#eh I would tell all of these and if nothing changes I will resign :

[lady-grinning]

I had a first driving lesson and it was.. bad.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Order as Antagonist in TDP

So how about that trailer, eh? I was so excited I didn't notice this text up top on TDP's tweet for like. An hour.

We haven't heard anything about this Cosmic Order before. Is it a specific group? Is it a vibe? Is it a Startouch thing? Hard to say, yet. But there are some vibes from the Starscraper shots we've gotten in the trailer and teaser that may point us in the right direction:

This place has eight pillars, each with a recess that holds a relic staff seemingly identical to the one Viren's been toting around. It's not unique, and Aaravos didn't craft it. He stole it.

This is the Prometheus part of Aaravos' character. This is the fire that he stole for humans, from the gods. The relic staff. A relic staff, one of many.

Why did he, a godlike elf himself, feel the need to commit this act, for which he was cast down, exiled, and stripped of much of his power? Why?

Hard to say yet, but knowing all that he is capable of, I think it comes down to one thing: stealing it was the only way to get it. Nothing else he could think of would work. And he's pretty imaginative. But the system, the Cosmic Order, had him, too. He's a magic elf, bound by the same forces as everyone else up there. Breaking the rules was his only remaining option.

Aaravos chose Chaos over Order and put his money where his mouth is. He did get exiled and cast out, but humans have magic now. Somehow, that's not a thing the Order can take back from them, once it's out - rather like Pandora's Box.

But I want to look at this Order, and how pervasive it must be. How else would a powerful elf like Aaravos be reduced to petty thievery to accomplish his ends? Surely he tried other ways, other options, other persuasions. Why didn't they get him anywhere? Why did he have to take such a - for lack of a better term - human approach to the problem?

Let's back up a second and look at a seemingly random list of likes for one specific elf: Runaan. (no of course it isn't random, this is why this theory post exists. but shh, it'll make sense I promise)

Runaan likes four things in this list. Two of them are his immediate family. One is his favorite food. And the last item on the list?

Order.

I used to think this was just a bit of a wink to him being autistic-coded and liking his patterns. And I still do think that's accurate. But my third eye got pried open by the Cosmic Order text, and I think it's more than that now.

Runaan is a tiny cog in the grand engine that is the Cosmic Order. He goes where he is told, he kills who he is told to kill, he obeys without question, no matter how heinous his acts would be - he would have killed Ezran without blinking, because that's what the Dragon Queen told him to do.

Runaan is the most Moonshadow Moonshadow, according to the Deluxe Elf Interview. He's the epitome of what it means to be a Moonshadow elf. His devotion, sacrifice, and adherence to the rules are what makes him a good Moonshadow elf.

How convenient for the Order.

Runaan is still an individual, inside his own rules. He chose to become an assassin, and he did it to spare others from having to take lives and live with the weight of those acts. But that does imply that if he hadn't chosen this path, someone else would have, and people would still be dying.

And I think he's right. Maybe his love of order actually lets him perceive the great gears grinding over his head, up in the stars, turning the wheels of fate for everyone they control. Maybe he knows full well that he's part of a grand system - but there's nothing he can do about it except stay alive or die, because he is trapped inside it. He cannot change his fate because he is locked into it, just like everyone around him.

The Book 1 novelization tells us Runaan always expected to die on a mission, and that he meets that fate with a calm resignation on the balcony. He surrenders to his fate, because he cannot fight it.

What could lock Runaan into a fate that ends with him dying on a mission?

His own choices? Think bigger.

His society, then. Obligation, honor, guilt. Hmm, bigger than that.

It's been there the whole time - something that all the elves and dragons possess, but humans don't. Something which caused the imbalance in the first place.

Magic.

Magic is the Cosmic Order.

yes it has eight points and yes I'm back on my bullshit

Quick aside: The Cosmic Order is turning out to be the big magic version of King Harrow's Narrative of Strength, which he contrasted with the Narrative of Love - and we'll get back to that at the end of the post.

Alrighty, back to magic: The worst offenders seem to be the primal magics, which have locked the elves and dragons into very tight little boxes as far as what they can and cannot do, think, and imagine. An elf with a single arcanum can only think in terms of that primal source. It's as bad as an irl human who only knows one language, and so their brain literally cannot conceive of concepts that exist in other languages. (Learn more languages, guys, it's genuinely good for your brain, I am not kidding)

This helps explain why Aaravos was able to think a little bit outside his box and consider giving magic to humans when the Order said they didn't deserve any. He is an archmage, and he speaks many magical languages. He knows all six primal magics, as well as the ancient blood magic and dark magic. That's eight different ways of looking at a problem.

(is this why elves only have 8 fingers, because they literally cannot grasp anything outside of magic?)

From his multifaceted viewpoint, Aaravos can see the inherent unfairness in humans being forced to abide by the Order without getting any magic for their trouble. It's basically taxation without representation.

The Americans among us can attest to how well that went over in our own history.

Aaravos: Prometheus, Lucifer... Che Guevara... Guy Fawkes?

Aaravos really does love revolution.

Further thought: this post about Ethari's design has reminded me again about his lower-than-average magical ability and how that has manifested in his unique design and in his character. And I'm looking directly at how Ethari's lesser magic power may be the reason he's so mentally flexible. If he can challenge Runaan directly about how Rayla is not ready for that mission when everyone else is going along with it, isn't that lack of narrow-mindedness the thing that sets him apart?

What else might that freedom of thought do for him? Is this the reason he is actually able to invent at all? Because he is capable of envisioning that which does not yet exist? How rare that must be among Moonshadow elves!

tldr: Ethari is actually bad at being a Moonshadow elf, and that could very well be what saves him.

Contrast Ethari with Karim, who is a powerful Sunfire mage, and very much locked into his traditional views of elf vs human. He's willing to go to war in order to impose his views on all of the Sunfire elves if he can, because he genuinely believes he can see the Order of things better than anyone else can.

He believes in the superiority of the elven ways, while Janai has let her heart change her mind. Janai fell in love with a human, and it broke the Order's hold on her. She makes history now - it does not make her.

Side note: Is this... is this the formula, then? Is this how enduring ships work in TDP? An elf with a normal arcanum, paired with either a human or an elf with a "flawed" connection to the Order inside them? One who can anchor, and one who can imagine?

Let me make a quick list:

Claudia+Terry

Ethari+Runaan

Callum+Rayla

Amaya+Janai

Well. How bout that.

Ironically, this is a different path to what was going to be my final point in the first place: Order may be the default for elves and dragons and the way they are supposed to follow the rules of the universe, but love still exists, and they can always choose to embrace it. They can all be saved by love, in the end. It's their choice. In fact, choosing Love over Order is an act of defiance in itself.

Terry chose Claudia over fear. Janai chose Amaya over war. Rayla chose Callum over vengeance. And Runaan, my poster boy for stubbornness and suffering, chose Ethari over Order itself.

Saved by love.

[kastlequill]

wip game

thank you for the tag @ethereal-night-fairy ! np tags: @dotcie @snail-eggs @skinnyazn @alittleposhtoad @50cal-fullauto-astarion @lunarvicar @siriusleee @parttimeprophet

Rules: in a new post, post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how nondescript or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet and tell us about it!

i have way too many wips, so here are the top 5 that are most likely to see the light of day relatively soon(ish):

➜ jjk — illusion (itafushi); tnp: i (gojohime)

➜ cod — thtd: iii (ghost); unearth: v (keegan); pulse: iv (gaz)

illusion (megumi x yuji)

current status: 1.8k words written; expecting 1k+ more words completed

Megumi shook away the mental image of his wide-eyed, grim-faced classmate. Neither his thoughts nor fears were of consequence at present, and it was not as if he had time to spare on regretting the past. Itadori would need all the help he could get, and Megumi refused to be a bystander to his death. Not again.

‘til my pulse loses time: iv/v (gaz x medic f!reader)

current status: 200 words written; expecting 1.5-2k+ more words

As a medic, you could only do so much. Many factors that would ultimately decide whether a patient lived or died were simply beyond your sphere of influence. Stitching together sliced skin, surgically removing bullets from traumatized flesh, administering first aid in the field—all within your skill range. Hell, even resuscitating a still-warm, newly-dead body was possible on special occasions. But you were neither God nor Death, so you could neither breathe life into the corpse of a friend, nor could you hold a scalpel to the jugular of a foe. These mortal limitations weren’t to blame for the horrors that unfolded during the coming hours, however.

unearth without a name: v/v (keegan x brainwashed f!reader)

current status: 100 words written; expecting 2-2.5k+ more words

Two hundred seven. That was the number of days currently separating him from the moment he had last seen you.

the nightmare pact: i/v (gojo x utahime)

current status: 2.7k words written; expecting 3.5-4k more words

Too late to turn back now, she thought with a resigned sigh. Still, part of her almost wished she could. Rght when she was about to do just that, an aggravating voice pierced the air. “Don’t just stand there, Utahime, I can hear those old joints of yours cryin’ out from all the way back here!” For the second time that day, Gojo made her left eye twitch.

that human, that demon: iii (ghost x f!reader)

current status: 9.1k words written; expecting 2.5-5k+ more words

“Your wrist control’s shit, and you failed to pass guard four times.” Ghost’s tone was neutral, betrayed nothing, and his body didn’t so much as move an inch from where he’d been spectating the match. “I’m almost impressed.” A snort. “Haud yer wheesht.” “English, MacTavish.” “Y’sure know how to make a man feel special, eh, Lt.?” “Special? Might be time for a career change,” the lieutenant mused, his banter as dry as his. . . everything else. “No one’s special in our line o’ work, Johnny.”

[hecatemoon87]

A Modern James Delaney Story - master list

Chapter Five

Tala sat cross legged on the floor in front of her grandmother as the old woman braided a lock of her hair. Her grandmother carefully added white beads as she went.

Whenever Tala was upset, she went to her grandparents house. She usually visited often, but on the weekends. This was a Tuesday, so her grandmother was aware her granddaughter was in distress.

"So, are you going to tell me what's the matter?" her grandmother asked. Just then, the front door opened and her grandfather entered the home. He joined the women in the living room and sat on the couch.

"What's the deal here, little wolf?" the old man said, leaning forward.

"Nothing is the matter. Can't I just drop by to say hello?" Tala asked.

"Man trouble," her wise grandmother said, picking up a small feather and attaching to the end of the braid.

"What? How did you know?" Tala said, tilting her head backwards and peering up at her grandmother.

The elder woman tapped the center of Tala's forehead. "A grandmother always knows."

"Who's the man? Hmm? Want your old grandad to teach him a lesson?" he said, giving her a wink

"He's nobody. Honestly, he's just a friend, nothing more than that," Tala said, lifting her head up to look at her grandfather.

"Is he now? Then if he's just a friend, why are you so upset?" her grandmother said, closing the lid to a plastic container holding the remaining beads.

"I'm not upset, just...just confused," Tala said.

"About?" her grandfather asked.

"Well, fine. I like him, he's...mysterious and interesting. But he has some issues that he needs to resolve before I even consider dating him."

"A tall, dark and mysterious man, eh? Do we know this guy?" her grandfather asked.

Tala hesitated at first, but finally said, "James Delaney."

"Oh my," her grandmother said.

Tala's grandfather usually wasn't a man that could easily be surprised, but even he arched an eyebrow.

"Look, it's a long story. But it doesn't matter because I've told him I'm not going to waste my time unless he fixes his shit first," Tala said.

"Language," Tala's grandmother said, chiding her.

"That's my little wolf, telling off the richest man in Canada," her grandfather said laughing softly.

"This issue...is it something reasonable, Tala. Or is it dangerous?" her grandmother asked cautiously.

"It's not dangerous. It's more of a character issue," Tala said, not wanting to reveal too much of Delany's secret. After all, she did swear to him she wouldn't tell a soul.

"What? That he makes too much money" her grandfather, laughing.

Tala rolled her eyes and shook her head. She slowly got up from the floor. "It's more about him dealing with a personal issue. I told him that I would help, if he wanted it."

"Well, make sure he's a man who is actually interested in changing. If any of this affects you negatively, Tala, you need to remove yourself immediately," her grandmother said firmly.

"What she said," her grandfather said nodding in agreement.

After Tala said her good-byes to her grandparents, she got in her car and began to make the journey home. Half way through her phone rang.

Looking at the display in the car she saw it was James.

"Hello?" she said, answering it.

"Hi, uh, I need your help," James said.

"Are you alright?" Tala asked with concern.

"I'm fine. But Ms. Bow just resigned," he said, sounding annoyed.

"Oh, that' too bad," Tala said insincerely. She hadn't really cared for Ms. Bow. "So, why'd she quit?"

"She...she told me she was interested in me. I said I wouldn't date an employee, so she quit," James said.

Tala started laughing an said, "Oh my god, damn, okay. So...you gonna date her?"

"Why are you laughing? No, I'm not going to date her," James growled.

"Something tells me this isn't the first time this has happened to you," Tala said.

"Look, I had to accept her resignation, I can't let her continue working for me now. I need to find an assistant as soon as possible," he said.

"I'm sure if you put out a want add you'll get like fifty applications in one hour," she said.

"It's not that easy. I need someone I can trust," he said.

"You trusted Ms. Bow?"

"Yes, I did. She was brilliant and I'm not at all glad I had to let her go. Tala, I trust you though," he said.

"Oh, no. I'm not going to act as your slave," she said, shaking her head.

"What? I'll pay you," he said.

"Yeah? How much?"

"$45.00 an hour," he said.

"Jesus," Tala said, calculating the rate in her head. "God damn, James, what all did Ms. Bow do for you, huh?"

"Important things, invaluable things. Keeping my schedule, blocking out people that aren't worth my time, scheduling travel, keeping documents up to date. A lot of things," he said.

"Mhmm, like blocking me out. I was seriously a waste of time, wasn't I?" Tala scoffed as she made a turn.

"Tala..." James started to say.

"Look, I'll help with some of that stuff. But this is only temporary, James," Tala said, slowing down at a red light.

"Right, of course. My house, five p.m. so I can get you set up," he said, and hung up.

"God damn it, James," Tala said frowning. It was four-thirty. She had wanted to go home and take a nap before working that night. A text came through and she saw that it was James giving her the address.

Sighing heavily, and thinking what her grandmother had said about things impacting her negatively, she entered the GPS coordinates.

It was fifteen minutes past five when she knocked on the large imposing oak doors of the Delaney Manor. She waited for a few moments, then the great doors slowly opened.

A whitened old man poked his head out the door and frowned.

"And who are ya?" he said in a slightly heavy Irish accent.

"I'm...I'm Tala. James asked me to come over?" Tala said.

"He did, eh? That boy don't tell me a thing," he grumbled and opened the door wider to allow her inside.

"So...are you, like, the butler or something?" Tala asked.

"Aye, the name's Brace. James is up in his bloody study, I'll call for him," Brace said as he guided Tala to a large room that appeared to be a living room.

Her grandparent's house could have sit snuggly inside just this one room. Hell, her tiny one bedroom apartment would fit in a third of it.

About ten minutes later, James lumbered into the hall.

"You bringing women over to the house again, James? Don't you remember what happened with Alma? She threw that bloody vase your father got from Italy at you, shattered it into pieces..." Tala could here Brace nagging at James in the hall.

"Brace...shut it. Here, why don't you do something useful and clean my boots," James said, then entered the room.

"Who's Alma? And how many women do you bring home for poor Brace to clean up after?" Tala said, smirking.

"Uh, just ignore all that," James said dismissively. "Here, the work phone Lorna used. All my schedule information is in there."

"What will happen to Ms. Bow?" Tala asked. She was concerned on a human level. Suddenly becoming unemployed was not a situation she wished on anyone.

"I found her another job. I have plenty of connections. She starts with a firm on Monday. She'll be a PA to the CEO there," James said, unlocking the phone.

"Oh, well that was good of you. You know, after breaking her heart," Tala said, taking the phone.

"Being handsome and rich isn't as easy as it looks," James said. "The passcode for the phone is 8421."

"Poor baby. Handsome and rich, such a burden to carry," Tala said, rolling her eyes.

"Well, it has an affect on women. But apparently, not for you," he said, folding his arms.

Tala shrugged. "Money isn't what I'm looking for. I'm looking for a man I can trust and depend on."

"I can be that man, but I also have money. An added benefit," he said, closing the gap between them.

She placed the palm of her hand on his chest. "No, I told you. Fix your shit, then we'll talk." She suddenly wished she hadn't touched him. He felt firm and warm under her hand and she wanted desperately to explore further.

But she pulled back her hand and pocketed the phone.

"Okay, I guess I have everything?" Tala said, thinking she should leave before she decided to say fuck it all and kiss him.

"Sure, I'll see you at my office in the morning, eight a.m.," he said.

"I'm sorry what?"

"You can work from home Tuesday and Thursday, but I need you in the office the rest of the time," he said.

"Huh? I have to be in an office?" she said, bewildered.

"Yes, it's business clothing only. And I take my coffee black," he said, as he turned to leave.

Tala stood dumbfounded in the living room. Brace walked in and said, "Look, if he broke up with ya, please don't break anything. I have enough to do in this bloody house."

[hellmouth-manor]

4A 75 64 61 73

"E-eh…?”

Micah whips around to stare at Alou, eyes wide. The corona of worms around his head look similarly spooked, trembling like jelly as they move to hide behind Micah for protection.

He seems the same. There’s no change in his demeanor (pathetic) or nature (pathetic). His voice has an air of panic to it, sure, but everything else about him sops with resignation. Head low, eyes wide, shoulders hunched in. The perfect picture of a dumb minion who’s messed up his boss’s plans. It’s hard to see him as anything but a gooey wreck, really. A sad little digestive biscuit man who got dropped in a teacup, sopped up too much, and started crumbling at the edges. Poised to fall apart at any given moment.

“Wait, wait, wait- no way?! That, uh, that’s, uh, I-I’m sorry, boss, that wouldn’t have happened, uh, if, I, I-I’m sorry, I, I think, uh, shit, uh, if, if, if-”

Stammering, stammering, stammering, twitching with fright, hands shaking, voice warbling. His gaze flicks from the souls, to Alou, to Chou, to the souls, to the horn, to Chou again, to Hisashi-

“That would have, uh, if, maybe, that, that, that would have, that, that-”

This lowly assistant, panicked dog, sad effigy of a man, looks back at the one he calls ‘master’, stares them dead in the eyes,

“That would have only happened, boss, if a really complicated series of events preceded it, I think? Oh, boss! Let me try and break it down for you! See, I think I understand what went wrong. Yeah, I’ve definitely got it, so let me spell it out.”

and smiles.

“The first thing that happened here, boss, is that you decided to pick someone defined by their loneliness as your assistant- minion, henchman, dog, whatever. That’s a great plan, right? All you need to do is treat them well, make them think that they can rely on you, and they’ll stay loyal forever, right? Boss, that’s so simple! You’re a genius! They’re kind of a sap, but their mind got crushed by the whole ‘their life was on rails from the start’ thing so they’ll do whatever you say."

"Oh, but what’s this? Looks like someone you’ve been pining for is coming to Hell with us! That’s fine too, right? Your dog’s already talking about trying to match you and your beloved up, trying to make sure that they stay alive so they can be one of the three hosts at the end. Oh, dear me, boss, you did know that your dog’s a diehard romantic, right? You did know that they already had their heart set on a happy ending for you two, right? You remembered that your dog hates cruelty and was only helping you in the first place because they thought you were the only person in the world who’d give them the time of day, right?”

It’s not noticeable at first. But Micah’s standing up just that little bit straighter.

“Ah, wait, boss, I’ve figured out the second thing! Looks like you decided to get weird with it and pull some insane pet collar puppet string murder with your beloved! Didn’t bother to tell your dog once, did you? Just decided to completely blindside them with it? Because you thought they should get put in their place, right, boss? Haha, yeah, I know! It’d be fine, because everyone was about to find out your dog was a sad sack of shit anyway and you’re still the only person they have who’ll be nice to them. They’ve got no other options, so they’re not going to question it, boss. Easy.”

There’s nothing Micah’s done better here than wear his heart on his sleeve. Honest to a fault, even when he truly shouldn’t have been. That was why it stung so much when you realized he was a traitor, after all. But as he pulls himself up to his full height,

as his voice grows louder and clearer, with no stuttering, no pauses, no second-guesses- with, for the first time in his entire life, confidence-

You had no idea how good at lying he could really be.

“So that leads to the third thing, boss. Guess you didn’t really factor in the idea that people would like your dog after all, did you? Or you were so full of yourself that you thought they’d stay loyal to you anyway? Interesting take, boss. Suppose that’s what you got put in ‘Pride’ for. You never thought that your dog would meet people they wanted to protect, haha, a Hell of a lot more than you, did you? Not for a moment? Not when you saw how I was making real human connections with Mirai and Minami and Eli and Miri and Miori and Ruby and- no? No?”

“...No, I didn’t think so. So you just didn’t notice in the slightest when your dog realized that they could form genuine human connections with others. That they weren’t the worthless idiot they always thought they were. When your dog stopped barking to your tune and started lying through their teeth. Hmm, yes, that’s definitely part of the problem here. But I’ll give you credit, you know? It isn’t like I had any idea what I was meant to do at this point. Until…”

He snaps his fingers. All his worms spring to attention. He’s talking and talking and it feels like at some point someone should interject, Alou or Aya or Pheo or someone, but he’s demanding the full attention of the room. He can’t be stopped. You can’t interrupt. All you can do is listen.

“Olwin! What a little nuisance! Always getting into places he isn’t meant to. He’s our fourth thing, such a pest, so it’s no wonder that he had you so stressed out. Especially when I asked you all those oh-so-innocent questions about, you know… “How are they keeping us trapped here in the first place, boss?” and “What’s stopping everyone from escaping, boss?” You said that it was our souls that were kept in some Vault behind the scenes, and golly, you were sooo afraid that Olwin might weasel his way in again. Doesn’t help that your dog put the idea in your head that such a thing was inevitable, I suppose. But luckily that same faithful dog offered to guard them for you! And that meant that they got full access to the path to where the souls were and had plenty of time to memorize the way there, as complicated and dangerous as it might be.”

Micah’s voice is growing louder. You think you can hear something in it-

“And as time passed and more and more terrible things happened to the people your dog loves, you were still soooo sure, so convinced that your dog loved you most of all, didn’t you? So you didn’t notice when worms showed up in people’s bedrooms, and you definitely didn’t realize one showed up to lead Raoul backstage in the first place. What, you thought that was just a twist of fate? Afraid not. And you were still clueless, even though you roped in on his expedition yourself! You really thought that the fact they got stuck at the actual Vault gate meant it was all over for them, right? Even though they defeated Cerberus so easily? Ah, wow. That fifth thing really slipped under your nose. I’m almost a little embarrassed for you, boss.”

Yes, that’s-

“Not as embarrassed as I am that it was so easy to bait you into doing this whole stupid song and dance, though! Wow, boss, you really took your dog’s advice when they said you should intimidate everyone with a show of your powers? Put this whole farce on in the first place? This sixth thing? You really thought your dog was being serious when they said that they’d do a fancy honeytrap and crush everyone’s hopes once and for all? Oh, of course you did, boss! I know you. You’d fall over yourself for a chance to show off, because you think you’re better than everyone here. I bet there was part of you that thought they all might start clapping when you transformed, didn’t you?” 

Rage.

“You couldn’t stop thinking about it, right, boss? You were so preoccupied thinking about your grand reveal that you didn’t even notice the seventh thing. You didn’t stop to think how weird it was that I was letting the dead go to the Vault in the first place, even if it was part of that aforementioned honeytrap, not when it had such a high possibility for risk or complications. And then you didn’t even bother making a call to see if Fumiko was, you know, still alive. You just assumed that everything was fine. That I was still your dog. That I’d never grow enough of a spine to go behind your back and lead the dead to get back our souls, to teach the living what they needed to do to get out of here. That I was too stupid to ever think of doing that in the first place, too incompetent to pull it off.” 

His voice seethes with it. Fury like none of you have ever heard before, and certainly not from Micah. Sure, you’ve seen Wrath moments, you’ve heard cries of betrayal and condemnation in these endless insipid trials, but nothing can compare to this; the release of months of roiling, unparalleled, purestrain loathing, shoved down so far it was almost never going to see the light of day, forced back out like a geyser erupting. His muscles twitch. You think, for one terrifying moment, that he’s going to lunge at Alou.

But he goes to pick up Chou instead. Scoops it up in his hand, gentle as can be. Because, if Micah has ever been anything, it’s gentle.

“Mm, no. It’s okay, boss. I get it. Because.. they couldn’t get into the Vault if you didn’t open it yourself. That door’s locked to your spiritual fingerprint, or whatever you want to call it. No Alou, no entry. And there’s no other part of you walking around, right, boss? Because when you cut your conscience off and cauterized it, turned it into its own little thing, the last thing, you-

-hah-

-you didn’t-

-you didn’t, you didn’t, you didn’t outsource that job, right? You didn’t tell the man who wanted to work at a baby animal petting zoo to kill the literal Sanrio looking lamb creature, did you? Tell me you’re not that stupid, boss?!”

And that’s it. All pretense out the window, any deceit left scattered to the wind. Claws curled protectively around the conscience in his hand, Micah stares down at Alou with an expression that his master would have never, not once, seen from him. An expression that you wouldn’t think Micah could make. That Micah would be in the right to make.

Derision.

“Oh, you complete idiot. You delusional clown. You absolute buffoon. I’ve hated you for months and you were too full of yourself and your insufferable self-righteous pretentious r/im14andthisisdeep faux-intellectual BULLSHIT to even notice! You really thought that you were such hot shit that I’d pick you over them? That I’d still want to be the dog of the man who put a collar on the corpse of his lover!? Sure, my new friends are fucked up. Sure, some of them piss me off! But each and every one of them have shown me understanding and vulnerability like you never could. Opened up to me like you never would, because you never saw me as an equal, you saw me as a pawn! They’ve treated me with such kindness, kindness that- oh, you’ll never guess what I’m gonna say- came with no strings attached. And this whole time you’ve had your head rammed so far up your own feathered ass that you wrote it off as meaningless. What a joke! What a goddamn joke!”

You had wondered about it before, hadn’t you? Well, you’ve got your answer. It’s true what they say: Even a worm will turn. 

“But you know what the real joke is? At the end of the day, I love these people more than anything. But I don’t love you. Nobody loves you. Didn’t you hear what they all said? Nobody could love you, not as you are, not like this. You’re going to be alone for the rest of your life. And you’re going to have to live that life knowing-”

“You got outsmarted by the guy who sleeps on a fucking Cinnamoroll. You’re pathetic.”

[lilyevanstan1325]

🥀 Falling Apart 🥀

Chapter 5

Steve POV

Five years later

“Thank you all for being here.Anyone want to say something?"

I carefully observe all the people around me.

Every week that passes fewer and fewer people show up, some give up while others manage to move on.

To forget.

But not me.

I can't do it.

The man on my right shakes in his chair and leans forward.

"So...I, uh, went on a date the other day.It's the first time in five years" he begins to tell.

He stops for a moment as if he was looking for courage and after observing his hands for a few moments he starts talking again.

"You know?I'm sitting there at dinner.I didn't even know what to talk about"

After which he returns silent, his thought seems to be far away.

"What did you talk about?" I ask trying to encourage him to open up.

Giggles reverberate across the large room.

"Eh, same old crap" he sighs, shaking his head, "You know, how things have changed.My job, his job.How much we miss the Mets"

"And then things go quiet...then he cried as they were serving the salads" murmurs the man with hunched shoulders.

The same suffering of every person in this room is reflected in his eyes.

That same pain that I see in my eyes every single day.

The woman next to him nods and puts her hand on his shoulder.

The man in front of me raises his gaze pointing it at the man who has spoken so far.

"What about you?"

He shrugs.

"I cried just before dessert.But I'm seeing him again tomorrow, so..."

I nod feeling happy for him.

"That's great.You did the hardest part.You took the jump.You didn't know where you were gonna come down.And that's it.That's those little brave baby steps we gotta take…to try and became whole again, try and find purpose”

I stop to catch my breath.

How many beautiful words, right?

Too bad them are worth nothing to me.

The people around me look at me hopefully, admiring me.

They only know what they see.

Not the things that's devouring my soul for five years.

I cross my arms over my chest and after another big sigh I start talking again.

My voice fails.

"I went in the ice in '45, right after I met what I thought was the love of my life.Woke up 70 years later.And I was alone.Convinced that I would never be happy again.But then she came” I smile with a lump in my throat, “I met the true love of my life, we spent wonderful years together.We had four wonderful children.But things change…we gotta move on”

"We gotta move on" I repeat looking around.

A boy wipes a lonely tear.

I lean myself forward placing my elbows on my knees and passing my gaze on everyone present.

"The world is in our hands.It's left to us, guys.And we gotta do something with it.Otherwise...Thanos should've killed all of us"

A light applause rises from the small crowd around me.

Some have a hopeful look, confident in a future with less pain, while others look at me already knowing that my words will remain so.

In the eyes of the latter there is only a placid resignation.

We say goodbye with handshakes and pats on the back.

I hope to see them again next week.

I leave the old abandoned building, once this was a school now it belongs to a charity organizations.

We have gathered a couple of people and try to give our support to those who are left.

I get in the car and grab the steering wheel in my hands but instead of starting the engine, I stand still with my gaze lost out of the windshield.

The sky begins to darken and the first stars of the evening appear on this new night.

Night that like every night already passed will welcome my tears in the silence of my break soul.

I lean my head forward and leaning my forehead on the steering wheel I let myself go, allowing the tears to free themselves from the prison of my eyes.

I hold them tightly cursing everything that has been.

"Damn" I stammer wearily shrugging my shoulders and banging my head back a couple of times against the soft leather seat.

During the week I somehow manage to go on, finding every day an excuse to help me not to give up but…but every time I come here to help others I always end up swept away in a spiral of pain and despair.

The memory of my past life, the memory of Lily, the memory of our beautiful children hit me with devastating force leaving me in the end empty and shattered.

I run my hands over my face, rubbing it vigorously and then decide to start the engine and reach the Compound.

I reach my destination without even knowing how, waves of pain hit me all the way and stunned me.

I cross through the large silent hall.

Ever since Tony left this place to me and Natasha nothing is the same.

There was a time when these rooms were full of joy and harmony, full of children who warmed our hearts with their laughter...and now it's all over.

All over.

I reach the kitchen and after preparing a peanut butter sandwich I take a seat at the desk of what has become a control room.

Around me is full of monitors, Natasha and I use them to communicate with those left by our side to try to repair the damage that Thanos' snap has caused.

I bite the sandwich that bringing some relief to my stomach, I don't even remember when was the last time I was allowed a decent meal.

"You know, I’d offer to cook you dinner...but you seem pretty miserable already" giggles Nat popping up from behind a high shelf.

I smile shaking my head.

Natasha leans her shoulder against the shelf and stands silently watching me with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

She is wearing a pair of leather pants and a denim jacket, she has let her hair grow and now she sports a long red hair instead of her blond bob.

Her deep green eyes shine brightly.

"Are you here to do the laundry?" I ask, taking another bite of my sandwich and chewing slowly.

Nat smiles at me.

"And to see a friend"

The intensity of her words and her gaze on me bring back that annoying feeling of not being able to breathe.

I feel the tears sting my eyes.

And she notices it, she knows that inside of me I am collapsing piece by piece.

I'm falling apart.

I clear my throat.

"Clearly, your friend is fine" I murmur, pretending a smile.

Silence falls upon us again.

Nat releases herself from her rigid position by relaxing her shoulders.

"You know, I saw a pod of whales when I was coming over the bridge"

"In the Hudson?" I ask surprised.

"There’s fewer ships, cleaner water" she explains with a shrug.

I sigh biting my bottom lip.

"You know Nat, if you're about to tell me to look on the bright side...um...you waste your time plus I'm about to hit you in the head with a peanut butter sandwich"

Natasha laughs as she approaches and takes a seat on the chair right in front of me.

"Sorry" she replies with a smile, her eyes full of excuses and old pains.

I smile wearily.

"I keep telling everybody they should move on…and grow.Some do.But not us.Not me.I can't do it.I've tried, I try...but it always seems so fucking useless.The memories, the pain, the love...them are all here" I tell her heartbroken, slamming my hand on my chest.

My fingers rise upwards until they wrap around the small object that hangs from my neck attached to a simple chain.

My friend's green and alert eyes follow my movement.

She knows what I'm holding in my fingers.

"I think we both need to get a life" I murmur without looking into her eyes.

I don't believe in my own words.

Natasha laughs throwing her head back.

Now in her eyes there is no longer the lightness of a few minutes ago.

"You first" she replies, pointing to my neck with a finger, "Take off that thing and go out looking for a woman" she teases me.

She looks angry.

And I know why.

“Take that damn necklace off and get a life.Go out there and fall in love again” she insists.

I look down at my chest and with a trembling hand I grab the chain around my neck hidden neatly under my sweater.

I observe the object in front of me.

Hanging from the thin gold chain is the engagement ring that Lily returned to me five years ago.

I never got rid of it, I never had the courage and I always kept it with me.

As a small reminder of our great love.

It is at least what I thought it was.

I raise my gaze placing it on my friend who has not stopped looking at me with spite.

"I ..."

"Steve you know how much I care about you, how much I love you, but I can't forgive you for letting her slip away from your finger"

I sigh wearily.

God only knows how many times we have faced this discussion in the last few years.

“Natasha, she left me.You know"

"And you let her do it, Steve” she accuses me.

I run my hands through my hair as I get up from my chair.

“And what was I supposed to do, huh?Chain her up?I pleaded her.Literally.I threw myself at her feet begging her not to leave me...but she did" I scream in response.

But Nat doesn't let herself be intimidated, she shakes her head smiling bitterly.

“God Steve, if Bucky was here he would have kicked your ass and made you go back to her.To take her back even with the strength if necessary"

Her eyes as green as absinthe glisten veiled with tears.

"I have lost forever the man I loved, just like that...with a snap.He wanted to marry me and a moment later he was gone.And you, both of you, are voluntarily lost.You have decided, you have chosen, to let her go"

"It was her choice" I repeat wearily.

My best friend's face is wet with tears.

I watch her as she puts her hands to her face and hides it behind them.

“I've never had anything in my life, since I was a little girl I only knew pain and then came this job, this family…Bucky.And now I have nothing again”

Her words are drowned out by her own hands.

She slowly lowers them carrying them in her lap.

“But you, Steve…you still have a chance.You can choose”

Now it is me who is smiling bitterly.

"What should I do?Go to her after five years and tell her that I still love her like the moment I met her?I don't even know where she is…and I'm sure I am just a distant memory for her now.I'm tired, Nat.Tired of fighting, tired of moving forward.Sometimes I just want to forget…”

Yeah.

Forgetting would be ideal, too bad I don't really want to do it.

I don't want to forget her.

I don't want to forget our children.

I don't want to forget our happy days.

For an infinite moment we stare into each other eyes, blue against green.

Each of us with our own demons, in our head and in our heart.

“If we move on, who does this?” asks the redhead in front of me in a barely audible whisper pointing to the various monitors around us.

"Maybe it doesn't need to be done" I reply with an equally light whisper.

Our words die in the silence that surrounds us.

Natasha puts her hands to her face trying to wipe away the tears that have started to fill her eyes again.

“All of this has made me a better person, Steve.The Avengers, Bucky, was my rebirth.They made me a better person and today, even if none of this exists anymore, I try to be still a better person.And if I gave up, I would also lose the last thing that binds me to him.You understand?"

I look at her without knowing what to answer.

I understand her and I can't think that she's wrong.

I am stuck in the past and she is doing the same thing, I can't blame her for that.

Who am I to judge if I am the first to not let go the past?

Our head snap when a voice comes from one of the monitor.

"Oh, hi, hi!Uh, is anyone home?This is, uh, Scott Lang.We met a few years ago at airport...in Germany?"

I look at the image in front of me.

Scott Lang is waving in front of the security camera.

I remember him, unfortunately he also disappeared because of Thanos.

It's weird that such old images scroll through the monitors.

"I was the guy that got really big.I had a mask on.You wouldn’t recognize me" continues the man.

I turn back to Natasha but she isn't paying me any attention.

Her eyes are wide open and her hands are in front of her mouth partially covering what looks like a look of absolute bewilderment.

"Is this an old message, right?"

The big and deep eyes of my friend are planted in mine.

"It's the front gate" she whispers in a low voice and then turns her back to me and runs out of the room.

I remain dumbfounded for several minutes, my arms dangling lifeless at my sides.

Lang can't be here.

Nat must have been wrong.

But while I formulate this thought the former Black Widow makes her return followed by Scott Lang.

Natasha reaches my side.

And we both remain motionless to observe an agitated and bewildered Ant-man.

"What the hell happened?" he asks out of his mind.

Nat gives him an outline of what has happened over the past five years.

An infinity of emotions follow one another on Scott's face.

Anger fear, disbelief, sadness.

Once he has listened to the whole story, he begins to walk back and forth, grinding step by step.

Muttering incomprehensible words incessantly.

"Scott, are you ok?" I ask him trying to catch his attention and his spirited gaze.

He runs his hands through his hair a couple of times as his gaze swings back and forth between me and Nat.

"Yeah.Have either of you guys ever studied quantum physics?" he asks us straight away.

He keeps moving in jerks, he seems nervous and bewildered.

I am sure it is difficult for him to be able to accept everything that has just been told to him.

Nat crosses her arms over her chest.

"Only to make conversation" replies my friend with her usual note of sarcasm.

A corner of my lips curves into a briefly smile.

Scott, on the other hand, doesn't seem to catch the sarcasm in the voice of the redhead in front of him at all and resumes speaking frantically.

“All right, so…five years ago, right before…Thanos…I was in a place called the quantum realm.The quantum realm is like its own microscopic universe.To get in there, you have to be incredibly small.Hope...she's my, um…she was my…she was supposed to pull me out.And than Thanos happened…and I got stuck in there” his voice fades.

This Hope must have been a very important person to him and the fact that he was trapped for five long years in an unknown world must not have been easy.

"I'm sorry, that must have been a very long five years" Natasha replies, giving voice to my own thoughts.

A different light shines in Lang's eyes.

"Yeah, but that’s just it.It wasn’t"

And...what does this mean?

I too bring my arms in front of me crossing them and trying to understand the words of this man.

"For me, it was five ours.See, the rules of the quantum realm aren't like they are up here.Everything is unpredictable" continues Lang pointing then his gaze on the desk and adding "Is that anybody's sandwich?I'm starving!”

He leans over to the desk and grabs my sandwich and bites into it ravenously.

His words echo in my head, confusing me.

I turn my gaze to Nat and she too looks visibly confused.

"Scott.What are you talking about?" I ask him.

Lang takes another bite of the sandwich.

"So…what I'm saying is…time work differently in the quantum realm.The only problem is right now we don't have a way to navigate it.But what if we did?I can't stop thinking about it.What if we could somehow control the chaos…and we navigate it.What if there was a way that we could enter the quantum realm at a certain point in time but then exit the quantum realm at another point in time?"

Okay, it can't be.

He is not really saying what I think I understand.

Right?

"Wait.Are you talking about a time machine?" I ask with a hint of disbelief to dirty my voice.

Scott chuckles shaking his head.

"No.No, of course not.No, not like a time machine.This is more like a..."

His gaze drops on his hands.

Then he sighs and raises his hesitant gaze pointing it into mine.

"Yeah.Like a time machine.I know, it's crazy.It's crazy.But I can't stop thinking about it.There's gotta be...some way..."

He sighs dropping his gaze back to the floor.

"It's crazy" he murmurs again shaking his head.

Yeah...this thing is really crazy and yet…and yet Scott's words, his idea, planted the seed of doubt in my thoughts, making a little hope slowly sprout.

What if it's really possible?

What if it really was possible to travel through time and prevent Thanos from committing his much-desired genocide?

I shake my head calling myself crazy.

I look at Nat and what I see takes me by surprise.

There is no hilarity in her eyes but hope seems to peep out.

“Scott.Me and Steve get emails from a racoon...so nothing sound crazy anymore”

She can't really believe it.

"Nat" I call her but she doesn't even give me time to expose my concerns.

"What does it cost us to try?" she asks me.

Her eyes burn like the fires of hell.

"So, who do we talk to about this?" Scott asks.

Natasha looks at me, then turns her gaze to Scott.

“Tony Stark.He is the only one who can help us" she exclaims.

Tony Stark?

Fuck!

I have a feeling that it won't end well.

When we reach the small cottage in the woods it is almost time for lunch.

Honestly, I'm not at all happy to be in front of Tony.

Five years ago we didn't leave each other in the best way and I'm afraid he might react badly to my presence, as well as to this whole time travel thing.

An absurd story but that I'm basically starting to take very seriously.

Just as we park the car Tony and Pepper look out onto the porch, probably attracted by the creaking of the tires on the pavement.

We all get out of the car but as Nat and Scott approach the porch stairs, I remain pinned to the ground.

Tony's dark, judgmental eyes burn on me.

After Lily left, leaving me alone and desperate, I also had to put up with Tony's vitriolic words.

He reiterated once again how I abandoned them during the fight against Thanos and I reminded him of how he too failed miserably.

We discussed heavily and really heavy words flew between us, words aimed at hurting.

Nat stops and giving me a slight nod, accompanied by a short smile, encourages me to step forward and so I follow them.

The first to release the tension is Pepper.

She approaches Natasha and hugs her and then she greets Scott with a friendly handshake.

Then when her clear, loving eyes settle on me, I feel thrown back in time.

Pictures of us sitting and chatting while our children were playing happily and carefree hit me right in and left me stunned.

My breath becomes short and when Pepper's hands wrap my trembling shoulders, my hands greedily squeeze the slender figure of the woman in front of me, slightly relieving my pains.

There is no need for words between us.

Our agony, the same for both of us, is reflected in our eyes.

We all sit in a circle, seated in beautiful and expensive wicker armchairs.

Pepper is the perfect landlady and while Scott and Natasha try to explain their ideas to Tony she offers us a drink.

Tony remains silent all the time, listening carefully to every single word.

In all this time his gaze never stops on me.

It's as if he carefully avoids looking at me.

“We know what it sounds like" concludes Scott with a sigh.

I take courage and in the end I decide to intervene to break the tense silence that has been created.

For a moment my gaze slides over Pepper's face.

Her baby blue eyes are shiny.

I know what she is thinking, she is slowly realizing that maybe there is a way to get her children back.

"Tony, after everything you see, is anything really impossible?" I murmur.

His usual sarcastic smile surfaces on his lips and his hard gaze finally lands on me.

"Quantum fluctuation messes with the Planck scale...wich then triggers the Deutsch Proposition.Can we agreed in that?In layman’s terms, it means you’re not coming home" he replies coldly.

"I'm back" Scott exclaims, catching Tony's attention again.

He smiles shaking his head.

"No.You accidentally survived.It's a billions-to-one cosmic fluke.And now you wanna pull a...what do you call it?" he asks him.

"A time heist?" Scott hesitantly replies.

"Yeah, a time heist.Of course.Why didn't we think of this before?Oh, because it's laughable.Because it's a pipe dream" Tony laughs.

Maybe he is right but even if he did, why not try?

What do we have to lose?

After all, we have already lost everything.

I lost everything...

"The Stones are in the past.We could go back, we could get them" I say and Natasha comes to my rescue.

"We can snap our own fingers.We can bring everybody back"

Pepper, sitting next to her husband, places her hand on his thigh, squeezing it slightly.

“Maybe…maybe we can try.Tony…”

But Tony shakes his head nervously as he stands up.

"Or we screw this up worse then be already has, right?"

His words reveal all the nervousness that his gaze has so far managed to conceal for good.

"I don't believe we would" I answer, getting up in my turn facing him.

Tony smiles at me.

But it's not a friendly smile, it looks more like a mocking smile.

He takes a few steps closer until we find ourselves facing each other, only a few inches apart.

“Gotta says it, sometimes I miss that giddy optimism but I just need to look at you better to remind me who you are and what you've done.I think back to what you did to Lily and I can't help but hate you” he hisses between his teeth.

At his words I stiffen, my hands clench into fists.

My jaw clenches painfully and just as painfully my words make their way from my heart to climb up my throat and roll down my tongue.

“I didn't do anything to her, it was her who abandoned me.You know it, you know it very well"

"Why didn't you look for her?"

"She didn't do it either"

"That's what you think"

His answer literally leaves me speechless.

What does it mean?

"What did you say?"

The words come out in a breath between my clenched teeth.

Pepper gets up quickly placing her hands on her husband's chest, trying to get him away from me.

"Tony, no.Don't do it.You promised"

What shouldn't he do?

What he can't tell me?

Who did he promise it to?

To Lily?

"What the hell are you talking about, Tony?"

"Why?" Tony asks harshly, looking away from me and pointing his gaze at Pepper, "So that Captain America can continue to play as a victim?"

I feel like I'm about to lose my temper.

Tony and Pepper exchange one last long look and then the man's gaze returns to my face.

Pepper shakes her head disconsolately, there are a thousand unspoken excuses in her eyes.

But I have no idea what she's apologizing for.

“It took me two months.For two fucking months I have been begging Lily to reconsider, I have tried in every way to convince her that leaving you was crazy.I told her how bad you were.I have spent thousands of praise on your behalf.And in the end I convinced her.She knew you were back at your old Brooklyn apartment so she joined you but she never talked to you.Do you know why?Because she saw you kissing Sharon.She didn't have the courage to say anything, she turned on her heels and came back to me.She was in tears but she kept telling me that deep down she was happy, she was happy because you were able to move on.You were able to be happy again"

All my anger evaporates instantly, leaving me horrified.

I remember that day.

After Lily left me I could no longer live in our house and staying at the Compound was a torture so I went back to live in Brooklyn.

When Sharon realized I was back she started asking questions and I slowly let myself go, venting all my pain.

That day we met by chance on our landing and between one word and another she confessed to me that she was still in love with me and so without adding anything else she kissed me.

Just the thought that Lily has seen that makes me want to throw up.

If only Lily had waited a few more moments she would have seen me reject Sharon.

Shit.

Natasha looks at me with her mouth open, she doesn't know anything about this story.

I preferred to keep quiet and not give her other annoying thoughts.

"Tony, things didn't go as you think"

Tony waves a hand in front of my face.

“I don't judge you Captain, you don't have to give me any explanation.I don't care what happened between you and agent Carter"

"Yet you are judging me without knowing my side of the story" I accuse him.

We stare at each other in silence.

“Listen Steve, it's old story now.It's been five years and all of us have moved on with our lives…and however, high hopes won't help…if there's no logical, tangible way for me to safely execute said time heist.I believe the most likely outcome will be our collective demise"

"Not if we strictly follow the rules of time travel.All right?It means no talking to our past selves, no betting on sportive events" exclaims Scott, trying with his speech to be able to change Stark's mind.

Tony looks at him dazed and then pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

"I'm gonna stop you right there, Scott.Are you seriously telling me that your plan to save the universe is based on Back to the Future?Is it?"

"Good.You had me worried there.'Cause that would be horseshit.That's not how quantum physics works"

"No" Scott replies promptly, "Of course not" he adds shaking his head, staring down.

Natasha stands up approaching Tony.

Her voice sounds firm.

"Tony.We have to take a stand"

"We did stand, agent Romanoff.Any yet, here we are"

Scott shakes his head nervously.

"That’s right, Steve.I won’t even.I can’t.I've spent five years trying to find a way to live, to survive, and constantly find the strength to carry on.I learned to live with my pain, I learned to appreciate all those little things that I didn't even notice before.All you are proposing to me is just madness and I don't want to have anything to do with it” Tony interrupts me and then turns his back on us going away.

“Tony all of us here have lost really important people.A lotta people did.And now, now we have a chance to bring them back...to bring everyone back, and you telling me that you won’t even..."

Pepper watches her husband enter the house and then she turns to us.

“I'll talk to him.I'll try to make him think"

"Thanks, Pepper" replies Natasha who followed by Scott go to the car.

“I'm sorry, Pepper.For everything”

“It's okay, Steve.I was really pleased to see you again and I hope it won't be another five years before I can see you again”

I smile at her.

She smiles at me.

"I hope so too"

We exchange a last long hug and then with a heavy step and a boulder to oppress my chest I reach my friends.

"Well, he's scared" Nat sighs referring to Stark.

"He's not wrong" I whisper, receiving her sad look in response.

Scott squirms next to us.

"Yeah, but, I mean, what are we gonna do?We need him.What, are we gonna stop?"

I look down.

Maybe it's really time to stop.

Natasha's voice pulls me out from my thoughts.

"No, I wanna do it right.We’re need a really big brain" she exclaims with conviction.

"Bigger than his?" asks an incredulous Scott.

"Yep!Bigger then his" Nat retorts with a crooked smile.

We are back in the car, headed to a diner in the center of New York.

That's where Bruce Banner agreed to meet us.

We haven't seen him for five years now but he immediately showed himself willing to listen to us.

We spend the journey in silence.

In my mind, Tony's words bounce back and forth.

Lily came back to me and if she had just come forward, perhaps at this time we could still be a family.

I shake my head smiling bitterly.

Natasha looks at me sideways but she doesn't say anything.

For years I believed that she never cared about me and instead she was come back..

The fault is all mine.

I should have gone looking for her, I should have begged her to reconsider.

I stop the car but before I can open the door Natasha breaks the long silence that has reigned in the car since we left Stark's house.

“Scott, could you go ahead?Steve and I will join you right away”

“Sure, no problem.I'll go ahead and I'll start explaining the situation to Dr. Banner"

"Thank you" she whispers.

I watch Scott get out of the car and approach the diner, disappearing through the front door.

I don't have the courage to turn my gaze to the woman next to me.

"Hey, hunk" she whispers, gently stroking my arm.

“I screwed everything up, Nat.If only I had looked for her, we would never have reached this point" I hiss between my teeth.

"Steve"

“Steve…”

"Damn!" I exclaimed, hitting the steering wheel with one hand, “Damn!I'm a fucking jerk”

“No, Nat.It is too late now.You heard what Tony said.Five years have passed and she has moved on.I don't even know where she is or she must be live.It's too late now" I repeat with a resigned soul, bending my head forward until I feel the cold steering wheel touch my forehead.

"I'm sorry" whispers my best friend, stroking my back with slow and sweet gestures.

I turn my face towards her while leaning with my forehead on the steering wheel.

We both smile wistfully.

We both have eyes full of tears.

And so without saying anything we get out of the car and reach Lang and Banner.

As soon as I enter the diner, I notice that there is something strange.

Scott's gaze immediately shifts to us, in his eyes there is a lot of curiosity but also a lot of confusion.

Across from him sits Bruce Banner but he's not really Bruce Banner…he's…he's the Hulk.

And he wears clothes.

Banner follows Lang's gaze and as soon as he sees us he waves his huge hand in the air greeting us with a big smile on his lips.

Nat and I exchange a half serious look.

We sit down cautiously at the table without ever taking our eyes off Bruce/Hulk who, regardless of our bewildered gazes, continues to smile at us.

Scott looks back at the doctor.

"I'm so confused" exclaims Nat breaking the silence.

"These are confusing time" replies Bruce returning to enjoy his lunch.

"Right.No, no.That's not what I meant" stammers Nat.

Bruce laughs heartily.

"Nah, I get it.I’m kidding!I know, it’s crazy.I’m wearing shirt now" he exclaims, pointing at his massive chest.

"Yeah.What?How?Why?" Scott asks, overwhelming him with questions.

Bruce suddenly becomes serious, looking down before starting to speak.

"Five years ago, we got our asses beat.Except it was worse for me...’cause I lost twice.First, Hulk lost, then Banner lost and then, we all lost"

"No one blamed you, Bruce" I interrupt him.

Five years ago we all lost, we all were guilty and victims.

It may seem strange at first but honestly I've never seen Banner so relaxed and above all I've never seen him so happy in his acceptance.

"I did" the doctor replies, staring at me intently, "For years, I've been treating the Hulk like he's some kind of disease…something to get rid of.But then, I start looking at him as the cure.Eighteen months in the gamma lab.I put the brains and the brawn together…and now, look at me.Best of both worlds”

I am happy to know that some of us brought out the best of all the chaos and pain generated by Thanos' action.

But even if I'm happy for him, today we are here for something else.

"So, what do you think?" I ask him seriously.

Bruce sighs.

"Yeah...the whole time travel do-over?Yeah.Eh, guys, it's outside of my area of expertise" he admits with a shrug.

Natasha rests her elbows on the table leaning towards Bruce.

"Well, you pulled this off.I remember a time when that seemed pretty impossible, too" she points to his massive chest with a finger.

Bruce seems to think about it and after minutes that seem endless he sighs loudly.

"Ok.Let's try”

Me, Nat and Scott exchange a hopeful glance.

The possibility of getting back those we lost five years ago is becoming more and more real.

Maybe I can hug my children again.

Maybe it was really worth not giving up.

After a few really chaotic days, Bruce and Scott managed to assemble all the necessary equipment to carry out this elusive journey through time.

Scott prepares himself to wear a particular suit that will help him face this time travel at its best while Bruce positions himself behind the control panels.

Natasha and I try to help where we can.

Scott walks up to a hideous brown van and once the tailgate is opened he turns on his instruments.

"Okay, here we go" Bruce exclaims as he adjusts his glasses to his nose, “Time travel test number one.Scott, fire up…the, uh, van thing” he adds.

"Breakers are set.Emergency generators are on standby" I announce as I approach Bruce.

Natasha joins us a few moments later, positioning herself next to Bruce.

"Good, because if we blow the grid, I don't want to lose, uh, tiny here in the 1950s" murmurs Bruce but not softly enough to avoid being overheard by the poor Scott Lang.

"Excuse me?" the man asks in a decidedly high-pitched and anxious tone of voice.

Natasha smiles at him amused.

"He's kidding" she giggles.

Scott walks off back to his van but still with a hesitant expression on his face.

"You can't say things like that" adds Nat then Bruce feigns an amused laugh.

"It was a bad joke" he says to Scott managing to convince him.

"You were kidding, right?" I whisper in a low voice to Banner.

His worried frown doesn't bode well.

"I have no idea.We’re talking about time travel here.Either it’s all a joke, or none of it is" he replies trying to lower his voice as much as possible.

Then wearing one of his most convincing smiles and raising his thumbs in the air, he turns back to Scott.

"We’re good!Put your helmet on" he urges Scott.

Scott does what he is told, there is tension in his movements but in his eyes the excitement for the new and mysterious adventure shines.

"Scott, I'm gonna send you back a week" resumes Bruce.

"Let you walk around for an hour, then bring you back in ten seconds.Make sense?"

“Perfectly not confusing” exclaims Scott.

"Good luck, Scott.You got this" I try to encourage him.

Scott straightens his back with pride and looking straight into my eyes he exclaims "You’ re right.I do, Captain America" and as he says so he disappears sucked into a whirlwind of light.

Bruce presses a few buttons and then exclaims aloud "On a count of three...three, two, one"

I hold my breath as I feel the anxiety devour me from within.

Natasha is as taut as a violin string, she is torturing her thumb nibbling nervously on it.

Bruce lowers a lever but what appears before our eyes leaves us confused.

But the confusion lasts for a few moments, leaving room for horror.

Natasha widens her eyes making them wander frantically between Bruce and the person in front of us.

Right in front of us, wrapped in a suit that is too large, there is a little boy.

He will be twelve, at most thirteen years old.

"Uh, guys...this doesn't feel right" exclaims the obviously scared kid.

I turn incredulously to Bruce.

"What is this?What's going on?" I ask pointing a finger in front of me.

"Who is that?" Nat asks agitatedly.

Bruce fumbles frantically between levers and buttons.

"Hold on" he mumbles as he continues to push those hellish buttons.

"Is that Scott?" continues Nat approaching me.

I shake my head unable to understand what the hell is going on.

"Yeah.It's Scott" replies the little boy totally panicked.

The redhead and I exchange a terrified look.

Scott is sucked back into the time tunnel but after a few seconds someone else pops out.

This time he is an old man.

As soon as I see him I start to sweat, panic takes hold of my voice.

"What’s going on, Bruce?" I ask again but this time raising my voice a little.

"Oh, my back" exclaims the old Scott bringing a wrinkled, shaking hand behind his back.

Natasha is now speechless, she just observes in despair.

Bruce continues frantically fiddling on the control console without answering me.

"What is this?" I repeat.

"Hold on a second.Could I get a little space here?" Bruce answers me.

I try to step aside, avoiding being in the way.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah.Can you bring him back, Bruce?"

"I'm working on it" he exclaims as him begin to hit the instrumentation with his huge hands.

A moment later the old Scott disappears again and if we believed that it couldn't get any worse than that, we couldn't be more wrong.

Now in front of us there is a newborn.

"It's a baby" I exclaim as if it wasn't obvious enough.

"It's Scott" retorts Bruce, observing the child without knowing what to do.

"As a baby"

"He’ll grow"

"Bring Scott back!" I now order him certain that we have lost that man forever over time.

Bruce gets back to work.

"When I say kill the power, kill the power" he yells at Nat who whispering a shocked Oh my God and quickly approaches the generators.

I put my hands in my hair.

My God, what have we done?

Bruce presses a button and then points a finger at Natasha.

"And...kill the power"

Natasha quickly lowers the lever on the generator panel, at the same time Bruce presses a button, and as the energy goes off Scott is spat out.

Visibly shaken but fortunately in one piece.

He barely stands on his legs, a shocked expression on his face.

"Somebody peed my pants" he stutters.

Natasha puts a hand to her chest and lets out a heavy sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank God” she murmurs.

"But I don't know if it was baby me or old me.Or just me me" adds Scott.

All three of us focus our gaze on Bruce who in turn smiles at us, spreading his arms.

"Time travel!" he exclaims with a big smile.

But looking at our disconsolate expressions he tries to justify himself.

"What?I see this as an absolute win"

Natasha shakes her head and then approaches Scott and makes sure of his condition.

We have nothing in our hands.

I feel like that little hope I had put in this time travel business has gone completely.

"I need some air" I mutter, leaving everyone behind and heading towards the large entrance doors of the Compound.

Once out, I breathe deeply.

I failed again.

"I'm sorry" I murmur with a broken heart facing the sky, "I'm sorry kids, we tried.I tried”

Failure has now become a constant in my life.

I clench my jaw in anger and put my hands on my hips I try to find the composure and above all the strength to go back inside and tell the others that maybe it's time to let it go.

Today we took a big risk.

We have played with another human's life and I cannot allow someone else to lose their life.

Maybe Tony was right.

This will never work.

The sound of tires distracts me from my gloomy thoughts and turning my gaze to the horizon, I notice a car that is fast approaching, it approaching until it stops in front of me.

Even though the windows are darkened, I know perfectly well who he is.

In fact, after a few moments the window on the driver's side of the expensive black Audi goes down revealing the pleased face of Tony Stark.

"What the long face?Let me guess, he turned into a baby"

His not a question.

He is perfectly aware of the mess we've just made.

I would like to lie to him so as not to give him satisfaction but for what purpose?

"Among other things, yeah.What are you doing here?" I ask, observing his serious and deep dark eyes.

I sigh rolling my eyes.

"It's the EPR Paradox" he replies as he gets out of the car, "Instead of pushing Lang through time, you might’ve wound up...pushing time through Lang.It’s tricky, dangerous.Somebody could have cautioned you against it" Tony murmurs thoughtfully as if nothing had happened.

"You did" I reply.

Tony pretends a surprised expression putting a hand to his chest.

"Oh, did I?Well thank God I'm here.A fully functioning time space GPS" he exclaims full of himself showing me a sort of metal bracelet.

His gaze softens, there is no longer all the hatred that only a few days earlier he had directed against me.

"I just want peace.Turns out resentment is corrosive, and I hate it" he adds.

"Me too" I admit with a sigh.

Tony takes a few steps closer.

“I'm sorry, Steve.I shouldn't have said all those terrible words to you”

“No Tony, it's my fault too.We were great friends and I was wrong to say all those terrible words to you"

"We were both wounded men, Cap"

I hold out my hand with a hint of a smile.

"Friends?" I ask in a hopeful tone.

Tony has been a big chunk of my life and having him back as a friend would alleviate my pain, even if slightly.

"Friends" he exclaims, shaking my hand.

We hug briefly to seal ours reconciliation.

When we part from the hug, Tony becomes serious again.

“Maybe we can get the Stones back.Maybe we really have a chance to have our children back, Cap.And may not die trying…would be nice”

I smile.

“Sounds like a deal” I reply with a beaming smile.

Now I'm sure that with Tony's help we can really do it.

“Yeah…but before we start we have to do one last thing.And we have to do it together” Tony tells me, turning his back on me and getting into the car.

"Jump on" he invites me with a nod of his head and I, without asking for an explanation, get into the car.

After about ten minutes of traveling, I can't help myself anymore.

"Where exactly are we going?"

Tony doesn't answer, his gaze seems…worried?

I'm starting to get scared.

"Tony?"

"You'll understand soon" he replies cryptically without adding anything else.

I give up and avoid insisting.

I rest my head against the seat trying to relax but moment by moment the road in front of my eyes begins to become familiar and in no time Tony stops the car, parking right in front of the Strange's Sanctuary.

I look at him without understanding.

Tony studies me for a very long minute then lets out a deep sigh.

“We can't do it without her” he whispers, indicating the Sanctuary with a nod.

For a moment I am dumbfounded then slowly Tony's words break through my heart.

My eyes widen and my heart begins to beat at a furious pace.

I think I might as well die right now.

"She's here?"

Has she been here all this time?

My voice comes out in a whisper, the words choked with emotion.

Tony nods.

I can't help myself, my hand is already on the handle but Tony wraps his hand around my arm and stops me.

"Wait, Steve"

"What?" I ask confused.

Tony looks uncomfortable.

“Listen to me carefully, Steve.Lily is no longer the same, she has changed both physically and in her soul.She may no longer be the woman you fell in love with years ago”

We stare at each other.

I can't understand what my friend is saying to me.

"What does it mean?"

“It means you have to take it easy.Don't let your hopes fly, okay?"

I nod and with a little less enthusiasm than a few moments ago, I get out of the car immediately followed by Tony.

We go up the steps that lead us in front of the heavy solid wood door.

This place was once a bit like my home too.

Here, my family and I spent beautiful days.

Tony knocks and my heart skips a beat.

“Oh, she have become much stronger and more dangerous than she already was.Make sure you don't piss her off” says Tony.

I don't have time to ask for explanations because the door in front of us opens revealing a face I haven't seen for many years.

"How much do I owe you for the pizzas?" Layla exclaims without even looking at us as her gaze is lost in her wallet.

"Pizza for lunch, really?" exclaims Tony.

Layla smiles even before looking up, of course she recognized Tony's voice.

“Yeah…” she exclaims but the rest of the sentence dies in her throat as her gaze lands on me.

Her eyes immediately darted to the man next to me and then back to me.

"Are you crazy?You shouldn't have brought him here” Layla whispers under her breath.

I feel hurt by her words.

How can she talk about me like I'm not here?

Yet once we were friends, she was the fiancee of one of my best friends.

Why is she treating me like this?

Layla immediately realizes that she has hurt me with her words and her gaze softens.

“It's not for you Steve, really.I love you but Lily…I don't know how she would react"

"I know.But it's important, Layla.Really important” Tony tells her.

Layla sighs.

But I can no longer pay attention to the people near me because a laugh, a laugh I haven't heard for five years, reverberates from inside the Sanctuary.

Lily emerges from behind the stairs and she has a radiant smile on her face.

God she is so different.

Her gorgeous long, wild curls that I loved so much no longer exist.

Them are short now, barely touching her shoulders.

But that's not what strikes me.

Her body has changed, so much changed compared to five years ago.

Her generous breasts are squeezed into a kind of black sports bra.

Her arms and her legs, left uncovered by a pair of almost obscene black shorts, are firm and toned.

Her once soft and curvy belly has now been replaced by a hint of defined abs.

Without a doubt she has spent the last five years training non-stop.

“Shut up!I beat your ass” she laughs, turning to someone behind her.

And that someone showed up a few moments later.

Behind her, wearing only a pair of sweatpants and shirtless is Loki.

His unnatural emerald green gaze settles softly on Lily, almost devoutly.

Both are barefoot and sweaty, the god's long black hair is gathered in a high messy bun.

They smile at each other.

She pokes her tongue out and he rolls his eyes and pinches her side.

There is a complicity between them that inexorably breaks my heart.

Tony quickly turns his gaze towards me, softening it when he realizes the devastating pain that is overwhelming me.

In his eyes there's only compassion for me.

Now I understand what Tony meant before.

She changed, she changed because she fell in love again.

She really moved on.

And I am here instead, stuck to a past that will never return.

Layla and Tony are in front of the door covering it entirel and I am hidden by the latter.

Lily can't see me yet but I can.

And every step that brings her closer to me is a further stab at my heart.

“Tony!What are you doing here?Did Pepper finally kick you out?" Lily asks with a laugh but slowly her smile fades as she notices the serious faces of her friends.

"What happens?Pepper is ok?" she murmurs taking the last step that will finally lead her to notice me.

"Hi, Lily" I stammer when her black onyx eyes settle into mine.

"Steve?"

Her voice comes out in a whisper, her eyes widen in disbelief.

But in a split second her surprised gaze narrows dangerously at Tony.

And this hurts.

It hurts a lot.

“Before you kill me listen to me, little Strange.I'm not a fool and I never would have brought Capsicle here if it wasn't really that urgent.You have to listen to us, please”

The two look at each other intently for at least a minute.

A minute of deafening silence.

“Lily, you are my best friend, I would never have betrayed you like this if I hadn't had a more than valid reason.Please give us a few minutes, I'm not asking you for anything more.Just a few minutes of your time” Tony insists.

Lily takes a step back exchanging a glance with Loki who has remained motionless by her side all the time.

"Layla, can you accompany them to my father's office?Loki and I will join you in a few minutes” and so saying, without even deigning a glance, she goes away followed by the god who is attached to her hips as if he were her shadow.

We silently go upstairs and quickly settle into what was once Doctor Strange's office.

The walls are covered with dozens and dozens of photos of my children.

I look at them all greedily, letting myself be carried away by the sweet memories linked to every single shot.

Sarah, the twins, my little Jay.

But my state of joy lasts until I hear the door open behind me.

I slowly turn around thinking I meet Lily's gaze but instead I find myself observing the God of mischief as he enters the room.

He is no longer shirtless.

Now he is wearing black jeans and a shirt that is also black, his long black hair falls softly on his shoulders.

I watch him carefully as he approaches with a sure-footed step towards Tony and Layla, they exchange a few words, and then the God positions himself next to the armchair that is located behind the desk and remains standing.

And so is Loki the man who made her happy again.

It is really absurd how life can turn upside down.

I think my state of mind shines through my features because Loki sighs and after a moment he speaks to me.

"I know what you're thinking, Captain" he murmurs in his seductive voice.

I shake my head smiling.

"I don't think so" I hiss through clenched teeth.

The air around us becomes unbreathable as the tension increases.

If he had any idea what I'm thinking he would run away.

At this moment the least bloody image in my head is his head repeatedly slammed against the wall, his skull crushed under the grip of my hand.

His blood still warm running through my fingers.

I feel the anger boil violently inside me.

Jealousy burns me from within, leaving behind only ashes and grudges.

Loki sighs and chuckles as if this situation amuses him.

"I know you have a lot of questions but..."

"But I'm sure that's not what he is here for, right Steve?" Lily interrupts him.

The latter immediately falls silent, Lily joins him smiling at him and takes a seat on the large armchair placing her arms on the armrests.

She too has changed her dress, now she is wearing black trousers and a simple white sweater, which softly embrace her figure.

Sinfully.

She is as beautiful as the first time I saw her, in fact she is more beautiful then ever.

The confidence she gives off is electrifying, she puts my brain in jelly.

"So why are you here?" she asks, leaning her elbows on the desk and leaning forward.

I would like to talk, I would like to tell her that perhaps there is a way to give her back what she craves most in the world...but I remain petrified.

Being so close to her again after all these years is painful and her indifference is even more painful.

How can she remain so impassive?

Am I really just a memory for her?

Yet we shared so many intimate moments...

The birth of our children, the promises of love whispered between kisses, the night we spent lost in ourselves.

All this seems to be gone for her.

"We can do it.We found a way” Tony begins.

Lily exchanges a confused look with Loki and Layla.

"What are you talking about, Tony?"

The man takes a deep breath, as if he is seeking the courage to tell her.

"We can bring everyone back"

And as usual, Lily's reaction surprises me.

She doesn't seem excited, her eyes doesn't open wide in disbelief.

She stands up abruptly, knocking the chair she was sitting on a moment before onto the floor.

Her gaze is full of fury, it is almost unnatural.

Maybe I'm going crazy but I'm sure I saw orange veins covering her iris as dark as the night.

"Lily, listen to me" Tony calls her back but she makes a dry gesture with her hand.

Loki approaches her placing a hand on her back.

"Don't do that" she spits between her teeth, “Don't give me hope” she continues, turning away from us and directing her gaze out of the large windows.

His gesture, so intimate and full of veneration, makes my blood boil in my veins but I bite my tongue.

I bite it until I taste the blood in my mouth.

"Are you sure, Stark?" Loki asks.

Tony nods and tells everything we found out.

Layla, beside me, sniffs.

I rest a hand on her knee smiling faintly, her eyes veiled with tears thank me silently.

I understand her inner turmoil, the joy she feels in hoping that those who are no longer there can return is devastating.

What I don't understand is Lily's reaction.

She continues to turn her back to us without saying a word.

When Tony finishes his speech, Layla turns to her friend.

"Did you hear it, Lil?"

She turns back to us and with a hard look exclaims just two simple words.

"Go away"

Tony and I look at each other in disbelief, even Loki seems taken aback by her reaction.

"But..." Tony stammers.

"Go away!" screams Lily interrupting him.

What the hell is going on?

Layla is speechless, she stares at her friend as if she doesn't know her.

Loki grabs Lily by her shoulders and shakes her slightly.

"Are you crazy, Elisabeth?" he whispers to her.

She looks at him intently.

“I want them to go.Please make them go away”

Her words are a painful whisper.

"Lily" I murmur but Tony immediately interrupts me, he shakes his head and warns me not to intervene.

For a moment my gaze is chained to that of the Norse God then he returns to turn all his attention to the woman in his arms.

“Elisabeth, we've read all sorts of books over the past five years, we've done everything we can to find a solution.We have studied all the oldest and darkest magic...and now that there is the concrete possibility of getting the people you love back, your children, don't you even want to try?" he scolds her in a harsh voice.

Lily lowers her face, directing her distraught gaze to the floor.

Her pain overwhelms me so much that I would like to get up and hold her in my arms.

"What if it doesn't work?" she murmurs in a broken voice, “How will I deal with the consequences?How am I going to handle all that pain again?The last time I barely survived..." she adds in a breath.

But I can't do it.

It's no longer my duty.

Loki softens his gaze and moving his hands from her shoulders, places them on her face, wrapping it with his long elegant fingers.

“We will do it together.As we have already done, remember?"

Lily nods, looking up at her man.

And I believed my heart couldn't break any more than it already was...

But even if I can no longer be her point of reference, her support, I want to try to make her think.

“Listen to me, Lily.I don't want to intrude in your new life and if I'm here it's only because I want to get the children back as much as you want.I'll do this thing, whether you agree or not.But…I want you to know that I still need you, for this latest adventure, I need to have you back by my side”

Her big dark eyes are glued on my face, scrutinizing me as if she were studying me.

As if she didn't know me.

"I just want to give you back your children, nothing more" I whisper as I stand up.

Lily returns her attention to Loki who smiles lovingly at her.

"Let's try" he urges her again and she nods.

She nods and moving away from Loki's grasp she lets her gaze slip among all present.

"All right, Stark.Give us time to retrieve some personal belongings and we will come with you to the Compound” exclaims Lily and then storms out of the room.

Without saying a word, without even giving me a fleeting glance.

She left regardless of my feelings exactly as she did five years ago.

As she passes me, her perfume brings me home.

Her skin smells like home.

If I close my eyes I can still the taste on my tongue...

I sigh flinching in the chair.

This new forced coexistence will be really difficult but I will focus on the positive side of it.

I'll be able to hug Bucky again.

Too see Sam again.

Soon I will be able to hug my wonderful children again.

At least I will have a valid excuse again to continue living.

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[ellana-ravenwood]

“You’re not my real mom !” - Batkids x Fem!Reader (Batmom)

Synopsis : A story about those few dreaded words : “You’re not my real mom”, said by the batkids, to you, in a the heat of a moment. And the aftermath of it all... 

This has been in my draft for ages. I hope you like it :) : 

my masterlists : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

DICK 

It happened so fast. In a quick moment of anger. 

A flash, a bang, words said too quickly to truly realize their meaning. 

Dick was frustrated because he felt you didn’t understand him, his point of view. And you were trying to explain to him that it was not okay to...

You know what ? 

You couldn’t even remember what he did. As if whatever it was, it was all wiped out of your memory when he pronounced those bone chilling words. 

You only remembered you were “scolding” him, just like parents do when their child did something he wasn’t supposed to. You rarely told Dick off, even when he would burst into fits of anger. 

You always told him : “When you came into my life, you changed everything. And I love all of you little bird. Not just when you’re joking around and smiling. But also when you get angry, and lash out. You are my son, I love all of you.” 

And you meant it. Often, you or Bruce would take the brunt of his anger, without batting an eye. After all, that child went through a lot. It was totally normal for him to lash out at times. 

He saw his parents died right in front of him. It wasn’t a trauma that would be solved that fast (Bruce was proof of it). “The magic of love” couldn't simply cure someone who was so deeply hurt. Although it helped, over time. 

Yes. Time. 

It would take time, and support, for Dick to heal. And you were here for it. Here for him. 

But there were times, you had to say something. 

Usually, it was when he was being too reckless. 

Your son could be overzealous, and go too far. And you were so worried about his safety and wellbeing...Very rarely, you’d have to “scold” him. 

And you couldn’t even remember what you were lecturing him about that evening (even if you had an idea it was about being a little more careful). All you remembered was...

“You’re not even my real mom ! You can’t tell me anything !” 

And him turning away from you, crossing his arms and refusing to look your way. Which was good anyway, because you were an instant mess. 

“Ok”, you managed to say, wondering how the hell you were able to get the words out. And then you left. Feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. And your heart slowly breaking. 

Bruce found you two later, both clearly feeling down... 

Dick stayed quiet the entire time they were on patrol, and Bruce instantly knew something was wrong. He wasn’t there during your fight, and he only arrived when you were already gone, surprised that you went to bed so early in the night, and didn’t stay with your son downstairs until it was time for patrol... 

The man didn’t push the boy, waiting for him to open up if he wanted to. And as usual, Dick did finally speak up. In a weak voice, as they were surveying the city from a rooftop, he said :

“I told her she wasn’t my real mom...” 

“Ah.” 

Bruce felt the urge to go back home and console you, knowing that you were certainly a mess, right now. But he had to take care of his boy, too. 

And oh, oh Dick looked so crestfallen and sad as the meaning of his words slowly etched into his mind. 

“I told her she wasn’t-she wasn’t-but she is I just-I-I don’t know why I said that-I...” 

The little one was on the verge of tears, and Bruce understood why. 

He probably understood more than anyone else. 

He told Alfred “You’re not my dad !” more than once, and remembered how even the stoic butler looked, whenever he said it. 

He remembered the hurt in his eyes, the resignation too. The “very well sir”, said in a neutral manner, but the stiff way he’d left the room. 

It took Bruce a while, to finally realize that Alfred WAS his father. That he raised him, most definitely. And was always there for him during the hard times. 

That he even helped and supported him, when he came back after disappearing for years, saying : “I’m going to dress up as a bat and wipe crimes from Gotham”. ...How many parents would be that understanding, eh ? 

Alfred knew Bruce. And always tried to do his best for him. So whenever Bruce would yell at him that he “wasn’t his father”, it hurt. 

Bruce knew it. He noticed how Alfred’s entire demeanor would change. He’d see a light go out in his eyes. 

“Very well, sir.”, a small bow, and the stiffness of his body as he left...

And Bruce remembered. 

The guilt and the pain he felt himself, as he regretted ever saying those words. As he knew they were going to hurt, which is why he said them in the first place.

It wasn’t that he wanted to hurt his adopted father, oh no. It was that sometimes he just...He just felt so angry ! Like everything was unfair ! And he missed his parents so much ! 

It was a force stronger than him, he wanted Alfred to leave him alone, and pushed him away...”You’re not my dad !”. So yes. Bruce understood little Dickie. He understood you, too. He knew how you must’ve felt, he saw it enough happening to Alfred. 

Once you’d get home, he would take care of you. But right now, he had to care for his son. 

Right here, on one of Gotham’s rooftop, the scary and mighty Batman slowly kneeled down, and took his boy in his arms, holding him tightly. 

Dick didn’t need more to throw his arms around his father’s shoulders, and hold him strongly too, with all his nine years old strength, sobbing slowly. 

Bruce drew soothing circles on his back, and whispered : 

“It’s ok, it’s going to be ok. It’s ok. Calm down, things are going to be ok.” 

Your husband lost count of the time passing. Were they there, holding each others while Dick was sobbing uncontrollably, for ten minutes, or for ten hours ? He didn’t know. And he didn’t budge.  

His son needed him. Just like once, he needed Alfred... 

Dick fell asleep in his arms, and that night, Bruce came home early. 

Not like he was going to stay out anyway, knowing you were probably devastated, all alone in your room... 

************

Dick fell into a deep sleep, and didn’t budge one bit even as Bruce came down the building, rode home, and put him into bed. 

Bruce’s guess was that all the pent up feelings truly exhausted him. Also, he knew that crying could be tiring. And freeing, in a way. 

Putting the boy’s blanket all the way up to his chin, Bruce laid a kiss on his forehead and then rushed to your shared bedroom... 

You had cried too, but you were not asleep. 

Your eyes were puffy and red, and your cheeks marked with your tears. You seemed surprised, when he came in, and looked at the clock. 

It was only midnight ? 

“Hello, my love.” 

He sat down next to you, and from the way he ran his fingers through your hair, and caressed your cheek, wiping the salty tears from it...You knew he knew.

He knew how devastated you felt. How those simple words that would mean nothing for many, truly wounded you. 

He knew how much you loved that boy, how as soon as your eyes laid on his little face that terrible night he lost his parents, you felt like he was going to be your son one day. 

He knew how much you’d sacrifice for that kid’s happiness, how far you’d go to keep him safe...And so, how hurtful him telling you you weren’t his real mother must’ve felt.  

There was no need for words. 

He knew what to do. He laid next to you, and you just cuddled up to him, letting him wrap you up in his warm embrace. 

He drew those same soothing circles on your back than he did on Dick’s. And whispered : 

“He didn’t mean it. He truly didn’t. He loves you, you know. I love you too.” 

You fell asleep to his words of love and reassurance, finally letting go after hours of not being able to sleep, reenacting the terrible scene in your head over and over again, making yourself feel worst each times. 

************

You woke up around 4 am, with Bruce’s arms wrapped around you.  

He was asleep and escaping his grasp (without Alfred’s help) took you a little bit..but you managed to leave without waking him up. 

He did groan a little at the loss of your warmth, and grabbed your pillow to hold it against his chest. Which was extremely cute, and oh how glad you were to be the only one to see this side of him. 

You went down to the kitchen and... 

Dick was coming from the other door, opposite to the one you took.

The kitchen had three access. Two doors facing each others, and one on the third wall. The door you took was because you got a little lost and did a detour through the drawing room. Dick, however, came from the door you should’ve come from too, which was the one you accessed from the West Wing third corridors, which was directly under your bedroom, and Dick’s. 

The boy probably stood up a little after you, and while you got lost in your own home (again), he took the normal way and...

Boom. Here you both were, arriving in the kitchen at the same time. 

There was a small silence. Awkward. And...

Your heart tightened. 

Dick was sort of cowering backward in fear. Fear of what ? 

Oh. But of course. 

“He didn’t mean it.” 

Bruce whispered to you many times, before you fell asleep. And the way Dick looked at you, worry in his eyes...He was thinking you were mad at him. And the regret in his pupils was as obvious as that fact. 

“Ice cream ?” 

You ask him. His eyes widen a bit, and you can almost see the gears in his brain trying to piece everything together. You’re...not mad at him ? 

Of course you’re not. You felt sad, and lost, and hurt, yes. But never did you feel any hint of anger. Of course not. 

You take out his favorite flavor from the freezer, and settle a bowl in front of one of the high stool around the counter. 

At that time, Dick was so tiny. A very short little bean. And he’d stay small for a long time, only having a sudden spurt when he was around fifteen. 

He climbed onto the stool, and watched you as you gave him some ice cream and a spoon, and then sat down next to him to eat some as well. 

The silent was slowly turning less awkward. 

Slowly, and unsurely, Dick picked his spoon up and looked at you. And completely missed his mouth, the ice cream spreading on his cheek instead. 

You turn around to look at him, ice cream on his cheek, and he’s clearly embarrassed, as a tint of color slowly rises on his face. 

You don’t really know why, but something snaps in you and you start laughing. And laughing. And laughing. 

Because honestly, the kid missing his mouth as he picked his spoon up full of ice cream, is kinda funny right ? And also, all the tension and stress you felt suddenly broke with this simple, silly thing. 

Unsure at first, Dick just looked at you. But your laughter quickly spread to him, and soon enough, you both were bursting out in laughter. 

Anyone not knowing what happened, would probably think you were both crazy, laughing that hard for no apparent reasons. 

Instinctually, you ruffle his hair and Dick gasps. You really weren’t mad at him ?!

You realized what you did, and slowly, both your laughter subsided. There was a small silence as Dick stared at you, and you stared back, and then : 

“I’m-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it !” 

He says in a small voice, and he can’t add anything else as you just pick him up and hold him tight against your heart, and you say : 

“I know.” 

And it’s all he needs to realize you’re not really mad at him, and although he messed up and hurt you, right now, you were both on the path of recovery... 

Next morning, Bruce woke up alone in bed, which greatly distressed him as usual (he often woke up first). But a gut feeling was telling him that...

He found you asleep with Dick in his bed, holding him tightly. 

************

After that event, you sat down with him, so you could have a serious talk about the underlining issue this raised. Talk about something important. 

“Little bird, you know I love you, right ?” 

He nods, but still cannot speak quite yet, doesn’t have the energy to. 

“I want you to understand something. Something vital. Are you listening ?” 

He nods again, his eyes fixed on you. And he’s listening, oh he definitely is. 

“It’s ok to be angry. It’s ok to lash out. It’s ok to not be alright. It’s ok to make mistakes.” 

He nods, a little slower than before, and you can see his eyes slowly becoming wetter and wetter. 

“It’s ok. It really is. I’m here. And I love you. Even when you don’t want me around. Even when you push me away. I’m here. And I always will be. Ok ?” 

He nods one last time, unable to hold his tears, and then his little arms latch around you, and he refuses to let go for well over an hour...

Oh. Sweet, sweet boy. 

Your son. 

************

Even now, at age twenty seven, Dick still often think about this day. And the regrets are as burning as they were back then. 

He often thought about it. 

Whenever you did something for him, went out of your way to make him happy, or were just there for him, always...

He’d have a flashback of this day, and feel nothing but regret and anger at his younger self. 

And then you’d read him like an open book. Know exactly what he was thinking, and would slowly shake your head, and say : “I know I often said that, but I will say it till the day I die if I need to :  when you came into my life, you changed everything. And I love all of you little bird. Not just when you’re joking around and smiling. But also when you get angry, and lash out. You are my son. I love all of you. Even when you’re a little bit of a jerk.” and you’d wink at him, making him chuckle and feel a surge of affection toward you. 

Kind of like the ones you’d feel sometimes. A sudden urge to hug your family, to tell them what they mean to you. Both you and Dick understood since a long time that with the life you all lead, you never knew what could happen, and should never waste a “I love you” if you felt like saying it. 

Well, the apple never fall far from the tree ? 

Yes. Because you were his mom. And nothing would ever change his mind on that. Ever. 

JASON 

"Well Jason, you did it you idiot !” 

He says to himself in the mirror, and oh he could’ve punch himself if it was possible. He took his desk chair, and threw it across his bedroom, letting out a scream of frustration. 

He went to his desk, and threw everything that was on it on the floor. He then went to his book shelves and...

There. Your book. The one you wrote for him. 

Jason fell to his knee, holding his head in his hands, crying softly. 

Yes. Yes he did it...He ruined this one chance life gave him to have parents. 

He hurt one of the person that meant the most to him, one of the person he loved the most...His mom. You. 

Because you were his mom, no matter what he told you, in that moment of anger as you scolded him after he did something dangerous during one of his patrol. 

He hadn’t been allowed to go out for long, by then. And Bruce had already scolded him before for the very same thing, so when you did it too, he had enough and...it happened before he could think about it. 

He was angry, about the lack of trust and about the sermons, and his brain tried to hurt without even thinking about it. Triggered by years of living in the streets, where he had to think quick and act right away, and then suffer the consequences. If he wasn’t fast enough, it could be the end of him... 

A gut reaction triggered by years of being all on his own, having to fend for himself. His brain went into overdrive, “hurt” is what it set into motion. 

“You’re not my mom !” 

And that was it...

As he saw your face fell, and his father’s face turn angry, he knew. He knew he messed up. He messed everything up, as usual !

“Jason !” 

Bruce called, but Jason wasn’t about to stop. He ran out of the cave, right to his bedroom. Oh, oh but if only he stayed a little longer. He’d realize that his father wasn’t angry, just hurt as well. 

Hurt to see the woman he loved being hurt. 

Not angry. Ah but being in pain could sometimes look like you are mad ? And Bruce hadn't been able to hide his frown as he heard Jason’s words... 

“Let him be, Bruce.” 

You say in a weak voice. You knew Jason, you knew sometimes he needed to cool down on his own. That he could be impulsive, but always came around. 

Ah. But that time, he needed everything but to be alone. 

Because, as he thought he ruined his one chance at having a real family, he thought... 

“Better to leave before they throw me away !” 

He knew he could never bear to face you and Bruce, as you’d certainly tell him you were “un-adopting” him. Jason saw it happened before. Someone thinking their adopted kid was “too much”, and sending them back. 

It was awful, of course. But it happened. For real. And Jason knew that life could really suck...But her couldn’t bear to face you as you’d send him away. 

Worst, what if you just send Alfred and that was it ?

No. Jason would leave before you could do that. He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t. 

Filling his backpack with some clothes, and snacks, he opened his window and slid down the gutter all the way to the ground, and then ran away into the night. Tears trailing down behind him, as he left behind the one place in which he ever felt safe, warm, and loved. 

In the meantime, you and Bruce were unaware of that, and slowly falling asleep in each others’ arms... As usual, Bruce was there for you. 

************

“Jason ? I thought I wouldn’t see you anymore after you got adopted by dem fancy fellas. Are you here to get some work ?” 

“No.” 

“Really, why did you come then ?” 

“I didn’t, I’m just passing by.” 

“Nah, don’t believe it. Once a bad boy, always a bad boy !” 

“TAKE IT BACK !” 

As he ran away, Jason went back to a place he thought he never would need to. A few intricate alleys, in the Bowery, under the main city. 

The Bowery, a filthy underground neighborhood, hell on Earth for many. Although things did improve when Batman started his work a few years back. 

“Wow there tiger, relax.” 

Jason came in this specific area for only one thing. Retrieve a few items he left behind, thinking he would never need it again because he was leaving behind this life. 

He had a hideout, not far. In which he hid some materials to survive in the streets. He thought he probably had to go back to stealing cars’ tires...Although maybe he should change it. Thinking of what happened last time he did this hurt his heart. 

He knew that next time he’d get caught stealing tires, the person wouldn’t end up adopting him...Anyway, he didn’t want any other parents but you and Bruce. 

And he messed that up so bad, by being so mean to you ! 

“Listen, it’s not because you got all fancy schmancy that you can talk to me like that. Remember who’s boss in this part of town.” 

Batman did a lot of good to the city, but also, by getting rid of some big players in the “crime business”, he allowed small time thugs to climb up the ladders...It felt, at times, like there always was someone to replace whoever Bruce just put behind bars... 

The man who was talking to Jason, used to be a small time criminal. Turned boss, when the Batman kept arresting all the people above him. Jason used to “work” for him, bringing him watches or jewelry that he’d exchange against cash. 

Damn. He never thought he’d ever see him again... Oh and he definitely didn’t think this through. 

As the new boss, who’s name was Johnny Clancy, told him that he’d forever be a “bad boy”, Jason saw red and...getting mad at a crime boss was a bad idea. 

Before he could even think about an escape plan, Jason was surrounded by dangerous armed men. 

“How dare you talk to me like that ? Mmm. The Waynes adopted you right ? Mmm. They’re loaded. Probably would pay a fortune to get you back uh ? And to think they’re gonna give me a lot of cash to get a little runaway brat back haha. Because that’s what you did right ? You ran away ? As you always did before mm ? You know, I observed you Jason Todd. I saw you run away from anyone getting close. I saw you.” 

Jason’s heart didn’t need anyone to push and squiggle the knife he felt in around some more. He had just lost his family. Did he need more reminder that he always fucked up ?! 

“They won’t give you any money, they don’t want me anymore...” 

But Johnny didn’t believe him, of course. He told two of his thugs to grab the boy, but Jason, by instinct, dropped them to the floor with a few well placed kicks and punches. 

And that was enough to unleash Johnny Clancy’s wrath.

See, he was a new boss. He had to assert dominance. And an eight years old kid making a fool of him and his gang ? That wouldn’t go. 

So what if he had to off a child ? Anything to keep climbing up, and leave the Bowery’s slums. 

************

“Have you seen Jason ?” 

Bruce asks you, a few hours after your fight with him. 

“What ? No, I thought he was with you ?”

“No, he skipped his training and I thought he might be with you, apologizing for what he said yesterday ? You know, sounds like something he would do.” 

“I haven’t seen him since, you know. I thought he was avoiding me...” 

“He would never.” 

“Bruce...” 

“He would never, my love. I know what he said hurt you, but I’m sure he’s regretting it right now. You should go see him, he’s probably sulking in his bedroom. I wouldn’t be surprised if you meet him up the stairs as he comes down to say sorry.” 

“Bruce...” 

Your husband comes to you, and takes your hands in his. 

“You know him. He’s impulsive, and a little abrasive sometimes. But he’s a sweet child. And he regrets his bursts, you know it. Tonight was just tough, we both scolded him, he’s not used to it.” 

“You’re right.” 

“Of course I am, I’m-”

“I swear to God if you say “I’m Batman” I’m going to smack you.” 

Bruce smiles softly at you, glad he managed to at least made the tension go away a little. He pecks your lips quickly, and watches you as you leave to go to your son’s bedroom. 

He was about to go down the Batcave, when you came back, panicked : 

“He’s gone ! Jason’s gone !” 

Ah. Bruce knew that placing a tracker in his children’s molars was a good idea. 

************

“HOW HARD IS IT TO CATCH A FUCKING KID ?!” 

Jason runs as fast as he can, without looking back. He managed to break the line of thugs coming at him, and escape in-between to of them who didn’t pull their guns out quite yet. 

They were shooting at him. With no hesitation. 

Johnny was set on proving he was an unscrupulous boss. To earn everyone’s respect. So what if he had to shoot a kid ? It’d send everyone a message. He’d back off from nothing ! 

Jason turned in an alley and...Damn it ! He must’ve taken a wrong turn at some point, it had been a while, since he roamed the Bowery’s alleyways...

He was faced by a wall, stuck. And they quickly caught up to him. 

“Wooouh, you’re fast kid. And you’re sneaky. Too bad you’re such a brat, I bet you could be a nice addition to our-”

Johnny Clancy never finished his sentence. In fact, he never could properly speak after that night. After getting his jaw broken into a thousand pieces by the Batman’s fist. 

Bruce had come down from nowhere, with...you in his arms ?! 

This was the first time Jason saw you wear the costume he saw a few times in the Batcave. He thought you wore it only to go to the JLA’s watchtower, to hide your identity. Not that you could actually...fight ?! 

And wow, you definitely could hold your own ! You made a few disarming pass, taking the guns away from all the men before they could even react, and letting Bruce finish them off with well placed kicks and punches. 

Oh and that night, the Batman unleashed his rage and unforgiveness full force. How dare they touch his son ?! 

You didn’t have anything to envy from your husband either, however, as you worked through Johnny’s gang rather fast too. 

That night, the both of you exterminated (figure of speech, of course, neither of you ever killed, that was the one big rule...but there were never a rule against breaking a few bones) Johnny Clancy’s gang, who dared to even think of hurting your precious son. 

Jason, holding his backpack tight against him, couldn’t believe his eyes. You two came to save him ? But...why ? 

He messed up. You’d surely not want him around anymore ! 

Once Bruce dropped the last man, you rushed to Jason and before he could utter a sound, took him in your arms. 

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re safe baby, I’m so glad you’re...” 

Your voice broke at the end, and you chocked, the emotions too strong and squeezing your throat. 

Jason didn’t understand. And through his surprise, he managed to say : 

“I thought-I thought you’d never want to see me again, and that you wouldn’t want to be my mom anymore.” 

You hold him even tighter, as you feel Bruce get down on his knee and bring the both of you in his arms. 

“Oh sweety, never. Never.” 

You say, not letting go. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...” 

Your son manage to choke out, before sobbing profusely and holding on to you and Bruce. 

“I’m just glad you’re safe...it’s ok, it’s ok it’s already forgotten...” 

And it was. As soon as you saw that Jason-That your SON, was missing, you forgot he ever told you “you’re not my mom”. You forgot and it truly didn’t matter anymore, as all you cared about was to find him, and make sure he was safe. 

“Jason, oh my little Jason, I’m so glad you’re safe...”

Wether it is a conscious things or not, he returns your embrace fiercely, holding tightly as he looks up at you. It almost feels like he wants to make sure you really are there. And won’t go anywhere. Like everyone else did in his life. 

Jason was tired of losing those close to him. Those he cared about. Sometimes, he’d push them away, by fear of getting attached again just for life to rip them away from him. So he held onto you, as you held him back. 

Tightly against your heart. 

“Mom...” 

This was the day Jason Todd realized something very important : He wasn’t alone anymore. He had parents who loved him, and he loved them back. 

So much. 

And they’d never let him go. Never. 

************

Years later, this love he had for you and Bruce, turned out to be the very reason he became “Red Hood”. 

From that day he told you : “you’re not my real mom !”, he felt like he belonged. Like finally, the people he loved loved him back. Like he was cherished. And then Bruce didn’t avenge him. He let Joker get away. And you let him do it. You, the people he trusted and loved most in the world, betrayed him...

He felt like he wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth Bruce breaking his one rule to avenge him. He wasn’t worth it...He didn’t matter enough. 

Jason felt so angry. For years. He wanted to hurt you, to hurt Bruce. To show you what it felt like. What HE felt like. 

But Jason has always been a strong one. You knew it. You told him enough times : “you’re a fighter, my Jason. You went through so much, and always came out of it. You lost a lot on the way my little one, but you never give up. You never give up...” 

You never give up. 

Love. 

It’s what drove him to become the Red Hood. It’s what drove him over the edge. What gave him so much pain. 

Rather, the feeling of not being loved. The thought all you and Bruce said to him, about how much you cared and loved him, was a lie. 

Yes. The thought that you lied about loving him, is what broke him. What made him find every way possible to truly, truly hurt you two.

You never give up. 

He was so angry. But he never could quite give up on his family...that’s why he didn’t stay with the Al’ghuls. That why they didn’t keep him. 

He could never forget you and Bruce. Move on. 

He could never. 

Jason was a strong lad. Strong enough to see past his hate and need of revenge. His pain. His deep trauma. 

It took a while. But the change came from him. He’s the one that gave you another chance. And it allowed him to realize...nothing was a lie.

And you got your son back.

Because you showed him. You showed him nothing was a lie.

When his dad never gave up on him even as he killed more and more people, and even as Jason saw him completely erase people who used to be close from him as soon as they killed once. When you refused to let him go. When Bruce kept going back, even as he knew Jason would fight him and try to hurt him. When you pleaded with him, even when you knew his answer would be the same... 

Jason never gave up. 

But you didn’t either. 

“You’re not my mom”, are words he never meant. Not even once. Not even when he was the “old” Red Hood, the one that killed mercilessly any criminals, and that was trying to be exactly what Batman wasn’t. 

“You’re not my mom”, even at his worst, at a time he suffered greatly, Jason never meant it. He never did. 

And ultimately, it’s this filial love, and the love you and Bruce had for him, that brought him back out of the dark pit the Joker pushed him in...

TIM 

Tim knew that his overly pragmatic mind sometimes could make him sound tactless. That he had trouble, sometimes, expressing himself properly. 

He knew that what he said, although it could be the factual truth, could be perceived as not being very nice... 

He knew, yet sometimes, he couldn’t help himself. 

“But you’re not my mom.” 

He told you that day, as you asked when was the “mother/child day” at school. 

Tim’s school had a day each year, during which every mother would come and do different activities with their kids. You did it with Dick and Jason, and it was always great fun, and amazing bonding time. 

By then, Tim had been with you and Bruce for over a year now. And he did, see you as his mom. However, he was a little too set, at the time, on rules and specifics. In the “mother/child day” rulebook, it “specifically” said that the actual child’s mother had to come, not the nanny or anyone else. 

In Tim’s mind, although he did see you as his mom, he thought the school wouldn’t. For him, the way the rules were written, were clearly stating his birth mother had to come. And the official adoption papers were not processed yet. Those took quite a while. 

He had been living with you for over a year. He called you and Bruce “mom and dad”. He truly considered you two his parents. But the official papers were not done quite yet. So to him, in the eye of the law (be it a silly school rule), you weren’t his mom quite yet. 

So when he said : “but you’re not my mom”, that’s what he meant. Of course, you misunderstood...

How could you guess that Tim was thinking that only his “birth mother” could take him, because officially right now he didn’t have a mom, just “guardians”...

His mother was dead. Has been dead for a while, now. And even if she wasn’t, Tim knew she’d never come at this event...She wasn’t the caring type of mother. Not like you. Which is why it really bummed him out that those rules were so clearly stated like that !

What Tim misunderstood, is that this specific rule had been added to the rulebook because many family would send their nanny, or a big sister, instead of the mom. Because Tim was of course in Gotham’s Academy, full of rich families, in which the moms were very busy...

Which is why such a day existed. Some kids spend quality times with their mom only on this school day. Nowadays, everyone made an effort to come (the fact you appeared, the famed (Y/N) Wayne, a few years back, with Dick, and it made all the papers’ headlines, might’ve influenced others to participate too).

To tell the truth, Tim was very disappointed that you couldn’t go with him, and was considering asking the principle of the school to do an exception to the rule and allow you to go with him.  

He was already fomenting a plan in his head to convince the headmaster to let you come as his mom, and as usual when he was planning things out, he completely disconnected from reality. 

And therefor, didn’t see how your face “closed”, and your eyes turned sad. The boy was typing away on his computer, as if nothing had just happened, as if you didn’t feel your world crumble as he flat out told you you weren’t his mom...

Of course, it was all a misunderstanding. He meant it as “officially”. Not about his actual feelings. 

For some reason, the way he said it so nonchalantly hurts you more than when Dick and Jason yelled at you that you “weren't their mom”. Because at least, in your eldests’ cases, you knew it was in the heat of the moment. 

That it was because they felt frustrated and sad. 

But Tim just told you : “But you’re not my mom.” matter of factly, and moved on. And it hurt. 

It hurt so much, because that boy...You loved that boy, of course. And considered him your son for sure. Part of your heart, now. Part of your family. And he felt so far, right now...so far... 

You left the room and he didn’t even notice. 

Did he really not see you as his mom ? Was he just calling you “mom” to imitate his brothers ? ...You didn’t know, but it hurt. 

It hurt so much. 

************

You found Bruce in his office, doing some paperworks for Wayne Inc. When he saw your face, he immediately smiled, your presence lighting his whole world...But then he saw your expression, and he frowned. 

“What happened ?” 

************

“Mom ? MooOOooom ?” 

Tim had been looking for you for the past hour, but wasn’t able to find you. You weren't in all your favorite places ! Did you leave the Manor without telling him ? It was unlike you. 

Finally, he found you. You were in a room that was rarely used, but which was conveniently close to Bruce’s office, and had a couch. 

Laying on top of your husband, you were fast asleep as Bruce was going through his paperworks, letting you holding onto his waist as he kept working. 

When he saw the boy come in the room, he smiled at him. And it was hard, not to smile at Tim, seeing his own big wide smile. 

Tim was missing a few teeth, that fell not long ago, and it was absolutely the cutest, when he smiled widely. He looked so happy, eyes sparkly and genuine smile. It felt wrong to Bruce, to think that this sweet boy didn’t see you as his mom...

Maybe it was all a misunderstanding ? Wouldn’t be the first time. Although, Bruce knew how sometimes Tim could be brutally honest, and say the facts in a matter of factly way that could be very harsh on the uninitiated. 

Your son was holding a cardboard sheet almost as big as him, and looked very excited about something. He slowly approached you two, and said, whispering, yet the excitement was clear in his voice : 

“Has she been asleep for long, dad ?!” 

He called Bruce dad. Without an hesitation. And it felt so genuine. Like he was relishing in the word rolling off of his tongue. And it was often the case, with Tim. His parents, when they were still alive, never really noticed his presence... 

And sometimes, it could be even worst to have parents who acted as if you didn’t exist, than caring parents who passed away. Bruce realized this. 

“No, she just closed her eyes.” 

Bruce answers, looking at you. And oh he couldn’t possibly know how soft his expressions as as he gazed at your sleeping face. 

“Oh...” 

Tim was clearly disappointed. His shoulders fell down, and he looked on the floor, looking defeated.

“What is it, champ ?” 

“Well, I wanted her to-Oh ! Mom !” 

The rumbling of your husband’s chest as he spoke is what woke you up. Not the actual sound of their voices, just that low vibrations reverberating in his chest. 

You opened one eye, then the second, and was greeted by your youngest son’s face being very close to you. As Tim saw you were waking up, he kneeled down next to the couch, settling his piece of cardboard next to him, and approached you very closely. 

His smile and sweet expression filled your vision. And you felt even more hurt, as you saw him so happy to see you, to know he didn’t really think you were his mom. 

It was clear he cared for you. And loved you, and being with you. But to him...You weren’t his mom. And that was so painful. 

“I got a plan mom, I got a plan !” 

A...Plan ? For what ? You don’t even have time to ask him, and, still a little hazy as you just woke up from a short nap (that you took after crying exhausted you), you raise a little from your husband. 

You exchange a curious look with him, as you see Tim spring to his feet and get a hold of the piece of cardboard that is almost as tall and large as him. 

He turns it around and...

Your heart drops. 

It’s a lot of very detailed drawings, maps and words about...about...

“This is how we’re going to convince the headmaster of my school that you’re really my mom, even if officially you’re not yet !! I thought we could start with logic first, and then go down the path of pathos if he really doesn’t change his mind !” 

What ? Your brain is trying really hard to comprehend what’s happening, although it is starting to put two and two together. 

“The rules say that the mom HAS to be the one who comes, and the way they wrote it suggest that they wouldn’t accept someone who isn’t yet official. But I think we could convince that, in our heart, we’re already an official family, right ?!” 

Tim looks at you, and then at his dad, a little worry in his eyes (what if for them, he wasn’t their son yet because the paperworks weren’t finished and officials quite yet ?!?!). Bruce cannot help but smile, and nods, feeling his heart melt (a rare occurrence). 

And you. You have exactly the reaction he expected you’d have. You sit up, put the cardboard aside, and drag your son into a tight hug that makes him giggle and exclaim : 

“Hahaha mom wait I can’t breaaaathe !! Mom !!” 

But he hugs you back, knowing that this means yes, you do consider him your son already, paperworks or not, and you will probably follow his plan to convince the school to-

“Mom ? Why are you crying ? Mom ?” 

You can’t explain it to him. You feel silly, but also so emotional and touched. You thought he didn’t think of you as his mom. But he did. Oh he did, and was actually worried about technicalities of rules and...So sweet. That boy is so sweet. 

Carefully, Tim dries your tears, and look curiously at his dad, his eyes clearly asking : “Did I do something wrong ?”

You’re still unable to speak, as you hold onto him, and Bruce ruffles his son’s hair saying : 

“She’s just too happy, champ. She’s just too happy.” 

CASSANDRA

"You, not my mom !” 

She screamed. You never heard Cass raised her voice before. And yet, here, she screamed at you. And then closed her bedroom door right on your nose. 

And you felt it in your heart. That specific pain that you wished you’d never feel again. That kind of hurt you wished you’d never feel ever again. 

It happened just liked it did with Dick and Jason. You were “lecturing” her about putting herself in needless danger, and she felt frustrated at the fact you “didn’t trust her”. 

It wasn’t true of course. You did trust her. And you knew she could hold her own. Didn’t mean you wouldn’t worry, and scold her if she really scared you... 

It was pure instinct. You couldn’t stop yourself from telling them off when you felt they went too far. You did it with Bruce too. 

Once, he threw himself in the way of a bullet to save you, and once he recovered enough...Oh you were so mad at him. 

It’s not that you wanted to take that bullet, of course. You knew it was also instinct that made him move to save you. But in truth, you would rather take a thousand bullet than lose any of them. Bruce, or your children. 

And sometimes, it was hard for them to understand this. To get why you were so worried, when you accepted fully their night activities. 

Why you monitored the batcomputer, if it was to scold them when they put themselves in danger ? 

Ah but they didn’t understand that you only got “mad” when they put themselves in NEEDLESS danger. Pushing themselves too far that one night, being careless with something, ignoring their own safety to finish a task... 

You couldn’t help but be afraid. And your fear turned into you scolding them. And sometimes, on each sides, things boiled and...

“You, not my mom !” 

The meaning was clear. As Cass slammed her door right in your face, you knew not to push it further, not to tell her anything more. 

Maybe you should’ve ? Should’ve open her door, and continue lecturing her so she’d understand her life was valuable ? 

Cass put herself in danger more than any other member of your family, because she was raised as a weapon and thought of herself as an “expendable”. You weren’t mad at her for this, of course not (but oh, David Cain probably should never cross your path, it wasn’t pretty, when you were truly angry). 

You were just worried. And unfortunately, being a parent was complicated and sometimes, your worry turned a little overbearing for your kids. 

This was a mistake every normal caring parents made. Wanting what was best for their children, sometimes not realizing they’re going too far. And you ? Your family wasn’t normal. 

Your children were vigilantes. Your worries were tuned up to the max.  

Being a parent was hard. And sometimes, both you and your kids were frustrated. It happened. In any family. 

It was resolved rather fast, most of the time. A little conversation, understanding and indulgence, and boom. Sorted. 

However, there were times when things would go a little too far. Wether because one of you was tired, or didn’t feel well etc etc...

Tonight, was such a time. 

“You, not my mom !” 

Cass didn’t even register what she said. She was just mad and frustrated, and said the first thing that came into her mind. Her hand slammed the door shut before she could even think about it. 

And here you were. In the corridor. In front of your daughter’s door. 

Hurt. And feeling as devastated as you did when her brothers told you the same thing. You would think, after a few times of this happening, it’d be easier, right ? Well. No. It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. 

As usual in those instances, you went to seek comfort in the arms of your husband. 

************

Cassandra didn’t feel ok. 

In fact, she felt absolutely terrible. 

She couldn’t even remember the last time she felt that bad. 

When she went to look for you and apologize for her behavior, she found you in her dad’s arms, crying, and it made her run away...

She couldn’t face you, knowing she truly hurt you like that. 

The worst thing is, she knew she would hurt you by saying those words. Yet she still did it. It was as if she couldn’t control herself. It was like an ugly force took over her, and made her say those words. 

But she knew. She knew she’s the one who ultimately decided to say them. She’s the one that pronounced them. Under the anger. 

Anger. 

The ugly force. 

She turned around in her bed, holding onto the plush toy you gave her shortly after her arrival. You said “every child should have one” and that this one made you think of her. 

It was a fox with bright colors. And it still smelled like you. 

She was about to fall asleep, when she heard a knock on her door. 

“Can we come in ?” 

It was her older brothers. 

Dick, Jason and Tim. 

It was rare, to have them all in the same place nowadays, what with how busy they all were. Dick with Bludhäven, Jason with the gods only knew what really (the gods, and you and Bruce...but sshhh, that’s a secret), and Tim with college applications. 

So Cass immediately understood that they heard about the fight she had with their mom. 

And she felt a rush of shame come over her. She felt sad too, because maybe they’d be mad at her ?

Cassandra didn’t think she could bear to break your heart, and have her precious brothers mad at her all in the same day. 

She almost told them to leave. But she didn’t have the strength. 

They surrounded her, and their presence was so...soothing. 

And then they spoke. They each told her the story of the time they told their mom those few dreaded words. 

“You’re not my real mom !” 

They told her how awful they felt, and how they knew they hurt their mom. They told her that...well, they did have the best mom ever. 

You never held any grudge. Ever. Especially not against your own family. 

You never even mentioned again the fact they told you this awful thing, you never even mentioned once this, under any circumstances. 

Her brothers stayed with her for hours, talking about their feelings on the matter. Telling her it happened. That everyone wasn’t always on their best behavior...

It was hard, for Cass, to not be “good”. She did so many awful things when her biological father raised her to be a weapon, she felt like she had to catch up so much on those years of “badness”. 

She often felt like she was evil, and could never caught up to everything. Like she was doomed, and could never become good. 

On that, Jason told her she was wrong. That everyone could change, and no one was born truly evil. Environment, and the way you’re raised, matter. And what she did...wasn’t her fault. She was forced to. If she really enjoyed doing this she’d never become a Batgirl. She would never be part of this family. 

She often felt like she was a bad daughter. 

On that, Dick told her she was wrong. He too, felt like a bad son, when he “replaced” his parents with you and Bruce. He too, felt like a bad son when he would get so mad while you would do anything to make him happy. He too, felt like a bad son...on so many occasions. But he grew. And thanks to you mainly, he realized he was just human. Mistakes are human. And it’s not being a bad son, to sometimes feel so hurt that you lash out. That your trauma are so strong, things sometimes are tough. 

She often felt like she couldn’t fit in, and would never fit in. 

On that, Tim told her she was wrong. Him too, felt too different. He already had parents, they were alive, he just wanted to help, he didn’t have any friends...But in this family. In this family, everyone fitted in. Because you made it so. Bruce made it saw. You both accepted any flaws, and differences your kids might have. You loved them unconditionally, they all knew that by now. 

And Cass...Cass didn’t want to hurt you. 

They knew that, too.

It was an accident. In the heat of the moment. She didn’t mean it. Of course, you are her mom. Of course...

It felt good, to have her brothers there for her, when you couldn’t be. 

************

Later that night, after her brothers left, Cass slowly exits her room and take the known way to yours and Bruce’s. 

You are both there, and she knows her dad stayed because you felt bad. He always stayed with you, when you were feeling down. And vice versa.

Cass always told herself that, later, if she ever found a significant other, she’d want her and them to have the same kind of relationships than you. You and Bruce set up a rather high standard for whoever would come into her life. 

But that was another story. For now, she was opening the door slowly, scared of waking you up. But you were awake. 

Bruce was asleep, deeply. As usual when he felt your warmth against him. But you were not. Cass could see you slowly and absentmindedly caress your husband’s hair. It was soothing to both of you. His silky smooth dark hair were soft in between your fingers, and helped you get your mind off of the pain and focus on the sensation, while for him...Well, it put him asleep, when you did that. 

The door creaked a little, and you abruptly turned your head towards it, ready to fight and...You instantly recognize your daughter, even in the dark of the room. 

She doesn’t need to talk. You manage to roll over Bruce, who then by instinct roll too, and therefor you create a little spot for your daughter to climb in bed with you. 

You turn around in Bruce’s arms, and slowly wrap them around your middle, instead of your shoulders. You turn towards Cass, your back against Bruce’s chest, and tap the small spot you managed to create next to you. 

Cass understands, and climbs in, facing you. She lays her head on her arms, as you do the same. And then she mouthes : 

“Sorry mom...” 

And that’s all you needed. You gesture for your daughter to cuddle up close, and she does. By instinct, Bruce lets go one arm off of you, and grabs his kid to bring her closer. He is still asleep, but it wouldn’t surprise anyone that his subconscious holds onto the two most important women in his life like so. 

And there she is. Cass feels safe. And warm. And she hears your heart beat softly. And she knows it partly beats for her. 

And partly for Bruce. And partly for Dick. And partly for Jason. And Tim. And Damian. And Duke. And Alfred. 

It beats for your family. 

For her family.

Family. 

She has a family. 

And you are her mom. 

Her biological father never hugged her, never told her everything was going to be alright, never... 

Cass never felt safe and warm. 

Like she did, right now, held by both you and Bruce. 

“Family...”

She whispers, as she slowly falls asleep. And you’re the only mom she ever wants to have. You are, her real mom. Always have been, always will be. 

DAMIAN 

Damian didn’t really think this was a big deal, at first. 

Just like his father, he often made the mistake to think that people around him will simply understand his true meaning. 

When he told you : “You’re not even my real mom !”, he obviously didn’t mean it. He was angry because you told him he couldn’t go out on patrol for a few days, as he was grounded for skipping school and going to work on cases instead. 

“But school is boring, I already know everything ??” 

“It’s the principle of it, Damian. You can’t just do what you want whenever you want, this is not how it works. I don’t feel like we’re extremely strict parents, so when you betray our trusts like that, it has consequences.”

Bruce kept out of the argument, ready to jump in however if you needed him to affirm  that yes, actions have consequences and although you two are pretty lax with your son on many fronts, he still has to listen. You and Bruce made clear rules when you first adopted Dick, because you realized your lifestyle was anything but normal, but it didn’t mean your children could just do anything they wanted. 

Neither of you wanted them to turn into privileged little brats. Or to think they were above everything. And you were right, by skipping school so much, and lying about it, Damian did betray your trust. 

Understanding actions had consequences was a big step that took a while, with Damian. Unfortunately, he grew up in an environment that indeed taught him he could do whatever he wanted, no matter if he hurt people on the way... 

Unlearning all this, was tough. And you understood that. Which is why you let things go a lot, with him, and only slowly told him about things. Gradually teaching him about your values and principles. 

However sometimes, like in this case, you needed to be firm and strict, because otherwise he’d just keep doing it knowing it had no bad consequences, and you didn’t want him to simply not go to school anymore...School was important for his social development, you realized it as he made friends and...

And simply, an eleven years old kid couldn’t just roam around all day as he saw fit. That’s it. And so here you were, trying to explain this to him. And that’s when he said it. 

He scrunched up his nose like he always did when he was angry, and then, turning his head away from you, throwing his Robin boots at the back of the cave. 

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not even my real mom !” 

And then he bolted out of the Batcave, leaving you behind, with a broken heart and feeling guilty...What if he hates you, because you were too harsh on him ? 

Bruce, that night, did not go out on patrol either, and stayed with you. Of course, he did. 

************

The fact he still listened to you and didn’t go out, made him thought you knew he was just angry and didn’t mean a word of it. 

To him, it was so obvious he thought of you as his mom, and that he said this just because he wanted to have the last word, that he honestly didn’t think much of it. 

Sure he was frustrated and angry, just like any kid was when their parents said : “no” to them. But he didn't mean it... 

He didn’t really see you of the entire day. Finally, he decided to go see his father to ask him what was up. 

“Father ?”

“Yes ?”

“Is-is mom ok ?”

“Well, what do you think ?” 

“She doesn’t seem ok.” 

“Do you know why ?” 

“Did you do something to upset her ?” 

Normally, Bruce would feel vex at this statement. What, did he really do things to upset you that often ? Yes and now. Sometimes,  he would get on your nerve, and vice versa. It happened, in relationships.

But it was never anything major. Not anymore at least. Because now, when he had his “dark days” and could be a total jerk, you knew how to handle him. You knew not to take his bullshit. 

Yes. Normally, Bruce would pout like a child, at the fact his son thought that his mom was feeling down because of him. But not today. No. 

Because he knew that what made you sad, was something important.

Unfortunately, Damian inherited from him his bad habit of thinking others will understand his meaning. 

Like, when he tried to push you away at first so you wouldn't get involved in his crazy life, what he really wanted was for you to get closer...Or when he told you that he was fine at times, all he wanted was for you to hold him and take care of him etc etc...The first time he told you “I love you”, wasn’t with words, but by not going on patrol one night, to stay with you. And he thought you’d immediately understand that he truly loved you...Truth was, it wasn’t as obvious to you (or anyone really) than it was for him. 

And Damian had the same problem. Doing things that he thought would obviously tell his meaning, his real feelings, when really...No one but him would get it. 

Although you became quite good at deciphering your husband’s true intentions, you could still misinterpret things sometimes. 

And yesterday night, when you grounded your son and tried to teach him a life lesson...You definitely didn’t see that he didn’t mean what he said and just wanted the last word. For you, he was seriously meaning it. And that’s why you were avoiding him a little, because it was too hard to...to... 

Damian’s words truly hurt you. You often were scared he could never see you as his mom (even if he did call you mom now and clearly cared for you) because of how he grew up. You’d never give up on him, of course, but it didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt when he pushed you away or pretended to not care... 

Damian thought it was obvious, that his actions actually reflected how much you meant to him. That without you, he’d be lost and honestly wouldn’t want to live in a world where you weren’t. 

But it wasn’t obvious. 

Bruce sighed, and then smiled : 

“Since when is she acting odd ?” 

“This morning. She didn’t kiss me goodbye when she went to work !”

It felt like such a serious issue to your boy, in that instant, that Bruce wished you were there to see his reaction. You’d instantly know he didn’t mean it, when he said you weren’t his mom... 

But you couldn’t quite face him. You didn’t really avoid him or try to hurt him by not saying goodbye. Of course not, you were an adult, and you definitely knew that doing to others what was done to you is pointless, and mean. And why hurt someone the same way they hurt you ? You’re no better than them uh... 

“Can you think of anything that might’ve upset her ?” 

“I spilled my milk a little, but cleaned it after. I didn’t let Alfred do it like last time. I woke up a minute late, too. Jason hasn’t called in two days, but he was there yesterday afternoon. Dick said she messed up her pumpkin soup but he was just joking and she knows. Tim fell asleep at the breakfast table. You clinging to her this morning apparently made her late, I heard Alfred say it. Um...Cass um...Cass didn’t do anything bad really...None of those things sound like it would upset her though ! She really looked sad this morning, not like herself at all !” 

Bruce couldn’t help but smile. It was pretty cute, how Damian often acted as if he didn’t care about anything, yet no details would ever go past him. Especially not when it came to his family. He always noticed, when one of them felt down in any way, and tried to help (in his own way). 

Hell, he probably woke Tim up and told him to sleep more and take care of himself. Called Jason and told him to call his mom. Scolded Dick to not make this kind of jokes again. 

This was just the Damian that was privy only to them. A sweet child, who unfortunately often had trouble expressing his true feelings. 

Just like his father. 

Damian would often brag about his siblings, and how awesome they were, to his friends (notably to Jon, who didn’t have any siblings). But he’d never tell them right in front of their face. 

Bruce tried to help Damian see what was wrong, and said : 

“What about last night ?” 

“Ugh ? What about last n-OH !” 

Damian replayed the events in his head, and remembered his anger and frustration. But most importantly...What he told his mom. 

“I have to find mom ! Where is she ?!” 

Damian looked absolutely panicked, which was quite unlike him. Bruce answered : 

“She’s at work, she had a meeting with her editor. She should be back soon, though.” 

And on that note, Damian ran out to do god knew what, as Bruce shook his head and...Well, he just knew things would turn out alright. 

************

Alfred almost fainted, when he saw Damian tear off his beautiful flowers from his garden. He almost ran out, and had a very “get off my lawn !” moment...up until he realized that the boy was probably doing this for a reason. 

Oh. Oh his poor lilies.  

Hopefully, this really was for a good reason. A very good one. One so good, that it would stop him from strangling his grandkid, hopefully...

************

When you came home, Damian was waiting for you at the front door. He had a bunch of lilies in his hands (that you were pretty sure were from Alfred’s precious garden) and he looked absolutely frantic. 

He ran to you, almost threw the flowers in your arms, and yelled : 

“I’M SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN IT !! YOU ARE MY REAL MOM ! I WAS JUST ANGRY ! I’M SORRY !!” 

You were a little confused as to why he was yelling, but before you could continue he took a drawing out of his pocket and added : 

“THIS IS A DRAWING OF YOU ! I MADE IT FOR YOU !! YOU ARE MY MOM ! YOU REALLY ARE ! PLEASE FORGIVE ME !! I’M SORRY !! DO NOT BE MAD AT ME !!” 

Still confused as to why he was screaming, you bend down to look at him eye level, settled the flowers on the floor, and said : 

“It’s ok Damian. It’s ok. We all get frustrated sometimes...I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt, but it’s ok. It happens.” 

Damian’s face showed great relief, and he leaped into your arms, yelling : 

“I LOVE YOU !!” 

You winced as he screamed in your ear, and said : 

“Why are you yelling, little one ?” 

Damian took a step back from you and said : 

“BECAUSE I HAVE TROUBLE EXPRESSING MYSELF AND JASON TOLD ME THAT SAYING THINGS IN AN AGGRESSIVE WAY MIGHT HELP !! AND HE’S RIGHT !! I LOVE YOU !!”

Damian told you he loved you before, in certain moments. When he got really hurt, when you were really hurt, if he felt really sad...It was always a moment full of emotions. And it was still rather hard for him to say the words. 

It didn’t really surprise you that Jason would have such a technique. Yelling his feelings. Yep. Sounds like him alright. And it did seem like it worked for his little brother too. 

Only you and your close family would know, because you were the only ones to truly know him, but those two were more similar than others would think. And it wasn’t because they already killed before. Oh no. On the contrary. 

“I love you too, my little one...” 

You say, as he goes back for another hug, clearly relieved you’re not mad at him. From this day on, he swore to himself that he would really try to tell others’ what he truly felt, even if it meant yelling it at them. Because other wise...otherwise it’d create this sort of terrible situations, in which his mom thought he didn’t think of her as his mom ! 

He couldn’t have it, anymore. Many “I LOVE YOU !!” were heard in the Manor, from that point on. 

DUKE 

“You know you can tell me anything, right ?” 

Duke doesn’t know why this time, this made him snap. 

Today was the anniversary of when his parents got “jokerize”, it had been two years already...And not one step closer to cure them ! He was so frustrated, sad, and lost. And you noticed. 

Duke tend to try to keep things inside. Not that he didn’t want to bother anyone, more like he just thought he HAD to handle things himself. Like it would make him stronger, and therefor, he could protect those he cares about. 

He could protect them, unlike when he could do nothing but watch as his parents fell into madness...He couldn’t bear the thought of this happening to you, Bruce, or any member of this family ! Not again. 

He couldn’t bear it...

“You’re not even my mom ! Stop acting like you are !” 

Are the words he heard himself scream at you as you asked him if everything was ok, and if he needed to talk. As you were caring, once again, and he just couldn’t...he couldn’t stand it ! Not today.

Not today. 

He immediately saw on your face the way you shut down, and took one step behind. The way your face “closed”, and as you said : “I understand.” and left the room, your body stiff and your face inexpressive (which was very unlike you), Duke felt it. 

The guilt. 

Right away.

When those dreaded words were said by all your other kids, they were young. They were all under the age of ten, and the immediate consequences of their actions didn’t truly registered. 

But Duke. 

Duke was almost eighteen. And he knew. He knew he hurt you. 

He felt the need to run after you and apologized, but there was something stopping him. 

After all, it was true right, you weren’t his mom ! His mom was still alive, and she could be cured one day ! HE ALREADY HAVE A MOM ! 

So what if you always cooked him his favorite meal, or knew exactly what his favorite food was ? So what if you would go out of your way to grab his favorite burger from his favorite joints when you knew he felt down ? 

So what, if you were always there when he was sad ? Cheering him up with comfort food, kind words, and just your presence ? 

So what if you knew exactly what would make him feel better, which movie to put on to put a smile on his face ? 

So what, if you spend entire night right by his bedside when he got really hurt, or when he was sick ? 

So what if you’d listen to him at any time of the day or night, and always took time to give him your thoughts on the matter, and truly, truly listen to what he was saying instead of waiting for your turn to speak ? 

So what if you’d make him laugh, smile, feel loved, even as he felt so alone and isolated, especially after he discovered his powers ? 

So what if you never made him feel like he was different because of it ? 

So what if you opened your house’s door without a second thought for this unknown teenager who was also a meta ?!

So what...so what...so what if you obviously cared a lot, and if you...if you... 

He already had a mom. And she might get better one day. 

He couldn’t have two moms. 

...

...

Right ? 

What would happen when his parents would be cured ? Forget all his feelings for the Waynes ? So it’d be easier to pretend he wasn’t part of the family, right ? 

It would be easier. 

Yes. 

But it was too late. 

It was too late... 

He ran after you. Caught up with you in the corridor. Tears in his eyes, he said : 

“I’m sorry, please don’t go...”

And fell into your arms. Almost eighteen years old, yes, but still needed the support of a mother. Of his mother. 

And you were there. You’d always be there, no matter what happened in the future. And he needed you, especially in that moment of frustration, where he really missed his parents, and was starting to lose hope to ever find a cure... 

And you were there.

Who ever made a rule that you could have only one mom anyway, right ?

BRUCE 

They did tell him “you’re not my dad !” too. And for him, it was as terrible as for you. If not worst, on certain aspect. Especially since he had a hard times truly expressing his feelings more often than not. 

He knows how devastating it can feel. He knows it even more, because not only did he feel it as they told him “you’re not my dad !”, but he also felt it as he told Alfred “you’re not my dad !”. He knew the feelings from both sides. 

It enhanced everything. 

Of course, in general, Bruce always felt things more than anyone else around him. He was born like that. Hypersensitive. That’s why he worked so much on hiding his true feelings, and appearing detached and cold. 

It’s much easier, than to always being overemotional. Of course, it didn’t mean he felt nothing. On the contrary, he felt everything. He was just better, nowadays, at pretending he was okay. At pretending he didn’t care. 

Ah. But you existed. 

You. 

The only person that could always see through his bullshit, and know when he was lying and fake smiling. 

Between the two of you, there has always been something. Even before you were together. It was an irrational and irresistible attraction. 

An unbreakable bond. Always supporting each others. 

You have no idea how you’d live without him. And he couldn’t even fathom a world without you. It’s a world he wouldn’t like very much...  

Even during the worst times, and oh you went through a lot together, you knew at least...at least you’d have warm arms to fall asleep in. At least, you’d have each others. 

Bruce had known pain so strong he sometimes wished death would just take him away. And then you came in. Ready to put up with his shit, and to not give up on him even when he gave you every reason to. 

And oh, oh he gave you back everything times a thousand. You knew he’d never let you fall. Not alone. 

Whenever something hurtful as your children telling you two you weren’t their real parents happened...It’s when you truly realized how vital you were to each others. 

When you fell, Bruce was there to catch you. 

When he fell, you were there to catch him. 

Better to fall together, than to stand alone. 

__________________________________________________

And here we are :). I hope you liked it ? Don’t hesitate to leave a little feedback and reblog if you want to ^^. I’m a little afraid I disappointed y’all for some reasons haha. I couldn’t explain. Self-confidence crisis hahaha. I finished writing that late, and exhausted after a hard week, maybe it plays into account ? Anyway, I really do hope you enjoyed your time reading this :). And thanks for reading, of course ^^. 

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Merlin’s previously hidden horrific past comes to light;

The gang learn that everything they know about Merlin is a well-constructed façade when the truth about his “Military” history comes out.

TW: Child soldiers, abuse + torture, lots of blood and death and nightmares, potential PTSD?

When King Arthur had received the official looking letter requesting an audience about troubles with the border, he’d thought nothing much of it; the tone of the letter didn’t lead him to think there would be any serious conflict.

He replied to the Essetirian Lord, figuring it would end up being a simple issue of river boundaries or overstepping patrols, they could discuss it and fix the problem amicably, and then part ways without issue.

Arthur wasn’t a fan of the way Essetir worked; they were far too authoritarian for his liking, and they were known for their use of slave labour, terror tactics, and child soldiers, but peace had been harboured between the Kingdoms, so he could hardly complain.

The fact that Arthur didn’t see it as a big deal, means he didn’t mention it to Merlin until the day of the Lord’s arrival, and even then, he didn’t mention the Lord’s name, or where in Essetir he came from.

Merlin may have seemed a little tense at the mention of Essetirian Lords, but Arthur shrugged it off, figuring high taxes and village raids probably left him with a mistrust of authority from his home kingdom.

~

Arthur was sat in his throne, crown atop his head, when the Lord arrived. His roundtable knights and a few select members of his council sat in their own chairs at the side of the room, and Merlin stood dutifully beside him.

He preferred to have a small audience when first greeting foreign authority, hence only having nine people, including himself, in the room. 

Arthur trusted Leon, Lancelot, Percival, Elyan, Gwaine, Guinevere, Gaius, and Merlin, to subtly analyse and scrutinize the visitor for anything troubling, and report back to him truthfully later. Arthur trusted his wider council, of course he did, but experience with these particular people told him they were better equipped to handle any sort of conflict or worries.

Which means when Merlin quietly took in a sharp breath, tensed up, and stepped back to be behind him when The Lord walked in, he immediately noticed.

He makes no motion to question him though, assuming that perhaps this particular Lord had passed through Ealdor at some point, and made a mental note to question Merlin later.

The Lord bows deeply, and raises to meet Arthur’s gaze with a wide, friendly smile:

“I am Lord Severin of Essetir, I appreciate your quick response to my letter, and am grateful for the invitation to your beautiful kingdom, My Lord.”

At first, Arthur had been curious, and mildly concerned, but Gaius’s sharp intake of breath and stiffening back at the mention of the Lord’s name, tip him right over the line into being officially worried.

Did this particular Lord have some sort of reputation Arthur was unaware of? He, again, makes no moves to suggest that he had noticed Gaius’s reaction, and instead returns the Lord’s smile:

“Of course, you’re more than welcome. Guest chambers have been set up for you, if you would like to stay for a few days? I can imagine it was a long journey.”

The Lord nods, and keeping his smile, says:

“Thank you, I had planned on booking a room for a few nights, but if you’ll have me?”

Arthur nods in return, quickly speaking before the Lord can thank him again:

“Of course. Is the border discussion a lengthy issue, or something we can resolve quickly now? I have my most trusted advisors with us, should there be a political issue?”

Lord Severin shakes his head roughly, giving Arthur a sympathetic shrug:

“In all honestly, My Lord, as far as I’m concerned there isn’t an issue, but a few of my men were worried, and the only way I could see to resolve it was an official meeting to reassure them.-”

Arthur smiles, gesturing for him to continue:

“-Over the past several years, multiple Camelot Knights have been seen crossing the boundary, and spending a few days at a time in a small border-village on the Essetir side. I am under no impression that anything underhanded is happening, but a few of my inferiors were getting twitchy about it.”

Arthur once again hears Merlin take in a shaky breath, and furrows his eyebrow in curiosity:

“Which village?”

“It’s name is Ealdor, My Lord.”

Arthur smiles widely in understanding and nods his head, relaxing:

“Ah yes. A highly ranked member of the castle staff has family there, and depending on how dangerous the journey is predicted to be, I’ll often send him with a knight escort when he visits home.”

Lord Severin nods his head, before tilting it curiously and saying:

“Might I ask which member of staff? I spent some time in Ealdor a few years back, colour me... curious.”

The smile on his face is a little sharper now, but Arthur hardly sees the harm in telling him; he’ll only be here for a few days at most anyway. 

Arthur gestures a hand behind him:

“Merlin.”

He looks back and frowns, questioning his decision, when he sees Merlin staring blankly at the floor. He’s statue still, but Arthur can see the way his jaw tenses, and the paleness of his skin.

He turns back to see the Lord staring up at Merlin with an inquisitive expression. Just as Arthur resigns himself to say something, a look of wolfish realisation crosses the Lord’s face, and he speaks softly, as if to himself:

“Merlin from Ealdor, eh?-”

His grin turns even more wicked, and his volume rises:

“-I was under the impression that you had died, my dear boy.”

Arthur furrows his brows in confusion, and Merlin, without raising his gaze, quietly replies:

“No, My Lord.”

Severin chuckles, a hint of cruelty in the noise, but before he can say anything Arthur asks:

“You know each other?”

The Lord looks to him, as if only just remembering he was in the presence of a King, and smirks:

“Know each other? Why, Merlin was once one of my best. You’re astoundingly lucky to have a bodyguard with such incredible skill, My Lord. I was sad to lose him.”

Arthur glances at Merlin, who seems somehow even paler, before looking back to Severin in confusion, tilting his head:

“Merlin isn’t my bodyguard, he can barely carry a sword. He’s my personal manservant. Perhaps you have the wrong man?”

Severin shakes his head resolutely, before staring at Merlin:

“No, that’s him, I would recognise him anywhere. Like I said, I was sad to see him go.”

At Arthur’s continued confusion, Lord Severin gives him a patronising smile, quietly saying:

“Perhaps a demonstration is in order-”

He turns back to Merlin, speaking loudly this time, as Arthur and the others look on in bewilderment. Gaius however, looks increasingly worried, rather than confused.

“-Step forward, Merlin.”

Merlin, without hesitation, walks stiffly forward, standing to attention just in front of Arthur, hands straight by his side, and his gaze unwaveringly forward, focussed on the wall behind Severin. 

Arthur stands from his throne, moving to stand by the council chairs so he could see Merlin’s face. What he spies however, is a tense blankness that he’s only even seen in the brief moments when Merlin thinks no one is looking at him.

The Lord rolls his eyes condescendingly at Merlin:

“You know I hate it when you stand so stiffly Merlin, it’s bad form. Stand at ease.”

Again, without hesitation, Merlin kicks ones of his legs out slightly, and moves his hands to be tightly clutched behind his back, shaking almost imperceptibly. Still, he does not change his expression as the gang look on worriedly.

“Are you armed, Merlin?”

Merlin gives one firm nod, before saying in a monotonous voice:

“Always, My Lord.”

Severin gestures vaguely with his hand, muttering:

“Show me.”

With that, Merlin taps his right wrist to his hip before flicking his arm out to the side, and with the movement, a dagger slides from a hidden holster under his sleeve, and falls gracefully into Merlin’s hand.

Everyone in the gang, bar Gaius, was taken aback, They’d known Merlin for years, ten in the cases of Arthur, Leon, and Gwen. How had they never known that Merlin was always carrying a weapon?

The Lord looks only mildly impressed as he holds a hand out, crooking his fingers towards himself slightly. Merlin throws the knife gently, his aim perfect as the handle lands in the centre of Severin’s palm.

He passes the blade from hand to hand, humming thoughtfully, before saying:

“It’s not very well weighted, incredibly poor quality, but-”

With that, he looks back up at Merlin, the wolfish grin having returned to his face, but the gang only have a second to be confused before the Lord pulls his hand back, and hurls the knife directly at Merlin’s head.

The velocity at which the blade moves through the air... well, a slower man would have died. But Merlin is apparently not a slow man.

With his focus still on the wall somewhere behind the Lord, he whips his hand up, quicker than lightening, and catches the handle of knife with the blade just an inch away from his eye. Only then, does his gaze move across to the dagger, and he brings his hand down, slipping it back into it’s holster as if he was entirely unbothered by what had just happened. The Lord finishes his sentence:

“-anything can be a weapon in the hands of a killer. Back to your post, Merlin.”

Merlin bows slightly, and moves back, expression still blank as the gang stare at him with various expressions of shock and confusion.

Arthur moves back to his throne, careful to keep his face blank, though struggling not to stare at Merlin worriedly, before he says:

“Well, that was quite a display. Any other uh... stories to tell, Lord Severin?”

The man shakes his head, laughing, and replies:

“No, Your Majesty, that is all. I will reassure my employees that the visits to Ealdor are purely personal, and order them to leave it be.”

Arthur gulps and frowns slightly at the sudden change it topic, wanting desperately to look back and check on Merlin, but not daring to, as he replies:

“Of course. I’m afraid I will not be able to join you for dinner tonight, or breakfast in the morning, though I extend my invitation for you to visit the training grounds before noon. I have my best scheduled for tomorrow.”

As he says this, he gestures to the five roundtable knights, who all wipe the confusion off their faces as the Lord glances at them. In actual fact, none of them were scheduled to train tomorrow morning, but it had become habit over the years for Arthur to use them as a subtle display of strength whenever a visitor unnerved or worried him.

Severin looks back to the King, giving him a nod as he accepts:

“I would love nothing more, My Lord.”

Arthur smiles tightly and nods before dismissing him, his harsh gaze not leaving the Lord’s back until the door shuts behind him.

The moment he’s left the room, Arthur stands up, dizzyingly quickly, and steps around the throne to question Merlin, only to find that the manservant gone, slipped away through the servant’s door.

He speedily goes to follow him, wanting to get to the bottom of whatever the hell that was, but Gwen’s desperate voice halts him:

“Stop! He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it right now, we should leave him be-”

Arthur turns around and goes to retort, but Gwen cuts him off:

“-and besides, no one knows this castle better than Merlin, he’s long gone. If he doesn’t want to be found, then he won’t be found. Leave him be for a while.”

The King desperately wants to argue, but he begrudgingly nods, knowing that Gwen is right. He frowns at the desperate and questioning looks that Lancelot sends to Gaius, unaware that Arthur is looking at them.

Gaius shakes his head slightly, and Lancelot visibly relaxes, only to tense again when Arthur asks:

“Lancelot, Gaius? Do you know what just happened?”

The knights averts his gaze after giving a brief shake of the head, the Physician looks to Arthur, clearly mentally debating on the best way to answer the question. He gulps before speaking slowly:

“Other than Merlin’s mother, I am the only one to know the truth. However it is a very... personal, and frankly traumatising, topic for Merlin, and I don’t feel it’s my place to tell you. Might I request that you allow Merlin to keep his distance from Lord Severin?”

Arthur looks like he wants to argue, but the warning looks he receives from Leon and Gwen stop him, and he once again begrudgingly nods:

“I... fine. But I’ll want to know eventually. If I’m to have dealings with this Lord, I need to know if he’s involved in anything troubling."

Gaius sighs and nods:

“It is... nothing that Essetirian Lords aren’t already known for, My Lord.”

Arthur tilts his head in confusion, that doesn’t sound like it bodes particularly well but... he’d already agreed not to pry. Gaius was clearly trying not to let too much on and trying to hide how freaked out he was. Which also didn’t bode well.

Arthur copies Gaius’s sigh, nodding to himself as he gestures vaguely at the group and tiredly says:

“Alright, you’re all dismissed. Keep an eye out for Merlin, and I want to know where that Lord is at all times. There was a servant in the corridor waiting to take him to his rooms, so I would appreciate it if one of you could go check he made it. I want to know if anything happens. Rest well tonight, I want you at your best for tomorrow.”

Everyone gives a decisive nod, Leon stalking off to follow the Lord, and the others separating out to complete their normal tasks. Half-heartedly mind you, as all of them were more focussed on trying to wrap their heads around what had just happened.

~

None of them saw Merlin for the rest of the day, or the next morning. They would have been more worried, but nothing was missing from his room, a few of the castle staff had reported seeing him briefly, here and there, and the Lord had yet to try anything untoward.

When Arthur had gotten to his room that night, dinner was ready and waiting, the room had been tidied, his sleep clothes had been folded and laid on his pillow, and the hearth had been lit.

The next morning was the same. Arthur woke to to see that his empty dinner tray had been replaced with a full breakfast tray, his clothes for the day had been laid out, and his desk had been organised with a list of today’s duties left in the centre.

Arthur huffed at Merlin’s absence. He hadn’t gotten that much sleep last night, the more he thought about what had happened, the more restless he became.

There was a lot of things to worry about.

Gaius being openly shaken and worried was especially concerning. The man was usually unflappable, so whatever it was... it was bad.

And what had Lancelot been so scared about? He seemed genuinely confused but he still knows something.

And what Merlin had done with that knife...

Arthur could understand Merlin hiding a part of his life, just not mentioning it, especially if it was as traumatising as Gaius let on, but to actively lie?? To put up a clumsy, useless front with no prompting?? That was most certainly worrying. “Incredible skill” Severin had said. “One of my best”, what does that even mean??

He had called Merlin a Killer.

Still, Arthur didn’t call for his manservant to be summoned. The man was clearly after some privacy, and despite Arthur’s powerful curiosity, Gaius’s fear and Merlin’s disappearing act held him back, at least for the time being.

After finishing some paperwork, Arthur headed down to the armoury, to be met by a squire who had clearly been waiting for him. At Arthur’s confused expression, the boy tells him that he had been instructed by Merlin to help The King with his armour, and that he would be round later.

Arthur nodded, hiding his confusion. Merlin was usually incredibly protective of Arthur’s armour, BUT he said he’d be coming by later, so it wasn’t as if he were fully disposed for the whole day. Hmm.

Perhaps he was simply trying to avoid being in close quarters with Arthur, alone. Being stood at the side of a field whilst the Knights sparred was hardly the same as helping Arthur dress, one-on-one.

Still, Arthur didn’t call for his manservant to be summoned. If he weren’t so worried about Merlin, he’d be childishly proud of himself for being so selfless and caring.

He met the other five knights on the training field, satisfied to see them all in full armour, preparing for full-contact sparring. Apparently they all wanted to intimidate this Lord just as much as Arthur did. Now all they had to do was wait for the guy to show.

But Merlin appeared first. No one noticed him for a little while, but Gwaine getting distracted in the middle of a fight and allowing himself to be tripped by Elyan, certainly bought everyone’s attention to the raven-haired servant stood at the side of the field that had caught his eye.

Merlin’s expression was the same as it was yesterday. Meaning: expressionless, blank.

He doesn’t react at all as the knights stare at him, and only nods slightly when Arthur raises a hand in greeting, despite not looking directly at him. Leon’s quiet-

“Sire?”

-breaks Arthur out of his stupor, and he mutters back:

“Leave him be. He usually stands much closer than that, so he’s clearly still not in the mood to talk.”

Elyan furrows his brows as he finally helps Gwaine to his feet, before saying:

“He knows the Lord is meant to be here. If he wanted to avoid him, why come?”

Arthur shrugs but Lancelot looks surprised, and speaks as though the answer was the most obvious thing in the world:

“He’s protective of Arthur. No matter the history between Severin and himself, if he thinks the Lord is dangerous he wouldn’t allow Arthur to be in his presence without being there as well.”

Arthur frowns and huffs, but doesn’t say anything as the others nod their heads. He gestures for Leon to step into the ring with him, conscious of the fact that they had just been stood around talking.

Luckily, Severin showed up just as Arthur and Leon started to get into the swing of things, and the other knights could tell the exact moment the two of them noticed the Lord, stood about ten feet to Merlin’s left; the fight got much more... vicious.

A pro of having worked together practically their whole knighthoods (and before, for Arthur), was that Arthur and Leon could give their absolute all in matches against each other, and not have to worry about miss-stepping or accidentally hurting one another.

The sparring sessions between them often drew large crowds, but Arthur had ordered the training grounds cleared this morning, meaning that the four other knights, the Lord, and a much tenser-looking Merlin, is all their audience consisted of.

Finally, the fight came to an end, Arthur victorious as he knocks Leon to the floor. They shake hands, and Leon has to hide the swell of pride in him at the man he had trained for managing to beat him, before they make their way over to Lord Severin, closely followed by the others.

The Lord claps his hands, a wide smile on his face, and Arthur stops himself from looking at Merlin when he sees the man flinch slightly at the noise.

“Very impressive, My Lord. Your knights truly are something to behold!”

Arthur gives him a strained smile:

“Yes, I take a lot of pride in the strength of my best.”

Severin’s eyes widen, and his grin once again turns sharp. Arthur has a feeling he isn’t going to like what the man says next:

“Well, if we’re talking about the best, might I suggest that your... ah, manservant, shows off his skills? I imagine we would all find that mighty entertaining, especially considering you were previously unaware of his abilities?”

Arthur clenches his jaw, glancing at Merlin. The King was taken aback when Merlin held his gaze for the first time since before the Lord had arrived yesterday. 

Arthur answers, without looking away from Merlin, and regrets his words the moment they exit his mouth:

“I’m alright with it, but only if Merlin agrees.”

Merlin widens his eyes, only slightly, but it’s enough to show Arthur that that was the wrong thing to say. Whatever the history between Severin and Merlin was, the manservant was unable to say no to him. Arthur hadn’t given Merlin a choice, he’d allowed Severin to dictate Merlin’s answer.

The Lord claps his hands again, wolfish smile growing as he loudly proclaims:

“Brilliant! I will divert to your judgement, on who his opponent should be, My Lord.”

Merlin clenches his jaw, turning and walking towards the spare swords. He grabs one from the rack, and enters the ring, standing stiffly, waiting.

Arthur frowns at Merlin’s sudden, easy capability, before nodding at Lancelot. He was reluctant (NOT jealous) to admit it, but he and Merlin were very close, if anyone could pretend to fight Merlin convincingly without actually hurting him, it would be Lancelot.

Lancelot returns his nod, understanding his King’s thought process, before looking to Merlin with a concerned frown on his face:

“Do you not want any armour, Merlin?”

The Lord laughs as Merlin mutely shakes his head, answering for him:

“Oh, he won’t need it sir knight, like I keep saying, he’s quite skilled.”

Lancelot still looks reluctant, but at Arthur’s stiff nod and the questioning tilt of Merlin’s head, he walks into the ring and stands opposite his best friend.

He gives Merlin a nod, and hides his worry when Merlin just stares at him blankly, his stance turning loose, but sword held tightly in his hand.

Arthur signals for them to start, and Lancelot immediately has to take a rushed step back as Merlin moves quickly forward, swinging his sword up.

Lancelot just about manages to block the strike, but the strength of the hit has the bones in his arms vibrating, and his shock gives Merlin just enough time to twist his body, taking another swing before Lancelot even processes what’s happening.

The second wide arc of Merlin’s sword knocks the knight’s arm to the side violently, and he stumbles back, only just managing to keep hold of the blade. Merlin takes advantage of Lance’s newly exposed chest, and using the last of his momentum, brings a leg up and lands a harsh kick to the centre of his chest-plate.

The force throws him back and he lands sprawled on the floor several feet away.

The others knights gasp as the Lord jovially laughs and Lancelot stares at the sky in shock. All in all, that spar had lasted about five seconds, and consisted of Merlin swinging his sword only twice, and kicking him so hard he dented his armour.

Lancelot hadn’t even had time to think before it was over, and was still wide-eyed when Merlin wordlessly pulled him to his feet, frowning as he runs a hand over the damaged metal.

The other knights are still staring in shock as Lancelot lifts a hand to put it on Merlin’s shoulder. When the servant flinches backwards, he lowers his hand again, but still whispers:

“Gods, Merlin. Where the hell did you learn to fight like that?”

Merlin’s frown deepens and he clenches his jaw as he glances at the amused Lord, before stepping back, out of Lance’s reach.

Before anyone can say anything, Severin loudly exclaims:

“That’s my boy! I knew I could count on you to have not forgotten your training. How about you?”

He gestures to Elyan, and the knight looks to Arthur for confirmation. Merlin stays in the ring, waiting, back to being expressionless. He hadn’t even broken a sweat during his fight with Lancelot, didn’t even look out of breath, and Arthur’s morbid curiosity gets the better of him as he nods at Elyan.

The knight stepped into the ring, taking Lancelot’s place opposite Merlin.

Arthur gives the signal to start, and Elyan is the first one to strike this time, but Merlin moves easily out of the way, with speed and grace that no one had ever seen him express before.

Honestly, Arthur thinks the first fight might have been a fluke, because this time, Merlin spends the first twenty-five seconds blocking and dodging, making no offensive moves, and staying well out of Elyan’s way.

But Merlin makes the swap quicker than anyone can see, going from defence to offense in the blink of an eye, and within seconds of the change, Elyan is on the floor, Merlin’s sword at his throat, and his own sword lost somewhere to the side.

Merlin had moved so quickly, Elyan hadn’t really any clue how he’d ended up on the floor as he blinks up at the previously thought-to-be clumsy manservant.

After a moment, the knights once again shocked and the Lord once again cheerfully laughing, Merlin leans down and pulls the knight to his feet.

Elyan nods his thanks dumbly before picking up his sword, and heading over to the side lines, still looking confused as his brain tried to catch up with the last thirty seconds.

Merlin had, once again, not even broken a sweat, and Arthur gulps as he looks at his manservant. On the surface, he seemed... absent. Like he wasn’t really aware of what was going on, and was just waiting for it to be over. But upon closer inspection, Arthur could tell that wasn’t true.

Merlin’s stance may have been loose, but the position of his feet and the grip on his sword showed that he was fully prepared to jump into a fight without hesitation. That, the clench of his jaw, and the focus in his eyes as he stared back at Arthur, told The King that Merlin was fully aware of his surroundings.

Severin’s laugh petered out, and he points a finger at Gwaine, looking at Arthur as he questioned:

“My Lord?”

Arthur nods, and Gwaine huffs angrily. He gives The King an incredulous look but, perhaps a little selfishly, Arthur was curious about the extent of Merlin’s... abilities, so he ignores it, and Gwaine reluctantly walks to stand in front of his friend.

Merlin’s gaze drifts from Arthur to Gwaine, and he tilts his head slightly, adjusting his stance, his expression remaining in the same blank position it had been through all of the matches.

Once again, Arthur finds himself signalling the start of a fight between his best-friend (slash love of his life but like... shhh) and one of his most trusted knights.

Neither of them make a move at first, they just circle each other slowly, Gwaine’s sword raised, but Merlin’s pointed to the floor as he makes a point of keeping his stance fluid.

The Lord claps his hands together, just once, but the loud noise triggers an immediate reaction in Merlin and he pounces forward.

Gwaine takes the defensive as Merlin throws hit after hit, each one precise and specific. Gwaine is stronger than Merlin, but Merlin knows this, striking quickly and needling holes in Gwaine’s defence, moving back before he has time to launch a counter attack.

This fight goes on a lot longer than the last two, but Gwaine quickly begins to tire. At the first stumble in the knight’s step, Merlin takes a pace back, and presents his opponent with a miniscule opening.

Apparently it had been deliberate; the moment Gwaine follows him to take a swing at the gap, Merlin feints to the side, and lands a single blow that knocks Gwaine to the floor.

He chuckles darkly as his chest makes contact with the grass, realising immediately what his mistake had been. He rolls to his feet, holding his sword-less hands up in surrender. The man is breathing deeply, and even Merlin looks slightly more tired than he had before, but only slightly.

Leon lets out a deep breath, and all the knights seem to realise simultaneously that... at no point had Merlin not been in full control of each fight, setting the pace exactly how he wanted it, and taking advantage of each of their weaknesses perfectly.

Lancelot was reluctant to fight Merlin, so Merlin threw a few quick hits and had him on the floor before the knight realised he didn’t have to hold back.

Elyan had seen Merlin’s speed against Lance, and had therefore rushed to try and surprise him. Merlin took the defensive, biding his time until Elyan eventually made a mistake, and struck so quickly and harshly, he only needed one move to take him out.

With Gwaine he’d done the opposite. The man was much stronger than Merlin, so he couldn’t let him get a hit in, only allowing the knight time to defend and not attack. He waited for Gwaine to get tired and distracted, waited until he was moving automatically before presenting a tiny weakness that another knight might have missed. Gwaine fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

Gwaine resists the urge to clap Merlin on the back, proud smile quickly dropping to a frown when he sees the still blank look on his face.

The Lord doesn’t even have to request another fight before Arthur nods at Percival.

Percival looks a little less reluctant, everyone now clearly knowing that Merlin could more than hold his own; if anything, he looks a little nervous for himself, despite being six inches taller and much heavier.

This fight is a lot more quick-paced. At Arthur’s gesture, they both immediately jump into it, fighting for dominance with speed and strength. Once again, Merlin’s opponent is much stronger than he is, and Merlin tires more this round.

Percival lands a heavy to kick to Merlin’s chest, and he goes sprawling backwards, but he keeps a hold of his sword and uses the momentum to gracefully roll back onto his feet.

Before Percival has time to raise his sword again, Merlin takes advantage of the new distance between them and sprints towards him. He drops quickly, sliding between Percival’s legs, sword held close to his body as he reaches an arm out, grabbing the giant’s ankle on the way through.

His sudden grip forces Percival to take a step forward to correct his balance, but before he can turn around, Merlin quickly stands and shoves his whole body weight against his back.

The force of the shove paired with the instinctual step forward tips Percival’s centre of gravity, and he topples to the floor, rolling over to see Merlin already stood above him, panting, his sword aimed at Percival’s throat.

The other knights gasp slightly as Merlin steps away at Percival’s raised hands. They had been certain that Percival, with his size, would be the one to beat Merlin.

Apparently not.

Lord Severin is once again laughing, and Arthur (and the others) are becoming more and more confused. Merlin had beaten four of Camelot’s best in a row in about ten minutes, and was only slightly out of breath.

This was not just a bit of combat training, this was... more. This was harsh, ingrained, years upon years of practice.

Arthur and Leon remember when Merlin first arrived in Camelot, only sixteen, and dread grows in their stomachs as they realise the implications.

They’re quickly broken out of their stupors as Percival walks slowly over, still catching his breath, and The Lord loudly bellows:

“Well, that’s four out of six. We might as well go for the whole collection, what do you think, My Lord?”

Arthur takes a deep breath, he has to remember that there is politics involved here as well; he can hardly accuse the Lord of anything. But the arsehole was also clearly aware that this had been a power move on Arthur’s part, and it had completely backfired. Backing out now would... not look good.

The King gives another strained smile, gesturing Leon forward after glancing at a still blank Merlin. The manservant had already caught his breath. Damn.

Leon moves into the ring and settles into position in front of Merlin.

The dark haired servant furrows his brow, tilting his head the same way he had at Gwaine, as if he were assessing his opponent. After just a moment, he schools his face, and adjusts his feet slightly, his stance seeming a little stiffer than it had been previously.

If the others thought the last four fights were brutal... well... this was a whole new level. Camelot’s First Knight held nothing back, now confident in Merlin’s abilities (and his own, to stop at a moment’s notice if it looked like Merlin was about to get hurt), despite the fact that the man still wasn’t wearing any armour.

This match lasts a while, both of them swapping between defence and offence, the tide changing with almost every step. 

Both of them are tiring, Leon was still recovering from his spar with Arthur, and Merlin hadn’t exactly had much time to refresh between his other fights, even though he won them fairly easily.

But eventually, the match ended with a loud clang ringing out as Merlin’s sword flies from his grip.

At least... they thought it had ended, for about a split second, before they realise that Merlin looks completely unfazed.

Arthur glances to the Lord briefly, to see the man grinning with a mix of possessive pride and cruel hunger, before looking back at the ring, and widening his eyes in shock.

Merlin had quickly shaken out his hands, forming fists before darting in closer to Leon. The fact that Leon still has a strong grip on his sword doesn’t seem to bother Merlin at all, and he dodges the blade as he lands three quick hits to various weaknesses in the armour.

Leon takes a stumbled step back, surprised at the quick change in direction that the fight had gone, and that step is just enough to give Merlin space to swing a harsh elbow out to the side. The connection between his elbow, and Leon’s wrist, is sharp enough that the knight drops his sword automatically, and Merlin quickly turns his back on him, moving in close as he grabs his arm and throws him forward, over his shoulder.

Leon lands harshly on his back, winded slightly, and Merlin rolls to the side, coming up with the knight’s sword in his grip. He quickly spins around, and Leon finally catches a breath just to open his eyes and see Merlin stood above him, sword at his throat.

Leon stares up, completely shocked, hearing Gwaine mumble-

“Merlin just won a sword fight... without a fucking sword.”

-and Lancelot mutter:

“He beat Leon?”

The Lord is once again laughing, and the sound is beginning to grate on everyone’s sanity (everyone bar Merlin, who still looks blank and absent) as Merlin pulls Leon to his feet, wincing apologetically as the knight rubs his own back.

Leon puts on a strained, but fond smile, as Merlin hands him his sword, and mutters:

“Well done, Merlin, very impressive.”

Which had apparently been the wrong thing to say; Merlin flinches back, drops his expression once again into blankness, and steps away to pick up his own sword.

Leon frowns, walking towards the other knights and the Lord as Merlin deposits his sword back in the rack. His movements have lost the cat-like fluidity he had when fighting, and he’s back to being stiff and tense, eyes averted to the floor, jaw tightly clenched.

The knights look on in worry, still confused, but having mostly gotten over the novelty of Merlin being able to fight, and focussing more on how the hell he’d kept it a secret for so long. On top of trying to figure out how he’d learnt in the first place.

Lord Severin frowns sarcastically, tilting his head at Merlin as if he were a child, and saying:

“Aren’t you going to spar with your King, Merlin? I thought we were going for six out of six?”

Arthur frowns at him, looking between the Lord, who looks like a vicious beast hunting his prey, and Merlin, who’s looking a lot like that prey.

Merlin takes a deep, shaking breath at his questions, raising his head to meet the Lord’s gaze for the very first time. Arthur can see the fear in his eyes, and takes a subtle step towards him, to stand between Merlin and his hunter. Merlin glances at him quickly, almost fearfully, and gulps as he looks back at Severin, stuttering out:

“I... I won’t fight Arthur. Not for you, I... I don’t fight people for you anymore.”

The Lord tilts his head and smirks:

“My, how you’ve grown up. You never would have spoken to me like that as a child-”

Arthur can hear the other knights gasp, and is grateful when Leon holds Gwaine back as the man takes an aggressive step towards the Lord.

“-though I doubt King Arthur is as strict of a master as I was.”

Arthur’s frown deepens, but before he can say anything, Merlin snarls out:

“Arthur is nothing like you.”

His sudden change in demeanour takes Severin by surprise, but only for a second; his look of shock falling back into a condescending smirk once more:

“Hmm. Probably why you’ve gone so soft. Honestly Merlin, you were once the best, now you refuse to make your opponents bleed. Oh, how far you’ve fallen.”

Arthur has heard enough, and he steps in front of the Lord, between him and Merlin, and without breaking gazes with the vile man in front of him, loudly says:

“You’re dismissed for the afternoon, Merlin. Go grab some lunch, we’ll see you later.”

Arthur still doesn’t look back as he hears Merlin walk quickly towards the castle. The Lord gives Arthur an assessing gaze, smirk remaining on his face, before saying:

“It would seem that you’re quite... protective, of your staff, Your Majesty?”

Arthur gives him an incredibly strained smile, not even aware of how tightly he was gripping the hilt of the sword at his hip as he replies in a low voice:

“Hmm. Something like that. Well, we’ve solved our border issue, and you’ve seen my knights in action, so unless there’s anything else?”

Severin tilts his head, and raises an amused eyebrow, clearly understanding Arthur’s meaning:

“No, that’s all. Your city is wonderful, however I’ll be leaving very shortly I’m afraid, within the next few hours. I have men to reassure.”

With that, the Lord bows deeply, and stalks back towards the castle, thankfully taking a different route than Merlin. Normally Arthur would call him out on the rudeness and impropriety of turning one’s back on a King, and leaving without being dismissed, but at this point, Arthur just wants him gone.

The moment he disappears round a corner, the group lets out a collective sigh, all of them looking troubled. Elyan is the first to speak:

“I’ve travelled through Essetir, I’ve heard the rumours. Do you think that Merlin...?”

His question trails off, but it’s obvious what he was asking. Leon answers once he realises that Arthur isn’t going to say anything:

“He was sixteen when he came to Camelot. To have that sort of extensive, ingrained training... he would have to have been.”

All of them let out harsh breaths and Gwaine curses viciously under his breath, before grinding out:

“Permission to follow Severin back to Essetir and slaughter him somewhere in the woods, sire?”

All of them look expectantly at Arthur, but he still stares in the direction Merlin had walked as he sighs, and replies quietly:

“No. His men know he came here about some sort of issue. If he never makes it back, it doesn’t matter how well you set the scene, it’ll start a war-.”

Gwaine grumbles something about stupid rules under his breath, but relents. He definitely perks up slightly at Arthur’s next words:

“-However. If we ever come across him during any sort of conflict, feel free to use more force than technically necessary. For now... we need to find Merlin.-”

The others nod vigorously, and gather closer as Arthur continues, finally looking at them:

“-Leon, Elyan, go and find Gwen and Gaius, at this time they should be running medications around to the knights’ barracks, then meet back in the courtyard. We can’t split up to find Merlin, because we’d have no way to tell each other if someone found him, and I don’t want to risk leaving him alone because he might disappear again. We’ll have to search together, hopefully Gaius will have some sort of idea, because Gods know he won’t have gone to have lunch like I told him.”

Everyone murmurs their agreement, and without another word, they all head back up to the castle.

~

Leon and Elyan had found Gaius and Gwen exactly where Arthur said they would, and all eight of them are soon gathered in the courtyard.

The knights quickly explained what had happened. Gaius looked unsurprised, though increasingly worried with every word, and it was only the Physician’s genuine panic, and the dent in Lancelot’s armour that convinced Gwen this wasn’t some big prank.

Arthur looked at Gaius expectantly, and the older man thought for a moment. He sighed, before saying:

“When he first arrived in Camelot, Merlin had... a great many nightmares. The first time, I found him under his bed. The second and third times I found him curled up, hidden away in a cupboard that he had emptied out. After that, I reorganised so the cupboard was permanently empty. He hasn’t used it in years, but I never got round to refilling it. If... if I had to take a guess at where he is, I’d say there.”

Everyone nods and the group begins to make their way to the Physician’s chambers.

On the way, Gwaine expressed confusion at Merlin’s apparent love of tight spaces, but Leon quickly piped up:

“It’s a fairly common response to trauma, I’ve seen it in the occasional knight after particularly bloody battles. Some people become terrified of tight spaces-”

Gaius interrupted, informing the group that it was called “claustrophobia”.

“-but some people find it comforting. I guess Merlin likes feeling protected on all sides?”

The physician nodded grimly, and quietly informs the group that it might be best for only one or two people to approach Merlin, and for everyone else to stay back, so as to not overwhelm him. The knights reluctantly agreed, Percival announcing that Gaius and Lancelot were the obvious choices.

Lancelot protested:

“No, you should’ve seen his face when he saw the dent in my armour, it’ll just freak him out even more. Arthur should go, he’s the only one Merlin didn’t beat to a pulp.”

Gaius agreed, and Arthur nodded as well, though reluctantly.

They quickly found themselves outside the Physician’s chambers, the door left open slightly. With one last worried look to each other, Arthur pushes the door wider, and steps through, quietly calling Merlin’s name.

Gaius goes to point the cupboard out, but two quiet knocks from inside alert everyone to it first.

The knights and Gwen gather dutifully to one side of the room, still in sight of the cupboard should Merlin open the door, but far enough away so as to not crowd him.

Arthur sits himself down in front of the cupboard, and Gaius perches on a bench a few feet behind him.

The King whispers Merlin’s name again, and knocks gently on the wood. After a few seconds, the door opens, and Merlin slips out, sitting cross-legged on the floor, his knees just about brushing against Arthur’s.

He is once again blank-faced, and everyone’s eyes are drawn to his dagger being twirled and twisted skilfully between his fingers.

His eyes are focussed on the blade, and Arthur resists the urge to reach out and touch him, knowing that he was already on thin ice, being this close to him. He talks gently, his voice quiet, though still loud enough for the others to hear him:

“He’ll be gone by evening, and he won’t ever be coming back.”

Merlin nods, only slightly, but it’s enough to let Arthur know that he’s at least aware of his surroundings. The servant gulps before whispering:

“Don’t let him take me, please.”

Arthur bites his lip to stop himself from gasping, and slowly, ever so slowly, moves a hand to rest on Merlin’s knee. When Merlin doesn’t flinch away, Arthur squeezes his leg slightly before moving his hand away:

“Never. None of us would ever let him take you away, Merlin. You never have to see him again; you’re safe here, we’ll make sure of it.”

Merlin nods again, and Gaius hands him a goblet of water. He takes only a small sip before setting it aside, but it’s a good start; the Physician figured that Merlin almost certainly hadn’t eaten, slept, or drank enough in the last twenty-four hours.

After a minute or so of silence, Merlin replaces the dagger in its holster, and clasps his hands tightly in his lap, staring at his intertwined fingers.

He clears his throat slightly, and the gang wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or more worried, that he looked sad as opposed to blank, as he quietly speaks, still staring into his lap:

“Essetir has always been a fan of... of child soldiers. We thought we were safe in Ealdor because we were so far from the capital, but they came when I was seven. If I fought back or tried to escape, they threatened to burn the village down, so I just... did what I was told. The lessons were... we were trained against each other, except every match was to the death. Hundreds of children... killing other children, until only the best remained. Gods there was always so much blood.-”

Everyone bar Gaius had to make a concerted effort to hold in their tears and gasps of rage. Arthur took a deep breath and put his hand on the floor next to Merlin, not touching him, but an obvious offer of comfort if Merlin wanted to take it. Gwen grips her brother’s hand tightly, and Leon has to stop Gwaine from drawing blood from his palms with his own nails.

Merlin takes a deep, shaking breath, and puts his hand on the floor next to Arthur’s; not taking it, but just about brushing thumbs:

“-Children were... we were tactically useful. We were dressed in civilian clothing so we could slip in and out of places, killing people and stealing things and setting traps and fires, without being noticed. And if we were noticed, people would hesitate. They would hesitate just long enough for us to... to kill them.-”

Tears were falling freely from at least half the room’s occupants now, everyone else not far off.

Merlin moves his hand further towards Arthur’s, and he takes it without hesitation, running his thumb over Merlin’s knuckles softly.

The servant lifts his gaze falteringly, and Arthur gives him a weak smile, and nods as he prepares to continue:

“-I was good. I mean I was really good. I was given all the most difficult jobs; I had a higher body-count before I hit twelve summers than you do now. All the army generals, and the particularly rich Lords, and even... even Cenred when I got older, took an interest in me. They thought I was the best thing since the start of civilisation, because I was small and weak-looking, and I had a sad face and big blue eyes. My... targets, never wanted to defend themselves against me. They... they all died for their hesitation.-”

Tears overflow from Merlin and Arthur’s eyes at the same time, and The King can hear Gwen’s quiet crying behind him. He knew without a doubt that the knights would be crying too, he didn’t even need to look. All of them normally had such strong stomachs for violence but this... this was so much worse, and it was Merlin.

Merlin gulps, and his grip on Arthur’s hand tightens:

“-I escaped when I was fourteen. I don’t know why it took me that long, I guess I was just... lost. Lost in the orders and the missions and all the... all the death and blood. I was sent to burn a few buildings down and I just... set the flame and ran. There was nothing but ash left at the end and no one could find me so it was assumed I had gotten trapped inside and died. I wondered around in the wilderness for a while. I was pretty self sufficient by then but I didn’t want to go home, in case they went looking for me there. To be honest... I barely remembered where my home was,-”

His voice drops to almost a whisper, and the others have to strain to hear him:

“-I... I couldn’t even remember what my mum looked like.-”

His voice rose again as he glanced quickly at Gaius, and at the older man’s reassuring, though mournful, smile, he looked back at Arthur:

“-But I found my way home after about ten months. I figured out pretty quickly who my mum was, she barely let me go for weeks.-”

At this, Merlin thankfully lets out a weak chuckle, but the tears still fall, and he squeezes Arthur’s hand once more.

His faces falls back into despair as he continues, and everyone knows that there’s still bad to come:

“-It was... difficult. I didn’t trust anyone, I didn’t know how village life worked, how normal human interaction worked. I knew how to speak and read and write but... I had barely said a word in eight years so I stayed pretty much silent. It was... odd, to be allowed to speak freely, move freely. It was... terrifying. More so than what I had before, in some ways, because... I had nothing. There was nothing to me. Could you imagine how hard it was? To be fifteen and to have no personality? No likes or dislikes... no understanding of how the world outside of war works? Understanding nothing but how to be a good soldier?-”

Arthur shakes his head, lifting his other hand to rest gently on Merlin’s knee, and only dropping it there when the tearful man nodded slightly.

The crying from behind The King had slowed, but not stopped, and Merlin continued:

“-I suddenly had to find out who I was as a person, minus all the blood and death and missions. I had to figure out what was... socially acceptable. What to smile at and what to frown at. I was... a completely blank slate. I was barely even a person. Just killer’s hands with a body attached.-”

At that, Arthur gently took Merlin’s other hand as well, and made a point of stroking them softly.

“-Just after I turned sixteen, I was sent to Camelot. I’d just about figured out the basics of interacting with people, I could fake it pretty well at least, but being in Ealdor... I couldn’t relax. I just expected them to come for me again, that any day an Essetirian patrol would show up and drag me back and burn the village down. Officially, I was sent here to learn to be a Physician, to learn to heal instead of kill. Unofficially... no one said it, but everyone knew, I was sent away because I wasn’t coping. I needed a change of scenery, being in Ealdor was making things worse, and with Gaius here, I would at least have a little support.”

Arthur gives him a smile, but before he can say anything, Percival takes just a small step forward. He speaks in such a soft tone; strangers would think a man of his stature incapable of expressing:

“And now you have all of us, Merlin. No matter what.”

The others nod, and even Gwen wipes away her tears to give him the widest smile she’s currently capable of. Merlin looks at her and frowns slightly, tilting his head as if confused.

After a moment’s hesitation, Merlin gives her a weak smile in return. When he looks over to Gaius, the Physician nods approvingly, and his smile widens, just slightly.

With that, the whole group seems to come to the same conclusion, at the same time: that Merlin had essentially just asked if smiling was the right thing to do.

Gwen was crying, and clearly upset, and Merlin understood that. But then she smiled. He’s been away from his... military roots for long enough now that he knew the right response, genuinely felt the right response, but with everything being uprooted and old wounds being exposed, he needed the reassurance that his reaction had been socially correct.

Arthur clenches his jaw tightly, thinking back on the ten years worth of interactions he’d had with Merlin. How he’d always kept his cards close to his chest; was rarely outwardly angry, and got happy over the simplest things: flowers and books and fluffy animals. 

He thinks about how terrifying it must have been. To have to learn to be... well... human. To have to learn how to perfectly imitate human behaviour until he developed his behaviour.

Merlin takes another sip of his water before taking a deep breath. He looks to Gaius, determination in his face, and at the Physician’s hesitant smile, but firm nod, Merlin takes a deep breath and looks back to Arthur:

“There’s more.”

Arthur frowns, and tilts his head. What else could there possibly be? He hears one of the others take in a sharp breath, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Gaius look to the offending knight, and give another firm nod.

Arthur gulps, and nods at Merlin, encouraging the man to continue:

“I had to do all of that whilst... whilst hiding the magic I was born with,-”

A chorus of gasps go up around the room, and Arthur tenses slightly, sitting up straight, but not letting go of Merlin’s hand. The King sees the fear in Merlin’s eyes, and the way the goblet shakes in his hand, and gives him an uncertain smile. Arthur isn’t as surprised as he thinks he should be.

“-because if they found out, things would get worse. Cenred had enslaved sorcerers as well as children in his army. If he’d found out how... how powerful I was, even as a child, I never would’ve escaped.”

Arthur nods his head absent-mindedly, once again thinking on his ten years of friendship with Merlin. It... made sense. 

Gods how terrifying.... 

To have all of that happen as a child, to finally find your way home just to find that you aren’t safe there either. And THEN to be sent to Camelot of all places. How terrifying, to have the safest place for you to be, be the city where the violent persecution of your people originated.

Arthur clenched his jaw before looking back at Merlin. He still looks scared, and Arthur squeezes his hand, firmly saying:

“I swear to you Merlin, in the name of Camelot, that you will never have to be afraid again.”

Merlin’s eyes widen, and tears begin to fall again as he tilts his head. Arthur gives him a smile:

“Come on, Merls. How could I possibly believe magic to be evil when you were born with it? There’s not an evil bone in your body.”

Merlin’s face falls, and he looks as though he’s going to argue, but Arthur beats him to it, speaking before he can even open his mouth:

“And we all know it.”

Merlin looks up again, speechless and teary, as Leon steps forward:

“The laws will change, Merlin, and you’ll be safe and free. And if the council have a problem with that... well...-”

Leon looks back at the other knights, all looking as determined as he is. He grins, and wipes the remaining tears from his eyes as he looks back to the bewildered servant, grinning Physician, and fondly smiling King:

“-I’m sure we can persuade them.”

Merlin returns his grin, and Arthur is more than relieved to see that Merlin doesn’t have to double-check his reaction this time.

~

THE END!!

Wowie that was a ride. I honestly wasn’t even planning on writing a magic reveal in this but it just sorta... happened... oops

Same as always lads, you wanna write it all proper? Go for it, credit and tag me :)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Jamil, Sebek: How the Other Half Lives

I’m going to attempt to write a short fic about each birthday boy and their interviewer for the second set of birthday cards. These fics won’t necessarily be set on a birthday, but could be leading up to it or set after the party (since the Union birthday cards already tell a complete story from start to end). We’ll just have to see how things pan out!

First up, Jamil and Sebek! Two servants with two very different views on their masters...

Unrelated side note: it’s funny how Jamil says he would want to be in Ignihyde, but he’s celebrating his birthday kidnapped and being held in a dark room until Idia pulls up to experiment on him--

***Mild Happy Beans Day! Lyreless Brawl, Camp Vargas, and Scalding Sands Fireworks events spoilers! + Jamil Union Birthday card spoilers!***

Imagine this...

Kalim pressed a warm, wet washcloth against Jamil’s cheek. Moving in a circular motion, Kalim gently swept away the clouds of whipped cream dotting the grimacing birthday boy’s face--casualties of an annual tradition. Afterwards, he wrung the dirtied cloth over a bucket, coloring the water within a milky white.

Plip, plop. Drops rippled in its surface, the disturbed face of a mirror, before the contents of the bucket stilled once more.

Jamil caught a glimpse of his reflection. His face had slightly slimmed over the course of the past year. His eyes, sharper, and his hair, longer--now reaching the small of his back. It was still him in every sense.

Older, wiser.

More crafty.

“Sebek got you good, huh?” Kalim laughed, clapping his friend on the back. “And it looks like you got Sebek good too!”

“He got what was coming to him,” Jamil said flatly. His eyes briefly passed over to the aforementioned first year, who was busy cleaning himself up from the aftermath of retaliation. Jamil allowed himself a small smirk, relishing in his victory.

“Gahahah! Well, as long as you’re enjoying yourself, then I’m happy.” Kalim hung his washcloth on the rim of the bucket and straightened. “You haven’t had the chance to eat anything yet, right? Since you just got pied, how about some pie?”

“Pie is the last thing I want to see right now.”

“Okay, so a slice of cake instead! I’ll grab you one, just wait right here!”

“That’s kind of you, but I’m capable of fetching my own... aaand he’s gone.” Jamil held his head in his hands and sighed. Kalim had dashed off halfway through his sentence, making a beeline toward a table filled with food and crowded with party guests.

Best to not interfere... Not that interfering would stop him.

“Ohoh! I’m jealous of you, Jamil-senpai!”

His eyes cut to the owner of the booming voice--Sebek. “... Really, now? Jealous of me? I can’t imagine why.”

“Is it not clear?” Sebek clenched a hand into a fist. “To have your master fret for your wellbeing...! Being personally wiped up and hand-delivered food from one’s master...!! Are you not overjoyed?! THERE CAN BE NO GREATER HONOR!!”

Jamil winced at his spiking volume, his mouth pursing into a frown. “I’m absolutely overflowing with happiness. Can’t you tell that I’m ecstatic?”

He paused, just to let the sarcasm-soaked words sink into his junior’s mind. Then Jamil spat, “Those are normal, everyday things. I do not see what is considered to be an ‘honor’ there.”

“Tsk! You are ungrateful for your blessings!” Sebek scoffed, eyebrows angrily knitting together. “Or is it that you have become so accustomed to Kalim-senpai’s kindness that it no longer fazes you?! Oh, what I would give to have been childhood friends with the Young Master... Yet here you are, taking it for granted!! FOR SHAME!!”

“You seem to be misunderstanding a great number of things.” Jamil groaned, shaking his head. “To begin with, we did not choose to be ‘friends’. It was a fate already determined for us from the moment we came into this world. Secondly, that kindness of Kalim’s that you speak of is more of a hinderance than a help. And lastly...”

His eyes shone darkly.

“My position is certainly no blessing.”

Sebek looked aghast. “You don’t mean that!! There is nothing more grand than protecting and serving one’s master!”

“For you, perhaps. But consider that not everyone possesses the same mindset as yourself.” Jamil folded his arms, his gaze turning steely. “You chose your life of knighthood. My fate is already laid out for me. The same one as my ancestors, and surely the same as future incarnations of the Viper clan. Forever bound to the Asims... Servants in the shadows. Surely you can see why I would have my reservations.”

“Hmph! If you are unhappy, then you do not deserve to serve as you currently do. Simply resign, and allow Kalim-senpai to find a more fitting candidate!”

“If that were possible, I would have done so long ago.” A barely discernable bitterness had seeped into Jamil’s voice. The slight, metallic tang of poison slipped into one’s drink. “Kalim can only live as carefreely as he does because he is ignorant. He will never truly understand me.”

Through clear skies and rain, the sun ultimately cares not for the shadows it casts. It shines superficially, its golden light gilded.

“... That’s not true.”

“What?”

“I said,” Sebek bellowed, “THAT’S NOT TRUE AT ALL, JAMIL-SENPAI!!”

He jolted back, startled by the loud declaration. “You... What would you know? You barely understand my predicament yourself.”

“It’s true that the Young Master and I lack the same history that you and Kalim-senpai do. Even so...!! That is all the more reason for you to be open with one another!!!”

“Open with one another? You must be joking. As if Kalim could possibly--”

“How do you know?” Sebek demanded, cutting him off. “How do you know if you’ve never tried?!”

“That’s...” Jamil faltered with his words.

The first year continued. “Though I have devoted my life to the Young Master, I do not claim to know him in his entirety. There is so much more I have yet to learn. So much more I want to learn. With every new detail gleaned, I find myself respecting the Young Master more and more. That’s why... you should make the effort as well, Jamil-senpai!”

“I can already name Kalim’s likes, dislikes, fears, and faults off the top of my head.”

“Surface level details!” Sebek slammed a hand against his chest--over his heart. “I doubt you have ever had a true heart-to-heart. Expressing your genuine, most raw emotions to one another... Then, and only then, can you ‘understand’.”

This coming from the person who cried because he was not on the same team as Malleus-senpai... And threw a fit when he had to leave for camping and leave his Dorm Leader unattended to... And cried again because the cookie he was gifted from Malleus-senpai was crushed...

“... Why does it matter to you that I do this? Worry about yourself and your ‘Young Master’.”

“Hmph! Is it so wrong of me to wish the birthday boy happiness?”

“You think I will find happiness in understanding Kalim? And in him understanding me?” Challenge rose in Jamil’s tone. “Is that right?”

“You won’t know until you try. Admitting defeat before even attempting... that is a COWARD’S way out!”

“Are you calling me a coward?”

“I’m calling on you to change. It is a new year, full of new possibilities. There is no better time to improve oneself--so you can look back on your next birthday, and be proud!”

“Sebek... ” Jamil closed his eyes. For a moment, he looked thoughtful. Contemplating something he alone could fathom. When his eyes flared open again, they glittered with mischief. “I appreciate the advice. Let me thank you for it with another free pie to the face.”

“Wha--”

SPLAT!!

Fast as a viper lashing out, Jamil grabbed a whipped cream pie from a nearby table and chucked it at Sebek. It was a direct hit on the unsuspecting first year, who stumbled back from the impact, his back slamming into the wall. Cream clung to Sebek’s eyebrows, cheeks, and chin, giving the appearance of bushy white brows and a beard.

“YOU COWARD, GOING FOR A SNEAK ATTACK!!” he roared. “YOU SHALL RECEIVE YOUR COMEUPPANCE--”

“Sorry for taking so long, Jamil!” Kalim cried, skidding inbetween the two boys. He balanced a large slice of cake in his hands, a fork piercing it. “I saw some friends at the food table and got caught up in talking to them!”

“... Eh? Am I interrupting something?” The Scarabia Dorm Leader paused, glancing back and forth between Jamil and Sebek. Then, Kalim broke out into a wide smile. “Ohhhh, I get it! You’re making a new friend! Gahahah! That’s great, Jamil!!”

“Right... Friend.”

More like another headache and a half.

[theshelbyclan]

Bells and Smoke

Summary: The youngest Shelby has to be send away to a convent, but you have no intention of conforming to their rules, even if you’ll die in the process

(Gif by @harmon-jane-black​) A/N: Requested by anon: Could I request a Shelby sister where she is sent off to a boarding school and is getting badly bullied by teachers and pupils for being what they think is Birmingham poor scum. Maybe she comes home or gets visited and is losing her Birmingham accent and is a little thin and tired. V Polly and tommy nun scene vibes. Only if you aren't busy ❣️ x This has gotten really long, but this request gave me SO many ideas! Warning for abuse and neglect though. And I hope you like it!

Words: 6020 *** You couldn’t remember how it had all happened. One minute everything seemed to be fine and the next, life as you knew it had ended. Maybe it was Tommy’s idea, to give you the opportunities the others never had. But he never cared much about his siblings’ education. Maybe it was Arthur’s idea, thinking you’d finally become too wild. But he was too busy fighting his own demons. Maybe it was Aunt Pol’s idea, making a woman of style and class out of you. But she’d never abandon you like this. 

All you knew was that one morning you had been in bed. As usual, you’d woken up with the workers as the factory whistles sounded, but there was no need for you to get up at five. So you’d turned around and tried to sleep on. But then Finn had come in and he roughly shook you awake. “Aunt Pol says you have to get up,” he had said, his voice filled with urgency. But you hadn’t been awake fully yet, “What… Why? It’s so early!” “You have to pack.” “For what? Where are we going?” Your brother had refused to meet your eye, “Not me. Just you.” And before you knew it, Aunt Polly had taken you and your small bag into the car and you were speeding out of Birmingham. At least Finn had come along, though Polly had forbidden him to go, but he had been adamant. “Where are we going?” you had whispered to him in the back. He had hardly replied to any of your question, but gave evasive answers like, “Away. Pol says it won’t be forever.” You remembered the all-encompassing feeling of loneliness that had washed over you in that moment. Was it something you had done? Were you being punished? Was the family giving you up? You were only fifteen, you’d never been away from Small Heath without any of your siblings by your side, and the separation had been too abrupt, too cruel. Suddenly, Aunt Polly had swerved to the right and stopped abruptly in front of the train station. “Get you bag,” she’d ordered you. Anger had flared inside of you, “No! You tell me where I’m going first!” “Y/N Shelby, I am your aunt and you will do as I say. Remember who you’re talking to and don’t think for one second that you will win this fight. Grab your bag and get out of the car.” Petrified at your aunt’s tone of voice, you’d gotten out of the car. And like a zombie, you’d walked over to the train. On the side it said Oxford. “Where do I get off?” You’d asked no one in particular. “Oxford,” your brother had never left your side, “Just sit tight until the end.” “You know what’s going on.” “I can’t change it, Y/N,” his eyes had been pleading for your forgiveness in that one moment, “I tried, I swear to God I did, but I can’t change it…” Not really understanding, you had only been able to nod, “Will you explain it to me?” “I’ll write.” Suddenly, tears had begun to fall from your eyes. The great unknown hadn’t even scared you that much, but the sudden realisation that everything had been altered had. “Here,” Finn had nudged you, as you’d hoisted your bag on board, “I nicked this for you,” and he’d handed you a hipflask, “might get you as far as Oxford. After that, you’re on your own.” His words had hit you hard, so there’d been nothing left to do but take a swig from the whiskey he offered. “What did I do wrong?” you’d asked him, uncertain. “Nothing. Don’t let the bastards tell you otherwise. You did nothing.” His voice had been so strong then. “Finn?” “Yeah?” “You can’t fucking write.” He’d burst out laughing and you couldn’t help yourself but join him. Then the train had started to depart and you’d taken one last look at the car with Aunt Pol’s silhouette inside. You’d turned to Finn and it’d been like you would never see him again. “Finn?” “Yeah?” “I bloody love you, you know?” He’d smirked, “I fucking love you too.” Eyes still locked, the train had started to move and just before it was too late, he’d added, “I’ll make sure you’re coming back home.” You’d clung to those words *** At five in the morning, the whistles sounded. Waking up this early was now your habit, as it was the habit of all the girls here. Like robots, you all climbed out of your sober beds, to put on your drab grey dresses and to stand neatly next to year beds. The dormitory looked like a prison cell and the girls’ faces were ashen. Shivering in the cold, you waited for inspection. “Adams!” “Yes, sister.” “Lee!” “Yes, sister.” “Williams!” “Yes, sister.” The first voice rang through the room like the bells of hell and the girls answered in meek tones. This was your morning ritual and there was no comfort to be found in it. Silently, you waited, while a part of you still dreamed of the horses you once loved and rode. Remember the freedom you felt, you told yourself. Remember the wind in your hair? The people who cared? The place called home? Remember Finn running alongside you? “Shelby!” You suddenly looked up, “Yes, sister,” and faced the nun who’d stopped by your bed. “What’s this?” she asked her rhetorical question. “My bed,” you weren’t supposed to answer, but it had escaped you before you could stop yourself. The middle-aged woman crouched down and tore up the neat bedding you’d just finished tucking in perfectly. Locking eyes with you, she gloated, “Look, it isn’t made properly.” “It was,” you replied through gritted teeth, “you just went and fucked it up again.” Without a warning, she struck you across the face hard. Then she flipped over the bed in one smooth motion and said, without any emotion, “Do it again.” Seething with rage, you counted to ten in your head. In your mind, you went back to Small Heath. You could feel the warmth of the fire in your kitchen, hear the men counting the money and could smell Aunt Polly’s cooking. This and only this was how you managed not to explode. “Ankins!” she continued her list. “Yes, sister.” “Elliot!” She was new here and you looked at her without turning your head, a skill you’d mastered in recent weeks. Some of the girls said she’d gotten pregnant, but she’d lost the baby before coming here. No one really knew what had happened to her. You only thought she looked too young, too fragile, like a little bird that could be squashed with a single movement of the hand. “Yes…” she mumbled, practically inaudibly. “Speak up, girl!” She hardly increased her volume, but repeated, “Yes, sister.” Just as you’d promised yourself you’d try to look out for her, evil incarnate turned around to face you again and snapped, “Shelby. You’ll report to my office after you’ve finished making your bed, properlythis time.” Great, you thought. After she’d left, you looked at your hands in resignation. Faint white lines betrayed the cane that had been on them. They’d only just healed. *** A few months earlier, Tommy was meeting a man dressed in black in an alleyway. As the rain was pouring down on Small Heath, they spoke in urgent whispers. “What did she do this time?” the concerned brother said with a slight hint of annoyance in his voice. “Theft, mainly,” the other replied, “And she was seen at the races, leaving the scene of the murder.” Tommy knew his sister hadn’t been responsible for the death that day, but none of it mattered now, “How much do they know?” “Enough.” Tommy took another drag of his cigarette and paused for a second, “Well, what do they want?” “Nothing. Leverage.” “Fuck…” “Thomas,” the informant urged, “Get her out. Out of Small Heath, and do it fast.” “Where the fuck is she supposed to go?” He shrugged, “Don’t you have family some place else?” “Can’t protect our Y/N when she’s away from here,” Tommy said coldly, not betraying the emotions he felt. “Then send her somewhere she will be protected.” Tommy sighed deeply, “I’ll ask Pol, eh? She’ll know what to do.” The man looked at Thomas Shelby: gangster, businessman, brother. His face was impossible to read and his feelings remained hidden. So he said, “Do it tonight, Thomas, if you can. He said she’d hang for it. Get her out.” ***

The first time you had tried to escape you didn’t think about it. You hadn’t even planned it and had just decided to run. With two nuns hot on your heels, you’d raced through the corridors. Pretty soon, you ran into your first locked door. You knew all was lost there and then. “Shelby…” the mother superior had mused as you stood in her office, “I knew it would be you.” “And how the fuck would you know that?” you’d replied quick as a flash. “You watch your tone, filthy rat,” she’d shouted, but added calmly, “We know of your kind, child.” Through gritted teeth, you’d questioned, “And what kind would that be?” “Gypsy scum,” she’d spat, before beating you senseless for the first time. The second time you tried to escape, you’d thought it through more. In the middle of the night, you’d crept out of bed and tiptoed across the dormitory. “Get back in bed!” one of the girls had whispered, “Remember last time?” “Yeah, I fucking remember, that’s why I need to leave!” you’d whispered back, voice filled with urgency.

Two hairpins. The day you’d found those were the day you’d planned your second escape attempt. Because if growing up in Small Heath had taught you one thing, it was how to steal and lie and cheat. And, coincidentally, how to pry open any lock. The first locked door was conquered quickly, but the second one had proven to be more troublesome. The large black doors that were said to protect you from the outside world did their job of keeping you all caged inside. The hairpins were too small to reach all the tumblers. Cursing under your breath, you’d soon realised that you disappearance had been noticed. In a panic, you’d grabbed a chandelier from the chapel and broken a window. Ignoring the shards you’d climbed through, while they tore at your skin and blood stained your nightgown. Once outside, the fresh air had an intoxicating effect on you. But you’d never gotten far. Again, you were brought to the mother superior, who stood waiting eagerly this time, cane in hand. “Go on,” you’d urged, full of defiance, “Beat me and get it over with.” “No…” she’d said suddenly, “you will tell me what your plan was first.” “To fucking get out.” “Why would you want to leave this place?” she’d questioned innocently, “Why would you want to leave the house of the Lord, where we only want to offer you safety and education? Where you can atone for your sins and regain your place in heaven?” “I’m not an animal,” you’d replied, “I need to be free.” And with that, the nun had smirked at you, “Free. You want to be free. Well, maybe this will finally break your spirit.” They’d locked you up in the cellars for three weeks. Darkness had enveloped you, only broken when she came in to beat you or feed you. You could never be sure. After every beating, she’d say, “Now, I’ll pray to God for you and ask him for his forgiveness.” “I’ll do it myself,” came your steady answer each time, “I’ll deal with him on my own.” And in the dark you’d cling onto the black Madonna around your neck, the only mother you still had left in this Godforsaken place. Now, some girls would be broken by now, but not you. If anything, you’d been more determined than ever to get out. But you had to be smart about it. Maybe Aunt Pol wouldn’t take you back and maybe you’d shame Tommy, but Finn would look out for you. Running hadn’t worked so far, so a new plan had started to form in your mind: a new plan that involved the boy that delivered the bread. Because as the days droned on after you were being released, you started paying attention to the delivery boy for the first time. You knew he’d always had a thing for you, but you weren’t interested. As a way out, you were now extremely interested. “Hi,” you greeted when it was your turn to help him unload. He was so startled by your talking all of a sudden, all he could manage was, “Bread…” “Yeah,” you smiled your prettiest smile, “Bread. That’s what you’re here for, right?” “I am.” “Good,” and you continued to unload the crates, sending him a few glances over your shoulder. He was still rooted to the spot, so you decided a bit more effort was required in this case, “You only come here for the bread?” you asked with humour in your voice. “Well, that’s my job…” he almost stuttered, but when you made eye contact, he finally relaxed a little, “What else would I come here for?” “Me?” you asked innocently. You could tell his confidence was growing, “Well, maybe a little. I mean, you are the prettiest girl in the school.” That was easy, you thought. So you flirted on and chatted him up and soon he was all yours, “Your name’s Billy, right?” “Yeah.” “Well, Billy. I need a favour…” This plan was a lot more complicated but it had a higher chance of success. And it would’ve worked too, if it hadn’t been for the younger nun who’d spotted you talking to Billy. Before the third attempt had even taken place, you found yourself back at the office. This time, the mother superior didn’t even speak. As soon as you were marched in, she’d grabbed you by your hair and attacked you with a pair of scissors. “Get off me, you crazy bitch!” you screeched, as strands of your hair fell down left and right of you. But the old nun remained completely calm in her tone, while becoming increasingly vicious in her attack, “Do you know what we do here?” You clenched your jaw for the pain, because this was no longer just about cutting your hair, but also hurting you as much as possible in the process. You had about a thousand replies to her question, but quickly weighed your options and decided not to piss off an angry old nun with a deadly weapon in her hands. So she continued, “We offer you the gift of education. Through hard labour, lots of prayer and penance the girls can find their way back to Jesus Christ. By humbling yourself, denying yourself rest, food and drink even, and working beyond human endurance one may come closer to our Lord. Save yourself from eternal damnation.” “No, thanks,” you replied inaudibly. When your hair had been cut, she crowed, “Your arrogance has been defeated and your vanity has been lifted. You will do well here now.” The fuck you would.

*** “Aunt Pol?” “What?” the woman snapped. He faltered, “Is this a bad time?” “It’s never a good time. Speak up, Finn.” “Fine,” and he took in a deep breath, mentally preparing himself, “When’s Y/N coming home?” Aunt Polly turned around abruptly and said, “For fuck’s sake, Finn.” “It’s been months!” “And we haven’t heard from her,” with a large gesture, Aunt Polly threw some more wood onto the fire, “If something was wrong, she would’ve written.” “Well, no…” her nephew started protesting. “Yes,” his aunt interrupted him, “She’s fine. It’s Y/N. She can take care of herself.” “She can’t now, can she!” Finn suddenly erupted, “Yousend her away and for fucking what?! She didn’t do anythingwrong!” Polly held up a menacing hand, “You mind your fucking tone or I’ll slap you back to where you came from.” “I’m sixteen, Aunt Pol, same age as Y/N. Remember, we’re twins?” He’d only gotten more heated, “Something’s wrong. I can feel it, alright? And she wouldn’t write to you anyways, because you’re the one that send her away! Why would she write to someone who doesn’t even fuckingwant her?” Polly paused for a moment and seemed to calm down, “What do you mean you feel it?” “I just know, Aunt Pol, like when we were little and she fell in the Cut and I couldn’t breathe? It’s like that, only… longer.” She put down her black cigarette, “You’ve been dreaming, haven’t you?” “I dream about her, but I can never see her,” he nodded, “And sometimes…”

“What?” “It’s stupid…” “Finn, you tell me, right now!” everything about her was focused on the urgency of the situation now. But he didn’t understand, “Seagulls, alright? I keep dreaming about seagulls.” “Fuck,” his aunt whispered to herself, “I need to talk to Tommy.”

“Aunt Pol, you’re missing the fucking point!” he was seething again, “I was trying to talk to you about Y/N! I just want to know why you send her away and whenshe’s coming back!” “I didn’t send her away. Tommy said we didn’t have a choice,” she grabbed her coat and continued talking to herself, “I thought she’d be safe there…” “Isn’t she?” Finn asked, panicking as a result of his aunt’s strange behaviour. “Seagulls, Finn, fucking seagulls!” *** You couldn’t understand why they hated you so much. At first it had just been the nuns, and you had a vague notion of them calling you ‘gypsy scum’ had something to do with it. From the start, they’d commented on your accent, reminded you of where you came from and told you that you were nothing compared to the others girls here. And in a way this made sense: on the one hand this school had the outward appearance of being an institution of learning for young ladies, but the reality was very different. Parents who no longer wanted to deal with them or who had ‘shamed’ their families often dumped girls here. Others were orphans. Either way, the nuns collected the large amount of money paid for each girl and treated all of you badly. And you weren’t a complete idiot and you knew you were partially to blame for the situation as it was now. You knew you hadn’t made a great entrance when you walked into the school, but even from the start they had disliked you. But your resistance had made it worse, much worse. All the girls were treated harshly, had to work and were kept in line, but you were being treated like a slave held captive. There was zero intention on your part to come into the school to make friends. From the moment you’d stepped off that train, you’d decided you were done with people. All you wanted was your brother, and the rest of the family if they still wanted you. But after a few weeks, you had started craving some connections and you had tried to make friends with the other girls. But it soon became clear that you had very little in common with them. This however, wasn’t the main problem: they feared you. Your defiance made them anxious to be around you and receive similar punishments to yours. They kept away. “Elliot!” you whispered to the new girl, who was crying in the dark. You rolled onto your other side in bed to face her and tried to ask her gently, “What’s your name, your first name I mean?” After a few residual sobs, she said softly, “Anna.” “I had a cousin called Anna,” you smiled at her, “Why are you crying? Who do you miss?” “It’s not who I miss, it’s about who doesn’t miss me…” “How do you know…” you started, but you were interrupted. “Don’t talk to her!” another girl called out and Anna turned around to look at her. The girl continued, “Yeah, I’m talking to you. Don’t talk to Y/N. She’ll get you in trouble. Just… stay away from her.” Anna looked at you for a few seconds, eyes filled with fear and then she turned onto her other side. You couldn’t even blame her really. She was new. But slowly, it only got worse. All the girls crossed the halls when you passed and not only did they begin to shun you, but they started taking your things, stealing your food at times and made you an outcast in every sense of the word. And you suddenly understood: if they made you stand out even more, all the attention would be drawn to you. The nuns would leave them alone. You were the easy scapegoat, because you’d been the most likely choice from the start. And as the months wore on, you started to wither away. Jealous or full of hatred, you couldn’t tell, but the other girls tried to hurt you as much as the nuns did. You were cold at night because they’d taken your blankets. You didn’t eat because you were being punished. You didn’t sleep because you were locked up downstairs and the beatings kept you awake. And so you fell ill, heavily. After you recovered, you stopped eating, sleeping, fighting. Not because you no longer could, but because the loneliness had finally caught up with you: you no longer wanted to. *** Tommy watched his aunt as she strode over towards him. He’d known the woman for years and usually he would be annoyed by her interrupting his meeting, but by the way she walked, he knew she wouldn’t wait for anyone right now. “Get out,” she told the man Tommy had been talking too. He left at once. “It’s Y/N,” she said as soon as he’d gone, “We need to get her out.” “She’s at the school, the one you recommended, Pol. You told me she’d get a good education there.” “We were wrong, Thomas, wrong to send her away.” “What’s all this, eh?” he frowned, “We had no choice and she alright where she is. We took care of it.” With a wave of her hand, Polly referred to Finn, “He feels she’s in danger.” And Tommy turned to his youngest brother, raising his eyebrows sarcastically, “Is that right?” “I have a bad feeling, Tom…” Finn said uncertainly. “He’s been dreaming of seagulls,” Polly emphasized, locking eyes with her nephew. “Fucking seagulls…” he rubbed his head, “More gypsy witchcraft?” Swiftly, she slapped Tommy across the face, “You’ve forgotten where you’re from.” Quickly, Tommy’s face went through a range of emotions. First there was anger and the urge to strike back. Then there was the reaction of wanting to hide, like he was being chastised just like when he was little. The hurt over her comment came next, swiftly followed by a sense of shame, because she was right. His face settled on worry over his youngest sister. “What do we do?” “What will happen if we get her back to Small Heath?”

Tommy lit a cigarette and thought out loud, “Connor wants her dead. He has high influence in the police and he’s using her as leverage, after having seen her at the races.” “Y/N didn’t kill that soldier!” Finn called out, full of indignation. “Yes, we know…” Tommy said in a low voice, “But that doesn’t fucking matter because no one’s going to believe our word for it against his.” “Who else knows?” Polly continued. “My guess is no one does yet…” “JOHN!” Polly howled suddenly and for a second Tommy could only blink. Then he continued, “If anyone else knew, we’d heard by now. I’m guessing he intends to save the information for when he can use it.” Aunt Polly bend down and started unlacing one of her boots. That’s when John walked in and he immediately paused when he felt the tension hang in the air. “Take this,” she ordered him and handed him the small revolver that she kept hidden in her boots, “Shoot Connor.” “Fucking what?” he nearly spit out his toothpick. John looked at Tommy for an explanation, but it didn’t come. Instead Tommy asked Polly, “Then what?” “We go to Oxford.” Tommy nodded slowly, “John, go on. Shoot the man. Get Arthur out of bed when you’ve done it.” Shrugging like it was just another small task he had to fulfil without much enthusiasm, John walked off with the gun in hand. But Finn said carefully, “What if I was wrong?” “Have you ever been wrong about your sister?” Aunt Polly asked, “Apart from that time you thought she was in love with that Jewish boy…” “No.” “Trust your gut, Finn,” Tommy confirmed, “Pol’s right.” Aunt Polly smiled at him with an almost motherly warmth, “Let’s bring Y/N home.” *** Eventually you were moved to the hospital wing of the school. The neglect and lack of food had caused your body to shut down and you could no longer force yourself to get up each morning. At first, you were branded lazy and got punished for it. Finally, even the nuns acknowledged this was serious and the last thing they needed was another girl dying at their school. You’d lost all feeling for days, drifting in and out of sleep. One nun took care of you and she was different from the others. During your hazy periods, she tried to persuade you to eat, but with the last strength you did have, you refused. If you were to die, it’d be your own choice. “Y/N…” someone whispered to you gently. You tried to open your eyes, but it felt like lifting bricks with muscles you did not have. “Y/N,” the voice said again, and you realised this wasn’t the nun. Slowly you opened your eyes and saw Anna, sitting by the side of your bed. “What do you want?” you croaked. She looked down and said, “I came to see you.” “Why?” “Because I’ve made a mistake.”

You didn’t care for her feelings. You knew she despised you just like the others did and you didn’t need another girl gloating by your bed. So you decided to just wait and not answer her. “The girls told me you were scum,” she continued, “that you didn’t belong here. They said that’s why you always got into trouble, because you’re just Birmingham working-class trash.” Great, you thought, and how is this supposed to help? “When they told me to not talk to you, I listened. I thought it would help, that I would fit in more and the nuns wouldn’t beat me like I saw them do with others. But I was wrong.” “The nuns don’t need a reason,” you replied before you could stop yourself, “Reasons help, but they will find a way to vent their cruelty, no matter what.” “That night,” Anna said, “you talked to me and asked me who I missed. You were the only one that asked me why I was crying.” “I didn’t want you to feel too alone…” Anna nodded, “I know. That’s why I’m here.” But you didn’t understand, “Why are you here?” “Y/N. You’re not alone. Tell me, who do you miss?” Much to your own annoyance, tears welled up in your eyes. For last couple of months you had tried so hard not to think of Finn, Arthur, John and Ada. And you tried to ban Polly and Tommy especially from your mind, always wondering why they didn’t want you. Your heart can be cruel like that: those who don’t want you, you miss the most. Anna took your hand in hers and for the first time you felt another human being without pain. And so you started telling her of your brothers, of your aunt, of the horses and factories and of the streets of Small Heath. Anna didn’t say a word, but she listened intensely. After you’d cried all your tears and there were no more stories left to tell, all she said was, “Please. Eat.” When she offered you soup, you ate. *** It was a sight to behold: Polly Gray walking through the city of academia with four brothers practically having to run after her to keep up. When she arrived at the front doors of the convent, she didn’t ask to come in, but simply walked on into the halls. “Aunt Pol,” John ventured, “What do we do?”

“Keep up,” she said simply. Arthur looked around nervously. He didn’t like nuns and convents. But Tommy and Finn scanned every room and corner for you. Left and right, girls looked up in surprise as the strange family invaded their home. “Who’s that?” they whispered. But the nuns urged them away and said, “No one. Don’t look at them. They don’t belong here.” Tommy frown deepened as he noticed the faces of the girls. These weren’t what he expected. Of course, he wasn’t familiar with schools like this one, but he knew education played a part. These girls all looked tired, downtrodden and most of them were cleaning or scrubbing the floors. He shared a look with Aunt Polly and she nodded in understanding. “How are we going to find her?” Finn asked. “Oi!” Arthur called out to one of the girls, who jumped up at his voice, “Y/N, you know her?” “No, sir…” she shook. “Listen to my voice,” John added, “What about a girl who sounds like me?” And then one other girl stepped forward and she tilted her chin up high as a sign of arrogance, “She’s not here.” “And whyis she not here?” Polly asked pointedly. The girl got nervous, but tried to keep composure, “Because she’s filth and this is a decent school.” Again, Tommy looked around at the skinny girls, all dressed in the same drab depressing dressed, “Decent, eh?” His low menacing voice knocked all the attitude out of her, so she changed her mind, “She was taken to the hospital ward a few weeks ago.” “Where,” Arthur demanded. “North wing,” she gulped.

Aunt Polly marched through the halls like a woman on a mission. Her face bore a gritty look of determination and none of the bells, smoke and threats of a holy place could make her quiver. In fact, God shook as she walked passed.

Still, one nun tried to stop her, but before she could open her mouth in protest, Aunt Polly had pushed her aside and casually commented, “Better get out of the way, sister, you certainly won’t be the first woman of God I’ve knocked down.” When they entered the hospital wing, they walked into another depressing space filled with beds in lines. Most of them were empty, but one nun stood up and walked over to Polly. Her first instinct was to actually knock down this one, but when she saw her soft face, she paused. “Y/N Shelby,” she demanded, “We’ve come to take her home.”

“You’re her aunt?” the nun asked, “She’s asked for you.” “Is she alright?” Finn stepped forward, “What was wrong with her?” “We thought she might not make it. She stopped eating, you see,” the nun explained. John frowned and protested, “That’s not Y/N. She would never refuse food, unless…” Tommy didn’t need to hear the ‘unless’; worry was already eating him alive inside. So he walked around in search for his sister. He found her in a bed, with another girl sitting next to her. His sister was asleep. “Who are you?” Polly demanded harshly. But the brothers couldn’t speak when they saw their sisters. You were too skinny, eyes sunken deep and bruises were still visible on your face. The long black hair was gone. In many ways, it wasn’t their sister anymore, just a shell. The nun answered when the other girl was too afraid to, “This is Y/N’s friend. She came to visit her every day, even though she wasn’t allowed to.” Polly lifted one eyebrow, “Then why did you allow it?” “Anna got Y/N to eat again. She’s the reason she’s alive.”

Anna. Polly walked over to her and carefully took her hand, “You watched over my niece.” “I didn’t want her to feel alone. She felt abandoned, she said…” Anna said in a soft voice. Polly shook her head in an effort to banish the emotions, “Thank you, Anna. You’re a good friend and a guardian angel.” “What did they do to her?” John asked her through gritted teeth. “She was isolated, singled out for being… different.” Anna explained without meeting their eyes, “She tried to fight them from the start, but never won. She kept trying to run away. They beat her, kept her locked up in the cellar, but when the other girls turned on her and she thought she would never leave this place, she just… gave up.” Slowly, Finn had walked over to the other side of the bed. Clumsy but lovingly, he started stroking the hair out of your face. Seagulls, he thought. “Who’s in charge here?” Tommy suddenly spoke. “The mother superior has an office down the hall,” the nun said, “Anna can take you there.” “No,” Anna gasped, “I can’t…” Fear was written all over her face.

“What’s wrong with the office?” Tommy asked her with unusual kindness. “It’s where she…” And in an instant they all understood. So Tommy demanded, “Tell that woman to come here.” “She won’t like it, sir…” “You fuckingtell her to come here,” Tommy spat filled with venom, “Or I will burn this entire place down to the ground, and don’t think for a second I won’t fucking do it.” So the nun with the gentle face nodded and walked off. Somehow, Tommy’s explosion had triggered some old memories in you. Before you were properly awake, you dreamed of being back in your bed in Small Heath. The smell of the factories penetrated your nose and you could hear your family arguing. But when you opened your eyes, they were actually there. You looked at them one by one and stopped at Finn, “You said you’d explain.” “And I will,” he said, “when we get home.” “Am I allowed to go home?” you questioned in disbelieve. Aunt Polly shook her head, “You should’ve never been anywhere else.” “Can’t protect you if you’re not at home…” Tommy added with a slight hint of guilt in his voice. “It’s safe now,” John said, “I’ve dealt with it.” And just the way he said it made you smile a little. “Arthur, John,” Tommy started ordering them in his usual business-like manner, “Take Y/N out of here.” And Arthur lifted you out of the bed into his arms like it was nothing. “Finn, you go with them. Make sure you get her things.” At that, John pulled a gun and Finn nodded solemnly. “What about Anna?” you asked, looking at your friend, “I won’t leave her here.” “Pol and I are going to have a word with the mother superior,” Tommy stated matter-of-factly. You sighed in relief, but Anna still had a look of confusion on her face, “What will that do? She won’t listen to anyone.” “She’ll listen to us, love,” Polly said to her with a reassuring smile that left very little room for arguments, “We’ll make sure of it.” You smiled at Anna too, “This convent will be closed by tomorrow. Trust me.” “We’ll see you at home, Y/N,” Tommy said, “And then we’ll talk.” Just before Arthur walked out of the door with you in your arms, Aunt Polly ran over to you and pressed a kiss on your forehead, “Safe journey, sweetheart.” Then there was just Tommy and Polly left, clearing their faces of all sentiment and hardening their features. Arms crossed, they waited and knew what had to be done, and nothing would stop them from doing it.

“Mr. Shelby, Mrs. Gray?” the hospital nun had reappeared, “The mother superior will see you now.”

***

Masterlist

[skellebonez]

Why Worry At All?

I had so much trouble writing certain parts of this out for some reason, which makes no sense to me because I chose to write this on my own without a prompt. But I finally nailed out the in between parts that were giving me trouble! So... Billy Kametz can sing, huh?

Xiaotian knew what they were hearing. They knew it!

They'd heard Xiaojiao before and she wasn't that deep. They'd never heard Sandy but he had to sound much deeper if he could. Tang and Pigsy were out of the question, Tang couldn’t hold a tune to save his life and Pigsy never did more than hum at a much different octave. It couldn't have been Wukong, he'd still been asleep from overexerting himself in their last fight.

So that only left Macaque as the one who could have been singing outside the med bay door.

“But then I guess we know there’s blame to share... and none of it seems to matter anymore...”

It was such a soft tune, something that Xiaotian barely recognized from a video online he watched long ago. Maybe something Xiaojiao had shown him. Something soft and gentle, which made no sense given the possible culprit. Or the fact he heard it being sing just outside his mentor’s room while he was checking on him. But he was hearing it through the door nonetheless. Almost whisper like in how soft it was, it was too weak to have been heard belted from a distance, and muttered almost a bit off tune. That only left it being from someone right outside the door. But why not just come inside?

Unless the singer, who again Xiaotian was certain was Macaque, didn’t want anyone- even Sun Wukong- to know it was them who was singing and they didn’t realize that anyone was in the room with the power drained immortal.

So, like anyone who heard a mysterious singing voice would do, they pulled out their phone and started recording.

The song only lasted for another few seconds before silence, and then the almost deafening in comparison sound of running footsteps.

And as Xiaotian looked down at the recording on the phone, less than even 20 seconds in length, they were struck by a realization.

“... I can use this.”

~

“Well well well,” Macaque said with a chuckle, turning to face the person who joined him on the deck of the self piloting drone ship. Just where they knew he would be at this hour of the morning. “Didn’t take you for a morning person, kid.”

“I’m not,” Xiaotian grumbled, hair down and unkempt and clearly barely brushed just to keep it out of their face. "But I wanted to check on Wukong after what happened yesterday.”

This made the other’s fur stand up and his tail tense, though whether this was because he realized what Xiaotian meant or of it brought his mind back to the fight of the day prior they couldn’t tell. The fight that, for some reason, Macaque left himself vulnerable during. That left him wiped out and barely able to move out of the way of an oncoming attack. That make Sun Wukong rush in and save him much to the surprise of everyone involved, Macaque himself included.

The fight that Xiaotian was beginning to think was going to change a lot more than just knowing the de-powered duo’s limits.

“You’re going to be honest with me for once.” they proposed, joining the immortal monkey at the guard railing he casually leaned against.

“What makes you think I’m going tell you anything?” Macaque asked, chuckling boastfully and smirking that damn smug smirk he’d been wearing almost every minute since he had been taken onto the ship.

The longer Xiaotian saw it the faker it seemed to be.

“Oh, I dunno... maybe this?” They rebutted, pulling out their phone and hitting play on the open audio file they had pulled up long before the conversation, and they watched with their own smirk as a look of surprise and then horror and then something akin to “resigned but impressed” flashed on the ancient demon’s face.

After hearing the other speak there was no doubt that the two voices were identical now.

“Qi Xiaotian,” Macaque said, an almost cat like smirk gracing his face. This one seemed slightly more honest than the last one. “I didn’t take you for a blackmailer. Maybe I did have an influence on you after all.”

“Why were you singing this outside Wukong’s room?” Xiaotian asked, not in the mood for playing the other’s games this early in the morning. “Why were you trying to hide it? Why did you not realize I was in there? And...” He gestured to his phone, the soft gentle sounds of an almost uncharacteristically sweet song playing through his speakers. “What the hell is this song!?”

“Alright alright,” Macaque said, holding up his hands before he leaned forward on the railing. “No need to give the the third degree, great hero. It’s just a song I heard online.”

“You know how to use the internet?”

Turning his head, Macaque leveled the other with a very over exaggerated wilting gaze of disbelief. “I am honestly offended you’d think I wouldn’t learn how to.”

The tone of voice he had did not give the impression that Macaque even gave a shit, but Xiaotian muttered an apology regardless, to which the other simply laughed at.

“There’s this guy... Bill something? Kinds sounds like me, you know. Found him by chance one day and just kinda looked for all his songs and memorized them a long time ago out of boredom.” He shrugged, a distant far off look on his face. “Almost considered just being a copy cat voice for him once, way before I found out where our great King was, but I never followed through with that. Shame, though, knowing I’m on par with Broadway. Probably could have snagged a pretty decent amount of yuan from desperate fans. Don’t really have much use for money, though so eh.”

He shrugged, and for once he sounded... honest. Just honest.

“I wasn’t really trying to hide it, not from you anyway. Just... didn’t wanna deal with Wukong waking up and hearing me sing for the first time after. Ya know.” He waved his hand with another shrug. “History and all that. It was just a moment I had with myself, nothing more.”

Xiaotian took particular note that he avoided one particular question.

“You’re awful open about all this stuff,” the Monkie Kid mused, the two of them watching the horizon slowly move under the drone ship as the sun rise continued. Everyone else would be getting up soon enough. “Even for blackmail.”

“It’s not really effective blackmail,” Macaque admitted after a moment, tail lazily swishing behind him. “Not content wise, anyway. I was bound to be heard eventually no matter how much I hid. Think of this as more a... reward for you being able to catch me unaware. Take a lot of skill to do that with my ears.”

“I know most of your powers are gone too,” Xiaotian said bluntly, dropping the real piece of information he was here to hold over the other’s head out in the open, and that got Macaque to freeze instantly. “Not like ours are but... I dunno. I didn’t really think that far ahead. But if you still had most of them we wouldn’t be talking right now. You ran away instead of just whooshing into the shadows I know were in the hall. You’ve been wearing earplugs since we let you stay, I saw Sandy give them to you and you’re even wearing them right now, but even with your hearing dulled you would have been able to know I was in that room. You’ve been walking through doors instead of just vanishing. I don’t think I’d seem you walk through one except for at the shadow play before last week, and that was obviously to get my attention. I don’t think I’ve seen you make a clone or transform either, or manipulate a single shadow. Why not flaunt your powers over us, knowing we don’t have ours since you’ve made a point to annoy us about our lost abilities, unless you don’t have yours too?”

The elder said nothing, only growled and glowered out at the horizon before letting out a deep sigh.

“You really are a good kid,” he said with a humorless chuckle. “Smart, too, when actually you put your mind to stuff. But you’re only half right.”

“What do you mean?” Xiaotian asked in shock, amazed that the other was even still admitting to anything point blank at this point.

“I still have all my powers, it’s just... Not a good idea for me to use them too much,” he said vaguely, shrugging his shoulders and turning to walk away from the young man in a way that clearly indicated this line of conversation was over with. “I know you can keep a secret, kid, so do me a favor. Keep quiet about this.”

That same humorless chuckle, the one the young man now realized was more common from the demon’s mouth than not, sounded as he stepped into the forming shadows of the driver’s post from the rising sun and seemed to fall and melt into the floor in an instant.

Xiaotian couldn’t help the flinch that ran through their body at the implications of that final sentence. His training of Xiaotian. The second meeting. The Calabash.

The White Bone Spirit...

“Asshole,” Xiaotian muttered under their breathe, taking the door instead.

~

The very first thing Xiaotian was greeted with when they entered the communal kitchen was low and muttered but still the less than whispered tune of a song by a pop punk bank from overseas.

“Why do we worry at aaaaall,” Macaque sang just loud enough for everyone around him to hear, the baffled and in some cased impressed faces of everyone (barring the presumably still resting Wukong) looking in his direction as he seemingly ignored them to prepare his own fruit based breakfast. “Why, just tell me why do we worry? When worries never happen tell me why, why worry at all?”

When Macaque turned to look at Xiaotian he smirked almost playfully, winking at him.

And the only thing that ran through Xiaotian’s head was “there goes half of my blackmail... asshole.”

Though... when he looked closer...

Macaque seemed oddly tired.

Did he have the dark bags under his eyes during their conversation before?

[zensharks]

𝙭𝙞𝙖𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥 𝙝𝙘𝙨

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: headcanons about dating adeptus xiao himself ^^

ᴀ/ɴ: i wasn’t expecting to post tonight !! but here's the food for u all ehe

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ: fluff, a little slight bit of angst

ᴡᴄ: 644

at the beginning, xiao would be slow to realize his feelings for you

he’s unfamiliar with being in love, so at first it would probably be an unsettling feeling that he gets when he’s around you

(you’d notice)

((he is not good at hiding it, but he tries))

he’d be the type to blush easily and thoroughly resent it, especially the look you get when you notice the red hues peeking out from under his skin

nothing is more foreign to xiao than the human emotions that he (unfortunately) is forced to feel, so the fervor that you instill in him is, if anything, quite frightening

after months of awkward conversations, tiptoeing around confessions, and chaste glances shared between you, you would be the one to approach him

he wouldn’t meet your gaze, his usual stern tone becoming much more timid and subdued - it would take a lot of reassurance from you for xiao to allow himself to feel

the beginning of the relationship would be a learning process for the both of you - xiao learning how to love, and you learning how to be loved by him

at first, there would be a lot of opposites; at times he would get quite possessive, going over the top to keep you within arms’ length (sometimes literally), but on other occasions you might find xiao to be very held-back and unsure of himself, a reflection of who he was before you started dating

but he’ll learn, and subsequently, so will you

a relationship with xiao would be unexplored territory for the both of you, but you would both come to love the adventure

at his best, he’d be protective in a caring way. he would always have your best interests at heart, even if it meant going slightly overboard to keep you safe and close to him

at his worst, he would be cold and resigned. he would not be this way out of anger or annoyance towards you though, rather in an effort to shelter you from everything that he tried so desperately to hold back

there’s a chance that over time xiao would learn to be open with you, but if the relationship were to reach this point, moments like this would be sporadic

it would happen during the quiet evenings the two of you spend together, wrapped up in each other’s arms - looking down at his face resting against your chest you’d see his brow furrowed slightly more than normal, his hands balled up in fists around your shirt

rest a hand on the side of his face and tilt it upwards towards yours, comb your hand through his hair

he wouldn’t tell you everything, but he would do everything to stifle the tears that pushed at the corners of his eyes as you held him and whispered to him hushed reassurance

changing the subject a little - dates with xiao :]

they would be very personal, he would much rather take you away from the noise of the harbour than place the two of you directly in its centre

knowing liyue like the back of his hand, he would have many places dear to him that he longs for you to see

he’d take you to corners of the region that you didn’t know had names - you usually wouldn’t love days of on-foot travel, but with xiao you would love nothing more

at times the beginning of a smile could barely be seen on his lips, but it would quickly disappear with a light cough when your attention is back on him

despite the hard exterior that he even attempts to keep around you, he quietly longs to spend all of his days like this - the two of you alone, far away from the harbour’s busyness, the only focus of his gaze being your eyes as you watch the clouds pass over the mountains

[wrecking-man]

Komi 344: Class Change

Final thoughts:

AI CHAPTER! AI CHAPTER!! AI CHAPTER!!!

I absolutely love Ai, so this chapter was quite the treat for me. She is just too cute. I want to see her happy... And I want to see Shousuke actually emote.

It’s a little sad to see her long hair go bye-bye, but her new haircut is at least still really cute.

I loved her display of determination to the teacher in charge (Hira Nichitaru). It was the dramatic haircut trope done well... Unlike that other example from this very same manga. She just really wants to be with Shousuke. How sweet is that?

Speaking of Hira Nichitaru... He has a solid titanium pair, that man. He was scared of Ai... because of course he was... but he still held his ground and told her he can’t just go changing the class rosters on a whim. Not only that though, he did so with compassion, unlike how some other teachers would have done... He’s a good man... Just a little slow with the details. (You could have just told her from the beginning that she was already in the same class as Shousuke, man! She cut her hair!!!)

So after the haircut (and a mishap trying to fix it up), Ai skipped school for a few weeks to let it grow back out some... Reminded me a little of her brother, whom also skipped school for quite a while in his first year. Intentional parallels, I’m sure... I dig it.

I don’t have that much of an opinion on most of the stuff with Hitomi. I think it’s funny though that she seems to not really understand romantic implications at all. At least not when it comes to her interactions with Shousuke and Sanjuurokurou. Ai could tell her explicitly and she still wouldn’t get it.

Thank goodness though, because Shousuke x Hitomi would have been a train wreck and not one I would have liked to see.

It was pretty funny to see Ai ready to 'sink' Hitomi over getting so close to “Shousuke-kyun”. She can make some of the greatest exaggerated faces, which is another point of similarity with her brother... I’m sure she would rather die than hear something like that though.

The Komi cameo near the end of the chapter was really nice: Komi just lounging in bed, cuddling with Tomo-chan (her giant black cat plushie). It was adorable. I still want there to be a point where Tadano tells her that it was his gift idea... Or perhaps one of Komi’s friends should point it out instead. I just want to see her react to that news.

More importantly though, I want to know what was in that text. Something about a movie, apparently? That’s what people in the discord server are saying... I hope they go on a date to see a horror movie thinking it’s some other kind of movie. (Komi can’t handle horror well, so... Ehe...)

Ahem...

Finally, the Shousuke pomph/sigh. I wonder which it was... Either way, it’s clear that he is resigned to his fate due to his sister dating Tadano... He’s going to have to get used to Hitomi pestering him. Nothing he can do about it. I hope it was a pomph though. Because imagining him pumping himself up to just deal with all the annoyance for the sake of his sister’s happiness is just... so much better than the alternative, haha... I want him to be a good and caring brother, even if he doesn’t want to communicate that.

Next chapter is about discount Tadano and the others in Manbagi’s class. I’m not sure about much else in it. I just want more Onemine, Nakanaka, and Yamai, mainly.

I’m bad at keeping promises on here... so I won’t make any... But, I would like to get chapter 345 done tomorrow. We’ll see.

[seijorhi]

Hi, I saw ur post about requests closing soon so I figured I’d give ya another, but it’s okay if ya don’t get to it anytime soon since you have so many!! Can I request Yandere Suga and Daichi with a fem! darling who’s oblivious to them, and they both maintain the image of friends in front of others but they’re actually fighting each other for your love, but then you start dating someone else and they both team up? I 💕 your writing so much, I’m excited to see what you do 😌

Yes of course bby! Hope you like it 💕

Daichi Sawamura x female reader, Sugawara Koushi x female reader

TW implied non-con, slight nsfw, manipulation, abuse of power (kinda), minor violence, mentions of grief

Tug O’ War

You meet Daichi first, on the outskirts of Miyagi thanks to a blown tyre and a dead phone battery. It’s just after nine pm and you’re ready to resign yourself to abandoning your car and hiking the rest of the way when the police cruiser pulls up, and sitting behind the wheel is Officer Daichi. 

Sawamura, he tells you on the drive into town.

“So I take it you’re not from around here?” he asks, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

There’s a small smile adorning his face, but you know he’s just being polite, trying to break the somewhat awkward silence between the two of you. Truth be told you don’t mind the quiet. With his radio playing quietly in the background, you’re still trying to sort through your thoughts, prepare yourself for what’s waiting for you when you arrive. 

But that’s not his problem, and you don’t want to be rude, so you shake your head with a faint smile of your own. “I am actually… or I was, I guess. I moved away after high school.”

A lone eyebrow quirks, “Oh yeah? So what brings you back to Miyagi then? Family?”

Fingers twist in your lap.

“… Something like that.” 

Maybe it’s because of the nerves eating away at your stomach, or maybe it’s just been a while since you’ve been back, but the drive to your sister’s house feels like it takes longer than it should. Daichi makes easy conversation the whole drive, and by the time you pull up out front of your old childhood home you find yourself glad of the temporary reprieve. 

“Thank you. For the lift, I mean,” you tell him, standing awkwardly off to the side as he lifts your suitcase out of the trunk and passes it over to you. “I would have been up for one hell of a walk if you hadn’t come along.” 

He grins down at you, laughing not unkindly, “It is kind of my job, but you’re welcome. I could hardly leave you stranded, now could I?”

You open your mouth to reply, but before you can speak a word the front door of the house is thrown open and a tiny figure barrels out onto the front lawn. You have a split second to brace yourself before impact, tiny arms wrapping around your middle, “Auntie!!!” 

A bewildered Daichi watches as you smile (genuinely, perhaps for the first time that night), ruffling the boy’s hair. “Hey buddy, how’s my favourite little man?” 

Glancing up, you spy your sister standing in the open doorway and your smile fades a touch. Your nephew’s already excitedly chattering, blissfully oblivious to the situation - a minor miracle in and of itself - as he eagerly tugs you back up towards the house. 

It’s only when you’re halfway up the driveway that you remember Daichi.

A glance back over your shoulder confirms your suspicion - he’s still standing there, watching the odd display with a slightly confused expression, though to his credit he manages to quickly school his features back into something a touch more befitting an officer of the law when he realises he’s been caught.

“Thank you again, really. I appreciate it. You’re kinda my hero tonight.”

He nods, and it might be a trick of the dim light, but you swear you see his cheeks flush pink, “Anytime.”

Just as he promised, your car is picked up by a local towing company the very next morning before you’re even out of bed. The tyre is replaced without too much fuss, but when you go to pay, the mechanic simply shakes his head and tells you it’s all been taken care of.

You make a mental note to swing by the station and thank Daichi (again) in person.

***

It’s only fitting, you suppose, that you meet Suga a few days later. 

Thursday’s your sister works late, which leaves you to pick your nephew up from school. You’re thankful that they’re already aware of the situation, nobody questions why a veritable stranger is passing through the gates - at least, not after your nephew perks up at the sight of you, shouting your name as he hastily tries to shove his arms through his backpack. In his excitement he almost trips - would have tripped - if not for the silver haired man who catches him before he can stumble, setting him right with a shake of his head.

“Please slow down, Daisuke. You’ll hurt yourself,” he chastises gently. 

Your nephew pouts, and you can’t help but chuckle a little as he ducks his head in shame as you approach. “Hey bud, did you have a good day?”

Hazel eyes regard you curiously as your nephew clings to your legs, nodding before burying his face into your side. 

“You must be Y/N,” the man - Daisuke’s teacher you can only assume - says as he straightens up. 

Considering your nephew had all but screamed it across the courtyard, there’s not really a need to confirm it, but you nod anyway, accepting his hand when he offers it. 

He’s tall and handsome - though maybe handsome’s the wrong word. Pretty, maybe - his features are soft and delicate, with long eyelashes and eyes you could quite easily lose yourself in, truth be told.

“His mother told us you’d be coming by every now and then to pick him up. It’s nice to finally meet you, I’m Sugawara, Daisuke’s teacher.” He pauses, biting his lip for a moment before exhaling quietly. “I’m sorry, by the way, about…”

You’re quick to wave him off, ignoring the painful tug in your chest, “Please, it’s- I-I’m not… It’s fine.” 

It’s very much not. 

Even as you say the words your hand finds its way to Daisuke’s hair, stroking it gently as his grip tightens. You’ve never been good at dealing with grief, your own or anybody else’s, but you can’t stand the platitudes - even those with the best of intentions. 

Sugawara frowns faintly but he doesn’t push you and desperate to change the subject you force a smile on your face, “So, you’re the famous Suga I’ve heard so much about! He absolutely adores you, you know? You’re almost all he talks about at home.”

He laughs, and just like that you feel the tension in the air dissipate. “Oh, is that so? I guess I could say the same about you. I’ve heard nothing but ‘auntie Y/N’ all week.”

Your cheeks heat, and you gaze fondly down at the boy still clinging to your side. “He’s a good kid.”

Daisuke chooses that moment to pipe up, launching into a detailed recount of his day, much to your and Suga’s mutual amusement. 

And neither you nor Daisuke notice that while you’re engrossed in his retelling, Sugawara’s pretty hazel eyes are focused on you, a soft smile playing across his lips. 

Thursday afternoon pick ups quickly morph into Tuesday, Thursday and Friday afternoon pick ups as well as Monday morning drop offs, and you don’t mind one bit. For one, you know that your sister appreciates it more than she lets on and you would do anything to make this even the slightest bit easier for her, and it gives you a bit more time to spend with Daisuke, which you’ve missed more than you care to admit. 

Also because whenever you do stop by to pick him up, Suga - Koushi, as he keeps insisting you call him - makes it his personal mission to strike up a conversation, whether he’s out there supervising the kids or not.

He’s friendly and warm and has a surprising habit of making you laugh at the most unexpected things, and you can’t help but find yourself being reeled in by the silver haired man. It doesn’t hurt that Daisuke thinks he hangs the moon in the sky, but there’s just something about Suga that’s… easy.

He doesn’t push. Doesn’t poke or pry. You still have a few friends in Miyagi, but the conversations inevitably end up circling back to what happened and how you’re holding up. You don’t blame them, you know they’re only worried about you, but it’s exhausting. Suga’s a breath of fresh air, and you hadn’t realised how desperate you were for a friend who didn’t know all the grizzly details.

Though being Daisuke’s teacher, he undoubtedly does.

But Suga seems content to pretend, until the day you arrive sniffling, eyes rimmed in red and unable to muster your usual smile.

That’s when the facade breaks, and he takes you back inside the classroom away from all the prying eyes of the other parents and lets you fall apart on his shoulder. You should be mortified, but you suppose that Suga’s probably uniquely equipped at dealing with emotional outbursts, considering he spends his days surrounded by six year olds.

“He was like my big brother,” you whisper after a while, your voice shattered and raw. “I miss him so much.”

He doesn’t say a word but his grip tightens and he hums quietly, and that’s enough.

***

A week after you get settled, you swing by the local police station with two coffees in hand and timidly ask the uniformed officer sitting at the front desk if Daichi’s around. The man looks at you, looks at the two drinks in your hands and grins a little too widely. 

“Good ol’ Daichi, eh?” he winks, “Yeah, he won’t be back for a while. Can I help you with anything, ma’am?”

Your cheeks burn. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise considering he’s a police officer and all, but it does and you feel like an absolute idiot. Of course you should have checked before coming, but even if you’d had the foresight to do that, it wasn’t like you had his number.

Thankfully the other officer takes pity on you after you explain why you’re actually there, promising to let Daichi know you stopped by, diligently taking down your number to pass along as well. 

True to his word, it’s hours later - well into the afternoon - when your phone lights up with a notification. Several, in fact.

Hey Y/N.

It’s Daichi.

Sawamura.

Srgt. Mokoto said you came to see me today?

Is everything okay??

The corner of your lips quirked up, and you get the sense that Mokoto had likely neglected to tell Daichi the real reason you’d dropped in, probably to make him sweat. 

Hey :)

Yeah everything’s fine.

I brought you coffee as a thank you for the other day! Which I maaay have drank myself when you weren’t there…

But let me make it up to you! I can drop by the station if you’re around on wednesday at all?

The reply comes quickly. 

Absolutely. 10:30 work?

You shoot back a quick reply confirming and toss your phone on the couch with a sigh. 

It buzzes again a moment later, but the text message waiting for you isn’t from Daichi.

So a little birdie tells me you’re back in town. 

***

“You know, you really didn’t have to bring me coffee. I meant what I said, it’s part of my job. My boss would have had my ass if I’d just left you stranded there like that.”

You glance over at him with a wry smile. “Yeah? And paying for my new tyre and the towing, is that part of your job too?”

Daichi’s cheeks flush pink and he almost chokes on his sip of coffee. “Ah.”

‘Ah’ indeed. “So considering I doubt you’re going to let me pay you back-”

He lifts a hand to stop you, shaking his head adamantly, “Not a chance. I know the guy who runs the garage, he owes me a favour. It was nothing, really-”

“Then coffee is the least I can do,” you say with an easy shrug. “But I know you’re busy, and I don’t want to keep you too long-”

Daichi’s hand - warm and rough - reaches out to close around your wrist, stopping you before you can stand.

“Stay,” he says, dark eyes glimmering.

***

You’ve forgotten, having spent the last few years living in the heart of Tokyo, just how small a town this really is. 

You’re standing out by the school gates watching Daisuke run around with his friends when Suga decides to broach the subject. 

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Hmm?” You glance up to find him watching you with that same fond if not mildly exasperated expression on his face. It’s not his fault, not really - you’ve just been a little out of it the past few days. 

Thankfully, Suga doesn’t hold it against you, chuckling. “Tomorrow night - are you free?” he repeats.

Your eyes widen a little, cheeks warming. “Um… well I kinda have a… thing earlier, but I should be free by then. Why?”

A silver eyebrow lifts. “A thing?” he prods.

“Just a thing. Why are you being so nosy all of a sudden?”

Suga laughs again, “Well if you’re not still tied up with your thing, I’m having some friends over for drinks for my birthday. You should come.”

Which is how you find yourself standing nervously out the front of Suga’s apartment, a bottle of wine in hand. 

When you knock, however, the person who opens the door is not the one you’re expecting. Tall, broad shouldered and handsome, out of uniform for the first time since you’d met him-

“D-Daichi?”

The brunette stares, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape.

“I, uh… I’m- is Suga… Is Sugawara here?” you manage to stutter out, fighting the urge to fidget under his gaze.

His brows furrow, an odd look passing over his eyes, and for one awful moment you think you’ve somehow managed to screw up the address. But before you can embarrass yourself further, a familiar head of silver hair appears behind his shoulder, slapping him on the back.

Relief washes over you. “Suga! Happy birthday!” 

Pushing a still somewhat bewildered Daichi out of the way, Suga’s quick to wrap you up in a warm embrace - which takes you by surprise - with a grin. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Your eyes flicker back to Daichi for a split second, and Suga’s follow. He’s more observant than most give him credit for, but even the most oblivious would have a hard time not noticing the blank expression on the brunette’s face - or the way he was still staring at you. “You two… know each other?” he asks, ignoring the teasing and impatient shouts coming from inside the apartment.

Finally, Daichi snaps out of his stupor. “Yeah. We met the night she moved back into town.”

“Which is a polite way of saying that my car basically imploded and he saved me from having to hike all the way back to my sister’s,” you correct, and Daichi huffs in amusement, though he doesn’t disagree. “Suga teaches my nephew,” you tell him, answering the unspoken question written across his face. “I didn’t realise the two of you were friends, though!”

The two share a glance over your shoulder.

“Yep.”

“Small world, I guess.”

You laugh, passing Suga the bottle of wine, allowing Daichi to lead you inside with an innocent hand on your lower back.

There’s a decent few people squashed into Suga’s modest apartment, but somehow you manage to find yourself sitting around his coffee table, Daichi’s arm slung over the back of your seat, Suga sitting opposite you both, discussing - of all things - high school sports.

“Volleyball, huh?”

You can kind of see it. They’re both tall and in great shape - you’re pretty damn certain the muscles Daichi sports aren’t just for show - but it’s more than that. You tilt your head, chewing on your bottom lip. “What school did you say you played for?”

“Karasuno,” Suga says.

It takes a moment for it to click - though you blame that on the drink in your hand that Suga’s dutifully kept topped up - Karasuno… the flightless crows. Ah yes. 

A slow smile creeps across your face. 

“I saw you play once.”

Both men’s eyes widen, “You did?” Suga asks.

“Yep. The guy I was dating at the time, he played too.” You almost laugh when you glance up to find Daichi frowning at your side, an unexpected tightness in Suga’s usually easy going smile, “It’s okay,” you reassure them, ignoring the traitorous flutter in your stomach, “you guys won. It damn near broke his poor heart.” Not that he’d ever admitted as much out loud.

There’s a short silence, then-

“What team?” 

You do laugh at that, “Don’t you think you guys are a little past high school rivalries?”

The ex-captain and setter meet each other’s eyes. Neither speak a word, but something utterly indecipherable passes between them, and when Daichi finally breaks it to glance back at you, there’s a sharp grin plastered across his face.

“Nope.”

You shake your head, feeling like you’ve missed something. 

***

Hours later, fresh from a steamy shower, you stumble into bed and grab your phone from the nightstand. Sure enough, two unread messages are waiting for you.

You looked so damned pretty today. 

Are you gonna let me take you out to dinner now or am I gonna have to get on my hands and knees and beg?

You smile into your pillow, quickly typing out a reply.

I don’t know, you used to be pretty good on your knees.

Your phone lights up a moment later, a familiar ringtone playing out.

***

Life gets busy after that. 

Suga mentions that Daisuke is struggling in class, so you decide to join some of the other parents and volunteer as a ‘class helper’ one afternoon a week. Dai beams whenever you show up, and Suga seems eternally grateful for the extra set of hands - even if it’s just for craft time. 

And just when you think you’ve managed to patch one hole, another appears. Miyagi might be a far cry from the hustle and bustle of Tokyo, it’s not immune to the low life creeps that used to hang around your old apartment block in the city - you’re mugged walking back from the store, a bag of groceries for dinner in arm. The guy only hits you once, a blow to the cheek that sends you sprawling to the ground, grabs your bag - the one with your phone and wallet - and runs. 

Your sister almost bursts into tears when she sees the cut on your lip, and it’s guilt more than anything else that swells through you when she spends the next twenty minutes berating you for not being careful enough.

You know she doesn’t mean it, you know she’s just scared. The promise falls from your lips before you can stop it, but it’s worth it you think, when her face relaxes and she pulls you into a tight hug.

But when you drop by the station the next morning, Daichi takes one look at you, and you watch in perfect slow motion as that warm smile freezes and falls. You expect the police report he makes you file, though you don’t really hold that much hope that they’re going to get your phone or wallet back, but not the words that come out of his mouth next.

“Self defence classes? Daichi, I...” you exhale with a huff, “don’t you think that’s a little excessive?”

The dark look in Daichi’s eyes as they flicker across your face tells you otherwise. “What if they had a knife, or a gun?” 

You would have just thrown your bag and run, you weren’t stupid - your purse wasn’t worth your life, but Daichi doesn’t want to hear a word of it. 

“What if your wallet wasn’t all he wanted?” he presses, and you stiffen at the implication. Gentle hands reach across the table to grab yours, the rough pad of his thumb brushing against the back of your palm, “Just you and me, two hours a week, that’s all I’m asking.”

… What now?

“You’re going to teach me?”

“You got somebody better in mind, sweetheart?” he asks with a cocked eyebrow and a wry grin.

It makes sense, you suppose - what with him being a police officer and all. 

And between your one on one sessions with him, volunteering at the school with Suga, making sure that Daisuke got to school on time, that the house was cleaned, there was food in the pantry and your sister wasn’t falling apart, you were running on fumes.

Yet when you come home exhausted and aching from Daichi’s place and catch sight of him, casually leaning against your doorway with a bag of takeout and that damned smirk you’d fallen head over heels in love with all those years ago, you can’t help but grin.

“Hey, baby. You hungry?”

Thank goodness for small mercies.

***

They’re more observant than you give them credit for.

Suga notices the way you gingerly stretch to put away the paint supplies one afternoon.

Daichi catches an eyeful of a bruise on your neck as he hovers over you - the makeup you’d used to hide it having rubbed off with the last manoeuvre.

Suga catches you checking your phone more often, smiling softly to yourself.

Where Daichi used to be able to coax you into staying back for a drink, you were quick to finish up and head home, claiming to be tired and hungry. You don’t take him up on his offer for dinner either. 

But the final nail in the coffin came in the form of a drawing.

“Dai, who’s that?” 

Suga’s crouched by his desk, gazing oddly at the picture your nephew had drawn. The task was simple - draw your family. Daisuke had dutifully done just that; him, his mom, you, and-

“Auntie’s new boyfriend.”

Suga’s eyes snap to yours and you curse your heart for skipping a beat. “I didn’t know you were dating anybody.”

***

Daichi’s fingers tap restlessly on the leather of the steering wheel. 

He was supposed to be home twenty minutes ago but when the call came in, he didn’t really have a choice but to answer it. She’d asked specifically for him after all, and even if she hadn’t, the Sergeant would have tossed the case his way regardless.

Mokoto knew how he felt about you.

Spending an hour and a half sitting in your living room while your sister sobbed wasn’t exactly how he’d planned on spending his afternoon, but he supposed it came with the territory. He knows how to do his job properly, though. Listening, asking the right questions, offering sympathy without promising results - it’s nothing he hasn’t had to do before. 

“Please Daichi, she- she’s all we have left, I… I can’t-”

It didn’t mean he wasn’t aching to leave with every second that passed. 

Of course, it wasn’t a complete waste of time. Through her tears, your sister did manage to give up the name of the guy you were fucking. 

A name he certainly recognised from way back in high school. He knows he’s going to enjoy pursuing that particular lead, but as he pulls his car into the driveway and switches the motor off, Daichi shoves the thought aside.

He has other, far more pressing matters to deal with.

His heart thrums like hummingbird’s as he walks up the pathway, nodding politely at his elderly neighbour as he passes. 

The sight that greets him inside his living room makes the wait worthwhile.

You, on your knees, stripped down to your pretty, lace underwear, arms cuffed behind your back and your plush lips wrapped around his best friend’s cock.

With his long fingers carefully carding through your hair, Suga coos at you between breathless moans, praising you for being such a good girl for him with every roll of his hips. You’re shaking, trembling as silvery tears spill down your cheeks and when he drops his wallet, phone and keys on the bench and kicks off his shoes, your wide, pleading eyes turn to greet him.

Daichi’s cock stirs in his pants, a rush of excitement and something much, much darker and more primal flooding his veins. 

Noticing that he no longer has your full attention, Suga’s eyes follow yours. “You’re late,” he says with a lazy smirk.

Loosening his tie, Daichi huffs out a laugh, “And I see you didn’t bother waiting.”

[sunjaesol]

my sweet romantic teenage nights

juke | high school + diner au | title: scenes from an italian restaurant // billy joel

Magenta’s Palace was an artefact from the glorious American Dream; a fluorescent gem wrapped in that 60s architecture and old-fashioned uniforms. It was also the hang-out spot of most LF Arts students, right in the heart of Los Feliz and on most kids’ path.  

Luke used to roll his eyes at the place, thinking it was corny and certainly not the place a punk-rocker like him would go… until he tasted their gnarly waffles. And burgers. And milkshakes. His love for good food trumped his desire for street cred and ended up like the rest of his peers: a regular at MP.

Alex and Reggie never had qualms with it. The former was rather happy Luke got over himself and Reggie was simply pleased to spend more time with his friends. It became tradition to eat there every Friday after school. Sometimes they stayed until the early hours of the night talking, sometimes it was to fuel up before a gig.

Settling in their booth (theirs - Luke has made sure to carve the underside of the table with their names), Luke sighed contently. “Boys, this gig is gonna be fire.”

“I still don’t know how you convinced the guys at Raven’s Nest,” Alex mused, glancing around for a waitress in a candycane-coloured uniform.

Reggie nodded gravely. “Yeah, they’re scary.”

“Used my charm,” he smirked. “Dialled it up like I always do.”

The blonde snorted. “Sure.”

Luke’s face crashed. “Fine. I used our fake’s when he didn’t believe we were eighteen.”

His friends grinned, Alex snapping his fingers. “There it is.”

The chipper Nora glided towards them, slaloming between tables with her notebook. Alex’ remark didn’t bother him, crossing his arms with a shrug. “Does it matter? I got us in. They’re gonna love us. Nay! They’re gonna eat this set up!”

“You better be right - hi, Nora - cause it’s a bar for bikers. Real ass bikers,” Alex replied, shooting Nora a smile.

“Hello, boys,” she greeted, her signature red hair tied in a messy bun. Reg used to have a crush on her when they first visited, until they realised she was twenty-three and in a committed relationship with a guy from USC studying medicine. Yeah, he had no shot. Luke had to console him by buying five chocolate shakes and blasting Elvis Presley in the car.

Despite this, Reggie still had a soft spot for her, smiling kindly at the waitress. “Our usual, please.”

The notebook got tucked in her apron with a bright nod. “Coming right up!”

As Nora swiftly returned behind the glossy bartop, parlaying the order to the kitchen, the entrance opened. The bell above chimed, three girls appearing beneath it.

Oh, shit.

When Luke enrolled into LF Arts as a green fourteen year old, he had planned to only focus on music and nothing else. He’d blaze through his classes and become the best in music and then, with his obsessive nature at a peak, would launch the band into the next stratosphere. That was the plan. Music, music, music. (And food from Magenta’s.)

Fourteen year old Luke wasn’t aware girls like Julie Molina existed though. That changed on the first day. She came to the front of the class, blew everyone away with a Taylor Swift cover and shot a toothy smile when she finished - like it was nothing. Like she didn’t have the voice of the century. (Like she wouldn’t mess with Luke’s plans of becoming the best, damn it!) Though his initial reaction was envy, he quickly realised it was rather a disgruntled crush than actual dismay.

She was cute. Still cute. After every summer break, he expected her to be less pretty so that his nerves could calm down for once. Nope. Julie Molina was pretty as hell.

He has never seen her here on Friday’s. Why now? Why now when they were mentally preparing themselves for a gig that could get them their asses kicked if they didn’t perform well? Luke needed to focus! Not think about where she’d sit and what she’d talk about and what she was going to eat.

His eyes tracked as Julie, Flynn and Kayla were in busy conversation, barely aware of their surroundings. Her head rolled back in a laugh at something Flynn said, eyes shut in glee. Luke flushed red, averting his gaze to the scratched up table. His friends were snickering, Alex muttering a ‘Jesus…’ under his breath.

Luke snapped his arm. “Stop being a dick.”

“Why don’t you just ask her out?”, Reggie pondered, absentmindedly making origami with the thin napkins.

“I think he needs to talk to her first to do that,” Alex teased before Luke could respond, earning another glare.

It wasn’t like he and Julie never spoke. They were seniors, they had multiple classes together and spent many hours cooped in the same music classroom. He was even part of her group project in junior year! They’ve talked! But it never lead to anything, his lingering stares falling for her oblivious profile, her never once looking back at him.

The connection Luke always craved hasn’t been there, though he always felt like they could have that. Musical spirits were alike, right? At least his crush wasn’t as hopeless as Reggie’s on Nora.

The girls chose a booth right next to theirs, Julie in his direct line of sight. Alex was buzzing in his seat from stifled laughter, visibly trying to not turn his head and address them. The guitarist felt like dying, not even the steaming plates of burgers set in front of them enough to lift his mood.

Luke leaned forward, voice a hiss. “I can talk to her. I just… haven’t felt the need to.”

Reggie patted his shoulder sympathetically. “It’s okay, buddy. You don’t have to lie to us.”

Frustration began simmering his skin, the scowl deepening. He wasn’t lying! Maybe a little! He’s been waiting for the right time to approach her, say and do the right thing to sweep her off her feet like the fucking rockstar he was. Had he been preparing his lines since he was fourteen? Also maybe. They were being revised.

Alex often told him he shouldn’t put Julie on a pedestal. That she was just a girl. It made him wonder if he was the only one that first day of high school that felt it. That awestruck whooping in his chest from seeing her curls dance around her almond eyes and hear how each lyric was laced with a passionate smile. Even at fourteen was he aware of how special that was. Julie wasn’t just a girl. She was the coolest girl he’s ever met and he didn’t even know her that well. He couldn’t imagine actually becoming friends with her, uncovering all facets of her personality and not get overwhelmed by her Julie-ness.

Huh. His crush went deeper than he thought. Yikes.

At the end of the day, Luke could admit that he was simply a teenage boy nervous to talk to a girl. ‘Nervous’ was like a curse word to him though, that admission a secret he’d take with him to the grave.

“Eh,” Alex quipped, egging him on. “Luke’s a terrible liar. He doesn’t have to tell us for us to know it’s true.”    

His hands slammed down on the table, words spouting from his lips. “Girls! Can we get your napkin dispenser?!”

Fucking fantastic, Luke.

All three perked up in surprise, Flynn twisting in her booth to curl her nose and tilt her head. “Why?”

“It’s empty,” he bluffed.

Kayla craned her neck and instantly caught Reggie’s handiwork scattered across the table. “No, it’s not.”

Julie sat next to her, blinking in confusion. “Why do you need our napkins?”

Her smooth voice directed right at him caused a thrill up his spine, a grin involuntarily tugging on his lips. “Cause Reggie needs them for his crafts.” Playing along, the bassist lifted a janky frog with a wink. “I’m very dedicated.”

She matched Luke’s smile, amused. It was the most interaction he has had with her in months, the utter euphoria of it all bursting at the seams. Propelled by her smile, he slid out the booth and into Alex’ side, throwing his arms over the seat right next to Flynn’s head. The girl remained deeply unimpressed by him, gaze flicking past his physique. Damn. If he ever wanted to get anywhere with Julie, he had to get in Flynn’s good grazes. Kayla seemed chill though.

“What’s with the frown, Felicity?”, he joked.

Kayla giggled at the mention of Flynn’s actual name, the girl in question rolling her eyes. “All I’m wondering is why you have to bother us about napkins, Lukas.”

“Flynn,” Julie shook her head with an exasperated grin, “maybe wait for your strawberry shake? I think you’re being hangry.”

Her friend loosened up, sinking back in her seat with a playful pout and mumbling a resigned ‘fine.’

Luke took that as his sign to continue. His gaze fell back on Julie, hoping he wouldn’t sound too eager. “You guys come here a lot? I haven’t seen you here on Friday’s.”

“Who’re you asking?”, Julie asked, looking between her and Kayla. Oh, man. Small talk really wasn’t his forte. He couldn’t charm himself out of this one with music jargon or fake IDs.

His smile turned stressed, flailing his hand around. “Uh, all of you.”

“Sure,” Flynn snorted.

Alex slapped a hand on his mouth at her retort, almost in pain of not laughing his ass off. The prize of ‘Worst Friends Ever’ went to Luke’s - for fuck’s sake, couldn’t the drummer at least try and help him out?!

“Just wanted to celebrate Kayla’s good mark on her new song,” Julie continued, wilfully ignoring the other’s behaviour. Slinging an arm around her friend, she shot her a bright smile. “Her bridge was amazing, right?”  

All three boys nodded fervently as Kayla ducked her head bashfully, murmuring a ‘thank you’ and then relieved from all the attention when Nora walked up to them. Luke’s body didn’t twist to sit normally again, too invested in finally speaking to them, finally having that contact, that he didn’t even care if he seemed like a weirdo. Julie and him! Conversing!

“Speaking of music,” he casually uttered when Nora was off again. His signature smirk crawled on his lips. “We’re playing a gig tonight.”

This peaked Flynn’s interest. Perhaps the prospect of food made her more amicable. “Where?”

“Raven’s Nest,” Reggie proudly proclaimed.

Kayla frowned, worried. “Isn’t that the bar with all the bikes outside?”

“Thank you!”, Alex exclaimed with a sigh. “It’s insane!”

“It’s not,” Luke bit back. If Sunset Curve wanted to make it big, they had to play big! Gigs like these would get them on the stages they dreamed of. Soon, it was goodbye, Raven’s Nest and hello, The Orpheum! “Real Californians go there to hear real fucking music.”

To his surprise, Julie hummed in agreement. “My dad says it used to be where the subculture kids hung out before MP got cool.”

“Yes!” His grin was huge now, overflowing with joy. This was enough adrenaline to get him through three gigs at once! His finger pressed into the cracked leather. “Exactly! And we’re gonna slay it. You should come watch!”

The latter blurted out without wanting to, his eyes growing wide in panic as Reggie and Alex stilled in their seats and Flynn peered up at him with laser-focus. Shit. Was he telling on himself? Did she pierce through the charisma that this was just a poor attempt at flirting? God, he really should’ve prepared his speech for impulsive moments like these.

Luke still needed to endure some growing pains before he got good at flirting.

Julie chuckled, a hint of red appearing on her cheekbones. It enthralled him. Was she embarrassed or flattered? “Uh,” she bit her lip, “I don’t know if I can get in. Don’t you have to be eighteen?”

He raised his brow. “C’mon, you don’t have a fake?” At those words, Alex dropped his head on the table with a thud. Luke had enough of his own shit too. ‘Mortified’ didn’t even come close to how he felt about his blabbering mouth.  

Levelling his challenged look, however, he realised he wasn’t lost quite yet. Julie’s eyes glittered with mischief. “I do, actually.”

Breath caught in his throat. Yup. Coolest fucking girl in the universe. Julie Molina had a killer voice and a fake ID and probably did a whole lot of other dope stuff he hadn’t found out yet.

“Julie,” Flynn but in. “It’s a biker bar.”

“Where our classmates are playing,” she argued. “I can always try.”

“You’ll die.”

“I think I’ll be fine. Like Luke said-” No. She could not say his name and expect him to keep his cool. His fingers gripped the conjoined couch tighter. “-everyone’s there for the music.”

A careful smile slowly grew on Kayla. “We can tell your dad you’re with us.”

Flynn gaped at her. “We-?! I- okay.” Lifting her hands in surrender, she added: “Fine, we’ll tell Ray you’re at the movies with us.”

Wait, was Julie turning down a movie night with her friends to see him play? Did that mean something? Has he been so focused on trying to find or create a ‘vibe’ that he forgot to actually look for signs of her own? Damn. Now he really couldn’t screw this set up. Sunset Curve was gonna play until their hands bled, hopefully impressing her just a little bit.

It was settled then. After both groups had eaten, Julie separated from hers and joined them on their trek to Raven’s Nest. She was mostly talking to Reggie behind Alex and Luke, animatedly recounting a story about Carlos nearly crashing his drone in her keyboard. Jitters began to tingle his skin, that building excitement right before a gig mixing with Julie’s presence. It felt like one of his dreams materialised out of thin air.

How many times has he dreamt about catching her eye in the crowd as he crooned love songs he never dared to write? Granted, those dreams were centered in a hazier setting, Raven’s Nest quite unromantic opposed to that, but he would take what he got.

(And after, they’d worm their way through the masses of people, meeting halfway, and she’d sling her arms around his neck and he’d pull her into a kiss and it’d be electric. She’d kiss like she sang. It was a recurring dream that left him in a good mood for hours.)

Without much hesitance, the bouncer let Julie in. Luke, unable to keep his giddiness at bay, squeezed her shoulder as a dazzling beam was glued to his cheeks. Julie got in! Julie was going to see him play!

Raven’s Nest was expectedly filled with bearded, burly men. It reeked of beer and strong liquor, raucous chatter spilling from ever corner. They all probably looked like babies in comparison to these dudes, but he supposed his unfaltering confidence made up for it. Luke would get his boys (and Julie) through this. The stage was already prepared for them, amps and mics set up, Alex’ drums waiting in Reggie’s van behind the establishment.

“I’ve seen you play before, you know,” Julie mumbled beside him.

His heart soared without trying, its rate going a mile a minute as his jaw fell slack. All his nerves intensified till a blush crept on his cheeks. “You- you have?”

Her curious eyes flitted from the people to him, sheepish. “Yeah. At Ecliptica. You guys were good.”

A clammy hand raked the ends of his hair. Holy fucking shit. “You sounded like you never heard us before.”

“I didn’t want to seem like a fangirl, or something.” A secretive smile formed on her lips as she leaned into his side. “You know how school is. Everyone trying to be the best, but then act super casual about it?” Her eyes sparked in the yellow lighting, too close for him to think straight. “I didn’t want it to inflate you guys’ egos.”

Luke sputtered out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re doing it right now, Julie.”

“Then you better kill it,” she teased, nodding at Alex and Reggie hauling the drums onstage from the back door. “I think that’s your cue.”

There were two things he thought of right as he ascended the stage.

One, Julie was fat better at this whole back and forth than he was.

Two, he had to direct at least one song to her from their thirty minute set. Just one. Just so that his feelings might come across. Where words ended, music bled from his soul instead.

And so, the band exploded into what they knew best: burning the fucking house down.

So we’re taking the long way home 'Cause I don’t wanna be wasting my time alone I wanna get lost and drive forever with you Talking 'bout nothing, yeah, whatever, baby So we’re taking the long way home tonight We're taking the long way home

The giggly teenagers ended back in the diner after the incredible gig, shouting from the adrenaline and jostling arms to get points across. Even Julie joined in, much to his delight, tucked between him and the wall as she had a heated debate with an excited Reggie - harmonies versus basslines. Lemonades filled in condensed glasses gave them sticky fingers, hers once pushing his chin away when he told a particularly dumb joke and leaving an imprint. Luke was on fucking cloud nine.    

Taking the upper hand in the debate, Julie sang a bit of one of their songs (“Let's seize the day, let's run away, don't let the colours fade to grey!”) with all the tricks in the book, silencing Reggie just like that. Alex high fived Julie, the bassist admitting she won this time. Deeply relishing the sound of her singing voice, Luke barely caught what she was saying after.

“This time?”, she laughed. “There’s another time?”

“Why not?” Reggie wiggled his brows, unsubtle as hell when he shot Luke a wink. “Diner Friendship Memories Still To Be Made!”

Alex blinked. “What?”

Her eyes tracked past the boys, the smile turning more timid. It settled on Luke, the boy unable and unwilling to look away. He wanted this night to never end. Clasping her lemonade, she nodded firmly, as if signing Reggie’s silly Friendship Contract.

“Yeah… why not.”

Magenta’s Palace became Luke favourite place in the entire world. Every Friday, Julie joined the boys at their booth, sometimes Kayla and Flynn too. Huddled in those red leather seats with mountains of fries, they shared the first slivers of newfound friendship. Luke has always been very cautious about who he let in his circle (Sunset Curve against The World), but six people in a booth felt cosy rather than suffocating. Like it was always to be like this.

Reggie found an equally enthusiastic jazz lover in Kayla. Alex confided with Flynn that he followed her playlists on Spotify and was obsessed with her DJ skills.  

Luke and Julie created their own bubble without trying to.

It was weird. Maybe Alex was right and Luke did put her on a pedestal for so long. Julie was genuinely chill and easy to talk to, probably turned off by him before cause he had been acting like a blubbering idiot. Simply being himself was, surprisingly, more than enough for her. It lit a fire inside of him. Snarky banter about music that challenged him to keep up, overt flirting from him that kept her blushing, sudden ideas about lyrics that threw either for a loop. He wouldn’t admit it at first, but she made him a better songwriter.

Who knew his best songs would be found on stained paper napkins?  

One Friday night, long past midnight, the group stood outside as they bid each other a good weekend. Bathed in the pink glow of the LED lights, Luke felt it in his gut. He had to tell her. These past weeks his feelings had only grown tenfold, this incessant buzz rippling every atom of his body whenever she was close. Whenever she smiled, talked, sang. Stealing his beanie, eating his fries, sharing AirPods. Luke loved it all.  

It was a lot more than a simple crush.  

After Julie hugged Alex, Luke grabbed her into a tight hug. She instantly responded, wrapping her arms around his waist and burrowing herself in his red hoodie. His infatuated smile was hidden by her curls, so fucking happy he’d been impulsive enough to ask for a dispenser that day.

“Hey, Julie,” he whispered.

She looked up, eyes alight with an emotion that left his shivering. “Yeah?”

“Uh…” A smile trembled on his lips, unsure whether he wanted to drown in the pretty brown of her irises or continue talking. Now or never. “You wanna get breakfast tomorrow? With me?”

He didn’t have to live in the fear for long, a smile stretching across her cheeks as she shyly nodded. It was the first time he’d ever seen her this flustered, their hold on each other securing with quiet glee. Had he not been so mesmerised, the awestruck Luke would run a mile from the adrenaline rush.  

“Yeah,” she grinned, nose scrunched. “Sounds fun.”

They found themselves in the same spot the next day, the taste of syrupy pancakes melting with his as he kissed her on the parking lot of Magenta’s Palace. Julie’s lips curled into a smile and Luke figured there was no better feeling in the world then that.

(Yeah, he could get used to this.)

Saturday’s mornings had never been sweeter.  

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@blush-and-books @willexx @bluefirewrites @unsaid-emily @ourstarscollided

[anika-ann]

No Strings Attached - Pt.2

Y/N vs. Dangerous Cardio

Type: Modern-college-professor AU x CHUCK, part of Attached series More info here and on the Attached masterlist

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 3400

Summary: It’s all very sweet until it isn’t.

Warnings: swearing, Steve in a gym, mention of a migraine, violence, gun violence

A/N: Enjoy and thank you if you’re giving this crossover a chance. You don’t need any knowledge of Chuck, not realy.

Attached & No Strings Attached masterlist

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You woke up with a startle; some shuffling and a click of a drawer made your snap eyes open and follow the sound. Steve’s back welcomed you as he was fishing out something hidden to your sight.

What time was it? What day was it? Why had you been you sleeping when Steve looked like he just got home from work? Why didn’t he wake you?

…hold on. It was Tuesday and there were those Ministry people at the uni and the strange test and you got the splitting headache--- what time was it that Steve was already home?

You groaned when you noticed the drawn curtains, last sunrays peeking through and colouring the sky. Jesus. Had you slept through the majority of the day?!

“Babygirl?” Steve’s voice reached your ears and your head whipped back to him automatically, thanking heavens when your temples didn’t throb with the sudden movement.

He placed the socks on top of the drawer, making his way to you, concern drawing his brows together, creating those lovely worried wrinkles on his forehead.

“Uh-huh?” you hummed as you sat up, once again pleasantly surprised that the world wasn’t swimming in front of your eyes, no blurred vision, nothing.

Aside from feeling sleepy, you were… fine. Which was kinda strange, but you weren’t about to complain.

Sitting next to you on the bed, Steve gently sunk his fingers into your hair, dropping a sweet lingering kiss on your forehead. Lips never leaving your skin, beard scratching lightly, they caressed your temples next; and you realized what was happening, your own lips curling up in a smile as pleasant warmth spread in your chest at Steve’s worry.

He was lowkey checking for fever.

“You’re not subtle,” you informed him, both amused and touched.

His words vibrated against your skin as his mouth moved a bit higher again, thumb caressing your cheekbone.

“Not trying to be. How do you feel?”

“How do you even know I wasn’t feeling good?”

He withdrew a little – not before he dropped a cheeky kiss on your nose – raising a challenging eyebrow.

“Ibuprofen on the table and you sleeping at five in the afternoon after only attending one class?” he offered with a smirk, but you weren’t fooled. It worried him. You weren’t a perfect student, but you rarely skipped class; especially Callahan’s class, because you immensely enjoyed it.

“Fair enough. Is it really five already?” you asked rhetorically, running a hand through your hair, catching Steve’s own and brushing the soft skin of his wrist with your lips; a silent thank you for fussing. He gave a brief smile, pulling you to his side, letting your head lull against his shoulder. “When did you come home?”

“Just a few minutes ago, unfortunately. Kept messing stuff up when I wanted to leave the office.”

Because I was worried, was left unspoken and you sighed, wrapping your arm around Steve’s stomach, drawing soothing circles on his side.

Steve was a mother hen; it wasn’t something that was widely known about him, but you had had several opportunities to experience it and you loved it… most of the time. Then again, it brought unnecessary concern to weight his shoulders down.

“I’m sorry, Stevie. How did you know? Did Bucky tell you something?” you wondered, faintly remembering his gaze having following you as you left.

“Linda Parson dropped by to tell me, actually.”

A snort escaped you and you laughed into Steve’s shoulder, fingers clutching his waist. You felt your cheeks warm up with both amusement and embarrassment when you recalled your last encounter with her.

“Was she able to look you in the eye?” you chuckled, causing Steve to retreat and watch you with puzzlement written all over his face.

“Not really-- how did you-?“

“I was kinda out of it. I’m pretty sure I told on you that you don’t usually sleep naked. And that we totally went at it before going to school today. And that your hair looks really good in the morning.”

Steve’s eyebrows gradually rose until they nearly got lost in his hairline. “Uhm… that would explain it. Also… thanks?”

“As if you didn’t know.”

One corner of his lips rose higher in appreciation and then he looked you in the eye, serious again. “How do you feel?”

You didn’t hesitate – and you didn’t have to make up things just to calm his obvious anxiety. You simply spoke the truth.

“…surprisingly good, actually. Headache’s all gone, which is… weird. Frankly, it was terrible, I can’t remember feeling anything like it before.”

Steve’s gaze travelled all over your face, tender fingers tucking loose strands of hair behind your ears before he proceeded to kiss the presumably offending spots on your face. You couldn’t but smile widely, pulling him in for a proper kiss, which he willingly surrendered to.

“I’m sorry, babygirl,” he whispered, brushing his nose with yours.

“Not your fault.”

“Well, you did sleep for a while as if you were catching up on lost hours… maybe I’m keeping you awake too much,” he remarked cheekily and you rolled your eyes at the switch of moods, tickling his side which caused him to chuckle and swiftly retreat.

“Har-har. Do you hear me complaining?”

“Nope, usually you’re just asking for more.”

You gaped at him and chuckled breathlessly, feeling your stomach flutter at the memories of you doing exactly that. “You are incorrigible, Professor Rogers.”

He only smirked and pecked your lips. “Sweetheart, you’re forgetting I know you wrote about having your cunt eaten out and getting railed against the desk in my office and thanking me for it.”

This time you sputtered, almost choking on your spit at such low blow; playful, yes, but brutal. Also – such language!

“Steve!”

“So I don’t think you should be playing this whole ‘you’re incorrigible’ game with me.”

“Jesus, Steve. You’re a menace.”

“Oh babygirl, you know it... just for you,” he assured you with a grin, his eyes now completely cleared of all worry, humour twinkling in them instead. “Anyway, I uh… I was thinking the gym, since it’s Tuesday, but-“

Right. Another thing about Tuesday. Sweaty Steve and workout. Yum and—eh. Okay.

“Of course. I’m coming with.”

You felt better – you felt completely fine, to be honest. And if it got worse by exercising, well… you could always just settle for taking it awfully easy in order to watch Steve’s biceps bulge under weights, his perfect ass growing even rounder while doing squats.

Oh yeah, you were so coming with.

“Are you sure? I mean, we can totally stay in, I don’t want you to-" he fussed again, but you just shut him up with a quick kiss.

“I’m fine, Stevie. Plus, you’re like a damn model. I need to keep up at least a bit.” You couldn’t but grimace at that a bit, drawing an offended sound from him.

“Hey!” he protested, frowning. “Thanks and all that, but what are you even talking about? Sweetheart, you’re gorgeous. My perfect, perfect pretty girl-“

You squinted at him playfully as he turned your lame attempt at a joke – that might have been a bit serious, because had you seen him – into a compliment. “Charmer. But I mean in general, you know. They say it’s healthy to do sports. Plus, we paid for that couple membership, so…”

“Ah, yes, at least once a week together to get a discount. What were we thinking?”

“That sex doesn’t count if it’s the only exercise we do,” you shot back instantly, this time making him snort in amusement.

“I love you, babygirl. And I know I keep saying it, but I love how your mind works,” he added sweetly, kissing your forehead again as if he wanted to make sure you really weren’t running a fever and thus were ready to be cleared to leave the bed by nurse Rogers.

“Love you too, Stevie. Now let’s go before I change my mind.”

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Exercising was not such a great idea.

Obviously, Steve delivered; watching him lift weights and work out in general was a delight, your mind helpfully supplying the huffs and other noises you knew he was making occasionally, but couldn’t be heard over the music.

And you actually did enjoy going just for yourself; the endorphins worked wonders for your mood, always. Even today, in the first few minutes as you jogged and then even ran on the treadmill, you were having fun.

But then the previous headache echoed dully in your skull; barely there, considerably less intense than in the morning, but you certainly had no plan to push it. You did not want to be where you had been earlier today.

So you eased up your tempo at first, the pulses in your temples slowing down and then you resigned entirely and switched to a different machine. Less cardio, more strength training, while you did not forget to get an enticing view of your fiancé, recalling other times his face got flushed like this.

Except not even sinful thoughts could quite erase the barely-there tingle of pain.

You gave up with a sigh, wiping your hands to your leggings and approached the most handsome man in the gym.

Steve carefully set his weights down, hair sticking to his forehead in a way that should not be as attractive as it was and smiled at you curiously.

“Hey there, handsome,” you humoured him, earning a breathless chuckle.

“Hey beautiful. What do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

Your eyebrows jumped, smile faltering.

“I’m gonna get some air, just wanted to let you know.”

“You okay?” he asked, damp eyebrows furrowing and you couldn’t resist – you smoothened the line out, for some reason actually revelling in how sticky the skin was. “Gross,” Steve mumbled in return.

“How dare you. I’m… fine. Just feeling the head again and don’t want to overdo it. Fresh air might help,” you offered with a shrug.

“Fresh air? In New York City?”

“Fresh-ish.”

Steve dropped a kiss to your forehead, people around be damned and smiled at you, the concern still undeniably present.

“Just don’t run off on me.”

“Run off? On this?” you joked and not joked at all, gesturing to his body vaguely, earning an eye-roll.  Oh but you knew he liked to have his body appreciated alright. The attractive body just happened to hide a soul that would make angels weep, giving him a reason to actually love him. As a refiner of that, you tapped his chest lightly above his heart, grinning up at him. “And from this? I wouldn’t dream of it, Stevie.”

His gaze softened, probably following you even as you made your way to the lockers.

“Don’t forget your coat!” he called out lowly, but loud enough for you and a few people around to hear. You snorted to yourself as the on-lookers probably thought he was being like an overprotective parent – and yet, you smiled at his care.

“Mother-hen…”

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You were frankly grateful to have your coat – warmed up from the gym, the early March air was still rather cold against your skin. You made a mental note to thank Steve, thoroughly, for looking out you. He had also had a point; fresh air in New York wasn’t exactly an available article, but you supposed this would do.

Trying to ease the headache, you breathed in deeply, deciding against leaning against a similarly cold and dirty wall, walking slowly instead, glad that the street was one of the less frequented ones as the gym was just outside the busiest city centre.

You opted for subtly observing your fellow citizens in order to relax your mind and to resist the usual urge to pull out your phone and check what was new in the world. You played a game with yourself, one Steve asked you to play with him sometimes and which always resulted in him complimenting your unique mind which he claimed to love so much; just watching people, wondering about what their story was.

You were ninety percent sure that the guy in the beige trench coat was an accountant hating his job, but sticking with it for the sake of his loved ones; a ring told you there was definitely a significant other for him if not a whole family.

The woman your eyes fell on next, on the other hand, loved her job. Either she had a very enthusiastic colleague she was discussing a certain problem with – her eyes were shining with excitement, mouth seemingly forming very long words, likely a scientist then – or the said colleague was more than a colleague. You felt one corner of your lips rise; you knew a thing or two about blurred lines.

The next guy was--- well, hunk. Judging by his built, you would think he was heading for the gym you were hovering around, definitely reckoning him as a regular visitor. But in his leather jacket, jeans and cap, an inconspicuous clothing at first glance, there was just something about him that unsettled you.

Your heart skipped a startled beat when your eyes met. Your insides twisted uncomfortably as his irises flashed with an emotion you didn’t dare to try and read.

His shoulders seemed even wider now as his right hand reached to his lower back, probably to adjust his jeans and pull them higher to shield his loins from the cold. You didn’t blame him, his jacket wasn’t exactly long, more of a fashion statement, than a practical choice-

“GET DOWN!”

The world swayed of its place as something collided with you hard, the woman’s cry barely having reached your ears before she slammed into you. You landed on your side with a hiss of pain as you hit the ground, but the quiet sound was drowned in something much louder – something that made your blood run cold.

The bang rattled through the city noise, instantly followed by screams—and to your horror, more shots were fired before your brain even registered that someone--- someone actually fired a gun.

Multiple times.

And few of those shots rang right from above you, forcing you to close your eyes and flinch violently in fear.

“Get up!”

Your side throbbed with pain, your chest constricted as you couldn’t breathe in, the command falling on deaf ears.

An iron solid grip circled your arm and tugged you half-way up. Your eyes snapped open, catching a glimpse of blond ponytail before your vision blurred with sudden tears and another loud bang thundered through your head.

“Go, GO!”

Your feet acted on their own accord, moving swiftly, stumbling as you were forced to stagger whichever direction you were being pulled.

Heart racing as if it was meant to escape your chest, the world seemed too slow and too fast at once. You couldn’t tell how you were running away from the terrible noise, but you were – and you were still being tugged to follow your companion god knew where, hand on your bicep, fingers digging in, people getting out of your way more than willingly.

And for a good reason.

It finally connected in your brain that--- that was definitely gun in the woman’s hand. You instantly came to a halt, desperately yanking away from her grip.

“Hey!” she complained and you managed to get a look at the woman manhandling you at last, even as she kept looking back and forth as if checking whether you were being followed.

You felt your jaw go slack. She was familiar; very vaguely, but unmistakably familiar.

“Are you-“ you choked out, fear mixing with relief, because this was definitely the woman from today’s morning, the one who was with the ministry even if she wasn’t wearing glasses anymore and what the hell, did the Ministry of Foreign Affairs teach people how to shoot or-

You yelped when a black jeep pulled over by the sidewalk, causing you to instinctively jump back; and to forget for a second that there was a stranger right next to you who had just been in a gunfight probably on your side and got you as far away from the weird gunman as possible.

The backseat door flew open.

“Get in, Walker!”

Walker. Right. That was her name – the name Chuck, Carmichael, had introduced her with as his colleague. And now this.

What the hell was going on and what had it to do with you?! Why did the woman grab you of all people?!

“Come on, we’re here to help, I promise,” Walker blurted out, her sharp gaze still scanning the street, her head beckoning towards the vehicle.

For some reason, you believed her.

Because she had had an opportunity to shoot you instead of shooting after the guy who had just pulled out a gun in the middle of a peaceful street and she hadn’t.

Decision was made. She certainly was the lesser evil at the moment, even if going with her included meeting whoever was driving the jeep and he could be worse than the gunman. But there was no time to lose any more time by your useless pondering.

You climbed into the car, swiftly followed by the blond, door shutting close just as a bullet hit the wingmirror, making you nearly jump out of your skin and scream bloody murder in fright.

You were knocked backwards to the seat and to the side as the driver stomped on the gas harshly, darting from the side of the road into the traffic, horns complaining all around you as he had no regards for the regulations.

“You alright?” the deep timbre from the front seat asked, a grunt following when he took a sharp right, causing you to crash into the other woman.

Your head was spinning, the roller-coaster of madness momentarily rendering you speechless – but the question wasn’t aimed at you.

Which was good, because you were not okay in the slightest.

You were hyperventilating, your lungs burning from the improvised run, your muscles ached from the gym visit and the extra work-out which involved running from a fucking shooter. Your head was back to pounding and your heart felt like it might give out any second.

And you were definitely crying, but all that was the least of your concern, because-- what the fuck was happening?!

Who were these people? Who was the guy who--- who just decided to shoot into the crowd, nearly shooting you? Why did Walker snatch you away from the place, to supposed safety? Why not the others and--- oh god, the others.

Steve!

“We’re good. He obviously got away, but I think I took a good look on a tattoo on the side of his neck.”

The driver – tall, wide-shouldered, with dark-ish hair, that much you could see even with your vision swimming in tears – only grumbled in response.

Before you could say a single word (or yell), your phone vibrated in your pocket and you instantly made a grab for it, pulling it out.

“Is that a phone?!”

“Yeah, I’m really sorry about this,” your blond companion blurted out in response to the irritated question from the driver’s seat.

You didn’t even get to accept Steve’s call before the device was yanked from your hand--- and a second later, a knife was sticking out of it, lead straight through the middle.

“What the fuck?!” you yelped, horrified, terrified and--- utterly shocked.

What---what- where did it even-?

“Not safe. Had it been an older model, I’d just pull the battery out, but these damn smartphones are impossible to open quickly,” Walker complained as if her words made any sense and as if she had a reason to complain.

Why would she even need to remove the battery?! How--- she just cut you off from Steve!

You stared at her, unable to form words, too many frantic thoughts bouncing off in your aching skull.

“What-“ you lamely breathed out, bewildered, freaked out and thoroughly exhausted.

“We’re the good guys, I promise. Which is why I’m sorry about this,” the blond spoke again, softer than before.

You barely had the time to process that she was reaching behind her back before a brief pain stung your neck, the world spinning faster and faster, darkness closing off your vision… and then it swallowed you whole, the last thing you felt being the backrest against your temple.

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Part 3

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Well, that went off rails quickly. That’s Chuck to you.

I promise things will start making sense... in the meantime:

Excuse my lacking action writing skills, it’s been a while.

Thank you for reading!