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sparkypantaloons · 2 years

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Mosaic

Tim hadn't even particularly liked Jason. They hadn't had the best introduction and nobody could say Jason was easy to get on with. But Bruce loved Jason and Tim loved Bruce. If Bruce needed to keep his promise to make it through, then Tim would make sure that he did.

Batman needed Robin. Even if they aren't who they were.

Bruce is in his study. Tim hasn't seen him in hours now. Doesn't dare try the door, can only assume it's locked.

The older man lasted the morning, at least. Much longer than Tim had thought he would. And if the others noticed the tightness in Bruce's jaw during lunch, they didn't comment on it. Just like nobody commented when Bruce excused himself for the afternoon. Locked himself away in Bruce Wayne's cave, rather than Batman's.

Tim sighs, picks up a lone roller skate. Faded red with silver lightning bolts down the side. It's tiny, must have belonged to Jason when he first arrived at the Manor. Eleven years old and yet to hit a growth spurt.

Tim looks for the second skate. Rummages through the last of the debris in Jason's closet. The dregs of a childhood cut short, gathering dust for far too long.

There are board games and stationery and magazines. Old clothes and broken trinkets and hand-me-downs from Dick. There are more notebooks than Tim can count, with stories and homework and case notes scribbled in them. One of them is full of Jason Peter Wayne and Jason Todd-Wayne written over and over again, like the eleven year old was testing them out. But most of what else is here is just teenage rubble. Little worth keeping. No second roller skate.

Tim places the first carefully on top of the discard pile. They can't give away just one, after all. Clicks a photo on his camera.

It's taken the best part of two days. Many hands make light work, but none of this has been light. Not just the emotional toil, the mental upheaval of clearing out a life cut short. But the physical too. Getting rid of Jason's old bed had nearly done Bruce's back in. Even with Dick and Tim's help. And Jason has— had... so many books, that they've filled five boxes already. Tim knows he'll feel every one of them tomorrow.

The room, once all that was left living of a story half told, is nearly empty now. There's the bottom of the closet left to clear. The last few boxes to take to the charity shop. A few posters still on the wall. Little left to say that Jason Todd-Wayne had lived here. Had a home here. A family. However unconventional.

Tim thinks Bruce is taking it pretty well, all things considered.

He'd eventually agreed to clear out the room, strip it bare, ready for redecorating. End its days as a memorial shrine. He'd been doing well until Tim had found the marks on Jason's door frame. One for Bruce, six foot two, aged— the number has been scribbled out. And one for Jason, five foot four and a half, aged twelve and three quarters.

Bruce had let his fingertips rest over the scrawled handwriting. Had stood there a little too long. Eyes wet and wistful.

He had an old copy of Treasure Island clutched to his chest. Fat with damp and age. A one eyed teddy bear squeezed between his fingers. Threadbare and worn.

Jason had come with these to the Manor and Bruce couldn't bear to see them go.

"A photo." Tim had suggested, gently moving Bruce so he stood against the frame. The last thing they needed after two days of work was Bruce deciding he couldn’t go through with it because of a doorframe. Tim snapped a picture of the older man, still six foot two, next to his name still scrawled in the wood.

The room looks strangely sad once it's empty. The walls a faded mosaic of where posters and furniture have been removed. The carpet still flat where wooden legs have stood.

The windows are open, and the fresh air of the spring evening brings light to the otherwise heavy room.

Tim stands in the doorway, snaps a photo before he leaves. Just as a little insurance. In case Bruce can't bear the changes they've made. Tim will upload it all into a file, create a time lapse of the changes. Somewhere for Bruce to revisit. If he needs to...

The next day the contractors come in. They rip up the carpet and strip the walls. The ensuite gets knocked through and the old light fixtures swapped out ready for new ones.

Bruce is conspicuous only by his absence. When 4pm rolls around and he still hasn't shown, Tim finally caves and checks on his whereabouts. Bruce had promised to see this through, after all. The computer shows that Batman never came home last night. Is holed up in his Crime Alley safe house from the looks of it.

Tim tries not to think about the first time he trailed Bruce there. The way the older man was slumped in the shower. Bleeding and sobbing and delirious with grief. Begging to join his boy. It was a long time ago now, Tim tells himself. Bruce wouldn't be that reckless again. Not after so many years.

Besides, it had been Bruce's promise to change the room. Make it new. Exorcise the ghost of Jason's childhood, that still haunted that corner of the Manor. He had promised to see it through. Even if it was Tim who had become the driving force. Always the one to pull Bruce back from the brink, help him to get the job done right. Batman still needed a Robin. Even if neither of them are who they were.

So it's Tim who spends all day lurking in the corridor outside Jason's bedroom. And Tim who the contractors call when they make a discovery.

At some point during all of the deconstruction they find another bundle of notebooks. Wrapped in newspaper and string and hidden behind a loose floorboard.

Tim doesn't throw them out like he did the others. But he doesn't look at them either. Fifteen year old Jason still deserves his secrets, no matter how long he's been gone. Instead, Tim puts them in his own bedroom, in the hidden drawer of his desk. For safekeeping.

He doesn't tell Bruce.

It takes the contractors a couple more days to fit the new bathroom, lay down the new floor and prime the walls. Then Bruce finally reappears. Paint bucket under one arm and Damian's hand in his other.

Dick is behind them, holding onto Bruce's shoulders and steering him through the door. The lightness in Dick's eyes a direct contrast to the tightness of Bruce's jaw.

Tim turns on an old radio, he and Dick lay down giant dust sheets to cover the new wooden floor, and then together the four of them begin to paint.

When Jason originally moved in, Bruce had let him decorate his new room as he pleased. It was Jason's first after all. But Jason was eleven, so two walls had been black and two a garish red. Now they're slowly turning a cool mint green. A soothing balm over the fading past.

It only takes a few hours for Bruce's jaw to slacken. For him to engage in the banter with more than grunts or nostril flares. When Cass comes up at lunchtime with sandwiches he actually smiles. Though he always has one for Cass. Tim tries not to think about it.

They work past sunset, eager to get three coats on before they call it a day. Damian sits on Bruce's shoulders to carefully make sure the paint meets the ceiling. Tim and Dick are relegated to the floor. Lie awkwardly on their sides, tiny paint brushes in their hands. The wood beneath them hard and uncomfortable.

When they're finished, the room looks very minty. Maybe even... too minty. The thought makes a hysterical laugh bubble up in Tim’s throat. He snaps a picture of the empty room when they're done, and leaves before his laughter escapes.

On the sixth day they move in the new furniture. A modern, king sized bed, to replace the four-poster eleven year old Jason had chosen. It has a headboard made from a repurposed pallet, that Damian has skilfully decorated. Tim can't tell if they're meant to be birds or leaves, but against the mint of the wall it almost looks like a garden. Nice enough. Tim thinks.

They bring in a new dresser and the refurbished bookshelf from Martha's old reading room. Fill it with Jason's favourite books from the library. The only concession to the room’s former inhabitant that Tim would allow. Damian has painted this as well. Little pictures that will only show when a book is taken from the shelf. A little gift for the reader.

Next to the bookshelf they create a reading nook. A giant armchair and footrest. Covered in cushions, and throws, with a luxurious rug underfoot, and a warm lamp and side table to boot.

Tim snaps another picture. Reckons he'd have been a pretty decent interior designer in another life.

By dinner time they're done and Tim whips out the final flourish. A small bird seed table that sticks to the outside of the window.

"For the Robin's." He tells Bruce, sprinkling sunflower seeds on the little tray.

Bruce squeezes Tim's shoulder but doesn't speak. For once, Tim doesn't need him to.

On the seventh day, Jason comes home.

He's still in his hospital gown. His broken leg propped up in the wheelchair, toes poking out the end of the cast. The nasal cannula wraps around his ears, passes the scar where they shaved his head and glued his skull back together. It runs down to the oxygen tank on the back of his wheelchair. The bruising around his jaw and his eyes is a sickly yellow colour now, no longer the awful black they'd been when Tim had found him. But the swelling has gone down at least. His eyes are still bloodshot, where the capillaries have burst, making his irises a striking green. His mutilated rist and missing fingers are hidden below layers of bandages. He looks small in the chair. He's lost weight in the hospital. But he's here. He's alive.

That's all that matters, Tim thinks.

Jason offers a small smile when the family greet him at the door. Dick and Steph hold a welcome home banner between them, Damian at Dick's other side looking furious with the balloons he's holding. Duke blows a party horn and is popping party poppers and Cass steps forwards to offer Jason a giant Bat-plushie. Jason lets out a weak laugh, wincing slightly as it jostles his broken ribs.

“Babs is sorry she couldn’t be here.” Dick says. “But she’s challenged you to a race down the drive when you’re ready.”

Alfred pushes Jason carefully into the Manor, and the rest of the family subtly retreat as Bruce steps forwards to greet his son. Tim lingers. Watches as Bruce crouches beside the wheelchair, eyes level with Jason's, his hand on the back of the younger man's head. "I'm so glad you're here, son." Bruce murmurs, his other hand finding Jason's.

Tim doesn't hear Jason's reply. Looks away awkwardly as both men wipe at their eyes, whisper quiet words to each other. Tries to ignore the ache of longing in his chest.

When Bruce stands up, Tim steps forwards. "Congrats on not dying again." He says, with more levity than he feels. The sight of Jason's mangled body still follows him sometimes. Tim's not sure this patchwork version is much better.

Jason shrugs his good shoulder, tries to feign an air of nonchalance. "I made a promise, didn't I?" His voice is still hoarse from where he screamed his throat bloody.

Tim nods. Follows as Bruce pushes the chair through to the dining room to join the rest of the family.

They have tea and cake and cucumber sandwiches, but Jason has only had half a cup when he starts to flag.

"I'll take you up." Bruce says, noticing the younger man's exhaustion.

Jason shakes his head. "Five more minutes." He says. He beckons Tim over. "I can’t— Tim, if it's that room, I can’t—“ His words come out staccato, like he's a robot learning to speak.

"Don't worry." Tim soothes. "I took care of it."

Jason nods, jaw tight. Looking for all the world like Bruce and entirely unconvinced.

"I made a promise too." Tim reminds him gently.

He doesn't hear Jason's reply. Bruce re-appears and wheels him from the table.

Tim is in the Cave. He’s going over the case file again. It's the only way he sleeps these days. A terrible bedtime story of how Jason Todd-Wayne was nearly lost to them a second time. If Tim studies it enough, he can see all the opportunities he nearly missed to figure out where Jason was being held, can identify all of the discoveries that were just flukes. Can make sure he never cuts it that close with his family's lives again.

It's not that he even particularly likes Jason. They didn’t exactly have the best introduction and nobody would say Jason was easy to get on with. But Tim loves Bruce and Bruce loves Jason. Tim loves Dick and Alfred too and they love Jason as well. In the worst possible way, Jason gave Tim this family and whatever has happened between them, Tim owes the man for that. If keeping Jason safe and whole and here keeps them together, then that’s what Tim will do.

Besides, he thinks. The family of my family, is family.

It’s getting late, or early. Nearing 3am, so he clicks off the computer. Heads up towards the house. Bruce had cancelled patrol tonight. Had asked Luke and Kate and Helena to take care of things. For once, everyone had been in agreement.

Tim finds himself wandering past Jason’s new, old room. The door is slightly ajar, light spilling out into the hall.

He knocks lightly, pushes it open.

Bruce is asleep in the reading nook. Head back and mouth open, snoring softly in his robe and slippers. Jason watches him from the bed, like he can’t quite believe he’s there. Surrounded by the machines and wires keeping him stable. Keeping him alive.

“Want me to get him out of here?” Tim asks quietly.

Jason’s eyes slide to Tim. He shakes his head.

Tim walks over to the bed, hands Jason the bundle of notebooks, wrapped together in paper and string. Jason looks at him wide-eyed. “Where did you—?” He stops when his voice cracks.

Tim shakes his head. “The guys who did the bathroom found it.”

“Did you—?”

“No.” Tim says, perching on the end of the bed.

Jason’s fingers on his good hand tremble, as they slowly pull at the string tying the bundle together. He unwraps the paper. There’s a leather notebook with the Wayne insignia on it. An old symbol Bruce’s grandfather had used. The notebook is stuffed full of papers. Jason opens it slowly.

“Bruce gave it to me.” He says quietly. “When I first moved here.”

He pulls out his adoption certificate, near enough pristine apart from the crease in the middle. There are photos as well. Some of Jason and Bruce, some of Bruce and Dick, that were clearly taken by Jason. Lots with Alfred and with Ace. There are some of Jason’s mother. Of his first day at school, long before Catherine fell sick and Willis turned mean. Where he’s barely five and toothy grinned, a giant mop of curls atop his head. There are letters his grandma wrote him, before she passed away. Birthday cards and Christmas cards and at least two Hanukkah cards. Jason draws a shaky breath, as he spreads them about his lap.

“I can digitise these for you, if you like.” Tim says, carefully picking up a picture of Jason and Bruce, bundled up in the snow. A deformed looking snowman stood between them. Jason has always had so much more of Bruce than the rest of them. Than Tim.

Jason flinches. “I— Tim.” His voice breaks. “Why?”

Tim shrugs. “Then you can look at them whenever. On your phone and stuff.”

Jason shakes his head. “No, I mean…” He gestures to the room, to himself. “All this. Me. Why are you…”

Tim stares at him. Thinks of the way he had looked when Tim found him. Limbs twisting away from his body, blood bubbling at his lips. The glassiness of his eyes…

Tim’s seen dead bodies before, saw his first at the circus, all those years ago. Jason’s was different. It wasn’t the thought of losing the man himself that had hit Tim in that moment. But everything else Tim would lose because of it. That they’d lose Bruce again and permanently this time. Tim would lose Bruce and then Dick would become Damian’s father, instead of Tim’s brother, and Alfred would lose himself in the sorrow of losing Jason and Bruce both, and why would Cass stay if Bruce wasn’t here to be her father and then the only family Tim had left would all be gone. All because of Jason.

“I tried to kill you.” Jason finishes desperately when Tim doesn’t speak.

Tim shrugs. “Ages ago.”

Jason stares at him incredulous. “This room.” He croaks. “It’s—“

I didn’t do it for you. Tim wants to say. I did it for Bruce. For my… for my Dad. Mine. Not yours. Because Jason had rejected Bruce, rejected him over and over again in a way Tim never could. But Bruce needed Jason. Needed him alive and home and safe. So Tim needed him that way too.

Bringing him home was the only way it would work. The doctors had made clear that Jason was still in very real danger. That without constant care and support his condition could easily destabilise. That he might never recover as it was.

Bruce was desperate, but Jason refused. Couldn’t do it. Couldn't go back to the Manor with the ghost of his childhood still haunting the halls.

“If I had lived it wouldn’t even look like that now.” He had sobbed, half delirious on pain meds, to Tim one night. “I would have changed it. But he just wants me stuck as that stupid kid forever.”

“What would it have looked like?” Tim had asked. “I’ll sort it.” Tim had promised.

"Don't worry about it." Tim says, dismissing the words that Jason can't get out.

Jason looks pained, opens his mouth to say more. A loud grunt from behind cuts him off. The two of them turn to Bruce.

He blinks at them bleary eyed, confused by his own snoring waking him up. “What time is it?” He asks.

Tim checks his watch. “Half three.” He says.

“Jason.” Bruce stumbles towards them. “Are you okay? Why are you up?”

“‘m fine.” Jason says quietly. He’s turned his attention back to the photos and cards and letters in his lap.

“What’s all this?” Bruce voice is tender, as he sits himself next to Jason.

Tim rises, excuses himself. Leaves the two of them to each other and their memories. The part of Bruce’s life Tim will never be part of. Limbs and heart aching as he climbs into bed. The week finally over.

He falls into a deep and empty sleep.

Tim wakes the next day to his curtains being pulled open. Sunshine spilling across his face. “S’too early, Alfred.” He rolls over, moans into his pillow.

A large hand runs over the back of his head, calloused fingers through his hair. “It’s nearly four, Tim.” Bruce says softly. “Time to get up.”

Tim tries to detangle himself from his sheets. Twists under Bruce’s hand so he can see the older man. “Where’s’Alfred?” He mumbles, wiping his eyes.

Bruce runs his hand over the back of Tim’s head. Lets it rest on his shoulder. “He’s helping Jason with his dressing change.”

“Oh.” Tim blinks.

Bruce drops his eyes. “I know these last few months I’ve been—“ He cuts himself off, squeezes Tim’s shoulder. “I know I’ve been focused on your brother.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Tim says, cutting off Bruce’s apology. He doesn’t need to hear it. Doesn’t care, particularly. Has long since made peace with his rank in the hierarchy.

Bruce frowns, drops his hand. “But I do worry about it.” He says. “I worry about it a lot.”

Tim doesn’t know what to say to that. So he doesn’t say anything.

Bruce holds a hand to Tim’s face. Looks at him with a small smile. The kind of smile that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle. The kind that Tim can count on one hand how often has been directed at him. It makes his stomach swoop.

“I know I don't say it very often, Tim…” He clears his throat. “But I’m so glad you’re here, son.”

The words sound as soft to Tim’s ears as freshly fallen snow. Soothe the longing in his chest, if just for a moment. He holds his hand over Bruce’s, gives him a smile in return. “Me too, B.” He says. “Me too.”

#batfam #batfam fic #spbfic #batfic #batfamily #bruce wayne #jason todd #tim drake #batfamily fanfic #batdad

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lava-lamps-forever · 7 months

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Hi, love your blog! I saw you helped someone a while back with their lamps and I was wondering if I could throw a question at you. I've had this lamp for so long but never turned it on, or haven't since I got it. If I remember right, this came from a garage sale. Cleaned it up and turned it on last night only to discover these bright spots tonight. What are they and I should I be worried? It's been on almost 10 hrs total. (Couldn't get a good shot of both)

Mmmm, I haven't personally seen anything like this before. But the few things that come to mind are that it could be the metal coil flaking. Hardened wax or just some random debris that got in there somehow from the manufacturing process. I can't tell from this photo, but do the random spots look like metal? almost like glitter. If so, I would look over the metal coil to see if it looked like it was rusting or deteriorating. Because if it is that, it's probably gonna get worse, but if not. I would just keep an eye on it and see how it acts. And since I haven't personally seen or dealt with something like this. I would suggest going over to the lava lamp sub Reddit because a lot of great knowledgeable people are there and possibly could know what was wrong or what was going on.

#lava lamp #sak #Sorry that I didn't know exactly what was going on. And that I couldn't be that much help.#lava lamp help

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galina · 2 years

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notes on love, pints and poetry readings

#studyblr #I can't help it I love photos like this; I love the debris of love #studygram #poets #poets on tumblr #london #city #london poets #ph #phone photography #black and white #poetry reading #galina

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fleetingvow · 2 years

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𓏹 Fallen Debris .

Camilo Madrigal x GN!Reader

Author's Note. You guys seem to be a sucker for angst just like I am, so here you go! A little contribution to the list of Tumblr's angsty Camilo fics. I never thought I'd be motivated to write again. Even as simple as getting comments and notes really does a lot to someone, and I'm grateful for it all! I also cried while writing some of the parts so I hope that's worth it. Here's a fic made especially with love, constant repeat of dos oruguitas for setting up the mood, and tears.

Category — imagine, angst, romance.

Notes and Warnings — english not being the author's first language, second person's point of view, camilo being angry and saying hurtful words, bullying, mentions of blood.

Summary — after the disastrous dinner where Mariano and Isabella were supposed to come out engaged, you and Camilo had an extremely heated argument about Bruno after defending him causing your relationship to deteriorate completely. You were there when Mirabel and Abuela fought causing the downfall of Casita — you along with it.

And when Camilo found your unresponsive figure underneath the piles and rubbles of the fallen shelter's debris, well . . . ( 8.45k words )

You didn't know how you ended up here, chest heaving filled with disdain towards the boy you used to adore in front of you. You started the day so happy. How could you end up like this? It was all joyous. The day was clear and harmonious. How did this all happen?

You frowned at the Madrigal who mirrored you.

See, you were one of the townspeople that helped with La Casita. Needless to say, you were the painter of the town. You created portraits and arts all across Encanto since you turned 10. You were an art prodigy, the star of brushes and paints. You created a special bond with Camilo Madrigal and the live house itself, and from then on, you became someone in every step of La Casa Madrigal's ground.

Camilo was so bright then. He always asked you to come over to paint this and that, to teach him how to stroke a line with a brush, how to create an outline, and finish an art with your very secret technique called showing the canvas with love and affection. He found it silly, but he never did mind.

Despite the countless paintings in his room, Camilo only had eyes for you. Only you, and nothing else. He thought you were the most priceless art he's ever seen. Your colours were so vibrant, especially your eyes. The way your creator outlined you as a whole fascinated him, he wanted to learn how to paint just so he could make so many images of you.

Everyone didn't know what to make of him when he started becoming so fond of Encanto's art prodigy. He never ended a day without mentioning you or your works. He would always say such things as, "I wonder if they were born perfect," or "The world is a better place with them around."

You heard this all from Mirabel complaining how her cousin just wouldn't shut up about you or your "flowy hair", she playfully cringed.

So, when he confessed his feelings and found out you reciprocated it, he was over the moon, so past cloud 9 that he could just die the happiest man right there and then.

When that happened, you came more often, giving excuses that you wanted to give Pepa a gift. You did, but you stayed longer that everyone thought Casita held you hostage. Kidding aside, the family loved your paintings, causing them to keep asking for more and more until you found one peculiar spot when you were examining a framed photo. Casita warned you not to go, but you were curious as to what was there.

Needless to say, you gained awareness of the purest 'missing' Madrigal living inside the walls and became the best of friends.

And when you did, you were protective and secretive of his existence just like he asked — no, practically begged of you.

So, when you were invited to dine with the Madrigals, expecting the proposal of Mariano to Isabella, you kept a few foods on your plate for Bruno to have later. He can't just keep grabbing leftovers from the kitchen counters. You looked over at Camilo who sat across from you and smiled. Much to your dismay, he did not return the gesture. Your significant other has been cold these past few days and you were not sure why.

That's when you noticed Dolores, Mirabel, and Tío Agustín acting strange. What was going on?

A few more disasters later, the truth was out and everyone was soaked with Tía Pepa's rain. Luisa's powers were gone, Isabella was angry, Camilo was a half Mariano, half baby, the actual Mariano and his concerned mother were sat there panicking, and basically everyone was out of it. All because of Bruno and his last vision. You didn't understand the reaction. You didn't know about this, but why?

"Why does it seem like you believe Tío Bruno made this prophecy? I know he could never do such a thing like this. He can only read the future, not make it. It's not his fault nor Mirabel's!" You stated as everyone looked at you, incredulous. Abuela dropped her fork at your words as if it gave so much more information than what it should have.

"Y/N!" Camilo called and frowned at you. He looked at his abuela and awkwardly let out a laugh, "I'm so sorry, Abuela. She must have eaten something."

You scoffed. How was that possible?

"No, Camilo. I don't understand why everyone seems so against him when he did nothing wrong." You continued. Pepa's cloud thundered. You slightly jumped at that. Oh, no. You were making everyone mad, but you had to defend your best friend. Your fifty-year-old best friend who spent a decade alone with his rat friends in those cracking walls, patching them as the family slowly fell apart.

"Do you know where Bruno is?" the head of the Madrigals suddenly asked.

Uh-oh. You didn't think of that. You shook your head and simply stated an apology to cover your lies. "I don't know."

"Do you know what he's like?" She asked with a stern tone, making Camilo sulk in his seat.

"No, Abuela. I'm sorry." You quietly replied as you looked down in shame.

"Then don't say another word. You were not supposed to know whatever it is that you know about Bruno. You speak as if you know him well." She stood up as Mariano and his mother stormed off. What she said next bore a hole to your chest. "And know your place in this house, Y/N. You're not a Madrigal."

She turned to Camilo who was as wide-eyed as everyone else on the table, "I will talk to the two of you once I fix this mess."

That's when everyone got out of their seats as well to get out of the awkward dining room. Pepa only looked at you with sympathy, so did everyone else, but Camilo's eyes expressed something different. His eyebrows were just a centimetre apart, his lips curled in a way that he radiated rage.

You stepped back from where you stood alone in the kitchen. The place was now silent. Everyone was out to tend to Mariano or retreat to their rooms after the catastrophe. But you and Camilo only stood there glaring at each other.

"We need to talk." He started and slightly raised his arms, his ruana wrinkling from the action. "What was that, Y/N?"

"You know I was defending your Tío Bruno, Camilo. Don't lecture me. I did the right thing, I know it."

"Did you really? Because the last time I checked that was disrespectful, and not only did you say that to my Abuela, you acted as if you knew about my family so well!" He yelled.

Silence, then, he walked out of the kitchen to go back to his room. You followed after, apologising multiple times until you reached his room and got inside, closing the door.

"Do I not know about your family, Camilo? Do I seem so naive about your history? Do I look like I never spent time to know about everyone just so I could be approved by the people in this house? Do I look like I didn't try at all?" You asked as his back faced you. "Because I did! I tried my best to please you."

"This is not about you, Y/N," he sighed.

"Then why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are we like this? Why do I not feel your support? You don't feel warm anymore and you haven't been since the past few days. What happened to you?" He turned to you once he heard the question.

"What happened to me? What happened to you, Y/N? You've never acted so recklessly before. What is it with my tío that you snapped so much like that? Do you know where he even is?"

"No, I don't!" You answered.

"Then why do you act like you do? See? This is why I don't understand you sometimes. You keep things hidden from me when you know you could trust me. Why are you being like this? I thought we're open to each other?"

"Listen, I don't know about your tio, but I'm sure that there was more to the story that everyone so much speaks of. What if Bruno was out there struggling? Have you never thought about him being alone after all this time that he left? How could you not feel sympathy for him and just fear? Do you seriously believe he makes bad things happen? Because that's ridiculous and you know it!"

He only stared at you, unable to think of something to respond. So, you continued.

"You may never know if he was out there, cold on rainy days, covering himself with his own clothes that smelled like home he always remembered being so warm. What if he had nothing to eat but scraps that he shared with his rats he called his friends? What if he missed his family? Missed Tía Julieta's freshly made arepas, Tía Pepa's rainbows and sunshine? Abuela's lessons about keeping the miracle alive? What if he had so little but still shared until he had nothing? Have you ever thought of that? All of us never knew why he left. Maybe there was a missing piece we forgot to look at. You all chose to fear him, think of him as a villain, but have you ever empathised?"

Camilo squinted his eyes at you, unsure what to make of you. The more you said something, the more he grew suspicious of you. You seemed to have been keeping so much from him and it pained him to say, he was slowly losing trust.

"Tell me the truth, Y/N." He walked closer to you, "Do you know where Tío Bruno is?"

You got intimidated by that, but you stood your ground and shook your head, "I—"

"Don't lie to me this time, Y/N."

You felt like you were shrinking as the distance got narrower. Nevertheless, you chose to hold your breath and look at him with a stern expression. Your eyes never faltered at the furious sight of the Madrigal.

This time, you were the one to step closer, stopping just a few inches in front of him, but no. The atmosphere was not intimate as it was a few months ago. There was no passion in his eyes, no love, no empathy.

Just anger.

And it tore you. It broke your heart into millions of shards, cutting through the walls of your chest. So you stood there, fighting back the lump on your throat. "I don't know what you want me to say, but I'm already telling you this and I'm not repeating it again. I don't know where Tío Bruno is."

"Then this discussion is over. I already knew the answer before you told me." He stepped back and stopped to tell you something else, "I don't think I can trust you anymore."

"So, that's it?" You asked.

"What else do you want to talk about, Y/N? It's not like you're going to be honest with me anyway."

"What is wrong with you, Camilo? You weren't like this before! What did I do wrong? Why are you being like this? You know I tried for you — so, so hard, and this is what we'll end up being?"

"Where were you the times that I needed you? Disappearing all the time. Have you heard what they're saying about us, Y/N? Have you heard how much they hated this thing between us?" He turned around to face you, nose starting to flush red, eyes getting glossy, and ears turning into a deep shade of crimson.

"Thing? This thing is what this relationship means to you? And I know. I've heard! Why would you listen?! I thought we shouldn't mind them because we have each other?! What's going on with the both of us, Camilo? Do you still feel something? Am I still someone to you? Did the words get right into your head? Because I don't understand anything." The house creaked underneath you, but you were both too into the heat of the moment that none of you decided to back down.

"Then maybe we don't have each other after all," he mumbled.

"What?" You questioned under your breath as you looked at him in disbelief. What did he just say? That was that. The knot that twined your heart in place snapped as if it dropped to your stomach, feeling the pain of what you never thought would come. Does this mean what you think it means?

Even the Madrigal himself was taken aback by what he said, but because of determination to win this argument, he stuck with it. He watched as your frown got more intense, a tear slipping from your eye that he used to cherish so much. You quickly wiped it off with your fingers and fought your desire to break down in front of him.

"I knew you were embarrassed to be with me this whole time. Of course, because you just had to be so perfect, do you?" You shrugged your shoulders in defeat, looking at him in the eyes and expressing yourself through your words. Your voice was shaking. It felt so restrained from the huge lump on your throat. "Ah, the amazing Madrigal!" You sarcastically waved your hands to mock the cheers he received outside the doors of Casita. "So alluring, so gifted, so perfect!"

"And then there's me," you continued, your arms falling to your sides. "The art prodigy who tries so hard to please everyone like a dog but with a brush, the useless child of my parents, the pity-joiner of the Madrigals. Who would believe that you dated me without explanations, right? Because I'm Y/N the one everyone should pity and at the same time, talk bad about. I'm Y/N who's an embarrassment, and a liar."

"Y/N, no." Camilo tried to walk towards you and grab your hand, but you stepped back and pulled your hand away before the warmth of his skin touched yours.

"I'll apologise to Abuela and explain for you." You turned around and opened the door, but before you left, you did one thing that made your significant other's freckled cheeks stained with tears. You swivelled and embraced him one last time, taking his hand and forcing it to open. You took the necklace made out of shells off your neck and placed it there, closing his palms once again. A hand of yours found its way to his cheek, wiping the hot liquid.

"Maybe it's not me," you finally said. "Maybe it's not me all along, and I understand."

"Please, Y/N. I didn't want it to end this way. Don't leave," he whispered and pulled you in a hug, soaking your sleeves with his wet tears. "Stay. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't trust you enough. I'll be better, I promise. I'll tell them to stop. I'll teach myself how to treat you better. I'll learn for the best, just don't leave."

But you weren't sure if that was true anymore. You've felt and felt it all that you couldn't take it back. So, you pat his back, pulled away, shook your head and walked out.

By the time you did, you heard an argument downstairs. So, you went and checked it out only to find Mirabel and the head of the house fighting in the middle of their own home. The candle's bright light was slowly getting dimmer and the house creaked again.

" — but it is not an excuse for you to hurt this family!"

You watched the scene unfold, unable to speak in your state. You felt like you didn't have the right to. A few more things were said. You wanted to go and take Mirabel by the hand so you could walk out for some fresh air, but something held you back. God, why were you so scared of them?

"I will never be good enough for you, will I? . . . No matter how hard I try." A painful sensation in your chest was felt again. You concentrated your gaze on the youngest child of Tía Julieta and Tío Agustín.

"Mirabel?" You called, giving her a look to be careful. She turned to you and quickly looked away.

"No matter how hard any of us tries. Luisa will never be strong enough. Isabella won't be perfect enough. Y/N? Even if they weren't a part of us, they deserve better for sticking up to someone who needed it. And Bruno left our family because you only saw the worst in him. "

"Bruno never cared about this family!" Abuela exclaimed as you frowned, mumbling a sombre 'what?'. Not noticing Camilo who got out of his room once he heard the commotion downstairs. There he spotted you but looked away, trying to refrain from ever thinking of what just happened. His family needed him now.

"He loves this family. I love this family. We all love this family. You're the one who doesn't care. You're the one breaking our home." The group shook as the floor around them cracked. You were alarmed by this and quickly looked around.

"Don't you ever — "

"The miracle is dying because of you!"

You gasped and looked at Mirabel. You understood what she felt, and took the words right out of everyone's mouth. Suddenly, the ground between them cracked, snapping them into two different spaces.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Tía Pepa shouted in distress.

"Mirabel, the candle!" You yelled from upstairs and tried your best to think of a way to get there and help Mirabel, but something — someone else made it into your mind in a panic.

Bruno.

He must not know what was happening. Or maybe he was, and he was listening. You pitied the man, truly. You were his only friend, not knowing he had already met Mirabel and Dolores and Antonio already knew about his presence behind the walls.

"Casita, get me up there!" The girl who wore glasses went up the ladder Casita prepared from the upstairs railing.

"Be careful, Mira!" You said. Isabella tried to go after the candle just like Mirabel was, but failed once she struck a wine only for it to disappear due to the fading magic.

"Y/N, you have to get out!" You heard Pepa shout from downstairs, but you were too stubborn to listen causing Camilo to frown as you ran somewhere.

"I need a diversion! I have to warn someone about this!" You told Mirabel.

"What?! A diversion?"

"For something behind the painting!" You replied, causing Mirabel's eyes to light up, understanding what you just said.

"Be careful, Y/N!"

Well, it looked like you didn't even need diversion after all. The eyes of the Madrigals were set on your friend and that was exactly what you needed. You quickly ran towards the painting with a secret passage behind it. The rats were running out in panic.

On the other hand, Antonio pointed to where you've gone only to see you disappear behind the frame. "Where is Y/N going?"

Camilo mentally groaned. He could've known you were going to do this, but he just couldn't fathom ever losing you to this accident. So, he readied his stance and ran. Thinking you might be taking a secret passageway to the tower where the candle was placed, he aimed for it and took a big leap, shape-shifting to make himself succeed on the mission. But, the fight messed with the magic, the candle was dimmer, fallen, and the tiles were cracked. The magic was getting weaker and weaker and soon, he joined Isabella on the ground, looking at each other with worry painted all across their faces.

Mirabel however, continued to save the candle, thinking to herself that she hoped Casita would help you if had gone under bad things during your time trying to save Bruno.

"Mirabel!"

"Mirabel, leave it!"

She couldn't. Before she could tiptoe to get the candle, she saw her dear Tío Bruno out and safe with a bucket over his head and a rat he considered as his only companion.

"Oh, no. Y/N." She whispered to herself, but there was no time. She had to save the miracle. She fully believed in her friend, you. You were clever in many more ways than one.

You were struggling to walk through the falling bits of the walls as you examined how ruined the passageway was to Bruno's home for the past decade. You were coughing. It was hard to see from the mist that the dust created and some of it getting in your eye. "Bruno? Tío Bruno? Hernando?!" You called out.

Your struggle kept getting worse and worse as the ground shook again but this time, more intense. The roof was falling apart above you, and all you had were your hands to cover your head. Your skin had spots of purple, cuts of red, and your heart was beating fast inside your chest. You were getting hopeless of getting out of here, but you had someone to save.

What if . . . Bruno's already safe?

The standing roof above your space cracked and creaked. You mumbled quiet no's. You were scared. There was no denying it. You were afraid if it would hurt to die, but not afraid of death itself. It was pain that you most certainly feared, and oh the things you would give right now just to feel numb.

"Camilo?!" You called in fear. "Mirabel?!" You circled in your place until you saw an open spot when Bruno must have left. You were about to head out when the roof fell, blocking your only way out. "Casita?!"

"No, no, no," you muttered over and over until you noticed a small creature crawling through a small crack. It looked up at you. It was one of those rats and it looked weak.

You gasped, "You're one of Tío Bruno's friends. The aunt in the telenovela." You gently took it with your dust covered hands, covering it protectively. "I'll get you out of here."

You squinted your eyes at the small entrance where the rat came from. It seemed to have come back for something as the crack led to the painting. You just had to remove this big wood blocking the way. Or maybe, you had to go over it. You looked up and found an open space. "Hang on tight on my shirt, okay?"

You settled it in your top's pocket and carefully made your way over the blockade, getting yourself out of the passage before it crumbled completely. And now you were standing there on the ruined second floor. The wood underneath you moved with life, "Casita, where's Mirabel?"

The wood you stepped on snapped as you whimpered, "She'll make it work, I know it."

You stepped on the stone part quickly once the wood crumbled, palming your pocket to feel the shaking creature inside. Then, you looked up to see Mirabel struggling as the tower was about to fall down. Casita was getting weaker and weaker.

You knew it could save only one of you.

Your breath hitched at the sound of her screaming. "Mirabel!"

"Y/N!"

"Casita, whatever happens take care of Mirabel, please!" The despair in your voice was enough to let your friend know what you were about to do. She looked at you in disbelief and shook her head.

"What? No, Y/N. You have to get out of here!"

The time seemed to go so slow as you looked at Mirabel probably the last time before forcing a smile to tug on your lips. You leisurely nodded your head as another tear made its way down your hopeless facade just like the materials that were once you called your second home. You raised a hand slightly, "It'll be fine, Mirabel. Just save the miracle for your family."

You knew it was the end. You knew what you were signing up for. You knew the risks, and Mirabel Madrigal had more important roles. You believe in her. You know she could do it. She was the strongest of the Madrigals, and bias or not, that's what you believed.

"Y/N! Mirabel!" You heard everyone calling and then,

"No! You can't do this. Y/N!" She protested, but it was already too late once the stone pillar that used to support the second story of the house crumbled, sending you down without support. Your body was already sore, and you would be lying if you said it didn't hurt. It hurt badly. "Y/N!"

The chair, the door, whatever it was, you saw it moving over to Mirabel to act as a shelter to protect her from the falling debris. You felt something coming to you but it soon stopped right before it could do something to alleviate the impact of the last of La Casa Madrigal's piles and rubbles on you.

The rocks, dust, woods, steels and other more things came raining down on your helpless figure, putting your hands to cover your neck and at the same time, making room for Bruno's tiny companion so it could live.

The rat squeaked so many times, syncing with the sound of your groans and the falling objects. You didn't know what it was that hit your side that it hurt so bad you couldn't help but scream. You heard your name everywhere. There were different voices in the static noise you heard. You whimpered, still feeling the urge to live, but it was all slowly fading as you felt weaker, colder, . . . numb. The last that you saw was the rat moving to your neck to squeal endlessly, trying its best to keep you conscious.

It smelled so much like dust and iron with your blood. You were scared. You were so afraid. You were helpless and in such terrible pain as you felt the weight of the debris above you. You couldn't get yourself to say anything.

Your breath was shorter, faster as if you were chasing your hope to live. You shut your burning eyes with piercing tears, but before you could think of something to do, the faces of the people that mattered to you played like a movie scene, bidding you goodbye.

Memories were rewinded, keeping you calm, not knowing it was the last of what you'd see as you felt the blood rushing in your veins slowly falter.

It was your fifth birthday when you received your very first set of art materials and your father was smiling widely, holding the warm hand of his beloved over his shoulder as they looked at their child exploring the world of imagination. You giggled as you painted a four-legged creature coloured in grey with pink tail. "Estás recibiendo pinturas por toda tu ropa, mi amor." ( You're getting paint all over your clothes, my love. ) You heard your mother chuckle.

"I heard you crying, what's wrong?" You remembered the time you were much older but still so fresh and young staring up at a doe-eyed Dolores. Then, Isabella came handing you some flowers in an attempt to make you smile at the loveliness. Mirabel lent you a hand to help you to your feet as Felix and Agustín took the canvas with your proudest painting yet from the puddles of mud. Pepa made it thunder, glaring at the children who caused the catastrophe. And there came Julieta with her arepas, giving you one so it could heal the scrape on your knee. Their abuela cleared her throat as she slowly walked towards you, "We've been expecting you, but it seems as though I need to have a word with the children's guardians in town to refrain this from ever happening again."

That's when you slowly looked up and up to La Familia Madrigal. They were caring people and had loved your art, asking you to paint them instead of using the fast method of the camera. Even Casita insisted that you paint a beautiful pattern on its ground. And that pattern that remained etched on the floor for so many years. You remembered how they all looked at you. As if you needed a careful touch of protection. As if you were a part of their family.

And what hurt the most was when you thought you fit in, when you thought you're already a part of them, you had messed up and lost the opportunity to be a true Madrigal not by name but at heart.

That's when your mind clicked on someone else. Someone who made you feel so true, as if you were the art you painted.

( Hello! Please play 'Dos Oruguitas by Sebastián Yatra' while reading this part. I promise it's what makes it more fun to read. You won't even regret it! )

You remembered the first time you ever got to say a word to Camilo Madrigal — Where the sky was clear and filled with lighter shades of blue. Where the birds flew so freely with the cotton clouds, and the sun was so bright it could turn the world into a spinning jewel. He was younger, smaller, care-free but still taller. You recalled the warmth in his smile, sending you to fall without warning. He was radiant, and you adored the way you saw him look at you. The way you met was common and simple, like any other interactions strangers have. Nevertheless, he never failed to make your hand spark. He lit up your heart with joy.

Then months passed by again, that's when you saw him brighter, clearer. Camilo Madrigal! What a name to speak like ancient poetry. His smile became wider every time he spotted you in a crowd, or was it just you? His crooked teeth a few years back became so perfect you swore you saw it sparkle. Or was it his eyes when he talked about what made his day better? You weren't sure why you felt like this, but you found it better than staring at your accomplished works.

Because he was art itself. He was the root of the trees you painted with earthly versions of brown, just like his eyes and stars of freckles that scattered across his sun-kissed skin. Every stroke, every brush, every little spray of pigment on him was perfect. He was so perfect in your eyes even despite his own flaws.

He was the field of roses and daisies. The valley of fireflies up the mountains hued with orange and purples. His words swayed you in every way just like the moment you danced under the golden light of the town. It was the necklace made with seashells that bound you together the night he held your hands and expressed how his heart beat fast whenever you were present. How he has never even ever felt that way before, or maybe that was just because you and him were young and didn't know what exactly loving was.

That necklace of seashells was the symbol of his affections to you, made only with determination and feelings that bow could never be.

Camilo wasn't like that anymore. He wasn't the same as the kid you danced with the night the moon was full above Encanto, wondering what it was like to be human and not just a celestial body peering over the darkened clouds.

He never held your hand, never looked at you the way he used to. He was a burning flame slightly fading and you didn't know what caused it, but to you, he was still as perfect. He was the world itself and you put your faith in him.

"The Madrigals only pitied them, that's why they're always in their house."

"Why would they always come? Aren't their parents taking care of them enough?"

"I heard they don't know how to pronounce 'denouement'. Maybe that's why their parents couldn't stand them."

"That's a little harsh. You should feel bad for them."

"Everyone pities Y/N, Allerà. That's why they're getting the special treatment."

"Camilo must be embarrassed to be with them."

"If only he could see how much of a mess they truly are."

You quietly sobbed at the memories. You remembered how you argued with Camilo, how he didn't even flinch to say the words you dreaded to hear. He was careless when he held you. And soon, he cried just for you. He begged you to stay, chased after you when you decided to be selfless again.

'You didn't deserve to be with a Madrigal from the very beginning anyway. What were you thinking? Did you really think you could be a part of them?'

You squeezed your eyes shut to get rid of the voices, but it was of no use. But then, it was replaced with the last of your memories.

"What happened, Antonio?" You asked the frowning boy, looking at the ground so little compared to you.

"I fought with the other kids today, Y/N. They were really mean," he explained and looked up at you as you raised his chin, smiling sadly.

"What did they say?"

"They were talking bad about you." Suddenly, Camilo walked in with a frown as he heard the response. He brought his palm to his forehead and groaned.

"They're crossing the line. I'm going to talk to them tomorrow. Don't worry, Antonio. We'll never let them say mean things to Y/N again."

"Camilo, please. Just let them be. It doesn't hurt me."

"Stop lying to me to save them, mi amor. I know how it affects you," he said and looked at Antonio, "Papa called for you outside."

And once Antonio was out of the room, Camilo rushed to you and opened his arms to bring you in closer to his chest, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. "You don't have to be afraid, Y/N. We have each other until Encanto crumbles — which will never happen, by the way, so that means forever and forever will be you and m — "

"Sh," you placed your finger on his lips and placed a small kiss on his forehead, "I'm already okay. You don't have to worry."

If only you could laugh, you would. The irony of that moment and the literal crumbling of Encanto, what a jest.

You wanted to live, but you had already lived your life. There was enough happiness and despair. You were satisfied with that. So, with the last of your energy, you smiled, embracing the fact that this was your fate. You were bound to live lifeless. And this was your peace greeting you, no matter how hard and painful.

"I'll be fine." You reassured the rat before your curled fingers slowly uncurled, your eyes closed without another sense, and your body shut down. The noises you heard were gone. The colours that flushed you to life were faint. Your body numbed, and the voices that called your name were never heard again.

Unfortunate, that's what you were.

Camilo instantaneously ran across the ruined home, careless about the fact that Pepa told him not to. His heart was pounding like a constant drum. The boy's face was etched with worry as his eyes landed on his cousin who successfully saved the candle, but now there was something different about it. The light was gone.

Mirabel sobbed as Julieta ran fast to hug her. Camilo was next to consult his cousin. "Mirabel! Goodness, I was so worried. You shouldn't have gone for the candle." She squeezed her tight as she sobbed and held on to her mother.

"Mirabel, are you okay?" Camilo asked. She looked at him and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Camilo," she said. His heart panged with more fear at her answer. A breath escaped his lips as his heart stung. He knew what she meant, but he had to be sure. He couldn't accept it.

"Sorry for what?" He questioned, but his cousin only gave him a look through her glasses, her eyes watering with tears.

The freckled boy leisurely shook his head and took a step back, not wanting to believe what her eyes told him that happened. He looked away, "No, they can't be."

"Y/N's alive, Mirabel. I know it." He said in denial as he tugged his poncho to cover himself from the cold that made him shiver but, perhaps it wasn't the cold. It was something else.

"What is it? What happened?" Pepa suddenly asked as she walked closer to place a hand on Camilo's shoulder, but he resisted, holding back the tears threatening to spill.

"Mamí, I don't see Y/N anywhere," Antonio mumbled. Felix quickly took him and turned him around so he wouldn't witness the dreaded things. He covered the boy's ear with his hand and instructed him to use his hands to block his hearing.

"Where are they?" Isabella asked.

"I don't know. They were somewhere over there, but I don't know where they ended up."

"I can't hear anything. Our powers are gone."

Agustín sighed and gave his daughter a reassuring pat, "We'll find them."

"Stay here, Mirabel. Don't move until I find something for you and Y/N."

Soon, everyone scattered around to look for the missing subject, Camilo being the first to run around and digging from all of the litters that could have possibly had you underneath. He never stopped. Even if his hands shook and weakened, he never gave up.

He earned cuts and scrapes from all of it, but he just couldn't let you be. He prayed he wouldn't find you in danger. He wished he would but rather you unharmed. He pushed through the mountains of discarded matters, chest heaving and scared of what he might find.

"Come on, come on, Y/N. You better not be — "

He wouldn't know what he would do if he ever finds you under one of these. His eyes were stinging with tears, and he couldn't even say a thing. There was a lump stuck in his throat. He swore he felt dizzy from it. The thoughts of you gone? He shut his eyes closed. No, you wouldn't end up like that. You were strong.

"Camilo!" He heard Pepa call. He turned and looked at his mother who, despite having her powers gone, somehow had Encanto's troposphere drizzling. Her eyes told him something, something he desired to be clueless off, and that's what made him look at everyone else for confirmation. Every single one wore the same solemn look which scared him.

The hairs of his body stood as he tried to blink his tears off, letting out a sob he refrained before he sprinted towards the spot where they found you. His life, the sun in his world, the tree that stood so tall in the field of his life. The only one in the billion he cared to envision his future with.

And when he saw you there, his world stopped. His steps stuttered. His eyebrows furrowed and pulled upwards to where it met at the sight. The lump on his throat only got bigger causing him to let it all out as he shook his head in denial once again, "No. Y/N!"

He rushed towards you and pushed the big chunks of wood and stone that weighed your unresponsive state. Agustín and Felix both helped the boy who desperately took the boulders off, weeping as he did so.

"It's going to be fine. I'm here, I'm here!" You were now accessible to get out of the narrow space you've struggled in. Your back was facing the grumbling sky as Pepa couldn't help herself but gasp and turn around not wanting to see how you ended up under the wreckage, cheeks wet with tears and blood as it rested on your left arm. Your free hand was embracing your cold skin but also appeared as if you were protecting something from being crushed by the weight.

He grabbed you by the shoulder and turned you around, but you were still stuck. He turned to the men, "They're still stuck — please get them out. I can't do it, I hate to — I just — " He couldn’t finish himself in between his hitching breath. It was getting harder and harder to breathe the second he processed more and more of what happened to you. He was angry, but most of his feelings were showered with grief and regret.

Once you were released, he laid your head on his lap, placing his palm on your face he used to adore. Look at how you turned out. If he hadn't let you go, you wouldn’t have suffered. "Y/N, I got you now. Wake up."

This is the part where he couldn't hold himself any longer and cried out in defeat, embracing you in an attempt to warm you. “I’m here. I was looking for you. I kept calling you. I wanted to apologise, and when I saw you go inside to do whatever it was you were so selfless enough to do, I just — I lost it.”

He shook your shoulders and brushed the strand of hair that covered your face that he held so delicately as if it was porcelain and glass all at the same time, "It's time to get up, mi vida."

It started pouring heavier rain as Camilo heard his mother weeping along with everyone else. Then, footsteps were heard appearing to have run far away. Mirabel. She must have had enough of swallowing the lump in her throat. No matter how it pained her, she didn’t want anyone to see her crying. She needed her time alone. You were her best friend. You stood by her, and you acted like her older sister even despite only being many months old. To think that she could never see you again. She whispered incoherent words.

He was getting more and more frustrated. He just wanted you back. Was that so hard? Camilo blamed the rain, the candle, anything that he could because of his fury, but what good did it do?

"Wake up. Wake up!" He exclaimed as he shook you even harder. Your eyes he was excited to see the very first thing in the morning that you came to visit his family to bring spices your parents worked hard to make never fluttered open. They were as still as your body, refusing to wake up no matter how hard he tried to bring you back. He regretted it. He regretted every single thing he told you earlier that day. He wanted to bring every word back to himself, and he would do anything just to make that happen. He would trade his soul for you to wake up and flash him that smile that never changed.

For him you were art. You truly were the most brilliant striking art he's ever seen, and out of all the paintings you made, you were the only one he never got tired of looking at. You were the landscape of his own world, the view that recharged him whenever he was exhausted from cheering people up. He didn't know what exact pigment they were but your lips and eyes fascinated him to the very core.

"Why would you come back?! Why would you risk your life? I told you. I told you to stay. If only I knew, I wouldn't have let you."

To see the colours wash away from you felt like he himself was at the verge of his death. How could he live without you? How could he get up every morning knowing that there wouldn't be a familiar knock on the door of his home? How could the sun rise if you weren't there?

The world was a black and white film before you came along and changed the way of living. Now it was back to where it had all begun, and once again, he was hopeless.

Living is not living without the person that made the gloomy days better.

"I'll do better, I swear, just come back!"

He gripped your shirt and rested his head on top of yours as the rain washed the tears away, removing the blood on your skin, and soaking every single one of you with the droplets of liquid from the sky, "Come back, come back, come back!" He whispered, his hands shaking from how his fingers clutched the fabric of your cloth.

"Remember the first painting you gave me? Remember how I clumsily stumbled and ripped the canvas, but instead of you yelling at me, you laughed and told me you could make it again? Or that time when we both stole arepas from Tía Julieta's kitchen and she chased after us with a rodillo?" He chuckled and stared at your hands, slowly twining your fingers with his. "What about living in a house together, just you and I when we grow up? What about eating and joking around, laughing until our stomachs hurt? What if having each other until — until Encanto falls apart? Come on, you have to get up. You have to wake up. Please, please, amor. I need you. I — "

"Camilo," Dolores put a hand on his shoulder as she bent her knees to sit beside him. He glanced at his sister. She squeezed him, reassuring him before her eyes mirrored hopelessness.

He did admit. He was growing tired. His eyes couldn't cry anymore. His heart broke, but nothing else came out of him, just exhaustion from being a blubbering mess.

He looked at what used to be his life and death, and suddenly, a rat came crawling on his shoulder, squeaking and pointing to his partner.

Isabella was next to sit beside him, "They must have saved this little thing."

That only hurt more. He didn't know what to do, but it wasn't out of his knowledge that he needed some time alone to himself and his feelings. He wished you were here. He wished it so bad but,

"There's nothing else we can do," Dolores whispered in a melancholic tone.

He gently rested you back to the ground, "I'll come back."

"Camilo?"

"Camilo, where are you going?"

Nowhere. He didn't know what else to say, do, or think. He was completely blocked. The boy wasn't sure if he wanted to ask for help from anyone else. He wanted to disappear. He stood up and turned around, pushing past his family to run off somewhere he could be alone.

The rat squeaked louder to get everyone's attention. Its tiny paw pointed to you as your eyelids twitched once.

Isabella turned to it, "What's going on?"

The rat squeaked again. Dolores snapped her head in its direction this time. "What?"

It pointed to you. This time it was your chest that showed signs of life, moving slightly. This alarmed the cousins, "Y/N!"

"They're gone, Isabella," Agustín sobbed.

"No. Pa, look! I think they're alive!"

Camilo turned around at that.

You wanted to live. You wanted to breathe again. What is this void? Why do you feel tired? Why does everything hurt? All you wanted was to feel alive. You were not ready to say goodbye. Not now. It can't be now. You still desired a life with the Madrigals. You want to see Camilo every single day. You want to witness every flower bloom, hear every gossip you can, eat so much you'll feel like you'll pop, watch the sun and dance under the rain, paint your family all over again. You wanted your heart to beat so fast, feeling alive than you have ever before.

You wanted to live. You needed to live.

You felt weak. What was happening? Why was it so cold? You felt your finger twitch.

Camilo's eyes widened and immediately went to you, gently pushing the women in his family aside as he walked towards you and looked at the rat with a grateful nod. "Y/N? Y/N. Can you hear me?"

You heard it, all right. But everything was muffled. Your body suddenly trembled, you felt like you bathed in a tub of Alaskan snow.

"Y/N!"

You opened your eyes slightly as it burned from the light. The static noises were back again and the pain on your back struck you with a crashing wave of displeasure. You winced, "Camilo?"

He could barely make out what you were saying, but the way your lips moved was familiar and he knew exactly what you had just said. It was his name he never thought he could hear from you again.

He smiled and hugged you tighter, "Yes, that's my name! That's exactly my name! You're awake — "

"I'm sorry," hot tears fell again as you hugged the soaking wet boy.

"It's not your fault, corazon. It never was!" He kissed your forehead once, twice, three times and more, savouring the moment that you were alive. You were okay, barely, but you were here again in between his arms.

He quickly removed his poncho and draped it over your shoulders as you were freezing cold. Suddenly, the clouds cleared up and the sky was blue again, just like the moment you and him talked for the first time.

"I thought I'd lost you. I thought you're gone and I couldn't live with myself."

Perhaps you were not unfortunate after all. Mirabel, Abuela, and . . . was that Bruno? It was! They all arrived at the right moment as they came rushing towards you once again crushing you with their embrace.

"Woah, woah, woah! Everyone take it easy on them. They're still hurt!" Camilo protectively warned as he cupped your cheek again, you leaning against his palm.

He's so young he never believed he knew what love is, but seeing you, there he knew the answer to his own question.

You were his faith and his faith resided in you. You were home. You were everything to him and not a million diamond could ever compare.

Who could have believed that out of all those artworks that you painted, whether it offends you or not, you were still the best piece of all.

You were not an artless progeny of your loving parents. You were not a fleeting belief. You were just you. Just you who completed the puzzle in his life.

And when your parents found out what happened to you, let's just say all hell broke loose. But there was nothing a Madrigal and a flawless Y/N can't resolve.

Who knew his epiphany has always been destined to be found under the fallen debris?

i'm really sorry this took so much time to write and i also apologise for it being so long. but anyways, here it is! the longest bit i've ever written. i hope it reached the emotions i was going for. i got lazy at some parts, but i promise i'll fix them tomorrow. i only got to proofread half of it and it's currently 12:33 AM. my head aches and i don't know if i should get up to take medicine or just go to sleep.

moving on, i hope you enjoyed this! feel free to write down your thoughts. have a nice day! <3

Tags : @mayusenpai666 @sheer-nuisance @camilolovesroxiie @leoisgayforwriting @tigreost @goddesslilithmoriarty @ais-little-teacorner

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quinncupine · 3 years

Text

An Explosive Surprise

Word Count: 5,792

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya X Female Reader

Warnings: Explosions, disasters, blood, violent action, language (manga spoilers with quirks?)

Notes: I really just wanted to write a bit of angsty action today and some good ole worried Izuku. I do love making that man freak out😆

Summary: on the eve of Izuku's birthday you wanted to set up a special surprise at his office for the morning except your faced with a new (and deadly) surprise of your own.

Quinns Masterlist

It was nearing midnight and the decorations were almost complete. Izuku's birthday was tomorrow and you wanted to surprise him by decorating his office before he arrived in the morning. The only problem was getting him to leave. That man was a workaholic if you ever saw one. When he finally did leave, with a bit of convincing from his assistant Margie, you snuck in. The only staff on this floor was one of his sidekicks, Dewpoint, working the night shift. The other sidekicks on the night shift were out on patrol, it was the perfect opportunity to decorate the place.

You and Margie spent almost two hours decorating, but it was well worth it as his office turned into a bright shiny spectacle of celebration. When you checked your phone, it was nearly one. "Suppose we call it a night Marg, thanks for the help."

"My pleasure dear, he's going to be so surprised tomorrow," the older woman giggled as you shut the office door behind you and headed for the elevators.

Dewpoint was sitting at her desk, the radio beside her spouting out codes from the others on patrol as she lazily swirled the last bit of coffee in her cup. When the two of you walked by, she grinned at you. "All set for tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'm so excited, I can't wait!" you shrugged your jacket on. "I don't know if I'll even be able to sleep tonight."

"Technically it's already tomorrow," Dewpoint swallowed the last bit of her coffee and stood. "But get some sleep, don't want to drift off during the party now."

"I will," you laughed, waving her off. "Goodnight.”

And with that, the two of you stepped into the elevator. Searching through your purse for your keys, you realized you forgot to leave the small gift for him on his desk. "Crap," hitting the button to open the doors again, you hopped out. "Go on home Margie, I've gotta drop this off real quick. See you tomorrow!"

The old woman waved you off as the doors shut and you quickly trotted towards his office. You could hear Dewpoint in the break room getting more coffee as you slipped into Izuku's private office. Turning the lights on, you admired all your handy work. Everything was done up in his signature colors and you even brought in little Deku balloons to give him a good laugh. It was perfect, you knew he would love it.

Placing the gift on the center of the desk, you bit your lip, wondering if it was too cheesy. Inside was a photo of the two of you. It wasn't much, just a simple candid from a few years ago, a few months after you had started dating. That was your favorite picture of the two of you. Of course, you had other gifts to give him for the party, but this one was one you wanted him to open alone with just you.

A buzz in your pocket startled you out of your memories and you fumbled for it, cringing when you saw Izuku's name pop up. You'd told him that you were out with friends tonight and to not wait up. It was a vague, flimsy lie and his perceptive nature usually saw right through them, so talking was not a good idea. You felt a bit bad about letting him go to voicemail, but being the horrible liar that you were, it was for the best.

A bright flash of light caught your eye outside the window. Glancing up at the giant wall of glass that gave you a spectacular view of downtown, you noticed something bright making a beeline towards the building. It took only a second to realize what it was.

Eyes wide, you nearly tripped over your own feet as you twisted around, running for the door. Fingers racing to call Izuku, but before you could even pull up his name, the entire office exploded behind you. It was sheer luck that the small missile hit his giant wooden desk first, taking the brunt of the impact, but that didn't mean you were spared. The force of the blast knocked you and most of the wall into the main area of the open-plan office.

Despite your panic, you had managed to activate your quirk when the explosion hit. Said quirk allowed you to change the density of air within a two-foot radius. That was the only thing that saved you as you were tossed across the room in a flurry of heat and drywall, slamming into a shelving unit. Paper and other random office supplies scattered around you in your own personal hurricane. The dense air surrounding your body took most of the impact, bending the metal frame underneath you. Unfortunately, the hit still hurt, jolting your body so hard you blacked out for a few seconds. When you came to, smoke had filled the large space and you gagged, trying your best not to choke on the thick smog.

After a few tense moments, you risked a glance up. Half of Izuku's office was gone and all your decorations with it. Wait, no, that wasn't the main concern here. A fire had broken out where the missile had struck, rapidly spreading out. The heavy winds sweeping through the gaping hole in the side of the building only served to feed the bright hungry flames. There was no sign of Dewpoint anywhere and you prayed she didn't get caught up in the blast. There was no answer when you called her name. Whether that was good or bad news, you couldn't decide yet.

A second explosion rocked the building and office furniture erupted in a giant wave of fire. You still had enough sense to duck back down, shielding your head. An armchair slammed into the desk beside you so hard that one of the metal legs impaled the wood. This wasn't a one-and-done explosion. This was an attack. You needed to get out of here. You needed Izuku.

The phone! Searching around you, there was no sign of the small device. Dammit, you must've dropped it when you were flung halfway across the office. Maybe one of the desk phones still worked. A cursory glance around to find a spot that hadn't been affected didn't help, the suffocating fog gave you almost zero visibility. Okay, the new priority is getting out.

Staying low, you crawled through the maze of overturned desks and broken computers, ignoring the bits of broken debris digging into your skin. Breathing was difficult. Even with your shirt pulled over your mouth, the thin material could only do so much. Crawling proved fruitful when you stumbled across a phone lying on the ground, but when you picked it up, all you got was an annoying dead tone. The lines must've been cut either from the explosion or by someone else. Either way, it was bad.

Tossing the useless device aside, you continued on towards the stairs. Unfortunately, the Deku Agency was on one of the top levels of the nearly forty-floor tower. That was a lot of stairs between you and the ground. Too focused on where you were stepping with your hands and knees, you almost ran straight into the door. It was a good thing you stopped in time because there was a bent metal piece of what looked like what used to be some sort of gym equipment wedged into the door. Sharp edges poking out in all directions like some sort of modern art display. That blast must've been strong if it managed to knock items from the gym, the room on the opposite side of this floor, all the way over here.

Just how much of the building was destroyed? Was the villain still out there? Were the stairs even a viable option anymore? Did Izuku know something had happened yet? Were you going to get out of here alive? Were you going to- wait, stop. Calm down. Freaking out won't help. With as deep a breath as you could manage, you closed your eyes for a few seconds to regroup and figure out what to do. There was another set of emergency stairs on the other side of the floor, next to the break room. If you could just make it there, that might give you a way out. It was better than sitting here waiting to get caught in the flames.

As quickly as you could, you rose to your feet, a bit dizzy from getting tossed around like a ragdoll. Small steps were better than no steps. Slowly, you made your way back through the office, trying your best to skirt around the most damaged parts. You made it twenty feet in when another blast rocked the building and a loud snap vibrated underneath you. Then the floor gave out.

A scream tore from your throat as you dropped halfway through the floor before your hands caught hold of an exposed pipe. The sudden stop jarred your arms and sent your body swinging into the jagged tear. One of the now exposed metal beams supporting the floor had ripped off in the collapse and your thigh was unfortunate enough to catch the sharp end as your body dangled helplessly. Agony raced up your leg, injecting pure lava in your veins. The pain was too much to bear and your hands slipped.

It was about a ten-foot fall to the next floor and you landed with a loud echoed thud. Air punched out of your lungs as whatever debris you landed on tore through your back. You weren't quick enough to activate your quirk this time. Everything hurt, but your adrenaline-filled mind put all that on the backburner as you gasped in the slightly fresher air, taking in your surroundings. The smoke hadn't reached down here yet which meant the blast was at least contained to the upper floors as far as you could tell. The floor was unoccupied so it was practically empty aside from the few spare pieces of furniture scattered around. The dim emergency lights weakly flash in the darkness, casting everything in a hazy yellow. If the explosions hadn't hit this floor hard then you could probably escape through one of the stairs here.

Attempting to roll on your side proved to be a bad idea. Something was definitely broken, most likely a rib or two, and nothing else if you were lucky. Although, you'd be hard-pressed to call this situation lucky. Moving was going to be hard, but you didn't really have a choice so you rolled again and an even worse stab of burning hot pain shot through your chest, leaving you gasping on your back. Maybe if you laid still for just a few seconds, gather yourself up, you'd be able to do it. Shallow short breaths were all you were capable of at the moment, but at least you were still breathing so that was something. Lying still also proved to be a bad idea when you heard a deafening crack above you.

The area you'd just fallen through wasn't stable enough and another large section collapsed. The section just above where you landed. All sounds of panic caught in your throat as you held out your hands. Then it hit.

‎Izuku frowned as you went to voicemail. You'd told him you were going out with friends tonight, but when he got home and you still weren't back yet, he was a little concerned. It was nearly one and he hadn't heard a peep from you since this afternoon. It was unlike you to be out so late… and he would never say it, but he was a little upset that you weren't with him before his birthday. Every year, you would always reserve time for just the two of you during special events so it came as quite a surprise when you didn't want to spend the evening with him this year.‎

He paced around his home gym, having used it as a distraction ever since he got home, staring at the phone, willing it to ring. When it didn't, he set it down on the bench with a sigh. There was a small ball of ice growing in his gut. Something wasn't right. Grabbing the water bottle in frustration, he took a small swig, pacing a nervous path up and down the mat. Should he try calling again? He didn't want to seem overbearing, but it was past one and no sign of you. It was nerve-wracking, to say the least.

After a few minutes in deep thought, the phone rang. He dropped the bottle and dashed across the room to grab the buzzing device. Disappointment bubbled to the surface when he saw Margie's name instead of yours. It was a little odd for her to be calling at this hour.

"Hey, Marg-"

"Get to the office now!" she cut him off, out of breath.

That simple sentence was enough to send him sprinting down the hall to the closet that held his spare uniform. "What's going on?" Instantly in hero mode.

"It's under attack!" she yelled. "They were targeting the agency! The whole top of the building is on fire!" Sirens in the background nearly drowned out her voice. "Y/N was still in there!"

A spike impaled his heart as he absorbed that news. He stopped in front of the closet, ripped the mask off his suit, and continued on towards the balcony. There was no time to change, he didn't want to waste time to change, he needed to get there now. So, in nothing but sweats and a thin tank top, he ran down the hall.

"What the hell was she doing there?" There were so many questions running through his head and no time to ask them all. Fear pounded his heart into little pieces, but he kept his composure. You didn't need a worried Izuku, you needed the hero Deku.

"She was decorating the office as a surprise for tomorrow," Margie cried. "She ran back in to do something and when I got down to the lobby, the first explosion hit. She and Dewpoint were- oh my god!" A huge crash on the other end sent horrifying anxiety rippling through him.

"Margie!" he yelled as he threw the balcony doors open and jumped into the air without hesitation. "Margie, are you okay? Talk to me, what's going on?"

A few heart-pounding seconds before she came back on. "Debris is falling! They're moving us back, but Y/N-"

"Get to safety Margie, I'm on my way!" Hanging up the phone, he pulled all his concentration on going as fast as he could.

It was another six minutes before he landed in a chaotic scene. Firetrucks and ambulances were already rushing about, trying to get a handle on things. Several heroes were rushing people out to safety. A loud explosion a few blocks down rattled the ground. Glancing that way, he caught sight of a few heroes battling a villain before a familiar voice called out his name.

"Deku!" It was his sidekick, Dewpoint, helping a startled-looking man towards triage. "We've evacuated all the critical floors. I was just going to help with the fires, but the villain-"

"Y/N, Where's Y/N!" Izuku desperately looked around, scanning the makeshift triage area, but saw no sign on you. "Margie said you were with her when the blast hit."

‎"I-no, they both left…" the sidekick trailed off, glancing back at the building. "No, I saw them leave. It was just me on that floor… or I thought it-"‎

Izuku didn't let her finish, leaping high into the air with such force that it nearly knocked the woman over. He barreled towards the destroyed space that used to be his office, floating for just a second to take in the damage. The entire wall had been blown out, most things in his office either obliterated in the explosion or coated in flames. There was no sign of you. Gritting his teeth, he slipped his mask on and rushed through the burning hold, landing in one of the few parts of his office the fire had yet to reach.

"Y/N!" he yelled above the roar of the fire, voice a bit muffled from the mask, "Y/N!"

They really did a number on the place. Hardly anything remained. The floors and walls had mostly blown out, but he did catch a few charred remains of what looked like banners. If you were in here before, you definitely weren't now. The implications that held weighed almost too heavily on his heart, but he refused to think about what they meant. For now, he had to assume you were still alive somewhere in this mess.

He floated into the main space that held the bulk of his agency for fear of the floor giving out on him. This part of the building seemed in slightly better shape, but it still looked like a warzone. Fire had spread out along the walls, slowly licking away at the furniture, growing bigger and deadlier by the minute. A sharp pang at the base of his skull had him instinctively jumping to the side to avoid the ceiling collapsing above him. The place was coming down fast. He had to find you quickly.

Frantic eyes swept the destroyed office desperate to see some sort of indication of where you were. Panic threatening to spill out the longer he looked. The further in he went, the heavier the smoke became. It was hard to see anything at all and it took everything in him to remain calm. He needed to think this through critically. Margie had said you came back to his office. The area that got directly hit. A shuddered breath and he shook his head. If you made it out before the missile struck, then you would've run through the office towards the stairs. He followed your path, coming to a large piece of machinery that used to be part of his training center wedged into the door, blocking any chance of escape. The floor in this area had collapsed too, making the terrain nearly impossible to navigate on foot. Where would you have gone next? The second set of emergency stairs on the other end of the office!

"Y/N!" he coughed out, the filters on his mask were having difficulty keeping up with this much toxic smoke surrounding him. "Y/N! Answer me, please!"'

He twisted around, facing the direction where the second set of stairs were when something caught his attention. It was a voice, faint and just barely heard over the fire. He waited, body stiff, breath held, ears strained. A few more impatient seconds, hovering in place before he heard it again. A faded "here" called out. It came from below. Another portion of the ceiling to his right crumbled, sending out a thick wave of dust into the already smoke-heavy air.

Blinking the soot out of his eyes, he carefully dropped through the hole, landing next to a large concrete slab of what used to be the floor to his agency, eyes scanning his surroundings until a piece of fabric caught his attention. He crouched low to peer underneath the chunk of solid concrete, heart leaping into his throat.

"Y/N," he breathed, forcing himself to sound calm.

Arms shaking, you turned your head slightly, squinted eyes landing on him. Instant relief flooded your face. Tears spilled out of the corners of your eyes and a pained whine came from deep in your chest. Izuku took in the sight. There was a thin space between your hands and the large chunk of debris where the air distorted slightly. Your quirk, he realized. That small cushion of air was the only thing keeping the heavy chunk of debris from crushing you. It had saved you, yet inadvertently trapped you as well.

"Heavy," it was barely a groan, finding it hard to say anything with such a weight on your chest.

The slab shook, dropping closer to you. Your quirk was already past its limits, you wouldn't be able to hold out for much longer. Izuku wasted no time, using Blackwhip to secure the edges and carefully lifted the burden off you with the ease of super strength.

As soon as the weight was gone, the bubble of condensed air dispersed, arms falling to your sides as you took in staggering gulps of air. Whatever damage you took in your chest made it hard to do just that so you ended up choking on each breath which only caused more stabbing pain in a vicious cycle.

Depositing the chunk a safe distance away, he knelt next to you, hand on your head, taking in your rough state. Your thigh was a bloody mess. A thick jagged rip stretched across the skin and frighteningly dark blood pooled beneath your lower half. A few burn marks marred your shoulders and neck, but besides that, you were still awake and aware.

"I'm here," Izuku said, softly as he prodded parts of your limbs and torso, checking for injuries. When he poked just below the sternum, you gasped and tried to crawl away from his touch. He held you firmly in place as to not aggravate any more injuries. "I'm sorry," he glanced around as another section collapsed, bringing the fire with it. Smoke was filling up this level too fast for his liking. "I know it hurts, but I have to make sure I can move you safely."

The smoke had you coughing harshly and you weakly clutched at your chest. Izuku pulled off his mouth guard, securing it around your face. It helped even if your throat was coated in soot by now. "Izuku…" it hurt to speak and Izuku was quick to shush you.

"Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you." The man tried for a smile, one which you frailly tried to mirror, despite being hidden by the mask.

Nodding, you tried to focus your eyes on his face. The emergency lights colored everything a hazy yellow, casting his hair in a slight golden halo. Maybe it was the definite concussion, but you couldn't help but think that despite the obvious concern he was wearing, he looked a bit angelic at the moment and you wanted to laugh. Instead, some sort of garbled noise escaped your lips that could barely pass as a laugh.

After a quick examination of your neck, he finally deemed it safe enough to pick you up. "Don't worry, I've got you," it was soft yet firm and you believed every word he said. How could you not? Slowly, he shifted his hands underneath you, lifting your limp form in his arms, tucking you as tightly as he dared to his chest, trying not to strain your damaged body any more than he had to.

With a heavy groan, you buried your face into his chest, one arm dangling beneath you while the other fisted his shirt with all your remaining strength. Holding that thing up had exhausted you. Sheer terror the only thing keeping you awake. Now that the major danger had passed, you were hanging on the edge of consciousness.

The floor above him groaned and cracked. It wouldn't hold up much longer. That sharp jolt in his head told him to run and he did. Hugging you tightly against him, jaw set hard, he sprinted for the window. Right before he slammed into it, he twisted around so his back hit first and hunched over to protect you from the shattering glass. Izuku tumbled out in a free fall for a split second before he righted himself and came to a slow halt, floating in mid-air. A wave of dust and debris flew out the window behind him as the rest of the floor caved in.

Finally letting out that breath he'd been holding, he glanced down at you. Eyes closed and breathing labored, you looked pale and in pain. All this just so you could surprise him for his birthday. Well, it was definitely a surprise, just one neither of you was expecting.

Helicopters hovered around the building and he knew cameras were most likely on him, they always were. But he ignored them, focused completely on you. As he descended, a spotlight fell on him, the harsh light only illuminating your injured state all the more. A few medics rushed out to meet him halfway once he landed. Handing you off to them was difficult, but they would be able to help you better than he could at this point. Once they assured him (more than a few times) that you would be alright under their care, he reluctantly pulled himself away. There was still a villain to catch.

Eyes dark, he rocketed into the air once again, this time, aimed at the explosions raining down on the buildings a few blocks east. The closer he got, the more destruction he saw. Overturned cars, wrecked storefronts, people being herded away by a few heroes. It was a disaster, to say the least.

A stray missile speed into the air and course-corrected to him. A heat seeker. Izuku lashed out with Blackwhip, slashing right through the small but highly destructive weapon. The explosion wasn't all that big, but the blast still sent him flying back. Now that he'd given his position away, three more missiles popped over the buildings, coming in straight for him.

He couldn't risk all three colliding and creating a bigger impact so close to the buildings so he flew higher, the missiles chasing after him. Once he was high above the city, he whipped around, catching all three missiles in his tether and smashed them into each other. This time he was prepared for the backlash and shielded himself.

Being this high up gave him a great vantage point. He could see the center of the chaos, heroes closed in on all sides of a single villain although that didn't deter the man in the least. He rapid-fired missiles of varying degrees, some coming dangerously close to striking the heroes. He must've been powerful if all the gathered pros were having difficulty catching him. Izuku needed to end this quickly.

Dropping Float, he dove back to Earth in a free-fall. From this height, directly striking the villain would most likely kill him and as much as he hated the man for all the unnecessary violence he'd caused, he would never go that far. So coming in hot, he smashed into the ground beside him, the resulting shockwave sent him flying into a nearby building. Izuku wasted no time in jumping from his spot with lightning speed, slamming the dazed villain back into the wall of the building, holding him easily in place with one arm, the other restraining a rocket launcher that was attached- wait, that was the villain's arm. So that must've been his quirk.

"DEKU!" The villain, in a cheap getup with fabric covering his eyes, roared as he squirmed under the iron-clad grip. "Let me go or I swear I'll blow us all to hell! I'm not done with you yet! You're the reason gack-"

Izuku shoved his arm into the villain's throat, blocking off the rest of his rant. "Shut up," he growled, leaning in close, a fiery storm brewing in his eyes. "I don't want to hear it. You hurt innocent people today. I don't care if you come after me, but come after the ones I care about and there will be severe consequences." His voice was ice and cold enough to even freeze the criminal in place. "I will not tolerate putting innocent people in danger. Do not test that tolerance again."

A few other heroes joined him and with one last deadly glare, he let go of the man who seemed to lose all fighting spirit in the wake of Izuku's threat. He was quickly cuffed and lead away, leaving Izuku stiff, body still itching for a fight.

When a hand landed on his shoulder, he nearly flinched out of his skin. It was Dewpoint who was staring at the ground. She looked guilty beyond belief. "Deku sir, I just came to tell you that the fires have been successfully put out." Then she finally looked up at him. "And to let you know that Y/N was taken to the hospital a few minutes ago. The medics said she'll be fine!" Then backed up a bit, bowing in apology. "I'm so sorry, I made a terrible mistake. I should've double-checked the floor, there is no excuse!"

He didn't have the energy for this conversation right now. Not when you were still at the forefront of his mind. Running a hand through his sooty hair, he sighed. "This could've gone entirely different Dewpoint. This job requires our full attention but mistakes still happen." Placing a hand on her shoulder, he looked her in her watery eyes. "Finish helping with evacuations of the area and keep me updated. We'll talk more about this later when things have calmed down." When he's calmed down.

Dewpoint nodded, steeling her face and charging off into one of the buildings. She was a recent graduate, still learning, but her mistakes nearly cost you your life tonight. He'd have to bring her in for some one-on-one lessons on proper civilian evacuation scenarios. The woman had potential, it's why he hired her in the first place because he saw a lot of himself in her.

Shaking his head, he sprung into the air, towards the hospital. He knew the way well, he'd been there enough himself. The hospital wasn't far from the agency and when he landed at the front doors of the emergency ward, the place was abuzz. Other worried families here to see loved ones injured in the attack were filling up the lobby and he squeezed through to the front desk. The one good thing about not being in costume is that he wasn't so easily recognizable without it. besides, the last thing people would look for is a frantic hero in the crowd, they had more important things to worry about.

"Excuse me, I'm looking-"

"Sir," the nurse said, busily moving forms around, "I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait. We are still admitting patients. If you're looking for someone from the incident tonight, you'll have to wait until we call out names. Fill this out in the meantime." She didn't bother looking up at him as she handed him the paperwork.

"Midoriya," a quiet voice said behind him and he whirled around.

"Dr. Okura," he hurried over to the woman in scrubs. Izuku knew a lot of the staff around here. He spends a lot more time here after battles than he cares to admit. "I'm glad to see you."

"As am I," she tapped his shoulder, ushering him past the lobby and down the hall. "I heard what happened. I'm glad you managed to come out relatively unscathed."

"Yeah, I’m not here for me," he said a little impatiently, "Y/N was caught up in the attack. They said she was taken here."

Nodding, the doc lead him over to the nurses' station where she typed in your name on the computer. "Oh good, she was actually admitted a little while ago. Come on, I'll take you to her room."

"Thank you," Izuku closed his eyes with a relieved sigh.

The two of them quickly walked down the hall until they came to a closed door. Dr. Okura knocked and opened the door, Izuku right behind her. Inside, you were lying on the bed, looking a bit dazed, but otherwise fine as a nurse spoke to you.

"Y/N," he brushed past the doctor and knelt next to your bedside.

The nurse blinked as she realized the man kneeling next to the bed was one of the top pro hero's Deku. She looked to the doc who waved her over and discussed your chart before the nurse was dismissed.

"Looks like she'll be alright with enough rest and care," Dr. Okura smiled at the two of you. "I'll let the two of you have some time, but Midoriya, she does have a concussion, so keep an eye on her and don't let her fall asleep. If you need anything that button rings the nurse." With a grateful nod from Izuku, she shut the door.

"You came." Your voice was nothing more than a gravelly whisper. One arm draped over your eyes, shielding them from the dim lights while the other snaked its way out from the covers to find his hand. "Knew you would." A small smile replaced the grimace on your face for a brief second. "You always do."

"And I always will," he managed a small, wobbly smile back. The events tonight scared him more than he realized and just hoped you didn't feel the tremors in his hands.

‎"What a sap," you laughed. Peering out from under your arm, you locked eyes with him. "Thanks… and sorry."‎

"What are you sorry about?"

"I don't know, for putting you in that situation in the first place. It was dumb, I wasn't even supposed to be there. I just wanted to do something nice for your birthday this year. It was gonna be great. I even made a cake." Frowning, you covered your eyes back up. "And it got blown to smithereens."

"Hey," Izuku gently peeled your arm off your face enough so he could look you in the eyes. "It wasn't dumb and it wasn't your fault. I'm a hero, it's kinda my thing to save people who need it." He examined your face: pupils blown, a few cuts scattered over the skin, and some light burns that traveled down your neck. The best thing I can have for my birthday is you; safe and right here with me."

"Yeah, but a cake would've been nice too," you mumbled, covering your aching eyes back up.

He just shook his head with a breathy laugh. "Focus on healing and then we can make a new one together."

Lifting your arm up just enough to smirk at him, you said, "you're good at a lot of things, but baking is not your forte. You should probably stick to the whole hero thing."

That got another laugh. "Fair enough. How about you make the cake and we can eat it together."

Satisfied, you dropped your arm back over your face with a tired, slightly pained sigh. "Sounds good. You deserve the best."

He brought your hand up to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back of it. "I already have the best."

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aidanrgallagher7 · 4 years

Text

Love in The Midst of Doomsday~

Five Hargreaves × Reader

Prologue

Chapter One: Day One

Word Count 3.1k

Warnings: cussing

March 24, 2019:

When Five arrived home, he found himself only five days before the apocalypse was set to happen. His family was shocked to see him return home since he was gone for seventeen years, but for Five it had been forty five. Yet when he came through the porthole, he looked the same as the day he left: a sixteen year old boy. But that is far from reality, he is a fifty eight year old man, trapped inside of his younger self. So not only did he have to explain why this could have happened, he also had to tell his siblings that there was going to be an apocalypse that would kill all of them. They did not believe him until events started to occur hours before the end times. Against all of the odds, Five time jumped himself and his family into the future to miss the deadly fires that ended the world as they knew it. It was not simple, not in the slightest. His family got scattered over the course of the time Five had to save them all, including himself. His sister Vanya had a catastrophic event happen to her that caused her to lash out and use her powers against her siblings. In doing so, she was the one to cause the apocalypse in the first place. Vanya was so strong that she shot her powers towards the moon, causing it to burst in which led to the end of the world. Five thought about leaving his sister behind during those few seconds before jumping into the future, but how could he? She is his sister so he indeed took all of his siblings and jumped ahead. Or so he thought.

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

November 25, 1963:

When he fell through the porthole, he fell alone. Once he was on the ground, the blue light disappeared and none of his siblings came out.

Five "Luther! Diego!" But that wasn't the only problem. When he turned around, there was a war going on in the middle of the street. He walks up to find two sides, battling for what? He did not know. That was until he found a newspaper amongst the debris. It read "Soviets attack U.S."

Five "This can't be right!" He looked around and saw his family standing in the middle of the road. They were fighting with the military, killing the enemy with their powers of course. Diego spots his brother standing there, baffled from what he is witnessing.

Diego "Five, you sick son of a bitch! Where have you been?!" Five attempts to answer but a hand lands on his right shoulder, making him stop in his tracks. When he looks up, he finds his old rival from the Commission (who became his ally in 2019) smiling down at him.

Hazel "If you want to live, come with me."

Five "Hazel? What the hell are you doing here?"

Hazel "No time to explain. Those are nukes old timer!" Five looks up and sees multiple nukes coming straight towards him.

Five "What about my family?"

Hazel "You can't save them if you are dead." He takes no time to hesitate, he has to save his family...for the second time.

…

November 15, 1963:

Hazel jumps Five ten days back, giving him just enough time to find his family and save them from the new doomsday that must have followed him. Hazel explains to him why he is helping him and how he can save his family when all of a sudden, a bus drives by and three men come out with machine guns, killing Hazel instantly. But before his death, he hands Five a briefcase and places a box type object in his blazer pocket that Five will need later. Five had no time to mourn Hazel, he had to find his family and save them all. When he loses the three men, presumably sent to kill him by the Commission, he finds an alley. In that alley, he finds an apartment building with antennas and a whole bunch of electrical equipment on the rooftop. He pauses and thinks for a moment, "Maybe this can help me." Then he feels something in his finger, when he looks down, he sees his wedding ring that was still on his finger. It was slipping off, making him feel it.

Five "Shit.." he has gone through so much these last five days that he almost forgot that he even had a wife. "I'll get back to you, I promise." He whispered to himself as he took his ring off and put it in his shorts pocket. Then, he blinked himself inside.

"What do you want?"

Five "Hi, I'm selling encyclopedias for my youth group-" the man slams the door in his face but that does not faze Five. All he had to do was blink inside, scaring the man half to death. But the man was not alone, there was a young girl standing in the kitchen. The man screams and grabs a sharp object and points it at Five. He smirks and then gets startled when the young girl drops her mug on the wooden floor.

"F-five?" He looked into her eyes and he knew instantly..that he was looking at his wife.

Five "Y/n?... Y/n!"

"..y-wait what?! How do you know this kid?!" The man shouted in confusion.

You both said "Long story."

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

When you saw him at first you were shocked. How could he be young like you are? How did the both of you get stuck in your younger bodies? It doesn't make any sense. But you do not care about the answers right now, all you can think about is the fact that you have your husband back.

"Uhm- d-dad..can you give us a minute?" You stammered.

Elliot "What? No, absolutely not! This kid just came in our ho-"

"I know. I know it's crazy. This is all crazy but I promise, we will both explain to you what is happening okay? Just please us a minute." he slowly nods.

Elliot "You have five minutes!" He shouted and instantly, Five took your hand and blinked the both of you into the alleyway. As soon as you both collected yourselves, Five picked you up and spun you around like he used to every time he saw you after a long day of missions.

Five "Oh my god..oh my god I found you." He kept repeating over and over again. You were so emotional that no words came out of your mouth, only soft laughter and whimpers. When Five put you back down onto the found, he cupped your cheeks and kissed your lips ever so gently. That feeling is the best feeling in the entire world. You thought that you would never feel his gentle touch, his warm embrace or his soft lips ever again. But thankfully, you are with him again and you could not be happier.

"H-how are you here I thought-"

Five "Yeah I uh-I..I saved them from the first apocalypse."

"The first one…?"

Five "Yeah babe..there's another one coming. A nuclear holocaust causes the next apocalypse."

"You gotta be shitting me."

Five sighs, "I wish I was."

"Well we have a lot of catching up to do-"

Five "How long have I been gone..for you I mean. How long has it been for you?

"Five years." His eyes fall to the ground, you can see his heart break through his eyes, "Five long years. That is why when I recognized you I kind of panicked."

Five "It has only been five days for me Y/n. This is crazy..this is not okay."

"Five-"

Five "No babe, none of this should be happening! I should have just stayed with you..just stayed in the Commission and everything would be fine."

"Things weren't fine in the Commission Five, you know that. The Handler is getting more and more crooked as time goes on and now we are stuck in these bodies-"

Five chuckles, "Yeah, a blessing in disguise I suppose. We were starting to look a little shabby. Me more than you."

You giggle and walk towards Five once again, "We will get through this love. You had to go through the first apocalypse alone, but with this new doomsday coming, we will have each other. You have me Five."

Five "And I wouldn't want it any other way." He says as he kisses your forehead.

"Love in the midst of doomsday.."

Five "Hmm, what a way to put it. I love it."

"I love you."

Five "So much." He kisses you before blinking the two of you back into the apartment.

Elliot still has the sharp object in his hand once you get back in, it makes you giggle. Five pays no attention to it because he knows that he would never hurt him and even if he tried, he would not be successful. Five is a trained assassin after all, so a butter knife does not faze him in the slightest.

Elliot "How did you do that?!"

Five "Don't really have the time to explain."

Elliot "Are you from the Pentagon, huh?!"

"Dad.."

Five "Definitely not."

Elliot "CIA, FBI, KGB..?" Five chooses to ignore your father's splurge of words that he is trying to put a word to what Five is or where he is from.

Five "Is it fresh hun?" He points to the coffee.

"Mhm."

Elliot "'Hun?'-" Five blinks to the coffee maker, making your father scream again. When Five takes a sip, he is more than satisfied.

Five "Mm..is this Colombian?"

Elliots "I-it's my own blend."

Five "Hmm." He takes a closer look at the news that he has hung up all around his living space and thinks for a moment. Thinking on how he can ask questions without scaring the man who is his father-in-law that doesn't even know it yet.

Five "You uh..have you heard of Area 51. Roswell?" Your father begins to laugh and throws the knife on the counter and claps.

Elliot "Hot damn!" You begin to smile and think to yourself, alright we will be okay. "I knew we weren't the only one's! Eleanor thought my head wasn't screwed on tight but it's all true yeah? The UFO'S and crop circles..?"

Five chuckles, "Well the truth is out there!"

Elliot "But, but tell me.." he gets in Five's face, "Why is it always an anal probe?"

Five "Any closer and I'll melt your brain." Your father immediately backs off and gives Five some space.

Elliot "Right yeah, sorry."

"Dad, show him what you found."

Elliot "Why-?"

Five "You built all those contraptions on the roof, you built those yourself?"

Elliot "Yup, I sure did. I've just been waiting."

Five "Waiting for what?"

Elliot "For you. For all of you." You walk over to Five and stand by his side as your father explains to him how he has taken photos of six individuals who have appeared from a flash of blue light. When he looked at the photos Elliot has pinned on the wall, he see's none other than his siblings.

Five "So my family is alive. Shit…"

"Five?"

Five "I think I stranded them here."

"We will find them."

Elliot "Okay, okay okay..now that I explained to you my findings, WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!?"

Five "That is a very long story but just know that I love your daughter and I will do everything that I can to keep her safe."

Elliot "Keep her safe-"

Five "Now, you listen to me." He walks towards your father but he backs away in fear but Five only blinks his way towards him, "I have ten days to find them and save the world and I need your help to do that."

Elliot "You..need my.." you walk over to your father's desk and pull out a piece of newspaper that has Diego's face on it.

"Five..your brother is in a mental institution."

Five "What?!" He takes the paper out of your hand and begins to read the title: disturbed man arrested with multiple knives outside 1026 N. Beckley. He sighs, "That son of a bitch.."

Elliot "W-is that helpful?"

Five "You have no idea."

"Let me come with you."

Five "Hun, he doesn't know you yet. If I bring you, he'll get confused..he won't be focused."

"I want to help Five."

Five "And you will, just let me get Luther and Diego..you can help me with my sister's okay?"

"Okay, okay yeah." He kisses your forehead and then blinks out of the apartment. When it is just you and your father, you find yourself in an uncomfortable silence.

Elliot "Okay Y/n what the fuck!?"

"Dad calm down alright. You don't know what is going on-"

Elliot "You're damn right I don't know what's going on! From the way I see it, a stranger with powers comes into my house, asking me for help and calling my daughter hun and saying that he loves you..who is this kid?!"

"Dad..I don't really know how to put this in any way that is easy for you to comprehend but will you promise to just let me try my hardest to explain it to you?"

Elliot "Why are you saying it like that?"

"Because it is not going to be easy for you to believe me. But I am telling you the truth..okay?" Your father sits down on the sofa beside you and takes your hand in his and prepares himself to listen to you. You take a deep breath and open your mouth to speak.

"I have come back from the future to save John F. Kennedy. My real age is fifty five, even though I look sixteen again, my consciousness is fifty five." Your father stops breathing for a minute or two, "Dad, breathe." He does so and he starts to chuckle a little bit because he did not realize that he stopped breathing. "And Five is my husband, dad. That is why we recognized each other. You see, we work for a Commission and it allows us to time travel to stop and prevent some events from occurring."

Elliot "O-okay but why do you look like my teenage daughter..?"

"I don't know. Five doesn't know why he is young again either, we just are. But I am still your daughter, I promise."

Elliot "My daughter who is married to a guy with super powers.."

"You can say that, yeah. But he is the greatest man that I have ever known. Yes he is different and so are his siblings that you have hanging up on your whiteboard. Their powers and abilities are different from Fives but maybe when he finds them, you can meet them."

Elliot "Right..right yeah."

"I know this is a lot to take in, believe me I know. But it is really good to see you dad. I've missed you so much." He smiles and pulls you into his chest for a warm embrace.

Elliot "I can't say that I've missed you because for me, you never left but..I am glad that you are here.."

"Me too dad." You and him talk for the rest of the day while Five goes out looking for his two brothers. You and your dad wait for his return and try to find more clues as to where his other siblings may be.

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

It is now 12:32 in the morning and you are still awake, just waiting for Five to come back to you. Of course your anxiety gets the best of you and you begin to think of everything that could have gone wrong. To ease your mind, you walk up to your mirror in your bedroom and get your pajamas on and brush all the knots out of your hair. You start zoning out when a flash of blue light appears behind you and a pair of hands wrap around your waist. You jolt from being startled and Five only laughs.

"Fuck Five.." you say as you hold onto your chest from your heart jumping all the way up into your throat.

Five chuckles, "What, did I scare you honey?" He laughs as he tightens his grip around your waist.

"Yes! I hate when you do that."

Five "Oh," his voice grows raspy as he kisses your cheek from behind, "But you love me."

"Yeah I do. How did it all go, did you find them?"

Five sighs as he watches you turn around to face him, "Yeah I did. But Diego's head is so far up his ass that he has himself convinced that he has to save the president. I had no other choice but to tell the guards Diego's attempts on escaping-"

"Oh Five-"

Five "I know but it is for his own good Y/n. If I let him do it, he'd get himself killed."

"Okay, and Luther?"

Five rolls his eyes, "Luther is being Luther. I told him that I needed his help and he just said that he didn't give a shit."

"How could he not care?"

Five "He thinks that I am lying about the world ending in ten days because we all just escaped the last one." You huff, "But I will figure it all out. I have too."

"You will Five. And I'll help you out along the way."

Five leans down and kisses you, "You look so adorable in your little pajamas."

"I can't believe I used to wear this shit as a teenager."

Five "I can say the same thing..." he points to his Umbrella Academy suit and you both have a good laugh at that. "Hey, did you talk to your father?"

"Oh yeah uh, he understood. The best he could I guess."

Five "He knows everything?"

"He knows what he needs to know while we are stuck in this time period." Five nods, "He was the most shocked to hear that I am fifty Five." He bursts out laughing.

Five "Well baby, you don't look a day over sixteen." You blush and wrap your arms around him as he holds you for a minute or so. "C'mon, we should get some sleep before tomorrow."

"Yeah that sounds good."

Five "Is it okay if I sleep in here? Your father isn't gonna come in here with a shotgun-"

"Oh shut up, he knows that we are married." You kid.

Five "Okay good. Because I haven't been able to sleep with my beautiful wife in a good minute."

"It's been five years for me."

Five "All the more reason to come here." He opens his arms for you as you climb into bed. Once you are in his arms, your eyelids grow heavier and heavier. "I love you Y/n."

"I love you too." He kisses your forehead and you both drift off into a deep sleep. You don't know what tomorrow will bring but as long as Five is by your side, you know that you'll be able to accomplish anything.

@moriartysringtone7137 @a-mess-of-fandoms @noellehnsherr @dagdrommers-blog @yikes-matey @dyor @s0ftd3m0n @itzel17 @qualitymugghostrebel @oh-chuck-help-me @honeybee-cherie @cocoa-creampuff @asphodelshare @ecwrenn @lilablosom @jazshargreeves @bbluepparadise16 @theoriginalkat

#aidan gallagher #the umbrella academy #five #five hargreeves #love in the midst of doomsday

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