#trust me i don't hate on jean for no reason

[57sfinest]

The ask you got about Jean and the anons mother (“your Jean post has me thinking about my mother in particular.”) reminded me of my father and how I interpreted Jeans actions.

My dad was emotionally abusive and distant because he was depressed from when I was 10 to present.

He developed his depression at age 20. Mine came in full force at age 9. I was also dealing with debilitating anxiety and a learning disability. When I was 12 I also started abusing drugs to cope with him.

My father mistreated my mother and I because of his depression. I grew up wishing he would divorce my mum or die already so we’d stop having to deal with him. I thought he was so selfish for not leaving or changing and for making it everyone else’s problem. I didn’t give a fuck that he needed help, especially cause he wouldn’t accept any. He wouldn’t even admit he had a problem.

So you’re me, age 12. You’re on speed, you haven’t slept in a days and haven’t eaten in a little under a week. Then this fucking guy is here, treating you like shit, treating your mum like shit, and he doesn’t even realise what a dick he is or what he’s doing to y’all cause he’s so caught up in his own head. You fucking hate this guy! You’re dealing with the same issues as him and more. You’ve tried to kill yourself! He’s not done that but he’s the subject of everyone’s concern because he’s loud and horrible about his issues. And you’re 12 and slowly falling into invisibility next to this cunt.

So now you’re still me, now age 20, and your dad is acting less horrible. You don’t trust him as far as you can throw him, but it’s slow progress so maybe you will.

But if I was in jeans position? Fuck no! I wouldn’t trust him! Yeah of course you realised you were awful to us then you conveniently lost your memory right after, that makes sense. You totally aren’t shirking responsibility just like you always have.

Then he seems like he’s being honest? I’d be so mad! You had to suffer for years and he just forgets it all like it was nothing? Fuck no! He can go fuck himself.

So yeah Jean is a dick. But I kinda get it. When people with issues (whatever they may be) don’t even realise they’re being shitty, or if they do they don’t admit it, it’s really easy to hate them, and there’s not a lot of reason to try and have sympathy for them, especially when you’ve spent a long time thinking of them as selfish for the way their issues manifest.

yeah and that's the thing, we can try to understand the cause of a character's behavior and even sympathize with it without necessarily condoning it, you know? i can definitely see where jean's behavior towards harry comes from, but that doesn't make it okay for him to be outright ableist and hypocritical, AND during a public confrontation to boot. jean was being shitty in a lot of ways in the ending and he topped it off with humiliation.

but i'm glad we have enough perspective on jean to understand where he's coming from when he acts this way. it turns him from a 2D caricature that just exists for us to hate to a real developed character who belongs in the setting and who has a distinguished, meaningful(ly bad) relationship with harry. and part of that is being able to look at him and go "yeah he's a complete asshole and the way he's acting isn't acceptable... but i do kinda get it"

[aromantic-pantyanarchy]

It's me. I'm the cis, heterosexual, aromantic man. I will never marry, I will never be married, I will grow into middle age and elder age and I will die unmarried. I will be forced to support a household of myself on only my wages alone for the rest of my life. I will be asked about women and marriage and children by my family for the rest of my life (or men, the progressive ones might say). I may not ever come out to them. I feel like I burned my coming out on something stupid. I don't want to explain it. I don't want to run them through the definitions and intricacies. I don't want the acceptance without understanding, placating me with ceased questions and poor explanations to other, drunk adults.

I like my hair to be long, I spent a year with it dyed a golden blonde with dark roots because I like the trashy party girl aesthetic. I want to dye it again with pink tips. I like painting my nails, black and blue are my favorite colors. I like wearing chokers. I also like wearing baggy jeans and ratty hoodies. I like having stubble. I like having chest hair. I like having a square jaw and broad shoulders. I wish I had a flatter stomach and a thinner profile frame. I don't know what this makes me, perhaps this is something no more GNC than Machine Gun Kelly. I think about this a lot, how queer my appearance truly is. I should think about it less. I have thought long and hard about if I could be trans or if I could be non-binary or if I could be genderqueer and the conclusion I ultimately came to is that I most enjoy being a man open to whatever self-expression I want.

I don't date, but I've thought about it. I would like to meet people, and I would like to have sex with them. But I don't want to hurt them. I fear if I explain what I am beforehand it'll scare them away. I fear if I explain after they'll feel manipulated or abused. I don't know how many people in the dating scene want what I want. I fear my own lack of experience will make me a bad lay, an embarrassing story to tell to confidants in hindsight. I fear my own virginity, a boundary to those I wish to be like. All of these fears are baseless, as I've not been able to even begin a single relationship in my life. Despite this I still heavily identify with terms like "slut" and "manwhore" and "thot" because my interests lay so deeply within casual sex, sex without great intimacy or emotion. This may be some form of stolen valor. I hope the true sluts are not too mad at me.

I made this blog several years ago because a mutual of mine reblogged memes making fun of aro and ace people, making fun of the concept of aphobia, and in addition well known aphobes. I didn't feel comfortable talking about aro stuff on my main blog, for as little as I talk about it. Living through the ace discourse of the 2016 era has largely caused me to cringe in embarrassment any time I am forced to discuss my orientation with people who aren't aro or ace themselves. I no longer follow this person. I unfollowed many people I was mutuals with from that time, most of them because they posted too often about how much they hated men and I didn't want to see that, some because our interests simply drifted too far apart, only one for explicit aphobia reasons. (Also one because they became a "both sides are bad, any vote is wasted" libertarian, but that's unrelated.)

I guess at this point I don't care deeply about what strangers on the internet think of me. If a trusted friend told me that they don't think I'm truly queer that may hurt. But I am going to continue to use the word for myself. I take up no resources. I go to events that are open to me. If an event was not open to me, I think I'd not want to go anyways. I am not a hypothetical, I am not a strawman, I am a person with lived experiences both within and exterior to the queer community. If you hate me, I will permit you to continue to do so. But ultimately, I am who I am, I cannot change these facts, and I would not choose to do so even if I could.

[madlittlecriminal]

[02] Secret Ingredient⥓ Mafia!Miguel O'Hara × Female!Baker!Reader

y'all, im sorry. i was sick. im back now though, so hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: mention of losing sleep, mentions of dana, mention of brothels, mentions of exotic dancer clubs

series masterlist | miguel o'hara masterlist

Miguel lost sleep that week.

The fact that you were the owner of the bakery he had his eye on was upsetting. Even though he still had to get to know you, he wasn't sure if he could if there was a possibility of falling in love with you and he wasn't sure if he was ready to risk it. Obviously, there were other reasons why his relationship with Dana ended. It was true that he didn't want her to have control over his club, but it stemmed from more than just business partnership.

Dana wanted to be the owner because she wanted to change things and he didn't want that. She wanted to make it into a brothel, but he didn't want that. Not only did he already have exotic dancers at their own clubs that catered to all genders since he preferred being inclusive, but he also hated thinking of how some men are gross and just disrespectful. In his clubs, he had strict rules, and he knew Dana wouldn't have enforced those rules; he didn't want it to come bite him in the ass.

This was different though.

You were different.

He felt weird, going to the club earlier just to get the chance to see you.

He hasn't stepped foot in your bakery since he met you. Lyla and Jess have been on his ass about meeting you again. They couldn't understand why their boss was being weird about a woman, but Peter did.

Miguel had a conversation with Peter which helped him out a little, but he wouldn't admit it to his face; he had to push his shy boy out the way in order to talk to you, but he didn't know how.

So, he decided to pay you a visit on his day off at Alchemax.

You were dealing with a girl who was currently doing cake testing for her quince (sweet 15) which made him smile softly when you gave her a piece of Neapolitan cake since she couldn't decide between chocolate, vanilla and strawberry.

"This is the alternative if you don't want to do separate layers of cake." You say, making Miguel's body tingle with heat as red painted his cheeks.

He quickly concluded that he could listen to you talk for hours.

"It's amazing!" The fourteen-year-old jumped a little after swallowing the piece of cake, making you smile.

"I'm glad you like it." You look up and give Miguel a grin, making his legs shake slightly.

"We'll take this one." Her father said with a grin while ruffling his daughter's hair and pulling out his wallet.

"Great! When do you need it by?" You ask, tilting your head to the side as you look between the mother, the father and the daughter.

"About four months from now. It's the last thing we need."

You nod, giving them the price of the deposit and taking the list of cake ideas from the girl before bidding goodbye.

When they left, your eyes met Miguel's again, making his heart race.

"How can I help you?" You scan him quickly, taking note of his leather jacket, the white shirt that peaked from underneath it along with his black jeans and the same ruby colored sunglasses from your first encounter.

He gives you a shy smile before looking at the desserts, biting the inside of this cheek. "Surprise me."

You raise a brow. "Are you sure about that?"

He nods.

"You hardly know me and you're trusting me to surprise you with a dessert?"

He nods again.

"What if I poison you?" You joke.

"Querida, if you wanted to poison me, you would've done it when we first met." He states. (Darling/Dear)

You blink up at him before opening your mouth to say something, closing it and repeating the process once more before turning your back and grabbing gloves, a wax tissue sheet along with a paper bag and making your way to the kitchen.

His face goes red with embarrassment as he looks at the ground. He makes his foot graze your tiles like a child embarrassed or shy to ask a question. However, he noticed one of your tiles were cracked and another that was actually missing.

"Ah, don't mind the floor. It happened two days ago." You rest the bag on the counter that contained a few pieces of tamriyeh that you just finished preparing.

"How?" He asks, tilting his head to the side.

"A woman stomped her bulky heels on the cracked one and she kicked the other when she saw it was loose." You explain with a shrug before giving him the total.

He raises a brow before giving you $10. "Why did she do that?"

You snicker. "She was annoyed I got her order wrong, telling me I was a fake baker because my treats weren't as good as her mother in law's desserts, but I never advertised them to be better."

He rolls his eyes at the ignorance of the woman and takes the bag. "Thank you. Keep the change and don't worry about the receipt."

You sigh. "Are you ever going to ask for the change or the receipt?"

"Probably not. Have a good day and stay safe." He walks out, leaving you stunned.

"When I catch you, Ruby..." You say softly as you watch his tall figure walk away with a glare before taking the receipt and putting it away and putting the cash in the register.

———

tags:

@deputy-videogamer @barbiecrocs @deepinballs @faimmm @wakeupr41 @bubblegumfanfics @smartyren @kimmis-stuff @latenightcravingz @youcantseem3 @corpsebridenightamare @thedevax @cicithemess @diannana

*if you do not get the notification, i put the link of your blogs because it wasn't allowing me to tag you.

[messedupfan]

Chapter 18

Summary: Wanda has been seeing someone. Daisy reconnects with Reader. Jean and Anna have special plans.

A/n: Heeeyy, please don't hate me. Enjoy!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist | All Chapters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wanda checks her watch nervously. She had arrived at the office thirty minutes early to mentally prepare for the appointment. She wasn't sure what she was going to discover in that room. All she knew was that the idea made her feel ill. Her mind jumps to all of the people she slept with and she begins to feel like an idiot. Her leg bounces nervously as she thinks about how she will be judged by the doctor. It won't happen in front of her but she's almost certain it will happen. 

“Wanda Maximoff?” Her head snaps up at her name being called. “I'm ready to see you now.” Wanda nods and rises as she collects her things. She was going to be fine. Agatha swears by therapy. She was going to be fine. This was the next step to getting better and getting on with her life. 

You are standing in the backyard of your former home. “You wanted to show me my own craft space?” You ask with arms crossed over your chest. 

“No, we wanted to show you our future craft space,” Jean says and Anna waves her arms around as she presents a stack of boxes where your tools and materials used to be laid out. 

“What's this? You know that I need the space when I get an order. I know it’s been a while but it’s not just for me. I’ve been able to help you guys with the money I make from this side job. It’s not some frivolous hobby,” you walk around the room. 

“Yes, well, it’s actually been a year – close to a year and I’m pretty sure we were your last customers,” Jean says. “Besides, since we’re going to have all of this time we thought would be occupied by a baby… We want to make it into a craft space.” 

You clamp your mouth shut as you look at the boxes. It wasn’t fair for them to throw that in your face but this scenario was eerily similar to the one you’d witnessed with Wanda’s basement and Vision. You couldn’t stoop as low as that man so you sighed and nodded. “Okay, can you give me time to find somewhere to store it all? I don’t have the space right now.” 

“Sure,” Jean says, “just please don’t take too long. I have a lot of idea’s and I’m excited. Well. We’re excited.” She pulls her wife close to her and the two share a kiss. You find their behavior to be odd but you don’t think about it too much. 

“Okay,” you drag out. “I should get going. I need to do some grocery shopping and make some phone calls to see who will be willing to store my things until I can find a better place.” You walk through the gate to get to your car as they allow you to go. You scroll through your contacts to see who you can trust with your tools and supplies. You pause for a moment when you see Daisy’s contact. You know that you didn’t love her the way she deserved but it still hurt to see her name. You decide to leave that task for when you’re home because you needed to focus. 

You walk around the store with this nagging feeling that you should contact Daisy for some reason. You didn’t understand it. In the time since she ended things with you, you haven’t wanted to contact her once. Maybe it was because things with Wanda have crashed and burned alive. You don’t know, but you had to fight it because it wouldn’t be fair for you to try and insert yourself in her life again. As you shop you recignize her friend and you can’t stop yourself from saying hi. Because you mistakenly feel as though that would be rude. “Hey, Jemma!” You greet with as smile. 

Her eyes go wide and she almost runs but instead turns around smiles back. “Y/n, it’s been a while. How have you been?” 

You take a deep breath as you mentally run through the chaotic months you’d been having. “I’ve been better,” you nod. “Yeah, um, how have you been?”

She makes a face and narrows her eyes at you, “Let’s not waste our time here. I’m not the person you want to know about. Am I?”

You’re surprised by the implication and you shake your head. “No, I’m genuinely curious about you. I wouldn’t ever put you in a position to update me about Daisy. She made it very clear that she wanted me out of her life.” 

Jemma’s eyes scan you and she nods. “I’ve been well. Daisy, however, not so much. I’m telling you this because she is going to reach out to you soon. As much as I don’t like you, you do deserve the warning.” 

Your eyebrows twitch and you frown slightly, that was not what you expected to hear. “Oh, I hope I can help her with whatever it is. I just… She’s not going to try and get back together right?”

Jemma bursts out laughing and you smile and nod as she makes a big show of her amusement. “I’ve forgotten how funny you are!” She points at you with a grin. “No! She doesn’t want you back!” 

“I’m sorry,” you say as you try not to roll your eyes at her reaction. It was unnecessary. “Just, let her know that she can contact me whenever she wants. I’ll see you around, Jemma. Or maybe I won’t.” You walk away and continue to shop for the week. You go home and put your groceries away and don’t think about Daisy the rest of the day.

Wanda sits in her office and goes over her budget proposal for the project she was assigned. The company has been trying to score her former in-law’s as a client for years. She knew Stark Industries was a big corporation when she married into the family. It’s what paid for this house. It’s what allowed her to not work for six months. It’s what has paid for her new land. But for some reason she still feels weird about using her relationship to the Starks to help this company land them as a client. It made her realize why they probably hired her in the first place even with the unexplained unemployment gap after being fired from her previous firm. She runs through the proposal a couple more times and hopes that this doesn’t create a rift with the people she was getting to build a healthier relationship with. 

When she feels confident about the proposal she sets it aside and starts to work on the digital blueprint of her dream home. It has gone from sketches to utilizing the program on her computer to draft together a more visual representation of what she wants her house to look like. She has lots of windows and an open floor plan. She knows where she wants a dining room and how she wants the kitchen to look like. The second floor has a den space and an office space and multiple bedrooms. Then she considers adding a third floor but thinks it might be too much. 

She starts to shuffle the rooms around and considers moving the office to the ground floor. Then she adds a basement. Then she takes it away. She plays around with the design until her stomach grumbles and she is reminded that she has to eat. She shut down her work and walks downstairs to make herself something to eat. As she sets out ingredients, she fantasizes about you standing in the kitchen helping her. She wonders if you'd wrap your arms around her and kiss her cheek as she chopped vegetables. She thinks about how easily she could melt against your body. She allows herself to think about moments she could have with you without making herself feel guilty about it. She's tired of feeling guilty for wanting a better life for herself. 

As she lays on the couch and watches a show that she has been binging lately she mindlessly traces the letters M, I, N, E, on her upper thigh. In her mind, it's a memory of you, but really it's only another fantasy. She doesn't know why she can't just give in. She doesn't know why she pushes you away. She knows she shouldn't have but she also knows that she probably would have hurt you. She takes a deep breath and sighs. 

She walks up to her bed as her mind prepares her for waking up early the next morning. The mental checklist of what she has to take care of tomorrow. What she should wear for her meeting with Tony. What she should make herself for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Should she go out? Should she anticipate Tony offering to take her to lunch? 

She thinks about the therapy sessions she has scheduled for the next several weeks. She thinks about wanting to hang out with her friends. Then as she closes her eyes, she thinks about you and a small smile lifts up her lips. 

You are getting ready to take your lunch break when your phone goes off in your pocket. Your heart leaps into your throat when Daisy’s image covers your screen. You answer and start walking away from the job site. “Hello?” You say into the phone. There is a loud drilling sound and someone starts banging a hammer on a wall. “Hold on, I can’t hear you. One second please.” You cross the street and keep walking until you find a quiet area. You sit down on a park bench. “Okay, I can hear you now. Um, hey,” you say as you remove your hardhat. “This is a surprise. How are you?”

“Is it a surprise? Jemma told me that she warned you I might contact you,” Daisy says. 

“Uh, she did say that but I wasn’t sure when to expect your call. So it is still a surprise,” you reply as you run your fingers through your hair. “She also warned me that you’re not doing too well. Is there something I can do for you?” Daisy goes quiet and you think that the call has dropped, you move the phone from your face to check but the sunlight makes it difficult to tell. “Hello?” 

“I’m here,” she sighs and you can tell that she is trying to hide that she is crying. You take a deep breath as you brace yourself for what she might tell you. Maybe Phil is terminally ill. Maybe her mom passed. Maybe this, maybe that. 

“I’m here for you,” you tell her. “No matter what, it’s okay. You can tell me.” 

“I,” her voice cracks and you wish that you could do something more than sit here on the phone with her. “What I need to talk to you about is better done in person,” she finally says through her sniffles. 

“Okay, um where do you want to meet?” You ask. “I don’t have Rachel this week so you could come over to my place because it's a lot more private than yours or if you don’t want privacy I can go to your place after work. Um or we can meet somewhere public. I’m willing to do whatever you need.” You softly offer her options. Your heart is pounding from the anticipation. What could be so bad that she had to see you in person?

“I’m okay with coming over to your place,” she replies. 

“Okay,” you state, “does seven-thirty work for you? I’ve been working twelve to thirteen hour shifts to pay those pesky hospital bills.” 

“Seven-thirty works,” she answers. “I’ll see you then.” 

“I’ll see you then,” you say as the call ends. You sit on that park bench a little bit longer as you fear what Daisy has to say. What could she possibly be holding on to? What has her in tears? What can’t she say over the phone? Your mind races as you eat your lunch. It continues to run as you get back to work and think about what Daisy needs help with.

Wanda laughs with Tony as they sit together in a nice restaurant. Her pitch went well and Tony said that he would consider hiring her for the project. Then he offered to take her to lunch to celebrate. Now the two were discussing highlights of Vision’s finest moments during past holidays. “Oh, remember that time he convinced your dad to let him cut the turkey and he nearly cut his finger off?” Wanda says. 

“How could I forget? I’m the one who pointed out that there couldn’t be that much blood on a turkey!” Tony laughs as he lifts his glass from the table and swirls it around. He shakes his head. “I have no clue how I’m related to that man.” 

“I don’t know either,” Wanda says. “You are way more fun to be around,” she compliments and they clink their glasses together as they cheers to that. 

“You know, Wanda,” Tony starts as he leans in closer. “Why are you wasting your talents working for a company like Nexus Developments? You are family,” he puts his hand on top of Wanda’s. “We could have helped you land a job with the company we usually use or hell, we could have made a branch for you.” 

Wanda taps Tony’s hand as she pulls away and slumps back into her seat. “I know that you would have. But I couldn’t ask that of you or your family. Vision would have made it about him some how and lately,” she shakes her head as she feels tears building up. She takes a deep breath. “Lately, whenever your brother doesn’t get his way, my kids pay a price. Hell, even when he does get his way, my kids still suffer.” 

Tony nods and takes a drink from his glass, he sighs as the aged scotch goes down smoothly. “I understand your position. Just know that if you ever need help, we are still here for you. Vision can go fuck himself,” he tells her. Wanda laughs a softly as she agrees with his statement. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to convince you into a Maximoff and Stark partnership once again. This one being a profitable business instead of an emotional headache.”

Wanda shrugs, “We’ll see. The future is quite unpredictable after all.” 

As you walk through the your apartment building you run through the possibilities of the impending conversation over and over in your mind. The scenarios don’t stop until you see Daisy pacing in front of your door. You check the time on your watch and fill with relief that you’re not late, she’s early. 

“Hey,” you say as you sort through your keys to find the one that will unlock the door. Daisy startles as you announce your presence. “Sorry, I didn't mean to,” you notice that she doesn't look too good and you just move to open the door. “Let's just,” you hold it open for her and she walks right past you. “Would you like anything to drink? Water maybe?”

Daisy shakes her head. “No, I don't know how long you'll want me in here after I tell you what I need to tell you.” 

You make a face, unsure what she could possibly say that would have you kicking her out of your home. “I have a feeling this is something we should sit for. Come on,” you sit down on the couch and wipe the sweat from your forehead.

“Are you sure you don’t want to shower first? You’ve been working hard all day and I know you how much you hate sitting in–” Daisy rambles on as she paces the living room and you have to cut her off. 

“Daisy, I hate waiting even more,” you tell her. “Come, sit,” you pat the space next to you on the sofa. 

Daisy stands still and frowns at you. “No you don’t. You are the most patient person I know.” 

You nod your head slowly, “I can be patient, that’s true. But I still hate waiting.” You admit to her. “I’ve been worried about you all day, Daisy. I don’t want to be pushy but I want to be able to help you. I can’t do that if you don’t stop stalling and tell me what’s wrong.” 

Daisy sits next to you and drops her face into her hands. You sit there and wait for her to collect her thoughts and say something. Anything that will explain her behavior. You bounce your leg as your body decides to show your impatience. The movement has Daisy moving her hands from her face through her hair. “The night we broke up I,” the area around her eyes are red and her nose is pink. She doesn't face you because she can't say this and have you look at her differently. She doesn't know where you stand on a topic like this because every conversation the two of you had on the matter was purely hypothetical. She wanted to keep this to herself because she didn't want you to change in her eyes. She likes you the way you are. “I found out that I had um, sorry this is difficult for me to say.” 

You hold your hand out to her, “Daisy, it's okay. Whatever it is,” you trail as she turns her head away from you. “Are you sick?”  You ask softly as her shoulders shake. 

She turns her head to stare in front of her as she shakes her head and wipes her tears. “No, I'm not sick. That's not the kind of results I had received,” she reaches for the box of tissues in the coffee table and blows her nose. “I found out that I was pregnant,” she finally says. 

You feel your heart stop beating and drop to your stomach. You grow nauseous at the news. “Oh,” you grab onto the arm of the couch as if you're going to faint. “I um,” you blink a couple of times. “Is it someone else's?” The words stumble out before you can process the implication. 

“I never cheated on you,” she states sharply and she looks at you this time. 

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have… I mean, can you blame me for asking? You didn't tell me until today. You broke up with me instead of telling me. I can't think of why you would do that unless the baby wasn't mine or —” you stop talking as you look at her and clamp your mouth shut. Daisy avoids your eye contact as you recall her behavior that night. She didn't want to be a mother. She kept telling you that as she tried to leave. “Oh,” you react again. The tension in your body releases and you try to figure out how you can address this conversation respectfully. “You decided not to go through with the um the uh pregnancy? Is that what you're telling me?” You try to keep your tone even and your features neutral, trying to avoid showing any insensitive emotions out of respect. 

Daisy closes her eyes as she starts to sob. “I couldn't go through with it. I'm not ready.” She says through her tears. You nod your head because you don't know what to do or how to properly react. “It wasn't an easy decision, you know? I thought about it for a couple of weeks and I thought about telling you but I was so scared that you would be happy and I would have the baby to please you and I just —” 

“Daisy,” you call her name until she stops rambling and you enter her personal space, pulling her against your chest to let her know that you are there for her. “Daisy, I get it. It's okay. I’m not ready for another kid. Shh, shh, it's okay. It's your body, I would have never asked—” 

“I know you wouldn't have but I would have done it! For you!” She interrupts. “Because I know how much you love kids and you're a great parent. You're so great with Rachel and I know how much she wants siblings and I just couldn't. I couldn't be the one to give you that. But if I told you, I would have gone through with it and I would have been miserable,” she continues to ramble. You pull back and get her to look you in the eye. 

“Daisy, you're not listening,” you say calmly. “Breathe with me. Okay?” She nods with you and you count to four with your fingers as you inhale through your nose. Then you put down the four fingers as you hold. You lift them back up as you exhale. And you repeat the process with Daisy until she appears a little more relaxed. “Daisy, recently I've been asked by my ex-wife to have more kids with her and I told her no. I — this is going to sound horrible but — I wasn't ready to be Rachel's parent. I love her, she is my world. But it took me longer than anyone realizes to be comfortable being her parent. I wasn't ready and I know that a lot of parents will tell you that none of them were ready and that's,” you wave your hand to the side. “It's quite clear that they weren't and I don't think it should be that way.” You shake your head. “Daisy, I'm telling you right now that I'm not ready for another child. When you told me about the pregnancy right now I nearly threw up. You made the right decision. I'm not mad at you. I don't hate you for making this decision on your own. It's your choice, I'm just sorry that I didn't make you feel like you could come to me about this. I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you.” Daisy closes her eyes and leans against your chest. 

Neither of you talk for a moment. Allowing yourselves to process and accept the truths that each has shared. You think about how that night might’ve gone differently. You wouldn’t have lived with Wanda for almost two weeks. You wouldn’t have gotten as close to Wanda as you have. You would have been having back-and-forth conversations with Daisy. You would have developed a stronger relationship. Maybe. It could have turned sour. She could have grown distant and resented you or herself for the decision. Who knows? That wasn’t what happened. So it doesn’t matter now. But you can’t help but think where you could have been now had things happened differently. 

“Did you deal with this alone?” You eventually ask her. Daisy shakes her head against your chest. You’re surprised she is still resting against you because normally she couldn’t stand the smell of your sweat and the other odors that come from manual labor when the two of you were together. “Jemma?” She nods against you. “Can I ask, uh, what… or why did you bring this to me now?” You ask carefully. 

You feel Daisy take a deep breath and this is what pulls her away from you. She wipes her face and sits against the back of the couch. She plays with the rings on her fingers and flexes her jaw. “I didn’t get the abortion until a couple of weeks ago,” she admits. “I almost went through with the pregnancy because,” she takes another shaky breath. “Jean was at the same clinic I was at to make the appointment. I spilled my guts to her because Jemma had to leave halfway through since it wasn't the appointment and Jean was there when I had second thoughts. It took me a couple of weeks to even go in because I was in denial for a bit. I didn’t want to believe it was true. Then I saw the sonogram and I,” she shakes her head and looks up to the ceiling. “I had second thoughts.” She shrugs her shoulders and you take one of her hands to offer your support. It’s not an easy decision for most. That's assuming that it's ever an easy decision for anyone. “Jean offered to pay for my doctor bills and prenatal care if I decided to follow through with the pregnancy and gave her and Anna the baby and never told you about any of this.” You drop Daisy’s hand and turn away from her. 

You stand up with that nauseous feeling again, not sure what to do about a betrayal of this caliber. You know that Jean has a tendency to do anything and everything to get what she wants when she wants it but… This was too far. “I can’t fucking,” you shake your head. You want to punch a wall or break something but you can’t. You can’t afford the injury. You can’t afford the plaster to fix the wall.  You can’t afford to replace the things you have. You can’t afford any of this because you thought you were paying off debts before interest can build on them. You thought you were doing everything right. You thought you could trust Jean. You can’t believe she would go so far as to put Daisy through something like this. 

“Please don’t hate me,” Daisy begs, “I was confused and I wasn’t sure what I wanted. I only said yes at first because I thought you would be allowed to be in their life and I thought you would like that and–” 

“I’m not upset with you,” you cut her off. “It’s not your fault,” you try to focus on your breathing but you can’t calm down. You can’t focus on anything. You don’t know how someone can be so deranged. You look at Daisy and you feel so guilty for what happened to her. The position she was put in. It makes sense why one day Jean is ready to cut your head off for saying no and then next she’s perfectly fine. What kind of person could be so deceptive? What kind of person… you huff through your nose. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” you say to Daisy in the softest tone you could muster up. “You shouldn’t have… She shouldn’t’ve…” you shake your head and close your eyes. 

Daisy stands up and takes your white-knuckled fist and massages the tight skin until you release your grip. “I am going to be okay. I probably shouldn’t have told you. I just, I don’t know. At first the offer was that I just give them the baby. I wrongfully assumed that also meant giving you the baby. Then she eventually told me that you would not know that the baby was even yours,” she shakes her head. “I couldn’t put myself in the middle of this. I couldn’t put anyone in the middle of that. I didn't want to be part of why Rachel’s parents grew to hate each other. You guys are such healthy examples for her.” You begin to grow upset again thinking about how Jean deceived Daisy. How she was ready to deceive you. It was one thing to ask you to knowingly not be allowed in your child's life. But to go behind your back and essentially kidnap what almost was your child… you couldn’t believe it. 

“When I had the chance to think about it, I didn’t want to give birth. I couldn’t go through with it so without telling her, I went through with the abortion because that’s what I wanted.” Daisy closes her eyes as tears slip out and she continues to rub your hand. Something she learned that can keep you grounded. “The only thing that has been tearing me apart about this whole thing is how much of it was being kept from you. I haven’t been able to sleep because of it. You deserve to know.” 

“Thank you for telling me,” you state as you watch her rub your hands. You clench your jaw as your eyebrows knit together. Normally an action like this would calm you down but the information was far too upsetting. “I need to go for a walk or something. I don’t know. I just can’t be here right now.” You pull your hand away. 

“I don’t think you should be alone,” Daisy tries to pull you back to her. 

“Trust me, right now, that’s what’s best for everyone,” you say as you hold your hand up to stop her from coming any closer to you. Daisy stares at you, wanting to be in your arms again. Wanting to feel that comfort that you brought her. Both in the past and just before she dropped the bomb on you. But you weren't someone that sought after touch when you were going through something. You retreated. You isolated yourself. At least, that's what you did when you were with her. She might never know that there are other sides to you. Especially not after tonight. 

“Okay,” she says just above a whisper. “Okay,” she repeats as she walks to the exit. “I'm sorry for everything, again,” she says as she steps into the hallway. “Please, don't do anything stupid.” She disappears, leaving the door open. 

You stare at the door as you think of what you want to do. You think about getting into your car but you're afraid that if you do, you'll drive into a tree or worse. You'll drive to Jean’s house. You couldn't do that to Rachel. You check that you have your keys, phone, and wallet in your pockets and then you lock up your apartment on your way out. Stepping out onto the concrete sidewalk outside of your apartment building you look every which way. There are bars and restaurants down each way. You could easily find somewhere to drink but that's not what you want to do. So you start walking. 

You walk aimlessly for a long time. You walk until your legs begin to ache and your feet begin to hurt. You find yourself at a dock, there are many boats parked but you find a space without one. You sit at the ledge and look out to the water and breathe. The smell of the salty water is calming. You watch as the water moves causing the reflection of the lights to dance. You allow yourself to grieve because even though you didn't want another child, you contributed to almost bringing another life into the world. It was a weird feeling. You're not upset with Daisy for making her choice, you are grateful to her. But you still feel the loss. You didn't understand the feeling but you let yourself feel it. Because even though you don't understand why you feel the way that you do, you don't have to justify or explain it to anyone. You can just allow yourself to feel whatever you want to. 

Then you grieve the relationship you thought you had with Jean. You can't believe she would pull something like this. You don't understand where an idea like that would come from out of her. You don't know how you'll be able to move past this. You feel like she took everything the two of you built together over the years and tore it apart bit by bit. You feel disgusting. You feel used. You take deep breaths as you feel it all. Hoping to release it in a healthy way. It was done, there wasn't much else that you could do about it now except to confront her. You couldn't do that until Sunday.

When you stand up to leave, you slip and fall into the water. You don't try to swim at first. You let the water move you. Trusting that it won't take you away. That it won't pull you under and shorten your time on this planet. You just float in the water. Eventually, the need for air is too great and you swim up until you break the surface with a big gasp. 

You pull yourself up onto the dock and start walking home. You are grateful for the bulky phone case when you pull it out of your pocket to find that the phone is perfectly fine. You use the map application in order to navigate your way home. When you arrive at your destination you shower and eat a microwavable meal. You fall into your bed after taking a sleep aid and fall asleep. 

The next day, at work, Wanda stops by the job site around lunch time. You walk into Pietro’s office and find the two of them laughing with takeaway meals in front of them. You still feel horrible from the night before. But hearing her laugh heals the wounds inside your heart. 

“Y/n!” Wanda grins. “I brought you something too,” she holds up a container. You look at the container and try not to show that you have anything wrong with you by forcing on a smile. 

“You didn't have to,” you say as you move to the sink to wash your hands before you join them. “I appreciate this. Is there an occasion I'm not aware of?” You ask as you open the container. The aroma of your favorite food should have made you happier, instead you began to feel nauseous again. It has nothing to do with the food or Wanda's presence and everything to do with the feelings that you're suppressing. 

“No, I had lunch with Tony yesterday and it reminded me how much I enjoy having lunch with other people,” she shrugs. “Isolation can become a bit of a downside when it comes to working from home for me sometimes.” 

You nod, “Makes sense. Why don't you do the hybrid method? That's what Daisy did with school. She would do online classes and in-person classes,” you suggest before you take a bite. You chew slowly because you do need to eat. No matter how sick you're feeling. 

“That's a good idea,” Pietro agrees. “You could finally get better acquainted with the rest of the staff.” 

Wanda makes a distasteful face, “I don't know. Getting to know people always leads to getting stuck in the middle of their drama.” She shakes her head. “I think I have enough of my own.” 

Pietro shrugs, “You never know. Sometimes it's good to hear about other people's drama. It makes your life sound better. Why do you think I still talk to you? Just because you're my sister?” Wanda’s eyes widen and she punches her brother on his shoulder. “Hey! It's not my fault, you have the most dramatic life out of anyone I know! Y/n,” he nudges you, “back me up here!” 

You are snapped out of your head and try to catch up with the conversation. You look between them cluelessly. “I'm sorry, I probably have her beat when it comes to a dramatic life.” 

Pietro shakes his head, “What are you talking about? Other than that baby thing, you are relatively drama free. That drama even ended pretty well from what I remember.” 

You feel a little light headed as you are reminded by the development of that issue. That there is a new ending to the situation. But you don't tell him. You don't want to tell him. You're not even sure you want to tell Wanda. Not right now at least. You nod, “Yeah, I guess you're right.” You turn to Wanda with a playful shrug. “Sorry, I tried.” Wanda shakes her head and the three of you share a laugh. 

“Whatever,” Wanda mutters as she stabs her salad with her fork. 

When lunch is over, you walk Wanda out to her car. You're quiet as she talks to you about her current project and updating you on her boys. Then she asks you if you are okay because you seem a little off. You shrug and stop when you reach the car. “Um the other day, Jean and Anna asked me to move my workshop out of their shed,” you scratch behind your ear. Feeling queasy saying her name. 

“Your workshop?” Wanda asks as she unlocks her car. 

“Yeah, just my tools and some leftover materials that I used on my last order,” you explain as you open the car door for her. 

“Last order? What do you mean?” Wanda reaches over and sets her purse on the passenger seat but she doesn't sit in her car just yet. 

“I have a little side business. Haven't I told you about it before?” You are surprised with yourself that you haven't mentioned this to her before. You try to think of a time that you might've brought it up before but you come up with nothing. There just hasn't been a reason to. Wanda shakes her head as she does the same. “Ah well, I have a small business. I take custom orders. Anything that someone wants built, I build it.” You pull out your phone and show her your website. “Just something to help with the bills whenever I can't get a lot of hours.” She takes your phone and nods, impressed by the stuff you have built in the past. “Anyway, the reason it's on my mind, they want me to move my stuff out of the shed. I can't really afford a place to be able to store everything and be able to have the space to work on orders.” 

“I have a shed that, admittedly, could use some care,” she says as she hands you back your phone. “You could set up shop in there, at no cost, of course.” 

“Wanda, I can't take you up on that offer,” you resist. 

“Yes, you can,” she insists. “Why couldn't you?” 

You look away and lick your lips as you are reminded of the night she rejected you. “I would need a lot of access to it when or really if I get another order. I don't know if it's a good idea for us to spend that much time together.”

Wanda nods as she understands where you're coming from. “Technically we wouldn't be spending any of that time together. You'd be working and I would be inside my house or doing something. Come on, we're friends. Let me help you with this.” 

You focus your eyes back to hers and you think about just how much she has been helping you. It doesn't feel like there is a balance in the friendship with how often she helps you compared to how often you help her. “I don't know Wanda,” you say as you bite your bottom lip in thought. You can't think of a good reason to say no so you don't. You shrug and nod at her. “Okay, yeah, I will take you up on that offer. Thank you, Wanda. I really appreciate it. Is it okay if I bring it all by on Sunday?” 

Wanda smiles and nods, “Of course, come by then. I'm sure the boys will be happy to see you and Rachel again. They were pretty upset about not having you guys there last week.” 

“Yeah, Rachel wasn't happy about it either. She prefers cooking with you a lot more than she does with me,” you say with a soft laugh. Wanda smiles at her shoes as she thinks about how much she prefers cooking with you over anyone else. She looks back up and locks eyes with you. She feels like an idiot for pushing you away but she doesn't feel ready to tell you how she feels about you. 

“I'll see you on Sunday,” she says and you nod as you repeat her departing words as you step away from her. You wave as she drives off and you go back to work without thinking about your problems with Jean and instead thinking about Wanda and how pretty she looked today. 

Saturday night you can't sleep. You toss and turn even after taking a sleep aid. Your heart pounds as your mind races about seeing Jean the next day. You can't stop running through scenarios of confronting her. Are you going to do it right away? Are you going to choke? Is the sight of her going to make you nauseous? Or worse. Is it going to cause you to actually vomit? Will you be able to see her without getting angry? You're going to have to be there longer than you want to because you have to load your truck with your stuff but are you going to make it through? You don't know. And you're exhausted by the anticipation. 

You are lucky to get in a nap before you have to pick up Rachel. You have to drink two cups of coffee before you feel awake enough to drive. On the drive over, you are yet again practicing what you're going to say when you arrive. You yawn as you park and shake your head to get you ready to knock on the door. You stare at the house as you try to remember that she is your friend. She was your favorite person once upon a time. You loved her. But it's all tainted now. She has slowly burned you out and ripped you to shreds. 

You step out of your truck and knock on the door. You look at the welcome mat to keep yourself calm as you wait. When there's no response, you ring the doorbell. You take slow breaths as you try to clear your mind. You can't think about what Daisy told you in front of Rachel. 

Anna is the one to open the door. Since Daisy hadn't mentioned her, you can tell yourself that she isn't someone that you should be upset with and you can tell yourself that she has no idea. At least until you can figure out when to confront them about this. You walk through the house to get to your stuff in the backyard but when you bring the tools to your truck you go through the gate that leads to the front instead of going through the house. You don't say anything to Anna, you don't even ask why she's the only person you've seen so far. You just focus on your task. Move your tools from the shed to your truck. When you're done, Rachel greets you with a tight hug that you are happy to reciprocate. It's a relief to see her and to hold her. 

Jean is on the phone in the kitchen and you don't feel the desire to interrupt her conversation just to confront her. You decide to leave it alone. You take Rachel to the car and help her get inside. “Did you hear the good news?” Rachel asks as you get settled in the driver's seat. You shake your head and ask her what the good news is. “I'm having a baby brother! My mommies said so. I'm going to be a big sister!” Your heart stops as your entire body freezes. How could they tell her something like that? How do they even know what the gender would have been? 

“Wait right here, I need to ask your mommies something,” you tell your daughter with a tight voice. You climb out of the truck and walk to the front door. This time, you enter without knocking and walk up to Jean as she ends her phone call. “How dare you,” you start bitterly. Jean is thrown off and her confused smile drops. “How dare you put Daisy in that kind of position. How dare you tell our daughter that she's going to be a big sister before there is a baby. There isn't going to be a baby! There never should have been. You shouldn't have tried to talk Daisy out of her decision. You are a cisgendered female, you should have some respect when it comes to another woman making a decision about her life and her body. Not only that, you are my best friend. Or at least you used to be. I thought you would have enough respect for me to tell me the moment you found out about Daisy's pregnancy. I was mistaken to believe the lies you told me but I will not allow that behavior to affect our daughter. So you better be a thousand percent certain when it comes to something as big as a sibling coming into her life before you tell her anything!” You take a split second to decide whether or not to continue and with how upset you are, you can't stop yourself. “And I was going to let Daisy tell you this herself but I will do what you should have done. She went through with her decision. There won't be a baby. Now I suggest that you either start looking into fostering or adopting — no. You should get your fucking head checked be clearly you are out of your fucking mind, Jean!” Jean slaps you clear across your face. The slap was loud and the impact was hard. It stings and you lift your hand up to your face in shock. 

“Get out!” Anna shouts from behind you. You are shaking with anger. You weren't aware that you had gotten so furious with the situation. You try to say more but Anna won't let you. Jean is in tears and looking down at her hand, shocked by her own actions. Anna steps in between you and her wife. “Get the fuck out of my house Y/n! Get out! Get out!” She starts pushing you backwards. You hold your hands up and shake your head. 

“You're both unbelievable. I'm going,” you walk out after Anna's last shove. You can't believe the reactions. You can't believe the lack of accountability. You storm across the yard and climb into the truck. 

“What's wrong?” Rachel asks in a scared little voice. You feel terrible seeing her shaken up. You sigh and close your eyes before you look at her. 

“Nothing sweetheart,” you say as softly as you can. “Nothing, let's just… we're going to go home and I'm going to go for a run and then maybe we'll stop by Wanda’s house to drop all of this stuff off later. How does that sound?” You try to make her feel more at ease. 

“Why can't we go to Ms. Wanda’s first? I really want to see Tommy and Billy and tell them about the good news!” She asks innocently and you have to close your eyes to calm down. You open them and start the engine. You need to distance yourself from this house. From Jean and Anna. You're starting to wonder if your ex’s behavior is being instigated by her wife. You aren't sure how you can find out. But it's definitely something to look into with the lengths she's gone through to make this idea of theirs happen. 

“Honey, mommies were mistaken. You're not going to be a big sister,” you correct her. 

Rachel frowns, “Yes I am. They said so. My mommies don't lie to me, Baba.” 

“I know that sweetheart, that's why I said that they were mistaken. That's not the same as lying, it's more like they didn't know what they were telling you wasn't true,” you take a second to glance at her. “Does that make sense to you?” Rachel nods with tears building in her eyes. “Awe baby girl, what's wrong?” 

“I really wanted to be a big sister,” she says as she wipes her tears. You feel bad as you continue to drive. 

“I know sweetie, I know,” you sigh as you start to reconsider their proposal. But you quickly shove that thought out of your mind. You cannot allow your daughters disappointment to change your mind on a matter of this magnitude. “Do you still want to go to Wanda’s first?”

“Yes please,” she says as she continues to wipe her face. “I want to see my friends.” You want to calm down before you see Wanda. You don't want to pull her into more of your problems. But you feel bad enough for taking away your daughters smile. So you suck it up and drive to Wanda’s house. You text her that you're on the way when you stop at a red light. 

When you pull up the driveway, Wanda is waiting outside with a smile. She knocks on the window and talks as you roll it down. “I don't care what you say, I'm helping you move the stuff into the shed.” Her wide smiles drops to an expression of concern when she sees the red mark on your cheek. She looks further into the truck and sees Rachel's face is red from crying. “What happened?” She looks you over and you shake your head. 

“Nothing, why do you ask?” You say, oblivious to the evidence on your face while you try to hide your frustration from the day. 

Wanda leans in as close as she can get. “Have you looked in the mirror?” She says in a low whisper. 

Your eyebrows knit together and you frown before you drop the visor mirror to check yourself out. Then you see the mark and you shut it. You want to curse yourself for not going home first. “I can't talk about it right now. Can we start moving this stuff?” Wanda nods and allows you to get out of the vehicle. You walk to the other side to help Rachel down before you start to take stuff down from your truck. You hand some boxes to Wanda and she leads the way to her shed. She talks the entire way about how she spent her entire Saturday reorganizing the entire space. You hardly listen as your mind replays the last hour. How Jean slapped you and Anna pushed you. How angry you felt —  no, feel. 

Once the pair of you set the boxes down Wanda asks again what happened and the words come out of you before you can stop them. You tell her everything from running into  Jemma to what happened with Jean just moments ago. Wanda is quiet as she stands there and processes. She doesn't look at you as she does. You shift your weight uncomfortably as you wait for a response. When she finally moves you don't expect her to hug you the way that she does. She holds you tightly in a warm embrace that breaks your walls down. 

“I'm so sorry,” she whispers against your chest as you break down in tears and she rubs your back. You let her hold you and comfort you in ways that you hardly ever allowed anyone to take care of you. You allow her to witness a side of vulnerability that you rarely let many see. 

After a bit of time the both of you stop crying. You and Wanda sneak into the house and each go to a bathroom in order to wash your faces and then get back to work. Together the truck gets emptied of the tools and materials in an impressive amount of time and was put away in the shed. When the both of you finish, Wanda gets a phone call and excuses herself to answer. You follow her inside to wash your hands. 

You get a message from Nebula and you feel slightly guilty when you do. You open the message and you clench your jaw as she admits how much she likes you and asks when she can see you next. The two of you went out on a date shortly after Wanda rejected you. It was an okay date but with everything going on, it doesn't feel right. You close your phone and head upstairs to check on the kids. As you do so you pass Wanda's office. Her door is slightly ajar. You don't mean to listen in but when you hear the words,  “Thank you for introducing me… yeah he has made me feel things I haven't felt before,” and,  “I feel like he understands me better than I understand me.” You feel your heart sink. You continue to walk to check on the kids as you try to tell yourself that you didn't hear the entire conversation so you couldn't possibly know what she was talking about. But a small voice in the back of your head is telling you that she rejected you because she found someone else. A reality that you'll have to accept if you and Wanda are going to continue to be friends. 

After you check on the kids you schedule another date with Nebula for the next Sunday after you drop Rachel off. Then you continue on with your night with Wanda and the kids. Doing your best to keep your mind off of everything else.

Chapter 19

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @thatshyboy1998 @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @notbornbutforged @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @sincerely-indi @blueredg52 @sisiofthemultifandom @fuzzyuniversityeclipsefriend @arcturusseer @scarlettwidow34 @chasethemoon @raven-ss @canyonyodeler @sokovianbaby @alexawynters @bittysworld @hopeless-romantic17177 @spongebobtentacles @the-ox-fan20 @shaniiwm

[infamous-if]

Oh, damn. No 25 with MC trying to protect/take care of Seven in a dangerous situation sounds nice.

Hope you feel better soon, Amy! Take care!

Thank you! <3 Dangerous situation, you say?

Double whammy (the amount of seven asks...)

CW: blood

This is all your fault.

You shouldn't have said anything. You shouldn't have fought with the person at the bar. You should've left it alone.

You should've known that Seven wouldn't let it go. Even when they hate you.

You should've known Seven. Has it been that long that you forgot who they were? Once, they were as familiar to you as the very lines on your palm.

"Seven, please."

You're holding onto them as you two stumble out of the bar, moving like two drunkards though both of you are terribly sober. The warm sensation of Seven's blood on your shirt sends dull fear over you. You're spiraling. Breaking. You don't know what to do.

Seven lets you guide them outside, your arms wrapped closely around them as they keep a hand under their nose which spews blood like an open faucet. It sends another round of fear down your spine, but it's not their nose that has you so breathless you're dizzy.

Their stomach.

In the heat of the moment, the person Seven was fighting threw them on the table littered with glass cups and broken bottles. Seven claims to be fine, but the way blood makes an angry stain on the green fabric of their shirt and Seven limps like their body is failing them, you know they're anything but.

Seven loses their footing, tripping on the last step and making both you and them fumble to the wet, concrete ground.

Your body shakes when the cool water of the alleyway seeps into your jeans. Seven coughs, rolls on their back, and lets out a sigh.

Blood is smeared across their face, their eyes are hazy, the blooming flower of blood grows larger across their stomach.

Your hands flail in front of you when you get on your knees, fingers shaking, lips shuttering. You feel the burning sting of tears. "Seven, what do I do? My phone is dead. We need to call an ambulance."

Seven groans. Coughs. Their hair turns damp when it sinks into a puddle by their face. "Stop...yelling."

"How can I stop?!" you cry. "I need to see it-" You begin to lift up their shirt but Seven stops you.

"No."

Anger replaces your previous fear. "Seven-"

"I don't want you to."

That hurts. Hurts more than it should in this moment. Seven is hurt, bleeding, and even now they don't want you to touch them, to care for them. Has everything been for nothing? Have all the years you two spent together meant nothing?

"You fucking asshole."

"What?" They burst up and groan, hissing and laying back down.

"I need to help you." The fear returns anew when Seven's eyes glide towards you slowly, their lips parted. Not from pain, but from slight surprise. "Please. I know you hate me. I know you have no reason to trust me. But please... I'm asking you to anyway." You bite your lip to hide the way it shakes. "Please let me help you."

It takes them a moment. They stare at you so long you feel like you're being judged. Then, in a move that shocks you even now, Seven nods and looks away.

"Go ahead."

You clear your throat, slowly peeling the shirt that sticks to the blood on their skin. Seven winces, and you let out a small sound when you catch the piece of glass lodged to their rib.

"Not bad," you try, wincing, "just a tiny piece. You'll be fine."

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

You look at them, ready to shoot them a glare, when you see a small, amused smirk on their face.

"Shut up," you mumble, turning back to their wound.

As you inspect more of their skin, slick with blood, you catch their stomach heave when a small laugh leaves them. You look at Seven, quirking a brow. "You called me an asshole." They look at you. The blood still smeared all across their lower face, they look at you and laugh. "I'm about to die and you call me an asshole."

"You're not about to die," you say strongly and then quieter: "and you are."

Seven hums. "Maybe. Maybe you just bring it out of me."

"That's not helping," you mumble.

You move to lift their shirt higher when you feel a wet hand on your wrist. Seven's blood leaks from their fingers to your skin, but you hardly notice it. Not when they're looking at you with a face so soft it disarms your every defense. "I don't hate you."

Your heart rate quickens. "...You don't?"

They shake their head slowly, stifling a small grown with the movement. "How could I?" they mumble, but don't elaborate.

A sigh leaves them and they glide their gaze to the sky. The sound of an ambulance rings in the distance; the bartender must've called the cops.

"I don't hate you either," you say.

Seven says nothing, but their face twists into a satisfied smile, their eyes closing.

I never did.

and then seven dies. JUST KIDDING

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

Tattooed

A/N: A Dean Drabble requested by @wings-of-a-raven to help me write... SOMETHING. Thank you for the prompt baby, ILY

W/C: More than the 200 words requested, but less than 500

@kazosa @lovealways-j @deanwinchesterswitch

Summary: Dean takes you to get ink

“Sweetheart, I promise you, it’s not going to hurt.”

“Doubtful,” you muttered as you looked out the passenger window of the Impala, watching the buildings slowly going by on Main Street.

Dean pondered your response and cleared his throat. “Alright, well… it won’t hurt as bad as a demon using you as a meat suit.”

You turned and gave him a rueful glare before looking back out the window as Dean maneuvered his baby into an empty spot in front of the neon sign that flashed “TATTOOS”.

“Besides, I don’t know why you’re acting so afraid of a little pinch. I’ve seen you get tossed across the room half a dozen times. Watched your bones break and still pulled off beheading a vamp. Hell, last month alone I sewed you up at least five times, and you didn’t flinch. Once.”

“I know… this is just… different.”

Dean turned off the Impala while his gaze continued straight ahead. “That’s crap. There’s a reason you’re scared and I wanna know why.” He turned to look at you. When you didn’t acknowledge him, he gently took your chin between his fingers and guided your face so you would be looking at him. “C’mon, I thought we were past all this and that you trusted us. Trusted me.”

“I do trust you, Dean. This just feels so permanent.”

Dean snorted a laugh and sighed. “Well, yeah. Tattoos are pretty permanent.”

“No… I mean getting this tattoo is a permanent link to hunting; to living this crazy ass life that I don’t know if I am ready to live. Also,” you paused, knowing the ridicule you were about to endure, “I hate needles, a lot.”

"C'mon, I promise you everything will be okay. And ya know, if you ARE in pain afterwards, I have plenty of ways to keep you distracted." Dean paused, a devilish smirk on his lips.

That smile–there was no way you could resist it. You slid closer to him, your fingers lightly stroking the back of his neck and your lips hovering close to his. "Would you even do that thing I love?" You asked softly, raising a seductive brow. 

"God yes."

"Okay," you whispered, then kissed him tenderly. "Let's get this over with so we can get home and you can take care of me."

You glided your hand down his arm, and to the top of his thigh. Just the hint of of what was to come made his jeans snug.

"Heh, yeah… um, why don't you head on in. I'm gonna need a minute."

Unable to hide your amusement, you got out of the car, paused, and bent down to say one last thing before closing the door.

"Just for the record, I'm scared to death of this life, but it's worth every second, long as I do it with you."

With that, you closed the car door and headed in, ready to be branded a hunter for life.

[drfirefly08]

warning: ragbros only space you fuckers

[diluc introduces his boyfriend to kaeya]

[dawn winery]

kaeya: [stares]

childe: [stares]

venti: [sipping his dandelion wine] so.. why am i here?

diluc: damage control, i would've picked rosaria or jean but rosaria would've killed ajax without a single thought and jean needs her rest, she has enough on her plate

venti: yeah alright then [continues drinking]

diluc: [sighs and looks at kaeya and childe] are you guys just gonna keep staring?

kaeya: why this fuck-tui? why a fuck-tui at all!

diluc: can you please stop calling the fatui that. i get it, i hate the fatui too, but ajax isn't that bad..

kaeya: no! not at all! he's a harbinger! he's using you obviously!

diluc: no he's not, i thought that at first but seeing him in liyue again.. he's obviously genuine about his love for me

kaeya: i don't trust him!

childe: you're the cavalry captain right? quartermaster too? you must be veryy strong! fight me!

diluc: ajax no-

kaeya: gladly! i'll beat your fuck-tui ass!

diluc: KAEYA NO-

kaeya: maybe you'll show your true colors, tartaglia! that way diluc will finally see reason

diluc: oh fucking barbatos, why must kaeya be so fucking protective... oh! VENTI, HELP ME OUT

venti: nah they'll be fine

diluc: YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE DAMAGE CONTROL YOU DAMN BARD

venti: i thought you found childe fighting hot

diluc: NOT AGAINST MY BROTHER!!!

[cloudy-em]

Prom: Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

summary: after working on a case involving high school students, BAU!reader casually mentions on the jet back to Quantico that they never went to prom. Spencer plans a surprise for when they return home. Can be platonic or romantic!!

-cloudy

✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖

The team clambered onto the jet, glad to be returning home after a long case. This particular case involved a jealous prom queen who had decided to poison her competitors. Emily was the first to comment.

"I don't know about you guys, but I didn't have the high school experience of the prom court killing off their competition. Is that a regular occurrence?"

The jet collectively let out a lighthearted puff of air.

"No," Morgan responded, "but jealousy is a serious motivator."

"I never went to prom," I blurted out absentmindedly. Cue the shocked faces.

"Really?" JJ asked, clearly surprised. "Prom is one of the defining moments of high school. Dressing up, going with friends and a date, maybe having a shot at being on the prom court...it's fun! Did you really not go?"

"Nope," I replied, popping the 'p'. "I've heard nice stories from others, but I think I'm glad I didn't go. All of my friends had dates; I didn't. I didn't want to seventh wheel." I shrugged. Sure, I was a little bit left out at the time and maybe I had a bit of FOMO from not going, even all these years later, but I stand by my decision not to go to my senior prom.

Everyone nodded, seemingly satisfied with my reasoning. What I didn't know at the time was that the wheels started turning in a certain genius' brain...

A week later, I was at my desk at the BAU. Turning back and forth in my swivel chair, coffee mug in my right hand and a report in my left, I heard an awkward cough behind me. I spun around to see my dear friend, Spencer Reid, standing behind me. Even after all this time, he still hated interrupting me while I was focused.

"You know, you're one of the only people I know who continues to drink coffee after 1pm," he smiled, letting out a small chuckle.

"It keeps me going," I smiled back before posing a question. "What's up, Reid?"

Suddenly, he seemed a little nervous, but I wrote it off as him being himself. It's a little endearing. "I need help reorganizing my library at my apartment. Would you mind helping me with it? I've leant you books before, and you're the only one I really trust to handle my books with the gentleness they deserve," his words spilled out at 40 miles per hour as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Sure!" I replied happily. I loved Spencer's extensive book collection; the faux-leatherbound books in various languages lined across the walls.

Spencer's apartment was cozy. I loved the times I'd been invited over to eat cheap takeout and watch original Star Trek reruns or sit in the armchairs and read Wuthering Heights in the sunlight that came streaming in from the windows.

We agreed that I would come over to his apartment on Saturday evening to help him with his organizing endeavors.

✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖

On Saturday at 7:47pm, I pulled my car into an empty spot at Spencer's apartment complex. Locking the door, I began walking towards Spencer's building. When I arrived, I knocked on the door, excited to see my dear friend.

When he opened the door, he stood before me in his mismatched socks, jeans, one of his patterned shirts and ties, and a cardigan. It made me smile; most people thought Spencer's fashion was odd and outdated, but I thought it suited him. He smiled at me before handing me a small bouquet of daisies.

"What's this?" I asked, accepting his gift. I was throughly confused, but smiling nonetheless.

Spencer shifted his weight back and forth on his feet.

"Well, um, you mentioned that you'd never experienced prom. I know it's nothing like real prom, but I wanted to give you the experience. Maybe you'll like it more than what you would've had then," he said, almost shyly.

I hesitated. His actions were incredibly kind. I smiled at him, taking his hand with my free one.

"Of course."

He led me into his apartment, which was dimly lit with soft music playing. I felt the butterflies fluttering around in my stomach and chest.

"May I have this dance?" he asks me softly. I can only nod in response.

"Sparks" by Coldplay plays quietly as he brings his arm up, our fingers still intertwined. He brings his other hand to my waist as my other arm goes around his shoulders and my head falls gently to his chest. I feel a soft on the top of my head before his cheek rests in the same spot.

Dancing with Doctor Spencer Reid in his library was not something I would have on my bingo card, but it was a memory I'd hold dear forever.

[writergirl3]

4 Town’s Physical Features Headcanons

Happy New Year, 4 Townies! I wanted to do some hcs about 4 Town's small physical details, seeing as their animated forms are kinda hard to see up close.

Vaguely proofread, so don't hate me for typos lol.

Enjoy! 🧡

Robaire; 

Robaire is obsessed with chapstick. Seriously. He reapplies like twice an hour. But because of this, his lips are super soft. Even if you never have the honour of getting a kiss from him, you can just see that they’re soft.

He has an outie belly button. That’s it. That’s the headcanon.

People always assume that Robaire is super tall, but he’s actually under six foot, just a little taller than T. 

His eyebrow slit actually came about by accident. He (stupidly) trusted T to straighten up his edges, but he basically shaved off a whole chunk of Ro’s eyebrow. He loves it now, though, and never wants to grow it out again. 

Jesse;

Jesse’s naturally brunette. He went through a sort of surfer guy phase (although he can’t surf, smh), and decided to bleach his hair. He got loads of compliments and has been touching up his roots ever since.

His hair is also wavy naturally. The guys like to make fun of him blow drying it and the amount of products he uses.

Like T, this guy has long eyelashes. They’re not quite as curved or dark as T’s, but they frame those baby-blues nicely.

His eyes aren’t just blue, though. He’s got central heterochromia, with a bright green ring around his pupils.

He’s big-boned, like has a big head, wide wrists, broad shoulders. You get it.

Jesse cannot step outside without burning. He’s pretty fair-skinned, and crisps up like a rack of bacon after just five minutes in the sun.

Aaron T;

T has a small gap between his two front teeth. He doesn’t love it that much, but it’s honestly the cutest thing.

He also has dimples, and they perfectly fit his whole brand.

Many people think his eyes are brown, but they’re actually hazel. If you’re lucky enough to get super close to him, you’ll see little gold flecks in his irises. Good luck getting him to sit still long enough to see them, though.

Continuing on with the eye theme, this guy could be a Max Factor model. No joke. They should make a mascara in T’s honour, although no one’s lashes would ever be as long and lustrous as his even with mascara.

T’s skin naturally has an olive hue, but he always has some sort of tanlines. Always. Even in the cold months. There’s always this line around where the waistband of his jeans sits (👀), and around his ankles and neckline. Jesse loves to tease him about it, but T just gets his own back when Jesse turns into a lobster on the beach.

Aaron Z;

This guy is ridiculously tall. Like 6’3. It figures, seeing as he’s so good at basketball. Robaire’s secretly super jealous of Z’s height.

Z doesn’t smile or say much, and his eyes usually do a lot of talking. They’re super, super dark brown. Like almost black. They’re also pretty hooded, and are usually the first thing that people notice when they first see him.

He has big hands and a stupidly large handspan. Again, it comes in handy with basketball. He also has pretty short fingernails because he has a bad habit of biting them when he’s anxious.

Not many people know this, but Z has faint stretch marks around his armpits. He’s not ripped, per say, but is beefy with pretty muscular biceps. He doesn’t love his stretch marks, even though they’re faded, but accepts them as a part of himself.

Tae Young;

Tae has the softest skin ever. He uses quite a lot of skincare products to keep his skin nice, but it’s naturally very soft and supple. 

He has pretty full lips that always seem to be slightly upturned, even when he’s not smiling. It’s the reason why he always looks so sweet and innocent.

Like T, he also has dimples, but they’re not that deep or prominent.

This poor boy has no eyebrows. Like none. When he joined 4 Town, he started tinting them a little.

Tae’s eyes are also pretty dark brown, like Z’s, but his are somehow naturally lined around his lashline. People always think that he's wearing eyeliner, but it’s all natural.

---

Musing Meaninglessly Masterlist

[leggerefiore]

Personal Stylist

cw: slight Jealousy, confession fic, fluff

pairing: Raihan/Reader

------

You hated how embarrassing it was coming to the gym leader for help, but it felt like he was the only one you could trust for this. He stood outside the boutique casually, surfing through his phone without much thought. His signature hoodie rested on him as his hair caught a slight draft of wind. You swallowed as you approached him. Raihan's turquoise eyes shifted from his phone to you. His cat-like grin played across his lips. “There you are,” he gave a light chuckle, “I was beginning to think you had a Leon.”

“No, I didn't get lost,” you sighed and straightened your own coat nervously, “My train was late.” Another laugh came from him as his arm was thrown around your shoulders. You both headed into the store together. His eyes gazed around the area before he finally backed away from you.

“That so? Sounds about right,” he finally replied to your explanation, “Now, what did you need this outfit for again?” You felt flustered as you remembered the reason you had even contacted him for something like this to begin with. Nessa had offered to set you up with a model friend of hers for a date, and you had absolutely no idea what to wear. Admittedly, you were not that interested, but since Nessa had gone out of her way to this for you, the obligation hung strong. You cleared your throat.

“A date to a fancy restaurant,” was your answer. His eyes went wide at your words. For a second, you would even say he looked a bit disappointed. What? Was he hoping you just wanted a new outfit for social media pictures? You felt a laugh nearly escape you. With your response, though, he took you off to a dressier department and quickly went through a few items before holding a few tops out. His eyes observed you for a moment before he shrugged. A few were put back, while two remained out.

“Who did you score a date with, then?” he asked as he held the tops for you to take from him. You cocked a brow at him. Well, you supposed it was not an odd question. Raihan and you had quite a few acquaintances and friends that were shared.

“Nessa set me up with somebody she knows through her agency,” you told him as he went through a few bottoms carefully. Slacks were given careful judgment, while the jeans were avoided completely. His fashion knowledge was as trustworthy as Nessa's could be. How you came to know such well-dressed people remained a mystery. Especially with how popular and beloved they were among competitive battle fans. You leaned against a wall as Raihan took his time going through each of his choices carefully. His favourites were once again handed off to you.

“That so?” Raihan gazed around the section, “Well, hope he isn't anyone too weird. You have any accessories you would like?” You thought on it for a moment before shaking your head. Besides, it would be best to see how the outfit suited you first, then look for things like that. You walked off to the changing area to try them on, with Raihan following behind you. Trying on the pieces you liked most from your options, you observed yourself in the mirror with a smile. His taste really was good.

The door opened to reveal you to the man, who went back on to his phone while he waited. His brows perked up at your attire before he gave a whistle. You felt a bit flustered by his reaction. A thumbs up came from him. “Well, don't you look like you have a great stylist,” he snickered, “Good choices. I thought that colour would best suit you.” The compliments from him made you feel a bit overcome with an odd feeling. Your stomach churned with a fluttering feeling. You just nodded and grinned at him before heading back into change into your clothes.

As you headed off to the queue to buy your items, you caught Raihan glaring at his phone. The expression on his face certainly was not one he often wore, much less in public. What would his fans think if they caught him looking at the poor device like it owed him something? You quickly bought your stuff before returning to him. His eyes glanced at you as he approached. “Everything okay there, big guy?” you tried a joke name for him to lighten his mood.

“... You sure that you want to go on that date?” he asked you suddenly. An urge to give him a dirty look like he had not just watched you purchase items specifically for it washed over you. Instead, you pressed a hand on your hip and nodded. It only led to you swallowing dryly as he leaned over you. “You could go out with me instead,” Raihan offered. Your heart raced in your chest as you felt the scent of his cologne invade your senses. It was extremely tempting to say yes. There may have been slight feelings you held toward the gym leader, but he just simply felt out of your league. Why would someone like him be interested in someone like you?

“... Wouldn't it be rude to cancel so suddenly,” you argued, but he gave a light laugh and shook his head. His hand suddenly came to cup your cheek as he gazed in your eyes.

“If he complains, that is his problem,” Raihan's thoughts were not necessarily wrong, “Nessa already agreed to if you said yes to me anyway.” You gasped at him. Seriously?

“That's why you looked so upset!” you said aloud, “Were you jealous?” Raihan took a step back at your exclamation with wide eyes. It only lasted for a moment before his smug expression returned. Then, simply, he looked you directly in the eyes.

“I suppose I was,” he laughed, “Well, is that a yes or a no?” It was just in his nature to shrug things like that off easily, you guessed. No matter how many times he lost to Leon, he always found himself back training and debating strategies on how to beat him. It must have required nerves of steel to be active on social media like he was, too.

“Sure, why not,” you agreed, “Where to, though?” He hummed as you both walked out of the store and onto the streets of Wyndon. His eyes looked around the area curiously.

“I'll get reservations to a better restaurant,” Raihan shrugged and turned to you, “Be sure to wear your outfit. I would love to get a nice picture with you in it.” You sighed. There it was. Shaking your head pitifully, you grabbed his hand. Your lips met his cheek as he stiffened at the sudden affection. He relaxed quickly, however, and his arm wrapped around your waist to press you closer to him. “You missed,” he told you bluntly. His lips pressed against yours for a quick kiss. You relaxed into his embrace with ease.

[ambcass]

ᴊᴇᴀɴ ᴋɪʀꜱᴛᴇɪɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ || ᴅᴀᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

in honor of aot ending :( Also what if I told yall that ck isn't my thing no more... when s6 comes out I'll watch it but idk if I'm gna post anymore ck stuff

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: implied sexual content (it's mild dw), AOT ENDING SPOILERS!!, Terrible pet names, SOME SAD PARTS

.

.

.

.

.

Jean is a big PDA guy. He tries not to get too handsy but good lord he can't help it. Hands on your waist, hands on your thighs, and hands around your neck are all it'll take to get him going.

His top three love languages are physical touch, quality time, and words of affirmation. He doesn't mean to always touch you but it makes him feel safe that he knows that you're safe. He cannot go one day without kisses or hugs!!

If he doesn't get the slightest attention from you, he'll get super grumpy. Spending time with you is what really helps Jean connect and bond. He'll slowly educate himself on your favorite foods, clothing, etc.

Words of affirmation are how he really bagged you in the first place. Commenting on how beautiful you look, how much he loves you, and encouraging you to do things you love is what makes you fall for him even more.

Dates can range from movie nights to a full-on romantic dinner with rose petals and everything. Making sure you're loved and happy is one of Jean's priorities. He won't stop doing things until you're satisfied (winks) with whatever he's doing.

Jean hates cooking but he can cook. He always complains about how he can't cook and stuff but TRUST ME when I say he can. The second you tasted his cooking, you were in LOVE. You kept asking for seconds, thirds, and forths. (Niccolo obviously cooks better...)

Jean is the type of guy with very low self esteem in a relationship. Scared to lose you to another guy or thinking you're too good for him. Days like those is really what "breaks" the relationship. He doesn't want to but he'll ignore you for a little to give himself space to get rid of thoughts. He overthinks for sure. When he hears you tell him "I love you", he thinks that you don't mean and you're just pitying him.

You always try your hardest to comfort him when he thinks that way. You reassure him that you do love him and you give him millions of reasons why you do love him. It's canon that he covers his ears and gets lost in thoughts when he's really overwhelmed.

After Eren's death, the both of you were closer than ever. He was scared to lose you just like Mikasa lost Eren. (I AM A MIKASA LOVER I SWEAR.) He promises to stay by your side no matter what.

Jean gets jealous easily. He can't hold himself back when he sees a guy getting too comfortable with you. He'll interfere no matter what and doesn't care who that guy is- he'll rush over to you, telling that guy off and making sure that guy knows who you belong to.

He's pretty basic when it comes to pet names. It's just "Babe", "Baby", or a stupid nickname he made for you.

a/n: got lazy lol. AMBCASS ACTUALLY POSTS?!? PLEASE SOMEONE REQUEST SMTH IM CRYINGG I HAVE NOTHING TO WRITE

[ladysomething]

I know I said I wanted it to be bigger than I love you but I also said I trusted you even if it was and as always you delivered because my heart was absolutely broken with how raw his confession was and how it was answered and I think maybe because just like Charles I didn't fully understand how bad it was, it's like I could see why he was scared for Charles but I couldn't fully understand it but this chapter it finally clicked.

I feel like Charles will be pushed into retirement after this season wether he wins it or not and what happened this chapter will be used against him.

Also I think Jean luc is on Max's side but he can also understand Charles that's why everytime he does one of his stupid plans he doesn't yell at him, sure he tells him Max is good but he doesn't show much anger towards him because he can see the fear Charles is dealing with, but I think this time he's gonna be upset with Charles because of what he said to Max.

It would be nice if once Sophi is talking about being an omega with Charles, she also mentions the part that Max is conflicted to show Charles, the part that despite showing it in the past and revealing the reason behind it Charles through his anger and fear completely ignored it and I don't think he's gonna get this part of Max back easily, he absolutely shattered his heart into pieces and destroyed his trust, worst than that he compared him to his dad. Max have had all these insecurities about wether he turns into a monster like Jos or not and despite working hard and believing in himself for all he's done what Charles said it's gonna break him.

I kinda wanna smack Charles because of what he said to Max after Max pour his heart out for him but at the same time I can see why he acted the way he did, he's already confuse and scared and suddenly everything he knew was wrong, he has been taking care of himself on his own for too long that he only believes in what he thinks is right and having Max of all people caring for him, loving him is far from a truth he used to believe in. And everyone constantly keeps everything from him to protect him in their words which makes the truth more unbelievable for him.

And Max, god the way you wrote him and his confession made me almost crying for him I mean I did cry a bit cause the way he knows Charles won't love him back,the way accepted that and then Charles once again accuses him of being someone, something he hates the most in the world and that's where it breaks him and we see the look of betrayal he felt in that moment.

I just want to hug them and give them a happy moment like I don't even know if Max will be in Charles dream this time or if Charles can finally try to understand Max, if he will try to reach him this time. And it's just so heartbreaking seeing their pain being mostly cause by the world around them but consciously and unconsciously they are the ones who twist the knife more and hurt each other more.

And omg the team with that contract,like wtf I wrong with you all,I kinda wish Max would have told him despite Charles believing it or not, he deserved to know what was happening to him and his life especially after Max realized Charles is gonna doe everything to be out of that contract,I know he wanted Charles to want this himself and believed him when he was sweet to him even if a part was actually the truth,and completely understand why he kept it secret but the way Charles realized how far everything about his life was out of him hands now god that was hurtful almost as much as his cruel words towards Max...

This was such a beautiful Chapter that I'm at awe. I don't what to say to show much I loved it I don't think if I can find enough words for, I just know that I'm gonna start the next Chapter with watery eyes while feeling anxious for what would be the next step fro them. Thank you so much for this beautiful chapter the way each part of can make me feel emotional is truly an art. Your writing style is also beautiful💛

I've been waiting for you anon!!! I was desperate to know what you thought, and whether I'd earned your trust!!

I can't say anything re retirement the season obvs, but you would be right in assuming that the stakes are that high.

JL has kind of become the meat in the sandwich tbh. I feel for the poor guy. justice for jean-luc!

and Charles definitely went too far, but then again, Max certainly didn't give him any reasons to pull his punches. he said "you have all these terrible qualities but its ok I still love you :)" and then expected Charles to be nice about it??? come on now.

but then again, Max is just trying his best. he's a fucked up little dude, and doesn't really understand what Charles' problem is - refuses to understand what Charles' problem is - so if he doesn't want to meet Charles halfway, then why should Charles be the one who has to do it?

but!! they're getting there. at least now Charles actually knows some stuff, and he has space to think about it a bit more.

and thank you for your kind words. I appreciate them very much.

[igotanidea]

Worst thing: Dick Grayson x f!reader

Inspired by the song: Worst Thing by NOTD & Kenzie

Warning: inuendo, some action but nothing too explicit, in this case Dick is a bit out of character (just for the sake of it)

Life was too much lately. We were constantly on a mission or a patrol or busy with work or investigating or doing whatever shit our hero mentors had going on. I needed a break and I guess so did Dick. Passing by each other was no good for our relationship, any relationship actually since it had destroyed a couple of mine in the past. Or at least I was telling myself that the reason was behind my double life. The truth however was slightly different. It just every time someone tried to get close to me, hold me or kiss me or touch me, I saw his face in front of my eyes. God damn, Dick Grayson!

I wish we never met sometimes

'Till I'm with another ex, and I

Forget that you're the best sometimes

He was a wolf, no one could deny it. The list of his ex-girlfriends was miles long and yet he could never kept any of them for long. I always wondered why, to be honest. It’s not like he didn’t want a real relationship. I saw it in his eyes when he was looking at me. I saw it in his action we were fighting alongside each other or even when we were spending nights talking about life or just sitting in silence. He wanted someone to care for and love and someone who will reciprocate to him with the same amount of love. He shouldn’t have to carry all the burden on his shoulder, alone and I was trying my best to show him that he had people around. That he had me around. As a friend, of course. I never got the guts to tell him the truth of how I really felt.

Wonder if I'm in your head 'cause I hate this

And I hate that, you're making me say this

Cause I ain't one to say this but

 Our friendship consisted of understatements and restraints. Judging from the time perspective I believe we were pushing each other apart because we were scared of letting someone in and then losing that person or seeing them hurt. And because we were afraid of showing any sign of vulnerability. We trusted each other but confessing true feelings was a one-way ticket way. It was easier to be just teammates. Bruce used to insist that we were training together but that was just it. Nothing more.

We claim we're better off apart

Pretend that we don't get along

At least up to some point.

Like I mentioned, we were good working together, so when another mission and investigation in another city came up it was natural choice that the team voted for the detective and an CSI agent to lead it.

“Ready to go, Grayson?” I asked grabbing my bag, throwing it over my shoulder and walking towards the elevator. Why was he standing like this, eyes open, feet rooted to the ground? “Dick?” I waved my hand in front of his face and he blinked rapidly, out of his Robin instincts grabbing my wrist “Are you sure you are capable of joining me? You seem a bit cuckoo….”

“Joining you? Oh, Y/N. You know well enough I am the leader here.” He smirked and finally moved to follow me out. “You are just a support, not the other way round.”

“Mhm, sure.” I muttered “We’ll see how that goes when we will have to actually talk to people, not beat the shit out of them”

“I can talk to people.”

“Sure, you can Dickie, sure you can” I rolled my eyes smiling lightly at the reminder of his last talk. “But only if we have to deal with tall, blonde policewoman or female agent.”

“You are a female agent….” He pointed out

“Thanks for noticing, genius.” I grinned “I feel flattered that those jeans does not make me look like a butch. Now….” When we got out of the Titans tower I instinctively moved towards the driver side of the car but he yanked me back onto the pavement, causing a little crash between his chest and mine “Ouch….” I whined

“First of all, you have almost walked right in front of a motorcycle so you’re welcome. Second, you are not going to drive my car”

“ Oh, come on Don’t go all man-like on me. What is it with guys and their cars?”

“I’m driving. That’s not up for discussion.”

“all right then. But I’m in charge of the playlist?”

“This is not a field trip Y/N. We’re on a mission. We should discuss what and how we are going to do. Music will be a distraction. Now, get in.“

“Just this once, Grayson. Let’s settle on the fact that work is important, I get it” I moved inside the car and relaxed into the comfortable seat, stretching my legs out “but I also know you are going to go full instinct, so why the talk, hm?”

He didn’t; respond, so in the end we ended up not talking and not listening to any music, just driving in complete silence.  Everything went surprisingly smoothly and within a couple of hours we were done with our little intel ready to go back.

Well, the way back was more of a bumpy ride.

When we were driving through the forest, the car suddenly died on the roadside. With one sharp tug and a bit of coughing coming from the engine we were estranged far from home.

But would it be the worst thing

If your car wouldn't start up

 “Is your precious porche going to the dogs?” I asked unmoved by what was going on “could you try to relight the engine?”

“I am. It’s not working.”

“Ok, then. I guess you probably forgot to fuel up, too busy with ordering me around as usual.”

“Y/N…..”

“Should we call the team to come and rescue us? It’s getting late and dark.” I stretched my back a bit, pointing towards the horizon where the sun was setting behind the trees. “however the view is breathtaking” I smiled a bit, admiring the landscape. I was always a forest creature.

“Y/N.” Dick turned his gaze towards me and as I look into his eyes it was like an electric shock. All I saw in his eyes was just a bit too much and I felt my cheeks flush, desperately trying to take control of the situation.

“Did you plan this?” I asked, perplexed as he leaned towards me over the gearbox, one of his hands finding mine, the other cupping my cheek and I moved towards his touch, too consumed by his closeness to be embarrassed.

“Maybe.”

“So what are you going to do now, Robin? Murder me? Bury me in the ground so no one could find me and you could blame my poor skills for the mission failure? Or….””

“Or what? He asked, his eyes landing on my lips, face inches from mine and I felt his breath on my cheek, his fingers tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, gently, lovingly.

“Or are you going to kiss me?” I panted, my breath fastened with all the emotions I felt at the moment as all of a sudden I became braver than usually.

We had to fog up the windows

When it gets dark

Just to keep us warm.

“would it be the worst thing?” he muttered and crossed the distance between us, both of his hands closing in on my waist pulling me closer. Honestly, despite his skillful lips and my blurry mind caused by the sensation he was giving me, making out while still siting on two different seats was a bit uncomfortable and it wasn’t helping that our hands and bodies wanted to feel every inch of each other.

“Come here” Dick whispered, breaking the kiss for a while, grabbing me by my hips and carefully placing on his lap “I want you closer to me.”

“Good thing we agree on something” I smiled against his lips “but I though the car was your temple?”

“It is. And that’s why I needed you on this mission with me. We had no time or space to talk and clarify things in the Tower. Too many people around….” His mouth moved onto my neck, gently sucking there, probably leaving hickeys that would be impossible to cover. Well, I couldn’t care less.

“And are we talking now?” I moaned softly as his hands sneaked under my shirt “you’re cold!”

“Well, not for long. Not with you baby.”

Due to some magical power I was not aware of, he was soon shirtless, helping me out of my T-shirt, wanting to feel my skin against his. God! I loved those strong arms, making me feel so safe, even if we were in the middle of the wild forest, at complete darkness where every possible psycho could just come at us. I knew if it ever came to that he would protect me. Not Robin. Dick. My Dick Grayson. My boy, I was in love (and in denial of it) for so long. I loved his scared chest, so broad and toned. I loved his eyes, the way he looked at me through those amazing eyelashes. I loved his tousled black hair and his cheeks and his possessiveness and recklessness. I loved how he made me lose control and just give in to the moment. I loved  him all. Good and bat traits. And I loved how he was the one to walk that tightrope between our inhibitions. What else can you expect from an acrobat, right? His skin was a bit rough but soft at the same time, and satisfying his previous words, he was now so warm. I felt his pulse rising as I locked my hands on his neck, playing with the hair on his nape, wanting more of him.

 Judging by his hold on me, he was pretty much immersed with the same feeling.

“I love you” he whispered, now kissing my chest.

“are you going to act on it?” I whined impatiently    

“No, baby. This is just taste of what I can give you. This not the place to go full-on. I respect you too much for that”

“What? Dick…..” I arched my back trying to change his mind

“Y/N…..” he sighed heavily “don’t.”

“Why not? You started this.”

“I can’t really see you objecting, baby.”

“that’s the point!” I hissed “I don’t want you to hold back and …..”

“Trust me, I’ll give you anything you want. But…. I want to do it in more appropriate environment” he whispered in my ear, causing a shiver run down my spine. “Just imagine what’s coming for you.”

“Dick……” I moaned desperately, knowing I already lost this fight.

 “Sush, End of discussion. Now rest.” he winded the seat down making me lay my head on his chest listening to his heartbeat. It wasn’t slow and definitely wasn’t calming at first, but soon became steady and much to my disappointment I started to drift off.

“Dickie….” I chuntered

“Yes, baby?” thank god for his flexibility that allowed him to reach to the backseat and gather a blanket to cover my half-exposed figure and a bit of himself

“You really planned this, didn’t you?” I giggled, my breath tickling his chest

“I did.” He sighed, holding me tighter. I felt like a baby, loved, secure, safe with him. Someone was looking over me and being taken care of was such a good feeling……

“I love you, Grayson……”

Wondering where the hell have we been?

And would it be the worst thing if we both fell asleep

Woke up to twenty calls each

 When I opened my eyes again I was tangled in Dick’s arms as even in his sleep he was holding me steady. I tried to move as carefully as I possibly could, extremely sore, but still I didn’t manage to avoid waking him.

“Morning Y/N” he grinned and those sleepy eyes, still a bit blurry with the rest of the dream and hoarse voice made my heart swell. “Did you sleep well? Why are you crying?” he became awake in an instant “did I hurt you?” his alerted voice make me cry a bit more and he was quick to wipe all the tears “Y/N? Look at me. What happened?”

“Those are good tears, Dick. I just….I just feel a lot right now and I’m not sure how to process it all.”

“Well that’s a change from the randy girl from last night” he mocked and I lifted the corners of my mouth lightly

“Well, look what you are doing to me, Richard Grayson.” I looked him straight into the eyes “can we just stay here? In our bubble? I don’t want to go back to the tower….”

“I would love to, but we may be in trouble….”

“How so?” I raised an eyebrow and he handed me our phones. Twenty unanswered call… Each. “Oh, shit…. What do we tell them?”

“That we had the most fulfilling, additional eight hours of investigation” he grinned and I hit his arm, probably hurting myself more than Dick.

If it means that we'd have eight more hours alone

Or even if we never make it home

I guess that wouldn't be the worst thing

“Really? That’s what you going to tell Bruce?”

“I can just admit I finally got you all for myself….”

“Dick!!”

“What?”

“I guess that wouldn’t be the worst thing” I smiled and not able to help myself any longer kissed him, enjoying those last minutes of peace between us, before the search and rescue.

@somest1 @pinksirensong

[generalluxun]

ML Fanfiction: Showing Love

This little one shot is a rewrite of the end of Queen Wasp. It never sat right with me, Marinette badmouthing Chloé to get Audrey to pay attention to her (and we see how well it turned out having her in Paris) Who wouldn't prefer something with some awesome Marinette and Moma Sabine in it? Link to the post on AO3 in my bio. Full text below the break.

Marinette was so sure. She had seen what everyone else had, but unlike so many people she couldn't, wouldn't look away. She might have every reason to, it might be any number of people's responsibilities before her, but she was Ladybug. It was more than a costume. It was more than fighting villains. It was saving people, and everyone deserved to be saved.

She was so sure. When that 'go away' came through the door, it was expected. When that baffled 'Dupain-Cheng?' left Chloé's lips -she never used Marinette's first name- it had been a victory. Yes Chloé, even you.

She was so sure. She marched up to the helipad with a plan fully formed. She declined Audrey's offer. She stepped aside to present Chloé to her mother. It was easy to brush aside the 'Chlorine?' It was just a quirk, right? Nothing else made sense.

She was so sure. 'Why don't you love me, mom?' broke her heart. No child should ever have to ask that. It was Chloé though, Chloé could be trusted to misread anything. This was the way to clear everything up. It was all a misunderstanding.

"But… Uh– of course I-" Audrey choked. She turned her head. She wouldn't even look at the girl, hunched and desperate before her. When she managed to force the words 'love you' from her lips they were almost unrecognizable.

She was so wrong.

"No."

Both Audrey and Chloé turned to her, one still wallowing in confusion, the other with indignant surprise.

Marinette had to fight to find her voice. Hope, warmth, and pride had turned to a burning anger and disgust. She looked at Audrey and saw something incomprehensible. "You… don't… Do you?"

Marinette was stunned, but after being contradicted twice in as many minutes, Audrey was moreso. She looked at Marinette over her sunglasses, "Excuse me?"

"You don't. It doesn't make sense, but… you don't." Marinette found strength in her anger. "You can't even make yourself say it! The one thing every child should be able to count on, and you can't even do that much!"

"Listen here Mariachi, don't you tell me how to handle my employees, Cardamom is-"

"She's your daughter, and her name is Chloé!" Marinette was shaking with rage. "I hate her and I can remember her that much! She's awful, mean, cruel, and makes my life hell but even she deserves better than you!"

Marinette snatched Chloé's hand and began dragging her off. The blonde was stumbling after her passively, clearly still reeling. Her 'Dupain- wait- I-let me-' protests were meek, Marinette ignored them.

She was waiting, listening, holding out for that last little bit of hope as she marched away from the pad. There was still a chance… but no. No outraged scream, no fervent protests, no last vestige of maternal instinct followed after them. Just to drive home the point, the sound of helicopter rotors starting up was the sound that saw them off the pad.

"Dupain-Cheng, stop!" Chloé finally found her strength and yanked back, pulling herself free. She turned back, scanning the sky.

"Chloé, where are you going?"

She didn't even look Marinette's way, instead pulling out her phone as she answered. "She can't have gone far, the limo is fast. I can get Jean-Loius to chase her dow-"

Marinette caught the phone even as Chloé lifted it to her ear. The look she got for it was crazed. She moderated her tone, speaking softly. "And then what?"

Chloé's eyes snapped to her, a hunted look to them. "Then we can- I can- … " She want from shock to shout, "Dupain-Cheng you were the one who dragged me here!"

The truth stung. Marinette channeled the pain though, admitting, "And I was wrong! Who can blame me? Who could think that… that… just, how?? It shouldn't be hard for a mother to love her daughter!"

Chloé sniffed, posture changing again, chin up. "Oh it's not hard, Dupain-Cheng. All you have to do is be exceptional."

Chloé spoke such nonsense with complete confidence, Marinette was left gaping, "No! No, that is so messed up, don't you see? You want to win a medal? Sure, be exceptional. You get your parents' love just by being alive. You're her daughter."

Chloé's head snapped to the side, she scoffed, "You're talking presents, Dupain-Cheng. You get presents by being alive. Love you have to fight for."

Marinette wasn't sure she'd ever heard anything more wrong in her life. The insanity of it threatened to overwhelm her. A part of her mind went into overdrive recontextualizing years of interactions. She wanted to just shut down. No!

She wouldn't be wrong, not about this. She grabbed Chloé's hand again and started off, "Come on."

Chloé stumbled after her again, "Where are we go-going? Dupain-Cheng!"

"It's Marinette! And you're coming to dinner. You're going to see what a family looks like."

"What? Dup-" Marinette glared and Chloé corrected herself, "-arinette. You don't even like me. I heard you."

Marinette stopped, but didn't let go. She looked back at Chloé, the girl was on the ropes, worse even than when Marinette had found her. A small selfish part of Marinette wished she could enjoy it, a very small part.

Instead she spoke evenly, "You're right. I don't like you. Can you blame me? You've been a terror, bullying me, harassing my friends. The thing is I don't have to like you to know what you just said isn't right, and I'm going to show you. You might be the worst person I know -second worst now- but even you deserve a parent who loves you."

Chloé started to talk, stopped, looked around as if the answer might be walking past them, ground her teeth, then tried and failed to speak again.

Marinette held up a hand to stop the meltdown-in-progress. “We can call it off if you want. You can go home, I can go home, and we can pretend this never happened.” She lowered her hand and tried her best Ladybug voice. “If we do that though, nothing will change. Whatever you’re feeling right now, it won’t go away. What I’m feeling won’t go away either. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want that. I want things to change. I want things to be better, for both of us, but I’m going to be honest, I don’t know if I’ll ever have the strength to do this again.”

Marinette let out a sigh, her anger was flagging and her energy with it. While she still could, she offered her hand.

She tried mimicking a familiar smirk as she asked, “So, what do you say, Bour-geois?”

Chloé flinched at her offer, more emotions played across her face in a cascade. A hint of determination flashed and she reached out, pausing halfway and looking around again.

Marinette prompted, “No one’s watching. Even if they were, just make a scene.”

A small light sparked in those deep blue eyes. Her lips curled into a smirk that was familiar but without fangs. She set her hand in Marinette’s and said, “This is ridiculous.”

Marinette turned, pulling her along before either of them could change their mind. “Utterly ridiculous!”

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

Another small burst of adrenaline saw Marinette all the way home. Chloé didn’t let go, and neither did she. It wasn’t a tender connection though, it was a lifeline. Her too-loud greeting clued her mother in right away. Her father just accepted the strange situation with his usual gentle confusion. It was still a whole bottle of nitro-glycerine waiting to go off.

Sabine spoke first, “Marinette! Honey! You’re home! And you’ve brought… a friend?”

Her mother’s doubt was palpable. Marinette spoke, again too loud, “Mom! You know Chloé from school. She’s going to be coming to dinner, if that’s okay?”

Sabine looked between the two of them, then visibly clicked into ‘mother’ mode. “Yes, of course. I was just going to go up to begin preparing it. I can call you when it’s done.”

“Call-” Marinette realized a flaw in her plans. Everything was working as long as she kept momentum, but now…

From beside her, “Don’t you design things, D- Marinette? Show me some of it.”

Choé’s voice rose and fell in a strange oscillating tone. It kept trying to settle back into its usual domineering affect, but then being knocked out of it, seeking another groove. When Marinette looked at her she snapped her head away quickly, but slowly turned back, waiting.

Marinette took a chance she was right about what she was seeing. “Sure. We’ll be upstairs, Mom.”

They had to let go of each other to climb the narrow stairs into Marinette’s room, and suddenly Marinette was adrift. On top of that, Chloé Bourgeois was in her room! Alarms, warning bells, klaxons, and a little voice perpetually screaming all sounded at once in Marinette’s head. Instead of doing any one of the dozen sane things though, she walked across to her desk and picked up one of her notebooks.

“This is your room, huh?”

Marinette froze. That voice, here. She was still fighting to force her paralyzed limbs to move when the voice came again.

“It’s small… too small. You should have it expanded. You- you’ve got a chaise too? They’re so comfy. I used to flop on mine after dance cl-  I um.. Steps, I have some leading up to my bed too, but this many Marinette? You’re just showing off.”

Chloé’s voice was still working the scales, looking for a place to call home. Marinette recognized babbling when she heard it, long proficient herself. She found she could move again. Turning, she held out the notebook. “Well, you know me, can’t do anything halfway. I think your balcony is bigger than mine too, but I like my view. If you’re still here when the sun goes down, I can show you.”

Marinette had just long enough to panic at her own offer as Chloé hesitantly reached out for the notebook. Their eyes met again and she saw the panic was mutual.

The exchange turned into a snatch, but as Marinette braced for ridicule Chloé instead retreated to the divan, opened the book, and went silent.

The pause gave Marinette a chance to question, to doubt. She shuffled to her desk, but then was stuck. She couldn't just sit there staring at Chloé, but history had her trained not to turn her back either. She settled for half-facing and with her phone out, then she wasn't *staring* staring, right?

Needing to get her thoughts down but not daring to open her diary, Marinette began typing out a note to herself with her thumbs.

What am I doing? It's Chloé. Yeah, but that isn't right no matter who it is. Why me? I could probably try and ask Miss Bustier. But

Marinette drummed her thumbs on the sides of her phone as she thought. A quick glance showed Chloé had progressed through several pages of sketches, but there was not a peep out of her. In fact Marinette wasn't sure if she had ever seen Chloé so focused. Hiding in details to keep from thinking about the big picture. Marinette was very familiar with that trick too.

I want to do this. I want to be the one.  It's not like I like her, or want to hang out. It's…

I want to win. I can't do anything about Mr. Flaps yet, but this I can do something about. Beating this villain doesn't do anything. I've been doing that all year. So maybe getting her to stop being a villain would work. That train thing was awful, and wrong, but she didn't run either. How long would she have tried to stop it on her own? All the way? She liked Ladybug. Can I use that? Is it too soon to talk about her using the Miraculous? Would clumsy Dupain-Cheng asking just embarrass her? Gah. Akumas might be hard, but at least I have my lucky charm.

She looked up again. The notebook was closed in Chloé's lap and the other girl was looking around Marinette's room in more of her uncharacteristic silence.

Marinette hit delete on her note. "Nothing in there to your liking?"

Chloé startled. She ran her hands over the front of the notebook and started softly. "No, I-" Her fingers gripped the cover and she regained some fire,"What am I supposed to say? Hmm? Should I gush? Should I pick it all apart? I was miserable in my room, with mommy leaving and you with her. Now she's still gone, I'm here in your room, with you, and I'm still miserable. Should I call Daddy? What would I even scream for? What am I doing here, Marinette?"

Marinette went through a flash cycle of feeling sorry for Chloé, being angry with herself for feeling sorry, then feeling guilty for being angry. "You could always be honest… about the designs I mean. There's no one to hear. As for the rest…"

Marinette tilted her head back and spun slightly in her chair, she didn't have Cat Noir to buy her time here.

"I-" Marinette leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Look, I'm still processing what I just saw. It's a lot. I thought if I just got you together, away from the lights things would be better. Now… Now I'm realizing it wasn't a fluke. Seeing her was like seeing an adult version of you. Or, really… you're a little version of her."

Chloé puffed up slightly at that, but it was an unsure sort of preening.

Marinette continued, "So like, everything. Everything, was that you, or you trying to be her? Has Audrey Bourgeois been my bully by proxy for all these years?"

It seemed to take hold. Chloé deflated again, and when she rallied it was the sound of someone desperately treading water. "Mommy is a winner! Winners step on losers and little people."

"And the unexceptional?"

Chloé's mouth snapped shut. Marinette could see the tears forming in real time. She knew what would come next if a certain someone was paying attention. That wasn't what prompted her though. She was just so sick of pain.

"You're not unexceptional, Chloé. You are a whole lot of things, things I would get in trouble for saying if my parents heard, but unexceptional isn't one of them. If your mom can't see it. Then she's blind."

Marinette sighed. With Ladybug it was easy, fight and flee before the timer. Staying, talking, this was hard.

"It's more than that though. You want to know why you are here? To see how it is supposed to work. My mother, she's amazing. I'm not bragging or trying to rub your face in it. I want you to see what a mother is supposed to do. Maybe if you do, you'll see that it's not worth chasing after one who doesn't. It's not worth bending yourself into her shape. It's not worth hurting other people. Hurting people is easy, Chloé. Saving people, like Ladybug does, that's hard."

As she finished, Marinette realized her trap door was slightly ajar. She was trying to steal a look without making it obvious when Chloé's voice rose in a mumble.

"I liked.. the coat."

Marinette couldn't follow, "The what?"

Chloé was still slumped."The coat, page seven. I would wear that."

Marinette squinted until it clicked. "Oh!" She tried to remember back that far. "The cropped one, with the feathered collar?"

Chloé picked at the edge of the notebook. "I always liked feathers, but… ridiculous."

Marinette filled in the blanks. "Then I came along and," She did her best Audrey impression, "feathers are in."

Chloé nodded. She stopped picking, flexing her fingers but silent.

"That just proves it, right? You shouldn't have to live like that, no one should."

"So, what? If I stop, I still don't have a mother."

Marinette struggled. Chloé wasn't wrong, and Marinette couldn't picture a life without her own mother. Not just as a mother, but as someone there, supporting her, encouraging her, and correcting her, loving her.

Marinette went to her last resort, honesty, "I don't have all the answers, Chloé. I brought you here to show you there was something else to want, a different way to be. Maybe, if you want that, you can try a different approach. It might not be Audrey -probably better if it isn't- but there are others. Ms. Bustier seems to care a lot about you."

Chloé brightened suddenly, "Or Ladybug?!"

"I, ahhh, don't think she's, unmm, looking to have any daughters right now…" Marinette hedged.

Chloé's cheerfulness evaporated. "You're right. She probably hates me now, you saw what I did. Everybody saw what I did."

"Chloé, I think Ladybug might be very understanding. I can't imagine it would be easy for a hero to hate anyone. But, let's not focus on that. Let's focus on the here and now." Marinette glanced towards the trapdoor, "And I think I smell dinner cooking."

With that, the door swung open and her mother appeared. "You do indeed, my dear. If the two of you would come down and wash your hands, it is time to eat."

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

Dinner was… well, it was awkward. Marinette wasn't sure if Chloé had eaten a family dinner ever before, and with four people the potential for miscues was exponential. Her mother was a blessing in all this, as Marinette had believed she would be.

Sabine prompted Chloé with a steady flow of questions. Like clockwork the blonde would start with a full head of steam but peter out quickly into uneasiness. Without acknowledging the change, She would simply ask something else, seemingly unrelated. Her dad was largely quiet, his eyes ping ponging back and forth between the two, and a spoon often forgotten in his mouth.

Marinette missed a good chunk of the exchange, lost in her own thoughts until a sharp clearing of her mother's throat and, 'Isn't that right, Marinette?' in just the right tone of voice clued her in. Her mother was pumping Chloé for information. It was a flood of details and stories that Marinette herself would never have been able to pry past sealed lips.

They seemed honest too. The usual bragging melted away quickly before her mother's gentle, 'That's nice, dear.' Genuine stories earned genuine engagement. Chloé was speaking to Sabine like a daughter, or at least like someone desperate to know what being a daughter felt like.

Chloé didn't eat much, which was fine because Marinette stress-ate for three. Dinner was winding down when Chloé's phone went off. The change was instant and complete. Her entire body language shifted as she pulled it out.

"What, Daddy? … So what? … No! You never come up any-"

That clearing of the throat again. Marinette's response was Pavlovian, and already she wasn't the only one. Chloé cut herself off mid-word and both girls looked to Sabine. Marinette's mother merely looked serene, the smallest of smiles on her lips. Marinette instantly tried to figure out something she might have done wrong. To her surprise Chloé winced visibly and when she spoke her tone had changed.

"I already ate. I'm eating at a… classmate's house … okay, Daddy … It's the Dupain-Cheng bakery … no rush."

She hung up and prodded an untouched portion of tofu and vegetables on her plate with her fork.

"I have to go home."

It was the weirdest experience for Marinette, feeling upset at that news.

“Well, honey,” Sabine broke the stalemate, “Would you like to take anything home? I may not work at a Michelin hotel, but I like to think my food is good the next day too.”

Chloé cast around the table. Marinette was holding her breath. Chloé eventually mumbled, “Some of those gougères, maybe?”

Sabine nodded, “Right. Okay everyone, clear.”

Marinette stood, grabbing her plate and a nearby server. Her dad hastily shoveled several more bites into his mouth before grabbing as many plates as his big hands could carry. After a pace, Chloé even picked up her own plate and followed Marinette like a lost puppy to the kitchen. By the time the plates were scraped and stacked, Sabine had bagged up several puffs and pressed the bag into Chloé’s hands. “Marinette, why don’t you see our guest downstairs? Take care, Miss Bourgeois. You are welcome to come again.”

Chloé stood there for a moment, bag held in front of her like a shield, then without warning launched herself at Sabine, nearly knocking the smaller woman over as she threw her arms around her.

Sabine braced herself, and patted the girl gently on the back, “Bao bei.”

Chloé disentangled, shot Marinette an embarrassed glance, then dashed for the stairs.

Marinette had the space of time it took her to follow to try and catch up mentally again. She found Chloé looking out the door to the shop and stepped up beside her. “Did this help? Can you see what I mean?”

The bag crinkled in Chloé’s hands. “Don’t ask me that right now. I have to go home and sit by myself in my room, unless I can convince Sabrina to come over. I probably shouldn’t yell, right?”

“There are other ways to do things.”

“People say ‘no’.”

Marinette gave a little laugh at that. “Yeah, asking is a lot scarier, believe me.”

“You don’t like me, Marinette. Why did you do all this? And don’t give me some high-and-mighty Ladybug talk. You’re just a normal person, like me.”

Marinette shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Everyone wants to beat their bully. I do too. I just saw a way to maybe have a person left when the bully was gone.” She glanced sidelong at the other girl, “How did I do?”

Blue eyes met blue. Chloé looked away and crossed her arms, bagheld in one hand. “I’m going to take you off my list, Marinette. I guess I should take everyone off for now, so maybe that isn’t so special. You’ll be at the top of the list of people who aren’t on my list though. That’s the best I can do for now.”

Chloé’s limo pulled up outside. Chloé tried the door, then Marinette unlocked it for her. “It’s a start.” Marinette had a flash of inspiration and added, “I’ll tell you a secret. It’s not losing if your new self is the one to take down your old self.”

They exchanged another look, then Chloé stepped out into the evening. Marinette locked the door behind her and watched years of problems get into a limo and ride away, maybe for the last time.

“That was the Chloé, right?” her mother’s voice startled her, even being soft.

Her mother knew the answer, she wasn’t really asking, she was prompting again. “Yeah.” Marinette touched the window, “It was.”

“You’re not going to New York, then?”

“No, even before all this I had decided. I have too much to do here to run away around the world. Then I saw… I don’t understand it, Mom.”

“You weren’t raised to understand cruelty. Maybe I should have shared more of what is out there sooner, but I never wanted to add too many shadows to your world of color.”

“Does this mean I can’t be mad for all the things she did?”

“Of course you can. Pain is pain, and it hurts. This just means there might be a way to stop the pain and heal, rather than having to cut off that wounded part of you, like so many do.”

Marinette thought about that. The idea made her smile. She wasn’t sure, but she was hopeful. “Thanks, Mom.”

“I’m proud of you, ma choue.”

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

End Note:

Sabine uses the phrases on purpose. Mandarin for Chloe so she won't necessarily understand it. It's more for the tone and the action. It could easily have been 'there there' but Sabine's a mom and her heart also goes out to a child, so she uses the term of endearment.

For Marinette she switches, so that it's not the same phrase she used for Chloé so close. Each child should feel special.

[rp-meme-central]

Wilde Life - Chapter 15: Lost and Found - sentence starters

"Are we done yet? I'm hungry and this is boring."

"Come on, can't we enjoy a nice stroll in the woods when no one is in mortal peril?"

"We found you in the woods. Do you need help?"

"If you just want my help, I can do that without the gun."

"The sun is setting. I really don't think this is a good idea."

"The sooner we find it, the sooner this will be over."

"I'm not going to let you steal it from me!"

"Oh great. You're one of those _____ who always deflects with humor."

"So, I'm not exactly sure which way. I know it was generally in this direction, but everything looks different in the dark."

"What is wrong with you? You're being marched into the woods at gunpoint. Aren't you scared?!"

"Why do you have to be so miserable? The only thing I've tried to do is help you, and for some reason you're furious about it."

"My gun is gone."

"Gun?! Why do you have a gun? You have _____!"

"Thanks for not accidentally shooting me on the way down."

"I hate to say I told you so, but I did try to warn you."

"Honestly? Wet jeans running is a maneuver of last resort."

"Who are you?! This is so weird!"

"You're currently being kidnapped! What do you mean 'are you in danger'?!"

"They say if you put it on, you'll become a thunderbird. Never been brave enough to try it, myself."

"I don't mean to sound judgmental, ______, but why did you think it was a good idea to steal from an apparent professional werewolf murderer?"

"I do not trust you not to fling yourself into a bullet."

"Look, you can't really... unmake your mistakes. But you can stop making them."

"I just want you to call me all the terrible things I'm already thinking about myself."

"How did you learn to finesse like that? I'm doing what you want, but it feels like you're doing me a favor."

"I'm sorry! I don't know what happened! Sorry! Are you okay?"

"It was me. I'm sorry! I freaked out and wrecked everything. I'll pay for whatever I broke."

"You're not carrying me. I've been humiliated enough today."

"Just leave me alone. I've had more than enough of talking to people today, and I don't want anyone to see me cry."

"I've never screwed up like this before. What am I supposed to do?"

"You're still you. That's all people will see. You don't have to tell anyone anything that you don't want to."

"It's been a long day. I know you have a lot on your mind, and I don't want to rush into anything you might regret."

"I can't believe I lost my house."

"Hey! I know I've given you no indication otherwise, but I'm not a total screwup."

"I wish you would have let me loan you a shirt."

"I just want to wear my own clothes!"

"Listen, ______, about last night... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put you in that position."

[elgascreamslikehell]

So i was in the mood for some short fluff story and made it

But apparently ao3 is down again whyyyyy and it's not too short to share it here full so i share a little piece

I have no idea why i even share that but why not? Sharing is caring so i care!

And hey, ao3 is up, so it could be read fully

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49749403

'I hate this suit' 'You hate everything you've tried, Buck. If you proceed with that you go to the wedding in jeans and hoodie! It's your sister's wedding, you should look... Proper' 'I thought i should look cool and hot, it's a wedding, one of the best place to meet someone' 'You already know everyone on this wedding... And I don't think it's a matter of clothing for you to look cool. And hot.' 'You think I'm hopeless?' 'I think you're an idiot. Try this one' 'It's blue!' 'You don't say. Try it' 'I mean I'm not usually wearing blue..' 'Maybe it's time to start. Buck, it's not my first wedding, so it's definitely not my first suit shopping. Trust me. It would be good with your eyes' Buck nods. Sometimes it's easier to agree with Eddie.

And maybe he was right? Maybe he should wear blue more often. Cause hell he looks good. Cool! And hot! 'So, do you like it? What about you show yourself?' He goes out laughing 'I look cool!' 'And hot? Glad to hear. Okay, my mission here is over' 'Aren't you going to buy a suit?' 'Not my first wedding, remember. I have it. And Chris was ready three month ago, so he also has it' 'So basically you spent half of your day off here with me just for no reason?' 'I have a reason. You asked me to help' 'I thought it would be joined event' 'You didn't ask me this' '... Okay' Buck raises his hands surrendering 'Anyway, you were right, i look awesome in blue. Cool and hot! How did you know that?' Eddie exhales with a grin 'Lucky guess' *** 'And then Eddie helped me to pick a suit! Did you know he has a fantastic taste?' Hen and Karen share the strange look 'Well...' 'I mean it. I wanted something to look cool and hot and he chose it. I would never pick up something blue!' 'You asked something to look cool and hot and he gave you something blue...' Karen's face became ridiculously red as she tries to fight a laughter. But Buck is totally ignores that 'Yes! Strange, i know.' 'So he thinks you look hot in blue...' 'What's with your face, you ok? Hen, i think it is something wrong with your wife... Hen?' Hen takes a deep breath 'Buck. What colour is our uniform?'