#to ME the ‘ i know you never liked a townhouse ‘ part is like … henry hating being in charge and making decisions

[hawkeyeslaughter]

blacked out and when i came to and there were tears on my face and this was on my screen

i’m SORRY if you’ve sent me a request they’re either in progress or on my to do list i’m just insanely unwell over them <3

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Unraveling at the Seams Pt 3

Genre: Fan Fiction Pairing: Alex Høgh Andersen/OFC, Henry Cavill/OFC Warnings: Language, Sexual Innuendo, Possible NSFW Rating: M Length: Multi Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: Allow me to give you all a little something, for my birthday. 

thank you @flowers-in-your-hayr​ for the header :D

Catch Up Here

The weekend had been slower than usual, a welcoming relief from work for all who were involved. Jordan had casually asked Nell and Ivan over to watch a game on Sunday, only to be declined due to Ivan's own involvement in a local youth football league. They had a match Sunday morning and Nell wasn't confident that her son would be up for that much excitement for one day – not if she wanted him in bed at a decent hour for school the next morning.

“I thought they usually came over to watch the matches.” Alex tried his best not to look like a stalker, peering around the corner and out the window that looked into the courtyard at Jordan and Sophie's. On the stairs across the yard, Nell sat with her phone in hand, staring down at the screen.

“They do, but I think they're busy this afternoon.” Jordan replied ignoring the fact that Alex was spying on the neighbours. “Now come on, get over here and watch the fucking game.”

“Uh, in a second.”

“Dude, don't be that guy. Stop oogling the poor woman, you do enough of that at work.” Marco smirked and tossed a chip at Alex.

A middle finger extended in reply to Marco; Alex chuckled and left the window.

Would it look too desperate if he went for a smoke?

What would Nell think? He knew what Jordan and Marco would think and say.

Marco teased his friend relentlessly about the costume designer and his crush. Nell was lovely and fun to talk with, she made the long days less mundane and was always smiling, unless you were Alex. Marco had worked with her as long as Alex and Jordan, living with Alex gave him an edge on exactly how his friend saw the woman across the courtyard.

The crush had been on-the-spot.

They had walked in for their first fitting and Alex was slack jawed, nearly tripping over himself in her presence. Nell ignored him, a wise move Marco thought, though it caused Alex to be a bigger pest. Two years he had been admiring this woman and was still struggling to get a decent conversation in.

“Why don't you ask her out?” Sophie joined the conversation, glancing over her shoulder at the window to see Nell still sitting on the steps.

Nell was guarded, sure, and at the end of the day she was still a woman. On more than one occasion Nell had revealed how lonely she felt. Ivan and her job were the only things she had in Ireland, possibly the only two things she had regardless where she was.

“Don't torment him.” Jordan smirked. Nell would never agree to a date with Alex.

She didn't date actors, anymore, nor did she want somebody who was barely able to function around her. Alex was a great guy and a fantastic friend; Jordan had a few doubts about his abilities to truly woo and keep a woman. The other actor rarely went on dates and when he did, they never lasted longer than one night.

Marco snickered. “Can you even talk to her?”

“I can talk to her.” Alex defended. Quietly he took the ribbing. Sophie knew Nell the best out of the four people in the room, her suggestion had felt like less teasing and that had the wheels turning in Alex's mind.

He could casually ask her the next time he brought her a coffee at work. Or should he go big and grand? Send her a bouquet of flowers, asking her when they arrived?

He had saw a bouquet of peach roses on her work top one day, he remembered the dozen roses vividly. They were bright and cheery, they had everybody commenting on them. Nell would blush and say they were from a friend. Probably her boyfriend at the time.

Alex had heard through the grapevine that the costume designer hadn't dated anybody in a serious manner, in a long time. Men were fickle about women with children, a shame because Alex loved kids. Ivan, from what he could piece together, was comical. The little boy was smart and had no issue telling adults how it was.

“What's going on in that thick head?” Marco launched another chip at Alex. “Day dreaming about your girlfriend?”

“Fuck off.” Alex quipped, tossing half of the crumbled chip back at Marco. “She's not my girlfriend.”

“But you want her to be.” Marco winked at Jordan and Sophie, extending his arm around his body and turning his back to them. Imitating a couple making out. “Oh Alexxxxx.”

Laughter filled the room at Alex's expense. Cheers and whoops from Jordan enjoying Marco's performance.

“Cut it out, leave him be.” Sophie defended Alex's dignity against the other two. “Let him alone.” even she giggled at Marco's over the top theatrics.

“At least somebody in the room looks out for me,” Alex wasn't at all hurt or insulted by the joking.

“Why don't you ask her out?” Sophie's tone told him she was on a serious level now. “Ask her for coffee or something. Invite her to a nice brunch. She was telling me how much she misses getting dressed up and going out on Sundays.”

“Ask her, mate. Tell her we'll watch Ivan for the morning and go have fun.” Jordan's eyes never left the tv as he spoke.

“I don't know.”

What would he say? How would he do it? He couldn't simply walk up and ask her. Could he? Nell would likely laugh at him, shoot him down, and never speak to him again. Alex had a reputation of being able to talk and make friends with anyone, but women were sometimes his faltering point. Especially ones he had a particular interest in.

“What? Come on, you may as well ask. What is the worse that could happen? She says no and you have to pick up your pride? Shameful.” Marco was now changing his tune about this.

If Alex were to go out on a date, then maybe Marco wouldn't have to listen to him moan about how he had shit luck with women.  Alex needed to get laid, this could be the ticket to such things. Marco hated how his roommate became a whiny little bitch because he was getting sexually frustrated.

“I don't know. What would I say? What would we do? How would I ask?” Alex scratched the shaved part of his head. “Do I tell her she can bring Ivan? Will she think it's a joke? Do I bring her flowers? I don't know.”

“Calm down, is the first step.” Sophie coached. Placing a hand on Alex's arm, she tried to soothe his nerves. “I will help you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Help him with what? How not to get punched in the face?” Jordan teased. “Nell is proud, don't be cocky.”

Until now, Alex's only fear had been that she rejected him. Nell wouldn't physically harm him, would she? No, Jordan was being a dick nothing more.

“What do you even know about her?” Marco questioned, remembering he had a beer on the table. If they were going to plot this poor woman's nightmare, he wanted his excuse to be he was drunk.

“She has a son. She's from somewhere in Canada,” Alex thought for a moment. He didn't want help, despite Jordan looking as if he wanted to fill in all the blanks. “Uh. She's lived here before, but moved to...was it London?” Sophie nodded eagerly. “She has siblings? She likes scotch and peach roses.”

“Very good.” Sophie applauded lightly. “But don't bring up the roses. She hates that.”

“Really? She had a big bunch of them on her work station a few months ago.” Marco tipped his beer.

“It's a thing between her and Henry. You don't want to remind her of her ex on a first date.” Sophie carefully guided the wayward men.

“What kind of dickhead name is Henry?” Alex snorted.  Now he had the name of the guy who had hurt her.

Fuck you Henry!

“Henry of England. Henry Winkler, Henry Ford, Henry Cavill, Henry Thomas, Henry...” Marco thought hard for a moment. “No that is all I have. Needless to say, they all sound like douchebags.”

“Why do you know so many Henry's?” Jordan was puzzled. Marco shrugged, leaving the conversation at hand to explain he knew a lot of random shit. Launching him and Jordan into a new conversation, allowing Alex and Sophie to focus on the task at hand.

Tapping his fingers on the table top, Alex sat staring into space. He needed something to go on, a solid plan for asking. Something tactful, but classy. Walking into the design room wasn't going to cut it. Walking across the courtyard and knocking on her door was plain stalkerish.

“So, what now?” He turned to Sophie, needing all the help he could get.

On the front step, in the warm afternoon sun, Nell knew she was being watched. She couldn't see the person watching her from inside the townhouse, she could feel their stare. It was the same familiar stare that followed her at work.

Oh Alex.

“Are you with still with me, Janelle?” She focused on the screen at a sweaty man, eyes dancing, and dark curls smashed under a ball cap.

Fuck him and that blue tank top. Nell tried not to laugh, thinking of how his chest reminded her of the try hard harlots who would wear the push up bras in attempt to get their bosom to their throats.

The video call had come while Ivan was upstairs playing, which meant Nell would have time to take the call, getting any details she had yet to reveal to her son. If there was time, she would pass the phone off and let him talk with his father until one of them decided to run off and do something else.

“Copy that, Mr. Cavill.” She calmly replied,  glancing up. Her peeping Dane was gone. “You look a little out of breath. Hard run today?” It was no secret the man moved like a sloth while running.

“Don't want to discuss it.” Henry shook his head at her teasing. Nell could outrun him with a broken leg and took great joy in reminding him. “Are you outside?” Behind her head the front of a house loomed and there was a sliver of sky beyond that.

“I am. It's too nice to sit inside.”

She would never tell him that she didn't want Ivan to hear her, in case it was another disappointment call. More than once his father would say he wanted to visit and then have to cancel. Schedules changed, it was nature of the job, having to explain that to a child never got easier. Leaving the poor boy with disappointment for days.

“Is it still as lovely there in summer as I remember?”

“Humid, but beautiful as always.” Nell nodded.

“I can't wait. I think I may have you book a room. Put it under your name and I will cover the costs. Perhaps something that will be suited for Ivan to stay with me? Unless of course you would prefer he comes to stay with me at home?” Henry shrugged. “If you want some time to yourself.”

“What are you saying?”

“You need to get out more. Find a hobby? Have some fun.” She hardly left the house outside of work.

“I have fun.”  Nell blurted out. Henry, wisely, didn't say another word. Nell huffed. “And you can come here.” Ivan enjoyed London, but it wouldn't hurt for him to spend time with his father in his own environment for a change. If they were here, then Nell felt she could keep her wits about her.  “I mean, you can stay here. At my place.”

Nell spotted Sophie pass by and waved. Waving back, the peppy blonde smiled and disappeared. Later on, Nell would venture over with a bottle of Château Montus Madiran that she had picked up, when she'd got the first phone call to say her summer plans were being ruined. One drink gone and the rest of the bottle was glaring at her every time she passed it.

“Will you be comfortable with that?”

“I will stay in a hotel,” Nell offered without thinking. “My place is fairly quiet and this will give Ivan a chance to show you all of the things he's constantly talking about.”

Sending a handful of video games or action figures to London was simple enough. What they couldn't send was the park and the duck pond that Ivan was constantly telling his father about. Packing an entire youth football league would also be a challenge. Nell would love to watch as the upscale home was overrun with muddy children, maybe another time. Who was she trying to kid, Henry would love that. He'd be the ring leader.

Ireland would be a bigger challenge. Taking Henry out of his element. He would spend his time looking over his shoulder, worrying about not only his, but Ivan's privacy. In London he had a handle on who would be coming and going, in Dublin there would be an unknown and uncomfortable factor. Nell would enjoy that.

The one time there had been any issues, was when a debate sparked online. Was the boy a family friend? A God-Son? His own child? Eventually people grew bored of arguing with one another, settling the debacle when a wizard of a publicist asked for the child's privacy. Ivan was young and aware that he had to be mindful when he spoke to people or went places with his father, though he never seemed bothered when the odd person would stop Henry and ask for a moment of time. It was normal, in a strange way, to the boy. He would wait patiently often milling around close by. Henry's mammoth of a dog warning off any body who dare look at Ivan.

“And Kal?” Obviously Henry had to have a place for the bear masquerading as a dog.

“My place is pet friendly, no worries. Kal can come as well.”

“Excellent, I know how much he loves Ivan.”

The black and white dog  was the object of Ivan's affection as well.

Nell had vetoed the idea of having a pet, a child and an animal were too much for one person to wrangle and look after. When Ivan was older, if he still wanted a pet, then they would discuss it. Whatever they ended up with as a pet, would certainly not be a 100 and something pound dog. Kal was lovely and if he suited Henry, fine. Ivan could love on and play with the giant canine on his father's time.

“I have the dates, I was hoping that the end June until the second week of July would work? If they don't, then we can discuss and find something that works for both of us.” Henry wasted no time getting back to business. He had a limited time frame and wanted to chat with Ivan as well, before he had to go.

“I'm done the second week of June and don't have to be back until mid July. Send me the exact dates, I will make sure to set something up.”

“If I am putting you out in any way, you would tell me? I don't want to disturb your plans.” Of course he was diplomatic, too.

“You're not.” Lie. “It will be nice to have you here. Ivan will love it. Though, I'm not telling him until you're here. I want it to be a surprise.”

“Brilliant. I love that. I won't say a word, we can surprise him together.” Henry beamed. He understood that the surprise element was a matter of protection. Schedules were hectic at times, if he failed to make it, Ivan would be crushed. How did one boy get so lucky, having a mom like the one his son had. “Hopefully the wild boy finds dear ol' dad a good surprise.”

“I am sure he will find it a fantastic surprise.” Nell smiled softly. “And I am sure you want to talk to him?” Henry nodded. “He's upstairs, hold on I'll take you to him.”

Monday came fast and hard. Nell hadn't realized how little she managed to get done the previous day, until 3:30am hit and she was anything but prepared for work. Ivan's lunch was ready and his school uniform clean, the least she could do for Bridie who was coming over at the ass crack of dawn to take over the household for the day.

In an absolute state of disarray, having woke from a restless night tossing and turning – a pattern that was unavoidable whenever she spoke to or saw Henry – Nell drug herself out of the house and to set. It was going to be the longest day. Fingers crossed there would be a lull and she could steal on of the extra beds set out for the actors. Nobody would notice if she stepped away for a short cat nap.

Today was going to be...interesting to say the least.

“Morning, Nell.” Alex held out a take away cup from her favourite cafe. He was the first person Nell had saw since arriving. “I uh, Jordan told me how much you liked their coffee. It's my favourite, too.” he added fairly fast.

“Uh, thanks.” Nell accepted the coffee with a smile. How sweet of him. Deep down Nell could admit Alex wasn't that bad. “How was your weekend?”

“Same shit, different weekend.” Alex chuckled following Nell into the room. Holding the door open for her, like the gentleman his mother had raised. “And yours?”

“It was okay.”

“That's good.” He took a sip of coffee, hoping to find courage and words at the bottom of the hot, dark, liquid. “Busy week ahead.”

“Extremely, I'll be shocked it any of us leave here before next Monday.” Nell commented setting her coffee down on the nearest table, flipping on lights and checking stations as she went. “Are you here or one of the other sets this week?”

“I am all over.” Alex confirmed with a sigh. He loved his job. It was rewarding and more than he could have ever dreamed, like any job when you were this close to a break, each day drug on for an eternity. In a few short weeks, he could kick back with family and friends at home in Copenhagen.

“Keeps the days from ever being boring.” This morning talking with Alex had been easier than any other. Something about his lack of idle chatter was refreshing. Or maybe it was Nell's need for a distraction.

Coughing, he rubbed the back of his neck. Monday  morning, first thing, was an unlikely time and place to ask a girl on a date and yet Alex had to try it out. He'd stayed up almost all night going over this moment in his head. Laying awake, he'd almost gone into Marco's room to get some coaching from his friend. Thinking better of the rash decision, Alex had let Marco sleep.

“Nell.” He went suddenly shy. Nell hummed and tilted her head in his direction, a sign that he had her attention despite her looking over a set of notes from a previous shoot. “I uh, I have something to ask and if you say no, then I will never ask this again.” He bit his bottom lip. Asking somebody for coffee had never been so difficult. A sign he was into her more than he expected. Or so Sophie had told him.

“Would, I mean, if you want...” Alex stammered. “Do you want to get together and have coffee? Outside of work? Maybe? Sometime?”

“Are you asking me out?” Nell's reaction was calm and reined in. Lifting her head to look at Alex, she held his gaze.

Alex had expected her to burst out laughing or her to tell him to fuck right off. There was still time for either or both to happen.

“Kind of, but not on a date or anything. Unless you want it to be. It's more of two people hanging out and getting to know one another.”

“Hmm.”

“Sophie told me to.” He blurted out before he could engage his mind to mouth filter.

Nell held his gaze, uncertainty was settled and Alex knew he had been defeated. Time to quit his job, move away, and change his name never to be located again. He had royally fucked it up this time. What made him think she would ever want to speak to him outside of being polite at work? Damn it, Sophie filling his head with fantasy and fairy tales.

“What if you join me for that scotch, instead?” Nell dropped the ball as easily as breathing.

All the air that had been held up in Alex's lungs escaped.  A smile broke on his face. “I would like that. Yeah.”

“Good, what about Friday at eight?”

“Yeah. Yes. I will pick you up?”

“It's a date, then.” Nell held up her coffee, in a cheers manner. Where the hell had that come from? She should have put a stop to this, but...why? A harmless drink never hurt anybody.

“You need to get out more. Find a hobby? Have some fun.” Henry's words echoed in the moment.

A date. Nell had been the one to call it a date. Not him. No, not Alex. Wow Monday was going great and it was only 5:45am! Huh, Monday. Whoever said Monday sucks had never been in this position.

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- if you want to be added?removed, please let me know

[ofhenri]

hellllo i’m hayley n i’m from london so natuRALLY i’ve got the love/hate relationship with gmt. anyway i’m super excited to introduce you all to my dumb but well-meaning son, henri ! 

BIO // PINTEREST // STATS 

first off i, much like henri, never know when to shut up dkjfdfdsf so!! a word of warning is that his bio is LONG but worthwhile if u would like to read some dumb boy antics !

ABOUT 

so. it really all starts with a mamma mia styled adventure to europe in 1998. henri’s mother, tabitha, was just out there living her best life as an artist and sleeping with her muses ( i wouldn’t be surprised if it was still complete with musical numbers bc she’s That bitch ). until she returned back home and realised a big oops... the big oops being henri ofc. 

i said it in his bio but he really is a bit more of a concept than a person!! tabitha named henri after her favourite artist, henri talouse-lautrec, but also guessed the last name of one of the potential dads based on the fact she liked paris most from her trip so henri came to be known as henri rousseau as more of a reminder to the trip than anything. kinda like a keychain or a snowglobe but y’know. a baby. 

he was actually born in the obx!! but his mum was only there for a lil trip so they moved to chicago when he was two weeks old. very much a ‘they didn’t have much, but at least they had each other’ kind of situation in a one-bedroom apartment for his early years. 

up until the time he was nine things were pretty idyllic! he had a little too much freedom to explore potential hobbies and his mother really wanted him to follow in her footsteps with painting, but all he really liked doing was making his mum smile ( a Sweet boy what can i say ) ... and playing pranks on his classmates ( not so Sweet )

then his mum met his step-dad, bill, when he was nine at an art show. bill was always a little sterner than his mother, he was an art critic, with a six-year-old daughter called meaghan. henri slowly saw his mum put aside her dreams, albeit in the form of taking down pictures and replacing them with new dreams of having a family. and it hurt! because his entire being is based off his mother’s dreams. by the time henri turned eleven, his mother and bill decided to move in together, and so they moved from their familiar little apartment into a much fancier townhouse in chicago with bill and his daughter.

henri didn’t really adjust to moving schools too well, especially with trying to make new friends and kinda took to just goofing around as that’s totally how you make friends, right? except it came at the cost of his grades n when his report card arrived by the summer he was told something straight out of the fresh prince - go stay with theo in the outer banks as they both thought that being around the other boy would be good for henri. calm him down a little or inspire him to do better. his mum gave him a camera as a parting gift and the rest is history. 

after that things passed without much note. his summers were spent in the outer banks and the rest of the year he’d be in chicago trying to discover what he was good at to no real avail. classrooms always felt a little too limiting and he was honestly more interested in joking around than taking academics seriously. 

( tw: miscarriage ) then when he was sixteen his mum became ill. except he didn’t quite understand why she’d grown distant and sad? or why bill and she were suddenly arguing so much? so he just did what came naturally to him! JOKES a plenty! until one hit badly at the dinner table causing bill to snap at him and his mother to tell him that she’d suffered from an early stage miscarriage. 

and so after that he just got worse as he blamed himself for the continued arguing! he spent more time out of the house, partying, skateboarding around the city n just generally fucking around.

until it neared applying for college and suddenly everyone was more serious about it and honestly he was just like wtf?! about it but uh! he told everyone it was all Gucci - he’d just apply to art school in paris. pay homage to his roots y’know. except he never ended up applying as he got too scared to be so far from home without a familiar face around and instead settled on going to the university of illinois urbana-champaign to study art and design bc not going to college was also just.... not an option? 

and he was due to graduate this year! except uh, surprise surprise! he dropped out!!  because the prospect of getting a real job? growing up? terrifying. but he’s told absolutely no one that he’s done this. like... to the extent he’s probably done some photoshop sorcery to keep up appearances. 

PERSONALITY

okay but that grilled cheese aspiration on the sims is him in a nutshell and i’m not even sorry about it. 

very indecisive. the person to pick up a hobby on a whim one week and then when you ask them about it, will be like ‘aw no, dude, gave that up.’ he spent a long time deciding what he wanted to do at college and wondering if he would grow tired of it. 

takes everything Too Seriously and Not Seriously enough simultaneously. he has a big bucket of emotions that he doesn’t really know what to do with, so the best thing to do is just laugh ‘em all off! lots of humour to mask the fact that he’s v. terrified about the future. 

trusting and Soft. especially when it comes to the gang because he has so much faith in them all. probably greets them all each year with a bear hug and snaps impromptu photos of them all when they’re off having fun or asks them to take part in photoshoots just because. 

with the gang, he’s a bit of an impartial entity. he’s Switzerland. he was raised by his mother to be quite diplomatic and to treat everyone’s views with kindness n respect even when he doesn’t agree, and it’s very much something that’s carried through with him! so he’s the first to diffuse some tension with a joke or by doing something dumb. doesn’t mind if people laugh at his expense, ya know. just wants them all to be happy. 

enthusiastic with a million-watt smile at each and is very willing to support every idea that comes to anyone’s head! even when he doesn’t necessarily agree, he also doesn’t shoot an idea down straight away. 

little bit of a peter pan energy to him, ngl. visiting the outer banks is a bit like his neverland as it means that for the summer he can put aside a lot of his ‘at home’ concerns. 

OTHER TID BITS 

note: i paraphrased some of these from his bio bc :’) 

john! hughes’!! biggest fanboy! henri likes to capture moments of youthful energy in his photography and hughes is defINITELY his artistic inspiration. he makes ferris bueller jokes, he references breakfast club too much. and i’m sorry but he’s definitely the person to ask ‘HoW haVE yoU neVER seen IT’ and then try to force you to watch them with him lmao

his Style is very much Baseball Cap toting, flannel-wearing, Tourist-looking chic with a camera strapped around his neck. it’s low effort at its finest ( but he does spend hours picking out the specific caps to pack for his obx trips so is it...... is it really )

former theatre nerd. yes he can sing. but he won’t bc he’s too shy (!!!!) 

could talk about anything for hours but particularly cryptids. pls talk cryptids with him 

massive chicago cubs fan and hasn’t missed a single televised game in five years and it’s become something like a bit of a bragging right to him at this point tbh.

skateboards everywhere and this should be a relief to everyone bc he’s a terrible driver

is fluent in french as his mother really wanted to have Something of his potential dad’s. if he’s particularly angry sometimes he’ll swear in french as he thinks it sounds less aggressive 

took sea monsters too seriously as a child and is terrified of the ocean as a result. he would rather linger on the beach and take photos of everyone. 

his jokes are terrible n i apologise in advance. bc you all will have to suffer through them w/ me. he tries. he really does. they’re still bad lmaooo 

[bevioletskies]

if i could fly

summary: Scott’s freshman year in college is going like pretty much any other - his roommate is a little eccentric, he has a huge crush on the girl sitting next to him in his bioengineering lecture, and he absolutely can’t stand their professor. Meanwhile, Hope is just wondering when she can have a moment for herself, when to tell Scott that she knows and she feels the same way, and when he’s going to realize that she’s Dr. Pym’s daughter.

a/n: Fic title is from the song If I Could Fly by One Direction because I need to stop picking songs from before 1988. Also, this fic is slightly more of a Hope character study than a Scott/Hope fic, but they're still a very central part of the plot!

word count: 8.1k | ao3

The moment that Scott and Hope met was...memorable, to say the least - Scott practically fell right through the doors of the lecture hall, stumbled over his own feet, and stubbed his toe on the back row of seats. Every last person turned to look at him, because on top of everything else, he was ten minutes late (he blamed Luis for convincing him that he “didn’t need an alarm, man!”).

He sheepishly made his way down the stairs, scanning every row for an empty seat, his heart sinking when he realized the entire hall was at full capacity, save for one seat at the very front. He felt decidedly more optimistic once he laid eyes on the girl who would be sitting next to him. “Sorry,” he whispered, sliding past her to sit down. She merely huffed and waved him off. Good start, Scott, he internally berated himself, and cracked open his textbook, quietly wondering if she already thought he was a completely hopeless case. Everyone went back to their own books and laptops, but he could still feel the professor’s eyes trained on him, judging him in stone-faced silence.

It wasn’t until they took a short break between lecture slides that Scott decided to try for a second first impression; if nothing else, he knew it would help to find an accountability partner for each of his classes (and not one who told him he didn’t need to set an alarm, Luis). “Hey, I’m Scott,” he offered.

The girl turned to look at him, allowing for a far better look at her face - mid-length dark hair, inquisitive brows, and a piercing gaze, her eyes similar in their shade of hazel-green to his. “Hope,” she said shortly, turning back to her screen. “Dr. Pym hates latecomers.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he chuckled sheepishly. “You’ve taken a class with him before?”

An odd smirk formed on her face, a quirk in the corner of her mouth that only intrigued him further. “Sure.”

“I read some pretty bad reviews of him, but he’s the only one who teaches some of the 300-level stuff I need. Wanted to get onto his good side early, but now it might be outta the question,” he continued, undeterred. “Any suggestions?”

“I know it’s bioengineering, but it’s not rocket science. Show up on time, do the readings, study for thirty hours a day. You just might scrape by,” she drawled.

“Well, when you put it like that,” Scott said, leaning back in his seat with a grin. “And while you’re giving advice, where’s the best place to study on campus?”

Hope finally looked at him again, her eyes flickering briefly across his face; he felt like he was being evaluated for something, but what, he couldn’t be quite sure. “Main library, third floor, by the windows. I’m usually there on Sunday mornings by ten, since everyone else is still sleeping.”

He met her gaze, his smile spreading. “Good to know.”

Once class was over, Hope remained in her seat until the entire room was empty, save for Dr. Pym at the front, packing up his things. “Any potential takers, or were you too busy batting your eyelashes at the boy sitting beside you?”

Hope rolled her eyes, shutting her laptop with a snap. “Don’t patronize me, Dad, I can have a life outside of your recruitment program. Why don’t you offer internships like every other CEO-slash-professor?”

“Because I’m not like other CEOs-slash-professors,” Hank insisted; Hope had to choke back her laugh at how absurd he sounded. “What, you think I’m going to stick just any random intern in the Ant-Man suit? No!”

She clicked her tongue dismissively, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder, and began making her way up the stairs to the exit. “If you ask me, Scott seems like the best choice.”

“For me, or for you?” he called. All he got in response was the loud clunk of the doors swinging shut.

Hope was not one to be told what to do, and never had been. She’d been a stubborn child, a stubborn teenager, and despite her parents’ best efforts, became a stubborn young adult. Despite Hope’s best efforts, however, she ended up following in their footsteps anyway, contrary to her bouts of teenage rebellion. She’d gone through her phases of wanting to be a veterinarian, a writer, a martial arts instructor, but ultimately found herself right back in the sciences under the loving tutelage of her genius parents. Still, now that she was in college, or more specifically, the college her parents taught at, she refused to tell people they were related. She had no intention of letting people immediately form opinions of her that she didn’t have control of. It didn’t help that Hank was constantly hovering over her shoulder like he didn’t already keep tabs on her phone’s GPS or put sensors in her car (which he didn’t know that she knew about).

“Can you not let our daughter be a normal student without dragging her into another one of your schemes?” Janet had protested when Hank first brought up his recruitment plans. “Just get an intern, Henry!”

Now, Hope sat at her favorite table in the library, drumming her pencil against its surface, considering all the things her father had told her to look for. Someone clever, hardworking, focused, adaptive. She couldn’t help but scoff at the last attribute he’d asked for - in other words, someone who will listen to you no matter what, Hope had wanted to say. Typical. She wasn’t even sure why Hank was looking for a successor, given that he and Janet had retired from their other lives by the time she was sixteen, but she knew questioning him about it would only lead to another eventual shouting match. Nothing made him happier than finding something to be angry about.

“Hey.” She looked up, both startled and pleased to see Scott smiling back at her. “Fancy seeing you here. Mind if I join you?”

She gestured for him to take the chair across from hers. “Please,” she said, finding his grin infectious and returning it with a small one of her own. “Don’t tell me you’re already having trouble with the material.”

“Dr. Pym sure has some different ideas about what a ‘first week’ looks like,” he sighed, unloading what seemed like the entire contents of his book bag onto the table. “The guy’s smart, but someone’s gotta tell him to relax.” Hope’s brow shot up at the offhand comment - maybe it was a strike against Scott for Hank’s purposes, that he wasn’t capable of meeting his demands. For her purposes, however, anyone who was willing to call out her dad’s...quirks was a person worth getting to know.

She reached across the table for his workbook. “May I?” At his nod, she pulled it towards her, scanning across the pages. “For someone who’s complaining, you seem to know what you’re doing.”

“I like learning about this kind of stuff, it’s just his teaching style. Dude’s gotta lighten up,” Scott shrugged, though his cheeks warmed at her sort-of compliment. “Hey, I never asked, what’re you majoring in?”

“Biochem, minor in commerce,” she replied. “You?”

“Engineering,” he said, taking his workbook back from her. “So I guess we won’t see much of each other outside of some general sciences stuff.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” she hummed. They exchanged somewhat shy smiles over the top of her laptop before resuming their work in comfortable, amiable silence.

Later that afternoon, she returned to the family townhouse - situated close to campus, where Hank and Janet (and now Hope) lived while they taught during the fall and spring semesters - with a slight spring in her step, feeling oddly optimistic. Hope had never put too much stock into relationships of any kind, preferring to focus more on herself, but she found Scott charming in a way she wanted to explore further. As for Hank’s intentions -

“Where have you been?”

“Really, Dad? What am I, seven years old?” Hope kicked off her shoes and hung up her jacket in the hall closet, deliberately keeping her back to him. “I was studying at the library, okay? Nothing scandalous.”

“Don’t give me attitude, Hope, it was just a question,” Hank grouched. “You got some time to join me in the lab? I have something to show you.”

“Fine,” she sighed, following him down into the basement suite, which Hank had transformed into a condensed version of his far more advanced laboratory at Pym Technologies. “What’s this about?”

Naturally, he didn’t answer, instead leading her to the back of the room where he kept all of his ant specimens. Hope tapped gently on the glass in greeting, and some of them wriggled their antennae back at her; she smiled, knowing it was really Hank who’d told them to. He then moved to knock on the back wall, a hollow metallic echo resonating back to them. Slowly, it slid open, revealing a glass display case behind it, illuminated so brightly that she could barely make out what was inside.

“Of course you have a secret door - wait, is that...is that a new suit?”

Hope moved closer, all the dry wit in her tone gone, now replaced with wonderment in her eyes as she stared at the unfamiliar suit before her. She could tell by the shape of its chestplate and the width of its hips that it was for a feminine figure, but it didn’t look anything like her mother’s suit. It was a silver-gold unlike Janet’s red; it was sleeker, a little more modern in comparison. She turned to look at her father in disbelief.

Hank smiled. “Congratulations on getting into college, honey.”

Hope let out a quiet gasp, then flung her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. “Dad,” she breathed, tears forming in her eyes. “How long have you been working on this?”

“Long enough,” he said, sounding both world-weary and proud, and he wrapped his arms around her in return. “Hope, that’s why I wanted you to help find my successor. They’re going to be your partner.”

She let go of him and stepped back. “What?”

“I know better than to pick for you,” Hank chuckled, rocking back on his heels. “Made the mistake of trying to tell you which extracurriculars to take when you were younger, and we all know how that turned out. But this is important, Hope. For me, sure, but really, for you.”

She walked back up to the case, splaying her palm open against the glass, still starry-eyed. “Partner,” she repeated.

“So, did you find anyone yet?”

Hope thought back to half an hour ago when she’d left Scott in the library, how easy it had been to work and chat and laugh with him, how she wasn’t quite ready to leave when she did. Then she tried to picture him standing in her father’s lab, the two of them arguing over the schematics of the suit, or the formulas they used, or just anything, really. She internally blanched.

“No, not yet.”

Sunday mornings at the library very quickly became a thing for Hope and Scott, where she stopped being surprised by his arrival (he made a point of promptly being there by ten) and he stopped needing to ask whether he could join her. He soon learned what her coffee order was, too, making a habit of bringing her a drink and a danish or donut, somehow always knowing which one she wanted every single time.

“Good memory,” he had shrugged when she asked him one time how he remembered she’d been craving something cherry-flavored, watching in astonishment as he deposited a small paper bag of a sugar-coated cherry strudel beside her laptop. Her first bite was more satisfying than she expected, trying not to make a show of it while he watched her with a sort of half-smile and a soft twinkle in his eyes.

Even stranger was the first time Hope ever saw Scott outside of the classroom or the library: at the on-campus gym, of all places, circling a punching bag. She took a moment to admire his arms (and silently criticize his footwork) before approaching him. “You really need to work on your form.”

He startled slightly at the sound of her voice, then laughed once he realized it was her. “Yeah, I’m not - I’m more of a runner type of guy, not a boxer. Didn’t know you were here, too.”

“I was over at the weight machines and I thought I saw a familiar face, though more sweaty than I’m used to,” she teased, walking around the bag so they were face-to-face. “I think you could use some advice.”

“You know this stuff?” he asked.

“I’ve been doing martial arts since I was eight,” she replied, shrugging easily.

“Didn’t know that.” He briefly bent to pick up his water bottle and take a long, generous swig; Hope briefly averted her eyes, not wanting to become too fixated on the way his throat moved while he did.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” she said instead, gesturing for him to follow her over to the mats. She then came to a standstill in the middle, holding up both of her hands so her palms were facing him. “Gloves off. Show me how to punch.”

“I was in - I mean, I know how to punch,” Scott hedged. She narrowed her eyes at his hesitation. Finally, with a sigh, he got into position, then threw a couple of punches, striking her hands half-heartedly.

“Terrible,” she said, lowering her arms, though she kept her tone light.

“You wanna show me how to - ” Scott let out a noise he wasn’t proud of as Hope knocked him right in the chest. He fell head over heels quite literally, stumbling backward over his own feet. “Oh - ”

“You asked.” Hope put her hands on her hips, smirking at Scott’s half-impressed, half-terrified expression. “Come on, back to work.”

After an hour-long impromptu bootcamp, they were both drenched in sweat and sore to the bone, him far more so than her. On their way to their respective locker rooms, Scott decided to strip off his T-shirt entirely, causing several heads to turn their way. He grinned when he noticed Hope keeping her chin a little too high in the air, her eyes practically glued to the ceiling. “What’s up?”

“No one likes a show-off,” she huffed, disappearing into the women’s showers.

The two of them ended up going to a hole-in-the-wall dive that was about a five-minute drive outside of the university campus, the kind of place that Hope admittedly would have never tried herself, having spent her life going to restaurants with more than one crystal chandelier and waiters that had been calling her “ma’am” since she was five. She remembered sitting between her parents, tugging uncomfortably at the runs in her tights, barely able to follow the conversation happening with the executive or researcher or whoever happened to be their plus one for the night who sat across the table from her, occasionally cooing at her like she was a newborn baby. Scott, meanwhile, looked right at home sitting across from her on a scratched-up booth bench that had certainly seen better days, his arm thrown over the back, his other hand drumming out an offbeat rhythm on the table’s surface. There was a quiet confidence to him that she very much envied, the ease in the slump of his shoulders painting a stark contrast to the tightness in hers.

“So what don’t I know about you?”

Hope was taken aback. “What?”

“You said there’s a lot I don’t know about you, and I can’t not ask after you say something like that,” he chuckled. “Like, what made you do martial arts as a kid? Why’re you majoring in science and minoring in business? What classes have you taken with Dr. Pym?”

She winced a little at the last one. “Why do you want to know?” she asked. “Is it because - ”

“Just curious,” he said, holding up his hands defensively. “But if you don’t wanna tell me, it’s cool. I’ve got my secrets, too.”

“Really, because you seem almost too transparent,” she said dryly. She leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table, then regretted it instantly when she realized how sticky it was. “Martial arts is something my parents thought would be important for me to learn, I want to - ” destined to, more like, she thought “ - work at a scientific research company, and Dr. Pym used to do summer workshops for high school students.”

He nodded slowly, absorbing her words, the words that she knew were half-truths at best, lies of omission at worst. Then: “I’ve been learning how to do close-up magic.”

“What,” she repeated, though flatly this time. He leaned in, his face startlingly close to hers, and she felt his fingers briefly brush against her earlobe before he triumphantly brandished a quarter in her face, his grin impossibly wide.

“I guess it’s not really a secret, but I’m getting pretty good at it,” he said, taking her hand and unfurling her fingers so he could press the coin into her palm. His hands were warm, his fingers unusually calloused for someone who supposedly didn’t work with much more than a keyboard. Hope wanted to ask, but she wasn’t even sure what to ask. She hadn’t exactly forgotten his comment earlier, either, whatever he was going to say before failing spectacularly at punching. Maybe his secrets were like hers - not shameful, exactly, just not something he wanted to talk about yet.

“I’m impressed.” She half-closed her hand around his, then leaned back so she felt like she could breathe again. “So is that just for fun, or...”

“You could say that.” He averted his eyes a little too quickly, finally sliding his hand away, back to his side of the table. “I’m still trying to figure out what kinda stuff I’m into, what I wanna do in like, life. I know, I know, it’s the most...typical college student stuff. But that’s what it’s all about, right? Figuring out who we are?”

“Going to the gym on a regular basis is definitely a good place to start,” she mused. “What else have you been doing?”

“Haven’t really had the chance to do much in the last three or so years,” he said mysteriously, resuming his drumming against the table. “And hey, I could use a personal trainer.”

Before Hope could reply, her phone went off. She glanced at Scott apologetically before looking down at her screen, groaning when she realized who it was. “Dad, I’m - no, I’m out right now, I can’t - I’ll be home - Dad, seriously - ”

While she talked, keeping her voice low and her mouth covered, Scott’s gaze wandered off around at the gaudy posters and neon signs, the leaky ceiling and the rusty window panes, before his eyes went back to her. Her hair was still somewhat damp, her brows were knitted together in clear frustration, and he could see the slight chipping of her fingernails, probably from the rough-and-tumble they’d had earlier. Scott wanted to take her hand again, to find some other magic trick or silly excuse that would allow him to do so without weirding her out. That is, he hoped she wasn’t put off by what he knew was his sometimes strangeness, little things and moments of “immaturity”, as his ex had so nicely called it (and it was nice of her, considering some of the things her current boyfriend had to say about him). He turned away when she started to hang up, certain that his face felt just the slightest bit warmer than it had a moment ago.

“Is he expecting you home right now?” Scott asked once she pocketed her phone. “If you have to go - ”

“I’m just fine where I am,” Hope said shortly, though her expression softened once their eyes met again. “What were you saying about a personal trainer?”

“Well, if you’re up to spending more time with me…” He trailed off, looking at her expectantly.

“I guess it couldn’t hurt,” she teased, grinning. Once more, they found themselves exchanging promising glances, barely breaking eye contact, even when their waiter came around with a plastic basket of oily nachos.

“So, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not - well.”

They were about two months into the semester, with the weather gradually getting colder and crisper, and classes getting progressively harder and deceptively longer. Scott and Hope were bundled in their thickest coats and walking across campus together, coffee and buttery pastries in hand, on their way to Hank’s class. It had become routine for them, to the point where Scott’s roommate teased them every time she dropped by their dorm.

“Hey, Hope,” Luis would say with a knowing grin. Then he’d turn into the room and call, “Scotty, your girl’s here to walk you to class!”, much to Scott’s embarrassment. Ruddy-cheeked, he would always push past Luis and mutter unintelligibly under his breath, then gesture for Hope to follow him far, far away.

“Luis and I actually knew each other before coming here,” Scott said. Strangely enough, he seemed to be avoiding her eyes. “We, uh, we met in jail?”

Hope stopped in her tracks. “Is that a question?” she said shortly, her breath stuck in her throat, fearing the absolute worst. “What were you in for?”

“Theft,” he admitted. She internally exhaled, though she remained wary. “Few months after graduating high school, my girlfriend got pregnant. I was doing an internship at a security company to save up for college, and then, y’know, the baby. All I saw were these guys in nice suits, bragging about vacation homes, golf scores, the usual. But then I heard ‘em talking about screwing over their customers, skimming money from their accounts. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to steal it back. Got caught, dumped, thrown into prison - in that order. I was let out early on good behavior, but if I wanna meet my daughter, my ex says I gotta prove that I’ve changed.”

Hope fiddled with the sleeve of her coffee cup, wearing away at the thin cardboard until the edges began to fray. “...oh.”

“I just didn’t want you to hear about it from someone else,” Scott continued, shooting her a strained smile. “I wanna be there for my daughter, I wanna be a good person. Honest, reliable...all that.”

She cleared her throat, giving him a small smile of her own. “What’s her name?”

“Cassie,” he said quietly.

“That’s a pretty name.” Her eyes dropped to the lid of her coffee cup for a moment, contemplating. “From what I can tell, Scott, you’re already honest. You just need more focus. Once your ex sees that, how badly you want to see Cassie...it’ll happen.”

“I sure hope so,” he said, his eyes softening. “Thanks for, uh, for hearing me out.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

Hank’s class was the usual long-winded lecture, filled with convoluted definitions and complex equations. Near the end, he handed back one of their reports before dismissing them. Hope immediately had to stash hers in her bag the moment she laid eyes on it, realizing he’d written excellent work, proud of you at the top of the front page, right next to her A-grade. Hank had never been one to express sentiment through writing (Janet had once shown Hope the love letters he’d written to her when they were young; they both had a good laugh at his earnest, but ultimately poor attempts), and it made her tear up a little at the last three words. Still, she didn’t want Scott to see. Scott looked confused at her erratic behavior, but merely grinned his easygoing grin and said his goodbyes, once again leaving her alone in the lecture hall with Hank.

“You’re getting pretty close to Lang, aren’t you?” he commented, eyeing her knowingly.

“We’re friends,” she replied tightly. “You don’t have to punish him for whatever imaginary rivalry you’ve got going in your head, by the way. I’ve seen the marks you’ve given him. He’s smarter than you literally give him credit for.”

“You know, I just can’t tell if you want him to be your partner or not,” Hank scoffed. “You’ve told me about his many supposed good qualities - his intelligence, memory, agility - and yet you also tell me you haven’t found anyone - ”

“I just haven’t, okay?” Hope interrupted. “Just - Dad, can you please just let me live my life, separate from yours?”

“Then why did you enroll in the very school that your mother and I work at? Why didn’t you go clear across the country like every other teenager?” Hank retorted, folding his arms across his chest.

“Sometimes, I really don’t know.” With that, Hope turned and stormed out of the lecture hall in a huff, some of her residual childish temper still lingering inside. Hank stood there, staring after her with the same fire in his eyes, simultaneously loving and hating the fact that she’d turned out to be a little too much like him.

Hope found herself spending more time in the gym or Scott’s dorm room than her family’s townhouse as the semester dragged on, avoiding her father’s stern looks and her mother’s placating smiles. She knew she was being immature about the whole ordeal, but it was hard not to feel stifled and cornered into bursts of anger when it seemed like they were constantly sitting on her shoulders. Something about seeing all the other college students going around campus, getting to truly be themselves for the first time, made her burn with a quiet envy she didn’t realize she had.

“I know it sounds like the dumbest thing to complain about, but I’m so sick of my parents always...being there,” Hope admitted one afternoon while she and Scott were sprawled across his tiny bedroom floor, lazily making their way through their homework. After he’d opened up about his time in jail, she wanted to return the favor and tell him more about herself, though she still tried to keep it as vague as possible. “It’s not like I want them gone or anything, but sometimes I wish it was like when I was little, and they’d go on business trips out of the blue. I’d be at home with a sitter for weeks at a time, wondering if they’d ever come back. Now, I...almost want that distance again. Just enough so I don’t feel like I have to live up to something.”

Scott hummed thoughtfully, his head tilted in a way she somehow found more charming than cloying. “Have you told them how you feel? I’m sure they’d wanna know if they were pressuring you, they sound like good parents.”

“If you knew them, you’d know it isn’t that simple,” she sighed.

“Can I? Meet them, I mean,” he added.

She quirked an eyebrow. “And...why do you want to meet my parents, exactly?” Scott could only look at her dumbfoundedly, as if he’d just realized the weight of what he was asking for. Hope smiled, shuffling closer to rest her elbows on top of his knees, her bright-eyed gaze meeting his. “Is it because - ”

Scott kissed her before she could finish her sentence. She let out a startled noise before returning the kiss, pleased that she hadn’t been imagining things, that it wasn’t just her wishful thinking that he’d been offhandedly flirting with her for the past few months.

Knock knock. “Hey, Scotty - ” before either of them had time to react, the door swung open to reveal Luis standing there with a plastic bag overloaded with takeout containers “ - whoa, what’s going on?”

Scott broke the kiss first, shooting her a faux-stern look. “Really, Hope? I thought we were here to study and then you go around kissing me like that, honestly - ”

“You are so full of shit, Scott,” she retorted without missing a beat, half-sighing and half-laughing in exasperation. She moved to gather up her things from around the room, pointedly keeping her back to Luis, who was snickering behind his hand. “I should get going, I promised my mom I’d hang out with her tonight.”

“Wait, I’ll walk you out,” Scott called as she swept past him. He got to his feet and grabbed his room key, then turned to fix Luis with a pointed stare. “Dude.” Luis merely shrugged, chuckling, and sat down at his desk like nothing had happened.

“I mean it, I have to get going,” Hope said, though she was still waiting for Scott while he closed the door behind him. “Mom’s probably waiting for me.”

“Sorry about, y’know, him,” Scott said, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. The two of them quickly fell into step like they always did, walking down the hall to the building doors. “I meant it, though. I haven’t really had a relationship with my parents since I got sent to jail, so...it’d be cool to meet yours. And…‘cos of the other thing.”

“Someday,” she hummed noncommittally. “And the ‘other thing’? I’m not sure what you mean. I thought we were here to study.”

“Now who’s full of it?” he grinned, coming to a stop right in front of the exit. He leaned in, his nose brushing against hers; she was the one to close the gap this time. “Have a good time with your mom.”

“Have a good time with your...Luis,” Hope said, smirking in the way he adored, and she disappeared through the doors. Scott stood there for a moment longer just to chuckle to himself, shaking his head in awe, before returning to his room.

Once Hope returned home, she quickly changed into her workout clothes and went down into the other half of the basement suite - the makeshift gym - to find Janet already there, working with the speed bag. It was one of their rare nights alone together since Hank was doing a talk at a conference two towns over. According to a string of text messages he’d sent them both, it was ‘one of the most inane things’ he’d ever done and reportedly made him miss the days of endless bureaucratic SHIELD meetings. “Sorry I’m late,” Hope said by way of greeting.

“That’s alright. You have a good time with Scott?” Janet asked, stopping to grin at her daughter.

“Don’t,” Hope sighed. “I already get enough of that from Dad, I don’t need to hear it from you.”

“Speaking of your father...I told him to stop asking you about that whole partner thing, and...he agreed.” Janet nodded at Hope’s surprised expression. “You don’t need that going on during your very first semester of college. You’ve already got plenty to worry about.”

Hope smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Mom. I don’t want you guys to think I don’t want this, you know I’ve been wanting my own suit my entire life. But...this isn’t just something I can ask of someone out of nowhere. And I need someone who can be my partner, not his. I need time.”

“I know, jellybean,” Janet said, her voice soft. “Even then...you just focus on yourself, alright?”

“Easier said than done,” Hope sighed. “Maybe Dad’s right. Maybe I should’ve just gone to school somewhere else. Make my life my own for a little while instead of getting angry at you both for...well, for being good parents.”

“Oh, Hope…” Janet removed her gloves entirely so she could properly wrap her arms around her daughter, bringing her in for a tight hug. “We are so proud of you already, you have to know that. We don’t need you to be perfect, we just need you to be yourself. And if you need some space so you can do that, take it, okay? No matter what your father says.”

“You know he wouldn’t like it if I left,” Hope chuckled, burrowing her face into Janet’s shoulder. “Both of you would be calling me every single day.”

“We would, wouldn’t we?” Janet chuckled. “But seriously, jellybean, promise me you won’t be worrying about what we think. Let it be about you.”

Hope’s smile broadened, and she stepped back to meet her mother’s gaze, bright and wise and warm. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I will.”

Another week went by, then two, then a few more, and suddenly, it was the day before Scott and Hope’s last final, which happened to be for Hank’s class. They were studying in the library, occasionally looking up to exchange warm smiles before returning to their notes, Scott playfully nudging Hope’s foot underneath the table every now and then, basking in the comfortable silence.

Then: “So, my ex called today.”

Once again, Hope found herself caught by surprise. “Oh?”

“We made a deal,” Scott continued, flipping the page of his textbook, making a point of not lifting his head to meet Hope’s steely-eyed gaze. “If I get at least Bs in all my classes and get a job or an internship or something in the next six months, I can see Cassie as often as I want.”

“That sounds reasonable. You’re getting As in all of your classes, Scott,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but it’s the job thing I’m worried about. You know how hard it is for ex-cons to find work? Especially for a guy who got jail time for messing with his last workplace?” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I wanna be responsible, I wanna be there for her, but...I’m basically screwed.”

Hope chewed her bottom lip in deep thought, guilt beginning to settle a little too comfortably in the pit of her stomach. The solution was right there, right in front of her face, while Scott was completely unaware there even was a solution to be had. Part of her wanted to be selfish, to keep Scott to herself, to not let her parents take over yet another aspect of her life. All she could think about was Scott’s irritation with Hank’s personality and Hank’s vitriol for Scott’s...existence. At the same time, considering how things were going, the tip-toeing progression of their relationship that was moving (in her opinion) at just the right pace, he was going to find out eventually, wasn’t he?

“I can get you a position at Pym Technologies,” she finally said, closing her laptop so she could look him straight in the eye. “When can you start?”

“Wait, what? How? Dr. Pym didn’t say anything about internships - ”

“Neither did I. And he’s been looking for a while now, he just didn’t want people to know.”

Scott’s brow furrowed further. “Then...how did you find out about it?”

Hope sucked her breath in between her teeth. “I’m his daughter.”

Scott’s mouth almost comically dropped open, gaping at her like a fish. Just as quickly, his jaw then clicked shut, clenching tight. Hope had never seen his eyes grow so cold; she shivered. “Hope.”

“Scott, I - ”

“Hope,” he repeated. “Come on, why didn’t you tell me? All semester, I’ve been talking so much crap about Dr. Pym, and this whole time you’ve been listening to me, and, and...and lying to me?” She glanced briefly over his shoulder to see students at the other tables beginning to turn and stare at them, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I know it was wrong, okay, and for that, I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “But...you have to know why I did it, Scott. I’ve spent my whole life being told that my parents are geniuses, and that I have to live up to those expectations and be one myself. I have to be well-rounded but focused, social but disciplined, all these...things that eventually became too much for me. I’m better at balancing all those things now, but I still wanted just one thing to be my own, and...I wanted it to be you. I didn’t want you to think anything of me because of them, but...I guess I was the only one who didn’t think this through. It was selfish. I was selfish.”

“No, it’s not - ” Scott inhaled sharply, then reached across the table to take her hand and give it a brief squeeze. “ - it’s not selfish, I mean, I get it. I didn’t want you to know about my criminal past for sort of the same reason. First impressions, right? Having all these ideas about a person before you actually get to know them.” He smiled in the sort of crooked way that made her let go of the breath she didn’t realize she was still holding. “So uh, were you serious about that Pym Tech internship thing?”

Hope chuckled, simultaneously burnt out from worry and relieved by Scott’s easygoing acceptance. “Just like that, huh?”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “And at least it explains why Dr. Pym seems to side-eye me more than anyone else. I didn’t think I was doing that bad.”

She smiled, her shoulders finally relaxing, and glanced down briefly to their still-intertwined fingers. “It might be a little more...involved than you might expect, but I think you can handle it. Also, I never said it was an internship.”

Hank’s final went about as smoothly as expected, which was to say it didn’t go smoothly at all. The problem wasn’t the test itself; both Hope and Scott were diligent students with a good understanding of the material, but there was a tension in the lecture hall that hadn’t existed before. Scott took one look at Hank, now having mentally labelled him as Hope’s father, and it made him more nervous than the essay questions ever would.

“Something wrong, Lang? Your eye is twitching,” Hank observed while he distributed the test papers.

Scott gave him an awkward double thumbs-up. “All good here.” His voice was at least an octave higher than its usual pitch. Hope held back her usual eye-roll.

After their exam was over, Scott went back to his dorm room to sleep off his post-finals week exhaustion, but not before giving Hope a brief kiss while Hank was packing up his bag. “Hey, good luck,” he murmured. “You got this.”

Hope squeezed his arm in return, enjoying the fact that she didn’t even have to turn her head to know what Hank’s expression looked like. “I know I do,” she replied quietly, smirking.

The car ride back to their townhouse was silent - for once, Hope had allowed Hank to drive her to and from class instead of taking her own car - save for the college radio station, where the monotonous host droned on about the last stretch of the semester. It was only when they arrived that Hank wordlessly gestured for her to follow him into the basement laboratory. She winced in anticipation of what was to come.

Hank opened the secret wall once more, calling the display case forward, and Hope went to stand by his side. It took her a moment to realize there was another mannequin on the other side of the glass, this one donning a masculine suit with similar design lines and detailing to match hers, but rendered in her father’s preferred red-and-black color scheme. Goosebumps went up her arms as she stepped closer, the glass sliding open so she could gently run the tips of her fingers across the material of her own suit. It was then that she could truly feel how solid it was, how real her childhood fantasy had become. “So...what do you think?”

She turned to look at him. “They look amazing, Dad. But I really need to talk to you about something.”

“So do I,” Hank sighed, sinking down into his chair. “Hope, I...realize that I may have been pushy about you finding someone to work with. I know we’re not exactly on the same page about the progress of your...let’s call it your career, shall we?”

Hope smiled. “Let’s. And I know that you and Mom mean well, and I don’t want you thinking I’m not grateful for everything you guys have done for me. But...I don’t want to end up resenting you both for making my life fit into yours.”

“We just want what’s best for you, Hope,” Hank protested. “And you’ve proven yourself over and over again. It’s why I made the suit.”

“I get that.” She sat down in the chair opposite him, reaching across to rest her hand on his knee. “I’d just like it if my life was my own sometimes, or else I’m going to be left wanting. Wondering what it could be like.”

He went silent for a moment, contemplating. Then, he placed his hand over hers. “You know I’m no good at this kind of thing,” he said gruffly. “But tell me what we can do.”

“Trust me?” It came out more of a question than a statement. She cleared her throat. “And I mean really trust me to make my own choices.”

“I do,” Hank said automatically. When Hope fixed him with a look, he also coughed, leaning back into his seat. “More than you think. And if this is about your taste in partners - ”

“ - I don’t need to explain myself to you,” she interrupted, her voice hard. “I’m not a child anymore, Dad. If I bring him here to put on the suit and train with me, I need you to respect him and our relationship.”

He held up his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright, I hear you. But I’m glad to hear you’ve made your decision.”

“I wanted to keep him away from you,” she admitted, finally withdrawing her hand. “I wanted my college experience to be just like anyone else’s, and I didn’t want to pull him into our world when he’s been one of the most normal things about my world that I’ve ever had. But I would’ve just been delaying the inevitable, and...I really want to put on that suit.”

Hank laughed, getting to his feet and gesturing for her to follow. “I know you do. Why do you think I’ve been working on it for so long?” Hope smiled, standing as well and moving to wrap her arms around him. He hugged her in return, pressing a kiss into her forehead. “You’re really running things around here these days, aren’t you? Just like your mother. Too damn clever and stubborn for your own good.”

“Always,” Hope replied, grinning.

“Is the blindfold really necessary? I feel like I’m gonna trip.” As if on cue, Scott’s foot slipped out from under him; Hope caught him by the waist before he could fall any further.

“Dad’s the kind of paranoid who thinks the neighbors steal our mail, do you really think he’d be okay with you entering his lab without one?” she drawled, straightening him up. “Just a few more steps.”

Once they reached the bottom, Hope briefly let go to type in the code on the door’s keypad, her heart thumping wildly against her ribcage with anticipation. The door slid open to reveal Hank and Janet sitting by one of the worktables, poring over blueprints for a new model of the quantum tunnel. They both looked up at the sound of Scott and Hope’s footsteps.

Hope helped Scott remove his blindfold, watching him blink blearily into the light, squinting, before his eyes landed on her parents. He blanched slightly. “Dr. Pym...Miss Van Dyne, it’s so nice to meet you.” He held out his hand to shake, though he nearly tripped over his own feet in doing so. Hope nudged him upright with her shoulder. “Hope talks about you all the time.”

“All good things, I assume,” Janet beamed, getting to her feet so she could return the gesture. “She’s briefed you on what’s going on around here, right?”

“NDA and all,” Scott said, laughing awkwardly. “I also read up about you guys after she told me. Really impressive stuff.”

“I hope it wasn’t just my reviews on that professor rating website,” Hank grouched, though he motioned for them to join him at the display case, which had remained in full view since his conversation with Hope from a few days ago. It was the weekend after exam week was over, and the Pym-Van Dynes had spent the last couple of days mulling over Hope’s decision, weighing the pros and cons of bringing, in Hank’s words, an “inexperienced civilian” into their fold, eventually agreeing that a quick background check, typical of any normal employer, would do the job (Hope drew the line at trying to contact his family as references, though; she got the impression that his parents would have nothing but thinly-veiled insults to offer). Scott had spent the last couple of days sleeping.

“Oh, wow…” Scott was speechless as he approached the glass, his starry-eyed expression reminiscent of Hope’s. “This is so cool. It’s like a, a motorcycle suit or something.”

“It’s not - ” Hank cut himself off with a huff. “It’s for you, Scott.”

“Really?” Scott turned to look at Hank. “Can I try it on?”

“Not yet, we have to measure you and make some adjustments,” Janet piped up, pointing toward a small platform for him to stand on. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Scott grinned, hopping up with all the enthusiasm of a child getting to try on their Halloween costume for the first time. Janet went to grab her measuring tape and tablet, while Hope smiled up at Scott, the discomfort in her stomach slowly ebbing away. Hank still looked as sour as ever, but Hope spotted a twitch in the corner of his mouth that suggested maybe, just maybe, this was going to work.

A few hours later, after Hank and Janet had rattled through what Hank called the introductory course to, among other things, Pym Particles and the Ant-Man suit, Scott and Hope sat on the living room couch together, watching a movie, while they waited for her parents to finish preparing dinner for the four of them.

Hope soon noticed Scott seemed to be sending off a series of texts, though she bit her tongue before her curiosity could get the best of her. “Thank you,” she murmured instead, gently prodding his leg with her toe.

“Of course,” he said, immediately pocketing his phone. He turned to fully face her and propped his elbow up on the back of the couch, tilting his head down somewhat so their foreheads brushed. “Hey, this is the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me. This is gonna be awesome.”

“I’m glad it’s that simple for you,” she replied, mirroring his movements; their elbows met in the middle. “It’s going to be a lot of work, Scott.”

“I know,” he shrugged. “But it feels like the right thing to do. I really needed this, after all the crap that’s gone wrong in my life. A chance to prove myself.”

“You’ll have plenty,” she promised. Then, she couldn’t help herself, finding her gaze flickering to his phone; she could see its screen lighting up over and over again, silently chiming in with more notifications. “What’s going on there?”

“Maggie, my ex,” Scott said, sitting up so he could pull it out of his pocket. “I told her I got a job, she’s been bugging me with questions ever since. Told her I’d tell her more later, once your dad gets me up to speed on what I can and can’t tell people.” His grin broadened. “She did send me a couple pictures of Cassie, though. Wanna see?”

Hope nodded almost shyly, her heart melting when Scott turned the screen in her direction. “Oh, Scott, she’s adorable.” It was a series of photos of a little three-year-old girl in a high chair with the biggest, roundest brown eyes Hope had ever seen, grinning toothily at the camera, the majority of her face covered in chocolate cake. “It’s a good reminder - you’re doing this for her.”

“And for me,” he added, tucking his phone away. “And...a little bit for you.”

“Is that so?” she teased, leaning in closer once more. “Just a little bit?”

“Teeny...tiny...ant-sized bit,” Scott whispered, bringing his mouth to hers. Hope groaned, though both of them shook a little with silent laughter as she pulled him in closer, winding her arms around him until their legs were fully intertwined, him pressing her into the couch. Much to Hank’s chagrin, she barely moved to break the kiss when he entered the room and cleared his throat.

“When you two are finished, dinner’s ready,” he said tightly, then turned on his heel and walked right back into the dining room. Hope finally pulled away so she could laugh into Scott’s shoulder, delighting in how pink his face had gotten (though he didn’t look too ashamed of himself, either). Yes, it was more than a maybe; things were going to be just fine.

a/n: I love a good ol' college AU, and getting to do some character exploration of what Hope would be like if her parents were around for her entire adolesence was pretty interesting! And, of course, writing overly-confident, kinda-awkward flirting between these two is one of my favorite things about the Scott/Hope dynamic. I think I'm starting to get the hang of the Ant-fam's characterization?

Thanks so much for reading, likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed :)

[lolcat76]

Are you still taking prompts for Six Senses? If so, could you do one where Regina's vision is getting worse and Robin tries to comfort her and reassure her he's not going anywhere.

I am so behind on Six Senses prompts, but here you go! Thanks @sometimesangryblackwoman for the advice :)

She’s not used to havinga house full of noise, but Robin’s son…even if she can’t see him, she can hearhim from a mile away. She’s lost count of all the times Robin has remindedRoland to use his inside voice. She doesn’t think he has an inside voice, but she’s not going to tell Robin that.

Roland has adjustedpretty well to spending weekends with Regina. He likes the big house – so muchmore room than his father’s townhouse in Boston – and he likes trying to climbthe apple trees in the backyard. He likes camping out in a nest of pillows inthe living room while they watch movies in the evening, burrowing againstRegina as she inches closer and closer to the big-screen TV to make out thecharacters.

He likes helping hermake popcorn at night, and breakfast in the morning. She likes it too. WhenHenry was little, she’d keep him for overnights, and having Roland in her housereminds her of those days when she’d wake up to Henry perched at the end of herbed, waiting for her to kick off the covers and make pancakes for them.

She can still make thebatter, as long as Robin lays out the ingredients for her, but she leaves it tohim to pour and flip, and she leaves it to Roland to place the chocolate chipsas the pancakes bubble and brown.

They’re nearly done withbreakfast when Robin’s phone rings, and she can tell by the tension in hisvoice that it’s his office manager. His new associate is proving to be moretrouble than he’s worth – top of his class and smart, but increasinglyunreliable when it comes to arriving on time, and she’s heard enough aboutRobin’s patients complaining about his bedside manner to know that his days arelimited, at best. She waves in the general direction of where he’s sitting andassures him that she’ll get Roland cleaned up while he deals with this latestcrisis.

She holds out her hand. “Comeon, Roland. You need a shower. You’re covered in syrup, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t respond, buthis father does. “Use your words, son.”

She blesses him for thereminder. Roland tends to respond to questions with hums or gestures, and asmuch as she doesn’t want to admit it, it eats away at her that she can’t seethem. He takes her hand, small fingers sticky and messy, and she tugs him tothe staircase.

“We’ll make it quick,then we’ll go to the park,” she promises.

She’s in the bathroom,twisting the knobs to get the temperature just right, when she hears it. Rolandrefused to shower without the Star Wars towels that she kept on hand for Henry’svisits, and she’d sent him out to the linen closet to fetch them while shelined up soap and shampoo. She hears a crash, and a series of thuds, and ascream that curdles her blood in her veins. She goes running out of thebathroom and comes to a halt at the head of the stairs, her hand resting on thebanister. From below, she can hear Roland’s whimpers and his father’s voice,whispering soft reassurances.

She doesn’t know what’sworse, that she didn’t see Roland take a header down the stairs, or that shecan’t see them now and know how bad the damage she’s done has caused. She sinksdown against the banister and forces herself to breathe.

The echo of Robin’ssteps up the staircase pulls her back into herself. She can just make out theshadow of him approaching through her peripheral vision, two large grey blursindicating father and son. “First aid kit?” he asks, and her hands clench intofists. Roland is hurt on her watch, enough to need first aid. His mother didn’tlove the idea of Roland spending weekends with his daddy’s girlfriend as itwas, and now this. She’ll be shockedif she ever gets to see Roland again, whether it be his mother’s decision, orhis father’s.

“Under the sink,” shewhispers.

She’s still leaningagainst the banister when she hears them come out of the bathroom, Rolandhappily chattering away about climbing trees and digging in the dirt and hisnew Spongebob band-aids. Yet another relic from the days when Henry was smallerand she could kiss away his boo-boos before delivering him, relatively unharmedand mostly patched-up, to his mother.

“You still need ashower,” Robin says, and Regina’s lips curl into an involuntary smile when shehears Roland whine. “You’re covered in syrup and chocolate. You stay in thebathroom, and we’ll be there in a moment. Try not to fall down over the toilet,please.”

She can hear himapproaching, and she curls herself into a ball before he can settle next to herat the top of the stairs. He wraps his arm around her shoulders and tugs heragainst him. She wants to fight and pull herself away, but she can’t resist thesimple comfort of his skin against hers.

“He’s fine,” Robinwhispers. “Skinned elbow and a bump on his head, but he’s fine. Kids fall downstairs.”

“I didn’t see…” shestarts, but her voice hitches in her throat. “Even if I’d been standing rightthere, I wouldn’t have seen him go down. I couldn’t have done anything.”

He sighs and pulls herjust a little bit closer. “Regina, I was standing right there. I saw him slipand I saw him bounce down every single step, and there was still nothing Icould do. Kids fall. Kids wreck their bikes. Kids break their arms, and theirlegs, and they heal and life goes on.”

It sounds perfectlyreasonable, with that British accent. Almost enough that she believes it. “Marianwouldn’t have let this happen.”

Robin snorts. “Marianleft a pot of pasta on the stove while she answered a phone call, and Rolanddumped it on his head. We took him to the ER and we had DCFS grilling us in thewaiting room. Kids do stupid things, no matter how close you watch them.”

That’s the heart of theproblem, isn’t it? “But I can’t watch him, Robin. You know that, and you knowit’s only going to get worse from here. And if he gets hurt – really hurt – when I’m there, and I can’tstop it, you’re never going to forgive me. And I don’t want to put you in thatposition.”

He takes a deep breath,and she can feel his long, measured exhale against her neck. She expects him toargue with her, because they’ve only been together a short time and he’s stillwrapped up in sex and endorphins and hasn’t seen the worst of her temper. Shebraces herself, because as much as she wants Robin in her life, she doesn’twant to bear more responsibility than she can handle, and keeping his son outof harm’s way is rapidly shaping up to be just that.

“How about I tell youwhat I can forgive, and we go from there?” he says.

She pulls away, tucksher head into her arms. “Easy to say that now, when a band-aid will fix it.”

“A band-aid couldn’t fixyou, and I still love you.”

He what?

“Regina, if I think you’vecome to the point where you’re a danger to yourself or a danger to others, Ipromise you, I will address it. Calmly and rationally, as adults do. But I’mnot going to punish you for what you can’t do. And if you can’t see my sonrunning hell bent for leather and tripping over a towel, I’m not going to leaveyou for it.”

“It’s only going to getworse from here,” she reminds him.

“Sweetheart, I hate tobrag, but I’m somewhat of an expert in my field. I know exactly where it’sgoing to go from here.”

“And where is that?” shesnaps.

“Into the bathroom,where my sticky son has been left for far too long while you worry far toomuch.” He shifts away from her, and the loss of his warmth at her side throwsher until he laces his fingers in hers and tugs her to her feet. Gentle, alwaysso gentle with her. “We need to hose him down and get along with our day.”

She follows him into thebathroom, unable to stop the smile that spreads across her face as Roland wrapsa skinny arm around her knees. She runs her fingers through his curls and tugsat the snarls where syrup has dried and caked his hair into a sugary, cementedmess.

“Daddy will hose youdown and Regina will dry you off,” Robin promises. He presses the Star Wars towelinto her hands, and she clutches it to her chest, happy to play her part.

“And then what?” Rolandasks.

“And then we’ll go andhave the best day ever,” Robin promises.

“Best day ever,” sheagrees, still shaky, but feeling a little bit more secure.

They get Roland throughhis shower, dressed and out the door. She walks them to the park that Henryloved, and though she can’t see the swings or the heavy wooden pirate ship, shecan hear his shouts of delight and feel him crashing into her as he begs forjust five more minutes. When they finally make it home, he hums as he eats the pizzathey’ve ordered, and falls asleep with his head in her lap. Robin takes him upto the guest room and tucks him in, then comes back downstairs to turn off allthe lights before he tugs Regina to him and pulls her up to the bedroom.

“Best day ever,” he saysas he wraps her in his arms.

Almost. “I love you,”she whispers into the darkness. His arms tighten around her and he brushes a sweet,gentle kiss along her forehead.

“I know,” he whispers in return.

Best day ever.

[shellbilee]

Classic - A Henry Cavill FanFiction

This story happened because I decided to watch Mission Impossible: Fallout and found myself falling crazily in love with the man that is Henry Cavill. Chapters coming slowly but have written a few already. Let me know what you think! B x

Chapter 1

I awoke with a start, the blaring sound of my phone alarm ringing in my ears. Ugh mornings, I thought with an inward groan, reaching over and feeling around blindly for the source of the noise. I gave up after a few seconds of failed attempts, unwillingly opening my eyes and finally locating my phone. I silenced the incessant noise and dropped my phone back onto the bedside table, letting out a deep breath and dropping my face back into the pillow. 

What I wouldn't give to be a morning person.

I felt a soft pressure on the mattress beside me and a cold, wet touch against my arm. I opened one eye to find Kyah’s big liquid eyes looking back at me expectantly, her white fluffy tail wagging happily. I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her, her big fluffy bear head resting on the bed and her nose only inches from my face. 

“And what do you want Miss?” I asked softly, knowing full well what she wanted, her tail wagging faster as she let out a soft whine.

I sighed.

“But it’s cold outside Kyah!” I whined back to her, as if she had a clue what I was saying to her.

That’s it, I’m actually becoming one of those crazies that talks to their pets. 

I closed my eyes and dropped my head into my pillow with another tired groan. 

Ugh. 

Kyah let out a second insistent whine that trailed off into a soft bark and I rolled away from her and spread out my limbs like a starfish. It was way too early and way too cold to get up for a walk. 

Sorry Kyah, not today babe.

As if she could hear my thoughts, Kyah jumped up so that her front two paws were on my bed and nudged me with her nose. 

“Kyah!” I groaned again, putting a pillow over my face, “Not now”. 

It was 5.30am - if I went back to sleep now I could still have a solid hour and a half sleep before I had to get up for work. I smiled at the thought of extra sleep and snuggled into my blankets, relishing the cozy warmth. 

Mmmm, who needed mornings? 

I jumped when Kyah let out a loud bark moments later, shaking me from my thoughts and disrupting my sleepy stupor. I let out a frustrated groan knowing that she wouldn't stop - a trait that she definitely got from her owner. 

Ugh. Okay.

No longer able to fight it, I threw off my blankets and sat up on the edge of the bed. 

“Alright, alright I’m up!”.

--

I could see my breath in the cold morning air, the smoke plumes wispy, as if I was smoking. I pulled the zip of my slim black running jacket all the way up to my chin, bouncing on the spot in an effort to warm up my frozen feet. 

Jesus it was cold! 

Goosebumps rose on my arms under my jacket and I shivered, sniffing loudly. I let out a heavy sigh, annoyed that my nose had started to run despite the fact that I'd only been outside for less than two minutes. 

Great. 

I readjusted my aqua blue beanie making sure that my ears were covered, shielding them from the cold as I looked out at the frost covered street. It was a typical March morning in London, the first rays of weak, watery sunshine peaking out through the thick grey clouds, the overnight frost just starting to melt.

Kyah sat patiently by my feet, looking up at me with bright, expectant eyes. I looked down at her as I plugged my white airpods into my ears, smiling as she wagged her tail happily. 

"You ready pup?" I asked, touching the Spotify app on my phone and selecting the first playlist that popped up. I smirked to myself when I saw that I'd chosen one called 'Morning Motivation' - fitting since my motivation for the morning was basically non existent today. Kyah stood up on all fours and let out a sharp bark, a Jess Glynne song starting in my ears as I glanced down at her. I tucked my phone into my pocket and bent down to pick up my travel mug full of tea, it's warmth instantly melting my frozen hands. 

Mmm. 

"Alright miss, let's go".

--

The streets were cold, wet and empty as we walked, both mine and Kyah's breath visible in the chilly air. I took another sip of tea and closed my eyes as I swallowed, the hot liquid sending a comforting warmth spreading throughout my body. Kyah stopped to sniff a plant and I tried not to think about the fact that I could still be in bed right now, instead trying to think about how guilty I'd feel if I didn't take Kyah out in the mornings. While I loved living in London, I hated that my little townhouse only had the tiniest bit of outdoor area, with an even tinier section of grass. It meant that it was that much harder to own a dog, let alone one that was the size of Kyah. With their big bear size, double coats and high activity requirements, Alaskan Malamutes weren't exactly the best suited breed for unit living.

I pulled Kyah along and found myself thinking about work, my mind trying to remember how busy my schedule was for the day. I was a vet at a local clinic in Western London. Born in Australia, I'd moved over to the UK with my mum and older brother after finishing high school, later enrolling at the University of London's Royal Veterinary College. Five never ending years later I'd graduated with my Bachelor of Veterinary Science and had later gotten a job at the Riverside Veterinary Clinic. It was a small clinic situated in the small leafy suburb of Churchill Gardens, expansive views of the Thames river visible from almost all of the treatment rooms.  I'd been a part of the Riverside team for almost six years now - the longest-serving employee second only to my boss, senior veterinarian Ben Middleton. He'd hired me straight out of university as a new graduate and was one of the most dedicated, passionate people that I'd ever met. He had an incredible natural kinship with both animals and people that was impossible not to admire, a trait that made him one of the most well known and respected vets in all of London. Over the years he'd been an incredible boss and an even better mentor, teaching me everything he knew about the practices of animal medicine and care. To say I was grateful to have Ben as a boss was an understatement to say the least.

We came to a stop as we reached the end of the street, Kyah sitting down at my feet with her body angled towards the left and her ears standing to attention. I smiled, we walked the same route almost every morning and she always knew exactly which way to go. I knew that I'd have no problem walking her off lead if I'd wanted to - and I had on several occasions, but her size did make it difficult. I'd lost count of how many people quickly crossed the street whenever they saw us walking, even when she was on the lead. How many times parents pulled their children behind them whenever we passed, as if Kyah were a vicious animal that was going to take a bite out of a toddler just because. I chuckled to myself knowing that that couldn't be further from the truth. Kyah was quite literally a one hundred pound ball of fluff, a lovable teddy bear that just wanted a cuddle. And food. She ate anything and everything.

"You know what Kyah?" I asked as I took another sip of my tea, looking down at her as she turned to look up at me, panting happily. "I think we'll change it up today" I said as I pulled her to the right, deciding to go a different way.

Normally we walked up towards Hyde Park, into the busier part of town, usually getting there just in time to watch the city wake up. Office workers hurriedly rushed to early meetings, cafe's opened up for the morning coffee rush and the wheezing sounds of the subway could always be heard as we walked past Kensington station.  

Not today, I thought as we crossed the street, walking down in the direction of Thames river instead. It was time for a different route.

I could see Kyah's nose working overtime as she took in all of the new smells, pausing momentarily as she stopped to sniff a very bare looking rosebush. I took another sip of my tea and hummed along to the Sam Smith song that had just begun to play in my ears, idly wondering if there were any parks nearby where I could let Kyah off her lead for a run. I always loved watching her run off lead, her ears tall and her tail wagging as she excitedly explored her new freedom. We turned down another street that was filled with old brownstone townhouses, the antique looking buildings lining either sides of the street. Bare looking hazel trees were placed strategically down the road, their empty branches stripped of their leaves from the frigid cold. For a moment I couldn't help but imagine how this street would look in the full bloom of spring - with the trees full and green and the morning sun shining down through them, it would be picture perfect, like something out of a movie.

A chilly breeze momentarily blew past sending a frozen shiver down my body, as if the weather was listening to my thoughts and reminding me that no, it wasn't quite Spring yet. I looked down jealously at Kyah knowing that the chill would barely register to her, her thick, woolly fur stopping any sort of cold from touching her skin. We reached the end of the street and I took another grateful sip of my hot tea, trying to determine which way to go next when my eyes fell on a green, lush-looking park in the distance. Deciding it was the perfect place for Kyah's run, we started down the pavement towards the park.

As we reached the park I could see that it was about the size of a football field, the entire area covered in thick green grass. Several giant oak trees dotted the expansive area, a paved walking track snaking through and around the field. Looking around I found that the park was completely empty, not a single person was around - no one walking their dog or going for their morning run. 

Perfect.

I looked down at Kyah who was looking out at the field expectantly, her ears to attention and her tail wagging furiously. 

"What do you think girl? Want to have a run?".

She looked up at me with liquid eyes and barked in response, her adorable face making me smile instantly. I bent down and put my travel mug on the ground, reaching around to un-clip Kyah's lead from her harness. I ruffled the soft fur of her chest and dropped a quick kiss on her head, smiling as I folded her lead in my hand and moved to stand back up again. Just as I opened my mouth to tell her to run, Kyah let out a deep, rumbling growl - the same growl that she made whenever she felt threatened, and looked up just in time to see a huge black and white American Akita bounding towards us.

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Chapter 2