#it decided to become an awkward drabble instead yay

[piracytheorist]

A Life (SxF Drabble)

Sylvia smiles.

“How are you happy?” Twilight asks. “I am compromised. I was never supposed to grow feelings for them.”

She lowers her eyes. “I watched you lose yourself over the years, saw you so determined I felt there was nothing I could do. Now I see you happy and it makes me think, the life you've lived is not how I would have wished my daughter had lived, had she survived in my place. Yes, it may complicate and even endanger things. But I can't find it in myself to feel angry, sad, or disappointed. I just feel relieved.”

[vvideonasties]

I’m in love with your drabbles!!! If you’re still taking requests plz consider: jmart in 11? Have a lovely day!! 💕

aww yay i’m so glad you’re liking them, i hope your day is going well!!!

things you said when you were drunk

“They did this on purpose.”

Jon puts down his glass and raises an eyebrow. He’s on his third drink - the first he bought himself, the next courtesy of Martin. That’s the reason he decided to stay longer in the bar, in the beginning. Martin bought him something, so it was only polite to stay. But after that was drained, he had an out, an excuse to leave. Instead, he decided to bring in the next round. To return the gesture. Which makes the initial offer moot, of course, but wine makes him a bit fuzzy headed.

At that point he decided to stop pretending that he was staying because of silly courtesies. He’s here because, despite it all, Martin is very good company. They’ve rarely associated with each other outside of work, and have certainly never done so alone. This night wasn’t supposed to be an exception - Tim and Sasha were on their way, but as soon as he arrived at the bar Martin received a text telling him that they wouldn’t be coming. Their reasoning as to why must have been strange, considering the way Martin glared at his phone afterwards. 

Outside of that, he hasn’t thought of the two of them much. At all, in fact. He’s been too busy sucked into conversation with Martin all night. Or, rather, the other way around. Panicked upon realising he’d be alone with him without any buffers, Jon had started rambling about whatever he could first think of to fill in the awkward silence. He then discovered how good a listener Martin is. He asks insightful questions and nods in all the right places, making the appropriate oohs and ahhs when necessary for the topic. It’s been pleasant.

“Who’s they?” Jon asks, feigning ignorance. 

“Tim and Sasha.” Martin polishes off his (fourth) mojito forlornly. 

He’s quite drunk. He never thought Martin was a heavy drinker, but he’s been gulping down cocktails all night, becoming more relaxed with each one. God, those things are brutal. He can smell the rum from across the table.

Is he drinking like this because Jon makes him nervous? The way he seems to catch his eye often then look away quickly as if he’s committed some great sin would suggest that could be a possibility. That makes him sad, actually. He’s been quite harsh on Martin, he’ll admit that, but he doesn’t want to be a source of discomfort for him. 

“Why would they do this on purpose?” He prompts, trying to make his voice softer and kinder. The alcohol helps. 

Martin puts his head in his hands and sighs. “Because they know.”

“Know what? That’s awfully cryptic.”

“Oh, like you can talk,” Martin hits back, and the edge to his voice makes Jon laugh. He’s been like that for most of the night. Less afraid to call him out on things. 

Jon sets down his glass and nudges Martin with his free hand. He doesn’t miss the way Martin sits up a bit straighter with it, his face getting redder than the alcohol could ever manage before.   

“They know that I...likeyou.” He says the last few words in a rush. 

“Oh. Oh! That’s- I’m glad you do. It’s good to have camaraderie between co-workers. I can still be a friend, even though I’m your boss.”

He seems to have completely missed the mark on that one, as Martin’s face immediately crumples, and he flops on the table. 

“Noooo,” he groans into the wood. 

“Martin,” Jon says, bewildered, “are you quite alright?”

Martin pries his head off of the table and points a finger at him accusingly. “Jon. Jon. Jon. Jonathan Sims. You are so oblivious. I can’t believe I’m- fuck, I’m so drunk.” He hiccups. “I like you.”

He stops. Takes a sip (gulp) of his wine. “Like...like like?”

Christ, is he ten? Jon wipes his suddenly sweaty palms on his trousers and decides that eye contact would be the worst possible thing to happen to both of them right now. He...doesn’t know how to feel about this. There’s mostly just confusion bubbling up inside him. So, he asks.

“Why?”

"Ha! Do you want a list? Wait, no, that’s a joke- but I think I made a list at one point. It’ll be in my notebook somewhere. Should probably burn that, now. Oh, god. You know when you’re that kind of drunk where you consciously know you’re ruining a kindling friendship with your boss but you can’t stop bloody talking about the massive crush you have on him? Also, you’ve kind of had the shame burned out of you with the sheer power of alcohol?”

Jon doesn’t know. He nods regardless, baffled, then has another sip of wine. His mouth stays dry.

Martin slumps and looks at him, eyes wide and pleading. "Please don’t fire me.”

“Wh-why would I-” Jon sputters, “I wouldn’t! This is...this is...”

Thinking back on it, it really shouldn’t be all that surprising. He’s been a willing subject to Martin’s care and attention. He’s liked it. A lot. But he's tried not to think about it much. It would be improper, unprofessional, not very becoming of the new Head Archivist-

“This is not exactly unwelcome, I suppose.”

Red wine is a menace.

“What?!” Martin exclaims, voice far too loud, even for the rowdy bar.

“Shush. What I mean is, I wouldn’t be opposed. To you. That’s- christ, that’s an awful way of putting it. I mean that you’re nice to talk to, and I’ve enjoyed your company very much tonight.” And you’re very pretty, his brain supplies unhelpfully, but he waves it away, “So I would like to talk about it. Us. At some point.”

He’s being stared at suspiciously. Martin leans back into his seat. “Has someone spiked my drink? Is this real?”

“Oh, it’s real. And no one has. I’ve had my eyes on your drinks all night.”

“How noble of you,” he teases, and there’s this fondness in his eyes and smile that are obvious now Jon is searching for them. He tries his best to dampen the wide smile that is threatening to take over his own face and drains the contents of his glass. 

“Right. Well. Tonight probably isn’t the best time to discuss this. Let’s wait until we’re sober. On Monday, perhaps? Around lunch time?”

"...Are you scheduling a meeting for us to talk about our feelings?”

Jon rolls his eyes. "Just get your coat, Martin.”

The look he gets in return is nothing short of captivating, and it makes him quite excited to see what exactly he’s gotten himself into. 

send me a ship and a prompt and i’ll write a mini fic!

[jeminy3]

The Things We Carry.

One of many old drabbles I’m finally getting around to finishing. Expect more Blind!Roy in the future.

In this one, Roy visits the Hughes house a few months after the Promised Day. He refused Marcoh’s offer to heal his eyes.

Features: Blind Character PoV, implied self-loathing, depression, character death and the repercussions on their spouse and child, discussions of death and violence with a child.

Read on AO3

Read on Google Docs

Twitter Post

Cool art by Manalfedz

–

"Can you see this, Mister Mustang?"

Roy stares, aiming slightly down and to his side where Elicia's voice is coming from, but he sees nothing besides the usual darkness.

"No, I can't," he says.

He hears the girl huff softly, then the clicking and clacking of plastic as she retrieves another toy.

"What about this? The light's really bright, can you see?"

Roy knows it's pointless, but he strains his eyes anyway. He thinks he can see the tiniest spot of grey flickering in the darkness of his vision,  maybe, but it's so faint he can hardly tell.

Well, he can't bear to dash the girl's hopes. So he says, "Just a little bit."

Elicia gasps softly. "Really? Yay!" Her little voice beams with excitement, and she claps her hands vigorously. It warms him, and Roy can't help smiling.

Suddenly there's the sound of her mother, Gracia, entering the room, telegraphed by footsteps on the dining room carpet and the shifting of her clothes.

"Look, mommy! It's so bright, even Mister Mustang can see it!" Elicia says, probably waving the light-up toy around for her mother to see.

"That's nice dear, but I think Mustang's had enough for now," her mother replies, somewhat curtly. There's the soft 'thunk' of dinner plates, heavy with food, being laid upon the table Roy's currently sitting at.

"Can you pick up your toys and play in the living room? We're having dinner now."

"Okay..." Elicia says, not hiding her dejection.

There's more click-clacking as she retrieves her toys, and the sound comes and goes as Gracia joins him at the table and begins to speak. Roy can imagine her carting her toys to the other room one armful at a time - she must have brought more toys than he first thought.

"I'm so sorry if she bothered you, Mustang," Gracia says quietly, slightly strained.

Roy lightens his voice, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh no, no, it's fine. She's just curious is all. Perfectly natural at her age."

Gracia sighs, a bit long-sufferingly. "I suppose. I can't imagine what it's like myself."

"Not many can," Roy says casually.

By now he's felt around for his fork on the table, which he uses to explore his dinner via holding it by the base of its tines instead of the handle, using his fingertips to discreetly touch at the food. Feels like meatloaf slices, with sides of peas and mashed potatoes. Very humble, as Gracia had warned him before he came over, but nonetheless appetizing as the smell wafts up to his nose. It's warm, homely, like the Hughes' household always is. Thank God that hasn't changed.

Roy tries the peas first, enjoying the way the soft seeds gently burst into mush between his teeth, tasting mildly sweet and buttery.

Gracia speaks up again after a soft clinking of metal-on-dinnerware from her direction. "I don't mean to pry, but- how are you, lately? I'm sure it hasn't been easy, at work or otherwise."

Roy pauses to swallow the peas. "...Like I've said, we have a system now, and it works. I should be asking how you've been, Gracia. It's been a while."

Gracia stutters a bit. "Oh- Me? There's not much to tell, really. Just more of the same."

Roy blinks uselessly in her direction, halfway though lifting a piece of meatloaf to his lips. "...Even after the eclipse?"

Gracia laughs uncomfortably. "Ah- Well yes, that was quite the scare, but we're alright now. And very glad that we are!"

His guilt stings at him again at the word, the memory of that day. In all his nerve-fraying preparation for that event, he'd arranged safe passage for his own family out of Central, but not the family of his closest friend. Another wound to pick at himself with until the end of his days.

...And by now Roy thinks he's hearing a pause in Elicia's toy-handling that line up perfectly with every other line of their conversation, but... Eh. He elects to ignore it. Not like she'll understand what they're talking about anyway

Roy clears his throat lightly. "...I'm happy to hear that, but- I worry about you, Gracia. You know I do. And I'm sorry again that I couldn't visit sooner."

He can hear the shifting of Gracia shaking her head. "Roy, please. I'm alright, really! Major Armstrong has been kind enough with electing to watch Elicia for me when I'm out. He's such a great help, you know."

Roy smiles around his mouthful of meatloaf, both at her statement and the juicy texture of the meat. Gracia always was a great cook.

After swallowing, he says, "So I've heard. Working out well, I imagine?"

"Oh yes, Elicia adores him. Says she talks his ear off all the time."

She chuckles lightly. Roy can’t help laughing as well, imagining the tiny girl pestering the relatively massive Strong Arm Alchemist with a deluge of comments and questions, not unlike what she was doing earlier with Roy himself.

But the lightness is short-lasting, falling into an uncomfortable silence as they returned to their food. Roy fills his mouth with a spoonful of mashed potatoes, doing his best to ignore the emptiness that occupies the third seat at the table now - even without eyes, he can still feel it there.

Gracia gives a small sigh, suddenly. "...Still...."

"Mm?" Roy grunts through his mouthful of potatoes.

"...Are... Are you sure you're alright?" she asks, in this strange, almost desperate tone of voice. "I know at work you are, but- what about your personal life?"

Roy swallows thickly, partly because of the potatoes, partly because this conversation was making him uncomfortable now. He clears his throat and forces a chuckle.

"What personal life? I practically live at the office, you know this, Gracia," he says, half-laughing.

Gracia doesn't lighten her tone, though, cutting deeper instead. "...I'm serious, Roy. After what you've gone through, what happened in-"

"The explosion, yes. It was terrible," Roy cuts in, more curtly than intended.

He jerks his head in the direction of the living room, because by now he's confident that Elicia is quietly listening in on them. An explosion had taken his sight - that's the public statement they'd released, among many, many others, to explain what'd happened on the Promised Day.

Gracia catches his hint with a small cough. "Ah- of course. Sorry..."

Roy straightens, clears his throat again. "...It's fine. I'm coping as best I can, like I always do." His tone leaves another sentence hanging between them, unspoken - So please, don't worry about me.

"...That's what I'm afraid of," Gracia says quietly, more to herself, really

Roy can't think of a response - and soon silence falls again, this time pressing down like a great, crushing weight, a sensation of drowning.

There's another clinking of dinnerware - Gracia seems to have stopped eating. She sighs again, this time with an air of finality. "Just... don't run yourself too hard, Roy. You've been through a lot."

"I'm-"

"I would know," she adds quietly, cutting off Roy's response. This time, he swallows nothing. Or perhaps the sentence he attempted to say.

He's not liking this trend of everyone around him worrying excessively for his personal well-being, lately. But it can't be helped, he supposes, with the severity of his condition and the position he's still holding despite it. It's been nearly two months now, and his superiors are still shocked that he's refusing to retire, but at least Grumman's been willing to work with him. He'll admit that it's been anything but easy, but he'll be damned if he stops pursuing his goal and lets himself become a burden to everyone. He simply can't give up now - he's done too much, come too far, and couldn't live with himself if he did.

...Besides, he can hardly live with himself as it is.

He hears Gracia shift, and suddenly feels a warm hand grasping his own from across the table, gentle but firm.

"If you ever need to talk, I'm right here" she says, full of warmth and sincerity like she always is.

...Like Maes was, too.

Roy swallows at nothing again. "...Thank you," he whispers, trying his best to sound sincere.

Because to be brutally honest, he can't see himself taking up that offer very often, if at all.

---

The tension at dinner never quite went away, even into dessert. Sweet slices of pumpkin pie gained a bitter aftertaste on Roy's tongue, and he decided to take this as his cue to take his leave and head back home to his apartment.

“Thank you for the food, Gracia,” he says, somewhat tersely, rising from his chair. “Delicious as always.”

“Thank you, Roy,” she responds, a little stiffly. She shifts and takes his hand to shake it - hangs there for a few moments, awkward, leans closer as if wanting to offer him a hug instead. But she doesn’t, probably sensing Roy’s tension at the idea.

Still, he bows politely, retrieves his cane and makes his way to the living room and the front door beyond it – then finds himself stopped by a small hand tugging on his pant leg.

“Mister Mustang! You’re not leaving, are you?” Elicia chirps at his side.

Roy lowers his head in the direction her voice is coming from (or as best as he can guess). “I’m afraid so, dear. I’m sorry, but it’s getting late-”

“But I wanted to show you somethin’!”

“Ah- Oh. You did?”

“Mommy, can I take Mister Mustang to my room before he goes? Pleeeease?”

“Yes dear, but don’t keep him long,” Gracia calls out from the kitchen over the soft sound of running water, probably starting to wash the dishes.

“Okay!” Elicia bounces against him, and he feels her small fingers reaching up to grasp his own. Roy flusters slightly, caught between his own awkwardness and the whims of this precocious little girl. The girl, of course, wins out, and he submits to being tugged along by the arm across the house and into a bedroom down the hall.

Roy feels for obstacles with his cane instinctively as Elicia leads him inside, helping him around her furniture and scattered toys on the floor. He finds himself lead to her bed near the back.

“You can sit on my bed, Mister Mustang,” she says. Strangely, it sounds more like a command than an offer.

Roy ponders this as he seats himself on the little bed’s soft comforter, along with the silence that’s suddenly settled around him. Elicia doesn’t say a word as he hears her walk across the room, close her bedroom door, then return to the bed. Neither does she stop to retrieve a toy, or a book, or anything.

Roy feels the mattress sink and rise as her small form takes a seat next to him, still saying nothing. He feels very nervous, suddenly.

After a beat, she finally speaks, and in this strange, solemn sort of way. "Mister Mustang, can I ask you something?"

Roy turns in her direction, not sure what she's implying... but he gives her a smile anyway. "Of course, dear. Ask me anything."

"Who really took your eyes?"

Roy is... caught off-guard, to say the least. His smile vanishes in an instant, and he stammers out his response, his eyes blinking uselessly. "My... W- What?"

Elicia pauses for a moment, then speaks again, still in that odd tone of voice. "...It was the monsters, wasn't it. The ones who killed my daddy."

She knows. And she sounds far, far too serious about it. It's frightening.

...But then, Roy thinks, should he really be surprised? This poor girl lost her father when she'd barely turned three years old. She's been living with a grieving mother ever since, and the entirety of her short life in a violent, war-mongering country that's just gone through an earth-shattering upheaval within the past few months. He can't imagine what she's gone through, at such a tender age.

Obviously quite a bit, as she already has the presence of mind to keep up appearances in front of him and her mother while they discuss sensitive topics, and the intelligence to corner him for sensitive information in privacy.

Ah... she's already so much like her father, Roy realizes. Too stubborn to accept anything but the truth. He sees no point in not being honest with her.

He clears his throat to compose himself. "...Yes, it was them."

Elicia grunts. "I knew it."

Now, Roy could ask a sensitive question. "And how did you know, Elicia? Who told you about the monsters? Not your mother, I hope."

Elicia shifts, her hair-ties clinking softly as she shakes her head. "No, not mommy. She gets too sad. Mister Armstrong told me. I asked him over and over and over, 'till he told me all about the monsters living under the ground, hurting people and making them die. They made all that bad stuff happen during the ee-clips."

Oh, Alex... His heart is so soft. And Elicia is so cunning, now.

"They're all gone now, right Mister Mustang? You guys killed them all?" she asks expectantly.

"...Yes, we did. Even the one who killed your daddy. I fought him myself," Roy says, but not with any air of triumph.

Elicia doesn't seem to notice that, though. She gasps with excitement. "You did?! You used your fire, right?"

Roy nods, the memory not being pleasant. "Yes... I burned him a hundred times. Maybe more."

Elicia's hair-ties clink again, nodding her head. "That's good. I hope he hurt before he died."

This voice of cruelty and vengeance has no place coming from the mouth of a four-year-old. Roy frowns, poised to nip it in the bud here and now.

"Well, I don't, Elicia. Not anymore."

"Huh?" Her hair-ties clink again as she turns to face him, probably wearing a puzzled look on her little face.

Roy takes a deep breath, releases it. "Elicia, listen... I know how you must feel about this. I felt it too, when I was burning that monster. But it's not a good thing. I almost lost myself back there."

Elicia makes an odd, confused little sound. "Lost...? Like a maze? Mazes are easy, you just follow the walls 'till you find the way out."

Roy can only chuckle. She's thinking of her puzzle books... Perhaps her innocence isn't completely lost after all. But ah, how to explain this...

"It's... a different kind of maze," Roy says, grasping for the words even as he speaks. "It's more like... a maze that's inside you. With no walls."

Elicia makes another confused sound,  shifting and scratching her head. He can imagine her small face scrunched up with exasperation.

"...You're weird, Mister Mustang," she says finally.

"Hah, I know," he chuckles. "But it is like a maze."

He reaches out to touch her little shoulder, patting lightly when he finds purchase. "Listen... have you ever felt so sad, or so angry, that you forgot about everything else? Even who you are?"

Elicia makes thoughtful sounds at that."Um... I dunno. Maybe when Daddy died. Mommy was so sad she forgot to eat sometimes."

"Mm..." Roy scoots closer to her on the bed, draws her in with the arm at her back, hugging her against his side as she leans into him.

"Well, that's how I felt," he continues. "When I found that monster, and he told me he killed your daddy... I was angry. So, so angry. Like it was filling me up, all the way from my feet to the top of my head."

Elicia hums sadly.

"I forgot about everything. I forgot who I was, who my friends were. All I wanted to do was just... be angry, forever, and burn that monster over and over for what he did to your daddy."

Elicia pulls away slightly. "But- you can't just be angry. Not for forever."

Good, she understands. "That's right," Roy nods, "I couldn't. I thought I could, but my friends knew better. They stopped me, before I was lost for good."

Elicia makes a sound like something between awe and sadness.

"It was like... Like I was a completely different person back there," Roy says, getting a bit lost in the memory himself, now. He could almost laugh at it now, in this terrible sort of way. "...Can you even imagine? Being so angry that you're not even yourself anymore?"

"No... That's scary," Elicia says, matter-of-fact.

"Yes, it was," Roy says thoughtfully. "I was pretty scared back then. And I don't scare easily."

Elicia sighs, then wraps her small arms around his waist in a hug. "It's okay, Mister Mustang," she says, as if he were still upset about it now.

...Well he does sound a bit watery in his voice, Roy realizes belatedly. Remembered too much of his emotions back then, perhaps. He chuckles again, but welcomes her comfort, wrapping his arm around her small shoulders.

"I'm fine now, dear, I just don't want that to happen to you."

"Mm..." Elicia hums, snuggling closer to him. Roy leans against her in turn, the warmth a small but welcome comfort.

There’s a beat of silence. Eventually, Roy breathes another long sigh. "Well... it's over now. Hopefully there won't be monsters like that ever again.”

"Yeah," Elicia mumbles, her face half-buried against his torso.

They stay like that, holding each other, for a long while. At least, long enough for Roy to fight back down the tears threatening to well up in his chest. No need for that, now.

Suddenly, Elicia leans away from him and speaks up again. "Mister Mustang... Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course," he says.

"Don't tell Mommy. Promise."

"I promise."

"No, you gotta pinky promise. Like this."

She takes his hand in her two small ones and carefully splays out his fingers, then hooks one of her little pinky fingers with his own. Chuckling a little, he bends his finger, sealing the gesture.

"Alright, alright, I'm doing it. Will you tell me now?"

Elicia giggles slightly, and he can hear her smiling now. "Yeah, yeah! Um-"

She pauses for a moment, as if steeling herself.

Then she says, "I wanna be like you when I grow up. An Alchemist."

Roy's grip relaxes at the revelation, his breath escaping him slightly with bewilderment. An alchemist… like him? Despite the still-cynical part of his mind, he can feel his heart swell in his chest. He can only hope that by the time Elicia reaches adulthood, the State Alchemists will be reformed into something she can be proud to be a part of. Servants of the people and paragons of science, no longer living instruments of war and death. Hopefully...

Elicia releases his hand and makes a worried sound at his tension. "Um- Girls can be Alchemists too, right?"

"O- of course," Roy says, trying and failing to recover. "Just... do your studies and work hard. That's all you need to do, really." Setting aside everything else, he isn't wrong.

"Okay! I will, I promise!" she says, all but bouncing against him on the bed by now.

Roy tries to laugh through the tightness in his chest. "Hey now - I hope you don't want to burn things like me, too?"

She stops bouncing. "Huh? No, not that. I wanna help people. Make no more bad things happen."

And this… gives Roy great pause. Her desires are so pure, so simple - so much like his own, when he was young and innocent and only knew he wanted to learn, to fight, to protect people.

Yes, he definitely wants to cry now. "Oh- Oh?"

"I dunno what I'll do,” Elicia continues. “But- I just wanna help people. Like Daddy did, but with Alchemy. You can do that, right?"

Roy swallows, losing the battle with his emotions. "Of... of course you can. We're supposed to, in fact. It's one of our rules: 'Alchemist, be thou for the people.'“

God, let it be true when this girl grows up.

"'Alchemist, be thou for the people'..." she repeats, slowly. After a beat, she says, "...I like that."

"...I'm glad you do." Roy smiles, now feeling tears gathering in his blind eyes, spilling from their corners.

Elicia startles at him. "-You're crying! What's wrong, Mister Mustang?"

Roy wipes at his eyes with one hand, sniffling. "Sorry, Elicia, I... I-it's happy tears, really."

She throws her little arms around him in a desperate hug, burying her face in his chest. "Please don't cry Mister Mustang! You're gonna make me cry!"

He holds her against him, laughing and pressing small kisses into her hair. "I'm sorry, I'm just- I'm so proud of you, dear.”

When he senses her lift her head to look at him, he adds, “...Your daddy would be, too."

He hears her start to sniffle, and she buries her head against him again, turning her head slightly.

"I hope he watches me,” she says softly. “I wanna be the best Alchemist ever."

"...And I'm sure you will," Roy whispers to her.

And he hopes Maes is watching him, too.

END.

[szept-sosna]

the story of the mighty soldier: scott lang x reader

i love scott lang with my whole heart and THERE IS NOT ENOUGH FANFIC ABOUT HIM! so i decided to change that! also please send in requests, i’m desperate.

91: “Scoot over a little bit, please.”

2: “How long have you been standing there?”

scott was a good father, and for an ex convict and now a superhero, he was in a league all by himself. it was adorable to watch him interact with cassie. he was attentive, he listened to her, took her ideas seriously, and was all around a good dad. he never missed out on a chance to spend time with cassie, which is why it surprised you when scott came rushing in to the tower, cassie in tow, asking you to watch her for a little bit when he quickly checked in with tony about ant man.

“sure scott, i love hanging out with cassie,” you smiled at the little girl.

ever since scott first brought cassie to the tower, she had become a fan favorite, quickly winning the hearts of the whole team. you, however, seemed to be her favorite. whether it was because you let her get away with things her father wouldn’t usually allow, or because of your superpowers, you didn’t know or care.

cassie always enjoyed seeing you use your powers. she found your control of water fascinating. how you were able to levitate the liquid, controlling its movement and shape as it hovered. she especially liked when you told stories, making it come to life with water shapes.

“yay! (y/n)!” cassie yelled, running over to where you sat on the couch, reading a book. you quickly marked your place and opened your arms to the little girl, giving her a hug as you lifted her onto your lap.

“thanks so much (y/n),” scott said, already walking out the door to wherever he needed to be. “i owe you one!”

before you could even respond he was gone, leaving you and cassie alone in the living room.

“could you scoot over a little bit, please?” cassie asked and you quickly made room for the little girl next to you.

“so cassie what do you want to do?” you asked, looking down at the little girl with a smile.

“can you tell me a story and do your water thing?” cassie asks, looking up at you with hopeful eyes, holding her stuffed ant close to her chest. “antsy and i love your stories!”

“of course cassie!” you replied, helping the girl off of the couch. “i love showing you my magic.”

you walked over to the sink to fill a cup with water. cassie sat on a bar stool and you sat down next to her, turning your stool to face her. you set the cup down on the counter, moving your hands and some of the water floated out of the cup. your eyes glowed a faint blue and you made the water swirl around cassie as a warm up to establish control. cassie giggled, awe on her face as she watched the water droplets dance around her.

“alright, now once upon a time there was a mighty soldier who lived on the edge of the village,” you started, contorting the water into shapes of houses and a little outline of a person. “she was powerful and a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, but she was also very nice to people, and people thanked her for protecting their village.”

“what was the soldier’s name?” cassie asked, watching the water as it moved in the air.

“i don’t know, what should her name be?” you asked cassie, making the little water human run around her.

“we should call her (y/n)!” cassie exclaimed. “because she’s like you! she’s powerful and she helps people! plus you’re my favorite, besides daddy” at her response, you almost started crying but you couldn’t help the huge smile that broke through your face.

“thank you cassie,” you said. “you’re my favorite too! but shhh, we can’t tell your dad.” you mimed zipping your lips shut and cassie mimicked your motion.

“ssshhhhh!” she giggled and once she was quiet you started the story again.

“but sometimes, people didn’t like the soldier because she was different and they were scared of her. this made the soldier sad, so she went on an adventure to find people like her,” you continued, moving the water to depict the things you said, this time contorting to a sad soldier by herself.

“it took multiple days of training to even begin the journey but our little soldier stayed strong because she believed there were people out there who would accept her.....”

you continued telling the story for god knows how long, cassie listening attentively and reacting when something happened or your water shapes became larger to depict more of the scene. you hadn’t even heard scott come in, you were so invested in cassie and the story that you hadn’t heard his approaching footsteps.

scott was also engrossed in your story and how cassie was watching you with such awe, but for different reasons.

you were so good with his daughter and watching how you easily laughed and interacted with her made his heart clench. it was as if you had to be more than perfect. it wasn’t enough that you were brave, sweet, intelligent, and in scott’s eyes, absolutely beautiful, but no, you had to be amazing with cassie as well. seeing you like this only made him more attracted to you, heightened the need to do things that couples did with you.

so instead of interrupting your story, he just stood there watching how your gorgeous (e/c) eyes glowed with a slight blue light and how you would make your voice sound different for each character. he was probably staring at you with literal heart eyes, but at this point, he couldn’t help it, he had fallen and he had fallen hard.

“so our soldier finally found people that would love her for who she was just like she deserved. because everyone deserves love cassie, everyone, remember that,” you told the girl, making the water that hovered, float around the girl in little heart shapes. “the end!”

“yay! you tell the best stories (y/n)! i wanna be like you when i grow up” cassie exclaimed, and in that moment scott swore that he was going to marry you one day.

“aww thank you cassie,” you smiled at the girl, helping her down from the stool and giving her a big hug. “now let’s go find your dad, huh?”

“i already found him, he’s right here,” scott said from behind you, the usual charming smile of his on his face.

“daddy!!!” cassie yelled, running over her to dad and jumping into his arms.

“hi scott!” you greeted. “how long have you been standing there?”

“not long, i didn’t want to interrupt the story,” scott chuckled a little and your stomach started doing jumping jacks, like it always did when scott was around. he was just so charming and adorable and dorky and it was driving you crazy.

“i had so much fun with (y/n) dad!” cassie exclaimed. “she told me such a cool story!”

“i know,” scott agreed with his daughter. “she tells the best stories.”

“she should move in with you that way when i come and visit she can tell us both stories!” cassie started excitedly. “you already like her a lot, i heard you talking to louis about her!” at this you and scott turned bright red.

“w-well...you see...um,” scott stumbled over his words, his cheeks glowing redder by the second.

“it’s okay scott,” you told the flustered man. “i get it.” you laughed a little bit, patting his shoulder. scott just nodded, knowing that if he tried to speak it would just make things worse.

“but daddy, i heard you telling louis about how she’s the prettiest woman in the galaxy and how you wanted to ask her out,” cassie pointed out. “i heard you, i know i did.”

“well, this isn’t how i planned on doing this,” scott started, the blush on his face never lessening. “but (y/n), would you like to go out for dinner with me?” your heart was beating out of your chest and you’re pretty sure that your face was burning.

“yeah scott,” you nodded, a smile breaking through your face. “yeah i would.”

“oh thank god!” scott let out a huge breath. “that would have been awkward if you said no.”

“well then good thing i think you’re cute scott,” you laughed, giving him a peck on the cheek.

“yay!” cassie clapped her hands. “let’s go play candy land!” the little girl jumped down from scott’s arms, landing expertly on the floor.

“lead the way cassie,” you laughed, letting her grab your hand and tug you towards the living room.

scott watched as you and cassie were all smiles, laughing at something funny on the way to find the board game. you looked so carefree and beautiful in that moment, and scott wondered how he got so lucky.

hope y’all enjoyed that drabble because scott lang deserves more fanfic! please send in requests, i need some ideas guys! i write for the umbrella academy, most marvel characters (not x-men), harry potter and stranger things!! the few things i will not write are incest, pedophilia, and NSFW material. my asks are open so leave requests there!!!

prompt list can be found here