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ailendolin · 9 months

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Grace - Chapter 8/10

Title: Grace [AO3]

Characters: Thomas, Alison, Mike, Baby Cooper, the Ghosts, the Plague Ghosts

Summary: “Mike and I are going to have a baby.”

Baby Cooper’s arrival at Button Houses changes many things, and all for the better - at least at first. Or as Mary once said: babies can see ghosts sometimes but usually only up until they can walk.

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8

————

Grace

Chapter 8: The Birthday

Alison wakes up the next morning to a gentle tap on her shoulder. She swats at the hand and turns onto her side, intent on going back to sleep. Quiet laughter rings out behind her before Mike presses a kiss onto the tip of her ear and whispers, “Come on, Ali. We need to get the kitchen ready.”

Alison groans but forces her eyes open. They had actually planned to decorate the kitchen the night before but since Grace refused to settle down once again, they’d ultimately decided to just do it in the morning. Alison regrets that now. She squints up at Mike and is pretty sure he does so too despite the amusement twinkling in his eyes. They share a tired smile before they roll out of bed and, still in their pyjamas, quietly tip-toe past the still sleeping birthday girl.

Once downstairs, Mike gets started on the balloons while Alison goes to grab the presents. She arranges them together with the cake and lots of paper streamers on the kitchen table before they join forces to hang up the Happy Birthday banner and decorate it with the balloons. Alison can’t help but laugh when Mike tries to turn one of the elongated ones into a dog and ends up with something that looks more like an octopus than man’s best friend.

“Maybe you should have watched a YouTube tutorial first,” she can’t help but tease.

Mike frowns at her. “I have – two, actually! This looked a lot easier in the videos.”

Alison bites her lip but doesn’t say anything when he tries again and somehow manages to create a dinosaur this time.

Once everything is ready and hung up, octopus and dinosaur included, they take a step back and admire their work.

“Not bad for a first birthday, eh?” Mike says and pulls her close.

Alison nods and wraps her arms around him. “If only she could still see the ghosts.”

Mike drops a kiss onto her hair. “Yeah, I know. But we’ll make the most of it. We’ll make her happy.”

He sounds so confident that Alison can’t help but look up at him and smile. “Of course we will. I just wish we could do the same for the ghosts, you know?”

Mike contemplates that for a moment before he says with the same confidence, “We’ll think of something.”

He has never met these people, has not talked to them or laughed with them and yet Alison knows Mike means every word he said: he will think of something because he cares, and because he knows their ghostly housemates mean the world to both her and their daughter. Nothing she could say could possibly hope to convey how much that means to her, so Alison simply leans up to kiss him, long and gentle and lingering.

“What was that for?” Mike asks with a besotted grin after they pull apart.

Alison shrugs and kisses him again; a quick peck on the lips this time. “Nothing. I’m just glad to have you in my life.”

He looks a little confused but also pleased. “Right back at you.”

They meet for another kiss when the clock chimes, Fanny screams and Grace begins to cry. It’s not the desperate, grieving crying they’ve gotten used to over the last few days but her old, grumpy Why am I awake? crying, and it makes Alison smile.

“I can’t believe she’s a year old already,” she says with a shake of her head as she steps out of Mike’s arms.

“Remember how tiny she was when we brought her home?” Mike asks, holding out his hands to indicate Grace’s size back then. He errs a little on the small side but Alison doesn’t correct him.

“She’ll be grown before we know it,” she says instead, her tone just a little wistful.

Mike hushes her. “Don’t remind me. She’ll be bringing boys home in no time.” He pauses, thinks. “Or girls, I suppose. God, can you imagine? Our little girl, all grown up?”

Alison takes his hand and gently pulls him out of the kitchen. “Let’s celebrate her first birthday first before we start panicking about her kissing someone behind the barn.”

They ascend the stairs together and Alison’s heart melts when they enter their bedroom and find Grace standing up in her crib with her tiny fists wrapped around the railing and hiccupping as she looks up at them.

“Where’s my birthday girl?” Mike asks with the biggest grin Alison has ever seen. He reaches down and swoops Grace up into his arms, turning the hiccups into giggles. “There she is!”

He hands her over and Alison hugs her daughter close for a moment. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

While Mike dresses Grace in a pretty light green dress for the occasion, Alison gets dressed herself. Out of the corner of her eye she can see Mike holding up one of his fingers while patiently explaining to their daughter that she is one year old today. Alison is not sure Grace is able to grasp the concept of birthdays yet but she does mimic Mike by holding up her own finger just like he does. Mike, proud as any father would be, beams down at her, his heart overflowing with love. “Yes, that’s right! One!”

Grace repeats the word and happily claps her hands when Mike praises her.

“Well done, Grace!” Alison cuts in, taking over so Mike can get dressed as well. She holds up her own finger to show Grace how old she is. “You’re one year old!”

Outside the bedroom, she can hear the ghosts excitedly making their way downstairs to the kitchen. It’s the happiest she has heard them since Grace has started walking and everything went to hell. Their hushed whispers – completely unnecessary now that Grace can no longer see or hear them –make her smile. Grace, clever girl that she is, picks up on it immediately and covers her eyes with her hands. “Boo?”

Alison briefly wonders if moments like this will ever not feel bittersweet.

“The ghosts have just gone downstairs to the kitchen,” she tells Grace, willing her smile not to wobble. “And you know what? I think they have some presents for you!”

Grace’s eyes grow wide even though she understands the concept of presents about as much as she understands birthdays. It’s quite adorable how easily excitable she is, though, and Alison fiercely hopes she’ll never lose that, no matter how many candles sit on top of her birthday cake.

With that thought, she picks Grace up and reaches for Mike’s hand. “Let’s get this party started.”

Grace happily waves at Humphrey’s portrait as they pass it on their way downstairs, and Alison absentmindedly wonders if Thomas, true to his word, will be there when they enter the kitchen. She hopes he will be but at the same time would never hold it against him if he chose not to. She knows she asked a lot of him yesterday when she brought up Grace’s birthday; asked, perhaps, too much.

Before her thoughts can spiral, they reach the kitchen and Mike, along with the ghosts, shouts, “Surprise!”

Grace’s eyes widen in awe as she takes in the colourful balloons, paper streamers, presents and, finally, the cake Mike made for her the day before. She’s clearly delighted by all the colours and glitter – and so are Robin and Kitty, Alison notices as her eyes stray to the ghosts. They’re all there, every single one of them, even young Jemima. And there, standing by the stove with Humphrey’s head in his hands, is Thomas, flanked by Lady Button and Julian. The moment his eyes fall on Grace – the first time since that fateful evening – his tense smile begins to waver. Longing like Alison has never seen before washes over his face for a brief second before he visibly reins it in to keep smiling even though Grace can’t see him.

It breaks Alison’s heart, and when Mike lights the single candle on the cake and begins to sing Happy Birthday, she knows deep down in her heart that it was wrong of her to ask Thomas to be here today. Guilt churns in her stomach but since there’s nothing she can do about it now, she pushes it down as far as it will go and joins in on the song. It doesn’t take long for Mick’s unmistakable voice to rise above everyone else’s, much to Lady Button’s chagrin, and if she listens closely, Alison thinks she can also make out Thomas’s voice. It’s so quiet it’s barely noticeable; small and fragile like a wind chime made of glass. He always had a lovely voice but today he sounds brittle, like he’s been stretched too thin or tasked to carry a burden he can’t bear. If Grace could see him right now, Alison is sure her daughter would stretch out her tiny hands towards him in an attempt to comfort him. She’s always done that whenever Thomas got that far away look in his eyes around her, and it has never failed to put a smile on his face.

“You make it so easy to forget my worries, Lady Cooper,” he used to tell her before he stuck out his tongue and made silly noises to make her laugh.

As they sing the chorus one last time, it suddenly hits Alison that Grace will probably not remember this day; that she’ll forget the ghosts who have doted on her and watched over her for the first year of her life. She will forget Thomas’s stories, playing peek-a-boo with Kitty and the Captain, and the funny faces Lady Button liked to pull for her (and still firmly denies ever doing). The ghosts will quite literally become just that for her – ghosts. Faint memories she will never be able to fully grasp and which will grow ever fainter as time goes on. Alison will do her best to keep them alive for her – of course she will – but no amount of stories or paintings or retellings will be able to capture the soft look in Thomas’s eyes when he made her smile or the spring in Mary’s step when Grace said her name for the first time.

None of it will let Grace ever hear them sing Happy Birthday to her.

The song fades into silence, and as Alison blinks hard against the sudden tears in her eyes, Grace claps her hands excitedly and points at the corner where Jemima is standing, hugging her beloved doll close to her chest. “’mima!”

And just like that Alison feels like laughing rather than crying.

Of course, she thinks as Jemima’s lips twitch into a small but happy smile and mentally slaps her forehead. Of course she can hear her sing!

And so can Mike.

“I swear, this will never not be creepy,” he mutters under his breath.

Alison flashes him an admonishing look before she tells Grace that Jemima is waving at her. Grace giggles and waves back at the corner. It’s moments like these that remind her that not all is lost and that the ghosts can still be a part of their daughter’s life.

Just not all of them.

“All right, time to blow out the candle!” Mike declares and together with him, Alison leans forward so they can help Grace should she struggle. In the end, after three tries (and a slightly disgusting amount of spit splattering all over the cake) Grace manages to blow the candle out all on her own and the room erupts into cheers – along with a sad, “Aw,” from Robin who is mourning the loss of the flame.

“Well done,” Alison says proudly and presses a kiss to Grace’s cheek that makes her squeal in delight. She shares a look with Mike. “Cake first or presents?”

“Presents, of course,” Mike says.

He’s looking deeply affronted, and so does Pat. “You can’t keep her waiting, Alison! She’s just a child!”

Alison holds up her hands in defeat. “Pat says you’re right so presents it is.”

“Pa?” Grace asks curiously, looking around.

Alison bites her lip, silently hoping she hasn’t just ruined the birthday morning by mentioning one of the ghosts Grace can no longer interact with. “Yeah, Pat’s right there. And so are the others! They’re wishing you a very happy birthday!”

Grace blinks at the empty air around her for a moment.

“Pa,” she declares happily. Then she looks up at Alison, her young face way too serious for her age. “’omas?”

She sounds so hopeful that Alison is glad that this time, she can actually tell her, “Yeah, Thomas is here, too. He’s right there.”

She points at the stove where Thomas is standing and Grace, bless her, shrieks and waves her tiny hands excitedly in its direction. “’omas!”

Happy to see her daughter not bursting into tears for once at the mere mention of Thomas’s name, Alison looks up and smiles at Thomas, expecting to see him smiling too. He isn’t, though. His eyes are full of heartbreak and even though he’s biting his lip so hard he would probably draw blood if he were still alive, the next ragged breath he sucks in catches in his throat and turns into a broken sob.

Oh no, Alison thinks, feeling the smile slip from her face. Thomas ducks his head when the others turn towards him and seems to shrink under the unwanted attention.

“I’m sorry,” he manages to choke out before he turns and presses Humphrey’s head into the Captain’s hands. “I thought I could do this but I can’t.”

With that, he pushes past the Captain and runs from the room.

Alison wants to follow him, wants to fix this mess she made, but Grace is still happily babbling away next to her and hasn’t even opened any of her presents yet. She can’t go after Thomas, not now. Her daughter has to come first, no matter how much it breaks her heart right now.

“I will go after him,” the Captain suddenly states, and Alison has never been more grateful that he’s a man of action than in that moment. Knowing that Thomas won’t be alone – won’t vanish without trace again – make the guilt she feels a little easier to bear.

“Take me with you, will you?” Humphrey asks before the Captain gets the chance to pass on his head to Julian. “You’ll probably need reinforcements.”

“Very well,” the Captain says before he clears his throat and, with a nod to Alison, marches out of the room.

For a brief moment, Alison allows herself to close her eyes. A tug on her shirt makes her look up into Mike’s concerned face.

“What happened?” he whispers so as not to alert Grace who is currently trying her best to reach the cake with her short arms.

Alison shakes her head and mouths, “Later,” before she takes a deep breath, puts on a smile and ignores the heavy silence from the ghosts around her. “All right, Grace, are you ready to open your presents?”

The fake excitement in her voice is enough to make Grace giggle but not enough to stop the ghosts from glancing at the door Thomas has vanished through. Still, they shuffle forward a little to watch the unwrapping. After all, most of the presents are from them.

Weeks ago, Alison had gone around and asked each of them if they wanted to get Grace something for her birthday. They’d all said yes – of course they had – so now the majority of the presents on the table are from them. Alison had been forced to intervene with some of the suggestions – because no matter what Julian says, Baywatch Barbie is not a suitable present for a one-year-old – but overall, her and Mike’s idea to include the ghosts had been a huge success.

Grace for her part seems to be enjoying tearing off the brightly coloured wrapping paper immensely. In the end, three of the presents capture her attention the most. There’s the little doll that’s made of fabric rather than plastic and was Jemima’s idea (“It will always make her feel safe.”). Then there’s the plush moon Robin chose (“Moonah always watching over her.”) and last but not least, the musical book Thomas selected after carefully browsing through the options in the online shop for an hour – which had felt more like two at the time, Alison has to admit. It plays different melodies, depending on which symbols get pushed, and it delights Grace to no end. Alison isn’t really surprised by it – the book is from Thomas, after all. That alone makes it special, especially now.

And speaking of special – when Mike hands Grace the painting and helps her unwrap it, Alison gets out her phone and starts filming. She wants to capture this moment – not just for Grace but for Thomas as well. The portrait is as much a present from him as it is from her and Mike, and she wants Thomas to be able to see how happy it made Grace, whenever he is ready. So she does her best to hold her phone steady while her daughter’s tiny fingers struggle adorably with the wrapping paper. With Mike’s help and gentle encouragement, Grace eventually manages to unwrap one corner of her present.

“Oh?” she makes, clearly intrigued, before she proceeds to tear the rest of the paper away with little finesse but boundless enthusiasm. Alison swears she can hear Grace’s breath catch in her throat when she finally unveils Thomas’s waistcoat and cravat. “’omas!”

She giggles excitedly and then, more carefully than before, pushes away the remaining wrapping paper to reveal Thomas’s face. A smile so bright and beautiful Alison feels her throat close up lights up Grace’s eyes and she touches the contours of Thomas’s face even more reverently than she’s touched the Ghost Chart the day before.

Alison looks up and catches Nigel’s gaze. He nods at her with soft eyes, approvingly.

“Well done,” he mouths. The others murmur in agreement and watch, bemused, as Grace stretches out her little arms, clearly wanting to hold the painting.

“I think that’s a bit too big for you to hold, sweetheart,” Mike says but holds it out for her anyway. Grace presses her face against it and closes her eyes, causing everyone’s hearts to melt instantly. “Aw.”

She looks like she wants to crawl into the picture and it gives Alison an idea. She files it away for later and stops recording to press a kiss on the top of her daughter’s head. “Happy birthday, Grace. Do you like your presents from the ghosts?”

Grace smiles toothily up at her and nods.

It takes a bit of convincing to get her to let go of the painting but in the end, Mike’s persuasive arguments – the promise of cake, mainly – win out and Grace relinquishes her hold. Alison props it up on the cupboard along with all the other presents so Grace can see it while she eats, and as she passes behind Mike she whispers, “I’m going to check up on Thomas, all right?”

He gives her a worried look. “Too much too soon?”

“Yeah,” Alison sighs guiltily.

Mike nods. “Go. I’ve got breakfast handled.”

“You’re the best.”

She slips out of the kitchen without Grace noticing and doesn’t have to go far to find Thomas. He’s sitting on the lowest step of the grand staircase with his head in his hands while Humphrey’s head is propped up against the step above him. The Captain is sitting on his other side, and one of his hands is resting on his shoulder in comfort.

“I let her down,” Alison hears Thomas murmur against his palms, and her heart goes out to him. She has no idea if he’s talking about Grace or her – perhaps both of them – but she knows she’s the reason he’s blaming himself right now. She added this guilt to his pain and made an already difficult situation even worse for him – all because she wanted to celebrate Grace’s first birthday with all the ghosts and pretend for five minutes that everything is normal.

It’s not an unreasonable thing to want, Alison knows, but it’s a terribly selfish one.

“You didn’t let anyone down,” she says softly as she approaches the staircase, guilt weighing down every one of her steps. “I did.”

Thomas drops his hands and looks up at her. His eyes are dry but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been crying. Alison gives him a sad smile and sits down next to him. “I shouldn’t have asked you to come today.”

“Oh,” Thomas says. He sounds small, and he looks that way too when he glances down at his hands. “My deepest apologies for ruining the party.”

His voice breaks on the last word and something inside Alison breaks with it.

“Oh Thomas, no, that’s not– that’s not what I meant at all. You didn’t ruin anything,” she says softly and desperately wishes she could reach out to him and take his hand in hers to emphasise her words. “I wanted you to be part of Grace’s birthday so much that I didn’t stop to think what you wanted, what you needed, and I’m sorry about that. I should have given you more time.”

The Captain gives her a curt nod of approval before he glances over at Thomas who is still staring down at his hands. His fingers are restlessly fiddling with the cuff of his sleeves, a nervous habit that’s as much a part of him as his dimples or poetry are.

“A week ago,” he begins quietly, “I was so excited for today. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything in the world. Now I can barely look at her without feeling my heart break.” He takes a shuddering breath and finally meets Alison’s eyes. “But I don’t regret being there. It … it was good to see her happy.”

He offers her a wobbly smile that Alison knows is meant to put her at ease but has the opposite effect. It only lasts a few seconds. Then it fades away like sunlight on a winter afternoon and Thomas lets out a very long sigh. “I just wish love didn’t always have to be mingled with grief.”

He wraps his arms around himself and looks away again. The Captain regards him quietly for a moment. There is an old pain in his eyes that death has not yet managed to soften. Alison has often wondered what had caused it and certainly had her suspicions but she’s never asked him, knowing the Captain isn’t ready to talk about it yet. If only she had extended that same kind of patience towards Thomas yesterday. “Sometimes, that’s just how it is and all we can do is make the best of it.”

“Or fade away,” Thomas murmurs.

Alison’s heart misses a beat. She exchanges an alarmed look with Humphrey and the Captain before she scoots closer to Thomas, as close as she can without touching him, and says in a low voice, “Don’t you dare, Thomas Thorne. Don’t you dare put us through that again. We searched for you for three days, day and night. And do you know why?” Thomas sniffs and shakes his head. “Because we love you. You’re family, Thomas, and I … I can’t lose you again. I just can’t.”

She’s breathing hard by the time she’s finished and her eyes are burning with tears she thought herself no longer capable of crying. But at the same time it feels good to finally let it all out; cathartic.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas whispers miserably. He looks like a kicked puppy with his hunched shoulders and cast down eyes. “I did not think–”

“That we’d miss you?” Humphrey asks softly. “Of course we would, mate. We’ve already lost Grace. We don’t want to lose you too.”

The Captain nods. “Who’d bore us with terrible poetry if you weren’t around, hm?”

Alison winces at the Captain’s clumsy attempt at a light-hearted joke but, surprisingly, it seems to work. Thomas lets out a soft laugh and in a moment of rare vulnerability and trust, rests his head on the Captain’s shoulder and lets him bear his weight for a moment. “I’ll have you know my poetry is not terrible. You’re just not sophisticated enough to understand it.”

“Sure. Whatever you say,” the Captain says fondly and reaches around him to pat his arm.

Thomas sighs and closes his eyes. “Grace lovedmy poems and stories.”

“She sure did, mate,” Humphrey says.

“Do you think she’ll remember them? Remember us?” Thomas asks, very softly.

Oh Thomas, Alison thinks.

“Of course she will,” she says, leaving no room for doubt. “I’ll make sure of that.”

Thomas opens his eyes and looks over at her. “Even if it will cause her pain?”

Behind them, Humphrey chuckles. “Trust me: the look on her face when she unwrapped your painting was as far from pain as it gets.”

“Young Grace is more resilient than you give her credit for,” the Captain adds. “She’s already finding new ways to hold onto us. Granted, it won’t be like before but – well, we’ll still be a part of her life, and she of ours, so to speak. So no more talk of getting sucked off, all right?”

Alison mentally cringes at the expression the ghosts insist on using despite her many attempts to get them to call it moving on. The Captain has a point, though and Thomas – Thomas slowly nods.

“All right,” he whispers. “I’ll … I’ll try.”

“That’s the spirit,” the Captain smiles and gives his arm another pat. “Now, are you ready to re-join the celebrations or would you rather retire to your room?”

Thomas sits up and flashes Alison an apologetic look.

“My room – but there’s no need to accompany me,” he hurriedly adds when the Captain reaches for Humphrey’s head and starts to get up. “Really, I’ll be fine on my own.”

Feeling an irrational fear claw its way up her throat, Alison exchanges a pleading look with Humphrey and the Captain. Please go with him.

“I’d be happy to stay with you,” Humphrey says easily, answering her silent prayers.

“And miss Grace’s birthday?” Thomas shakes his head. “No, she needs you more than I do.”

Alison’s stomach plummets. “Thomas–“

“I won’t run again,” he says quietly, earnestly, and holds her eyes as he places his hand, the one that has bloodstains all over the cuff, over his heart.

It feels like they’re having a whole conversation without saying a single word and in the end, Alison swallows around her fear and gives in. “Promise?”

Thomas bows his head. “Promise.”

“Okay,” Alison whispers. “See you later.”

With a last, grateful nod to her, Humphrey and the Captain, Thomas pushes himself to his feet and ascends the stairs. There is no spring in his step, not like there used to be, but he holds his head up high as he goes. Alison desperately hopes it’s not just for show. She can’t bear the thought of him hiding from them again.

“Don’t worry,” the Captain says, pushing himself to his feet. His knees crack. “He won’t go MIA under my watch – not again.”

“Thanks, Captain,” Alison smiles and tears her eyes away from the upper landing. “I hope you’re right.”

“Thomas is many things,” Humphrey says as they walk back to the kitchen. “But a liar is not one of them. If he’s saying he won’t run, he won’t run.”

The certainty in his tone puts Alison’s frayed nerves at ease, at least a little. She knows she’s overreacting but after the week she’s had, she doesn’t think anyone can blame her for that. Letting go of her worry is hard but when she sees Mike and Grace covered in bits and pieces of cake, she feels a laugh bubbling up her throat and leans down to kiss their sugary sweet cheeks.

————

Thomas, just like Humphrey said, keeps his promise.

He’s in his room when Alison looks in on him after lunch, and to her surprise he’s not alone: Jemima is with him. She’s sitting next to him with her legs dangling from the bed, and before Alison can make her presence known she hears her say in that quiet, subdued voice of hers, “I’ve been thinking – if you’d like, I could sing one of your poems to Grace. I know it’s not the same but … she’d still get to hear it that way.”

Jemima’s dark eyes are full of anticipation and hope when she looks up at Thomas, and Alison holds her breath as they wait for his reaction.

“You’d do that for me?” Thomas asks, very quietly. He sounds surprised, and deeply moved.

Jemima shrugs one of her shoulders. “I like singing to her, and I like your poetry.”

Thomas blinks. “You do?”

“I don’t really understand it,” Jemima admits, nervously looking down at her doll. “But it sounds nice.”

Something shifts in Thomas’s face, gentles the laugh lines around his eyes. “Maybe we could select a poem and compose a melody together?”

He sounds a little unsure but when Jemima nods with the barest smile on her face and earnestly says, “I’d like that,” he relaxes.

“Yeah, me too.”

Alison decides to leave them be. Thomas is okay – well, as okay as he can be – and most importantly, in very good hands. He doesn’t need her right now and knowing that makes it a little easier for her to enjoy the rest of the day without that constant feeling of worry nagging at her.

She returns to his room later, though, after Grace has been put to bed for the night. Thomas is alone this time so Alison pokes her head around the door and gives him a little wave. “Hey. Can I come in?”

“Of course,” Thomas says, offering her a place on the bed.

Alison smiles and closes the door behind her before she joins him. After a moment of silently debating what to say, she finally settles on, “Grace is asleep.”

Thomas frowns. “But – I didn’t hear her cry.”

Alison allows herself to smile. “That’s because she didn’t. We placed your portrait on the dresser where she could see it and she fell asleep gazing at it. No fussing, no crying.”

“Oh,” Thomas breathes. He glances down at his hands. “That’s … that’s good. Really good.”

“Yeah,” Alison agrees. “It honestly never even crossed my mind that the painting might help her sleep but it worked like a charm.”

“To be as easily soothed as a child,” Thomas muses sadly.

They are both quiet for a moment, revelling in the silence that has settled over the house after days of distress. It almost feels normal, Alison thinks, and even as the thought fills her with hope for the future, she knows that Thomas, out of all of them, will find it the hardest to embrace.

“Is there anything I can do to make things a little easier for you?” she asks softly.

Thomas opens his mouth only to close it again. He shakes his head.

“No, I – I think I just need time.” He pauses to look at her. “Is that okay?”

Alison’s face softens. “Of course it is. Take as long as you need. We’ll be here when you’re ready, and I promise: no more pushing.”

“Thank you,” Thomas says, heartfelt.

He sounds as if a huge weight has just been lifted off his chest and there’s a hint of a spark in his eyes again, a glimmer of optimism that hasn’t been there since the day Grace started walking. It’s that spark that prompts Alison to ask, “Want to watch the sunrise with me tomorrow?”

She knows she’s probably going to regret this when her alarm goes off the next morning but seeing the surprise in Thomas’s eyes, followed by a shy but genuine smile – the first one in days – makes losing an hour of sleep more than worth it. “I’d love that very much.”

Alison smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

With that, she leans over to kiss his cheek, just like she’d done that first Christmas she and Mike had celebrated in Button House, so many years ago, when neither of them had any idea yet what life and death would hold in store for them.

“Goodnight, Thomas,” she says softly.

Thomas, startled by the ghost of her touch, raises his hand to his cheek. His eyes soften. “Goodnight, Alison.”

#thomas thorne #alison cooper #mike cooper #bbc ghosts #jemima #the captain #humphrey bone #bbc ghosts fanfic #my fic #bbc ghosts babyfic

6 notes · View notes

waterloou · 2 years

Note

all emojis for elliot?

🍇: What sort of friend are they? Where are they in the group dynamic?

He’s the dad friend. Gives sarcastic answers to dumb questions but he’s always the one pickin people up in his car or making sure they get home safe. Always making sure his friends are ok

🍉: Does your OC have a particular piece of jewellery that they always wear or refuse to part with?

He’s got a bunch of rings and a watch he will not take off he gets tans over them all the time.

🍋: What is your OC's most painful memory?

Losing his grandpa at 9 to cancer.

🍍: Where does your OC feel most comfortable?

Computerland

🍎: Do they share any features or traits with any family members?

He’s got his mother’s eyebrows and his fathers nose. Also he and his father read the paper the same way in the morning with a cig and coffee

🍑: What sort of traits does your OC look for in a Significant Other?

Good hair 👀. Caring 👀. Brave👀. Someone he can have good banter with.

🍒: Has Your OC had their first kiss yet? If so, with who?

Yes. It was his best friend Craig Murphy but they don’t talk about it it was a very awkward game of spin the bottle.

🍓: Does your OC have any particular scents they like? Or hate?

Hates peppermint so much. Cannot stand it. Loves cinnamon

🍆: Does your OC have any favourite form of affection, physical or otherwise?

He’s a gift giver. Like he finds things people like and leaves them for them to find. But he does LOVE hugs.

🌽: How does this OC feel about acts of affection? What's their favourite act of affection, physical or emotional?

He doesn’t mind long, deep talks had on his porch at 3am

🍰: What's something your OC counts as unforgivable?

You don’t laugh at his pun no, but disloyalty, in whatever way fits the type of relationship

🎂: Has your OC have any contradictory interests or traits to the first preception people have of the? How do they surprise people?

Oh people think he’s kind of an asshole at first meeting. He’s still kind of an asshole, but a nice one. Like he’s loyal to no end and cares for his friends

🍪: What is something that's sentimental to you OC?

He wears his grandpa’s watch.

🍩: What's a crime your OC is most likely to commit? What's a crime they're most likely to get arrested for?

Hacking.

🍫: Where does your OC go to think?

The swingset in his backyard

🍾: Does your OC believe in luck? If so, do they have any charm or ritual they do before a stressful event?

He’s got a rabbit foot on his keys and kisses it before each hack

🍷: What's one of your OC's pet peeves concerning food?

Oh he hates jello so much

🍹: Does your OC have any funny anecdotes told about them?

When he scared a customer so badly they moved states (to be fair, they were being a very difficult customer)

🍻: What's your OC's favourite comfort ritual? How do they calm themselves down after a rough day?

Joint and swings in his backyard

🥃: If your OC was in this universe, what would be their favourite show/book/band/social media platform?

Blac rabbit or post animal for band🌝. Show would probably be midnight mass, probably would get a kick out of Twitter or Reddit

🍕: How does an OC spend a lazy day?

With his friends in his basement, smoking and attempting to hack into school to change Craig’s grades

🍔: Are there any recent trends you think your OC would hate? Or love?

He would love the Fanny pack resurgence.

🍟: What does your OC admit to be their guilty pleasure? What actually is their guilty pleasure?

He says it’s candy cigarettes but in actuality he works out to his mom’s exercise tapes she got from her weight loss group

#oc: elliot dobbs

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natequarter · 2 years

Note

transparent / tangled for Fanny button please

10: transparent / tangled

Stephanie dragged a whalebone comb through her hair, gritting her teeth as she eased out a knot. It was her own fault, really—Ruth, bless her heart, had warned her against wearing her hair down on such a windy day. But she had ignored all of Ruth's warnings, too busy trying to make a point to George to consider the consequences.

It just wasn't fair! She hadn't even left the grounds that afternoon, simply wished to take a walk in the garden with her hair down, as she was wont to do. It was only hair, after all, as she so often told Eliza. But George had thrown a fit, demanding that she at the very least braid her hair before going outside. Apparently wearing it down wasn't respectable enough for him.

Stephanie had ignored him as much as she had ignored Ruth, and now she was paying the price. She couldn't deny that there was some worth to braiding her hair, although not for the reasons George cited. Decorum this, etiquette that—blast it, blast it all! Who was he to tell her what to do? Oh, he was her husband, of course, but that didn't mean he knew anything.

Stephanie yanked her comb through her tangled hair, and winced again in pain. Perhaps she should have let Ruth help after all. It was very unladylike, brushing her hair herself. It was the sort of menial task that should have been given to some poor, wretched servant, like dear Ruth. But she'd never had any of that growing up, nor as a young adult. The only servants her father could afford were old Richard the butler and a young man whose name and chores she couldn't remember. If she wanted someone else to do her hair, then it would have to be Eliza, and that meant putting up with mindless teenage gossip.

It was safe to say she was unused to having servants. That, and she was too stubborn to accept their help—not for things she could do perfectly well herself, thank you very much.

Then again, she thought, battling with a knot that refused to budge, maybe I do need a helping hand every now and then. And maybe it would be easier to concede to George's demands every now and then, rather than starting endless rows that never got her anywhere.

Stephanie glared at the comb in her hand as if it might lessen her pain. It might be one of the few possessions from home she genuinely liked, but that didn't mean she actually liked using it; it was better as a pretty thing sat upon her shelf, to be admired rather than utilised.

Funny, she thought, returning to untangling her hair, that's what George thinks of me.

(link)

#asks #fanny button #bbc ghosts #fic #(to be clear eliza is her much younger sister)

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moonahstone · 3 years

Text

Okay but picture this:

Alison trying to teach Kitty to braid hair because she thinks she’ll find it fun. They have Mary with her hair down as a sort of dummy for practicing on but because of the ghost-ness of everything after a very short while it goes back to how it was before. Alison has to leave and Cap appears. He used to plat his sisters hair so shows her how to do it and is simply a master. Anyway it becomes a desperate dash to try and complete a full plat before the hair returns to normal and when they finally manage it there is a lot of cheering.

#My entire minds thought process today #Mary's just been sat watching something the entire time #Robin has been trying to plat tiny bits of fur #he's there too #Fanny refused to take her hair down #And yes #The captain did have a sister #you can't change my mind #bbc ghosts #fandom: bbc ghosts #ghosts #bbc ghosts kitty #bbc ghosts the captain #bbc ghosts mary

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iwishtobeastorm · 2 years

Note

Okay love “In your arms” would you possible be able to do a part 2 maybe R and Mj get closer and Kate gets Jealous and finally bursts and makes a move on reader and like pulls away in fear of being rejected but R just grabs Kate by the waist and pulls her back in! Cue Yelena and fanny being like “fucking finally”

Brilliant writer!! Have a great day/night💜

A/N: Hey there! Thank you so much, I'm really happy my writing of Kate found its fans! I hope this is at least a bit as what you pictured while writing this request, dear nonnie! Ily! Also sorry not sorry for the first scene but I really felt like adding dancing to Slavic songs with Yelena because that's my big dream, being Slavic myself lol. Enjoy!

Your vigilante - Kate Bishop/Reader

Words: 3200+

Warnings: this is somewhat of a second chapter to In your arms so probably check that out before reading this :), fluff, jealous Kate

Masterlist

"What the hell is this?" Kate has to yell so you would hear her over the loud Slavic music but neither you nor Yelena respond, too caught up in dancing whatever that is, arms hooked together as you spin around, laughing. Kate shakes her head at it, deciding to ignore it as she greets the dogs and hangs her jacket. "Oh, Kate! Come and join us!" Yelena exclaims, extending her hand towards the archer. "I don't know... it looks dangerous," Kate responds, folding her arms on her chest, an amused smile on her lips. "Come on!" You refuse to hear any of her objections as you reach for her, grabbing her hand and dragging her to the provisional dancefloor.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do!" Kate states, a bit flustered as you keep holding her hand even as you joined Yelena in the crazy dance. "Just follow us. It's not that complicated," Yelena assures her and you turn to her with a soft smile, hooking your arm underneath hers. "Our neighbors will kill us," Kate murmurs, the last protest she's able to put up before she actually joins in, observing whatever you do and mimicking it until she understands the moves fully. The music gets faster and faster and you all keep up with it, laughing, spinning, and clapping as the rhythm swallows you all up. Fanny and Lucky lay by the couch, looking at you a bit judgingly, which makes you laugh even harder. You change your positions here and there, letting Yelena add other dance moves as you hop around, your heads spinning. "I can't breathe!" You exclaim, panting through the giggles that keep leaving you, but you don't stop even for a second, dancing like crazy even though your muscles burn and your lungs hurt. Finally, the song comes to its crescendo before the music dies down and you collapse to the ground, still laughing, wiping away the sweat from your forehead, trying to catch your breath. Kate soon appears by your side in a very similar state, grin on her face, while Yelena keeps standing above you, arms folded on her chest, smirking. "You are weak," she teases, making both you and Kate chuckle. "We should do this more often. It's better than the gym," Kate states, and you nod, amused. "Sure," Yelena agrees, offering both you and Kate a hand. "Now get up, you losers. Someone has to make dinner. And it won't be me."

After you took a shower and put on clean clothes, you descend the stairs and head to the kitchenette to take on the task of preparing your meal since you're the only one who's apparently ready to do it. Yelena is still in the shower while Kate is probably upstairs drying her hair. You huff a laugh at the memory of the dancing as you reach for your phone, putting on some Harry Styles song and petting Lucky before you actually get into cooking. You decide to make some oatmeal with fresh fruits and so you prepare all the ingredients you need first before getting into it, humming along with the melody, too lost in your thoughts to actually comprehend that you are not alone anymore. Kate is leaning against the railing of the stairs, a smirk on her face. She knows you're unaware of your surroundings and so she tiptoes all the way to you, covering your eyes. You jolt at the contact, not expecting it at all but you soon recover from the prime surprise as a grin makes its way to your features and you slowly put down the milk carton. "Yelena, if it's you, I promise you'll regret this," you threaten the unknown raider jokingly. Kate smiles at this, holding her hands over your eyes tighter. You know Yelena wouldn't give up even if it was her and so you are prepared to put up a fight but then you notice something. The subtle scent of violets and vanilla, tickling your nose and making your heart flutter. You feel your cheeks burning within seconds as you realize it's not Yelena. It's Kate. "What do I get when I guess this right, hm?" You ask, trying to hold back your voice from trembling. There's nothing but silence as an answer, making you chuckle. "Smart," you murmur. "But I know it's you, Kate," you state, tugging on her hands to free your sight. "Ugh! You are no fun. How did you know?" She asks, letting you turn around, the closeness between you making your chest feel too tight. "Can't tell," you shrug, smiling and she huffs a laugh, shaking her head. "What are you up to here?" She murmurs, leaning against the counter and you grab the milk again. "I'm gonna make us some oatmeal with fresh fruits," you explain and she smiles at you. "Good choice. Can I help?" She raises an eyebrow at you and you nod gratefully. You work in silence for a while, only interrupting it by singing along to the songs that are on, until Kate decides to speak up. "I was thinking we could maybe meet up at that coffee shop we were to last Friday after your exam tomorrow," she offers and you turn to her with a smile. "Absolutely," you nod, chopping up the strawberries. "Great," Kate murmurs with a soft smile of her own. "Wanna watch a movie tonight? I saw there's something new on Netflix and people mostly like it so..." "Sure. Yelena has a meet-up with one of the Widows so we have the apartment for ourselves anyway," Kate shrugs. "Really? Why didn't she tell me? I feel like the two of you are constantly hiding something from me," you say and she chuckles. "Not constantly. Just from time to time to save you some nerves," Kate says softly, making you scoff. "That's not possible. Just having the two of you in my life brings me more anxiety than anything else ever could," you smirk at her, meeting her gaze with yours. She seems amused as she moves a bit closer to you to stir the milk in the pot so you now literally stand side by side, your arms touching, her sweet scent invading your lungs once more, making you lightheaded. "We are not that bad. And we come with two dogs to balance things up so there's nothing to complain about," Kate nudges your shoulder with hers, making you chuckle. "Oh yeah, I love being wakened up by Fanny at five in the morning because Yelena went to the gym without her. Or when Lucky steals my pizza when I'm not watching him. That's amazing," you tease, even though you never really were angry about any of those things. "Ahhhh, you know you love it," Kate states, making you laugh. "You are right. I actually do. I don't think I would be able to get back to what life was like before, even though it's more complicated now," you say softly and

Kate looks at you expectantly. "Is this you actually approving of my vigilante lifestyle?" She asks with a smile tugging on her lips and you glance up at her. "Uh-uh, that's not what I said at all," you raise your index finger at her, but it seems like it's too late. "Nope. There's no way you'll be able to ever take this back," she shakes her head, pushing your hand down, making you chuckle. "I'm being serious! I didn't mean it that way!" You protest, just barely able to hide your amusement as you watch Kate cover her ears. "Can't hear you!" She states, louder than needed and you shake your head at her childishness. "I could never approve of something that could get you killed, you know that," you say in all seriousness as you turn back to the counter, putting the strawberries on the plate where the other fruits lay, biting on your lower lip softly. "I'm careful, Y/N. Always," she murmurs and she hugs you from behind, resting her head on your shoulder, making you stiffen underneath her, your heart losing it. You force yourself to get it together before you turn your head to the side to meet her gaze with yours. "Everyone is careful until they aren't and that's when the bad shit happens. I know you like it, Kate, but it's so dangerous," you sigh, daring to cover her hands with yours. It feels so good to have her warm body pressed against yours like this, butterflies filling your tummy as you dare to dream this could be more than just her attempt at comforting you. "I really am, I promise. I have Yelena by my side. There's nothing that could ever happen to me," she tries to persuade you, repeating what you heard from her many times. "I know," you murmur, deciding to not oppose her anymore because it never leads anywhere. You would love to be supportive because you know Kate really cares about it but it's so hard when you know how these things can end. "Good. Now let me help you finish this."

The bell above you rings softly as you enter the coffee shop. You have a good feeling about the exam and you're glad you finally have it behind you. All that awaits you now are good things, like getting a coffee with Kate. She texted you she'll be there in five and you decide to meanwhile get your orders, so you join the queue. You're just replying to Kate's message, letting her know you'll get her usual when someone bumps into you from the front. You look up and your eyes meet dark brown ones and you immediately recognize whose they are. "Oh, MJ!" You exclaim with a smile, glad to see Ned's friend again. "Hey. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-," she motions with her hand between the two of you and you wave it off. "It's fine. I'm glad to see you again. How did the exam go?" You ask, not breaking eye contact with her as you both take a step closer to the counter. "It went well, thanks for asking. I'm glad to see you too. What- what are you up to?" She gives you a soft smile and you can't help but think she's cute. "Well, I just finished my last exam and I'm supposed to meet up with my friend here to celebrate a bit. You?" "I'm just getting a coffee because I'm supposed to work on this project with Ned and I need a bit of energy boost," she states and you chuckle. "Yeah, I feel you. I think I drank more coffee this semester than I did my whole life," you state, making MJ scoff. "Same. I'm not a huge coffee person but sometimes I just need it," she says and you nod. "Can't agree more. How's Ned by the way?" You ask, smiling at her. But before MJ is able to answer, someone appears by your side, making you face them out of curiousness until you realize it's Kate. "Hey," she murmurs, her eyes slipping from you to MJ. "Hi, Kate! Oh, this- this is MJ. MJ, Kate," you introduce them, letting them shake their hands. "Nice to meet you." "You too." You notice the smile Kate gives MJ doesn't quite reach her eyes but you decide to ignore it for now and ask about it later. Kate's morning probably didn't go well, that's all. "Uhm- I should go since it'll be my turn soon, but it was good to see you again. And uh- meet you, Kate," MJ states and you give her a smile. "Good to see you too," you murmur, and she reciprocates the smile. "Bye," Kate says softly, watching MJ turn around and approach the counter, the small smile on her lips slowly fading. "What's up?" You ask once you're sure MJ can't hear you through the hustle and bustle of the coffee shop, bringing Kate's attention to you. "Oh- nothing. How did the exam go?" She brushes your attempt off expertly, making you frown softly. "Good. It went well. But you won't get out of this so quickly. What was that?" You glance at her. "I don't know what you mean," she looks away, refusing to face you. "Ugh, Kate. I hate how stubborn you are," you mumble, watching MJ stand by the counter, waiting for her coffee. As if she felt your gaze on her, she turns her head to you and you exchange small smiles. "Do you like her?" Kate asks with irritation lacing her voice, making your head snap to her. "What?" You raise your eyebrow. "Do you like MJ?" She repeats her question and there's something burning in her hazel eyes that you can't really pinpoint. "No. No, I don't. Not in the way you are implying," you say, your voice calm even though this whole situation makes you anything but. Kate gives you a small nod, her eyes cast down now, avoiding your gaze once more. "Tell me what's going on," you nudge her shoulder with yours. "Nothing," she shrugs. "Kate," your voice carries a small warning. She sighs. "It's nothing. Really. I'm sorry for being weird," she states and you don't buy it at all but decide to leave it for later once more since it's your turn now. You order your coffee and wait for Kate to order hers. MJ meanwhile gets her order and she passes by you with a smile and small wave that you reciprocate. "Let's go," Kate states then, making you turn to her again and you follow her to the table in the corner.

The rest of your stay at the coffee shop goes well, but you can sense there's something between the two of you, some sort of tension that makes it hard to let the conversation flow naturally. It bothers you but Kate refuses to talk about it, which turns your previously good mood into a sour one. The walk home is short and mostly filled with silence since both of you are lost in your thoughts. Once you get home, you both part ways without a word exchanged, greeting the dogs and disappearing into your rooms as soon as possible. You don't understand what got into her. You know it might be somehow connected to MJ but it still doesn't make any sense to you. It makes you angry because deep down you feel desperate. Of course, there were times during your friendship when you fought, it's natural when some know each other for so long but this is different. This is past any reason. Or maybe it has a reason but Kate refuses to tell you, which is why you are upset. How can you make it good and possibly apologize, when you don't know what's wrong? This runs through your head as you change into sweatpants and a loose t-shirt and climb into your bed to watch some old tv show to get your mind off this whole situation. You just hit play when there's a quiet knock on the door. "Yeah?" You mumble, thinking it's probably Yelena since she should be home soon. "Can I- can I come in?" Comes Kate's voice, making you perk up in the bed as you pause the tv show. "Uhm- yeah, sure," you reply, leaning on your elbows to sit up. The door opens slowly and Kate slips inside, closing it behind herself. "What are you up to?" She asks as she turns to you and it's more than obvious she's nervous. "I wanted to watch The Golden Girls," you say and she nods with a small smile. "Mind if I join?" She murmurs and you shrug. "If you want to," you offer and so she crosses the distance, climbing on the bed next to you, laying her head dangerously close to your own. You hit play, letting it roll, your eyes watching even though your mind wanders elsewhere, your focus slipping as you are hyperaware of the girl laying by your side. "I'm sorry about the coffee shop. I acted like a fool," she says softly, her sudden apology surprising you. "It's okay. I just wanted to know what happened. I don't understand. Did I do something wrong?" You turn your head to her, your face inches away from hers as you gaze into each other's eyes. "No, not at all. I just-," Kate sighs, closing her eyes in what might be an embarrassment briefly as if she could blink it away. You wait patiently, your eyes examining her features, a small smile settling on your lips. You always thought you're the only one who's flustered but it seems like Kate is now fighting the same battle. "Yes?" You murmur, adjusting yourself on the mattress, your face ending up closer to Kate's than before. You can feel her shaky breath dancing over your skin as her eyes now roam you. Before you know it, she closes the distance between the two of you, her lips covering yours in a soft, shy kiss. You're taken aback, your mind shutting down as you stiffen underneath her. Kate apparently takes that as a rejection and she pulls away quickly, her eyes meeting yours, horror mirroring in them. "I- I'm so so so sorry. I didn't mean to. I-." You cut off her ranting by cupping her cheek and returning the kiss, making Kate freeze the same way you did before her brain catches up on it too and she melts into you, reciprocating it. It's more than you imagined it to be. It's soft and sweet yet with an undertone of undying passion. You explore each other's mouths tenderly, not carrying about running out of air since living without this connection feels like the real annihilation. You pull Kate closer, running your fingers into her dark hair and letting her wrap her hand around your waist to keep you close. You can't help but smile widely against her lips as you feel overwhelmed by happiness. It's you and Kate. Kissing. And it's not one of your dreams, it's real. It's real! And then the door opens. You immediately pull away, both of you

turning to face the intruder, all breathless and flustered. What you're met with is exactly what you should've expected. Yelena stands there like a deer in the headlights before she processes the whole thing and lets out a victorious ha. "Fucking finally!" She exclaims right after, a wide grin on her lips before she slams the door shut. Both you and Kate stare at it in complete silence for a moment before you start laughing. "God, there's no privacy in this house," you murmur and Kate turns to you with a grin. "We can always kick her out," she states and you chuckle. "I doubt that," you murmur, making her smirk. "So..will you now tell me what happened at the coffee shop?" You ask, your cheeks still burning. "I- I might have got a bit jealous," Kate murmurs, eyes cast down as she draws a circle with her finger on the mattress. You bite on your lower lip to hide the smirk. "Because of MJ?" You offer and she nods, glancing at you. "I thought you don't feel the same," she admits, making your heart clench. "I thought it's kinda obvious I do," you say softly and she chuckles. "I guess we are both bad at noticing this kind of stuff," she states and you nod, amused. "So... you feel the same?" You dare to look her in the eyes. "Yes," she nods, making you grin. "Can I kiss you now?" Kate asks and you chuckle, closing the gap between you yourself, your heart overflowing with all the tender admiration you feel for her. And when she kisses back, you feel like you ascended all the way to heaven. You and your vigilante.

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x you #kate bishop #hawkeye #best friends in love #best friends to lovers #friends to lovers #jealous kate #slight slowburn #best pal yelena #dogs dogs dogs

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fortuositywritings · 3 years

Text

The Yelena Incident

(Short companion fic for I Said No. No need to read one to understand the other. I understand that Yelena is aroace in the comics and I respect that, so forewarning, this does have Yel and Reader as nonplatonic. Other warning, there are curse words.)

Oh, how you’ve missed this place. It’s been a long semester and as great as Los Angeles is, it does not provide the pick me up kind of ice cream that your cousin’s small town does. You had just arrived yesterday for summer break but didn’t have time to visit the ice cream parlor. So, here you are now, walking out of said parlor, a delicious double scoop of chocolate chip cookie dough in hand, ready to be consumed.

You hear a yelp come from behind you and as you turn to see what that’s about, someone slams into you, knocking you over. Instead of chocolate chip cookie dough, you’ve got a mouth full of blonde hair, your ice cream sadly on the ground beside you and the stranger.

“Ow,” you moan in pain. The hair in your mouth is pulled away and you open your eyes to see that the potential NFL linebacker that slammed into you is actually a pretty blonde woman whose face is inches away from your own. She is looking right into your eyes and before you can get too lost in the green, she throws you for a loop when she mutters disgruntledly, “Bad dog.”

She turns her face away from you, narrowing her eyes at a dog barking up a tree. She gets up off of you and helps you onto your feet. You are surprised by how easily she does so given her stature. She walks over to her dog, getting a hold on the leash, and pulls it away from the tree.

“Fannie, no. Bad dog,” the blonde reprimands her dog. You notice a hint of a Russian accent but do not have time to ponder it as she walks back over to you, apologizing, “Sorry about that. She gets excited when she sees a squirrel.”

Her accent disappears but you ignore it. “Are you okay?” she asks. You decide to joke, “Yeah, the ground really broke my fall.” You get a light chuckle from her. “I’m fine,” you reassure her, “although I cannot say the same for my cone.”

You stare at the ground with a pout at seeing the ice cream melt on the sidewalk. The blonde woman pulls out some cash from her pocket offering it to you in compensation, but you kindly refuse to take her money.

Her phone rings. Before she answers the call, she asks once more if you are okay. You say you are fine. With that, she says she has to take the call, wishes you a good day, and walks away answering her phone. You are back outside with another ice cream cone when you realize you never got her name.

Aside from going into the main part of town to get some ice cream, you had also gone to run certain errands. You get back to it and make your way toward the grocery store. As you make your way around the store, you spot someone you dreaded to see again. Small town, you knew you were bound to see her again but you didn’t think it would be so soon.

Just your luck running into your last summer fling two days upon returning to town for break. You left things with Abby real awkward. Well, you were awkward. She was crying.

She had asked you to be “official” with her and you rejected the idea with the bullshit excuse of focusing on school and not looking for anything serious. You apologized for leading her on and ended it right then. It wouldn’t have been such an awful goodbye even if you had left her standing there crying. What really did it was the parting pat on her shoulder before making your way out.

Needless to say, you were not looking forward to seeing her anytime soon or maybe even ever again after that. Yet, it seems whatever mystical entity out there overseeing your future likes to watch you suffer. You refuse to be the punchline to this joke the world decided to play out, so you quickly rush out of Abby’s field of vision.

Crouching down, you quickly turn the corner of the aisle with your basket on your arm. Had you kept your head up, maybe you could have avoided what came next.

“Ow!” A cart rams into you, knocking you down.

“I’m sor- Hey! It’s you again,” voices the cart driver. You look up pleasantly surprised to see the same blonde from earlier sans dog this time.

“Twice in one day. Are you sure you aren’t trying to kill me?” You joke as you pick yourself and the basket off of the floor.

“You cannot blame me for this one. You were the one sneaking around. Besides, dying by a shopping cart hitting you would be lame. I would give you a cooler, more respectable death,” she defends and then she blushes, thinking she had said too much and had maybe come off as weird, embarrassing herself in front of you.

“Well, thank you for that reassurance. I’ve never thought that deeply about how the means to my death could affect my reputation after my life is over, but now you’ve really given me something to think about,” you say sarcastically, but smiling all the same at her, not finding her comments anything but humorous.

Her blush fades and she clears her throat. Trying to bring the attention back to you, she asks with a growing smirk, “So who were you hiding from?”

“What? I wasn’t hiding from anyone,” you lie. She knows you’re lying obviously. Had she not been a trained spy, she still would have been able to tell. You make a terrible liar. She scans the area you had come from and guesses who the person that has you ducking around corners must be. “Oh, okay. So you were not hiding from the girl with glasses who is walking this way, right?”

“What?!” Complete dread is displayed across your face and it sells you out. She chuckles and you realize she was messing with you. “She actually just walked out. No need to worry there.”

“Well thank you for the unsolicited heart attack,” you reply.

“Ex-girlfriend?” she asks curiously.

“Something like that,” you mumble. You look away from her and down at her cart. You notice she has several tee shirts amongst her groceries. “Planning to stay in town longer than you thought you would?”

You notice her tense a little at your question and you can guess she is wondering how you know that. “No one buys clothes here unless something’s come up. My first guess earlier was you were new in town but now I’m thinking you’re just in passing?”

She looks impressed by your deduction skills. “I was meeting someone in town but they told me they won’t be here until next week.”

“Well if you need a tour guide or just some company while you wait for them,” you jot down your number on an old receipt you pull from your bag, “text me. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You give her the scrap of paper.

“Yelena.”

She texts you two days later.

You show her around town and invite her to eat. Another day you just hang around with her and her dog. At one point you have to both chase Fannie around as she runs after a squirrel. Yelena is a little odd. She can be very reserved at times not giving you real answers to your questions but at other times she can be so joyous, not bothering to rein in her laughter when she finds something funny, making you laugh along with her.

Overall, she was fun to be around. You invite her over to your house, technically your cousin Laura’s house but you considered it your home. You show Yelena around the house as Laura prepares dinner, her kids playing with Fannie outside.

“She loves the attention. She’s not going to want to leave tomorrow,” Yelena says watching Cooper and Lila play with her dog through your bedroom window. It’s technically the guest bedroom but you always claim it during summer breaks.

“You’re leaving tomorrow?” You knew she’d be leaving soon, but you are still bummed when Yelena nods and explains, “My sister called today. She will be in town in a few hours and we will leave in the morning.”

“Oh,” you say disappointed. “Wait, you have a sister?”

“Yes,” is all she says, giving no further details.

“I thought you were waiting for your boyfriend or something?” you admit though more to fish for information.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she informs you as she goes to sit on your bed. She bounces a little testing out the springs, making you smile to yourself. This week, you’ve caught all these different cute moments where Yelena’s curiosity or need to escape from staying still overpowers her inhibitions and you’ve thought her adorable every time.

“Girlfriend?” you continue, obviously fishing. She shakes her head. “You?”

“Neither. I don’t really date,” you reply.

“Me neither.” She stops bouncing and leans back on her hands. Her open flannel falling off one of her shoulders. You try not to stare but she catches you gazing anyway, a cocky smile on her face.

“Why not?” you ask, refusing to blush at her catching you. You’re also curious for her reasons to stay away from relationships. Personality wise as far as you’ve seen, she’d fit the type to be all for a relationship.

“I travel a lot.” She shrugs. You don’t know her well enough to know if she is lying but you feel like there is more to it than that. You don’t have time to dwell on it though as she turns it on you. “What’s your excuse?”

“The only person interesting enough to date in this town is leaving tomorrow.” You throw her a smirk when her cheeks grow pink. She clears her throat, “Yes, well no one can be this cool so it’s not fair for you to compare them to me.”

You make your way toward her, rolling your eyes at her ego though you know it’s just nervousness hidden behind faux confidence. The thought of her getting nervous around you boosts your confidence. “Yes, not everyone can rock the same flannel three days in a row like you do,” you joke, tugging on said apparel when you are close enough.

“If you like that, you should see me in a vest,” she chuckles, looking at where you still have your hand on her flannel. Her laughter dies, or more accurately turns into a sputter, when you climb on her lap.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” she asks apprehensively, but she doesn’t move away. In fact, she puts her hands on your waist, securing your body.

“I’m tired of wasting time acting like I am not attracted to you,” you reply easily.

“Y/n, I’m leaving tomorrow,” she sighs, sounding a little disappointed.

“So you’ve said.”

“I don’t date.”

“So you’ve mentioned.”

“Y/N-,” she tries as a last warning, but you cut your name short by giving her a quick kiss to her lips. When you pull back, she looks shocked but her gaze lingers on your lips.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. Say the word and we can just go downstairs and help Laura cook.” Her gaze goes back to your eyes and she knows you mean it sincerely. You would stop right then and not say anything about the matter afterwards. You’re happy she shakes her head and says, “I am a terrible cook.”

“Good. I am too,” you reply before pulling her towards you kissing her harder and helping her out of the flannel.

Downstairs, Laura feels strong arms wrap around her and pull her close. She would shriek but she knows those arms from all the times they’ve held her. She smiles and turns her head to give her husband a kiss. “You’re early!”

“We wanted to be here for dinner,” Clint explains. He kisses his wife’s cheek before letting her go and moving over to see what’s cooking.

“We?” Laura asks.

Before Clint can explain, a voice speaks out, “Smells delicious. I hope you have room for one more. Or two more, if Yel ever answers her phone.”

The voice can only belong to one Natasha Romanov. Laura smiles at her husband’s best friend, who she basically considers a sister-in-law. “Of course, Nat. You know there is always a place for you here. No need to ask.” She turns to her husband who has his face back over the pot on the stove. “Honey, help Nat with her things.”

Nat smirks as Clint goes to do just as his wife says. “You need to show me how you do that.”

Laura laughs, “Years of work.” She goes back to the cooking as Nat goes to the fridge to grab a water bottle.

“When did you buy a dog? Don’t tell me. Y/N bought it. I saw her car outside, so I assume she’s here,” Nat says, taking a swig of her water after.

“No, it’s actually her new friend’s dog.”

“Honey, whose car is that outside? Also, did we get a dog?” Clint says walking back into the kitchen with Nat’s overnight bag. He leaves it by the stairs.

“Both belong to Y/N’s friend.”

Clint goes to wash his hands. “Friend or friend?” he asks, insinuation clear as day. Nat laughs while Laura turns to give her husband a look that says “don’t start”. He plays innocent. “What?”

“You know what. That’s my cousin you are talking about.”

Clint motions to zipping his mouth closed as Nat goes to defend her friend. “Come on, Laura. Barton can ask some stupid questions but that one was valid.”

“See!” He points to Nat. “Thank yo- Hey!”

Both Laura and Nat laugh at his late realization to Nat basically calling him dumb. Laura shakes her head at the two best friends. “The food is about finished. Will one of you set the table and the other call the rest of the household, please?”

“Nose goes!” Clint yells and touches his nose before Nat does. She huffs knowing what losing means. “Shit.”

Clint laughs as Nat practically stomps upstairs to call Y/N and her friend down to eat. Laura shakes her head at her husband’s childish demeanor. She then asks something she meant to earlier. “Who is Yel?”

“Nat’s sister.”

“Natasha has a sister?” Laura should not be shocked that Nat has a sibling she’s kept secret. Being who she is, Laura knows Nat has a very secretive past that she likes to keep that way. She still is shocked though. A whole sibling no one knew about. She wonders if Natasha’s sister is just like her. Do they look alike?

“Yeah. She’s been in town, actually, waiting for her to come here. Maybe you or Y/N have seen her around. She’s short, blonde hair.” At her husband’s description, Laura’s face contorts to one of realization and not the good kind.

“What? What’s wrong?” Her husband reads her face all too perfectly. Laura just points upstairs and poses a question that she has a feeling she already knows the answer to, “‘Yel’ as in ‘Yelena’?”

“Oh, shit,” Clint catches on. He turns to run upstairs before his best friend is scarred for life but he knows it’s too late when he hears her voice from the first step.

“Yelena! Y/N! What the fuck?!”

“Oh, Natasha. You know Y/N?”

#yelena belova x reader #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova x you

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nebulablakemurphy · 3 years

Text

Miss American Pie

Chapter Five: This Will Be The Day (Finale)

Warning: this series features a romantic Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader pairing.

Summary: Everyone has returned but the battle for humanity against Thanos wages on.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You wake in a coughing fit, the rubble surrounding you sears your lungs. “Natasha.” You call into the rocks and flickering lights. Clearing your throat, you try again. “Natasha!”

“Here, I’m here.” Her voice is rough, pained.

You push yourself toward the sound, through the dust you can make out her hair. “You ok?”

“Mostly.” She’s laying face up, a few scratches visible.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I can’t move.” She nods at the piece of collapsed cement. “My leg is broken, you should go.” Nat says, staring up at the sky.

“I should’ve never let you go to Vormir. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” You try uselessly to budge the blockage over her leg.

“What is Vormir?” She asks.

“Doesn’t matter.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “How much do you remember?”

“The red room.”

“Do you remember getting out?”

“No one gets out.” She shakes her head.

“We did.” You inform her. “Yelena did.”

“Yelena?” Her gaze finds yours. “You know Yelena? Is she here?”

“Yes, I know her.” You press your lips together. “She’s not here though.”

“The rest of this building is coming down. If you were really trained in the red room you have to know that.” Natasha frowns. “You need to leave.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Don’t be a hero.” She whispers. “Let me go, it’s ok.”

“No, it’s not.” You argue. “I won’t do it again.”

“What about Yelena?” Natasha gives you a pointed look.

“She’ll understand.” This is what she would do.

“Hey,” Natasha pushes herself up on her elbows. “Would it be a good thing or a bad thing if a giant man in a metal suit carrying a smaller man and a raccoon appeared behind your head?”

You turn toward the man in question. Scott Lang. “It would be a good thing.”

———————————————————————

Natasha is taken somewhere safe. She can’t fight.

As the strange doctor and his disciples start opening portals you see that you’re not alone. Through one comes Alexei, Melina and Yelena.

Her white suit is pristine, dirty blonde hair held away from her face in ponytails.

On shaky legs you move toward her, taking your rightful place at her side. Facing what lies ahead together.

Yelena catches your hand, “this isn’t much of a welcome home.”

You can’t help but laugh, “pretty cool way to die though.”

“Very,” she agrees. “Natasha?”

“She is a little worse for wear.” You warn her, “but alive…and safe.”

Yelena gives you a watery smile, squeezing your fingers. “And you?”

“A tower fell on me.”

“Of course it did.”

Thanos’ army is nothing to scoff at. Giant airborne creatures hover over his troops. Larger monsters stand in their ranks, space ship overhead ready to destroy.

Steve is almost unrecognizable, covered in dirt, his shield battered and broken. But you know it is time when he gives the order. “Avengers, assemble.”

Fighting is easy, it’s what you know. What you were trained to do. Fight to stay alive, fight for what you believe in, fight with Yelena; for Yelena.

The two of you move together like a well oiled machine. Like riding a bike, even after all this time you could never forget.

“We’ve got company to the left.” Yelena says through gritted teeth, kicking at the alien creature beside her. Dropping an empty cartridge to the ground and reloading her gun seamlessly, firing several shots.

Despite everyone’s best efforts they just keep coming. “Do we have a plan here?”

“Getting there,” Steve replies. “Anybody have eyes on the gauntlet?”

“Yeah!” Clint rushes past you with the glove in hand. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Get it out of here!” Tony insists.

“What’s happening?” Alexei shouts over the chaos. “I still don’t have ear piece.”

“Just keep their army away from that guy in the tank top.” You grunt, falling backwards from the force of one of Thanos’ soldiers colliding with you.

“We have to get the stones back where they came from.” Rhodey reminds everyone.

“The time space tunnel is completely collapsed.” Tony points out.

“That isn’t our only time machine.” Lang cuts in.

“Does anyone see an ugly brown van out there?” Captain America’s voice hums through the ear bud.

“I do,” a female voice chimes in. “But you’re not going to like where it’s parked.”

After grappling for far too long, you manage to knock the creature from you. Using your knife to dismember it.

“Next time, we get the cool laser guns.” Yelena yells loud enough to be heard by everyone on the network, as she hauls you to your feet.

“Friday, please add laser guns for the ballerinas to my grocery list.” Stark gives his smart ass remark.

“What’s the word on the van?” Rhodey wonders.

“Working on it now.”

The ship at Thanos’ disposal begins raining fire, no regard for their own troops.

“We’ve got people going down!” Rocket hollers.

“Clint,” you call into the microphone. “How’s that gauntlet?”

“Moving down the field.” The archer replies, “I’m alright too, thanks for asking.”

“Good.” You bite back a smile.

Hell continues breaking loose around you. Glowing circular orbs unfold in the air above, providing coverage from the missiles. You’re not sure if this is winning or losing. It feels like a bit of both.

———————————————————————- Thanos and his army are dusted away. Leaving you surprised and still swinging as the shock wears off.

You won. You. Won.

And you lost.

You lost Tony Stark. The man you’d barely known, but offered you clarity that will stay with you forever.

You lost the Natasha you’d come to know over the five years that Yelena was gone. Some parts of the redhead stripped away for the price of the stone.

But she’s still here. Waiting in the wings to be greeted by Yelena and their little makeshift family. You share a look of understanding when your eyes meet over the blonde’s shoulder.

Others come, Banner refuses to leave her side. Despite the fact that Natasha doesn’t remember him.

Clint falls to the ground at her feet. Breaking down at the sight of his friend, his family alive and well. She doesn’t remember him either, but welcomes him into her arms somewhat awkwardly.

Her expressions flicker from happy to overwhelmed. Hesitant to open herself up to the possibility that she is wanted, needed and loved.

Too confusing for the girl who only remembers the red room. Adjusting to this life will take time.

Everyone begins clearing out, their jobs finished. Rushing home to reunite with their loved ones. Tomorrow will bring about new challenges. The world is in shambles, and so are you.

Steve decides that he should be the one to return the stones. His goodbye tells you that he has a bit more in mind. But this is his life. His choices, not yours.

“Well, I guess we should head out too.” You say after a while. Your car is gone, lost in the wreckage from the explosion.

The setting sun is eclipsed, causing all of you to turn your gaze upwards just in time to see the ship’s door open.

“Is that a raccoon?” Melina asks, pointing toward Rocket.

“Do you want a ride or not?” Rocket shoots back.

“Not the avenger’s super jet, but it will do huh?” Alexei smiles, this is his dream.

“This is better!” A man’s voice carries down from the interior.

“Well,” Yelena shrugs, “if you say so.” She leads the pack up the ramp and onto the ship.

“Fanny and the pigs will be expecting dinner soon.”

“How are they?” Melina asks, “have you been taking care of them.”

“That was me!” Alexei says proudly, bending at the waist to gather Natasha into his arms. “Aye honey,” he grunts, hoisting her up. “You are only little girl in my heart.”

Nat pushes against his chest in retaliation.

“Do you mind if I hitch a ride too?” Clint asks.

“The extra stop will cost you,” Nebula stares blankly at him from her seat.

“They always do.” He remarks, trotting up the ramp.

Bruce paces at the foot of the metal grate, watching the rest of you load up. “I gotta hang back, make sure Steve gets there in one piece.”

“After what happened with Scott the first time I’d say that’s probably the best bet.” You agree, standing near the entrance.

“Yeah,” he smiles, kindly. “Keep me posted on Nat, will ya?”

“I will,” you return the smile.

“I’ll see you around.”

You nod, “I’ll see you.”

The captain of the ship introduces himself as Star-lord, and after a moment without response, Quill.

“Any requests?” He asks, finger hovering over the control panel.

Alexei creeps over to the younger man, quietly relaying a message.

“Alright,” Quill nods. Stroking the keys until a familiar set of notes ring out.

“A long, long time ago-“ The singer croons.

You let out a chuckle.

“I can still remember how that music used to make me smile. And I knew if I had my chance, that I could make those people dance. And maybe they'd be happy for a while.”

“We’re really doing this?” Yelena puts a hand to her head, the corners of her mouth turning upward.

“But February made me shiver, with every paper I'd deliver. Bad news on the doorstep, I couldn't take one more step.” The melody carries on.

“It’s your song.” Natasha turns to her sister.

“I can't remember if I cried. When I read about his widowed bride.” Melina’s eyes are far away, carried back to their years in Ohio. Before the world had been so cruel.

“Something touched me deep inside, the day the music-“

“Died.” Yelena joins in, lulling her head to the side to gage your reaction.

You sigh, all of this beyond surreal. But you allow yourself to live in this moment, because you might not get another. “So bye, bye Miss American Pie…”

“Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry.” The roaring chorus of voices fills the silence you’ve grown used to. Fills the parts of you that were empty for so long. “And them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye. Singin', “this’ll be the day that I die.”

“This’ll be the day that I die.” Yelena sings, her face alight with a childlike glee.

——————————————————————-

Melina, Natasha and Alexei stay with you for a while. A few weeks as Natasha heals and becomes acclimated to her life.

She claims to hate the attention, but deep down you know she’s full of it.

The Ohio house is bursting at the seams with five adults, nine pigs and one dog.

That isn’t enough to keep visitors at bay. Namely Clint, his wife Laura and their three children.

Things feel a bit off when everyone begins moving out. Alexei, Melina, and their pigs return to the farm outside of Saint Petersburg.

Natasha finds herself drawn to New York, with Bruce and the makeshift building he’s using as a lab.

You adjust to the steady thrum that is daily life, with Fanny and Yelena.

After dinner you load the dishwasher, drying your hands on the nearby tea towel before selecting a cycle.

“So how does it feel?” Yelena asks, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hmm?” You turn to face her.

“Being a hero.” She clarifies, a smile playing at her lips.

“I’m not-“

“Oh cut the crap, Y/N. You saved the world.” Yelena narrows her eyes at you.

“I did it for you.” You say simply, because it’s true.

Yelena closes the space between you, “why?”

“You know why.” You whisper as she cups your face in her hands, gently stroking her thumb over your cheek. “It’s ok if you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“I’d do more for you, and worse.” She assures you. “But do you really want to spend the rest of your life fumbling around feelings in the dark when you could have someone who-“

“I want you. I only ever want you.” You beckon her closer. “Anyway I can have you, that will be enough for me.”

Sometimes wires get crossed and you want things you never have before. And she provides them before you have a chance to ask. You give back to her tenfold, so that neither glass is ever empty. That is love. True love, the only way you’ve ever known it.

“I am yours…in every way a person can belong to another.” Yelena breathes, “and then some.”

Series taglist: @jeyramarie @freeshavocadoooo @ilovewinter101 @3and30aresoultwins @yelenabelovv @miphas-trident @1800-fight-me

If you loved this series as much as I did, you can check out the prequel here!

#yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #marvel fanfiction #black widow fanfiction #black widow #yelena belova fanfiction #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff imagine #yelena belova x you #yelena belova x female reader

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one-rosy-sock · 3 years

Text

Coming Undone | Abner Krill x fem!Reader (1/2)

Go to the {Ao3 Link} for more info...

Fandom: The Suicide Squad (2021) Rating: T (M for future chapter) Summery: You’re a psychiatrist. You should know the warning signs when a relationship with a patient is becoming problematic. But you refuse to consider this, because Abner Krill is a lot of things, and violent is not one of them. Warnings: PTSD, childhood abuse, trauma, brief mention of past suicide attempt.

Notes: no use of y/n Disclaimer: Author is NOT a real therapist. I do not own DC comics. __ The first time you met Abner Krill, he was recommended to you by a colleague at Belle Reve.

It had been several weeks since the convicted metahumans defeated Starro, that giant one-eyed starfish. Sometimes it amazes you to no end what strange things exist in this world. The Corto Maltese coup and monster defeat held onto headlines for several weeks until the next big thing came to top it. Seeing such exciting news affect your patients wasn’t unusual, but to have a high profile patient be a part of such news was a first, you’ll admit.

As for you, well, things were pretty much the same. You see your patients during the week at your office. You’re a licensed psychiatrist, and oftentimes you see men and women who have been convicted of a felony or are ex-prisoners themselves. It wasn’t a dream job for many women, much less anyone, to counsel people so troubled. You aren’t like everyone else, though. No, you might not have x-ray vision or super strength, or any super fancy gear to punch bad guys, but you do have a gift not many have: A good ear and an open heart.

And a prescription notepad, but you are determined to make your sessions more than just a pill dispensary.

You are aware of who Abner Krill is. The Polka-Dot Man. One of the metahumans who went to Corto Maltese and defeated Starro. This has partially immortalized him in the media as a superhero, despite his past as a prisoner. Some of your patients were metahumans too, but none as powerful or as widely known as the Polka-Dot Man. His identity and those of his teammates had been concealed from the general public. As of last week, you know his real name.

His appointment’s in the morning on a Tuesday. Your secretary came by as you were straightening up your office to let you know he had arrived. You fluff the couch pillows, throw blanket over the back, tissue box on the side table, a mild scent infuser on your desk. The century-old computer at your desk whirls to cool itself off. Earlier you'd taken the time to shoot an email to Ms. Waller confirming Mr. Krill's appointment.

You follow your secretary up front. She goes to her desk and you step into the waiting room.

Though foolish, you half expected to see Abner in his super suit. The polka dot suit and headgear. Instead, he’s wearing a pair of khaki trousers that hugged high over his hips, and a somewhat flashy, silk button-up tucked neatly into the waist. And, dare you say, a fanny pack. His outfit looked straight out of the 70s or 80s. You don’t know the definitive difference between the decades. But his shirt looks clean and pressed, the collar tucked down nicely. He has one leg over a knee, bouncing it rhythmically as he watches the fish swim around the tank in the wall. It looks like he tried to read a magazine, but stopped halfway, finger wedged between the pages.

“Mr. Krill?”

He jerked in response to his name, swinging his head up with a guilty look gleaming in his eyes. You think of a puppy who’s been caught peeing on the carpet. His expression, or perhaps the way his face was structured, reminded you of a puppy too. His face was somewhat sallow, somewhat droopy. Lines indicate a lot of frowning. Like a sad, droopy cartoon dog. His face narrowed down from his eyes, making his red cupid’s bow mouth seem small. A strong, straight nose dominates his face. His big eyes seem dark and questioning. Like a scared, lost child.

Krill quickly shoots up like a bean sprout, shaking his hands out. The magazine drops to the floor. He swears, bends down to pick it up, and anxiously fusses over righting it on the coffee table. You watch the way the glossy purple cuffs wave as he moves about in jerky, quick moves.

“Good morning, doctor,” he greets warily, avoiding your gaze and staring at your shoes.

“You must be Abner,” you smile. You reach out your hand. In a painful, pregnant pause he visibly wavers as he stares at your hand as if you’d stuck out a gun at him. Finally, he reaches out to take your hand.

He has a strong grip. Sweaty hands.

Hastily, he pulls away.

“Nice to meet you. Why don’t we head on back?”

He nods. His legs are long yet his steps uncertain, reminding you of a gangly adolescent. He follows you down the hall from the waiting room and awkwardly stands by as you open the door to your private office. You hear him pat his thighs as he waits. Like a shadow, he follows and sticks close but careful not to touch. Barely making a sound.

After your office door clicks shut, the two of you sit in your respective places. Your desk chair has a high back, cloaked in a fraying, multicolor knitted throw blanket. A bit garish against the dull beige walls and simple yet whimsical desk decorations beside you. There’s a poster that reads It’s OK to feel this way: over a circle divided by colors and sections, listing different emotions.

You pull your knees up and begin to take off your shoes.

Your patient stares in visible confusion.

“Would you like to take your shoes off?” You ask, setting your shoes aside as you straighten up in your chair. “I find it easier to relax without them.”

“Um…” he trails off, his downturned mouth pursing as he considers this. The tension rolling off him makes him stiff and hard to read. All you’re getting from him so far is how much he doesn't want to be here.

You watch him while occupying your hands with things on your desk so he doesn’t feel pressured to make a decision. From the corner of your eye, you watch him swallow, Adam's apple bobbing, and he slowly reaches down to untie and slip off his oxford shoes. He sets them neatly beside his feet. Hands tucked in his lap, sock feet on the ground. Looking up at you somewhat imploringly.

“This is a safe space, Abner,” you smile at him. You have your clipboard and pen in your lap, but you make yourself relaxed and as welcoming as you can. Note-taking can be done later. Visibly, at least. Don’t want to make him think you’re already assessing him before y'all begin to talk. Can’t force him to talk.

Ex-prisoners often struggle with reforming to civilization after release. He couldn’t be forced to attend therapy here despite the outside forces that pressured him to. If he wanted to walk out, he could. Abner was so tense he seemed to be walking on eggshells. He struggled to relax his shoulders, like his limbs were too long for his body. During all this, he hadn’t met your gaze one.

“Whatever we talk about won’t leave this room, unless, for instance, you said you plan to hurt yourself or someone else.”

This gets a reaction out of him. A grimace, a shake of his head. “No, I wouldn’t…”

“Of course not. You’re a superhero now, right?”

He grins. It’s brief, boyish, sheepish. He’s studying the design of your clothes. You consider that progress from your feet.

“You were recommended to me by Dr. Rooney at Belle Reve,” you begin conversationally, baldly, wanting to get a feel of where he was coming from. Your colleague had said Krill was not a violent inmate, but was often verbally bullied by other prisoners. He tended to avoid crowds, thus mostly avoided. More than once he had been on suicide watch. Casually, you glance down at your clipboard. Born in Philadelphia to Augustine Krill--father unknown--and tried and convicted for first-degree murder as an adult in the city of Metropolis. He was incarcerated at Belle Reve shortly after turning eighteen. He was in his early forties now.

You look back up at Abner. He had that sad puppy dog look again, staring at nothing in particular with his neck hunched.

“Did you and Dr. Rooney get along?”

“D-Doesn’t your notes say?”

You make a face. “I want to know what you think of Rooney, not what he thinks.”

Abner didn’t answer right away. “He was okay.”

“Okay,” you echo, licking your bottom lip as you cock your head up. “Okay is better than nothing.”

“We mostly spoke about my mother.”

“Oh?”

“She experimented on me and my siblings. She wanted us to become superheroes,” he said. His voice held much more confidence than anything he’d said so far, but his expression remained unchanged. It was because he kept words void of emotion.

“I see.” Yes, you did see. You had anticipated the topic of his mother coming up if you didn’t ask him about it first in future sessions. Dr Krill was listed in his files as a scientist at S.T.A.R. Labs, and having six children whom lived on site with her. CPC had been called a few times, rebuffed every time by various means other than being convinced nothing was wrong. The whole thing was fishy, especially after the untimely deaths of three of Dr. Krill’s children. The whereabouts of the other Krill children were unknown. All investigations into S.T.A.R. Labs had been terminated by higher powers, even after Abner’s arrest and psychological evaluation.

Abner continues, to your surprise. “I pictured Starro as my mother.”

“You did?”

“It makes it easier, when I convince myself that my enemy is her. I don't like killing.”

You pick up your pen and tap your lip, looking down at the way he was fidgeting his feet. “Did you regret killing your mother”

Abner’s knee stopped bouncing. “No.”

“Do you regret killing the other scientists at S.T.A.R. Labs? The--”

Abner grimaced and brought his hands to his head, tugging on fistfulls of black hair. “I-I didn’t mean--I-I--”

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to answer that today,” you placate with a soft tone, putting down your pen, fingers rubbing along the edge of your clipboard. After a moment of heated silence, you set your things down on the desk and stand up. This makes your patient crumble in on himself, trying to hunch low enough to shield some blow. You smile sadly where he can’t see. “Abner, do you see my poster here? With all the emotions?”

He looks back up, glancing from you to said poster. His attention is answer enough.

“Whatever you feel in this room is valid to you and to me. Not now, but in the future I’d like for you to give me short but detailed descriptions to how you feel on certain things. It's okay to say something you think is taboo or unorthodox. This room doesn't have ears or a head to judge. Do you think you can do that?”

The couch makes no sound as he moves to better see the circle chart of words. Timidly, he nods.

“Great,” you smile sadly and sit back down. “Let’s get back to that later. Today, I’d like to talk about something other than your mother.”

Abner tilts his head. You must be doing something to exceed his expectations, because now he’s looking at you and not at you. “The Corto Maltese mission?”

“No. I want to know about you. I want to talk about Abner Krill. Who are you?”

His blank stare makes your heartache a little for him.

The following silence, where all you can hear is his ragged breath, the whirl of the monitor, and the soft mist of the incense humidifier, is thick. You can cut it with the tip of your pen. The sound of his voice as he speaks is almost staggering. "I am... I am my mother's son."

“No."

He flinches.

"Your mother does not define you. What you think about your mother and how you feel about her should not determine your sense of self or your future. You liked defeating that monster, right?”

Abner nods.

“You’re a superhero because you took action, not because she moved your hand. What you say here today, and any day, should be the same. Do you think you can do this for me?”

“I don’t understand…”

“I want to know the real Abner,” you smile. “Not Dr. Krill’s son.”

He still can’t make eye contact. The fidgeting starts back up. “But, what I am is because of her.”

“Not unless you choose otherwise. Starting today, you and I are going to help define Abner Krill. First, you are not your mother’s son.”

“But I am?”

“No. You are not your mother’s son. You’re Abner Krill, superhero. What does Abner Krill the superhero like to do?”

Understanding slowly started to dawn on him, visible in his eyes as he lifted his slanted brows. Recovering from trauma was no walk in the park, but the two of you had to start somewhere. Rooney over-fixated on Abner’s fixation on his mother and the abuse, and after years of obsessing over it to “fix” him, it seemed to become all Abner could think about. No one had really given him proper trauma recovery therapy, or helped to treat his PTSD. You wanted him to take the first step into self-evolution. No one could do it for him. You want him to define himself other than his mother’s son. Seeing himself as a superhero was perhaps the start of it.

“I-I don’t know,” he frowned. “I like to read…”

“That’s great!” Your enthusiasm startles him. “What sort of things do you like to read?”

“Well… Ah, I-I uh... I like the classics….”

The rest of your session with Abner was mostly casual. The safe topics you steered him to visibly made the man relax. He spoke about the fictional worlds he enjoyed immersing himself in. He liked the classics because they were “soft”. Sweet romances where the only real worries were who’s going to the ball. He didn't like tragedies or novels about war or great violence. With some coaxing, he opens up to talk about his favorite foods, animals, celebrities, songs-- You ask about his (non-virus related) talents or any hobbies he might’ve picked up at the prison or since he’s been out. Steering him away from the topic of his mother confused him in the beginning, leading you to assume he had anticipated mostly speaking about her. He’d been prepared like he might prepare to go into battle.

You know he won’t be able to just brush his mother aside; his virus was because of Dr. Krill. He blamed his 20+ years of incarceration at Belle Reve on his mother’s experimentations. He blamed himself. He hated her. He hated himself. Feared her. Feared himself. It was an inner wound that would never heal, you know this without a doubt, but you hope with time it becomes easier to manage as he takes control and independence of his new life.

“Did you ever go to school, Abner?”

The phantom smile on his face falls, but you haven’t lost him as he turns to you. Looks at your shoulder. “No. We--my siblings and I--were… homeschooled.”

“Right. Well, you at least know what homework is?”

“Yes. Of course. Am--Do you want me to--?”

With a hand gesture you hope is placating, you smile and gently cut him off. “Don’t worry, I’m not assigning you an essay to write or a month-long project to present. I’m not that cruel,” you chuckle. “But I am going to push you a little. Can you try that for me?”

He looks as if you’ve asked him to consider sacrificing his firstborn. Thankfully, he nods as he plucks a loose string off his knee.

“I want to see you biweekly, so schedule with Patrica upfront. Maybe this Friday or Saturday?”

“I-I can do that, yes ma’am.”

"Now, it's your choice to come back or not but it would make me really happy if you did."

His back straightens. "Yes. I'll be here."

“Beautiful, Abner. Beautiful. Sometime this week I’d like you to do something you normally wouldn't do. Go on a hike, join a gym, take a class on cooking or arts and crafts. It can be simply looking up a food recipe you’ve never tried before and making it. Tell me about your experience. If you’re around strangers, how is your relationship with them? If you see something new, how does it make you feel? This isn’t an order, Abner, just a… strong suggestion, mm? All I’m asking is for you to do something new and spontaneous. It can be at home or outside. Your choice.”

Abner licked his lips. It had taken a great deal of effort to convince him to come here at all today. Today is the first time speaking to him, but you’ve had his file for a few days now. You’re a little grateful for that. There was a lot to read. However, it took outside forces such as one Amanda Waller and fellow ex-prisoner teammates to get him to come here. You suspect someone dropped him off if he didn’t take a cab himself. He had no driver's license.

“Ah… Okay. Um, yes miss. Ma'am. Doctor! Ah--”

“You can call me by my name,” you reassure, tilting your head to him. “This is a safe space for you and I. We may be doctor and patient outside that door, but here, we can be as familiar with each other as we'd like. Like old friends.”

He turned to you with a look that sent a thunderbolt of sensation down your spine. Surprise, awe. A silent question gleamed in his puppy-dog eyes. He doesn't respond, brows raised high as he just stares at you.

You cover for his lapse. “I’ll see you in a few days. It was wonderful to finally meet you, Abner,” you say, looking at him without pretenses to hopefully show your honesty. He had an incredible gift that could help save a lot of people, and from what you've learned from recent character evaluations on him he had the makings of a fine superhero. First thing first, he needed to adjust to civilian life after years of being locked up, and years of having nothing but unresolved trauma. All the while, you hold back a rueful smile at his demeanor. You won't say it aloud of course, but he was so cute. Idly, you wonder about his sexuality- but you can ask that another day. For now you wanted him to be a little more daring to try new things and focus on something other than his mother.

You stand up and shake his hand. His grip is a little looser this time, lingering longer, but he moves away quickly, gathers his shoes, and you see him out. His scurrying reminds you of a startled elk. Large yet quick, stumbling over his long legs. Running from you as if you held a rifle instead of a purple glitter clipboard.

It was hard to believe this man had committed mass homicide.

#abner krill #polka dot man #the Suicide squad #abner krill x reader #polkadot man x reader #reader #therapy #chapter one

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Note

Not sure if you are taking request at all but if you do, do you mind writing something about Harry agreeing to be the birth photographer at the birth of his niece (tom and reader’s daughter) 🥺🤍

this was so interesting!! personally I am way too self conscious to have a photographer when I *eventually* have a kid aha, but I hope this is what u were looking for x x p.s. coming at my brand w the white hearts :)

tomholland x reader

summary: harry gets terrified by toms request about the birth of his child, but the reader smoothes it over

Having just had a round of golf with Harry, Tom invited him back to yours for a cuppa and a catch up too. After all the years of living and travelling with Harry by his side, Harry in particular was massively important to TOm. Especially since he’d moved in with you, Tom constantly made a super special effort to spend as much time with him as possible. Harry had a key and had no quam with letting himself in uninvited. Though since he had walked in at *the wrong time* a bit too frequently, and then the announcement of your pregnancy - he had cut down the unexpected visits.

“So, I actually wanted to ask you something.”

“This does not sound good” Harry furrowed his eyebrows together, looking suspiciously at his brother as he poured the kettle into the two matching ‘Brothers Trust’ mugs.

“Since when? I only ever ask you to do good things?”

“We both absolutely know that is not true.” Harry deadpanned, pointing to the palm of his right hand which carried a large scar. Scar in question had been sustained during one of Tom’s incredibly ‘good’ aka stupid ideas.

“Right fair… I’ll allow that.” He receeded, placing the two mugs onto the counter in front of Harry. All it took was one look at the pale brown colour for Harry to turn his nose up, shooting Tom a look as though he’d just murdered a puppy. The elder of the two sighed, knowing exactly what his brothers snobbiness was about.

“Seriously?”

“It’s not your fault your awful at this, some people just aren’t born with it.” With a sarky pat on the back Harry rounded the counter, pouring the freshly brewed but slightly too milky tea down the drain - before flicking the kettle on to make his own brew… properly this time.

Tom knew his brother well enough to know not to argue or protest, instead perching on the counter as he watched Harry work his ‘magic’.

“But seriously me and Y/n have been talking about the birth cos you know, it’s not too far away now.” This was true, you were now only 3 weeks from your due date - but going by the size of you, you were ready to pop. Quite literally, you didn't know how much longer you could last.

“I’d be concerned if you weren’t mate.”

“Well yeh and I basically um … had the idea to get a photographer for the birth right? It’s quite an American thing but I don’t want to forget anything and I’m sure it’s gonna be magical.” In response, Harry slowly turned around, empty mug in hand and eyes fierce.

“Are you fucking stupid?!”

To be fair to Harry, that had pretty much been your reaction when Tom first suggested it - word for word. He’d got the idea from one of the crew he’d filmed his most recent projects with, the guy had been raving about how beautiful it was and once he’d shown the pictures to Tom - he had to agree. Eventually Tom had worn you down to it and actually the idea of being able to save the moment you met your kid for the first time didn’t sound too bad. You had firmly set the boundaries of no photos of your ‘labour face’ and absolutely nothing from the ‘other end of the bed.’

The worry for both of you, as it always was given Tom’s reputation, was privacy. Especially the birth of your child, having a stranger there had you straight refusing, even a friend seemed still a little invasive. It was only when Tom had remembered he had a brother (who you were also incredibly close to) who was handy with a camera. Even if he had no experience with this particular type of photography, Harry was a pretty safe pair of hands for a camera in any situation. God knows he’s had enough practice at it.

“No hear me out, Y/n agreed too-“

“Of course this was your idea! So she’s totally fine with me staring at her fanny through a camera lens?”

“Harry” That was a warning tone, which the frizzy haired boy chose to completely ignore.

“No I-I mean, you want me to stare at your finances bits? Isn’t that some sort of weird incsest?”

“Shut the fuck up about Y/n’s body. You OBVIOUSLY wouldn’t be taking photos of that end, more like when the baby gets handed to us you know?”

“When its covered in gunk that came out of Y/n?”

“I’m pretty sure they clean it-“

“Not properly!”

Thankfully perhaps, the conversation was interrupted by the kettle clicking off, the water coming to a boil. With a huff Harry turned round, pouring and then stirring the tea as Tom watched his back from a distance. Neither spoke till after Harry finished, returning the milk to the fridge and then leaning against the counter top.

“Look I get it if you dont want to but your the only one Y/n trusts to do it and it means a lot to me.”

“Y/n wants me to stare at her fanny?!”

“No calm down you div. But you are the only one she trusts to be in the room when our first child is born. Will you just think about it?”

Harry opened his mouth to reply, probably protest, but before he could the front door opened and you called through the house.

“Tom? I’m home!” And becasue the boy was whipped he instantly trotted to the front door giving you a peck on your lips. He murmured to you that Harry was there, his lips moving against yours and you nodded with a small smile. You knew, instantly, that Tom in all his idiocy hadn’t handled it well.

“Would you mind getting all the shopping from car? Pregnant and all, so I’m not allowed to lift a finger.” You cocked your head, laughing as he rolled his eyes with a nod.

“I’m excited for when you can't play that card.”

“But then I’ll be the women who pushed a baby out for you… the mother of your child.” Winking, you then quickly moved through the house before he could protest, just knowing he was pulling a pouty face as he watched you sway away.

Once in the kitchen you saw Harry nursing his mug like it was the last drink on earth, hunched over it from where he was sitting on a stool on the breakfast bar.

“ You lose at golf?” Opening the conversation, Harry instantly shot his head up, looking slightly terrified to see you.

“Wha- no, no I didn’t actually.”

“Tom asked you huh?” He nodded, seemingly not wanting to commit with words. “I had exactly the same face when he first told me. It’s weird right?”

“Yeh no shit.”

“He’s really keen on it though, I mean he’s like an excited puppy about the whole birth.”

“But you want it too?”

“Sort of. What I do want is for him to be happy though. And I’m fairly certain he’s gonna be terrified throughout the whole birth while I won’t be in a position to help himl.”

“You’ll probably have other stuff on your mind to be fair.” You laughed, at that, nodding in agreement with him.

“Just a little. I did think though, who is a person who I can trust to look after him too during that... and even I draw a line at your dad… Look if you don't want to, I totally get it and I can’t promise that I won’t be screaming at you during if you do. But it would comfort me to know you were there, with or without the bloody camera.”

“Seriously?” Rather than exclaiming it, Harry whispered in shock, not expecting this sort of a revelation.

“Course H! You're my little brother too.”

“I might pass out.”

“So will your brother, at least he won’t be on his own then.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Thnakyouthankyouthankyou!” You squealed, running over to hug him from the back, arms round his shoulders as he squirmed on the stool.

It was at this point Tom walked back in after unloading the ridiculous amount of baby clothes shopping you had done. Big strong Tom had to take 2 trips up and down the stairs to the nursery. Of course, all it took was a few words from you and Harry was falling at your feat. He was hardly surprised. Annoyingly you seemed to have this power over all the Hollands. They never stood a chance.

It wasn’t till later than evening, long since Harry had left and the dishwasher had been put on after Tom had made a mess cooking you dinner. Only then did your phone ping with a text message from Sam.

Sam H

‘I dont know what you’ve done to Harry but I’m scared, he’s binge watching one born every minute.’

Immediately you cracked up, knowing that it was his nervous energy and need to ‘be prepared’. Tom, who was lying behind you on the sofa whilst his hands caressing your stomach, jerked his head up intrigued as the what the ‘ding’ was. You showed him and he snorted in laughter too, whilst nuzzling his nose into your neck.

“How did you bring him round by the way?”

“Oh you know, I’ve got all of you wrapped round my little finger when I want.”

“That you do… do you think I should be worried?”

“Nah your just all softies.” Laughing softly, you pulled his arms tighter around you, wiggling back into him a bit more.”

“You didn’t tell him about the godparent thing though?”

“Course not… we can give him a separate heart attack about that.”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tomholland #tom holland angst #harry holland #tom holland x y/n #dad!tom #fluff #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland blurb #tom holland one shot #tom holland oneshot

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writing-in-lesbian · 3 years

Text

You wanted to sleep with a goddess but instead had to settle for a priestess

Pairing: Yelena / F!Reader

Tags: angst, fluff, happy ending, mentions of alcohol

Rating: PG-15 (I guess?)

Word count: 2.5k

Translation: Pridurok = jerk

Disclaimer: all the Marvel characters mentioned don’t belong to me (if they did, Nat would be alive and Wanda would be hugged and in therapy!)

Synopsis: Inspired on an episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S “You and Yelena have been dating for almost 3 years and you plan on proposing on your anniversary, but the universe has other plans and after a game of true or dare game you have to confess who you were actually looking to hook up the night you and Yelena did it.”

AN2: English is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistake. I’m also on AO3 as: writinginlesbian

~~~~~~~

The light coming through the windows is the first thing you notice, the warm sensation on your skin rousing you from your deep slumber. Groaning a little, you refuse to open your eyes, instead cuddling further into the cozy feel next to you. Now that sleeps is evasive, the second thing you notice is your bladder demanding you take a trip to the washroom.

Opening your eyes reluctantly, the third thing you notice is the mass of sand blond hair in front of you, tightening your hold on her you smile and hum contentedly, earning a little grunt from the body in front of you.

Chuckling, your lips place a kiss on her bare shoulder before you finally release her. Stretching your body, your neck and back crack a little making you moan softly at the relaxation.

“You better keep quiet y/l/n or I won’t be hold responsible if I keep you hostage in bed all day” a groggily raspy little voice informs you, her Russian accent thicker in the mornings.

Smiling and shaking your head, you get up from the bed and march to the in-suite bathroom, hearing Yelena mumble something similar to spoilsport before closing the door as quiet as possibly.

Yelena Belova. Your girlfriend.

A little angry ball on the outside but a total dorky cinnamon roll on the inside (although she would never admit this to anyone), came into your life like a hurricane. Her sarcastic side and dark humor was one of the things you noticed right away, followed by those musky green eyes, capable of grounding and keeping you in your toes with just one look. How you got her to agree to date you after hooking up one night, is still something you have troubles believing it but here you are, sharing an apartment with her, a dog named Fanny (which she got to name) and just a week away of your three year anniversary… the one where you plan on proposing.

You got the ring ready, specially custom made to your request, paid by Tony (as annoying he can be, he’s been more family to you than your blood family). He squealed (actually squealed) when you told him about your plan for proposing and insisted on being your “best man of honor”.

Finishing your business, you wash your hands and clean your face with cold water, staring at your reflection in the mirror and smiling at the sight of Yelena’s creams and her messy side compared to the organized one of yours. You can’t wait for Saturday to get here soon enough.

The sound of the alarm from your cellphone can be heard through the door, followed by a thud and then silence. You forgot to change it last night, so of course it ringed at 7am disturbing the dreams of the beauty in your bed.

“You better not have broken my phone again Yelena” you try to be serious while walking back to the bed.

“So it’s more important a phone than my sleep time? Okey, I see how it is, pridurok” she says covered in blankets, but you know she’s pouting.

You get back to bed, picking up your phone quickly inspecting it placing it on the nightstand, kneeling in front of her and slowly you take the covers off her face. She’s looking at you with and unreadable expression and you can’t think how it’s so similar to the one her sister often gives you during training sessions.

“No, you’re more important to me love… but this would be the third phone screen you break and I doubt Tony would be happy about it” you said while bopping her nose with your finger.

Yelena looks at you and cracks a tiny smile. You kiss her forehead, standing up you try to leave but her hand at your wrist stops you. You turn to her… only to find her middle finger directed at you.

“Still that damned thing woke me up and you weren’t here, so it deserves the fall” You chuckle as you see Yelena rolls off and pretends going back to sleep.

You go downstairs and start preparing breakfast after turning on the coffee machine. You know Yelena needs a little bit of a kick to fully wake up. While you wait, you open the “just add water pancake mixture” opting to add half milk and half water with a little bit of melted butter for extra fluffiness. After getting the pancakes ready, you go to the fridge to pick some fruit before placing it at the counter to be chopped.

Hearing soft padded steps nearing the kitchen, you grab a plate and put some pancakes on it, grabbing some strawberries and quickly cutting them in four, adding it to the plate along with some blueberries. The coffee pot indicates it’s ready so you grab a blue mug and fill it with the exquisite elixir, snatching some clutter, you place everything except the cup on the table just as Yelena enters the room.

Without a word she grabs the cup form your hands inhaling it before taking a sip. A hum and nod of approval is all you receive before a peck on your lips. Smiling you gather a plate for yourself and proceed to seat with her at the table. You both make small talk while eating before she asks your plans for the day.

“I’m supposed to meet with your sister in about an hour and then lunch with Wands and Bucky. Might get to see Tony in the afternoon though, depending on how my cellphone is” you try to be serious but the smirk on your face gives you away.

“Your phone is fine pridurok, I checked it before coming downstairs”

“Okey, then I shall be back around 6ish. Wanna do something babes? Get advantage of the weekend and that?”

“Maybe”

Before you can propose a plan, Yelena’s phone sounds. She looks at the display before answering.

“Hey mama”

You wave at her and she catches your intention, passing your regards to Melina before leaving the room. You decided to send a quick text to Natasha before texting Tony telling him you’ll meet him quick before heading to your lunch date to pick up the ring.

Cleaning up the table and putting the rest of the pancakes and fruit back on the fridge, you leave the kitchen and find Yelena still talking on the living room. You finish getting ready as you don’t wanna be late with Nat. This might be the most important coffee date you have with her, you know, since you’ll be asking for her little sister hand in marriage, so you don’t want to risk it by making her angry by being late.

Of all of Yelena’s family, Nat is the one you worry must about. She’s so fierce and protective when it comes to her baby sister. Despite being reluctant at first, (she’s your BFF so she knows all your dating history) she approved of you once she saw how happy you made Yelena, not before giving you the scariest shovel talk anyone can give. Melina and Alexei both agreed immediately, both of them giving you a slightly (emphasis on slightly) less frightening talk of “you hurt my baby daughter I won’t hesitate to kill you” talk than Natasha’s. You tried to joke by saying that if you ever hurt Yelena, she would be the first one to chop your head off before them. It didn’t make them laugh.

Grabbing the keys, you check your cellphone to see Tony’s reply consisting of only a thumbs up emoji. Making your way to the living room, you wave in front of Yelena, giving her a quick peck on her lips before whispering a “see ya later babes. Love you” before leaving.

// // //

You can’t help being nervous. In all your life you never imagined thinking of getting married. You liked your space and time alone, you weren’t afraid of intimacy or commitment, but you never quite connected with your past partners in the level you connected with Yelena. Strange thing honestly, considering how you started dating: hooking up after Steve and Peggy’s wedding. You both tried to keep it casual and secret, not wanting to make a huge deal about it. And you were fine with it until one day when you were having lunch with all your friends at Natasha’s place, you saw Yelena and your breath caught in your throat and you knew, you just knew you were in love with her.

“What has you smiling like an idiot?” A raspy voice brings you back to the present.

Noticing just now, Natasha is seated in front of you cup of coffee in her hands. You must have spaced out more than you thought since there is a refilled cup where your last empty one was.

“Yelena” you said it without a doubt, a smile on your lips.

Natasha smiled amused by it. In all of the years she has known you, she never saw you this smitten and happy with someone. And honestly she was happy it was with her baby sister. You both were a cute couple, with their ups and downs, but were still going strong and you both took care of each other.

“So where did you left her? It’s weird to see you without her attached to your side”

“She’s at home. I know she wouldn’t like to be up and out this early being Saturday”

“You asked me for coffee this early on purpose”

It’s meant to be said as a joke but giving the current topic you want to talk with her you don’t laugh.

“I did actually. I wanted to talk with you about something”

Natasha sees the seriousness on your face. She stares you for a little bit before her curiosity gets the best of her.

“Okey”

Your leg stars bouncing and Nat takes notice of it. Your hands grab the cup in front of you to avoid drumming the table with your fingers, a habit you do when your nervous.

“It’s about Yelena”

Nat’s brow furrowed slightly in confusion. You were smiling a few minutes ago so it shouldn’t be nothing bad, right?

“What about her?” You can’t help to flinch a little bit with the hardness of her tone.

Your fingers drum a little on the cup, you open your mouth but no words came out. You sigh.

Nat is silently observing you, giving the benefit of the doubt and actually waiting for you to speak, but since is her little sister you wanted to talk about, she can’t help but get impatient.

You heard her huff in annoyance after what seems seconds but it has been a few minutes, you got lost in your mind again.

“Iwanttoaskforyourpermissiontomarryher” you say in one breath, taking half of your coffee in one gulp and not looking at her.

Natasha blinks in surprise, trying to decipher what you just said. Her mouth opens slightly once she process what you just dropped on her.

“You… you want to marry her. My little sister, Yelena… you want to marry her?”

Finally looking up you see Natasha is a little bit speechless. Something you haven’t seen in like never. You try to gauge her reaction but she’s a master in hiding her emotions, so you opt to answer her honestly any question she might have.

“Yeah, I do”

“Have you proposed to her though?” a fair question.

“No. I wanted to talk with you first”

“Why?”

“You’re her big sister, your blessing is important to me Tasha. I know that we both think that this tradition of asking for someone’s hand in marriage is an archaic thing and that and Yelena would probably get angry if she knew I did this, but you mean a lot to her, she adores you and respects you a lot. I know I could work around your parents but if you were to oppose, I don’t think Yelena would be as happy. Plus you’re my best friend Nat, I care about you”

Natasha stays silent thinking in what you just said. Basically, you gave her a lot of power here, if she were to say no, would you really not propose? She has seen you grow by Yelena’s side and has seen the same with her sister. She knows you never would hurt her.

“So if I would to say no?”

Your stomach hurts at hearing that. You drop your eyes to the table before answering.

“I might postpone proposing but I would still do it”

“You really love her”

“More than anything, I’m in love with her Tasha” the smile on your face and the brightness of your eyes give her all the answers to the questions she might have.

When she found out you were hooking up with Yelena she was so mad and furious with you, more so when you denied it when she confronted you about it. She was on her way to forbid you to see her sister when she caught you both asleep on the couch. Yelena had her head on your chest while you hold her securely in your arms. Both your faces were peaceful and happy.

“When are you planning on doing it?”

You looked up surprised.

“Saturday at-”

“Your dinner anniversary”

“Yeah… how-”

“It’s all I’ve been hearing Lena talk about for the last week, this big dinner plan you have for it and how you won’t tell her what it is, so she doesn’t know what to wear and is a ball of nerves, is kinda annoying actually”

You can’t help but blush at hearing that. You know the Romanoff-Belova sisters are reserved so the fact that Yelena has been gushing about your relationship to her sister has your stomach doing flops and your heart beating harder.

Natasha studies your face and can’t help but smile with you.

“Alright y/l/n, you have my blessing to marry my sister. Don’t fuck it up okey? It’s my baby sister I’m trusting you with”

You are speechless for a moment. You know deep down that she would say yes, but hearing it saying it it’s another thing. You stand up and grab her in a bone crushing hug.

“O…key… need… to breath…”

“Sorry, sorry… thank you Nat, really, you don’t know what it means to me, truly”

“So you have a ring picked yet?”

“Yes. Actually, I’m meeting Tony before lunch to pick it up, wanna come?”

“Of course, I need to make sure my baby sister gets the best of the best”

You laugh and throw the napkin at her, she catches easily but laughs with you. You’re not nervous anymore, at least for the moment.

Now, you only need to ask Yelena… easy right?

#yelena belova x female reader #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x y/n #first work for this fandom #au #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #cross posted on ao3

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anigerrrr · 3 years

Text

Girl’s Talk

Natasha Romanoff x Carol Danvers

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: Kamala is introduced to Yelena, and she’s also the biggest fan of her sister’s ship- CarolNat.

Warning: Fluff, Protective Yelena, Kamala ships CarolNat, Slight Thor/Loki(mentioned)

a/n: Just random pieces written after having my covid vaccine yesterday lol I’m not sure how will Marvel deal with Kamala’s superpower in the upcoming series so I only mention a bit of it. Enjoy!

“Ok, can anyone tell me why we always have a new kid in the compound?”

Yelena puffed as she entered the compound a bit later than usual, and she saw her sister, Carol and an unfamiliar teenager already standing there.

She came over to join them, gazing at the new girl with distrust.

“Yelena, did you just call yourself in the third person?” Carol teased, and she shrugged suggestively to the redhead who actually couldn’t hold her laugh back for this moment.

“Ha, is it some kind of 90’s joke?” Yelena retaliated. Apparently the younger blonde didn’t get enough sleep hours last night, it always resulted in her grumpy reactions to anybody. “If so, Captain, you really need to update your comedy list on Netflix.”

“Hey,” Natasha chuckled amusedly between the two blonde women as Carol protested, “just because I aged slowly, it didn’t mean I’m out of date.”

“In case you wanna know,” Natasha raised one brow and showed her support to the blonde Captain- “She actually likes to watch The Tonight Show during our dinner time.”

-by telling their sort-of secret aloud. It’s not gonna harm the redhead spy herself, though.

“What?” Kamala finally had a chance to let out her voice, “you can’t tell me the mighty Captain Marvel, my idol, watches late-night talk shows when having some spaghetti. It’s simply out of character.”

Carol frowned, “excuse me?”

“Ugh, ok.” Yelena opened her mouth with hesitation. “No, not ok, I don’t get it. Did you just call her- ” her head was pointing to the other blonde woman, “- your idol ?”

“Am I supposed to feel offended?” Carol mumbled nearby Natasha’s ear, lowering her voice to avoid any foreseeable conflict for now.

“Um, yeah.” Kamala rolled her eyes to the much taller woman standing right in front of her, and her voice sounded genuinely fearless. “Can’t you see that? She’s Carol Danvers!”

Natasha grinned back at the blonde woman, and only teased quietly, “see, someone really has a crush on you.”

Carol blushed in the tiniest way, opening her mouth slightly but had no idea what to argue. Our Captain couldn’t even tell if the redhead was seriously jealous. Fantastic.

“So you like the name or the glowing part?” Yelena hummed, and tried to hide the little noises from her stomach out of hunger.

“All of them, I guess?”

“Oh, I got it now.” The younger widow turned to her sister, and was not surprised that Natasha had been checking on her already. “We’re having a superhero fan tour here.”

Yelena wanted to get her breakfast as soon as possible, so she tried to be nice and not to get involved in this duty. “Enjoy your day then, just don’t touch any fluffy things around here. The cat can literally swallow people, and the raccoon will shoot you in the head.”

“What? No!” The brown haired girl shouted, “I’m not here for a tour.”

“Yelena, she’s a new member in the team- ” Agent Romanoff finally introduced, and took a quick glance at Carol with a playful smile. “- another one with super power, yes.”

“…wait, what?”

“Not that kind of power to control thunder like Thor or to trick like Loki- by the way, aren’t they a lovely couple?” Kamala explained a little bit, and suddenly changed the subject triggered by her interest.

“Ugh, it’s not officially announced.” Natasha was surprised to hear the little girl’s words, a status that not many people had learned about- even in the avengers’ team.

Impressed. Yelena stared at the kid and thought, still needed her breakfast, though.

“New kids.” Carol shrugged, “we’re actually talking about tomorrow’s mission.”

The redhead immediately started glaring at the blonde Captain.

“You’re leaving for days? Tomorrow?” And Yelena tiled her head to her older sister. She’d better not be the last person to know this.

Clearly someone had forgotten their domestic plan for tomorrow.

“Well, not ‘for days’, I’ll be back before you know it. At least that was the plan.” Natasha looked a bit…nervous, but not speechless. By her side, the Captain who’s in charge of the mission seemed to be awkward for a minute, and they shared a look of silent communication.

“Yelena, you’re welcomed to- ”

“Uh- uh, no. I’m not interested in being the third wheel in your mission date. Besides, I’ve got my own thing to deal with as well. Just remember to pick me up at 8, and feed Fanny before you leave the house, it’s your turn.” Yelena shook her head quickly like nothing’s gonna convince her, and the other young superhero goggled upon hearing some keywords.

“Wait, you two are dating? ” Kamala asked in excitement, “oh my god, CarolNat is real.”

“Well, it’s- we’re…” the blonde Captain suddenly stuttered, “we’re close, yes. That’s true.”

Natasha rolled her eyes back to show her feedback towards Carol’s explanation, and refused to make any eye contact with her sister who just accidentally sold their privacy to the newest avenger.

“Oh, I thought that was your superpower.” Yelena shrugged to the two older women, kind of feeling sorry for the coming out declaration she made for them. “Like, telling the lovebirds in a group of people.”

Kamala gave her a ‘seriously?’ look, “nobody owns a superpower like that.”

“You never can tell.”

“Ok, things got a little tense here.” Carol tried to calm them both down before they made a wrong impression on each other. “It’s time for breakfast, how about I make you guys some really nice omelette?”

“Oh God.” Natasha sighed exaggeratedly, but she didn’t deny the purpose. When Carol turned, she just pushed her sister’s shoulder and forced the younger blonde to follow. “C’mon Yelena, you love eggs.”

“I never said that.”

“Wow, Captain Marvel is making me an omelette…am I dreaming?”

“Never had a nightmare before?”

“Yelena!”

“So…”

A half hour later, Yelena was staring at her plate and trying to figure out why it’s not like a normal ‘omelette’ she had seen on television. “In what universe an omelette looks like this?”

“Well, it’s not that bad.” Natasha took a bite of hers, perfectly ignoring the fact that it resembled more scrambled eggs rather than an omelette.

“Stop being rude- ”As they both saw Carol and Kamala on their way to the table, Natasha squeezed her sister’s hand and ordered softly, “and tomorrow I promise to buy you the expensive tweed coat you always stare at in the display window.”

“Huh, it’s exactly why I really can’t stand to undergo a mission with you two. Deal.” Yelena sounded mockingly but she didn’t mean to embarrass her anyway. “You turned weak, Natasha. You knew it, right?”

Natasha only hummed in russian as a response (something like ‘you’d know that when we spar’ ), and grinned when Carol sat next to her as usual. The blonde Captain was finally done with cooking everyone’s breakfast and Kamala had surprisingly finished hers, only sipping a glass of apple juice.

“So, how did you meet?” Said Kamala, aka the newest avenger with extraordinary attention to the secret pairs around the base, “how long have you been dating- I wanna know the whole story.”

“Here we go.” This was the best reaction for Yelena to ‘stop being rude’.

“Well, first of all, I won’t deny or admit any statement of it…” Natasha cleaned her throat and started, her sweet butter sandwich was left on the plate.

“We’re apparently colleagues.” Carol promptly interrupted with a shrug, which made the redhead widen her green eyes in disbelief.

“I met her after the snap, and during the five years, the feelings just kinda grew on us.” The blonde smiled gently as she took Natasha’s hand, “after the end of the war, we started hanging out once a month like normal people, later on it began to be once a week as my main works in space were separated to the new-trained protectors and the Guardians. That’s it.”

Kamala was literally speechless, looking like she just got the best Christmas gift for this year.

“If you kiss her like those cliched soap operas now, I’m gonna kill you both.” Yelena did like the eggs, but obviously she wouldn’t say it. Instead, she ate it up and mumbled her statement after hearing the shorter version of their romance.

“Yelena.” Natasha raised one of her brows, reminding her who’s in charge on this table. And their deals .

“Alright, just kidding.”

“Can I take a picture when you do that?” Kamala immediately stood up and asked Carol, it seemed no one actually cared about the debriefing of tomorrow’s mission anymore. “-when you kiss Black Widow.”

Her Captain was flushed, “w-what?”

To save her partner from the short circus situation, Natasha rolled her eyes and pulled Carol’s arm all in a sudden. All Kamala could do was open her mouth widely in amazement, and tried hard not to scream like a fan who was completely out of control.

Natasha left a rough kiss on the corner of Carol’s lips, her blood red lipstick stained slightly on it.

“Satisfied?” She said with an impeccable grin, leaving the flummoxed blonde behind her.

“This place is harmful for my heart.” - the newest superhero from Jersey City claimed.

“You’re gonna get used to it, kid.” - and the former widow from the red room finally agreed with her.

“I should have stopped leaking the key information.” - the blonde Captain knew it deeply that Natasha’s not gonna take it easy on her tonight.

#carol danvers x natasha romanoff #captain marvel #black widow #carol danvers #natasha romanoff #carolnat #kamala khan #yelena belova #brie larson

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adhd-disaster-willie · 3 years

Text

you’re the one that brings the sun; chapter 5/6

chapter 1, 2, 3, 4

warnings: swearing

word count: 2,757

notes: okay so this update took a while because I’ve been busy with school and writers block has been kicking my ass, but I think it’s worth it :)))

---

It was established in August that at least once a month, Alex will receive a phone call informing him to be at Julie’s house in ten minutes for a mandatory slumber party. It’s endearing sure, but he would like some sort of warning other than Luke calling him and saying that if he doesn’t show up as soon as possible, he’ll paint his drumsticks neon green. So that’s how Alex ends up sitting cross legged on Julie’s bed, putting Reggie’s hair into a bunch of tiny braids and watching The Princess Diaries for what’s probably the hundredth time.

“Lilly is definitely a lesbian,” Flynn says through a mouthful of popcorn.

Alex hums in agreement and Julie nods. “If only this movie weren’t made in 2001,” Julie says mournfully.

“Y’know I always thought that Joe was gay,” Alex admits. “Up until he dances with the queen.”

Reggie attempts to look up at Alex, earning an offended squeak from the latter. “Really?”

“Yes, now will you please stay still, I only have one more left.”

“Ok but there is no way Mia’s mom is straight!” Flynn says.

Julie seems to mull it over for a bit. “She does live in an old fire station. And artists are never straight.”

“Yea, like Willie!” Luke pipes up, sitting up from his position hanging halfway off the bed. “Willie’s not straight.”

“We should start a betting pool on how long it takes for Luke to bring up Willie,” Alex mumbles, his cheeks flushing pink. He ties off Reggie’s final braid and pats his head approvingly. “You look like a real princess.”

“Do I?” Reggie grins up at him with a bit of a twinkle in his eye and Alex chuckles.��

“No subject changing,” Luke protests. “How’s Willie doing?”

“Still a pining idiot,” Flynn answers with a cheeky smile.

“I’m trying to watch the movie.” Alex shoves at Luke’s face and slides down off the bed to sit on the floor beside Reggie.

“You’ve seen this movie a million times,” Luke points out. He leans down so his head is hanging off the edge of the bed and smirks mischievously at Alex, who is pointedly refusing to look at him. “Aleeeex,” Luke whines. “Don’t be a buzzkill.”

“Alice, please,” Flynn says. Alex shoots her a look seeping with betrayal and Flynn raises their hands defensively. “I haven’t seen Carrie in a few days!” They protest. “I need drama.”

“Drama?” Alex asks. “Or blackmail material?”

Flynn shrugs, which only serves to cement what Alex was thinking. “Yea, nope. It’s not like anything has even happened since-” He cuts himself off, realizing his mistake and preparing for the onslaught of questions.

“Since!?” Luke cries. “Since what?!” He grabs Alex’s face roughly and looks at him with wide eyes. “Since what, Alex?”

“Nothing!” Alex squeaks, wrenching himself from Luke’s grasp. “Nothing! It was- let go of my fanny pack! Julie stop filming!!!” Alex swats at Luke’s hands and attempts to leap forward to grab Julie’s phone, but ultimately fails.

“I’ll let go if you tell me,” Luke teases in a sing song voice, his grin only growing the more Alex fights.

“Fine! If you just- sorry Reg the puppy-dog eyes only work on Luke and Bobby.” Reggie sighs in disappointment and Alex finally manages to get Luke off of him, huffing angrily and brushing nonexistent dust from his hoodie. “You’re a barbarian,” he mutters.

“Well?”

Alex responds to Julie’s prompting with a long-suffering sigh. “You have to promise not to make fun of me,” he says. They don’t promise. The movie is long forgotten as Alex’s friends gather around him, looking all too fascinated by his latest embarrassment. “He well… don’t laugh, ok. He wore a crop top last week and I tripped on my own feet and scraped up my knees.”

Flynn raises an eyebrow. “Nuh uh, there’s more, spill.”

Alex groans, burying his face in his hands. “They got all worried and started putting bandaids on my knees and I almost fainted. Then- please don’t make me say this,” Alex pleads, looking to Julie as if she’s his last hope. She shakes her head. “When they finished lecturing me I just looked at him and said ‘nice shirt’ and ran off. Nice shirt??? What is wrong with me?”

“Wait a minute,” Julie says, gesturing for Alex to pause. “You just… ran off? Where?”

Alex doesn’t say anything.

“I’ll paint your drumsticks if you don’t tell us,” Luke threatens. The difficulty is that Alex doesn’t doubt him one bit, and knows that Julie has a healthy supply of paint in a drawer just a few feet away from Luke.

Alex mumbles something under his breath and Reggie pokes him.

“Sorry what was that? Speak up.”

“Orange, I’ll paint them the ugliest shade of orange ever.”

“I went and hid in my closet!” Alex blurts. “For like an hour. I am never going to live that down.”

“That’s… incredibly ironic,” Julie laughs.

“I’m telling that story at your wedding.”

“Reginald, don’t even think about it!” Alex kicks Reggie lightly and raises his hand to flip off the other three, who are all dying of laughter. “I hate all of you. I need new friends.”

“Good luck with that.” Flynn pats Alex’s head; he can practically hear their stupid smirk.

“Fuck off.”

“No.”

---

Alex wakes up with his foot in Luke’s face, one arm thrown over Julie, his face in Reggie’s neck, and a very giggly Flynn perched on the end of the bed taking pictures. He sits up and murmurs sleepily, squinting in the oddly hazy room.

It’s gray and gloomy outside, quite fitting for mid-November, but far from Alex’s ideal weather. He’s always been partial to spring, when it’s not too hot and not too cold and not always cloudy and sad.

Flynn hops off the bed and onto Julie’s chair, where she spins a couple times before turning her phone to show Alex. “This is gonna be my new lockscreen,” they giggle. Alex stares at the photo, baffled as to how his arm was bent like that.

Breakfast is heaps of pancakes and fresh coffee (bless you, Ray) that for a moment, Alex considers just dumping over his head. Julie is curled around Luke for warmth throughout the whole morning and Flynn makes a point to gag at least once every 5 minutes. Alex knows she’s happy for them though, they finally got their act together a little over a week ago and at least this is better than the pining. Alex doesn’t say that though, because it will only get him a lecture on how he is not one to talk about pining.

Alex almost thanks a god he doesn’t believe in anymore when the rain outside doesn’t seem to make any moves into thunderstorm territory. Willie hates thunderstorms. He stays cocooned in a blanket until noon, but eventually Tía Victoria shoos them all out, claiming that Julie will never finish her homework with them all glued to her.

Alex is sopping wet when he finally arrives at his dorm, sadly no car can go right up to the entrance of the dorms. The first thing Alex notices when he walks in is the candles, and the second thing is the haphazardly thrown together fort in the middle of the room, which he narrowly avoids tripping over. “Willie?” He asks, lifting what he assumes to be the entrance and raising an eyebrow at Willie, who is grinning at him and shining a flashlight in his face.

“Ok, get that out of my eyes.” Alex clamps a hand over the light and Willie sticks his tongue out. “Did the power go out?” Alex asks, worry etching over his face. He can’t have all their food being ruined, with Alex living off his coffee shop job and Willie off of the occasional commission and odd check from his eccentric uncle.

Willie shakes their head. “Nope.”

“So why the… candles?”

“It’s fun!” Willie pulls Alex into the fort, stumbling back and just barely evading them toppling over each other into a quite compromising position. Willie presses his back against the couch and pats the space next to him. “It’s like you’re a little kid again.”

“Luke used to love making forts,” Alex admits. “We would move all the furniture in his living room and make the absolute worst blanket forts you can imagine. Like seriously, it’s no wonder none of us went into architecture.”

“Really? I can totally see you as an architect”

“That’s…”

“I’m joking, hotdog,” Willie giggles, bumping their shoulder together. He has a tendency to raise his eyebrows when he’s amused; Alex finds it all too endearing. Accompanied with the way their eyes crinkle when the laugh and the soft candlelight leaking through the thin blankets and draping over his features, Alex thinks he’s having trouble breathing.

“I was drawing you, y’know,” Willie says softly after a few minutes of silence.

“Hmm?”

“The day we went stargazing, I was drawing you. You’re- you’re a good muse.”

“Oh.” Alex’s stomach flutters. “I uh… thank you.” He gives Willie a hesitant smile before turning to focus on the flickering light. His breath feels weighted, like every exhale means something, but he can’t quite pinpoint what. There’s a light breeze whistling through the crack in the door and Alex closes his eyes for a moment, pretending that it’s wrapping around him and holding him close. Alex didn’t get much affection as a child; his parents had always been very stiff. Sure, they loved him, but they weren’t that good at showing it aside from a rough shoulder squeeze and tight smiles so full of expectations. When he came out, even the snippets of affection faded; no more of his mother fixing his hair or giving him a quick kiss on the forehead when he was sick. Two months after his coming out, they just… kicked him out. He came home to find his belongings shoved carelessly into a trash bag or two and that was that. Luke more than made up for the lack of physical affection, but Alex knows that there will always be something missing.

Wide awake, Alex lets his head fall onto Willie’s shoulder. This time with care and attention, hesitancy. He hears Willie suck in a sharp breath but then the tension melts from their shoulders and fizzles into nothingness. For a moment, there is nothing but them and the pattering of rain against the windows.

“Lets go for a drive.”

Alex looks up expecting Willie’s usual carefree and impish grin, but he’s taken aback by his wistful expression and something bursts in Alex’s chest. Something that may be instinct and may be just an overwhelming surge of emotion.

“Okay.” His voice is barely a whisper, a single wisp of smoke snaking from a blown out candle.

The air is damp and the rain is coming down hard; Alex reaches a cautious hand out beyond the awning and winces at the downpour. But Willie is wiggling his stupid eyebrows in the way that makes Alex’s face heat and he can’t say no as Willie drags him through the wet grass, shrieking with laughter and going slower than necessary to relish in the water pouring down from the sky in torrents. They’re soaked to the bone and breathless, overflowing with mirth, by the time they reach Alex’s car and clamber into the seats. Right after a brief argument about who’s driving of course. (“You will not be touching my steering wheel with your grimy paint hands, William.” “Says you.”) So Alex is driving.

Willie has their hands pressed to the window, breath fogging up the glass and sending them into a fit of giggles every time. Alex switches on the radio and there’s a song playing that he recognizes but couldn’t sing along to; something soft and low, like lilting waves. Willie knows it though. And they’re singing. Oh. They’re singing. Alex almost has to pull the car to a stop and put his head in his hands because Willie never told him he could sing.

Willie’s voice is low and slightly raspy, but not in a bad way. Alex knows he’s heard this song before, but he’s 100% certain that this is his first time really hearing it. And it’s beautiful. Or maybe it’s just Willie. It’s probably just Willie.

Alex brings the car to a slow stop in the parking lot of an odd gas station that always seems to be closed. He doesn’t turn it off though, because he would rather die than have Willie stop singing. He leans his head back and breathes, certain he’s inhaling Willie’s voice. Willie’s voice which is like sparks on his skin, like smoke that crowds his lungs and opens his soul for the very first time. He feels a sense of mourning when the song stops and something else comes on, something peppier and sickeningly sweet. He switches the radio off.

“I didn’t know you could sing.” Alex isn’t even looking at them; he’s fiddling nervously with the strap of his fanny pack.

Willie smirks proudly. “You learn something new every day.”

“Yea.”

Willie traces a heart in the fog on the window and lets it sit there. Then he unbuckles his seat belt and pokes Alex’s shoulder. “Hey ‘Lex, come on.”

“No.” Alex shakes his head vigorously. “No. We’re already soaking wet and-”

“Hot dog.”

And damn it, the nickname may be so incredibly stupid but Alex has such a weird soft spot for it. He groans dramatically, making a point to wring out his hair, which is already mostly dry at this point. “You’re the worst. What if it starts thundering?”

Willie shrugs. “I have my noise cancelling headphones. And you can-” they cut themself off.

“I can what?”

“Nothing,” Willie squeaks. “Please. Please.”

So Alex climbs reluctantly from the car and stands in the parking lot looking far from amused. “You owe me.”

Willie laughs loudly, grabbing both of Alex’s hands and spinning him in an aimless circle, pulling them both into a dance to music that’s only in his head. They twirl Alex around several times, and Alex is certain that he’s going to actually fall over and faint. Willie raises his face to the sky and squints, letting the rain soak him without care. Alex is in awe and how open and free Willie is, like nothing can ever go wrong and if it does they’ll always be flying. He doesn’t realized they’ve stopped dancing until Willie turns to him with a curious expression. Their eyes rake over his face and Alex realizes he’s staring. But for once, he doesn’t look away. And for the first time, he sees the corner of Willie’s mouth quirk up and their eyes flick to his lips and even linger there for a brief second.

The rain doesn’t seem to have plans to stop anytime soon, and they’re both shivering and wet and Willie’s hair is dangling in front of his face. Alex reaches out and tucks it behind his ear, both of them holding a breath, waiting. It’s right there, right in front of him, and Alex is inches from just grasping it and clutching it to his chest. Willie takes a step forward so their faces are just inches from each other and Alex can feel their breath against his cheeks. He exhales shakily and raises one hand to cup Willie’s cheek, his touch feather light and afraid. Willie leans into the contact and grins upwards, their nose wrinkling fondly. He gives a silent nod and for the first time in years, Alex takes the plunge.

Their first kiss is soft and slow and Willie tastes like rain and green tea. Alex smiles against their lips, a breathy laugh escaping his own. He’d think this is a dream, but no section of his imagination could conjure something even a fragment as magical as this. They’re in the middle of a parking lot, cold and wet, and yet Alex feels the warmest he ever has. Alex is hesitant to pull away, but he does, just barely. Their foreheads stay resting against each other, like breaking apart would break them. Then it comes crashing into him. Alex just kissed Willie. He just kissed Willie. And Willie kissed him back! Holy shit!

“Wowza.” Wowza? What the fuck Alex?

Willie breaks into joyous laughter, throwing his head back and clutching Alex’s shoulders. And Alex laughs with him; he buries his face in the crook of Willie’s neck, his heart full to bursting. Wowza indeed.

---

notes: ...I did say I was thinking about a Willex rain kiss. I actually wrote like half of chapter 6 a while ago so I might be able to post it tomorrow.

chapter 6

taglist: @thatsanewflavor @spookiest-sapphic @dovesgrangers @julie-n-phantoms @frostknyte @thegaylink @nervousmiracletrash @crummycassidy @fairygclds @reallyintrospectivepeople @madsmax-37 @swamp-acad @kat-maybe-not @sunsetcurve123 @lookingthroughmirrors @queer-fandom-enby @over-under-through1 @willex-n-waffles @caliibee @stars-soph @herequeerandcantdrinkbeer @nickalicious @andwhenwepart @maizsnex @fanofthepod @heademptynothoughts @thunderstorm-symphony @julieandthephantomsandme @i-spit-on-fire

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fic #willex #willex fic #ytotbts #you're the one that brings the sun #willow writes #willie jatp #willie nolastname #willie wilbur williamson #alex mercer #julie molina #reggie peters #luke patterson #flynn jatp #flynn nolastname

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years

Text

Fanny Pack Sexiness (Nessian Smut)

Prompt: *sensually unclips fanny pack* this is weird, i know. but i just saw a tweet and i thought if anyone could write this, it would be you.

Laughed so hard when I read this. If this isn’t Nessian, I don’t know what is. NSFW warning because I do love a fanny pack moment ;)

_________________________________________________________

Nesta glared out the window, keeping her unspoken vow to not look over at the atrocity that was her boyfriend.

Well, that wasn’t not fair.

The boyfriend himself was actually pretty nice to look at.

Broad shoulders, a tall frame filled with meaty muscle, curly brown hair, and golden eyes made him interesting enough, she supposed.

But it was what the bastard had chosen to wear that had driven her insane all day.

The monstrosity was strapped around his waist currently, and she could’ve sworn it was laughing up at her.

Consider this the first and last time she would ever travel with him.

Because since it wasn’t obvious enough they were American, Cassian had chosen to wear a fanny pack. Over an I <3 LONDON shirt. Which he’d paired with khakis.

He looked like the cover of a tourist’s guide made for forty year-old, single men who lived with their mothers.

And she knew it was at least partly her fault he was dressed so stupidly, but she refused to apologize.

Last night, they’d been heading out to dinner, when she commented that almost always, he wore all black. Honestly, it wasn’t even a complaint, considering she was guilty of the same thing.

Why bother trying to put together prints and fabrics and colors, when black looked so nice on her?

Anyway. She hadn’t been complaining. Teasing, but not complaining.

But noooo. He’d immediately gotten that annoying, competitive look in his eyes that both made her smile and want to strangle him.

“What would you like me to wear, Nesta?” he’d asked, golden eyes practically glowing.

She’d sighed, probably making things worse. “I’m just saying, we look a little goth when we’re together.”

Cassian had just smiled down at her, then walked out of their room. She hadn’t thought any more of it when he’d slipped back in later that night, but then this morning, when he’d gotten dressed in the bathroom and opened the door with a flourish, she’d almost hit the floor.

He was not built for fanny packs and khakis.

He was built for... well, he was built to be naked all the time, but since that would probably get them sent back to the states, tight black shirts and jeans was a decent second option.

Plus, as if it weren’t bad enough already, he’d been adding to the ensemble all day, building up to the horrendous outfit she was currently avoiding looking at.

His faded combat boots had been replaced with flip flops. His hair was tucked under a very large hat with a Big Ben outline across the front. He’d even stopped to buy a fucking old-fashioned pipe from the William Blake exhibit they’d gone to see.

He was trying to drive her crazy.

But little did he know, she had a few tricks up her sleeve. After three years together, she knew how to drive him crazy, too.

So she’d plotted and schemed all day. And as they rode back to their hotel in the cab, it was finally time for it to come into play.

Trying to be discrete, she nodded at the driver.

Cassian’s eyes shot to her as the man slammed on the brakes. It had costed her twenty Euros, but seeing the look of shock on her boyfriend’s face was so worth it.

Especially as she shouted, “Drive him to the other side of the city and kick him out!”

And jumped from the cab.

It was still moving a little, but she’d been prepared and hit the ground at a run.

Manic laughter came out of her as Cassian turned around in the now-speeding cab, shouting something unintelligible back at her.

He wanted to dress like a tacky tourist and drive her crazy?

Fine.

She’d just have to show him what he was missing out on.

A little over an hour later, the door to their hotel room swung open, hitting the wall angrily.

“That asshole took me halfway to fucking Essex, then had the audacity to charge me for the ride. Next time you have someone kidnap me, at least pay the fee, woman! I swear-”

Whatever he was about to say lodged in his throat as he took a look at what she was wearing.

It was all new, and his eyes took in every piece of the wardrobe with a predatory gleam that sent her toes curling. But she acted unaffected, even as she bent down to fix the strap of her very high, very uncomfortable shoes.

“What’s going on?” he asked, voice rough.

Straightening, she shrugged and fluffed her hair. “I’m going to dinner.”

“You mean we’re going to dinner.”

Finally.

Nesta turned towards her boyfriend, enjoying the way his eyes dipped to the almost indecent amount of cleavage on display.

She traced her eyes over his entire rumpled, touristy outfit. “I’m not going in public with you while I look like this and you look like that.”

His eyes narrowed as he finally caught on to what she’d done. “I’ll change then.”

It was a struggle not to laugh. “Well, you seemed so intent on replacing your wardrobe, I figured I’d help you out and dumped your suitcase.”

That was a lie. It was safely hidden down at the front desk.

“You did what?”

Ignoring the question, she said, “You’re welcome. And since you can neither change nor go like that, I guess I’ll just see you later.”

Making her way to the door, she was abruptly stopped by a hand smacking into the wall closest to her, an arm now blocking her path. “Nesta Archeron, you are not going out looking like a goddamn supermodel while I sit here with my thumbs up my ass.”

“How you fill the alone time is irrelevant to me, Cassian.”

His other hand made its way to the wall, too, caging her in.

“I know you wouldn’t throw my clothes out. Where are they? Tell me, and we’ll go to dinner.”

She shrugged, resolve to keep the secret building by the second.

She was aware they were both a little competitive, but she didn’t care. She was winning this, one way or the other. He’d admit he’d been wrong to dress like an idiot today, then--and only then--she’d give him his clothes back.

“I know what you’re doing,” he told her, the tone of his voice proving that it was working.

He was suddenly so close she couldn’t think about anything else.

Even dressed in head to toe tacky, he somehow managed to suck all the air out of her lungs.

One hand turned his hat backwards so the brim wouldn’t poke her, and he leaned in close enough to run his nose down her neck.

“Tell me, Nesta.”

“No.”

His teeth nipped at her skin, and she shivered. “Do I need to fuck it out of you?”

Gods, yes. Please.

That hadn’t been her plan at all, but her body was more than on board with it.

Except there was a bit of a problem.

“You are not fucking me with a fanny pack on, hate to break it to you.”

Cassian pulled back far enough to wink at her, then his mouth was on hers, dominating her in the way that she’d only ever let him do. He pressed her against the wall, chest tight against hers, as he slipped his tongue in her mouth.

Hands on her waist lifted her, and then she was being thrown halfway across the room onto the neatly-made bed.

Propping herself up on her elbows, she glared over at him.

“I was being serious, Cassian. You’re not getting any while you’re dressed like Uncle Sam.”

He swaggered over to the foot of the bed, the comment not at all impacting his confidence.

“Allow me to remedy the problem then, princess.”

The hat’s the first to go, and it was a relief to see his unruly hair finally free. She heard the slap of his flip flops on the floor and figured he kicked them off, too. Cassian tugged the horrible, bright yellow “I <3 LONDON” shirt over his head, then stared at her, eyes narrowed.

“I’m keeping the fanny pack.”

It was adorable how wrong he was.

Raising an eyebrow, Nesta leaned back and let her thighs fall open, keying him into the fact that she’d somehow forgotten to put on underwear tonight.

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t move to take off the damn pack.

So she ran a manicured nail over her bottom lip, then slipped it in her mouth and sucked on it. She was pretty sure Cassian was about to pass out as she released it with a pop, then brought it between her legs.

“Nesta.”

“Hmm?” she responded, the sound drawn out and breathy as she pushed the finger inside herself.

“I like the fanny pack.” He sounded so sad, it was almost comical. Like a kid on Christmas who’d just been told Santa hadn’t come.

Too bad.

“Then stand there and watch.”

Oh, he did. His eyes were intent on her hands, both the one between her legs and the other that made it’s way to her breast.

She rolled a nipple between her fingers and groaned, and he leaned down to fist the sheets at the end of the bed in his hands. “Fuck.”

Nesta refused to give first. Absolutely refused.

And she knew what it would take for him to give in. So she added another finger, back arching off the bed, and worked herself until she was so close she couldn’t stay still.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the comforter tight enough to threaten the strands, but it wasn’t that that forced him to lose their little battle.

It was the sight of her coming undone before him.

She moaned, and it might’ve been his name that fell from her lips, as release found her. When she heard the strangled, creative curse he let out, she knew she’d won.

Forcing her eyes open, she watched as he finally unhooked the fanny pack and let it drop to the floor.

It was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.

Cassian quickly kicked off his hideous khakis, then prowled up her body, dropping little love bights on her thighs, her hips, her breasts.

“That was so hot,” he groaned as he settled between her thighs, bracing himself on his elbows.

“That was the idea, idiot.”

He stopped for a moment, pulling back to give her a sour look. “I think I’m going to make you apologize for that.”

Before she could tell him there was a fat chance of that happening, he pushed into her. Nesta gasped, and his mouth was suddenly on hers, absorbing the sound.

After a brief moment to adjust, his hips grew rough against hers, the grip he had on them almost bruising, but she didn’t care.

“Fuck, Cass,” she groaned, arching into his touch as he drew little circles on the bundle of nerves between her legs.

He picked up speed, pounding into her so hard she started shifting up the bed until he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, keeping her in place.

Release started building up in her, and she could tell it would be almost too intense when it crested. But just before she got to find out, he slowed his rhythm, swirling his hips slowly against hers.

An indignant, hateful sound left her mouth, and he pulled back enough to smirk down at her.

“Say it,” he commanded, eyes like molten caramel as they watched her hips try to gain more friction. “Say you’re sorry, and I’ll give you what you want.”

“Fuck you,” she panted, barely resisting the urge to punch him. “You insufferable, arrogant bastard.”

“Not exactly what I want to hear, but close.”

A maddeningly slow circle of his hips had her regretting ever going out with him.

Another had her planning his murder.

Yet another had her cursing the day he was born.

“Say it, Nesta. You know you want to.” He dipped his head to kiss the base of her throat.

Her body was so strung out it was a miracle she didn’t burst into tears, but she somehow managed to hold off for another few minutes.

But then he grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head and all but growled, “Just fucking say it. Say it so I can fuck you like you deserve.”

And she was just desperate enough that she said, “I’m sorry I called you an idiot, you horrible asshole.”

He smiled down at her, and she glared. “Such beautiful words.”

“Cassian, I swear-”

The words became lost in her throat as he finally, finally started moving again, somehow harder and quicker than before.

Release immediately crashed into her, and she moaned as she drew tight around him.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and even though she currently hated him, the words just made the release that much sweeter.

Especially as he didn’t stop. Her body was trembling underneath his, but he kept going, even dipping his head to kiss his way down to her breasts.

His tongue swirled around the peak of one, and she groaned loudly as the wave inside her seemed to crash once more, leaving her scattered and broken in the aftermath.

Cassian finally followed her lead, collapsing on top of her and pressing her into the mattress below as he said her name in a helpless, loving sort of way.

Their breath was uncontrolled and loud, and it took a few minutes before either of them could speak.

Then he asked roughly, “Now, where’d you hide my shit?”

“Front desk,” she panted, pushing her hair off her forehead with a tired hand.

He drew back, looking over her partially-clothed body in a satisfied, male way that made her smile. “I really like that dress, in case it isn’t obvious. Want me to go change so we can eat something?”

Before she could respond, his mouth was at her ear, hot breath raising goosebumps across her skin. “Or do you just want to eat here?”

Suddenly, food was the last thing on her mind.

Her hands found their way to his hair as she drew him back down to her.

“Just get it tomorrow,” she murmured, lips finding his again. “And never wear that fanny pack again.”

_________________________________________________________

Like I said, I had WAY too much fun writing this hahaha. Kinda really loosely based on when Joey (Friends) went to London and dressed like a tourist :)

Tags: @sjm-things @santas-dwynwen @thebitchupstairs @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @highqueenofelfhame @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #cassian x nesta #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acowar #acofas #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #nesta x cassian #nesta x cassian fanfiction

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dex-xe · 3 years

Text

BBC Ghosts x Eurovision

No one asked for this (and I’ve already seen a few people discussing this but haven’t seen anyone go into much detail) but here are some headcanons about the ghosts watching Eurovision 2021!! Eurovision has been one of my special interests since I was a little kid so combining it with my current special interest just seems right!!

(Also pls comment your own headcanons or even better send them to my inbox AND also send new headcanon topics for us to chat about cause I’ve missed doing that!!)

- Firstly it’s definitely Mike’s doing,, Alison jokes it’s a bit tacky and kinda cringe and Mike is *deeply* offended insisting the tack is what makes it fun.

- Alison also really enjoys it but also enjoys teasing Mike about his affinity

- Alison shows the ghosts a few YouTube clips of old years

- Kitty, Mary, and Humphrey are all well up for watching straight away,, also Pat but we’ll talk about him in a minute.

- Robin doesn’t really get the point (countries are a stupid idea according to him so having a country based competition where people actually get serious about it is just daft).

- Thomas and Fanny both hate the clips they’re shown and call it the “lowest form of entertainment” they’ve ever seen.

- The Captain is also above it... or so he says but he finds his foot tapping along to Emmilie De Forest and is *horrified* at himself

- Julian is straight away racist,, a comment here about EU bureaucracy, another snipe there about Russia. Alison shuts his complaining down very quickly and tells him he can’t say anything he wouldn’t be happy someone saying about the UK or else his phone privileges will be taken away.

- Pat is the only ghost who has seen Eurovision before (Julian has always refused on principle).

- He used to watch it with his family and put on a proper spread for everyone (cause we all know Pat was the family cook). I’m talking mini sausage rolls, tiny sandwiches, a cheese and pineapple hedgehog (totally not what my family does for Eurovision every year... hmmm) and then also a trifle cause it’s the most English pudding ever and you gotta support the home side.

- (I’m hungry,, can you tell??)

- Once Alison has explained to them how the show works, most of them agree to watch - Thomas once he learns of the beautiful women competing and Fanny the same with the men.

- The Captain however begins taking it very seriously once he starts to realise the tactical elements of it,, while he likes the performances, he spends the entire afternoon rewatching previous years scoring segments making mental notes of what gets support and who votes for who.

- The evening comes round and everyone gathers to watch in the TV room.

- The second the flag parade starts everyone is engrossed - even Fanny can marvel at the spectacle of it.

- (I’m not gonna talk about every performance cause Jeez that’s long but here are what I think everyone’s favourites would be.

- Robin really loves Finland and Italy,, anything loud and rocky he’s straight up off the floor and jumping along (same Robin, same) but he falls completely silent and watches in awe at the Spanish entry because of the giant moon (he then also asks Alison to buy a huge moon for the living room - she’s says she’ll think about it).

- Kitty is fully rooting for Malta - Lizzo girlboss vibes is what Kitty lives for. It’s also helped that Alison expressed quite an interest for that one as well.

- Thomas is expecting to like the pretty girls but absolutely falls for Switzerland straight away. Curly haired, blouse-wearing emotional guy with incredibly dramatic dancing is just 😍😍 for him (same Thomas,, can’t decide if he’s very attractive or if it’s gender envy or what??).

- Julian supports the UK... he thinks the song is shit but cannot bring himself to compliment anyone else.

- Pat is an Iceland kind of guy (ily dadi,, you were robbed #eurovision2020winners) and he fully finds himself trying to dance along, smiling all the way through their performance. He likes the weirder ones,, the ones were everyone is clearly just having a blast.

- Humphrey likes the emotional ones,, Bulgaria is a favourite. Righttttt up until France - he picked up a little French from his wife, enough to figure out what Barbara’s talking about and is just in tears by the end.

- Mary actually finds herself enjoying the more folky, traditionally European ones. This comes back to my Morris/folk dancing Mary so I feel like she’d appreciate like Ukraine and Russia - also for the like strong woman aesthetic.

- Fanny is abhorred by the outfits and music but does join Julian in his reluctant support of the UK, she instead prefers to mutter her abuses of the skimpy outfits to the Captain.

- The Captain is also drawn in by the emotional ones like Humphrey, specifically France again. However, a shaggy and shirtless Damiano David jumping about the place in eyeliner and tight trousers awakens something in him he didn’t know was there. He’s horrified by the group and the loudness and the outfits and everything but is also very much intrigued in a way that disturbs him.

- Mike also likes Italy quite a bit cause he’s an Arctic Monkeys/Killers kinda guy (he is,, don’t @ me cause me tooooo Mike) and Alison tends to agree with him but also, like I said, agrees with Kitty on the girl power ones.

- Once the scoring starts, the ghosts start getting noisier and talking amongst themselves about the acts and who they would vote for (they’re not allowed to vote cause Alison refuses to pay for her dead housemates to get a vote each).

- The Captain edges closer to the TV as the others talk over his beloved scoring system, completed overshadowing the research the Captain has done.

- It ends with the Captain sat cross legged in front of the TV with Humphrey in his lap explaining precisely what was happening to Humphrey.

- When it gets towards the end everyone hushes up and they all watch as Italy win. Most of them celebrate.

- Fanny is greatly disturbed by the winners and laments the state of music these days. The Captain vocally agrees but also can’t draw his eyes from the screen.

- Julian has some very choice words for the public for giving the UK a big fat 0.

- Kitty says she’s just glad that everyone had a good time and enjoyed their performances. She also wishes that she could go to the show (don’t we all).

But yeah that’s my collection of headcanons for Eurovision,, once again proving I am a massive nerd who spends too much time putting together little stories.

Anyway,, if you have any more Eurovision headcanons feel free to comment them or send them to my inbox so I can reply and add to them. Similarly, if you have any other shows/music/events/literally anything that you think I should make ghosts headcanons for or that you have hcs for then send them over to my inbox as well!! Love yall stay safe, drink some water if you’ve managed to read this far :)

#bbc ghosts

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peterxwade24 · 3 years

Text

Safety Found in Red Sleeves

Chapter 9

I know it's been nearly four months (just five days shy of four months) and I apologize for that.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy.

Thana watched as all of the patrons of the Iceberg Lounge turned to look as they entered. She knew they weren’t the usual crowd, seeing as how Adrien had on a fanny pack, but since they all had red, or some shade of pink, sleeves Uncle Ozzy would let them in.

“I’m sorry. Do I-” Oswald Cobblepott was, fundamentally, a good man. He would never turn away a child in need and he remembered the children he gave shelter to, so imagine his surprise when the person standing in his place of business was none other than the girl who’d managed to burrow under his skin and earn a special nickname. “Chick? Is that- are you- you’re really here?”

Thana let out a laugh and rushed at the man, throwing her arms around his neck before letting out a louder laugh. “I’m taller than you Uncle Ozzy!”

Oswald laughed before his gaze drifted back to the rest of the teens gathered just inside his place of business. “Chick, as much as I love seeing you, who’re they?”

“Oh!” Thana pulled away from Oswald before turning to her friends. “Well, the tall boy with black hair and frosted tips is Kim, the blonde girl is Chloé, the guy with short brown hair is Nino, the other blond is Adrien, and the short sporty girl is Alix. They’re friends I made in Paris, with my mother’s cousin.”

Oswald smiled and waved. “I see my niece has given you a heads up on the dress code around here.”

Kim nodded, a smile on his face. “Mèo con’s always reminding us that we have to wear red when we’re in Gotham, says she’ll ditch us if we don’t.”

Nino snorted before his eyes drifted over to the turntables. “Do you mind if I?”

Oswald smiled and nodded. “Go ahead, you can’t be any worse than my usual guy.”

Nino drifted over to the turntables and began playing some music.

Chloé strode over to the duo, a smile on her face. “It’s so nice to finally meet Fragolina’s Uncle Ozzy.”

“You must be the one my Chick won’t stop saying reminds her of the second Robin.” There was a twinkle in his eye as he pulled Thana close.

Adrien and Alix followed Kim over to the trio, where Kim draped an arm around Chloé’s shoulders. “That’s a possibility.”

---

Thana and her friends, accompanied by Thana’s Uncles Ed and Jon, toured Gotham. Thana made sure to show her friends around, showing them shortcuts to use to get around if they ever get separated from Madame Bustier. Eventually, the group came to an overgrown looking park.

“Uncle Ed, Uncle Jon. I’m going to show them around, and if we run into her introduce them. If we don’t, could one of you text her to let her know where they’re staying so we can do the introductions there?”

“Of course Mini Todd.” Her Uncle Jon nodded and wrapped an arm around Ed, who smiled softly at the act before nodding as well.

“And we’ll keep an eye out for You-Know-Who. He seems to think that you will come crawling back any day now.” Her Uncle Ed rolled his eyes.

“Thank you both so much.” Thana pressed kisses to their cheeks and smiled. “If we ever come across him, I’ll send an SOS to the group chat and then beat his ass.”

Jon and Ed pressed kisses to her cheeks and smiled. “Be safe.”

“With Aunt Pam? Always.” Thana turned towards the park and took a breath, smelling the local flowers and feeling better than she had since she’d been removed from the streets.

---

Thana led her friends around the park, pointing out all of the Poison Ivy original plants and warning her friends to stay away from them since they hadn’t built up an immunity to the toxin within the plants, with a smile on her face. “Aunt Pam always has a new plant that she’s making, and she’s been sorta kinda courting my Aunt Harley since she first saw her, although Aunt Harley used to be with this abusive asshole. I do wonder what happened to Aunt Harley’s daughter, I know she said she was with her sister but still.”

“Who?” Adrien asked, his hand hovering dangerously over a hybrid Venus Flytrap and Trumpet Pitcher plant, as he looked back at the group.

Adrien’s hand was saved by a wall of Boston ivy that shot up out of the ground. A loud scoff could be heard just beyond the plants before a beautiful head of red hair appeared through the leaves. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to touch wild plants?”

Thana smiled and allowed Kim to pull her into his side. “Are all of your relatives ridiculously attractive people?”

“You’ve met my Ma’s cousin,” Thana shrugged and settled more firmly against his side, “and Jervis Tetch is a rotten man, he’s rotten to the core.” Thana’s head rested against Kim’s chest, her ear close to his heart, as she forced thoughts about her birth father out of her head. “My Uncles and Aunts have this friend, Harvey Dent, who’s a little disfigured. He was in this really bad accident a while back and his face is a little hard to look at. He’s kind of nice, never really been mean to me specifically. I think he’s kinda cool though, he’s got a whole schtick about truth and luck.”

Kim nodded, his eyes flitting over the rest of their friends. Kim had never really had a big friend group, not until Thana joined their class, and then suddenly Kim was always around other people, had a shadow who was nearly as protective of him as his Mẹ was, and suddenly his fledgling crush was one of his best friends. Kim would probably always be thankful that Thana showed up when she did. Without Thana, Kim probably would have always been just a dumb jock who fell for some perfect princess. Kim knew his Mè was as thankful as he was that Thana had shown up in their lives, that Thana had stayed after she learned about the skeletons in their closets.

Kim looked at Thana, and he could see how much lighter she was here in what was the darkest city Kim had ever stepped foot in compared to back home. He could only hope that no matter where she went after Lycee, she would keep in contact with him and his Mè.

---

Thana and her friends left Robinson Park just before dinner that evening, her Uncles Jon and Ed escorting them back to the hotel when Thana’s friends went in for the night. Thana, however, followed her friends in and ate a meal with the class before ducking out of the hotel to go spend the night on the streets.

Thana refused to spend any more time in that building than absolutely necessary. She could still feel the cold lead encased in steel as it pierced her abdomen.

Thana hunkered down in an old spot, one she knew like the back of her hand, and could only hope that she would be safe here. She could only hope that she wouldn’t catch a cold while she slept on the streets.

Thana’s friends, however, slept fitfully that night in their comfortable beds in the hotel. Their thoughts filled with worry about Thana on the streets.

-*-*-*

Jason puttered around the kitchen, his feet encased in his slippers, and let out a yawn. He looked at the counter and noticed the already full coffee pot. He glanced around the room and frowned when he didn’t see anything before the sound of the TV reached him a moment later. “Duke?”

Duke’s head popped up over the back of the couch and he gave Jason a sheepish smile. “Yeah?”

Jason let out a breath and his whole body sagged for a moment. “Just had to make sure. Little twitchy after our late night visitor last night.”

“Who stopped by last night?” Duke stood up off of the floor and walked into the kitchen, sitting down on one of the counters like Tim, Steph and Cass had started doing.

Jason set his coffee mug (which read “World’s Greatest Dad” in a similar red to his helmet) down on the counter with a little more force than necessary. “The Bat.” Jason turned to the fridge to pull out the coffee creamer, but frowned when the only creamer left was the Southern Butter Pecan Pie flavour. He simply reached past and grabbed the milk to add to his coffee instead of creamer. “He wanted to know why I’d ‘taken you as well’. Because he sees you all as things to be taken and not children to be taken care of.”

---

Jason pressed a kiss to Steph and Cass’ foreheads before hitching Damian further up on his hip. “I’ll be back later. I just need to take Damian to finish introducing him to his aunt’s aunts and uncles. Unless of course, you two wish to join us.”

Steph looked at Cass and shrugged. “Timmy’s got work. I think Bart is out running around.”

Cass nodded before mussing up her hair and frowning at her sister in question.

“Kon might be in Kansas, I think he mentioned going to visit Clark’s parents. Cassie is hanging out with Donna, getting advice most likely. Cissie is spending the day with Oliver.” Steph slung an arm around Cass’ shoulders and smiled. “Give us a few minutes to get dressed and then we’ll join you.”

Jason nodded, a small smile on his face. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”

Steph and Cass disappeared into the room they had officially claimed, coming out a few minutes later in coordinated outfits.

Steph walked out wearing a dark purple crop top with black shorts and a black sweater tied around her waist. Her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail and a pair of black sunglasses, easily recognized as Kon’s, sat atop her head.

Cass, who walked out just a step behind Steph, wore a black t-shirt under a black and yellow flannel paired with black high-waisted jeans. Her hair was freely flowing around her shoulders while her wrists sported scrunchies she’d pilfered from Cassie and Cissie.

Jason shook his head at his sisters, Cass who was just a scant six months older than he was but acted so much younger and Steph who was just a few months older than Tim, and smiled. “Any particular reason for the attire today?”

“Just felt like coordinating.” Steph smiled at Jason and slung an arm around Cass. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

---

Jason led the way into the Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, his sisters just behind him and Damian clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping him attached to the planet.

“So, not to question your sanity or anything but, why are we here?” Stephanie’s voice was filled with trepidation and Cass’ arm was wrapped around Steph’s in an act of comfort for both girls.

“One of Thana’s uncles is here right now. He’ll be out soon. Do not compare him to the guy who killed me.” Jason smiled at the guards on duty and continued into the building.

The person at the front desk, a young individual of indeterminate gender with short brown hair and brown eyes, looked up from the clipboard in front of them and deadpanned. “Name of the patient you’re here to see?”

“Jerome Valeska. He should be expecting me, Jason Todd.” Jason smiled and shifted slightly so Damian’s face was more comfortably buried in his neck. “My son and sisters will also be joining us today.”

The receptionist nodded and jotted down the details relayed to them. “Identification?”

Jason handed over his identification card while Steph and Cass pulled out their driver’s licenses. “My son is only nine and only has a passport, will that work?”

The receptionist nodded and smiled. “A passport will work.”

Jason pulled Damian’s passport out of his pocket and handed it over. “We’ll come back to collect those when we’re finished visiting.”

“Have a good visit.”

“Thank you.” Jason smiled and led the way back into the rehabilitation center, his sisters sticking close to his back with their free hands clinging to the back of his shirt just over where Damian’s leg rested, passing the cells filled with the more humane residents of the asylum. Jason paid them no mind, having grown used to their hooting and hollering as he passed on his previous visits.

The little four person group of the family finally reached the rehabilitation center and were let in by one of the orderlies, a bulkier individual dressed in teal scrubs. They all gave the orderly a smile and a nod as they passed into the room.

Jerome was sitting at a table with blank sheets of paper mixed in with sheets of paper filled with writing, and as soon as Jason could read what was on the paper he could see that the pages were filled with apologies and plans to become a better person if for no one other than his favourite niece and her wellbeing. Jerome looked up when Jason started to cast a shadow across his paper. “Hey buddy. You’re standing in my- Jason! What a surprise!”

Jason’s face grew soft, a smile on his face and pulled out the chair next to Jerome to sit down in. Damian was settled into Jason’s lap while Steph and Cass sat down in the chairs next to Jason’s. “How are you today Jerome?”

“I’ve been better.” Jerome had been better, before his parents and his uncle died, before his twin fell apart and brought him down with him. Jerome had been happy in the circus, performing with his family for crowds of people who adored their act, and then everything changed.

“Jerome, I’d like you to meet my son. Damian al Ghul-Todd, nephew of your niece Thana Todd, as well as my sisters, Cassandra Cain and Stephanie Brown.”

“Oh come on Jace. Why’d you have to use last names?” Steph pouted and punched Jason’s upper arm.

“Because now that Uncle Jerome knows of your parentage he’ll be less likely to toss anything you say aside.” Jason smiled as Jerome spoke about himself in the third person.

“What he said.” Jason let out a chuckle. Damian frowned at the lack of attention he was receiving and simply headbutted Jason in the chin. “Yes, yes, we know you’re here Kutlat Saghira. I’m sorry that we’re not paying attention to you.”

Damian pouted and puffed out his cheeks. “Baba, not here.”

Jason smiled at his son, knowing that he was safe in his arms. “I love you my Little Nugget.”

“Baba!” Damian frowned and looked towards the table, effectively ignoring the four other people at the table.

Steph and Cass watched the moment between father and son, sharing only a look before looking back at the duo.

Jerome watched as his niece’s brother smiled at his child, glad that he got to see it but all he really wanted was to see Thana.

“She’s in the city.” Jason’s voice was quiet, barely heard over the lull of the rest of the patients in the center. “She’s in the city and she, she got so big Jerome. She has a really good group of friends. You’d be proud of her.”

Taglist:

@amigotasbien @maribat-is-lifeblood @mystery-5-5 @our-preciousss @mochegato @chocolatecatstheron @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @2confused-2doanything @wannajointhecrabcult @dreamykitty25 @tomanyfandomsonmymind @moonlightstar64 @justafanwarrior @mialuvscats @pheony1882 @pepelachanel @moongoddesskiana @abrx2002 @ladybug-182 @greatcatblaze @thatonecroc @vixen-uchiha @superbwhispersconnoisseur @sauseyyy @susiej1118 @bluesimani @thatonecroc

#maribat #ml crossover #mlb crossover #ml x dc #mlb x dc #Safety Found in Red Sleeves #sfirs

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