#but she died a slow painful death and almost lost her daughter

[chainsawmanofcl]

I HAVE NOT SEEN ONE SINGLE POST

How it feels scrolling through the tag rn

[hellodropbear]

17520 hours.

mapi leon x ingrid engen x daughter (ish)

angst. part of the 'it's time.' series

mapi struggles on the two year anniversary of her best friend's death. Ingrid is right there to help her but she doesn't know how to let her in.

this is a lot more angst than i'm used to posting but i hope you like it.

it was hard to write and partially based on personal experiences so i apologise if it's not very good.

also decided to put it all in one part because i couldn't find a good place to split it!

i hope you enjoy :)

~~~~~~

Two years is a long time. 

Two years is 104 weeks, two years is 730 days. Two birthdays, two christmases, two easters. Two summers and two winters, two new years and two anniversaries. 

Two years is a long time to miss someone. It should be enough time to have moved on. 

But when their daughter is in your care, that seems almost impossible. 

It was everyday that Mapi thought about her best friend, sometimes looking at her daughter and only seeing his eyes staring right back at her. 

The day was one that the Spaniard dreaded, the days becoming quicker and quicker in the lead up, the night before slowing right down as she crawled into bed, tossing and turning as she tried to sleep. 

Isabel was almost two. Still too young to understand that there was anything out of the ordinary in her life, anything that raised any questions. Even if Mapi tried explaining, she was sure that her daughter wouldn’t have the first idea what anything meant. 

She wouldn’t understand that Mapi wasn’t supposed to have her even though she gave birth. She wouldn’t understand that her parents had died because her Mami was right there in front of her. 

It was just a part of parenthood that Mapi had no idea how to conquer. She knew everything else, having spent hours and hours with her head buried in countless baby books, countless books that discussed grief and sadness in children. 

But Isabel wasn’t sad, she wasn’t grieving because she never knew Luis or Isabel. 

There were no books about how to tell a kid about her dead parents. It was a taboo topic, of sorts, one that many stand-in parents were reluctant to discuss with their child, hoping that they would just believe that they were their real parents. It was a bridge most people decided to cross when they had to, not at any point earlier than completely necessary. 

Mapi didn’t want that, she wanted her daughter to know who Luis was, who Isabel was. 

She just didn’t know when or how she should introduce the idea of them. 

But the second anniversary of their death left Mapi in a numb state, entirely torn up on the inside as she tried to decide whether she would take her daughter with her on her annual graveyard visit. It was Mapi’s time to chat to Luis alone, no interruptions, no distractions. 

Because while Isabel lost her parents, Mapi lost her lifelong best friend. 

She lost Luis, who meant everything and more to her. Luis who had moved to Barcelona a few months after her, Luis who watched every single one of her games, the first person to text her after a hard loss or an impressive win. 

She still hadn’t got out of the habit of checking her phone after a match, pain settling deep in her chest as her screen remained bare, his notification forever absent. 

It wasn’t a question of where she would be on the second anniversary. She knew exactly where she would be sat and exactly how she would feel as she stared at that obnoxiously large gravestone, big bold carvings of his name, his date of birth and date of death. 

‘Loving husband, son and friend.’ it read. Not father. ‘A man who lit up the lives of everyone he met.’ It was an understatement, Mapi had thought.

She had spent hours there when Isabel was a newborn, cradling her tiny body in her arms as she sat and silently stared at those few words. Loneliness ate her up, wishing for nothing other than her best friend. 

But her daughter had lit up her world as everything else was crumbling down, single handedly keeping the two of them afloat as Mapi grew tired, the sheer weight of her emotions almost drowning them. 

Isabel was an infant, too young to know anything was different. She was completely enraptured by her mother, smiling and laughing everyday they spent together in their small and stuffy apartment, completely unaware of the anguish that her mother was going through. 

It seemed fitting on the second anniversary of their death, only a couple months before her second birthday that Isabel would finally visit their gravestones. 

Even the thought of the graveyard made her feel uncomfortable, Mapi’s skin crawling at the thought of her best friend beneath her, cold and still. Someone she loved, such a warm and constant presence in her life, lying right there in the ground. 

It made her feel sick. Sick with anger because he was gone too soon. With grief because she never got to say goodbye. With guilt because she got to have the one thing he had always wanted. But mostly sick with the heartbreaking realisation that he was down there, in the flesh. 

Luis was dead. 

~~~~~~

It wasn’t a cold day, but she shivered as she stepped out of the car, the cool breeze prickling her skin as she unclipped a groggy Isabel from the back seat. 

“Where are we, Mami?” 

She looked around at her unfamiliar surroundings in confusion, probably expecting to have woken up in her bed. 

Mapi just hugged her, not trusting her voice to not break if she tried to respond. 

Despite only visiting twice before, the graveyard was familiar, she knew exactly how to get to Luis’ plot. She walked with purpose, not looking at the grave as she laid down the rug, only facing her best friend’s name once she was sat down. 

“This is your Papi, Is.”

Saying it out loud, her daughter in her arms. His daughter in her arms. It felt unusual, it felt uncomfortable. She could feel Isabel looking up at her, the confusion that radiated from the toddler’s body. 

She loosened her arms as Isabel wriggled herself free, waddling towards the stone and placing her hand on it. 

“Papi?”

She looked back at Mapi, a question in her eyes. She was met with tears slipping down her Mami’s face. 

“Mami.”

In an instant, she was back in Mapi’s arms, reaching up and wiping away the tears. 

“No sad, Mami. Brave like lion.”

Mapi nodded, a watery chuckle falling from her mouth. 

“I’m going to talk to your Papi, Is. Is that ok?”

Isabel nodded, settling herself on the rug with her lion toy as Mapi stood up, walking closer to the stone and placing her hand on his name, crouching down so it was at eye level. 

“Meet your daughter, Lu. She has your eyes, you know. She’s funny and smart and entirely the light of my life. I love her so much. More than I ever loved you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone, really. I promise. I promise I’ve tried my best and I hope you’re proud of her. I hope you’re proud of me.”

She bit her lip, unsuccessfully biting back her own tears. 

“It’s been two years, Lu. I don’t know how I have made it through two whole years without you, really. It’s been so… hard. I still expect to see you, to hear from you. Sometimes I think I do, only to realise that it’s not possible. Because you’re dead. You weren’t supposed to die, not so soon. You were supposed to watch your daughter grow, I was supposed to be her really cool aunt that she would go to when you argued, to give her that tattoo when you said no. ”

She let out a strangled chuckle, trying to alleviate some of the pain she felt. They had discussed Mapi’s relationship with the child at length, knowing that the centre back would love the child as her own because she was always with Luis, she would always be around the couple as they raised their child. That wouldn’t have changed if she wasn’t biologically Mapi’s. 

Back then, Mapi had thought she would have been fine with the situation. She knew the baby wasn’t really hers, she knew that she would still be able to watch the baby grow up, that she would still be able to love her. 

It wasn’t a problem that had actually materialised, but they hadn’t expected both Isabel and Luis to die right before she was born. 

“Now I have to discipline her, Luis, which is the one thing I didn’t want to have to do. But she’s such a good girl, she is so intelligent. Like you, really. She knows how I feel all the time, she definitely inherited your emotional intelligence. She loves everyone too, just like you. I was never supposed to be a mother, was I? You were always the paternal one out of the two of us, you were the one who deserved a child. But I am the one that got her.”

She swallows roughly, biting her lip. 

“Oh Luis, you would have loved her so much.”

Very quickly, she is overcome by her tears, collapsing down into herself in sobs. 

It’s all too much, it’s all too hard. 

It’s unfair that her best friend left her, that she was left alone to grow up. Growing up was something they had discussed at length when they were younger. Obviously they were never going to be married, they’d never live together. 

They had dreamt of adjoining houses, doors that connected their backyards. They were going to grow up together, the two of them. Luis would have his wife and a gaggle of kids, Mapi would have her wife and a pack of cats. They’d have their own families but their lives would be so closely connected because they loved each other in the purest way possible. 

A childhood connection, one that grew and grew into adulthood. 

One that was supposed to last a lifetime. 

It did last a lifetime, it lasted Luis’ lifetime. Just not Mapi’s. 

She calmed herself down after a couple minutes, Isabel unsurprisingly noticing her mother’s sadness and crawling into her arms as a source of comfort. 

They sat there for hours, an easy silence settling upon the pair. Mapi was deep in thought, Isabel knew it wasn’t the time for play, it wasn’t the time for her mindless babbling. 

It had been a couple hours when she heard the footsteps, people approaching silently. 

She hadn’t expected to see anyone there, but upon reflection she realised she had been naive - it was the anniversary after all. 

“Maria?”

She hadn’t heard Ane’s voice in two years. The last conversation they had was full of empty promises, of visits to Zaragoza that Mapi knew she would not go on. Promises that they would get to know the child that was growing in Mapi’s stomach, promises that they wouldn’t lose touch. 

They had lost touch, Mapi unable to visit Luis’ home whenever she returned to her parents. Ane and Mikel were in too much pain to see the child, not sure how they could face it. 

“Ane.” She stood up, facing the older woman and allowing herself to be enveloped in her arms. 

“It’s so good to see you, Maria.”

Mapi could only nod, her eyes still watery and her face still red. It had been a long morning. 

She turned to face Mikel, who was staring straight forward, his eyes only softening as Mapi grabbed his hand and kissed it. 

“I have missed you both.” She smiled softly. It was a sad smile, but a real one. 

They were Luis’ parents, of course, but they were her pseudo parents whenever she needed them. They were so close, especially when Mapi and Luis were in their teenage years. 

“Is this… is that her?”

Ane looked down at the curly headed girl, her eyes softening as she watched her play with her toys. 

“Isabel Luisa.” Mapi nodded. “I thought today would be a good day for her to come visit.”

The older woman looked down at the child adoringly, smiling as she looked up at the unfamiliar adults. 

It was a bit awkward for a few moments, as Mapi, Mikel and Ane sat in an uncomfortable silence. 

Mapi excused herself, moving away to the bathrooms but leaving her belongings by the grave. She knew she wanted to talk to them, that they wanted to talk to her. 

She also knew they needed some time alone before they would be able to. 

But she did return, sitting down on her rug right beside the older couple. 

And Ane spoke, her voice soft, her voice sad. 

She told Mapi how grateful she is, how glad she is that she took Isabel in, that she didn’t even question it. How grateful she is that Mapi did everything to make her son happy all throughout his life, from buying him an extra chocolate bar when they were children to carrying his baby for him when he and his wife were unable to do it. 

Ane told her that she had given him his one dream, fatherhood. It was just unlucky that he wasn’t alive to live it. 

There were tears in her eyes as she told her how grateful Luis would be. How much he loved her. How happy he would be that his daughter ended up with the Spaniard, the person he probably trusted the most in the world. 

Mapi nodded her appreciation, sitting with the two adults for a while longer before Isabel grew tired, the sun falling down, the afternoon turning into evening. 

She said a tearful goodbye, collecting her things and standing, Mikel standing up as well and walking her to her car. 

“She looks just like him.” His words were soft, softer than Mapi had ever heard him. “I have thought about you every day, Maria. You and her. I am so relieved to see you here because I worried so much about you. I worried that you wouldn’t be ok, that you’d not be able to raise her. Not because I doubted you, but because I know how hard it is to lose people.”

Mapi nodded softly, looking up at the man. 

“I don’t doubt that you have had a hard time, but I also don’t doubt that you’re a good Mami. A great Mami to this little girl.”

“Thanks, Mikel.”

He nodded, that was all he needed to say. 

It was all he needed to say for Mapi to tear up again, picking Isabel up and holding her in his space. He looked at the Spaniard, who nodded, before placing a soft kiss on her head. 

“Come visit, Maria. When you come home. Bring the little one too.”

Mapi nodded, a smile on her face. 

This time, it wasn’t an empty promise. 

~~~~~~

She got home to an empty apartment. Quiet, dark. She could have texted Ingrid, the Norwegian likely would have come over in an instant, her warm arms right there for endless comfort. 

But she couldn’t bring herself to open her phone, couldn’t bring herself to stand up and walk over to the kitchen table where it was sitting. Instead, she stayed seated, relaxed back on the sofa with tears tracking down her face as she stared blankly at the wall. 

It wasn’t often that she was left alone with her thoughts. Not when she had a chatty toddler to look after, a loving girlfriend who spent every day trying to make Mapi happy. It worked, because Ingrid did make her happy, happier than she’d ever been. 

And Isabel also made her happy, she was the best thing in the Spaniard’s life. 

So why did she feel so sad? Why was Luis’ death still so hard for her to process?

Two years felt like too long to still be so upset about it all. She wondered when it would go away. If it would ever go away. 

His death was something that Mapi didn’t think she would ever be able to comprehend. She was able to live her life as normal again, plastering a smile to cover up the mess that she was on the inside. But it had taken such a long time to even get to that point, despite her daughter’s positive presence.  

Everyone knew how long it had taken. Mapi didn’t think anyone really knew how broken up she still felt about it. A part of her was embarrassed, embarrassed that she still hadn’t gotten over it. Was still yet to move on. 

Even as she thought it over, progress seemed so impossible. The thought of moving on like so many people had told her to do made her feel sick, because how was she supposed to move on when he was everything to her?

She didn’t sleep that night, barely able to smile as she fed Isabel and put her to bed. The toddler knew something was wrong, of course, a frown on her face as Mapi put her down for the evening. 

Isabel had seen Mapi sad before. Lots of times, really, but her mother usually tried her best to hide it from her. She would push the emotions down and far away as she interacted with her kid but Isabel was so perceptive, so in tune with Mapi’s emotions. 

She knew whenever Mapi was sad. It made her feel sad too. 

But Isabel never would have known that her mother was sitting in the same spot on the sofa all night, her mind a rollercoaster of thoughts and emotions, resisting any rest that tried to fall upon her. 

She wasn’t sure if she regretted telling Ingrid that she wanted to be alone for the day, that her girlfriend shouldn’t come over like she usually did. The Spaniard just didn’t know if it would make it better or worse. She didn’t know how to alleviate herself from some of the pain she felt. 

She realised she didn’t know much at all. 

Mapi watched as the sun rose outside, the night becoming morning. The new day arriving along with the sounds of birds chirping, the city happily waking up as the clouds had gone away and the sun had finally come out. 

Two years and one day. 

Her daughter’s whining was audible from her spot in the main room as she woke up. Her daughter’s whining was probably the only thing that would have successfully moved her from her seat. 

“Mami!” Isabel frowned at the sight of her mother as her door opened, dark bags beneath her red and puffy eyes. 

“Good morning, my girl.”

She smiled weakly, kneeling beside her toddler and raking her hand through her hair as Isabel became more aware of her surroundings. 

It was a slow morning; a slow rise from bed and a slow breakfast. The toddler was still in her pyjamas by 10, her hair and teeth remained unbrushed. 

It was no surprise that Ingrid was on the other side of the door at 11, Isabel opening the door when she heard the knocks. The Norwegian had a bright smile on her face as she scooped Isabel up into her arms and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. 

“Mami, Ingrid.” She pointed over at where Mapi was standing, and it was one glance at the Spaniard that told Ingrid that despite her promise that she’d be alright, her girlfriend was definitely not ok. Her smile faded and she frowned slightly, concern etched deep into her features, 

Her steps towards Mapi were tentative, unsure how to approach the situation. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t know Mapi, of course she knew her. She just didn’t know about Mapi’s grief. She had heard from teammates that she hadn’t dealt with the death well, that she had locked herself up in her house for months, over a year. But it was one topic that the Spaniard avoided at all costs, a master of changing the subject whenever it would come up. 

Ingrid never felt like it was her place to pry. 

But now, seeing her girlfriend so… broken, so depleted, it made her regret not being more insistent in those times. Because maybe if they spoke about it then, she would know how to help. 

But in that moment, she had no idea what to do. 

“Maria…” Her voice was quiet. “I’ve missed you.”

Mapi didn’t reply, but she could feel Ingrid’s free arm wrapping around her and she immediately clung onto her girlfriend. She was desperate and Ingrid was a lifeline. 

“Alright. Isabel, do you want to go play with Bagheera for a minute?”

The child nodded as she was placed back on the floor, walking out of the kitchen and into the lounge where the cat was likely waking up from her nap. 

Mapi, still clinging onto the Norwegian’s arm, frowned slightly, still not willing herself to make eye contact with Ingrid. 

“You’re not ok, Mapi, are you?”

She didn’t nod, she didn’t shake her head. Her mouth remained completely sealed. 

But Ingrid knew her well enough to recognise the tears that filled up her eyes, the way her hand trembled against the Norwegian’s skin. 

The brunette softened, her worries confirmed; leaving Mapi alone for the entire previous day was probably one of the worst promises she had ever made. She shouldn’t have agreed to it, not when she knew that Mapi would need her. 

“Ok. It’s ok. You’ll be ok, Maria. I just want you to sit down for me.”

She led her around to the other side of the kitchen bench, sitting down in a seat right beside her and wrapping her arm around the Spaniard’s shoulders. 

The Norwegian could feel herself becoming more and more anxious at Mapi’s almost catatonic state, entirely unequipped and unsure how to deal with it. 

It took half an hour of speaking to Mapi with no response for Ingrid to realise that she couldn’t do anything. A heartbreaking realisation of sorts, but one that she needed to have in order to help her.  

She knew she should be able to do this herself, she wished that it didn’t have to be so hard. But Alexia had been there before Ingrid, Alexia had been there for Mapi during Isabel’s infancy, right after she lost Luis. 

So she sent the Spanish midfielder a quick text, alerting her of the centre back’s state.

She felt guilty as the relief surged through her, Alexia assuring her that she would be there soon. 

However, neither the Spaniard nor the Norwegian could see the toddler’s tears, her quiet whimpers of anxiety and upset. 

Isabel didn’t like seeing Mapi upset, not at all. She was a happy person, usually, a permanent smile on her face, energetic as she played with the toddler. 

But she sat and stroked Bagheera, silent tears streaming down her little face with one thought on her mind. Why was Mami so sad all of a sudden? And why did it make her feel so miserable too?

Alexia arrived in a flurry, her heart dropping at the sight of her friend as she rushed towards her, immediately pulling her into a suffocating hug. 

“Maria, Maria. Come on, please. Say something.” Her voice sounded urgent and Ingrid could only watch, worry and confusion clear on her face. 

With no response, Alexia leaned back, staring straight into Mapi’s eyes. She could read the centre back like a book and her eyes told her everything she needed to know. 

“Ale.”

She frowned, tilting her head at the blonde in front of her. 

“Mapi, breathe. Take a deep breath in.”

Ingrid slipped out of the room as Mapi followed Alexia, breathing in and out slowly until she collapsed into Alexia’s arms, the tears spilling from her eyes easily as she reconnected with reality. 

It was her reaction to sadness, Mapi had realised a few months ago. Disconnecting from the world around her, unable to move, speak. She could barely hear anything, see anything until it was right in front of her face. 

She couldn’t feel anything either, but that was a more common response, something that she couldn’t be pulled out of so easily. 

She hated it, more than anything. Because when she was pulled from her state of disconnect, she felt nothing but terror, an overwhelming sadness that came rushing back as soon as that trap door opened. 

It was like her body was trying to protect her from feeling, the emotions just too much. It would just shut down until she was numb, not really registering that at some point she just had to feel it because there was no way of getting away from those emotions. 

Alexia had seen it all before and she was usually the one to grab Mapi, to shake her out of her headspace and bring her back to reality. 

It was terrifying for her too, especially the first time she witnessed it. 

“Ale.”

Mapi’s sobs had been reduced to quiet whimpers into Alexia’s shoulder after a while, her mind throwing itself through all her thoughts, all her emotions. Luis was gone, Luis had been gone for two years. She has his daughter, her Isabel who she loves so much. Ingrid was here but now she is not, where has Ingrid gone? Alexia, right in front of her, fear visible in the midfielder’s eyes no matter how hard she tried to hide it. 

Luis was gone, Isabel was hers. Ingrid was gone, Alexia was here.

Luis, Isabel, Ingrid, Alexia.

Her four people. 

She felt her breath hitch, Alexia’s arms tightening around her. 

She felt the tears dripping down from her eyes, saturating the fabric of Alexia’s shirt, the wet fabric now uncomfortable to rest her face on. 

She could hear Alexia’s breathing, the sound of her heart racing. 

Feel Alexia’s arms around her, the floor beneath her feet and the chair that she was sitting on. 

Taste the salty tears. Tears of grief, fear, confusion. 

Luis, Isabel, Ingrid, Alexia. 

“Ale, where is Isabel?”

~~~~~~

Ingrid slipped out of the room easily, not needed as Alexia dealt with Mapi’s overwhelming emotions. 

Mapi’s cries were audible from the main room she found herself in, wincing as she walked towards Isabel who was still stroking Bagheera, her movements fluid and repetitive, a consistent cycle that easily could have rubbed a groove into the cat’s black fur. 

The Norwegian couldn’t see the tears that had stained the little girl's face, still spilling from her eyes no matter how hard she tried to blink them away. 

But her shoulders shook unnaturally, a shuddering inhale that had Ingrid picking up her pace and sitting down right beside Isabel and pulling her into her arms as soon as she noticed how upset she was. 

Silently, she placed a thoughtful kiss on the crown of her head, her heart breaking at the silent tears, at Isabel's defeated demeanour. 

No toddler should know how to cry silently. 

"What's wrong, Is?"

At her words, Isabel promptly spun around in Ingrid's arms, collapsing into her and crying audibly, her entire body weight relying on the Norwegian to be held.

"Mami sad, Ingrid. I'm sad too!"

Her voice was broken and Ingrid’s heart dropped at the sound of it. 

It wasn’t hard to leave, understanding that Isabel needed to get out of the apartment, that she needed to be away from the inconsolable Mapi who could still be heard crying in the kitchen. 

So she left, slipping out the front door and carrying Isabel down to the street, holding her tight as she cried, walking over to the park. 

By the time they reached their familiar bench, her cries had weakened, only releasing quiet puffs of air every few moments as she relished in the comfort of Ingrid’s arms. 

The Norwegian sat down, loosening her grip on the toddler and manoeuvring her so that they were looking right at each other. Ingrid’s frown was light and her hands were soft as she reached out and wiped the tears away from Isabel’s wet cheeks, cupping her face when she was done. 

Words failed the defender as she looked at the toddler, her uncanny resemblance to Mapi heightened in her upset state. 

She matched her mother perfectly, Ingrid thought, trying to avoid that voice in the back of her head that she would never be enough. Their smiles were identical and their laughs sounded the same. They both carried the same exasperated sigh, the confused frown and those doe eyes that were impossible to say no to. But they carried the same tears, the same cries. 

Mapi’s emotions were often reflected in her daughter, whether it was happiness, excitement, fear, sadness. Isabel was smart - emotionally intelligent. It was like she always knew exactly how her Mami was feeling, even if she wasn’t old enough to understand why, to understand what those feelings were. 

This was one of those times when she had no idea what this sadness meant. She could clearly feel the sadness, feel her mother was sad. But she wasn’t even two yet, how could she possibly be expected to process those emotions like someone years older?

Ingrid wasn’t bad with kids either. There were heaps of children in her family; cousins, nieces, nephews. She’d been there throughout all of their childhoods, able to comfort them and soothe them enough until their parents came back. 

But Isabel’s sadness was completely new territory, there was no waiting for Mapi to arrive because Ingrid knew she wouldn’t. It was up to her to calm down the child but for the first time, she was completely stumped. 

She didn’t know what she could say to calm her down. She didn’t know how Isabel felt, she was too young to be able to express her emotions, to talk through what she was feeling. 

But this wasn’t a tantrum or a small cry over a minor convenience. This was a meltdown, caused by her overwhelming emotions that she couldn’t quite comprehend. 

“Ingrid…” 

She spoke quietly, leaning into the comfort of the Norwegian’s hands on her face. 

Ingrid nodded, encouraging the child to continue. 

“Why my Papi a rock?” 

The Norwegian’s face softened, her heart sinking as she tried to subtly release an exhale that she had been holding in. 

Unsure what she was going to say, she opened her mouth. But Isabel was too quick, raising her voice another time. 

“Why Mami sad at rock?”

“Is…” 

The child looked up at her, eyes shining with unshed tears, pure innocence reflected in her eyes, her features. 

“Isabel. Your Papi, he’s not a rock. Your Papi was a person, a very good person.”

The child frowned, confusion etched deep into her features. Ingrid thought she seemed entirely too concerned for a not quite two year old. 

“He died before you were born though, Is. Mami is sad today because she misses him. She misses your Papi.”

She doubted Isabel would even understand what she was trying to say. She didn’t know when children were supposed to understand the concept of death, the concept of life. 

Definitely not before the age of two. 

So Ingrid decided to try to move away from the topic, her new goal just to bring a smile back onto Isabel’s face. It was the least she could do, really. 

“But it’s ok, Is, because you have Mami and you have me and you have Alexia and you have Leila and Patri and Pina! You love all of those people don’t you?”

Isabel nodded easily, a smile creeping onto her face. 

“I love them so much. Especially Mami. And you, Ingrid!” 

Ingrid chuckled, her laughs a superficial cover of the anxieties and concern she felt. Because Isabel was right here calming down in her arms, but she had no idea of the state of Mapi, she had no idea how long this happiness would last. 

“And everyone I just mentioned loves you too. And your Papi, he loves you as well but he loves you from somewhere else. You have people everywhere loving you!” 

Ingrid beamed, trying to make the conversation feel more lighthearted. It was a successful attempt, apparently, because Isabel replicated her smile and turned herself around, sitting back down in Ingrid’s lap and leaning into her chest. 

“I love you Ingrid.”

The Norwegian could only smile sadly, planting a thoughtful kiss on Isabel’s head. 

~~~~~~

Mapi’s head was a mess, Alexia had realised. Her emotions all over the place, her priorities set in a weird and confusing line. 

The tears had eventually ran out and she was clearly exhausted, her head in Alexia’s lap as the blonde spoke softly. The familiar Spanish was a comfort to Mapi’s ears, the words meaningful, flooded with emotion.

“You need to worry about what is important right now,” Alexia had murmured, her hands combing through Mapi’s hair. It was reminiscent of how the centre back calmed her own daughter, soft hands and quiet words. 

It was reminiscent of how Mapi’s own mother used to soothe her, nostalgic and comforting. 

“Luis is important, of course he is. But he’s gone, Maria. If you’re going to worry about anything it has to be yourself, it has to be Isabel. You have to think about Ingrid, how to prioritise your relationship on top of everything else.”

Alexia shook her head at that, sighing almost silently. 

“Ingrid will try not to let you focus on her, but you have to try. You have to show her how much you love her like I know you do. That she’s your person.”

Mapi looked up at Alexia, her forehead wrinkling as she frowned. 

“She… she doesn’t know that?”

“She does know that, of course she does. But sometimes you need to put her first. Sometimes she needs you the most. Sometimes, she needs you more than Isabel does. She wants to know all of you, Mapi, even this part. She wants to understand your grief, to know what to do when you are having a hard time. She wants me to look after Isabel while she comforts you because she loves you. You are her person, just like she is yours.”

Mapi frowned again, swallowing back the tears that threatened to fill up her eyes. Because Ingrid was everything to her, of course she was. She was the person that Mapi loved more than anyone, the first person she had ever really and truly fallen in love with. But Alexia was right. More often than not, her attention was pulled away from Ingrid, Isabel making an appearance. Maybe she was hungry, thirsty, tired. She could have been bored or overexcited or maybe she just couldn’t sleep. 

Because Isabel was her baby girl, her last connection to Luis; her last connection to her person before Ingrid. 

It was somewhat painful for Mapi to consider how these small things would have hurt the Norwegian, how they would have all built up over time, building Ingrid’s thick skin, the impenetrable strength and sometimes superficial happiness that the Spaniard wished to break down.

“What do I do, Ale?”

Her voice broke and Alexia pulled her upwards, straight into a hug. 

“You talk to her.”

Mapi nodded, falling back down to her lying position on the sofa, the exhaustion of the day overcoming her despite it only being 12pm. 

Alexia could tell the exact moment she fell asleep, her breathing evening out and her body finally relaxing. 

The midfielder had expected something like this to happen today. She knew that Luis’ death was a date engraved in her friend’s mind, one that could never pass without any upset, any thought. 

It was only the second anniversary so of course it would bring up all of the emotions that were left and ignored two years ago, Mapi’s grief pushed away by the little baby Isabel. The same thing had happened a year ago and the midfielder knew it would happen again in another year. 

Only she hoped she wouldn’t be needed in a years time, similar to how she had hoped that she wasn’t required this year. 

She had been somewhat surprised and just a little bit disappointed when she received Ingrid’s text, having hoped that Mapi finally would have spoken to her girlfriend about it, that Ingrid would have expected it and known exactly what she needed to do. It was abundantly clear, however, that it was not the case. 

Ingrid’s terrified and bewildered facial expression was one piece of evidence, but so was Mapi’s silence, her heavy breathing and her complete refusal to speak while the Norwegian was in the room. 

She was disappointed, really. She felt guilt overcome her as she watched Ingrid slip out of the room, a look of pure defeat written all over her face as she accepted that there was nothing she could do to help Mapi. 

Mapi who was an emotional wreck, who needed support and who just needed to let everything out for once. 

Mapi, who needed her girlfriend’s comfort but didn’t know how to ask for it, couldn’t bring herself to ask for it. 

Alexia knew that the Norwegian would have given it to her without a second thought. 

It was all she could think about as Ingrid walked back through the door, Isabel’s hand tight in hers as her eyes scanned the room and landed on the sleeping Mapi in Alexia’s lap. 

Isabel inspected her quietly, satisfied with her sleeping body on the sofa. She was with Alexia and Alexia made people happy. She was sure Mapi would be happy now, so she scampered out of the lounge and into the laundry where she knew Bagheera would be waiting. 

Ingrid was less convinced, sitting beside Alexia with concern written all over her face. 

“She’ll be alright.” Alexia whispered her words softly, an attempt to make the Norwegian feel better. She didn’t expect Ingrid’s eyes to fill up with tears, her head falling into her hands. 

“Why doesn’t she talk to me about any of this?”

Her voice sounded defeated, frustrated. Her watery eyes looked back up towards Alexia and the midfielder could easily see the anguish in her eyes. 

“She’s bad at talking about it, embarrassed by it. She doesn’t like to feel all these emotions so she just pushes them away. But they come back every now and again and she has no idea how to deal with it. I try telling her that it’s normal, she shouldn’t feel embarrassed but she doesn’t listen. It makes her feel weak, she said. You saw her earlier too, she just shuts down. I think it’s because she just doesn’t know what else she can do so she turns into a robot of sorts, on autopilot to get things done. And then someone will come and see straight through her and it’s like she breaks.”

Alexia’s eyes were watering, her hand coming to rest on Mapi’s head. 

“But she loves you so much, Ingrid. More than I’ve ever seen her love anyone before. I know she wants to talk to you about all this, she wishes she could just let it all out. We’ve discussed it before, what she could say, how she could say it. She’ll call me the next day and say she chickened out, she couldn’t bring herself to go through it all. It’s mentally exhausting, I think.  She used to be so confident in herself, she didn’t care about anything but her happiness and the happiness of the people around her. She was the person who would cheer everyone else up, make us smile and laugh. She’s still that person, that’s the one that we see everyday. But she never learnt how to grieve or how to let other people cheer her up and this is what happened because of it.”

Ingrid was quiet for a few moments, her eyes focussed on Mapi’s sleeping figure. She looked so peaceful, her golden brown hair falling over her face, completely covering her tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes. 

“Why didn’t you help her?”

She knew it wasn’t Alexia’s fault; she knew that the midfielder beside her would have done whatever she thought was right. But part of the Norwegian thought that if she had learned what to do with her emotions two years ago when Luis died, everything would be easier now. Everything would be easier for everyone. 

“She just wouldn’t let us. I regret it every day, Ingrid. ”

~~~~~~

It wasn’t long before Alexia left, leaving Ingrid with a sleeping Mapi and taking the almost two year old back to her house with her. 

They didn’t want Isabel to be able to understand what was going on, they didn’t want her to feel those sad emotions when she was entirely incapable of understanding why she suddenly felt so sad. 

So it was Ingrid’s face that Mapi woke up to, the familiar green piercing straight through her, a sad expression all over her face. 

“Ingrid.”

Her voice was hoarse, her words scratchy and her eyes swollen. It had been a difficult few hours and she felt entirely incapable of having the conversation that she knew Ingrid wanted to have. 

“I don’t know how… how do I even start?”

But it seemed she was wrong as Ingrid shook her head, her arms wrapping the Spaniard up in a tight hug as she sat up from her horizontal position. 

“No, you don’t need to. Not right now. You’re exhausted, physically and emotionally and I don’t want to talk now. I want you to be ok, I want to make you feel ok.”

Mapi didn’t know it, but the Norwegian’s words were exactly what she needed. Ingrid was exactly what she needed. 

Her emotional perception, the unique ability she had to be so aware of how everyone felt at any given time. It was one of her qualities that Mapi loved the most, one of the things that was so intriguing, so alluring about the defender. 

“What can I do to make you feel ok?”

Mapi smiled weakly, trying to bite back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. It wasn’t just sadness this time, but gratitude, love. Because Ingrid was perfect even when the centre back knew she had been the opposite of that. And despite all of Mapi’s own personal flaws, Ingrid still loved her. 

And if everything else fell apart, Mapi knew that her love would be more than enough. 

“You being here makes me feel ok.”

Ingrid smiled into the embrace, only releasing the hug when Mapi’s grip on her loosened. 

“Isabel is at Alexia’s and she will be there all night. She shouldn’t be in this environment when you are so upset, not when she’s so young. So it’s just you and me, whatever you want to do.”

Mapi nodded easily, somewhat relieved that her daughter was away from all this. 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.”

The evening was a slow one, relaxed and quiet in the calm apartment. They weaved around each other in the kitchen as they cooked with a practised ease, dinner cooked and plated up seamlessly. 

Conversation as they ate was minimal, the Spaniard clearly distracted and the Norwegian happy to focus on her own food. 

“I… I need to talk to you, Ingrid. Not right now, but soon. Maybe tomorrow. I just don’t know how to say what I want to say in a way that makes sense. It’s… hard for me, hard to talk about… it.”

The Norwegian’s attention was captured at the sound of Mapi’s voice, instantly nodding with a comforting smile on her face. 

“I know it’s hard. I don’t want you to feel any pressure to tell me anything.”

But the Spaniard disagreed, shaking her head quickly. 

“It’s not pressure, I want you to know everything.”

Ingrid’s forehead creased, her eyebrows drawing together as she frowned. 

“But why? Why do you want to go through it all again with yet another person if you don’t have to?”

It was Mapi’s turn to frown, her head shaking as she let out a quiet exhale. 

“I haven’t ever gone through everything with anyone. Alexia knows a lot, sure. I know she’s told you what she knows. I want you to know everything. Because I love you more than anything and for you to love me like that you have to know everything, you have to see all my faults, everything that I’m ashamed of.”

Ingrid stopped the tears from forming before they had a chance to materialise in her eyes, but Mapi could tell she was stopping herself from crying by the way her eyes blinked away the invisible tears. 

“What’s wrong?”

Her voice was incredibly soft, her Spanish lilt calming, comforting.

“I don’t think there’s anything you could say that would change the way I love you. I couldn’t love you any more than I do and there’s nothing that will ever make me love you any less. I wish you would understand that sadness and grief isn’t a weakness or a fault, it’s not something to be ashamed of. It’s natural yet it takes a completely different path in every single person. You’re not different, Maria. You’re not weak. The opposite of weak, really. I love you for who you are, because you are funny, you’re kind, you’re caring. You look after people and you’re an incredible mother. I love you because you are strong, one of the strongest people I have ever met. The love I have for you is not… despite anything, there’s nothing that I would change because you’re perfect. So sure, tell me everything because I will listen but it will not change a single thing. Don’t tell me that I can’t love you before I know because I do, so much.”

“Thank you.” Mapi sniffled, her voice thready as she nodded at Ingrid, her eyes dropping back down to her plate in front of her. 

It was exactly what she needed to hear. 

~~~~~~

“Mami!” 

Despite Ingrid’s protests in the kitchen, Isabel bounded into their bedroom, bouncing up onto the bed right beside a sleeping Mapi. 

“Isabel! I said not to wake her up!” 

Ingrid frowned from her spot at the bedroom door, her forehead creasing further at Isabel’s defiant expression. The toddler turned back towards Mapi, shaking her shoulder rapidly. 

“Mami! Mami!” 

Ingrid rolled her eyes, releasing a loud sigh and shaking her head as the Spaniard rolled over, groaning as she opened her eyes. 

The past few days had been rough and Ingrid was sure Mapi hadn’t gotten more than three hours of sleep each day. The Norwegian was awoken constantly by the sound of her cries or her restless movements in the bed, but had stopped asking if she was ok after seeing the guilt on Mapi’s face at waking her up. 

It was an obvious question anyway, Mapi clearly was not ok.

She had been distant, often unfocused. The Norwegian had to take over the parenting ropes and she hadn’t left the Spaniard’s apartment, helping with cooking and cleaning and the other mundane housework that Mapi just didn’t have the energy to do. 

She would say a few words over meals, and quiet murmurs of gratitude throughout the day. Ingrid didn’t know how rapidly her notes app was filling up, full of dot points about how and what she would say to Ingrid. When she could bring up that conversation that she was so desperate yet so hesitant to have. 

“Morning Is.” The Spaniard rolled over, opening her arms up for the toddler as she fell into them, snuggling easily into her mother. 

“Mornin’ Mami!” 

Mapi smiled, looking over at Ingrid in the doorway and motioning for her to come and join them on the bed. Naturally, the Norwegian moved towards them, sitting up beside Mapi and resting her head on the centre back’s shoulder. 

“We were awake very early this morning, weren’t we Is?’

She rolled her eyes as the child nodded and Mapi bit back a laugh, squeezing Isabel softly. 

“You should have woken me.” Mapi smiled, planting a kiss on the side of Ingrid’s head, ignoring her scoff. 

“Ingrid said don’t wake you up, Mami!” Isabel interjected again, looking up at her mother. “But I missed you!” 

Mapi could only chuckle, planting a kiss on her child’s head. “I missed you too, my Is!”

It was a slow day, but one full of quiet laughter and happiness. The small family of three spent the late morning hours in bed, before getting up and heading down to the park and tiring the toddler out. She was exhausted by the time they got back, passing out on the sofa as Ingrid took off her shoes and Mapi scrubbed the mud out of her jacket. 

The girl had been put to bed by the time Mapi had returned from the laundry, Ingrid sat on the sofa with the remote in her hand. 

“What do you want to watch?”

She had heard Mapi walking towards the lounge room, apparently. The Spaniard didn’t enter immediately, instead steadying herself on the doorframe and taking a deep breath. 

The time had come, she realised. She couldn’t justify pushing this conversation away any longer, pretending that she wasn’t thinking about it when truthfully it was at the top of her mind at all times. 

She knew it wasn’t an easy conversation to have and she knew that it was going to be hard to bring it up. But that difficulty won’t ever go away, no matter how long she leaves it. If anything it will get harder over time because time gives her fears and anxieties an opportunity to grow, an opportunity to overcome her. 

And she was completely adamant that that would not happen. She would not be overcome by those terrors ever again. 

She realised she had paused in the doorway for too long when Ingrid turned around, a small frown settling on her face. 

“Are you ok?”

Mapi nodded, forcing a stressed smile onto her face and finally taking those steps inside, sitting herself on the sofa beside Ingrid and taking the remote from her hands. 

“Yes. No, but.. Yeah.” 

“Talk to me.”

And she did. She started at the beginning, all the way back when she was a small child and meeting Luis for the first time. She told Ingrid how they had been glued to each other’s sides forever, how they grew up and nothing ever changed. How grateful she was when Luis followed her to Barcelona, moving into his own apartment just a five minute walk away. 

The Spaniard reminisced on times where they would eat dinner on the floor of his unfinished apartment, takeaway boxes empty but the room still full of happiness and laughter. She showed Ingrid her tattoo, the little girl and boy on the playground that she had gotten to match with Luis. 

It was his first and only tattoo and he had only trusted Mapi to give it to him. She knew she had to get one the same and it was something they had treasured. A secret of sorts, a little thing that almost nobody knew about. 

The centre back explained how he had always been a paternal person, all the way back when they were those little kids on the playground. He would look out for everyone, act all big and strong to protect his friends even when he felt equally as terrified. He was the person that everyone went to as they got a bit older, his emotional nature and calm demeanour always popular among their peers. 

She told Ingrid that she always felt so lucky that even though he was so popular, she was still his best friend. She was always his number one and that only ever changed when Isabel came along. 

Isabel who was just as lovely as her boyfriend, another person that Mapi learned to love. 

Another person who proved time and time again that she was a mother. 

So she lamented on the heartbreak that the young couple experienced when they realised they couldn’t have a child, that parenthood seemed almost impossible. 

She explained her entire thought process to the Norwegian, how she debated with herself whether it was worth it to miss so much football during what could have been her peak years. Whether she would ever feel comfortable around a child that was half of her DNA, a child that she carried for nine months but technically didn’t belong to her. 

But Luis’ happiness was always the most important thing and when he rang her up for the 10th night in a row in tears, her decision was made for her. 

She told Ingrid how long it took to convince the couple to let her carry their child, having to go through the same arguments that she had with herself only weeks earlier, having to come up with rebuttals to their incredibly valid points. 

But it had only taken an emotional monologue from the Spaniard to convince them, all three of them sat in tears as they finally agreed to it. 

She talked her through the IVF process, every high and every low that she experienced. How easy the pregnancy was at the beginning, the only symptom her small bump and minor cravings. 

But she had Luis and she had Isabel at that point, both of them so incredibly grateful that they practically waited on the centre back’s hand and foot. It annoyed her, really, so she had kicked them out of her apartment, told them to only come over if she called them. 

For the most part, they respected that, only visiting once a week unless Mapi called them for the company. 

She admitted how much she regretted that deal, how she wished that she made them sit with her all day every day. 

Maybe then they wouldn’t have been in the car that day, maybe they would have been safe and sound in Mapi’s apartment. 

She couldn’t have known that their trip to Madrid would be fatal, there was no way of being able to foresee that and to stop them from going. 

Tears started to slip down her cheeks as she recalled what they told her over the phone, how both Isabel and Luis had been killed on impact. A drunk driver, it was, a drunk driver who was miraculously left unscathed. 

She talked Ingrid through her thoughts that followed the phone call, after she had sobbed and screamed. Once the tears had finally ceased and an unsettling silence fell upon her apartment. 

She felt lost, she felt alone. She wanted to call Luis because he was the person that made her feel better in these times, he was her company when it felt like her entire world was falling apart. 

But of course she couldn’t call Luis. She should have called someone else, her mother, her brother. Alexia, even. But that would be replacing her best friend, something she couldn’t bring herself to do. Not so soon after he had died. Not when the wound was so fresh, not before she even got the chance to process it. 

She admitted to her girlfriend that she still hadn’t really processed it, that it was still a work in progress. His death was one she would never understand, she didn’t think she ever would fully process the idea that he was gone. 

Ingrid let tears spill from her eyes as Mapi remembered how lonely she was for the next few weeks, how she realised that now she had this child that she was just supposed to be able to raise. How she felt entirely unprepared, unfit to be a mother, unequipped to be able to raise a child to a standard that Luis would be happy with. 

How she doubted herself even before Isabel was born.

When she gave birth it got so much harder, everything seemed so impossible and she couldn’t think about anything else other than that little life in her arms. 

She had fallen in love with the baby immediately, guilt overcoming her at her selfish gratitude that Isabel was a living reminder of Luis, she was someone that Mapi would always have. A living being that literally carried her father around with her. 

She told Ingrid how she saw his eyes as soon as they opened, the tape over her shattered heart doing little to protect it when it was forcefully thrown back on the ground at the reminder of everything she had lost. 

But as she spent more and more time with Isabel, as she watched the little girl grow up she could feel her heart building itself back together, little pieces at a time supergluing themselves together, creating an indestructible structure. 

Isabel had been the reason her heart was being fixed, the reason that she felt like she could finally breathe again, finally reunited with the organ that pumped the blood around her body, the organ that made her feel alive. 

She smiled through the tears as she recalled how alive she felt when Isabel took her first steps, when her first words tumbled right out of her mouth. As the child laughed, as she played with the cat. As she grew up into a child, something for Mapi to love, to be so incredibly proud of. 

Because Luis was gone and that was something that Mapi would never be ok with. 

But he left her the greatest gift of all time, like he knew that his best friend wouldn’t be ok without him. 

And similar to everything else he had done for Mapi through their lives, this gift, his daughter, had made sure that the blood never stopped pumping, that every single fragment of her shattered heart was still there, ready and waiting for its turn to be glued back into place. 

Isabel had done a good job of orchestrating the reconstruction, even if she had no idea what she was doing. 

“But then you came along, Ingrid, and you fixed my heart too.”

~~~~~~

alright this was very long

i've proofread a couple times and kinda hate this but it's as good as it will get :)

please let me know what you think! send me anything else you would like to see as well.

and i apologise for this taking so long, i have been very busy with uni (as usual) but on top of that i had surgery on my knee almost a week ago so am very tired and in a fair amount of pain at the minute

have a good day

[cowgurrrl]

On your list about TLOU things not spoke about often enough, Tommy’s grief really stuck out to me.

His grief over Sarah is completely overlooked/not even mentioned in either games or show and it’s crazy that we get nothing because a mid-20s guy watching his little niece bleed to death and likely blaming himself will scar him for life.

And then in the second game, everyone highlights Ellie’s grief and trauma and rightly so, so people make excuses for her behaviour but Tommy’s grief causes him to lash out in that one scene on the farm and he’s almost vilified by everyone because they overlook the pain he’s in. (Plus, he’s physically broken as well, and likely in pain over his marriage).

Just Tommy and his grief is crazy skipped over and that needs fixing in Part3/Season2

THAT 🗣️🗣️🗣️ (spoilers for tlou 2 under the cut)

Ashley Johnson herself said in the scene in the second part where Tommy comes to her at the farm house after he’s tracked down Abby and Lev that him coming to Ellie after everything and asking her to go back just shows how much he’s hurting in that moment. He’s hurting from the loss of his brother, his last connection to that little girl that died that night, so much that he’s putting this task on Ellie’s shoulders because he has become kind of a version of Joel because of his injuries (RE: “I was too damn deaf and too damn slow to stop them.” I think he says this in the workshop with Tommy in Kin??) and he thinks the only way to solve this pain that they’re all experiencing is to kill the person who caused it.

Violence begets violence begets violence. The entirety of The Last of Us is basically how far are we willing to go to say my kid/brother/partner/dad is more important than yours? Joel lost his daughter so he wasn’t gonna let anyone else take her from him and it destroyed both of them. Abby lost her dad so she took Ellie’s. Ellie lost her friend (Jesse) so she took all of Abby’s. Mel died with her baby and Abby was prepared to kill Dina even after Ellie told her Dina was pregnant. And if Ellie did end up killing Abby, that’s like Ellie losing Joel all over again. Lev would’ve come after Ellie and he wouldn’t have stopped even after she was gone.

And we, as fans and humans, can sympathize with both sides. So, why are we so mean and unforgiving to Tommy? A man who’s spent his life on a battle field, who lost the niece he helped raise, who did unspeakable things alongside Joel until he found a little bit of hope with the Fireflies and left. A man who lost his fucking marriage because he was so hellbent on revenge. In the end, Ellie leaves the closest thing she’s ever had to a home to avenge the closest thing she’s ever had to a parent.

She may not be a Miller by blood but she sure fucking acts like one.

[bcbdrums]

Grasping for the Wind - pt. 7

First Chapter | Previous Chapter Read on: FFn AO3

A Soul Eater fanfic. It's about Stein and Spirit.

A/N: Sorry this chapter is super short... The rest make up for it.

Part 7

"And that's the full truth of it?" Lord Death asked.

Stein's gaze was focused on the evil, red soul he had finally delivered to the Death Room.

"Yes."

Giving the report had been difficult, and not just for the exhaustion he felt after the full day and night's uninterrupted surgery. The words spilled out easily and with enough clarity, and for some reason he had no hesitation admitting his failures. But as each one was recalled he felt sicker and sicker, and he kept his gaze locked on the corrupted soul that had finally been returned home to remind himself why he was there at all.

Lord Death had cocked his head and was watching him in silence. Assessing him...for what? Deciding on a punishment?

Stein reached up and twisted the screw in his head, and then felt in his pocket for a cigarette. When he pulled the package out it was stained with blood. He grimaced and took one anyway, quickly hiding the small box away again and lighting the stick. It was only a small distraction, but a distraction nonetheless.

"And, how is Spirit?"

Stein rolled his shoulders once, feeling the ache in his muscles from head to toe. After the fight Spirit hadn't regained consciousness no matter how Stein had tried, so he'd been forced to make the journey back to the DWMA carrying him in human form. The trail of blood that marked their path was of a dangerous quantity, and Stein regretted that he'd not had the foresight to tell Spirit to try to maintain his scythe form before he'd passed out, for both their sake.

"He lost a lot of blood."

Stein thought of how his former partner had looked when he'd finally finished the surgery, unnaturally pale with his face still lined in pain, and his body covered in more stitches than Stein could ever recall using in a single day, let alone in one operation. As if the mutilation of both the front and back of his torso from the array of spikes wasn't enough, the head wounds had been grave. It was nothing short of a miracle that the spikes hadn't damaged anything critical or penetrated deeper, despite having chipped bone at more than one impact.

It would be impossible for the wounds not to leave scars, and again Stein could hear Spirit's voice in his head. Once he learned he had been the one to operate...if he learned it...

"But he is out of danger?"

Stein had been grateful for Naigus's steady presence throughout the surgery, not breaking even once until he had been satisfied that they had done everything they could. He had a vague memory of her offering reassurances when he'd finished, and he thought he could also recall Sid praising his good work when he'd left the dispensary in a daze. But even as he'd shuffled back to his lab with intent to shower and change out of the bloodied scrubs, the ever-present image in his mind was Spirit, his body wounded almost beyond recognition, and the heart monitor sounding in a rhythm much too slow.

He realized suddenly that he didn't think anyone had told Maka, and while father and daughter weren't on the best terms, it was right that she know. He further realized it was his responsibility to tell her, Spirit's injuries being his fault, and he wondered if the young student would be estranged from him as well after she knew the truth of how her father had come so close to death.

"I think so," he finally replied, his eyes downcast. But he could still see Lord Death cock his head at him in the other direction this time.

"I want you to take the next several days off."

"What?"

Lord Death stared at him.

"That's it?"

The Grim Reaper cocked his head again. "You feel you are deserving of some sort of punishment for Spirit's condition."

"He could have died because of me. I failed him as a meister."

Lord Death inclined his head slightly. "You are no longer his meister."

Stein's hands clenched into fists at his sides. As if he needed another reminder... He reached up to turn the screw, but Lord Death raised a hand to halt him.

"Look at me and pay close attention, Stein. Would you have betrayed the DWMA and allied yourself with the Invisible Man?"

Stein nearly dropped his cigarette in surprise at the direct accusation. And he found himself equally surprised at the answer that easily fell from his lips.

"No."

Death inclined his head further.

"And do you feel your life has been meaningless, as Griffin claimed?"

This time, the cigarette hit the floor.

"I..."

Stein suddenly found he had no answer. Was that the real problem? He knew he could never be a willing party to madness. But were the other things Griffin had said about him true?

Death's posture relaxed and he folded his hands in front of him.

"Like I said. Take the next several days off. The punishment you are inflicting upon yourself is enough. But in my opinion...it is not deserved."

Stein wasn't sure if he was dismissed or not, but he turned away numbly, the questions rolling over and over in his mind as his feet carried him out of the Death Room, through the corridors, and out of the academy into the black night.

He wasn't sure how exactly he made it back to his lab, startled back to awareness when his mechanical rodent scurried past his feet as if in greeting. Being forced to address the questions he spent too much time pretending didn't exist, and by Death himself, was the rotten cherry on top of a sour milkshake that had been the last twenty-four hours.

But somehow, that thought too faded as he fell into his bed face-first, still wearing the blood-stained scrubs. Because no matter how he tried to begin to make sense of all that had occurred, the only thing his mind would conjure was the terrifying image of Spirit being ripped apart, his blood staining the sun-scorched sands and his scream of agony tearing through the dawn.

With those horrors replacing so many others that were ever-present in his mind, Stein fell into an exhausted sleep.

[holylulusworld]

Emergency daddy style

A/N: Story got inspired by this ask.👇 Thank you tiktok anon. 🥰😍

Title: Emergency daddy style

Square Filled for @howbadcanitbebingo: Overly dramatic (character or entire fic)

Summary: Dean lost something important.

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester

Warnings: angst, scared Dean, a hint of crack!fic, fluff, daddy!Dean

Wordcount: 700+

Divider @firefly-graphics​

Multifandom Bingos & Special Collections

“No, no! Not good! Red alert Sammy! RED ALERT!” Dean panics. “SAMMY! HELP ME! THEY ARE GONE!” He freaks out.

“Where is the fire!” Sam runs into the library, shotgun in his hands, ready to attack any enemy who managed to slip inside the bunker. “What’s wrong? Where is the intruder?”

“Sammy, they are gone,” the hunter frantically runs his fingers through his hair. He’s completely out of it as his brother tries to fathom what just happened.

“Dean, what happened?” looking around the library to find out why his brother is losing his mind, Sam frowns deeply. “Everything looks normal.”

“I was gone for like two minutes and now they are nowhere to be found, Sammy. OH—Fuck! Y/N will kill me! My wife will leave me, and I’ll die a painful and slow death before she leaves.”

“DEAN! Tell me what happened!” Sam grunts.

“Why did they have to learn how to crawl? Before I could place them onto the little mattress, give them a plushie, and leave for three hours without them making a fuzz. UH, not that I ever let them out of sight for so long,” Dean hastily explains. “I wanted to take a piss and when I came back, Dean jr. and Lara Jo were just gone.”

Dean hides his face in the palms of his hands, despairing as he lost his babies.

“Dean, I’m pretty sure the twins cannot leave the bunker on their own. We only need to find them.”

“Right,” he swallows thickly. “Where should we look first?”

“They are slow and small. Little Dean and Lara won’t make it far,” Sam places his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’ll take the left side; you go to the right. If they do not hide at the library, we will search for them in every room at the bunker.”

“Good plan,” Dean nods, relieved that his brother came up with a plan. The hunter can’t think straight right now and is happy to give up control to his brother for once. “I’ll go right and—”

“Dean, baby,” you call from the hallways. “Can you lend me a hand? They are getting heavy. DEAN!”

“WHAT? Oh-shit, Sammy,” Dean looks at his brother, eyes wide and fearful, “Y/N is already back! OH NO! Now she will leave me and I’ll never see her or the babies again.”

“Babe, can you take your son? DEAN! Dude are you even listening,” you make your way back inside the library, carrying both babies in your arms. “Dean, can you stop messing with Sammy and take one of them.”

“MY BABIES!” there is no holding back. Dean almost rips his babies out of your arms to hold them tightly and pepper kisses all over their tiny heads. “I thought I lost you.”

“Lost them?” cocking your head you search Dean’s face. “I told you that they need a bath. Little Dean pooped too much and stank as if something died in his diaper, Dean.”

“Bath? What?” while Sam chuckles behind his brother’s back, Dean starts to sniffle. “You could’ve told me so! I was scared to hell and back.”

“Babe, the bunker is the safest place on earth,” you pat Dean’s arm. “Nothing happened to them.”

“Something could’ve happened! They are crawling now. Soon they are going to walk and fall and get hurt and have a bleeding knee or worse.”

“Dean, you need to calm down,” carefully taking your daughter out of Dean’s arms you sigh deeply. “They are safe. We are safe. Nothing happened.”

“I’ll never leave them alone again to take a piss,” he mumbles under his breath. “One moment they happily played on the mattress, and then they were just gone.”

“Yeah, I picked poop-machine and squealing machine up to get them clean,” Sam chuckles at the awful nicknames Dean gave his children. “Let’s go back to their room, okay.”

“Okay,” still a little shaken Dean follows you out of the library, holding his son a little tighter today. “I just love them so much.”

“I love them too, and you,” you stop in your tracks to turn around and peck Dean’s lips. “And you are the best dad in the world. Strong. Brave. Sexy.”

“Sexy, huh?” Dean flashes you a lopsided grin. “How about we find out how sexy I really am after we put our little angels to sleep.”

“We will see, Mr. Winchester…we will see…”

Tags in reblog.

[post-modern-prometheus]

Okay I’m not sure how accurate this concept would be but im sharing it anyway

Essentially, Peter manifests the whole metal bending abilities (the actual word is super hard to spell holy shit) when he’s a little kid. He and Wanda would spend hours practicing with their own separate powers bc they were kind of similar in their own weird way. Not completely, but still, that wouldn’t stop them. And though it drove their mother insane sometimes, it was always so fun for them.

Then Peter manifests his super speed, which he uses to do all sorts of shit. He’s very excited about having two different mutations, and he spends hours just fucking around with both of them. Wanda sometimes joins him when she’s actually up for feeling incredibly sick after being sped around constantly, and Peter always tries to make the trips as fun as possible to make up for the nausea she gets from running with him.

Years pass, and the whole Pentagon thing happens. Wanda and Magda are both very upset about it, but Peter doesn’t think much about their worries until Magneto appears on TV. THEN he gets upset. And he only gets even more upset when Magda reveals that Erik is he and Wanda’s father.

But it’s nothing compared to how Wanda feels.

She rants and yells and shouts, begging their mother to tell them that it’s all one sick joke. Wanda doesn’t want to be related to Magneto. She doesn’t want to be a monster’s daughter. Eventually, she just shuts herself in her room. And while Peter would usually go up there as well in order to comfort her, he is also shaken about this latest revelation.

He always wanted to know who is father was, but now that he does, he wishes he could erase the truth from his mind.

Weeks pass, and the Maximoff household is pretty subdued. Wanda refuses to leave her room, Peter refuses to leave the house, and they both refuse to talk to anyone but each other. Magda wants to help her children, but she also understands that something like this takes time. So for the most part, she leaves them be, hoping that soon enough, their life would go back to how it used to be.

But that decision ends up costing her daughter her life.

Wanda, overwhelmed by the truth about her father and how the existence of mutants is now known to the public, just breaks one day. Wisps of red starts swirling around her fingertips, sharp and jagged, like the blade of a knife. And all she can do is stare at them as they start engulfing her hands entirely, so many emotions currently running through her.

Peter immediately senses that something is wrong and tries getting into her room, but her magic keeps him out. Wanda tells him to leave, and when he doesn’t, she uses her magic to get him, Magda, and their little sister out of the house. And when they try to get back in again, her magic stops them from even reaching the door.

Soon her magic starts spreading. It swirls around Wanda until it’s all she can see, and all the pain and fear she had felt for the past few weeks takes rises to the surface and takes hold. Her magic lashes out, and the building starts to tremble and shake. Bits of rubble fall around her, but she doesn’t stop — not even when she hears her family’s distressed voices from outside.

Eventually, the building collapses, and Wanda doesn’t survive.

And Peter? He tries to keep the building up with his metal abilities, but Wanda’s magic is too strong, and it kills her. It kills her and Peter feels her dying. He feels her taking her last breath. He feels her life seep from her body. He feels their bond they had shared since birth break into two, leaving only a dark, hollow feeling in its wake. It’s like his heart had been ripped to pieces, like his soul had been snapped in half, and he falls to his knees screaming and clutching his chest.

And though Wanda is the one dead, he can’t help but feel as if he had died along with her.

Months pass, and what remains of the Maximoff’s struggle to rebuild their life in the house they had moved into. But the loss of Wanda is large and overwhelming, and no one can stop thinking about it. Peter especially, who remains devastated and hiding in his basement, trying to shut out the world. He believes that her death is his fault for many reasons, and he just can’t stop thinking about that gaping hole in his heart where his twin sister once was.

Eventually, he can’t take it any longer and leaves the house in order to search for some way to fix it. While a part of him knows that death can’t be reversed, he is desperate and just wants his twin back. So no matter what everyone else says, he goes anyway. After all, almost nothing can stop a Maximoff when they have their mind set on something.

A few more months of searching pass, and Peter comes across a woman called Agatha Harkness (hehe). She tells him that she can bring his sister back from the dead, but she wants something in return. Peter agrees instantly, prepared to do anything to get Wanda, his other half, back.

But then, Agatha tells him that in order to get his twin back, she wants one of his mutations, but won’t tell him which one. Peter, of course, is taken aback. And while a part of him is horrified at the idea of living without superspeed or metallokinesis, he agrees once again. His sister is more important that his powers, after all.

(Did I mention that this is sort of based off of the song ‘Poor Unfortunate Souls’ from the little mermaid? Because it is.)

ANYWAYS!!! Agatha does her thing, and wisps of purple magic surrounds Peter. A part of him is terrified and wants to pull away from it, but he forces himself to keep still. Soon enough, some of the purple magic slams into him, and he cries out when he feels a harsh tug on his chest. It’s painful, but not as painful as losing his twin, and yet, he still ends up passing out.

When he wakes up, it’s in a run down looking house with no Agatha in sight. But, as he gets up, he sees his sister sprawled out on the floor nearby. He runs to her side, and as soon as he drops to his knees beside her, Wanda’s eyes snap open. And suddenly, their bond snaps back into place, and that emptiness in his heart and soul is filled.

Wanda is alive.

But Wanda is pretty confused. She asks him what’s going on, bc the last thing she remembers is the house falling on top of her, followed by pain and then darkness. Peter, upon hearing her voice, just bursts into tears and clings to her. Wanda, despite being confused, can sense his relief and distress and hugs him back.

Soon, Peter pulls away, and Wanda asks once again what happened. And he tells her. He tells her that she had caused the building to collapse on top of her, he tells her that she had died. And he tells her about meeting Agatha, who promised she could bring Wanda back at the price of one of his mutations.

Peter pauses when he gets to the mutation part though, and terrified, he tries to go back into superspeed. The world slows down, and he is close to crying with relief. His superspeed hadn’t been taken. But then he realizes what that means. Dropping out of superspeed, Peter reaches out a hand and tries to call something metal over to him. But it doesn’t work.

He had lost his metallokinesis, and although that hurts, his twin had been brought back to him, and that’s all that matters.

moodboard brought to you by post break up ricky bc HOLY SHIT

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑀𝑎𝑓𝑖𝑎! 𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑊𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝐷𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑

Warning: This was a really angsty reaction that contains mentions of violence, death, terrifying scenes and overall ugly crying with runny noses and snot bubbles.

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, supporting, justifying or encouraging mafia activities or lifestyle. This is all fictional and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

ྉ𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰ྉ

When Hongjoong received the pictures of you and your son held captive, he immediately got all of his men and went to go look for you both. He expected his rivals to set up a trap for him, why else would they make their location so obvious? So he prepared and in the end, it was them who ended up falling into his trap.

Hongjoong searched everywhere for you two like a mad man, he broke down every door and tore almost every room apart to find you. Finally, he reached a room and in the corner, he saw your body holding onto your son, your coat draped over his tiny body. He ran over to you guys and desperately tried to wake you up. His finger grazed your neck and that's when he realized there was no pulse.

"No..."

He began crying, thinking it was all over for him. Seonghwa, who was right next to him, checked the boy's body and spoke up:

"He's still alive. He's still breathing. Only unconscious."

Hongjoong now realized that you knew that the temperature of the room was too cold to survive in for too long, especially for someone so young. That's why your coat was over your son, that's why you held onto him, your body's warmth would end up helping him. His tears intensified but he kept his composure.

He picked up his son's sleeping body and gave it to Seonghwa, before picking up your own and walking out of the damned place. Once he was outside, he gave orders for the boy to be taken somewhere to receive medical attention. He looked back at the immense house in front of him before ordering:

"Burn this place to the ground. Find the rest of the people responsible for this.....and burn them as well..."

ྉ𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪ྉ

In Seonghwa's mind, none of this was supposed to happen. His family was supposed to be a secret, he went to great lengths to make sure none of his enemies knew about you two. But they ended up finding out, and now you were all cornered and put in danger in none other than your son's birthday party.

It all happened too fast. Shots were being relentlessly fired by both sides, while you were trying to get your son and yourself out of there unharmed. You ended up stumbling and losing your balance, thus releasing your hold on your son, making him a prime target for the enemy. Seonghwa noticed right away how one of the men took aim at the little boy. He tried to make his way towards him, but there were too many obstacles to him.

You immediately got up and pulled your son to your body, 3 gunshots hitting you in the back right in that moment. Seonghwa watched in horror as your lifeless body fell to the floor, still holding onto your son, protecting him from the fatal bullets.

Something snapped inside of Seonghwa at that moment. Before he was just shooting to distract, now he was set on killing all of the men in there. His men and him ended up overpowering the others, his rage making him go ballistic and finishing them off as if they were no competition.

Once it was all done, he raced to where you were. His son was crying hysterically, some of your blood dripping down his face. Seonghwa picked him up and held him close, trying to calm him down through the tears he himself was spilling.

"It's ok buddy. Daddy's here. Daddy will protect you. I'll make sure nothing will ever happen to you..."

ྉ𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸ྉ

Yunho raced over to the house. When he heard your frantic screams through the phone and the glass shattering, he was already running to his car to help you out. He even called back up to have them help him if there was too many men.

All through the drive, his grip on the steering wheel was harsh, he prayed to anything and everything that you and your baby daughter were safe....that you were alive.

He kicked the door open, searching for any sign of you both. He called your name frantically, but there was no answer. He went to the master bedroom and stopped in the doorway when he saw you lying on the floor, already out cold. He fell at his knees and held you close, crying erratically. He couldn't believe that he lost you, and your baby was nowhere to be seen. He felt like he was going insane.

He then heard what seemed to be shuffling and crying coming from the closet. He stopped to listen and the crying suddenly sounded familiar to him. Opening the closet, he saw that there was nightstand that wasn't there before, and when he moved it, there was a huge hole in the wall, large enough to fit your baby in there, hidden from anyone.

"Oh my God!"

Yunho immediately snatched her up, trying to make her stop crying. His crying slowed down, he was happy to know his daughter was alive and it broke his heart to know that even in your last moments, your concern was to make sure she was safe.

"I'm so sorry....."

Yunho felt that this was all his fault. He wasn't there to save you and by a miracle your daughter was saved. He vowed that day that he'd leave the mafia world and retire far away, somewhere where he could take care of your baby, away from any danger and harm. He owed that to you.

ྉ𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰ྉ

Yeosang and you were out in a drive with your son in the backseat, enjoying some family time. None of you expected to have someone shoot one of your tires, making Yeosang loose control of the vehicle. He tried to regain control and for a while it worked, until they blew off another tire and you guys crashed into a tree.

Yeosang felt blood pouring down his head, but he didn't care. He looked back towards you and tried to take off your seatbelt.

"No..." You weakly pushed his hand away and pointed to your son.

"Our son....get him out first."

Yeosang nodded and dashed to the backseat. It was hard to get your son out one because he was crying hysterically and two his seatbelt was stuck. Knowing you were running out of time, you used whatever strength you had left and took out a pocket knife you kept in your purse. You reached over and cut the seatbelt off before yanking the boy and giving him to Yeosang.

"Go! Get out!"

Yeosang clutched the boy tightly and fell out of the vehicle. He ran a safe distance away, hoping to get the boy away before going back to get you. But a loud explosion from behind made him fall to the ground, luckily he maneuvered himself so your son fell on top of him.

Yeosang sat up and watched as the car burst into flames. He went into shock as he realized there was nothing he could do to save you now. He didn't know how to react. He stood there frozen for a while, as his son cried into his shoulder, calling out for you.

Yeosang wanted to cry, but he found it impossible. His emotions were locked into place. One thing was for sure...

He was going to find out who ever was responsible for this and make them pay, even if it costed him his own life.

ྉ𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷ྉ

San looked down at the beaten man in front of him. His face was badly bruised and he was close to death.

"Now.... wanna answer me why you're here?" San asked for what seemed to be the 20th time.

The man groaned. "I'm telling you... I don't fucking know! I don't even know you!"

San scoffed. "You say you don't know me....well you're about to."

He took out a photo of a very beautiful woman and held it in front of him.

"See her? Her name was Y/N."

The man looked at San with a face that asked 'so'?. San stood up before continuing his story.

"May 16th, 2019 was the day she died, exactly 1 year ago......she died in a fire that was set to her house. Like the brave woman she was, she rescued her son and she was the one who woke up her husband. Her husband tried to save her to, but it was too late....."

San stopped briefly and took a deep breath, the memories coming back to him, threatening to make him go mad once again.

"He had to watch as the house collapse with her inside....the love of his life ripped away from him. His son left with no mother to take care of him..."

San looked back at the man, who now looked like he knew where this was going.

"At first they thought it was an accident, an electric short or gas leak......but no. It was sabotage. Someone deliberately went out of their way to kill a mafia boss and his innocent family..."

San grabbed the man's hair and yanked it harshly.

"That boss was me you dirty little bastard. And you may not know me personally, maybe you were just doing your job someone hired you to do. But I made it my personal mission to find you and make you pay for what you did to me."

San smiled a psychotically as he took out a knife and a whip from a toolbox.

"After I'm done with you, you're going to wish you crossed paths with the devil instead."

ྉ𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲ྉ

Mingi held his daughter's hand as they strolled through the zoo, looking at all the animals in there.

"Daddy!"

The little girl pointed towards the immense giraffes up ahead of them. Mingi chuckled, knowing what his daughter was referring to.

"Wanna go see them up close?"

The little girl nodded and sped over to see the giraffes. Her little feet were jumping up and down, trying to get a better look. Mingi smiled and picked his daughter up, setting her on top of his shoulders.

"There. Now you're as tall as them." He told her, causing her to giggle.

The little girl started exclaiming and squealing over the animals. Mingi just kept a smile at her reactions.

"Look! It's daddy with mommy!" She suddenly blurted out.

Mingi's smile left his face at that comment. On one part, he was glad she still remembered you and thought of you. On the other, it pained him to remember you. It's been years and he was still mourning over you. The images were still fresh in his mind, images of you hurt, beaten and bloodied. You were tortured for hours, but still refused to tell them the location of your daughter. Mingi came in time only to say goodbye, promising you to protect your daughter at all costs. That's why he ended up moving away. To start a new life. To get away from the pain and try to keep his daughter safe from anyone.

"Daddy! Look! Pandas like Uncle Jongho!" His daughter's voice snapped him back to reality.

Mingi smiled again and took his daughter off his shoulders and into his arms.

"Wanna go see them? And then we'll see the dolphins. You'll see how much they'll remind you of Uncle Wooyoung."

ྉ𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰ྉ

Wooyoung paced back and forth in the waiting room. He rushed you over to the hospital once he came home and found you pinned down on the floor, a hired assassin on top of you, trying to finish you off. But even in your pregnant state you gave him a good fight, using all your strength to make sure the baby you were carrying was safe. Wooyoung got him off you, killed him and took you to the hospital.

He was extremely nervous. The other members came to help and comfort him. But nothing could comfort him when the doctor told him they had to do an emergency c-section to be able to save your baby.

"However......I suggest you prepare yourself. There's very slim chances your wife would survive....I'm sorry..."

Wooyoung's heart stopped. He couldn't talk for a while. He refused to believe it, he began praying that you would make it, he just wasn't prepared to let you go.

San was the one who came in to tell him the news. Wooyoung just took one look at his friend to know that you were gone. He fell to the floor and began crying. San teared up and held his friend close, muttering a bunch of apologies, heartbroken for him.

"I can't do this San..... I need her... I can't live without her.." Wooyoung sobbed.

"Wooyoung, you have to. You have a beautiful baby girl now that needs you. Don't you want to meet her?"

Wooyoung wiped his tears and nodded. He knew you'd want him to be strong for your daughter. He walked into the room and saw his baby already in an incubator. Even though she was asleep, he could tell she looked just like you. He smiled softly and started crying again, a mixture of sadness and happiness.

"Hi babygirl. Looks like it's just you and me now...."

ྉ𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸ྉ

Jongho and his men swarmed into the boat that held you and your daughter hostage. They immobilized all the rivals they came across as he searched every cabin and room, trying to find you and get you out of there.

He arrived just in time to stop one of the masked men from doing anything to the little girl. Making sure his daughter wasn't looking, he put a bullet to the man's head before checking to make sure she was all right.

"Honey. Are you ok? Where's mommy?" He asked.

The little girl began crying as she pointed towards the joint bathroom in the room. Jongho stood up and slowly opened the door, trying to prepare himself for the worst. His heart dropped when he took in the sight of your body in the enormous bathtub, just floating lifelessly there. He rushed over and took you out, holding you for the last time, silently crying and cursing himself for not getting there sooner.

One of his men came in and informed him that all the enemies were captured and they were awaiting orders from him. Jongho picked you up and ordered his helicopter to make coordinates to the nearest hospital. He looked back at his daughter and took her trembling hand, smiling softly at her and trying to comfort her even though he was broken inside himself. He began leading her out to the deck, when the person behind him stopped him.

"Sir, what about the survivors?" His subordinate asked, referring to the enemies that were now held in one of the rooms.

Jongho's grip on your body tightened and he looked back at the man before replying with a cold stare:

"There are no survivors...."

Gifs not mine, credit goes to their respective owners.

[heavenunderthemoon]

hi umm i love your work! could you do a jj x daughter reader where readers is like 16/17 and she's so scared that her mom might not come home one day :( thank you! & take ur time :)))

“I’ll Always Need you” (JJ x daughter!reader) 

warnings- angsty? mentions of death and gun violence 

kind of short, hope you enjoy!!!

xxTobin

The analog clock on the eastern wall of the Jareau household ticked agonizingly slow, mocking you as time went on. It was teasing you, the seconds, minutes, and hours passing by without hesitation, when you felt as though your own world had stopped long ago.

The rest of the household was silent, Henry being put to bed long ago, Will only going to sleep a couple of hours ago.

"She's okay-"

"Okay?! You call being shot in the shoulder okay?" Your voice was a high screech and Will moved to shut Henry's door, ushering you to the living room as he shook his head. Your mother had been deployed on a rather long case, one of the longest yet. For almost two weeks it had just been him, you, and Henry. His exhaustion was evident on his face illuminated only by the lamp on the end table. It was a gift from Penelope, something she had found at a flea market. The base of the lamp was flower petals, roses, because she knew they were your others favorite. JJ loved it, claiming the spot on the couch beside it as her 'reading spot'. How often had you curled up next to her, placing your head in her lap as she read to you softly? Even as you grew older, sixteen years of life molding you into a young woman- one that should've been too old to sit on their mother's lap- she did so without resistance because what if the day came that you no longer wanted her to hold you?

If she had ever voiced that thought to you, you would've thought it absurd. Would a day ever come that you didn't need her? That you didn't need your mother? Impossible, you thought instantly, because you needed your mother, you always would. You needed someone to wake you up in the morning, shaking your shoulder gently as their lips came down to touch gently upon your forehead. You needed someone who had a strange ability to know where everything you inevitably lost is (she had an unbelievable knack for knowing where you left things). You needed someone to tell you about their day, tell you things that made them think of you, tell you that they missed you, tell you that they loved you more- even if you thought it impossible. You needed someone who cooked spaghetti with a hilariously poor Italian accent, just because they knew it made you laugh. You needed someone to scream at the refs during soccer games and eventually get thrown out, just because they were on your side that badly.

And when your mother was away, you had Will, and he would gladly do all of those things, but you didn't want him to. You wanted your mother to, and what if one day, she wasn't here to do them? What if, one day, she were to go away on a case, and never come back?

That thought was intensified by the news of your mother's injury, and it consumed your body in a mass panic.

"She's fine, I promise. She's not even gonna be home until real late tonight- heck, might even be early morning- just go to bed-" He was trying, really, he was. The pleading look on his face, the hand on your arm, the understanding smile- because he understood. Truly, he did. He understood what it was like to worry about JJ. Jennifer Jareau, a woman who would always choose to be a hero, something that both attracted him to her and terrified him simultaneously. But, the sixteen year old before him shouldn't have to worry like he did.

You scoffed. Later, you would feel badly about how dismissive you were being but, then again, you had been this way all week. Crabby, moody, and agitated, all because your mother wasn't here with you. How childish, you thought, but truthfully, you didn't care.

"I'm not going to bed, I'm waiting for her." And when you said that, your face screwed into one of determination, persistence, and straight up stubbornness, Will saw just how much you took after your mother. He saw it often enough. He saw her in you whenever you ate breakfast. You had a nasty habit of inhaling your food as soon as it was set in front of you- he could swear that if he entered the Jareau women into a competitive food eating contest the two of you would win. He saw her in you when you played soccer, that look of competitiveness, that god awful smirk and that smug look you got when you won. He saw it when you plated with Henry at the park, the protectiveness, the tight hold on his hand, that look in your eyes that made him think you might never let go. And to see it now made him know that he wasn't going to win this fight.

With a sigh, he had lowered his head in defeat, squeezing your shoulder and wishing you a goodnight.

And now the seconds were tantalizingly slow as you sat in your mother's reading spot, the cushions just a little bit colder without her there.

The sound of the key turning in the lock jarred you from your thought filled stupor, your sock clad feet on the ground in seconds.

JJ was hobbling through the doorway, her bags hanging on one shoulder causing her entire body to droop to one side. If it had been any other circumstance you might've teased her for it, maybe you would have made a reference to Hunchback of Notre Dame, or Igor, or anything else that would have made her laugh, but your eyes were glued onto the bandages wrapped around her free arm.

Her blue orbs traced the source of the light. It wasn't abnormal for it to be on when she came home. You had an unspoken tradition to leave her lamp light on when she was gone, a way to keep her with you she she wasn't there, but you standing before it was new, especially at 4:30 A.M. on a school night.

She would've yelled. She was just about to, actually. She was about to hiss some motherly threat, some kind of 'go to bed' order that, when demanded correctly, had you listening instantly. But she didn't. She didn't do that because the look on your face, pale and ashen, had morphed into one of relief whenever you saw her.

She dropped her bags onto the floor, opening her arms and allowing you to run into them. She let out a small grunt when your body collided with hers, and you lessened your hold slightly, afraid you might've hurt her. That is, until she squeezed you harder, her hand coming to cup your head. Your nose buried into her shoulder, and you felt childish all over again.

"You waited up for me?" She didn't sound mad. She wasn't. She was worried. Worried for you.

Guilt washed over you in waves and you just burrowed yourself farther into her. "You're hurt." Was all you said, and she nodded.

The only light int he house was that rose petal ridden lamp. "I'm okay."

Oh, how long she could've held you in her arms. She thought back to those days. The nights of just you and her, the endless sleepovers, the never-ending tea parties, the countless games of hide-and-seek. How had you grown up on her?

The whispered reassurance made you frown, pulling away. You fell back onto the couch, arms hooking around your knees, and she fell back with you, tossing an arm around you.

"What if you weren't? What if you had died?" It was barely a whisper, weak and broken. You rested you rhino onto your nee, staring into your mother's eyes so long as she let you. The fears wouldn't subside, wouldn't stop crashing over you with a stupendous amount of strength, burying you in them, controlling your thoughts, feelings, actions.

Now, JJ was frowning. "I didn't."

"But what if you did? You go on these cases every week, and you get shot at." You winced when you said shot, eyes landing on the bandaged arm. JJ folded it into herself, pursing her lips. She wished you weren't in pain, she wished you weren't so scared because this fear wasn't something for you it was something for her. Your fears were about her, and it was about something she couldn't control. And it would have been so much better if she was able to control it, if it were a monster or a bad guy, because she hunted those for a living. But this wasn't a tangible thing. This was a feeling, and she couldn't fight feelings.  "You promised you would stay safe." Your voice cracked, lip trembling.

And what was JJ to say? She had. She had promised you, just like she did on every case before that. She promised she would try, but didn't she? Hadn't she tried? That counted for something. Looking at your face now, the tear tracks fresh as they ran down your cheeks, she supposed it didn't count for anything. That it wasn't enough. That nothing would ever be enough.

"You're gonna die one day." You spoke again, and this time it wasn't a tone of sadness, or fear. It was a statement. "You're gonna die one day, and then what am I gonna do without you?"

It sounded selfish, and whiny, and petulant, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was her. All that mattered was the nights you had spent in her bed, waiting out a terrible storm, counting the lightning strikes until you fell asleep, her hand in yours. All that mattered was your pleas for her to not let go when you learned to ride a bike, that fear of falling consuming you until you had heard whooping and hollering and turned to find her yards away, that proud smile on her face that you could swear was the brightest thing in the world. All that mattered was career days, dressing up like her, your collared shirts ironed and crisp, and when the teachers asked if you wanted to be a media liaison you didn't bat an eye as you responded that you didn't care what you were, as long as you were like your mom. All that mattered was a strong woman, the strongest you thought you would ever find, and her vulnerability, because unlike what you thought when you were younger, she wasn't immortal.

JJ's breath hitched, bringing her hand out to wipe a freshly fallen tear. Her hand was warm, and you leant into the touch. "I'm not dying for a long, long time. And, by then, you'll be all grown up, and you won't need me anymore."

"I'll always need you." You responded immediately.

JJ shook her head, a sniffle escaping her own nose. She shook her head, giving a watery smile. "You'll always want me. But you won't need me." She corrected softly, palm coming to rest against your cheek.

You thought about that for a moment, still not entirely sure if it was true, but becoming far too tired to argue. You were going to regret staying up this late in a couple of hours. But, for now you focused on your mother. Her smile, her touch, her warmth, and you sighed.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

You smiled tiredly. "I love you most."

The blonde chuckled, leaning her head against your knee. "Not possible."

Kinda short, but I tried lmao. To all who sent requests, I will get to them, just give me a second! I start classes again tomorrow so I might be a bit preoccupied:) 

[babyyweebbitch]

So I saw ur last post about Izuku as a dad, but I want a bit of angst. Could you do the main 3 (Izuku, Todoroki, Bakugo) if something bad happened to their kid? Like if they were kidnapped by villains or they got hurt- I’m just in the mood for some heartbreak rn 😞

Sorry in advance if I make these too depressing (also sorry for it taking so long, I’ve been stressed)

genre: angst; fluff (only at the ends of these)

warnings: kidnapping; bullying; nomus; near death

pronouns for reader: they/them

for this one I’ll make them older since I want the kid to be in their teens for these ones — I’d feel too bad if it was an actual child (also I kinda did something and made nomus slightly easier to kill 😁)

characters: shoto; izuku; katsuki

Bakugo (bullies...)

Bakugo was at home while his wife was at work and his 15 year old was at school. Sitting at the table it was about time for his kid to come home and he wanted to talk about their day and eat dinner together but they were almost an hour late and he started worrying since they wouldn’t answer his calls or text

Around 5:15 the door bursting open and Bakugo stood up ready to fight thinking it was a villain but it was his kid — Their clothes were ripped, bruised, bleeding and crying. Stumbling inside they fell to the floor and whimpered in pain

“What the fuck?!” Katsuki basically yelled as he ran over to them and sat them up. He was so pissed off to the point he was so close to setting off explosions “What the hell happened?!”

“T-they... jumped me on my way home... and stole some of my stuff” They say as they start crying thinking about it, Bakugo picked them up and held them in his arms as he walked to the bathroom and placed them down on the toilet which was closed

His main priority right now was to take care of them and clean them up, attend their wounds. He’ll deal with the bullies later. Quickly running out the bathroom to grab one their big shirts and underwear (and bra if you’re a girl), then first aid kit

So much was going through his mind as he looked for everything, he was so pissed people can do something so disgusting to someone so kind like his son/daughter. He was mainly pissed at the fact he couldn’t protect them when it happened

Once returning he got them all washed in a warm Bath, cleaned and covered their wounds, once everything was taken care of he picked them up and took them to their room so they can rest, even gave them their favourite stuffed animal they’ve had since they were a baby

“I’ll check on you later...” placing a kiss on their head he walked out to call the school and once his wife got home he told her everything, she came into their room so worried only to see them sleeping peacefully.

The bullies ended getting expelled and time in juvenile hall since it was after school hours and they (you) moved schools

Deku (kidnapping...)

Deku was at home when he got a text from an unknown number, at first he was gonna delete it but he didn’t because he had a strange feeling he should look at it, once he did his heart nearly stopped when he saw a photo of his 16 year old son/daughter tied up on the floor in underwear (and bra if you’re a girl)

Then a text underneath read ; “We’re borrowing them for a little bit. If you want them back come find us. Don’t worry they aren’t hurt that badly. They’re still breathing — LOV”

Surprisingly they said who they were, Deku immediately got up and ran out the door, he wasn’t even thinking about anything anymore. His kid was the only thing he cared about right now

He didn’t care if it took him days to find them — As long as they are okay thats all that matters, thankfully it only took him a few hours to find exactly where they were and when he did he didn’t hesitate at all to fight everyone of them off

After he was done fighting he immediately picked his son/daughter up and ran to safety, taking off his shirt to give to them and he ran to the closet hospital to see if they had any serious injuries

“Don’t worry, dad’s got you. We’ll get you all checked up and we can go home to relax there” Deku was always so gentle and kind with his kid, even if they did something wrong.

“I-I love you dad...”

Shoto (nomu)

This one kinda long oops 😀

Shoto and his 15 year older son/daughter were having a nice day out that day, they got ice cream together, went to an arcade, they got a new stuffed animal that they put in the car at the mall so they didn’t get tired walking with it

Just when you thought things couldn’t get bad — It did. A bunch of villains attacked the mall with two Nomus, one Nomu on each side of the mall. There was a shit ton of chaos happening and after about a few minutes of trying to fight off the nomus and villains something happened Shoto was scared shitless of happening. His kid was hurt pretty badly by one of the Nomus trying to protect a civilian from it

They were punched so hard in the stomach they flew to the wall and hit it pretty hard, somehow a piece of glass cut them on the face and a few broken bones — Their breathing was slow... so much blood was near them and Shoto legitimately thought they died until they moved just a bit

Paramedics came and so did a few heros, fighting off the nomus and Villains so that Shoto could get to his kid. Paramedics got them into their truck attached to so many different machines in one small truck

“What do you mean I can’t go in there with them?! That’s my fucking kid!” Shoto rarely lost his temper and yelled and cussed but he was so worried he had to.

“Sir, you can follow us there” was the last thing one of the paramedics said before closing the door and they sped away, Shoto ran as fast as he possibly could to his car and got inside, going over the speed limit to get to the hospital faster, surprisingly didn’t get pulled over on his way there

After about a few hours of waiting to see his kid to see if they were okay a nurse came out to him

“Mr Todoroki?” She called out, Shoto stood up so fast he also passed the fuck out from it

“Are they okay?!”

“They’re doing good, they’re awake. But three things we need to tell you; on the way here they did die for about a minute but they came back. We were pretty shocked to see that happen, they have a pretty big scar on their eye, but nothing we couldn’t fix! And lastly they have a broken arm and rib. You can go see them”

Shoto nodded at this information and he went to grab the stuffed animal he brought in from the car so he had something to hug, walking to the room that they were in he broke into tears seeing them

“Oh thank god you’re okay!” He said going over to grab onto their non injured hand

“Dad... I—“ they said as they felt tears build up in their eye, they held his hand tightly and smiled very softly — Still in pain when they did “I told you you’re not getting rid of me that easy, I’m staying forever” They said in reassurance as if they were the parent

If it’s horrible I’m sorry 😭

[wallwriterstuff]

Baby’s First Christmas ||Demetri Volturi x Female Reader||

Part 1: Found Family 

Warnings: Mentions of death very briefly but the majority of this is tooth rotting christmas fluff. 

Words: 3707

Summary: A request for @raindancer2004

A Christmas one-shot for Found Family. It’s Lyra’s first Christmas with Demetri in the home he has brought for himself and his new family, and he goes overboard ensuring his little girl is spoiled rotten.

There are had been many horrible days in the past year. Your boyfriend of the time had packed up and left in April, your daughter born to you in the January where your only support in the room was a midwife who had been called in last minute to replace the one suddenly taken ill. Your best friend leaving to a new city in March, never to be heard of again despite leaving you the gift of a lovely holiday – where you almost died. Meeting Demetri was one of the few highlights of your year if you were honest, and life had gradually improved since with his video calls, once weekly and suddenly every other day when you both realised you physically couldn’t cope with the silence for more than 24 hours at a time.

Then your parents died.

Demetri had flown straight out, taking some extended leave to ensure you had someone to lean on in your grief. Lyra had needed someone to care for her properly on the days your tired body couldn’t cope. It wasn’t until you had came crawling pitifully down the stairs for some sleeping tablets at 3AM once that you understood how difficult it had been for him, catching him hunched over a baby book as he absorbed every word in an effort to be the perfect caregiver for your daughter. When he’d asked you to let him look after you in a more permanent fashion, you’d agreed without hesitation. He had taken you back to Volterra the following week, helping you pack your possessions, sell what you didn’t want, and send things off to await your arrival. You’d ignored the looks of your neighbours, the old kooks peering through the curtains to eye you with disdain. What kind of woman moved to a new country with her boyfriend of four months after all? Obviously, you had to be knocked up again.

They had no understanding of just how deep the bond between you and Demetri was, not a single idea of how all-consuming, soul warming and fulfilling your love for each other had grown to be. Your new home was ready and waiting and it was beautiful, a little Tuscan cottage all of your own on the outskirts of town, far from the danger of the Volturi’s castle and away from prying eyes where you could raise your daughter in peace. He had spared no expense at all, letting you decorate to your hearts content in an effort to move on with your life, away from the grief and the pain the world had tried to beat you down with before he lifted you above it. Now…now you were feeling that familiar, frazzled feeling. You had gone to Florence for the day, leaving Demetri alone for a full day with lyra for the first time since…ever. It was as much a test for him as it was for you. You found yourself missing Lyra not ten minutes into the drive towards the city, having spent most of your time with her for the past 11 months since she’d been born.

What had followed had been one stressful problem after the next as you tried to complete your Christmas shopping for your found family. You had been forced to visit the castle once or twice to declare yourself to the Masters’ as Demetri’s mate, but a few of his friends had also come to visit you. Felix was a family favourite, though his size unnerved your daughter when Lyra first met him, and the twins had been curious about the baby Demetri had been telling them about. In your mind, they were still children and very much deserving of Christmas presents. The twins didn’t give much away, so you’d guessed at a lot of the things they might like but were fairly happy with you haul. Felix had been the only one that was easy to buy for to but Demetri…what did you get for the man that had everything and wanted nothing? He had given you the world and a pair of socks didn’t seem to be the best kind of repayment.

You had agonised for hours, walking around in a bustling shopping mall where the fluorescent lights made your eyes hurt and the constant chatter in rapid Italian made your head spin. Demetri had been teaching you but you were by no means fluent, and the people in the city spoke much faster than the local market stall owners you had gotten to know – you were starting to suspect they slowed down for you on purpose. Your day had been long and your stress levels high. You just wanted to settle down with your mate and your daughter, cosy up for the night perhaps, but you still had gifts to wrap. Maybe it could wait. Christmas day was still a few weeks away yet, you hadn’t even put up a tree to put your presents under.

Eyes trailing to the bags in the back of your car, you bit your lip softly and felt your heart skitter in your chest. You hoped they would like their presents but you weren’t holding out much hope of a thank you, especially not from the twins. Demetri had heard of the Christmas holidays but the traditions surrounding it were new news to him, and it had taken a lot of explaining before he finally seemed to understand how important this was for you to celebrate.

Lyra’s first Christmas.

When she had been born and you’d started thinking of these things you would never in your wildest dreams have imagined she would be spending it in her new home in Italy, nowhere near her biological father and without her doting grandparents, yet here you were. With a quiet sigh, you steeled yourself to put on a happy face and gathered your things to enter your home. Immediately, you were hit by the smell of spring flowers, a sure sign Demetri had been cleaning today. How he had found time to do that while caring for Lyra you didn’t know but you put it down to his vampirism. If it wasn’t so important for Lyra to grow up with you around in her formative years you might have considered turning sooner purely for the perks of moving fast and not needing sleep anymore, though she was starting to sleep better now and was on her way to her first full night of rest.  

Upon opening your door your world became bright and colourful, not the neutral tones of your hallway you were used to. Bright red tinsel was wrapped around your stair railing, twisting upward to the second floor of the cottage, and it framed the photographs adoring the walls in a dazzling array of red, green and blue. A few snowflakes had been tied to the poles of the stair railing by some white ribbon. Slowly, you placed your bags by the door and closed it behind you, locking it for added safety before venturing carefully into your home. You hadn’t remembered asking Demetri to put up any decorations, hell you didn’t even think you owned any, so where had all this come from? The glass in the door leading from the hallway to the living room was frosted, but you were able to see a dark shape moving back and forth, the vague outline of a Christmas tree.

Your kitchen had a tiny tree on the breakfast bar, a Christmas themed tablecloth lying over your dining room table and, much to your amusement, little festive gel stickers on the window looking out over the garden. The legs of Lyra’s high-chair was also wrapped in tinsel. You couldn’t help but smile as you turned towards the living room, listening to the conversation inside.

“Not here either? You are fussy today your highness.” Demetri’s voice was light, teasing, completely at ease. Lyra had grown to be quite the babbler and he was more than happy to engage in conversation with the eleven-month-old girl, even if she couldn’t form proper words just yet. More garbled noises escaped your daughter and when you peeped around the doorframe, your heart melted. Demetri’s Christmas tree had been trimmed to be a little lopsided, not quite to your tastes, but he had tried. Lyra was on her blanket, surrounded by her toys, but none of them seemed to be taking her interest as she sat and watched Demetri put the last few ornaments on a frankly overcrowded tree. There were glistening lights and tinsel and beads and tinsel and baubles and…and…

“Is that…Demetri is that my parents?” you asked, having to swallow around the lump that had formed in your throat. He turned to look at you, still holding the last bauble of a big box of them in his hands. For a moment he said nothing, simply watched you take in all the lights and ornaments he’d put up about the place, the stockings by the fireplace personalised for you and Lyra. How much had he spent? How hard had he worked?

“Yes. I understood Christmas celebrations as something you did with family from how you explained them to me, so I thought they should be here in some way,” He said softly. Tears welled in your eyes and he frowned, “Is it not what you wanted? I can always redecorate?” he looked a little lost as you wiped your eyes and hurried into the room to scoop up Lyra, smiling through your tears as your overwhelmed heart skittered in your chest. This man was just too much for you. Bouncing her on your hip you pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Have you seen this? Look what Da – Demetri’s done for us!” you quickly caught yourself, your voice shaking with the intensity of your emotion. It was too much but in all the best ways. Lyra was absorbed immediately by the twinkling lights on the tree as you brought her closer, showing her the glass bauble with your parents photograph in. She looked back at you, head turning so fast it almost fell off her little shoulders.

“Ah!” she exclaimed, looking back between you and the bauble. Head nodding you tenderly brushed your hand over her hair. It had started to grow a bit more recently and you were able now to twist small pieces at the front around your fingertip. Demetri kissed your temple, winding an arm around your waist.

“Welcome home.” He murmured, lips trailing along your shoulder, up your throat. Your head tilted automatically and you could feel him smiling at your obvious submission.

“This is perfect.” You whispered. He chuckled.

“I tried my best.” He assured you.

“Our house is clean.” You noted.

“Hmmm, hardly any evidence of disaster.” He agreed with a cheeky grin as you turned to face him. Lyra wriggled, wanting to be put down. She had started crawling just last week and after a bit of rocking, managed to haphazardly crawl back towards her toys. You watched her go with adoring eyes.

“She seems happy.” You said. Demetri chuckled, cupping your cheek tenderly.

“I told you I could do it,” He turned you to face him, embracing you properly this time. You melted into his arms, kissing him sweetly before resting your head against his shoulder. “You seem very tense.” He murmured, fingertips skating up and down your spine. Your nose scrunched.

“Christmas shopping is a tense activity.” You retorted wryly.

“Ah, I have yet to experience the joys. Is there anything you want?” he wondered. You smiled, curling closer to him.

“I have everything I need right here.” You sighed contentedly, basking in the warm glow of fairy lights. Demetri didn’t reply, simply held you close and kissed your forehead. You were rather excited the next day, to wrap and put his presents under your newly decorated tree. Lyra took to helping you with the bows and after a constant battle of wrestling the one she chose from her tiny hands you had some fully wrapped presents…which you then had to keep your child away from. What you didn’t understand was how the present pile just kept growing…and growing…and growing…

Finally, four days before Christmas Day, you caught Demetri in the act. With a cough and some raised eyebrows, you had the suave tracker smiling sheepishly.

“Yes, my love?” he asked, feigning innocence terribly.

“Just how many presents have you brought Demetri? You do know Lyra is only turning one in January, right? She won’t remember half of these things. Christmas is what you do, not what you buy.” You reminded him. His sheepish smile turned cheeky as he moved at lightning speed to place the last of the presents in his bag around the tree, since there hadn’t been room under it for weeks now, and raced over to pull you against him. He stole your breath and anymore scolding words you’d prepared with a single, heated kiss. If he was trying to distract you, it worked wonders.

“Not all are for my princess,” he assured you, his hand slipping to your rear end to pull your hips flush against his, “Some are for my queen.” Cheeks heating in a blush, you swatted his chest and turned your face back to the ginormous pile of presents in the corner of your living room. There were quite a few big boxes and something that reminded you suspiciously of a rocking horse.

“Demetri. You know we don’t need all of this right?” you turned back to look at him, hands sliding up his chest to his neck. His hair was always so soft and you loved nothing more than to play with it on the evenings. He purred softly, leaning into your touch with a hum of approval.

“Is it so bad I wish to spoil you both?” he murmured, eyes closed as you twisted the hair at the nape of his neck around your fingers. Leaning up on your tiptoes, you pressed your mouth to the corner of his in a teasing kiss. Demetri immediately turned, trying to seek more from you, but you pushed him back with a soft sigh.

“You’re too much you know that? If you really want to spoil me, a nice cup of tea for when I come down to snuggle with you will be enough.” You smiled. Demetri’s eyes rolled but he nodded.

“Of course. This is the first of many Christmases like this you know, I have every intention of spoiling you both for the rest of eternity…that and, well…nothing I bought seemed good enough.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. You tilted your head.

“Demetri you know us better than anyone, I’m sure whatever you’ve bought is going to be perfect.” You promised, taking one last look at the giant present pile with a fond shake of your head before going in hunt of your cosy pyjamas. You really regretted saying that to him come Christmas day however, when you had wrapping paper littering your floor and a pile of presents you had no clue how to find homes for. The best perfumes and the clothing brands’ you would never have asked for all needed a place in your walk-in wardrobe for example, but he had already filled it with brand new designer tags when you first moved in. Lyra was surrounded by toys, looking mildly overwhelmed by the choice but utterly thrilled with all the bright colours and sounds coming from them, though her favourite so far seemed to be the simple teddy bear, one she hadn’t let go of since she had unwrapped it. Demetri was currently sat with her on the floor, Lyra resting between his legs as he helped her unwrap a present from Felix.

“Can you guess what it might be?” he asked her. Lyra was frowning, the deep concentration it took to tear at the paper with her fists evident on her face. Demetri stepped in to unstick a bit of sellotape that was making it tricky for her, his free hand gently smoothing over her hair as they worked on the present together. It was a heart-warming sight, one that only made you more confident in your gift to him.

“Dabaga.” She sounded so cross with the resistant bit of paper you both laughed, unable to help yourselves.

“I know princess, how mean of Uncle Felix to wrap it so tightly. Shall I help you do the rest?” he questioned. Lyra made another angry, garbled noise, smacking her fists on the paper in frustration. Demetri chuckled. “Alright alright, here.” He soothed, deftly unwrapping the bright pink paper from around the box Felix had put his present in. Lyra was able to lift the lid herself, looking pleased with her small victory before she tipped the box onto its side, its contents spilling into her lap. Her head snapped up to Demetri, eyes wide as she pointed at it.

“Gar!”

His face feigned shock as he nodded along, watching her pick up and inspect the small toy. There were no tags of any description or branding on the side, and you had a feeling that the pull along ducks had been made by the giant man by hand.

“They are ducks, princess,” Demetri pointed them out one by one, “A little family just like ours, a Mommy duck and a baby duck.” You noticed he pointedly left out a label for the larger duck and decided that was the perfect moment to interrupt the dynamic duo. You searched through the torn-up paper to find the small bag you had prepped for Demetri, crawling over to hand it to him as you welcomed Lyra into your lap when she crawled for you. She held her teddy bear up to you and you subconsciously leaned down to kiss it, holding her close. Demetri read the tag, glancing up at you both with a smile.

“Merry Christmas.” You said softly. His eyebrows rose slightly, the trepidation on your face confusing him almost and making him slightly more wary to open the bag you had taped shut. You stopped Lyra wriggling, hushing her slightly as you watched him. It was impossible to deny you felt nervous, unsure how he would react to the presents inside, cheap and corny but…heart-felt. Stomach churning, you were hyper-focused on his face as he opened up the bag. Nothing inside it was wrapped but there was a layer of tissue paper to move aside. Demetri paused, carefully setting the gold, shimmering paper to his left as he examined the contents of the bag. For a moment, he looked up at you in bewilderment, as if to see if you really meant it, then his breath-hitched and he reached in to reverently take out the things inside. His socks, mug and t-shirt were all inscribed with a simple but meaningful slogan, one you hoped he would understand.

“Do you mean it my love? Truly?” he asked, voice wavering. His eyes appeared to glisten, like he wanted to cry even though he wasn’t capable of it. You on the other hand could, and a single tear slipped down your cheek.

“Yes. Please? Be our Daddy duck?” your heart clenched and you almost stopped breathing as you watched his composure completely break. Demetri huffed a laugh you were sure was supposed to really be a sob, but he carefully placed his presents down into his bag and crawled across the paper to hold you both. He bent at the waist to press a kiss to Lyra’s cheek first, then shifted upward to give you a kiss that was far hungrier, far more passionate. He captured your lips over and over until you were breathless, dizzy with desire. Pressing his forehead to yours, he squeezed your hip lightly.

“Always. I will be yours as long as you will have you me. I never thought I could have a family, that things could be like this, but this is…this is perfect.” He whispered. Through your watery eyes you could still the socks peeking over the edge of his bag, World’s Best Dad emblazoned on the sides. Lyra seemed to sense this was an emotional moment to, putting her toys down in favour of taking Demetri’s large hand and tugging for his attention. He pulled back with a slow exhale, smiling down at her.

“What is it princess? You want to open more presents?” he asked. Lyra tugged at his hand again, trying to pull it past her little body it seemed. Demetri looked confused a little bit, neither of you really understanding what you wanted till he pulled her into his lap to see. She settled into his abdomen, leaning back against him quite happily. Lyra’s eyes met your own and you could have sworn if a baby could look smug, that was how you would best describe her expression.

“Are you jealous of Daddy giving Mommy kisses? Is that it? Huh?” you asked her. Demetri grinned, red eyes sparkling. They matched the Christmas lights perfectly. He easily lifted her up in the air, nuzzling her tummy with his nose before peppering soft kisses all over her cheeks to make her giggle. You began to collect the paper up as they played together.

“I can get that done in half the time, let me.” Demetri offered. You shook your head.

“It’s alright, I don’t want to interrupt Daddy-Daughter time.” You teased. Demetri just grinned brightly, looking happier than he had been since you met him. He was watching you like you had given him the world and more, and maybe you had in some respects, since Lyra was the world to you. His new title far outweighed any ranking he had gotten in the Guard and somehow, you had managed to ensure Lyra spent her first Christmas with her Daddy after all. He settled back against the edge of the sofa, Lyra straddling his lap as they both explored her teddy bear once more, her babbling filling your ears as she showed him all the buttons and patches on it that made for interesting new textures for her to feel. Demetri nodded along, the perfect little play partner for her on the most wonderful Christmas day.

[mochikeiji]

Rockabye, My Love

↠ Pairing: Akaashi Keiji x Reader

↠ Warning: slight fluff, soft father/daughter moments, angst. Trigger Warning: mentions of death, depression.

↬ Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Every lyrics had a deeper meaning in them than just words that'll fit a song. Yours was heavier than anyone could think of, and Akaashi was singing it to his beloved baby girl.

↣ a/n: ohayo world! I'm sorry for late posts, expect the upcoming ones soon. School was giving too much works again. Thank you all for loving my Day 2 fic in Akaashi Week!! Also, the lullaby in this lyrics is the same tune as Isabella's Lullaby from The Promised Neverland.

⇢ Day 3: Single Parent AU

"Love, don't you worry too much,

You're doing fine.

You are the most precious thing I have loved.

I will never allow the cruel world to take you— away nor hurt you any more.

I will sing you this song when the world, caves on.

You'll be fine, I will never leave you.

You are the most beautiful thing that has came.

I will protect you forever, my love."

Life is difficult in many ways. It's either we were born different, have lost someone dear or have lost ourselves. It's no wonder how millions of people from all around the world, evert second, minute, hour— someone gives up on everything. It was cruel, disturbing, most of all heart breaking.

Akaashi never understood your true intentions. He was one hundred percent sure he had kept an eye on you at all cost. He's made you smile brighter, he's understood you more than anyone. He made you feel alive.

Yet now you ended up being dead to your own inner demons.

He remembers coming home after receiving good news from his company. He had received a promotion and a week off just for you. That was when the hospital had contacted him. He can recall his ragged breathing when he was allowed to place a foot in your room. Your monitor beating in an ever agonizingly slow rhythm, he knew it wasn't normal and immediately ran to your side.

He wanted to yell, scream, ask you why, why did you do this to yourself but he couldn't, not when you looked at him so scared and weak. The doctors had told him that he had only a few minutes with his wife, the drugs you've intake was too much, not everything was removed nor pumped out of your system. Akaashi never felt so depressed in all his life after that situation as he buried himself into your chest, listening to your lullabies that soon died down along with the light in your eyes.

That was the only reminisces he's had with you,the lullaby you would sing to yourself as a teen who strived to survive the world, a lullaby for his anxieties and own demons to be tamed, and the last thing you ever said. He was happy that over the years before your death, you had given him a customized music box that had the right notes of your song, only this time no one was singing it.

Fingers tapping anxiously on his work table, Akaashi started to fiddle with his thumb and then his index, losing his focus despite looking at the same drafted page lit up on his computer screen. He kept eyeing the pack of cigarettes that was just on the edge of his window— he needed one right now. Cigarettes were the last options he has for when he couldn't calm his beating heart or let his emotions out. But he knows how wrong it was to be damaging his health, and he knows he's going to get an earful from Bokuto since he visits his apartment every weekend. Even if Akaashi tries to hide his dirty deeds, Bokuto wasn't stupid to read through his eyes like before.

Foot was starting to bounce, his eyebrows were beginning to furrow, as if he was irritated, in trouble, or something. It wss getting harder for him, who wouldn't after losing their wife? The person he's loved since his teen years, the one he's vowed to never make her feel like how she did in the past. He failed you. He blames himself for all that matter, if he's added more precautions, maybe you'd still be here.

He bites his lips and whimpers, hands ruffling through his tossled hair and holding his head as his elbows were supporting him on the table. Everything was closing in once more, the walls to his workspace became suffocating, how he wishes one of his friends or yours would come knocking at his door even though it was already 2:30 am knowing how reckless he's getting. He swore he wasn't going to die sooner as you did. He promised to himself to let you and his memories live on, because once he dies, no one will ever remember the battles you've fought for, the good things you've done to many, and the love you've shared with him throughout the years.

"It's so hard without you, love.."

Eyes finally cracking with tears behind his glasses, he lets them stream down his face with his body shaking on his chair. Soon enough he was bound to get another headache from extreme emotion and will probably lay the whole day about it. But none of that mattered to him anymore.

He just wanted you back.

But his cries weren't the only ones that can be heard in his apartment.

Jolting up to realization, he carelessly wipes away his tears with his sleeves and tumbles our of his chair straight to his room. His heart was beating fast in worry and adrenaline, he thought the source of the crying in his room had been taken away or worse.

But it turns out, it was just his little baby girl crying in lonliness.

As he got closer, her cries were getting deafening, but he didn't mind. Not when his heart was swooning with guilt when he thought of giving up and caving to his own needs when he's forgotten he has a reason to continue on.

With the night lamp on at the side of her crib and his bed, he cooes at the sobbing baby with sweet nothings to catch her attention. Th cries immediately died down and replaced with sniffles and the baby looking up hazily at the dark figure above her.

Smiling, Akaashi carefully picks her up from the crib to cradle her on his chest. Giving her small pats on her back with hush whispers when he feels her stretch on his body.

"Shhh, I'm sorry, were you lonely?"

Grabbing on the string of his lamp shade on the nightstand, he pulls the string, allowing more light to glow in his room, and for his little girl to finally see that she wasn't alone anymore. Akaashi swayed gently as he remained in eye contact with the baby, smiling ever so slightly at the unreadable expression his daughter was possessing and played with her fingers.

"Maybe I should work with you around, you never really like it in the dark, do you, baby?"

His little girl cooes at him, curious of what language he was speaking to her and hopes he understood what she was saying as well. Akaashi's heart swelled at the adorable sound and nuzzled his face softly on her stomach, the baby still confused as ever but just clenches her hands in wonder.

His anxieties and thoughts disappearing in the air whilst he sat down on his bed and held his baby near to where his hesrt was beating. The same day you died, was the same day you had given birth. It was a miracle for the baby to be healthy despite what you had intake. He remembers after your announced death, the nurses had to usher him out, but only to drag him into another room where lies a bassinet and a couple of IV's attached and treatments.

When he got closer, his world was shaken that day. The sight of you and his baby alive and now existing after 9 months of waiting was there right before his eyes. But his heart broke at the thought of him being the only one to raise her, and her not having to meet her beloved mother. He was so emotional that day that he almost lost it when he realizes why she was kept in there and why there were so much stuff in this room. He didn't want to think thag he was losing another one when he had just met her.

The nurses explained that there was nothing wrong with the baby, just taking further check ups and to ensure she was absolutely healthy. He was already been forced outside your room that no longer held light, he wasn't going to leave the room where his daughter was until he holds her in his arms where he knows she'll be at the safest.

As time went by to now, Akaashi feared her growing up in the future. She resembled mostly to you. She was a dead carbon copy of you and he was terrified she'd experience what you have as history might repeat itself. The very thought of his daughter having something inside her little head without telling him scares him, Akaashi knew how cruel the world can be and hoe each second in life matters because we are unaware of the deaths happening at those time.

He prayed his baby girl wouldn't go through what you did as a child and carry it until she grows up. He hopes and believed in his own strength that he wasn't going to fail her this time— that there will be no person by her side and will lovd and protect her other than her daddy.

His tears blocking his vision of her as he held her tightly. He whimpers at remembering his thoughts earlier. He wanted to curse himself from thinking of leaving his daughter to fend for herself in this world and to find a way to be back to you. But he knows he was still with you, your daughter was the last love you could ever give him and he was going to love her more than anything.

The trembling of his body stops when his baby started to cry and squirm in his hold. Her whimpers breaking his heart when he couldn't solve her distress, it seemed like she was in pain and he knew this situation like in the past.

"Shh, shh, I'm here. I'm always here. I'm sorry."

Reciting out the same line he's used when he held you against his body that night. You cried and held a hand to your heart that day as he hugged you tighter. The demons inside you he had curse to go away and leave you alone. But they didn't.

An idea popped in his head and reached out inside his nightstand drawer. The little music box you have crafted for him still looked the same as it was before since it was taken with good care. He proceeded to wind it gently to let the soft tune play as he stood up once more to cradle his crying baby.

"Love, don't you worry too much,

You're doing fine."

He sings the first verse of the long memorized lullaby you sang for him. Using his thumb to wipe away the little tears that had escaped his daughters eyes. Her cries were stopped momentarily and were replaced by sniffles. Her dazed eyes making eye contact with her father's.

"You are the most precious thing I have loved."

Akaashi would be cringing thinking his voice was terrible, but the little girl in his arms seemed to be intrigued and loving the harmonized voice of her daddy and an unknown tune from the background.

His voice was smooth and soft. Completely out of character from his monotone one, but enough to capture the attention of someone.

"I will never allow the cruel world to take you— away nor hurt you any more."

He couldn't tell if he was singing the lullaby to her or he was making a silent vow to her. The lullaby you sang to him for the first time he tried searching for in the internet what the lyrics meant and who wrote it. Sadly, there were no results that came up that day.

And you never really told him how you got that song and who it was referring to in the lyrics.

But nevertheless, the lyrics could never be at the right time as it was now. It felt like he was reminding himself of what his role was from now on and what his daughter should always remember as she grows up.

No one was going to hurt her on her watch.

"I will sing you this song when the world, caves on.

You'll be fine, I will never leave you."

At the end of that line his voice cracks as he held back his own tears. He can hear only now your voice and hoe you would thread his hair during nights of distress. How he missed so many cracks of your voice from being too intrigued with the song. How he missed the fact that you needed him the most those nights of terror, yet you chose to make him feel secure and loved without leaving anything for yourself.

Slowly, his mind was connecting all the lyrics and your actions in his head. You were a self reliant person.

You sang this song in reminder that you were loved, beautiful and was protected by the few people that truly loved you. This song was meant to keep you alive.

To keep him going.

And now

It was a vow from him to his daughter.

"You are the most beautiful thing that has came."

Smiling sadly down to his baby now calmed down and listening intently to her daddy, Akaashi leans down to press kisses on her face with his tears sliding down.

He should've sang this to you when you needed it the most. A reminder of what you truly were to him. He hopes deep inside, somewhere up there or in his room you were listening. Listening to him remind you and his daughter— his world and universe, that he was going to be stronger and fulfill his own promises.

One day he was going to meet you in another life he believed, where he'd make you stay, where you and him will raise your little girl once again and he'll wake up next to you. Where he'll be the one singing this lullaby tune as he hold you both in his arms.

But for now, it was just going to be him and his baby girl.

"I will, protect you. Forever, my love."

[rrickgrrimes8]

Normality is Death

Chapter Five ~ Left Behind

masterlist

The group rushed out of the hideout carrying half of the guns they came with, Glenn and Addie trailing behind. Glenn looked around at their faces confused about where Rick was. 

"Hey, hey slow down," Glenn shouted over to Shane. 

Shane looked at the pair, "what?" 

"Where the hell is Rick?" Glenn pressed him. 

"Went back to camp," Shane shared, confused with the urgency of the question. 

"What? Why? We need him here," He stated looking over to the younger girl her face consumed with worry as well. 

"And why the hell is that?" He snapped sick of the questions. 

"It's Jacey!" Shane face turned to stone at that name. 

"How the hell do you know that name?!" The man yelled in his face. 

"She's alive," Glenn nervously told him. 

"What?" 

"Jacey, she's alive. She's in Addie's group." Shane looked at the boy shocked and stepped away, a little. 

"She's here in Atlanta. That girl that was with Addie, that was her," Glenn smiled at him happy to partake in this reunion and happy for his new friend to get his daughter back. 

"Who the hell is Jacey?" Daryl asked slinging his crossbow over his shoulder. 

"R-Rick's other kid," Shane muttered the realisation finally setting in. Daryl mumbled an 'oh' and distracted himself from the situation he didn't feel the need to be involved in, by shooting any nearby walkers  

"She can't be. She died, I saw her die," He insisted to which Addie shook her head. 

"She told me that she fell with a biter - it pushed her right?" Shane nodded, "She hit her head and the biter that was on her was about to kill her until you killed it. She tried to call out to you. I guess you didn't hear her. You left her behind that night but she's alive. I swear to you she is." The older man looked at Addie completely frozen. How could he have left her behind? He really thought she died. 

"Rick needs to see her, Shane," Glenn declared snapping Shane out of his daze. 

"Y-yeah he does." Shane ran his hand through his hair, subconsciously, "But how do you suppose we do that? I'm sure you understand how big Atlanta is and s-shes just a kid. She could be lost o-or..." He trailed off.

"I assure she is not just a kid officer. She's saved my life more times then you could imagine," Shane smiled softly to the girl, "and as for finding her, I know exactly where she'll be."

~

Jacey rounded the corner struggling against the rancid odour of the walkers that were closer then she liked. She still hadn't found Addie and minute by minute she was losing hope that she actually would. The girl sighed, hatching a new plan, which she thought would be best, to go to their meeting point and just hope that she shows up eventually.

Hours go by and Addie still hasn't shown up. Jacey sat down on the curb burying her head in her hands, whimpering softly. She couldn't believe that she had lost her, the person that means the most to her in the world. One of the only people she had left.

 Hope returned however when the illuminating lights of a torch got nearer to her. "Addie?" She susurrated looking into the glowing lights. Footsteps echoed into the area, putting her on edge, her hand flinching to her side, grasping her gun. "Who's there?" the girl shouted to whoever was zoning in on her.

"Jacey?" A masculine voice called out. Her head snapped into the direction it came from and a tall buff man emerged from the bright lights. 

"S-Shane," She spoke, her voice barely coming to a whisper. Shane looked at the girl he once thought to be dead and could feel a smile reach across his face. She's alive.

Shane came closer looking at her face closely as if he hadn't seen it for years when it had only come to a few months.

"I thought you were dead," He almost cried.

"Not dead, just left behind," Coldly she spoke the anger bubbled inside of her - he left me behind. The older man stepped forward causing her to take a step back.

"Jacey please..." He trailed off his voice cracking. 

"Please, what? Forgive you? Let you hug me like everything's okay? Like you didn't leave me in the middle of the woods with no weapon and nowhere to go?"

"I-I thought you were dead... I thought the walker got you," He attempted to justify still looking stunned by the girl in front of him.

"Well should've looked harder. I called out to you. I called out to mom a-and Carl and none of you stopped," Her voice trembled with every word as she failed miserably to stop the tears. 

"I didn't hear you, I'm sor-"

"Bullshit!" Jacey shouted to him, "If you really fucking cared you would've come back to me. You would've saved me but you didn't! You didn't because I think you wanted me out of the way - you all did."

"W-what? Jacey, no."

"Don't tell me I'm lying because I know it's true. I looked for you. I looked for you everywhere but I could never find you because you were never looking for me!" She snapped.

"I did, Jacey! Carl made me. He thought... he knew you were alive somehow, and he told me to go look for you. A-and I tried, believe me, I did but you were gone. You were dead," He almost begged.

Jacey stopped for a moment looking at the man in front of her, the man she had known since she was a child, someone she looked up to and scoffed, "Fuck you."

"Jacey please," He spoke sterner than before.

"What are you even doing here? How did you know I was here?" The younger girl spoke suspiciously her hand rushing to her gun once again, aiming it towards him.

"Addie... Addie told me okay? Put the gun down," Shane told the distressed girl.

"Addie," She whispered, "She's alive. Where is she? What did you do to her?" Jacey shouted getting closer and closer to the man.

"Nothing... I did nothing okay? Put it down you know me I wouldn't hurt her. So put your gun down." Jacey looked at the man she once knew and sighed but refused to lower her weapon.

"Jacey calm down I'm okay," Another voice called to her, "Put your gun down dumbass."

"Addie!" She screamed to her friend dropping her arm and engulfing her in a hug, "I thought... God, I thought you were dead."

"Shh, it's okay. I'm fine," She chuckled at the child who was clinging to her, "I'm okay you can let go now." 

Jacey sheepishly let go and looked over to Shane, "You're with him?"

"He saved me, Jacey," Addie informed her, "He's not the villain here. He really thought you had died." The girl looked at Addie and then at Shane, she wasn't ready to believe that just yet. To her, the pain of being left behind wasn't something she could just get over in a second. 

"Look Jacey I'm so sorry okay? I truly am. I understand if you can't believe or forgive me," He croaked, "But you've got to come with me okay?"

"Why?" She pondered. 

"It's your dad," Jacey felt her heart quicken as she waited for him to continue, "he's alive." The younger girl looked to him as if expecting him to say he was joking but he remained silent - it was true. 

"N-no he's not. You told me he died."

"I know I did, I'm sorry but he wasn't moving a-and-" He started but was interrupted, "Save it. Seems like it's a habit for you to do that, leaving people behind."

"And what about Mom and Carl, did they get left behind as well?" She whimpered.

"No, Jacey, God no. They're alive, back at camp - safe," He corrected looking at the girl with pained eyes, "And you're gonna see them again, you have to come back with us."

Jacey remained motionless - was she going to come back with them? The way Shane said it made her think that she didn't have a choice. 

"No," She sternly put, "No I'm not."

"Jacey-" Addie began. 

"No, I won't. I can't," Jacey snapped at her.

"Not even for your dad?" She shook her head slowly, "But you lost him and now he's back and you're going to throw that away."

"I have a family with you and Mitchell and everyone else. I don't need them. They left me," Addie looked to the girl and let a heavy breath out.

"I'd kill to have the chance you are getting right now," She admitted dejectedly, "How can you not go back to them?"

"Addie-"

"No don't! For months you cried over them - over losing your father - and I was there for you. You told me about the pain it brought you to even think about him. So what the hell happened to that? What changed between then and now?"

"I don't need them. I don't need any of them, not even my father," Addie glared at the girl knowing how much she wanted to just go with them, but her pride got in the way of that. She knew that Jacey didn't mean what she said no matter how much she attempted to convince herself she did.

"You'll regret it."

"I doubt that," She muttered, "I made my decision, Addie, respect that."

Jacey looked over to Shane and spoke sharply, "You too, Shane." 

He nodded in response and looked away sorrowfully, "What do I tell them?" She glared at the man not wanting to answer the question, "Nothing." 

"Nothing?" 

She nodded, "As far as they know, I'm still dead." 

"Jacey as much as I respect your decision not to go back. T-this... this is cruel. Rick... he's, I don't know, he's broken. I had to tell him to leave today because he couldn't keep his emotions in check," He told her, "They deserve to know. Carl deserves to know that his sister is out there, so does your parents." 

"It's easier if they think I'm dead, Shane," he gazed at her, shock evident. 

"How could you think that, Jacey?" 

"Because it's true." 

"No, it's not," Someone said from behind her. 

She spun around quickly coming face to face with the man that tried to save her earlier, "I know its none of my business but uh Ric- your dad when he found out he broke down. A-and that night, when Lori was explaining what happened to him, I was walking by, and all I could hear was his sobbing. It lasted all night." 

Jacey looked at him, trying to console her tears, "I've made my decision." 

"I think you've made the wrong one," He shot back, "Names Glenn by the way." 

Jacey smiled at the man, "Jacey, but I'm not going to change my mind no matter what you tell me. My dads a strong man he'll get over it." 

"He won't," Shane apprised, "I know him and he won't. Neither will Carl nor will your mom. They still haven't and its been months. I still hear Carl having nightmares about it." 

"Shut up Shane." 

"No, I won't because you mean so god damn much to that kid! He can barely sleep at night because you're not with him. And your mom constantly worries about him because she thinks the same thing will happen to him. Glenn already said what your dads like, but I guess you don't care right?" 

"Shut up." 

"You don't have to watch it or hear it, so it doesn't bother you. You can live happily while they are forced to live without you." 

"Shut your fucking mouth!" She screamed at him, stopping him from continuing, "I'm not coming back with you." 

"I have to tell them, kid. It's what's right," He told her. 

"How will it make it better?" Shane just looked at the girl, "You know that Dad won't stop looking for me and will probably get killed doing it. Mom will continue worrying not only for Carl but for me as well. Carl will still have nightmares, and he'd have to live knowing he left his sister behind. How could any of that be possibly better?!" Shane studied the girls cold and unbreaking face.

"Face it Walsh grieving is easier than any of that."

Glenn sighed, looking at the scene unravelling. "If you change your mind this is where our camp is," he tells her taking his map out of his bag and giving it to her. 

She mutters a thank you and looks back at Shane, "I'm sorry Shane, but things are different now. The world has changed and so have I. If you do end up telling them um... just tell them that I love them. Shane saw the tears form in her eyes and nodded, "It's getting late. We should head back." Jacey hummed a small 'yeah' and waved them off as they left. Shane turned around last minute and told her, "Your dad would be so proud of the woman you've become. If only he could see how strong you became." Shane walked away after finishing causing her to finally breathe. 

She looked over to her friend, who was still angry that she just brushed them off, "I can't believe you." 

Jacey sighed, picking up her bag and walking closer, "Can we stop talking about this? All that matters is that I've got you back, okay?" Addie reluctantly nodded and set off back to camp. 

[blueaura]

Lost and Found Ch. 3

A/N: Hey guys, just trying my hand out at this fanfic thing. I love reading everyone’s stuff and decided to write something myself. I’m fairly new to Tumblr so any tips or suggestions are highly appreciated. Let me know if y’all like it and would like me to continue. Feedback would be amazing. Thank you and happy reading.

Summary: Sam and Dean meet a young hunter who is a little rough around the edges and they reluctantly take her under their wing. But she might be a little more connected to them that any of them realise.

Word count: 1.9k

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3

16 years ago

It was a slow night. Dean had been scouting out players for half an hour, but no one seemed to be in the gambling mood. Finally giving up, he walked up to the bar, ordered a beer and started to look around. If he couldn’t get money, he could at least get lucky.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean softly swore under his breath, a smirk appearing on his face as he walked towards his target, sitting in the corner of the bar. He didn’t know how he missed it, missed her. What he did know was that his night was about to get a hell of a lot better.

“If it isn’t little Sandy L/N,” Dean had a shit-eating grin on his face as he walked towards her table and paused in front of her, “Always late to the party L/N.”

Sandra looked at Dean with the complete opposite expression. Her usually stoic face was pulled into a scowl as she registered what the hunter was saying.

“You got the werewolf.”

“I got the werewolf,” Dean reiterated, causing Sandra’s frown to deepen. She’d driven for over 8 hours for this hunt.

“Don’t be so mad Sandy, after all, the wolf is dead and it looks like both of us have some free time on our hands now.” Dean’s suggestion wasn’t subtle at all. He made a show of looking at her from head to toe and wriggled his eyebrows playfully.

Sandra sighed. Dean was 5 years younger than her but they always seemed to have a good time. Both parties knew that it was just sex and that was the way she preferred it, but Dean had also just ruined her hunt and she was tempted to turn him down. Looking at him again though, she reconsidered. Angry sex was tempting too.

“Buy me a drink and we’ll see.” That was basically Sandy-talk for ‘Yes, we can have sex but I’m not gonna make it easy for you, asshole’ and Dean knew it.

All in all, it was a fun night. And morning. And afternoon. She left that evening and that was the last time he’d heard from her. After that, he thought about her from time to time but she never did like giving her number to other hunters. Then John disappeared, Jess dies and the world went to shit.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought about her. Until now.

 Present

Dean was too lost in his memory to realise that Sam had been calling his name for a few minutes. Y/N looked at Dean suspiciously. Dean’s reaction to her mother’s name confused her. As far as she knew, her mother didn’t know the Winchesters. She had even warned Y/N on several occasions about the dangers of mixing with the Winchesters. Sandra wasn’t one to mince words, and she didn’t have anything good to say about the infamous hunters. If she had known them, she surely would have told Y/N. The woman had loved to brag.

“Sandy’s dead?” he whispered softly.

So, needless to say she was completely blindsided with Dean’s reaction. He almost sounded … sad, which was weird because her mother wasn’t a person who usually invoked that emotion in people. Anger – yes, frustration – sure. But sadness? Because of her death?

“You knew my mother.” It wasn’t a question but Dean answered anyway.

“Yeah. We were … friends? Sort of.” Dean swore softly under his breath, processing the new information.

Y/N was quiet for a moment.

“Wait a minute. She didn’t have a kid the last time I saw her. She was in town alone, on a case. She stayed with me for almost a day.”

Sam’s brain started working in over drive.

“How long ago was this?” he asked his brother.

“15? 16 years ago?”

Sam looked at Y/N, jaw clenching just for a second.

“Y/N? How old are you exactly?”

Shit, Y/N thought. Well, it was fun while it lasted.

She entertained the idea of lying but discarded it immediately. Dean was now analysing her, looking for clues most likely. She sighed and reluctantly mumbled the answer.

“You’re gonna have to be louder than that sweetheart.”

“15, alright? I’m fifteen.”

The reaction was almost immediate. Both of them were looking at her incredulously and swearing like sailors.

“Jesus kid! What the hell are you doing? Trying to get yourself killed?” Dean was almost yelling at her, berating her for hunting at such a young age, which she thought was a little hypocritical but go off, I guess.

In the middle of all the commotion, Y/N suddenly realised that there was only one voice yelling. Sam was looking at her intensely, taking in every detail, a peculiar look on his face. Before she could ask him what the hell was wrong with him, he softly called out to Dean.

He was still yelling so Sam called out again.

“Dean!” Finally, Dean stopped, turning towards Sam. Before he could say anything, Sam started talking.

“How long ago did you say you last saw Sandra?” Sam had an urgency in his tone that confused the hell out of Y/N. She couldn’t figure out where he was going with this.

Dean paused at Sam’s question.

“About 16 years, why?”

Sam just looked at his brother meaningfully, further confusing Y/N. Apparently, Dean saw where Sam was going with this.

“Oh, hell no! Fuck. No! You’re crazy,” Dean scoffed.

Sam just glared at him. “So, you’re saying you two didn’t?”

“Of course, we did Sammy! But, I’m not an idiot! We used protection.”

Protection?

“Woah, woah, woah! Rewind an-and freeze! Protection? You slept with my mother?” Y/N’s voice grew shriller towards the end of the sentence, making Dean wince and look away in embarrassment.

“That’s gross. I did not need that image in my head!”

She started pacing the small room. Suddenly she came to a stop.

“Wait, why is this relevant anyway?”

Sam glanced at Dean again, who started shaking his head fervently.

“Dude, stop it. I don’t know what is wrong with your brain, maybe you have a concussion but you need to quit this line of thinking right now. You’re freaking me the fuck out,” Dean snarled.

Realisation hit Y/N like a tonne of bricks. What Sam was insinuating, why the timing was important.

“You think Dean is my father?!” It was her turn to look at Sam incredulously. She started laughing. She couldn’t help it. The idea that Dean Winchester was her father was hilarious.

“You said you never knew your dad,” Sam pointed out, ignoring her cackling.

“So? That doesn’t automatically mean Dean is my father Sam, geez.”

“You also said that he was a hunter,” Sam was determined to at least get them to consider the possibility.

“There are a lot of hunters out there!” Y/N was almost hyperventilating at this point. It was too much. Too soon.

“Sammy, shut up,” Dean said firmly. This was not the time for this. Y/N was clearly overwhelmed. Sam noticed and a flash of guilt crossed his eyes.

“Look, all I’m saying is that there is a very real possibility that you two are related. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll back off, alright? Tell me you don’t see it,” Sam said, softly this time. Dean looked at Y/N. She did look like him, or maybe he was imagining things that weren’t there. Maybe it was just a coincidence and he was investing himself into this for no reason, but he had to know. Now that there was a seed of doubt in his head, he wouldn’t be satisfied until he got a real answer.

“Y/N,” Dean called her softly, “look kid, I’m not saying I’m your father. God knows I don’t know how to be one. But I know that you see the coincidences piling up too. Why don’t we figure this out and if Sammy is wrong, we can laugh in his face about all this. And if he isn’t … well we’ll deal with that too.”

She didn’t say anything for a long time, both brothers holding their breath.

“I don’t care,” she snaps, “I have survived without a family my whole life. I don’t need a father. I don’t want a father. Family is poison and I don’t want any part of it. So, I couldn’t care less about biology. I don’t want to know.”

She goes to storm out of the room, barely able to look at the hurt expression on their faces. Before she can reach the for the handle, Dean’s voice booms through the room.

“Well I do. I need to know if I have a damn daughter who I failed. I need to figure this out or I’m gonna go crazy. So, here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna get a damn paternity test and put a lid in this argument until we do. But before all that, we’re gonna come back to the fact that you’ve apparently been hunting alone for the past four years. Do you have any idea how fucking dangerous that is? Me and Sam, we’ve been doing this for years, but we still always take back-up! Because hunting alone is dangerous, and reckless, specially for someone who is new to the field. I’m not gonna berate you for your age, God knows I was younger than you when I first started. Its shitty but it happens. But even I was never dumb enough to hunt alone.”

Y/N was getting a whiplash from the change in the conversation. One minute they’re demanding paternity tests, and the next they’re yelling at her about her life choices.

“First of all, we aren’t getting any tests done because one, I’m in the system and you’re supposed to either be dead or are wanted by the FBI, and two, I don’t want to! And you don’t get to dictate how I live my life. You’re barely an acquaintance, not even a friend. So back the fuck off.”

She knew she was being harsh. But she needed them away from her, out of her life. They represented hope – hope for a safe haven, hope for a family, and she didn’t want any part of it. It was better to be alone than set yourself up for more pain.

Dean was quickly losing his patience.

“Look, you have 2 options. You can either come with us and we can figure all this out, at your pace, or I can give Jody a call and she can arrange for you to live with her. She’s already fostering 3 girls and she’d be happy to take you in. You won’t be able to run away from there either, which is great.”

She glared at him.

“I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to make us angry so that we abandon you. I know all the tricks in the book kiddo, you ain’t fooling me that easily. I don’t know if I’m actually your father but I’ll be damned if I let you go off on your own again. You can either come with us or go to Jody. Choice is yours.”

With that, Dean stormed off to search for a bar. It had been a long day and he needed a damn beer.

Chapter 4 

TAGS:  @vicmc624​ @buttercookiemachoman​  @carisi-sonny​ @link--in--bio

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FP Jones/Andrew’s Family/Riverdale imagines - Oh Dear Part 35 - Final Chapter - A Sore Goodbye

A/N: This is based on the memorial episode for Luke Perry. Watching and writing this was very hard and I miss him as do many fans and everyone who ever knew him. My characters pain here is almost real as it pained me to write about Fred’s death knowing that we didn’t just lose Fred Andrews, we lost Luke Perry. I hope you enjoy this final chapter of ‘Oh Dear’. It’s been a wild ride and I thank every single reader, liker, etc. I love you all.

MASTERLIST LINK (HERE)

Overall Summary: You’re Archie’s older sister and you have a thing for a certain Serpent.

This chapter: Based on Season 4 Episode 1 - (Y/N) has been living away from Riverdale for two years now. Only keeping touch with her family every now and then but (Y/n)’s brother, Archie, and herself never allowed any Riverdale drama to pull her back to the town which held the man she loved but couldn't have. But the sudden death of her father meant she had to finally return...

Pairing: Reader x FP Jones, Sister!Reader x Archie Andrews, Daughter!Reader x Fred Andrews, 

Word count: 8,864

Warnings: Very emotional. Loss of a father. Some strong language. Some smut. 

“(Y/N).” His voice was like velvet as his arms snaked around you. 

You slowly moved in his arms to face him. Your smile widened as you met his eyes. 

“You’ve been gone ages–” Fp’s mouth cut your words short as he kissed you deeply and with a hunger you could feel in the pit of your own stomach. 

Your fingers tangled themselves in the older man’s hair within seconds, your hips pressing against his as he held you tightly. 

You dragged the man backwards to the bed behind you and allowed yourselves to fall down onto it. FP’s hands rushed to rip the clothes from you. 

You let your eyes roll backwards at the feeling of his hot tongue against your neck. 

His hands left your body for a moment which made you pout and whine in desperation. The empty feeling didn’t last long as hands placed themselves back against your soft skin; but the feeling was different... Not completely foreign but not him. 

Your eyes fluttered open to see Malachai’s face. The air flooded your lungs in a sharp gasp but before you could make another sound, Malachai’s hand trapped your lips beneath it. 

You screamed into his hand and tried to fight underneath him but his body felt like a deadweight. 

You watched him with wide eyes as he moved closer to your face; his lips and eyes blood red. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling his fevered breath against your cheeks, trying your best to mentally escape this. 

You finally felt the weight lift from you when you snapped your eyes open and thrashed forward, sending your bedsheets across the floor. 

Sweat drenched you.

It took you a minute to realise you were alone in your apartment, not in Riverdale. 

You shifted your legs off the side of the bed and rested your elbows against your knees with your head low whilst you tried to slow your breathing. 

It'd been months since you dreamt of Riverdale; of FP; of Malachai and that night. 

You lifted your mobile from the bedside table and a glaring 4:43am flashed back at you. 

It was July so the sun was already rising outside. 

You pushed back your curtains and opened your window to let some air into the stifling room. 

It wasn’t likely you’d be able to sleep against after a dream like that so you just headed to the shower and put some coffee on for yourself. 

You kicked some of the dirty clothes from the night before towards your clothes hamper as you entered the bathroom to cool off and clean the nightmare from your body. 

Your apartment was small and you hadn’t been there very long but it was perfect for you. No one had been inside it but you since you moved in so you felt like you truly had a place just for yourself. 

You let the water cascade down your body and through the tangle that is your hair. 

You thought after all this time why would the dreams be coming back?

The dreams plagued you for weeks when you first left Riverdale but after your first short relationship with some barista that you met in your first town, they’d completely disappeared. They’d only ever come back if you had been heavily drinking but you hadn’t gone out drinking for weeks so why would it happen now?

You managed to waste some time in the shower, clearing your head before you slipped into some clothes and went to get your coffee. 

You checked your phone again to see that only 40 minutes had passed so you decided to go through your unopened messages. 

Archie had texted you last night asking how you were but you must've been asleep when he did. 

You had to admit you missed your little brother, you had always been there for each other even when you disagreed with each other. It was hard for you to stay away from Riverdale when he was arrested so soon after you left but Archie had convinced you to stay away. He always convinced you any problem in Riverdale was smaller than it was in order to stop you from leaving your current life to return to one you didn’t really want. 

You contemplated calling him but you knew that he'd be asleep. That boy always tended to sleeping if he wasn’t with Veronica or facing whatever problem Riverdale currently had. 

You put down your phone and walked over to your small portable radio to switch it on. Your footsteps pattered around the apartment whilst the quiet music began to fill the space. 

You had work today but it wasn't until 8, it was a small bookshop a few blocks down so there was no need for your bike. Still you eyed your helmet and keys and wondered where to go. 

You downed your coffee as the idea came to mind then grabbed your keys, heading down to the apartment blocks private garage. 

The wind challenged you as you rode towards the smell of the ocean. You inhaled deeply as you pulled up to the sand, slowing down to eventually switch off your engine. 

You had travelled all over the U.S. and some of Europe too but you always ended up somewhere near the sea. It was calming and even during these hotter months where the beaches became overcrowded and noisy, you somehow always found the most peaceful area or time to just come and sit. 

You fought the urge to go swimming over the couple of hours you sat there due to the fact you knew you'd have to head to work shortly. 

“Morning (Y/n).” The son of the owners of the book store was sat behind the counter with an open book on his lap. He was about Archie’s age and was very polite and nice enough but you knew that he held a small crush on you which made it a little difficult to converse sometimes. 

“Morning Jeffrey.” You smiled as you passed him to walk into the small staff room to place your bag inside. 

“That book for your dad arrived yesterday afternoon while you were off.” Jeffrey hopped off his stool to collect the novel for you. 

“Perfect. I wanted to write a note inside it before I sent it to him.” You explained to the boy about why you didn't just order it to your old home. It was that and the fact it was way more expensive to order the book to the house rather than the bookstore. 

“Well if you need me to run it down to the mail for you, I’m heading there at lunch?” Jeffrey offered as he leant against the counter, close to your side. 

“Thank you, Jeff, but I’ll probably write in it tonight and send it off before work tomorrow.” You passed on the offer which made the boy look a little disheartened but you brushed it off and asked what other orders came in yesterday so that you could start on calling the customers to inform them. 

A couple hours into your shift you kept feeling your phone vibrating in your pocket. You excused yourself to use the bathroom and checked it to see it had 1 missed call from your Dad, 3 from your Mom, 2 from Archie and 3 from Jughead. 

You called Jughead since his was the most recent number and he answered within two rings. 

“Jughead? What the hell is going on? I’m at work and my phone’s been exploding with missed calls from you, my mom and Archie?” You didn’t bother with a hello since the calls seemed so urgent.

“(Y/n)...” Jughead swallowed. “(Y/n), you need to come back to Riverdale. It’s your dad...” 

“My dad? What’s happened? Is he okay?” You felt your chest tighten. 

“(Y/n), he... He died.” 

The words spun around in your head like a marble in a bowl. 

“Jughead... Whatever you’re playing at...” You started, trying, hoping, that this was some stupid game or prank. 

“(Y/n), it’s true. Archie got the call from the hospital. He was in an accident. The details aren't clear at the moment but––” You hung up as Betty took Jughead’s phone and spoke the truth. 

You threw your phone across the bathroom which resulted in your screen cracking but it didn't matter. All that matter was that your dad, Fred Andrews, was dead.

The events that followed were a blur. 

Jeffrey sent his mother into the bathroom, an elderly woman with kind eyes and red hair. She found you collapsed on the floor with tears streaming down your cheeks and tried to help you as you gathered the words together to tell her what happened. 

The next thing you knew was that you were at your apartment, packing a small rucksack full of essentials with your bike keys in your hand. 

The only moment that became clear in your memory of that moment was when you pulled open your closet door to find your old Serpent jacket. 

You held the rough leather material in between your fingers as you reminisced your old life. You ran the tips of your index and middle finger over the embroidered snake but only Fp’s face flashed before your eyes. 

You pushed down the memories of the Serpents and continued to pack.

You didn’t know how long it took you to travel home. You knew you didn’t follow the speed limits but you didn’t care. You needed to be home. You needed to know if it were all true. Really true. 

You passed the old sign at the border of the town and what felt like a hundred different emotions all seemed to hit you like once. 

WELCOME TO RIVERDALE

You hadn’t stepped foot into the town in a couple years now. It felt like a whole new place now. 

That is until you hit the top of your road where your old home resided. 

You pulled up in front of the house and stared up at the front door with tears in your eyes. 

Your dad's truck wasn't here. 

“(Y/n)?” The door opened whilst you were lost in your head. Archie must've seen you from the window after hearing your bike pull up. 

“Arch?” Your eyes met his with the question you didn’t want answered. 

A tear fell from Archie’s eye. You immediately rush up the stairs and took him in your arms. 

“(Y/n)?” Your mothers voice crept up behind Archie. It was almost a disbelief in her voice.

“Hi Mom.” You wiped your nose and faced her. In that moment, all hatred and betrayal washed away and you just wanted to be a family again. 

The three of you held each other in the doorway, sharing the same pain, crying the same tears. 

When you finally parted, Archie was the one to notice his friends had gathered outside. 

“It’s good to see you, (Y/n).” Betty was the first to greet you. “It’s been too long. I’m sorry this is why you had to come home.” 

You could see the pain in Betty’s eyes, the sadness, the sympathy. 

“Me too.” You whispered, returning her hug. 

Veronica then hugged you and so did Jughead but when Reggie made some comment about how good you looked you decided to leave them be.  

You tiptoed up the stairs to your old room. It was just the same as you left it, not that you stayed in it much towards your final few months in Riverdale. 

As you sat down on your bed, you looked towards the door, half expecting to see your dad’s head poke around it to check on you. 

You heard commotion in the garden. Archie and his friends were all putting seats around in a circle and chatting. 

“When things started getting bad with my dad and drinking, my mom would call up Fred... for help.” Jughead’s voice caught your attention as you sat by the window. “And he would drive to the bar, and he would pick up my dad and he'd lay him on the couch. And he'd always stay a little while... just to talk to me... to see how I was doing in school, and... if I'd eaten dinner. He just wanted to know if I was hungry. I always was.” The group chuckled lightly at Jughead’s comment but the story just reminded you of FP. How you looked after FP when Fred could no longer do it...

You wondered what he was doing. How was he handling this? 

You mentally scolded yourself for thinking about him when you were Fred’s daughter. You should be thinking about you and the pain you feel.

You heard a knock at your door. It was your Mom. 

“I thought you’d want to know about the accident.” She sniffled as she entered. 

You nodded your head. You wanted to know if he died in pain, if it was his fault or someone else's, something else’s...

“FP spoke to the Sheriff at Cherry Creek. He knows all the details. I don’t know if I can––” Your mother broke down in tears once again and you found yourself comforting her with a short embrace. 

“FP? Why would FP know the details?” You pulled away, a little confused. 

“FP is Riverdale’s Sheriff.” She managed to string together. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You were almost convinced this was all some crazy nightmare. 

“Okay. I’ll be back soon.” You hurried past your mom and down to your bike. 

You were at the station within minutes. 

It took every ounce of energy you had left to walk through those doors at the station. Your feet felt like rocks being dragged through the mud at Sweetwater River. 

The station was busy, people rushing around and talking to one another. 

You found yourself outside the sheriff’s office, peering through the small glass window at a man you knew you recognised despite the khaki disguise. 

He was on the phone, wrinkles frowned on his face and his eyes were glassy but focused. 

You watched him put the phone down and pinch the bridge of his nose. He slid off the corner of his desk and moved around to his chair where he finally became horizontal to you. 

His eyes finally lifted from his desk and upon seeing you, the colour seemed to drain from his face. It was as if he’d seen a ghost. 

Suddenly, your flight mode kicked in and you turned to leave. 

“(Y/n)!” FP’s voice seemed to freeze every joint in your body even though your mind was screaming at you to walk away. 

“I only came to know what happened. What happened to my dad.” You couldn't stop the tears rising to your eyes but you refused to let them fall. 

“Come... Come inside.” FP held his door open for you and you forced your feet to move in that direction. 

“It’s, uh, good, good to see you.” FP seemed almost as nervous as you felt. 

“It’s been–– Please tell me what happened.” You couldn’t do small talk right now. You were desperate. You wanted to know if it really were an accident. 

“Fred was driving home to Riverdale when he pulled over to help someone's car that was stalled on the side of the road, and, uh... Another vehicle... came upon them way too fast and... He was struck by it.” FP could barely get the words out himself. 

You buried your face into the palm of your hands as you broke down once again. He just wouldn’t ever say no to helping someone. And now he's dead because of it. 

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” FP placed his hand on your back and the electricity almost made you jump backwards but you managed to stay sat.

“I kept dodging his calls. I hadn’t spoken to him in three weeks. I was sending him this stupid collectable book to apologise for my distance and now, now he’s... he’s...” You couldn’t help but let the words fall from your lips. 

“Hey. Hey, now.” Fp pulled you towards him and you let yourself engulf in the man. His arms felt familiar, safe and warm. His scent flooded your nose which brought you some peace. “It’s alright.” He tried to assure you but seeing you in this much pain only made his pain worse. 

You were even more beautiful than ever. His heart almost stopped when he saw your (y/e/c) eyes shining through the window. Sad but still bright. 

“Sheriff?” The door swung open which made you pull away from the man out of habit. “Sorry to interrupt but there's a call waiting for you, sir.” The young deputy recognised you as Fred’s daughter and sent an apologetic look your way. 

“I should be going. I shouldn’t be bothering the ex-Southside Serpent sheriff anyway.” You laughed a little trying to lighten the mood but nothing could lighten the darkness inside your chest. 

You returned home and found yourself in your fathers closet. 

You pulled out one of his favourite shirts and pressed it against your face. You hadn’t even gotten the chance to hug him since you last left Riverdale. 

You pulled it on and retired for the evening to your bedroom. 

Dreaming of you as a little girl in Pickins park with Betty as you took turns on the father/daughter potato sack race with your dad. 

You woke in the morning to your mothers stern voice downstairs. She was clearly on the phone with someone who’d upset her. 

You pulled yourself from bed and trudged down the stairs. You held on to the banister as you swung around to see your mom at the end of the hall in the kitchen on the house phone. 

Your mother hung up before turning to face you. The irritation she once felt from the call had disappeared when she saw you stood at the bottom of the staircase with your father’s shirt on. You look almost as innocent and sweet as when you were a child, a picture image of you 8 years old in your dad's shirt to go play ball in the garden with your father and Archie came into her mind. 

But today you were different to that little girl; dark circles clung to your eyes and  your skin seemed to dull in colour. You weren’t a little girl anymore, you were a woman, but it seemed that both of you were desperately wishing times were different in this moment. 

“Who was that?” You asked, you didn’t realise how hoarse your voice was until you spoke, it must've been from the crying during the night. 

“Your brother. He went all the way up to Cherry Creek to fetch your fathers body.” Your Mom sounded almost as shocked as you felt by the news. 

With that, you darted back upstairs and grabbed your cell. 

“Archie?” You were fuming as Archie answered your call. 

“(Y/n)?” Archie responded. 

“Why did you go to Cherry Creek? Why didn’t you say anything? Why have I travelled all the way back to Riverdale just to be alone?” The questions seem to leave your mouth like a flood. “He’s my dad too, Archie. You didn’t think I’d come with you to bring him home? I waited so long to see him and now it’s too late.” 

“(Y/n), I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d want––”

“––want to travel hours away to bring dad home? Want to see him as soon as possible?” Your voice broke as tears flowed from your eyes. 

“I’m sorry, okay?! I had this nightmare and I left as soon as I woke up. I just couldn’t leave him here. I didn’t want you or Mom questioning or dictating to me about this journey. I’m sorry, (Y/n).” Archie sounded emotional himself. You wondered if he had seen your dad yet. 

“What if I get on my bike and come up now? I’ll leave within minutes.” You suggested. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, (Y/n). It’ll take you a few hours to get here and by the time you arrive, we’ll be allowed to take dad and leave. You might as well stay there and make sure Mom’s alright. We’ll be back as soon as possible.” Archie discouraged your idea and as much as you hated it you knew it was best if you stayed and waited with your mother. 

You heard the doorbell go off downstairs by the time you hung up the phone and got dressed for the day. You knew you had slept in your dad’s shirt but his scent clung to it so strongly you didn’t want to take it off. 

The sound of high heels downstairs gave you an idea of who might have arrived so you weren’t surprised to see Cheryl and Toni in the hallway, embracing your mother. 

“(Y/n)! Oh my god! Wait ‘till the Serpents hear your back!” Toni almost ran towards you when she saw you. You hugged the girl back and smiled at how grown and beautiful she’d gotten since you left. 

“I’m terribly sorry for your loss, (Y/n), but I must admit seeing your face has made it a happier time for Riverdale.” Cheryl hugged you once Toni finally let you and all you could do was force a smile onto your face as you tucked your hands into your back pockets. 

“The girls say they’ve come to ask us something.” Your mother chimed in. 

“Actually I’m going to head out and look around town. It feels too heavy in this house without dad.” You admit, sending an apologetic look towards Toni. 

“It’s alright. Maybe you can stop by Pop’s later and we can get some food and catch up?” Toni asked,

You just nodded before taking hold of the front door handle and escaping. 

Just as you looked up from the concrete floor, leaning against the house door whilst letting out a deep breath of relief, there stood at the bottom of the steps on the sidewalk was FP.

You watched him remove his hat before stepping towards you. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, his face full of concern. 

“Just feeling a little claustrophobic.” You admitted you felt a little closed in with the visitors this morning. 

“I see you kept your bike.” FP gestured to your motorbike on the side of the road. 

“She took me all around the country. Broke my heart to leave her here for a while when I travelled Europe. I plan to take her to Italy in the future. I rode a bike there but it just wasn’t the same.” You found yourself talking about his gift to you with ease. It was the first conversation you had that wasn’t about your father. 

“Wow, Europe? That’s further than most people from Riverdale get.” FP saw how you gushed over your bike and it made his heart squeeze knowing he was the one who got it for you. 

He still couldn't believe you were stood in front of him. When you rode off and out of Riverdale he figured he wouldn’t be seeing you for a long time. Perhaps ever again. 

You had grown in more ways than one. He could see the travel helped you find yourself or at least figure out yourself a bit better than Riverdale could ever do. 

Even though you looked worn from the news of your father passing, he could see that you were comfortable in your skin, any insecurity you had previously shown was gone or hidden. He admired you from afar. 

“How are you? How did you even become Sheriff? Are you seeing anyone?” You couldn’t help but let the last question be spoken aloud. 

“Uh, it’s complicated.” His response seemed to answer every question. You noticed his eyes flicker to the Coopers household. 

Alice. 

“Do you, uh, do you want to get out of here?” You pointed your thumb down the direction of the street as you looked around. 

“Um, (Y/n), I––” FP started, tugging on his belt loops with his thumbs as he too looked around but his answer only began to panic you. 

“––No, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have asked. Things have changed, I get it.” You rambled on, hugging your arms around yourself as you retreated. 

“I’d love to.” FP cut any more rambles from your mouth off. 

“Your ride or mine?” You asked, nodding towards the sheriff wagon across the street. 

FP chuckled and shook his head, 

“Mine.” He made his way to the car, and opened the door for you. 

The gesture was so small yet so large. Who was this man now? Has he changed much? His smile hasn’t changed. It never has. 

He had his radio on quietly, probably so he wouldn't miss any calls on the police satellite. You tend to be busy as the sheriff of the town called Riverdale. This crazy, surreal like town. 

“How’s Red handling it?” Fp asked,

“He, um, he went up to Cherry Creek last night. Arrived this morning to collect my dad. He didn't tell me or our mom. He just went with Jughead, Betty and Veronica and left. Called Mom this morning asking her to sign some paperwork so that dad could be released to Archie.” You stared out of the window as you spoke. The town floated by as if it hadn’t been bothered by Fred’s death. 

“He what?” FP furrowed his brow as he looked over at you for a moment. “That boy...” FP started but you finished it with a light chuckle and a ‘I know’. 

FP pulled off the main streets of Riverdale and toward the river. 

“So, what happened the last time you spoke to your old man? You said you didn’t speak to him for three weeks after that.” FP was careful to poke due to the sensitive topic but for some reason, you felt calm enough with him beside you. 

“Nothing. The usual, asking questions where I'm living, if I’m eating, have I met anyone? Have I got a job? But he kept talking about me coming to visit Riverdale now I was a little closer. He kept on about how much my Mom wants to see me and how happy it’d make Archie but... But I just didn’t know how to say that I didn’t want to come back yet.” You admitted honestly. 

FP’s car wheels came to a squeaky stop as he pulled into Sweetwater River. 

“I know it’s stupid and selfish and I should have come back when he asked. I mean he only wanted me to visit and now it’s too late. Now I can’t... He can’t... He’s not here.” You felt yourself crumble throughout the sentence and FP watched with tears in his own eyes. 

“Hey.” He pulled you towards him, hugging you tightly. “It’s not your fault. You had only just got the hell out of here.” FP tried to comfort you. 

You gripped onto his shirt as you buried your face into him. 

“We all should have spent more time with him. Life likes to play these dirty games with us.” FP could feel the pain radiating from your body. 

You seemed so small and fragile in his arms. You felt like the person you used to be right at the beginning of your relationship, when all you wanted to do was look after him and make sure he was alright. Now, he just wanted to make you feel alright. 

“I remember when Fred found out that he was having a baby girl. He couldn’t have been more excited and terrified at the same time.” FP laughed softly, “Little did he know that little girl would grow up to be one of the kindest, strongest and damn-near smartest women in this town. Fred knew you were beautiful in and out, (Y/n). He believed you could do anything you wanted to.” FP explained, trying his best to bring some happiness to the memory of your father. 

You pulled away slowly to look the man in the face. He took hold of your cheeks and tried to smile but you could see the sadness in his eyes. 

“And I can’t believe that little girl grew up to change my life. She used all of her kindness and strength on a hopeless drunk who couldn’t hold down a job.” There seemed to be a hint of regret in FP’s eyes. Not regret for the relationship but perhaps regret that he had dragged you alongside him for so long.

“That man has turned out to be the sheriff today. Ex-king of the Southside serpents and sober. He helped me find a backbone and gave me something to fight for.” You argued with his negative outlook. “My dad must've been so proud to see you as big dog in Riverdale.” 

FP lowered his eyes and shook his head with a smile. 

“He wouldn’t have been proud much longer if he found out that his best friend had been in love with his only daughter.” FP’s words seemed to fall from his lips in slow motions as you processed what he had said. 

You had no control over your body when you found your mouth meeting his, lifting his head back up. 

FP didn’t expect the gesture but welcomed it as one hand found the back of your neck and the other squeezed your waist. 

Your tongues danced together like two lost lovers had finally found each other again. 

You tried to lean forward to press your chest against his but the position of the car seats wouldn’t allow it. 

It was the police radio that interrupted you both, a deputy calling for ‘Sheriff Jones’ to return as there was new information on the Fred Andrews case. 

You fell apart as quickly as you came together. 

You shot your eyes down to your feet as you tried to catch your breath. 

Fp stayed silent as he panted beside you. 

The car came alive as he cleared his throat, pulling out of the famous riverside and back onto the main road. 

You both remained silent until you pulled into the station. 

Your skin felt like it was on fire from the passionate kiss but the news about the case overtook your thoughts.

You both rushed into the station and to the sheriff’s office where FP picked up the phone, dialling the Cherry Creek police. 

You sat in the rigid uncomfortable chair opposite FP’s desk and bit down on your thumb nail as you waited anxiously. 

You sat up in anticipation as FP hung up the phone. 

“So?” You asked, your voice was soft, almost a whisper. 

“The guy that hit Fred. He turned himself in this morning.” FP informed you, dialling a number on his cellphone. 

“So they’ve got him? He’s off the roads?” 

“He, uh, he made bail. He’s been released. It’s just how these things go sometimes.” FP could see the anger on your face when he said that the guy was released. 

“But he killed my dad.” You felt sick knowing the man who killed your father was out walking around. 

“And he’ll get justice for it.” FP said it in a way that you immediately it was a promise than a statement. 

“I’m gonna call Red. Go ahead and inform your mother.” FP instructs you and you do as you’re told. Telling her only what you know. 

When you returned to the office from taking the call outside, you could see the worry on FP’s face. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, 

“Your brother. I think he’s gonna try and take justice into his own hands. I’m trying to get through to Jughead now.” FP held up his phone. 

When Jughead finally answered, FP told him everything and Jughead said he’d take care of it. 

“Jug will get to him. Archie might be mad but if they get to him first then no one should get hurt.” You tried to be optimistic. You didn’t want Archie starting a fight he might not win. Who knows who this guy is! 

FP leant back in his chair and ran a hand over his face the way he usually does when he’s stressed. 

“For some reason, it doesn’t feel real.” You murmured as you folded your arms across your chest and moved yourself in front of FP. Leaning back against his desk, standing between his legs. 

“I keep thinking that I’ll go home and his truck will be there. He’ll be stood in the kitchen, buried in some paperwork with a beer bottle in his hand. He’ll moan at me for staying out so late and we’ll argue about how I’m an adult. But at the end of the night, he’ll still be leaning in bedroom doorway to say goodnight.” You didn’t realise you were crying against until the salty tears found your lips. 

“This town’s not gonna be the same without him.” FP met your eyes with his own glassy ones. 

“I didn’t tell him I loved him in three weeks.” You broke. 

Fp rose to his feet and his hands squeezed your upper arms as he tried to get you to look at him. 

“You didn’t need to say it. He already knew.” FP embraced you once again and you relaxed once more. 

“Look, while you were on the phone to your mom, I got a call from Cheryl. She has this whole parade planned for when Archie returns with Fred. A special way to honour him and I gotta be the one to stop Archie from going straight into town. We’re gonna give him a police escort and let the town say goodbye.” FP thought the idea would give you something to look forward to. Something to be apart of. 

“This town really loved him, huh?” You wiped at your nose and smiled sadly. 

“Yes, they did. Now, if you’ll have me, I’d like for you to ride in the wagon with me out front.” FP knew it was a risky move but he knew you’d appreciate it. 

You nodded your head, letting another tear slip from your eye. 

FP caught it with his thumb. 

The next thing you knew your lips were gently pressing against his. 

Fp nor you could fight these feelings. Fp knew that if Alice or Jughead’s mom found out.... His thoughts seemed to disappear when your hands caressed his arms, leading up to your neck. 

He deepened the kiss, closing the small space between you by lifting you up onto his desk. He fitted nicely between your legs and you arched your back against him as he kissed down your neck. 

You internally rejoiced when you noticed the blinds on the office door were shut. Hopefully prompting anyone who needed to enter to knock. 

You straightened back up to reclaim his lips as his hands moved up your shirt to your chest. 

“FP.” You whispered, your hands were on his belt buckle but you didn’t make any movements to loosen it yet. 

The pain of the past couple days seemed to melt away at the touch of one another. You were like each others morphine. 

FP took the hint and yanked at your jeans, pulling them down your thighs to your ankles. You clawed at his belt, hissing when he brought you forward and sank his teeth into your shoulder. 

You threw off your top and fixated your arms around the older man. 

He could feel your want on the outside of your panties. 

A moan escaped as his fingers brushed your sex as he moved your panties to one side. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve needed this. You.” FP spoke against your skin as he pressed himself inside you. 

You threw your head back for a moment before resting your forehead on the man’s shirt.

Fp lifted you slightly to get a better angle as he thrusted in and out of you. 

He felt so good that the world around you seemed to become white. 

“Fuck.” FP snarled as you rolled your hips against his. 

His name left your lips as you both picked up the pace. You could feel yourself drawing close to climax already. 

His hand buried itself in your hair and tugged as you bit down on your lip to stay quiet. Your cheek burned against his with the friction of his beard and the heat from you both.

With your bodies moulded together, the desperation of a release built. 

You bit down on his shoulder as you unravelled, throbbing around him which only brought his release closer. 

You let go of his shoulder and silently cursed at the wet teeth mark you left on his khaki shirt but you quickly forgot as he pulled his length from you and emptied his seed over your thigh. 

He rested his forehead against you as you both caught your breath. You were glad you tore off your shirt as you were coated in a thin layer of sweat. 

FP reached over to the box of tissues in the office and began cleaning up his mess.

He looked up from your thighs to catch something he had forgotten about on your shoulder. 

A very obvious ‘M’ was scarred in your beautiful skin. 

You watched him stare at you with a twisted look of pain. His thumb ran over the mark which made you flinch away slightly. 

It was just a horrid reminder of what nearly happened that night. However, you refused to cover it with a tattoo as it also reminded you that you survived it. 

You slid off the desk to tug up your jeans and scoop up your t-shirt. 

You cringed slightly as you realised what you had done. You had thrown away your dad’s shirt to fuck his life long best friend on the sheriff’s desk. 

FP must've noticed your face pale as he asked if you were okay. 

You could hear his belt being done up and you muttered a swift apology about his shirt before turning the handle on the door. 

“Hey! Wait!” FP called after you but you tried to escape the building as fast as you could. 

As soon as you were out the station doors and the warm summer air hit you, you started sprinting. 

You ran until your legs ached and when you finally stopped. 

You were at the play park. 

It wasn’t too busy considering what the day was. 

You sat down on an empty swing and took a moment to catch your breath. 

“I’m sorry, Dad.” You looked up at the sky as you spoke. You didn’t know whether you were happy he never found out about the affair or sad because all you did was lie to him for years.

The internal conflict you had only worsened the pain you felt. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” The voice was enough to almost make you groan audibly. 

“Don’t think anyone did.” You pressed your lips into a thin line as Alice approached you. 

“No. I mean in the park. Of course, you’d come home for your fathers funeral.” Alice looked like she had been crying but her words were stable enough. 

You didn't respond. 

“I’m sorry for your loss, (y/n). Fred Andrews was one of the best men this town ever knew.” Alice stated.

“Yeah, thanks.” You pushed yourself off the swing and started to stride away from the woman when she caught your wrist. 

“Hey, you need anything you let me know? You and Archie are as much family to me as my own.” Alice sent you a sympathetic smile and you couldn’t help but remember all the times you’d play with Polly and Betty at their house. 

“Thank you, Alice.” You softened your words before turning to leave again. 

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)!” Not long after you left the park you heard a man calling your name. 

You faced the direction of the call to see FP shutting his car door to come towards you. 

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Archie’s almost back.” FP announced. 

“We better head to the edge of town then.” You brushed past his shoulder to enter the car. 

“Hey.” FP took hold of your wrist and made you look at him. “What happened?” 

“I just... I’m wearing my dad’s shirt today. It smells like him. I threw to the side to be close with you and when I picked it up... I couldn’t help but think about how much I’ve lied to him. How many lies I told and how many secrets I kept.”

“Sometimes we have to keep things from others to keep them from getting hurt.” FP’s eyes darkened at the mention of your secret relationship. 

“There’s just so much I never said.” You sighed, closing your eyes to prevent any more tears. 

“Fred knew all of the important stuff you needed to say. We all kept a few secrets and lied to your old man, that’s the way it is in this town. We can forgive ourselves for it or we can let it turn you into a sour old drunk that can’t even feed his kids.” Fp’s eyes flashed with regret and sadness from his past mistakes. 

Your throat was locked shut so you just nodded your head. 

“Let’s go get your old man.” Fp opened the car door and you followed. 

You didn’t have to wait long on the side of the road before Archie emerged in a hearse with your dad’s truck, driven by Betty and Jughead, behind him. 

Fp pushed himself off the front of the car where you both had sat to wait, you lifted your head from his shoulder to watch him stand and raise his hand to slow Archie down. 

“Everything all right, Mr. Jones?”

“Everything's good, Red. I, uh, heard what you, and Jug, and the girls were up to, and I wanted to be a part of it. I'd like to give your dad a police escort the rest of the way home, if you're okay with that. He deserves it.”

“Yes, sir.” Archie looked past Fp to you. You smiled as much as you could manage and quickly wiped away any water escaping your eyes. 

“All right. Follow me then.” Fp leaving Archie’s side gave you the signal to climb into the wagon. 

As you drove towards town, you couldn’t help but hold FP’s hand. He held onto you tightly and gave your hand a tight squeeze here and there when he caught you getting emotional again. 

“He’d be so happy to see you home.” Fp told you. 

“I know.” You agreed. 

That's when the parade became clear ahead. 

You smiled as you cried silently to the cheers and appraisal your father was getting. 

You couldn’t help but laugh as the Serpents all cheered loudly as you passed. You blew them all a kiss as a thank you. 

You didn’t stop crying until you pulled up in front of the house. 

All the signs and familiar faces tore at your heart and made you think about how well known Fred actually was. 

He changed a lot of people’s lives and you were so thankful he was always apart of yours; as your father. 

As Archie exited the hearse, you opened your own door. 

You rushed to his side and wrapped an arm around his waist as he approached your mother. 

“I couldn't leave him there, Mom.” Archie confessed, taking both you and your mom into a tight embrace

“I know.” Your mom said as she snivelled repeatedly. 

“I brought Dad home.” Archie looked between you and your mother. You only smiled and tucked yourself under his arm. 

“You did. You sure did. I'm so proud of you. I know he would be, too.” Your mom gushed, Archie pulled her back into the group hug and you all just stayed there for a minute. 

Fp watched from a distance as you hugged your family and he knew that things would never be the same in Riverdale ever again. He once thought that when he saw you leaving but now, now he knew that he truly meant it.

“Hey, I found something in Dad’s truck.” Archie parted from the hug and dug into his pocket. 

What he pulled out was a photo of you, Archie and your dad. All together. Happy. 

You laughed weakly as you stepped towards your bike, pulling up the seat to get into the under compartment. 

You put your hand into a small bag inside and out came the exact photo but more crinkled and torn. It has travelled with you always. 

“I can’t believe he’s gone, Arch.” 

“I know. Me either.” Your brother buried you in his chest and it wasn't the first time you felt like the younger sibling between the two of you. 

The funeral didn’t take too long to put together and before you knew it, the casket was being walked towards you and your mother at the graveyard. 

You watched your mother press a kiss against the closed casket as she lay her rose on top. 

You were shaking when you found the courage to step forward yourself. 

You wrapped your arms around the casket and pressed your cheek against the cold wood, letting your tears hit it below. 

“I love you, Dad.” You were heartbroken. Here lay Fred Andrews, never to be seen again. Not outside of pictures or videos. 

Archie had to be the one to come forward and move you along as the crowd watched with agony in their hearts. 

“And now... Fred's son, Archie, would like to say a few words.” 

You watched Archie take the podium with more strength than you could even muster that day.

“‘Uh, earlier I was thinking... on the drive over here... how much of Riverdale my dad built... or just fixed up. Houses, office buildings... A bit of everything. He helped build this town. And one day if I'm lucky enough to have a son or a daughter of my own... I'll be able to point to a building or even just a brick in the building, and say, "Your grandpa made that... with his hands."” Archie paused, you smiled at the idea of a little Archie running around Riverdale.

“It's the 4th of July. I remember this one th... it was raining. The fireworks show was canceled, and, uh, I was so bummed, I remember sitting in the backyard just bawling... Until my dad came home with all these fireworks. I mean, enough to burn our house down, you remember that, (Y/n)? Mom?” 

You and your mother nodded with a smile as she took your hand. 

“And, uh... we lit them in the backyard, it was just... it was the best night. My dad was here for every high and every low. He's the greatest man I've ever known. It hurts me that I never got to say goodbye. That I won't get to see him again or talk to him. But his spirit and his memory lives on... in this town, and in everyone he's met. Fred Andrews will always be a part of Riverdale. I love you so much, Dad.” Archie finished his speech and you felt like you couldn't even move. 

You felt horrible that you couldn’t say anything but you could barely get a word out without breaking down completely. 

Once the funeral was over and you had returned to your childhood home, you went upstairs and draped one of your dad’s flannels over your shoulders and your dress.

“I miss you, Daddy.” You curled up on his side of the bed and buried your face into the sleeves of the flannel. 

Archie could see you from the hall and he considered comforting you but the sight of you so broken was too much for him to bare at that moment. 

You knew you couldn’t stay in Riverdale without Fred being there. 

You knew you couldn't even stay a week just to stay with Archie. 

You had spent so much time in the past fighting to stay in the town but now all it held was memories of your pain. 

You returned to your room after what felt like hours, you must’ve fallen asleep at some point as you felt groggy when you finally lifted yourself up to gather your things together. 

“You’re not staying for the fireworks?” Your mom appeared at your door. 

“I can’t.” You tried to keep yourself composed. “I can’t, Mom. I can’t be here without him. He was always there. Always. When you left, when I'd fight against him, when I left. He was always right here.” 

“I understand.” Your mom surprised you with her answer and even more with her hug. She kissed you on the cheek and pressed a smile onto her lips. 

“I love you so much. Please don’t be a stranger in the future.” She begged, 

You kissed her forehead as she lowered her head. 

“I promise I won’t.” 

As you moved away, you noticed she had changed and redone her makeup. 

Archie was downstairs from what you could see from the top of the stairs and he too was dressed up. 

You descended with your mothers hand in yours and your bag in the other. 

“We’re about to start...” Archie’s words trailed off when he saw you were holding your bag. 

“I’ve got to go. I’ll visit you real soon little brother.” You placed your bag down as Archie watched. 

“Already?” Archie pouted, 

“I have too. We all have our ways of coping. I can’t move past this if I stay here. I can’t stay here without him.” You were honest with your little brother. 

You awaited an explosion but Archie followed in your moms footsteps and simply hugged you. 

“Promise me this isn’t the last time I’m going to see you.” Archie whispered against my ear. 

“I promise.” You kissed his cheek and pulled away. “Tell the others it was good t see them.” You didn’t want to deal with any more goodbyes. 

“I will. You ready?” He turned back to his mom and she said she was. 

You didn’t stay to watch them head out to the garden to watch the fireworks.

You put on your helmet and mounted your bike. 

As you drove away, you smiled as you saw the fireworks in your wing mirror. 

At the end of the road you noticed FP’s sheriff car parked and FP dressed in his usual get up of jeans and a flannel. 

“Didn't think you could skip town again without a goodbye.” FP smirked as you stopped your bike. 

“How’d you know I’d leave tonight?” You rose your voice enough to be heard over the fireworks. 

“’Cause...”  He shrugged and swaggered towards you. 

“You think you can just smile at me and everything will be alright?” You removed your helmet as you spoke. 

“I wanted to tell you something. Something I should have said a long time ago.” Fp only grew closer to you. 

“I’m all ears, Sheriff Jones.” 

“I loved you, (Y/n). I always loved you. You were this unexpected gift that came into my life and kicked the crap out of the old me. You taught me what it was like to feel again. You were better than any drink I had ever had.” FP began to confess to you. “I know I didn’t deserve you and I know we can never be together in the way I wanted to but those many months of my life with you by my side. My Serpent Queen. They were some of the best days of––”

You kissed the man after hearing the words you had always wanted to hear. 

You knew he loved you that time ago but he never said. Never told you. 

“I loved you too, FP Jones.” You let your lips part from his slowly as you breathed out the words. 

“Keep on fighting. You’re stronger than you know.” FP pressed his forehead against yours as he looked into your eyes. 

Those eyes. Those hypnotic eyes. 

“Stay out of trouble. Don’t make me come back and kick your ass back into shape.” You half-kidded. 

FP sighed and kissed you once more. 

“I’m forever yours, FP Jones.” You let the man know as you backed away from him back towards your bike. 

He watched you climb back on but before you replaced your helmet he remembered something...

“Wait.” FP pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and as he got closer with a slow jog, you realised it was the polaroid. “It’s your turn to keep it.” 

You took the photo without any fight and tucked it into your jacket. 

“Look after yourself, Jones.”  You brushed your lips against his as you held his cheeks between your fingers. 

“Don’t break too many hearts, (Y/n) Andrews.” FP took a step back. 

“Can't make that promise.” You winked. The only heart that ever mattered to you was his. 

You revved your engine as you finally rode away. 

Watching the man only disappear in your mirror as the fireworks only continued. 

The End. 

AN: That’s a wrap folks. I hope you enjoyed this story and I hope this ending wasn’t too awful for you all. I want to say that I hope all of you are safe and doing well. I hope those who are rioting are staying safe and protecting themselves. This chapter is dedicated to Luke Perry may he rest in peace. Goodnight my lovely readers and thank you once again for reading. 

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[am-imagines]

Legendary 4.5 Morgan!Reader.

Being up at night is kinda your thing. It was like that even before everything.

Still, things became worse after the accident. Sometimes you lay awake in bed, feeling lost and unable to breathe. You don’t really cry, but the pain consumes you like a fire until your lungs burn. It’s then you wish with everything you are to wake up, to be in a world where she’s still there. It hasn’t happened yet.

Sometimes you wake up gasping, the remnants of a nightmare mixing with the real world in a blurry mess. The pain turns into rage, endless anger against the world. Those nights you need to walk or work out  in order to avoid the downward spiral. Many times you’ve stared into the abyss, fully conscious that a bad decision can take away whatever is left from you.

Finally, there are nights like tonight. You wake up and the world is too quiet while your mind is too loud. Your phone says it’s barely past two am. You only managed a couple hours of sleep and exhaustion is still very much present. Nor a surprise really, but you won’t be able to sleep again. There’s practice in the morning so unless you find a way to rest, things don’t look particularly exciting.

“Scoot over.”

“What?”

Your head snaps up towards the voice of your best friend. You can only see her silhouette in the darkness of the room. There’s no need to see her face to know she’s rolling her eyes at you with your lack of understanding.

“Move, Morgan. I’m not gonna stand here all night.”

Apparently, your body complies before your mind can process exactly what Janice wants. You move and she slips under the covers, pulling you close to her before you can try to complain. This is something you haven’t done in a long time; a hand on your waist is enough for your shoulders to relax a bit and you sigh in contentment.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper after a second, “didn’t mean to wake you up.”

A scoff is the thing you get as an answer. Janice knows you don’t do it to bother her. There are some things you can’t control, and she has always been there to make it better one way or another. Her slight annoyance is at your need to apologize, to take the blame for things you can’t be blamed for.

Still, she holds you tighter.

Your bad sleeping habits aren’t something new, but they haven’t been this bad in a long time. So, she worries. She does so because Janice is your best friend; you’ve been attached by the hip since you were born and it’s no wonder she knows you better than anyone else.

“What’s going on, Y/n?” She asks quietly.

Right then and there it’s the two of you with no one else to judge you. You’re safe and comfortable enough to open up to her, to share what’s in your mind and the things that make your heart heavy.

“I’m trying to let go.”

At some point everything you’ve been bottling up was bound to come crashing down on you. Crying on Sonnett’s shoulder can’t fix everything, you’re aware of that. But it’s a breaking point, the realization that you can’t keep going as you were without it taking a toll on you.

You built walls to protect yourself, to not feel the pain even when you were choking on it. And instead of keeping the sorrow out, you were drowning on it.

Your team came knocking on the door then. They threw you a lifesaver and opened a window to let all of that pour out. Taking care of the aftermath is on you, to put the broken things back in place and get rid of those that simply can’t be fixed.

It’s not easy, but it’s necessary.

Trying to process your emotions during the World Cup is perhaps the worst timing. It messes up your already screwed sleeping schedule, but well, it’s not always too bad. You’re learning things about yourself you didn’t know before, and rediscover those you forgot.

You’re becoming a better you instead of the shell you were so adamant on being.

You weren’t alone after Alex died, but the place you had considered your home was nothing more than a house. Suddenly, soccer was the sport Alex loved and little more. Sure, it was an escape, but also a prison; leaving you stuck between a rock and a hard place.

You want the world to see you as more than just her daughter. At the same time, you don’t want them to forget her. Not when she did so much to inspire a revolution for equal pay, respect and overall appreciation for the sport. Not when her name is associated with the highest honors; world cups and Olympic medals, golden balls and boots and MVP’s.

Not when she means everything to you.

“You don’t have to let it all go.”

Some things might not be perfect now or ever, but they’re still worth holding onto.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“I know it’ll take some time still, but...you’re alright, Y/n. I promise.”

You mean to keep the conversation going, instead you yawn and rest your head on Janice’s shoulder. If her arm gets numb, she’s gonna have to shut it, or unceremoniously shove you off at seven am as you realize when you wake up abruptly.

You only open your eyes long enough to glare at her.

“Jerk,” you mutter lovingly.

“Go back to sleep, Morgan,” she retorts with a good natured laugh.

It’s a very, very, tempting offer, but you fight it off for another second.

“Thank you.”

Your words are almost silent, but you know she heard you when she pats your head. You’re already half asleep when you hear her answer.

“Got you.”

*****

“Oh my God! Is this how a fully rested Y/n is like?” Janice pants while trying to keep up.

“Yup.”

After practice ended, you stayed behind with one of the coaches for some extra work. Then Janice decided to join along with Press, Long and Krash. Before you knew it, the whole team had additional training. However, all but Janice yielded at the forty-five minute mark; too tired to keep going.

“I’m so not sleeping with you again then.”

“You could’ve left with the others,” you taunt.

“As if. Someone has to keep you in check here. Otherwise you’ll work out till tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

You doubt anyone can last that long, but you’re one of those that would probably try. It’s not the hill you wanna die on so you smile sheepishly at Janice when she makes another remark.

“Last five minutes?” You ask.

“Yes! Thank God!”

You can’t help but laugh at Janice’s antics. She’s still her usual self, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You slow down in those last minutes, to get your breathing and heartbeat slowed down gradually before stopping.

“We should visit the zoo.”

“Pretty sure I’ll only be visiting my bed after this.”

“Not today, you moron.” You say rolling your eyes. “But you know, next day off?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Finally getting off the stationary bike, you stretch before downing the rest of your water battle.

“Come on. It’s time for the ice bath.”

“Hasn’t this been torture enough?” Janice asks dramatically.

“Hurry up, O’Hara. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

“If I don’t kill you first.”

“Oh, shut up. You love me.”

“Sadly.”

*****

“This is the most challenging match this team will face in the group stage. Germany was a tough challenge, but going against the host of this World Cup will tell us the chances to advance through the next round. Australia has grown while the USA went to less, and they’re the contenders for the title. If the USWNT wants to win it all, they have to go through this team first.”

“We must also consider the player rotation the USWNT will have on this game. That will certainly add to an already complicated game.”

Your heart beats along with the music in your earphones. It’s a way to keep your nerves at bay before you can finally make it out of the locker room. You’re on the bench for the day, but that doesn’t dwell your excitement of the game.

“Listen, guys!” Sonnet calls as you group around her and Pinoe. “We know the Aussies are good but so was Germany. So was Brazil, but we got the results we wanted. This won’t be different. We’re part of the group of death, and we’re conquering.”

All of you nod and cheer in agreement while Pinoe takes the lead.

It’s wild to say but you’re the underdog of this competition. However, this position allows you to be the dark horse.

No one expected you to win the first two games.

No one expects you to win against Australia.

No one really believes that you can win the World Cup. Not yet.

But you’re here, ready to fight to the last minute and the last breath.

“You already know what you gotta do on the field, now it’s time to do it.”

Five minutes later the team has elected Krash as the captain once again. With one last cheer, the starting lineup make their way to the tunnel while the rest of you head to the bench.

   “The final fixture of the group phase is here! And what a match it is. I think we can all agree that not having Morgan in the line-up is a surprise. Even with the much needed rotation on a tournament this important, you’d expect to see their best scorer on the field.”

“If there’s nothing stopping Y/n from playing, she should be in the game. Australia is far from an easy match, and maybe this is a sign of overconfidence from the USWNT. Their group is the group of death and even when they’re practically through with a tie here, they can’t get complacent now.”

“There’s only one way to find out. Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for some soccer!”

The pace of the game is fast, so fast that some players can barely keep up.

Australia is the home team, they have all the advantages here, but even when they press high and seem to have the USWNT team cornered, they can’t get anything past Harris.

The goalie proves time and time again why she’s the captain. She brings security to the back of the field, and it’s there where everything begins. The defense get their heads on the game, stand tall to every onslaught and soon enough just a few balls make it through; none of them dangerous.

Then, the midfield does the same, pressing and recovering before launching forward. The game generation starts in a moment’s notice, guided by Sonnett giving instructions from the sideline. Everyone follows the plan, and soon enough they’re playing at top level.

Australia can’t get close enough, but neither can the USA.

At some point, Megan calls you to sit next to her. You do so without a word and for a long moment neither of you say anything. You watch the game in content silence.

“You remind me a lot of her,” she suddenly says.

The unexpectedness of her words forms a knot on your throat and you have to swallow harshly. Pinoe pretends not to notice, giving you a moment to compose yourself. She rarely talks about Alex; this is hard on her too. You can see it in the way her jaw clenches.

“It’s not just how you look or how you play. I know Harris is the captain, but you’re the heart. You help your team when they need it most, and they listen to you. More than that, they believe what you say.”

You listen silently, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion, but it’s the good kind of emotion.

“Alex had this fierceness in her, not a bad bitch like Kelley,” she adds, making you chuckle. “But she had a fire about her. Sure, we all wanted to win every game. But not like her. I was there in her first World Cup and I knew, I just knew, she would be something special. And I’m sure she would have been so, so proud of you. You have that same fire, Y/n. And just like I was in her first, I am in yours. You’re also meant to do great things, something special.”

“Coach, I...”

But you have no words. You struggle not to break down in the middle of the match, but you manage. Barely.

“Don’t care about what the fucking world tells you, kid. You are every bit her daughter. But you’re also every bit yourself.”

Those two concepts are not exclusive, you can be both. You are her legacy, but that doesn’t stop you from creating your own. It starts here, with this World Cup. You have to prove, not to others, but yourself, that this is where you want to be.

No, this is where you belong.

“Whatever happens, you’ll enter at the sixtieth. After half time, you’re up to warm up right away, understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now, let’s keep pushing.”

*****

“That’s the end of the first half! It’s been a rocky game so far. Australia is a very competitive team. They have speed, agility, and a lot of talent on their ranks. But I think we’re seeing a USWNT that knows how to play each match. Even without Y/n on the field, they were able to keep the game even.  I see potential on this team, but will it be enough to win it all?”

“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. They’re not losing, but they’re not winning either. There’s still forty-five minutes to go, and several matches on this World Cup if they want to do something really meaningful. There’s a long road ahead if they wanna be anything like the Golden Team.”

You take a deep breath once it’s your time to warm up.

The rest of the world fades away as you crack your neck and Janice soon joins you to start. You’ll be the first two substitutions. You wanna strengthen the midfield and push forward with absolutely everything you have.

Maybe Alex isn’t physically there, but she’s in everything that ultimately makes you, you.

You warm up and remember when you joined your first little league team, with Alex holding your hand as you jumped around in excitement. You remember your first cleats with the same colors you wear now; a Christmas gift that made your eyes shine with awe.

You remember training with her when you had an important match in highschool and going out for dinner no matter the result.

Alex always had your back and now it’s not different; her number is now yours. As yours is the responsibility to continue what she started more than two decades ago.

She gives you strength and when you finally wait by the sideline to enter the game, you let go of the fear. You let go of the anger and even most of the pain.

It becomes a dull ache that you doubt will ever go away completely. But it’s better than the overwhelming grief you’ve carried on your shoulders all this time. You let go of the doubts and accept that they’re looking at you hoping to see a bit of the magic she had.

You’re not completely sure if it’s the same even after Rapinoe words. But you have magic, not just as individual players but as a team, and you’re here to prove it.

You look at Australia and don’t see them as the host anymore.

This is the World Cup. This turf is your home. You came here to stay until the end. And it wouldn’t matter if the World Cup was in Russia, South Africa, Japan or Argentina. The World Cup is your place. Soccer is your language, and lucky for you, is universal.

“Morgan has entered the game. What can she do with limited time?”

Australia’s defense is solid like a wall.

You…you are a wrecking ball.

A fistbump is exchanged with Janice and you take your place waiting for action to resume with a corner kick in their favor.

The whistle blows and the ball soars straight into Krash hands. You exchange a look and a nod with her before rushing up.

You enjoy the rush of adrenaline, pat one of your teammate’s shoulders on your way to the midfield and they understand to follow as you run past them. It’s something simple, quick and effective that draws the entire team into action.

The best way to wreck their defense is to use their offense against them. A high speed counter attack and they have no time to react. You see Long with the ball on the far right, she sees you on the left and you know exactly what’s going to happen.

Her pass is flawless as you enter the box from the left into your mother’s favorite definition zone. You see the last defender get lost in the play while the goalkeeper tries to close the angle. And she closes it, if you were to shoot with the right foot.

However, your mother had a saying.

Practice the left.

The goalkeeper has zero chance to stop the ball as it finds its way into the net.

  “That’s a goal! And what a goal it was. A magnificent shot from Morgan that could simply not be stopped.”

“She had created the space, and she didn’t waste it. It was a fantastic play from end to end that gave Australia no time to react. And I think we all saw a goal in true Morgan fashion with the first ball Y/n touches after being subbed in. With only fifteen minutes to play, I feel that this team is close to being group leaders.”

“What will this mean for them?”

“In the big picture? Little. But it’s a better chance facing the next round. They have some big names, and they got some big results. However, for a team with so much story as the USWNT, nothing but the title of Champions can be considered a Victory.”

“Do you think they have what it’s needed?”

“...Maybe.”

The team is all around you in a matter of seconds and you jump into Harry’s arms. Her assist was just sublime and you wouldn’t have had a chance otherwise. So you hug her tightly while everyone else cheers.

It’s just one goal, but in a game that has been so close and with little opportunities, it can very much mean securing the last three points.

But you keep pushing. You keep trying. There’s no way you’ll leave victory to chance when you’re close enough to grab it with both hands.

In the end, one goal is enough. The game ends and you get the win to go into the next round as group leaders. More than that, you feel like titans in a world of heroes. You’re ready for the glory, and there’s absolutely nothing and no one that can get in your way.

[justcourttee]

I Won’t Try Again-Pt 32

Marinette was fighting for her life, the vine creatures swamping her, wave after wave.

“C’mon Beloved, we can make it out. Just push a little further.”

She couldn’t see the man but at the sound of his voice, she felt herself surge with strength. Row and row of the vines fell until she was standing knee deep in their bodies.

“Well down Marinette. I believe this calls for a celebration.”

Turning, she came face to face with a handsome man, his green eyes glistening with pride as he cupped her cheek, pulling her forward. Their lips were a centimeter away when a piercing pain knocked her backwards. Tears formed, sitting at the edge of her lashes as she looked down to find a vine sticking through her chest. Her eyes traveled back to meet the man’s, but he was nowhere to be found.

“Hold on shortie, Don’t die on me now.”

A dark haired woman appeared, helping the girl lower herself to the ground. Marinette tried to ask her what was happening, but it was as if someone had stolen her voice, only whimpers of pain escaped her mouth.

“Marinette. Marinette! No, no, no, please don’t go.”

She felt the warmth as the woman pulled her into her lap, her tears hitting Marinette’s forehead. Fear coursed through the girl as she felt the life slowly draining from her.

“I don’t want to die.” It pained her to talk, but it seemed to be the only thing she could say.

“Beloved, it’s too late. Just let go.” The man appeared once more, offering his hand to the woman, pulling her from the ground and into a hug. They both turned away, leaving the girl alone in a pile of vines.

“I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.”

“Honey, please wake up. You’re scaring me.”

Marinette darted awake, gripping her chest, a sob tearing through her room.

“Oh, baby. It’s just a dream, you’re okay.”

Sabine gathered the girl’s shaking frame into her arms, allowing her tears to soak her night gown.

“It felt so real Maman. I thought I was gonna die.”

Sabine stroked her daughter’s hair, trying her best to get the girl to calm down. After she had revealed her double life, the woman was always sure to stay on alert for these night terrors.  Marinette’s phone buzzed softly on her pillow, causing the girl to pull away to reach for it. Looking at the time, she frowned, putting the phone to her ear.

“Alya?” Her voice was still shaky from the dream, but it began to fill with worry. It was three in the morning, something had to be terribly wrong.

“Marinette?” The tears were obvious in the girl’s voice, Marinette could hear Alya choking back her own tears as she waited for an answer.

“Are you okay Alya?”

“It’s really you, oh god, Mari-” She cut herself off again, her crying becoming louder and choppier.

“Alya, Are you at the apartment? I’m coming over right now.”

She shared a knowing look with her mother as she moved to climb down the ladder. Alya didn’t respond, her crying turned into sobs, so loud that it surprised Marinette that neither of the boys were woken. Slipping on her shoes, Marinette gently woke Tikki, opening her bag for the kwamii to fly into.

“I’m on my way, I’ll be there in 5.”

She didn’t hang up as she pulled her mom in a tight hug, promising to be home in time for dinner.

“Marinette, Honey?”

“Yes Maman?”

“Happy Birthday Baby”

Marinette flashed her a smile, blowing her a kiss from the doorframe.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

In no time, she found herself in front of her best friend's apartment, unsure as whether to knock.

“Alya? You still there? I’m standing outside.”

She heard some shuffling from the other side of the door as her phone line went dead. Slowly the door creaked open, Alya’s red eyes peeking through the crack.

“Alya?”

The door flew open as the girl crashed into Marinette.

“It worked, oh my god, it worked. You’re here, you’re really here.”

Her tears soaked the girl’s shoulder, crushing her in a tight hug. Marinette tried to rub her back in a comforting manner, she was clearly wasted, it had to be the only explanation.

“Let’s go inside, okay?”

Alya nodded, loosening her grip. Marinette made sure to close the door, locking up, before turning back to face her friend. Silent tears still fell from her eyes, her smile borderline hysterical as she grabbed Marinette’s hand, pulling her onto the couch with her.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you. I didn’t think it would work but here we are. It’s your birthday again.”

The designer shook her head, giving Alya’s hand a light squeeze.

“Alya, what are you talking about?”

The girl gave her a cautious look, pulling her knees into her chest.

“Marinette, I need you to keep an open mind here. When I told Nino, he brushed it off to only being a bad dream, but it’s more than that. It actually happened, I’m sure of it.”

It was Marinette’s turn to give the girl a cautious look as she nodded. With a deep sigh, Alya pushed her glasses up her nose, looking at the ground.

“You died Marinette. I saw the vine pierce your chest, I held your dead body, I watched the life drain from your eyes. You died.”

Her eyes began to water again as she choked on her sentence. Marinette opened her mouth, but Alya shook her head, swallowing hard before she continued.

“I know how it sounds, but it happened.  Your birthday passed, you took a job in Gotham that I secretly applied for, you met your soulmate, Adrien met his, you became Lady Rouge and when we attended the Gala near the end of your six-week trial, a Gotham Rogue attacked and you sacrificed yourself to save your soulmate.”

Her breathing was slow and laboured as she tried to avoid breaking down again.

“Alya,” Marinette tried to keep her voice level, she really didn’t want to set the girl off again. “If all that happened, why don’t I remember it? How am I sitting in front of you?”

“Sass! The kwamii said it wasn’t sure how far back we’d get sent, just that you would be alive! They also said some of us would lose all recolation of the account, which is why Nino doesn’t believe me! I promise, ask Tikki!”

The kwamii flew from Marinette’s bag, a perplexed look on its face.

“Alya could be right Marinette. I feel like something is unbalanced, like the time stream was messed with. Something new was created, a second chance.”

“But that would mean, the universe would take someone else in place of me, to keep the balance?”

The kwamii shook its head, a thoughtful look passing it’s face.

“Not necessarily, not with Sass’ ability. There is always a balance to the universe, but Sass’ scale is not as large as mine or Plagg’s.”

A sick feeling settled over Marinette’s stomach. Her face slowly paleing as she replayed Alya’s words.

“I had a dream Alya, before you called. A man with dark hair and green eyes and there were vines, vines were everywhere.” Her voice dropped as it all connected. “A vine pierced my chest.”

Alya nodded, slowly uncurling herself to face her friend. She opened up her arms, allowing the small girl to fall into them. It was Alya’s turn to comfort her friend as her breathing began to accelerate to the near point of hyperventilating. Her blue eyes were wide, tears flowing down her cheeks. Panic rolled off of her in waves as she gripped Alya’s arm for support.

“Focus on your breathing Marinette, you can do this. Four seconds in, eight seconds out. Four seconds in, eight seconds out.”

Within twenty minutes, both girls sat in silence, no more tears left to cry. Marinette curled into Alya’s side, adjusting her head to look at the girl’s face.

“Is he nice?” Her voice was soft, almost hesitant as she waited for her friend to answer.

“He is very generous, he didn’t throw his money around, but used it in a subtle way to make you feel special.”

Marinette nodded, the green eyes from her dreams burned in the front of her mind.

“Tell me more.”

“He loved you so much, even if it took him forever to realize it. He wanted to help people, he’s a vigilante in Gotham. He was way too smart for his own good, but only came off as condescending when provoked. He-”

Marinette closed her eyes, making a mental list of everything Alay said. She met her soulmate and lost him in less than six weeks, it was a cruel joke.

“What’s his name?”

“Damian Wayne.”

Both girl’s returned to the silence, lost in their separate thoughts. After a while, they both settled into the comfort of each other, slowly drifting back to sleep, both wondering the same thing. What happens now? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  

Marinette stared at her wrist, rereading her new phrase over and over again as she leaned against the bakery counter. Alya had told her what her original words were, even explained the misconception behind them. It seemed like a lost memory to Marinette as she stared at the beautiful script. With a sigh, she picked up the broom, continuing to sweep the bakery floor.

She had just finished when the door opened, the bell sounding through the empty store. Without turning around, Marinette placed the broom back into the closet.

“I’m sorry, but the bakery is closed.”

“You can’t make an exception for me Angel?”

Her whole back stiffened as she sucked in a sharp breath. Slowly she turned to face the man, his green eyes shining with humor.

“Damian?”

“You remember?” His smile broke her heart as he raced forward, only for her to step back. She held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“Marinette?”

A single tear fell from her eyes as she internally cursed. This was the most she had cried in her whole life and it had only been one day. Concern washed over his face as he put his hands in his pockets, trying not to scare the girl.

“I remember parts. I remember my death, I remember a dark haired woman, I remember you holding me as I died. I-” she paused, trying not to choke on her words.”I remember I love you, but I don’t remember why or how I fell.”

He slowly nodded, his expression completely shattering her as he looked as broken as she felt. As if instinct, she moved forward to cup his cheek, pulling his face toward hers.

“But if I have a second chance, I don’t want to waste it. Help me remember, please.”

His eyes were so sharp, she didn’t remember the gold flakes in them, but the longer he stared at her, the more she noticed. Finally, his face melted into a small smile as he carefully lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a light kiss to them.

“When do you want to start?”

Her stomach flipped as she felt a smile begin to grow.

“Now would be great.”

He stepped back offering his arm to the girl.

“Then shall we Miss Marinette?”

Something tugged at the back of her head, like a sense of deja vu, but she ignored it, accepting his arm with a fake curtsy.

“We shall Mr. Wayne.”

The two left the bakery, strolling down the darkening Paris streets, neither saying much, just relishing the feeling of being together again.

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