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mythiccheroacademia · 4 years ago

Text

—lunch box

A/N: just another cute idea i had because i’m obsessed with barbarian/dragon king!bakugo and fantasy shit in general. some context: you and bakugo are betrothed—although, sometimes you wish you weren’t bc he can be a real asshole. luckily for you, he’s willing to work on it bc he likes loves you just that much. a litte angst (it wouldn’t be a mtha story without it) but it ends in fluff <3

Warnings: cursing

Your friends looked at their food with heart eyes and dug into the neatly wrapped box with fever.

“Ahh! Thank you for making this, Y/N!” one of them exclaimed. The other could only nod in agreement, too into your cooking to speak.

You smiled and waved them off. “It was nothing. Consider it a thank you for letting me copy the homework last night,” you chuckled.

“Did you cook one for Prince Bakugo? I’d imagine he’d love it! If there’s anyone’s cooking he loves more than his own, it’s yours!”

At the mention of his name, your expression fell. You looked down at the case of food you had prepared for him as an apology.

Four days ago, you two were hanging around his residence. You managed to get him to dance around with you. Well, it more like you were dancing and he was doing his best not to combust in embarrassment. Katsuki warned you that you shouldn’t be too reckless otherwise you’d break something.

Of course, you paid him no mind, too enthralled with your fun to notice your proximity to a nearby statue—one of the Bakugo family’s treasures.

One thing led to another, and you knocked it over, shattering it before either of you could even react. Your rich skin lost its glow and your boyfriend cursed something nasty.

Least to say, his parents were not happy. But instead of being rightfully scolded, Bakugo had taken the blame for it.

They found him attempting to clean it up and assumed it was his fault. You wanted to correct them, but he threw you a nasty glare, sealing your mouth shut. He was now under punishment until they deemed fit and from then on, he hadn't spoken a friendly word to you.

A little sigh escaped your lips. Your two friends looked at each other before offering you encouraging smiles.

“Hey,” one spoke, placing a hand on your knee. You met her gaze. “You should go give it to him. He’d love it.”

There was a moment of silence before you decided to act. Taking the spur of confidence, you stood up and briskly made your way to the other classroom. Just before you entered, you heard his voice and felt your heart waver with anxiousness.

However, now wasn’t the time to let doubt consume you. Things wouldn’t get better until something was done.

You took a deep breath, calming your nerves, before opening the door and walking in. Your eyes scanned the room and found the young dragon prince amongst his group of friends.

Jaw set, you walked over to them, hands firmly around the packaged food.

Kirishima saw you first and gave you a friendly wave.

“Hey Princess L/N!”

“Hi boys! How’re ya doing?” you politely asked, putting on your best smile.

They gave you an upbeat answer that lifted your spirits.

Despite that, you hadn't heard a response from Bakugo. In fact, he hadn't even looked at you—but you wouldn’t be disheartened. You fueled herself with faux confidence and held out the dish to your betrothed.

“I-I made you something small yesterday, as an apology,” you stuttered.

Katsuki finally looked up, indifference in his stare. Ruby eyes flickered down to the box filled with rice, chicken, vegetables, and a small pastry on the side. His favorite kind. For a moment, he seemed like considered your offer, but you suffered the low blow of humiliation when he turned away to look through the window.

“Thanks, but I’ve already eaten. Should’ve given it to me earlier.”

Something in your stomach fell. Crushing rejection blossomed up your throat with each passing second. His words were cold, harsh, and unforgiving. It might’ve been stupid, overdramatic even, but it hurt.

Heartbroken wasn’t even the word.

Your nose burned, eyes blurring before you could stop it. Your chest tightened with embarrassment. Luckily, you mustered enough strength to hold in whatever was threatening to crumble you.

“Oh,” you dumbly responded.

“I’ll take it!” Kaminari excitedly said.

“No, I will! I’m still starving!” Kirishima chided.

You placed the box down, struggling to keep up your act.

“Split it between the both of you. I hope it’s good!” You internally winced over how high your voice had become. “I’m gonna to get going now. I’ll see you guys after school, yeah?”

And before anything else was said, you bolted straight out of the room. You hadn’t bothered to look at Katsuki. Knowing him, he probably hadn't noticed the strain in your voice.

As soon as you were out of sight, the tears flooded. You held your hands against your mouth, desperate to muffle your cries. You quickly took you into the nearest bathroom and you prayed no one had seen you lest there be questions. If you went to your friends, it’d cause a commotion. Your parents would eventually find out and you didn’t want any more problems.

So, you cried your eyes raw and eventually willed yourself to stop when it was time to return to class.

…

The week had gone by without another interaction. The weekend brought you some relief since you wouldn’t be forced to see Katsuki’s face for the time being. Or so you thought.

All you wanted to do was run some errands for your parents and then go back home and continue sulking. Yet the universe would not let you rest.

The moment you caught Bakugo’s eyes, you pivoted on your heel and booked it the other way. You assumed his anger with you would force him to keep his distance.

But you were thoroughly surprised to find he was following after you.

“Y/N,” he called.

Irritation and hurt filled your chest. You only walked faster, clutching the purse against her chest.

“Y/N, stop,” he demanded to which you promptly ignored.

This went on for a good thirty seconds until Bakugo decided he had enough. Without much noise, he ran up to you, grabbing you by the shoulder.

You weren’t having it.

You harshly shrugged off his hand. “Don’t touch me,” you snapped, keeping your eyes forward.

“I need to talk to you,” Katsuki grumbled.

“Well I don’t want to talk to you. So maybe some other time.”

Truthfully, the crowned prince found himself shocked at your coldness. Despite your innate boldness, he wasn’t used to such an icy tone. Especially directed at him.

His father warned him to never attack in these situations, but Bakugo let his temper get the best of him. His first reaction was to frown and deal back harsher words.

“What’s your fucking problem, dumbass? When I say stop, stop!”

A spike of anger flooded your veins. You whirled around on your heel and glared at him with frosty eyes. You felt compelled to drop your papers and slap him, but instead, you settled for a finger in his face.

“First of all, I’m not some dog you can just order around, you jerk! And just because we’re betrothed doesn’t mean I’m some girl you can treat like dirt whenever you feel like it! Until you apologize, leave me alone because my only problem right now is you. Bye.”

And just as quickly as you came, you turned to leave.

Now Bakugo was actually stunned. Forget, cold, this was a side of you he hadn't ever experienced. Admittedly, he hadn’t been spoken to like that from anyone besides his mother—and she only got away with it because she was not only the queen…but he was his mom.

Katsuki honestly didn’t know how to handle it. It was only then that he concentrated back on his father’s advice. Whenever his mother was upset with his dad, his father would fight back, but never with emotional anger. Always with humbleness and an understanding tongue.

It usually did the trick considering his mother could never stay upset with him for more than a night. It always struck the teen with hidden awe. Sometimes, Katsuki thought his dad was an angel.

Bakugo was no angel, but he hoped it’d have the same affect on you.

The blonde teen softened his face and walked up behind you. He stopped you, wrapping his arms around your waist to lie his forehead against the decorated braids the fell down your back.

“Damn it. I’m sorry okay?” he lowly said, face burning from such a public display of affection. “Just hear me out.”

You didn’t speak and he clenched his jaw.

“Please.”

You inwardly cursed your rapidly beating heart. If it weren’t for how stupidly nice being in his arms was (he was definitely working out more), and the fact that you found him kinda cute begging for your permission, maybe you wouldn’t have caved in so easily.

For now, you’d blame it on the fact that you two were destined to wed. It was better to start dealing with fights now so, hopefully, the future held less of them.

You heaved a sigh, unwillingly ignoring your body’s urge to curl in his arms. Instead, you pulled away and turned to face him. You peered into unsure crimson eyes with as much harshness you could conjure.

“Fine. Speak,” you permitted.

There was a small pause as he gathered his thoughts. When he opened his mouth, you instantly regretted it.

“I’m still mad at you for being dumb and breaking one of family’s treasures. And I’m still fucking pissed that my old hag is on my ass about it,” he started and noticed how your eyes narrowed in contempt.

You were about to turn away, thinking this was a waste of time. However, Bakugo took a hold of your wrist before you could leave.

“Leave me alone! If you didn’t want to get in trouble, you should’ve just let me take the blame. I can't believe I thought you’d apologize—“

“Let me finish, princess.”

It was your title, yet you felt your stomach flip when it came from his lips. You refused to let it influence you…but you’d give him another chance.

Bakugo stepped closer to you. “I’m upset, but I took the punishment because I wanted to. You didn’t mean to break it. Accidents happen, I understand that.”

There was a pregnant pause. Then, you softened your gaze a bit, eyes still lit with inquiry. “Why? Why would you do that if it meant getting in trouble? I could’ve taken the blame just fine.”

“Y/N, you freak the fuck out whenever you don’t get a perfect score on an exam. You try not to mess up and when you do, it’s like the world is ending,” he explained with a teasing smirk. You ungracefully snorted. He had a point. “When you broke the vase, I could hear your heart drop. You were two seconds away from crying. And when I saw how scared you looked I just—I don’t know.”

The look on your face was something between shock, surprise, and wonder. You blinked, thick lips parting slightly in awe.

“Katsuki…” you breathed to which the boy heavily blushed. Realizing how sappy he sounded, his mind screamed at him to cut it out.

Bakugo looked down and noticed he was still holding your wrist. He quickly let go and instinctively rubbed the nape of his neck.

“D-don’t be dramatic. I just didn’t wanna see you moping around or some shit. My father said that it wasn’t that important anyway…the vase I mean,” he mumbled.

Sure it wasn’t, you thought. What were you gonna do with this boy?

You supposed an apology was a good start.

“That was very nice and admirable of you Katsuki. Thank you,” you eventually said. “I’m still really sorry about the vase, and for being mean to you just now.”

He shook his head. “I know, but I’m the one that should be apologizing. I ain’t hafta treat you the way I did. I was being an ass for not accepting the food you made for me earlier.”

“Yeah you were, ya bastard.”

He chuckled at that. “The two idiots wouldn’t stop raving over how good it was.”

“Well, I had the best teacher in the kingdom,” you grinned.

“And I had an even better student,” he winked.

Your smile widened. Maybe marrying him wouldn’t be so bad.

You couldn’t help yourself when you heartily embraced him, enjoying how his arms slowly slithered around the small of your back. Your eyes met and you kissed him on the lips, leaving him with a little gasp. You pulled away and giggled under your breath.

“You know, you're a sweet guy underneath all that false bravado.”

“False brav—what the hell are you going on about!?”

Ignoring his explosive behavior, you readjusted the straps on your shoulder before turning on your heel.

“Don’t bring anything for lunch on Monday, okay? I’ll see you later, blondie.”

Despite his little tantrum, Bakugo still watched you disappear into the store with a gentle expression. You gave him more headaches than he cared for, but you were worth it. Besides, he was sure you could say the same for him.

Bakugo turned to leave and passed his fingertips over where your lips touched his own.

He’d never admit to the giddiness in his chest. He’d take that shit to the grave.

#mha #bnha fics #bakugo x black reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski #bakugo x poc!reader #mha fics #bakugo brain rot activated #barbarian bakugou #dragon king bakugo #mha x poc!reader #mha x black reader #bnha x black!reader #bnha x poc!reader #bnha x reader

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umbry-fic · 3 years ago

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Sunflower of Parting Regrets

Summary: Inch by inch, leaf by leaf, the two sunflowers in the garden grow, side-by-side.

But on the day a flower finally blooms, the one who was supposed to see it by his side was no longer here.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Colette Brunel, Lloyd Irving Relationships: Colette Brunel/Lloyd Irving Rating: G Word Count: 2864 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 15/09/2021

Notes+Warnings: This is not a happy story, and features major character death (though not explicitly).

Title from Yamashizuku's Sekibetsu no Himawari.

~~~

Hands patted dirt over fragile seeds, planting the potential for new life. The sun, just beginning to recover from its winter lethargy, shone gently down on the two energetic children.

"There! Done!" Lloyd exclaimed, grinning as he observed his and Colette's handiwork. Two sunflower seeds that had been cradled in careful hands and carried here to the garden plot, now buried, little mounds visible where he and Colette had piled the soil.

"Good job us!" Colette let out a little giggle, the two of them squatting next to each other, hands filthy with dirt - between their fingers, under their fingernails, some even managing to find their way onto their arms and clothes. It was like spring had already arrived to chase winter away, despite the faint dredges of cold still clinging to everything. "How soon do you think we'll get to see them bloom? The sunflowers in the book were so pretty..."

"Uh..." Lloyd cocked his head, trying hard to cast his mind back. "I think three months. According to Dad, sunflowers grow super, duper fast. Only if they survive, though."

"Oh..." Colette's head bowed, her shoulder-length hair swaying slightly in the breeze, a smudge of dirt on her cheek that Lloyd itched to rub off. "Then I'll take really good care of them! I'll make sure they survive!" Colette cried with gusto, head snapping up as she locked gazes with Lloyd, determination burning in her eyes.

He felt the spark of something warm in his chest, then, as he stared straight into that bright blue, which he'd seen so many times before. Not that he wasn't happy in her presence - hearing the sound of her voice was enough to make his whole day. Yet there was a little more this time, a little more that he couldn't put into words...

"Me too!" he replied, "And then we'll see the flowers bloom together." He held out his pinky, ready to make the most sacred of vows. At least, to a young child like him. "Pinky promise?"

He did think it strange, when she appeared to pause, hesitating before finally linking their pinkies together. Her skin warm against his as their two small hands shook together under the winter sun, sealing a promise never to be broken. For to do so was the most unforgivable of crimes in a child's mind.

"I sure hope they bloom soon," she muttered, staring down once again at the soil with hopeful eyes. And something else, hiding behind that hope.

And the sense of strangeness in Lloyd's mind faded away, a mere instant later, lost in the colour that was childhood.

~~~

"It's still..." Colette muttered, reaching her hand up to grasp at a non-existent flower, fingers only managing to close around the sun. She sighed, lowering her hand to instead rub one of the massive leaves that jutted out of the stalk.

Lloyd frowned, averting his gaze. He couldn't stand it, the disappointment in her voice, so heavy that it seemed to take form and weigh on his shoulders, dragging the both of them into the ground beneath their feet. He desperately wanted to do something. But there wasn't anything he could do. He certainly couldn't perform magic.

The two of them returned here, to this garden plot near his home, all the time. Every week, sometimes every day. It had become one of their favourite spots, sitting by the sunflowers as they did homework, talked, or simply enjoyed the silence. What had once been invisible seeds had become tiny sprouts, pushing their steady way out of the soil. And then they had become long, thick stalks, populated with leaves, gaining height with each day, growing side-by-side just as the two of them did. Colette always joked that it was so much like him, for his sunflower to be a full head taller than hers. The height difference clearly didn't bother her, since Colette had taken to affectionately calling her sunflower "little one", caring for it gently. Watching the loving way in which she handled it, watered it, sang to it, even, filled his heart with so much warmth.

Yet no matter how much love was showered upon the two sunflowers, the buds that had appeared on the first year had never become more than that. They simply remained buds, eternally closed, the flowers hiding away like they were shy of facing the world.

Colette must have really, truly wanted to see them in full bloom. To know of their beauty.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, repeating the words she'd been saying recently, at this very spot. Always out of the blue, always hurrying on before he could even pause to ask her what it was she was apologising for, the opportunity to buried instantly by Colette. And it was his turn now, the words slipping from him, the reason eluding him as his heart clenched in his chest.

"Don't say that..." Colette shook her head, taking her hand in his and squeezing. "It's not your fault. It's like what Genis said, right? There's not enough mana for them to bloom."

"I... didn't get most of what Genis said," Lloyd admitted, feeling his cheeks flush slightly as Colette let out a small, bright laugh. "But if we need more mana... Then we can just wait, right? When we come back from the Journey of Regeneration, together, the flowers should bloom in no time."

Colette's hand tightened on his as she turned away, just slightly. "Come back together, huh..."

"Colette...?" he asked hesitantly, wondering if he'd imagined what he'd seen, for just a fleeting second. The downturn of her lips, the sadness in her eyes. No longer were these moments easily forgettable. They stuck in his mind like tiny shards, to be turned over countless times in the safety of his own bed and the silence of the night, wondering if it was him, if he'd said something wrong, if he should dig deeper. Yet something always held him back, fear forming a taut rope around him that refused to let him get any closer.

"Yes, I'm sure they'll bloom then."

There was nothing but that lovely, sweet smile on her face as she turned back to face him, eternally plastered on her face.

"And then you'll be able to plant more. And see them. Next year, and the next..." Colette stepped closer, her grip managing to tighten even more. "Wouldn't that be wonderful?"

Closer, until he could feel the tickle of her breath on his cheek. Closer, until his heart threatened to pound its way out of his chest.

"Colette, I-"

He wasn't given the chance to finish, not knowing what he was even going to say, the words flying out of his mind as she stumbled back like she'd been burned, something akin to horror filling her wide eyes.

An emotion that shouldn't be there, surely, the sight of it stabbing straight into his heart.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, her hand ripping out of his grasp even as he tried to hold on.

What... What had he done wrong?

He was left to ponder that question, standing motionless as she fled, the beginnings of storm clouds beginning to gather overhead.

It was far, far later, after everything was over, that he realised what she was apologising for.

The myriad of broken promises she would leave behind, for they had no hope of being kept, and therefore her refusal to make another. But, foremost of them all...

A pinky promise made between two children, still colourfully vivid in both their minds.

~~~

"Sunflowers?" he muttered, wondering if he'd correctly interpreted what Colette had scribbled on his shoulder.

Colette nodded, affirming his words as she neatly folded her hands in her lap, sitting next to him by the window.

"What about them?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly. The memory of their little garden plot, the flowerless stalks growing ever taller, unable to flourish in a dying world. What had once been so familiar, yet seemed so far away now. Their wish, their promise, to see the first blooming flower together, what would surely be a wondrous sight.

You'll get to see them bloom soon, she wrote, this time on his arm, raising her head to show him a small little smile. I know you'll love it.

Surely, it wasn't his imagination. Not this time. That dark, monstrous thing, hiding in the depths of her eyes, how the edge of her smile seemed to fade, her own hand shaking as she drew it across the bare skin of his arm, her touch like burning coals. That same way her shoulder seemed to cave in on themselves, as it did on that fateful night when he had held two coffee cups in his hands, words inexorably surging up his throat even as guilt pressed on his chest. The way she seemed to be both leaning closer and pulling away, struggling to choose between the two.

He couldn't stop himself, something inside of him shattering as she stood to leave. In just a few steps, he'd caught up to her, stopping her in her tracks, halfway to the door. His arms wrapped securely around her waist as he pulled her against him, burying his face in her hair.

He could taste salt on his tongue, could feel the wetness on his cheeks, the shuddering breath Colette took.

He knew that she was strong. She was an Angel, a being that commanded fearsome powers by the blessing of the Goddess. Even before that, she had always been strong. She was no longer merely the girl he met by the garden plot, whose hand he had always taken as he led her back home, her blue eyes sparkling as a smile played at her lips.

She felt so small in his arms, however. Like her back was crumbling, just as he was, slowly breaking into tiny little pieces as he embraced her warmth.

"We'll see it. Together," he gasped, feeling her hands reach up to brush away the tears rolling down his face, her touch so gentle it hurt. It hurt - everything, nothing, something.

With her other hand, she wrote the same message into his arm, over and over again, as if to carve it into his skin, as if to comfort him, as if to convince herself.

It's okay.

Was it? But he couldn't explain what he was feeling, the only constant being confusion. Couldn't explain why he had the urge to stay like this, where she couldn't slip away and disappear like a small bird taking off into the night sky, never to be seen again. Couldn't explain the neverending tears, when she should be the one crying, after all that she had suffered. But she had no tears anymore, and only he could sob.

Couldn't explain why he so desperately needed to whisper his one wish.

Don't go. Please, don't go.

But, he had no real reason to keep her here. Not when they were so close to the end. One more step and they would touch that finish line, and then everyone would be saved, a bright future awaiting beyond. He was being incredibly selfish, for no purpose that he could discern. But yet, but yet, but yet...

Doubt clawed at the corners of his mind, but he couldn't articulate it. Or anything. Words refused to pass his lips.

So he could do nothing, but let her go. As he always did, never able to hold onto her, who was warm and real in his hands and yet seemed as slippery as a ghost. Her fingers lingered for just a moment, before being wrenched away. She walked out of the room, her back facing him, not turning back a single time. Her voice seemed to echo in his head, repeating the same words in an endless loop.

"I'm sorry."

He could only fall into a fitful sleep, the thunder of the roiling skies outside filling his dreams.

She had refused to show him her face, hiding from him in these final moments, desperately trying to conceal any trace of her pain.

To say goodbye, with nothing but a blossoming smile...

~~~

Footsteps came to a pause, as a figure clad all in red stopped and turned to look at the two green stalks, shooting out of the dirt.

It had been a long time since Lloyd had walked this way, the place before him holding too many memories that were painfully colourful, unyielding and refusing to fade. Ghosts lived in every square inch. Each time her fingertips had brushed against his, each laugh she had emitted at something he'd said, each wonderful smile, more precious than anything in the world. This place, once the beloved site of shared dreams swapped in fervent whispers, had become nothing more than the graveyard of hope.

He had come here today, however, on a whim. The burning rage that had powered him through the first few months - rage at the world, at himself, but never at her - had finally drained out of him, leaving him with nothing but emptiness. It was a miracle it had not consumed him fully and reduced him to ashes. Perhaps that made him ready to return.

Not much had changed. The sunflowers had gained some height, a few new, tiny leaves clinging on for dear life and refusing to be swept away by the wind.

And yet...

Lloyd took hesitant step after another, shaking hands reaching out to feel the yellow petals between his fingers, the wide flower head sitting atop the taller of the two stalks, angled towards the sun, smothered in grey.

It wasn't an illusion, then.

Beautiful, just as she had confidently stated it would be. The countless petals, perfectly shaped like they had been pressed with delicate fingers into their rightful place, their vibrant yellow, the sweet fragrance. Perfect, all around.

The miracle she had silently waited for had finally occurred. But she wasn't here to see it. She would never see it, that which she had once prayed for. Had she seen it as hope for herself? That if this miracle could come to pass, then somehow, she could be allowed to live?

It was no longer a miracle. Just a flower naturally blooming on the mana that had now become plentiful, siphoned from a girl who lay at the centre of the world. Had she hoped, then, when that wish had died, that the blooming sunflower could act as guidance for him? To tell him to continue facing the sun, to grasp his future in hand and move on?

The flower was none of those things, meaningless without the one who had shared the memory, who was meant to stand here with him and exclaim excitedly over the whole thing, gesturing wildly, the image so vivid in his mind that if he just turned, he would be able to see her again...

There was nothing but the whispering of the wind. Once again, he could not hold onto her, even now that she had truly become a ghost.

And so the sunflower was nothing but a reminder of the gaping hole in his heart, of everything he had lost and would never know again.

He had done nothing but fail her, countless times. That was all he could do, and all that he did now.

"We promised, didn't we?" he whispered, fingers tightening and crinkling the petals.

He resisted the desire to rip them off, one by one, to bring his feet down upon them and grind them into dust. The same dust that the childish promise he'd once made had become, lost and forgotten. How childish of him, to expect the Chosen to remember something as insignificant as a childhood promise.

She had only been fulfilling her duty to the world.

"So why..."

But even then, he wanted to believe that it had been special to her. That their time together had meant something, anything.

No one answered, because of course no one could answer. There was no one next to him, where once there would be a comforting hand laid on his shoulder, a voice to tell him it was alright, to soothe the bitter pain in his heart and put the broken pieces back together.

Instead, there was only the everlasting bloom of regret, its roots entrenched deep into his heart.

The heavens gave way as pattering filled his ears, raindrops beginning to slam into the leaves, into him, mixing with the tears on his face, into the ground and dredging up the heavy scent of soil.

The first of the spring showers had arrived, heralding the start of the season of life.

New life, the entire world blooming in vibrant colour, that he could see only in monotone grey, knowing this was all at the expense of another. Everyone was celebrating the new world that had been born, a girl's courageous sacrifice already forgotten, relegated to nothing more than a footnote.

She who was supposed to see the beautiful world she had helped bring about, who was meant to see spring...

She who was his entire world, his sunlight, his flower of hope...

She had wilted, and she would never bloom again.

#fanfiction #one shot #tales of symphonia #colette brunel #lloyd irving #colloyd #haha have fun with this one #i was tempted to give this a happy ending but the song itself ends in tragedy so i waslike eh no

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optimistic-dinosaur-nacho · 5 years ago

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Bruises - Requested

Warnings: Language, Bullying, Blood, ‘Fag’ comments Summary: After Jacob had been suspected for the murder, your friends had turned against you. People stared, people gossiped. Even Ben’s friends did the unforgivable thing to you and all that was kept from your protective dad, Andy.

This goes for my good anon friend and I love this request. I’m surprise you thought of this and I didn’t even think of this idea. That means you’re a creative person and I like that. I really love Andy Barber x Daughter!Reader fics.

Thank you for it! Hope you like it! A lot more than you asked for but it’s all part of the plan.

Love you all!

It’s the worst Birthday Gift for Chris Evans but it had to be made.

~~~

You were looking for your folder around your room. Just 12 hours ago you were working on your homework and you couldn’t seem to find it now. Opening your backpack, you searched through your books and binders, not finding your baby blue folder.

A knock hits your door. “Hey, sweetheart, your brother is gonna head out soon. He’s taking the trail,” Your father beams in.

Turning around, you see him in his button up and a tie, ready to go to his job. You inhaled, “He can go ahead, I’ll be behind him. I can’t find my blue folder.” Andy furrows his brows, “Where’d you leave it?”

You shrugged, “I was working on it last night.” Andy nods and looks up to you, “Well, I don’t want you to be late. But I’ll tell Jake he can go on ahead. You be careful, okay? I got to go.”

You nod, “Thanks. Bye, dad. Love you.”

“Love you, too, sweetheart. Be good at school.” And with that he left, heading down the stairs.

You continued on your search and dug through your closet. Maybe about 10 minutes passed, you found it under your bed. You scoffed and shoved it in your bag. You stepped down the stairs and saw Laurie. “Hey, mom.”

She turns around, “Hey, dad told me you were looking for your folder.”

“Yeah, I found it. I got to go!” Laurie stammers, “Honey, let me take you. Driving will be quicker than the trail.” You bounced on your feet, “Okay, okay. Let’s go!” You said. Laurie grabs her bag and coat, taking her keys on the way out.

“Did you pack a lunch?” Laurie asks. You rushed to her car, “I did!” You jumped in the front seat while Laurie got into the drivers seat. She held up a bag to you, “I know you didn’t pack one.”

You sighed and took the bag into your hands and quickly shoved it in your bag. Laurie glances over to you, “Did you bring your soccer practice bag?” She asked.

You nodded and unzipped the bag to make sure you had everything. “Yeah.” Laurie pulls out of the garage and drove you to school. Jacob was surely gonna be there before you could. Or if you’re lucky. Laurie brought you to the school in time. Still seeing the students hanging outside.

“Okay, honey. I love you, have a good day,” She says. You take your bags and smiled, “Thanks, mom. Love you too!” You closed the door and walked up to the doors. “Y/N!”

You turn, “Hey, Lindsey.” The blonde girl almost jumps on your shoulder. “Where’s your brother?” She asked. You looked around. “I don’t know. He took the trail but I took the car cause he went on ahead without me.” Lindsey pouts at you, she was one of those popular girls but she seemed to be a nobody at times.

Her mother was a lawyer like your dad. Half the school, the parents were lawyers. “I’ll catch you later at lunch!” She says, you nod and she ran off, heading towards the group of boys. One of them being her brother, Derek.

You felt someone take your shoulder, “How’d you get here so fast?” Jacob asks. You grinned, “I got a ride from mom! What took you so long?” Jake grins softly, but it quickly went away, “I wasn’t picking my feet up, I guess.”

You grinned as you two walked in.

Jake shared a class with you in science. It was pretty cool. So, still morning at the moment. You sat in front of Jacob so you two and the other two were working on the tubes.

“Be careful taking that out. We don’t wanna make a mess,” The teacher says, Jake peers up to you and the others, grinning, “That’s what she said.” You and the two laugh and Jake grinned in acceptance.

You look up to Jake and smiled at him. Then the PA chimed in and you lifted your head up.

“Attention. Archer is now on lockdown, effective immediately. All students are to remain in their classrooms...” Everyone in the room began to stand up in panic, and you did too. Jacob stood up and came over to you, the students began to look out the window.

“Guys, I can’t hear the announcement!” The teacher calls, he heads for the door and locks it. Kids began to pull away from the window and sat against the wall. “Come on, Y/N,” Jacob says, he holds your shoulder and took you to the wall. “What’s going on?” You asked.

He sat you down, “I don’t know.”

“Call dad...” You muttered, Jacob didn’t think twice and pulled out his phone. He scrolled through his phone and pulled it to his ear. You hear Andy answer, “Jacob, you okay?”

“Yeah. The school’s on lockdown, but nobody knows why.”

“I know, it’s... Have you heard from your sister?”

“She’s next to me.”

“Okay. Look, I can’t talk about it right now, okay, buddy? Just both of you listen to your teachers, do exactly what they say,” Andy says. Jacob looks at you and nervously bites his lip. “Yeah, but you do know why. I mean, is there some psycho shooter?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. You’re both safe I promise.” Jacob looks at you, seeing you shake in the corner, fiddling with your hands. “Jake?” Andy asks. Jacob turns back to the phone, “Okay. Dad?”

“Yeah?”

Jacob grips the phone and shuffles in his spot, “What is it, buddy?” Jacob shook his head, “Nothing.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I gotta go. I’ll see you both back at home though, okay? Keep your sister close at all times. I love you both very much.” Jacob nods, “All right. We love you too. Bye.” Jacob hangs up and pulls his phone down to his lap.

And that day, they were there in the same classroom till school ended. Even your soccer practice was canceled.

You were in your room, going on your laptop as Lindsey looked through her phone. “I can’t believe Ben was murdered. Does anyone know who?” She asked. You weren’t sure of the answer. So, you shook your head.

“I don’t know.”

Lindsey grins, “I don’t know. But at least I got to speak to Dylan through the whole class. We had so much in common,” Lindsey looks over, “I think he’s into me.”

You grinned, “Don’t get too excited.” Your door was suddenly knocked on and your parents opened it with smiles. “Lindsey, your dad’s here,” Andy says. Lindsey sits up and grabs her bag, packing a few things, “See ya, Y/N. And thank you, Mrs. and Mr. Barber.”

Andy grins at her, “Anytime.” Lindsey walks out with her brother, Derek to their father, leaving you with them. “Hey, sweetheart. We want to talk about something.” Andy sits by your legs and Laurie stands by.

“We want to know how you’re feeling about Ben. About what happened,” Laurie says.

All you could do was stare. Ben’s friends weren’t really nice towards you and Jacob. Even without Jacob it was worse. But you barely knew Ben. You shrugged, “I don’t know. I barely knew him.”

“But Jake did. He’s in the same class,” Andy says.

“Ben wasn’t really that much of a kid I would’ve hung out with. He was kind of full of himself. I only saw him in the halls,” You said. Andy looks over to Laurie who just grinned sadly. “Well, if there’s anything you want to tell us, we’re here for you. Don’t be afraid to tell us. Okay?”

You nod, “Yes, I understand,” You say usually, it always gave them the absolute certainly that you understood. So Andy grins, “Okay. Dinner in 30 minutes.” He pats your leg and stands up. Walking out of your room.

The next day, you and Jacob were gonna be dropped off by Laurie. She didn’t allow you both to walk down the trail ever again. Police were now on the campus, you and Jacob were seeing your friends out in front.

Laurie stops in front of the school, “Okay. Love you guys.” Jacob jumps out, only giving her a smile and closed his door. You jumped out and smiled, “Bye, mom. Love you too.” And then you closed your door. Heading over to the school, you spotted Lindsey.

You smiled at her, but she did not. Lindsey turned away and stood by her brother Derek who even looked at you. You weren’t sure why they were so happy at your house but they turn out like this.

Was it something you said last night?

You didn’t say anything that could’ve ruined their moods. You followed Jacob inside, not bothering to talk to him. You hear the bell ring and everyone began to rush through. Making you lose Jacob in the crowd. “Jake?” You called, but he never called your name.

So you were left on your own.

Till someone slapped your book out of your hands. “Oops,” One of the boys said, you look up at them not in anger no. You didn’t know why they did that. But Derek only stared at you as they passed laughing.

You blinked away the tears and knelt down to pick your book up.

Almost three days after Ben Rifkin’s death, you were held after school in one of your classes so Jacob was left to go home on his own. You wouldn’t mind walking back.

“Thank you, Mrs. Ambers,” You call out, the woman grins, “I’ll be looking forward to your project, Ms. Barber.” You smiled and walked out of the classroom to head back home.

You were walking back, playing music in your earbuds. But then, your phone rang, cutting off your music. Pulling it out of your sweatshirt, you see a photo you and Andy hugging while he kissed the top of your head. He was calling you.

“Dad?”

“Sweetheart? Is your brother with you?” He sounded like he was panicking. “No? What’s going on? Dad?” You ask. He pants, “Just meet me at home, okay? Don’t be scared, everything’s gonna be all right. I’ll be home soon, just stay there okay?”

“Okay,” You say softly. “I gotta call mom. I’ll be there as quick as I can. I love you very much,” He says. “I love you too.” And then he hung up. You continued to follow his orders.

Go home. Don’t be scared.

Scared of what? You began to be quicker than you usually walked. But then you see police cars appear around the corner. You slowly stop but continued to walk up.

They spotted you. You began to walk up and so did the one officer. “Dispatch, we got one of Barber’s kids. She’s walking alone. Not the suspect.” He walks over, “Hey, kid.”

You stopped once you came face-to-face with him. “Where’s your brother?” You looked around to see if Andy would come racing around the corner. “I was held in school, he must’ve been here before I have.”

The officer nods and gestures to come forward, “Come on. We wanna put you inside the car, is that okay?” He asked, you couldn’t even nod as he took you to the police car.

Opening the door, you hopped in, shaking. And just a few minutes in, Andy comes on the street and drives into his driveway. He didn’t see Y/N in sight. “Damn it.” He jumps out of his car and looks towards the officers. “Is my daughter in one of your vehicles?”

“Sir, you know this house is frozen, right?” Andy spots you in one of their cars, “Get my daughter out of that car! She has nothing to do with this!” The officer nods at the other to let you out.

Stumbling out, Andy gestures you to come over. You rush to his side as he raced up to the front door. “Sir! You know the house is frozen.”

Andy turns, “You got a warrant? Yeah, I didn’t think so. It’s my house, I have the right to go inside.”

“Dad, what’s going on?” You say lowly, Andy fiddles with his keys. “It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay. Just stay close.”

“Andy!” Someone shouts. The you both turn to see Duffy jump out the car with a paper in hand. Andy only sighed. And that day is when everything changed.

“You sure you can walk home? I don’t mind taking you, sweetheart. I just... we can’t take you with us. Not a good look to see your brother,” Andy says. It was day after Duffy had searched your house, destroyed your room that you cleaned up.

You hadn’t seen Jacob for almost 24 hours. Andy said he was at the department, he didn’t tell you more after that. You did read posts about Jacob having a knife. He didn’t show it to you cause he didn’t just have you at the school.

So now you’ll have to go to school without Jacob.

“Y/N,” Andy says, breaking your thoughts, he lowers his head so he could get a better look. “I can walk, thank you.” And with that, you grabbed your bag and walked out the door. Leaving Andy and Laurie to head to the courthouse.

Once you got to school, everyone had eyes on you. Walking alone. Head hanging low as they whispered and looked at each other as you passed. You needed to get to class before they get to you.

“Watch out!” A boy shouts, you feel someone push you and you crashed to the ground. You hear laughter as Ben Rifkin’s friends walk by smiling. You looked up and saw them walk down the hall.

You look back down and saw a small puddle of blood. You reached for your face and felt it coming out of your nose. You stood up and rushed to the bathroom, on the urge of tears. Slamming the bathroom door shut, you rushed to the stall and ripped toilet paper to clean the blood off your nose.

You choked a sob and stared at yourself in the mirror. Nose was red, including your eyes and cheeks. It was only just day one. Who knew if they’d get worse. But you shook it off and walked out with a tissue in your nose for a while.

Science class was very different. Every class was, each and every second someone is staring at you. Then the PA dings, “Your attention, please. As you all know, last night the terrible tragedy that struck our community was compounded in a way that is truly difficult to fathom. I’m referring to the arrest of Jacob Barber, an eighth-grader here at Archer.”

People began to stare at you. “I want to stress how important it is we not jump to conclusions. This means ignoring rumors and refraining from spreading rumors. That said, if you do have information you feel would be of help to the investigation, the police have ask that you contact them immediately. You can do this directly or through our guidance center. Thank you.”

During lunch, you sat alone at a table. One the other side, people sat there. But you were alone, picking at your own food. “That looks good, really good,” The boy says, he grins down at you.

“Would your fag brother happen to carry a knife for you to cut that? I’m surprised he won’t admit it.”

“He didn’t do it. Now would you leave me alone?” You asked. The boy grabs your sandwich and grins, throwing it in the bin beside you. “I bet Ben would have wished it was you who Jacob would kill instead.” He takes the rest of your lunch and dumps it on the ground.

Bringing the whole cafeteria’s eyes to your table.

You blinked away the tears and walked out, heading towards the bathroom again. You could’ve called Andy but he was at court. Maybe you would’ve call him at all about this. You just sat in the corner and crumpled in tears.

The school was just about to end and you figured to walk home because you weren’t sure if Andy or Laurie would pick you up. You didn’t even want them to ask how your day was.

So taking the same way you always go. You took the trail in Cold Spring Park. You were listening to music on your way there, thinking you were hearing extra steps behind you but you figured the music was just making you hear things.

You then felt someone push you down. Your earbuds get pulled out and someone grabs your bag and rips it off. You turned to face three boys, Ben’s closest friends at school. They towered over you. “You really think you can get away with this? You think your fag brother would even protect you? Now we have the chance to show what a murderer deserves.”

One of the boys kicked you in the gut and you curled up, shouting in pain. “Stop, please!” You said, the boys just laughed and the tall one pulls you up, holding you by the collar. You tried to push him, only to have his fist meet the side of your cheek causing you to crash into the leaves and dirt.

One last kick was painful than the other. “Let’s get out of here,” The boy says, walking away. The blonde boy unzips your bag and dumps it at your feet. All your work and binders hitting the ground. He kicked your bag and ran off with his friends.

You choked a sob and sat up, touching your cheek. Your jeans were dirtied and your sweater was as well. You sniffled and crawled over to your things and began to slip them back into your bag.

It could’ve been worse if one of them wouldn’t hesitate to kill you. Once you got everything in, you stood up and brushed off the leaves and dust. Your jeans were gonna need a wash, including your Connecticut Law School hoodie that belonged to your dad.

It was already old as it is, but it was one of your favorite hoodies. You carried your backpack by the loop on the top of it, continuing back home with tears. You managed calm yourself so your parents wouldn’t get any ideas what happened.

They would know about the dirt though. You never wore makeup so you can’t cover it up with anything.

You reached the house and noticed news reporters were standing outside. You threw on your hoodie and hid like a normal kid. They were lucky to not closely look at you as you walked by. Once you took a turn up the stairs, they began to shout questions at you.

You ignored them and walked through the red door, closing it. “Sweetheart?” Laurie calls, you didn’t even bother to look for her. “Yeah?” You called, hoodie still on you see Andy come into view. “Hey. How was school?” He asked.

You were in one of the darkest spots in the hall, so you weren’t sure he could see you. He furrowed his brows, “What happened to your clothes?” He asked. You look down and nibbled on your bottom lip.

“Our teacher made us play a game, a lot of us got our clothes dirty,” You lied, Andy draws his eyes down again and nodded, “Well, you change, your mother can wash them.”

Laurie comes into view and her hands rub against each other, “Did you eat at school?” She asked. Your mind went back to the cafeteria incident. You didn’t eat once they through your whole lunch away.

“I did...” You lied once again. Andy tilts his head at you, “I thought we had rules about not having hoods on,” He says. Having hoodies on, it turns a lot of heads in your home. All you did was turn around and walk up the stairs, finally pulling your hood down so they couldn’t see the bruise once you turned away.

Andy looks over to Laurie in concern and she does as well. Andy looks back and sees your bag on the ground. Laurie heads back into the living room and Andy takes your bag in hand. It was covered in dirt and it had tears in some areas, knowing she wouldn’t do that with her bag.

Especially it was Andy’s old high school bag. It was always in a good condition in his school year. You wanted to have it since you didn’t want them to buy you a better one, but you insisted on having his and he gladly made you have it.

He knew you wouldn’t treat a bag like this, so he walked up the stairs heading over to your room. He knocked and you didn’t respond. So he opened the door and saw you sitting on your bed. Your hood was on again. Andy sighs and comes in, “What’s going on?” He asks.

He held your bag in hand and looked down at it. “Sweetheart,” He says. He placed the bag on the ground and walks over to you, kneeling down in front of you.

He tried to look at your face but it was so low for him to see your full face. He only saw the tears. His forehead creases in concern, “Y/N, talk to me. What happened?” He reached up and grabbed the edge of your hood, pulling it back over your head, finally having the gloomy light outside beam on your features.

His heart dropped when he sees the dark bruise under your cheek. His thumb reaches up to check it out. Once his thumb brushed over it, you flinched and grabbed his wrist. His eyes were concerning and soft, “It’s okay.” Your bottom lip quivered as he looked at you.

“What happened? Who did this?”

You felt tears rush down your cheeks again, “His friends...” You say. Andy tilts his head, “Ben Rifkin’s friends? They did this?” You nodded and Andy puffs out a sigh again. “I’ll talk to the principal.”

“No,” You say a little too quickly. Andy furrows his brows, “I’m not taking a no for an answer. This is not what should happen to you. You don’t deserve this, sweetheart. We’ll keep you home if it’s gonna keep you from getting beat up for something you or Jacob didn’t do.”

“What if he did?”

Andy shakes his head, “We know he didn’t do it. Don’t think like that, okay?” You watched him as he keeps his eyes on you. He pressed his lips together and softly smiled, “Come here.” He sits on your bed and pulls you into his chest. Rubbing your back, you gently relaxed in his arms.

You felt his lips press a kiss into your hair and he placed his chin on your head. “I love you very much,” He says, “You, Jacob and mom.” You sniffled and tightened your arms around him. “I love you too.”

~~~

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revasserium · 5 years ago

Note

Prompt 7 with ushijima? Thanks!

send me a number and a character, and i’ll write you a drabble

7. momentumushijima

the world moves, and it moves, and it moves. and we are powerless to stop it, though sometimes, it seems like if we try hard enough, stretch beyond our limits, sometimes, we can grasp the inevitability of the world by it’s tail and pull it back, stall it for just a moment.

you stare at the back of his head, wondering what could possibly be going on in there, until he turns to hand back the stack of worksheets, and almost hits you in the nose with them.

he mutters an apology, eyes lingering on you for just a moment to make sure you’re alright. it’s the first time he’s spoken to you, not really directly to you, more like at you, but still. you flush and nod, squeak out some kind of answer, and take the stack of worksheets from him, almost tossing it behind you in your hurry to busy yourself with something.

“how did you get that answer?”

his voice sounds like a shot of whiskey, deep and warm and smooth and really, you’ve never even had whiskey properly before (okay, so there was once when you snuck a shot out of your dad’s liquor closet and almost choked), but isn’t that what people always compare deep voices to? whiskey or chocolate or coffee.

but you think whiskey works best, because for a moment after, you’re left punchdrunk with the depth, the tingling warmth burning it’s way down your chest till it pools in your stomach and you’re left shivering in its wake.

“uh…” you glance over at his quiz before looking back at your own.

“i… oh, it’s in the passage –”

you shake yourself and settle back into the flow of time, the minutes and seconds tick-tocking right by, the world spinning and spinning without regard for how dizzy you might get sitting next to him, trying to keep your own body from being pulled into his orbit, the raw magnetism of him alarming, scintillating.

he’s so earnest that it hurts, the first time he tells you he likes your hair, he says it as if stating fact, as if the words he says doesn’t have the power to shake the foundations of your very world, and it isn’t till he asks why you’re staring at him that you realize you are.

“th-thank you.”

“you’re welcome.”

and that was that.

he gives you other compliments too, varying in degrees, but always the same in that simple, declarative intensity.

“you’re very organized.”

“thank you for always helping me.”

“you’re very smart.”

“your phone charm, it’s nice.”

you blush, “yeah, well,” you hold up your phone, the tiny little volleyball charm dangling off the end, “makes sense you like it though.”

“do you like volleyball?” he asks, peering down at you over your weekly worksheets.

(the story of how you’d become the ushijima wakatoshi’s official tutor is a story better told at another time, perhaps with actual whiskey shots involved.)

“i – yeah, i do.”

you don’t tell him that you’d only started watching because of him, or that you’re now much more invested in this sport than you planned to be. you don’t tell him you looked up the application for being the volleyball team’s manager, or how much work that would entail before deciding that being a tutor was already difficult enough without another extracurricular.

“do you come to our games?”

you shrug, pressing your lips.

“yeah. sometimes.” you smile, resting your chin on the heel of your palm.

“you’re amazing.”

he nods, as if satisfied.

“thank you.”

not a hint of doubt, no hesitation. like fact, like truth.

and then, a few weeks later.

“come on a date with me.”

“hm?” you scribble a note into the margin of one of his short answer essays before looking up, unsure of if you’d heard right, because surely, he didn’t just ask you on a date.

surely.

he blinks, unwavering.

“would you like to?”

“like to…?”

“come on a date with me.”

“oh.”

you blink back.

(date? date.)

the word sounds strange coming from his lips, it sounds like a word from a borrowed language, like “schadenfreude” or “macaron”.

“okay.”

“good.”

he looks back down at the papers scattered on the table between you.

“you were saying, about the short answer.”

“huh? oh – yeah. it’s fine, just you referenced the wrong line in the passage.”

the world pauses, watches, as he reaches forward to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, his hand dropping after back to the surface of his desk.

your cheek tingles where his finger had grazed against your skin and your mind fizzles till it’s completely blank.

“sorry. i didn’t mean to interrupt.”

you look back up at him, eyes wide, bright, beautiful, he thinks, though he keeps that particular compliment to himself, at least for the time being.

“it – it’s okay.”

you stare at the homework for three whole seconds before finding your train of thought again, forging on with the explanation, hoping he doesn’t realize just how pink your cheeks are.

he does.

later, when he asks you to meet him on saturday at the gymnasium after practice, you forget that the entire team will be there. you forget that it isn’t just him, and you, and the spinning world.

there’s a whole crowd of people milling by the doorway by the time he steps out of the clubroom, hair touseled and still a little damp from the shower, his skin flushed from the recent practice.

“let’s go.”

he doesn’t look back at the mass of undulating bodies trying to peer around the door of the gym, or the fact that tendou is openly gyrating with anticipation at all the ways he could tease ushijima about this during the next practice.

“where are we going?”

he takes a moment.

“to be honest, i haven’t really thought that part out.”

your footsteps fall into tandem next to his, and it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him sound like this. still simple, truthful, but with the smallest hint of uncertainty laced into his words.

you glance at him with a smile.

“that’s okay. we can just go get icecream or something.”

“icecream,” he says the word as if tasting it for the very first time.

you shiver at the thought.

“sure.”

and he should have known – it was the middle of the summer, the heat the most unforgiving of mistresses. he should have thought it through, but then again, he’s never been too good at planning where volleyball isn’t involved. and even when it is – it’s always been one point at a time.

he watches you lick at the soft-serve, his own pistachio flavored scoop pleasing, but nothing to write home about.

you glance at him, your cheeks going pink, and he has half a mind to tell you just how strange the sight makes him feel, the knots in his stomach twisting tight, the usually steady rhythm of his heart skidding till it skips.

the world moves, and he moves with it, unthinking as he usually is when it comes to you, because when it comes to you, his body becomes a language he’d forgotten he knew how to speak, the motions flowing from him before he can quite process it; he reaches out to wipe your lip of a speck of sticky icecream, bringing it to his own lips.

“it’s good,” he says, because that’s the truth.

you’re frozen as you watch him, even as your icecream sits melting in its cone.

“it’s taro,” you say, because what else could you have done?

he nods, “maybe i should get that next time.”

your press your lips.

“would you like some more of mine?”

he considers your offer, and the most logical part of him knows what you mean. and he is nothing if not a logical creature. but sometimes, the universe shifts in a specific direction, and we are powerless to stop it. and he’s moving before he can stop himself, blame it on gravity or the laws of bodies in motion, the confines and freedoms of three-dimensional space.

the irrationalities of time as the dimension we all move through – he falls through the minutes and seconds, his thought fizzling out like a magic trick.

his mouth meets yours at an awkward sort of angle, and you make a tiny sound in the back of your throat that sounds kind of like a squeak. he takes a moment to register that it’s not a bad sound, that you’re not pulling away, before instinct takes over and he’s tugging you towards him with his large hands cupping your cheeks.

and later, he might blame it on the heat, or just the pull of the sweetness on your lips, even though he’s never had a sweet tooth or anything like it himself, but you’d tease him for being so hasty regardless.

and later, when tendou asks him what he ended up doing on his date, he’d answer “icecream”, to which tendou would raise an eyebrow, staring at him as they go through their warmup stretches.

“and how was it?”

ushijima considers, and for a brief moment, tendou (and the four other people who are eavesdropping nearby) wonders if he’ll actually give a normal, human answer.

their hopes are shattered, however, when he turns back towards tendou with a straight, contemplative look on his face, and simply says –

“delicious.”

#ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #ushiwaka #floofy floof floof #hes' a bIg duMMY #this was actually shockingly fun to write #it also went on for longer than i thoughtit would #but then again i feel like veryything with ushiwaka would be a Process ukno like #things gotta be put through their paces with him #haiCUTIES

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stan-joonies · 5 years ago

Text

Medication

I am so so so proud of this piece of work!

You can't even remember how this stupid fight started. All you remember is coming home and going up to your room and being shocked to find that Patrick had snuck into your bedroom and dug his knife into your beautiful curtains and ripped them to shreds in anger.

Unfortunately this is something you were used to. It happened more times than you could count.

You knew Patrick was bad.

Actually, he was worse than bad. He was evil, Psychotic, devilish, inhumane, selfish, sadistic and a maniac.

But you stayed.

[[MORE]]

Partly because you knew him when you were babies. Your parents were close friends and that prompted you to become close.

You loved him dearly, but you were always fearing your safety.

Since you got together, and you use that term very loosely, you lost all your friends. He isolated you from everyone. When something was Patrick's nobody could ever have it, even when he was done with it. You knew that now, after accidentally putting a boy in hospital after Patrick saw you helping him with his homework.

The isolation killed you inside. In your early teen years you always told everyone that you just wanted to be left alone, prayed to get just a few hours of 'you time'.

However, hours turned to days that turned to weeks that turned to months and would soon turn to a year.

A full year of complete isolation.

God, it killed you inside.

And now he was shouting, cursing, threatening. The knife he used to beat your curtains was still in his hand and he was thrashing it through the air dangerously.

You could feel yourself shaking and crying in absolute fear. He looked ready to murder you and you didn't even know why.

Then, the unthinkable happened.

The unimaginable.

The unforgivable.

His hand came down on you, thankfully the one free of the knife, and slapped you against your cheek.

The impact made you fly into the wall you were backed up into and tumble to the floor.

The air had stilled as you stared at the carpet, your eyes wide open in disbelief.

The tears came down quicker and stronger now, the echoing sting in your cheek prompting them.

You tried to lift yourself up but you immediately came crashing down to the floor.

You looked up, astonished to see that he seemed to keep on having a go at you, ignoring his previous actions in favour of getting in your face. You were thankful that all you could hear was a shrill ringing.

Then, your door was kicked down and the large silhouette of your brother bounded in and tackled Patrick to the ground in a flurry of punches.

Patrick was threatening, his threats were real and he had a dark sense of humour. But he was not the strongest. He was strong, but many people in the school could take him on physically.

So your brother easily knocked him out.

Then, once he was sure he wouldn't be waking up for awhile, he checked on you. His eyes held a passionate fire and he mumbled something you couldn't hear.

You would never have thought you'd be here...court.

Patrick was awaiting the virdict, and you sat back on the opposite side of the room with not only your parents but his aswell.

There were shocking revelations on both sides that seemed to shake Derry to it's core.

A sick part of you wanted to go to his side, defend him and help him. Forgive that action and go on with your lives.

But you were worth more than that...so much more.

So when the jury came out and told the judge their virdict and the judge took his seat , you straightened your back and readied yourself.

You couldn't help but shake in your shoes.

Conflicting emotions shoved at eachother in your stomach.

He was being locked away...but not in prison. He had confessed about his fridge, his brother, his...insanity.

So he was being sent away for medical help for a couple years.

People assured you that he'd get his punishment, but with his medical history there wasn't much they could do.

You felt...nothing.

You were...glad? Glad he was getting help?

You were...angry? Angry that you did not get the justice you felt you deserved?

Those conflicting emotions seemed to level you out.

But now you just felt empty.

Four years.

Four years you hadn't seen him and then here you are.

In a shopping mall of all places.

He changed, his hair was now cropped and he had a little shadow on his top lip. He was bulkier, and that chilled you slightly. He wore a button up shirt and dark blue jeans.

You just stared at eachother in disbelief.

"Patrick?" You questioned, taking your hands off the item you reached for.

"Y/N..." he sighed.

Silence over took them again.

"Babe?"

You turned, smiling shakily at the man who called you.

"Just a minute!" You turned back, watching Patrick tense up while looking at your boyfriend's retreating back. You immediately became self aware. Images of him following you to your car or chasing after your boyfriend and pumelling his face in.

He let out a deep breath before smiling shakily.

"Y'know i actually planned to reach out and ask you out for some coffee...not as a date but a catch up and...to apologise." He looked at you, his eyes shaking. "You see, back when...that happened i didn't apologise and i just laughed. I recently kept thinking about it and was going to ask my psychiatrist if it was sensible to do. Then i realised that the day i kept thinking about it was the day i was sentenced. It was crazy really. But i decided i had to apologise face to face. And if you didn't feel comfortable then i would do it under supervision with something between us. But here you are and it kind of ruins it." He laughed tightly.

You stared in astonishment. This man...he looked so much like him but acted so different. Then you laughed in your head...of course he acted different. He spent four years in a ward. That changes people.

"How are you?" You asked quietly, hiding the hand behind your back to mask the shaking.

"I-i'm good. I've got a long way to go and I'm on medication for life. But i feel better. Freer. I'm still on a tight leash, relapses can happen and i can falter slightly but I'm...Im good, you?"

"I-i'm ok,"

"I..uh...i actually heard that Henry was sent to prison wasn't he?"

"He actually went into an insane asylum. He killed his dad Butch and the missing kids."

Patrick hummed almost dismissively and mumbled under his breath.

"Anyway," you smiled shakily. "I need to get back to my car,"

"Oh! Yeah, of course! It was great to see you again..."

You smiled and began walking away.

You felt slightly melancholy. This felt like closing a chapter of a book that you'd eventually loose and never find again.

This felt like a goodbye, an ending.

One of those ending that is the best outcome for all characters involved but not quite satisfying for the reader.

But you weren't the author of this particular book ...

#it chapter 1 #it chapter one #it #angst #female reader #male reader #patrick hockstetter #patrick hocksetter x reader #patrick hockstetter x male reader #violence #gender nuetral #sad #melancholy #domestic violence #bowers gang #henry bowers #fluff

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datawyrms · 5 years ago

Text

Structure

Dannymay 2020 Day : Bones Bones were a foundation. A constant one could rely on when making assumptions about a species. Humans had theirs inside, the small insects of the world electing for the reverse.

Ghosts did not have bones. The ectoplasmic entities could vary and change immensely, even when found in similar habitats. So of course they did not feel pain, they were closer to large glowing slime molds than any living creature. To be so flexible and be so vulnerable to changes in state simply wouldn’t work if they could not do so without painful feedback.

Which sounded logical enough, but Danny was pretty sure he still had bones, or more importantly still felt the pain shuddering up his spine when slammed particularly hard into an unforgiving building.

Yet they insisted ghosts did not feel pain. The screams and reactions were fake. A ghost could only pretend. They might even fool themselves, but every ghost could be forcefully condensed to fit in a thermos and not be in agony, so all the pain was an illusion. They expected pain, so they ‘felt’ it.

Did it matter if the pain wasn’t real, if it was real to the ghost? He struggled with that argument, both wanting to bring it up and possibly have Jazz back him up with all her focus on psychology. Yet he knew it would be waved off as a silly optimistic take. Ghosts were just monsters, and not very bright ones at that. Worrying about how his parents would be ‘hurting’ the ectoplasmic fiends should be put aside for more important things.

Would they consider the heavy choking weight that fell on his chest when he heard his parents had found another ghost to experiment on fake too? Maybe it was, if he couldn’t decide if he felt that way out of pity for whatever ghost it was, or if it was only selfish terror that hissed that could be him. Would be him, if they caught him. He just had to be more cautious, act faster.

He noticed the muted sounds more often now. The bones in their fleshy prisons, moving and sliding so people could move. The cracking snap of tendons, or the audible pop of gasses escaping when he cracked his knuckles. The way his Dad put too much strain on his knees at times, forcing the half ghost to bite back warnings. A human wouldn’t be listening for that, wouldn’t notice that. He couldn’t hear a difference between his own and his family’s. They felt real enough when curiosity had him probing inside his own arm in ghost form. He was only half ghost, maybe the others were different. Yet the argument hinged on how malleable ectoplasm was. He couldn’t explain where his leg bones went if he formed a ghostly tail. He couldn’t refute that being crammed into a thermos was only terrifying, not painful, and he doubted he had any structure like that. He couldn’t be that different. Not in a way that would matter.

“Danny, maybe you should consider telling them? Even Mom’s starting to catch on that you’re always on edge lately.”

He could only stare at her. “I can’t.” Can’t she see he’s not human enough to tell them? That the green that was ever present in his blood could be justification that he wouldn’t feel real pain?

“Danny, you know they love us too much to hurt you, if they knew they were scaring you-”

He shook his head “Ghosts don’t feel pain, remember? I can’t really be scared.”

She frowned at him, trying to catch his eyes as he instead focused completely on the tiles of the floor. “You know that isn’t true, you can’t let them get to you like that,”

“What if I’m wrong?”

“You aren’t,” She forced him into a hug, ignoring the seeping cold and how he muttered a number before hugging back. “You haven’t changed that much, little bro.”

How could Jazz know how much he’d changed? She wasn’t an expert. Yet the genuine warmth was comforting, even as it reminded him how cold he’d been lately. At least his movement had made as much noise as Jazz’s had. Something normal, even if counting the sounds of bones was distinctly not.

A ghost acts instinctively. It will do anything to accomplish whatever post-human desire caused it to form. A ghost’s structure does not depend on it’s formed body, instead it’s catalyst or ‘obsession’ will be reflected in how it takes shape. In this way, it is the closest thing these beings have as a ‘structure’, and it is as chaotic, messy and twisted as one would expect from a ghost.

It was strange to him that they could say a ghost’s mind had the most influence on them, while still stating they did not truly think or feel. Didn’t they feel the obvious itching contradiction in that? Though thinking ‘the bones are in your brain’ would probably be weird. He had always checked what his ghost form looked like after the incident with Clockwork, a habit that soothed his nerves when he awoke in the middle of the night with the reminder ‘I am inevitable’ ringing in his ears. Checking more often now, wary of changes he might not notice wasn’t that weird.

He wanted to be rooted, to be grounded. Stable, consistent. Firmly in line with the bones he had always had as a human.

Even if he knew he wasn’t all human anymore. He wasn’t even sure how human he was anymore as his powers grew. He could use more, do more without changing shape. Getting punched by Dash was almost reassuring. A real pain, a noticeable if not long lasting bruise. Still human. Still terrified it wouldn’t be enough when he was found out.

Tucker was the one who noticed the change to his ghost form first. One he had not even considered, not even thought of as an option.

“Are you really okay? How deep did he cut you?” his voice was higher than usual, rushing to his hybrid friend bandage in hand.

Danny had furrowed his brow at the question, removing his hand from the gash on his shoulder. It wasn’t leaking that much ectoplasm, his glove wasn’t that stained. “It probably looks worse than it is. Doesn’t really hurt, promise.”

Tucker had still looked disbelieving, but kept quiet until the wound was out of sight. Yet something was obviously still bothering him.

“Is something wrong Tuck?” His silence basically confirmed it, leaving him to fret over what sort of thing he’d managed to do to weird out one of his best friends now.

“Well nothing’s wrong.” The stress on the word ‘wrong’ was the opposite of encouraging. “Just uh. How long’s your skin been missing?”

“What?” he searched Tucker’s face for the hint of a joke, but wasn’t able to find one.

“Under your suit, I mean.”

That didn’t help. He looked down, grabbing the edge of one glove and pulling it up, barely managing to keep down the strangled cry of shock. No wonder Tucker had thought he’d been seriously hurt, with only bright green ectoplasm clinging on to cracked, faintly glowing bone in place of a layer of skin. He pulled it back sharply, not even wanting to think about how that had happened. No idea Tuck.” he forced out, trying to suppress the panic with a laugh. “Guess I’m really oblivious.”

“You want to just go chill? I can put homework off if you need a goof off bud.”

“No, no. I’m fine.” He wasn’t fine; he had barely felt that because he didn’t have any skin, what was wrong with him? “Just another weird ghost thing!”

“Danny. I can tell when you’re freaking out dude.” Tucker grabbed his shoulders, apparently oblivious to how completely gross his friend was for having a hazmat suit for skin. “You need anything?”

“My skin back would be a start but I don’t know where that is. Guess I left it in my other costume.” He couldn’t change back fast enough, one hand instantly on his arm as if his human skin would run off if he didn’t keep a hold of it.

“Sam would approve. Very goth.”

“Gross. The word you’re looking for is gross.” Or more like a ghost. Ghost’s bodies didn’t need to make sense. Only having skin on his face absolutely qualified as not making sense.

Tucker shook his head, dragging his friend along so he wouldn’t just stress out in the middle of nowhere for hours. “It’s not like anyone can tell, if you’re worried about that.”

“I didn’t even notice! That can’t be good.” His parents were right, he didn’t feel it because of course he doesn’t feel his suit taking damage and if they’re right about that-

Tucker snapped into his thoughts, clapping his hands. “Danny, look at me.”

He did, trying to keep his fingernails from digging further into his skin.

“You know we’re your friends no matter what, right? So focus on that for me, okay?”

Tucker had been there since the beginning. Same with Sam. Even after the future that didn’t happen. His breathing finally slowed, though he couldn’t get himself to relax his hand. His friend was still waiting patiently, though he’d somehow guided them out of the way of any other sidewalk traffic without him noticing. “I’m okay.”

“Dude, it’s okay to not be okay sometimes. You need another minute?”

“...Another wouldn’t hurt.”

“Cool.” He leaned against the building, glancing upward. “Games or movies tonight?”

It was just a distraction, a way to keep him from going back down the mental paths again, but it was genuine and it helped. “Should probably play something, dono what.”

“I’ll find some new thing so we can suck at it all night.” Tucker fished out his PDA “I’m vetoing horror, since I’m a wuss.”

The half ghost managed to crack a smile. “I guess I can survive that.”

His parents might be right about ghosts. About him, not having his own structure or bones. He did have people that provided that structure though. It would have to be enough, for now. Though he did not care to dwell on what would happen if those ‘bones’ broke.

#dannymay2020 #Danny Phantom #jazz fenton #Tucker Foley #my stuff #this is just weird #i was all there will be bones breaking #but no #the bones will break the boy #sure ok brain u weirdo

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sapphiewritesandstuff · 5 years ago

Note

I hope requests are open but can I have some fluff/angst with Teru where the reader is normally cheerful and outgoing hubris falling back into old depressive habits :,) I have been feeling quite down lately and I need some Teru comfort fluff

Omg I might have turned this into slight angst I’m so sorry-

While I was writing, I missed the parts of the request, and turned this into slight angst, so sorry 🙏 But aside from that, I hope this can bring some form of comfort to you! If you’re ever feeling down, don’t hesitate to message me or send something in. My inbox is always opened for you ❤️❤️❤️

Please enjoy~

Warning: Mentions of depression and cutting. Reader discretion is advised.

Minamoton Teru with a stressed reader who is falling back into depression.

Lately, you’ve been incredibly stressed. May it be school work, relationships, or your own emotions, everything seemed to be against you.

You deliberately kept this a secret from your boyfriend, Teru.

You two had only been dating for a few months, but in those few months, you’d come to learn the other sides of Teru others don’t often witness.

The vulnerable side of him, the soft side, and of course, his protective side. You fear his reaction if he learns of your recent unhappiness. You could only imagine his reaction; his misunderstanding of your situation leading to the eldest Minamoto boy hurting an innocent bystander in your life who he presumed had offended you.

And you kept everything under wraps, taking your medication and talking to your therapist about your situation (keeping some information to yourself).

However, one day, too much happened too quickly for you to handle.

It didn’t help that the weather decided to change from its previous sunny, cloudless form to a darker, stormier version complete with pelting rain and freezing temperatures.

It was dinnertime, and you could hear the impatience in your mom’s voice as she called for the third time for you to get your butt to the dinner table.

You clutched at your hair, trying to block her voice out.

The day had already been horrible for you. You had almost arrived late at school thanks to you staying up late last night, studying for a test.

Not only that,ever since you had started dating Teru, other girls would talk to you in a passive-aggressive way, always insulting you under the mask of friendliness.

“Wow, it must be so hard being Minamoto-san’s girlfriend. Messy hair is a no-go, crumpled uniform is not acceptable, and always having to keep up your grades must be hard!”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re so lucky. I mean, Teru-kun chose you out of all the other girls at this school. And no offence, but you’re hardly the prettiest nor the smartest at this school.”

You tried to ignore the scathing undertones, smiling politely and excusing yourself to the third floor bathroom.

Inside the last stall, you let your sadness out, shedding silent tears.

You could’ve sworn you heard a concerned whisper but you brushed it off as another effect of sleep deprivation.

But life has to go on and for the rest of the day, everything seemed normal.

You sat with Teru at lunch, letting him nag at you only half jokingly about recent failed tests.

At last, when you arrive at home, bag heavy with homework, the first thing you get when you open the door is your frowning father.

“I heard your grade in math dropped.”

At this point, you could barely blink back the tide of tears that threatened to flow out. Your dad didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, lowering your eyes to the floor.

Ignoring your apology, your dad continued, “What’s sorry going to do to fix your grade? I heard Okamoto-san’s daughter has full marks on everything.”

You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms.

“Honestly, why can’t you be more like—”

“I’m not, okay?! I can’t be more like Yua-chan because I’m not her!”

Pushing past your dad, you fled to your room, but not quickly enough to escape the sigh of disappointment.

Now, in the silence of your room, you listened to the pattering of rain outside, eyes constantly drifting away from your textbooks and back to a single object on the table: your scissors.

Before you and Teru began dating, you had been floating around the deepest, darkest recess of your mind for God knows how long. Eventually, with your beloved boyfriend’s help (along with prescribed medicine and therapy), you eased out of your depressed state.

But now, as the echoes of your father’s and countless other nameless students’ words tumbled around your head, your hand began to reach over to the sharp blades, ignorant of your weak protests.

“(Name), hurry it up, we aren’t going to wait all night for you!”

You snapped.

Blindly grabbing at the scissors, you brought the sharp end down on your arm. The pain failed to bring any reaction, so you stabbed, again, watching as bright crimson drops slid smoothly down the surface of your arm, staining the bleached white paper of your notebook.

Your door slammed open.

“(Name)! How many times do I have to—”

It felt like you were watching the situation unfold from a bystander’s point of view.

You watched as your mom caught sight of your bloodied arm and dull (Eye Color) eyes, your mom’s own widened, concern and regret filling her (Eye Color) orbs.

You refused to take her pity, pushing your chair back with a ugly scraping noise. You could hear your father’s footsteps on the stairs.

Grabbing a thin coat, you pushed past her, brushing shoulders with your unsuspecting father on the way down.

Ignoring your parents’ cries for you to stop, you yanked open the front door before running out into the unforgiving storm.

The rain pelted down on you, instantly soaking you to the bones.

You felt numb, from the cold or your jumbled thoughts, you could not tell.

Your feet led you to the one place you knew would take you in with open arms: Teru’s house.

When you stumbled onto his porch, he was already there, rushing out to wrap a fluffy, warm towel around your drenched form.

He said nothing, murmuring reassuring words under his breath; for you or for him, you didn’t know.

It was a blur, but soon enough, you were in Teru’s arms, a thick, fluffy blanket around you.

You could barely keep your eyes open, but when you looked up, Teru’s face remained clear in the blurry mess of the world behind him.

His blue eyes reflected the crackling fire in the fireplace and his blonde hair was ruffled in the process of warming you up.

You could see the conflict of concern, relief, and guilt in his eyes.

“It’s not you,” you slurred, burying your head into the crook of his neck.

Teru’s hand tightened around your waist, but he merely whispered in your ear, “Shhh, we can talk about this when you wake up.”

As if his one command drove all the tension out of your body, you relaxed, allowing the sweet embrace of sleep take you. But not before you heard his last barely audible whisper.

“I’ll always be here for you, no matter what happens.”

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun #jshk #teru minamoto x reader #teru minamoto #jshk x reader #tbhk #request

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ellana-ravenwood · 6 years ago

Text

“I want a divorce” - Bruce Wayne x Reader

Well. The title is rather self-explanatory. Hope you’ll like it ;) :

My masterlist blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

******

It wasn’t a rare occurrence for the youngest Wayne boy to barge uninvited in the Kent’s household. He’d come to play video games with Jon, or to just hang out with his friend.

More often than not, he’d stay for lunch (and of course compare every single thing made with what his mom or Alfred make). And though he never called to say when he would come, apparently thinking it uncessary to do so, he was always welcomed.

He was such a good friend to Jon, that neither Clark nor Lois minded. Both boys had a good influence on the other, as surprising as this might sound. Besides, Jon too, often went to Wayne Manor uninvited.

Though unlike the Kents, Bruce grumbled about it all the time.

Mainly because the kid always flew there using his powers. Your husband told Clark countless times to just ask and he would send a helicopter to fetch him…of course, only Bruce Wayne would think it reasonable to get a helicopter instead of his son flying discreetly there (he always made sure to land in the forrest next to Wayne Manor, so no one would notice him).

Yes, Damian was always welcomed in the Kents’ house, wether he was invited or not. Lately, Lois even managed to make him do the dishes, a feat that she was very proud of.

Oh and if only she knew that you were the one responsible for that change in your son. One day Jon was visiting and helping Alfred to clean up after diner, and you were thanking him. That’s Superman’s son “betrayed” his friend and made a comment about Damian never helping out when he visited his house, which made you scold him and tell him that it was the polite thing to do to at least offer some help !

You’d never tell Lois of course. It was better that she thought she was the one convincing your son to do it.

Today was one of those unplanned visit.

Damian knocked on the door (which should have been the first sign that something was wrong, as usually he would directly climb through Jon’s bedroom window. What was it with those Wayne boys and not using doors ?).

Clark was the one to open and was indeed more surprised that the boy knocked rather than him being here uninvited.

“Hello Mr. Kent, is Jon here ?”

“Mr Kent” ? Asking politely if his son was here and not just making himself at home by coming in ? Clark had no shadow of a doubt that this was your doing. You probably had a little conversation with him about the fact that climbing through people’s windows wasn’t very nice.

Only you, could make your youngest son behave like that.

“Hi Damian. And yes, he’s upstairs doing his homework. Come on in.”

“His homework ? Maybe I should come back later, then ? I don’t want to bother him, or you.”

That genuinely rendered Clark speechless. Has his best friend’s son been replaced by someone else ? A form of alien body snatcher or something ? Since when did Damian care about wether Jon was busy or not ? Not that he would impose himself if he really was, but homework ? Damian would usually help him out with it so it would be done fast and then they could hang out.

Clark was staring at the boy with his mouth open, not sure wether it was really Damian Wayne in front of him or not, when Lois walked past them and noticed the boy.

“Oh hey there Damian, coming to see Jon ?”

By saying that, she was expecting a sarcastic : “oh no, I came here to visit the neighborhood, I’m very interested in real estate” or something of the like, as obviously he was coming to see Jon. But she liked little snarky Damian, he made her laugh, which is why she asked him “dumb” questions on purpose sometimes. So she was very surprised when instead, he said :

“I was, but he’s doing his homework so I should come back later when he’s not busy. I don’t want to be a nuisance or anything.”

Lois stopped in her track. For a few seconds, she wasn’t sure wether the boy was serious or just extremely sarcastic (just like you). But after observing him for a while, she could clearly see he was being genuine. She looked at Damian curiously.

Which made the boy uncomfortable. Why were they staring at him like that ? What was their problem ? Were they having a brain aneurysm or something ? Should he just…leave ? Or should he make sure they were ok first ?

But before Damian could do anything, Jon came downstairs and saw all of them bundled up at the front door.

“What’s going on here ? Mom ? Dad ? …Oh hey Damian !”

“Hi. Are you done with your homework ?”

“Oh yeah, it was easy peasy ! Hey come on, I just got to a new level in « Cheese Viking » and unlocked new weapons !!”

Jon ran back upstairs, not even noticing that his parents seemed to be frozen in their place, staring intently at Damian. Your son stared back for a few seconds, wondering what got into them, before following Jon up.

There was a few moments of silence, before Clark turned to his wife and said :

“Did he just…Was he just being…”

“Weirdly polite and considerate ?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah. Must be (Y/N)’s doing.”

“Must be.”

They both looked towards the stairs where their son and Damian disappeared just a few seconds before, and looked at each other again.

Damian was always more polite and nice when you were around. It seemed like you had this positive effect on your family, managing to get the best out of your children, out of Bruce.

Around you, they always were more relaxed and happy, which made them act in a nicer way. Not because they were afraid of you and your wrath (well, maybe that a little, and it was well known that you highly disliked impolite people), but because you just had that soothing effect on them.

They just felt better when around you, which made them behave in a lighter, more optimistic way. To be honest, most of the time, you didn’t even make them behave in a nicer way on purpose, they just…became softer when you were around.

Clark always saw a clear shift in Bruce’s mood, when he was out on long missions for the Justice League and wasn’t able to see you for days, even weeks at a time. It always made him more…More like when he first met Clark and you weren’t in the picture yet.

He was moodier, less patient, more snappy and violent.

More than once Clark asked “how is (Y/N) doing ?” to Bruce when the man was being particularly annoying and harsh, just so that he would lift up his mood (and by extension, get off his back a little).

Bruce, as Batman or not, would always have a fond expression on his face, even a quick dumb smile before getting his emotions back in check, at the mere mention of you.

The members of the Justice League often used your name to defuze delicate situation with the Batman. He could get so severe and unforgiving, they were very thanksful for your existence and the way you seemed to, even when you weren’t there, make him soften up. Make him more human, or rather, allowing this human side of him to surface without him wanting to immediately suppress his feelings so he would never get hurt again.

Now of course he was still very much the intimidating and stoic Batman wether you were around or not, but he just had moments of...”weakness” (or strength, really), where his expression softened, and he let go of certain things he would usually not let go of.

He’d still stare dagger into anyone mentioning that fact though.

And this sort of soothing effect you had ? It worked on all your children too.

Dick got down from irattional anger more than once because someone said something like “what would your mom think of you right now ?”.

Jason stopped killing because he saw how much it hurt you, and finally came to understand his father’s point of view thanks to you.

Tim would get out of his « focused » mode (the moments when he was so into something that he didn’t hear anything around him, and would forget to eat and sleep) if he heard your name, and talking about you and your worries for him would always be a sure way to get him to bed.

Cassandra was less afraid to talk and show her emotions, when you were there. She felt safe and warm and minded less to show her true self.

And Damian…Well Damian was overall just more agreable and polite when you were around. Because you made him want to be a better person. He wanted to show you he wasn’t the boy the Al’Ghuls raised, but your boy.

One that was compassionate and that cared about others.

So yeah, he would be nicer when you were around. He was nicer overall, of course, compared to when he first came in your life…But he was also his father’s son, which meant that sometimes, he’d get arrogant, patronizing even.

But oh well, you never wanted to change him per se, you just wanted to make him feel loved and safe. It was a bonus really, that thanks to that Damian showed his true color.

He was never a ruthless warrior who killed without regret, and who wanted power. He was actually a very sensitive boy…but that of course, was a little secret between you, him, his siblings, father and Alfred.

He couldn’t risk others to think he was a total softie, which is why sometimes he could be a bit…well, smug and annoying, really.

Even with you, to be honest. There were times he thought he knew everything better than everyone else and drove you completely crazy. But he couldn’t be perfect. He was still a human. Of course sometimes he’d get on your nerve, especially as he was entering his teen years…

In any case, your presence made him want to be better, but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t sometimes act all smug and all (he was his father’s son after all...Plus, you too could be highly sarcastic, petty and cynical, not letting anyone walk on your feet, and a bit too brutally honest at times).

And with the Kents ? Especially with Clark and Jon (he always seemed to be a bit softer with Lois, and she was pretty sure it was because she somehow reminded him of you), he could be a little asshole. And he most definitely never cared about wether Jon was doing his homework or not.

If he wanted to see him, then he’d just invite himself in the house without worries of inconveniencing them.

So for Damian to act like he just did, unsure and worried he would bother them, both Lois and Clark were pretty sure you must have scolded him for some reasons…But oh, they were actually rather far from the truth.

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

“Are you okay Damian ?”

“Huh ?”

Damian turned to Clark and looked at him blankly for a few seconds. They were around the kitchen table, eating dessert, and the boy was clearly someplace else, lost in his thoughts. Damian answered :

“Yes, the pie is very good. Good job, Mrs. Kent.”

Ok. Definitely not the answer Clark and his family were expecting. It was clear that Damian didn’t hear a word of what Superman said, and just answered automatically to a question the man often asked him when it was dessert time.

“Um, Damian ?”

The boy looked up at Clark with a questioning look in his eyes, before the man continued :

“Are you okay ?”

There was a few more seconds of silence, where it seemed like Damian was pondering his answer, before he finally said :

“...Yes ?”

Which definitely didn’t sound convincing. And did not sound like something Damian would say. The boy was always so sure of himself...Lois exchanged a look with her husband and son, and they all stared at him. He didn’t even seem to really notice it, as he was once more deep in his thoughts.

It wasn’t like Damian Wayne, to be daydreaming that much and answering questions half-heartedly like that. If a question annoyed him, he’d just get very snarky and be done with it. But here ? Right now ? He suddenly seemed like a little kid who lost his parents in a crowded mall.

He was looking right through them, and a strange lingering sadness fell heavy in his eyes...Clark asked, once again :

“Are you sure you’re okay, chum ?”

The question seemed to surprise Damian, and he turned back to Clark. He just stared at the man for a little while, before answering in a low voice, almost a whisper :

“I-I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know ?”

“I-I came here hoping it would take my mind off of something. Playing video games with Jon usually makes me forget some of my worries. But-But it’s not working today.”

Touched by the fact that Damian came to his house when he felt a bit overwhelmed, Clark answered, his voice soft and reassuring :

“What is the matter, champ ?”

There was yet another silent. Damian was staring at his pie, refusing to raise his eyes because...Oh God. Clark, Lois and Jon quickly realized why Damian was averting their gaze, and they had no idea how to react to that.

He was crying.

Damian was crying.

His tears falling heavily on his piece of apple pie. Out of reflex, Clark reached for his shoulder and...And something very unexpected happened. It kind of freaked the mighty Superman out.

Damian jumped out of his chair and into Clark’s arms, burying his face in his shirt and sobbing slowly. What the hell happened, to put him in such a state ? Even during very difficult time, Clark never saw the boy shed a tear. Never.

“My-I think my-I...My parents, I think they’re going to divorce !”

He managed to finally say in between hiccups, and suddenly everything made sense to Clark and his family.

Divorce ? You and Bruce ? How was it even possible ? Clark never saw anyone as deep in love as you two were...What happened ?

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

The night before, Damian couldn’t sleep and whenever this happened, he would walk around the Manor until he would get tired. He would usually avoid going anywhere near his parents’ bedroom, for obvious reasons...But he was getting very sleepy and didn’t even realize his feet were directing him towards there.

Once he realized, he made a face and was about to quickly turn around before hearing anything that would make him want to vomit...When he heard his mom yell angrily, which was definitely not a sound he was used to hear coming from this room.

“Curiosity killed the cat”, the saying went. And Damian would soon realize that he would have rather not being so curious that day...

“How could you do this to me Bruce ?!”

He heard you yell, and you sounded so mad...Damian’s heart skipped a beat. What did his father do ?

“Come on (Y/N), you’re being unreasonable !”

“I am not ! You’re just being such a jerk, why ? Why did you do this ?”

What did his father do ?! Damian, ear against their bedroom door, was listening intently, his heart beating faster than ever. He never heard his parents fight, genuinely fight ! He saw them argue a few times, but they never yelled at each others like that !

This had to be serious.

“I had to (Y/N), and you know it !”

“You had to ? Does...Does any of this even matter to you, Bruce ? Do I matter to you ?”

“You know you do !”

“Then why did you betray me like that ? Why ?”

“Because that was my only option !”

“No it wasn’t ! You could’ve...you could’ve...You know what ? I’ve had enough !”

“You’ve had enough ?”

Damian’s mind was running a hundred miles per hour, trying to figure out what his father could have done to anger you so much ! It must have been something terrible ! And the tone his father used when he said “you’ve had enough ?”, it sounded like he was almost desperate...

“Yes. This is the straw that broke the camel. I’m done. I’m so done.”

“What do you mean ? You can’t be done we-”

“Yes I can. And I am. You know what Bruce ? I always knew you’d break my heart one day. I just...”

Damian’s heart stopped. What was happening ?

“I just never thought it would be in such a way.”

“(Y/N) I-”

“I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses. Any more of your lies. You said you would never do this, and yet...Yet here we are.”

“I’m really-”

“I said I didn’t want to hear you anymore. You went too far. You know you went too far. And I can’t find the strength in me to forgive you this time...I just can’t...”

“So what ? You’re just gonna leave then ? Give up ?”

“Yes Bruce. Yes. Exactly. That’s what I’m going to do. I gave you so many chances Bruce, so many. But you just never change, do you ? I hoped...I hoped I could convince you to...I...I was wrong.”

“Clearly.”

No ! No what was his dad doing ?! Damian wanted to burst into the room and yell that whatever Bruce did, he should apologies again and again, until you’d believe him. Why would he take such a cold tone now ? Why would he...Why ?!

Oh but Damian knew his dad better than a lot of people. He knew that when cornered, his father could swallow up all his emotions and become a machine. He knew that if pushed far enough, his father would push back with triple the force. And so when Damian heard the coldness in his father’s voice, he understood that this was it.

“I can’t believe I trusted you.”

“It’s not my fault you were so naive. You can only be mad at yourself, (Y/N).”

“How dare you say that to me ?! When I always supported you in everything you did ?!”

“What do you want me to say, (Y/N) ?! You don’t want to hear my apologies, you don’t want to hear the truth, you-”

“The truth ? THE TRUTH ?! YOU MEAN THAT YOU’RE A TRAITOR THAT HOLDS NOTHING SACRED ?! NOT EVEN YOUR WIFE’S TRUST ?!”

This was getting so out of hand. What did his father do ? What did his father do ?! Damian’s heart couldn’t stop from beating hard. What should he do ? Should he intervene ? But he never had the time to...

He had no idea what happened in there, but after a short silence, your voice raised again saying, lower than before, and clearly saddened :

“So that’s it huh ? That’s all you have to say then ?”

“Yes. You won’t listen to me anyway, no matter what. You’re done ? When I’m done too. I did what I had to. I’m sorry you got hurt in the process, but that needed to be done.”

Another silence. A heavy one. A silence so deep that all Damian could hear was his rapid beating heart. When finally, you talked again :

“Ok. So that’s how it is. Those are your last words ?”

“Yes.”

“Ok then...Well, I want a divorce if that’s how it’s going to be !”

Damian’s blood froze in his veins, as he heard those words coming out of his parents’ room.

Wh…What ?

A divorce ? No. No this couldn’t be ! What was going to happen to the family, if you divorced ? And what did his father do to make you want to divorce ? It seemed like it was only the day before that he saw you two be grossly in love...And it was the day before !

What happened ? Or maybe...Maybe it was all just a facade ?

Damian remembers reading somewhere that a lot of couples that want to divorce stay together just for the kids. Even if they can’t stand each others anymore, they won’t split up so they can raise their children in a “normal” household.

And that definitely sounds like something you two would do, if you fell out of love or something...Damian always thought you loved each others deeply, and that it would never end, but what if it did ? What if the love you both had for your children was the only thing holding you two together ?

And what if whatever his father did, finally broke this bond ? Finally made you want to truly leave ?

Divorce.

The word sounded awful in his mind. And he felt like he was about to cry...What would happen, if you divorced ? With whom would he live ? He didn’t want to see less of you or of his father because you two weren’t together anymore !

Divorce. No. This wasn’t possible...And yet. Yet as Damian heard your footstep go to the bedroom door, he had to face the truth.

Your son quickly hid in the shadows of the corridor so you wouldn’t see him as you exited the bedroom, as he was pretty sure he wasn't ready to face you just yet, after learning such an awful news...

You stopped at the door frame and turned around, saying :

“I’m going to sleep in one of the guest room. The further from you I can.”

“Fine.”

And on that note, you slammed the door shut and walked, without looking back, towards the East wing of the Manor. Indeed, the opposite of where your room was...

When you slammed the door, it didn’t shut off properly as it bounced on the frame, and so the door was still slightly opened. Damian peaked in, and what he saw convinced him that you and his father were truly going to divorce.

Bruce was sitting on the bed, facing the wall so that Damian could see his face. And he looked...broken. Sad. So sad.

It could only mean one thing. If you did divorce, it wouldn’t be Bruce’s choice but yours. Which meant...You finally gave up.

Damian had no idea what his father did, but he knew that he already hurt you many times. When he used to have his “dark days”. When he was unfairly harsh at times, too deep into his Batman persona. When...When...

Bruce wasn’t always easy and sweet on you. He could be a very difficult man to live with. But Damian always thought you could handle it, after all, you did for so many years...But he guessed that even the best snapped.

Divorce.

Damian hated that word.

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

After witnessing you and Bruce fight, Damian definitely couldn’t fall asleep anymore. He couldn’t go to you, or to his father for comfort of course...so he went to the next best thing, his sibling.

He went to his sister first.

Cass opened her eyes groggily, and was met with a distressed Damian...Which instantly awoken her. She sat up in bed and said, tensed :

“Damian, problem ?”

But Damian wouldn’t tell her yet. He guided her through the Manor, and to Tim’s room before waking him up too (way more aggressively than how he woke Cass up).

“Ah oh no I didn’t ask for licorice ice cream ! Please spare me !”

Tim yelled, jumping out of his bed in a panic. For a few seconds, Damian forgot the awful thing he just witnessed to judge the hell out of his brother...But just for a few mere seconds, before his sadness crept once again in his bones.

“What’s happening ? What is it ? Are we under attack ?!”

Tim continued, rubbing his eyes and looking around the room haphazardly, grabbing his blanket as a “weapon”. Until he finally noticed Damian and Cassandra. He was about to get mad when he spotted his little brother’s expression. The hell happened, why did he look so heartbroken ?!

An ancient “older bro” instinct grabbed his soul, and he grabbed Damian by the shoulders, looked at him right in the eye and asked :

“What’s the matter Dam’ ?”

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

“Don’t be ridiculous Damian, mom and dad would NEVER divorce, they’re much too in love for that !”

Tim said, wide awake now. Yes. This was just ridiculous. Everyone could see how in love his parents were. They always rubbed in in everyone’s nose, wether intentionally or not.

“Well I thought so too ! But then I heard them arguing, father said that mom was being unreasonable, and mom said that she wasn’t, and talked about wanting a divorce !”

“You actually heard her say that ? Are you sure you didn’t just have a nightmare ? I get super vivid one sometimes too, especially about our family breaking up into pieces...”

“No Tim ! It wasn’t a nightmare ! It was real ! A real nightmare !”

“So it was a nightmare ?”

Cassandra rolled her eyes and said :

“Not nightmare. But looks like nightmare, if really real.”

“Oh...”

It baffled Cass, that Tim could be the smartest of them all, and sometimes the most dense one. The girl turned to her little brother, and asked :

“What happened ? From beginning to end ?”

And so Damian said the entire story, of how he surprised their parents’ fight. When Tim still looked unconvinced, he dragged him all the way to the guest room you were deeply asleep in and...

Faced with the reality of what was happening, Tim almost had a full on panic attack there and there.

No. No no no. His parents couldn’t divorce ! With whom would he live ? ...No, he couldn’t even think about having to chose ! No. No this couldn’t happen.

Tim, when he was very young, already witnessed his biological parents’ divorce and...it was so destructive ! It ruined his chance to ever have a normal home ! Tim always been convinced that his biological parents’ divorce is what lead them to take all their bad decisions, what made them so bitter and dangerous, and what ultimately killed them.

Because they didn’t have that “other half” to rely on...And Tim was sure of all this, after he witnessed his “new” mom and dad being so damn in love with each others. Supporting each others every day, and helped each other walk on the path of life.

Without you, Bruce was but a shadow of himself. And vice versa. So how could this be possible ?! Tim refused to believe it. He simply refused to.

And yet, here, faced with you sleeping in the guest room, he had to admit the truth. You never slept elsewhere than in your shared bedroom. Never. Because neither you nor Bruce could sleep if the other one wasn’t there (you always repeated that to your children, kind of grossing them out at times).

You needed to feel each others’ warmth to sleep and yet...yet here you were, deeply asleep in the guest room. Did that mean you didn’t love their dad anymore ? And that Damian was right, you two were really going to get a divorce ?

Breathing heavily, Tim fell back first against the wall. His brother and sister rushed to him, mimicking what they saw you do with him whenever he had a panic attack.

Helping him find a regular way to breathe again...But the more Tim thought about it, the more he panicked. Who was going to soothe him if you and Bruce divorced ? If you weren’t there anymore ? But would he stay with his dad ? What if he went with you ? No, Tim couldn’t quite ever forgive him if he left his father alone, as Bruce was more prompt to fall into darkness than you were...but then, who would soothe him during his panic attack ?!

Cassandra laid her hand on her brother’s forehead, and breathed heavily. Slowly, Tim followed her breathing and calmed down. But he couldn’t move quite yet, so Cass sat next to him, and Damian sat on his other side.

“What are we going to do ?”

Damian asked, voice broken, tears slowly welling up in his eyes. Tim, still a bit winded, didn’t think twice before putting an arm around his little brother’s shoulders, and everyone knew this was a desperate situation when Damian curled up against him, as both of them were rarely affectionate.

“Don’t know.”

Cassandra said, curling up on Tim’s other side.

“What are we going to become ?”

“Don’t know.”

“Is it our fault ? I read somewhere that 60% of divorce happened because of the kids.”

“I read somewhere that 70% of couples stayed together because of the kids.”

“So either way, they’re unhappy because of us ?”

“Maybe.”

Your three youngest children, curled up against each other in the dark corridor, didn’t manage to reassure each other this time. They usually always were able to...but this time, they got even more depressed.

Divorce.

What was going to happen, if you really got a divorce ?

Cass raised her eyes towards the door of the room in which you slept peacefully. Much too peacefully to her taste...You always said you couldn’t sleep, if Bruce wasn’t there. And he always said he couldn’t sleep properly without you. So why were you sleeping so deeply ?

There was only one explanation to that. You fell out of love with him. Or something of the like.

And the word “divorce” suddenly became very real.

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

The next day, they found their father sitting alone at the breakfast table. When they came in the room, he left hurriedly, and went down the Batcave...this early ? This was odd.

Damian decided to leave for the Kents’ household, in the hope that it would take his mind off of things...But it didn’t work.

Instead, he found himself crying in Superman’s arms, about how his parents were going to divorce. And when he told the entire story to Clark, Lois and Jon ? Their faces said it all.

It definitely didn't look good.

Clark thought that if it was any other people, then it wouldn’t be so bad. Sometimes, your words could go further than what you really thought, you know ? Especially when angry.

Only Clark knew you. Both of you. Very well. And he knew it was neither of your style to get that worked up over nothing, and it was most definitely not your thing to threaten to divorce lightly.

And so, as Damian cried, all Clark could do was try to comfort him, knowing that if you and Bruce were really getting a divorce, that poor little boy would forever be heartbroken...

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

Damian came home a few hours after going to the Kents, heart even more shattered than before, as he didn’t find the solace he was looking for in his friend.

On the contrary, he only found pity, which was the worst thing possible right now...

When he came back to the manor, Cass and Tim were still there.

But this time, Jason and Dick joined as well. Cass and Tim called them, in the hope that they would have some sort of idea of how to fix things.

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

Neither Jason nor Dick had any idea how to fix things.

They couldn’t quite believe their ears, when their little siblings told them about the fight their parents were in.

“Well, couple fight all the time right ?”

Dick tried to say, hoping to find a positive light to put things in.

“Not like that. And not our parents.”

“I’ve seen them fight often.”

“But it wouldn’t last long. While it has already been a night and half a day right now !”

Damian said, anxious. The fact that he was counting down the hours since he last saw his mom and dad together was saying something.

“But lately they haven’t had time to see each other often right ? They were very busy ? Maybe that’s why they fought ? Cause they missed each other and were frustrated that they couldn’t see each other ?”

Dick tried, but instantly regretted it as he saw a look of horror in his little brother’s eyes because...Oh but yes. Yes, Dick understood instantly what Damian, and all his siblings, were slowly understanding.

They were putting two and two together. You and Bruce hadn’t seen much of each other lately, while you always made sure to spend time together...That could only mean that...that...

That morning, you were nowhere to be seen, and Alfred said that you apparently went out early. You ? Out ? Early ? Without saying bye to your kids ? Or to Bruce ? Yeah. There definitely was a problem.

Dick didn’t really know what else to say, to try and rationalize what Damian just told them. Because the kid seemed so serious and heartbroken, he couldn’t make it up !

Besides, what kind of sick joke would that be ? No. Neither him, nor Tim or Cass were that good of actors. They all seemed devastated. They were clearly not lying.

And Dick had no idea how to deal with the news. No funny jokes came to his mind, no way of lightening up the atmosphere. Instead, a big ugly anger started to rise within him...because how could you guys do this to them ?

Dick, when angry, lost all sense of what was rational and what wasn’t. And as he was trying to keep his fury in check, so that he wouldn’t make it worst for his precious siblings, he couldn't help but indeed forget the rational part of his mind...and forget about how this split up would hurt you and Bruce a lot too. All he could think about, was him, his brothers and sister, and how this would forever break their family !

And it made him so...so angry !

Jason hadn’t said a thing yet, lost in his thoughts. So..what, that was it ? His parents were going to divorce ? Just like that ?

The role model, the relationship goals he set for himself would just like, vanish in the air ? Years of wanting something just like his parents had would shatter ?

Did real love not exist ? According to what Damian said, you have had “enough”...but weren’t you suppose to be THE person who could deal the best with Bruce’s shit ? If even you gave up on him...Then who would ever take their chances on someone like Jason ?

Jason had no illusion about who he was; He knew he was a difficult man to live with too, but he always found hope, solace, in the fact that even a VERY difficult man like his father found love.

True love.

And now...now they were getting a divorce ?!

What could he believe in anymore ? If even the greatest couple he ever saw was breaking-up ?! Jason couldn’t let that happen :

“Well, it’s not by staying there and lament our loss that anything will get fixed. Do you guys know where dad and mom are ?”

“I think dad left an hour ago for the Justice League’s watchtower. And we haven’t seen mom since this morning...”

“Ok...Ok well let’s go up then !”

“Up ?”

“Yeah, let’s go to the watchtower. Talk to dad. Find out what he did, and try to find a solution to make mom forgive him.”

“Jason, she really sounded mad. And like it was the last straw. She slept in the guest room without problem !”

“So ?”

“So she...she might...not...want to be with him any-”

“Shush. We don’t truly know what happened. I admit it’s odd they slept in different rooms, and that it sounded like a really bad fight. But maybe there’s a way we can still salvage their marriage ?”

None of his siblings looked convinced, but Jason wasn’t about to give up on his ideal of love. And so he dragged them to the zeta tube that would take them to the Justice League’s headquarter.

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

As soon as they arrived, Jason’s convictions faltered.

Because their dad wasn’t working at a computer, or doing anything...instead, he was eating ice cream at the kitchen table, looking like a sad puppy.

Could it be that...Could it be that their mom really got enough of him, and was truly the one that was leaving ? What if when she left this morning, she decided she would never come back ?!

This would be the end of their family. And their balance could be so fragile...Without you, or Bruce, who were the center pillars of it all, everything would shatter.

Before your children could go to Bruce though, Clark reached him. He too, just came through a zeta tube, and he immediately spotted his gloomy friend.

After hearing about everything from Damian, he had to go and try to lighten his friend’s mood...

“Hey Batman.”

Bruce didn’t answer, not even looking up, continuing to eat his ice cream. When was the last time Clark saw Bruce eat something sugary like that ? Oh, right. Long ago. When you broke up for a short while, when Dick was still really young...Oh. Wow. Well this couldn’t be good.

“Are you okay ?”

“Oh yeah. I’m great. I’m a big happy ray of sunshine.”

Ooook. Sarcasm. That was...good, right ?

“Listen, Bruce, I-”

“Clark, I’m really not in the mood. Leave me alone please.”

Wow, this was serious. He didn’t even budge when Clark used his real name instead of “Batman”, and he just called him “Clark” too. This had to be serious.

Superman raised his head, and saw your children looking at them from afar. He smiled sympathetically to them, and turned back to Bruce, not ready to give up just yet.

“Bruce, you know you can talk to me right ?”

Batman glared at Clark, and Superman got the shiver...wow, if a look could kill right ? But behind the annoyance in Bruce’s eyes, there was something else. And Clark was pretty sure it was sadness. So he persisted :

“Listen, Damian told me what happened so-”

“What happened ?”

Bruce had suddenly straighten back up, and looked at Clark suspiciously. So Clark continued :

“Yes, yesterday night.”

It was the first time in his entire life that Clark witnessed Bruce lose complete control of his emotions like that. The Bat’s face fell, and he averted his friend’s gaze before saying :

“Ah. So you know.”

This made Clark utterly sad. This confirmed that something indeed happened, and given Bruce’s reaction, it must have been bad...

“Clark, I swear I didn’t mean to. But she forced me to...I didn’t...”

What happened ? Did Bruce cheat on you ? But this didn’t sound like a thing he would ever do...But what he said just now made it sound like...And now that he was thinking about it, and according to what Damian said you two argued about, the way Bruce betrayed you...

Maybe ? Maybe Bruce did go too far ? Clark could imagine him cheating on you in only one way. If it was for a mission. If he “had” to to get intels. And even then, it really didn’t sound like him. But given the nature of the argument, and what he just said...

Maybe Bruce did really cheat on you. Even if he didn’t want to. And that would definitely be the last straw for you, the last time Bruce put his “mission” before you and his family.

But wasn't this all “Dark Bruce who thinks his mission is more important than his family” a thing of the past ? Didn’t you already got into a big argument about it long ago ?

“What happened, Bruce ?”

But Bruce never had the chance to answer, as the zeta tube near your children started and...you appeared.

You seemed completely surprised to be face with all your kids, and started to smile at them but...but then you saw Bruce, sitting not far away, and you frowned, looking elsewhere.

Something was most definitely up. Neither your kids nor Clark ever saw you two act this way...Or rather, they did saw you do that before, childishly not talk to each other after a stupid fight, only, the fight you had the day before wasn’t “stupid”. And you seemed more serious about it all than usually.

Clark was about to try and pressure Bruce more so he would talk, when Jason exploded. He couldn’t keep it in anymore. He just couldn’t.

His dream of having a perfect relationship like his parents one day went up in flame, and the salvation he found in his family was threatening to break.

If his parents divorced, Jason just knew his family would never be the same again. That they would all go their own way. That...That...He couldn’t handle it. And so he exclaimed :

“What the hell is up with you two ?!”

This made you jump in the air, as you weren’t expecting such an outburst from Jason, and surprised Bruce too, who was already ready to ignore you and go back to his ice cream.

You both stared at Jason for a few moments, when you finally said :

“What ?”

“Between you and dad. What’s up ? You’ve been acting weird since this morning, and yesterday you slept in different rooms ! And apparently you rarely saw each others lately ! So what is happening ?!”

“We were just...rather busy lately. As for yesterday we-”

“Don’t lie to us mom ! Tell us the truth ! No bullshit about being busy or whatever, tell us what is really up ! And why you’re divorcing !”

You blinked once. Twice. And...You turn to Bruce. He looks back at you, and you can see he’s as lost as you are. You say :

“Divorce ? Who talked about divorce ?”

Damian comes forth and yells :

“You, you did ! I heard you in your room. I didn’t mean to eveasdrop I promise, it was an accident. But I heard everything. And you’ve been acting so weird lately…You didn’t even kiss father in front of us in days ! You were so distant lately ! And yesterday you slept in different bedrooms ! And you fought ! You said Father betrayed you like never before, and that you wanted a divorce ! And this morning you left without a kiss for him or us, and when you came up here you...you were about to ignore him ! It was clear ! And you glared at him ! And father is eating ice cream ! He only does that when he’s sad !”

Your children were now staring at all of you, and you could see on their faces that they were downright panicking. And sad. Utterly sad. And that’s when you realized that, this time...you might have went a little bit too far.

To your defense, you had no idea Damian heard you and Bruce fight. Or you would have instantly went to him. You give him a guilt ridden smile and...

Damian is sure of it. You really are going to divorce. If not, why would you look at him like that. Why would you look to apologetic ? It was clear that you didn’t expect any of them to find out like that, maybe you and Bruce were preparing a big announcement, which is why you slowly-

“Your father and I are not going to divorce.”

Your voice cut right through Damian’s thoughts, stopping them right in their tracks. He looks up at you and...he’s completely lost. What was happening ?

You looked at Bruce, who was slowly walking towards you, and then you turned back to your children :

“I’m um...sorry you misunderstood me.”

“What is there to misunderstand mom ? You said you wanted a divorce. Don’t lie to us please, if you are getting one please tell us.”

“I’m not lying Jason. Let me explain...First of all, we were really truly busy lately, and genuinely didn’t have time to see each others. Believe me, it was hard for both of us. Which is also probably why what happened yesterday was so...virulent. And oh my god I think you will all be very cross with us once you’ll find out the truth. Very cross with me. Um...uh...”

But you weren’t saying anything. Why weren’t you saying anything ? Between you and Bruce, you were always the one that was able to express things the best to your children. So to see you speechless was worrying...Were you thinking of a way to explain that you and Bruce will stay together, not get a divorce, but simply didn’t love each other anymore ?

Dick could only think of that, as he saw you struggle to find your words. Because if it wasn’t something important, then you wouldn’t find it that hard to say something. He never saw you having that much trouble to say something. This must mean that things were bad between you and Bruce...

Their father was next to you now, looking at you struggle, when he finally helped you out :

“Your mother was mad because she lost seven times in a row at Uno.”

Silence.

None of your children move, and it seems that they all forgot how to breathe.

Clark, who is also next to all of you (for support), feels like his brain just turned off.

Wh-What ?

Silence.

No one moves, nor speak.

What did Bruce just say ?

Silence. Stretching.

Minutes pass. And no one speaks. Nor move.

Silence...Heavy, endless.

It feels like years went by, when :

“What ?”

Tim finally asks, utterly confused, breaking this odd haze that engulfed all of you for a few minutes, as everyone was trying to wrap their brains around what Bruce just said.

“Your mother was mad at me because she lost seven times at Uno.”

“Yeah ok they got it Bruce, you don’t need to repeat how many times I lost !”

“Just get over it (Y/N) ok ? It’s just a game !”

“Oh ! So it’s conveniently just a game when YOU win huh ? But when I do, then we should have another game !”

“Oh my God we’re not going to talk more about all that are we ?!”

“Well you know what ? Yes we are ! We are ! Because that was the greatest treason of them all !”

“(Y/N), you’re being ridiculous again, and-”

“YOU PROMISED NOT TO USE YOUR +4 CARDS AND YOU DID ! Worst, you had two of them ! And then you had a reverse card, and then a +2 yellow, and then...You didn’t even give me a chance ! While you said you would !”

“You were always wining at that game, I had to win at least once !”

“Oh, so then you proceeded to win SEVEN TIMES IN A ROW with low blow like those huh ? It was sheer dumb luck.”

“Oh so when I win it’s dumb luck, but when the great (Y/N) Wayne wins it’s strategy ?!”

“I won’t be called (Y/N) Wayne for long if you keep going on like this, you-”

“STOP !”

Damian’s scream stopped you and Bruce right in your track, and made you turn to them. Somehow, as you both got fired up about a stupid Uno game, you completely forgot how serious the entire situation was.

All of a sudden, you’re reminded of it, as your children stare at you, disbelief in their eyes.

“You guys were...you guys were fighting that bad about a game of Uno ?”

You and Bruce exchange an ashamed look, and your husband says in a weak voice :

“Not any game of Uno. The ultimate game to decide all game. If I won that last one, it meant I would win forever as we would stop playing Uno and move to another game, and your mother is a sore looser.”

You don’t even glare at him as he says that, aware that this all situation goes beyond your stupid competitions. But you nonetheless store it in your mind, next time you win at a board game against him, then you’ll throw it back in his face for sure !

“Why would you stop pla...wh...HUH ?!”

Tim was understandably confused. Of course all this would only makes sense to you and Bruce. It was an old tradition between you two, whenever you both couldn’t sleep and were yet too exhausted to make love, you’d play a bored game. Something easy that didn’t require too much brain power.

It would usually tire you out to the end, and you’d fall asleep playing...however, both you and Bruce could get highly competitive, and more than once you spend entire nights playing and ended up fighting like children.

Only this always happened very VERY late at night, and rather rarely still, so of course no one witnessed such fights, were you both would blow everything out of proportion (to be honest, it was also kind of part of the game...you both knew you were being ridiculous and extreme, this was part of the fun ! “The make-up sex was always brilliant”. Sometimes, you two had a funny idea of romantic).

But of course, that, your kids didn’t know. And of course, when Damian heard you yesterday...OF COURSE he would fall on one of your worst fight, as Bruce really DESTROYED you at Uno (sheer dumb luck!).

You admit you might have gone a bit overboard. But it was because this was suppose to be your last few games of Uno before you’d move on to the next board game ! Of course it would infuriate you that you’d lost all of them ! Even more so since Bruce totally did some jerk moves !

Damian looked at both of you, and all the emotions you read in his eyes made you feel even guiltier. Poor little one, you made him go through so much with your silliness...

“But father looked so sad when you went to sleep in one of the guest room...”

He says, and you can’t help but say :

“Ah yes, well your father always gets sad when we don’t sleep in the same bed, cause he’s like an attention starved puppy and he-”

“Oh my God stop !”

Dick yells, and he’s clearly FURIOUS.

“Can’t you see how serious all of this is ? Damian, Tim and Cass have been thinking that you two were going to divorce since last night ?! Do you have any idea how hard this thing has been for them ?! Why would you two put yourself in such a state after playing a damn game of Uno ?! This makes NO SENSE ! You’re ADULTS, why are you like this ?!”

He rambled for a few more minutes, scolding both you and Bruce about how dumb it was that you’d fight that bad because of this, and you and your husband slowly realized how indeed serious this all was.

Granted, they could have just come and talk to you, and things would have been cleared up but...no. This was you and Bruce trying to find excuses for yourselves. For acting like petty children.

Because of course, in your children’s eyes it would seem like a serious real fight. After all, you rarely yelled at each others like that. And yes, you did really get carried away by saying you wanted a divorce, and by going to sleep in another room but...the bastard put a +4 cards while he promised he wouldn’t !

However, this time all thoughts of this stupid game left your mind (every game you lost was “stupid”, every game you won was “awesome”), as you listened to your son yell at you and Bruce.

When Dick finally ran out of breath, he fell in a nearby chair and grumbled some more about how ridiculous this all was, but he was also clearly relieved.

His family wouldn’t break.

The divorce was a false alarm. Ugh. Sometimes, he forgot that you and Bruce could be extremely petty and childish. Because you were always there, supporting your kids, and seeming so strong...That he forgot that you were also just humans, and had big flaws too.

Especially when it came to you. He tended to forget your bad sides more than his father’s. After all, Bruce had some pretty obvious flaws. But you ? You were good at hiding them. It was easy to forget how extreme you could be about some things !

Out of breath after yelling so much, Dick just sat there for a bit, beyond relieved even if he was still mad.

Cass called you both “morons”, which really meant a lot. She was definitely on the same level of anger than Dick was, as she would have never called you that if it wasn’t the case.

She left the Watchtower hurriedly, and you made a mental note that you and Bruce needed to go see her when you’d get home, and apologies deeply. You hadn’t realized that such a silly thing could be so devastating to your children...

But if they genuinely thought you two were going to divorce, then you could totally understand them.

Tim went to sit next to Dick, unable to say anything. He wasn’t mad, he was more...utterly stunned by how childish the mighty Batman and his wife could be. This would definitely require a long time to get over.

But he was most definitely the smartest of them all, as he made a mental note to use this entire event against you one day, if he did something that would get him scolded by both of you. Oh yes. “That time you made all of us think you were gonna divorce” would surely get him out of ANY trouble.

Damian stared at his parents for a bit, before screaming in rage, surprising everyone, and hitting his father in the guts to then proceed to hug you and him tightly.

Bruce didn’t even dare to say “why did you only hit me ?!” as he was trying to catch his breath after such a punch, and held his son too, trying to convey his apologies.

“My poor little baby...”

You whispered while soothingly running your fingers through your son’s hair, knowing that he always found the gesture calming. Your “poor little baby” was crying softly in your arms, the stress of those past long endless hours of thinking his family was going to break pouring out all at once.

When he finally calmed down, he tore away from you and said : “you guys are dumb !” before running through the same zeta tube Cassandra went in. You were pretty sure this two would sulk together, which was good...You didn’t particularly want any of them to be alone right now.

Clark knew you and Bruce couldn’t even think about actually divorcing. You two ? Well he knew it was true love. And though he definitely had his doubts as Damian told him some pretty bad things that happened the night before, and as he saw his friend sad and eating ice cream...Deep down, he knew it wasn’t possible.

Clark never saw two people as in love as you two were. Not even his love for Loisn which was deep and unconditional, could compare. He knew that. You and Bruce, it was truly meant to be, and it would just have broken his heart if you genuinely would have gotten a divorce !

He was so glad it wasn’t true. But was also utterly exasperated by the truth. Who the hell plays Uno in the middle of the night anyway ?! He walked away shaking his head, thinking that you and Bruce would never NEVER ceased to amaze him.

For better or for worse, really.

The last one to react was Jason. You and Bruce didn’t dare to leave and do what you had to do in the Watchtower, as you weren’t sure your son, the only one that didn’t react, was ok.

He just stared at you blankly for long minutes, and you were about to ask him if was alright when he suddenly bursted out laughing.

Which most definitely took you by surprise. Um...What ?

Jason was laughing out of relief. That the true love he imagined in his head was really existing, and that he could hope for it. But he was also laughing because all of this was just so ridiculous !

Him and his siblings had been worried sick, on the verge of breaking from the inside at the mere thought that their parents were going to divorce...And all along it was just them having a fight like five years old would ?

Oh that was just too damn funny ! And so he laughed. He laughed and laughed for a long time. When he finally calmed down, he said :

“Oh I swear. You guys are too much.”

You and Bruce weren’t sure how to take this, so you simply smiled at him. Jason, still chuckling a little bit asked :

“So hey, when I was a kid, and you said I had to go to bed and leave you cause you were going to play monopoly, and I was too young to play such a complicated game...You guys were truly playing monopoly then ?”

"Uh ? Oh. Monopoly. Yeah, no, we were having sex. Your mom hates monopoly.”

There’s a few seconds of silence, where Jason stares at you. Dick and Tim, who were still here, give you a “are you fucking kidding me look ?” and Bruce realizes maybe now wasn’t the time to tease them...But you can’t help but smile, and try to muffle your laugh as best you can in front of your sons’ horrified expression.

And of course, of course Bruce starts to laugh too. Now. IN the worst of moments...You two always laugh at the worst time possible ! Goddamnit ! Your kids were really going to get mad at you for a while, if you kept going like that ! And they would have every reason to !

Oh well, for now, you thought it was very funny, how they reacted to the discovery of the fact that “playing monopoly” meant you were having sex. You’d worry later about apologizing. After all, they were already super mad about this entire mess of an event.

Oh, miscommunication. It was quite a thing really. And as both Bruce and you tried to muffle your laugh, but not very successfully, it was clear that you had made up.

You hunched over your husband as your fit of laughter was playing around with your balance, and he caught you. And seeing both of you laughing together, and clearly as in love as ever reassured your sons for good.

But for good measure, they still left and yelled an angry :

“Ugh, you guys are the worst !”

As they exited the Watchtower, leaving you and Bruce giggling like teenagers.

Aaaah. Sometimes, rarely though, you two could be such children. And even if you’d take things MUCH TOO FAR, it was still always refreshing to see the both of you understand each other so fully...

Fin

__________________________________________________

I often talk about how petty and childish my main Batmom can be at times, but I never really wrote anything about it…well here we go. Like I said, there’s a reason why her and Bruce get along so well, they’re both so damn dramatic and reach such extremes at times XD. Anyway, hope you liked this ! (??) I wrote this very quickly, as usual with bonus stories. It was just a little bit of fun, a silly story not to be taken too seriously (she says, as to find an excuse as to why this is so shitty). As usual, feedbacks and reblogs are very welcomed <3.

By the way, this was loosely inspired of an ask I received from an anon’, but I didn’t put the ask at the beginning as I usually do because I didn’t want the “twist” to be spoiled.

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alindakb · 5 years ago

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Letters to my Parents - Monday 13 March 1995 - by Alinda

Monday 13 March 1995

Dear mom and dad,

Hermione has been having a hard time. People keep teasing her about being the thing that Viktor Krum would miss the most. Ron is being all jealous about it. He keeps giving Viktor dark looks from across the Great Hall during meal times. And it all became worse when the Witch Weekly came that week. There was a large article about the lovers of the champions. A large portion was about how I had seen very upset when my boyfriend was being held captive by the Merpeople. But since everyone already knows that Draco and I are inseparable nobody paid it much attention. No, the worst was how it named Hermione as Viktor’s secret lover. The article was mean, naming Hermione plain and trying to catch a famous wizard for making up for her own faults. Pansy was quoted in the article, saying that Hermione is ugly and that she would have had to use a love potion to get Viktor to fall for her. Hermione is pretending she’s fine, but I know her and she’s struggling with all the negative attention she’s getting.

Draco and I are doing fine by the way. I’ve had some talks with Ms Davis about that day of the second task. She said it was normal to fall back to thoughts like that, that it was fine and that it was a good thing I asked to see her straight away. She also wants to have some sessions with me and Draco together, to talk about our condition (that’s what she calls it, I’m still not sure how to name it). You remember the bond I mentioned between me and Draco in my last letter. Well, it’s called Corpora Anima Una. That is Latin for ‘the bodies of the soul’ and it means that we share a soul that lives in two bodies. Professor Snape tried to explain it all to us, but I still don’t fully understand.

We had to undergo all kind of silly test the weekend after the task. Some people of the Ministry came to oversee them. And Sirius and Draco’s mom were there. I think that was the first time they’ve seen each other in years. They first didn’t know how to interact with each other. Draco’s mom was extremely polite, just like Draco was in the beginning with Sirius. I made Draco laugh. I love it when he laughs. He’s so beautiful, mom. I want to look at him for the rest of my life. And now that we know about our soul bond, I think I will. I know I will never love anyone the way I love him. And yes, I know we’re only fourteen. But there is no denying it anymore, we’re made for each other.

But back to Sirius and Draco’s mom. They talked for hours once the test were all done. When they both witnessed how connected Draco and I are. I heard Draco’s mom say that they should forget the way they’ve hurt each other in the past and make sure that ‘our boys are taken care of’. I think that was enough for Sirius to open up to her.

The tests were horrible, by the way. I don’t want to talk about it too much. First, they did some diagnostics with us just sitting there. But after that, they hurt one of us in a different room to see if we would know. I screamed at them to stop and Draco told he didn’t do much better. Madam Pomfrey gave us loads of chocolate when the tests were done and told us that we’d done well.

Oh, I also need to tell you about something weird. Professor Snape thinks that Draco and I stole the Gillyweed and Boomslang skin from his office. I tried to explain that Dobby stole the Gillyweed, that he gave it to me. But that didn’t convince Professor Snape. He said he would have no other choice but to report us if we would brake into his office again.

We had a Hogsmeade weekend the weekend after that. We first went out with our friends. It was one of the first good days of the year, weather-wise. The sun was out and it was fun. Daphne went on and on about how annoying Pansy is getting. It turns out that Pansy and Nott have started dating and that Pansy won’t shut up about her boyfriend and how great he is. How much better he is than Greg, how much smarter and with more potential for the future. Hermione and Luna helped her to come up with ways to annoy Pansy.

After lunch, Draco and I said goodbye to our friends and made our way to the edge of the village to the foot of the mountain. We found a nice place to sit just outside the village on some boulders. We talked for a long time. About the bond, and what it means. How it explains how Draco had known in second year that something was wrong with me. How I’d felt so alone and broken when we weren’t together and how it made my depression of that year even worse. And the dreams I had, of Draco disappearing. We think it was because of the bond to. That I somehow could sense that my other half was slowly being taken over by Tom Riddle. It also explains why we always needed to touch each other, always linking our hands. And it explains why after we had sex it became less important to touch, but that we can sense each other all the time.

The sex thing seemed to be important. The man from the Ministry said something about sealing the bond. That when we became one in flesh our shared soul was healed, linking us together for the rest of our lives.

We both know we want to spend the rest of our lives together, but it’s still scary.

In the end, we both agreed that it doesn’t matter why we love each other this much, if it because of the shared soul or not. The only thing that matters is that we love each other and want to be together for the rest of our lives.

After our talk, we kissed and ended up making love between the trees. It was intense but perfect. I’m so in love. Dad, did you feel like this about mom? I wish I could ask you how it was for you when you and mom started dating. How did you know that mom was the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with? Were you as sure about mom as I am about Draco? I’m extremely happy and don’t get me wrong, but times like these I miss you. I know that one day I’m going to marry Draco and the thought that you won’t be there. Well, it hurts.

But now I’ve got Sirius. That makes it all a little better. He’s a good godfather. He always puts me first and looks after me. I can see why he was your best friend, dad. He’s a little mad from time to time, but that’s fine. We had a long talk during the weekend of the tests. He’s scared for me, I know he is. We deliberated about who might have put my name in the Goblet. Bagman was the first we looked at, but we both don’t know that much about him, except that he used to be a beater for the Wimbourne Wasps. Mr Crouch is a possibility. He’s absence all the time and Sirius doesn’t like him. Mr Crouch was the one who sent him to Azkaban without a trial. He was on his way to becoming the next Minister of Magic, but he wasn’t a nice person. He started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemort’s supporters in the war, even going as far as authorising the use of the Unforgivable Curses. And when Voldemort disappeared he would have become Minister of Magic if it hadn’t been for his son, who turned out to be a Death Eater. Crouch sent him straight to Azkaban too. The boy had only been nineteen years old and died about a year later. And not long after that, his wife died too. Sirius thinks Crouch wants to get his old popularity back by catching one more Death Eater. But it doesn’t seem likely that he’d put my name in the Goblet and put me in danger.

Sirius thought of Professor Snape next. Sirius went to school with him (but you already knew this, since you both went to school with the both of them) and said that Professor Snape was always obsessed with the Dark Arts. And he used to be friends with others that were Death Eaters. Sirius listed off some names, but I didn’t care. I told him that Professor Snape was just as upset as him when my name came out of the Goblet and that if it hadn’t been for him I might have killed myself on the day of the second tasks. If Professor Snape wanted me dead, he would have just let me drown myself.

Karkaroff is still a good option, but we both don’t see what he would gain with it. Sirius says he betrayed a lot of Death Eaters in the past and that it’s more likely he’s scared.

I brought up Professor Moody. I still don’t like him, not after how he treated Draco. But Sirius says he’s a good guy, always tried to bring in the Death Eaters alive. He’s not a killer, according to Sirius. So, for now, I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt, even though I still think he’s crazy for blaming children for thinks their parents supposedly did. But Sirius trust him and I trust Sirius.

So in the end, we still don’t have a clue about who has put my name in the Goblet. All I know is that in a couple of months I have to take the final task and this will all be over. Until then I plan to just focus on my schoolwork, Draco and our friends. Our little group has grown with one more person. Millicent did already sometimes hang out with Daphne, but ever since she helped with painting my nails she’s been part of our little group. She studies with us now and hangs out with us during the weekends.

And yes, you read it right, I said painting my nails. It was a little after the second tasks that Draco, Greg, Daphne and I were sitting at the same table in the common room. Draco, Greg and I were doing some homework while Daphne was painting her nails. And for some time I wondered what it would look like if I would paint my nails. Not in the bright red’s and purple’s Daphne paints them, but in Slytherin green, or something else dark. So I asked Daphne if she had any dark green nail polish that I could borrow to paint my nails. She didn’t, but she got Millicent involved who did have darker colours of nail polish. That night Daphne and Millicent tried to teach me how to paint my nails, but I’m rubbish at it. That’s when Draco pitched in and let Daphne and Millicent show him how to do it. Ever since that night, he takes care of the paint on my nails as I take care of his hair. So each morning I braid his hair and once a week he fixes my nails. Millicent showed us where we can order the kind of nail polish I want to wear. Some other students think it’s stupid that a guy wears nail polish, but I like it. And Draco says it looks good on me, so I don’t see any reason to stop.

I don’t have that much more to tell you. I’m doing good, even after all the heartache of the second task. I’m happy and school is going good. Having so many friends to study with really helps.

I love both of you.

Your Harry James Potter.

#letters to my parents #drarry #harry in slytherin #soulbond #soulmates #sirius black #goblet of fire #AlindasStories

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kewltie · 5 years ago

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"Go away," Kasumi hisses over another stifled dinner. "You've been here nearly everyday for the past two weeks. Don't you have a home to go back to? You're rich; you can buy, like, five houses!"

Bakugou stares at her across the table. "I think you severely overestimating my income, brat," he says dryly.

"Don't lie." She huffs. "I read your in-depth profile on Hero Weekly. You're the no. 1 hero in the country and you make plenty of banks last year with just sponsorships alone."

“This stalkerish tendency of yours.” Bakugou gives her a look. "It's disturbing how much you and Deku are alike."

"I did my homework because I'm thorough like that." Kasumi scowls, arm folded over her chest. "You have to know your enemy to win. And don't even think of dodging the subject!"

Bakugou shrugs, neither denying nor agreeing to the earlier statement. "What if I just like the food here?" he muses.

She gives him a doubtful glare. "Then why do you look like you're eating glass everytime you take a bite of something?"

"You don't like my cooking?" Papa asks, poking his head out of the kitchen where he was washing the aftermath of their dinner. Hurt wrung all over his face.

Bakugou grimaces. "That wasn't what I said—" but the rest of his sentence is swallow by Kasumi's interruption. "I love your cooking, Papa," she chimes in loyally. At Papa's shyly relief smile she swivels her attention back to Bakugou, pinning him in his place with a severe glare.

Papa always been sensitive about his cooking. When they were living with Grandma Inko she did all the cooking because Papa was too busy juggling multiple jobs to keep them afloat. Between school, work, and a raising a kid, he didn't have a lot of practice in the kitchen, but does he tried anyway. And she loves him for it.

Kasumi leans over the table and drops her voice to a low ominous hiss. "I will cut you where you sit if you hurt his feelings again."

Completely unfazed by her threat, Bakugou sits back and grins sharply. "I know you never finish all of the foods on your plate," he says coolly in turn.

Kasumi doesn't jump over the table and tackle him to the ground, only because Papa raised her right. And also, because she can feel Papa hovering close behind her back. "Is that true, Kasumi-chan?" Papa asks, the words catch in the air in an anxious hitch. "You really don't like my cooking either?"

She hops down from her chair and turns to toward him, finding she standing in directly in front of him. Papa's fully out of the kitchen now, wearing a concerned frown on his face, which always make her antsy. There are few things worth protecting in this world and Papa's smile is one of them.

"It's not that! I just have a small stomach!" she insists loudly, excuses tumbling out of her mouth like broken dam. Papa isn't necessarily bad in the kitchen. He just got a rotating stable of recipes that he uses again and again. There's only so much chicken kaarage she can take per week before she become sick of chicken.

A throat clears behind her and she sighs heavily before snapping, "What?!"

"Two days ago, I saw you devoured two packs of daifuku that I'd brought with me like a living garbage compactor and that was all after dinner," Bakugou unnecessarily contributes to their conversation.

Kasumi's hands flexes at her side. Here's the thing she isn't necessary a violent person despite her barbed tongue and the bruised fists because it's not in her, but Bakugou Katsuki is seriously pushing all her buttons tonight. He'd cut through all her pretenses and lies and waved it right in her face to mock her.

She'd never felt more exposed.

"I'm sorry Papa and you can ground me after this," she says, rolling up her sleeves, "but I'm going to punch him. In the face, preferably.”

Papa's eyes widen and he abruptly catches her by the shoulders, his hands clenching down to keep her in place. "I would really, really like it if you don't."

"But I—" she protests loudly and earnestly, bouncing on the heels of her feet, "what if I only punch him a little? He’s a pro-hero, he can take it! It wouldn't even hurt him!”

Papa shakes his head. "No, Kasumi-chan," he says. Staunch in his resolution. And as firm as the floor they stand on.

And that's all it takes.

Here is the truth she holds above all else: Papa loves her absolutely, there is no one in this world who loves her more than him, and he would do anything for her, but when he make a decision he's a mountain and he won't be move. Even in spite of her. And specifically for her.

For all the good of the world, it hasn't been kind to her and Papa. So on her worst days, she's a raging inferno as hate and contempt burns within her, but Papa is the rain that comes and washes away the firestorm in her heart. Only in his arms does she ever find her piece of peace.

She thinks if Papa hasn't raised her with such loving and gentle hands, she would have grown to be a spiteful and angry child, who rages against the word blindly. "Okay, Papa," she says solemnly, shoulders slumping, but firm. "Anything you say. I won't do it, but only because you told me."

Papa's eyes are bright as he smiles at her. And that's all she'd ever wanted.

"If you two are quite done with your melodramatic theater," Bakugou humorlessly drawls. And just like that her good mood is easily broken by that annoying voice behind her.

She rolls her eyes as she turns and scoffs. "What you mean?!" she demands hotly, dropping all pretense of her usual manners in front of him, but then again she never have any for him in the first place. She never use such an offensive and coarse language in her life, but her wild temperament is all his. Kasumi may treat most adults with severe politeness, but rarely do they get her respect right off the bat. Her respect has to be earned the hard way; they have to actually put the leg work for it.

"Aren't you tired of being leashed by Deku because of your temper?" Bakugou deliberates, cocking a brow up. "You act like a mad dog half of the time, yapping away at me and then Deku has to run over to calm you down. You sulk and he has to console you. You both get emotional over it. Rinse and repeat. This is honestly getting boring to watch." The glare of his red eyes is unforgiving as they pinned her down.

Papa coughs awkwardly as he tries to stifle a laugh, because of course he would think this is all amusing. He's completely biased. "Papa," she scolds, tapping her feet impatiently because he's her Papa. He's supposed to be on her side.

Papa winces and softly says, "Sorry."

Consoled, she snaps to Bakugou with an accusatory finger. "And you, stop interfering in our family matter, Unnecessary!" she hisses spitefully, venom dropping from every word that pass her lips. "I know what you're trying to do." She glares. "You want to break us apart by exposing me so you get your nefarious hands all over my Papa. Think again! That will never happen!"

Bakugou has the absolute gall to rolls his eyes at her. "Yea, because I have so much free time to fuck around and love putting myself through utter hell just to get in Deku's pants," he says, sarcasm so thick in his voice that he's drowning in it.

Kasumi scowls, arms folded.

"Just stop coddling Deku, he's a grown man and your dad so fucking treats him like one. He doesn't need you to baby his ass," he plows on, relentlessly and unforgivingly. "If you don't like something, tell it to him straight. He won't hold it against you for the rest of his life. He’s not that stupidly petty."

Kasumi bristles. "You don't know—" the rest of her sentence is cut of when a hand lands on her shoulder. "Papa?" she says, Bakugou's earlier words making her wary.

"It's okay, Kasumi-chan, you can tell me," says Papa. His voice soft and terrifyingly assuring. "I can handle it."

Chewing on her bottom lip in thought, she tilts her head back to get a good look at him. It's ironic that she could slay giants and face the world with nothing but sheer grits and the wits on her, fearless against everything but her Papa who made her feel like a hapless babe every time he look at her with consideration.

But when all she see is the warmth in his familiar green eyes and the encouraging smile meeting her, she says, "I do you love your cooking," and it's as true as she can be. Then, with consideration, she adds, "But not all the time. Maybe you can try a new dish every now and then?"

She may be young, but she knows that sometime love isn't some grand gesture, it's the small things that matter the most. Even if it mean eating chicken karaage four times a week and every week till she's sick to her stomach and couldn't even stand the sight of chicken anymore.

Inhaling, she watches as a gauntlet of confusion runs a course through his face. "Oh." He blinks. "Oh," he says as realization finally dawns on him at last. "I see." He smiles apologetically, touching the back of his neck. "Well, I can do that. We'll try something new tomorrow!" he says cheerfully. There’s plenty of sincere enthusiasm put into it that she doesn’t think it sound like he’s faking it. Papa always been a terrible liar, but that why he has her in the first place.

She lets out her breath, long and heavy as though she didn't even realize she was holding it in the entire time she was waiting for his answer. But. No more chicken karaage. No more chicken. Oh my god. All her earlier anxiety is washed away just like that.

Papa hums thoughtfully. "Now, what would you like to eat tomorrow?"

Excited, Kasumi opens her mouth, but Bakugou lets out a loud grunt. "Yea, okay, you make it as though picking up new dishes is as easy at that. Certainly not with your rudimentary cooking skill," he says needlessly.

"Hey, back off," she snarls, ticked. "You don't even know what you're talking about so don't start with me."

"I cook," he says as casual as one would be.

"You cook?" she says, doubtful.

"I cook," he repeats, folding his arms across his chest languidly. "Not a professional chef by any mean, but better than Deku."

"Liar," she defends, loyal to the end.

"I live alone so who the hell will put food on the table if not myself?" he retorts. "And eating out everyday is stupid and a waste of my time and money, so yea I fucking cook, brat."

Chagrin, she mumbles, "It probably taste horrible."

He narrows his eyes. "It actually taste fucking awesome, you ungrateful little shit."

"Kacchan is actually good in the kitchen," Papa chirps up, because he's weak like that. Always the first to come to Bakugou’s defense. "He'd learned it all from his father, your Grandpa Masaru, who is an amazing cook!"

Kasumi clicks her tongue in annoyance as she remains unmoved.

Bakugou scoffs. "Fine," he says, sitting up. "I'll bring ingredients over tomorrow and give you hell."

"And what if I don't like it, huh?" she fires back.

He shrugs, unbothered. "Then I'll try again and again till you do."

She snorts in disbelief. "I highly doubt that," she says. "I'm picky and hard to please but okay, you can try to wow me."

"Yea, I don't think it'll be that hard when you can vaccum Deku's shitty chicken karaage everyday, your tastebud is probably already dead," he says wryly. Her barbed tongue definitely came from him.

"Hey," Papa says, and there's a visible sulk in his voice, "it's not that bad! You ate it too!"

Bakugou's gaze flickers to the side as twins’ blotch of red rises to his cheeks. "Because I'm a fucking dumbass who really like you a shit ton so I put up with it for you," he admits.

There's nothing smooth about it, it's clumsy and cringe worthy to hear; there’s absolutely nothing romantic about it, but Papa, who is a soft soul, just melts under them. "Kacchan," he breathes, and it's entire world in tied up in the word

Kasumi grimaces, because ewe. Gross. And resolves to not get her stomach sick again with by their disgusting display of affection by pushing Papa back in the kitchen to hide.

Later when she's tucked up in bed with Papa and Bakugou had when home to his own apartment, she mulls over the entire sequence of events leading up to Bakugou's promise to come back everyday to cook for them until she's pleased, and buries her face in a pillow to let out a silent scream of outrage because she'd been outplayed. Hard. And nobody to blame but herself.

#bakudeku #fic snippet #kasumi in canonland

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thainews1 · 4 years ago

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Should Your Child Watch TV News? Surprising Opinions of Top Anchors

More than ever, children witness innumerable, sometimes traumatizing, news events on TV. It seems that violent crime and bad news is unabating. Foreign wars, natural disasters, terrorism, murders, incidents of child abuse, and medical epidemics flood our newscasts daily. Not to mention the grim wave of recent school shootings.

All of this intrudes on the innocent world of children. If, as psychologists say, kids are like sponges and absorb everything that goes on around them, how profoundly does watching TV news actually affect them? How careful do parents need to be in monitoring the flow of news into the home, and how can they find an approach that works?

To answer these questions, we turned to a panel of seasoned anchors, Peter Jennings, Maria Shriver, Linda Ellerbee, and Jane Pauley--each having faced the complexities of raising their own vulnerable children in a news-saturated world.

Picture this: 6:30 p.m. After an exhausting day at the office, Mom is busy making dinner. She parks her 9-year-old daughter and 5-year-old son in front of the TV.

"Play Nintendo until dinner's ready," she instructs the little ones, who, instead, start flipping channels.

Tom Brokaw on "NBC News Tonight," announces that an Atlanta gunman has killed his wife, daughter and son, all three with a hammer, before going on a shooting rampage that leaves nine dead.

On "World News Tonight," Peter Jennings reports that a jumbo jetliner with more than 300 passengers crashed in a spinning metal fireball at a Hong Kong airport.

On CNN, there's a report about the earthquake in Turkey, with 2,000 people killed.

On the Discovery channel, there's a timely special on hurricanes and the terror they create in children. Hurricane Dennis has already struck, Floyd is coming.

Finally, they see a local news report about a roller coaster accident at a New Jersey amusement park that kills a mother and her eight-year-old daughter.

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"Dinner's ready!" shouts Mom, unaware that her children may be terrified by this menacing potpourri of TV news.

What's wrong with this picture?

"There's a LOT wrong with it, but it's not that easily fixable," notes Linda Ellerbee, the creator and host of "Nick News," the award-winning news program geared for kids ages 8-13, airing on Nickelodeon.

"Watching blood and gore on TV is NOT good for kids and it doesn't do much to enhance the lives of adults either," says the anchor, who strives to inform children about world events without terrorizing them. "We're into stretching kids' brains and there's nothing we wouldn't cover," including recent programs on euthanasia, the Kosovo crisis, prayer in schools, book- banning, the death penalty, and Sudan slaves.

But Ellerbee emphasizes the necessity of parental supervision, shielding children from unfounded fears. "During the Oklahoma City bombing, there were terrible images of children being hurt and killed," Ellerbee recalls. "Kids wanted to know if they were safe in their beds. In studies conducted by Nickelodeon, we found out that kids find the news the most frightening thing on TV.

"Whether it's the Gulf War, the Clinton scandal, a downed jetliner, or what happened in Littleton, you have to reassure your children, over and over again, that they're going to be OK--that the reason this story is news is that IT ALMOST NEVER HAPPENS. News is the exception...nobody goes on the air happily and reports how many planes landed safely!

"My job is to put the information into an age-appropriate context and lower anxieties. Then it's really up to the parents to monitor what their kids watch and discuss it with them"

Yet a new study of the role of media in the lives of children conducted by the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation reveals that 95% of the nation's children ages 8-18 are watching TV without their parents present.

How does Ellerbee view the typical scenario of the harried mother above?

"Mom's taking a beating here. Where's Dad?" Ellerbee asks.Perhaps at work, or living separately from Mom, or absent altogether.

"Right. Most Moms and Dads are working as hard as they can because we live in a society where one income just doesn't cut it anymore,"

NBC News correspondent Maria Shriver, the mother of four--Katherine, 13, Christina, 12, Patrick, 10, and Christopher, 6--agrees with Ellerbee: "But Moms aren't using the TV as a babysitter because they're out getting manicures!" says the 48-year-old anchor.

"Those mothers are struggling to make ends meet and they do it because they need help. I don't think kids would be watching [as much TV] if their parents were home organizing a touch football game.

"When I need the TV as a babysitter," says Shriver, who leaves detailed TV- viewing instructions behind when traveling, "I put on a safe video. I don't mind that my kids have watched "Pretty Woman" or "My Best Friend's Wedding" 3,000 times. I'd be more fearful if they watched an hour of local news.That would scare them. They might feel: 'Oh, my God, is somebody going to come in and shoot me in my bedroom?'"

In a move to supervise her own children more closely since her husband, Arnold Schwarzenegger, became Governor, Shriver scaled back her workload as Contributing Anchor to Dateline NBC and set up her office at home: "You can never be vigilant enough with your kids," she says, "because watching violence on TV clearly has a huge impact on children--whether it's TV news, movies, or cartoons."

This view is shared by the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry, which states: ""TV is a powerful influence in developing value systems and shaping behavior...studies find that children may become immune to the horror of violence; gradually accept violence as a way to solve problems; and resort to anti-social and aggressive behavior, imitating the violence they observe."

Although there are no rules about watching TV in 49% of the nation's households, TV-watching at the Schwarzenegger home is almost totally verboten:

"We have a blanket rule that my kids do not watch any TV at all during the week," she notes, "and having a TV in their bedrooms has never been an option. I have enough trouble getting them to do their homework!" she states with a laugh. "Plus the half hour of reading they have to do every night.

According to the Kaiser survey, Shriver's household is a glaring exception to the rule. "Many kids have their own TV's, VCR's and video games in their bedroom," the study notes. Moreover, children ages 8-18 actually spend an average of three hours and 16 minutes watching TV daily; only 44 minutes reading; 31 minutes using the computer; 27 minutes playing video games; and a mere 13 minutes using the Internet.

"My kids," Shriver explains, "get home at 4 p.m., have a 20-minute break, then go right into homework or after-school sports. Then, I'm a big believer in having family dinner time. Some of my fondest memories are of sitting at the dinner table and listening to my parents, four brothers, and my grandmother, Rose. We didn't watch the news.

"After dinner nowadays, we play a game, then my kids are in bed, reading their books. There's no time in that day for any TV, except on weekends, when they're allowed to watch a Disney video, Sesame Street, Barney, The Brady Bunch, or Pokemon."

Beyond safe entertainment, Shriver has eliminated entirely the option of her children watching news events unfolding live on TV: "My kids," she notes, "do not watch any TV news, other than Nick News," instead providing her children with Time for Kids, [Teen Newsweek is also available], Highlights, and newspaper clippings discussed over dinner.

"No subject should be off-limits," Shriver concludes, "but you must filter the news to your kids."

ABC's Peter Jennings, who reigns over "World News Tonight," the nation's most-watched evening newscast, emphatically disagrees with a censored approach to news-watching: "I have two kids--Elizabeth is now 24 and Christopher is 21-- and they were allowed to watch as much TV news and information anytime they wanted," says the anchor. A firm believer in kids understanding the world around them, he adapted his bestselling book, The Century, for children ages 10 and older in The Century for Young People.

No downside to kids watching news? "I don't know of any downside and I've thought about it many times. I used to worry about my kids' exposure to violence and overt sex in the movies. Like most parents, I found that although they were exposed to violence sooner than I would have liked, I don't feel they've been affected by it. The jury's still out on the sex.

"I have exposed my kids to the violence of the world--to the bestiality of man--from the very beginning, at age 6 or 7. I didn't try to hide it. I never worried about putting a curtain between them and reality, because I never felt my children would be damaged by being exposed to violence IF they understood the context in which it occurred. I would talk to my kids about the vulnerability of children in wartime--the fact that they are innocent pawns-- and about what we could do as a family to make the world a more peaceful place.

Jennings firmly believes that coddling children is a mistake: "I've never talked down to my children, or to children period. I always talk UP to them and my newscast is appropriate for children of any age."

Yet the 65-year-old anchor often gets letters from irate parents: "They'll say: 'How dare you put that on at 6:30 when my children are watching?' My answer is: 'Madam, that's not my problem. That's YOUR problem. It's absolutely up to the parent to monitor the flow of news into the home."

Part of directing this flow is turning it off altogether at meal-time, says Jennings, who believes family dinners are sacrosanct. He is appalled that the TV is turned on during meals in 58% of the nation's households, this according to the Kaiser study.

"Watching TV during dinner is unforgivable," he exclaims, explaining that he always insisted that his family wait until he arrived home from anchoring the news. "You're darn right they waited...even when my kids were tiny, they never ate until 7:30 or 8 pm. Then we would sit with no music, no TV. Why waste such a golden opportunity? Watching TV at mealtime robs the family of the essence of the dinner, which is communion and exchange of ideas. I mean, God, if the dinner table is anything, it's a place to learn manners and appreciation for two of the greatest things in life--food and drink."

Jennings is likewise unequivocal in his view of junk TV and believes parking kids at the tube creates dull minds: "I think using TV as a babysitter is a terrible idea because the damn television is very narcotic, drug-like. Mindless TV makes for passive human beings--and it's a distraction from homework!

"My two children were allowed to watch only a half an hour of entertainment TV per night--and they never had TV's in their bedrooms.It's a conscious choice I made as a parent not to tempt them...too seductive..."

Adds Ellerbee: "TV is seductive and is meant to be. The hard, clear fact is that when kids are watching TV, they're not doing anything else!"

Indeed, according to the National Institute on Out-of-School Time and the Office of Research Education Consumer Guide, TV plays a bigger role in children's lives now than ever before. Kids watch TV an average of14 to 22 hours per week, which accounts for at least 25 percent of their free time.

"Dateline NBC" Anchor Jane Pauley, intensely private, declined an interview to discuss how she and her husband, cartoonist Garry Trudeau ("Doonesbury") handle TV-watching with their three teens, two of whom are fraternal twins. But in a written response, she agreed that kids need to be better protected from the onslaught of violence: "I was a visitor at a public elementary school not long ago, and was invited to peek in on a fourth-grade class on 'current events.' The assignment had been to watch the news and write about one of the stories. Two kids picked the fatal attack on a child by a pit bull and the other wrote about a child who'd hanged herself with a belt! They'd all watched the worst blood and gore 'News at 11' station in town. The teacher gave no hint that she was as appalled as I was. My response was to help the school get subscriptions to "Time for Kids" and "My Weekly Reader." People need to be better news consumers. And tabloid TV is very unhealthy for kids."

On this point, Ellerbee readily agrees:"I really do believe the first amendment STOPS at your front door. You are the boss at home and parents have every right to monitor what their kids watch. What's even better is watching with them and initiating conversations about what they see.If your child is watching something terribly violent, sit down and DEFUSE it. Talking makes the ghosts run...and kids can break through their scared feelings."

Adds Pauly:

"Kids," she maintains, "know about bad news--they're the ones trying to spare us the bad news sometimes. But kids should be able to see that their parents are both human enough to be deeply affected by a tragedy like Columbine, but also sturdy enough to get through it...and on with life. That is the underpinning of their security."

"I'm no expert on the nation's children," adds Jennings, " but I'd have to say no, it wasn't traumatic. Troubling, shocking, even devastating to some, confusing to others, but traumatizing in that great sense, no.

"Would I explain to my kids that there are young, upset, angry, depressed kids in the world? Yes. I hear the most horrendous stories about what's going on in high schools from my kids. And because of the shootings, parents are now on edge--pressuring educators to 'do something.' They have to be reminded that the vast majority of all schools in America are overwhelmingly safe," a fact borne out by The National School Safety Center, which reports that in l998 there were just 25 violent deaths in schools compared to an average of 50 in the early 90's.

Ellerbee adds that a parent's ability to listen is more important than lobbying school principals for more metal detectors and armed guards: "If there was ever a case where grown-ups weren't listening to kids, it was Littleton. First, don't interrupt your child...let them get the whole thought out. Next, if you sit silently for a couple of seconds after they're finished, they'll start talking again, getting to a second level of honesty. Third, try to be honest with your kid. To very small children, it's proper to say: 'This is never going to happen to you...' But you don't say that to a 10-year-old."

Moreover, Ellerbee believes that media literacy begins the day parents stop pretending that if you ignore TV, it will go away. "Let your kid know from the very beginning that he or she is SMARTER than TV: 'I am in control of this box, it is not in control of me. I will use this box as a useful, powerful TOOL, but will not be used by it.' Kids know the difference.

"Watching TV," Ellerbee maintains, "can makes kids more civilized. I grew up in the south of Texas in a family of bigoted people. Watching TV made me question my own family's beliefs in the natural inferiority of people of color. For me, TV was a real window that broadened my world."

Ironically, for Shriver, watching TV news is incredibly painful when the broadcast is about you. Being a Kennedy, Shriver has lived a lifetime in the glare of rumors and televised speculation about her own family. Presenting the news to her children has therefore included explaining the tragedies and controversies the Kennedys have endured. She was just eight years old when her uncle, President John F. Kennedy, was assassinated: "I grew up in a very big shadow...and I couldn't avoid it," she admits. "It wasn't a choker, but it was a big responsibility that I don't want my own children to feel." Yet doesn't her 15- year marriage to megastar Schwarzenegger add yet another layer of public curiosity close to home? "My kids are not watching Entertainment Tonight--no, no, never! And I don't bring them to movie openings or Planet Hollywood. I think it's fine for them to be proud of their father, but not show off about him."

How does she emotionally handle news when her family's in it? "That's a line I've been walking since my own childhood, and it's certainly effected the kind of reporter I've become. It's made me less aggressive. I'm not [in the news business] to glorify myself at someone else's expense, but rather to report a story without destroying someone in the process. A producer might say: 'Call this person who's in a disastrous situation and book them right way.' And I'm like: 'Ahhhh. I can't even bring myself to do it,' because I've been on the other side and know the family is in such pain."

A few years ago, of course, the Kennedys experienced profound pain, yet again, when Shriver's beloved cousin, John F. Kennedy, Jr., was killed in a plane crash, with his wife, Carolyn, and sister-in-law, Lauren Bessette. A blizzard of news coverage ensued, unremitting for weeks. "I didn't watch any of it...I was busy, " Shriver says quietly. "And my children didn't watch any of it either."

Shriver was, however, somewhat prepared to discuss the tragedy with her children. She is the author of the best-selling "What's Heaven?" [Golden Books], a book geared for children ages 4-8, which explains death and the loss of a loved one. "My children knew John well because he spent Christmases with us. I explained what happened to John as the news unfolded...walked them through it as best I could. I reminded them that Mommy wrote the book and said: 'We're not going to see John anymore. He has gone to God...to heaven...and we have to pray for him and for his sister [Caroline] and her children."

Like Shriver, Jennings is personally uncomfortable in the role of covering private tragedies in a public forum: "In my shop, I'm regarded as one of those people who drags their feet a lot at the notion of covering those things," he explains. "During the O.J. Simpson trial, I decided not to go crazy in our coverage--and we took quite a smack and dropped from first to second in the ratings. TV is a business, so when a real corker of a story like Princess Diana's death comes along, we cover it. I think we're afraid not to do it. We're guilty of overkill, and with Diana, we ended up celebrating something that was largely ephemeral, making Diana more than she was. But audiences leap up!

"I was totally opposed to covering John F. Kennedy, Jr.'s funeral, because I saw no need to do it. He wasn't a public figure, though others would say I was wrong. On-air, I said: 'I don't think the young Mr. Kennedy would approve of all this excess...' But we did three hours on the funeral and it turned out to be a wonderful long history lesson about American politics and the Kennedy dynasty's place in our national life.

"Sometimes," Jennings muses, "TV is like a chapel in which we, as a nation, can gather to have a communal experience of loss.We did it with the Challenger, more recently with JFK Jr.'s death and we will do it shortly, I suspect, though I hope not, with Ronald Reagan. It's not much different than what people did when they went West in covered wagons in the last century. When tragedy struck, they gathered the wagons around, lit the fire, and talked about their losses of the day. And then went on. Television can be very comforting."

In closing, Ellerbee contends that you can't blame TV news producers for the human appetite for sensational news coverage that often drags on for days at a time:

"As a reporter," she muses, "I have never been to a war, traffic accident, or murder site that didn't draw a crowd. There is a little trash in all of us. But the same people who stop to gawk at a traffic accident, may also climb down a well to save a child's life, or cry at a sunset, or grin and tap their feet when the parade goes by.

"We are NOT just one thing. Kids can understand these grays...just as there's more than one answer to a question, there is certainly more than one part to you!"

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ilovemygaydad · 6 years ago

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punk!patton is adopted by single parent logan part 2/?

part one - part three - part four - part five - ao3 version - masterlist (includes asks)

pairings: eventual moxiety, eventual logince

warnings: swearing, lots of emotions, anxiety, worry, panic attack mentions, patton’s an asshole (both intentionally and not), a tiny bit of accidental ableism, hurt feelings, food mentions, possibly something else

***feel free to send me questions or comments! i’ll answer them to the best of my ability, and everything is tagged under “punk!patton au”

here we go babey

for the entirety of his week-long suspension from school, patton just contemplates these icky, weird feelings that he’s having

because he thought that he’d gotten rid of them, but the way that he tried to protect virgil obviously proves something different....

before that day, he’d never tried to protect anyone before

it was patton against the world through and through

but then this... this boy in these pastel clothes shows up, and suddenly patton wants to protect him!

like what the fuck?!

he decides to pretend that these emotions don’t exist because feelings are too much fucking work

so he goes back to school like nothing happened

which goes totally fine because virgil doesn’t attempt to talk to him for the entirety of their first block

when the bell rings, however... virgil pretty much slams his hands on patton’s desk before he can get up, leaning in with stern expression twisting his normally soft features

(which is only accentuated by the still-fading black eye that virgil mostly covered up with concealer...)

“are you okay?”

and patton is just taken aback by how forward virgil is being--especially since he’s wearing a light blue skater skirt and gray long-sleeved crop top, which is not the epitome of sternness, and pat stutters out a shy “yeah” before virgil goes off on a tiny rant

“that’s good! i was really worried that you’d gotten in a ton of trouble with your dad for swearing at those parents, and i had no way to know if you were okay, so i kind of freaked out for the whole week. and, like, i’m really sorry that i got involved because it ended up getting everyone in super big trouble--especially you--and that kind of sucks. so, yeah, sorry.”

patton hadn’t been listening since the word “worried,” as he’d become entranced by virgil’s color-shifting lip gloss. he sees pinks and blues and purples as virgil talks, and he leans in just slightly to get a closer look

and it’s absolutely NOT because virgil’s lips look so pretty and soft pshhhhhh no

virgil notices that patton’s staring at him with furrowed brows, and he realizes that he’s looking at the lip gloss he’s wearing, and he sort of

freaks out...?

he flinches back and covers his mouth with his hands in one of his familiar bouts of self-doubt

“why are you staring at my lip gloss? does it look bad?” he rushes

and patton’s like

????????? what?????

no???????

and in an unexpected turn of truthfulness, patton says, “no, it looks really pretty.”

and for some reason, there’s a weird, fluttery feeling in patton’s chest when virgil takes his hands away from his face and smiles

[john mulaney voice] now we don’t have time to unpack all of that!

luckily enough, patton is saved from having to deal with the emotions when the warning bell for passing time rings, and both teenagers rush to scoop up their things and go to their next classes

even luckier, patton doesn’t have his next three classes with virgil, so he doesn’t have to think about his--gross--emotions

but then

lunch time rolls around

and patton hadn’t prepared for how absolutely fucking awful that mess would be!

as soon as he walks into the cafeteria, he’s accosted by so many noises and smells

he tries to leave, but the lunch monitor tells him that the kids aren’t allowed to leave once they enter until the end bell rings, which is such bullshit, but patton really doesn’t need another tick on his permanent record

clutching the brown bagged lunch in his fist, he scans the cafeteria for somewhere to sit and finds virgil sitting at an otherwise empty table near the trash cans

with a groan, patton makes his way over and plops himself across from virgil, who squeaks at the sudden companion and nearly drops his phone to the floor in surprise

“do you not have a lunch?” patton asks, choosing to ignore the fumble

“ah, no. i can’t eat the school lunches because i have celiac disease, so i usually just sit here on my phone”

with probably more force than necessary, patton tore the top off of his lunch bag and pulled out an apple, holding it out to virgil as he ordered, “eat it”

virgil hesitated for a second, but ultimately took the apple and bit into it, wincing as lip gloss got all over the skin

patton smiles gently and says a quick thanks to virgil before digging into his own lunch

they exchange a bit of banter, and all is going well and good until patton gets curious

“why do you dress like that?”

virgil freezes in his spot, and an emotion flashes on his face that patton deciphers just a few moments too late

“i--i’m sorry, i’ve got to go!” virgil mutters, leaving the half-eaten apple on the table and running from the cafeteria, ignoring the angered shouts of the lunch monitor

patton only spends a few seconds staring at the doors that virgil ran out of before he turns back to his lunch and shrugs. it’s not like he was really that into making friends at school. and he was already planning on sitting in the library for lunch

he didn’t care

he really didn’t

he didn’t!

patton pretends not to notice the fact that virgil’s name is called in several of his last few classes, but the quiet boy isn’t there

later that night after dinner, logan is sitting at the kitchen table grading some homework assignments from his first graders

“grading” being used very lightly. he was mostly looking to see if they actually followed the minimal instructions on their writing sheet

but then the doorbell rang, which was confusing for logan because he wasn’t expecting any visitors

he walks the few meters to the door and opens it

standing outside is a man in a slouchy hat and very... colorful clothes

“hi, are you logan summers?” the man asks in an odd accent that logan can’t place

“yes, and you are...?”

“roman sanders. my son, virgil, goes to the same school as patton”

and logan is internally going oh shit what the hell did patton do now

on the outside, he simply says “do you want to come in? it’s a bit chilly, and i’d rather not cause a draft.”

roman nods and steps inside, and logan closes the door. he leads his “guest” to the living room where they can talk in comfort.

“did patton do something to virgil?” logan blurted out as soon as they were seated

“sorry, can you repeat that? you were talking too fast for me to read your lips.” roman gave a lighthearted laugh and took off his hat to reveal a mess of brown hair that didn’t quite cover the bright red hearing aids that wrapped around his ears

which would explain why his speech was different. he couldn’t actually hear what the sounds were supposed to be like

logan felt like an idiot

“my apologies. i just asked if patton did something to upset virgil. he isn’t the most... gentle person.”

roman’s smile turns to a grimace “virgil called me in the middle of the day to ask me to pick him up from school. i was lucky enough that all of my patients had scheduled for the morning, and i was able to get to the school without feeling guilty about cancelling someone’s session last minute. when i got to the school, virgil was sobbing. virgil likes wearing gender non-conforming clothing, and apparently patton asked why he liked to dress the way he did, and it spooked the poor kid. i was hoping to clear some things up so virgil would feel better.” (roman is a therapist)

logan

well

he was kinda pissed

patton of all people shouldn’t be judging others for dressing against the norm, since he did the exact same thing!

he quickly excused himself and dragged (figuratively, though he would have resorted to fireman carrying the teenager if he’d refused) patton to the living room to talk to roman

introductions happened blah blah blah and roman asks what patton did to upset virgil

and patton’s like “i was curious about his clothing style????”

roman kind of just narrows his eyes at patton and says “i want to know exactly what you asked before i make an assumption on what to do. words can trigger emotional responses depending on the person, especially with added influence of tone.”

logan will never admit that he’s surprised at how intelligent this man is

and how he’s a little bit attracted to him

and patton being patton said, “i just asked, ‘why do you dress like that’ and he got all upset! it’s not my fault he got offended by my curiosity”

logan pinches the bridge of his nose, and roman pulls out his phone

“we’re calling virgil, and you’re going to apologize to him”

roman starts a facetime call with virgil, and signs “hey, starlight! i have someone here who wants to talk to you.”

virgil both audibly says and signs “who?”

it sounds like he’d been crying

roman turns the phone so that it’s facing patton, who just crosses his arms and turns his face so that he doesn’t have to see virgil

“patton,” logan says in his Dad Voice. “apologize”

and then patton glances at the screen and sees virgil’s red nose and the tear tracks down his cheeks and how bad virgil looks, and he breaks

his voice is quiet and shy as he says “i’m really sorry for upsetting you. i was just curious as to why you chose such a unique style in an often unforgiving environment. i should have worded my question better”

patton peeks over at virgil, who seems to contemplate the apology for a few seconds before saying “i forgive you” with the tiniest baby smile that makes patton’s heart melt

and they both kind of seem to forget their dads are there until the phone is turned back to roman, who took the smiles and not speaking as a cue to take the call back

“i love you” he signs to virgil

“love you too,” virgil says (and presumably signs) “but please don’t hunt down every person who hurts me and do this. you’re lucky that i didn’t catch you, dad, because i would have kicked your ass before you would have left the house”

roman smiles, and patton lets out a surprised laugh because he didn’t think that someone as cute as virgil could physically swear

“dad, can you give the phone over to patton and let me talk to him in private for a few minutes?”

roman hands the phone over and follows logan into the next room (where logan definitely isn’t eavesdropping and relaying all of the information to roman)

“so,” virgil starts as soon as patton gives him an all clear “i wanted to explain to you why i dress the way i do even though it’s really simple: i just like the soft fabrics and colors. they make me feel much happier than when i tried to fit in with the other kids by wearing hypermasculine clothing.”

“that’s valid,” patton says because he doesn’t really know what else to say

“why do you dress in all dark colors and edgy clothing?”

patton hadn’t thought about virgil reversing the question on him, but he feels compelled to answer

so he does

he talks about his life at the orphanage and how he shut himself off from the world. he knew that people didn’t like him for his emotions, so he just tried storing most of them away and pushing others out of his personal space. he lashed out so easily because he was lonely but didn’t know how to properly express his emotions

and by the end of the explanation, virgil is a little teary, and he says “patton, you are far more lovable than you think. i’m sorry that the world told you otherwise”

and now patton is crying a bit, and they kind of just sit there for a second and take in their emotions

for once, patton doesn’t try to mash them down

the parents come in a few minutes later when the kids calmed down, and roman took his leave, but patton doesn’t forget to say goodbye to virgil first

and he’s actually kind of looking forward to seeing virgil the next day, even though he won’t admit it

to be continued in.... PART THREE

okay so here’s the thing fam... so many of you asked to be tagged that i don’t know if i’m going to be able to fit everyone. literally. SO if your name isn’t on here, or you notice someone whose name isn’t on here that asked, i’m sorry, but i literally can’t do anything about it. it will take me years to tag everyone even with infinite tags. the amount of love this has received is great, but i am human

tag list: @residentanchor @eeveeawesome @xionical @absolutesandersidestrash @stormcrawler75 @musikasworld @ironwoman359 @a-weirdo-with-a-computer @thegaypotatoroyalty707 @darkrainbow333 @ravenclawunicorn1 @noahlovescoffee @whymustibedraggedintofandomhell @romansleftshoulderpad @still-waiting-for-cookies @emounicorn2006 @lana--22 @angels-ofthe-sea @demonickittykat @lonelysoul43 @the-virgil-mary @five-second-cookies @noisywolfbatbakery @band-be-boss-blog @heck-im-lost @lamp-calm-sanders @patton-e @knightofbloodcancer @cloudchaser7 @really-sleep-deprived-nerd @era-eclipsed @khadij-al-kubra @anxiousmorality @are-you-really-sure-about-that @today-only-happens-once @notalwaysthevillian @backatthebein @sunshineandteddybears @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @emo-sanders-sides-loving-unicorn @dodos-in-damnation @some-lost-meme-boi @dead4sevenyears @spookyingarbageisland @the-poison-apple-of-art @radioactivehelena @the-melody-of-eliza @im-a-mess-aaaaaa @whycantihavemorethan32characters

#m writes things #moxiety #logince #patton sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #punk!patton au

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