#somehow this is even more painful than the normal wait for mail

[umilily]

save me pakige save- oh i put my parents address... nevermind...

[vvh1sk3y]

Headcannons on Simon Riley being a first time father! 😻

character(s): simon "ghost" riley, afab!reader

warning(s): pregnancy?

for a long time simon did not want to be a father, he always told himself he would never be capable of doing so in fear of somehow being like his own father

when he found out you were pregnant, he put his worries and doubts aside, he knew that things would work out

he worried over every little thing, if you were a little tired, throwing up, sore, swollen, he was in panic mode even you told him these things were normal.

when you went into labor simon made sure to be there the entire time, he absolutely hated seeing you in pain to the point where he was almost yelling at the nurses there at one point.

once your baby arrived, a little girl, simon balled. you had seen him cry before, but nothing like this. he couldn’t believe the both of you had made a little human.

just like when you were pregnant, every little thing your daughter did- cry, puke, maybe have a bad diaper- simon would overthink and become a nervous wreck.

simon learned how to control his temper a bit more and vowed to never yell at his daughter.

as you and simon’s daughter grew older, she became very attached to him. going away for work was harder than before, as he couldn’t always call or communicate with you and your daughter.

some nights you’d wake up to her crying asking to see simon, and you’d have to explain it would be a while before her father would be home.

the second simon was home? the man had no personal space. she would follow him around everywhere he went, she’d wait for him outside the bathroom, if he went out to get the mail she’d follow, but of course simon didn’t mind.

when his daughter was nine, he taught her how to shoot a gun (without telling you of course)

simon made sure to teach your daughter as many valuable lessons as possible, he didn’t want her to end up like him.

after being seriously injured on a mission away, it made simon realize he really wanted to leave his life in the military behind and become a family man, he had a long talk with price that day.

he burned all but one of his masks and most of his military stuff, hoping to be able to leave that life behind him once and for all.

[kpopimaginings]

Stray Kids Reaction (Maknae Line) - Finding you after/during an attempt

TRIGGER WARNING: Do not read any further if you may be triggered by stories about suicide, mental health, depression, anxiety. (If there are any TW tags that you have blocked and I haven’t used, tell me! I will add them)

I would also like to make it clear that in none of scenarios is what happens actually because of the members. It is written from their perspectives where they may blame themselves, but that is not how depression normally works.

Hyung line: Part 1 - Part 2

Maknae line: Part 1 - Part 2

There will be a part two (which could also stand alone) of the super fluff that happens when he can properly talk to you/take care of you after.

Han

Both of you had your own mental health battles going on but were very mindful of each other. You were always making an effort to check-in when you were apart. Even if you missed each other's calls, you would text or call back as soon as possible. Particularly with you knowing Han's anxieties, you didn't like to leave him waiting too long.

With both of you having your own lives, you quickly realised the best way to avoid added stress was to have a set time to check in with one another. That's why it surprised Han so much when you didn't answer his call.

"Hey, angel, it's your boyfriend," he said to your voice mail, "Just let me know you're good when you get a second."

After hanging up he couldn't help but constantly check his phone, waiting for a call back, a text, anything.

When there had been no contact after about 5 minutes, he called again. The longer the dial tone sounded the more anxious he became. With the phone still pressed to his ear he awkwardly pulled his shoes on with one hand before rushing out.

He was grateful your apartment was so close as he continued to call, hanging up and redialling every time your voicemail began. Until one time when the dial tone cut quicker than normal. He called out your name before realising there was no sound. Pausing briefly, he looked at the screen. You had terminated the call. You were with your phone but ignoring him.

The anxious adrenaline kicked up a gear as he gave up calling and all but sprinted the rest of the way to your building, cursing under his breath. He thanked his brain for remembering the entry code despite the panic as he bypassed the lift to dash up the stairs.

Once again, the numbers were pressed on autopilot as he reached your door, swinging it open with no thoughts of closing it. His heart felt like it would burst through his chest as he ran to your bathroom entering immediately to find you struggling with the childproof cap on a bottle of pills.

Quickly noticing the bottle of vodka you had on the sink beside you he knew his panic was justified. Darting forward he grabbed for the pills in your hands.

"No!" you shouted, fighting for them. "No! Let go."

This was a battle you were both determined to win. In the midst of the struggle, you somehow got the lid off, causing your arm to jolt back knocking the alcohol bottle off the sink. Pills clattered to the floor amid the vodka and broken glass. You sunk to your knees scrambling to gather the tablets up. Your breaths were laboured and frantic, your brain unable to register the pain from the cuts the shattered glass inflicted on your hands and knees.

Han continued to call your name, desperate to break through whatever had taken a hold of you. There was no acknowledgement from you from you as you picked up glass alongside the medication and raising your hand to your mouth.

Realising what was happening Han smacked your hand causing you to drop them. Rushing behind you, he grabbed your wrists pinning them to your chest and lifting you to drag you out of the room. You fought against his grip as you cried and shouted.

"What are you doing?" you screamed. "Put me down! Just leave me alone."

Once you were out in the hallway, safe from all the glass, he sat on the floor and wrapped himself around you to stop you getting away. As you slowly start to calm down, your cries becoming quiet sobs, Han felt it was safe enough to remove one of his arms from around you to reach for his phone and call an abulance.

As Han spoke to the operator, you finally stilled now drained of energy. You just sat in a haze for a moment, not focussing on anything around you, sight or sound. When your boyfriend had finished his call and felt safe to let go of you, he moved into your field of vision and started to tap your leg in an unpredictable pattern to ground you.

You gradually became more aware of your surroundings and the first thing you noticed was the bloodstains on your boyfriend.

"Babe, what happened?" you asked, concerned.

Han simply stared at you, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"Are you bleeding?" As you reached out to him, you started to feel the pain from the cuts on your hands.

You looked down at your open palms, realisation hitting you as you thought over what had happened. Tears began to fill your eyes again.

"I'm so sorry," you managed to tell Han.

He simply sat next to you and cradled you in his arms.

"I just can't do this anymore," you sobbed as he held you close.

Han was fighting back his own tears now. What more could he possibly do for you? He'd done everything he could think of to help you and be there for you, but now what? You were giving up?

Felix

Felix knew you'd been feeling a bit down lately so when you disappeared upstairs mumbling about a bath he'd brushed it off as you needing some 'me time' and left you to it. He simply laid down on the sofa and pulled his phone out calling Hyunjin. The sound of the older boy answering in English made him smile.

"I thought you had plans tonight Lixie. Is everything all right?" Hyunjin asked.

"Yeah, it's movie night, but Y/n's in the bath and hyung is out buying snacks," Felix explained.

The pair of them continued to chat about nothing in particular when there was a crash from upstairs.

"Babe?" Felix called up. "You good?"

"I dropped my candle," you shouted back.

"Ah, ok, be careful," he replied, knowing from the sound it was a candle in a glass container.

He apologised to Hyunjin for the interruption before they started conversing again. A few minutes into their chat there was a thud from upstairs.

Felix apologised once again before moving the phone away and shouting up to you. "Y/n, everything ok?"

When there was no answer, he put the phone back to his ear. "I'm just heading upstairs to make sure they're ok," he told hyunjin.

"How clumsy can one person be?" the older boy joked.

Felix just laughed as he ran up the stairs calling your name a couple of times before he reached the bathroom door. He knocked tentatively.

"Babe? Are you ok?" he asked with no answer.

Pushing open the door, he was greeted by a red puddle creeping towards him from your unconscious form.

A shard of glass from the shattered candle pot still laid in your hand. A destressed whimper fell from Felix's lips prompting hyunjin to speak again asking what was happening. In his panic, Felix's brain defaulted to its native language speaking in panicked Austrailian.

Hyunjin was doing his best and picked up the odd word. He managed to catch your name and a few mentions of blood before the call was ended. Alarmed now, Hyunjin immediately called Bang Chan and relayed everything that had happened on the phone. Dropping everything Chan rushed back home, flinging the door open and running up the stairs.

He stopped for a moment in the bathroom doorway taken aback by the sheer amount of blood around you before snapping out of it. You and Felix needed him to be strong right now. Noticing that he was trying to talk to someone on the phone, Bang Chan took it away from Felix. The operator on the other end seemed to be struggling to understand the fractured Konglish that Felix was getting out between sobs. Once the important information had been passed on, Chan left the phone on speaker and grabbed the two nearest towels throwing one to Felix as he crouched down.

Taking the arm closest to him Chan gently wrapped the towel around your wounds, holding tight to keep pressure on them. Feeling how limp your arm was, Chan properly looked at you seeing how sickeningly pale your face was. He felt his stomach drop with dread, panic starting to overtake him. That was until he looked up and saw Felix. He was still sat staring at you, his tears now falling silently. He must have taken the shard of glass from you as his hand was now bleeding.

"Lix," said Chan gently, "The towel. Wrap it around her arm and hold it like this."

Robotically, Felix did as his hyung instructed wrapping the towel around your injury before placing your arm back down and leaning against it.

"She'll be ok, Lixie," Bang Chan tried to reassure your broken boyfriend. "We called the ambulance nice and quick, yeah?"

Felix didn't respond, just continued to stare at you laid out on the floor.

"What about you?" Chan continued. "Are you ok? I saw a cut on your hand. Lix? Felix?"

Still Felix didn't respond. It seemed to Chan that he had completely shut down but his thoughts were a mess of worries.

How could all this happen while he was just downstairs? What if he had gone upstairs after the first crash? Why hadn't he realised you were feeling this low? Was he that bad of a boyfriend that you couldn't turn to him? Would he ever get the chance to make it up to you?

Seungmin

Seungmin had been super busy with Stray Kids' come back so he hadn't been able to see you for a few days. Because of this he had decided to surprise you this evening. He approached your door excited to see the look on your face when you realised he had come to see you. Your smile was one of his favourite things. He always foud you beautiful but when you smiled, you were perfection.

Knocking on your door, he stood for a moment, rocking back and forth between his heels and the balls of his feet. When you didn't answer he reached for your spare key. It wouldn't be the first time you'd had your headphones on and not heard him at the door. He stepped over the threshold closing the door and removing his shoes before wandering the house to find you.

It surprised him to find you asleep in bed. Normally, just the sound of someone approaching the door would wake you. Seungmin paused for a moment, a soft smile on his face. You must have been so tired. He felt bad waking you, but he knew you would want to see him as much as he wanted to see you. He walked closer and nudged your shoulder.

"Jagiya," he spoke. "It's your Seungminnie."

When you didn't stir, he took both your shoulders and shook you slightly. Still nothing.

"Y/n?" he said, more loudly now.

Why weren't you waking? It was then that Seungmin noticed the empty cup and sleeping pill bottle on your bedside table. But it wasn't that late in the evening, and you wouldn't normally take one unless you'd been struggling for a while to get to sleep. Plus, you're alarm was normally still enough to wake you, so surely Seungmin shaking you should get some sort of reaction.

Out of curiosity he picked up the bottle and noticed it was empty. Before the panic could properly set in, he called Bang Chan for some rational advice.

"Hey Min," came Chan's usual upbeat tone.

"Hyung?" Seungmin's shaky tone contradicted that of the leaders. "Um, I'm not sure how much I should be panicking right now."

"Why are we panicking? Are you alright?" Chan's voice had changed now, but it was still as calm as he could make it.

"Well, I'm at Y/n's place and I can't wake them up and their sleeping pills have all gone?"

"Okay, do they feel cold?"

"No... No, why would they feel cold?" Seungmin challenged.

"And they're still breathing?"

"Yes, they're breathing, why wouldn't they be breathing?"

"Okay, that's good" Chan reassured the younger. "Are the pills prescription? Can you tell when they got them?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

"Seungmin? Hey?"

"Yesterday..." Seungmin finally managed to answer, his voice barley audible.

"Right." Chan asserted doing his best to remain calm. "You need to call an ambulance, when they answer..."

"Ambulance?!" Seungmin interrupted begining to really panic now.

"Yes. You need to tell them what you just told me." Chan paused, now noticing the sound of Seungmin's panicked breathing as he incoherently began trying to say something.

"Felix!" Chan called out to the boy closest to him. "Call an ambulance to Y/n's house, now please!"

A confused and highly concerned Felix immediately pulled out his phone and followed Chan's instructions. 

"Seungmin, Y/n needs you to focus. Tell me the name of the pill," Chan pleaded as he pulled on his jacket and shoes. "Just spell it out if you need to."

The mention of your name grabbed Seungmin's attention enough for him to respond, spelling out the word on the label. Chan passed on the relevant information to Felix before rushing out.

"Min, stay on the line with me, yeah? I'm on my way, Felix is sorting the ambulance. Y/n will be ok, we are going to get them help."

Chan started running to yours, noticing that Seungmin wasn't responding. "You still with me?" he asked.

Seungmin hummed, but still wasn't responding with words.

Luckily, your place wasn't far from the dorms and Seungmin had put the spare key back before closing the door behind him. Chan easily got in, making sure to leave the door ajar for the paramedics who weren't far behind him.

Chan barely had time to pull Seungmin into a hug when the heard the sound of the emergency responders shouting as they entered. Still holding his dongsaeng, Bang Chan called back leading them straight to you. As paramedics began to check you over, Chan pulled away taking Seungmin's face in his hands and wiping his tears away with his thumbs.

"Help's here, see?"

"But why couldn't I help?" the younger choked out. "I haven't been here in days and maybe if I was..."

Seungmin couldn't finish his sentence as he broke down in despair burying his face in his hyungs should once more.

"Why am I so useless?"

IN

It was a day just like any other for Jeongin. He'd stayed behind a little late to work on some lyrics with Chan, so it was late evening by the time he returned to the house. As he walked in, he saw Kkami's lead missing from its spot by the door meaning Hyunjin must be out for a walk.

"Yeobo? You home?"

No answer. He smiled to himself; you'd been down lately but had been talking about catching up with the gal pals, so he assumed you were hitting the town. Realising he had the place to himself for a bit he smiled to himself. It was rare for him to have time alone, so he was going to make the most of it.

Heading to the kitchen to grab a snack, he was surprised to see dirty dishes in the sink. You'd normally berate him and Hyunjin for leaving washing up. He decided to earn some brownie points so he cleaned up a little. Once he was done, he figured he deserved a treat before you came back. He'd recently been gifted a new game at a fansign and had left it upstairs in your guys bedroom so he headed up to retrieve it.

As he reached the top of the stairs Jeongin smiled to himself again. You'd left the light on in the bedroom, yet another thing he always got told off for.

"Y/N you're in for it when you get back," he thought to himself.

He pulled down the door handle and pushed but was utterly confused when it didn't open.

He frowned slightly. There wasn't a lock on the bedroom door or anything. What was happening?

Bracing himself a little he turned the handle again and shoved with his shoulder. The door suddenly budged open just a little, not enough for him to squeeze through but maybe he could see what was causing the obstruction?

As Jeongin looked down it was as if the floor beneath him had suddenly vanished.

"What...? Y/N?!"

Before he could fully process what he was seeing, he slammed into the door once more, giving himself just enough space to get through to you. Through watery eyes Jeongin started trying to undo the rope around your neck. His hands were shaking so much he couldn't find purchase on the rope to even begin to get it off you. In a blind panic all he could think of doing was getting the rope off the doorknob.

With the adrenaline running through his body Jeongin felt no pain as he repeatedly bashed his fist again the handle. He didn't feel it when his bones broke; barley registered when the handle finally came free, tearing into his hand. In fact he only realised he'd hurt himself when he saw his blood on your skin. He panicked even more before understanding that it came from him not you as he hurriedly removed the now loose rope from around your neck.

In a desperate attempt he shook your shoulder calling out your name, trying to get you to wake up. It didn't take long for him to realise that you weren't there anymore. Despite shaking with worry and with one busted up hand, he somehow managed to get his phone out of his pocket and call 112.

"112, what is the nature of your emergency?"

"Please help... they're not, they're not... I don't know... I don't know what to do, please help," Jeongin could barley form the words he needed to say in his head, how could he tell this person what was going on?

"Sir, are you okay? Is the patient breathing?"

"No, no they're not breathing! Please..."

"Okay I'm going to talk you through CPR just do as I say. Can you tell me the address of the emergency?"

Jeongin doesn't know how he manages to talk in between his sobs but manages to relay your address before the operator begins talking him through CPR.

He can tell he's not doing a good job of following the operator's instructions. He was trying as hard as he could, but he couldn't fully compress your chest, the blood from his cut was making his hands slippery and his body kept stopping him from putting his weight onto his broken bones. He was so focused on trying to help you that he didn't even realise Hyunjin had returned home until he spoke.

"Move I'll do it," Hyunjin said, shoving Jeongin out of the way.

Hyunjin felt bad at how harsh he sounded but he didn't have time to try and console his dongseng, not when he came home to find one of his best friends lying motionless on the floor. Jeongin looked on as Hyunjin began giving you CPR. His mind was spiralling at a loss of how to help, he had to do something. He just didn't know what.

"Let me..." Jeongin began as he reached for you.

"Back off. You're in no state to help right now," Hyunin snapped.

Jeongin whimpered before whispering, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry hyung, I'm sorry Y/n."

Jeongin couldn't pull his eyes away from you as he curled into himself. Struggling to breath now all he could do was sit there and watch as someone else tried to help you.

"I'm sorry."

NAVIGATION |  STRAY KIDS MASTERLIST

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Ikevamp Act 2.5

Chapter 8

As Vlad points to a spot where the name Mitsuki is written, Shakespeare raises his eyebrows slightly.

Shakespeare: "Comte brought Mitsuki from the 21st century by mistake some time ago."

Shakespeare: "She was unable to return home due to the anomaly with the door. She’s still staying at the mansion."

Vlad: "I see. Why you didn't report her to me?"

Shakespeare: "Mitsuki is nothing more than an ordinary, insignificant person."

Shakespeare: "Are you going to use her as a special cast member and a pawn in your ambitions...?"

What he said was true, but there was also hesitation in Shakespeare's heart.

Mitsuki is an outsider in both that mansion and in this plot.

He couldn't decide whether to involve her or not since he didn't know what she could contribute to the situation.

But...

Charles: "Is Mitsuki that girl who played with the kids at church the other day?"

Charles: "To think that she was the one who came to the mansion through the door is one hell of a coincidence."

Faust: "Oh? It really is a strange coincidence that she is connected this way. And a human being from the 21st century? Very interesting indeed."

Shakespeare: "You know Mitsuki? How did you―"

Somehow, the three of them and Mitsuki had already met.

It was as if he was confronted with the fact that his hesitations were insignificant in front of destiny.

Vlad: "Mitsuki is in that mansion, huh?"

Vlad: "I guess this is what you call a miraculous and fateful encounter, Comte."

Vlad looked up to the sky and spoke to his now distant friend.

A few days have passed ever since everyone in the mansion was attacked.

Mitsuki: "Arthur, how is Vincent's injury?"

Arthur: "If he's a normal human being, I'd say he needs two weeks to recover, but―yeah. It's pretty much sealed up now."

Theo: "Broer, are you in any pain?"

Vincent: "I'm fine, but...um... I'm kind of itchy."

Theo: "Itchy!? Hey Arthur, check him again."

Vincent: "Sorry! That's not what I meant. I couldn't move my arm for a while, right?"

Vincent: "That's why I'm itching to paint."

Vincent gives his sunny smile, and Theo and I both breathe a sigh of relief.

Mitsuki: "Well, if that's the case, I'm glad. But take it easy, Vincent."

Vincent: "Thanks."

Arthur: "Alright, now it's your turn, Theo. I'm going to reapply the bandage, so you sit in front of me."

Theo: "No need. If it's just a graze, then it's already healed."

Arthur: "Your external injuries may not be serious, but your leg is sprained. Let me see it."

Theo: "Well, I'm a vampire. It'll heal in no time. I'm going back to my room."

Mitsuki: "Wait. Theo..."

Arthur shrugs his shoulders as Theo leaves the living room without a word.

Sebastian, who had just gone to get the mail, came in and followed Theo's back with his gaze.

Sebastian: "Monsieur Theodorus seems to have been in a bad mood these past few days."

Mitsuki: "True. Maybe he hasn't sorted out his feelings yet."

Vincent: "..............."

(I'm sure he's worried about Vincent's injury, but I have a feeling he has something else on his own.)

Arthur: "I think it's best to leave him alone for now. Even though we're friends, distance is important to me too.”

Arthur: "I think I'll go back to my room too. Take care of yourself, Vincent."

Vincent: "Thanks for patching me up, Arthur."

After receiving the letter addressed to him from Sebastian, Arthur waved his hand and left the living room.

Walking down the hallway, Arthur looks down at the letter.

Most of them are from publishing companies, but one letter from an unknown sender is mixed in among them.

Arthur: "Well, there's no way he's letting me off the hook."

He mutters a guess, not even opening the letter, and retreats to his room.

Unbeknownst to him, two eyes watched his back.

Dazai: "Well, well, well. Looks like there's going to be another storm."

Vincent, Sebastian, and I are the only three people left in the sun-kissed living room.

Mitsuki: "The mansion is kind of quiet..."

Sebastian: "It can't be helped. Everyone probably has something on their mind."

Everyone always goes at their own pace, but these days it's rare to see them all together for a meal, and whenever I see them, they all look stiff and lost in thought.

(Someone from their past came back to life and suddenly attacked them.)

(Of course, they must be in shock...)

And some of these people were originally friends with them.

Like Jean and Gilles, and Vincent and Gauguin.

Mitsuki: "Are you okay, Vincent? I mean, Gauguin was your friend."

Vincent: "Yeah. I consider him as my friend."

Vincent: "I don't know how Gauguin feels about me, but..."

Vincent: "I'm more worried about Theo right now. Gauguin―Theo is..."

Vincent's lips tighten as he says this.

Vincent: "I don't like it when Theo looks sad. So even if he doesn't like it, even if he hides his scars..."

Vincent: "I have to protect him."

(Vincent...?)

His ever-calm, sky blue eyes are filled with a strong determination different from Theo's.

Sebastian: "Anyway, we don't know when we'll be attacked again."

Sebastian: "All we need to do now is heal everyone's wounds and not be alone."

I nodded to Sebastian's words, and then suddenly, the name of the mastermind of the attack and friend of Comte came to mind.

(Vlad...)

(No, the Vlad I met is just a florist...)

(Besides, someone with gentle eyes like that would never hurt anyone.)

(It's just a coincidence, right?)

I told myself that, but the unpleasant feeling in my heart didn't go away.

Mozart stands in front of the piano, waiting patiently to play.

Pressing the keys lightly with his fingertips, the beautiful sound melts into the air.

Mozart: "Salieri, you hated me so much."

Mozart: "Did you really poison me?"

Isaac: "Is it my fault that Hooke turned out like that?"

Isaac: "I don't know what's in people's hearts. What should I do...?"

Theo: "Gauguin. Next time I see you, I'll definitely..."

Jean: "Gilles was brainwashed to amplify his negative emotions. Then was I a source of negativity for him?"

Jean: "A monster is just a monster. I guess the best place for me is on the stake, after all."

Napoleon: "I thought my tormented life was finally over."

Napoleon: "But if the hatred from those days continues..."

Napoleon: "I'm the only one who can cut you off. Right, Wellington?"

Dusk falls over the mansion, leaving a knot in the heart of each of them.

From the balcony of the mansion, a sweet-smelling smoke spreads and melts into the glowing sky.

The purebloods, longtime friends, were standing shoulder-to-shoulder.

Leonardo: "Hey, Comte."

Leonardo: "I don't deny that they made a choice to become vampires or that you brought them back to life."

Leonardo: "I just don't want to agree. I was afraid that one day something would go off the rails."

Comte: "............"

Leonardo: "The people who attacked them were a result of their past, but they were certainly involved because of you."

Leonardo: "All we can do now―"

Comte: "I know, Leonardo. As the owner of this mansion, as the pureblood who brought them back to life―"

Comte: "I need to leave my hesitations behind, too, before they can hurt my family any further."

I feel somewhat sad even with the twinkling stars in the sky.

I let out a small sigh as I clean up the kitchen.

(No one came to the dining room for dinner today, either.)

For vampires, food is a luxury item, so there's no harm to their bodies if they don't eat.

But when I saw the empty dining room, I felt as if a blank space had been left in the everyday scenery of this mansion.

(I want everyone to cheer up, but I don't know what to say to them.)

Sebastian: "................"

(I feel so helpless. Hmm?)

As I sigh again, a shadow falls in front of me.

I look up to see what it is and see Sebastian's finger looming over me.

(Huh? A forehead flick!?)

Sebastian: "Eei!"

Mitsuki: "Ouch!"

Unable to avoid the sudden flick, I fell back in shock and was supported by the very person who hit me.

Sebastian: "Oops, I guess I put too much oomph into it."

Mitsuki: "Geez, Sebastian. What are you doing all of a sudden...?"

Sebastian: "Try putting yourself in my shoes too. What am I supposed to do if you're also making that face?"

Mitsuki: "Sorry. I just feel like I'm not doing anything helpful in this situation."

Mitsuki: "Besides, now that I think about it, I don't know anything about everyone."

Sebastian: "What do you mean you don't know anything?"

Unlike Sebastian, I'm not familiar with history, and I only know bits and pieces of what happened in everyone's past.

Mitsuki: "I think it's difficult for someone like me to understand everyone..."

I only have glimpses of how they lived, what kind of relationships they built with the people around them, and what kind of feelings they had for each other.

I don't want to pretend I understand and say, 'Cheer up,' nor do I want to step into their hearts with my feet on the ground, asking them to reveal their past and problems.

That's why I can only stay outside...

Sebastian: "I'm a former historian, but fishing for historical facts is not the only important thing."

Sebastian: "We need to be close to the joys and pains of the people who lived in that time and use them as a foundation for the future."

Sebastian: "I think that's what learning history means."

Mitsuki: "Foundation for the future...?"

Sebastian: "Yes! That’s what I’m saying."

Mitsuki: “Ow! Ow!"

I didn't expect a second forehead flicking as he was just being serious a moment ago.

I looked up at Sebastian, holding my forehead, and he shrugged.

Sebastian: "Whether or not you know about the past is not important right now."

Sebastian: "Even I, with my knowledge of history, can't possibly understand all the minds of the great men."

Sebastian: "In the end, it's people to people."

(That's... he's right.)

Sebastian: "Since you came to this mansion, you have seen things about everyone that history books alone cannot tell you."

Sebastian: "They are unique, strong, and unexpectedly different from historical facts. That's why I can't help but keep an observation diary..."

Sebastian: "Everyone is as they are, full of humanity."

Mitsuki: "You're the only one who wants to keep an observation diary."

When I interrupted him, Sebastian smiled wickedly and said that it was his private hobby.

Sebastian: "I mean, you've been living together under one roof. You can't possibly know nothing about them."

(I see.)

(It's not all about the past.)

Sebastian's words cleared my foggy vision.

Mitsuki: "Can I be close to everyone's heart too?"

Sebastian: "Of course. Let's see what we can do to help everyone get back on their feet."

Sebastian: "Besides, having someone by your side when you're feeling down can be a great source of support."

Sebastian: "On that note, it's hard to get lonely in this mansion, don't you think?"

Mitsuki: "That's true!"

I was worried about everyone because suddenly, so many things were happening, yet I was still hesitant to step in.

But Sebastian gave me the push I need.

Mitsuki: "I'm feeling more cheerful now. Thank you, Sebastian! You really are an all-around butler."

Sebastian: "I can't leave my coworker behind. Besides, I need to be always first to the greats."

Sebastian: "Supporting everyone to live a fulfilling second life is my role as a supporting character."

(Supporting character?)

Sebastian himself is as unique as all the greats, but his understatement makes me laugh.

Mitsuki: "Hehe...what are you talking about? You're not a supporting character!"

Mitsuki: "You're an important person who is indispensable to this mansion and everyone. And of course, to me."

Sebastian: "----!"

Sebastian: "It's a great honor. Thank you, Mitsuki."

Sebastian's eyes narrowed, and his expression softened with happiness as if he had been surprised.

(Okay, let's think. What I can do to cheer everyone up?)

I hope that there will be some light in their hearts so that they will not sink into the deep dark sea of their hearts alone.

Mitsuki: "Oh, right! How about this, Sebastian?"

I told Sebastian about an idea that popped into my head, and he nodded his head.

Sebastian: "I see. Nice. Shall we start preparing now?"

Mitsuki: "Yes...!"

Previous Part╏Next Part

[edendaphne]

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 21

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

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CHAPTER 21: IMPROVVISANDO

Music glossary: Improvvisando: with improvisation

Glossary: Wǎnshàng hǎo : Good evening Shīfù : Teacher/Master

(Mood music: Night of Beijing - Jia Peng Fang)

That evening

Marinette fidgeted with her napkin, occasionally sipping her now-lukewarm tea while sitting at the kitchen bar counter. Chat Noir sat on the stool beside her in silence, also nursing a half-emptied cup. She checked the clock for what seemed to be the hundredth time in the last few minutes.

“It’s about that time. I’ll head up to my room to let Ladybug inside. Will you get the door if your visitor arrives before she does?”

“Sure,” he replied, uneasy but compliant, doing his best to avoid staring at the black eye she’d received earlier that day.

Marinette set her cup in the sink and headed upstairs, leaving Chat alone with his thoughts.

He tried to keep his fast-beating heart in check, subconsciously clenching his jaw. It was finally happening. He was going to meet “him”: The Guardian of the Miraculous.

Following the events at school earlier that day, Adrien had walked Marinette to her house, where her family invited him to stay for a cup of tea until his “ride” arrived to pick him up. Of course, he’d eagerly accepted. It was nice to interact with the family as Adrien instead of just as Chat Noir.

After leaving, he hid away and transformed so he could sneak in through Marinette’s balcony as he usually did.

Upon transforming, however, he found a series of voice mails from Ladybug that she’d left during Adrien’s attempted abduction. Her voice was frantic. He could hear the urgency and distress in her tone, and a heavy blanket of guilt settled onto his shoulders as he listened.

The first message asked him to come to their school, that it was an emergency, to please call her back as soon as possible. He chewed on his lip, wanting nothing more than to hide away in a cave in shame.

The second one must have been left right after she’d rescued Adrien and left him at the school nurse; she’d called to let Chat know the incident had passed. Then she asked if he was okay, since she hadn’t heard back from him. He sighed. Typical Ladybug, always worrying and thinking about others first, even when she was having a rough time.

The last voicemail caused a trail of ice to trickle down his spine as he listened. Ladybug informed him that she had scheduled an impromptu meeting with the Guardian at the Dupain-Cheng’s house that evening, with Marinette’s permission, and that it was of utmost importance that he attend.

He shivered as goosebumps appeared on his arms and he swallowed hard. What was the purpose of this meeting? Was he in trouble for not showing up today during ‘Adrien’s’ kidnapping? And why meet here, at the Dupain home, instead of somewhere more private and away from civilians? What was the Guardian like? Would Chat get reprimanded and treated with disdain for having been their enemy for all these years, or would he be understanding and forgiving?

More importantly, would he have to disclose his identity to him, or to both him and Ladybug, to prove his loyalty? He winced at the mere thought of it. The last thing he wanted was for Ladybug to think less of him, or to pity him. Especially after the kidnapping attempt.

Additionally, if they were to learn that Hawkmoth was Gabriel Agreste, would they want to confront him head-on? Adrien didn’t feel ready for that, for several reasons.

First of all, would he be able to protect Ladybug, as he’d promised her? Hawkmoth had shown that he’d developed some sort of new power. Either that, or an entirely different person had become involved and was helping him. In any case, he didn’t know what exactly they were dealing with anymore.

Secondly, if the time came and he had to hurt or even kill his father, he didn’t know if he’d be able to do it. Yes, Gabriel was a monster and Adrien despised what he had become. But what if the damage was reversible and there was still a way to bring him back to normal? He just had to know, before doing something he might permanently regret.

The sudden ringing of the doorbell startled Chat out of his thoughts and he practically fell off his seat.

He ran to answer the front door, looking to make sure no one else was around. At the last second, he remembered to detransform and slip on the hood of his zip-up sweater (the one Marinette had gifted him), pulling a scarf over his nose and mouth so he wouldn’t be recognized if anyone outside were to catch a glimpse of him.

He looked out through the peephole, only to see the very top of someone’s head, balding with grey hair, and a little bit of their eyebrows.

Huh. Somehow Adrien thought the Guardian would be a bit… taller?

He turned the knob and the door opened, its squeaking hinges somehow louder than usual. Peeking out from the side like a scared tortoise, he checked to make sure the individual matched the description he was given, then stepped back to allow the door to swing open all the way. The older man stepped inside, closing it behind him.

“Hello,” Adrien said meekly, bowing his head slightly. “You must be…”

“Yes. I am Wang Fu,” he replied, bowing politely in greeting. “It is very good to see you again, Adrien Agreste.”

While Adrien’s face scarf efficiently concealed the way his jaw dropped when the elder man called him by name, there was no hiding the way his eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.

“W- what?!” he sputtered. “How did you—”

The man called Fu chuckled, stroking his beard. “It was a long time ago, but we’ve met before.”

Adrien lowered his scarf and frowned in concentration, falling silent for a few seconds. Then it dawned on him.

“YOU!!” he gaped. “I do remember you! It was my first day of lycée! You fell down in front of our school and I helped you up. It was you who put the cat miraculous in my bag that day, wasn’t it?”

“That is correct,” Fu confirmed.

“But why me? You could’ve picked anyone, so why did you choose someone like me?”

Fu’s smile faltered when he said this. Adrien had said “anyone”, but he could see that Fu knew what he’d actually meant. Why did you choose someone as broken as me?

The man folded his arms behind him, considering his answer. “Guardians are bestowed with several powers and abilities. One of them is to locate and select good candidates for the miraculous jewels. And so I was led to you.”

Chat grimaced in confusion. “So if you already knew it was me, why bother to ‘test’ me?”

“My powers as a guardian may lead me to a potential candidate, but ultimately the choice is still mine to make. It was a simple test, but it showed me what your first instinct would be if you saw someone in need. The answer I received was satisfactory. You were meant to be Ladybug’s Chat Noir.”

Adrien sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Honestly, a couple of months ago I wouldn’t have known whether to hug you because I got to become Chat Noir, or whether to punch you because I had to become Chat Noir. But it’s because of you that I got to meet Ladybug, so I am grateful to you for that. It’s good to finally meet you. Officially.”

He extended his hand and Fu took it with a smile, giving it a firm shake.

Afterwards, Adrien’s gaze fell, brows scrunching together. “I can’t believe it. All this time, you knew. You could’ve told Ladybug who I was years ago. She could have figured out a way to take away my miraculous while I wasn’t transformed, like at school, and she would’ve had one less enemy to deal with. It would’ve––” he pursed his lips, expression full of shame, and he lifted his eyes to meet Fu’s once again, “–it would’ve made it easier for her. She would’ve suffered less if I’d been out of the picture. So why didn’t you?”

Fu’s countenance became somber, his eyes carrying years of pain and regret. He took a few moments to consider his words. “When I was a boy, barely a teenager, something terrible happened. Hundreds of innocent people died, and it was all because of me.”

Chat almost reeled back as if he’d been smacked across the face, puzzled about the sudden switch in topic. He remembered Ladybug briefly mentioning this a few months ago, on the night they danced together. He waited for Fu to elaborate.

“I was only trying to protect them,” the older man explained. “After I was orphaned as a child, the monks of the Guardian Temple took me in. They became my family. They were stern, but fair and kind. It was a tough childhood, but I was happy.” He sighed. “However, there were those who would try to steal the miraculous and use their power selfishly. It was an endless struggle. Many were lost over the years. I longed for peace. I wanted my family to be safe, I wanted us to be left alone. So I did what I thought would be a better route, an easier one; one with less hardship and bloodshed. You see, one day while I was supposed to be on guard duty, I sneaked away to where the miraculous box was kept. I put on both the ladybug and cat miraculouses and used them to make a wish: I wished that our enemies would disappear.”

The older man exhaled, squeezing his eyes shut, the memories of what came next clearly still haunting him. Adrien couldn’t help but hold his breath while he listened.

“It worked,” Fu resumed, voice quiet and slightly shaky. “But as you might have suspected, there is always a price to pay; a balance that must be maintained. Therefore, because of my wish, all the monks in our Guardian temple and the innocent people of the surrounding village were ripped away from me, along with our enemies. The wish was technically fulfilled, but I never suspected that the cost would be that high. I have had to live with that in my conscience for over a hundred years.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, appearing more vulnerable than Adrien would have ever expected. He continued, “Since that time, I have both seen and caused much death in my lifetime, protecting the miraculous box alone as the last Guardian. So, you see, if there was even one person I could save, I had to try. I wanted to trust in the miraculouses, like I should have decades ago, during my misguided attempt to control the outcome of a complicated situation.”

Adrien absently rubbed his arm, pondering Fu’s words. “Looking back,” he began, “I can see the reasoning behind a lot of Ladybug’s decisions and principles, now that I know your story.”

“Indeed. Ladybug is a remarkable young lady; I knew that even back then. When I would ask her if she was willing to risk her life for the sake of a stranger, she would say yes, every single time. If anyone can persevere for the greater good, it was her. Was it unfair of me? Probably. Have I asked too much from her? Absolutely. Have I made mistakes while trying to guide her? Yes. Many of them.” He put his hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “I wanted to save you that day by giving you the cat miraculous. But I never would have guessed that it would also doom you and force you into a role of servitude. I hope that you will forgive me for this.”

Adrien’s heart pained for Fu as he admitted his guilt. “You couldn’t have known it would’ve turned out that way. It wasn’t your fault,” he insisted.

Fu shrugged. “I try to tell myself that, but I can’t quite convince myself. The situation made sense once Ladybug told me about Hawkmoth.”

“You mean, when she told you that Hawkmoth was my father?” Adrien asked.

“Yes,” Fu replied. “I had my suspicions, because it would explain your motivations, but I had no proof, no way of finding out for sure. It made sense that Hawkmoth would be Gabriel Agreste. The butterfly miraculous requires its wielder to be creative and inventive, since it relies on their ability to convert the subject’s emotions into a source of power. And he had the motivation.”

Adrien hummed in agreement.

“Additionally, such a clever and talented individual getting ahold of the cat miraculous would be incredibly dangerous. I’d be lying if I said I had never considered taking your miraculous away. But even still, it was safer to let it all play out. I didn’t want to repeat past mistakes. And if Hawkmoth was Gabriel Agreste, your fate if you were to lose the cat miraculous would have been disastrous. Maybe it would have even alerted him about the presence of a Guardian in Paris. But now that we know the truth, we can plan accordingly.”

Adrien gulped. So Fu had considered taking his miraculous away before. “A-are you going to tell Ladybug who I am?”

Fu shook his head. “It is not up to me to decide when it will be right for there to be no more secrets between you two. I only know that it is not yet time.”

Adrien curiously tilted his head, brows furrowed in confusion. “How do you know that?”

As Fu started to answer, Adrien heard a doorknob twist open behind him and he quickly pulled his scarf back over his features.

The door opened and Ladybug’s voice exclaimed, “There you are! What are you two doing out here in the entryway?”

Adrien cleared his throat, then stammered, “R-right, pardon my manners. Please, come in.”

Fu walked past him, entering the living area. He took Ladybug’s hands between his, shaking them briefly, and said, “Wǎnshàng hǎo, Ladybug.”

With a small bow, Ladybug replied, “Wǎnshàng hǎo, shīfù. Thank you for coming at such short notice. Please, have a seat.”

Chat entered the room, having transformed now, and stepped forward to greet her.

He stopped short, realizing that he wasn’t quite sure how to greet her since last night’s development in their relationship, not to mention being very conscious of the Guardian watching them. He settled for a hug, which she returned, squeezing him tightly, and added a quick, discreet peck on his cheek. He smiled, feeling his face heat up.

Pleasantries aside and everyone seated, it was Ladybug who spoke first.

“Thank you both for being here. There’s a lot we need to talk about.”

----------

A transformed Wang Fu stood at the bedroom window, curtains drawn, chanting in a language that neither Ladybug nor Chat Noir understood, holding the last of several metallic talismans he’d blessed and scattered around the room. The pair kept their eyes on him, marveling at the efficiency and care that he put into each incantation. There was something sacred, even holy about this ritual. They could feel powerful magic emanating from his form, invisible bursts of energy swirling about the room, dancing all around them in a silent symphony.

Ladybug cast a furtive glance at her partner. He’d been quiet for a little while, after learning about his attempted akumatization the night before. Ladybug had told him that it was Marinette who let her know, and that Plagg was the one who had informed her.

She’d called Master Fu before going to school to let him know what happened last night, and he promised he would figure out a solution. He’d spent all day preparing these special talismans, which would ward off akumas and keep them from entering this room. But only this room. He wasn’t strong enough to cast such a potent, long-term spell over a larger area; especially not at his age.

Fu, or rather, Jade Turtle, was silent for a few moments after placing the last charm, a silver one with indecipherable symbols carved into it, then turned around to face the couple.

“The talismans are almost done being enchanted,” he said, pretty out of breath, beads of sweat present on his brow. “There is one more thing that needs to be done. But I think I’ll need your help for this, Ladybug.”

Ladybug stepped forward in response. “Sure, Master. What is it?”

“I would do it myself, but, well… let’s just say I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Of course Master, anything you need. Just tell me what to do.”

Fu removed his bracelet, the turtle miraculous, and turned back to his civilian self, then handed the jewelry to her. His kwami, Wayzz, floated next to them awaiting instruction.

“If you could transform with my miraculous to finish the protection spell, I’d very much appreciate it. I’ll show you what to do when you’re ready.”

The young woman gaped at him, having never transformed into any hero other than Ladybug before.

“Oh! R-really?? S-sure! No problem...” She took the bracelet hesitantly, studying it like she’d never seen it before, then excused herself to the ensuite for privacy.

In the bathroom, Ladybug detransformed and removed her earrings, handing them to Tikki for safekeeping. She put on the emerald stone bracelet, staring at it as if it might try to crawl away from her if she wasn’t careful enough.

She squeezed her eyes shut in preparation. “Wayzz, shell on.”

Jade green light shone around the bathroom, and Marinette felt the magic of the turtle miraculous engulf her form. When it passed, she gulped and opened her eyes, lifting them to the mirror to catch a glimpse of her newly transformed self.

“Whoa.”

The heroine stared at her reflection across the way. She ran her fingers over the various bits of fabric and armor, taking the time to appreciate the feel and texture. Somehow, she felt quite powerful. Tough. Solid. Almost like a sentient brick wall.

“Wow, Marinette! You look incredible!” Tikki whispered to her.

“Aww, thank you Tikki,” she replied. “It feels so different, but it’s also really cool.”

Sparing one last glance into the mirror, she finally emerged from the bathroom. Fu was seated at the desk chair across the room, taking a short breather. Chat was speaking to him in hushed tones, but turned around when he heard her re-enter the bedroom.

His jaw dropped and he gasped.

“Oh my God, you’re adorable!” Chat blurted out. He caught himself and turned tomato red, then stuttered, “Umm! S-sorry, I––”

Ladybug (Lady...turtle??) giggled, stepping forward to stand beside him once again. “Thanks,” she replied shyly, reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear as she usually did when she was nervous, but her hand bumped into her suit’s hood instead. Not quite sure what to do with her hands, she folded them in front of her as she awaited further instruction.

Tikki flew in front of Master Fu, bowing her head in greeting. “It’s good to see you again, Master!”

“Likewise. I hope you are doing well,” he greeted back.

Tikki flew over to Chat Noir, to say hello to him as well. “Hello, Chat Noir! It’s nice to formally meet you,” she chirped happily.

Chat beamed and answered, “Tikki, right? It’s great to finally meet you too! I must admit, you look a little different than I thought you would.”

Tikki giggled. “Did you think I’d be more insect-like? Maybe with six legs and an exoskeleton?”

Chat shrugged timidly. “Well, I mean… Maybe…?” ‘Ladybug’ and Tikki looked at each other and snickered at his reply.

Fu smiled at their interactions fondly, recalling times spent with loved ones, allies no longer here. With a small grunt, he stood up to continue the protection ritual.

“This way, Ladybug. Chat Noir and Tikki, please stand over there; we’ll need a bit of space for this. You might feel a bit tired once this is finished, so be sure to get plenty of rest tonight,” he instructed.

Tikki perched on Chat’s shoulder as he moved towards the edge of the room. They spoke in hushed voices as Fu instructed Ladybug and had her repeat phrases from his notes.

While they waited, Chat turned to Tikki and whispered, “By the way, I wanted to thank you... for helping Ladybug and keeping safe all these years. She means a lot to me.”

If kwamis could blush, Chat was sure that’s what Tikki’s face showed at the moment. “It’s been a pleasure to be her kwami. She’s the best! I’m glad you’ve gotten to know her and see what a sweet person she is.”

Chat smiled, cheeks dusted pink. “I am too.”

------

Many minutes passed, and Ladybug and Fu finished casting the protection ward. Chat helped Fu gather his things as Ladybug excused herself to transform back to her regular hero self.

As she re-emerged from the bathroom, Chat handed her a glass of water and invited her to sit on the bed so she could catch her breath and gather back some of her energy. “Welcome back, Lily-bug,” he greeted her with a wink. Ladybug beamed at him, accepting the water and taking a seat next to him.

Fu stood beside them, having finished gathering his belongings in a satchel. As he gave Ladybug time to rest, he asked, “Do either of you have any questions about the protection ritual, or about anything else?”

Ladybug replied, “I actually do have some questions, sir.”

Fu nodded.

“Master... why did Hawkmoth attempt to akumatize Chat Noir last night? If he’s tried it before, why did he not succeed during other nights?” Ladybug’s questions came faster once she got started. “Since he tried to akumatized Chat, does that mean he knows where he lives now? Is Chat even safe here anymore? What about the Dupains? Are they gonna be okay? How much does Hawkmoth know?”

Chat looked at Fu expectantly, realizing that he, too, had those same questions.

Fu replied, “The owner of the butterfly miraculous sends out his butterflies in search of a specific strong emotion, but is not aware of their location until after the host accepts it. He is able to learn some vague details about why they are feeling that certain emotion. My guess is that he was able to locate him while he was having a nightmare. So, no. He does not know that Chat Noir lives here. His powers have limitations, just like you do with yours. He is more powerful since he is older and more experienced, but even he can’t overextend the capabilities of his miraculous.”

He paused, stroking his beard, and contemplated. Then he asked, “Did something happen last night to make your emotions different from what they normally are?”

Ladybug and Chat Noir looked at each other, blushing furiously, stammering as they attempted to answer without divulging too much unnecessary information.

Fu raised an eyebrow, then chuckled knowingly, raising his hands to stop them. “It’s okay, I don’t need to know the details.”

“Umm! I-it’s not what you think!”

“M-master, don’t misunderstand–”

“Y-you see–”

“What happened was…”

“My guess is–” Fu interrupted, “–That Hawkmoth sensed your great joy last night, and became enraged. He couldn’t stand the thought of you being happy because it would mean that he is in the wrong, and his pride won’t allow him to accept that.”

Chat and Ladybug fell silent, looking downcast, as the explanation both made sense yet was immensely disheartening.

“There’s something else, Master,” Ladybug spoke again. “Something happened at school today. Akumas, but they vanished without a trace. I mentioned it to you earlier today over the phone. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“Ah, yes. And all that remained was two white feathers?” Fu asked.

“That’s right. Could the akumas still be out there because they haven’t been purified?”

Fu shook his head. “Allow me to explain. Firstly, as Ladybug already knows, two of the miraculouses in my box went missing when the temple of the guardians was destroyed: the butterfly and the peacock. One of them fell into Hawkmoth’s hands sometime within the last few years. But after hearing about what happened at the school today, we can now confirm that Hawkmoth is currently in possession of not just one, but of both of them. Either that, or he has someone else working under him.”

“The Peacock… of course!” Ladybug gasped, voice filled with dread.

Chat looked at her, then back at Fu, waiting for him to elaborate.

“The Guardian’s Grimoire calls them ‘sentimonsters’, mystical beings created out of thin air using the peacock miraculous, which harnesses the power of emotions. They can be created and destroyed whenever the wielder desires. Usually they are simple creatures, designed to be helpers or perform smaller tasks. However, they can also be more sophisticated, even indistinguishable from other humans, although an enormous amount of energy is required to create these complex sentimonsters. One can even ‘borrow’ the appearance of an already existing person. In this case, Hawkmoth chose not to give the sentimonsters the ability to speak, so they couldn’t divulge their secrets, in the event that they were caught.”

Ladybug shuddered. “What the hell?! That is so creepy.”

“Indeed.” Fu looked over at Chat, who had remained pensive throughout this exchange. “Any thoughts, Chat Noir?”

Chat looked up at him, trying to figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say. “I… I think I remember seeing the peacock miraculous in my father’s safe once. I only caught a glimpse of it; I just thought it was some of my mom’s jewelry he kept as a memento. I had no idea it was a miraculous. Otherwise, I would’ve had Plagg help me break into the safe and taken it with me when I ran away from home. There are so many things my father never told me… I’m sorry I don’t know more.”

Ladybug reached out to hold his hand, giving it a small squeeze, which he returned.

“You’ve done more than you know, believe me,” Fu replied as he unconsciously squeezed his satchel, which contained the electronic tablet where his copy of the Grimoire was stored.

He stuck his hand in his pocket and stepped forward, handing Chat Noir a card with his cell phone number.

“Call me if you have any questions, either of you. Even if it’s the middle of the night. Wayzz will make sure I hear my phone if it rings; he’s a much lighter sleeper than I am.”

“Thank you, Master Fu,” replied Chat, smiling. “And thank you too, Wayzz.”

“Thanks, Wayzz. Thank you, Master.” said Ladybug.

“Also, I must remind you once again that your identities must remain a secret until things settle down. There are negative effects that could happen if you are revealed too soon, and I’m not sure what they could be; but it’s best not to find out.”

Ladybug frowned. “But when will that be, Master? It would be so much easier to be able to communicate without having to transform.”

Fu shrugged helplessly. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that. We must allow things to continue to develop on their own. I'm sure we’ll know when the time is right.”

Ladybug let out a displeased sigh. Chat nodded, glancing away with a worried look in his eyes. Despite Ladybug’s eagerness (and despite his own curiosity), waiting suited him just fine for now.

After saying their goodbyes, Fu left the pair behind and let himself out with a final wave. The two heroes remained in the bedroom, contemplating what had been discussed.

After sitting in silence for a few moments, unsure of what to say next, a lightbulb seemed to light up inside Ladybug’s brain, and she began typing away into her yo-yo communicator. Chat watched curiously, wondering what she was up to.

Moments later, she hopped out of the bed to jot something down onto a sticky note from Chat’s desk, then walked back.

“Just because we can’t tell each other who we are doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be able to contact each other when we’re not transformed. Kwamis aren’t pagers, after all.”

“Pagers? What decade is this, anyway?” Chat razzed.

“Hush, you,” she mock scolded him, suppressing a smile. “ Anyway! Here’s my brand new, Chat Noir-exclusive email address,” she said, handing him the note with a wink.

Chat’s eyes lit up. “Wait, really??” He unfolded the paper as if it was a Christmas present, excited to read the contents. His eyes widened and he burst out laughing.

“ ‘The_gr8_bugaboo@yoohoo.com’ ?!”

“What, you don't think I’m great?” she teased, striking an exaggerated, Chat Noir-style pose.

Chat’s snickering only intensified and he nodded. “Oh, for sure! The greatest!” he agreed.

Ladybug smirked. “I made it just now,” she explained. “So you’re the only one who knows about it. We may not be able to hang out in person yet, but I’d still like to talk to you during the day. Plus, it’ll come in handy for emergencies.”

“Buginette you’re a genius!”

Ladybug giggled, feeling her face warm up despite herself. “M-maybe we can message each other when you have some free time? I mean… now that you don’t have to worry about getting akumatized in your own room anymore. Your bedroom’s pretty much the safest place in Paris now, thanks to Master Fu.”

“And thanks to you, as well, my dear ‘Lily-bug’,” Chat reached up to take her hand, gently pulling her down to sit next to him. “I feel much better already. And knowing I can talk to you anytime makes me feel even safer.”

She scooted closer, setting her head down on his shoulder. “Y-you know… you make me feel safe too, Kitty.”

Chat’s insides twisted into pleasant little knots, suddenly feeling rather warm. “Really?”

He felt her smile as her hand squeezed his arm, her other one sneaking across their laps to wrap her fingers around his own. “Yeah. I know we’ve only been allies for a short time, but I’ve already lost count of all the times you’ve saved me or sacrificed yourself to help others. Our partnership grows stronger every day, and I think Hawkmoth knows it. He knows we’re stronger together. And it’s only a matter of time until we can be together without these masks too, I just know it.”

He turned towards her, putting his fingers under her chin and lifting her head to have her look up at him. Their eyes met, her pupils dilating as they focused on his own, and he could see a bright blush blooming on her cheeks.

“Me too,” he whispered, as he brought their lips together.

She blissfully melted into him, letting out a small noise of contentment. She deepened the kiss, reaching behind his head to caress his hair with her slender fingers. Their kisses and breaths mingled together and they lost track of everything else around them.

A little while later, they faintly heard the grandfather clock striking the hour in the living room, then some noises as the Dupains shuffled upstairs from the bakery to get ready for bed.

Ladybug pulled back and they separated, his lips still tingling from her touch.

“I… I should probably get going soon,” she lamented with a small shrug. “It’s starting to get late.”

“Would you like me to walk you home? Or rather, to somewhere around your neighborhood?”

She shook her head. “That’s not necessary. Besides, I’m closer than you might think,” she added a bit cryptically.

“I wish you could stay,” he said softly, reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear. He gave her nose a tiny smooch. “Just a teeeeensy bit more?” he begged, giving her the best kitten eyes he could muster.

Ladybug giggled shyly, cheeks still dusted with pink. She gave his own nose a peck, her lips soft and inviting. “Well… I guess I could stay just a little bit longer,” she said with a smirk.

“Purr- fect,” he said, capturing her lips once again.

-------------

Note:

Many of the events in the “Volpina” and “Collector” episodes happened in this AU, albeit heavily modified to suit the story. Adrien found the grimoire in his father’s safe, took it out to study it, and Lila stole it. Since Adrien didn’t act impressed about Lila knowing Ladybug, she didn’t magnify the lie and claim to be Ladybug’s best friend; therefore, Ladybug never showed up to call her out on her lie, and Lila was never akumatized.

However, Tikki did see the book in the dumpster and retrieved it, and Marinette showed it to Master Fu. After Gabriel discovered the book was missing and pulled Adrien out of school, Fu made a copy so that Marinette could return it to Gabriel, and Adrien was allowed to attend school again. Currently, Adrien has no idea that this is how Fu acquired his grimoire; he merely assumes that Fu has always had his own copy.

Of course, Marinette began to suspect that Gabriel might be Hawkmoth because he owned the grimoire. Gabriel akumatized himself into the Collector in order to avoid suspicion, and with Chat’s help, almost succeeded in obtaining the ladybug miraculous. Ultimately, Ladybug outsmarted him, got him to accidentally “collect” Chat, and succeeded in purifying his akuma. But by then, Gabriel had “proven” he was an innocent civilian and Ladybug dismissed his potential involvement as Hawkmoth.

----

P.S.  Another note: Certain things that are similar but not identical to canon have been in my outline since the beginning, so I apologize if they're a little confusing (such as the protection talismans being similar to Ladybug's akuma victims' lucky charms or the destruction/disappearance of the Guardian Temple)

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Fake dating Drabble No. 5

Today with Dave York and 2k (🤡) of being undercover married to him (F) because the neighbors are leaders of a terrorist organization. The leader get a little too handsy at the dinner you had been invited to and Dave does sell the jealous husband very, very well.  Steph’s fake dating Drabble week

Warnings: cursing, inappropriate touching, masturbation, implied sexual content

It wasn’t like you had a choice when the CIA decided that you had to go undercover. It wasn’t the first time and it most likely wouldn’t be the last. But three months in, without having anyone to talk to except your partner, or the neighbors who most likely were the most dangerous people you had ever encountered, it was starting to frustrate you that there was no new information you could provide. But tonight the neighbors had invited you and your partner over for dinner.

Oh yes. You also had to pretend to be married to Dave York, who was your partner for this mission. It didn’t help that you were spending all your time with a man that always seemed to be plotting murder whenever you caught him starring looking at you. These last months were hard. You weren’t used to living with someone, let alone pretending to be in love as soon as you left the walls of the CIA proofed house you were living in with him.

Dave York was a mystery not only to you, but to everyone at the CIA. You always felt a little uncomfortable every time he looked at you and you couldn’t place why. He was nothing but polite towards everyone, but there was something dark surrounding him. Like he knew more than everyone around him. Like he knew all the dirty secrets. Your dirty secrets.

But it also had it’s advantages living with someone. It was nice waking up to the smell of coffee, a mug waiting for you on the counter just as you liked it, while Dave was checking his mails on his laptop. Part of your undercover identity was being the devoted housewife while Dave played the role of the husband who worked as an accountant from home.

You knew he had been married before, but somehow you never felt comfortable to ask him any personal questions. He never asked you either. Every other day you found yourself sitting next to him on the sofa after dinner, his arm on the couch behind you, without touching you, while you watched some netflix together. So people who walked by your house could see that you were a perfectly normal married couple.

He always let you decide what to watch.

“What do you want to watch?” you had asked one evening.

“I don’t really care. I don’t watch a lot of TV.”

“Really? And here I thought you were a couch potato,” you had a glass of wine on that evening and you could have sworn you saw him hide a smile before you started a new episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine.

“You ready?” he asked through your closed bedroom door. You were occupying the master bedroom, while he slept in the guest room. You decided on a yellow summer dress for the dinner at your neighbors. You felt a little naked with your exposed shoulders and legs, but it was a hot day and it would make zero sense to be wearing something you could sneak your gun in. You knew Dave would be carrying a gun, he always did. And you had no choice but to trust him. Not that he had given you any indication as to not trust him.

You took one last look in the mirror before you walked towards the door and opened it. Dave looked at you, his eyes taking you in for a second before there was this twitch at his lips again. A small smile and this time you were sure of it and you had no idea how to feel about it.

“Come on, we gonna be late,” he said quietly.

He took your hand as soon as he locked the front door, a bottle of wine in his arm.

“If we’re lucky we are finally going to get some intel tonight. These fuckers are a suspicious bunch,” he said as he leaned closer to whisper. You nodded.

“I would be suspicious too if I was running a terrorist organisation from a suburban neighborhood.”

“True,” he chuckled, “You make sure to stay in sight. We don’t know what kind of people these are and I want you to be safe.”

“Aww are you worried about me, hubby?” you teased.

“No. I’m worried about them. I have no doubt that you could take them out if you want to.”

“Wow. That almost sounded like a compliment, Dave,”

“It was, just… Don’t try to be the hero. We knew this would be a longer mission and if we’re lucky tonight might finally be the start of getting things going.”

“I know,” you squeezed his hand and breathed in deep.

“Ready?” he asked. You nodded, plastering a fake smile on your lips as he knocked on the door.

Dave really could play the perfect husband. He even remembered what you were allergic to, making sure that no trace of parsley could be found on your plate. At one point he excused himself to the bathroom, giving your leg a squeeze. His hand had been placed on your knee as soon as you had sat down at the dinner table and it almost seemed like he needed some kind of connection to ground himself. You spend enough time with him to know that he was on edge ever since he came back from smoking with the man you knew to be the leader of this whole organisation you were here to get more information from.

His hand went up to your shoulder when he got up and to your surprise he leaned down to kiss your temple before he left the room. You were so surprised by this gesture you almost jumped when you felt someone sit down next to you.

“So… How long have you been married?” he asked. You looked at him, Bill, the man who was responsible for thousands of deaths. You smiled, remembering the story the CIA had manufactured for you.

“Second anniversary is coming up.”

“How did the two of you meet?” he asked and you felt his eyes growing cold. You were now being interrogated.

“That’s a silly story,” you laughed, shaking your head in played embarrassment. Bill only looked at you, waiting for your answer.

“Well we went to College together. We never really had much in common. He’s into numbers, I’m more creative. After college we went our separate ways but years after I needed an accountant for my business and his name popped up.”

“What kind of business?” he asked.

“I used to own a flower shop back in DC. I sold it once Dave got the job offer here.”

“That must have been hard.”

“Not really. Where he goes, I go. And I’m actually looking into opening a new one. Just looked at some properties last week.”

“That’s nice. If you need any help just say the word. I have connections in this city,” Bill nodded, getting closer. It took everything in you not to flinch as his hand came down on your thigh. Much higher than it was appropriate. You gulped.

“I mean it, if you need anything, just say the word,” he was so close now you could feel his nose on your cheek. Closing your eyes you thought about all the ways you could break his wrists within the next 15 minutes when you heard Dave call for you as he walked back into the room.

“Everything okay?” he asked. Bill only looked up at him, giving him a smirk, before he squeezed your leg and let go of you.

“Everything’s fine. We’re just getting to know each other, isn’t that right?” he asked. You nodded with a smile that hopefully didn’t look too pained.

“Great. Well I hate to cut this short, but we got an early morning,” Dave’s hand was on your shoulder and you turned your head to look up at him, your hand coming down on top of his.

“Oh, well. It was nice getting to know you,” Bill said. You got up from your seat and Dave’s arm sneaked around your waist immediately, bringing you closer to him and you let your head fall against his shoulder.

“Likewise,” Dave said, following Bill to the door.

“You’re a beautiful couple. Let’s do this again,” Bill said, his eyes lingering on you. You only nodded, thanking him before you let Dave lead you down the Driveway.

“Are you okay?” he whispered. You only nodded.

“If you would have come into the room 10 seconds later I would have blown our cover. Fuck he’s a creep.”

“He also is involved in way more shit than we originally thought,” he reached into the pocket of his pants, showing you a USB Flash Drive.

“What did you find?” you asked. He shook his head, looking over his shoulder.

“Not here,” he whispered. His arm around you tightened.

“He’s still watching?” you asked. He nodded. “Kiss me,” you whispered. Dave stopped walking and looked at you.

“You just saw someone touching your wife… I think we need to sell this better, I could feel him watching us all night.”

He breathed in deep, closing his eyes before they opened and he pushed you against the tree you just passed.

You couldn’t even take a breath before his lips crashed down on yours, his hand on the back of your hand, so he didn’t hurt you. He towered over you, his body pressed against your and you tried to suppress the moan at the feeling of his lips against yours but failed miserably. He used your surprise to dive his tongue into your mouth and your arms flew up to hold on to him.

“Dave…” you sighed.

“I’m right now playing a very, very fucking jealous husband sweetheart…” he groaned.

“Fuck…” you let your head fall back as his lip wandered down your neck. You felt his thigh between your legs.

“Is he still looking?” he asked, rubbing his thigh over your core.  You looked over his shoulder, seeing no one standing outside.

“No…” you gasped, rolling your hips. Fuck you were wet. He kissed you again, before he whispered against your lips.

“Good, then let’s go home.”

You were more than confused. As soon as you were back in the house, Dave let go of you and went to his room with a mumbled “Good night.”

You on the other hand were still trying to get your brain to slow the fuck down. You were undercover. This was all just an act. Right? Dave York was the best agent around and he knew what he was doing. You had to get your libido under control just because he kissed you once. Groaning to yourself you stripped off your clothes to take a shower. Which should only have taken a couple of minutes, but you just couldn’t stop thinking about Dave. How his lips felt, how his hands felt, how it would feel if he would push you against the wall and fuck you senseless.

“Fuuuck…” you moaned quietly, touching yourself, growing frustrated when you just couldn’t make yourself cum, knowing he was just down the hallway. Shaking your head you got out of the shower, drying yourself off, not bothering to change into your pajamas. You needed to cum. Getting out your vibrator your sighed, wondering how big Dave was when you opened the door and found the man in question sitting on your bed, looking at you with hungry eyes, asking:

“Need any help with that?”

[willwriteforhugs]

i wish i’d never met you- choi jongho

boyfriend! jongho x reader - one shot!

word count: 1.8k

genre: angst, pain

synopsis:  your idol boyfriend finds out that you’ve been getting hate for dating him, and you’ve been hiding it this whole time. this doesn’t sit well with him...

warnings: death threats, arguing and yelling, cursing

a/n: this hurt so much to write i’m sorry

so i feel i should put a sort of disclaimer- this fic involves the mc receiving some pretty serious threats and hate content, and i just want to say: this sort of behavior is absolutely not okay in real life, or even fiction. i wrote this as a way to express my anger towards fans who act in this way- sending hate and threats to people you don’t know is horrible and completely fucked up. i just don’t want anyone to misunderstand and think i’m condoning this behavior. it’s very destructive, and unfortunately very real.

on a lighter note, i do hope you all appreciate this fic. it was hard but incredibly entertaining to create. thank you for reading <33

- - - 

your keys jingled as you struggled to fit your house key into the lock. stupid lock. you jiggled it harder, finally hearing the telltale click. your apartment complex had never gotten around to replacing it, though they said they would.

you sighed as you entered your home. it had been a long day, but you were looking forward to tonight. your boyfriend, jongho, finally had a night off. he'd been so busy lately... of course, you knew this was just how it was. dating an idol was a lot of work, and one of the downsides was the lack of one-on-one time. but jongho was supposed to join you at your small condo in only a few hours. so you kept your head up.

your relationship with ateez's beloved maknae had gone public recently. dispatch had caught you. you can still see the headline: "ateez's jongho spotted out with female office worker- to be or not to be?" jongho had been furious, apologizing profusely. you'd told him it was alright, though. after all, you weren't an idol. this couldn't possibly turn into much of a scandal. you will admit that you had been nervous about the public knowing- but it had been two weeks already, and not much had happened. (well, there was one exception, but you had convinced yourself it wasn't a big deal.)

you had picked up the mail on your way into the building, and you now set it on the counter, ready to filter through it.

you spent the next few minutes sorting the mail into piles. bills. ads. more bills.

then, a letter. your address was scrawled in pencil on the envelope, and there was no return address. you flipped it over, dread beginning to claw up your throat. you peeled the envelope open and pulled out the single sheet within. your hands trembled as you read what was typed:

"bitch. i told you to kill yourself. don't make me do it first. you can't just traipse around dating idols, you fucking whore. who do you think you are? you should be scared, knowing i have your address. kill yourself already. i shouldn't have to ask."

your breath came in shallow gasps. your heart threatened to pound out of your chest. this was the fourth letter you'd received. frantically, you shoved the letter back into it's sleeve, then sank to the ground.

the letters were the exception. you didn't know who was sending them. all you knew is that it was scaring you. you prayed it was a hoax. in fact, you'd been convinced that the first one was. but this was the fourth, and you were no longer thinking this was a joke.

suddenly, your cell phone rang, scaring you so hard you jumped. you stood up and left the room to go get your cell. and for a blissful few hours, the letter was forgotten.

- - - 

you were in the bathroom reapplying makeup when you heard him come in. 

“jongho-yah!” you called. “i’m back here!”

a moment later, your boyfriend rounded the corner, looking beautiful as ever. his dark hair was in a fluffy, wavy style today, and he was barefaced. you smiled as he came in, wrapping his arms around you from the back.

“y/n-ah.” he mumbled, his face buried in your hair.

you turned your head, hoping for a kiss. “hello.”

he responded by pressing his warm lips to yours. he ended the kiss quickly, pulling away to look you in the eyes. when you didn’t say anything, he did it again, this time lingering. he parted your lips with his own, and let his tongue brush the inside of your mouth.

this time you were the one who pulled away. “woah there, tiger.”

his face flushed. “i’m sorry, i just missed you.”

“i missed you too.”

he smiled and the two of you exited the bathroom, heading back out to the main room. 

“are you hungry?” he asked, suggesting buying take-out.

you told him not yet. for a few minutes, the two of you made idle conversation, considering how you were going to spend the evening. 

out of the blue, you were overcome with a sudden chill. you shivered, running your hands over your bare arms. “hold on, babe. let me grab a sweatshirt.”

you slipped into your bedroom, seeking out your favorite black hoodie. (stolen from jongho, of course.)

when you emerged from your room, you saw your boyfriend standing at the kitchen counter, mindlessly thumbing through your mail.

your mail.

the letter.

you gasped, rushing to where he was standing. your sudden movement startled him, and he stepped back. frantically, you snatched the envelope off of the surface of the counter. 

jongho raised his eyebrows. “what was that?”

“nothing.” you answered too quickly, and his brow furrowed. 

“baby, are you okay? where is the letter from?”

“it’s not important.” you snapped, reaching to shove it in the trash. before you could get it in, though, jongho had slipped the letter from your hand.

“jongho!” you yelped. “wait, please-”

but it was too late. he had gotten the letter out, and his eyes were already scanning the page.

a beat passed, the room filling with thick, insufferable silence.

then, finally, he spoke. his voice was low. 

“what the fuck is this?”

you squeaked, reaching for the letter again. jongho spun around, grabbing your wrist midair. 

“y/n-ah! what the hell is this?!” his voice had risen.

tears threatened to spill over your cheeks. “it’s nothing, nothing! it’s just a joke, i promise-” 

he cut you off. “y/n-ah.” your boyfriend’s voice broke. “is this the first?”

your vision blurred.

what were you supposed to say? that it wasn’t? that the letter was only the most recent, but you’d never told him? how do you tell the man you love that you’d been lying to him? 

“y/n.” you’d never heard jongho speak with so much emotion. “how. many.”

your voice cracked as you responded. “this is the fourth.”

jongho’s face splintered. “the fourth?” he whispered, his voice foggy. his eyes were unfocused. a beat passed, then; “why wouldn’t you tell me?”

your knees threatened to buckle. you didn’t want him to know for so many reasons. because you loved him. because he loved you. because you didn’t want him to worry. because you didn’t want to get him in trouble. because you didn’t- 

“what the hell is wrong with you? why wouldn’t you tell me?”

in that moment, you swore you felt your heart crack.

the room was once again filled with a suffocating silence, strangling you as he turned his thoughts over.

finally, he spoke, the realization having hit him.

“you didn’t want me to worry. to blame myself.”

somehow, even though the sentences themselves seemed kind, your boyfriend’s tone practically dripped in venom. you looked back up at him, vision blurry, but he plowed on.

“y/n, that’s not how relationships work. why would you hide this? why would you put your health, your happiness-” he stuttered, having a hard time voicing his emotions. “your fucking safety! your life, goddammit! why would you rather risk that than worry me?!”

something in his voice began to anger you, and you snapped back at him, surprising the both of you.

“because, jongho! because i fucking KNEW-” you slam your finger into his chest. “i knew you’d blame yourself, just like you are right now!”

“i blame myself because it’s my fault!”

“how?!” your voice rose to meet his. “how the hell is this your fault?”

“because it’s me! i’m the issue here!” he seethed. “if you were dating any normal guy, this wouldn’t happen. “but no. i was the one who fell in love with you, and now you carry around a weight you never asked for.”

you inhaled sharply, responding before you could even fully absorb his words. “but i chose you, too! i love you, and i’m willing to carry that weight, i always have been!”

“but that’s not the point! the point is that in the end, this!-” he gestured angrily to the letter. “this is because of me. and i hate it. because you know damn well who those come from. they come from crazy fucking people who don’t want to see you with me.”

you sighed, indignant and angry. “i don’t see why it has to be your problem! that is my fucking name on the letter, not yours.”

“but you wouldn’t be getting shit like that in the first place if it weren’t for me!” a beat passed and suddenly his whole body seemed to deflate. “it’s my own fucking fault for loving you.”

you couldn’t possibly think of how to respond.

“you... you get so much shit for being with me, and you know it won’t stop. i’ve made your life so much harder than it has to be.”

you opened your mouth to protest, but your boyfriend plows on.

“if only i wasn’t part of the equation- this would be unthinkable then.”

you felt ravaged. like you were dangling on the edge of a cliff, barely holding on. once, jongho had been your support. your rock. now- now you felt the air beneath your feet, sending chills through you as your heart hung by a thread. 

“god.” he put his face in his hands. “god, sometimes i just wish i’d never met you.”

the thread snapped. you let go of the cliff.

you fell.

you inhaled as the brutal words hit you. they entered like a smooth knife, only to be jerked and twisted in your gut. you took a step back, silent tears streaming down your face.

jongho instantly realized his mistake, his face paling. “y/n...” his voice was almost a whisper as he neared tears himself.  “you know i didn’t mean it like that,” he took a hold of your wrist, and you jerked it back.

“no.” you managed. your voice was scratchy and hoarse. “no. you did.” 

you couldn’t look him in the eyes. turning away, you stumbled towards your front door. without stopping to think- to think that it was already late, to think that you were leaving your own apartment- you shoved on your shoes and left. you didn’t even take your cell phone.

- - - 

back in the kitchen, jongho’s knees buckled, and he sank to the ground. a moment passed. then he put his head in his hands, and for the first time in ages, he sobbed- letting the world swallow him and his feelings whole.

[angsty-omi]

arms tonite

fuckboy!atsumu miya x fem!reader

genre: angst, unrequited love,

cw: suggestive content, swearing, heartbreak

word count: 1.5 k

Different girl every night and no repeats; that was the rule of law Atsumu Miya lived by. Whether it was Asians, Whites, or Black girls he didn’t discriminate. If they had a beating heart and a pussy then he was set. Hearing about these conquests as his best friend, really made you think ‘wow who’s the poor that let Atsumu put his dick in that night?’ And as you would find it, soon enough it’d be you.

Media portrayal of college students, especially in movies, falsely portrayed college students and gave unrealistic ideas of how they live. These media outlets give impractical ideas of what college students are- intense party seekers, people who have all the time in the world, or just lazy nonworking students who revolve everything around their social lives. This was, by all means not true.

You, and many other diligent college students, can attest to this. The heavy number of finals and research papers due would soon drown you in your sleep. To prevent you from feeling overwhelmed, you always went to him. The one person who could talk your ear off, which though annoying, kept your mind off things, Miya Atsumu. See, Atsumu had the ultimate college experience. The ones that occurred on screen, the ‘intense party seeking’ events where somehow your invite was always lost in the mail. Every Wednesday, you’d always fit him into your schedule for brunch, which mostly consisted of him talking about the ‘new freshman babes’ at the Inarizaki Frat House, and you lived vicariously through him, not because you were envious of his lifestyle, rather, you were just interested in what could’ve been. 

“Did you get that Y/N?” Your thoughts were interrupted.

“U-uh, yeah! Of course, I did.” You tried playing it off, but Atsumu could see right through you. He knew all your mannerisms, for example, when you bite your lip, it’s a sign that you’re prepared for a big change or if you handball your T-Shirt, you’re feeling insecure. He could tell you had something weighing in on you, but he decided to ignore your blatant lie and wait for you to tell him.

“So, are you gonna tell how you’ve been doin’?” He lightly asked. 

“Yeah, uh life has been hard for me… I guess. It’s just that- with all these finals I am feeling so overwhelmed,” you buried your face in your hands to attempt forgetting about school. Knowing Atsumu, he would just drown out your sorrow, or so you thought. You continued, “I can’t eat, sleep, or you know-,” not even acknowledging the fact you just referred about your inability to get off. Atsumu became was suspiciously quiet. 

“What,” you furrowed your eyebrows. “Nothing, Nothing,” he shook his head, chuckling.

 “No, seriously what’s so funny?”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“Ya’ reeeaaaallly want to know?”

“I said yes already, just spit it out,” you irritated with anticipation. 

“I could help your little issue down there,” Atsumu grinned. Studying? When has Atsumu Miya ever wanted to study with you? The only reason he got into this school was because  he was a D1 athlete. Unless, he turned a new leaf and he chose a path where you don’t slap a ball back and forth because quite frankly you thought that it was risky caree- Oh. That little issue. “You’ve got to be kidding, I would never,” you felt offended. It wasn’t that he was ugly, it was quite the opposite. He had a charming personality, while also being built like a Greek God, and with a face like that it’s no wonder these girls fall for him. However, you felt too prideful to sleep with him. Sure, you may have some underlying feelings for him that you shut down deep inside, but you didn’t want to be treated like a human toy. So, that thought was always out of the question.  

“Never say n-” He was interrupted with his corny ringtone.

“Hello?... Yeah, I’m free, right now… Alright, see you then.” 

Atsumu always did this, it was like clockwork. He’d bail on you when you clearly were in distress and he could not even prioritize time to listen. He even, left you with the check. Sure, he’d Venmo you afterwards, but it still hurt nonetheless. On the walk back to your dorm, your thoughts were full of cursing Atsumu out for always bailing on you. Holding it in for so long only lasted you so much before you exploded. 

That night, Atsumu came over, not even expecting your wrath. 

An hour in, and he still couldn’t understand your argument. “Atsumu, if you could just.. I don’t know- not bail on me? Cause you know, it’s common courtesy!” You exclaimed. 

“Dude, it was literally just a few times, I don’t know why you’re getting so upset?”

“Upset? Upset? Upset is an understatement. How would you feel if I dropped you for some dick?”

“Like that would ever happen. C’mon, Y/N, you’re acting like my girlfriend and I’m uncomfortable.” He blurted, frustrated that this argument has lasted almost two hours. He just rejected you, and you didn’t even get the chance to even address those feelings. 

“Get out.”

“You know I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I don’t care, get out.” You wiped a treacherous tear from your eye. You opened the door, and gestured him to leave. But, he just stood there. Moving over to him in tears, you tried to push him out. Your measly arms were incomparable to his toned abs that he’s built since high school. He grasped your arms, and for a moment you could feel his padded thumb, wiping your cheek. Your faces were only a few inches away. This was your chance to get a taste of him, before he turned into a stranger. You leaned in his lips.

The lack of return made your heart drop. You let go and rambled with apologies,“I-I’m so sorry. Look, I-” He shut you up with another kiss, more passionate than yours. “I told ya’ I could fix that little issue of yours.”

The morning after, you woke up with your body aching in pain. Drool all over your chin, and in disgust, you wiped your mouth and skimmed your calendar. ‘The biomedical final isn’t at 10, it’s at 8-’ whispering to yourself. Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. Then, you slowly gazed at your alarm clock, ‘7:57 AM’ it read. 

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” you screamed to yourself. Without thinking, you dashed out the door and sped to the testing center. At the entrance, your professor met eyes with you. “Testing entry is closed, I thought you were better than this, Y/N.” Scolding you up and down. I only missed the final by a couple of minutes, why is she shunning me? You thought. But before you could continue, you looked down. There you were, love marks all over, in your panties and an oversized T-shirt to top it off. 

You rushed into your dorm, to find the vampire who did this to you. The universe was seemingly against you once more, because on your way over to your bedroom, you slipped on a textbook. How ironic. The loud slam woke him up, making him sit upright. “Oh my God Y/N are you okay?” He said with a concerned look on his face.

“Why the fuck are you still in my bed?” 

“Well if you wanna know the details-” He smirked, “No no no, I’m okay,” you interrupted him. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to understand what went on. 

You felt blood drip on your upper lip. Both of you just stared in shock. Immediately, he swiped you up, bridal style, and plopped you onto the sink. He stood in between your legs, soaking your nose with numerous amounts of toilet paper. There was a comfortable silence in the air. You know, Atsumu was quite beautiful with his mouth closed. The way the sunlight accentuated his sharp features, with his eyes reflecting a shade of light hazel. In an impulse, you pecked his lips and to your surprise, he reciprocated. 

It’s been a month since you’ve been hooking up and it’s become your new normal. As a small treat, you wanted to do surprise.

Prior to this dynamic, as best friends you always had a spare key, which his twin brother made sure of because Atsumu was forgetful. As tacky as it was, you were wearing a trench coat, that covered your bright red two-piece lingerie underneath. Silently twisting the knob, you walked into to his bedroom. The apartment was still clean, signaling that he wasn’t home. In which, gave you enough time to position yourself on his bed. After many awkward attempts of seductive positions, you chose the cross-over leg at the edge of his bed, which accentuated your hips. 

You heard his front door open, and his loud voice gave you the signal. You felt relaxed, but it wasn’t until you heard another voice. High-pitched and fruity, it was one of those voices you could tell it’d belong to a pretty girl. You panicked, and mentally scolded yourself for pushing Atsumu to go with a minimalist aesthetic for his bedroom, which left nowhere to hide for you. The knob was opened slightly, where only he could see you. Eye contact was made, and he immediately slammed the door shut. 

There was a muffled, “Hey! uh- my room is kind of dirty right now. Let’s go over to yours.” And after, hearing the front door shut, you assumed she complied. In awe, you mentally kicked yourself over and over again. You took off your attire immediately walking into your bedroom, it burned your skin with insecurities and embarrassment. So much for putting yourself out there. Although, what hurt the most was the way his eyes were full of disgust when he saw you.

That night, he knocked at your door. You opened it, thinking it was your food.

Your heart was beating rapidly, because just an hour ago you made a whole scheme of routes to take without seeing him. You coyly responded with, “you’re not my DoorDash,” and tried to close the door. But he blocked it.

“We need to talk,” he said in the most serious tone you’ve personally ever heard from him. How could those words scare you when you’re not in a relationship.

“What was that shit you pulled earlier?” He irritated. You felt so small under his gaze.

“I thought it would’ve been nice,” you mumbled. “Nice? That girl was the president of one of the most notorious sororities. She could’ve seen you.” He yelled, continuously blaming you. The way he viewed her, would never be the way he saw you. You were just a friend who needed a favor, not someone he actually wanted to pursue.

“You know what? Fine, my fault. Sorry that I ruined it, sorry that I showed up, sorry that I even planned it, sorry I ever thought that you saw me more than just a skank, sorry I even called you over that night, and finally, sorry for ever loving-” it just slipped out. His eyes widened, “Finish that sentence, Y/N. If I knew-”

“Knew what? Knew that I loved you, you wouldn’t have gotten involved? Yeah, well it’s too late. You know what? Just get out. I never want to see you again, Miya,” you sobbed, tears flowing down your face freely. Pounding your fists against his chest. His immobility gave you a small sliver of hope.

“I’m not ready, Y/N. I can’t give you what you want.” Conflicted, unbeknownst whether he was talking to you or himself. “But we can still be friends.”

That sentence was the nail in the coffin.

“It hurts to even look at you Atsumu.” Your voice cold. For someone that could read you so well, why did he think that would save your relationship? “I’ll.. be on my way then.” He slowly got up, and turned the knob. Selfishly enough, he made one more glance at you. He embraced this last glance. Did you know you were beautiful? Even with snot, running down your nose. Of course, you didn’t look back, you were too focused on biting your lips.

Atsumu’s face went pale. He knew what sign that meant. And the change was him. You were really set on ghosting him. With the door closed and Atsumu leaning on it, he couldn’t help to question why that made a pang in his heart.

[subbe93]

Day 2: I just called to say I love you

A/N: I have been lately listening to 80's songs and when I heard Stevie Wonder - I Just Called to Say I Love You, I somehow saw ShinRan in this, and when I saw this prompt, I knew I wanted to use this song somehow. Well, here we are :D

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was a beautiful day. Ran stared out of her room’s window but didn’t really see anything.

She missed him.

Another sunny day and she was alone in her room. She knew that she should shape up and do something nice. She could call Sonoko and talk to her, maybe complain about Shinichi, maybe they could go shopping or somewhere else. Or she could ask Conan-kun to do something with her. She knew that boy was in his and her father’s bedroom reading some book which he brought with him yesterday evening. And since her father was somewhere, who knows where, they could do something, just two of them.

Yet she couldn’t bring herself to stand up.

She missed him.

She really wanted to do something with Shinichi, like before. She would love to go to his house, just spending time with him. She would love to go and make him go outside, maybe they could go watch some movie or eat somewhere or… or…

Whatever would be fine. As long as it would be with Shinichi.

But Shinichi was still gone. Working with some stupid case. Really, she was so ready to travel wherever he was right now, she was so ready to go and help him to solve that case. She wouldn’t mind.

But she would probably just be in a way. She didn’t want that either.

She just needed to be patient, Ran told herself. Shinichi would come home as soon as he was ready. He promised. And he always kept his promises.

It didn’t change the fact that she still missed him.

Her gaze wandered from her table where was a photo of him and her from Kyoto. Then she saw her phone which laid in front of that photo. There wasn’t any sign of message or call.

Where Shinichi was now? What would he do right now? Was he working with his case? Or would he have some free time? Would she interrupt him if she would call him now?

She probably would. But she could always write a mail. Then he would read it as soon as he could, and Ran wouldn’t interrupt his investigation.

Yeah, that would be good.

Ran opened her phone and chose Shinichi’s name. She was ready to type.

But what she wanted to write?

Ran frowned before looked outside the window again. She hadn’t thought that through. She didn’t really have anything to tell. School days have been pretty normal, there wasn’t anything worth mentioning. Her father hasn’t had any interesting cases recently and professor and Detective boys haven’t either got themselves in any troubles. And Ran herself didn’t have any questions for him. Well, she always has, but she had asked those questions so many times that she knew the answers already.

Ran was sad. When has it come to this? Before he disappeared, she didn’t have this kind of trouble. She could always go to his house or call him even though she didn’t have any particular reason to do so. And he never said that she couldn’t do it.

Well, he hasn’t said it now either, but the difference was that he couldn’t always answer because of that case. Well, maybe it was also the reason why Ran has started to think if she could call him without reason or not.

Ran turned her gaze back to her phone. But what would she write? Really, there wasn’t any special day which to use as a reason to write him, no holidays, no any kind of events, no parties, not too hot to remind him to drink enough water and made sure not to get sunstroke, but there were neither other reasons to warn about any kind of weather… Particularly, there was nothing! It was only an ordinary day, nothing more, nothing less.

Yet, there was something which she could tell him. Something she kind of wanted to tell him. Something that didn’t need any particular day or time of year to say it.

Ran started to write, but as soon as she got a message ready, she didn’t send it. When she looked at her mail, it felt wrong.

She looked again out of the window, and she knew that she couldn’t send that message. No. It was something that needs to say out of loud that it would mean something. Well, at least in their case. Sending it… Well, it could work too, but somehow Ran felt that she needed to say it in her own voice. At least this time.

Ran decided to delete that message. Then she searched Shinichi’s phone number and stared at it. But would she still interrupt him? What if he doesn't answer her?

Would it matter? At least she would have tried and maybe he would call back later? Well, it was something that she wanted to say right now and not later, but it couldn’t be helped.

So, she pressed the call button and put the phone to her ear. She waited, and the more she waited, the more anxious she got. After the third beep, she started to wonder if she should forget the whole thing. Shinichi probably got better things to do than listening to his girlfriend’s nagging. In the end, there was some murderer free and sooner Shinichi gets them, better…

“Yo, Ran!”

Ran felt excitement. He answered!

“Shinichi!” she almost shouted. She couldn’t believe how happy she could feel just hearing his voice. “Did… did I call in a bad time?”

“No, it’s fine”, he answered. “Just… taking a little break.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah”, he answered. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, I haven’t heard of you for a while”, she answered and looked out of her window. “I was a little scared if something had happened to you…”

“Come on, Ran, how many times I have to tell you not to worry about me”, Shinichi interrupted.

“If you only call or send mails more often, I wouldn’t have to”, she murmured. “If something happens to you, you can’t write or call then, you know?”

“But I have told you before, haven’t I?” he said. “That I would come back to you even if it kills me.”

“Mou, Shinichi, I want you back alive, not as dead!”

“Well, I’m going to do everything to succeed on that, so don’t worry. Okay?”

Ran smiled shortly. “Okay”, she answered.

Then there was a silence. A few times Ran opened her mouth, but nothing came out. As much as she wanted to talk to him like before, tell him pointless things and all, she didn’t get anything out. She was like a fish trying to get air on the dry land.

But she knew before calling that she really didn’t have anything to talk to him. There was that one thing she wanted to tell him, yet…

“So, why did you call?”

“Wha-“ Ran started and blushed. “I… Did I need to reason to call?”

“Well, you usually do”, he laughed. “But if you don’t, then I think I need to…”

Yeah, there he goes again, thinking about leaving back to his stupid case. She pursed her lips. But she had something to tell him, right? So, if she wanted to say it, it’s now or never.

“Well, I… I… I just…”

Ran closed her eyes while her cheeks felt so warm. How in the world it was so hard to say? Why she was so nervous? It was Shinichi, her childhood friend, her boyfriend, the one whom she had told so many things…

“You just…?”

“I…” Ran took a deep breath. Be brave! “I just called to say I love you!”

She felt how her heart beats in her chest and her cheeks were burning. She waited a little scared of what Shinichi would say. At the same time, he was her boyfriend, so she shouldn’t be scared to say it, but still… The silence made her only more anxious. What if he didn’t feel the same? Though maybe he would have said it already, but… why he doesn’t answer? It felt like forever…

“Shinichi?”

“Why… How did that come to your mind?”

How… It took moment to realise his words.

“Really, Shinichi?” she almost shouted. She was so angry and disappointed. “I just told you how much I care about you and all you can think for an answer is How that came to your mind?”

“Well, usually there is something behind it if you called just for that…”

“Just for that?” Ran repeated. “Just for that?! God, you’re idiot, Shinichi! You barely ever call me! I have been missing you more than I care to admit, sometimes even so much that it even hurts! Yet I try to be patient and give you all the time you need to come back home! And when I call you just because I miss you, because I want to hear your voice and be sure you’re okay… Because I just wanted to tell you I still love you, and all you can think of answer is: you called just for that?!”

“Ran…”

“You know what? Go back to your case, so I can miss you more! Yeah, do that and if you please, try to solve it soon, because I really would love to have you back! And be careful, idiot!”

“Ran, wa-!”

She hung up and almost slammed her phone to the table, but she swallowed her angry enough just to laid it down nicely. Then she crossed her arms and pouted.

God, why Shinichi needed to be like that? He was so an idiot! Didn’t he had any kind of understanding of feelings? Sometimes Ran wondered did he really like her, but still, why otherwise he would have asked her answer in Kyoto?

Her phone started to ring. She looked at it but ignored it. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone right now. Whoever the caller was, it would be her father or Sonoko. And she was pretty sure that she wouldn’t like to answer them, not right now. She wasn’t sure if she would like to tell Sonoko about that phone call, not just yet. She would only mock her or saying that she deserves better. And her father wouldn’t understand anyway. He would just laugh, saying something that Shinichi wouldn't care about her enough, maybe telling her to forget him and find someone else.

They wouldn't understand her!

Or maybe they were right...

She felt tears in her eyes. She wanted to ask herself what she even sees in Shinichi, but she knew the answer already. And truth to be told, she felt like nothing could change how she felt for him. Even though she told herself that she didn’t wait much for that phone call, would it be too much to ask to have his answer in his own voice? It would have been the best thing ever to hear him say it to her, it would have eased her pain a little, make her feel a little bit better…

The phone started to ring again. Well, whoever wanted to call her, was persistent. So she leaned forward to get her phone from the table and look who was the caller.

Shinichi?

She grimaced.

Like she wanted to answer to it. She hasn’t relent yet, and she has no intention to do it soon. He deserved that! He can suffer for a while and thought what he said to her!

Like Shinichi would be suffering something like that. He knew that Ran wasn’t unforgiving.

But then, why he tried to call her again? Maybe he was really suffering about this? Maybe he would want to apologize? Maybe…

But somehow it didn’t feel like Shinichi… Maybe Ran just imagine too much?

Ringing stopped. Ran looked at a dark screen, and even though she wanted to sulk a little more, it didn’t felt as good as she was hoping for. Did she really think that she would win something for being angry with someone who was far away and wouldn’t get affected even if Ran wouldn’t be in touch with him in a week or a whole month? So maybe she should stop being childish.

Then it started to ring the third time and Ran took a deep breath. Part of her wanted to answer. Part of her wanted to hear his voice and what he has in his mind. Maybe he wanted really to apologize to her. But then again, it was Shinichi. Ran was pretty sure that Shinichi didn’t even realized or understand why she was upset. Probably he just wanted to ask some favors. Something that he didn’t have time to ask before. And she knew that if that was the case, she would feel much angrier and disappointed.

But maybe they should make up…

The phone went silent again. Ran looked at it before put it down. Well, maybe she should call him later when she had pouted enough and would feel better…

Then there was a beep. Ran looked at her phone before she opened it. Now there was a voicemail from Shinichi. For a moment she wondered if she should open it or not, but she decided to open it.

“Well, there was something I wanted to say before you hung up, but like always, you’re too hasty. And since you’re not going to answer my calls, I… I… I… Just… Love you too, you know.”

As much as Ran tried to be still angry with that detective geek, a smile came to her lips while her cheeks started to burn again. She played it a second time, then third, fourth… And just smiled.

God, here it was again! So much for being angry with him.

Ran smiled mischievously. Well, Shinichi didn’t have to know that.

She made sure to save that voicemail before closed her phone and put it in her pocket. She hymned while left from her room.

“Conan-kun?” she chirped and looked toward her father’s bedroom door. “Do you want to go somewhere with me?”

It took a while before the dark-haired boy opened the door and came out. When he raised his head, Ran gasped.

“Oh, Conan-kun! Are you sick?” she asked and fast went to the boy and touched his forehead. “Your forehead doesn’t feel like hot, but… your face is so red…”

The boy shook his head away from Ran’s touch. “I’m fine”, he murmured looking away from her. “Just… uncle’s room was so hot…”

“Oh”, Ran answered and looked at the room. “Maybe I should open a balcony door a little…��

“No need to”, Conan answered and now looked at her. “By the way, did you wanted to go somewhere?”

Ran started to smile. “Yeah, I thought if we should do something together. Like go to eat something and… and… I don’t know”, she laughed. “Just let’s have some fun together, right?”

Boy didn’t answer and Ran didn’t wait for it. She just went back to her room and took her handbag, making sure that there was everything she needed. Keys, purse… Her phone was in her pocket…

“Ran-neechan? Has something happened?”

“Eh?” Ran asked and turned towards her door. Conan has appeared in there and looked at her with a puzzled look. “What, why is so?”

Boy didn’t answer right away. “Well, you looked a little down earlier, but now you just smile and hymn. So… I’m just curious if something happened?”

Even though she didn’t intend to, her smile just brightened even more. “Well, you can say that”, she answered and then made a cautionary gaze towards him. “But if Shinichi asks something from you, tell him that I’m still angry with him.”

“But Ran-neechan, you don’t look angry”, he said while Ran walked out from her room and wrote a fast note to her dad just in case. Then she turned towards the boy and smiled.

“Well, Shinichi doesn’t have to know it, right?” Then she turned towards the outdoor. “Okay, let’s go, Conan-kun!”

If she would have turned around to look at that boy, she would have seen a very confused look on his face.

[not-playable-character]

Edit: new link https://archiveofourown.org/works/32099263

ITS DONE!!!!  Finally, the RE8 meets RE7 fic is finished and posted!  so for everyone wondering and if you didn't figure it out already. The image I posted earlier is the seating arrangement of the gang as they play the game.  As always its posted on AO3 and under the cut.  I hope you enjoy @ibest14 I never actually played RE7 but I watched a walkthrough to write this.

It was a normal Saturday afternoon when the Winters family got a very strange package.  It was addressed to the whole family and had no return address.

“What the heck is this?” Rose wondered aloud carrying the small package inside, “Hey mom! Did you order something online?”

“Not that I remember, why?” Mia asked curious why her daughter was asking about the mail, “Who is it addressed to? Maybe your dad ordered something.” She went and stood next to Rose to look at the package.

“Hmm, I think we should wait for dad to get home to open it, I mean it is addressed to all of us.” Mia agreed with her daughter and went to continue making dinner.

Ethan got home a few hours later and was greeted by his daughter with a warm hug, “Haha, hey there kid how was your day?” He asked returning the hug and picking Rose up.

“It was good! We got a weird package in the mail, mom and I decided to wait for you before opening it.” Rose said leading him into the kitchen after he put her down.

“Welcome home, Hon! How was work?” Mia asked kissing Ethan on the cheek.

“Ugh, Williams was an absolute pain again.  He somehow unplugged all of his equipment and disconnected his computer from the ethernet cable again.” Ethan complained sitting down at the dinner table next to Rose. “Chris somehow changed his computer to Arabic and Sal’s computer was changed to have wingdings as the default language and it bricked the whole thing, he said it was an accident, but I think it was one of the dicks that keep harassing him.  I told Chris and he’s looking into it.” Ethan picked up the package and looked at the outside.

“Ugh why can’t these douchebags see that Sal is way better than them.  Probably just jealous of him.” Rose said frustrated at the harassment her uncle was receiving.

“We should invite him over for dinner sometime, lift his spirits some!” Mia suggested placing a glass of juice down for Ethan.  He agreed and thanked her for the juice.

Ethan handed the package back to Rose who tore into the packaging.  Inside was a video game box, “Resident Evil? Isn’t that a game from the nineties?” Rose asked confused.

Ethan leaned over to get a better look, “Yeah it is, I played almost all of them, but I’ve never seen that one.  It looks like its supposed to be the seventh one, but they only made six that I know of.” Ethan became confused taking the box from Rose studying it, it strangely didn’t have a back cover.

“Weird, maybe they are rebooting the series, but why wouldn’t there be a lot of news about it?” Rose asked.  Ethan’s face lit up at the possibility of a reboot of his favorite childhood series.

“Man, I hope so, I always loved Craig Bluemarsh and Leo C. Harrison.  They were the best!  The whole M.O.O.N.S squad from Badger City.  Special Ops turned paranormal investigators was the twist of the decade! And the whole thing with Egbert Walberk and how he possessed himself with countless demons to become basically a god.” Ethan sighs as he reminisces.

“You clearly have bad taste honey because Julie Easter was the best character in the series.  The ace of the M.O.O.N.S squad, the one that Walberk kidnapped to force demons into her with a mind control amulet.  Oh, and don’t forget Chloe Bluemarsh, college kid turned aid worker for those affected by the demons.” Mia added as she chopped vegetables for dinner.

“Ahh yes, how could I forget! Anyway, this looks like a cheap bootleg or fake.  Probably just a prank from Dani or Angie.”  Ethan said tossing the case further on the table looking upset.

“Aw man…. That’s lame dad.” Rose says dramatically throwing herself over the back of the chair.  “I’m keeping it anyway; the box looks cool.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A month after the whole package incident, Rose bursts into the house beaming.  “Dad, Uncle Chris just told me that we are having a meeting with the whole gang! We should totally bring that janky game we got and show it off!”

“Whoa, slow down Rose! You’re gonna hurt yourself running around like that.” Ethan says watching his daughter bounce in place.  “Why do you think we should bring that thing anyway? I doubt there will be anytime to just sit around and play a game, if it’s even real.”  Rose rolls her eyes at him.

“Dad, I’m sure Uncle Chris can pull some strings so we can have a little get together.  We never get to see each other all at once!” Rose states, putting on her best puppy dog eyes, “Don’t you want to see the gang, Dad. It would be so much fun.  You know how much I miss them all.” She begs.

Ethan can physically feel his resolve crumbling at his begging daughter, always caving into her once she pulls out the puppy eyes, “Fine, I’ll talk with Chris and we can bring the game with us, but you are responsible for the PlayStation and if it gets damaged or broken you have to buy the new one.” He says in his dad voice, trying to be stern.  Rose squeals and jumps into his arms hugging him.

“You’re the best dad ever!” She says running off to prepare for their long weekend at Blue Umbrella.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ok, is everyone comfy, I’m about to start the game!” Rose said excitedly setting up the PS4 in the Blue Umbrella lounge room.  Everyone was present, Rose even convinced Miranda and Elena to join them after Milena was put to bed.

“I am unsure of what we are even doing sweet thing.” Alcina said settling into her chair near Donna.

“Well, I’m gonna play this weird game I got, maybe Dani can take over if I get tired.  We are just gonna check it out, if its good, Great! If not, we can make fun of how bad it is!” Rose explained sitting down on the couch wedged between Daniela, Angie, and Heisenberg with Bela and Cassandra on the floor in front of them.  Alcina wasn’t convinced that it would be fun, but she couldn’t deny Rose’s request considering how excited she looked.  She sighed and pulled out her reading glasses seeing the small text on the screen.

“Psh, what are you a grandma?” Heisenberg teased. Alcina growled at him.

“Oh, please grow up you child.” She replied trying to de-escalate the situation knowing Rose and her daughters hated when they argued.

“I see making your head bigger didn’t help your eyesight.” He continued to tease sensing her anger.

“I grew proportionally you ignoramus, becoming larger would not fix my farsightedness.” She growled out becoming angrier.

“Guys….” Rose said sadly at the two arguing.  Heisenberg immediately stopped his next sentence and turned to give Rose a side hug.

“Sorry kiddo, I forgot you hate it when we fight.  I’ll stop, I promise.”  He says sincerely as Alcina nods looking guilty, Rose smiles accepting their apologies.

“No more sappiness get to the action I’m getting bored!” Angie cried out from Daniela’s lap.  Rose rolls her eyes at the doll’s bratty attitude and begins the game.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The game begins with a very familiar video to Ethan and Mia and the sight of Mia recording her warning message on the ship.

“What the…. How is this happening?  It showed the recording from my eyes, but I never recorded that…” Mia says stunned.

The next scene starts with the sound of a phone ringing and the overhead video of a car driving down a highway.  Ethan begins to speak to and unknown man in the voice over explaining how he was contacted by Mia and that she wants him to come and get her.

“This has to be a sick prank!  How did these people get that phone call!” Ethan shouts getting more and more upset as the clip plays. Mia places a hand on his arm to comfort him.

“Maybe there will be an explanation later.  There has to be….” Mia says trying to calm Ethan.

Rose pauses the game as it shifts to Ethan’s perspective in the car, “We don’t have to keep playing if this is making you guys uncomfortable.” She says to her parents.

Ethan takes a deep breath, “No, no… it’s fine, you were really excited for this.  I was just shocked.  I’m okay to keep going, as long as you are okay too Mia.”  She nods in agreement with her husband clearly rattled but pushing through.  Rose nods continuing the game as she walks Ethan through the thick Louisiana swamp towards the Baker house.

The first obstacle they encounter is a locked gate.  She moves him down a path leading to a trashed car with camera equipment scattered around it.  Looking in they find a scrip proposal for Sewer Gators Ep. 17.

They then come across a broken gate with a sign that says, “Accept Her Gift”, “Oh yeah definitely just walk through that incredibly ominous gate into the disgusting swamp.” Heisenberg says gesturing towards the screen, “I’d just say, ‘sorry lady I’m not that desperate for a wife’ and dip.”

“He has a point dad, I mean really its been three years.  Just move on.” Rose says to her father.

Ethan blushes, “Hey you can’t judge a man in love.  I had to know what happened.”

“Nah man, just accept the death bro.  Totally not worth it.” Daniela says interjecting.

“I’m right her you know.” Mia says scolding them.  Rose giggles and continues on.  They come across the remains of a fire with Mia’s purse laying there.  They then enter the Guest house finding it to be disgusting and in disrepair.

“God, I forgot how gross this place was.” Ethan says wrinkling his nose.

Rose looks around the living room area, finding a hidden chain that opens a hidden room they go through. Exploring further leads them into a flooded basement they are forced to crawl through.

“Oh, please Ethan, I know you are insanely stubborn but the corpse in the flooded basement should have been an indicator to leave immediately.” Alcina says as the dead body floats up in front of them.

“Ok, Ok I get it I’m a crazy person for going on, but can we please stop commenting on it.  I’m aware of the insanity.” Ethan replies as Rose comes up into a basement room with a jail cell containing Mia as well as other information on people who were listed as turned or dead.  They pick up the bolt cutters and break open Mia’s cell.  While they are being reunited Mia acts strangely warning him of the dangers and of Daddy.

“Pft, seriously? Daddy?” Dani snickers at Mia.

“Don’t start.  I was possessed by a child obsessed with family.” Mia says glaring at Dani.

Rose follows Mia through the basement where she and Ethan stop to talk about the last three years.

“Come on! This is a life or death situation, get a move on!” Cassandra yells out at the screen.

Rose continues to creep through the basement following Mia as Ethan learning more about her capture as they walk.  They come across a living room type area where Mia starts to act strangely, talking about family and when Ethan leaves, they hear her crash through the wall revealing a staircase to the house.  They move through the house looking for Mia.  They hear crashing coming from the stairs they came from and return to find Mia on all fours crawling up the stairs.  She attacks Ethan looking monstrous as she throws him back up with superhuman strength. She then attacks him with a knife stabbing him through the hand.  After a struggle she regains control rambling about a strange her as she slams her head against the wall.

“Jesus man, that is hard core…” Heisenberg says in awe. Mia grimaces at the memory.  Rose continues on wandering before they are attacked by Mia once again.  They fight her off with an axe.  “Ethan, my friend, you always have to double check that your enemy is dead.  She is definitely gonna get up again, classic horror trope.” Heisenberg says wisely.

“Karl, this actually happened.  I wasn’t thinking about ‘horror tropes’.  I was focusing on surviving.” Ethan says to him.

“Also, of course I’m going to get up, I’m sitting right here.  I’m clearly not dead.” Mia says exasperated.

Rose moves on with the game ignoring them and answers the phone that had begun to ring.  “Dad why did you answer the phone? Just leave.” She says as Zoe gives her warning to Ethan.  “Oh yeah let’s listen to the random phone lady and not just break a window.” She says rolling her eyes.

They move on solving the puzzle for the stairs catching a glimpse of the not at all dead Mia.  Replacing the fuse, they are jumped by Mia again who attacks him with a screwdriver pinning him to the wall before chopping his had off with a chainsaw.

“My god man! How did you keep going!” Sal exclaims looking at Ethan who just shrugs.

They find a pistol in one of the rooms and use it to take care of the attacking Mia as she rants crazily. Finally taking her down, they are ambushed by Jack Baker who punches him in the face.

“See I told you that you should have moved faster, now ‘Daddy’ caught you.” Cass says as Ethan falls over and is stomped on by Jack.  They see him being dragged and Mia being carried by Jack, the scene changes to Ethan strapped to a chair with Zoe staples his hand back on.  He finally fully awakes to a disgusting family dinner with the whole Baker family.

“Ugh, I miss Momma’s cooking so much.” Mia says reminiscing happily.  Everyone stares at her as they see the disgusting meal on the table in game.  She blushes, “Before she went fully crazy, she was an amazing cook.  Her gumbo was to die for, oh and Daddy’s fried chicken, mmm.”  She explains to them.  No one seems convinced as the scene continues with Lucas throwing food at him and Marguerite tries to get Ethan to eat, and Jack cuts off Lucas’ hand. Jack comes over and forces the rancid food into Ethan’s face as Marguerite rants and leaves angrily, Jack then cuts Ethan’s face before being interrupted by the doorbell.  They escape and flee through the house trying to find an exit. They find a key and are chased by Jack before escaping to the crawlspace.

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They explore the house before a police officer tries to ask Ethan questions.

“Man, that officer is kind of a dick…” Heisenberg says realizing how rude and unprofessional the officer is.

“He was a massive dick.” Ethan says frustrated at the memory of their interactions.  They make the way to the garage to meet the rude officer who refuses to take the situation seriously which leads to his death and Ethan’s continued entrapment.  “See, massive dick, we could have escaped, but noooo.” He says.

Rose nods in agreement as she avoids Jack in the garage and tries to defeat him with the car.  The car crashes and catches fire revealing an on fire Jack who is knocked down by the resulting explosion.  They collect the items in the room before climbing up the revealed ladder. Jack stops Ethan and shoots himself in the head with Ethan’s gun.

“I’ll say it again, he ain’t dead.  He’s coming back sooner or later.” Heisenberg says again.

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock. This game’s been full of tropes so far.” Cassandra responds to him rolling her eyes.

Rose continues on solving puzzles and making their way through the labyrinthine house avoiding the obviously not dead Jack and the molded that are scattered around the house. They see Jack mumbling to himself about being “her” and talking about how he is going to kill Ethan.

“God he’s so cool.” Dani says as he leaves the room getting looks from the others, “What? He’s a cool villain.”

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The fight with Jack was a bit of a struggle for Rose, but she made it through with Heisenberg, Dani, and Cass cheering her on.

When he finally exploded, both Heisenberg and Dani called out in joy, “Now that’s how you kill a villain!” Heisenberg shouted out with a laugh and high fived Dani over Rose’s head. As they make their way through the house again completing puzzles and finding Grandma in random places.

“She is the one who caused all this.” Alcina says pointing at Grandma.  Ethan and Mia looks shocked.

“How did you know that?” Mia asks. Alcina scoffs as if it is obvious.

“She hasn’t had the focus at all, yet she appears at random seemingly following Ethan, who we know is the next victim in mind.  She is clearly Eveline.”  She says smugly to everyone’s shocked faces.

Rose moved on ignoring the gloating.  She came across a trailer in the yard, exploring it revealed that it was Zoe’s home containing some useful items that she ignored moving to leave as the phone rang. Zoe explained about the mold and how to progress.

“Why are you so trusting of this woman, you don’t know her, and she has admitted that she is a part of the family trying to kill you?” Bela asked turning to face Ethan.  He opened his mouth to answer but nothing came out, he paused thinking and shrugged.  Bela rolled her eyes at him, “Typical man thing.” She mumbled out returning to her original position.

They move on to the old house and Marguerite just as Zoe instructed. Coming across baby dolls strung up from the rafters of the bridge.  “Whoever made those should be killed.” Donna said quietly.  Everyone looked at her confused.  “The look like such poor quality dolls, anyone who cares would never let them fall apart so easily.  Cheap plastic is the worst fate a doll can experience.” She explains confident.

“You aren’t upset at the fact that they are strung up, just that they suck?” Rose asks her.

“Of course, you can do what you like with them, but the craft must be respected.  These cheap factory made ones are a disgrace.”  Donna explains upset at the virtual dolls.  Rose mumbles an ok before moving on into the bug infested old house.  They make their way through the house avoiding mutant bugs and solving puzzles.

“Gotta say girls, these things really remind me of you three.” Heisenberg says as Rose burns her way through the nests of bugs.

“How dare you compare my girls to these disgusting things!  They are clearly superior in every way.” Alcina says angrily defending her girls.

“Thank you, mother, but he has a bit of a point.” Bela says to her mother with Cassandra nodding in agreement.

“Momma has a point though too! We are better than those things!” Dani says beaming at her mother. Cass mumbles suck up under her breath and is smacked by Dani.

Soon after they find Mia in game again, she explains her amnesia and is taken away by Lucas.  Not being able to help they continue on through the house again.  Eventually they are found by Marguerite who begins to stalk them through the house attacking them with her swarm of insects, insane rants, and vulgar obscenities.

“This lady is something else…” Heisenberg says cringing at Marguerite.

“For once we agree on something Karl.” Alcina agrees cringing as well.  The others nod in agreement with them.

They make their way through a secret passageway revealed by the spider shadow puzzle.  The wall space was infested which had everyone cringing at the writhing masses of centipedes.  They collect the crank and the crow key and try to enter Marguerite’s room before she throws him down the stairs and through the floor.  After a short encounter, she falls into the hole and melts into black goo. They collect information on the D series pieces and Zoe calls again, and she mentions they only need the arm piece as she has the D series head.  They return to the hole to see the goo gone and a long spindly arm take the lantern needed to progress.  They follow the monstrosity to well in front of the old house returning to Zoe’s trailer. They return to a new section of the old house where they are attacked by a mutated spider like Marguerite.

They run around the house, avoiding her swarms and attacks while burning her with the flamethrower and peppering her with shotgun shots to the disgusting nest on her lower half.

“I take it back; you girls are way more similar to the bug lady.” Heisenberg says once she finally dies. Alcina slaps the back of his head and growls at him.

“Momma can we mutate like that too!” Dani says excitedly as Bela and Cass cringe.

“Absolutely not.  Do not even think about trying.” Alcina scolds while Heisenberg and Rose chuckle at them.

“Why would anyone want to have a gross bug vagina?”  Cassandra turns around asking her sister.

Dani shrugs, “I don’t know, I just think it would be neat.” Rose shoves the controller into Dani’s hands and takes Angie from her.

“No more bug talk, you play, I’m getting tired.” Rose says stretching.

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They find their way into Eveline’s secret room and collect the arm.  They go to meet Zoe in her trailer only to find that no one is there.  They answer a call from Lucas where he tells Ethan that he has both Zoe and Mia, and that Ethan needs to play his game to save them and get the head.  They make their way back to the main house’s dissection room where they pull the snake key out of the dead deputy’s neck hole.  Lucas’ voice come out through a speaker explaining they need to find two keycards so they can meet.

“Ohhh, I love this guy! I’m getting so many ideas for new games, hehehe!” Angie says excitedly bouncing in Rose’s lap.  Donna glares at the doll chastising her through their mental link.  Angie pouts at the scolding.

They make their way through the increasingly molded main house solving Lucas’ puzzles and dodging the molded shambling around.  They find the blue keycard and make their way down into a secret room containing the red keycard.  Lucas calls again at the phone in the main hall, leading Ethan to a party in the barn.

They enter the barn to thumping music and glowing paint under a black light.  They come across a room with a television showing Lucas ranting and waving the D series head around, ranting about how he doesn’t want to give up his gift and that they can only get the serum from him before the television explodes.  They make their way through the barn avoiding trip mines and coming up to a locked gate with a passcode.  Lucas makes an appearance taunting Ethan and giving him incorrect passwords before a trap springs and a secret door opens up.

They wind through the barn avoiding the traps and taking out the molded arriving at Lucas’ arena where they fight off a giant molded.  After the fight they find the correct passcode to enter the birthday room.  They solve his puzzles and escape through the hole created by the dynamite.  They see a television with Zoe and Mia, Zoe explains where they are before Lucas cuts the camera to himself ranting about nothing.  They collect the D series head and leave the barn making their way to Zoe and Mia.  They release Zoe and Mia before collecting the completed serum.  Just after they are ambushed by a fully mutated Jack.

“Wait he isn’t dead?! I can’t believe I didn’t call it!” Heisenberg calls out as Dani fights Jack.

After a long grueling fight, taking out Jacks many swollen eyes and using one of the two serums to calcify him at Zoe’s request.  Walking down the pier they are faced with a choice to cure either Zoe or Mia.

“Well clearly we are supposed to cure mom. Its what dad did in real life.” Rose says.

“True, I did.  I did feel bad though, Chris ended up saving Zoe and her uncle, so it all ended up good.” Ethan says.

“Yeah, sure choosing Mia is what really happened but what if we chose Zoe?” Dani asks hovering over Zoe in game.

“No! We can do it later right now we are choosing mom.” Rose says sternly.

“Fiiiiinnnnnee.” Dani whines out giving Mia the serum.  They take the raft down the river listening to Ethan and Mia talk about the situation before they come across the wrecked boat Mia and Eveline arrived on.  They are attacked by the mold, and they switch to Mia’s perspective as they hear Eveline speak to her through their mental connection.

“Well, this is going to be interesting, I’ve never seen this before.” Ethan says as they move into the ship. They find an unconscious Ethan who is taken by the mold deeper into the ship.  They move through the mold infested ship as Mia, getting flashbacks as they move on.  They follow the phantom Eveline to a room containing a television where they watch a video tape that blends into them playing through the situation leading to the crash of the ship and the infection of the Baker family.

They see Mia’s partner Alan who explains he is the reason Eveline escaped he explains that she needs to fix his mess and they begin to track Eveline through the ship.  They finally come across Eveline in the engine room before she runs off again.  They find Alan again in the room next to the one where they started the video tape. As he explains that Eveline is deteriorating, he insults her, and she overtakes him with the mold.  The mold then spreads to Mia infecting her.  They then see Mia recording the warning video from the beginning of the game.  The section ends with Mia being blown off the ship and floating unconscious in the water, before returning to the present with Mia and the Phantom Eveline talking. Making their way to the bridge they use the surveillance cameras to find Ethan trapped in mold in the engine room. On the way there they are impeded by the phantom Eveline and the remaining molded.

As Mia finds Ethan, the perspective swaps back to Ethan’s mind as he speaks to a sane Jack.  He explains that Eveline is the cause of all the murders and kidnappings.  He says that they were infected when He rescued her from the crashed tanker.  Jack also explains that stopping Eveline will stop the mold.  Before Ethan awakens to Eveline and Mia arguing.  Mia rips him free from the mold prison and gives him the tissue sample before locking him out of the engine room urging him to kill Eveline.  They continue through the bayou to a salt mine near the Baker house.  They hear a military broadcast explaining a team was sent in to take down Eveline. They traverse the salt mines finding an underground lab with information on Eveline and the E series mold.  They use Eveline’s tissue samples to make the E- Necrotoxin that is used to kill her permanently. As they exit the mine, Ethan sees flashes of Eveline as she sends the molded to kill him. They exit the mine into the original room Ethan found Mia in where he has a vision of Mia panicking.  He continues to see visions of Mia’s attack on him and Eveline controlling her.  They stab Eveline with the serum, and she reveals her true form as Grandma before melting away and mutating into a large monstrosity.

As Dani fights the massive face of Eveline, Miranda mumbles to herself, “Absolutely fascinating.  How she responds to different stimuli and the delayed injection of the Necrotoxin.” Rose and Dani scream forgetting that Miranda was sitting behind them.

“Jesus Christ! What is wrong with you! You scared the living hell out of us!” Rose yells at her turning to face Miranda who has a notebook open in her lap.  “What are you even doing?”

Miranda blushes at being caught, “I was taking notes on how E-001 reacted and how the family responded to the infection.  It is incredibly fascinating that the whole Baker family mutated without becoming one of the shambling molded.”

“Trust me she was about to run off and work more before I stopped her.” Elena interjects into Miranda’s rambling.  “Don’t worry, I won’t let her work on the Eveline project outside of simply watching videos.” Miranda’s blush deepens and she looks embarrassed at being called out by her lab assistant.

“Good, no more mind control children allowed.” Dani says rudely turning back to the screen continuing the final fight.

Ethan is thrown from the house and sees helicopters arriving at the house as he is attacked by Eveline. He uses an unknown gun to shoot Eveline calcifying and crumbling her finally.  After the battle, Ethan and Mia are rescued by Chris.  The final shots of the game are Ethan speaking over clips of marshlands and the reveal of the Blue Umbrella helicopter.

“Well that certainly was something….” Ethan says as the credits roll.  Mia wide eyed and shocked nods in agreement.

“So, all that actually happened?” Rose asks her parents, they both nod. “Ok well that doesn’t explain how the heck this got made or why we were sent it or by who!” Rose rants.

“Who cares, it was awesome!” Dani exclaims high fiving Angie who cheers with her.

“Can we leave now? My back is beginning to hurt.” Bela complains standing up and stretching.

Rose boos her, “Fine be boring.  What did everyone else think?” She asks everyone left in the room.

“Amazing! Fantastic! Ten out of ten!” Dani exclaims clinging onto Rose.

“It was interesting, very cinematic.  A bit tropey at times but it works in its favor.  Especially since this technically happened.  The villains were enjoyable and empathetic at the same time.” Heisenberg critiques.

“Yeah, whatever it was fine.” Cass says getting up and leaving the room.

“I had quite a nice time, I’m glad you suggested this, Rose.” Alcina says picking up the sleeping Donna. “I’m sure Donna will apologize for falling asleep tomorrow morning.  Have a good night.”  She kisses the top of Rose and Dani’s heads and leave the room.

“It was quite informative, thank you for inviting me, Rose.  I truly appreciate it.  Now I must go and review my notes.” Miranda says looking at her notebook as she slowly leaves the room.

“We are actually going to bed, but thanks for inviting us, Rose.  We’ll have to do it again soon!” Elena says grabbing Miranda’s arm and taking her notebook.

“I think your mom and I have some talking to do, but you guys have a good night sweetie.” Ethan says getting up before kissing Rose on the head.

“Yeah, outside of the horrifying content of this ‘game’ it was fun.  Have a good night honey.” Mia says following her husband to their room.

“Alright seems like the party is dying down and someone has to get Sal to his room.  Seems like he and Donna can’t stay up late like us cool kids.” Heisenberg laughs out shaking Sal awake.  Sal stands up groggily and leans ion Heisenberg as they leave to their respective rooms.

“Lame everyone left. You want to stay up or are you hitting the sack too?” Dani asks Rose.

“I think I’m going to bed too.  I have a lot to think about.” Rose says hugging Dani, “See you in the morning Dan.”  Dani decides to follow Rose and they head to bed.

In his assigned quarters, the Duke watches the group scatter to their rooms for bed, “I’m glad they enjoyed my little gift.  Hopefully, it answers some questions for them.” The Duke says to himself chuckling.

[in-tua-deep]

For the Harry Potter AU, Is there going to be Five time travelling, be it accidentally?

Five does not decide to time travel on a whim to use his powers in the hogwarts au - this does not mean he doesn’t time travel

(Five is very very concerned with them all sticking together in this timeline/au !! he doesn’t want to run away at all, because their lives are finally good - he has no reason to want to time travel when there’s all this other magic shit he could be learning)

during one of their summers, they end up at the Weasley’s house. It makes sense. Ginny was their youngest child and she’s graduated and moved out. The Weasley’s had a whole seven children, which means they have space slash beds for seven whole children. So they stay with the Weasleys, which is a somewhat awkward fit but I digress

but look the Weasleys still have kids, and those kids do visit

(Which is how Klaus meets Fred Weasley, which is another story)

But Ron comes home to visit and Hermione comes with him and they end up telling stories about their Hogwarts days to the umbrella kids, which is interesting and fun !! they downplay the deadliness of their shenanigans probably but they tell them stories

and Ron mentions Hermione’s insanity their third year when Hermione decided she had to take every single class available to her like an absolute madman. How did she manage that? Oh, she got a time turner with the ministry’s permission or something

and Five, who is always doing Way Too Many Things At Once is immediately enthralled with the idea that you can jump back hours at a time. And they used this just to get to a class at the same time as another class? The possibilities are limitless. 

As soon as Ron and Hermione leave Five is already penning furious letters to his head of house hollering about getting a time turner and that he also wants to do All The Classes

(all his Hufflepuff friends admire his work ethic, yes, very hufflepuff, but come on five put the book down and play exploding snap with us for once in your goddamn life)

And Sprout mails back like “You’re literally 12 you don’t even get electives for your second year?? ask me again next year????” because this is a ravenclaw problem usually - and a Hermione problem - that the Hufflepuff head of house usually doesn’t have to deal with tbh

and Five pouts about it but yeah okay that’s fair, even if having the five hour time turner would be super super useful for things like... sleep or homework slash doing other peoples homework (for a fee of course)

so Five goes through his second year very patiently and then at the end kicks in Sprout’s door and is like “PROFESSOR SPROUT, TIME TURNER ME” giving her an absolute heart attack

(Five is pretty good at zooming through his homework actually, he’s one of the top students in their year actually??? he’s one of those annoying kids who doesn’t even have to put in much effort to get top grades? 

this is because Five is voracious in his pursuit of magical knowledge and is actually like, way beyond his year’s appropriate material tbh - like he’s not quite brewing polyjuice potions in the bathrooms but the librarian knows him by name and he’s started eyeing the restricting section with a little too much interest recently

the age old wisdom learned in Reginald’s household: you only get in trouble if you get caught)

Five is willing to even do the really stupid sounding classing like divination (gag, he’s going to be doing the class with Klaus, Allison, and Diego though so it’s not a total wash he guesses) because if he does the work he gets a fucking time turner are you kidding

(Klaus is way too enthusiastic about divination, when asked why she’s taking Allison arches an eyebrow and says she can absolutely predict the future - for example she heard a rumor you left her alone - wow look at that it came true! Diego is taking it because Klaus begged him but also because he heard it was a really easy class and he would like to focus on quidditch thanks)

they end up staying at the Longbottom Estate the summer between their second and third year (the Weasleys weren’t a great fit and they plan to go to Romania that summer to visit Charlie) since the bigass mansion from an old family has enough room

They’re familiar with Neville, who is apprenticed under Professor Sprout and is probably going to take over herbology classes in the near future. Ben and Neville get along like a house on fire, spending way too much time in the green house

Five, on the other hand, strikes up an intense rivalry with Augusta Longbottom, who is ancient and fierce and strikes terror into the heart of any child she wishes. Five kind of wants to be her but also is at war with her because there are so many good books that Augusta won’t let him read

(anyway, Five learns the hard way that Augusta Longbottom keeps an armed mouse trap in her purse and admires such a simple non-magical solution to keeping intruders away)

Klaus doesn’t like the estate (it’s very old and there are... quite a few ghosts), Diego is constantly badgering the others to practice quidditch with him, Luther carries everything for Augusta and is deemed a ‘nice young man, very Gryffindor’ with approval, Allison models herself the perfect young lady and takes great pleasure in sticking her tongue at the others when they get in trouble (behind the adult’s backs of course), while Vanya takes the opportunity to practice her violin with intensity considering they can’t practice magic anyway (curse underage magic laws)

of course there is a small incident where Ben and Five set up an illicit potions lab in the definitely not a dungeon basement and may or may not experiment which lead to something almost blowing up

“In our defense,” Five says, scrubbing a sleeve over a very sooty face thanks to a small explosion, “we were really bored.”

“Potions.” Neville despairs, like potions personally killed his parents and kicked his dog. And who knows, maybe they did somehow. This is the magical world, nothing ever makes sense honestly. 

“Sorry for nicking some of your boom berries.” Ben offers, managing to actually look sincerely sorry. Five should take pointers, honestly.

“The boom berries aren’t even ripe.” Neville whimpers, face in his hands.

Five exchanges a look of realization with Ben, “Ah, that’s why they - ”

“Went boom.” Ben says with a slightly hysterical giggle on the end.

“No more potions without supervision.” Is the order they get stuck with, which is really unfair considering that there are seven kids and only two adults honestly. 

(“I can’t believe you almost blew up the house.” Luther hisses at them later, to which Ben looks appropriately abashed.

“You’re just jealous we didn’t include you in any plots with explosions.” Five points out crossly. Luther doesn’t say anything to that, which means he’s right.)

Vanya only blows up like, three whole rooms and the bright side is that everyone chalks it up to accidental magic even though Vanya should really have grown out of it by now but... it’s not like they have another explanation!

The kids get very good at distracting the adults and the others trying to train Vanya so that she doesn’t blow things up by accident, which goes better than canon because she wasn’t pent up for literal decades at least but does mean that more accidents happen than the Longbottom house is necessarily used to

“I’d forgotten what it was like to have children underfoot again.” Augusta says when they have to go back, leaning on her cane and looked at them all severely. “Do not return.”

and that’s their stay at the Longbottom estate

so Five enters his third year and gleefully is given a time turner

and he’s informed he can only turn it back five hours, which is the safe time !! and he’s like “haha neat” and immediately turns it five times and - 

he shows up like five years in the past due to funkiness of his powers interacting with the time turner, which lovingly dumps him right into the middle of the war when he’s like, thirteen, in 1997

“what the FUCK” - Five, probably

and this is how five realizes he has time powers

Five is missing for five months when he shows back up, more than a little bit traumatized, clutching his time turner

“what the FUCK” - all of Five’s siblings upon his return, because they have been freaking out for five months

“What do you mean I’ve been missing for five months?” Five asks hysterically, “It’s been like, a month? Tops? I hope you idiots know I had to break into the fucking Ministry of Magic to get back to y’all fuckwads”

“What the fuck, Five” say the siblings, with feeling

“I had to steal and juryrig like, half of the ministry’s supply of time turners. it’s fine. they got ruined during the war anyway, I read about it, so it didn’t upset the timeline or anything to snag a few before it happened and stuff.” Five explains

(He returns the time turner to a very shaken Professor Sprout, but he does not return the pilfered ones he stole five years ago)

after everyone stops freaking out (more or less - the Hufflepuffs refuse to let Five out of their sights for more than five collective minutes which is an absolute pain) Five ends up having to drop some classes (he ends up dropping divination since he likes arithmancy way better - predicting the future with numbers? hell yeah !! and he drops care of magical creatures but insists on keeping up with muggle studies since he feels it’s important to keep up with that world just in case they have to disappear back into it) and life vaguely returns to normal

“Wait.” Klaus says, with a voice that says he’s had a very important revelation. “Does this mean that we’re older than Five?”

“No.” Five says, very firmly, as though that will help what is to come.

“Absolutely.” Diego immediately butts in.

“Absolutely not -” It’s no use. Klaus has wrapped his arms around Five (and curse him, Klaus is a fucking bean pole and taller than Five) and is crooning about how they’re going to take such good care of their babiest brother - 

Klaus deserves result of this interaction. The rest of the room? Well. Needless to say the siblings get detention for destroying an unused classroom

(this does not stop the others from referencing Five’s apparent youth at the most inopportune moments, which never fails to his Five’s berserk button)

everyone keeps a close eye on five. besides more food hoarding and some more general feralness he seems fine for the most part tbh

(he does not talk about his month away, but needless to say he was dumped into the beginning of Harry Potter’s seventh year, which was deeply unfortunate due to the fact that Death Eater’s had taken over Hogwarts and other deeply unfortunate events were taking place)

somehow Five manages to catch up to all his classes despite having been missing for Five months Five what the fuck, and maintains his position as one of the top students in their year

the siblings initiate daily meetings which means all of them pile into the Hufflepuff common room once a week on Five’s night hosting which is basically part sibling study group part “we WILL keep track of everyone on god”

yeah there may or may not be some like. trauma regarding their brother literally vanishing on them tbh

third year is also when Five discovers he can jump into the chamber of secrets and meets the painting of Dolores, and then proceeds to be down there whenever he’s getting sick and tired of everyone’s attention on him like he’s just gonna vanish on them for fucks sake Luther stop breathing in his ear he’s trying to read

he likes talking to Dolores, and she’s full of cool and interesting information and facts, and is very good at charms and hexes, not to even mention her encyclopedic knowledge of various jinxes

but yes five does time travel. it’s sort of to do with his time powers. it’s very accidental, basically his powers going absolutely haywire due to exposure to temporal magic and amplifying their effect to a terrifying degree, but thanks to genuine wizarding knowledge about temporal magic and the existence of time turners Five was able to get home in a timely manner

...sort of, honestly being four months off wasn’t too bad considering his canon difficulties with timing lmao

[quicksiluers]

Here’s a dumb story of Grant not talking to Sherman all day and Sherman has no idea why and is stressing way too much about it and Grant is super embarrassed by it when they actually talk about it. (it’s needlessly long so I apoligize in advance) (I also posted it on ao3 if it’s easier to read there)

With special appearances byyyy Rawlins, McPherson and Comstock cause why the hell not

“And this play we saw, it had to be one of the worst things I had ever seen.” 

McPherson raised a brow, a playful smirk on his lips, “Sherman, if it’s not some professional play, you always think it’s the worst thing you’ve seen.” 

Sherman frowned, ignoring the low chuckle coming from Grant beside him, “It’s not my fault all these actors out here are awful.” 

“Maybe you’re being too harsh?” Grant asked, rolling his cigar between his fingers, “You’re standards seem...high.” 

“Should I set my standards low?” The redhead pushed back, glancing back and forth between the two generals, “If that is their job, they should at least try to be good at it.” 

Snorting, McPherson shook his head and waved the older man off, “Out here I’ll just take what I can get.” 

The wood in the fireplace beside them cracked, the embers filtering up through the chimney. A small chill settled through the room, the winter air creeping through the walls. Sherman ignored it, occasionally rubbing his hands together for a small bit of friction. A little cold wasn’t going to bother him when McPherson and Grant were around. 

Memphis was a city he had spent far too much time in. The people were a pain to deal with, the press even worse, and the weather had been awful the past week. Somehow he found himself missing those summer months outside in the Mississippi heat. 

“I’ll take anything over those balls they invite us to,” Grant grumbled, stuffing the cigar in his mouth, “Those are tedious.” 

“At least the food is good,” McPherson argued, crossing his arms, “I’ve only been to a few and that’s usually the best part.” 

“That’s the only good part.” 

Sherman laughed, “Mac when you go to as many of those things as Grant and I have, you’ll understand how absolutely god awful they are.” 

The younger general’s brows pinched together, his thick beard hiding a small pout, “Well if I was invited to more of them…” 

“Trust me when I say you don’t want that invite,” Sherman jabbed his thumb over in Grant’s direction, “Grant finds a way to scurry off half the time when we’re at them, he’s a genius at finding the easy escape.” 

Laughter filled the room. The redhead covered his mouth, trying to control himself. He wished he had that talent, it would come in handy in a number of situations. 

“Plus, those absolutely awful people you have to deal with,” Sherman continued, “The politicians and the men who claim to be with the Union when it’s incredibly easy to tell they are two-timing snakes.”

“I”m shocked you can tell the two groups apart,” McPherson teased, kicking Sherman’s boot, “You seem to describe them the same way.”

“They essentially are.”

A small movement caught his eye and Sherman turned, watching as Grant pushed back from the table. The cigar was set firmly in his mouth, his expression clouded. Their eyes met briefly before Grant looked down at his pocket watch, the beat-up item resting in his palm. 

“It’s getting late. I have some work to do,” Grant snapped the watch shut, nodding to the two of them. 

“Rawlins can’t do it for you?” McPherson asked, moving to stand up before the older the general waved him down, “What could be so press-” 

“Everything is always pressing with Washington Mac.” 

“It can’t wait until morning?” Sherman questioned, eyebrow raised. If there was something urgent, Rawlins would have crashed the party without an invitation. The young aide had a knack for coming in at the worst times. 

Grant glanced at him and Sherman was taken aback by the coldness of the stare. 

“I would prefer it be finished tonight,” he replied, quickly looking away from Sherman. With a small nod and a muttered goodbye, the leading general gathered his things and made his way across the room. As he left, either from the wind or maybe his own strength, the door slammed shut. 

Silence hung between Sherman and McPherson as they sat in the room, eyes glued to the door. McPherson scratched the side of his face, eyebrows pulled together, “That seemed abrupt.” 

Sherman couldn’t help but agree. Grant could be blunt, but that sort of abruptness wasn’t like him. Especially towards him. The coldness of Grant’s glance unsettled him as well. Had they mentioned something they shouldn’t have? 

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, “Must be something important, you know how they get on his back for anything over there.” 

McPherson nodded slowly, the puzzled expression still on his face, “I suppose…” 

“If Washington had to deal with me, they wouldn’t get an answer until I felt like giving them a goddamn answer.” 

“And that is why,” McPherson pointed with a laugh, “they don’t have to deal with you.” 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The morning was brisk with a light flurry in the air. None of it stopped the people from roaming up and down the streets, either greeting him with a polite smile or an angry sneer. Sherman tried his best to ignore both. 

The stairs underneath him creaked as he climbed up, bypassing a flushed-looking staff officer. Probably the young man’s first day at the job, he knew the look of someone given too much information in one meeting. He was sure it made the boy’s head spin.  

Striding through the other aides, Sherman entered his office and grabbed the papers and envelopes off his desk. 

“Anything important come in colonel?” Sherman turned, the young man glancing up from the hand full of other papers he was shuffling through, “Don’t tell me I have to look through all that crap.” 

“Oh no sir,” the colonel, Williams, replied. He shook the papers lightly, “Just some complaints from the city folk, which I’ve mostly gone through and divided up.” 

“And?” 

“And most of it is not all that important or interesting,” he shrugged, pushing up his glasses, “the normal complaints and requests that are usually dismissed or denied.” 

“Lovely,” Sherman muttered, walking around his desk and sitting in the chair behind it. 

Shuffling through the mail, there was a few telegrams from Blair and McPherson he would have to review. Some requests for leaves, an invitation or two for another party one of the wealthy city folk was putting on. He’d have to come up for an excuse on those. There was no chance in hell he’d get caught up in those parties again, especially if Grant managed to sneak off. Half the reason he went was because the younger general would be around. 

“Nothing from General Grant this morning?” Sherman questioned, flipping through the papers again. There was a letter from Ellen he would have to read. And it looked like John had sent him something as well. 

“No sir, nothing that came across your or mine’s desk.”  

Odd. Grant made it a habit to leave him a note or something in the morning. Maybe whatever he was finishing up last night didn’t leave him time to have anything sent over. 

Sherman leaned his chair, pulling a cigar from his breast pocket. Ellen had tried to tell him not to smoke so much in the morning, but he couldn’t help it. With the damn cold, he needed to warm up somehow. It wasn’t as if the building was producing any heat to give him comfort. 

Colonel Williams sat silently off to the side of the room at his small desk, eyes flicking back and forth over the pile of papers before him. The young man was useful, he knew exactly what Sherman did and didn’t want to see and brought only the important things to his attention. He also had a knack for reading his moods, which was something all his other aides seemed to lack. 

“I’m sorry sir,” the colonel said, crossing the room, “It seems that General Grant did send something, it just came from General Rawlins. I apologize,” he placed the single sheet down on Sherman’s desk, his eyebrows pinched together. 

“Is there something wrong with it?” Sherman asked, grabbing the sheet. 

“No sir, just…I guess I’m used to General Grant writing to you personally.” 

The redhead shrugged, “When he gets caught up, Rawlins sometimes takes care of it.” 

His eyes trailed over the words, General Sherman, General Grant is unable to accompany you to dinner later this evening. He apologizes in advance. -  Your Obt. Servt. Brig. Gen. J. Rawlins. 

Oh. That was sudden. 

Sherman frowned, chewing on the butt of his cigar. It was incredibly unlike Grant to cancel a meeting, especially this one in particular. It was just going to be the two of them, talking over potential strategies and plans for the upcoming campaign season. Putting together a framework of what going forward would entail and what Washington may or may not above.

Dread crept over him as his eyes went over the note again. 

Maybe Grant decided he didn’t need Sherman to come up with a strategy. He was a man of action and came up with his own movements frequently, which Sherman would follow. Even when they didn’t agree. But they always talked things over, even if Grant didn’t take his input.

What if Grant didn’t need him to make plans? The brunette didn’t really need Sherman’s input at all. Maybe Grant somehow realized and is thinking of moving on, maybe- 

He let out a small breath, the smoke blowing in Williams’s face. The colonel coughed but Sherman was lost in his spiraling thoughts. Stop thinking like that. Just try to go by Grant’s headquarters later. There was no need to make this a bigger deal than it had to be. 

“Thank you, Colonel,” Sherman replied, trying to wave the smoke away, “I’ll be sure to handle it.” 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What do you mean he isn’t here?” 

Cyrus B. Comstock raised an eyebrow, annoyance creeping up into his face, “Do you need me to write it down for you General Sherman?” 

He could almost feel his eye twitch. Cyrus was newer to Grant’s staff, an engineer from the east, but they had gotten along well around Vicksburg. A no-nonsense sort of man, probably from dealing with all the catfighting over in the eastern army. He appreciated that sort of attitude, just not at this exact moment. 

“General Grant is usually here during the day,” Sherman retorted, trying to keep himself calm, “Did something come up to call him away?” 

“Rawlins said that they had some errands to run,” Comstock shrugged. He placed his stack of books down on the desk before him, hand resting on his hip, “They didn’t say when they would be back.” 

Rawlins. Always Rawlins. The boy was practically glued to Grant’s side. Sherman didn’t know how Grant stood it. If Colonel Williams followed him around like a puppy, he’d lock every door behind him.  

Sighing, Sherman carded his hand through his hair. It wasn’t fair to be annoyed at Rawlins. He just needed to know everything was ok. The cancellation was just…so unlike Grant. He had to know what he said or did to bother him.

“How was General Grant this morning?” 

“How was he?” Comstock repeated. 

Now the younger man was getting on his nerves, “Yes, did he seem…fine?” 

“He seemed like his normal self,” Comstock’s eyebrows pinched together again, confused, “Why? Is he supposed to be upset?” 

This was going nowhere. The annoyance mixed with panic was making every nerve feel like it was on edge. This room was stuffy anyway. “No, I just…never mind, I’ll talk to him later.” 

Sherman stormed out, passing by the other busy body aides Grant had working. 

Everything was fine. He would just talk to Grant later, find out what was keeping him so busy. It had to be something extremely important. Probably telegrams from Washington, acting like chickens with their heads cut off. 

Surely that had to be it. 

He stuffed a cigar in his mouth, chomping down on the end. The tobacco ground against his teeth. There was something he was missing. What had brought this on? It wasn’t like there weren’t any secrets between them, but Sherman felt like Grant was always open and happy to see him. He had given him that chair at Chattanooga for god’s sake! 

It must have been something he did. The sheer thought of that made the panic grow. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I think you’re overthinking this Sherman.” 

“Am I?” He asked hotly, the floorboards squeaking as he paced back and forth, “Grant doesn’t just cancel something we’ve been talking about for weeks. There has to be a reason…” 

McPherson rolled his eyes, chin resting in the palm of his hand. The younger general’s desk was neatly organized, papers stacked to perfection. Just like McPherson, always organized and ready to go. Calm, cool, and looking at him like he was crazy. 

Maybe he was. 

“Grant is probably just busy with other things and can’t make it,” McPherson explained, watching the redhead tug at his beard fiercely, “it probably isn’t more complicated than that.” 

“You wouldn’t understand.” 

McPherson sat up a bit, crossing his arms over his chest, “I wouldn’t understand? Sherman, I was on his staff for a good portion of time. I think I know a little about how Grant operates.” 

Sherman glanced at him, stopping in the middle of the floor. His fingers pulled at his beard again, his irritation building up. He had racked his mind over their conversation over and over. There was nothing he noticed that may have irked Grant, everything seemed so perfectly normal until he left.  

Sighing, he dragged his hand through his hair, his other hand resting on his hip, “It was hard to schedule it as is, god knows how long we’ll stay in the same place together. And it came in this morning too, which seems…” 

“Abrupt?” McPherson finished with a small smirk. 

The redhead frowned slightly at that, “Yes. It seemed very sudden.” 

“Like how Grant left last night abruptly?” McPherson continued, “when he said he had important things to work on for Washington?” 

“He would have finished that by now,” Sherman countered, continuing his pacing, “And if he didn’t, I’m sure he would have told Rawlins what needed to be done.” 

“You know Grant likes to do that stuff himself, with it going straight to the president and all.” 

“Did I say something last night?” He changed the topic quickly, tired of McPherson’s counterpoints. They made sense of course, but there had to be more. Surely there was something else behind this. He must have done something to bother the younger general. 

The brunette frowned, looking up the ceiling for a moment, “Last night?” he muttered, taking a moment to think about it. He shook his head, “Nothing that stands out.” 

“Nothing that would offend him?” 

The younger man cracked a smile, a small laugh escaping him, “Offend him? Now I do think you’re overthinking this.” 

This was going nowhere. He just needed to talk to Grant, that’s all. Clear the air, find exactly why he couldn’t meet him tonight. It wasn’t too much to ask for. Just an explanation.  

That was perfectly reasonable, wasn’t it? 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The candlelight in his office dimmed, casting small shadows across his desk. Beyond the window, he watched the last streams of sunlight disappear into the night sky. Winter was the worst time, with the short days and what seemed like everlasting nights. Plus the cold air that would nip at his bones, even with his warmer clothing on, was not pleasant.   

Sheman puffed on the cigar resting between his lips, leaning back in his chair. Since he came back to his office, he hadn’t moved from the spot. Every single thought in his mind was racing, trying to solve this riddle. Was it a riddle? Was he making something out of nothing? Wouldn’t be the first time. 

But dammit, maybe he just really wanted to have dinner with Grant.  

The younger general was busier than ever. Between his new command of all the armies from the Appalachian Mountains to the Mississippi River, Grant barely seemed to have time for himself. The fact that they were able to get together last night was a miracle. He had joined last minute and like a flash, he was gone again. 

Plus that rumor of him getting the rank of full lieutenant general seemed to hang over his head. The idea of losing him to the eastern theater gnawed at Sherman. That theater was a disaster. The politicians got their hands into the army’s business far too often and the men there couldn’t do anything worth a damn. And even when they did score a victory, they seemed to somehow let it slip through their hands.  

Out here in the west is where the war would be won. There was no doubt of that in Sherman’s mind and he wanted to reiterate that again to Grant in their meeting. But now he wouldn’t get the chance. 

It wasn’t as if Grant was going to disappear off the face of the earth. He just wanted...what did he want? 

Maybe he just wanted to spend time with Grant before he was dragged off hundreds of miles away from him. 

Sherman frowned, sliding down in his chair a bit as he felt his cheeks flush. What he wanted didn’t matter. It was up to Grant and for some reason, the younger man didn’t want to see him.  

Which was fine. Totally fine. Nothing wrong with that at all. 

A light knock echoed through the room. “Come in.” 

The door creaked open and Sherman looked up, meeting the confused and slightly concerned expression of Colonel Williams. He waved the young man in, sitting up in his chair. Pull yourself together dammit.  

Williams saluted before walking in, a folded piece of paper in his hands, “Sir, a message arrived from General Rawlins for you. It came in only a short time ago.” 

Sherman perked up at that, rising in his seat. What could it mean? He quickly took the slip from Williams’s hands, his eyes scanning over the short message.  

When you have a moment, would you please come over to General Grant’s headquarters to speak with me? There is a matter here I would like to discuss with you. Your Obt. Servt. - Brig. Gen. J. Rawlins.  

Incredibly cryptic, which was very un-Rawlins-like. His frown deepened, reading over the message again. What would he need to discuss? 

Sherman stuffed the paper into his breast pocket, next to the cigars, and rose from his chair. “Thank you, Colonel. If anyone needs me, advise them that I will be with General Rawlins.” 

He left the young man behind before he could answer, his nerves on end. It had to be related to Grant. Rawlins would surely know what caused him to cancel. If Rawlins didn’t know, then Sherman would never find out without going to the source. And that scared him like hell.  

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

John Rawlins looked like absolute shit. Sherman knew he has been sick, Grant mentioned it offhandedly, but it still shocked him to see. The younger man’s back was to him, hacking into a handkerchief. 

Rawlins wiped his mouth, stuffing the handkerchief into his pocket. He turned and Sherman took in his sunken cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes. It looked like he hadn’t slept for days. “General Sherman, can you close the door?” 

Puzzled, Sherman obliged him and gently shut the door behind him.  

“Did you say something to Grant?” Rawlins asked directly, leveling a smaller glare at the taller man.  

His stomach dropped. So it was something he said. Goddammit, but what was it? “If I did, I don’t know what made him upset.” 

“Upset?” Rawlins repeated, hands resting on his hips, “He’s not upset, he’s just been...so goddamn moody the entire day.” 

“Moody how?” Sherman asked, stepping closer to the brunette. So he wasn’t upset? 

“Like he hasn’t spoken a word all day.” 

“Well you know that isn’t uncommon for Grant,” he replied, “Sometimes he can go hours without talking.” 

“Yes, but he hasn’t spoken to anyone all day. Including myself, which is an issue when you’re supposed to be his chief of staff,” Rawlins responded with a hint of annoyance, “he’s been in this mood since he returned last night and you and General McPherson were the only ones to see him. And in combination with that letter from his fathe-” 

 “Well, why isn’t General McPherson here?” Sherman interrupted, irritation rising, “Have you asked him?” 

“I know General McPherson wouldn’t say something to somehow offend General Grant.” 

Sherman’s anger flared up, planting his hands on his hips, “So you just ASSUMED I said something that’s made Grant moody all day?”  

Rawlins glared at him and pointed his finger, “Either something you said or something that happened in that room.” 

Sherman’s cheeks flushed at that, the anger boiling up, “Well if you and Grant were together all da-” 

“We weren’t together all day.” Rawlins cut him off, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I just told Comstock to tell people that so they would leave Grant alone.” 

“Unbelievable!” He tried not to shout, but he couldn’t hold it back. All the pent-up anxiety and anger were going to make him lose his mind, “I just wanted to figure out why Grant canceled out goddamn dinner and you go and make Comstock, and I’m sure all the other aides I may have asked, lie! Perfect! Fantastic!” 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Rawlins muttered, rolling his eyes, “That’s another reason why I knew it was you because the ONLY thing Grant requested from me all day was to send that note to you and for the life of my don’t know why.” 

The words stopped him cold. In an instant, the anger was overtaken but the anxiety. It was something he did to bother Grant. He couldn’t stand it, knowing he had made Grant feel like...whatever he was feeling like.  

“Well, where is he?” Sherman asked, taking a small breath. His heart felt like it was going to burst from his chest. 

Rawlins stared at him hard, his frown deepening. Sherman was beginning to think he was going to have to plead to the other man to know. Grant had a knack of slinking off when he didn’t want to be found.  

A hard knock on the door broke the silence. Rawlins’s shoulders seemed to drop slightly as if a weight had been lifted, “Come in!” 

Come in? They were in the middle of a conversation! His annoyance spiked, who the hell did Rawlins think he wa- 

The door behind him creaked open and Sherman turned, eye’s widening slightly when he saw Grant’s familiar tired face. The younger general looked up and their eyes met, and he seemed to freeze for a minute. 

“Rawlins...” Grant grumbled, stepping into the room more. His eyes jumped from Sherman to Rawlins, who had a small smirk tugging on his lips. The young man seemed very proud of himself.  

“Now that you’re both here,” Rawlins clapped, “you can discuss whatever the hell is going on between the two of you.” 

Sherman felt his face heat up and he saw Grant’s eyebrows pinch together, his frown deepening. “Rawlins, there isn-” 

“Don’t you say there isn’t,” the young man interrupted, brushing past Sherman to stand in front of Grant, “because clearly there is and it’s been a pain all day.” 

The two brunettes glared at one another, neither wanting to give ground. Grant’s eyes flickered over to Sherman. There was something beyond the look that he couldn’t place.  

Grant sighed, holding up his hands, “Fine.” 

“Good, now if you’ll excuse me,” Rawlins looked back at Sherman and then to Grant, “I’m going to get something to eat. Deal with...,” he waved his hand between the two of them, “whatever the hell is going on here. Please.” 

Before Sherman could say anything, the young man slipped out of the room, closing the door with enough force to make his point. 

Then it was just the two of them, standing a few feet from one another. There was an awkwardness, Grant fiddling around with a cigar in his hand. Looking anywhere that wasn’t at Sherman. It was going to drive him mad. 

“Grant...” Sherman trailed off, unsure of what to say. Which was rarely a thing that happened. But he didn’t know what he was apologizing for, hell he didn’t even know why Grant had ignored him all day.   

The general walked past him, sitting on the edge of the desk in the middle of the room. He continued to fiddle with the cigar, suddenly interested in the tips of his boots. Why was he acting like this? Grant never acted like this. Sure he was silent a majority of the time, but there was still a presence there. People knew he was commanding the room. But this didn’t feel like that at all.  

“I didn’t realize this was what Rawlins asked me to come here for...,” Grant muttered with a shake of his head, “Should have known.” 

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” Sherman shrugged, trying to break the ice, “I just assumed he was having me come in to yell at me.” 

The younger general chuckled, finally looking up at him. There was a flush to his cheeks that surprised Sherman, giving him pause. Maybe Grant wasn’t feeling good? That would explain some things. But why not come out and say that. 

Grant waved his hand to the empty space next to him on the desk, inviting him over, “That is something he tends to do.” 

Walking across the room, Sherman sat on the edge of the desk, a small space between him and Grant. He sighed, combing his hand through his beard, “Grant, I don’t know what I said or did but I’m sor-” 

Grant held up his hand, Sherman shutting up immediately. He watched the other man as he rolled the cigar between his fingers, the flush on his cheeks getting darker. Did he have a fever? 

“It’s nothing you need to apologize for, I was just...,” Grant stopped himself, scratching the back of his neck, “It’s childish really.” 

“I mean, clearly I said something.” 

“It wasn’t really anything.” 

“Well, it upset you enough that you didn’t want to see me all day.” 

Grant sighed, fiddling around with the cigar again. The flush had gotten darker and Sherman couldn’t wrap his head around it. He had never seen Grant like this, everything about this situation was completely foreign to him. Grant didn’t get embarrassed, he didn’t get frazzled. In the midst of battle, he was incredibly cool under pressure.  

Sherman watched him, trying to understand. Maybe he was sick. It could be making him act out of character. That had to be it.  

On impulse, he reached out his hand and placed it on Grant’s forehead, making the younger man jump. It did feel a bit warm but nothing that would indicate a fever... 

“Wh-what are you doing?” Grant spluttered, grabbing Sherman’s wrist and pulling it away, his eyebrows pinched together, looking at him with confusion. 

He was reaching his breaking point. Why couldn’t he just tell him for god’s sake? 

“I’m trying to figure out if you’re sick or something because I can’t understand what the hell is going on,” Sherman declared, waving his free hand dramatically, “I’ve been trying to figure it out all day! Just...,” he deflated, trying to compose himself, “just tell me what I did so we can move on.” 

Grant stared at him, the normally stoic expression clouded with embarrassment. Sherman felt a gentle squeeze on his wrist, a small warmth coming over him before the other man let go. Grant’s hands sat on his lap, his fingers twisting the fabric of his pants.  

“I don’t ‘scurry’ away.”  

The voice was barely above a whisper, Grant looking straight at the wall, away from him. Sherman blinked, trying to understand.  

“You don’t what?” 

Sighing, Grant looked at him, a small pout on his face. The red on his cheeks hadn’t faded away, they had intensified if anything. “You said I ‘scurry’ away at parties...I don’t I just...,” he carded his hand through his hair, messing up the small style he had to it, “I just don’t like being around that many people.” 

Sherman blinked, staring at him. And then he blinked again. The information whirled around in his head, “You don’t... ‘scurry’ away,” he repeated, slowly putting the pieces together. 

The younger general nodded, watching him like a hawk. As if he expected some sort of reaction from Sherman, though he wasn’t sure what. It obviously hit some chord with Grant. He couldn’t imagine why, everyone knew Grant wasn’t into the big social scenes.  

“No,” Grant replied curtly, “I...,” he paused, running his hand through his hair again, “It’s dumb, I made it something it didn’t have to be.” 

On the one hand, Sherman was more confused than ever. He had no idea that Grant had this side. Julia had mentioned it in passing once or twice, her little teasing making Grant blush, but he had chalked that up to their cutesy romance. He was the shyest fellow you ever saw, she told him one night over dinner. But also extremely determined, it was something Julia appreciated about her husband. And it was an aspect that Sherman also appreciated.  

On the other hand...there was this flop strand of Grant’s hair hanging over his forehead that Sherman wanted to reach out and push back. His hair always seemed so put together. And those clear blue eyes were looking at him, the flush on Grant's cheeks making the color come out more. All frazzled like this, the younger general was...extremely cute.  

Oh for god’s sake, listen to yourself. Sherman crushed that feeling down immediately, grabbing a cigar from his pocket so Grant wouldn’t notice his own flustered face. Acting like some fucking damsel.  

“I didn’t realize that bothered you,” he stuffed the cigar in his mouth, the smoke calming him down.  

“It’s...,” Grant stopped, tapping his fingers against his knee. He pushed off from the desk, back to Sherman, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “We can just move past it.” 

“Obviously not,” Sherman countered, “If it’s something that bothers you, I’d like to know why.” 

He could see the tension in Grant’s back, slightly rocking back on heels now and again. There couldn’t be anything like this between them, not when they were about to move into what they hoped was the final months of the war. The planning, everything hinged on them working together.  

“You would?” Grant answered with a mutter, nodding a bit. Like he was coming to terms with something. He turned toward Sherman, his shoulders deflating slightly. He looked tired, worn out.  

“Yeah, I would.” 

“I didn’t mean to take my...annoyance out on you. It just happened to be the combination of what you said and…,” Grant paused, gesturing with his hand slightly, “a letter I received from my father. It had...more to do with him than you but he’s not here so…” 

Jesse Root Grant. Sherman had met the man once or twice when he came to visit Grant in camp. The older man would be warm in greeting but there was a look in his eye that always unsettled him. Like he had an agenda while visiting. 

He also happened to be an ass. Causing more problems than what they were worth, publishing Grant’s letters in the papers. Then all those journalist half-wits would pull from them and disparage Grant in the miserable little articles.  

The pieces all fell into place for Sherman. It just happened to be a wrong comment, the wrong time. The nervous weight he had carried around all day lifted from his shoulders.  

“Your father does have that charming personality,” Sherman remarked, pulling out his cigar, “All that talk and scheming, can’t see how that could affect anyone poorly,” he smirked, waving a hand in Grant’s direction, “such as yourself.”  

For a moment there was no reaction. Grant stared back with that blank expression of his and Sherman thought this time he had taken it a step too far. 

Slowly, a smile tugged onto the young general’s face. Then a chuckle and Grant put his mouth over his face, trying to hide his laugher. It was a rare sound that Sherman delighted in and his smile grew wider.  

“Real ol’ shame for the papers when Jesse stopped blasting your letters for headlines, then they had to do actual work for a story to come up with.” 

Their laughter bounced around the room, the tension evaporating. Grant’s face was flushed again, shaking his head as he came over and stood before him. He wiped at his eyes, a small smile on his face, “It was a sorry day for them.” 

“Really made them scurry off,” Sherman jested, kicking the toe of Grant’s boot with his own, “Probably wailing in the streets too!” 

Composing himself, Grant took a deep breath, that wave of calm Sherman knew so well seemingly coming over him. But the smile didn’t disappear, “Yes, scurrying off I’m sure. Heading for other camps, picking up their rumors too.” 

“But really, your father is an ass.” 

Grant bit his bottom lip slightly, incredibly unfair to Sherman, keeping his smile from growing. “He can be...a handful. Stubborn.” 

“Impossible. He seemed extremely reasonable when he visited.” The sarcasm was oozing from the words, but he couldn't help it. The man was a pain in Grant’s side.  

“You should him when he’s in a good mood.” 

“Charming I’m sure.” 

They shared a small laugh, silence settling over them. Sherman’s eyes looked Grant over, the tension seemingly gone. More at ease, like he normally was around camp. 

Grant pulled out his pocket watch, clicking it open to the clockface. His thumb brushed over it, “Did you eat before coming here?” 

Sherman almost jumped at the question but he calmed himself, trying to keep that aloof personality in place. He didn’t want to seem too eager, “As a matter of fact, I thought I had plans...but it seemed like the scheduled time for them changed a bit.” 

Snapping the watch closed, Grant tucked it back into his breast pocket, “Funny...I seemed to have the same issue.” 

“Well then, it seems we’re two fine men who’ve been stood up,” Sherman jested, trying to keep a serious face. He pushed off from the desk, toe to toe with Grant, “it would almost seem practical if we had dinner together.” 

Those blue eyes stared up at him, a small twinkle in Grant’s eye, and goddammit if those ridiculous thoughts didn’t come back into his head. His brain never knew when to shut up.  

“It would seem so,” Grant conceded, staring at him for a long moment before stepping back. He bounced on the balls of his toes slightly, “Shall we?” 

Walking out into the chilled Memphis air, the two walked side by side, arms brushing together. 

Grant lit up a cigar, puffing on it briefly before blowing out the smoke, “I am sorry Sherman, I shouldn’t let something like that…”

The redhead waved him off, “Water under the bridge. Your father has a big mouth. It gets under your skin.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Well, the next time you get something from him,” Sherman bumped him with his elbow, a small grin on his face, “and it says something idiotic, let me read it and we find a way to laugh about it.”

Grant smiled, “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“Or you can burn it.”

“Everything doesn’t have to be burned Sherman.”

“Makes it easier to ignore though.”

[jumabelljingolas]

Batman's Little Sister.

Series: DC Universe: Wonder Woman

Pairing: Diana Prince x Reader

Summary: Y/N Wayne, well-known in the industry for holding numerous fundraisers dedicated to charities and art preservation, caught the attention of Diana Prince. After a mission, Bruce receives news from Alfred that an invitation had been mailed to the princess of Themyscira from his very own sister.

"I'd like to express my deepest gratitude to all of you who share the same passion as I, thank you for continuing to trust this campaign and I hope everyone in this room tonight will have—or continue having—a wonderful evening. Thank you again."

The room erupted in applause, smiles directed to the woman whom raised her glass of champagne with a grin plastered on her lips. She then descended from the stage and was instantly approached by a few men in suits, congratulating her and exchanging shy laughter with; completely unaware of a woman in the sparkling white long and fitted gown who observed her from afar, a little smile on her lips as she watched the girl talk animatedly with the men about how the passion came to when she was at the ripe age of nine.

Ofcourse, Diana can clearly hear you (because unbeknownst to you, and to the many she's Wonder Woman) she revelled in the pitch of your voice and how easy it was for you to communicate what you felt about helping these certain causes. On paper, there were some nasty articles about how you've taken the charity/fundraiser routes as to somehow outwit you older brother, it was nothing but a game between the two Wayne siblings on who's better in the eyes of Gotham; sadly enough because you were younger, and a woman, the articles picked on these traits as a form of inferiority between you and Bruce.

Diana couldn't understand it, here you were standing yet only a few feet away from her and you were so radiant, so undeniably pure as if there would never be anything that can knock you off of your feet because your love is endless; she couldn't understand why these people underestimate your capabilities, and paint you as some sort of villain whilst you stand next to Bruce who loved you to the very ends of the world as well.

She couldn't understand why anyone would ever want to bring shame upon your name when all you ever did was live such a normal, mundane life without trampling over anyone; she knows this because she feels it. You weren't like the many, corrupted by greed and undeniably high ideals.

But instead, you are Y/N Wayne; the youngest of the two remaining children of Martha and Thomas Wayne. The woman who calls Bruce in the middle of a Justice League meeting to ask him when he'd finally be home so that you can cook dinner for him and Alfred because you miss them, the woman who never understood why her brother was never home but doesn't pry about it because she trusts him like she trusts herself.

Batman's little sister, even if she never really knew about it.

Diana could see how much at peace you were living compared to Bruce whom set out his entire life into fighting crime to somehow avenge your parents, she could see how Bruce was doing it for the both of you, and you lived a life the way your parents would've wanted for you two. She couldn't help but be drawn to these thoughts of your decision, how this was the first time she saw you in person yet she already feels as if she'd known you since you were children.

And then your eyes connected.

You were frozen on your spot, it was as if your eyes set on the most beautiful piece of art in the museum but this one particular piece was breathing, it was alive and it offered you a warm smile. You probably looked stupid, with your mouth slightly agape as you inhaled sharply at the sight of her but before you could even return a small smile, a man blocked you from being able to further connect with the woman. You'd know the back of that head like the back of your own palm, that was your brother whom was having a word with her.

Diana Prince, she actually showed.

"Miss Wayne? Would you like more champagne?" the voice of one of the men snapped you back into your little circle of business transactions, you smiled at him and nodded before he ushered one of the waiters to pour you another glass.

If you were about to be introduced with the woman of your dreams, you'd need more than just a glass of champagne to keep you from becoming a stuttering mess.

"I see you did get the invitation." Diana's smile faltered as Bruce blocked her vision of you. Staring each other down for a few seconds, Diana shrugged before finally smiling up at Bruce.

"I don't see why I shouldn't attend."

"She doesn't know anything about us, Diana. What we do, she knows completely nothing—" Bruce furrowed his brows as Diana let out a short laugh.

"I know, and I have no intention of bringing her into it. Always so uptight Bruce, you should learn to relax, live a little," Diana straightened the shoulder pads of Bruce's tuxedo with a grin playing on her lips, contrasting to Bruce's worried look, "your sister merely wants me as an investor, nothing more. And if she insists on more.." the Amazon's grin stretched up into a bashful smile which made Bruce grab ahold of her wrist, eyeing her down as she looked up at him in amusement.

"Don't play coy with me princess, if she even gets the slightest hint of what we are and what we do I swear to your gods—"

"You know, flirting with my potential investor is one thing, but convincing her to invest in your own side of the business should've been held under your own gala, brother." Bruce withdrawn his hand from Diana's wrist, you happened to not have heard nor seen any of the rising tension between the two as they bantered about you. Diana grinned at Bruce as he gritted his teeth before stepping to the side and facing you with a soft smile.

No matter how angry Bruce gets, you always were in touch with his soft side.

"Haven't considered that maybe I was convincing her to invest to yours?" you titled your head at his statement, which Diana found completely adorable.

"Sounds to me that you've already been acquainted?" Bruce noticed the slight change in your tone, he knew you well enough to know what was running through your head and it pained him to see how you subconsciously took a slight step back as if doubting the situation at hand. And by situation, the possibility that Diana was one of Bruce's many hookups and the only reason as to why she's here is to get back at him.

"He visited The Lourve for quite some time, not our favorite guest in full honesty." Diana intervened, feeling how your radiant aura slightly dimmed. You looked at her with a small smile, nodding before inhaling sharply and composing yourself to handle the potential investor professionally.

Even if it pained you to think that yes, yet another woman who wants to be in the arms of your own brother.

"Well then Bruce, if you don't mind?" Bruce looked at the two of you before shrugging and sipping on his champagne, standing there waiting for you two to start talking. Diana could only contain her annoyance to his protective presence but looking at you made her feel less annoyed.

The Amazon felt as if no time would be wasted as long as it'd be spent drowning in the warmth of your eyes.

"Formally introducing myself this time, as if the bantering between my brother and I never happened," you offered a hand to Diana who instantly took it in hers in a firm grip, which took you aback for a second before you composed yourself with the award-winning smile on numerous magazine covers, "Y/N Wayne, pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Diana Prince, and trust me Miss Wayne—the pleasure is all mine." you hated how her voice almost sounded velvety against the chattering of the guests in the museum, and how soft her hands were, her grip still firm yet seemingly familiarizing the warmth you were currently offering.

This woman, if she were to get back at your brother by enchanting you—she's already doing one hell of a job.

"Would you like a tour around the museum, Miss Prince?"

Time had never flown by as quickly as it did spent with Diana Prince, she was everything a simple woman of an artistic eye like you could ever wish to become; two peas in a pod, you'd talk about a certain piece and Diana would indulge you in information you were sure you'd never even heard of about it. She was this enigma of surprises, it was as if you'd find something about her whilst she shared her personal experiences amongst the artistic world, then you'd find out something completely different about her that had you reeling for more.

You hated it, if ever this woman was actually here simply walking next to you and knocking you off your feet just to get back at your brother—

"I'd like to negotiate the investment." you tore your eyes off of the large painting in one of the many exclusive, executives only areas of the museum; your eyes set on the woman that stood rather closely next to you even though you were the only ones in the spacious room. She was staring rather intensely at you, as if she always had been even though just a few moments ago you were laughing at a certain piece that you had a slip of misinformation from that she corrected.

But all good things must come to an end, don't they? Whether it was being with practically the most beautiful woman on Earth that slightly towered over you, for a moment it felt as if she was there just to solely be with you but then it always had to be about Bruce.

"Okay." Diana raised her brow at the sudden change of tone, your eyes tore themselves away from hers and instead it casted on nothing in particular. The Amazon eyed you down, waiting for something else to come out of your precious mouth because you always seemed to have managed to keep a professional composure.

"Your current campaign, the preservation of this evenings pieces, the upcoming ones, and what you'll be deciding to do next.." your brows furrowed at her words, this wasn't how it usually went with Bruce's women; it usually ended up with them investing a certain amount to only the current campaign, followed by them trying to seduce you into bringing them to the Wayne manor—somewhat getting a reaction from Bruce once he sees them in his house the next morning—then that was it, it never went beyond that.

"..I think you have a great vision, Miss Wayne. I'd be honored if you'd let me support that."

Did I just.. caught the attention of Diana Prince?

"Vision..?" Diana eyed you in worry, you looked as if you were about to pass out right infront of her. She instantly reached over to grab your empty glass of champagne, a hand softly placed on your arm as she set your glass on top of the glass compartment.

"Yes? Are you alright, Miss Wayne?" you let out a short, breathless laugh.

"Jesus Christ, if you're going to stick around alot after this you'll have to get used to calling me 'Y/N'." Diana's lips pulled up into a grin that made your heart flutter.

And ofcourse, Diana could hear ever single beat.

"I'd like that, Y/N." you shook your head, trying to push away the thought of how angelic your name sounded from her lips. Finally composing yourself, you ran your fingers through your hair as you stared across the room, unaware of how Diana slowly eyed you down from head to toe after the action.

"If you're planning on doing more, then this talk alone won't suffice. We need documents, and lawyers, consultants—"

"Y/N," you looked at Diana and her eyes looked into yours softly, soft enough to almost make you die inside, "one step at a time."

"Okay." Diana reached over to place her hands on your cheeks, you were frozen on your spot as she smiled rather lovingly at you, which oddly enough even if the conversation was about her investing to your campaign—it felt more than that.

It was almost as if it was a marriage proposal.

A promise of something greater than a simple investment.

"But first, I'd like to hear you say my name; please say my name, Y/N." Diana's eyes scanned your entranced eyes, just as you looked deeply into hers.

A promise of forever.

"Diana."

This is my first ever Y/N published fic. Just recently, I got into reading comics and I chose to head first into the DC universe because I've always been curious about it. I had fun writing this and hopefully, those who'll read this would find it entertaining to say the least.

Anyways, I'll be making more of these once creativity pushes me again. God, I love Diana Prince so much right now it's insane.

Laters for now,

RANIMA.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Lipless Face That I Want to Marry, Ch. 1

Chapter 2 ->

Summary: Surviving being bitten and burned alive by the Red Dragon was the easy part. Frederick Chilton has a long road ahead before things will ever be close to normal again. But your fiancé is a fighter, and you’ll be with him the whole way. 

Sequel to A Punchable Face That I Want to Kiss

CW: hospitals, surgery, major injury recovery. Sorry for the silly title, this will, in fact, be an angst-fest. 

2,368 words

He seemed fine that first day—as fine as anyone could be after surviving what he had. His skin was red and cracked from being set on fire, and both his lips had been violently torn off—but they had found him in time. He was in the hospital recovering. Talking. You were able to speak with him, and reassure him that you still wanted to marry him, however long his recovery would take. Lips or no lips. You loved him.

You thought that meant he was going to be fine. The Red Dragon didn’t kill him.

But it wasn’t that simple.

His kidney started failing. Dehydration. He needed a massive amount of IV fluids to replace what he had lost and save him, but that volume of fluid had consequences. It made his body swell up to the point that you couldn’t recognize him—to the point that his airway was swollen closed and he couldn’t breathe on his own. And his single, struggling kidney might fail anyway.

Just a day ago he was talking to you, laughing as you teased him, telling you that you didn’t have to stay with him, and crying when you said you would. You had yelled at him for being such an idiot.

When you walked in the next morning, he was gone.

Overnight, he was like a cadaver, lying unconscious with ventilator and feeding tubes stuffed down his throat. Why did you yell at him?

You were so helpless. There was nothing you could do to make any sort of difference, not even encourage him with tender words or a joke. He couldn’t hear you. He was gone. Every snarky, sassy, smug, self-important, dramatic, gossipy remark was gone—silenced—leaving you with a body and no idea when or if he would wake up. All you could do was watch as he swelled, and hope that the fluids did their job saving his life before they killed him. All you could do was be grateful for every breath, every stubborn heartbeat, and pray they didn’t stop.

A doctor told you his chances of waking up would be slim for a healthy person. With ninety percent of his skin destroyed, bacteria could easily enter his bloodstream, and he could rapidly die of sepsis. The complication of his previous organ damage—especially the kidney Abel Gideon removed—made his probability of recovering next to zero.

“You don’t know what he’s lived through,” you seethed. “He did not survive three different serial killers just to die now. So you are not going to treat him like a lost cause, or…” You tried to think of what he would say, “Or I will sue this hospital for malpractice! That is the renowned psychiatrist and bestselling author Dr. Frederick Chilton, and you will not give up on him.”

Blustering didn’t suit you. And haughty threats couldn’t bring his swelling down. The doctors were doing everything they could, but the internal pressure became too much for him to breathe, even with the assistance of a ventilator and oxygen tubes in his nose. They carted him away to the operating room to cut more holes in him.

All you could do was watch.

“It will cause additional scarring,” a very kind nurse with curly hair explained to you as you blinked vacantly in a waiting room, trying not to break down, “but it should allow his chest to expand and save his life.”

You nodded, arms wrapped around your chest. He wouldn’t even notice a few more in the highway map of scars that his body had become. So long as he survived. You were supposed to get married. You just wanted him to wake up.

  ***

Frederick Chilton awoke in a bare and lonely hospital room.

A nurse came in to check on him after a few minutes of blinking groggily and trying to get his bearings through the static fuzz clouding his mind. She explained what had happened, reviewed the medications he was on, showed him the button to press to call for help, and handed him a remote control. No visitors to announce. No one waiting in the lobby all night, haggard with worry, for him to regain consciousness. No flowers crowding the bedside table.

The small television attached to the far wall, which he could barely see or hear, was less than useless, and the morphine drip prevented him from being able to focus enough to read a book. So he lay in bed, alone, in silence save for the tedious beep of the heart monitor.

It was so dull, he was grateful for having been unconscious for the last thirty hours, which was how long it took for the surgeons to get all the organs back inside of him that Abel Gideon took out, determining which ones were viable to go back, and which would go septic and kill him. Like a jigsaw puzzle. Humpty Dumpty, and not all of the pieces could be put together again.

Days passed, and his only visitor was a police officer there on a formality to take his statement.

He would have thought being disemboweled would make a man more popular. Of course it didn’t. This spared him his pride, at the least—he couldn’t tolerate visitors seeing him pale and clammy-skinned, whimpering with pain in a miserable little hospital gown—and for that he was grateful of his churlish nature, which pushed everyone well past arm’s length.

And yet, he wished they would at least try. He wanted people clamoring at his recovery room door so that he could send them away.

He would never be subjected to the indignity of being seen so weak—and yet, what he wouldn’t give to walk in to his office on his first day back and have all of his employees treat him softly, like he was some fragile thing, and not the tyrant they despised. To have them ask if he was all right.

Why didn’t he have more visitors? More flowers? More cards?

He was not well-liked, but he was distinguished. That warranted somebody stopping by with condolences. It was just that there was so little in his bare hospital room to distract him from the pain.

As the anesthetic wore off, a throbbing soreness radiated out from his abdomen, growing sharper with time. It was agonizing. With every breath, the contracting of his diaphragm and the expanding of his lungs and ribs tormented the stitches in his skin and the abused organs inside. He was either pumped full of so much morphine he couldn’t stay awake, or was clear-headed and wishing they would pump him full of more drugs so he could not be.

His mother sent a card, and so did the staff of the Baltimore State Hospital For The Criminally Insane. Both had flowers on the front, watercolor roses, and flowing script font in gold, and both meant equally little.

Perfunctory.

The one from the hospital had been insisted upon by the administrator, who had forced the staff to sign it. Each message was generic and impersonal, like they’d been taken from a standardized get-well form letter—although a few were kind enough to make him close his eyes and pretend they were genuinely meant for him. “We miss you, and wish you a speedy recovery!” His heart turned to think one of his employees really missed him and looked forward to him returning. He found the name signed under the message. He had no idea who it was, but he was certain he had never spoken to them.

The one from his mother had most likely been picked out by a maid, presented to her to mark her signature, and then mailed by said maid. It served mainly as a reminder that she hadn’t bothered to visit in person.

Both stung more to receive than if he had no cards at all—written proof that the only way anyone cared for him was as a formality.

There was a third card, however. The only one sent by someone who wasn’t socially obligated to.

You.

Unlike the others, it was completely unexpected. Jack Crawford, Alana Bloom, or Hannibal Lecter he would have understood, but you were last person he expected to hear from.

It wasn’t even a real card, but printed at home on plain, flimsy printer paper with a cartoon dog wearing a cone-collar that said “Sorry you’re feeling ruff” on the cover. The inside had a short, hand-written message: Glad you didn’t die.

Childish. Cheap. He should have been insulted. The whole thing was obviously intended to convey how little you cared. But he kept the damned thing long after he’d thrown the other two in the trash. He wished you would come visit so he could tell you how tacky you were to your face. Perhaps it was best that you didn’t—he would have wanted to buy himself flowers to fill the room with first, so it wouldn’t seem as if you were the only one who cared, or that your tasteless little gesture was anything of significance to him.

He was Dr. Frederick Chilton. It was important for you to know that he didn’t need you at all.

  ***

Frederick’s eyes moved behind closed lids. The swollen purple lids began to twitch, then slowly creep open. The room was hazy and bright with colors streaking at odd geometric angles away from the lights that produced them.

All he could make out were flowers. Dozens of them, hundreds, surrounding him in a resplendent cloud cloud of white and lavender. Either he fell asleep outside in the garden, or he had died and somehow gotten into heaven.

“No, you’re alive, Frederick,” you said from somewhere close. He must have been whispering to himself out loud. Your voice was wavering with powerful sobs that you shoved down to force it to sound soft and patient, but he could hear the laughter in it, too. “You’ve been out for awhile, but you’re doing really well. You just had a successful surgery. They finished debriding your burns and installing temporary grafts so you don’t go septic. Oh, and they were able to get a skin sample! It’s already in the lab so they can start growing you some of your own new skin.”

“Where…?” he blinked a few times, and tried to move before realizing he couldn’t. His body was heavier than lead and a dull ache like paper being torn pulsed beneath his skin at odd intervals. He went to lick his lips, but they weren’t there. His tongue hit empty air above his teeth, and then nothing until it encountered a gauze bandage and a plastic tube going into his nose.

That brought everything crashing back, and he groaned at reality, missing the previous few moments of anesthetic fog when the Red Dragon was just a dream.

You sat beside his hospital bed, on the side of his good eye, watching over him with a hopeful smile, rambling on about how happy you were that he was awake. There was a blue hospital blanket folded over the arm of the chair, and your hair was a mess—he wondered how long you’d been there. Every inch of surface space that wasn’t needed for medical purposes was covered in roses.

“You bought out Holland’s entire stock of flower exports.”

The way the words scraped sluggishly and humorlessly from his hoarse throat, his eyelids drooping lifelessly, made it sound like a reproach—but you laughed. You always laughed at his jokes. 

“They’re all fake,” you admitted. “Hospital rules—you’re an infection risk.”

He wanted to flash you a charming smile, but he couldn’t. He did not know if his face would ever be able to produce a smile again, or how many agonizing surgeries it would take before it could. You wanted to squeeze his hand and kiss him softly, over and over, but you couldn’t. It would be weeks before you could casually touch his skin without the risk of it ripping off. At least now that he was wrapped head to toe in thick gauze, you could reach out and gently rest your hand on top of his. It stung bitterly, but he didn’t show it—he didn’t want you to take your hand away. The pressure was comforting, and your engagement ring sparkled on your finger. 

“I am… glad to see you. These places can be so dull.” He met your gaze, hoping his one functional eye could shoulder the entire burden of body language in conveying his gratitude. He felt so defeated. Hollowed out. He stared up at the plain white ceiling. His words were often callous; it was physical passion which had brought you together in the first place, and without it, he feared he may begin to push you away like everyone else.

“Frederick,” you smiled, but your eyes looked like they might cry. “I’m glad to see you, too. Really glad. I don’t know who was there looking out for you the last few times you were in the hospital, but I wanted to make sure you know how loved you are this time. I’m going to be here every single day with books, and podcasts, fake flowers, and anything you want that I’m allowed to sneak in, until we can go home together.”

He didn’t want to say something trite like, “I couldn’t do this without you.”

He could.

He had before. But he didn’t want to. He never wanted to again. You had wormed so deeply into his heart and given his world color and meaning he had never known, even in his darkest moments. You made the biggest things seem unimportant, and the smallest things monumentally significant. He could never tell you how important you were to him, what it meant to not be alone.

The heart monitor betrayed the warm fluttering in his chest as the slow, steady beeping rapidly increased. You glanced up at the machine with concern, then back down to him, a sly grin spreading across your cheeks. Prideful embarrassment was written clearly all over his face, even with only part of his face left.

You wished more than ever that you could kiss him.

[the-yellowsubmarine]

Harry was sat alone in the eighth year common room, staring deeply into the fire and leaning forward towards it's warmth. It couldn't have been earlier than two or three in the morning. But he knew he would never get back to sleep following that kind of nightmare.. Moony.. Padfoot.. Prongs...

Fred.

He stared into the fire, letting the flickering of the flames drown him and pull him deeper down into his depression. The numbness that would not leave him no matter how many smiles he willed himself to plaster on to his face. No matter how much he tried to just move on. Get on with his life. Enjoy the peace his victory had brought.

That was what Ron and Hermione had said to him over and over again since the end of the war. But it was different for them. They had each other. They had distraction from their scars. Their battle wounds. Harry only had the flickering flames and his nightmares.

Harry rubbed his eyes, willing the desire to sleep away. As he massaged his eyelids he felt a dip in the sofa next to him.

"I'm not tired," he sighed, expecting it to be Ron or Hermione. He opened his eyes and froze when he saw Draco Malfoy instead.

Malfoy was staring at him with a blank expression, despite having one eyebrow slightly raised. He was sat closer than Harry had probably ever been to him in his life, which was the main reason he had expected it to be one of his friends.

They stared at one another, both saying nothing. Harry was afraid to break the silence. They hadn't spoken to one another all year. But they still watched each other. Studied each other. As they always had. Old habits die hard.

Harry knew Malfoy had been struggling just as much as he had been since the end of the war. Harry had testified for him and his mother, but that hadn't stopped the media or the other students from ostracizing him. Someone who had once been so loud and proud and just plain irritating had been reduced to a shell of a human being.

He sat with the other Slytherins at meal times, but in complete silence, often just staring down at his plate and appearing to try to make himself as small and insignificant as possible. During classes he would quietly perform the tasks assigned, but if the lecture were particularly boring or painfully simple he would gaze out the window until the class was over. He would then be the first to leave. Harry only ever saw him in three places when he looked for him on his map: the library, behind a tapestry on the sixth floor, or in his dormitory. He spent the majority of his time in his dormitory.

Harry would stare at him in the Great Hall and during classes. And Malfoy would often stare back. But they never spoke. They hadn't spoken since the trial.

In the firelight Malfoy's hair glowed bring yellow. The bags under his eyes suggested he hadn't slept at all that night. They stared blankly at one another almost challenging the other to break the silence.

Finally, Harry shook his head and sat up against the back of the sofa. He could feel the warmth radiating off Malfoy's shoulder as their arms pressed together. They both looked forward towards the fire and sat in awkward silence.

For the first time in a long time, Harry's mind was buzzing. What was Draco doing? Why was he sat so close? He could have chosen another chair... Or even taken one look at Harry and turned around.

It was strange to be so close to his former rival. Harry had no memory of ever doing anything but fighting with him. But at the same time, it was almost comforting. He smelled nice. Almost like a Christmas spice, though Christmas had passed almost two months earlier. And it had been a long time since Harry had been this close to anyone besides Ron and Hermione. But still... it was Malfoy.

He didn't know how long they had sat there like that. At some point Malfoy had folded his arms and adjusted his position so he was slouching a bit. Harry, for some reason, found himself leaning into him slightly. If he moved his head just a little he would be resting it on Malfoy's shoulder. Harry could feel Malfoy breathing deeply and a few times he believed he had fallen asleep. But whenever he slid his eyes sideways he could see Malfoy was still staring determinedly at the fire.

Eventually, Harry, himself, started to doze a bit. He had grown more and more comfortable and was now actually resting his head on Malfoy's shoulder. Just as he was ready to give in and let his eyes close he was jolted awake by a sudden movement.

Malfoy was no longer looking at the fire. He had turned his head towards Harry and buried his face in his hair. Harry sat there for a moment feeling Malfoy breathing him in. Finally he sat up and looked Draco in the eyes.

Again they stared at one another. Malfoy's brow was furrowed and his eyes were searching Harry's. He looked like he was trying to solve an annoying arithmancy equation. Whether he found an answer Harry didn't know, but the next second Malfoy had looked down towards Harry's mouth and moved forward, pressing their lips together in the lightest kiss Harry had ever experienced.

Immediately, Malfoy pulled back and again they stared in silence. Harry's mind now was a whirlwind. What the hell was that? This was not how he had expected this night--this year!--to go. His stomach was fluttering; he could feel himself going red. Malfoy's cheeks had also turned slightly rosy, but his eyes and his mouth had gone back to their normal vacant expression.

Finally, Malfoy gave him a curt nod and stood up, walking straight back to the dormitories without looking back.

Harry stared after him for a moment and then leaned forward once more towards the fire. He was still in shock from what had just happened and then, all of a sudden, started to laugh.

It started out as a chuckle and quickly turned into a full belly laugh like he had not laughed in years. It made his stomach ache in the best way possible. It made him spill shameless, warm tears of joy. The sheer ridiculousness of the situation kept coming to him in waves and prolonging his laughing fit. He had cuddled with and kissed Draco Malfoy! "Potter stinks," "just wait till my father hears about this," ferret-face Draco Malfoy!

As his laughter finally died down, Harry realized that he felt good. He had forgotten what it felt like to laugh like that. To think about something other than the pain and emptiness and the memories that came along with the end of the war. Somehow he had forgotten that there was still warmth and light in the world. And it could come from the most unexpected places.

With that, Harry stood up and decided that maybe he could go back to sleep after all.

------------

The next morning, Harry sat down to breakfast and looked over towards the Slytherin table. He found Malfoy sat next to Zabini, quietly sipping his pumpkin juice and reading the morning paper. What had he been thinking? Why had Malfoy even sat with him in the first place? Harry had been asking himself these questions all morning and had been trying to decide if he should confront Malfoy about it or not.

The next moment, Malfoy spilled some juice on his tie. Harry watched as he swore and grabbed his wand to clean it up. For the first time in less than eight hours, Harry chuckled again.

This was Malfoy. His former rival. An ex-death eater.

But really? He was just a boy who wanted to pass his NEWTs and who smelled like Christmas in February.

Harry quickly grabbed a nearby Daily Prophet and ripped the corner off one page. He then took out his quill and wrote one word.

Why?

He was feeling too lazy, but also too jumpy to call one of the owls in the hall that were delivering mail so he wadded up the bit of paper and launched it as hard as he could across the room. Thankfully, it hit Malfoy right on the head and he immediately looked around until he caught Harry's eye. He glared and then looked down at the crunched up bit of paper that had landed on his plate.

Harry hadn't felt this anxious in a long time. He tried to eat a piece of bacon as he waited for Malfoy to do something. Anything!

Finally, Malfoy did what Harry had not and grabbed Zabini's owl. He jotted down a quick note and attached it to the bird and sent it back to Harry.

With great anticipation Harry opened the note. All it said was

You make me feel

Harry stared at the note and then looked up. Malfoy had already left the Great Hall.

He looked down again and thought of the words written in a shaky, yet elegant handwriting. He thought of the way Malfoy had made him feel in the common room on that sofa. He felt calm. He felt anxious. He felt comfortable. He felt surprised. He felt confused.

And then he remembered the way he had laughed after Malfoy had kissed him and walked away. Like it was the first time he had ever laughed before.

He thought about the anger. The frustration. The hatred he had felt towards Malfoy over the years. And also the curiosity.

No matter what, Draco Malfoy had always made Harry Potter feel. And especially lately, that was exactly what Harry needed.

Suddenly, he jumped out of his seat and ran up to the dormitory to get his map. He quickly scanned it and, to his surprise, he found that Malfoy was in his room right next door.

Without knowing what he was doing, he walked out into the hallway and knocked. He heard the scraping of a chair before the door opened.

"Hello," Harry said before Draco could slam the door in his face.

Draco stared at him in clear surprise. He cleared his throat slightly and then said, "Hello."

With all the Gryffindor courage he could muster, Harry took a step forward until they were almost touching. He could feel Malfoy's breath on his face. Could smell the cinnamon and nutmeg.

Slowly, he leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Then whispered, "you make me feel everything."

[3pirouette]

Fic: Iterate (1/1)

Title: Iterate By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Spoilers: Up through Endgame. Disclaimer: They're not mine. Word Count: 2953 Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Summary: Steve lived through the 21st century twice, the second time hurt much more than the first.

A/N: I literally made myself cry today on the way to work while I was working this out in my head. It was SUPPOSED to be FLUFFY. I’m not exactly why I decided on this format, all I know is that it felt right. I hope you enjoy. Steggy is just mentioned, more Steve-centric. 

It was supposed to be a stupid, fluffy story about Old Steve living with his granddaughter and being a LITTLE SHIT to her all the time because he’s 100% comfortable with modern things and it drives her nuts. I’m sorry.

Also, please pay attention to vague time stamps. Certain details are changed for impact. Hence, AU (Even though I FULLY BELIEVE that once the stones are placed back there is only ONE main timeline where Steve lived, was Peggy’s husband, and that’s how he showed up at the end of Endgame. Fight me.)

AND I’M SORRY.

~*~ October 2023

He supposed he’d always been waiting for this day. Steve knew he’d be around for it, one way or another. At least, he’d always assumed that, though he’d thought he’d experience it in a very, very different way.

He didn’t know the exact time, just a vague recollection that it was early afternoon, that there had been sunlight they’d blocked out with the blast shields, that they’d tried to eat lunch but they were all too nervous.

Funny. Same thing happened to him today. He couldn’t manage to get anything to slide down past the lump in his throat, couldn’t fill his stomach to calm the butterflies. He tried coffee first. It was warm and robust but had no effect.

He pulled out the tin from the back of the cabinet and made a cup of tea from one of the few remaining bags there. He sipped it and imagined Peggy sitting across from him, telling him off for using old tea that would be bitter and teasing him for how much sugar he put in it.

He drank a beer and wished to god that he had just one flask of whatever it was Thor used to carry around. He needed something to calm his nerves.

He caught his reflection in the window over the sink. For just the briefest second he saw his young self, so broken by so much, not knowing that today would be the day he’d be put to his greatest test. But the sun shifted and he could see every wrinkle in the refection, every grey hair, the haziness to his eyes that the doctor said was the beginning of cataracts.

A lifetime ago this day had changed everything for him without him knowing. Today, he was just as eager for the moment when Banner would put on that glove, this time for very different reasons.

~*~

In the end, Steve Rogers managed to live a fairly normal life.

Once back with Peggy, he kept away from the spotlight. Unsure if he’d created a parallel timeline or if he was living in his own, he did his best to avoid changing things.

Because even when he wanted to change things, he realized very quickly, he couldn’t.

He became enamored with sci-fi and fantasy that included time travel, with physicists who wrote books on the subject. He wanted to understand it, to know the unknowable.

He eventually decided that he was prescribing to the Doctor Who Theory of time travel: that it was all very, very complicated but that some things, no matter what, had to just happen in their own time and some things were simply fixed and would always happen the way they were supposed to. He’d seen this first with Zola- as he’d tried to get the man and his influence away from SHIELD they only dug their heels in deeper and kept him. It was later reaffirmed when, despite every effort, The Winter Soldier escaped him and Howard and Maria were left for dead in their car, young Tony devistated.

After that day, he stopped trying so hard to avoid squishing butterflies and focused instead on enjoying what he had.

What he had was, after all, quite a lot: A wife, two young boys, and a second chance at the life he’d missed while fighting other men’s wars.

~*~

Despite knowing all that laid ahead for him and his friends in the future that was now his past and yet somehow once again his future, Steve eventually started longing for the new millennium as decades past him by. He missed the technology, the ability to have whatever kind of entertainment he waited at the tips of his fingers. Though he’d known a good portion of what would happen from history books, once he’d gone back, he’d lived an entire lifetime full of surprises, experiencing things like the moon landing and the Vietnam war first hand. But now, as he grew older and he knew his days with Peggy were numbered, he longed for the small comforts of familiarity, for e-mails and smartphones and heated steering wheels on cars that parked themselves.

As the 2000’s arrived, he felt himself get more and more comfortable with the things around him: the news, the events he’d already experienced once and would again in a different way. It felt good to feel at least on solid ground with the world around him, knowing what was to come for him.

His home was lonely after Peggy was gone, and he made his only granddaughter an offer she couldn’t refuse: free room and board if she helped him keep up the house. An elementary school art teacher, Maggie was happy to step in for a little financial relief as she tried to navigate the churlish economy.

If he never told her that he was perfectly capable of taking care of the house by himself, it didn’t quite matter. The company was more than enough. And if when she smiled she looked just a little like her namesake and it warmed his heart… well, that wasn’t a bad thing, either.

The best part, he’d found though, was that it was hilariously funny to drive his granddaughter crazy. He’d lived through the early decades of the 21st century as a young man. He’d learned how to navigate the internet, interface with the most complicated technology there was to offer, and listened to music that wouldn’t be written for years to come. He loved watching her face as he sang along to Billie Eilish on the radio or realize that she didn’t have to explain to him how to use an iPad or Facetime.

~*~

She yelled at him the first snowfall. Skidded her car (all-wheel drive, thank goodness he’d convinced her to get the newest model) into the freshly shoveled driveway and tore out of the driver’s seat, yelling at him a mile a minute.

They’ll think I’m some kind of self-centered princess letting a centenarian shovel this and try to kill himself!  She’d yelled, trying to take the shovel from his hands.

He was still stronger than he should be, and held his ground. I don’t want you hurting yourself on this stuff.

Me? She’s screeched, and he’d laughed. He couldn’t help but smile and find her concern at least a little comical. Deep down he understood, knew that he should be trying to sell his age a little more, be trying to hide that he was still strong and fast and in better shape than some of his middle-aged neighbors.

As much as he’d like to push her off, tell her to go inside, he couldn’t. She wasn’t a self-centered princess, but she was his princess, and he bent to her whim like a branch in the wind. He’d kissed her on the head and finally handed her the shovel, leaving her the last bit of the path to her to clean up, and promised to take better care of himself.

She didn’t know that when she left for work, he still went down the basement and bench pressed 225 on an easy day.

~*~

She teased him about his record collection. Even though records had come back in style, she still thought it was silly to have a whole wall dedicated to them when she could access nearly all of musical history on her cell phone. He showed her his own digital playlists and popped in his airpods when he was reading sometimes, but he loved the sound the needle made when it hit the wax.

One night, when he couldn’t listen to her teasing anymore, no matter how good natured it was, he played dirty.

You know, there’s a new song coming out by one of those artists you like. WAP? Heard it’s a cover of a song your Nana and I used to dance to all the time.

Two weeks later, he heard the familiar opening bass to the song Barton had played incessantly in the gym while he was working out and had quoted for months, the song that he hadn’t been able to get away from even in the past with random phrases like macaroni in a pot popping into his head at the most inconvenient times.

Barely half a verse in she’d either shut it off or turned the music way lower. At dinner she couldn’t look at him.

That was not at cover, Pop Pop. And I don’t want to think about you and Nana like that… ever.

~*~

She cried when she came home, a year after Peggy’s death, to see Peggy’s beautiful vanity had been moved into her room, Peggy’s jewelry box on it front and center.

What did you do? She’d kept asking him, tears in her eyes.

She’d want you to have it. He knew it was the truth. He hugged her tight as she sniffed and knew he’d made the right decision. He remembered Peggy sitting with Maggie on her knee on the small stool, letting the girl paw through her necklaces and play with her big fluffy make-up brushes. Maggie reaching for her eyeshadow and Peggy deftly pulling it away. Peggy being just a little too slow with the lipstick and the toddler bouncing around the house, proudly showing off the circle on the bottom half of her face to anyone who would look at her.

They’d loved their boys, but Maggie had both of their hearts in a way they hadn’t been prepared for.

Steve had to make up and excuse to leave the house the next morning when Maggie came down to breakfast, wearing the single pearl drop necklace he’d gotten for Peggy on their 25th wedding anniversary and her signature red lipstick. It was a good pain, but the first time he saw her in her grandmother’s necklaces, it was pain none the less.

~*~ Spring 2018

He knew the date it was supposed to happen. He’d kept up enough to know that it would, too. His other self was out there, somewhere, fighting what would become the biggest battle of his life.

Steve decided to focus on the small things. He kept the house stocked up with food and drinks, nonperishables that would last months and even years, toilet paper and paper towels. He ordered big metal shelves for the basement and made sure there was enough for multiple people for the long haul.

He didn’t know what would happen to his family in the snap- who would make it and who wouldn’t, but he was going to be sure whoever survived would be set for the following months where there was chaos, food and water shortages, and fear.

It would be a long five years for anyone that was left.

Even though she was home most nights, he asked Maggie for a standing Thursday night date. Some nights he showed her how to keep the house up: where the water main was, how to shut it on and off, where the gas line was, what to do if the roof started leaking. He made notebooks full of lists of things to do, how-to’s for the house and for life, and even, when he was awake in the middle of the night, wrote her letters so she wouldn’t be lonely.

Somehow, he just knew it would be him this time. He had survived the first snap, but if there were two of him and one survived, the other, statistically, did not. Thanos was very clear on how half worked.

Maggie, at first, had been scared. His family knew he had a knack for predicting the future, but didn’t know quite why.

Are you dying? Maggie had asked, fearing the worst when she started to realize that their Thursday night take-out and movie date was about more than just spending time together.

No, he’d said so very often, I just want you to be ready for anything.

Despite all of her questions, she went along with it.

When the day came, he couldn’t quite keep the sadness out of his eyes. Couldn’t quite smile at her. They ate pizza in front of the TV, watching a comedy Maggie had picked. He kept his eyes on his watch. It was coming.

His fingers itched. Like he could already feel his cells pulling apart.

He reached out, taking her hand in his and covering it with is other hand. “Maggie, you know I love you, right?”

She smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She’d sensed his anxiety all day. “Of course, I do. And I love you, Pop Pop.”

He looked away and then back at her. “I promise you, whatever happens, I’m alright, and I’ll be back.”

“Pop Pop,” her eyes filled with tears, “What are you talking about?”

He shook his head, “I’ve left you everything you’ll need, and I promise I’ll be back.”

A tear fell from her eye as she squeezed his hand tighter. “But where…”

It was as if the world went silent as it started to happen. Though the television droned on in the background, he could swear the air was stiller. He started to see the dust fill the air and tried not to breathe.

But it was wrong.

It wasn’t him.

Her hand was falling to nothing in his, the fear in her eyes haunting as the skin of her cheeks flecked into the air, swirling before falling along with the rest of her into a pile on the couch.

It was so fast. So fast.

And it wasn’t him.

“No…” The word fell from his lips as a whisper, sobs starting to form in his throat.

~*~

He wondered, nearly every night for five years, if Thanos knew. If it had somehow been a conscious choice to keep him alive, to make him suffer just a little more. To make him watch his other self on television trying to promote healing.

Sometimes, he realized that this was a blessing. His sons and granddaughter were safe while they were snapped, protected by the fabric of the universe. Bucky had told him that he didn’t remember anything from being snapped, didn’t feel any different when he woke up than if he’d taken a long, heavy nap.

Somewhere, his family was taking the universe’s longest nap without him.

But they’d be spared these memories. They’d be spared lonely nights of missing loved ones and too little to eat while the world sorted out the jobs that were suddenly empty to keep things running for those that were left behind.

They’d be spared the fear of the gangs that started roaming the streets of half abandoned cities, looting for food and clothes in stores that had never officially closed but also couldn’t open with their owners simply gone.

They’d be spared the rolling blackouts and the contaminated water scares.

They’d be spared the fear of the country as the government suddenly found itself missing elected officials and the infighting and the rhetoric that came with martial law and hasty elections.  

They’d be spared so, so much pain and loss.

Every day, he relived it all, twice over.

He counted every day for five years, making his way through each week and month motivated by only one thought: they were coming back. He needed to be ready for them, for her.

He helped his daughter in law keep their house, managed his other son’s apartment in DC and kept his things ready and waiting, made sure Maggie’s things were safe and in working order, made sure her bank account stayed open and her phone bill was paid. He’d never, not once, considered he’d be the one left behind, and the logistics of all there was to do left him busy for the first few weeks.

Everyone told him his hope that the dusted would return was infectious, but after the first year, people stopped listening. He knew, for a fact, they’d come back, but everyone else didn’t. Even the past him was operating on the idea that they’d never be back.

Some days he didn’t make it out of bed. He laid there, talking to the ceiling, whispering to Peggy, wishing she could talk back, wishing she could be one of the ones brought back. He missed her with a ferocity that hadn’t changed since the first time he’d been in this time, but had only been tempered and strengthened by a lifetime together.

As the days drew closer to the five-year mark, he began to make arrangements.

~*~ October 2023

He cleaned the living room and set it to the way it had been that night. He pulled out every note and letter he’d written Maggie and his children and put them in the kitchen, ready and waiting.

He sat on the couch, facing the blank television, a new, piping hot, pepperoni pizza sitting in front of him, untouched.

He still couldn’t eat.

He still didn’t know if this was the right timeline. As he’d gotten closer to this day his faith had wavered. What if all he’d come to believe wasn’t true? What if this wasn’t the one fourteen million? He wanted to believe, but he didn’t know for sure.

He looked at his watch, watching as the seconds ticked by. What were a few seconds to him? He’d lived more than one lifetime, and that had been enough. He had barely made it through these five years the first time. The second time had almost truly broken him. He was ready for this to be over. He was ready to stop having to deal with loss and to be able to live whatever time he had left with the family he loved.

He held out his hand, and waited.