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just-some-random-blogger · 3 days ago

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Yet, you cannot. Because you can’t find the damn book anywhere. You are sure the compilation of histories of Old Valyria Daemon had given you has to be in your rooms.

Honestly. If I lost my book, my favorite book,my favorite book gifted to me by my father, my favorite book gifted to me by my father because he said I was the only child of his who could inherit it, I would fucking crash out and be inconsolable for life

You feel torn. Cregan and you are getting along now, but you still hesitate going to him with your troubles. Not only you had leftover guilt even though you have both chosen to move on from your rivalry, you also prided yourself on being independent.

Your pride will be the death of you. Unfortunately I feel you. I'm going to write a song about this

Asking him or anyone for help always makes you feel uncomfortable. You didn’t want others to perceive you as weak.

Still. What if he thinks less of you for being careless with your things? Or if he thinks you are being overly sentimental to get this worked up over a book?

Girl

Worse, what if he thinks you are accusing him of stealing?

GIRL STOP YOURE JUMPING INTO LAVA FOR NO FUCKING REASON?????

[...] to love is to be humbled, it seems.

Stealing this. it's so fucking stupid of her what the fuck

“You always may, wife.”

THE WAY I SCREAMMMMMMMED

“I enjoy how my colors look on you.” Cregan rumbles, a pleased smile forming on his face. Today, you are wearing one of the warmest dresses you own, in a pale gray. It’s made of velvet, and you enjoy how it feels over your skin. You had commissioned it after you arrived at Winterfell, using the generous pocket money that Cregan allowed you.

“You.” And it’s said with such disarming honesty, you do not know what to say.

NRJDSJSNN RIZZLER ALERT

Secretly, it pleases you that he remembers what you had been reading last week.

Not be. Me at cregan after this

This is my cats kitten btw.

“I cannot find it.” You whine, losing your battle with the tears. “My book. It’s really important that I find it.”

I would simply cry too. Bestie....

“Shh… I know. I have been unkind to you.” [...] “I took your book.”

🧍‍♀️ he fucking what? I don't... I don't know how I feel... I'm upset ????

While grief and self-doubt do not chase him as much as they chase you, he is still a widower with a wife who despised him at first.

Let's be broken together

The nerve of those Hightowers knew no bounds. What was next? Demanding a Sept be built in Wintertown for those false gods of theirs?

HAHAHHAAHAHHHAHA FALSE GODS IS SO FUNNY GOES HARD

And if that wasn’t enough to make his day terrible, during the afternoon Cregan had received an outraged Sara. Apparently, for some unknown reason, she had received an offer to become Lady Cerwin And for another unknown reason, it was the most terrible fate. Ever.

SKKSJSNSJ SARA GIVE IN TO YOUR PLOT STOP STRESSING UR BROTHER

“I think I will place my princess here. And a dragon here.” You explain, as if you are building some great castle. Rickon stares, transfixed by you. Cregan understands the feeling all too well. He remembers the weight of you in his lap, the warmth of your skin against him, your smell. He has been unable to get the memory out of his mind in days.

HALA MY STARKS ARE LOVING EACH OTHER I

You feel nerves creep up on you. Cregan never summons you. When he wants your company, he simply appears near you or waits for a meal to invite you to spend time with him.

HE SIMPLY APPEARSSSSS JWKKSKSKSKA I WANT HIM I WANT HIMMMM DKKDKDMS

When you step inside, it is as if you are stepping inside your storybook. The walls are covered with tapestries depicting some of the prettier illustrations, priestesses wearing amethysts, dragons of shining ivory, lovers holding hands.

BESTIEEEEEE HE WAHHHHAT

“You did this… for me?” Your hands tremble as you set the table alight. All the known world, on display for you. In a war table. It is only then that it registers.

.... I know that she's emotional and in disbelief but

???? NO BESTIE HE DID IT FOR HIS UNCLE WOULD YOU FUCKING BELIEVE???? GIGGGGILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

You have been blind, you realize, as you look at your book come to life in this room. The man who had given it to you had shown you that one could form a family with a widow and cherish their sons as if they were your own.

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 DAEMON BEING A GOOD DAD BLUEPRINT MAKES ME SO SOFT DAEMON MY SHAYLAAAAAAA

“Dear Jacaerys, I want you to know that I am completely, perfectly, incandescently happy…”

MR DARCYYYYYY?????

IM GLAD THAT SHES FINALLY SPOKEN TO JACEEEE

CRISTIII THIS WAS INCREDIBLE ARE YOU KIDDING MEEE????? IM SO HAPPY SO PROUD OF YOU FOR FINISHING YOUR SERIES. ME SOON TORMENTED SPIRIT PLEASE END FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS GOOD SHE STILL GOING

I lovveeee cregan so much I love the surprise so much I LOVE HOW YOU ENDED IT. IM SO SATISFIED. MY PETTY ASS ALL FIGHTS TO HAVE AN ANGST ENDING WHEN THERES ANGST BUT YOU SWAYED ME AND I WANT THEM ONLY TO HAVE FLUFF FOREVER AND EVER AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH BECAUSE WHO ELSE COULD DO THAT BUT YOU. AM I SO VERY GREEDY TO ASK MORE? ANYWAY TAG ME NEXT FIC OK OK I LOVE YOU BYE AHHHH

Summer (Cregan Stark x Reader)

Summary: As a Princess, you aren’t used to rejection. But Cregan, your husband, has vowed to only ever love one woman, and it isn't you. Right?

A/N: I can finally wrap up my romcom! Big romantic gesture ahead. Check the masterlist of this series here, if you are new. And to my lovely, lovely readers, thank you for staying wityh me during this madness.

Warnings: My anxious introverted reader being anxious (Shocker) Cregan has self-doubts. Mature language.

YOU ARE HAVING a terrible day. It surprises you because that doesn’t happen as often any longer. Today, you would rather not talk to anyone, much less Cregan, whose hovering would only serve to make you more anxious. Today, you want to crawl under the covers with your comfort book and pretend to be dead.

Yet, you cannot. Because you can’t find the damn book anywhere. You are sure the compilation of histories of Old Valyria Daemon had given you has to be in your rooms.

You have pulled open all your desk’s drawers, checked the bedside table twice, checked the bed, even beneath it. Not even your chest with linens was spared. It’s nowhere.

With little choices left, you have begun searching the nursery too, but haven’t quite mastered the courage to search Cregan’s solar. You remember taking the book alongside you to read as you kept him company sometimes, but do not recall leaving it there.

Asking him or anyone for help always makes you feel uncomfortable. You didn’t want others to perceive you as weak.

Stop. You are being silly, you tell yourself. It’s not like you are about to ask him to solve your life, you only will inquire if he has seen your book.

Still. What if he thinks less of you for being careless with your things? Or if he thinks you are being overly sentimental to get this worked up over a book?

Worse, what if he thinks you are accusing him of stealing?

You let out a groan. You are overthinking. Your bad days often include a lot of anxiety, and today it is a bad day. A terrible one, that will be worse if you don’t find your beloved book. Determined, you march to Cregan’s solar and knock on his door.

“Aye?” He calls out, northern accent on full display, and you can’t help that your knees get a little weak.

“Cregan? May I come in?” Suddenly, your bravery and determination have deserted you. Your voice comes out squeaky as a mouse. By the Fourteen Flames, to love is to be humbled, it seems.

“You always may, wife.” You wince at being addressed as such. You suppose it’s a good thing he isn’t calling you by your full title any longer.

Pushing open the door, you step inside. Cregan is seated on his desk, a frown on his face. He is squinting at some maps, in the way he sometimes does. His frown softens when he sees you, standing on the door.

You had to give it to the man. No matter how annoying you had been at first, he had never been tight-fisted with your allowance.

“Thank you.” You feel your cheeks heating up, and fight the urge to fan your face. What you don’t manage to fight is the urge to preen under his gaze.

Cregan chuckles. You narrow your eyes at him. Is he mocking you? He lifts his hands in surrender, attuned as he is to your moods.

“Apologies. It’s cute, that’s all.”

“The dress?”

“You.” And it’s said with such disarming honesty, you do not know what to say. You search his face, yet his expression is so open, so fond, no hint of mockery can be found. It’s… Cregan must be thinking of her, for sure. That expression doesn’t mean anything. “What were you here for?”

You clear your throat.

“Um. I was… I lost my book.”

“What book?” Cregan asks, shifting his maps aside. He is clearing his desk, you realize. “The one about the conquest?”

“No, not that one.” Your voice turns shyer still. Secretly, it pleases you that he remembers what you had been reading last week. “It has a brown leather cover and the title is in gold.”

“The one in High Valyrian?” And his tone is casual. Far too casual. You begin to worry that your book might have met its end. You look him in the eyes, but find little there. Cregan has an impeccable blank face. He gives nothing away. “Check the selves. Maybe it is there.”

You turn around and begin doing so. But the more titles you check, the more nervous you become. Cregan is an organized man, his books are carefully separated by subject. The servants know to keep to his order, when he rarely leaves them lying around.

Your book would stand out. You know it. A tight knot of anxiety begins to settle on your stomach. As you reach the lower shelves, you feel tears gathering in your lash line. You cannot believe you are about to cry over a book.

Cregan will never love you. He will go right back into thinking you are some soft southron, with no spine. No one cries over books. He will think you are ridiculous.

Despite your back being to him, he seems to sense something is wrong.

“Love? Is everything alright?”

“I cannot find it.” You whine, losing your battle with the tears. “My book. It’s really important that I find it.”

You hear him get up, and walk closer to you. He hugs you from behind, holding you to him.

“Shh… I know. I have been unkind to you.” You are confused about his words, but not enough that you reject the comfort of his embrace. Cregan is warm against your back, and smells faintly of parchment and leather. There is something herbal clinging to his skin, too. His smell and his size make you feel safe. He is tall enough that his form covers yours completely.“I took your book.”

You flinch. Your hackles begin to rise. Your sadness leaves, clouded by absolute wrath.

“What?”

“I wanted to gift you something. It’s being copied by the Maester as we speak. I wanted it to be a surprise, I know how much you love it.” He nuzzles your neck, and it pacifies you slightly. The prospect of a gift entices you, especially if it is a copy of your favorite book. Perhaps Cregan will have it nicely bound. “I regret it now. Knowing how much you love it, I should have known it would upset you.”

“I wanted to read it today.” You complain, still sad. It has been an awful day for you. “I do not feel so well.”

“Of course, sweetling.” Cregan drops a kiss to your crown. “I’ll have it delivered to you. Would you mind lending it to me tomorrow? You can recall it anytime during the day if you need it, like now.”

“Alright.” You whisper, softly. Cregan gathers you in his arms again, and moves the two of you to the loveseat. There, he settles you in his lap. He takes of his cloak and drapes it over you. This way, you are fully surrounded by his warmth and smell.

He calls a servant. True to his word, the book is back in your hands in less than half an hour. You spend the rest of the afternoon reading in his lap.

Suddenly, your bad day doesn’t seem so bad.

WHEN HE FEELS like an inconsiderate brute, Cregan tries to think happier thoughts. While grief and self-doubt do not chase him as much as they chase you, he is still a widower with a wife who despised him at first.

Often, gazing upon Rickon or you is enough to help him feel more settled. More at peace with himself. His son is well adapted enough, he reasons, as he sees him run around the courtyard. You do not despise him, he thinks, as you curl by his side.

Today, neither is working. Rickon and you are together, a picture that normally would serve to pull him out from his brooding. Of course, since Rickon is on the floor wailing, it isn’t quite working.

Cregan has a headache. The pain is spreading from his jaw, towards his cheekbones, and from there turning into sharp icicles that feel like they are being stabbed in his skull.

The day has been long. He had ridden out at dawn to deal with some wildings near Wintertown, and then had to answer his correspondence. The dammed Greens would not stop pestering him to switch sides and hand you over, alternating between threats and flattery.

As if the Starks were some miserable turncloaks who betrayed their oaths. As if Cregan would just hand over his wife to some usurping cunts.

The nerve of those Hightowers knew no bounds. What was next? Demanding a Sept be built in Wintertown for those false gods of theirs?

Rickon keeps screaming. He has been that way for a while. Cregan had been alone with him, watching him play on the rug with his blocks, when he had started crying and wouldn’t stop.

Cregan had tried picking him up, rocking him, walking him back and forth, but nothing helped. One of the servants must have heard and alerted you because you had appeared looking disgruntled.

You had been in the middle of your quiet time, as Cregan enjoyed calling it. Awkward Princesses who hated socializing needed time to recover from hearing petitions during the day. He had realized so when he started teaching you to pass judgement.

As the time for Cregan to march south to defend your mother’s claim became more imminent, he was giving you more and more responsibilities in Winterfell. That way, you would be prepared to hold the North when he left. Prepared to protect his Kingdom and his son.

“Tower! Tower!” Rickon wails, as you pick him. Your face is as tired a Cregan feels. His head is heavy. He cannot stand Rickon screaming any longer. By the gods, Cregan is a terrible father. He cannot even calm his son when he needs him. After his many attempts to calm him down were unsuccessful, he had just set him down.

“What’s the matter, sweet boy?” You ask, holding Rickon close to your heart. Rickon continues to cry. You meet Cregan’s eyes over his son’s head.

Cregan shrugs. He is unsure of what triggered the tantrum.

“Shh, all is well. I get overwhelmed too, sometimes.” You say, and Cregan gets the feeling you are talking to him and not to Rickon. “But we can’t rebuild your tower if you are getting all wiggly.”

This is about the building blocks, Cregan realizes. He feels like a terrible father. A failure.

Bennard’s words come to mind once more. How can you govern the North if you can’t govern yourself? You failed.

Your swordsmanship is poor, and you still are a pup crying for your parents. You cannot rule.

He had heard a variation of those words for years, every time he had tried to push his claim. And look, Cregan knows he is not a poor swordsman, and he has tried his best to rule. Men don’t cry, but he does it occasionally. Rarely. His tears never dry out, no matter how old he grows, but it is the only thing of Bennard’s words that came true. That isn’t so bad, is it?

You have settled on the floor, Rickon on your lap. He still cries, but he has stopped shrieking. You have started building a tower on your own.

It would be pleasant, a session of cuddling with his wife, were it not for the circumstances that lead up to it. All Cregan’s fault.

“A shame you want to keep crying and won’t help. I suppose I shall have to ask your father to play with me.” Your eyes are coy. You give Cregan a glance, and his lips form a smile despite himself. Of course you would try bribery.

Of course, it works. Rickon picks up the first block, still sniffling.

“No! Father isn't a Princess. You are!”

“You are right, Rickon.” You agree, as if it were the most natural thing. “Silly me. He is a wolf. We should build him a Wolfswood.”

And so, Rickon forgets his tantrum, settled by your gentle touch and encouraging words. And Cregan’s heart soars.

“MILADY, LORD STARK wishes for your company.” One of the serving girls says, eyes downcasted. You pause in your perusal of the granary, making a quick note on your ledger. As the Lady of Winterfell, it falls to you to ensure the castle has supplies enough for winter, or so Cregan says. You find the Northern’s obsession with the season a bit much, but considering little grows here, you too would feel better knowing you have enough grain if something happens.

“Right now?” Considering he had been the one to send you on this errand, it confuses you a little. He must have known taking stock of the granary would take you all day.

“As soon as you can come. It’s not urgent, but he wishes to see you soon.”

You feel nerves creep up on you. Cregan never summons you. When he wants your company, he simply appears near you or waits for a meal to invite you to spend time with him.

You can’t help it. War and grief had frayed your nerves. These days, you feel like everything could be a sign of bad news.

It’s not urgent, you repeat to yourself. It’s not urgent, it’s not urgent, you chant in your head, but your steps towards the inside of Winterfell are hurried.

The castle is unusually quiet. The maid guides you to one of the unused wings of the castle, one near Cregan’s rooms. You have never asked, but you know these were the rooms his uncle used to inhabit when trying to usurp him. The man had never dared taking the lord’s rooms from Cregan, lingering near instead, a feeling you understand too well.

Your husband is a formidable man. You wouldn’t want to cross him, either.

The serving girl hesitates when the two of you reach a big oaken door.

“What is it?” You ask her, with a frown. “Why do you linger?”

She doesn’t answer. She simply shoots you a shy smile. Annoyed at her shyness, you push the door open yourself. Your breath catches.

The room is decorated in understated creams and golds, the furniture made of the finest woods. Despite the themes of the decoration, it is clearly meant to be a Lady’s solar, even if not attached to your rooms.

There is a soft, woven carpet that cushions your every step. It is made of pure white fur, to combine tastefully with the rest of the decoration. You can already tell it will feel like heaven on your bare feet, even through your boots. It must have cost a fortune.

Near two, giant windows, a low table sits. It holds a vase very familiar to you, shaped in the form of a dragon. It is filled with winter roses, though you had seen it before in Dragonstone, full of your mother’s favorite flowers.

There is a fireplace, as it is customary in almost all the rooms in Winterfell. On its mantle, small toys and mementos from your childhood sit. Near the fireplace, a small sitting area awaits, with comfortable looking armchairs and loveseats, and a low table in which a tea set, painted with Valyrian motives, rests.

There is a desk in a corner, much bigger than yours, and a small bookshelf, that resembles the layout Cregan has in his own solar. It has sparse books, but all of them are in High Valyrian. Your favorite book has a place of honor, right in the middle of the highest shelf.

Yet, the true star of the room lies on the back of it. There is a huge round table, like the one from your stories, made of sturdy wood, that resembles the one from the war room from Dragonstone. Not only are the Seven Kingdoms featured, but also Essos, Sothoryos, the Summer Islands and even Great Moraq. Cregan is in the middle of lighting the table, struggling with how one is supposed to do it.

“How..?” You babble, astonished. To assemble this… You understand now why he had needed your book so many times. The time and care put into building this room, so delightfully whimsical yet honoring your culture at the same time… Your eyes prickle with tears.

“We can send it back.” Cregan says, alarmed by your tears. “If you…”

“No!” You say, with an energy that surprises you. You take the candles from his hands and begin lighting the table the proper way. “This is… My home. And my book.”

Cregan’s face is uncharacteristically unsure.

"I hoped it would remind you of where you came from. Of whom you are. A Princess of Dragonstone. My Princess.”

“You did this… for me?” Your hands tremble as you set the table alight. All the known world, on display for you. In a war table. It is only then that it registers.

Cregan is willing to go to war for you. Kill in your name. Lay the whole world at your feet. You have to grip the back of one of the chairs as to not fall down, knees weak.

“I know you are far from home. And I haven’t… We haven’t always been on the best terms, but you never shied away from your duties. I wanted to give you something that was about you.”

“I never thought you saw me.” You whisper. “I… I owe you an apology. For everything. For insulting you, when I arrived, for speaking of Lady Arra, for… For not seeing you either, at first.”

Daemon wasn't a kind man, but he was loyal to family. You were far kinder. If he could do it, and be happy, so could you.

“There is no need to apologize to me.” Cregan gathers you in his arms, and presses a kiss to your lips. His own are chapped from the cold, yet the only thing you feel is his warmth. And for two people as different as winter and summer, you find that your bodies do understand each other.

It takes Cregan but a week to convince you after that. The first letter you write in your new desk begins as it follows:

“Dear Jacaerys, I want you to know that I am completely, perfectly, incandescently happy…”

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x y/n

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pagelets · 3 days ago

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Nishimura Riki as your boyfriend:

"I want you to turn around and see me

I want you to think of me

Won't you stay by my side forever?

I really love you

I absolutely adore you".

Disclaimer: none (I guess).

- Loves watching kids play when you go to the park together:

• He’s crazy about children. Everywhere you go, he gets excited whenever he sees a child, “Look, Yn! Aren’t they cute?”

• But especially when you go to the park, he always makes sure to sit on the grass across from the playground just to daydream about being a father playing with his own kid.

• He pouts and say, “Please, give me one. I’m begging you". How can you say no? He’s so cute.

- You are best friends:

• Since your relationship developed slowly, you had time to get to know each other better and become friends before you started dating.

• You know practically everything about one another, from the embarrassing story of your first kiss to your biggest dreams and life goals. You know both the best and the worst about each other, which makes your relationship solid, with no unpleasant surprises.

• When either of you needs a friend to vent, laugh or talk about your feelings and thoughts, you know you can count on each other. Which means, you guys are besties.

- Lip biting:

• He’s always biting his lips during weverse lives. Well, he’s also biting lips in real life– your lips. Ni-ki is the biggest lip biter during kisses.

• Whenever he gets the chance, he nibbles his teeth into the flesh of your lips. But he's always very gentle, he doesn't want to hurt you, just tease you.

- Endless teasing:

• Mocks you because you’re shorter than him (and who isn’t, right?).

• He calls you “tiny” and “shorty,” but in reality he thinks that your height is absolutely adorable. Especially if you reach his chest, allowing him to wrap you up perfectly in his arms when hugging.

- Dancing (a lot):

• Anywhere, anytime, any type of dancing. He loves pulling you in for dancing.

• In the kitchen, while cleaning the house, in the shower, in the supermarket line, or while waiting for a cab.

• If you go to the gym together, he even grabs you for a dance between exercises.

- Drawing:

• Riki loves to draw when he has the time, and guess who his favorite model is? Yes, you, not Jake (as he thinks he is).

• If you see him sitting with a sketchbook, staring at you the whole time, you already know he’s drawing you.

• “Can I paint you like one of the French girls?” “I really shouldn’t let you watch Titanic".

- Perfume:

• Both you and Niki are addicted to burying your faces in the crook of each other’s necks, inhaling the other’s floral scents like your lives depend on it.

• It can cure bad days at work, a fight with a friend, homesickness, bumping your toe on the furniture— pretty much anything.

• The best part? The scent sticks to your clothes.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓂃⠀⠀˖

Jay version

Heeseung version

Sunghoon version

#enhypen #enhypen imagine #enhypen fanfic #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen fluff #enhypen niki #niki fluff #niki x reader #niki x you #niki imagine #niki fanfic #enhypen niki x reader #enhypen niki x you #enhypen niki imagine #enhypen niki fanfic #enhypen niki fluff

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valentinebugzee · 2 days ago

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Chapter 2 of Sonic Boom! Stone AU

Love, Trust, and a handful of thread

Finally Stone gets to serve eggman a latte with steamed Austrian goat milk

Sticks and Shadow form an alliance, besties with different trust issues yay

EDIT: I accidentally posted the unedited version on here so it's better to read the fic on Ao3!!

Meanwhile back at the cafe:

Amy apologized profusely for Stick's behavior

"I'm so sorry Mr. Stone, she's usually way nicer..." The Hedgehog's ears drooped

Stone shook his head "No need to apologize, Ms. Amy, she's not the worst customer I've ever had."

It was true because Sticks wasn't even a customer yet, she was a whole other problem...

She was getting close to blowing his cover, her theory was dangerously close to the truth, just who was that badger?

A nut job according to her friends, but she wasn't the first person to be suspicious of the human, the cops (well, cop: singular) were wary of him, warning him from causing havoc, "Eggman is enough work already!" to which Stone scoffed internally at, Sonic and his team do all the work.

He didn't want to defend "heroes" but had to admit even if it pained him, they weren't so bad, if he could divide his time between his job as a barista and his..hobby then he'd be able to maintain a somewhat normal friendship with the rodents.

Were echidnas rodents? He'd look it up later.

A little kid was sitting next to his brother eating a cupcake, his little brother started fighting him over it until it dropped for the older brother's hand.

Stone grabbed two cupcakes from behind the glass display and went to give one to each boy.

"Here you kiddos, free of charge." He smiled giving each kid a cupcake, he also briefly glared at their mom who just sat there and let them fight each other.

Sure he may be a villain but he will judge bad parents, he needed good reviews for his restaurant anyway.

Amy internally cooed at how nice Stone was to kids.

Sonic took the last sip of his coffee and patted his legs seemingly looking for his wallet, even though he wasn't wearing any pants, Stone made a face at that.

"Crap, I forgot my wallet, let me just scurry back home and grab some money, I'll be back in a blink of an eye."

"You don't have to do that, this is the first time you guys grace my cafe with your presence after all, your orders are on the house."

"That's so nice of you mister!" Tails beamed at the man, "Yeah a little too nice, you give out a lotta free stuff, money doesn't grow on trees y'know" Sonic said, there was no malice in his tone.

"Yeah, we all know money comes out of printers." Knuckles spoke between bites of his brownie.

They all stared at him for a moment.

Tails sighs "Remind me to discuss Knuckles's counterfeiting habits."

A loud blast from outside interrupted the peaceful atmosphere.

It was Eggman, of course, "Told ya' Eggman would appear sooner or later." Sonic said to Stone, "Stay right here Stones, we'll protect the place."

The moment the barista's eyes landed on the villain beyond his glass doors his heart skipped a beat, suddenly no one else existed it was just him and that man.

That maniacal laughter only served to make the pink effect around him grow even brighter and more glittery.

Or however the hell you describe Shoujo vision in writing.

The team ran out to fight the man in the egg mobile, the fight went on for a minute while Stone stared in awe at the evil doctor, admiring his every command to his robots, and how determined he was.

"Why's your face like that, Mister? And what's with all the glitter?" the little kid from earlier asked

Stone realized how odd he was behaving, he'll have to get his act together if he wants Dr. Eggman to become his new boss.

Another laser blast hit the spot right in front of his cafe if it had been any closer it would've absolutely destroyed the entrance.

He quickly adjusted his clothes and hair and sprinted toward Eggman.

"Hey! You there! uh, sir!" Stone waved to the doctor, in return he raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar man.

He lowered his egg mobile enough to not have to raise their voices to hear each other, he yelled anyway.

"What do you want?!...and who are you." Dr.Eggman questioned, looking the man up and down.

Stone breathed in, "This is it, don't mess it up", he thought to himself.

The barista grins, "I'm Stone..my name is Stone, and this is my coffee shop, I was wondering if you could move this battle a little further away from my shop, I don't want to be destroyed...is all." Stone cleared his throat nervously.

Eggman stared at him for a moment.

"Stone! What are you doing man!? He's gonna laser blast you!" Sonic yelled out, Amy prepared her hammer, ready to protect Stone.

But Stone didn't waver or spare them a glance, he felt like this was his first test, to prove how worthy he was, so he stared right back.

Everyone in this village has a staring problem.

"...and why should I listen to you?" Eggman snarled, if it was anyone else talking to him he would've ordered a robot to throw him in the ocean immediately, but he was intrigued with this "Stone" guy, if he was speaking honestly to himself he'd admit that Stone was the most beautiful man on this godforsaken land.

Which doesn't sound that impressive since every other man was an animal.

"um... please?" Stone awkwardly tilted his head to the side.

Eggman groaned, "Okay fine! Now stop glittering!".

And with that Eggman's egg mobile floated away.

"Glittering?.." Stone parroted, he shrugged and just sighed with one last glance at Eggman.

The team quickly went after him, but Sonic zoomed back in front of Stone.

"Okay I don't know how you did that but that was impressive." He smirked before speeding back to his friends.

Soon, the team went back to their previous seats, they noticed that Stone seemed a little happier than before.

Then Eggman appeared, without his egg mobile and robots that is.

Stone's back straightened and his eyes went wide, he smiled again.

"Welcome, sir." Stone greets him as calmly as he can, "It's "Doctor"." Eggman corrected.

Stone nodded enthusiastically, "My apologies, Doctor."

The Doctor asked the questions literally everyone else has asked already, "when was this place even built?", "What are all these coffees?", "what's with the red stain on the ground?"

"Let me serve you something special, Doctor." The villain raised an eyebrow, "Just go take a seat and I'll bring it to you in no time."

And that's what the doctor did.

Stone started working on his special order, He gasped a little when he turned around and found Amy and Sonic right behind him, "Dude, do you want us to get this guy out of here?" Sonic offered, "Yeah, you don't have to serve him if you don't want to." Amy added.

"No! No no, don't do that, this is exactly what I want.." He looked back to smile at the doctor, whose back was facing him.

Amy can recognize that smile anywhere, and Sonic recognizes that pink aura...

"Oh boy." Sonic moans, "Don't be like that." Amy giggled and nudged her blue friend.

"What?" Stone asks while already turning around to resume making the drink.

"Stone..is there something you want to tell us?" Pinky sways gently.

"uh yeah, customers are not allowed behind the counter." Stone tries to hide his crimson face from the other two.

"She means about Eggman, don't tell me you got the hots for a guy that needs his robots to do every little thing for him"

"I can do every little thing for him." Stone thinks.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Stone shrugs.

Amy and Sonic exchange a look before chuckling together.

"Okay, but we're gonna kick his butt if he tries anything, just signal for us whenever." Sonic and Amy return to their friends, who have equally smug looks on their faces.

Stone finally finishes the drink and servers it.

"Here you go sir-I mean Doctor!" he stammers.

Eggman looks at it suspiciously before taking a sip, his expression changes for a second before going back to faux annoyance.

"This is...good...what is it?" "It's a latte with steamed Austrian goat milk." Stone beams, Eggman takes another sip, and Stone stands there staring at him with fond eyes.

"What? Are you just gonna stand there? Scram!" Eggman commanded.

Stone immediately obliged with the goofiest grin on his face.

Sonic and his friends were severely judging him.

15 minutes late Cubot and Orbot barged through the doors, "We fixed the Egg mobile, boss!" the two robots announced, the cube-shaped one pointed at Stone "Hey isn't that the handsome guy with the stupid grin you told us about?"

Eggman quickly got on his feet, "What? No! What are you talking about!?" And dragged his henchmen out the door.

Stone was sure that he might just die.

___________________________

Sticks looked for the hedgehog, she knew this forest like the back of her claw, there were only so many caves she could look through before finding the morally ambiguous emo dude.

The purple glowing symbols on the cave's walls caught her attention, surely he was here.

She dragged her hand along the rough texture of the cave's interior, admiring it for a moment, she wondered if tails could decipher what was written.

"What are you doing here." She snapped her head around quickly to face the black and red hedgehog.

"You!" Sticks's grating voice echoed through the cave.

She stepped forward, "I need your help, this is urgent."

Shadow squints his eyes as if telling her to go on.

"There's this man- a "Stone" as he calls himself, he's pure evil I'm telling you!" She squeaked, "His coffee shop just appeared in the middle of town, and everyone seems to like him." She glared at the ground beneath her.

Shadow eyebrows furrowed his eyebrows ever so slightly, the badger's hands were at her side clenched tightly, and the hair on her head and back stood up, this was serious.

"What will I gain from helping you?" Shadow scoffs.

"It's what will you gain from not helping me, we'll all be under that man's mercy if we don't do anything." she flailed her arms around.

Shadow thought about it for a moment, he can't have somebody establishing dominance over the entire area, he can't let a lower lifeform do that...

"He wants to brainwash us all, I'm tellin' ya!", "and what good would that serve him?"

Sticks grabbes Shadow by the shoulders, "He wants to discover the village's most crucial secrets!" Shadow rolls his eyes "What 'crucial secrets' would this pathetic village even have?"

"Um, Comedy chimp's real name, the real secret ingredient in Meh Burger, Soar the eagle's shady past." She lets go of him and snaps her fingers, "Catch up, Shads."

"And why did you choose me specifically to help you?" he lifted his nose up high, "I'm sure the colorful bunch you call friends would love to help you sort this out."

"They don't believe me!" She screeched.

His face scrunched up and his ears twitched at her loud voice, "Chaos, I wonder why" The ultimate lifeform thought.

"And they're all probably brainwashed already! They ate and drank from that guy's food, it's definitely *full* of microchips." Sticks stomped her foot, "And I can't do this on my own, I need someone strong enough to handle him if I'm kidnapped!"

Shadow hums and thinks to himself...

Her theory sounded insane, yes, but anything is possible, he doesn't want to deal with the aftermath if they could deal with this before it starts to get ugly.

"...How about this." He approaches the brown and cocoa girl, "I need proof, something to go off of, I can't just dive blindly into action like I'm some...blue boy."

He puts a claw on her shoulder, "Prove to me that this man is something more than just a barista, then I will form an alliance with you."

Sticks's eyes light up with anticipation, "Deal!" she announced before grabbing his hand in a handshake.

He regrets this already.

__________________

The sun was almost setting, and Stone's off the clock.

He locked the cafe's doors and stretched his back, today was draining and eventful, now he had to go pick up some stuff for the shop and himself, and *then* he could go home.

He picks up the bag he was gonna carry groceries in.

From behind a tree nearby Sticks nudges Shadow, "Okay, he's out of the shop and he's heading for the market, we just have to wait until he's all alone, and *bam*! Catch him and make him spit out the truth!"

The hedgehog tapped his foot impatiently, "This sounds idiotic, if your theory about him being a government agent is correct how are you going to combat him to interrogate him?"

"I don't have to, I'll set up a net for him to tangle up in."

"Oh really? And how will you be able to do that if you don't know his specific path?"

"I'll follow him and when the time's right I'll run a few steps ahead and set up a trap."

Shadow snorted, "You can't possibly believe that you'll be able to set up a whole trap when you're only a few steps ahead."

Sticks crossed her arms, "are you doubting my skills? 'Cause let me tell ya' I've been hand-making nets, boomerangs, weapons, and all kinds of traps since I was a little cub! This is easier than..than.."

"taking candy from a baby?"

"Yeah!" she fumed.

"If you seriously believe that you can pull this off, then have at it, but I won't stand around and watch this pathetic display."

"Fine." She stomped and turned her back to him.

"He's gone by the way."

She gasped and stepped out of the tree's shadow and turned her head around frantically looking for the subject of her distress.

She turns back to Shadow, "This is all your fault-" Before she could point an accusing finger she realized that he had already left.

_____________

After a few minutes of looking and cursing Shadow out to herself, she finally found him.

She hid behind a stack of wooden crates staring at the human who was negotiating the price of some fruit with the merchant.

She sat there monitoring him.

The sound of the merchants, buyers, and kids all blended together as she started to space out, her thoughts becoming louder than outside noises.

Why don't her friends ever trust her? She was right that one time with Eggman's dreambot, was that not enough? Were her contributions to her team not enough?

And then here comes Shadow, her last resort.

They've only spoken once and at the end of that interaction, he dropped her from the sky!

The badger rubs her eyes before her tears fall, she was thankful that Amy wasn't here, the last thing she wanted to talk about was her feelings.

"I'll show 'em.." she mutters to herself.

She shifted her focus back to the government agent, he's been standing there since forever, what could possibly be that intriguing about fruits!?

She crawled out of her hiding spot and rolled over to hide behind a stand closer to Stone.

Her ear perked up as she tried to pick up on what Stone was saying.

"Beige berries you say?"

"I didn't say anything." The merchant deadpanned.

"A beige berry pie does sound good... you're prices are ridiculous though."

The merchant scoffed, "If you don't like it then how about you go pick the berries yourself."

"oh yeah I'll just venture into the forest while the sun is setting with zero protection just to pick berries for a pie, that sounds like a great idea."

There was a short pause... before Stone headed towards the forest to do just that.

"He's going to look for berries... I'll have to be quick and swift and precise, I only have one chance to catch him." she took a bite of her apple.

"Are you going to pay for that?" The merchant asked.

"Put it on the government agent's tab." she sprinted away.

____________

Stone admired the forest, which I will not describe because you know what a forest looks like.

Walking through the forest at this hour was rather nice, it was quiet except for some chirping and other animal noises, and the vague sound of someone setting up a net which he would gracefully ignore.

He thought about the pie he was planning on making, would the doctor like it? Would he even come by again?

Stone didn't know why he was asking himself these questions, he wanted to be the man's henchman, nothing more, nothing less, so why did the mere thought of him make his heart flip, jump up, kick back, whip around, and spin?

He shook his head, this was no way to think of his future boss.

He kneeled to pick the berries from a bush, that bush didn't have enough to make a pie, so he'd have to continue his walk.

His mind wandered for a minute, how would he grab the doctor's attention enough to get him to even *consider* Stone as a worthy henchman? The only things he knew about him so far were that he hated the rainbow furry hero squad and he treats his robots like garbage.

Oh, and that he loved the latte he served him. Stone beamed to himself proudly at the memory, if he could sell his latte-making skills to Eggman then he could definitely sell his evil-doing skills.

He should've spoken more to him when he had the chance instead of creepily staring at him from the counter. Stone's smile fell and he inwardly cursed himself.

Whatever, what's ahead of him is more important, he still has time to figure out how to win the villain over.

"He hates those rainbow critters huh..." Stone strokes his beard, "Maybe if I can catch them for him.. he'll see how useful I could be."

He giggled to himself in anticipation, he looked back up from his feet and saw another beige berry bush a few steps ahead of him, that one will surely suffice for the pie.

He trotted towards the bush, and all of a sudden everything was upside down and his bag was on the ground with the fruits spilling out, he had let out a shriek before coming down from the initial shock with a few deep breaths.

He fought against the restraints of the net he was caught in but it just wouldn't budge, his arms were tightly bound at his sides, and his legs were also bound together, he huffed and looked around for help or any sign of whoever put him in this predicament, all he found was a wooden stick to the head and then darkness.

______________

Stone groaned before slowly opening his eyes and quickly closing them again when the light assaulted them, which only served to make his pounding headache worse.

The sun had already set, and the only source of light was an electric lantern hanging from one of the tree branches, emitting a strong white light directly at his face, it brought back many unpleasant memories.

"Ugh..where am I?" His eyes adjusted to the light and he could make out the figure of a badger in front of him, holding his wallet, he knew this lunatic was going to be a problem, he could see a hut just a few feet away, it matched its owner.

"I'm the one that should be asking questions here Mar-...Mar-wane" She pronounced his name like it hurt.

"It's Marwan... honestly that pronunciation is more offensive than the stick to the head you just gave me..and being hung upside down on a tree." He rolled his eyes, thankfully he was off the clock and out of uniform now and he could disrespect people as much as he pleased.

And yeah his name is 'Stone Stone'

"Shut up!" The wallet fell from the badger's claw.

She stomped towards the man and pressed her finger against his chest.

"This is an interrogation."

"Oh really? I thought I was roleplaying a pea pod." Stone snorted but there was no humor behind it.

"The only role you're going to be playing right now is the victim."

Stone raised an eyebrow "Pardon?" he was unimpressed.

"That didn't come out right." Sticks scratched the back of her head, "But that's not the point!"

"The point is I want to know exactly who you are." Her voice got low.

"You were holding my ID just a second ago."

"I mean who you *really* are, I know that you're not just some barista." Stick put her arms behind her back.

Stone swallows.

"I see right through your act and I will not stand around and watch you hornswoggle those innocent villagers and my friends!" She circled him.

Stone made a face, *"hornswoggle?"* he mouthed.

"As much as I enjoy this 60's caveman detective persona you got, I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

Sticks noticed the shift in his tone immediately, she stopped in her tracks, and her jaw clenched, he was using his sweet talker voice on her and would spew out a bunch of bunk.

"I'm just a guy trying to get by you know?... My old manager wasn't the nicest, so I had to find my way, I quit my job and I just happened to have enough to move here and start my own independent business, just to serve happiness in the form of freshly made coffee." He fluttered his lashes

Sticks wanted about to barf.

"I'm not as dumb as I look."

"Unfortunately." His tone went back to his *real* one.

"Then explain to me how the crud did your shop just appear in the middle of town?" she interrogated.

"Let's just say that it was already built just...moved."

She squints at him, "And why did you choose this town specifically?"

"I just heard good things about it."

That's the biggest piece of horse junk she's ever heard in her life, the only good thing that could be said about this town is that you don't have to go there.

Sticks decided that she needed to try a different approach, accusations.

"I know exactly what you are."

"...Why did you ask then-"

Sticks clutched Stone's shirt in her hand and pulled his hanging form towards her until they were nose to nose.

She inhales, "You're a government agent that's her to plant microchips into our food to brainwash us and learn all of our secrets to rule this village and turn us all into soldiers! and when that works out for you you'll be promoted to general and then betray your agency and who knows what else!" She exhaled and pants.

Stone looked at her in a way that could only be described as something between disbelief, anger, and exhaustion.

"Why would I plant microchips into your food...When I could just use your damn phones for that?! And what agency!?" Stone argued.

"Because I don't got a phone, so you can't control my brain."

Stone closed his eyes tightly for a second and took a deep breath, she's so lucky he has his arms tied.

"The only way your brain would prove useful is if I scoop it out of your carcass with a screwdriver." Stone countered, making the author debate whether they should change the fic's rating or not.

"Your threats don't scare me."

The human sighs deeply and prays that this is all just a very bad poised-berries-induced nightmare, "Can you at least put me down? It's hard to focus with all the blood rushing to my head."

"No! You don't deserve to be put down! You will stay right there like an oversized bat mutant until I can prove to my friends that they can trust me." she let go of him and crossed her arms, continuing her previous route of circling him.

Stone's expression faltered at the confession.

"Your friends don't trust you?"

Sticks pressed her lips together, there was something more genuine about Stone's shift in tone, perhaps pity.

"Not usually..or maybe they do-or-ugh!" Sticks made a noise of frustration that was equivalent to a chihuahua choking on a kazoo.

The badger sits down on a conveniently placed rock, "I dunno..."

"At first I thought it was because they don't trust my intuition," By intuition, she meant insane theories, "But I haven't even had a conversation with Shadow before today, and he also doesn't trust me!" She kicks the ground in frustration.

Stone hated this badger, he truly did, but that didn't mean he didn't feel at least a little bit of empathy for her, he went through something similar himself.

"..it sounds like to me that this is more about proving yourself than proving me evil."

The badger wailed, "That ain't it it's- it's about both... maybe." she rubbed both hands through her hair frantically, "I hate feelings talk! I'm so glad Amy isn't here she would've- wait a minute." she paused abruptly through her vent.

Her head slowly turned to the hanging man, she jumped from her seat "You're changing the subject!"

"Oh, am I?" He rolled his eyes, though he wasn't sure if he was actually changing the subject or that he cared, His moral compass was jammed.

"You're trying to persuade me into being vulnerable and talking about my feelings like a- like-"

"A therapist?" Stone guessed.

"A journalist!"

That checks out.

"This isn't working... I'll grab something to get you to talk, stay right there!" she ran inside to her hut.

He wasn't going to wait and find out what it was.

It only took Sticks a few minutes to emerge from her home with a comically large feather.

"Now you'll think before you talk- where did he go!?" She yelped, and she ran towards the spot where the government agent was previously hanging.

All that was left was a net that was burnt to a crisp around some edges.

The realization consumed her before the anger did, "I was right... I'm not paranoid...I was right!!" she pumped her fist in the air, the feather long forgotten.

Her friends were going to be so sorry when they find out just how wrong they were, she started doing her little "I told you so" dance over the burnt net.

"What are you doing?" a hoarse voice a few feet behind her interrupts her short victory shimmy, she screeches.

"Shadow?!" She was almost happy to see him, almost, before she remembered that she was mad at him, she crossed her arms and turned away from him.

Shadow kneels down over the ruined net, "These burn marks... they're precise, it was a machine that had done this."

"You were right," Shadow said the words with hesitation, he hated being wrong.

Shadow narrowed his eyes when no reply came, the badger just glanced at him with one eye for a second before shutting them again and turning further away.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

She huffs and takes another step further away.

"Seriously?" He approaches her, "What has gotten into you? I don't have time for this foolishness."

"And I ain't got time for jerks either." She huffs.

"Is this about the trap thing?"

No reply, but she did turn slightly to glare at him.

"I was... wrong, okay? Now get over it."

She turned around again, they were back to square one.

"What do you want an apology?"

Sticks made a noise of frustration before sitting back down on the rock she was sitting on earlier.

"Speak up!" Shadow's patience was running thin.

"I want to understand why you don't trust me! You don't know me!"

"That's exactly why I don't trust you."

The badger's ears twitched, "oh.. that makes a little sense." her ears drooped.

The red and black hedgehog didn't want to get sappy with one of Sonic's hooligans but seems like he'll have to in the meantime.

He sat on a conveniently placed log next to the conveniently placed rock.

"I am..." He sighed, "I'm sor..." He groaned, "Sorry." it looked like he wanted to throw up, he looked down at his feet, "If we want to make this alliance work, we're going to have to trust each other from now on, happy?"

He looked down at his feet, he had the faintest blush on his cheeks, wow he was much worse than Sticks at this feelings thing.

Sticks smiled and gave him a pat on the shoulder, "No worries Shads', I forgive ya'."

"Never call me that." Shadow stands up. "Let's discuss our next move tomorrow, he probably already went home by now."

"Let's kidnap him!"

"Yes because kidnapping a man from his home would make people trust you way more." He snarked.

"Oh, you're right, that's why we need each other."

"I don't need anyone."

"Oh yeah? Why're you teaming up with me then?" she teased, leaning her face uncomfortably closer to his.

"Don't push your luck." He grabbed her face and pushed it away.

_______________

Does anybody else have this problem where they write so so much but there are more words than events actually happening? yeah same

sorry for the abrupt ending lol

#stobotnik #agent stone #boom! agent stone #sonic boom #sonic #sticks the badger #shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #amy rose #Pls tell if this chapter is as good as the last djjsisjeis #dr eggman #dr robotnik #zee writing

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sequinsmile-x · 1 day ago

Text

Growing Pains

Having teenagers, as it turned out, was the most trying part of parenthood so far, and there were times when she almost considered apologising to her mother.

Almost.

AKA - a story about Aaron, Emily, and their teenage daughter who is determined to push boundaries.

Part 1/2

-x-

Hi besties,

Sorry for the slight delay on this - I've got a horrible cold and this fic kept getting bigger and bigger (shocking I know) but here we are!!

This is inspired by an ask I got from anon (who I hope enjoys this fic) asking how I think our favs would deal with a rebellious teenager. Because of who I am as a person, this has become a two parter.

Please let me know what you think, and part 2 will be up within the next few days!

-x-

Words: 6.8K (it really got away from me)

Warnings: brief references to past abortion, brief mentions of underage drinking

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“Ferme tes jolis yeux

Car les heures sont brèves

Au pays merveilleux

Au doux pays des rêves.”

Emily sings quietly as she paces back and forth, holding her little girl against her chest. She suppresses a yawn and rubs a soothing circle on Lucy’s back, tilting her head to look down at her baby. Lucy was finally asleep, the 2-day-old’s cheek squished against her chest, and Emily sighs in relief, dropping a kiss to her dark hair and breathing her in, the sweet newborn smell the most addictive thing in the world.

The house is quiet, both Aaron and Jack asleep upstairs in the bed, and dark apart from the lamp she switched on when she came downstairs to the living room. It was peaceful, a bubble they’d built around themselves as they got used to the addition to their family. She couldn’t wait for their friends to meet Lucy, but she wanted this to last as long as possible. For the 2 am feeds and the moments like it to not be her only time with her little girl that was just hers.

“Let’s sit down, sweet girl,” she says, clenching her jaw to hold back a wince as she sits on the couch, “Mommy is too tired and too sore to walk around anymore.”

It was Lucy’s first night at home and it felt surreal, strange in some ways that the doctors and nurses had just sent her home with a tiny baby, with a whole new person to look after as if she knew what she was doing. Lucy refused to sleep anywhere but in Emily’s arms, would cry even if Aaron tried to hold her, so Emily knew there was no point in taking her back upstairs and trying to lay her in her bassinet. Even though she was exhausted, more tired than she ever thought possible, she didn’t mind. She knew a day would come when she’d miss this, when she’d look back on the long, seemingly endless, nights when either she or Lucy, or both of them, would cry whilst she tried to nurse her.

She smiles when she hears footsteps on the hardwood floor, her husband’s familiar footfall loud in the otherwise silent house, despite his obvious attempts to be quiet.

“Daddy’s coming to see us, baby,” Emily says, kissing Lucy’s hairline again, and she smiles up at him when he walks into the living room, “Hi honey.”

“There are my girls,” he says, looking as tired as she feels, his hair askew from where he’d been running his fingers through it, and his pyjamas wrinkled from the small amount of sleep he’d had. He walks over and drops a kiss to the top of Emily’s head before he joins her, making sure he’s careful to not jostle either of them as he sits down, “Are you two okay?”

Emily hums and rests her head on his shoulder, “She wouldn’t settle so I brought her down here to feed her,” she replies, tilting her head to look up at him, “I hope we didn’t wake you up.”

He shakes his head and runs his fingers through her hair before he tucks it behind her ear, “Our bed gets cold without you.”

She chuckles lightly, “Says the walking furnace.”

He watches her as she tries to adjust how she’s sitting, her barely covered wince a dagger at his heart. He’d held it together throughout her labour because he knew she needed him to be her strength when she felt hers start to fade, that she needed to lean on him - literally and mentally - but more than once he’d felt himself holding back tears at seeing her in so much pain. He always thought he couldn’t be any more in love with her, any more proud and in awe of her, but she always proved him wrong, always managed to surpass the expectations she herself had set.

“Want me to take her?” He asks, hiding a smile when she tightens her hold on Lucy as if he was going to take her from her. If he hadn’t been through his before with Haley, if he hadn’t watched the instincts kick in when Jack was a tiny baby and this was all new to him and Haley too, he’d be offended, but he knew they were all adjusting. He knew that Emily was still hesitant to have the baby anywhere other than in her arms, something that their little girl seemed to share with her.

“No, it’s okay,” she replies, an apology in her smile as she realises what she’s done, “I’m just sore, that’s all,” she looks at Lucy, smiles at the slope of her nose, at the rosebud lips and the dimples they’d already playfully argued over - each claiming she’d inherited them from the other, “She’s worth it though,” she chuckles, the sound wet as it catches in her chest, and she shakes her head at herself, wiping a tear she’d come to expect from her cheek before she puts her hand back on Lucy’s back, “When will I stop crying when I just look at her?” She asks, even though she knows there’s no answer, “She’s perfect. How did I make something so perfect?”

Aaron wraps his arm around her and kisses her temple before he wipes her tears away for her, “Because you’re perfect, and she’s a mini you.”

Emily chokes on a sound between a laugh and a sob and she leans in to kiss him, barely pulling back to speak, “You’re pretty perfect too.”

____

One thing Emily had learnt over the years, was that each era of parenthood had its positives and negatives.

When the kids were small, when they were tiny little things that needed her for everything, she’d barely had any time to herself, or barely any time for her and Aaron. It made everything feel all the more precious, all the more needed, as she scrambled for 10 minutes in the bath or just an hour of alone time with her husband. But she’d loved it, and missed it when she looked back on it. She missed the night feeds, the snuggles where her babies would sleep curled up on her chest.

She missed being needed.

When they were toddlers, when their quest for knowledge and need to understand the world around them, she barely had time to think. Their constant questions, the repetition of her name that made her wonder how she’d ever been excited to hear them say it for the first time, and their lack of fear or self-preservation, were exhausting. But watching them grow, watching their personalities develop and their eyes go wide when they experienced something for the first time was incredible, the very thing she’d wanted to see her whole life.

“Mom!”

“Emily!”

She sighs as she sits back in her home office chair, pinching the bridge of her nose as she hears her eldest daughter and her husband call out for her at the same time.

Having teenagers, as it turned out, was the most trying part of parenthood so far, and there were times when she almost considered apologising to her mother.

Almost.

She gets up and walks down the hall to the kitchen, her hands on her hips, “What’s happened now?”

She looks over at Samuel and Eleanor, the 13-year-old twins drawing her attention with their barely covered laughter and matching smiles.

“Luce got her nose pierced,” Eleanor says, pressing her lips together as she swallows back a laugh again, always delighting in her older sister’s recent rebellious streak.

“Dad isn’t happy,” Samuel finishes for her, and Emily looks over at her husband and Lucy, her eyes catching on the, slightly too large for her face, nose ring she can see in her daughter’s nose, the sparkle of it catching in the kitchen light. Aaron is standing next to her, his hands on his hips and his expression exasperated, and she knew she’d have to intervene before things escalated into an argument.

“Okay you two,” Emily says, turning to look at the twins, “Can you go to the living room please?” she says, raising her eyebrow when neither of them takes the opportunity to leave, “Now.”

Eleanor huffs out a breath and gets off the stool, “Come on Sammy, that’s Mom-speak for ‘we’re yelling at Lucy and you’re not allowed to watch.’”

“No one is doing any yelling,” Emily says, her eyebrow still raised but her smile soft as they leave the room.

“I might,” Aaron quips and Emily sighs as she looks over at him.

“Honey-”

“She had her nose pierced, Em-”

“I am right here you know,” Lucy says, cutting over her father, her arms crossed over her chest in defiance, “And it’s my face.”

“You’re 16.”

“Okay,” Emily says, walking over to them with her hands up, “Let’s deal with this one thing at a time,” she turns to look at Lucy first, “Sweetie, you’re right - it’s your face and your choice, but you are our kid,” she raises her eyebrow as Lucy scoffs, not carrying on until Lucy’s shoulders loosen and her eyes flash with an apology, as if she hadn’t meant to make the sound outloud, “And as long as you are a minor and live in this house, you run this kind of thing past us first, okay?” She turns to look at Aaron, their conversation silent for a moment as their eyes meet, her just go with me on this obvious to him, “That sounds reasonable, right?”

He clears his throat, his arms crossing over his chest as if he has to physically do so to stop his real feelings about their daughter’s nose ring from escaping, “Right,” he says, looking over at Lucy, “But no tattoo’s until you’re 18.”

Lucy smirks, “Don’t worry, Dad. My fake ID is nowhere near good enough for that.”

Emily sighs and looks at her daughter, “Not helping,” she says, shaking her head and resting her hand on her shoulder, turning her around to face the door, “Go sit with your brother and sister until dinner, okay?”

She nods, “No making out in here whilst we’re gone,” she replies, “This is where we eat.”

As soon as she’s out of earshot, when whatever the twins were watching on TV would drown out the conversation in the kitchen, Emily turns to look at her husband, “Honey, we have to pick our battles.”

He sighs and his arms tighten over his chest, his grip on his triceps tight enough she’s briefly distracted by the way his muscles ripple under his skin, “I know, sweetheart. I think I was just…shocked. She just walked in with it like it had always been there and I reacted,” he shakes his head at himself, “She’s beautiful just as she is.”

She rolls her eyes at him, “Of course she is,” she says, “I know that. But she’s just trying to express herself, and if anything I think this says a lot about our parenting skills.”

He furrows his frows at that and tilts his head, “How?”

“Do you know how self-assured she must be to get her nose pierced? To draw attention to it?” She shrugs and smiles sadly, “I would have loved to have done it when I was her age, and not just because it would have annoyed my mother, but because I liked it. But I hated my nose, so I did everything I could to distract from it,” she scrunches her nose up and shudders as she thinks about her own teenage years, “Why do you think I dressed like Siouxsie Sioux?”

He’s still frowning at her, but his crossed arms loosen, his eyes curious, “When did you start to like your nose?”

She smiles shyly, but not because she’s embarrassed. She’d stopped being able to be embarrassed in front of him years ago. He was the person who’d held her hand when she had three of his children. He’d washed vomit from her hair when her morning sickness got the better of her, and he’d helped her on and off from the toilet when she couldn’t bend down after her c-section when having the twins. He was another part of her, the missing half she hadn’t known had been missing until their first kiss. She’s not shy because she’s embarrassed, but because she knows exactly what he’s going to do next, and it somehow makes her love him even more.

She shrugs one of her shoulders, “The first time I saw it on her face.”

He pulls her into a hug as if an autopilot, his smile a mix of sadness and adoration as he leans in to kiss the tip of her nose, just like she knew he would. “You’re beautiful.”

She smiles and kisses him, wrapping her arms around his neck, “Thank you,” she replies, kissing him again as he places his hands on her hips, “You’re not bad to look at yourself,” she plays with the hair at the nape of his neck, “She’s just…figuring out who she is, honey. And we have to let her.”

He sighs and leans forward to press his forehead against hers, “You’re right.”

“I so often am,” she replies, “You’d think after almost 20 years together you’d be used to it.” She leans in to kiss him, her lips barely touching his when she hears a chorus of disgust from the doorway. She smiles as she turns to look at her children, Lucy standing in the middle of Samuel and Eleanor, and she rolls her eyes playfully, “I am allowed to kiss your dad, you know,” she says, shifting so she has her arm around his waist, deciding she was going to have some fun at her children’s expense, “In fact, I’ve done a whole lot more than kiss him-”

“Oh god, Mom.”

“Emily.”

___

She yawns and reaches out for the mug on her desk, idly telling herself a second cup of tea would help wake her up. Before she can step away, before she can even stand up, her phone rings, the number for Lucy’s daycare flashing up on the screen.

“Crap,” she mutters under her breath, worst case scenarios flooding her lungs, her chest cramped so she can’t breathe as she answers, “Hello?”

“Hi, is this Lucy’s mom?”

“Yeah, this is her mom. Is everything okay?” She asks, already standing up, the phone wedged between her ear and her shoulder as she shoves everything back into her purse.

“She’s thrown up a few times in the last hour and now she has a fever.”

Emily feels her heart clench, her chest hollowed out as she thinks about her baby being sick and her not being there, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

She’s never been more grateful that she finally took up Clyde’s persistent offers of a job. After she got married to Aaron, Clyde finally relented and stopped offering the role in London and started telling her there was a role in DC for her if she wanted it. She took it the moment she and Aaron decided to try for a baby. It was a fresh start she’d needed, a job untouched by what Ian had done to her, by people knowing that she’d died and come back a different person. She no longer walked into a room knowing that colleagues had been talking about her, that they’d been gossiping about things she wished they didn’t know. Now she was the boss, had her own office and the respect of everyone around her. She was good at her job, excellent even, and she loved it.

She usually loved it, but as she walks into Lucy’s daycare, as her little girl presses her face against her chest the moment she’s handed to her, her skin warm and clammy, Emily hates her job. Hates herself for taking it, for going back to work and leaving her 6-month-old in the care of other people. She smiles and nods as the daycare worker updates her on Lucy’s temperature and the medicine they’d given her, holding her little girl close as she does her best to not burst into tears.

The moment she gets Lucy home, she sits on the couch with her against her chest, rubbing a circle on her back as she fusses.

“My poor, baby,” she says, resting her cheek against her head, “Mommy is right here.”

She sings to her, keeps her voice low and soft as she does her best to soothe her to sleep. Lucy has just drifted off when Emily’s phone rings, and she answers it quickly, picking it up from where she’d thrown it on the couch, barely registering Aaron’s name and the picture of him with the kids on the screen.

“Hi, honey.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” he replies, “How is she?”

Emily hums and kisses Lucy’s forehead, grimacing at the warmth of her skin, “She’s got a fever, and she’s very clingy. She just wants to snuggle.”

“She always wants to snuggle with you,” he replies, and she sucks in a breath, dropping another kiss to Lucy’s head, “Are you okay?”

She wonders if she should hate that he knows her so well, that he knows something is wrong without her having to say it. She chokes on a sound she can’t name, “I’m feeling like the worst mother in the world right now,” she says, wiping away tears she thinks she should have expected, “My baby was sick and I wasn’t there.”

“But the moment you were called you were there. You’re the best mom.”

She blows out a breath, “You’re meant to say that, you’re my husband-” she furrows her brow when her phone vibrates, and she pulls it back to see that she is getting a call from Jack’s school, “Oh god, Jack’s school is calling,” she says, “I should take that - he’s probably sick too.”

“Let me know what they say, sweetheart,” he replies, “I’ll go and get him if he needs picking up.”

“Thanks, honey, you’re the best,” she ends the call with Aaron and answers the call from the school, “Hi, Emily speaking.”

“Hi, is this Jack’s mom?”

She sighs, unable to suppress a smile as she replies, “Yeah,” she says, kissing Lucy’s head, “This is his mom.”

___

“You were never like this when Jack wanted to bring his first girlfriend over.”

Emily sighs and pushes her hair out of her face as she blows out a breath so she doesn’t raise her voice, “Luce, Jack didn’t want her to stay overnight when we weren’t here,” she says, and Lucy rolls her eyes, slumping back against the couch, “And we haven’t even met Jacob.”

Lucy sighs, “That’s because I don’t trust you and Dad to not be embarrassing,” she scrunches her nose up, fighting the smile that breaks out across her face, “Or Nora and Sammy. This is a house of embarrassment. The only person I trust to behave is Jack and he’s in New Haven.”

Emily smiles, “He is endlessly sensible, isn’t he?” She says, remembering when he was a teenager. She’d almost had to encourage him to misbehave, to push boundaries that he respected. It was part of what had left her and Aaron so unprepared for Lucy’s teenage years. They’d been lulled into a false sense of security by their eldest.

She saw herself in Lucy. Saw who she could have been if she’d been loved in the way she needed when she was her age, if she’d had the mother she still found herself wishing for even now. Lucy was unashamedly herself, unburdened by expectations that Aaron and Emily had never held her to. All they ever wanted of her, of any of their children, was for them to be kind and to do their best.

She presses her lips together and studies Lucy, watches as she spins her nose ring around, and she wonders when she grew up, when she stopped being the tiny little thing who was always attached to her side. She loved watching her kids get older, loved watching who they were becoming, but it was hard too. It made her ache, an empty space in her chest that she wasn’t used to making her feel hollowed out, another bit of it carved away each time one of her children pulled a little further away.

Aaron struggled with it more, Emily knew that. He wanted to keep the kids safe, everything they’d both seen in their jobs lingering in every shadow, and it had made him extra cautious. Emily did her best to be more realistic, to know that they had to let some things slide, but the casual way that Lucy had announced she had a boyfriend was the first time Emily found herself edging more towards her husband’s point of view. She so desperately wanted to protect Lucy, to make sure she didn’t go through what she went through, to save her little girl from the weight of what had happened when she was even younger than she was.

“Now you have a boyfriend,” she says, trying to stay casual, “I just want to make sure that you know I’m here if you have any questions about sex-”

“Mom,” Lucy exclaims, looking around as if they weren’t home alone, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She sighs, “I know, honey. I’m just saying, “Make sure that when you are ready to take that step, you use protection.”

Lucy grimaces, scrunching her nose up, the movement drawing attention to her nose ring, “God, Mom.”

“I mean it, Luce. You need to be careful, okay? I’m not under any illusion that you won’t have sex at some point, but you need to promise me you’ll make Jacob use a condom. And I’ll take you to the doctor to get the pill if you need me to,” she swallows thickly, pushing down all the emotions that are rising up her throat, “But you need to be careful.”

Lucy groans, “Okay, jeez,” she says, her eyebrow raised in challenge, a look on her face that Aaron always said was all her, “Do you and Dad use protection?”

Emily chuckles, the ghost of who she was as a teenager finally disappearing, her grip on her throat loosening, “No, baby. Your dad and I haven’t had sex with anyone other than each other in almost 20 years, and at this point, your dad has as much of a chance of getting pregnant as I do.”

“Mom, I’m not going to get pregnant.”

Later, she’ll wonder why she says it. Whether it’s the absolute confidence in her daughter’s voice that she’d once felt herself, or maybe it’s because a small part of her wants her to know, wants her to understand, that her actions have consequences. That choices she made now could have lifelong repercussions.

“I did.”

Lucy finally looks up at her, her eyebrows furrowed in a way that makes her look like Aaron as their eyes meet, “What?”

Emily nods, and she presses her lips together, taking a moment to clear her throat, “Yeah. I was a little younger than you.”

“I…” Lucy trails off, any previous attempt at impertinence gone in an instant, “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Emily reaches out and runs her fingers through Lucy’s hair, grateful that for once she doesn’t flinch away. If anything, she leans into the touch, shifting closer to Emily for the first time in a long time, “It’s okay, baby. It was a long time ago now.”

“And you…didn’t have a baby?”

Emily shakes her head, “No, sweetheart. I didn’t.”

“Does Grandma know?” Lucy asks, and Emily chokes on a humourless laugh, triggering the same sound to escape Lucy too, “Sorry, stupid question. She probably would have locked you in a convent somewhere.”

She laughs, for real this time, and she nods, because it was sadly true, “I didn’t really tell anyone, just a friend who helped me. And now only your dad knows,” she runs her fingers through her hair again, “And you.”

Lucy leans against her, wrapping both of her arms around one of hers and resting her head on her shoulder, “I won’t tell anyone.”

Emily kisses the top of her head, “I know you won’t,” she says, pulling back to look down at Lucy, “I know it’s embarrassing to talk about with your mom, but I hope you know that it’s just because I don’t want you going through what I did.”

Lucy nods against her, “I’ll be careful…when the time comes,” she says, her cheeks bright red, “I promise,” she encourages Emily to wrap her arm around her and snuggles into her side, “I’m glad you’re my mom.”

Her eyebrows knit together curiously, “Really? Why’s that?”

Lucy pulls away just enough to look at her, “Because no matter what, I know I can come to you about anything.”

It takes everything in Emily to not burst into tears, and she pulls Lucy closer, hugging her fiercely in a way it felt like she hadn’t in years, “I love you, Luce.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

___

“Mom, can I push Lucy on the swing?”

Emily chuckles at Jack’s excitement and she adjusts her hold on Lucy, making sure she’s comfortably sitting in her lap.

“Yes, sweetie, once we’ve eaten our lunch,” she says, and he smiles widely, making a point of eating his sandwich quickly, “Slow down, Jack. The swings will still be there when we’re done,” she looks at her watch, “And Daddy will be here soon.”

Aaron had been called into work, torn out of their quiet morning as a family by paperwork that supposedly couldn’t wait until Monday. He told her to go ahead with taking the kids to the park, to having the picnic he’d prepared the night before, Tupperware full of sandwiches he’d made and put in the fridge for them, and that he’d meet them as soon as he could. He’d sent her a text half an hour ago saying he was on the way and she was looking forward to seeing him, wondering when she’d become someone who missed a person after only being apart for a few hours.

“Dada!”

Emily smiles at the sound of Lucy’s sweet voice, and she kisses her cheek, tugging gently on one of her pigtails that stuck straight up in the air, “That’s right, baby - Dada will be there soon.”

Lucy had only started speaking a few weeks ago - babbling nonsense that had given way to Mama, Dada and a sound they know means Jack - and it was unlike anything Emily had ever experienced. Hearing her little girl say Mama for the first time was a memory she knew would always be one of her favourites, right up there with the first time Jack had casually called her Mom instead of Emily. She knew Aaron felt the same way about the first time he’d heard Lucy call him Dada. He’d missed the first time she’d ever said it. He’d been away on a case, had been on the other side of the country when Lucy pointed at a picture of him and said it, stopping both Emily and Jack in their tracks as they looked at her, matching expressions of shock and happiness on their faces. Emily had been tempted to not tell Aaron, to let it happen organically when he came home so he thought that the first time he heard Lucy say it was the first time she’d ever said it, but Jack had beat her to it before she’d had a chance to truly think about keeping a secret from her husband. The little boy’s smile wide as he announced that Lucy had said Dada, his excitement drowning out any disappointment Aaron had been unable to keep from his wife.

Lucy lets go of the toy she’d been holding, a ball with Olaf the snowman on it, and it rolls away from them. Lucy grunts, and before Emily can even attempt to get it, Jack is on his feet.

“I’ll get it, Mom.”

“Thanks, baby,” she replies, smiling as he picks it up and hands it to Lucy, “You’re such a good big brother.

“‘Ack,” Lucy says, taking the ball from him, smiling widely at her brother. Then she looks past him, seeing Aaron before Emily and Jack do, and she stands up, her hands grabbing fists of grass as she pushes herself onto her feet, “Dada!”

Emily looks in the direction she’s pointing, her hand reaching out to steady her, but she’s met with nothing but air. She frowns when she sees Lucy several feet away from where she’d been expecting her, her arms stretched outwards as she walks towards Aaron.

“Oh my God,” Emily says, standing up quicker than she thought her knees would allow, “Oh my God she’s-.”

“Mom,” Jack cuts over her, his eyes wide, “Lucy's walking.”

Emily scrambles for her phone, digs it out of her pocket and turns on the camera to start recording. She captures the moment Aaron kneels down just a few paces away from Lucy, his smile wide, the dimples in his cheeks visible from where she was standing, as he encourages their little girl to walk the last few steps. She all but falls against him, her tiny hands against his knees as she collapses into him, and Aaron scoops her up, stamping kisses against her cheeks as he settles her on his hip, drawing out giggles that make Emily’s heart soar. She stops recording and tucks her phone into her pocket as she runs over, her hand around Jack’s as they meet in the middle, her other hand on Lucy’s back as she kisses her temple.

Lucy smiles at the affection, her grass-stained thumb in her mouth before Emily tugs it out, delighted at the attention she’s getting even if she doesn’t understand it.

“Whose my clever little girl?” Emily says, kissing her temple again, “Did you walk to Daddy?” She says, tickling her belly to draw out another giggle, Aaron chokes on a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and his eyes are shining when Emily looks at him. She cups his cheek and draws him in for a quick kiss, “We’re going to have to baby-proof the shit out of the house now.”

He laughs and kisses her, “I’ll start the moment we get home,” he kisses her again before he reaches for her hand and squeezes, looking down at Jack as they start to head back towards their abandoned picnic, “I think we should get ice cream to celebrate, what do you think, Jack?”

Jack’s excited nod is the only answer they need.

___

She can hear raised voices before she opens the front door. She sighs and puts her key in the lock, taking a deep breath before she pushes it open. As she steps into the house, Lucy’s yelling is no longer muffled, and Emily dumps her purse just inside the door so she can seek them out, her hopes of a quiet Friday night with her family dashed before they even know she’s home.

She finds them in the kitchen, dinner half prepared on the counter, and neither one of them seems to have heard her walk in.

“You’re not going to the party, and that’s final.”

Emily shakes her head, almost admiring her daughter’s attempt to divide and conquer. She’d asked her about the party that morning as they got ready for the day, dutifully dodging questions about whether there was going to be any parental supervision or not, and Emily had told her no. She’d been to those parties herself, hadn’t had a parent who cared enough to be around to say no, and she didn’t want Lucy to go. She did her best to be an understanding parent, to let her kids push boundaries and figure out who they are, but this was a hard line for her.

She’d seen far too many girls Lucy’s age hurt, or worse, in situations just like this.

Lucy scoffs, “But everyone else is going!”

Aaron sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, and Emily can see that his patience is fraying, the threads of it pull to their limit as he stays calm in the wake of the teenager’s anger, “I don’t care if everyone else is going, you’re not.”

Lucy grumbles, the sound turning into a growl as it catches in her throat, and she throws her arms up in her air, “Dad, you’re being so unreasonable, you’re ruining my life.”

Emily almost interjects, but Aaron replies again, still as calm as he can be, the weight of his father’s anger heavy on his shoulders.

“Lucy, I just want you to be safe - and this doesn’t sound safe,” he sighs, “I know you think you’ve got it all figured out, but you’re 16, princess. You-”

“Don’t call me princess,” she shouts, crossing her arms over her chest, “I’m not a kid.”

Aaron’s jaw tightens, but his voice is still even, his expression stern and not one he often used in their home, “You are a kid. You’re my kid. And I am saying no.”

There’s a moment of silence as Lucy shakes her head, her whole body vibrating with anger she can’t control or fully understand.

“I hate you.”

Emily watches as Aaron deflates, his shoulders falling back as if he’s taken a physical hit, and she steps into the kitchen, “Don’t speak to your father like that.”

Lucy and Aaron both look at her as if they’d only just realised she’s there, “But, Mom-”

“No, ‘but Mom’, nothing. You don’t speak to him like that,” she replies, as firm as she ever was with the kids, “And even if I didn’t agree with your dad on this, you absolutely wouldn’t be going now.”

Lucy scoffs, “Mom-”

“Go to your room,” she says, “I’ll come and talk to you when you’ve calmed down.”

Lucy looks like she’s going to argue for a moment, but she doesn’t. Instead, she shakes her head and marches past them, throwing one final piece of her anger over her shoulder, one final barb catching in her parent’s skin that Emily knows she’ll regret once she’s calmed down.

“You’re the worst parents ever.”

Emily sucks in a breath as she watches Lucy walk away, stamping her feet on each step before she slams her bedroom door.

“That went well,” Aaron quips, his smile sad as she turns to look at him, and she walks over, wrapping her arms around his waist. He hugs her back immediately, a desperation to it that makes her heart ache.

“She didn’t mean it, honey,” she says, rubbing a circle on his back, turning her head to kiss his cheek, “You know she loves you.”

He hums and pulls back, “I know. Doesn’t make it any easier to hear though.”

“I know,” she replies, pushing her fingers through his hair, smiling at the flecks of grey at his temples, “Is it just me who misses when they were small and thought we were the coolest people ever?”

He chuckles and stamps his lips against hers, “It’s not just you, sweetheart,” he kisses her again and then tugs her against him for a hug, “I’m sorry you came home to an argument.”

“That’s okay,” she replies, kissing his jaw before she pulls back to look at him, “You know you’re an excellent dad, right?”

He smiles, a bit more of him shining through in it this time, and she knows it’s exactly what he needed to hear, “Thanks, sweetheart. And you’re an excellent mom.”

“Dad?”

They turn to see Samuel standing in the doorway, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans.

“Everything okay, buddy?”

“I wondered if you needed help with dinner?” Samuel nods and clears his throat, and it’s such an obvious attempt to cheer Aaron up after he’d overheard the argument with Lucy, that Emily feels like she could burst. She unwraps herself from around Aaron and pulls Samuel into a hug, stamping a kiss against his head. “God, Mom. Stop.”

She smiles as she steps away, “You’re sweet.”

He runs his fingers through his hair to straighten it out, “You’re embarrassing.”

Emily and Aaron make eye contact over Samuel’s head, and Aaron winks at her before he replies to their son, “If you don’t mind Sammy, I need some help with the vegetables.”

Samuel nods, muttering under his breath about Sammy being the name for a baby before he walks over to help Aaron.

Lucy stays in her room all evening. Her irritation with her parents still clear when Emily takes her some dinner and tries to talk to her about their point of view. Eleanor asks Emily to braid her hair for the first time in years, another sign that the twins had both heard Lucy’s outburst earlier, and Emily finds herself in awe of her children’s capacity for empathy. They were good kids, all of them, and she was endlessly proud of them and the people they were becoming.

Even if their stubbornness, which they’d inherited from both her and Aaron, was world record worthy.

She sighs contentedly as she settles into bed next to Aaron, pulling the covers over them both. She leans in to kiss him, tasting the sadness that was still lingering on his tongue, made worse by Lucy not even answering him through her door when he’d said goodnight. Emily pulls back just enough to rest her forehead against his.

“You okay?” She asks, and he nods, his forehead knocking against hers, “Want me to be the big spoon?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, kissing her one more time, “You’re too small to be the big spoon,” he replies, encouraging her onto her side, “It’s like wearing a jetpack.”

She rolls her eyes at him and turns her head to stamp her lips against his again, “I’m not that much shorter than you,” she says, resting her head on her pillow and pulling his arm to cuddle it against her chest as he moulds himself against her. She kisses his knuckles before tucking his hand under her chin, “You are a very good big spoon though.”

She couldn’t remember a time in her life before him, and couldn’t believe she’d lived for so much longer without him than she had with him by her side. She couldn’t imagine doing any of this with anyone else, sure that if she hadn’t kissed him that one night 19 years ago, and if he hadn’t kissed her back, she wouldn’t have any of this - one kid at an Ivy League college and three others asleep just down the hall, a partner she loved more than life itself.

She’s sure she would have been happy in another life, just a different kind of happy that she was glad wasn’t hers.

“Goodnight sweetheart, I love you.”

She hums as he kisses her cheek, “I love you too.”

She isn’t sure how long she’s been asleep when her phone rings. She groans, blindly reaching out for it, knocking her reading glasses from her nightstand as she grabs her phone. She opens her eyes, the bright light of the screen making her wince as she blinks away the bleariness, and she frowns when she sees Lucy’s name on the screen.

“Lucy,” she says as she answers, a bad feeling settling in her gut, the weight of it remaining as she slips out from Aaron’s embrace, ignoring the way he calls after her half asleep. She can hear yelling in the background, the unmistakable sound of a party filtering down the line with her daughter’s voice, and she steps out into the hallway, “Why are you calling?”

“Mom,” she says, her voice slurring, “Can you come get me?”

“Come get you?” She asks, her heart dropping into her stomach as she walks into Lucy’s bedroom and finds it empty, just like she knew she would. It doesn’t make the sight of the unmade bed, the teddy bear Lucy claimed she didn’t need anymore tipped on the floor, and the open window any easier to take. She feels panic rise in her chest, worst case scenarios flooding through her, every bad thing she’d ever seen happen to a person hitting her square in the chest as she puts her daughter on speaker phone. She scrambles to open the Find My Friends app she has on her phone, her worry tipping into desperation when she sees Lucy’s disabled it on her end, only Aaron, Samuel, Eleanor and Jack flashing up on the map, “Where are you?”

Lucy sighs, the hesitation in it clear even though she’s obviously drunk, “I snuck out,” she says, hiccuping, carrying on even though she doesn’t need to, “I’m at the party.”

#emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #aaron x emily #hotchniss #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss fan fic

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blackcorvette · 15 hours ago

Text

Own My Mind

Summary: 1986. Hawkins, Indiana. It’s not your fault that you’re pulled into the messy secrets and hidden world of your small town. It’s not your fault that two of your new acquaintances seem to be fond of you, and not of each other.

Warnings: Language. Stranger Things central violence. Spelling errors, grammar mistakes, and rushed writing. Eventual smut… (buckle in, it’s a long ride.) MDNI

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Hello again, welcome back to this humble little- whatever. Week five is here, and I just spent the weekend writing nonstop for this fic- there is much much more waiting for you guys in the future :) Special thanks to my bestie, @djosfavewig who will always be the first to know what happens, before it even does. Now, let’s read.

Currently Reading: Part Five

Masterlist

It starts with Nancy, she begins the story from where it starts. Retelling what you had learned from Steve and the kids, only this time with more attention to details that you hadn’t heard before, it’s only a summarized version, but it’s enough to give you a better idea- and enough for Victor to form his own view.

Then, when she finishes, you take over, from the point that you’ve been present. You tell Victor about Chrissy, letting Nancy speak about Fred, then you come back to tell him about Eddie running, how you found him. You tell him about searching for evidence, the school therapists office, then Max’s experience.

“When he attacks, our friend described it as a trance.” You recall what Eddie had said about what he had witnessed in the trailer, trying to remember what you had read from the papers as well. “Like a waking nightmare. What’s why we think he’s coming for her next. Does any of this, anything we’ve told you, sound like what happened to your family?”

“Victor?” Nancy prompts when he’s quiet too long. “I know this is hard-”

“You don’t know anything!” He yells and the echo of it rings, it continues in your mind even when it’s gone.

“You’re right.” You say, keeping your voice quiet, soft, trying to ease his nerves even as you struggle to maintain your own. “We don’t know. That’s why we’re here. To learn, to understand.”

“We need to know how you survived that night.” Robin says.

He lets out a laugh that sounds more terrifying than humorous. “Survived? Is that what you call this? Did I survive? No, I assure you, I am still very much in hell.”

When he speaks, he reminisces. Its slow, a memory coming to mind that’s not too far gone, one that he thinks of often, maybe even always. A soft smile forms on his lips, out of place with the scars, but whist full.

“I had been back from the war, some fourteen years. Her great uncle had died, leaving us a small fortune. Enough to buy a new home.” He says. “A new life. It was…a magnificent home. Alice said it looked like it was from a fairy tale.”

“Alice? Was this your daughter?” You ask him, hoping that he doesn’t take it as a hostile sign.

“Mhm, yeah.” He nods, and his smile falters as he continues, a happy memory tainted. “But Henry, my…my boy, he was a sensitive child. And I could see he felt something was wrong. We had one month of peace in that house. And then it began. Dead animals. Mutilated, tortured, began to appear near our home. Rabbits, squirrels, chickens, even dogs. The police chief blamed the attacks on a wildcat. This, this was no wild cat. This was an evil. And evil neither animal nor human. This was a spawn of Satan- A demon. And it was even closer than I realized.”

“My family began to have encounters, conjured by this demon. Nightmares. Walking, living nightmares.” The way he reuses your phrase, it solidifies your belief in him, in the evil you’ve become entangled with, the evil you are now attempting to fight. “This demon, it seemed to take pleasure in tormenting us. Even poor, innocent Alice. It wasn’t long before I began to have encounters of my own. I suppose, all evil must have a home. And though I had not a rational explanation for it, I…I could sense this demon. Always close. I became convinced it was hiding, nesting, somewhere within the shadows of our home. It had cursed our town. It had cursed our home. It had cursed us.”

He drops down onto his cot, defeated.

“It took Virginia first. I tried to get the children out- to save them. But…I was back to France. Back in the war. It was a memory, I had thought German soldiers were inside. I ordered its shelling. I was wrong. This demon, it was taunting me, and I was sure it would take me, just as he’d taken my Virginia. But then- I heard another voice.”

He removes his hands from where he had been covering his ears to shield himself from the dark parts of his memory. “At first, I believed it was an angel. And then I followed her. Only to find myself in a nightmare far worse. While I was away, the demon took my children. Henry slipped into a coma shortly after that. A week later he died.”

The crying starts, and it’s horrible, bad enough you have to tighten your fists and dig your nails into your already bruised palms.

“I tried to join them. I tried. Hatch stopped the bleeding. He wouldn’t let me join them!” He’s sobbing now, curled into his cot with his head against the striped pillow.

“The angel you followed…” You ask, though he might be too far gone. “Who was she?”

He doesn’t answer, confirming your suspicions by humming a song, rocking back and forth in the cot in a way that only the most broken man would. Nancy seems not to realize, attempting to try again, calling his name several times louder each- until the cell door at the end of the hall slams open and makes you all jump.

“Is he everything you hoped he would be?” Dr. Hatch yells down the tunnel, in a sinister voice that tells you he’s found out everything you tried to hide in order to get here. “I just had a very interesting conversation with Professor Brantley. Perhaps we should discuss it in my office, while we wait for the police.”

Security removes you, forcing the three of you out of the cell while Dr. Hatch yells, storming ahead to lead you back out of the cells and through the asylum.

Nancy begins to spill everything, about Eddie, Max, and every little detail that her mind can pull up and spit out- and if you weren’t in your own head trying to organize your plan to escape- you would be telling her to shut the fuck up.

They take you through the building and back into the listening room- where your eyes linger on the patients listening to music.

Debussy.

Etta James.

Elvis.

Brenda Lee.

Beethoven.

They shove you out of the room, Robin yells at the guard who had physically pushed her, and you follow quickly. As soon as you’re out of the doors, into the grounds of the inner courtyards and gardens, she pulls you and Nancy close.

“Victor said the night of the attack, everything went on in the house.” She whispers in a hurried manner, eyes darting up to make sure the guards and Hutch don’t hear. “But he made specific mention of music. He said music was playing- and then when we asked him about the Angel? He started to hum-‘Say nighty-night and kiss me, Hold me tight and tell me you miss me-‘”

“Dream a Little Dream of Me.” You remember the title of the song immediately, having listened to it growing up, the radio always on at home as a child. “Ella Fitzgerald.”

“Voice of an Angel.” Nancy says.

“Yeah.” Robin nods, glad that everyone follows her line of thought.

“Hatch said that music can reach parts of the brain that words can’t.” You say, walking briskly beside them, eyes scanning the grounds of the asylum, counting staff members and patients.

Robin nods again, her voice raising slightly, but not enough to alarm the guards. “So maybe that’s the key. A lifeline.”

“A lifeline back to reality.” Nancy mutters.

“It’s worth a shot.” Robin says.

Carefully, you look over your shoulder, at the guards. There are maybe two yards behind, they leave a gap large enough to take a few minutes to close if you run at the right time. They could get you, but only if they expect it and predict your movements beforehand.

“I think we can beat him.” You whisper.

“What?” Robin gives you a concerned look.

“To the car.” You say, ignoring the look Nancy shoots you.

“Okay, I’m warning you right now. I have terrible coordination.” Robin stresses. “Like, it took me six months longer to walk than all the other babies-”

“Just follow my lead.”

Before she can object, you sprint. You can hear her yelling, but she and Nancy fall right into step beside you- the guard quickly realizing and chasing behind them.

The grass is soft, but the ground beneath is firm enough to keep you from tripping. The patients watch with wide eyes, the staff slowly clueing in and rushing forward to catch you. But you run, as fast as you can, as far as you can and then further. Your sides burn, your lungs acting fast in the sudden burst of adrenaline- your heart doubling its natural rate, but you keep going until you’ve lost your shoes and run through the open gates.

The car is unlocked, and you silently thank God that Nancy hadn’t locked the doors before the meeting. The three of you climb in, and are almost immediately met with pounding fists on the windows. Nancy starts the car quickly, Robin yells, and you curse as you scramble for the radio that a familiar noise comes in and out. Static and Dustin’s frantic voice.

“Robin where the hell are you? This is a code red! I repeat, a code red!”

Finally finding it, you extend the antenna and press the button. “Dustin- It’s me. We copy.”

“Holy shit, finally!” His voice filters in immediately. “Please, please tell me you guys have this figured out.”

“What’s happening?” You have to yell over him, hoping he’d listen. “Dustin tell me what the hell is happening right now.”

“He’s got her- She’s- fuck.” The desperation in his voice hurts and you can’t do anything but talk. “What do we do? Tell me you found out something before-”

“Music.” You tell him.

“What? We need-”

“I can’t explain it now. Music, Dustin. Her favorite song, okay? Something that she loves that has meaning!” You speak as fast as you can, Robin yelling for Nancy to drive faster and your heart racing. “Just do it, okay! Her headphones. Get them and play a fucking song.”

“Okay.” He sounds stricken, and the line falls into static, a sign you hope means he’s doing what you hope will save her.

“Is she okay?” Robin asks frantically. “She has to be okay, right? The music? Fuck the music has to work- if it doesn’t-”

“It’ll work.” You tell her, louder than you meant to be but you can’t handle it, not while you have no clue what is happening or where they are. “It will work.”

It might take minutes, hours or maybe only seconds. All you know is that you can’t ease the tension in your body, you’re sitting up, knee bouncing, and staring out the window. Your hands are clutching the radio waiting for a signal. Nancy speeds away from the asylum, and eventually finds a rural road to start heading back home. Robin is chattering nervously, her hands tapping against her legs. None of you attempt to comfort each other, because there is no comfort to give.

Between the three of you, the car is overwhelmed with anxiety and anticipation. Not a single one of you knows that to do or say, and once Robin no longer has breath…It's silent.

The noise of the road is loud in your ears, mingling with the memory of Victor’s humming, the tune of his song stuck in your head like a spinning record, broken, repeating the same segment.

One, two, four clicks later- still no answer from Dustin. Not a single second of static from his end, not a yell, or a cry.

Nothing.

It will work. It has to work.

Even when Robin takes the radio, attempting to call for a response herself, you sit there waiting and listening. All you need is a voice. Dustin, Max, Steve. You need someone to tell you is she alright or is she…is she alright?

No answers. Not the first or the fifth time she tries. And then Nancy takes it, one hand on the wheel while the other holds the radio. No answers for her either.

Eventually, the radio is set on the dash, sitting in the sunlight as you speed down the road toward Hawkins. You count the street signs, watching the mile markers as you get closer. You're passing the sign reading eighteen miles to town, when the radio finally makes a sound.

Dustin’s voice comes in, quiet, no longer yelling for answers he doesn’t know exist. Robin is the one to pick it up, asks him what happened. And he tells her. She’s alright, she’s sleeping it off now in Steve’s car. They’re heading back to the wheelers.

She’s alright.

====

A loud sound wakes you. Your eyes open slowly, still blurry with sleep. It takes a moment to register that the sound is radio static and a familiar voice coming through.

Sitting up carefully, you make sure not to bump into Steve’s legs, where he’s curled in a seemingly uncomfortable way in an armchair, the same position he had been asleep in when you arrived last night. You search the floor for the radio, before realizing that it’s behind Dustin’s head on the TV stand. Reaching for the radio, you take it and carry it away from the others, who are still sleeping.

In your half asleep state, you press the button in the middle of Eddie trying to reach someone on the other end. “It’s way too early for this, Ed.”

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” His voice lightens when he finally receives an answer. “Um, I'm gonna need a food delivery. Like really soon, unless you want me going out into the world-”

“No, no, no. Don’t do that.” You rub your eyes and stifle a yawn. “Just stay where you are and we’ll be there as soon as we can, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He responds quickly, barely giving you time to finish. “Listen, um, can you pick me up a six-pack? I know it’s stupid as shit, drinking right now, but a cold beer would really calm my jangled nerves-”

Behind you, you hear the sound of Nancy arguing with somebody. “Hey, hold on. I’m gonna have to call you back-” Eddie starts to protest, but you set the radio aside and hurry back in time to see Nancy shaking Dustin awake. “What’s going on?”

She ignores you, speaking directly to a startled Dustin. “Aren’t you supposed to be on Max watch?”

“Yup, yup, yup- Sorry-”Dustin rubs his eyes, still not completely aware of the empty sofa you’re now staring at.

“Where is she?” She asks.

“She’s right there-” He freezes. “A second ago- I swear, I just dozed off for…an hour.”

“Hold on guys-” You try to reason with them, but before either can listen, they shoot up the basement steps to search for her. “Or don’t. That’s a choice too.”

A creaking behind you makes you turn, your eyes landing on a disgruntled Steve Harrington waking up and shifting in the too small armchair, untangling himself.

“That’s what all this noise is about?” He asks groggily, his voice deeper than normal and his eyes squinted as he grunts, stretching his arms. “Max went upstairs like, thirty minutes ago.”

“Alone?” You ask, dropping onto the now empty sofa and refraining from shutting your eyes, still tired.

“Mrs. Wheeler’s up there with her. Making breakfast.” He runs a hand through disheveled hair, somehow making it sit more perfectly than should be possible. “Are you…wearing new clothes?”

“Sleepover, remember?” You gesture lazily towards your discarded backpack. “I brought a few changes of clothes.”

He hums, his eyes lowering to his two days old shirt and the jeans he’d slept in. For a while you sit in silence, both of you still trying to wake up, or maybe just unsure of what to say. But it’s not unpleasant, rather, it’s the opposite.

When he looks up again, his eyes hold yours, and you find that he’s sharing the same feeling. It’s easy to tell that both of you are tired, and comfortable. Here, beside him, you feel at ease in a way you hadn’t in days. Maybe it’s the quiet slowness of the morning, or the fact that you’re alone, save for the sleeping bodies of Lucas and Robin. And for a while, you both embrace the stillness. But like most things, it only lasts so long.

It’s been over twenty four hours since you’ve decided to be upset with him. And in that time, you’ve lost reason to care about it anymore, there’s not an ounce of you that wants to be upset. It’s long faded- but you still feel a wave of something like relief when he brings it to light again.

“I don’t think it’s his fault.”

You ask, sitting up. “What?”

“Eddie. I don’t think he caused this.” He says, his voice kept low and his eyes not leaving yours, holding them captive without trying. “I don’t think that he killed Chrissy.”

“He didn’t.” You look down at your hands, unable to hold his gaze, whether or not you’re greatful to hear what he’s admitting.

He says your name, and it’s almost too much to hear him say it in this context. Your voices are little more than whispers, trying not to wake the others, but it’s like he says it through cupped hands- loud and demanding your attention.

He doesn’t get a chance to continue.

“We’ve got something.” Nancy comes down the steps first, interrupting with a stack of papers in her hand, Max and Dustin right behind. They quickly wake the others, nearly scaring the shit out of Lucas and making Robin yelp.

“What do you mean?” Steve stands, and Robin clumsily clears the coffee table she had been sleeping on, dazed from her sudden wake. “What have you got?”

Nancy and Max begin to pay out the papers, page by page. They connect lines, the scribbled marks coming together like a spider's web. They continue through each page, fitting broken images together until everything aligns.

“What’s this?” You trace your fingers over the lines, frowning at the distorted images. “A map?”

“Almost.” Max says, taking creased pages and beginning to fold them, red and black shapes being manipulated into something else. “I saw this during… At first I thought it was a random mess, like an upside down junkyard. Everything was disconnected and in ruins, torn apart and separated, but it’s not random, it’s all pieces of the same place.”

Steve leans closer, looking down at the pages as Lucas and Robin crowd around. “Where?”

Slowly, she starts to arrange the folded pieces, Nancy helping to match the lines and shapes together. At first, it looks like nothing, but it’s familiar to you. Then, before the image is fully formed, it clicks into place within your memory. You take in a sharp breath, startling the people around you. “The Creel house.”

“What-” Robin gasps, her eyes wide as Nancy lays the last piece, the stained glass door. “Shit.”

“That’s where we need to go next.” Max says, her eyes locked onto the image. “We need to go there and look for something, anything that could be useful. A clue to give us more time or-”

“A cure.” Lucas says, tapping the papers. “If we get there, we can look for a cure. Then you’ll be safe, Max. We can get you the hell away from all this shit, away from Vecna.”

“Lucas-” Dustin attempts to slow him down, but he ignores it.

“A cure.” He says again, sounding nearly distraught. “We can get her out of it, guys. Once she’s safe we can figure out how to take him down, but if this place can fix her-”

“Fix me?” Max cuts him off.

Lucas freezes, stumbling over his words when he tries to recover. “Not fix you. Fix this. If we can fix everything, then it’ll all be over. But a cure-”

“And what if there’s not a cure?” She asks, her voice raised enough that you take half a step back. “What if instead of a cure, I die? What if we find out that I’m going to end up like Victor? If that happens, you still have to defeat Vecna! You still have to figure out how to stop him, so that no one else dies.”

“Max-” Steve speaks to her gently, his hand hovering a few inches from her shoulder, careful.

“No, Steve.” She snaps her head up to him, and for the first time since you’ve met her, you see the pain in her eyes.

They’re red, her cheeks flushed with the same color, and tears threatening to fall. Her eyebrows are furrowed, anger and sadness showing straight through her face. Her voice begins to shake, her hands flexing as she tries to hold herself together. The headphones around her neck sit there as a reminder, of what she’s close to.

“We don’t know what will happen when we get there, but we have to go, okay?” She’s looking at him while she speaks, but she directs it towards everyone in the room. “He needs to hear it- because it’s true. If I die, you need to keep going. You can’t stop, got it? Find out how to kill him, because you fucking have to-”

Steve's hand settles on her shoulder just as the first tear falls, her face crumbling with it. He hushes her, pulling her into his chest and down into the armchair. You can’t see it, because he keeps her face shielded, but you know. You know that she’s crying, her breathing too shallow, even if she falls silent while she cries. She doesn’t sob, she doesn’t yell anymore, she just stays there- and it’s enough.

Nancy clears away the papers, Robin helps her and they step away to talk. Dustin slowly moves across the room when the radio starts to go off again with Eddie’s voice. And Lucas…Lucas doesn’t move. His attention is not once taken off of Max where she’s curled into Steve’s embrace. And you realize that you can’t move either.

For three days, you’ve been involved with them. You’ve only known them for that long, and yet it feels like you’ve always known them. Every problem, you feel you need to help solve. Their triumphs are yours, and their pain…you feel it, every little bit of it. And some moments it seems like everyone is on the same page, because they’re all fighting the same evil. But now, when you look at them, you see that they’re children.

Max, she’s only fourteen. She’s facing a fate worse that anything you can imagine, she’s forced to fear every second- whether she can spare them or not. And now, even while she’s crying, she’s fighting for herself and everyone else. She doesn't deserve it at all, and you wish you could stop it. You wish that you could take all the fear and pain from her, and save her from this monster and every other one that’s looming over.

But you can’t, not now, without knowing how to. And it tears you up, this girl you had met only days ago, that you can’t help her yet. That you don’t know how to, or if you’ll even be able to. It weighs on you, clouding your head with what ifs and wishes you can’t hope for. Things that you never hope to feel again, after everything is over. And it only worsens when you look at Steve.

Only a few years older, Steve is taking responsibility. You can see it in everything he does. He might complain, but he wouldn’t ever leave them when he’s needed. He would never let them be lost, even if it means he has to pretend to know the way. He’s here, holding Max as she cries, as if she’s his responsibility. Because to him, she is. To him, each of the kids, even Robin and Nancy, are under his watch. He doesn’t expect anything from them, and part of you thinks he wouldn’t accept it.

He’s strong, you know it. You see it in the way he talks to her, quietly, trying to sooth her. It’s evident in the way he acts without being asked, in the way he wants to do anything he can. And most of all, it’s in the way he’s able to comfort her while he looks as though he himself might break.

The way his eyes water is nearly impossible to notice. The way his hands tremble on her shoulders, as he rubs her back. The way he has to pause every few seconds to take a deep breath, to keep his voice from becoming unsteady, because he has to stay strong for her.

And it burns a hole in your chest, watching it all unfold, being witness to the unnoticed. But you can’t look away, you won’t, because when it ends, you will be here if they need you.

Because, you have to be.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie x reader #steve x reader #st season 4 #stranger things #x reader #joe keery #joseph quinn #fanfic #my fic

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authorsofghosts · 1 day ago

Text

Oxytocin Overload | Hank McCoy x Reader

Author's Note: hear me out....

Summery: After Hank left the lab to join the X-Men, you felt slightly disheartened, like a part of your soul had left. That's when you realized you were in love with the shy, strange nerd.

Themes: 2 Nerds In Love, Already Established Relationship, Fluff, Friends-to-Lovers, Work Place Romance (kinda), Awkward Hank AND Awkward Reader, A Little Projection, Charles Cameo (kind of a main character ngl), Charles hatred (I love him tho), Disability rep (Charles Xavier I hate you <3), takes place between First Class and Apocalypse, Hank technically kidnaps the Reader (it's for their own good), Reader is a Mutant (no powers specified)

Word Count:

You're on autopilot, on your way back to your lab after talking to probably the most arrogant and ignorant person in the whole building. You're met, head first, with a hard chest of someone you didn't even see because you were currently ten hundred miles away.

"Oh- sorry, uh-" You start, looking up and seeing probably to best news all day. "Hank?"

"Hey." He chuckles out, his signature awkward smile on his face, hand fixing his glasses. "You know, when I came back here I thought you'd be long gone. It's been a while."

You look up at him, blinking slowly as you try to see if this was real or not. Your former work bestie is back after God knows how long. "Yeah, no, I'm still- I'm still here." You laugh, taking a step back. "What are you doing here?"

You look down, noticing he's in a lab coat. Strange. He's also, like, a good few inches taller and more muscular. Even stranger.

"Ah, uh... I was, uh... well I... I'm not supposed to be here, actually?" He laughs, looking at you with a completely serious face. "You know what? You should stay by my side while I uh- do the thing I'm not supposed to be doing." He stammers slightly, grabbing your hand and starting to walk.

You're taken aback, mouth agape as you start walking in turn with him. The way his voice was completely serious and how fast he's walking...

"What are you not supposed to be doing, Hank?"

"Grabbing some of my old research. Nothing, like, illegal, I hope." He laughs slightly, then stops talking for a second before turning to you, "Wait- you- okay never mind, I'll ask later." He grumbles, his pace doubling as he pulls you along with him.

Before you know it, you're half way across the building and out of place. Hank walks in an extremely stiff way that makes you almost feel like he's not the same guy you would go and drink with after work, or make jokes with when comparing studies. He's almost completely changed, except for his sweat palms whenever he got close to you, or touched you. And he's holding your hand still, making it quite obvious.

He pulls you into a room, "Stay by the door, alright?" He asks, biting down on the inside of his lip, walking further into his old lab, which has now collected a layer of dust so thick, every surface was painted a slight gray.

You watch as he looks around his lab, suddenly stopping before turning to a drawer and opening it. He mumbles under his breath before walking to you, putting the files in your hand. "Here. You where already carrying one so, it'll look fine. You're uh, not coming back here"

"What?" You ask, taken aback slightly.

"Whatever you're studying, I can help you back at my lab. I think it's best if you came to the School with me and we-" He pauses, the air hissing as he sucks it between his teeth. "I can explain later, we have to go, now." He takes your hand again and steps out the room, walking at almost a humanly impossible speed, your feet barely able to keep up.

Before you know it, Hank has you outside the building and into a rental car. you go to speak but are met with a voice in your head. "Hi, this must be scary. Listen, everything is going to be okay, I just need you to, uh... go to sleep." And then you do.

The man with the English accent's voice become slower and you wake up, laying on a couch somewhere else. You sit up immediately, looking around. You see a man sitting at a desk across the room, fingers knitted together as he looks at you. "Hello." He says, the same voice you heard earlier.

"Uh- hi?" You manage to get out. "Where am I?"

"You, my friend, are at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters." He smiles, standing up. He grips the desk slight as he does so, seemingly slightly uneasy.

You get up and immediately walk over to him, feeling an impulse to help him. "What's that? Are you okay? Where's Hank?" You say, all these questions falling from you mouth before you can even realize you've sat this stranger on the couch you woke up on.

"Thank you, uh... Those are questions I have answers to, but I want to ask you something first." He says, studying over you. He takes a deep breath. "My name is Charles Xavier, and you might be?"

You introduce yourself, tilting your head slightly as you feel a sudden urge to tell him anything. So you do. You tell him your name, and where you work and stuff that he probably already knows if he knows Hank.

"Great, now that we're acquainted, can you tell me about your powers?" He asks almost too casually, especially with information you've never told any one.

"Wh- Powers? I don't-" You start, but he puts up his hand.

"No need to lie, you're in safe company." Charles says, but quickly looking towards the door right before it opens. "Hank." He smiles.

You look over at the door and see Hank, a box in hand. "It's time for the serum, isn't it?" He chuckles, placing it on the next and taking out a syringe."

"Yes, it is, thank you, bud." Charles says, waving his hand at him.

Hank looks at you, flashing a quick smile before rolling up Charles sweater and pressing the needle into his skin. Of course, you don't watch, shielding your eyes slightly. "Okay, well, uhm... let me know how you feel in five minutes, okay?" Hank asks before looking at you. "Hi. I'm sure there are a lot of questions-"

"Yeah. A lot." You say bluntly, standing up and looking at Charles for a moment and then back at Hank.

"I can answer them, I promise, just uh- You okay, Charles?"

"Peachy, yeah." The other man says, nodding and waving a dismissive hand. "Go talk to your friend, I'm just gonna... lay here."

Hank laughs, making sure Charles is in an okay position before gesturing to the door. You both walk out and he closes the door softly. You look around at the rather lavish hallway, eyes wide. "Hank, where did you bring me-"

"A school, mansion-turned-school, rather. Uh, for people like us." He says. "You have powers, and so do me and Charles. It's a lot to take in at first, knowing there are other people like you-"

"You have powers?!" You say, taking a step back. "What, are you like- what the hell am I talking about, this is crazy." You sigh loudly, walking in a direction away from the room, looking around for some kind of exit. "I don't have powers, Hank." You state bluntly.

"But you do. And so do I, I mean..." He sighs,stepping in front of you. "It's a little scary, you know? I don't want to scare you. Okay?"

You look at him for a moment, confused, until he pulls a small knife from his pocket and pressing it against himself, just softly. And before you can even process what's happening, Hank's skin turns blue, and so does his hair. His eyes are yellow and he gets a little bit broader. You watch in, not horror, but amazement.

"Woah- Cool."

"See? Now, show me what you can do." He laughs softly, putting the knife back in his pocket and rubbing at the small wound from the prick.

"Yeah- Uh- no." You shake your head. "This is... a lot to take in, uh... maybe we can talk about it over... dinner? Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? Do you know what tomorrow is?"

"Friday?"

"Valentine's Day."

"Oh. Then maybe not tomorrow... unless...?"

#beast #beast x men #beast x reader #beast xmen #fluff #hank mccoy #hank mccoy x men #hank mccoy x reader #hank mccoy xmen #x men #x men x reader #x reader #xmen #xmen x reader

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