other than her own name. From there, he had led her through a thrilling time of traveling, pulling heists, and generally having the time of her life. Those were some of the best moments of her life.

           And she had forced herself not to think of them when Dom’s crew took her in.

           It had simply been too painful to accept that Owen—someone she wouldn’t have minded calling ‘brother’—to have betrayed her. Suddenly, everything he had ever said to her was a lie and she didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. One moment he had been his usual self, and the next he was a cruel, uncaring leader of a crew she no longer recognized. Everything had happened so fast; she couldn’t process any of her feelings. And after they had stopped him from escaping, Dom and his crew had been so happy to have her back with them, she hadn’t even thought about following Owen anymore. Even when Deckard Shaw showed up, she had shoved Owen out of her mind as if he had never been part of her life.

           Why had he never told her about her past? Did he know?

           Brian had told her that Owen had found her through his connections with Braga, but did that mean he knew everything on her? There had been a lot of things he had been shocked to learn when they had gotten close. Hell, he had even checked on her frequently, asking her if there places she wanted to go to spark her memory, or if she could remember anyone. However, Letty had been so devastated that no one else had come for her, she had never gone looking. Remembering would have been too painful at the time.

           Now, it was just as painful. How ironic that her two lives would clash so horribly and leave her so conflicted.

           “Letty?”

           “He was there when I woke up,” Letty told him quietly and continued packing her suitcase. “I want to be there for him.”

           “He used you.”

           “I know.”

           “Are you sure this is safe? His psycho brother just—”

           “And we caught him!” Letty snapped. “The only other person that would do anything is his mom, and if she was going to do anything, she would have done something by now!”

           Behind her, Dom was quiet. Letty sighed. Zipping up her suitcase, she set it on the floor and finally turned to look at her husband. Dom was indeed staring at her with his usual stoic expression, but she could see the sympathy and sadness in his eyes as he watched her. Smiling softly at him, Letty slowly approached him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She rested her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat.

           “I know it might sound strange, but I really do want to see him. He might seem like the world’s biggest dick, but he means a lot to me.”

           They stood together for a long time, simply holding each other while the quiet engulfed them. Letty could feel her body tensing as each second went by and she didn’t know what was going to happen. She needed to see Owen, for better or worse, and she wasn’t sure if she was strong enough to go by herself. Who knew what kind of state Owen was in to receive her?

           “Will you come with me?” Letty eventually mumbled into Dom’s chest. She couldn’t stand his silence. She could feel more than hear the soft chuckle he let out. Looking up at him, she saw him smiling softly down at her as he brushed back some of her hair.

           “Ride or die, remember?”

--

           The trip to London was uneventful with them taking a private jet and having as much leg room as they wanted. However, with how nervous Letty was, the flight seemed to take much longer than it really was. Thank goodness she had Dom or else she would have done something crazy like hijacking the plane and flying it herself. Instead, Dom kept her grounded and reassured her that everything would be fine.

           When they finally touched down in London, Letty was running on almost no sleep as they got a car and made their way to the hospital. Dom had purposely nudged her towards the passenger side since she was so jittery and while she wanted to protest, she knew it was smarter if they didn’t have her drive when so keyed-up. Her leg was constantly bouncing as they drove to the hospital and even before they parked, Letty spotted several armed guards patrolling the area. No doubt all of them were for Owen.

           She had been expecting a lot more resistance as they entered, but the staff seemed to be expecting them as one nurse came up to them with a smile. Apparently, she had been the one to contact Letty and offered to take them up to Owen’s room. He had been given a whole floor to himself, just in case another Deckard Shaw incident were to happen, and they needed to protect the staff and other patients.

           The place felt nearly empty and deserted to Letty as they stepped off the elevator onto the private floor where the only people Letty could see were at least a dozen soldiers. She was tempted to call it over-kill, but when you were dealing with the Shaws, that word would never apply. But, that didn’t stop her fists from balling up. Owen had just woken up from a coma while his brother was in prison, what the hell did they think was going to happen now? Maybe they think I’m going to break him out, Letty smirked to herself.

           At the end of the hallway was Owen’s room. As they got closer, Letty was stiff as a board as their footsteps echoed off the bare walls and made them sound infinitely louder. She nearly jumped when she felt a hand brush against hers and without even thinking, she grabbed Dom’s hand and squeezed it. Feeling him squeeze back, Letty knew everything was going to be all right. They would make sure of it.

           “Here we are.” The nurse smiled at them and gestured to the open room. Taking a deep breath, Letty stepped inside and could feel Dom following her closely.

           The room was large and spacious, giving plenty of space to the machines that surrounded the bed that was set up against one wall. Parallel to the bed were a long line of windows that bathed the person in the bed with afternoon sunlight and showing off just how pale he was.

           At first glance, Letty’s heart nearly stopped at the sight of a very still Owen. His skin was ghastly pale, while the scars up and down his body were gruesome and twisted the light into odd shapes across his face and torso. There were half a dozen tubes connecting him to the machines as he seemed to sleep on. The heart machine was beeping constantly, just barely allowing Letty relief that Owen was alive.

           “He’s still experiencing quite a bit of pain, so he is heavily medicated. But, he should be able to talk to you.”

           Letty nodded in thanks as she slowly approached Owen’s bed. Up close, he looked even worse; half of his face looked as if it had been melted off while the scars continued down his neck and chest. It must have been truly painful to deal with the injuries, but since he was in the coma, maybe he was lucky he hadn’t experienced it. Hesitantly, Letty raised her hand and let it ghost over his scarred flesh, letting it rest on his cheek. The skin was hard and unyielding under her hand, but her touch had the desired affect as Owen’s eyes blinked open, albeit very slowly.

           “Let?” Owen’s voice was hoarse and slurred, but that didn’t matter. He was awake and knew who she was.

           “Hey, Oh.” She choked on those simple words, but she couldn’t help it. He was alive. She had missed him so much.

           “Why…?” Even though he was speaking, it seemed to take a lot out of him as his eyelids sagged and barely lifted again. His eyes were glassy as he stared up at her.

           “They called me and told me my brother was awake.” Letty smiled down at him and whispered. “Hattie? That’s the best you could think of?”            “That’s the name of my sister.” Owen mumbled. Letty blinked.

           “But you don’t have a sister.”

           “Mmm. I do. Her name’s Hattie.”

           “Then why did they call me?”

           “Hattie hates me. So do you.”

           He wasn’t making any sense. Owen had never once mentioned having a sister to Letty, only ever going on and on about his brother. Occasionally, he would complain about his mother, but not once had he spoken of other close family. Especially not another sibling. So, was he lying, confusing his lies in his injured state, or was he telling the truth? A large lump had formed in Letty’s throat, and she could barely swallow around it. This isn’t what she had been expecting.

           “I don’t hate you, Oh.” Letty sighed. “You hurt me, but I don’t hate you for that.”

           “Good. I don’t hate you either.”

           “If you did, I would have to yell at you.”

           “I love you, Let.”

           “I love you too, Oh.” Letty blinked away tears as she saw Owen’s eyes finally drift shut. Only the steady heartbeat from the machine told her that he was only sleeping and didn’t just pass away in her arms. She gently ran her fingers through his now much longer hair and could feel Dom watching her. “He’s like a cat. Falls asleep anywhere and can be calmed down instantly with physical affection.”

           “Wouldn’t have guessed that from him.” Dom grunted behind her.

           “There’s a lot he doesn’t show his enemies.”

           “Am I still one?”

           “You’re my husband.” Letty looked over at him and smirked. “Of course, you are.”

           “He better get used to me then.”

           “What do you mean?”

           Dom raised an eyebrow at her and Letty instantly knew what he meant. Nodding, she nodded back; they would talk later. For the moment, they stood there watching over Owen as he slept on, however, eventually the nurse came back in to talk to them.

           “He should be more awake and coherent soon as we lower the amount of morphine he’s on. The doctors are confident that while he had a slight skull fracture when he came in, it has healed very well. They can’t say for sure if he’s experienced any brain trauma, but so far there hasn’t been much evidence.” The nurse trailed off at that last piece of information and Letty frowned.

           “But?”

           “When he is waking up, he sometimes makes animal noises,” the nurse hesitantly admitted. “The doctors have shown concern over this.”

           “Tell them not to be,” Letty couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped her at the news. She could see the concern on the nurse and Dom’s face as she spoke. “That’s just how he is when high—he thinks he can talk to animals. One time, when he had been hurt and took a little too many pain killers, he tried to convince me the birds outside my flat were talking shit about me.”

           “Please tell me you’re kidding,” Dom deadpanned, shooting a look at Owen.

           “He’s a huge animal lover, and he’s doubly so when high,” Letty shrugged.

           “Well,” The nurse gave a wry smile. “We’ll definitely keep that in mind if it ever happens again. He does a really good seagull impression.”

           “He likes being annoying.”

--

           Soon enough, they had been escorted out and gone to the hotel suite they were staying in for the time. Letty could feel her body crashing as she fell against a plush couch, but her mind was too awake for her to even think about passing out. She could hear Dom grabbing the room service from the bellhop as she thought.

           Why had Owen put her down as his emergency contact? And as his sister? They hadn’t used that con in a long time and he had never told her about pulling this stunt. When he betrayed her during the whole Nightshade heist, she had assumed he had simply cut her out of his life entirely. But, no. He had gone so far as to list her as his family.

           Had he predicted that he would end up in a situation like this? If so, then why hadn’t he simply informed Deckard about his plans and have him play the role of concerned brother? He literally was that, after all. Nothing about this situation made any sense and Letty knew Owen wouldn’t be in any state to really answer her questions for quite some time. Sighing, she threw an arm over her eyes.

           “When do you want to kidnap him?” Dom’s voice penetrated the quiet.

           “I don’t know.”

           “I know you want to do it, so let’s just start planning now. Should I call the crew?”

           “No,” Letty groaned at the thought of the others complaining about helping a Shaw. “I already have something in mind, but that’s not what’s bothering me. Why did he drag me back? I thought he hated me.”

           Her thoughts threatened to pull her back into the circular argument that was running in her mind, but a gentle, yet firm, grip pulled her arm away from her face and she saw Dom’s face looking down at her. He smiled as he continued to pull on her arm until she was sitting up and saw the food already laid out on the table in front of the couch.

           “Like you said, Owen likes to be annoying.”

           Rolling her eyes, Letty couldn’t agree more. She had known the man only for a few years and yet, he had become one of the biggest parts of it. Even if they needed to talk about what had happened between them, she wasn’t going to abandon him. Not before she had a chance to yell at him, at least.

--

           “This the place?” Dom asked, looking up at the old brownstone in front of them. The building was located on a nondescript road in London and sandwiched between similar buildings. Other than the ivy snaking up the building’s brick, there was nothing exciting about the home and Dom had to wonder if this truly was the childhood home of the Shaws. After all, both Shaw brothers had shown to be quite comfortable around the more lavish things in life, so Dom couldn’t be quite blamed for thinking the house was underwhelming.

           “Yeah.” Letty nodded. “Owen brought me here once to meet his mom.”

           “You sure you two weren’t dating?” Dom glanced at his wife out of the corner of his eye and chuckled at the look of absolute disgust that took over her face under the sunglasses she was wearing.

           “Ew. Don’t even joke about that. It was nicer when people assumed we were siblings, even if we half-assed it and said we were stepsiblings. Everyone else assumed we were dating. I hated it.”

           “Because the idea of two attractive people dating is absurd.”

           “Of course. Just look at you and me.” Letty flashed Dom a smile before walking up the steps to the brownstone. Dutifully following her, they both stopped in their tracks when the front door opened without either of them doing anything to prompt it. Standing in the doorway was a handsome man with curly, dark hair that stared at them dispassionately. He was dressed in all black, his leather jacket the only defining thing about his outfit.

           “Miss Ortiz.” The man nodded at them and didn’t bother even looking over at Dom.

           “Misses, actually,” Letty corrected. “Is Queenie here, Jeffery?”

           “Congratulations,” Jeffery drawled and stepped aside. “She���s been waiting for you.”

           “Of course, she was,” Letty mumbled as they entered the home and Dom didn’t dare take his eyes off Jeffery. Who was he? While the man’s demeanor was relaxed and unassuming, Dom could tell that he was armed to the teeth and was extremely dangerous. He could only hope that Letty knew what she was doing as they followed Jeffery down a dark hallway into a lavish sitting room.

            Sitting in an armchair was an older woman, who was drinking from a teacup while a half dozen guards stood around the room. She was completely at ease as they were led into the room with Jeffery stepping up to stand next to her and hand her a small tablet. Briefly look at it, she handed it back to him with disinterest before setting her eyes on them.

           “Are you going to stand their all day? Sit down,” she sniffed derisively, and with those few words, Dom knew exactly who this was.

           Queenie Shaw. Mother of Owen and Deckard Shaw.

           He could see more of Deckard in her than Owen physically, but she had the same dismissive attitude that he had witnessed in the younger Shaw male so long ago. They shared the same cold, calculating look in their eye that showed their raw intelligence and cruelty. Dom knew he wouldn’t want to be on this woman’s bad side, but would risk it if she ever tried to harm them.

           “You’re looking well, Queenie.” Letty offered as they took their seats across from her on a matching loveseat. Behind her was a large fireplace and it wasn’t until then that Dom noticed the enormous picture frame hanging above it. The portrait was of a man and woman, one of which was Queenie when she was much younger, but with the same look in her eyes. However, the man was a near striking image of Owen if he had been twenty years older. Looking at him, Dom had to wonder what it had to be like growing up with two severe looking parents and where Mr. Shaw was now.

           “As are you, my dear,” Queenie offered graciously. “But we both know you aren’t here simply to compliment me, no matter how lovely that would be. Tell me what you want.”

           Dom stiffened at the curt demand and couldn’t help but take in all the guards surrounding them. They were completely blocked in with no weapons on them or visible in the room. If they needed to escape, they wouldn’t be doing so without at least a few bullet wounds. However, even with the tension growing in the air, Letty didn’t seem to care as she kept her own posture relaxed. Maybe she knew Queenie more than she had let on.

           “A few days ago, I was called about Owen waking up from his coma.” Letty explained bluntly and Dom had to wonder if anything would surprise the older Shaw as she simply sipped at her tea, gesturing for Letty to continue. “He had put me down as his sister and I was able to visit him. He’s doing well and is on the road to recovery.”

           “And…?” Queenie drawled.

           “I’d like you to help us break him out.”

           “Why should I?”

           If Dom didn’t have as much composer as he did, he would have choked on air when she said that. Any parent would be jumping at the chance to help their child, but here Queenie Shaw was, asking why she should help her son avoid prison and be able to recover safely. No wonder Owen had put down Letty as his emergency contact and not a blood relative. How had Deckard grown to be so family orientated with their mother’s attitude?

             “Because would you rather deal with him or let us take him?” Letty spoke smoothly, as if this was all completely normal.

           “Oh’s a big boy, he can take care of himself.”

           “Not after being in a coma for a few months!” Letty argued.

           “He put himself into that coma.” Queenie hissed and slammed her teacup down on the small table next to her. Leaning forward in her chair, she bared her teeth at them. “If he hadn’t been a damn fool and actually listened for once, he wouldn’t have been put into that kind of situation! It’s his fault he was hurt and arrested. He can sort this out himself.”

           Dom was quiet as he gently leaned his shoulder against Letty’s in a silent show of support as he felt her go tense next to him. He could almost feel the anger radiating off of her.

           “There is no way he could have predicted what would happen.” Letty told her, voice low with barely suppressed rage.

           “How would he have known the person he carelessly called sister would betray him?” Queenie leaned back in her chair as she sneered.

           “Do you blame him for calling me his sister when all he had is you and Deckard?” Letty snapped.

           “I blame him because he has a sister!” Queenie barked.

           The room fell silent.

           Shit, Dom sighed internally. Both he and Letty had assumed Owen had been too high to actually mean that he had a real sister. Letty had been so happy that Owen saw her as a real sister, Dom hadn’t wanted to pop her bubble by telling her that Owen probably hadn’t been lying about this Hattie person. He couldn’t well tell her that Owen hadn’t told her all about himself and had been hiding large parts of his life from her. His wife had been too caught up in her joy of reconnecting with her friend, she had been blind to his deceptions.

           “Show them, Jeff.” Queenie eventually sighed, her shoulders slumping marginally. And for a split second, Dom saw a glimpse of who Queenie was. A tired mother who had to deal with her own business and cleaning up after her children, who were more than your average troublemakers.

           Her right-hand man stepped forward, the tablet from before in his hands as he quickly swiped through it before he handed it over to Letty. Taking it, she held it so she and Dom could see the picture. It was of a dirty blonde woman who had the same strict look as the patriarchal Shaw, who was looking down on them from above the fireplace. She had her mother’s nose but lacked the widow’s peak her brother and father had, but looked just as deadly as her brothers. This was Hattie Shaw.

           Once they had their fill, Jeffery leaned over and swiped to the next picture that caused Letty to let out a small gasp. Staring back up at them were children, one teenager and two younger kids. They were obviously the Shaws when they were younger. Deckard was taller than both Owen and Hattie, before he had his shaved head and was smiling wildly at the camera. Sitting at his feet were a smaller boy and girl, who looked nearly identical to each other. Both had dark hair down to their shoulders and wearing similar outfits, but unlike their older brother, they were making faces at the camera.

           “I don’t know why Owen has claimed you as a sister,” Queenie spoke up as they examined the pictures. Looking back up at her, they saw she was drinking from a fresh cup of tea and scrutinizing them. “But, if you truly want to play the part of a devoted sibling, then I won’t stop you. I’ll have Owen taken from the hospital and ready to be taken with you.”

           “Thank you—”

           “However,” Queenie spoke sharply over Letty. “I expect frequent updates on his condition.”

           Dom nearly smirked. So, she actually was concerned over him. Looked like all the Shaws really had a heart under their cold exteriors. Hopefully Owen would show his once he was living with them.

           “Thank you,” Letty said softly, but sincerely. Handing back the tablet, Letty frowned. “Does Hattie know about Owen’s condition?”

           “How should I know?” Queenie snorted. “That girl has separated herself from our family for the last five years. Who knows if she cares enough to check on her brothers, even with my insistence. If there’s anything you need to know about my children, it’s that they can all be stubborn arseholes. Just like their father.”

           The last part was mumbled into her teacup, but they caught it nonetheless.

           Life must have truly been interesting within the Shaw household when the siblings were growing up.

           “Now we’ve come to an agreement,” Queenie began to wave them away. “You may leave. Jeffery will contact you when Owen is ready to be transported.”

           With those dismissing words, they were quickly escorted and left standing on the sidewalk, both stunned by what had occurred.

           “Well, that was easiest kidnapping I’ve ever committed.” Dom joked.

           “Dom…” Letty let out a combination of a sigh and laugh. Throwing an arm around her, Dom led her to their car to head back to their hotel. They would need to do a lot of research if they were going to be the ones taking care of Owen.

--

Four months later…

           “No.” Dom ground out.

           “Come on, Dom,” Letty insisted, her voice nearly whining.

           “No. It’s final.”

           “We can’t just leave him alone!”

           “Damnit, Letty! Owen’s not coming with us on our honeymoon!”

           They were standing in the middle of their kitchen, nose nearly touching with how close their faces were from arguing. Letty had her fists planted firmly on her hips as she glared up at him, but Dom kept his face stern as he crossed his arms and stared her down.

           “He’s not ready to be left alone.”

           “He’s able to walk on his own.”

           “He’ll burn the kitchen down if we leave him alone.”

           “We’ll leave food for him.”

           “What if he falls and hurts himself?”

           “Then he can call an ambulance!”

           “Or what if the police find him?”

           “Letty!” Dom barked and saw her jump at his loud shout. Much softer, he continued. “He’s not your kid. Owen’s a full adult who has recovered enough to take care of himself. We can leave him alone for a while and enjoy our honeymoon.”

           “But…”

           Letty’s face was screwed up with concern as she desperately thought of another argument to use against him. Shaking his head, Dom sighed.

           “How about we leave him with someone we can trust?”

           “Like who?”

           “Hobbs?”

           “Not funny, Dom.” Letty growled.

           “Why not Tej or Roman then? They don’t have a history with him, not like Mia and Brian.”

           Letty looked away from him as she bit her lip in thought. Watching his wife weigh the pros and cons, Dom really hoped she would agree. After months of waiting hand and foot on Owen, Dom was ready for a vacation from the other man.

           At the beginning, when they had brought Owen home, he had been forced to stay in bed and become accustomed to being awake. It had been annoying have to help him to the bathroom and such, but every day it was obvious he was growing stronger and stronger. They had all celebrated when he could stand by himself, then walk and even go down the stairs. But, as time went on, all three noticed how twitchy Owen had become. He snapped at them constantly, pushed himself much harder than he should, and refused any kind of help. They all needed time away from each other.

           A perfect time for him and Letty to take their very much delayed honeymoon.

           Only if Letty agreed to go without Owen, that is.

           “Fine.” She eventually sighed, bringing Dom out of his thoughts. “Call them up. I’ll go talk with Oh.”

           “Thanks, Letty.”

           Dom pulled his phone out as he watched Letty walk out of the back door into the yard. Owen had insisted they expand their farm to have a chicken coop and had been the primary caretaker of them. They would need to figure out what to do with the chickens if they all left for a while. Dialing a number, Dom was relieved to hear the person pick up.

           “Roman? Hey, it’s Dom. You busy?”

[clefairymuke]

daydream | chapter one

next chapter

pairing: armin arlert x reader

themes: college/modern au, slowburn, friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, smut

tw: recreational drug use, drinking, explicit sexual content

word count: 1705

The clock was obnoxiously loud with its endless ticking as you struggled to answer yet another dreaded short response prompt, your eyes threatening to trail over to the paper next to yours. You cursed your professor in your head, wondering who had the audacity to dub them "short answer" when answering every nit-picking facet of the question required at least a page-long essay to respond to the prompt in its entirety. The pen would soon break through the paper with how aggressively you were pushing it down. Against your better judgement, you allowed yourself to glance at your friend's paper. All you were able to read was the scrawled cursive "Armin Arlert" at the top before it was pulled from the table and started its journey to the professor's desk. Armin shot you a side eye as he threw his bag over his shoulder, and you returned a feigned apologetic grin. You watched as he waltzed confidently to the front of the room. Everything was so easy for him.

You sighed as he laid his paper on Professor Hange's desk and left. You knew he'd be outside waiting on the bench by the sidewalk when you finally finished; it was looking like he would be there for at least an hour. You tried to focus. What exactly had you learned so far in Biology 220? As far as you knew, the answer was absolutely nothing. After another while of pretending to think while actually berating yourself internally for your lack of studying, you did what you do best: you wrote down 200 words of absolute bullshit and hoped for a passing grade. It had put you through a year and a half of school -- you hoped it wouldn't fail you now.

It made sense for Armin to do well. After all, he was a biology major on the premed track. You, on the other hand, chose English on the form last minute in order to take the least amount of science and math possible. Learning that general education required sequences instead of singular courses had smacked you in the mouth. You erased the last word and fixed your handwriting three times before you finally decided you were finished, taking the paper up front to join Armin's and relishing in the sunlight hitting your face as you left the building.

"How'd you do?" Armin asked sweetly, perched on the nearest of many walkway-side benches along the campus. You saw a coffee in his hand. As you got closer, you noticed one for you sitting next to him. You smiled.

"I honestly think I did fucking awful. I haven't retained anything from Hange's class at all. She's not even a bad teacher -- I think it just isn't for me," you answered, taking a seat and lifting the coffee to your lips. It was your favorite.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his head. He'd had a haircut only the day before; he always toyed with the prickly hair on the back of his neck for the first few days after one. You wondered if he'd ever get used to having his hair shorter. "I've offered to help you, you know. I always say I'll start studying with you, and you always say we will. Then I end up studying while you lay there on your phone halfway listening."

"Well, midterms are over now. Maybe I'll let you teach me a thing or two before finals. What's important is that spring break starts now." For a moment you could see yourself and Armin laid out on the beach, sun soaking into your skin with the soft crashing of waves present only a few yards away; that was the definition of heaven. You saw Armin grin as he started to pull his bag over his shoulder in preparation for your walk to his dorm. A common misconception about your friend was that he was a stick in the mud; however, this was decidedly the furthest thing from the truth. Although he was perfect academically -- 4.0 GPA, active in student organizations, one of the way-too-happy people that shows the freshmen around campus each year -- he knew how to have a good time. Perhaps it was years of corruption from you and your other friends (Eren and Jean, in particular), but outside of a god-awful science class, he was easily your favorite person to be around.

The two of you walked side by side across campus, chatting idly about the party you both planned to attend that night and the long drive that awaited you come morning. It was the perfect weather out, a sunny and comfortable 70 degrees. Armin was dressed in an old-looking T-shirt advertising some bedroom pop artist you were unfamiliar with, making it more than noticeable how much he had filled out since he bought it. Khaki shorts hung a few inches above his knees. You had to look up at him when you spoke, quite the contrast to the many years your friendship spanned before. His eyes, though, were still the same blue, and that was unlikely to change.

When you arrived at his building, you trudged up the stairs behind him, grateful you would soon be able to sit down. Walking everywhere was not your favorite activity, but the campus was quite small, and driving would be overkill. You waltzed into the room as you did nearly every day, throwing a hand up to greet Eren. He had his arm thrown lazily around a girl you didn't recognize, his half-up half-down hair falling in his face as he nodded back at you with a smile, eyes half-open and glossy red.

You practically threw yourself into Armin's bed, which was neatly made aside from the plush blue blanket that laid across the yellow duvet. You were quickly underneath it, making short work toward comfort as you nuzzled into a pillow. Armin took the time to put his things away and change into loose-fitting charcoal sweatpants before taking a seat at your side, fiddling with a time-passing puzzle game on his phone.

"I think we should just stay in instead of going to the party and taking that trip. I'm pretty comfortable, and I have plenty of sleep to catch up on," you told him, the joke barely present in your voice. He chuckled, leaning back across your legs onto the wall behind him.

"You're required to come to the party," Eren called over to you, taking his lips away from the nameless girl's neck. "We promised Jean. And you're required to come on the trip, because we can't afford the Airbnb without your charitable contribution."

"Besides," Armin chimed in, looking over at you, "you were lucky your request off got approved. Think of the poor souls that are stuck behind the register at Barnes and Noble this week. They wouldn't want you to use their vacation in vain."

"When you put it that way. . ." you laughed, checking the time on your phone. "What time did Jean tell us to come?"

"Nine," Armin responded quickly, switching from his game to Twitter. It was only 4:06, according to the white numbers above the picture of you and Armin at your high school graduation. You had quite a bit of time to kill.

"Want to watch a movie?" you asked the blond boy at your side. You were already holding the Xbox controller before he could reply. You got on Disney+, arguably your favorite part of being in Armin's dorm, then tossed the controller toward him to choose. He chose, as he always did, some superhero movie that you would pretend to hate and secretly love. He looked over at you and grinned wide, pressing play.

As the opening sequence rolled, you figured it wasn't the worst way to waste time.

---

The party was lame in the best way. Of course, no one outside of the typical circle had shown -- Connie and Sasha, Marco, the current girl hanging from Eren's hip (Ellie, maybe?), Ymir and Historia, and Eren's sister, Mikasa. Or, at least, he called her his sister. She was adopted -- and desperately in love with him -- and you wished he would avoid calling her that for the sake of saving face. Watching her sit angrily next to him while he toyed with the girl's hair was almost as awkward as the way Jean sat next to Mikasa, beer in his hand and flirting without shame. Connie, Sasha, and Ymir spent nearly the entire party trying to convince Historia and Marco to try smoking on Connie's new bong. Between all of these preoccupied people, you and Armin were left sharing a recliner, passing a blunt back and forth and discussing the plans for tomorrow.

Jean's apartment was trashed in the way a 19-year-old boy's would typically be, soda and beer cans lining the tables and clearly visible dust on his furniture. If you squinted, you'd see he was using his U.S. History textbook as a rolling tray. Professor Erwin would be disappointed.

Your thoughts had begun to become fuzzier and fuzzier. You could tell Armin was feeling the same by the way he giggled uncontrollably at a stupid joke Connie made across the room, causing you to chuckle. He was pretty when he laughed, white teeth poking past his lips as his clear blue eyes squinted into almost nothing. It didn't help that they were already half-closed, pink and red lining his blue irises. You and Armin were social smokers, and drinkers, and what came with that was the unfortunate fact that you were both very lightweight.

You listened absentmindedly to the soft R&B Jean was playing, obnoxiously enough, from Pandora on his TV. Every time an ad played, you died a little inside. You found yourself thanking those that didn't come tonight. Eventually, when you were all in some way intoxicated, you all gathered to watch a movie. You had never heard of it, but Jean and Eren were big fans, which meant it was likely some action film with a bit of plot if you squinted at it.

Before the title screen, you had your head laid on Armin's shoulder, gently drifting to sleep.

This was peace.