#any comic where he's in school after his dad dies is just. guy who sits in back of class wearing grubby hoodie that stinks of weed

[im-in-vin-ci-ble]

Heyy could I possibly request f!OC x Mark, in which the OC is Red Rush’s daughter who also inherited his powers. Set before the events of episode one maybe at a Guardian’s work party or smth. Mark and OC are hitting it off in a ‘Idk what’s going on my dad just works here’ solidarity during the party; while her doting and protective father Josef is keeping an eye on them, unsure about how he feels about his favorite sidekick growing up on him. Maybe Olga and Debbie try to be matchmakers too lol

A/N: okay well this is CUTE AF, I love this sm thank u for requesting <3 also josef and olga are married here, no one dies (yet) and everyone is happy!!!

Pairing: Mark Grayson x Fem!OC

Rating: T

Warnings: mild swearing

The annual Guardians of the Globe Founder's Day party was never really Zasha's scene. It mainly consisted of the Guardians and the Global Defense Agency's families, and more often than not, she was the only one in her age group. Her true purpose there was to really just pay her respects to the people — including her father, who people knew as Red Rush — who protected the planet.

This year's Founder's Day event was different, however, as Omni-Man finally accepted the party invitations he'd been ignoring for years. Although there were jokes that he had accidentally RSVP'd to the party, or that his wife had accepted the invite behind his back, everyone seemed happy, and still pleasantly surprised, when he and his family walked in.

Sitting down with a non-alcoholic beverage in her hand, she watched as everyone shook hands with the powerful Nolan Grayson and his loving family. Zasha's mom, Olga, walked over to say hello and immediately dragged the three to where Zasha and Josef were. The two male superheroes first exchanged pleasantries, followed by Olga forcing her daughter to get up so she can properly be introduced to the teenage boy standing across from her.

"Zasha, hi," Debbie said with a wide smile as she gave you a warm hug. "This is my son, Mark. I don't think you two have properly met yet."

He extended his arm, "Oh, hi, uh, I'm Mark," he replied with a sheepish smile.

"Hi, I'm Z," she said as Olga gave her a soft push to move her forward. The young girl's eyes threw daggers at her mom before politely shaking his hand, "Nice to meet you."

"Are you all hungry? They've got a lot of food," Olga told the Graysons, leading them and Josef, who squinted his eyes at Zasha and Mark, over to the buffet table.

Zasha and Mark looked at each other awkwardly and exchanged nervous smiles. He began to rock back and forth on his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets as he attempted to think of what to say.

"So uh, how's... superhero training?" he asked.

"Uh, good," Zasha answered, nodding her head. "We managed to take down Titan yesterday so that was pretty cool."

"Oh yeah? That's great," Mark exclaimed. "How about, um..." he scratched the back of his head, "Is the, i-is the drink... good?"

She looked down at her cup and clicked her tongue, "You know for a party that's sponsored by the government, you'd think they'd have better catering."

He chuckled, "If I knew this was going to be a boring party with adults and toddlers and no good food, I would have at least brought a snack and some comic books."

Zasha sat back down and looked up at him with a smile, "Well you better take a seat, buddy, because the next few hours are going to make you wish you were being hurled at buildings instead."

She gently patted the seat next to her and Mark accepted the offer. "Do you go to these things a lot?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, yes," Zasha replied. "You are so damn lucky your dad never wants to come to a Guardians event."

Mark laughed, "You know what, I used to be really jealous of all the families who got together during these events but right now, I'd do anything to just go home." He looked around and sighed, "I don't even know most of these people."

"Me too, and I've seen their faces at least thrice a year ever since I could remember," she agreed. "Actually, I think this is the first solid conversation I've had with someone at these things."

"Really?" he asked in shock.

"Really," she answered, taking a sip of the bland orange juice that now mostly tastes like water. "Most of the guys who are my age that have attended aren't really cute, nor are they interesting, so meh."

Mark's head snapped up at that remark and he felt the warmth rush up to his cheeks. "The other guys aren’t... cute and not... interesting?"

"Hell no," Zasha laughed. "Have you ever tried connecting with a person who has no special abilities but know you're a superhero? It feels like talking to a wall."

He crossed his brows, "What do you mean?"

She sighed and leaned forward, "They usually ask me what being a superhero is like, but when I tell them that I managed to take down a man with rock for skin, it's like I'm a freak."

"You're not a freak, Zasha," he replied. "And any guy who feels that way about a girl who's trying to save others sounds like a shitty person."

"And they're not even cute!" she added.

"And they're not even cute," he repeated after her with a laugh.

Zasha sighed again and sat back up. She looked over at him and briefly examined his face, "Well it's a good thing you are."

Josef turned around and watched as the 17-year-old boy chatted up his daughter, as well as literally take his seat at the table.

He held on to Olga's arm and leaned in, "I don't like what I'm seeing over there."

Olga turned to look then laughed at her overbearing husband. "They're just talking, Josef," she said. "It's not Zasha's fault she can enjoy a pleasant conversation and you can't."

"Mm..." Josef groaned, "I don't like it."

"Don't like what?" Debbie asked from behind.

Olga walked over to her and excitingly yet subtly pointed at Zasha and Mark, who were now facing each other now laughing. "Josef's worried that Zasha won't have time to be his daughter anymore if she ever started dating boys," she explained to Debbie. "You know he scares off every single boy Zasha introduces to us? I'm worried she'll never have a boyfriend!"

"She doesn't need a boyfriend, Olga," Josef chimed in grumpily, crossing his arms as he watched the two like a hawk. "No one will be good enough for Zasha anyway. She can literally outrun all the boys she dates."

"So are you saying that my Mark isn't good enough for Zasha?" Debbie asked with half a smile, momentarily shutting Josef up before he nervously tried to form a sentence. "I'm just teasing, Josef," she followed, winking at him and almost warning him not to underestimate her son.

Olga chuckled, "It's good for them to bond. They're both teenagers and superheroes, if they ever date at least they won't have to worry about keeping secrets."

"Whoa, wait," Josef exclaimed. "They just met, who said anything about dating?"

His wife rolled her eyes at his remark. "We should, what's the term... hook them up," Olga said. "Debbie, ask Mark what's going on and I'll ask Zasha."

Debbie agreed to the plan and walked over to Mark and Zasha while Josef huffed in annoyance but stayed in his position; there was no way in hell he was going to keep his eyes off of them.

Debbie offered Mark some food from her plate but he kindly declined. "Good choice," she said. "For a party paid for by the government, you'd think they'd have better food."

Mark laughed and nodded in agreement, "That's what Z said!"

"Oh really?" Debbie replied with a playful smirk.

Mark and Zasha looked at each other as if they were sharing an inside joke before Olga called her daughter over.

"Sorry, mama is calling me," she told the Graysons as she excused herself.

"So..." Debbie trailed off, raising her eyebrow at her son whose cheeks were rosy red.

"Mom, please don't make it weird," Mark begged.

"You and Zasha seem to be hitting it off."

"I begged you not to make it weird," he groaned, covering his face.

"I was just asking!" Debbie said with a giggle. "Why are you being so offensive?"

"I'm not, mom, I'm just... ugh," he groaned again. "Please don't say anything to Josef and Olga. Don't make it weird."

"I won't, I won't," Debbie reassured him. "Are you gonna ask her out though?"

"Mom!"

"Okay, okay, I'm leaving," she said with a hearty laugh, nodding at Zasha who was walking back to her seat.

"Sorry about that, my mom was being strange," Zasha said. "Everything okay?" she asked Mark, who now looked like he'd been slapped over and over again.

"Yeah, yeah! Great! Everything's great!"

She smiled at him but Mark leaned over and kept his head down. Another moment of awkward silence fell upon the two; Zasha looked around while tapping her toes and Mark's sight was glued to the floor. From the corner of his eye, he could see his mom and Olga delicately signalling at him to make his move. He covered the sides of his face and continuously mouthed "No," but the two were unrelenting. He took a deep breath and finally sat back up, and looked over at Zasha who was still pretending to casually look around.

"Hey, uh, Z?"

She quickly looked over at him with wide eyes, "Yes?"

Mark looked behind her head and watched as Olga and Debbie were giggling and whispering to each other, like a bunch of high school girls who just saw their best friend talking to their crush.

"Uh, I'm hungry."

The smile on Zasha's face was quickly replaced with a look of confusion. "Okay... and?"

"Oh! Um," he cleared his throat, "do you... like burgers?"

Zasha giggled and nodded, "I do like burgers."

Controlling his urge to fist pump, Mark cheekily bit his lower lip and moved a little closer, "You wanna head out and grab a bite?"

"Uh..." she turned around and watched as Olga and Debbie quickly nodded their heads, her mom giving her a sign of approval to leave the party. "Sure, I'm starving."

Josef looked on as the two of them stood up and began to make their way to the exit. Sighing in defeat and sadness, he called them over to the place where he's been stationed at since the Graysons arrived.

"Papa, we're just gonna get something to eat," she informed him nervously, knowing his scare tactics when it came to the guys she introduced him to.

Josef's eyes softened as the sight of his little girl, who he knew and finally accepted was growing up. She was making her way into the world and as much as he wanted to always protect her, he knew that she was just as smart and as capable to start doing it herself.

He took his daughter's hand and held it tight, "Okay, call me if you need a ride home."

"I will," Zasha said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Love you, papa."

"I love you too," he replied with a smile that was immediately erased when he focused his attention to Mark. "Bring her home by 11:30, and no sneaking into her room by the window," he ordered the teenage boy sternly.

Caught by surprise by the sudden formality, Mark straightened his back and nodded. "Uh yes, y-yes sir, Red Rush, sir."

"Papa!" she exclaimed. "No more scare tactics."

"I'm sorry," he chuckled, "that was the last one, I promise."

#damn my daddy issues came out here #HARD #mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #invincible fanfic

[ricksroaches]

Jungkook - Dysphoria ch. 1

pairing: Yoongi x Reader, OT7 x Reader (platonic)

summary: Jungkook, a burnt out gifted student, comes home from summer camp not ready to start his sophomore year of highschool, but his friends are there to help him feel better. Although not in the best of ways.

notes: This is a Euphoria-ish au but mostly it's just heavily inspired by the show (I use a few quotes), and each chapter is based on a character. There's a few parts where I cue a song title that's because I made a soundtrack to listen to while reading but I deleted it a while ago so :( if you feel like it listen to the ones I did write down. I'm apologizing now bc my writing can be a bit choppy/rushed its just cuz i have a more drabble-like style and don't know how to write between big scenes. THIS IS A DARK FIC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Hope you enjoy and sorry for this big ass paragraph.

word count: 3.9k

warnings: ass-load of angst, mental illness (depression, anxiety, bipolar, OCD, and probably more), drugs (all of them. just all of them), underage drinking, cursing, mentions of self-harm

Next chapter

[Slideshow - Labrinth]

When Jungkook was 5, he wanted to be an astronaut. He wanted to fly into the sky and zip around space exploring things never before seen. His little mind was so strong, wanting to learn anything and everything. When he first learned how to read, he would read every sign he passed in the car and play games with the letters he’d find. It wasn’t long before he was placed in advanced classes with kids he'd never seen before and for the first time in his academic career, he was challenged.

When Jungkook was 10, he wanted to be a doctor. He wanted to wear a white coat and glasses and race around a hospital busy saving lives everyday. He wanted people to look to him for advice and treat him with respect. He wanted to feel needed.

When Jungkook was 14, he wanted to be a paramedic. He didn’t think he’d be smart enough to become a doctor so an EMT would have to do. His classes had begun to pile up in work to the point where he didn’t have the time to think about anything but school. He ate, slept, and breathed homework, projects, and term papers.

When Jungkook was 16, all he wanted to do was graduate. He no longer had any desire to pursue his childhood dreams. When he was asked what he wanted to do when he was older, his mind was a void. He couldn’t see any future for himself past high school. He went day to day not bothering to care about what might happen the next day. He coasted through all of his classes and dropped out of the advanced programs that his parents put him in.

His potential was like a flame. It was small at first, but still had loads of potential, so more kindling was thrown on top. The flame received it well, quickly spreading over the new material. But they kept stacking kindling. Stacking and stacking and stacking putting more and more pressure until finally….the flame died. All because he liked to read.

[Forever - Labrinth]

The clouds inched across the sky and rows of crops and fencing whipped by the car window. A stark contrast between the two. Jungkook rested his head against the glass and watched as the car began to pass more and more houses. The familiar area told him he was almost home. He should’ve been glad, elated even. He would finally get to see his friends again, but after three weeks of summer school to catch up on the class he skipped last year he’d lost the ability to smile or show any form of positivity. To say he felt like a zombie would be an insulting understatement.

The car pulled into the ever so familiar driveway and the rest of his family piled out of the car. He didn’t move. He heaved a long, anguished sigh before snatching his duffel bag from the other seat and throwing open the door.

He was out the front door again before his mom could even ask him where he was going. Speeding his bike down the empty road that he’d ridden countless times before. He could make this route with his eyes closed. The house in question came into view and Jungkook pedaled harder to close the distance. He swung one leg to the opposite pedal and straddled it until he swerved to a stop in the driveway. The house was old, hadn’t been lived in for years, wasn’t on the market, yet wasn’t scheduled to be torn down. It was the perfect place for a group of teenagers to tear apart and put back together. Without knocking, he stepped inside and was hit with the welcoming scent of booze, pizza, and weed with notes of cigarettes and coffee. Music blasting from a distant room in the house led him to the living room where he counted one, two, three, four, five people sprawled about the room. Upon noticing him standing in the doorway, they jumped up and raced to pull him into the room.

“Kook! How you been man? How’d surviving summer school go?” Taehyung was Jungkook’s best friend and unsolicited wingman. He was always trying to set him up with girls so he could get his v card punched. Taehyung was ever the ladies man. Never had trouble finding a date or a hookup. No one could blame him though. If they had that flawless, arrogant face they’d use it too. Despite his fuckboy nature, he was the best friend Jungkook ever had. They’d gone to the same school since they were 7 and Taehyung’s untamable charisma sniffed out Jungkook’s shyness rather quickly. They were inseparable and the rest is history.

“Fine I guess.”

“Kookie, come sit down! I’ve been saving your spot on the couch for you!” Jimin pulled Jungkook to the left corner of the C shaped couch. Jimin was like Taehyung in the sense that he also had no issues with finding partners. He wasn’t near as promiscuous as Taehyung, but he made up for it with his bisexuality. He had an entire other gender to choose from. Jimin was probably the nicest of the group. He always gave the best hugs and was their personal therapist. His aura seemed to coax you into opening up to him even if you hadn’t originally planned on it. He had a way of saying all the right words to make you feel better, even if it was just for a moment. On the other side of him, he was the biggest party animal the group had ever seen. Anywhere else, he was the purest angel that everyone believed could do no wrong. But at a party? Park Jimin was a demon. Seductively dancing in a stylish jacket, pants low enough to show his v-line, sweaty hair flipped back pounding shot after shot until he was the last man standing. That guy could party from sun down to sun up like it was a baby shower.

“Did you at least learn anything you missed last year?” Namjoon. Ever the parent. He was surprisingly humble given his father’s status and money. He easily had the best grades among the friends. School always came easy to him, no matter what it was. However, if you saw him outside of school, you’d never be able to guess he was one of the school’s top students. He carried an energy with him that dared anyone to mess with him or his friends. Although you didn’t see it often, he could make himself scary if he wanted to. All in all, he’s just a gentle giant that made sure everyone turned in their work.

“Absolutely nothing. I don’t know why they keep wasting their time on me.” Jungkook sighed. Hoseok threw a pillow from across the couch, smacking him in the face.

“Yah! Don’t talk about yourself like that!” Hoseok was the human charger. It didn’t matter if someone’s mama died if Hoseok was in the room there would be shenanigans. He was always the one to make some crazy dare that would end up getting them in trouble but they wouldn’t be mad because it was totally worth it. He also had great music taste and almost always was on aux. Hoseok’s vice was coke. Often the driving force behind his hyper nature, it started out as just a thing he did at parties, but slowly creeped into his everyday habits. It hadn’t become a problem yet, he vowed that as soon as he started getting nosebleeds he’d stop, although Jungkook was wary of how difficult that was going to be.

“Where’s Y/N and Yoongi?” Jungkook asked after noticing their usual spots empty.

“They left to get food. They should be coming back soon.” Jin assured him, giving him a comical slap on the thigh. Jin was the eldest, but rarely acted like it. Whenever he wasn’t making stupid dad jokes or eating he spent his time at the classical theater where he worked and sometimes acted. He planned on pursuing acting given his “world wide handsome face.” “It just has to be seen! People around the world need to swoon at my beauty” as he would put it.

No one heard the front door open and shut or noticed Y/N and Yoongi standing in the doorway of the living room.

“Food’s here.” Yoongi finally croaked. Hoseok and Jin yelped and sprung up.

“JESUS! Ever heard of announcing yourselves?! I swear you guys are the exact same person!” Y/N just gave a shrug and plopped onto the large bean bag that she’d claimed.

“Hey, Kooker.” She dragged out.

“Hi Y/N..” His unusual bland reply didn’t go unnoticed by her, but she brushed it off.

“You ready to get shit faced?” A playful grin plastered her otherwise tranquil face. A small smile poked at Jungkooks pursed lips. There was something about her character that always put him in a better mood. She was the one who invited him and Tae into the friend group in the first place, and because of that, he couldn’t be more grateful.

Yoongi tossed him a beer can and his car keys. “Start us off Jungkook.” Yoongi was by far the most terrifying one. It took some time to get to know his true person but there were still times when he still scared the shit out of him. Jungkook remembered when he first met Yoongi. He looked like he’d served time with the seasoned look in his eye that said he’d seen some shit in his day. He hadn’t spoken the entire time the group was talking and Jungkook was beginning to worry that he didn’t like him. It wasn’t til he finally spoke that Jungkook could release the breath he was holding. For someone so stoic and cold looking, he never expected him to have such a low, soft voice. He realized, Yoongi wasn’t scary, he was just quiet like him.

Jungkook took the keys and poked a hole in the bottom of the can. He pressed his lips to it and pulled the tab, sending the amber liquor shooting down his throat. He finished it with ease and crushed the can in his palm while the room cheered and chanted.

The loud music, laughing, and drugs drowned out everything in the outside world. It felt like the world ended and they were the last people left on Earth. Nothing mattered but what was right in front of them. The hours flew by until it came time for everyone to crash. Most of them were still raging drunk or high which only made them fall asleep faster. Jungkook didn’t drink much and he barely smoked. He just couldn’t get in the right headspace to enjoy any of it. So there he was, laying awake among a pile of snoring boys at some ungodly hour of the night. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out to read the text in his notifications.

[We All Knew - Labrinth]

Y/N💜: come to my office

He shimmied out from under Taehyung and Jimin and tiptoed out of the room. He followed the smell of weed through the house because where there was weed, there was Y/N. He stepped into the backyard and found her leaning against the wall, blunt between her fingers. The tip of the dark stick swelled into a bright orange when she took a drag. Smoke rolling out of her nose, she held it out for him. He hesitated.

“You're upset. Take it.” Which was a dead-on observation for Y/N, who’s not normally revolving in the same direction as planet Earth. He hesitantly took a puff from it before handing it back. She spread her arms lazily and looked at him with a beckoning stare. He sighed and walked right into her arms that wrapped around his back. She was only older than him by a year, but her old soul and almost motherly demeanor made him look up to her like she was his idol. Sometimes, he forgot he was a whole head taller than her. “Welcome home, Kookie.”

Hers was the only welcome he got that day that brought a genuine smile to his face. She had a way of making him feel welcome and wanted even if she was in a bad mood. She broke the embrace and without a word headed to the old couch by the empty swimming pool. He eventually followed her and flopped down next to her. Another gush of smoke entered the chilly air and it was handed back to him. Feeling better, he took a healthy drag and sighed out the smoke as he sunk further into the couch.

“Was it that obvious?”

“Was what obvious?”

“Me being upset.”

“Not really.” She flicked the ash off the tip of the brown stick, her gaze not breaking from its spacey stare.

“Then how’d you know?”

“Pain recognizes pain.” Y/N wasn’t one for her genius epiphanies, given that nine times out of ten on any given day she was stoned out of her mind. She wasn’t dumb, god no. He wouldn’t doubt that she was smarter than him, but she rarely exercised her ability. As great of a gift that her mind was, it was an even worse curse. An inescapable tomb of her worst fears, thoughts, and intentions, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. So naturally, she tried anything and everything to silence her mind; alcohol, weed, acid, coke, molly, you name it, she’s done it.

Jungkook wasn’t angry or disappointed by the lengths she went. He knew she was just trying to feel better, and to him, that’s all that mattered. He’d take high Y/N over no Y/N at all.

“Y/N?”

“Yep.” There was a silence while he worked up the nerve to speak.

“How…uh….how long have you felt…the way you feel?” She chuckled and let her head fall back against the couch.

“Well I smoked a blunt with Yoongi in the car this morning and then-”

“No, I mean like…w-without drugs.” Her lazy smile didn’t change, but her eyes unfocused and she grew quiet as if lost in a flashback.

“How long do you think I’ve felt this way?” He didn’t anticipate this question.

“Uh…I don’t know…you hide it really well.”

“I couldn’t tell you when it started. I don’t remember much before 7. I’m told I was a happy kid, but it didn’t feel like it at all. All my life I’ve looked around and seen that everyone was so much happier than me, and I’d ask myself, ‘Why can’t I feel like that?’ It wasn’t until I was older that I learned…I was born to suffer. That’s just my place in the world.”

“When did you finally tell anyone?”

“I didn’t. My parents found my razors.” Jungkook always thought he saw scars on her arms and legs, but her milky skin made it hard to tell. It hurt his heart to know that it was true, and that every one of those once caused her pain. The image of her forearms and thighs slick with her blood brewed tears in his eyes.

“They determined they didn’t have the knowledge to help me, so they asked me to take a tour of this mental hospital and think about their suggestion….” She paused to keep her voice from cracking. “I didn’t make it home that day. Never really forgave them after that.”

There was a long silence after that. Jungkook didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. Besides, he knew she hated condolences. “What made you start using drugs?” She took a drag of the blunt and thought about it.

“I was 13.” Really? “I found my brothers stash of weed in one of his shoes. I already knew what weed was and what it was used for, so I took about a gram and a rolling paper and taught myself how to roll a joint on my bathroom floor. I was shaking like a dog shitting peach seeds but when that joint hit, I thought…” She tilted her head to peak at him with an epiphanic smile, “This is it…This is the feeling that I’ve been waiting to feel my entire life. I thought I was sure to get caught and sent to juvie, but I wasn’t. The world went on, and I found a way to live. Now could my lifestyle kill me? Will it kill me? Yeah probably I don’t know, but at least I could’ve had a few years where I wasn’t begging the universe to put me out of my misery.” She paused to take another hit. “People often ask me, ‘Y/N why don’t you try therapy? Drugs aren’t the answer.’ Yeah well, drugs work. Therapy’s a guessing game; you never know if it’s gonna actually help or not and end up wasting your time and money. But when I take that hit, that line, that tab, the world starts to slow…and everything goes quiet…and I feel safe. In my own head. And I can see the world in color again.”

Jungkook watched her blissful face while she was lost in thought. She must’ve been pretty high because this is the most personal she’d ever gotten with him or possibly anyone that wasn’t Yoongi. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“W-what if I don’t feel what everyone else feels either..?” He pinched the skin between his fingers to keep his tears at bay, a nervous habit he’d picked up from her. She reached over and took his hand in hers, the webbing between her fingers had white and pink stripes from years of fingernails digging into the flesh.

“Jungkook,” she didn’t use his nickname, “I know how hard it was for you to say that. I want you to know how much I appreciate you telling me, because if anyone knows how you feel, it’s me. You can talk to me whenever, wherever. Even when you think it’s a bad time it’s not, because nothing in that moment is more important to me than you. I don’t want you to go through the same thing I did, so please, even if you don’t want to talk, maybe I can at least keep you company.”

For the rest of the night, Jungkook told her everything. About the pressure, the stress, the desire to collapse and let the world go on without him, his inability to see a future where he was fulfilled. The words often caught in his throat, having never said them out loud before. Y/N didn’t say much, she just wrapped them in a blanket and stroked his hair while she just let him talk. Sometimes, he’d have to stop to cry and she’d hold him a little tighter, wipe his tears away with her thumbs, and wait til he was ready again.

Eventually, he had nothing else to say, his tears dried, and his body stilled.

Babies didn’t sleep that good.

Y/N nodded off a little later but was woken up by a raccoon tipping a trash can. She rested her cheek on his head and tried to go back to sleep, but it never came. She just continued to rest her eyes while playing with Jungkook’s hair and tracing lines along his features.

She didn’t know how long she laid there but soon the birds began their routine morning songs and she was sure she wouldn’t get back to sleep now. The faint tap of shoes on the concrete perked her ears, but she kept her eyes closed. The footsteps stopped behind the couch where she sat. It was quiet before the person chuckled quietly. A warm hand smoothed back the hair in her face and a little kiss was planted on her forehead. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face.

“Yoongi, I’m awake you creep.” She cracked her eyes open to see her boyfriend laid over the back of the couch hovering above her, his dark hair tickling her nose. He smirked.

“Well in that case,” he grabbed her chin and tilted her head up before capturing her lips in a playful kiss. When they parted, he glanced down at Jungkooks still sleeping figure. “You guys stay out here all night?”

“Yeah,” she looked down at him and smoothed his hair back, “he just had a few things to get off his chest.” Yoongi almost asked what it was about but her face gave him an idea.

“It’s cold, you want me to take him inside?”

“It won’t wake him up will it?”

“If he’s as out as as he looks, he won’t.” She nodded and Yoongi circled around and slipped his hands under the sleeping boy’s body. Much to Y/N’s pleasant surprise, he lifted him bridal style with ease and she followed him into the house where he placed him next to the other slumbering boys.

When he straightened back up he saw her in the sliding glass door, gazing at the now dusty blue sky. She could feel his body heat on her back against the nippy outside air.

“I always loved the time just before dawn.”

“Why is that?” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his cheek to hers.

“It’s so calm and peaceful. And incredibly quiet besides the birds. It’s the only time I feel truly left alone.”

“You want me to show you my favorite time of day?” She turned to him with a curious look. “Follow me.” Not long after, the two were perched on the flat portion of the roof with Yoongi’s bong sitting between them. His angular fingers effortlessly packed the bowl and held it out to her. “All yours.” She took it with a smile.

“What a gentleman~”

Soon, the sky went from a pale blue to pastel shades of orange and pink. He looked over to see her fiddling with a thread on his hoodie she was wearing. “This,” he took her jaw and guided her eyes up for her to see the sunrise, “is my favorite time of day.”

“Why?”

“It gives me hope. Kinda like you.” He was glad she didn’t say anything. She was lost in the color palette of the scene before her, the weed making everything so much more vibrant and striking. He could see the sky reflected in her eyes, making the view ten times better. More time went by and she rested her head on his broad shoulder while they watched the rest of the sunrise.

Back on the ground, Yoongi cleared the bowl and poured out the bong water before setting it on a table by the couch. Y/N was on her back in the center of the empty pool, slowly tearing a leaf above her face and analyzing how it separated cell by cell. He stood on the edge above and watched her do this another four times much to his amusement. “You wanna get breakfast?”

She was out of the pool and in his face before he could finish his sentence. “Like you have to ask.” He chuckled and rolled his eyes before turning and walking to his car. “Hey, Yoongi.”

He turned back.

“Carry me to the car like Jungkook.” He broke into a smirk and walked back to her.

“Yes ma’am.” She let out a yelp when he scooped her off her feet and marched the two of them to his car waiting on the street.

Cover photo: @BIGHITTED on Twitter

#bts #bts fanfic #bts x reader #fanfic #yoongi #yoongi x reader #ot7 x reader #bts fic #yoongi fic #bts angst

[abarbaricyalp]

@sambuckylibrary

SamBucky Halloween Prompt 5: Mausoleum

Sam meets Bucky in a mausoleum in Brooklyn  (This fic is set in Brooklyn because I could not make up a reason for Bucky to be in Louisiana despite the fact that I really very badly wanted it set in Louisiana. Bucky is also slightly younger because of fic reasons.)

Rated G: Discussions of death and loss (It’s set in a mausoleum, use discretion) (AO3 link in the notes)

Title from “Little Ghost” by The White Stripes, highly encourage you to listen to the song

One I’m Most Scared Of

Sam hated funerals. He hated that his father wanted him around for them. No other seventeen year old was surrounded by so much death and mourning.

“Sam, you have a gift,” his father said. “You put others at ease just by your presence.”

Sam thought everyone else should invest in a therapist and not a high schooler.

Petulantly, he kicked his heels back against a stone bench as he stared at the walls of crypts and cremains spots. Behind him, the funeral party milled and offered condolences to the bereaved, which actually seemed like everyone in the party. Sometimes, a funeral party seemed less bereaved than relieved at these things. Sam remembered the first time he heard a man’s daughter immediately plan lunch with a group of friends without a waver to her voice or a tear on her cheek. He vowed he’d never be the kind of person that had a funeral like that.

If he even had a funeral. Putting himself in the ground in whatever clothes he died in and then becoming a tree without telling anyone was becoming a nicer and nicer option.

So, he listened to the sniffling without turning around and thought about what kind of tree he’d become. He’d already done his duties of rubbing a wife’s arm, hugging kids, tickling grandkids, listening to the same three stories a dozen times. His father couldn’t expect anything else from him. So he wasn’t thrilled when someone his age sat down beside him.

The guy was handsome in a traditional, classical sort of way. Not as boring as the rich white guys who went to Sam’s school. His hair was side parted and only long enough to make an impressive arch on his head instead of laying in his face. He had a square jaw that was a little comical and his nose was a little fucked up in a kind of endearing way. The way Sam’s best friend looked after getting beaned in the face by a wayward baseball. Like most people who came through the mausoleum, he was sad.

There was no other word for it. Sam had tried to be poetic about his time in the crypts, but there was only so much the clinical-ness of bereaved and the dramatic-ness of tortured or sobbing or anguished could do. And they were rarely entirely true. Sad was just the word for people staring at remains of someone they once loved. Sometimes the simple explanation was the most appropriate. The rest of death and grief was already so complicated. It was easier to just feel sad.

The guy was too old to be a grandkid but too young to be a kid, unless the deceased and his wife had gotten freaky in their elder age. Sam hadn’t noticed him in his previous passes of the party or from the service, where he always sat in the back and made it a game to memorize as many shades of black or ridiculous hair styles as possible.

In fact, the boy wasn’t even wearing black. He was wearing a dark brown jacket, adorned with gold accents and pins. In fact… Sam was pretty certain it was an old military dress uniform.

“Uh...are you just visiting?” Sam ventured when the guy didn’t even bother to glance over.

The guy’s mouth quirked to one side faintly. “Yeah, you could say that. That one,” he said, gesturing to an entombment with a gravemarker that read James Buchanan Barnes March 10, 1922 - February 5, 1942. Son, Brother, Friend, Hero.

“Oh,” Sam breathed and understood the weird military uniform. “Are you related to him? You do kinda look like him.”

The guy turned finally to look at Sam and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, you could say that. I’m Bucky.”

“Oh, jeez, you were named after him too.”

The guy--Bucky 2, apparently--cocked his head in a half nod. “I’m actually waiting on someone. Do you think they’ll be here much longer?” he asked, jerking his chin over to the party.

“Well, these things don’t really have a limit to how long people can be here,” Sam pointed out. “But most people get the point when they start sealing the tomb and all. Uh, this thing you’re waiting for, is it about him? Like, some kind of memorial service?”

It was neither February nor March, so Sam couldn’t imagine why there would be a memorial service for Barnes now. It had been a while since Sam’s father had done a service in Brooklyn and he’d kind of forgotten the cult status Barnes and,  to a much greater extent, Rogers had in this town.

“Nah, I’m just waiting on a friend,” Bucky said.

“Well…” Sam settled back against the stone bench. “I’ll stand in for a while.”

“You wanna be my friend? Should I be worried. I think horror movies start off like this.”

“Name one horror movie that starts off in a mausoleum.” 

“Murder by the Clock. Mummy’s Tomb. All the vampire movies.”

“Dracula doesn’t live in a mausoleum,” Sam argued lightly. “And I’ve never even heard of those other movies.”

“That’s ‘cause you don’t watch classics.”

“Uh-huh. Or you were just scraping the bottom of the barrel.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and knocked his shoulder against Sam’s. “Did you know…” He gestured back to the waning funeral party.

Sam shook his head. “No. My dad’s the pastor. He did the service. He likes me to be here for moral support.”

“Hell, I don’t think my parents trusted my morals as far as they could throw me,” Bucky snorted.

Sam noted the past tense but knew better than to push for information, especially in a mausoleum during a funeral of all places. “Are you a student around here?” he asked instead.

“Can’t you tell?” Bucky answered as he popped the lapels of his jacket. “I’m a soldier.”

“Right. A soldier who’s home, spending his time in mausoleums in front of his great-great uncle or something.”

“I could be a great-great grandkid. I heard he got around.”

“I heard that was all manufactured propaganda to sell a story.”

“I read it in a book.”

“And I read about time travel and aliens in a book.”

Bucky shrugged. “There are weirder things out there.”

“Right, in a world of super soldiers and Nazis with no faces,” Sam agreed drily.

“You’ll see,” Bucky assured. “Aliens and time travel are both gonna be all anyone talks about soon.”

“Y’know, I didn’t think a guy dressing up as his great-great grandpa-uncle to meet someone at his burial site would be so into sci-fi too.”

“Multitudes and all that. You know, there were half a dozen sci-fi books in his bag when his belongings were recovered.”

“I’ve heard that,” Sam said. Only because it’d been a point in the Oscar-Bait movie a few years ago. “He’d read to Rogers when he was sick.”

Bucky looked a little wistful and then nodded.”I’ve heard that too.”

“Do you ever feel pressure to be like him? Or be somethin’ you’re not, just ‘cause someone looked at your little baby face and named you after a legend?”

That wry, sad grin came back and Bucky shook his head. “Nah. Not really. Do you, though? I mean, obviously not him. But someone.”

Sam traced out the letters of the name of someone who died in 1985. A L E X A N D E R. He nodded. “Feels like everyone needs me to be someone and I let myself play that part until people stopped noticing it was a part.”

“What’s the part?” Bucky asked as he leaned back on his hands.

“I dunno. Someone who-- Well, I mean… Maybe it’s not a full part. Maybe I’m just upset that people only want me to have one kind of personality trait. I mean, everyone knows I’m kind and I’m good with words and I care about people. And I really do want to be that guy. But when I want to be that guy, y’know? Not all the time. Sometimes I want to cry and scream and rage too. Sometimes I want to be quiet for a little while and not help someone else. Just for a few hours.”

Bucky nodded and stared at the rows of internments  before them. “Y’know. I’m sure people would understand that if you told them. If you said, ‘I can’t do this right now. Please let me be quiet.’”

“I know that,” Sam said softly. He tangled his fingers together in his lap. “Maybe I’m mostly angry at myself for not being able to say something like that. I’m the guy who helps. If I don’t do that, if I beg a day off, then who am I? What am I bringing to the table?”

Bucky scooted closer and put a hand on Sam’s knees. It sent a jolt through Sam’s body and he worked very hard on not jerking his gaze up to Bucky’s face. “Sam, you just said you have other personality traits, other feelings, other hobbies that aren’t hanging out in a mausoleum. That’s what you bring to the table on the days you can’t be there for everyone else.”

Sam nodded and reached up to rub two fingers under his eye. He wasn’t at full tears yet, but he also didn’t want to get any closer. “Wait, did I tell you my name?” he asked suddenly.

Bucky lifted an eyebrow again. “You must’ve. Or someone else said it earlier. The point is, you’re still you. And you bring smarts and humor and a good head around, even when you aren’t offering free therapy or a crying shoulder. And, Sam, listen, even when you don’t want to be any of that, you’re still kind. I’ve only been sitting here for a few minutes and you’ve been kind the whole time, even when you weren’t trying. It’s not a part you’re playing. Just be who you are and ask for your time when you need it. If people reflect even a quarter of the love you put out there back at you, no one will ever begrudge you some quiet.”

Sam swallowed thickly and leaned against Bucky’s shoulder heavily. Bucky moved his hand from Sam’s knee to wrap his arm around his ribs instead. “You really think I’m funny and smart?” Sam asked eventually.

“You started spouting off propaganda theories and joking about where vampires technically live. Yeah, you’re something else, man,” Bucky laughed. “And I think you’re beautiful, which people always appreciate in people they hang around with.”

Sam rolled his eyes and ignored the last comment, thankful that his skin was dark enough to hide his blush and Bucky couldn’t see the swooping of his stomach. “Well, if you think that’s impressive, I’ve got a whole list of things I think are propaganda.”

“I’d love to hear all about it some other time.”

“Is your friend here?” Sam asked, sitting back a little and glancing around.

Bucky’s eyes cast around the mausoleum briefly too. “No. I just don’t feel like listening to any propaganda tonight,” he joked.

Sam jostled his elbow into Bucky’s rib and leaned back against his side. “I can’t remember the last time I actually talked to someone in one of these things. Everything’s always so surface level here. ‘Sorry for your loss’ ‘He was a good man’ ‘Of course we’ll come by the benefit.’ None of it means anything.”

“Well, I wasn’t part of the funeral, so maybe that was a plus. I’m just some guy. Hanging out in a mausoleum.”

“Ah, you’re the vampire,” Sam said with a grin. “Maybe I should get a stake in that casket.”

“There’s no body in it,” Bucky reminded him. “They never found Rogers’ or Barnes’ body.”

“Right, right. The train and plane.”

“It’s just for show,” Bucky said. He reached out to trace his fingers along Barnes’ last name and then held his palm against the stone for a second longer.

Sam put his hand on Bucky’s knee and said quickly, like ripping a bandaid off, “Do you want to get lunch or something? With me? Now, or later. I’m not picky. And then maybe again?”

Bucky turned blue eyes back to Sam and he really did look just like all those old pictures. That same sad smile came to his mouth. “Yeah, I really, really do. Maybe later,” he said and leaned over to kiss Sam’s cheek softly.

Sam’s eyes fluttered shut and his heart kicked up so rapidly in his chest it punched the air out of his ribs.

When he managed to open his eyes again, Bucky was gone.

#sambuckyhalloween2021 #sambucky #sambucky fanfic #sambucky fanfiction #sam wilson #bucky barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon #the winter soldier #captain america #writing #bingo #sambucky halloween

[thevindicativevordan]

You did one for Hulk (incredible btw). Got any thoughts on Spider-Man?

He used to be one of my favorites.

It's easy to see why Spidey took off as Marvel's premiere character, and competitor with Batman for the most popular superhero ever. If you'll indulge my DC bias, Spider-Man sits at the intersection between Superman and Batman. Like Superman, Spider-Man never knew his birth parents, and was instead adopted and raised by an elderly couple. Uncle Ben and Aunt May are the people Peter thinks of as his mom and dad, and it's their lives that help shape Peter. Both Superman and Spider-Man wear colorful red and blue costumes, both have iconic jobs working for newspapers with cantankerous bosses, and both have a lot of Jewish DNA in them because of their creators. Like Batman however, Spider-Man has a tragic parental figure's death to motivate him, he has a very poor reputation with the public, they both style themselves on animals, and both have strong roots in the cities they protect. That Peter's greatest foe, the Green Goblin, also stands at the intersection between Lex Luthor and the Joker makes for a great parallel. Add in that Spider-Man has the second best Rogues Gallery in comics, and it's clear Peter drew on the best attributes from his predecessors as a foundation.

What separates Peter from them though is that he was the first hero with real problems. Neither Superman or Batman had to worry about paying rent regularly like Peter did. Both stood apart from their peers by choice, while Peter wanted to make friends but wasn't able to do it. Krypton and the Waynes died through no fault of Supes or Bats, but Uncle Ben's death was something Peter was at fault for if indirectly. Then you had Gwen Stacy killed as a direct result of Peter's superhero career, introducing the idea of heroes who could fail. Spider-Man was pitched as the flawed hero, the human hero, the guy you could think of yourself as being if you got superpowers. You would screw up and make mistakes, but you'd try your best regardless. Of course the readers would be drawn to, and identify with him, and that's both the secret to his success and what keeps fucking him over. A lot of guys see Peter as their self-insert, so they keep trying to return to their youth through him which keeps derailing him as a character. My entry into Spider-Man fandom came during one of the brief lulls from Marvel trying to reset him to what they see as his "roots".

I remember seeing the Rami Spider-Man movies in the theater and being utterly entranced. I played the first Spider-Man movie tie-in game pretty religiously as a kid (fuck that level where you infiltrate OsCorp, those robots were insane), as well as other Spider-Man games such as Web of Shadows. Can still hear the theme song of the 90s animated Spider-Man show in my head, that show's versions of Green Goblin and Venom are still my favorite takes. All this is a rambling way of saying that "my" Spider-Man was formed during a period where Marvel seemed ok with Peter being more adult, something they've been trying to roll back ever since.

Peter was a college student in the 90s cartoon, the comics had him and MJ married (my first Spidey comic was vol. 1 of JMS' Amazing Spider-Man run, so Peter and MJ being married is the "default" for me), the video games were set in the Ramiverse so he was a college student there as well. It's such a weird era to look back on in retrospect given what's to come and what came before. Peter had problems and was flawed, but he was also so much more mature and thoughtful, intelligent in a way beyond just being a science whiz. He and MJ had a great dynamic as a couple under JMS. They were so clearly in love and also utterly unwilling to take each others shit that it was just a joy to read. That relationship really was something I dearly loved, and of course I took it poorly when Marvel broke the two of them up. Making it a plot where not!Satan comes down and takes their marriage away only rubbed salt in the wound.

Suddenly Peter was a lot more immature and stupid, and Marvel was insisting that this was "how he should be". Marvel was claiming that Spider-Man was all about youth, thus he needed to remain young and marriage free in order to work, which flew in the face of the character as I understood him. To me, Spidey was a character about the opposite, he was about growing up.

More than any other character in the MU, Peter was the guy who embodied character development. In his early years under Lee and Dikto, Peter was an asshole with a chip on his shoulder. Far from being the martyr figure everyone sees him as today, Peter initially just kept trying to make money with his powers. He was constantly moaning and bewailing his lot, because he was a fucking teenager! EVERY teenager treats ANY setback like it's the end of the world. Yet over a period of years, both in universe and out, Peter grew into the great hero everybody sees him as today. He became kinder, more charitable, and made friends with his peers. He acquired a steady stream of super hot girlfriends, ultimately marrying MJ. Peter married MJ before Clark Kent married Lois Lane, that's a huge freaking accomplishment! Totally makes sense that Peter would get married first because while Superman was more or less frozen in place like all DC heroes, Spider-Man was the one who embodied the Marvel trait of growth and change. The world kept throwing shit at him and Peter dealt with it as best he could, and that gave me hope because if he could overcome the forces arrayed against him to find some degree of happiness, so could I.

One More Day completely obliterated all of that. I didn't recognize this character anymore, I didn't care about the shallow relationships they teased him entering, relationships we all knew didn't matter. If Peter couldn't stay married to MJ, he wasn't going to last in a relationship with Carlie Cooper or any of the girls Slott set him up with. Peter being immature worked great when he was actually in high school and college, but Marvel wanted to write him as a high schooler without actually deaging him. The contrast between how he was characterized before and after OMD was just too jarring for me.

Ultimately I left for a while. I read Superior and Spider-Verse, but I was no longer religiously following Amazing Spider-Man any more. Checked out Ultimate Spider-Man which I had never read, and I enjoyed it, but I also held a grudge against it's success. Clearly this was the series that enshrined high school Spider-Man as the "ideal" status quo for a lot of people, and I couldn't help but blame the series for Quesada's successful torching of a more mature Peter Parker. I also read Spider-Girl which took place in an alternate continuity where Peter was still married and he had a daughter with MJ named Mayday. I loved that series a lot, and Mayday became my favorite Marvel superheroine. Eventually I came back to ASM with Spencer because a few of my fellows told me he reminded them of JMS, and I've enjoyed his characterization of Peter. Doubt the marriage will be coming back any time soon but it's nice to read a more adult Peter after how he was characterized under Slott.

Hard to say what the future holds for Peter. Tough to say for certain but with the end of high school Peter in the MCU approaching, it feels like we're on the edge of another shift in status quo for Spider-Man. May be that the creation of Miles is allowing Peter to finally start to mature again since Miles can be the corporate wet dream of an eternally young "diverse" Spidey. The insistence on putting Miles into more and more of Peter's stuff, with Peter mentoring him, makes me hope that Marvel is becoming more ok with Peter growing up. The Insomniac Spider-Man is a college graduate, he feels the closest in tone and character to the Spider-Man I grew up with under JMS and Rami. They even got to kill Aunt May off, something Marvel is still terrified to do in the comics, and the relationship between Peter and MJ is portrayed as crucial to both (as it should), even if MJ is a little too Lois Lane lite for my liking.

Hopefully Spider-Man can shake off Quesada's lingering influence and start being what he was created to be: the guy who moves forward rather than running in place.

#spider man #peter parker #marvel

[unmaskedagain]

Oh Lady Luck (How I miss you so!)

Okay; first off. I hated this. I had a massive case of writer’s block while doing it and lost inspiration near the end.

Oh Lady Luck (How I miss you so!)

           Bustier’s class was the luckiest in school, everyone knew it. They got to go on the most amazing trips, win contest after contest, competition after competition, met all sorts of celebrities, frequently got to meet Ladybug, through the best dances and school plays, and always seemed to have a pep in their step. Anything any of the students went after they always managed to get. Everyone knew Bustier’s class was the luckiest in school. Then one day that changed dramatically.

“You’ve changed,” Alya accused Marinette after the class voted her out as Class president. “You become a bully.”

           Alix snorted, “More like a jealous bitch.”

           There were nods from the other students in class. Lila smiled at Marinette; happy that her promise to ruin the girl was coming true.

“You’re always so mean to Lila,” Rose added. “It’s not nice.”

“You’re worse than Chloe now,” Kim glared.

           Juleka frowned, “We miss the old Marinette.”

“You should’ve chilled out like I told you to, dudette,” Nino said with a shake of his head, clearly disappointed.

“We can’t be your friends anymore,” Alya crossed her arms.

           Marinette had listen to them quietly as they relayed reason after reason why they were ending their friendships with her; all to do with Lila. She didn’t bother to look at Adrien. He had warned her what was going to happen; Nino had told him. There had also been a group text apparently. Adrien made it clear he stood with Marinette. Even more so, when he chose to sit with her in the back of the class, a fierce glare on his face at the other students.

The bluenette placed down her pencil, closed her sketchbook and said, “Fine. Then we’re not friends anymore.”

“That’s counts double for me,” Adrien hissed. “Lose my number. In fact, don’t bother; I’ll just change it. That goes for every last one of you. I’ll be informing my Father and Nathalie that only Chloe and Marinette are on my visitors list.”

           The class blinked in shock. Not expecting that reaction from the blond boy who was usually so amicable and nice.

           Chloe watched with amused eyes. She had been sentenced to the back of the room not long after Marinette. “We’ve never been friends but consider all extra little perks you’ve gotten used to: dead and over with.”

           That was it. None of the other students knew what to say or do. They hadn’t gotten the reaction they expected. Marinette didn’t seem to care. Adrien seemed ready to set them on fire. Chloe looked rather pleased at the idea of seeing them burn. Most shrugged it off; figuring at least two of the three (Marinette and Adrien) would come crawling back in no time.

           They didn’t.

           Things started to change for the students in Bustier’s class the next day.

           Lila woke up in the morning to an email confirming that she would no longer being a model or any type of employee for the Gabriel Agreste brand. Or as Nathalie put it when the sausage hair girl called her, “We will no longer be needing your services, Miss Rossi. Do not contact us again.” Click.

           That was when Lila realized her plan of using Gabriel to get Adrien under her thumb had went up in flames. She hoped that Adrien wasn’t informed so that maybe she could still use his father as a threat against the boy.

           When she go to class, the blond model sent her a vicious smirk. Lila paled. She knew without a doubt that Adrien didn’t just know Lila was fired, he was the one got her fired.

           Nino woke up to the news that the gig he was due to play, his big break, had replaced him. It would’ve been huge for his career.

Oh well, he thought, back to DJ-ing for birthday parties.

           Alya accidently dropped her phone in the toilet; ruining hundreds of videos and pictures for the Ladyblog.

           Alix took a dive while skating; broke her ankle and the watch her dad gave her.

           Max broke his glasses.

           Kim got food poisoning.

           Ivan’s dad ran over his drum set while parking in the garage.

           Rose tried to call Prince Ali and found out he changed his number.

           Nathaniel spilled coffee all over his Ladybug comic strips. Marc had been pissed.

           Juleka’s mom accidently put bleach in with a load of her laundry; it ruined everything.

           By the time they had all got to class, all the students were in a terrible mood. However, when Marinette walked in with a box full of delicious smelling breakfast pastries; they perked up. The bluenette always seemed to know when they needed a pick me up. And there was nothing like a treat from the Dupain-Cheng Bakery.

           Marinette didn’t acknowledge any of their presences. She walked straight to the back of the classroom, sat in her seat between Chloe and Adrien. “Morning!” She beamed at her friends. “I brought treats for the three of us.”

“Awesome!” Adrien smiled, quickly opening the box and snagging a chocolate croissant. “Delicous, Thank you” He said. Or least they thought he said that. His mouth was full and it was mostly garbled.

           Chloe rolled her eyes. She grabbed a mixed berries and cream cheese pastry, “Perfect way to start the day. Thank you, Marinette.”

           Marinette took out her favorite: a berry and jasmine scone. Then she promptly through the box away; making clear that she hadn’t brought any for anyone else. “Anything for my friends.”

“We’ll do lunch at Le Grand Paris,” Chloe said. “On me of course. The chef there is to die for.”

           The other students visibly wilted. Alya in particular who loved going to Le Grand Paris as her mother was the head chef.

           It all went downhill from there.

           Over the next week things went from bad to worse for the students.

           Bustier told the class their trip the Presidential office was cancelled due to an unexpected flooding incident. The plan had been for the class to tour the office and have amazing picnic on the beach afterwards

           Lila’s mother, who had been busy nearly 24/7, officially went on vacation, meaning she plenty of time to spend with her daughter. Her daughter was panicked when her mother inquired about visiting her school.

           Alya discovered that the hits to her site had started to declined dramatically. She didn’t have time to worry about that as her internship with a local new studio had been cancelled; something about realizing Alya didn’t have enough experience. So her summer plans were cancelled.

           Nino’s Dj equipment sparked or shorted out or something but nothing would work anymore. He had cancel the rest of his gigs until he could buy new ones.

           Kim lost a swim match against Ondine.

           Markov got a virus and broke down causing Max to break down in tears.

           Nathaniel lost the expensive sketch pencil he won in a contest.

           Alix’s grandmother brought her a new dresses; frilly monstrosities that Alix’s forced her to wear to school for the entire week.

           Rose, Ivan, and Juleka were heartbroken when Luka announced he was going Solo.

           It didn’t help anyone’s mood that every day Marinette, Chloe, and Adrien walked into class with big smiles on their faces and pleasantly discussed their amazing plans.

           On Wednesday, Adrien invited Marinette and Chloe to come with him to meet the Prime Minister.

           Apparently, Adrien’s dad had called in favors so the three would tour Palais Bourbon, where the French Parliament meets.

“He said I could invite all my friends!” Adrien smiled.

           Marinette had been shocked at this. Until Adrien explained that his aunt had threatened to reveal to the world Gabriel Agreste’s neglectful behavior, his tendency break child labor laws, and his need to isolate Adrien. Thanks to his aunt, Adrien had a much free-er schedule and Gabriel had been in therapy for weeks. “I’ll bring food from the bakery. We can have a picnic!”

“Beach day!” Chloe cheered.

           No one else so much as smiled at the news. Even more so when pictures surfaced on Friday of Marinette, Chloe, Adrien, Ondine, Marc, Mireille, and Aurore with various members of Parliament; including the prime minister.

           Thursday, Chloe loudly invited Marinette and Adrien to an event for her mother, “It’s a fashion show! It’s tonight. Adrien can relax behind the scenes, while Mari and me model on the run way. Mama’s lost a few models so I told her I could recommend a few friends.”

“I’m modeling!” Marinette paled so much, her friends were sure she’d pass out.

“I get to do nothing!” Adrien grinned.

           Pictures of Chloe and Marinette modeling exploded across the internet; multiple fashion websites and online magazines deeming the girls’ Style Queen’s secret weapon and modeling next big thing.

           Most of the guys in class shrugged it off. But a few of the girls turned greened with envy; Lila in particular.

           On Friday, Marinette invited Adrien and Chloe to meet her uncle and her cousin, “He’s back in town on Saturday and he wants to meet all my friends.”

           No one else in class paid too much to that. Who cared about Marinette’s uncle? Or her cousin? They were probably just as stuck-up and nasty as she was.

           Then on Saturday, picture of the same group who went to Parliament, plus Luka, with Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale started trending on the internet. Jagged Stone posted a tweet about how awesome his honorary niece was, with a picture of him and Marinette. Clara posted a pic with her favorite little cousin, Marinette.

           Alya couldn’t believe her eyes and immediately started texting Marinette for the deets. She received a text back saying; new number; who dis?

           Nino flat-out called Adrien only hear that the number had been disconnected.

           The rest of the class faced the same issue.

           And then one by one, they each remembered that they weren’t friends with any of the tree Ostracized students anymore.

           Monday, Alya found out that BugOut, a competing Ladybug blog, had been officially endorsed by Ladybug and Chat Noir. Something that hadn’t happened with the Ladyblog.

           Max lost the science fair. For the first time. He had to go see the school guidance counselor.

           Kim got kicked off the team for his poor grade.

           Lila’s finally called the school to schedule an appointment. Lila was Akumatized within the five minutes.

           Alix’s grandma brought her more clothes; some which were tacky sweaters with cats all over them

           Nathaniel misplaced his new sketch book, with his redone Ladybug comic strips. He never found it. Marc wasn’t happy.

           Nino got a call to dj a huge event only to have to decline as he hadn’t bought new equipment yet.

           It was Adrien that brought in breakfast for the other two; Mcdonalds. Much to the Chloe and Marinette’s dismay, but they didn’t say anything as the boy was clearly happy about being allowed to eat it for the first time.

           Marinette unwrapped her sausage Mcgriddle, wondering who she hurt in a past life, “Jagged is doing a private concert. You two want to come?”

           Adrien nodded, his mouth full of fried hash brown and bacon. “Count me in,” They think he said.

           Chloe held the egg mcmuffin in her hand like it was physically hurting her to do so, “I’m in,” she said. “And I’m bringing breakfast tomorrow.”

           The class was dismayed at missing at meeting Jagged Stone again.

“Are you going to invite us?” Alya asked with a huff.

           Marinette didn’t even look in her direction, “Sorry Uncle Jagged said I can only invite my friends.”

           Ouch.

           Over the course of the next few months, things continued to fall apart for the class. They tried planning one of their usual amazing dances, only for everything to crash and burn. Then they remembered that Marinette planned everything, and before her, Chloe.

           The class never made enough money fundraising so nearly all planned class trips were canceled.

           They had to deal with seeing pictures of Marinette, Adrien, and Chloe and all their friends meeting all sorts of celebrities.

           Ladybug disowned the Ladyblog; causing Alya to burst into tears.

           No matter what any of the students tried, did, competed in, they never won. They practically failed at everything.

           Rose tried to bake cookies for the class; her kitchen caught on fire.

           Max applied for science camp; all spots were full.

           Nathaniel who had lost his comic drawing for the twelfth time in a row was finally told by Marc to take a hike.

           Nino lost his hat, broke his glasses, a dog at his homework, and he tripped landed face down in the mud; all on the way to school one morning.

           The students were constantly late, frustrated, and always seemed to have something accidently spilled or thrown on their clothes.

           Lila’s  mother, who finally decided to just randomly drop by the school after being told repeatedly by her daughter that it was closed so she couldn’t do the appointment for months, was shocked to say the least when it was clearly opened and active. She had a long talk with the Principle and all of Lila’s lies were revealed to class.

           Class was very apologetic to the three ostracized students after that but it didn’t matter. The three made it clear they weren’t interested in renewing their friendships.

           By the end of the year Bustier’s class went from the luckiest in school to the unluckiest kids on the planet.

           The students of Bustier’s class couldn’t help but wonder aloud why they lucked changed do much.

           Tikki, Plagg, and Pollen, hidden away in their chosens’ school bags just smirked.

#ml salt #ml fic #Marinette deserves better #marinette dupen chang #adrien deserves better #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois

[winterscaptain]

i really love a joyful future bc its so soft!! but like imagine Jack and Hotch talking about Haley after the twins are born, like having time alone with one of your parents when you have so many siblings is already kind of hard pressed so like imagine idk the anniversary of her funeral or something and they talk about her and go out for ice cream or whatever and then come back and they both are kinda down bc theyre sad but then like seeing everyone cheers them up even a little :( i cant,,,

haley day

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader a joyful future fic

oops i made it a fic and its only a little off topic! please forgive any errors - i wrote this in like two hours yikes

universe: a joyful future words: 2291 warnings: discussion of death

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed! edited: november 27th, 2020

When you woke up, Aaron was already gone. There was a note on his pillow, and you stretched as you reached over for it. 

Jack and I are off for our hike at Maryland Heights. We’ll be back sometime in the late morning/ early afternoon. We won’t have service until we’re back down the mountain - don’t be nervous if you don’t hear from us. 

We’ll swing by to pick everyone up so we can go visit H all together. I’ll call when we’re an hour out. 

I love you. 

A

You held the note to your chest for a moment before slipping it into the manila envelope in your bedside drawer. You kept all of Aaron’s little notes - post-its from work, little things in your go bag, notes from mornings like this. They brought an absurd amount of joy to you, and he kept writing them, so you kept keeping them. You weren’t even sure if he knew you kept them, but you supposed some little fun secrets were good for a marriage every once and a while. 

Isaac was already up - your sweet boy, with a bowl of cereal in his lap and cartoons on. 

“Good morning, my love,” you said to him as you passed, kissing him on the head. 

He wiggled in his seat. “Hi, momma.” 

You continued into the kitchen, making yourself a cup of (already brewed) coffee. “How long have you been up?”

“I woke up when Jack and Daddy were getting ready, but I couldn’t fall back to sleep so Daddy put the TV on and put cereal where I could reach it and told me I was only allowed to wake you up if there was a fire or someone got hurt.” 

You huffed a laugh at his matter-of-fact tone - imitating Aaron beat for beat. “Is that so?”

He nodded. 

You returned with your coffee mug and planted yourself next to Isaac on the couch. 

“Momma?” He asked, after a little while. 

“Mhmm?” You set your coffee down on the table and tucked your legs up under you, facing him. 

“What’s Haley Day?” 

You opened your arms to him, and he put his cereal down and curled into you. “Can we talk about Haley Day when Dad and Jack get home?” 

He nodded and you pressed a kiss into his dark hair. 

+++

The boys leisurely hiked the path in relative silence, enjoying both each other’s company and the scenery. 

“How are you, Dad?” Jack asked, after a while. 

“I’m good, bud.” He thought about it for a moment and laughed lightly to himself. “I’m really good, actually.” 

A small smile crossed Jack’s face. “That’s good.” 

“What are you thinking about over there?” Aaron said, noting the pensive expression on his son’s face. It was odd - it was a little like looking in the mirror, but Jack would pull these faces that were so Haley. It had startled Aaron more than once. 

“Who says I’m thinking about anything?” 

“I can hear you thinking.” 

Jack rolled his eyes. “Fuckin’ profiler.” 

“Excuse me?” Aaron laughed. He was a stickler for language around the little ones, but he knew Jack swore like a sailor when he was out of the house. 

“I said, fuckin’ profiler.” Jack tutted. “Looks like your hearing is failing you in your advanced age, old man.” 

Aaron pointed at him, eyebrows raised. “Watch it.” 

After a moment, they both broke, laughing out loud. They quieted after a minute, walking a little closer together. 

“I’m just thinking about mom - Haley,” he clarified. “It kind of hit me this morning how…much that all was.” He looked at Aaron, brown eyes curious. “Are you okay, Dad?”

One side of Aaron’s mouth pulled up. “I’m alright. It was really hard for a while, but it gets easier to carry. I know you don’t remember, but you’re old enough now to know that the year before Haley died was...not great. That’s what I had the hardest time handling.” 

“The divorce, right?” Jack’s head dropped as he looked at his feet, still marching confidently up the rock-lined path. Aaron was suddenly grateful, deeply so, for the gift of his son. 

“Yeah. Certainly not a shining moment for either one of us, but I think she made the right choice. She was stronger than me by a long shot, and always managed to do what had to be done.” 

Jack hummed thoughtfully, and Aaron knew he could take what came next. 

“When she was killed, I had to grapple with the idea that she died angry at me.” Aaron looked up, letting the dappled light from the trees strike his face. 

“I don’t think so.” 

“What do you mean?”

Jack kept his eyes up, trained on the path, as he spoke. “I think that’s an easy way to feel guilty, but she didn’t die mad at you, Dad. Aunt Emily told me how brave you were, how you talked to her until you couldn’t anymore.” 

Aaron opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted. 

“Don’t be upset with Em. I asked and she told. Not her fault.” Jack pulled a mouthful of water from his pack before he continued. “I think she wanted you to know how much she loved you, you know? Like, Emily told me she reminded you to not be so serious all the time and to tell me stories about how much fun you guys had when you were young and cool.” He shot a smirk over to Aaron, who rolled his eyes with a smile. Jack squinted into the middle distance. “Were you mad at her that day?”

“No,” Aaron answered quickly. “Not at all.” 

“What were you, then?”

“Scared.” 

“Her too, probably.” Jack’s tone was simple, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to understand. Maybe it was. “You made her feel less scared and you kept calm, even when you were probably more scared than you’ve ever been in your whole life. I only remember her a little, but I think she’d love you for that, don’t you?”

Aaron was quiet for a moment, just looking at Jack as they walked. “When did you get so smart, kid?”

Jack shrugged. “You didn’t answer the question.” 

Yep. He’s my son. 

He couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his mouth as he retorted, “You’re right, I didn’t.” 

Jack crossed the path to bump his father’s shoulder. They were almost the same height, and Aaron imagined Jack would pass him up by the end of the year. “I love you, Dad.” 

“I love you too, Jack.” He reached up to ruffle Jack’s hair, but he ducked away just in time. 

“C’mon, man.” 

Aaron scoffed. “You are your mother’s son - that much is certain.” 

“Which one?” Jack asked with a grin. 

After a moment of thought, Aaron huffed another laugh and said, “Unfortunately, both.” 

Jack’s grin softened. “You miss her, don’t you?”

“I do. But guess what?”

His brow furrowed. 

“You remind me of her so much sometimes it’s like she’s right here with us, you know that?” 

This time, Jack let his father muss the hair on top of his head. “Really?” 

Aaron nodded. “All the time.” Then again, under his breath. “All the time.” 

+++

Aaron called you around noon on the way back from Harper’s Ferry. “We’ll be home in about 45 minutes - traffic isn’t bad at all and we’re just now at the state line.” 

“Sounds good, honey. I’ll start the ball rolling with the girls.” 

You could hear a pair of chuckles on the other end of the line and perhaps a muttered “Good luck with that shit.”

Language, Jack Hotchner. 

Chewing on your lower lip, you added, “Also, Isaac asked. I think it’s time - for him, at least.” 

“Alright. We’ll go sit on the porch when I get home. Jack, are you good helping the girls get ready?” 

“For sure,” Jack’s assent sounded a little distant, but it made you smile.  

+++

You and Aaron settled on the porch swing with Isaac on your lap. Aaron held out his hands palm-up, and Isaac rested his little fingers on Aaron’s. 

Aaron closed his hands around Isaac’s, holding his attention. It was something you two had established early on with the kids: when Dad holds both of your hands, look at him and listen. 

“Mom told me you asked about Haley Day today.” 

Isaac nodded. 

“Before I tell you what Haley Day means, I want to remind you that Mom and I love all four of you exactly the same, okay?” 

Isaac nodded. 

“Alright, bud.” Aaron took a deep breath, and you smiled at him over Isaac’s head. “You know how you and Sophia and Caroline came out of Momma’s tummy?”

Little brown eyes looked back at you and you nodded encouragingly. 

“Yes.”

“You know how Mom and I are married and wear these rings and live together?”

He nodded. 

“And of course you know Aunt Jessica, right?”

A smile broke out across Isaac’s face as he nodded again. 

“Before I was married to your mom, I was married to Haley. Haley is Aunt Jessica’s sister, and Jack came out of Haley’s tummy before your mom and I met.”

There was a little bit of confusion splashed across Isaac’s face. “So Momma isn’t Jack’s momma?” 

You put your hands on his shoulders, and he looked up at you. “Not everyone is like you and me, bud. You came out of my tummy and I’m also your mom, but some people’s moms aren’t the same person they came out of. Does that make sense?” You were going to continue, but you closed your mouth. 

We aren’t going to start the “not everyone has a mom” conversation today. Baby steps. 

“So you’re still Jack’s mom, too?”

“Yes, sir,” you said with a smile. “But at the same time, Haley is also Jack’s mom. So he kind of has two moms, which is also a normal thing for some families. I’m what’s technically called a step-mom.” 

He nodded sagely and said, “Some of my friends at school have step-moms,” but then his face fell into almost comical confusion. “Where did Haley go?” 

You gestured to Aaron and Isaac whirled around. Aaron’s eyes flickered back to yours, and you returned his gaze with soft eyes. 

Aaron took another breath before speaking again. “Haley died when Jack was four - just a little younger than you are now - and so it’s really important for Jack and me to have Haley Day so we can remember her and spend time together. Today is her forty-ninth birthday, and sometimes birthdays of people who died are really hard.” He swallowed, and his eyes misted over. He looked up at you. 

It’s okay. Don’t hide from your son. It’s okay. 

He blinked rapidly, and a few tears fell. Tears pricked at your eyes as well as Isaac scrambled off your lap and into Aaron’s. 

“Mom said that people who have died can’t come back and you can’t see them anymore. Is that true?” He asked. 

Aaron wrapped one arm around Isaac and placed his other hand on your knee. You grabbed it right away, holding him tight. “Yeah, bud. Mom’s right.”

“Do you miss her? Sometimes I miss my friends who moved and I can’t see them anymore.” 

Aaron laughed and squeezed Isaac tight to his chest. “I do miss her. It’s a lot like when your friends move away. She was one of my best friends.”

“Is Mom one of your best friends?”

You brushed tears off your cheeks with your fingers and grinned at Aaron. 

“Yes. Your mom is one of my best friends,” he said with a smile that matched yours. “And Mom knew Haley, too and they were friends. There are a lot of pictures of Haley and Jack and me and Mom on the bookshelf in the living room, but they’re a little high up for you to see them. I can show them to you later, if you want.” 

There was quiet for a moment, as you both let Isaac process the concept of life and death and parenthood in his little four-year-old brain. 

That’s a lot all at once. 

“Do we get to do anything special for Haley Day?”

Aaron looked down at him, “Yes, sir. We’re going to go visit the place where she’s buried and then go out for ice cream. How does that sound?”

“Really good.” 

“Really good, alright!” Aaron rose with renewed vigor, and Isaac clung to his neck as he readjusted his grip. “Can you go get some shoes on and we can go?” Isaac nodded and Aaron set him down with a pat on his shoulder. 

You tucked yourself under Aaron’s arm as Isaac ran back into the house. Through the window, you could see Jack swinging Sophia up over his head as a reward for getting her shoes on. Caroline was attached to his pant leg, begging to go next.

“That went alright.” 

He nodded. “Yeah, it did.” He kissed the side of your head and inhaled. “Thank you.”

You looked up at him. “For what?”

With his hand, he gestured vaguely to everything around you. “Being here, I guess?” He laughed lightly through his nose. “Just - thank you. I know it’s not always easy.” 

You placed your left hand on his chest and rested your head against him as you spoke. “I know you worry, but I have never once felt like second-best or a replacement. Not even a little.” 

“I do worry,” he said quietly. 

“Don’t, please.” You patted his chest twice, a break. “Now, I believe we promised at least one of our children ice cream and I would hate to have a mutiny on our hands. We’re outnumbered two to one and I don’t need Reid to tell me those aren’t great odds.” 

He laughed and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. “There’s no better partner to fend off hangry toddlers than you, darling.”

+++

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#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction

[mourntheantagonist]

I’m sorry about your exams mine are coming up soon and I’m about to shit a brick about it ngl but at the end of the dad tests can be made up or classes retaken. grades don’t define you and tbh they’re not a measure of success either. I’m sure you’re a good student who tried.

Prompt:

Meet ugly: billy likes to jog at the park but his run is cute off went this huge ass wet dog all muddy and shit cuts him off and weaves between his legs. He trips right into a muddy puddle and twists his ankle. Steve runs up to him all apologetic and billy is yelling at him about keeping his dog on a leash, but billy has no choice but to accept the guys help cuz he can’t walk on his own.

Thank you so much for the kind words and thank you so much for the prompt. I loved this idea and got a little carried away and it’s not 100% what you asked for but I still hope you enjoy it :)

read on ao3

Billy loves the rain. Living in California meant a good rainfall was few and far between. He hated to praise Hawkins, Indiana, but he loved that it rained.

Rain in Hawkins was also very much unlike the rain in California. Down in the southwest corner of the country, rainfall was less like a shower and more like a sprinkle. The rain was only ever powerful enough to form little droplets in his hair. Never enough to cause soaking wet clothes or windshield wipers past the lowest setting. It was nothing like that in Hawkins. Instead it was heavy showers. Soaking his clothes until they were dripping. Needing to drive carefully to avoid hydroplaning. But not too carefully. He had to take advantage of those curb-side puddles that were perfect for splashing pedestrians. 

If he had to say anything good about Hawkins, it would have to be the rain. But one thing that was just slightly better than when it was raining, was when it stopped. When the roads were still wet, and the sky still cloudy, but not a single drop of water falling to the earth. It was a weirdly nice feeling. The post rain smell filling his senses. It always seemed to be the perfect temperature. Not too hot. Not too cold. Refreshing was the best way to describe it.

It’s perfect jogging weather. It was always far too hot in California to actually jog the way he wanted. The heat sucking every bit of energy out of him. And trying to breathe in the California smog was just a bad idea in general. Running in the post rain bliss was something else entirely. Taking in only the freshest air. He felt rejuvenated after every run.

That’s how he turned into the guy who stared out of his window every weekend as raindrops fell upon the pane. Looking up at the grey sky waiting for the clouds to part and the rain to subside so he could go out for his run. This was another good thing about Hawkins rain. While it rained often, it didn’t rain for long. It was a perfect balance the way Billy sees it. 

This was how he got to know Hawkins a little better. He ran through surrounding neighborhoods, he ran to the high school and on days he felt really good, he ran into town. 

Weirdly enough running was a lot like surfing. Not so much in the activity itself, but for the purposes that it served. Because it was more than just exercise. It was a nice way of escaping everything. His dad, Susan, hell even Hawkins. Because just like surfing he was able to put himself into a different zone. Enter a separate reality from the one he was stuck in. He could put on his Walkman and run like he had no destination. 

But sometimes he got into the zone a little too much. If the town hadn’t already known him as the bad boy from sunny California, they surely knew him as the punk kid with no respect that was constantly bumping into them on the street. Jaywalking in front of their cars. Splashing carelessly into puddles of fresh rain water. It’s not like he planned to stay in a small town in Indiana. Billy was not the small town type. Some nice rain wasn’t going to suddenly change him into that type of person. And it wasn’t like he couldn’t find rain elsewhere. The Pacific Northwest has both heavy rain and beaches. Maybe he’ll go there instead of going back to California. But the point is, he doesn’t care about what his reputation is. It doesn’t matter. So he pisses off the locals without hesitation and just tries to make the best of it while he’s trapped here.

But maybe Billy should have paid a little more attention. While some humans have the common sense to move out of the way, some animals are lacking in that area.

He’s running through this trail he found in the woods surrounding Loch Nora. In his defense he has no reason to be expecting any company while jogging through the middle of the woods. Perhaps he shouldn’t only be worrying about the company of people and rather whatever wildlife lurks in this part of the country. 

Thank fuck his only run in was with that of a disheveled golden retriever covered in mud and not some seven foot tall bear. Billy doesn’t notice the dog until it begins weaving in and out between Billy’s legs. The dog is damn lucky Billy didn’t step on her tail. She’s got a leash hanging from her collar with no owner on the other end. But Billy only knows that part because the same leash had managed to wrap around both of his ankles, bringing him to his new position of being face down in a muddy puddle with an apparent ache forming where the leash had bound him.

So there he lies. Face down, ankles wrapped, a dog licking the mud off his face, and to top it all off, the owner has finally decided to make an appearance. Something in Billy is not even surprised to find that when he rolls over onto his ass he discovers that the owner is none other than Steve fucking Harrington. Because of course it’s Steve fucking Harrington. The universe can’t allow Billy to have even one normal day. 

Billy notices Steve before Steve actually notices him. He’s about fifty feet away looking in the other direction shouting what he assumes is the mutts name. “Trixie!” Billy is trying to untangle himself from the leash, but not before Trixie makes a run for the human calling her name and yanks herself free, tugging at his right ankle before breaking loose. Billy doesn’t contain the shriek in pain as it almost dislocates the bone. Shit. Something is definitely wrong.

Steve hears him of course. Hears the girlish scream that Billy would never produce voluntarily. Billy is trying to hoist himself up to maintain some of his dignity, but to no avail. Once Steve has made the distance and is standing at his feet, and billy has succumbed to his spot in the dirt, he fires first.

“Keep your damn dog on a leash.” He spits. If he can’t be at eye level, or even stand up, he has to assert his dominance somehow.

It’s only then that it actually clicks for Steve that Billy hasn’t just parked himself there in the dirt for fun. 

“Oh shit dude! Fuck I’m sorry about that. There’s not usually anyone around here so I thought I’d let her do her business y’know? Also she’s not my dog, I’m just pet-sitting for my neighbor. What am I doing? You don’t care about that. Are you okay? She didn’t bite you or anything, right?”

Billy should be mad. Like his ankle might be broken because this idiot doesn’t know how to take care of a dog. But all that rambling and profuse apologies was kind of… cute? Nope. Nope! Billy shut that thought down immediately. 

Billy gestures down toward his feet. “Fuckin’ took me down by the ankles. You could learn a thing or two from the bitch. Seeing how you play basketball and all.” 

Steve brushes off the comment and lends a hand to help Billy up from the ground. He winces when he applies pressure. Still through the pain he slowly tries to walk away.

“Wait! Dude don’t you live on Old Cherry? That’s like a mile from here.” Billy is just comically limping away from the scene. Logically he knows he’s not getting home on his own. But the last thing he wants is to accept charity from Steve Harrington. 

“I don’t need your help Harrington. I’ll be fine. Go back to your castle.”

Steve just ignores him and throws one of Billy’s arms over his shoulder. “Look, my house is like a block away. Let me drive you home so I don’t have to hear about the news of your body being recovered from the Eno River.”

Begrudgingly, Billy accepts the support, huffing out a ‘fine’ before letting Steve guide him and the dog towards the Harrington household. 

Steve was right. It was definitely closer than his house was. He could already see between the trees the nice looking two story building. Billy had passed by it before on his drives, but only ever in the dark. It looked much different in the daylight. Somehow it looked even more abandoned. Like everything was still kept up. There weren’t vines growing along the side. It looked clean, but it gave off this strange feeling of loneliness. Like few people had ever passed through it. 

The only thing about the house that wasn’t up to code was the pool. The water was green and filled with dead bugs and fallen leaves. Looked like it hadn’t been cleaned out in months. He vaguely recalls hearing about the story of that Barbara Holland chick. Died in his pool. He figures there’s some correlation there. 

By the time they make it to the Beemer, Steve finally gets a good look at his ankle. In only the matter of a couple minutes it’s swollen dramatically and he can see a faint purple forming underneath the skin. He also sees some blood stains forming at his knees, seeping through the grey material of his sweats. And Billy is filthy. He’s got mud on his face and all over his clothes. His hands are all scraped up, most likely from the fall.

Steve’s brain is working hard. Steve has every reason to let Billy go on his own. Not even three months ago the guy was on top of him, beating him nearly to death. Why should Steve be showing him any kindness? But then he remembers back to him and Jonathan. Sure the fight wasn’t nearly as brutal. But Steve has said some fucked up shit to him and Jonathan never held it against him. Sure, Steve actually apologized, but in his own way, he thinks Billy had too. Not so much with words but with his actions. He had left Steve alone ever since that night. He was still aggressive when they were on the court, but the trash talk had dissipated. So maybe there was some remorse there. And look, it’s Steve’s fault his ankle is fucked up so the least he can do is help him get fixed up and get home.

“Okay look. I have to get the dog settled inside before I can take you home. How about you let me take a look at your ankle and then we can both go our separate ways?” 

Billy crosses his arms, balancing on one leg now that he’s no longer being supported. “That wasn’t the deal.”

“Actually the deal was I’d drive you home. That hasn’t changed. Just come inside. Your ankle looks fucked up and I know a thing or two about first aid.” Steve goes back towards Billy and puts his arm back in the same position it was before. Doesn’t give Billy time to protest before he’s made it through the front door. He guides him to the kitchen table where he instructs him to sit down. Then Steve leaves him there along with Trixie. 

Billy scans the kitchen. He’s kind of surprised to see that it looks pretty typical for a kitchen. Nothing too fancy about it aside from the clearly new appliances. It’s just average. Oak cabinets. Basic granite countertops. Doesn’t match the exterior at all. 

Steve comes back without the dog and with a first aid kit in hand. 

“You don’t have to do this man, just take me home.”

Steve just ignores him and kneels down in front of him and works at the laces of his shoe. “It’s my fault you look like you were just mauled by a bear so let me fucking do this alright?” Steve pulls off his shoe frustratedly which probably wasn’t the best idea.

“Ow! What the fuck dude?!”

“Sorry.”

“Look, I’m not here to help you feel better about yourself.” 

Steve pulls his sock off anyway. This time with slightly more care. “Just shut up and let me finish this so I can get you out of here.” Billy slumps back and Steve takes a closer look at his ankle. It looks bad. Clearly broken. “I think you need to go to a hospital. This looks like more than just a sprain.”

Billy's eyes go wide and he gets a little shaky. “No hospitals” he says bluntly.

“Billy I really think you should consider-“

“Did you not fucking hear me? I’m not going to a hospital.”

“Why not?”

Billy scoffs. “Your pretty little head couldn’t handle it.”

“Try me.”

“No. We’re not doing this Harrington. Fix me up and take me home.”

Steve rolls his eyes and gets up from where he was kneeling. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

“Not like there’s anywhere I can go.”

Steve comes back with a pair of sweats and a plain black t-shirt. He tosses them onto Billy’s lap. “Think you can put these on without my help?” Billy is puzzled. “Look I’m not going to let you get mud all over my car so put on the damn clothes.”

Billy is currently in grey joggers and a long sleeved navy hoodie. It’s honestly the most covered up he’s ever seen him. While Billy is dressing himself, Steve is preparing a wet washcloth and grabbing an old package of frozen peas from the freezer. Steve manages to catch a glimpse of Billy with his shirt off. It’s not even close to the first time he’s seen the guys shirtless. Hell he’s seen the guy fully naked. But this feels different. This time feels more vulnerable. This time it’s not a decision he’s making himself. This time Billy has several belt marks running across his back. The shirt is on just as soon as he makes the realization. Steve just tries to act natural.

“Okay. I’m going to wrap your ankle. You’re going to ice it while I clean up your knees. Then I’ll take you home and we never have to talk to each other again. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Good,” he hands Billy the wet washcloth. “And wash the dirt off your face.”

Steve pulls up a chair so he can sit in front of him. He gently brings Billy’s right leg up to rest on his thigh and places the frozen peas so that they hug his ankle. He slowly rolls up Billy’s pant leg and inspects the damage. Luckily it’s just some minor scraping that a couple bandaids should fix. He grabs some cotton balls and antiseptic from the kit and begins dressing the wound. But he can’t stop thinking about the belt marks.

Any other kind of injury and he could brush it off as Billy going out and picking a fight with someone. But these are unmistakably not from that and Steve doesn’t like entertaining what it actually means. 

Ever since basketball season had ended Neil had been less careful with leaving marks. 

Because he’s in a t-shirt now, Billy can see as the belt marks wrap around his upper arm.

“That why you don’t want to go to the hospital?” Steve points to the markings.

“Leave it alone Harrington.”

Steve just keeps his eyes focused on Billy’s knee. “Who did that to you?”

“I said drop it.”

“Was it your dad?”

Billy quickly jerks his leg forward kicking Steve in the chest. Not a good idea considering that probably hurt him more than it did Steve.

“You proud of yourself Harrington? Finally cracked the code? Glad to finally have something to hold over my head so you can take back your precious crown?”

Steve is still recovering from the blow to his chest. Didn’t really hurt. Just knocked the wind out of him.

“I didn’t mean to-“ 

“Cut the shit alright?”

“No! You cut the shit. Fuck I don’t give a shit about some stupid fake crown.” Steve heaves a sigh. “Look I don’t understand this exactly. But I get shitty dads.”

Billy is kind of just staring at him blankly. The prior rage seems to have disappeared but he can’t exactly tell for sure. It’s like for the first time in his life he’s actually carefully constructing his next words instead of spitting out whatever comes to mind first.

“Your Dad take away your allowance?” Nope same Billy as always.

“More like he’s never around. Cheats on my mom and my mom cares more about her reputation. I haven’t seen them in weeks now and if you asked me where they are right now I couldn’t tell you.”

Billy bows his head. “Shit. Sorry.” This is a different Billy than he’s used to.

“Can I get back to fixing your ankle now?”

Billy brings his leg back up and Steve carefully situates it back on his thigh. He picks up the package of peas that had fell to the floor and continues his work.

“Can I ask you one question?” Steve asks.

“One.”

“Is Max safe?”

Billy turns his head away. “Yeah.” It comes out a little raspy, like he’s choking on air. “He won’t touch her as long as I’m there.”

Steve’s starting to actually piece it all together. The little details he’s picked up on ever since he made his first appearance at Hawkins High in his loud blue Camaro. Suddenly there’s more nuance to every action he’s taken since then. 

“He shouldn’t touch you either.”

There’s a pang in his chest as he says it. As he watches Billy actively avoid eye contact. He can feel that he doesn’t believe him. That he thinks he deserves it. Because Steve has allowed himself to believe that he was just never good enough for his father. Never understanding that his father was just incapable of showing love. 

Billy doesn’t respond to that. Steve finishes wrapping up Billy’s ankle and patching up his knees, and now he’s helping Billy out to his car. With all this new information in his head he really doesn’t want to drive him home. But they had a deal.

As soon as Steve turns the ignition, Duran Duran starts blaring over the speakers.

“Figured you’d have shitty music taste.” 

“Oh shut up. Unlike you I actually like to hear what they’re saying. Not all the noise.”

“Still. Duran Duran is a different kind of awful.” 

Steve lets himself smile. Even though he’s being berated about his ‘shit taste in music’, he likes this kind of Billy. He’s not saying it to hurt him. It’s like a friendly jab. Maybe Billy Hargrove isn’t exactly who he first thought he was.

The trip is rather short. Old Cherry isn’t too far from Loch Nora when traveling by car. Hungry Like the Wolf hadn’t even ended by the time Steve pulled up to the curb.

Billy doesn’t move to get out of the car. Steve momentarily forgets about his ankle and let’s himself think he’s staying put for another reason. Maybe it has nothing to do with his ankle. He hasn’t said anything. 

Billy wants Steve to say something. Because something weird happened back at the house. The moment Steve said ‘he shouldn’t touch you either’ felt off. He felt something and he needs to know that Steve felt it too.

Steve turns the car off and slumps back into his seat, both hands now tightly gripping the steering wheel. He’s staring past Billy at the house with a look of worry. 

“Look. If you ever need to get away, my doors always open.”

Billy goes to look back at him. Steve is still entranced by the front door. 

“We’re not friends, Harrington. You don’t have to act friendly.”

“We could be.”

“What?”

Steve is looking at Billy now.

“Wouldn’t it be easier if we didn’t spend all this time hating each other and became friends? Forget crowns and keg stand records and fucking Tommy H. and just try to get along? We got two months left until we’re out of here so why not make the best of it?”

“You want to be my friend Harrington?”

Steve puts his head in his hands and groans. 

“We don’t have to be friends but we could at least be civil with each other. Just,” he takes another look at the house. “please come over when shit gets bad.”

Billy hesitates, but he nods assuringly. 

“You gonna be alright in there?”

Billy scans the exterior of the house. “He’s not home yet so I should be good.”

“And your ankle?”

“I’ll be alright.” He seems unsure, but Steve chooses not to push the issue further.

“Okay.”

Steve unbuckles his seat belt and goes around the back side of the car to the passenger side and helps Billy up out of his seat. As soon as he slams the door shut, rain starts to dump all over them.

The two are facing each other and Billy has half of his weight resting on Steve’s shoulders. Billy catches a glimpse of Steve’s eyes. Droplets forming on his eyelashes. His hair is already dripping fresh rain water onto his cheeks. It’s disorienting. 

Billy isn’t one for sappy shit but this is some freaky sign.

“I don’t want to be your friend Steve.”

Before Steve has a chance to respond his lips are pressed to Billy’s. It’s a quick exchange. Blink and you’ll miss it kind of thing. Billy has both his hands on Steve’s shoulders and is looking at him questioningly. Like he’s waiting for him to punch him or kiss him again. Steve chooses the latter.

Steve surges forward and crashes into Billy. It lasts longer this time. Still quick. But there’s enough time to appreciate the taste of each other’s mouths mixed with fresh rain drops. Steve pulls away first and is quick to offer a reassuring smile. They both look up at the rain coming down, and back to each other.

“Let’s get you inside.”

Billy has another reason to love the rain.

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #fanfic #stranger things #mandi writes tresh

[lluvguts]

chapter one!🌻 🖤

word count: 4,695

pairing: reddie + stenbrough

warnings:  there’s some mentions of family dysfunction and depression, so if you’re sensitive to those topics then you’ve been warned :)

it’s also unformatted (no italics) but the ao3 one has those if you like em

Richie wasn't expecting his thirteenth birthday to be anything special. The usual for the Tozier house was balloons and typically a dessert for breakfast. For his twelfth birthday Richie muscled through an ice cream sundae, so he was hoping that this time it'd be a cake. Or maybe waffles, he loved those. But when Richie dragged his sleepy feet down the carpeted staircase to the kitchen, all his doubts faded away as he was welcomed to the morning smells of a steaming griddle and Maggie, Richie's mother, softly humming a tune while she poured some water into the thick waffle batter. He was about to say something, maybe let out a little mumble of complaint that the sink water messed with the goodness of the waffles (but was stopped by how off her happy hum sounded, at least coming from her usual quiet) when his dad piped up.

"Hey! The birthday boy's up. How about some coffee, son?" Wentworth rose from where he was skimming over the Derry newspapers to give him a smelly, dad-cologne hug. Richie noticed the few doctor's papers Went had brushed under the usual mail before the hug, but didn't say anything.

"He's thirteen, Went. Hardly much of a man to need coffee in the morning," Richie heard his mother murmur absently through his dad's arms covering his ears.

Wentworth released Richie, who adjusted his askew glasses and worshipped the clear kitchen air, then ruffled Richie's already mussed head of black hair. "That's alright, Chee. We'll get her on our side soon enough."

Richie loved that his parents called him that. Chee. It wasn't dopey enough of a nickname for him to hate it, and being thirteen after all, Richie knew he was venturing into the realm where kids thought their parents were losers who were always out to get them. They don't suck a mouth of rocks, Richie thought. They made me waffles and didn't even ask if I wanted syrup and whipped cream on top. They knew I liked it.

"All of my other friends drink coffee," Richie said with his hands playfully crossed. He meant to say, if I had any friends, I'm sure they drink coffee. But he kept his mouth zipper shut.

"Strawberries, too?" Richie appeared at his mother's side and let his hand rest by the soft hem of her nightdress. Her face reflected in the kitchen window looked pinched and tired. Richie held in the bowling boll of worry that rolled into his gut, because even if his mother usually stayed in bed past ten in the morning, it was his birthday, after all. It was only okay with this one exception. Richie's mother hardly got enough sleep. Or rather, she slept often but was never fully rested. It was something to do with the depression conversation that Richie had overheard one night at the foot of the stairs when he should have been in bed. It was odd to him, but his mother simply couldn't get a few good chucks from the sun that shone through the blinds like he did. Maybe she was lonely. Does it get dead boring sitting at your desk, staring out a window that you wished maybe had a few more kids in front of it, or something to see other than the neighbors and all their baby's toys in the yard? Richie wasn't stupid. He knew they were "trying" (a fancy word he also picked up, which just meant they were having sex) for more kids, but just, couldn't? But...wasn't Richie enough? It was the question that kept him up at night, when the Superman clock by his bedside often read midnight, in brilliant red. They wanted a baby girl, they didn't want you. They have another kid and you're all alone now, Richie. It was the topic of discussion that went unsaid in the Tozier household, though to Richie it was the big fat elephant in the room. An elephant with enough weight to send him spiraling under the covers when he should be sleeping, heavy enough so that his sides heaved as the pillow drowned his sobs. An elephant that sat in every corner, even if it was Richie's birthday.

"Of course, baby," Richie's mother took her free hand and hugged the side of his face to her dress, then set the sliced strawberries on top of the whipped cream mountain. She took his plate with both hands and walked toward the table, so Richie steered around her just in time to sit down next to his dad before they broke into the familiar off-key Happy Birthday chorus.

"Was there anything you were hoping you'd get when you turned thirteen, Chee?" His dad asked once Richie had speared a few massive amounts of waffle into his mouth. Maggie smiled politely at her messy eater and then tried to wipe the dark circles from under her watery brown eyes. But things like that didn't just go away.

Richie slung his arm across his lips to catch the maple syrup he felt dripping down his chin then spoke in a careful voice. "I was, uh, hoping to get a bike?"

"And why would you want something like that? Walking to school is perfectly fine. Healthy, even," His dad fired back, but by the way he heard the telltale smile in his voice, Richie knew he was playing, too. Both his parents shared a knowing glance and then turned back to Richie.

"What? You mean, you're serious?" Richie nearly spilled a glob of whipped cream from his mouth. "You guys got me a bike?"

"Why don't you check the front porch, there's a mysterious package with your name on it," Wentworth said.

"Oh, let him finish his breakfast first," Maggie interjected but Richie was already racing out of the kitchen to the front door, his fork still gripped in one hand.

There, shining like a beacon among the weedy yard and creaky old porch furniture was a great lump covered in blue wrapping paper. Richie's favorite color. It was the color of the calm sea he'd seen as a toddler and blue raspberry slushies, the kind that stained your tongue neon blue and made all the hurtful words the bullies said not matter as much when you had a mouthful of sugar. Even that same royal blue of the empty baby's room next to Richie's. But he let those bowling pins stay in place for now. Richie bounded down the steps and didn't bother waiting for his parent's approval to tear through the wrapping paper. Hidden beneath the layers of paper was in fact a bike, but it wasn't one he'd ever seen before. If he had, the monster of a bike was bound to be from a pawn shop or something. The bike was old. With huge fading handles and a package carrier on the back. It even had one of those rubber horns clasped to one of the handles. Richie crouched down to stare at the wheels, where it looked as though his dad or maybe a less experienced man had tried ripping the cards once inserted between the spokes, and left a few wispy pieces of paper as a ghost of their presence. Even more odd, the word Silver was scrawled in a barely perceptible line across the slim body of the bike. Richie felt like he was touching the cool metal of the past, and loved every second spent staring at the bike when he heard his parents step out onto the porch in their house shoes. Richie turned his head and flashed an appreciative smile at the both of them.

"What do you think?" His mother held her hands firmly to her stomach, wringing them when Richie remained silent. "We found it over by Center Street. Some fellow, Denbrough something or other was giving it away, but I had to pay him at least something-"

"I love it!" Richie flung himself up to wrap his skinny arms around his mother equally skinny waist, then buried a string of thank-yous into her nightdress. He held her tightly and hoped his words were proof enough for her to believe it. He wasn't lying, he did like the bike. But he liked knowing he could race past the houses and cars, right to school. Right past awful Henry Bowers and Victor Criss.

"You're welcome," Wentworth and Maggie said with a high laugh. Well, his father laughed but his mother's didn't go past her lips, like maybe her mouth remembered how to be happy but the rest of her didn't.

"You're growing up, Richie. Thirteen now, but soon you'll be twenty and never even realize it...Then you'll be having kids of your own..." Maggie trailed off, no longer meeting her son's wide eyes.

"...Mom, you okay?"

His father butted in once more when he noticed Richie lingering far too long on Maggie's frown. "You wanna try it out? I'm sure you've got hardly any homework to do on a Saturday."

"Can I?" Richie asked his mother, who only replied with a nod. He sure did have an ass load of school work to do, but he didn't want his mother to worry over him even more.

"Don't be out too late, or I'll be sending the hounds on you, mister."

"Dad, we don't have any dogs, remember? Maybe I'll ask for a puppy for Christmas! How bout that, eh?" Richie laughed, but it died when he saw the pained, fragile look in his mother's eyes.

Went took Maggie by the shoulders and guided her into the house, where the sound of her short little cries escaped past the front door. Richie waited with his eyes shut till he couldn't hear the stifled sniffling to slip back into the house for his messenger bag in his bedroom then quietly shut the front door. He didn't want to be in the way, not after seeing how worked up she had gotten. He mounted the bike--Silver, or whatever name it was to the last kid that used it--and fastened the radio from his bag to the basket in front of him. A cool rhythm played out along the Derry streets as Richie pedaled (or tried to, as he'd only ridden one bike before maybe-Silver, when he was only five) toward his freedom. He had the whole day to himself, whether it be spent at Costello's for some candy in exchange for the loose pennies in his short pockets, or at the library for a new comic. Or, on a completely different note, on the burning asphalt because Richie had sped up too fast around a turn down Jackson with his head floating far above the clouds, leaving him jolting back awake and not nearly enough time to break. The bike swung him forward, angrily bucking like an untamed horse, and Richie slipped off the seat and into the sidewalk as the radio strung out another cheery, soulful tune. The sun-scorched mounds of rubble ground against his cheeks and Richie thinks for a second that maybe riding a bike (especially such a behemoth like this one) was such a good idea. His glasses flew off into a patch of dying grass a few feet in front of him, and when Richie found his bearings he realized he hadn't fallen along the sidewalk at all. In fact, there was no sidewalk. The road ended a mile or so back, and all that remained was a few rundown houses showcased by uneven edges of asphalt and sidelines of jagged gravel that cut into his bare knees and chin.

I knew I should have worn pants today, Richie thought as he scrambled over on his stomach for his glasses. He blinked up for a street sign, but there weren't any of those, either. The last one he'd remembered seeing was Neibolt Street, and the realization alone made his body shiver despite the throbbing heat from the scrapes and cuts. This was exactly where his mother might pray Richie wouldn't end up. The houses on Neibolt (if someone were to really call them homes) were scattered and obviously vacant, with boarded up windows and an overall stench of mildew rot that hung over each property. Richie righted his bike and switched off the radio, worried some hobo were to peek their grimy head out from a near window if they heard the music. The closest house loomed over him, it engulfed the entire street with its dark wood-rotted panels and what seemed to be a garden, perhaps in a happier time, but had gone straight to hell. The porch was barely visible through a twisting snarl of rosebushes, the only colorful thing about that wretched house as Richie could see. Those scarlet blooms called to him, and Richie couldn't help but take a tentative step with his battered sneakers up to the chipped picket fence, staring out into the dead quiet for a sign of life inside the house.

A flash of chestnut zoomed past one of the roses, and Richie stopped dead in his tracks. His hand was hovering above the unhinged gate for more movement, holding his breath. A bird must be caught in there. That dark brown softness hesitated behind the bush, then disappeared under the porch and what looked like into the caved in cellar. Oh my god. It's not a bird...that's someone's hair. It's a boy.

"Wait!" Richie called out, abandoning maybe-Silver at the corner but still had his messenger bag slung across his sweaty chest. He dove toward the rosebush, his head full of wonder as to why a kid would hang around a dump like this, and not the least bit concerned for his own safety as the thorns tugged on the soft flesh of his forearms and ankles. The boy had maneuvered through the sharp pieces of the broken porch to get to the cellar, and Richie whined despite himself at the pain as he crawled on his hands and bloody knees to the shattered entrance. It was beyond dark in there, but it seemed quiet and barren to Richie so he stuck one leg into the mouth of the cellar and jumped down. Nothing seemed new, as it all sounded so ancient and tomb-like as the dust from his fall settled, the leaves definitely weren't from this season and the glass wasn't sharp to the touch of his soles. They were worn into the decaying earth of the cellar floor, like they were used to being stepped on. Richie nearly tumbled into the boy when his feet connected with the spongy spring leaves and glass shards.

"Oh! Jeez, I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd be-" Richie started to say, but stopped himself short when what spare light flickered across the boy's face let Richie really get a good look at him. Though bathed in darkness and musty shadows, the boy looked young. Maybe thirteen, like he was. But what made Richie's heart speed up to an unsteady clang in his dry throat was the boy's face. His lips were parted, as if in awe, and as he did so a thin trickle of a black sticky something dribbled down his chin to his shirt collar. The boy only wiped it away, as if it were a pesky fly and nothing more. His fingers and hands were stained too, with that syrupy something. It couldn't be...blood? It's too dark to be blood, really. Unless it's so deep inside him that it's- God, stop it Rich.

Richie reached out a hand to the boy. "Jesus, are you alright? What're you doing down here?"

He couldn't really make out the words through the stream of blood or mucus passing through the boy's mouth, but he heard something along the lines of, "You can see me?" With this was the kid's hands recoiling from Richie, until he stumbled against the brickwork behind him.

"Um...Yes?" He blinked, still staring, completely fascinated by the way the boy didn't really care about his bloody speech impediment. "Say, what's that all over your mouth? Some costume?"

"I wish," The boy hiccupped, or let out some sort of wheezy intake of breath, and more blood coursed down his front. It reminded Richie of when Ron had cursed himself in Harry Potter and began to hurl mouthfuls of slugs. Except that was a fairytale and this was actually happening. He didn't just say that he casually throws up blood. Or black loogie stuff. He couldn't have.

"You mean that," Richie pointed to his stained lips, making him frown. "Happens all the time?" Richie gaped at him, and the other boy only looked away into the depths of the cellar with the lines of his cheeks dark in embarrassment.

"Don't act so surprised, if you'd been through what I- Oh, never mind," He turned back to Richie and wiped his mouth. "What're you doing down here? How did you even find me?"

Richie glanced at the chips of glass by his shoes, feeling stupid. "I fell off my bike. But I saw some idiot wandering into a haunted house and wanted to make sure they weren't going to get their guts unzipped." At the last of his words the boy's brows furrowed and he was glaring with pursed, blood-stained lips. Richie couldn't help the few extra words that often times were the garnish of his sentences. It just came out. His tongue usually betrayed him like that, and these little blips in his brain were the main cause for the teasing at school. Teasing was putting it lightly, though, Richie knew. He didn't come home with black eyes and a practiced lie to his mother for some teasing.

What'd ya say, trashmouth? How about I smash those buck teeth in for ya, faggot?

The boy considered this, his brown eyes softening in the dusty light. "Well, next time don't go chasing a stranger into someplace you don't know. And it isn't haunted."

"I'm only a stranger because you didn't ask for my name."

"And I still haven't," He spit back.

"It's Richie."

"Eddie."

Richie held his hands up in defeat. He wasn't exactly an expert in the making friends department, though he wished he was. God, he did. "C'mon. I just met you and you're already mad at me. Must be a world record or something."

"I'm not mad at you. You just shouldn't be here, Richie," Eddie interrupted himself with a wicked gasp and another gush of blood glistened along his already stained shirt. "It's not safe."

"And why not? Why did you ask me if I could see you? What, are you a ghost or something?" Richie asked playfully, but Eddie's face paled. Water shuddered with a groan through the pipes, somewhere above them, making Eddie jump slightly and then wince at the blood that was caked on Richie's knees and bare arms, as if seeing it for the first time. His next words were grave and demanding, and Richie didn't feel up to debate when such a small thirteen year old kid looked so terrified of some plumbing.

"You need to go," Eddie stated, but didn't try to push Richie away.

"What's the matter? Afraid you won't get any hot water in your shower tonight?" His traitorous mouth spat out.

"Go Richie! You need to get out of here!" Eddie's breath came in ragged pants, and with it more gross blood oozing like snot from between his chattering teeth. He really is scared shitless, Richie thought.

His feet wouldn't move, only lock up in the crazed moment he remembered the glass underneath his shoes and their cool, hard presence like an old knife against his toes. The water in the pipes reached a new height, and the noise stopped directly above them, where a resonant thud pounded across the ceiling and made a few scraps of paint tumble down. Richie felt the world settle around him too, maybe for the first time in the past few minutes, and that was when he felt the weight of his messenger bag grounding him to the earth.

"Here," Richie flipped open the front of his bag and handed Eddie an empty potato chip bag he'd left in there. He didn't know why he was handing him some week old trash, he just thought that it would help the boy's...problem. Eddie only blinked at him, incredulous, before snatching the bag with a shaky hand.

"So you don't ruin any more shirts," Richie explained, then mimed the action of throwing up into an invisible baggie. Eddie's face got that weird pinkish tinge again, and Richie thought the boy was going to say something, or maybe giggle just a bit, but the memory of the creaking and angry pipe sounds made his soft features fall.

"What're you still doing here? Go before it's too late!" Eddie waved his hands frantically at Richie, looking conflicted between shoving his skinny ass up and out of the cellar and perhaps curling into a ball. Maybe he can handle the loogie stuff better that way, Richie thought. He spun around and leapt for the small crag of windowpane left in the cellar, with just enough leverage to haul himself up and back underneath the porch of the house on Neibolt Street. As he half-crawled, half-staggered his way out from under the dry stench of the porch, he didn't hear any more groaning from the pipes. But if Richie stood by the rosebush and bent his head down toward the wooden skirt, he swore he heard Eddie's short sobs, much like his mother's. They were the type that didn't care if you had something to say. They raged through your lungs and out your throat with a little dash of tears to go with it. Except, among the hushed rustle of nearby rosebushes, Richie realized that Eddie's choked sobs were fearful. Like that raging something was attacking him instead.

He found maybe-Silver perched just where he'd left it, the only breeze of reality that allowed Richie to swing his stinging knees across the seat and pedal for home. Get out before it's too late, Eddie had said. Before what?

"What harrowing tales does Richie the Brave have for us tonight?" Wentworth asked. Richie sat across their little kitchen table, the one that collected hospital documents and angry-seeming papers with debt scrawled in red ink, and was shoveling mashed potatoes and burnt asparagus into his mouth. Richie's mother had went to bed early, her dinner going untouched next to Went's empty chair (which explained the over-cooked dinner but not the extra plate and silverware. Did he think she'd come down and inspect the house for fire once she smelled the burning chicken?). After the outburst from this morning, Richie guessed he was too scared to wake her to eat. Richie didn't blame him.

"Oh, not much," Richie began, and made a little mashed potato ski slope as he thought over what to say. He knew it were best to leave out the creepy house on Neibolt from his daring tales, but maybe adding a new character to the story wouldn't hurt anyone. "Went to the trainyard and accidentally busted up my knees. But I made a friend on the ride back home."

This was good, he knew. It wrapped up his fake story with enough packing peanuts that it passed as the real one, with his injuries all accounted for, and Richie even had the guts to tie a little ribbon around it and say he actually made a friend. It got Wentworth listening, which was the real bow on top. His dad grinned and pretended to pull wax from his ears.

"A friend? That's great, son. What's he like?"

Richie stared into the mess he'd made of his dinner. He wished his mother were downstairs too, just so maybe she'd smile at how great his day had gone. He missed her smile.

"His name's Eddie. I don't know much about him, we only talked for a few blocks before he had to turn back and see his ma, you know? But I think he's got some trouble breathing."

"Asthma?"

"Huh?" Richie looked up from his plate, sure his dad had just said ass mom.

"Maybe your little friend's got asthma, Chee."

Richie shrugged. "Maybe. But he's got it real bad. Coughing up blood and stuff." He didn't mean for the last part to trickle out, but like Eddie's weird blood fits he fell into, it just came out.

"Coughing up blood?"

"Yeah. Like motor oil," Richie bit his lip but still the words came. His dad only gaped at him, not looking the slightest bit convinced but all the same concerned.

"Do Eddie's parents know about this? That doesn't sound good, Richie."

The boy's name didn't sound right coming from his dad's mouth, and on top of that he used Richie, his full name. This was unfamiliar territory Richie had land-mined himself into. When was the last time his dad had called him by his real name? Or sounded as skeptical as he did now?

"You think I'm making it up, aren't you?" Richie asked, not knowing where this foreign anger had come from or why it decided to pump through his veins, white-hot energy straight to his brain. Wentworth's face faltered, but he gained some composure. For the first time Richie realized how tired and strained his dad's face looked. Not just his face, but his whole body. His shoulders were curved and hunched, as if pressed down by some invisible weight, circles tracing his brown eyes, a nervous twiddle of his index finger around his wedding ring. His dad looked exhausted, and old, and Richie wasn't sure what to make of that.

"I- Of course not, Chee. I'm just trying to get a better picture. You said your friend has asthma-"

"Can I be excused, dad? I'm not really hungry." Richie was super hungry, after all that had happened today, but wasn't liking the idea of having to conjure up more lies to string along his story. I should have just kept my goddamn mouth shut. He hardly knew why the hell Eddie was down in that disgusting well house, let alone his odd habit of throwing up blood. It all seemed too peculiar, but not fake enough for Richie to just shrug it off. It was real. He could smell those dead leaves in his nose, still feel the thorn pricks burrowing shallow nicks in his skin, the coppery stench of Eddie's body once only a few feet from him, making the stuffy cellar stink like old pennies. All because of Eddie. Eddie, with his pinched face and tiny arms. Eddie who was probably the same age as Richie was but still had a tender childlike orbit to him, even if it got swallowed up by the crippling fear he'd seen smash into those bright brown eyes-

"Richie? Are you okay?" His dad was leaning across the table now, his plate clean and pushed aside. Richie brushed his advancing hand away and gathered his own plate.

"Sorry, yeah. Dazed off for a bit." But Wentworth was still staring fixedly at him, like maybe he'd never believed a single thing uttered from Richie's trashcan of a mouth since he'd came home.

"Alright, well goodnight then. And happy birthday," His dad grabbed Richie's arm before he could run away (and Richie did his very best not to cry out as his dad's fingers squeezed the sore scratches) and brought him in for a side hug. He cringed out of the hug, but couldn't stop the broken-looking smile that stretched across his face. It showcased far too much teeth.

"Thanks, dad." Richie wrinkled his nose at how strained the conversation sounded, like neither really wanted to sit down and play house while their missing piece of the puzzle wasn't there to complete them. Richie just wanted to sleep away whatever had happened between him and his mother, but the Neibolt house tugged at his consciousness through his aching muscles and tiny scabs. And that equally striking pang of worry for whatever had Eddie trapped inside its walls.

#it movie #reddie #reddie fic #fanfic #it fanfic #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #soft #it 2017 #it fandom #it movies #it chapter 2 #gif isnt mine #pennywise #horror #stephen king #horror fanfic #ghosts

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars XCI (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I'd missed this silly goose! tho the actors in hp for some reason look way older so he looks like a baby but pls imagine Erick like this older-looking student bc he should look that way jdhfd -Danny

Words: 2,195

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Twenty-Six: Talk it out.

"Hagrid!" Hermione shouted. "Hagrid, that's enough! We know you're in there! Nobody cares if your mum was a giantess, Hagrid! You can't let that foul Skeeter woman do this to you! Hagrid, get out here, you're just being —" The door opened. "About t — !" Hermione froze when she found Dumbledore there instead of their friend.

"Good afternoon," he said.

"We — er — we wanted to see Hagrid."

"Yes, I surmised as much," He said in amusement. "Why don't you come in?"

"Oh... um... okay."

Hagrid was sitting at the table, there were two mugs of tea. For the looks of it, he'd been crying.

"Hi, Hagrid," said Harry.

" 'Lo," he said lowly.

"More tea, I think," said Dumbledore, and with the flick of his wand, a tea tray appeared. "Did you by any chance hear what Miss Granger was shouting, Hagrid? Hermione, Mel, Harry, and Ron still seem to want to know you, judging by the way they were attempting to break down the door."

"Of course we still want to know you!" Harry said. "You don't think anything that Skeeter cow — sorry, Professor..."

"I have gone temporarily deaf and haven't any idea what you said, Harry," said Dumbledore, looking up to the ceiling with interest.

"Er — right... I just meant — Hagrid, how could you think we'd care what that — woman — wrote about you?" Hagrid cried silently, two huge tears falling down his beard.

"Oh, Hagrid, don't cry!" Mel's hand went to rest above his, looking almost comically small.

"Living proof of what I've been telling you, Hagrid," said Dumbledore. "I have shown you the letters from the countless parents who remember you from their own days here, telling me in no uncertain terms that if I sacked you, they would have something to say about it —"

"Not all of 'em," said Hagrid. "Not all of 'em wan' me ter stay."

"Really, Hagrid, if you are holding out for universal popularity, I'm afraid you will be in this cabin for a very long time. Not a week has passed since I became headmaster of this school when I haven't had at least one owl complaining about the way I run it. But what should I do? Barricade myself in my study and refuse to talk to anybody?"

"Yeh — yeh're not half-giant!"

"Hagrid, look what I've got for relatives!" Harry said in disbelief. "Look at the Dursleys!"

"An excellent point," said Dumbledore. "My own brother, Aberforth, was prosecuted for practising inappropriate charms on a goat. It was all over the papers, but did Aberforth hide? No, he did not! He held his head high and went about his business as usual! Of course, I'm not entirely sure he can read, so that may not have been bravery..."

Mel looked at her uncle knowing that there was certainly more he could say about their family, but she remained quiet.

"Come back and teach, Hagrid," said Hermione, "please come back, we really miss you."

"I refuse to accept your resignation, Hagrid, and I expect you back at work on Monday," said Dumbledore, standing up to leave. "You will join me for breakfast at eight-thirty in the Great Hall. No excuses. Good afternoon to you all."

When the Headmaster left the cabin, Hagrid sobbed for real, hiding his face behind both hands.

"Great man, Dumbledore... great man..."

"Yeah, he is," said Ron. "Can I have one of these cakes, Hagrid?"

"Help yerself," said Hagrid. "Ar, he's righ', o' course — yeh're all righ'... I bin stupid... my ol' dad woulda bin ashamed o' the way I've bin behavin'... Never shown you a picture of my old dad, have I? Here..."

Hagrid got up, went over to his dresser, opened a drawer, and pulled out a picture of a short wizard with Hagrid's crinkled black eyes, beaming as he sat on top of Hagrid's shoulder. Hagrid was a good seven or eight feet tall, judging by the apple tree beside him, but his face was beardless, young, round, and smooth — he looked hardly older than eleven.

"Tha' was taken jus' after I got inter Hogwarts," Hagrid croaked. "Dad was dead chuffed... thought I migh' not be a wizard, see, 'cos me mum... well, anyway. 'Course, I never was great shakes at magic, really... but at least he never saw me expelled. Died, see, in me second year...

"Dumbledore was the one who stuck up for me after Dad went. Got me the gamekeeper job... trusts people, he does. Gives 'em second chances... tha's what sets him apar' from other heads, see. He'll accept anyone at Hogwarts, s'long as they've got the talent. Knows people can turn out okay even if their families weren'... well... all tha' respectable. But some don' understand that. There's some who'd always hold it against yeh... there's some who'd even pretend they just had big bones rather than stand up an' say — I am what I am, an' I'm not ashamed. 'Never be ashamed,' my ol' dad used ter say, 'there's some who'll hold it against you, but they're not worth botherin' with.' An' he was right. I've bin an idiot. I'm not botherin' with her no more, I promise yeh that. Big bones... I'll give her big bones."

The kids shared nervous glances, but Hagrid kept talking without waiting for a reply.

"Yeh know wha', Harry? When I firs' met you, you reminded me o' me a bit. Mum an' Dad gone, an' you was feelin' like yeh wouldn' fit in at Hogwarts, remember? Not sure yeh were really up to it... an' now look at yeh, Harry! School champion! Yeh know what I'd love, Harry? I'd love yeh ter win, I really would. It'd show 'em all... yeh don' have ter be pureblood ter do it. Yeh don' have ter be ashamed of what yeh are. It'd show 'em Dumbledore's the one who's got it righ', lettin' anyone in as long as they can do magic. How you doin' with that egg, Harry?"

"Great," said Harry shakily. "Really great."

"Tha's my boy... you show 'em, Harry, you show 'em. Beat'em all..."

"But if it doesn't turn out as expected," Mel was quick to add. "Know that we are all proud of you as well, Hagrid. We love you very much."

"I'll follow Cedric's advice," Harry told her quietly before going to bed that night.

"Blimey, all it took was a crying Hagrid..." Mel raised her eyebrows. "Want help?"

"No," He replied. "Dunno... I'll let you know."

"All right," She sighed. "Good luck."

She had an important matter to attend that day in private and it could only be between her and Erick. She used the pocket watch he'd given her and informed him that she wanted to talk. On Monday, both students met at the far end of the library, Mel had no idea where to start.

"I won't apologize for what I said the other day, I know you hate it when I do that," She began, "but you're hiding something and I would like to know what it is, maybe I can help you?"

She was expecting many reactions, all except the one she got. Erick let out a long sigh and picked out of his bag one of the books she'd lent him.

"Persuasion?" Mel raised a brow.

"I take that you've read it?" He asked.

"I love it," She smiled at it. "The main character's name is Anne, right?"

"Yes," Erick shook his head. "The story... It made me think– What if I'm making a mistake?"

"What d'you mean?"

"What if I don't like Anne the way I think I do?" He elaborated. "I wrote and she wrote back every week, we never ran out of things to say, but the last week before going to my grandad's house she said something that... What if I just like her because she's the complete opposite of what my parents want?"

"I feel like those are unrelated, I'm not sure I follow," Mel frowned. "Since when you've been having doubts?"

"Since Anne and I started to talk more this summer. It's not exactly that I have doubts, I mean, I know I feel something, I just don't know what."

"I don't think there's a reasoning behind the people we like," She retorted. "...Right?"

"If there's no reasoning, then I guess it's all right, but if I'm supposed to have one... I don't have it. I can't tell why I like her."

"Well, you think she's pretty?"

"Yeah," Erick moved on his place awkwardly. "Although I think other girls are pretty too, and I could even get along with them as I do with Anne. If you were to ask me why I'm interested in her, I wouldn't know."

"But that's normal," Mel tried to calm him. "Love has no logic, that doesn't mean is bad?"

"Listen," He put a finger on the book and pointed harshly. "If I just like her because she's pretty and fun then it wouldn't be bad... Yet I think I'm around her because I know it'd make my parents mad, when I'm here, at school, I don't worry about her... I do wonder, but is not constant."

"So? I don't think about Harry all day."

"Aren't I supposed to be dying of solitude when I'm away from her? Maybe this is just a lie I tell myself so I feel like a normal guy, maybe I'm incapable of falling in love and Anne is just my excuse to be a bad son..."

There was a piece of paper coming out of the book, she took it without thinking. Erick kept rambling without looking at what she was doing and her eyes skimmed through the letter. The seams were so worn out that she could tell the boy had read it several times.

"Anne likes someone else..." She said quietly.

Erick's eyes landed on the piece of paper his face turned pale. "Give me that."

"His name's Stuart and he's nice...'" Mel read out loud. "Her boyfriend?"

"No," He said, seizing the letter. "He could be... but she's waiting."

"Waiting?"

"For me."

"And you don't want to say anything," Mel said slowly, "because you're not sure?"

"I can't be with her," Erick said with difficulty. "Not yet... I have two more years of school, even then I don't know when I'll be able to leave my parents' house..."

"But you like her."

"My parents won't approve."

"You don't have to tell them."

"I can't do that!" He said. "Imagine that Harry's parents were alive and they hated everything about you. That every time they see you they'd throw nasty remarks your way, and then Harry'd be out in the street with no money and without being able to give you a good life, imagine you're from two different worlds and nothing you have to offer can get him out trouble..."

"I think... I think we'd both be in pain all the time," Mel said quietly, "...Is that how you feel?"

"That's what will happen if I do the wrong thing," Erick ran a hand through his hair, ruining his neat curls. "I'd love to send a letter telling her everything... but we're young, I wasn't expecting things to move as fast as they did... she's great, she really is, but she doesn't even know I'm a wizard. There are too many secrets and I just think Anne deserves better. Maybe Stuart can do better."

"I think that in a way, you're right," Mel pushed the book towards him. "But I've seen you read and learn, get rid of so many prejudices just to meet her, not even knowing if she'd like you back... that has to mean something."

Erick supported his head in one hand, rubbing his forehead. "All I know is that if I pull her away from this boy without telling her everything... I'll end up ruining one of the best things that have ever happened to me."

"Then?" She frowned. "You're going to... you're just going to leave her?"

Erick swallowed the lump in his throat. "I want her to choose him... I'm not around anyway, I could even mention the ball and Daphne just to... to make her think..."

"You're gonna hurt her," She told him, not in a reproachful tone, but one that had to be said. "I guess this is the gentlest way you can do it... and it's not forever, right? I mean, if everything goes as planned, eventually you'll be able to try. It's meant to be."

"Meant to be?" He chuckled bitterly. "You sound too sure."

"I am," She responded sincerely. "You and Anne will end up together... just like Harry and me, if I'm lucky enough."

Erick gave her a look, a tiny smile on his lips. "Warming up to the idea then?"

"I've been too hard on myself and Harry," She shrugged. "I think life can be a fairytale if we do what we're meant to do."

"How are we supposed to know what that is?"

"Fate will find a way," Mel got up and patted his shoulder. "Just don't lose hope..."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha​ @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere​ @t-rexs-world

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

[blankdblank]

Brother Dearest Pt 28

Four pages, all you needed was four pages. Staring at your typewriter you could all but feel Victor and James anxiously listening for any typing as you had excused yourself to get the first assignment completed. All the same you simply shook your hands and readied them on the keys to just type something.

‘Growing up in Brooklyn as the second child of two Irish immigrants little was spared on the grounds of artwork. Mom worked hard in her Nursing job in a TB ward balancing our care after Dad died. My older brother Steve got accepted to an Art course in Community College working on a paper in the comic department and selling sketches in the park for spare funds. While he chose photography and art to express himself our home showed very little flair past a sketch he drew on the walls mimicking a wall paper Mom loved. While the artwork I chose was not seen or appreciated by any but myself it had a profound effect on my family, or at least my memories of them.

At night when I was little my Dad used to teach me about the stars and the universe nestling them so tightly. When Mom had died and I was left to Steve’s custody I couldn’t have imagined the house so silent, and while he worked hard I would head to bed and stare up at those same stars.’

Near to tear inducing four pages of how those stars sat as a silent link to your absent brother while reminding you of the tales from your Father and hope that up in the stars above the city never visible outside of blackouts your Mother was watching over you still. The end of the paper rounding off that now that you owned the building you used to rent an apartment in, where in Teddy’s nursery you sketched those same stars in a means to instill that same hope and dreams in him reminding him of his family between summers and winters in Canada where your new extended family had showed you more stars than you had ever dreamed possible.

Exhaling softly you settled the paper on top of the others face down and sighed smoothing your fingers across your cheeks groaning to yourself. Clearing his throat James drew your eyes up to the mug he was holding, “We have cocoa.”

Victor added holding out a slice of pie making you giggle to yourself, “And pie.”

Both peeked their heads inside seeing you slide the pages off the desk to hold out for the smirking pair come to trade their treats for the pages. Near to tears the pair praised the impactful paper sure to express more than what your Professor had been expecting from her students. Once your paper was done to the sitting room on the main floor you went finding Whiskers in the library, barefoot in your skirt still with James behind you to prop you up smiling at the snuggling hold on you he watched your sketching the cat sleeping in an awkward position on an armchair in the library. Almost realistic impersonating a photograph by Victor’s first glance he stroked Whisker’s side and guided you to the living room where he draped awkwardly across the couch with a book making you giggle at the faked candid sketch to add to your stack.

Dawn reading with Teddy asleep splayed out on her propped up legs was next glad that once you had shared the sketch to learn Victor had taken a picture of it after having confirmed that your camera had fresh film in it and was ready for use. A sketch of a picture of Pepper and Olive when the latter was younger was also added to the mix along with a picture of the lake up in Canada to show that you could do landscapes as well after hearing you might have to sketch some of those as well. Dawn’s flower arrangement fell into the mix before you called it a day folding them into a manila envelope you added to your school bag alongside the camera. Dinner came next and helped to set it out to enjoy then clean up after surely followed by more cuddling afterwards.

*

Eyes shifted to Professor Randolph in his entrance to the teachers lounge with mug in hand ready for some morning coffee. The Latin Professor however lingered in adding sugar to his long enough to mutter, “Fair warning, there’s a storm a brewing, hormonal and heavy on wind.”

Elliot turned his head back to the coffee not realizing he had been the topic the night before and now was about to be confronted for his noticed favoritism of who they all had prized as one of the finest catches for their student body hopefully to not be poached by the male faculty for sport. Smoothly his coffee filled the mug for your Elocution Professor to say with a clearing of her throat and removal of her winged reading glasses left to dangle against her chest on their chain. “Mr Randolph,”

Grinning he turned adding a dollop of cream he set back down to head to his chosen chair, “Yes, Miss Marshall?”

Holding her resting grin she stated coyly, “I noticed yesterday you seemed to take well to our Miss Pear.”

“Oh yes, extraordinary mind, simply extraordinary. Everything I’d hoped she’d be reading up on her.” Settling into his chair and taking a timid sip from the scalding drink doing him no damage past what he faked for their sakes to seem meeker than he held the potential to be.

“Did you give an assignment yesterday?”

“Oh no, merely an introduction to Egyptian Mythology.” Lifting his mug he asked, “Why do you ask?”

“Well,” Shifting her hands daintily to overlap on her lap in a tick to face him full on, “Simply I took notice that you had walked her out yesterday in quite the, if I may say, excited conversation. I was merely curious if it was the topic of the project to stir up such an animated reaction from what I have heard to be a stoic student.”

After his sip seeing where she was going with this question he lowered his mug and said, “I believe I understand your meaning, and if you are trying to infer I might be taking any inclination of a romantic interest in Miss Pear,”

Her lips parted, “Oh I would never-,”

He nodded and said, “For the record I grew up with Miss Pear’s father,” stirring ripples of stunned reactions from the ladies listening in to the interaction, “She is his only surviving child and once I heard she had interest in attending the same school he had I took up the chance to get to know her. He was quite young when she died and I had imagined she might be wishing to get to know the man her father was from a friend who knew him well, while he would very much rest easy knowing she was well looked after. She is so much like him, it is almost like I have my old friend back again.”

Miss Marshal, “Oh, I wasn’t aware of her father-,”

Your History Professor said in the drop off of her voice, “According to Miss Pear in my class yesterday said she was orphaned by thirteen, I believe, or twelve, and that burying her mother took up all the money that was left in savings and that her brother Steve was buried by the military after his plane went down. We were discussing the increase in profiteering of the funeral industry post gold rush.” After a moment she added, “She made a fair point that one shouldn’t have to go down in a plane crash so their family wouldn’t be left penniless to bury them.”

Your Art History Professor sighed out, “No wonder she seemed so off put by my assignment.”

Another Art History Professor asked, “Oh, the meaningful artwork assignment you give on the first day, I just love those essays I get from my pupils.”

The first replied, “They must have had to sell their artwork...”

Elliot said after another sip, “I can’t imagine they would have had much artwork in the first place.” That had eyes on him and he clarified, “Her parents came from Ireland. Her father was after his degree while her mother worked as a nurse. Now however the case might be different however, her fiancé and his brother purchased the building she used to live in and they fixed it up. No doubt it is quite lovely after she got her hands on it to whip it into shape.”

One of the other women said, “Must have quite the fortune to buy a building to renovate for a woman he’s yet to marry. Perhaps she may give tips to some of our other girls on how she managed to convince him of that.”

Elliot sighed and replied, “James is quite the choice for a husband, and had they not met in a war no doubt they would have been married already. By my observation already the only thing lacking the title change is a missing piece of paper. And once they knew she was attending here he would want her to feel safe, simplest way would to be move in where she grew up for familiarity sake.”

“I still can’t imagine how much that cost, a whole building in Manhattan.” That had his lips parting and before long he simply rolled his eyes and slipped out to ready for his first class seeing the time leaving them to imagining what they would put in their own lavish imagined First Avenue home somehow you now were rumored to own.

 *

Early through breakfast while Victor took hold of Teddy to finish his feeding Eddie was the one to answer the doorbell. Returning with an envelope express mailed to you alone that while you buttered your toast Eddie opened for you and read, “Odd.”

“Odd?”

You repeated and he replied turning to the second page, “Apparently the owner of Captain America comics is intent on selling and found out you’re Steve’s sister, he wanted to make sure his legacy is passed in family.”

“Odd,” you repeated again and James came over with a fresh plate of pancakes and eggs he set down in front of your spot and his peering onto the pages as well.

James said, “Only two grand, you want it?”

He asked looking at you and he glanced to Victor who said, “We’re buying it. If he’s closing up shop best to keep it under our watch. No telling what they’d turn the guy into next.” Pointing a fork at you he said with a smirk, “We could even give him a tail if you like.” Making you giggle and shake your head.

James took his seat beside you saying, “We’ll stop in after we drop you off.”

Eddie now on the turn page said, “He’s got playing cards!”

You smirked again as Venom said, “Venom would make such lovelier cards.”

“Yes you would Venom.”

Victor nodded, “Now we could do something with that, have our guys look into cards and tokens for poker, be really cool. Maybe even yo-yo’s, haven’t had one of those in ages.”

Grinning his way you asked, “That what you’ve been up to? Brainstorming for the comics?”

Victor smirked back at you, “Always. Even talks to have a Venom jr, web filled baby bottles and exploding diaper bombs and all. Venom swinging around with a diaper bag. So many ideas. Even Pepper, Olive and even Mr Whiskers has a cameo.”

“Now that sounds cute.”

James hummed out playfully, “Now we just have to think up a power persona for Dawn here.”

That had her blushing and staring up at him making Eddie day in sitting beside her, “Only if you want to be in them that is.” Pecking her on the cheek sweetly.

.

Eddie was off and while you rode to school the brothers shared the latest news on when the next comic would be arriving at home before it was available on shelves. Where the past dealt in the daily struggles of the war muddled with a love story contrasting other comics with heroes in it this was rather domestic. A romance with the characters happening to be superheroes. Wedding planning, grocery shopping, redecorating and house parties now joined by baby care for a super baby sure to add more interest between seedy encounters with common criminals. Each issue blending between your story line or Eddie’s with mingled tales in between just catching up to Eddie’s own wedding.

All the more useful for the press wishing to keep something of the latest up on your lovely group of hermits. The school had kept up on security but on the way to lunch few and in between a camera would sneak a picture of your daily routine along with another from your trip home again. They hadn’t gotten to following you home yet, but across from you a man moved turning the heads of the brothers watching him flip open his notepad to ask, “Miss Pear, Sirs, I just had a question.” Curious travelers stole glances at your group taking notice of who was in the car with them. “We caught wind you were approached by the owner of Captain America comics to purchase it. Does this mean the comics are going to merge story lines?”

Victor glanced your way then said, “That would be difficult to do.”

The man scribbled down the words then you said, “There’s an element of fiction, clearly, to the story lines in Bunny and Venom comics, but very much it’s based on day to day situations. While the Captain’s, if we were to merge the two it would be in an entirely fictional premise as the Captain isn’t here to actually, carry on every day.”

Victor, “I think for a bit we would regroup on what has been put out since we’d only seen issues back in the war when we saw Cap in a show ourselves. We really have to see how they built him up where they might have been going to see where we want to take him.”

James’ hand gave yours a kind squeeze, “After all, it’s a bit more personal on our part to ensure his image is honored and upheld in the future editions, while possibly making it a bit less gimmicky as some of the war editions were.”

The reporter chuckled then wet his lips asking you, “There’s a rumor, The Captain was based off your Brother Steve Rogers, that true?”

“Yes,” you replied, “I don’t know what he really thought of the comics, or if he even had a hand in them. I know he loved art, it was one of the things we shared interest in. So I don’t know where to take him from here, but wherever he’s going it’ll surely be somewhere he would have loved to have gone. I know he’d want it to be meaningful. More than anything he wanted to go off and fight for the little guy.” You let out a giggle, “Even though before the war he was a little guy himself, smaller than I am now.”

“I have to ask,” he said wetting his lips, “Why metal? Venom, eats people can leap about and then there’s the whole tongue thing, why metal for Bunny?”

Smirking to yourself you asked, “Why not? Take the smaller of the two and let them tear tanks in half, pull planes out of the sky.”

“That edition was genius, play right off your work with magnets. How did you get into magnets?”

“Used to work with Eddie in a junkyard, plenty of time on my hands to experiment with various metals. There’s metal in practically everything and everyone, take the latest medical machines, even they are dipping into the use of magnets to get looks into patients bodies to help them get better. We are living magnets if you want to delve into it,” your smile dipped out in another giggle at James chuckle to the beginnings of an excited rant, the smile making the man chuckle himself, “I love science, I tend to get carried away. The long and the short of it, Venom can eat and tear people apart and is so intimidating, but they protect each other as siblings should.”

“To be honest Captain could use some sprucing. He needs a pick up on powers. All punches and catch phrases and lectures. Next to Bunny and Venom, even Sabertooth and Wolverine what can he do?” The Reporter asked.

“There’s a time for talking, not everyone can control metal or eat people. Beneath it all, he’s just a boy from Brooklyn with two immigrant parents who just wants the world to be better and safe. Sometimes you need the talkers,” he nodded and you watched as he scribbled that down.

“So once you do get to the big wedding scenes, will it be exact details or something more dramatic? A kidnapping perhaps?”

James hummed, “There’s plenty of drama there, but I suppose if we were to add anything dramatic we’d have to get some permissions to use the guests we have coming for our ceremony and possibly approval for whatever storyline we would go with.”

He chuckled nodded as he replied, “Yes, but I think President Truman might enjoy being part of an exciting plot himself.”

“Don’t doubt it,” Victor chuckled back.

In a glance up to the approaching station he closed the book and reached out to shake the brothers’ hands, “Thank you,” in a tip of the brim to his hat he said, “Miss Pear, thank you, enjoy class.” Up he stood at your returning nod and you leaned into James’ side making the pair grin again at the return to privacy.

Victor, “You know if you get off early enough we might catch a film after you get out, see what shows are running.”

“I think it was between Bardot and Lassie.”

James chuckled standing with you at your stop, “I bet she feels thrilled about that competition.”

“Murder mystery or drama, doubt Lassie could pull that off.”

Victor, “I’m certain if someone explained it just right she could.” Making you giggle and join them on the walk out of the stopped train car with your flowing dress skirt shifting around your thighs under the ends of your cardigan.

Back to the front gate they walked you and James kissed your cheek humming, “See you after school, Darling.”

Victor, “Just leave Stevie boy to us.” You nodded and accepted his side hug and peck on your forehead.

Just a matter of streets and turns crossing several blocks and outside a glass wrapped building they walked in, followed the directions up the elevator to the third floor where upon entrance recognizing stares rippled around on the guests. A guy halfway across the floor knocked on a door he opened drawing a wide eyed man from the office who came out to greet the pair. “Mr Howlett, Mr Creed. Glad you could make it.”

James said, “Bunny would be here but she has class.”

He shook his head, “I understand, come in, come in.” Ushering them into the office where they talked through the transfer of ownership papers they both signed planning, like the building you lived in, to add your name to the ownership papers once your marriage was finalized. Another tick in the category of things you had been barred from, fully owning your brother’s comic as they realized that they had no intention of selling to you alone but the man you planned to marry. Comments of inept females in the office having been pushed out had the pair refraining from action until all of this was yours fully. Cases of comic originals and the lingering copies of those unsold and not yet sent to comic stores were packed up into a truck that would drive the pair back home. Among those thirty cases ten cases of card decks were added as well into a spare bedroom on the first floor to be out of the way.

Curiously a case at a time while Teddy played in his playpen Dawn joined the brothers in reading through the comics. “This, is nothing like your comic.”

Victor, “No kidding. Punching Nazi’s and a trip away where he stops a purse snatcher.” Shaking his head he said, “You should have heard the guy selling us all this and the rights to Captain’s image. Women are inept in an office setting so he sent them off the floor.”

Dawn looked them over, “Truly?”

James nodded, “Wonder what he would say if he knew Jaqi gets final say on every issue. Just maddening, he didn’t even want to sell to her. Said it himself, since we were going to be married best to sell straight to ‘the hand it will find eventually’ assuming I would take it from her. Just a matter of courtesy on informing her of the sale at all.”

Victor flipped the page saying, “We need to add strong women to this. All of them are waifs and fainting dames left and right needing saving from purse snatchers.”

Dawn, “Won’t change much. Not every place is like home. I nearly couldn’t buy rum for a cake yesterday until one of our neighbors let the keep know I’m Eddie’s wife.”

They both huffed and James said, “I’ll go with you next time.”

Dawn smirked at his protective glare, “I don’t need an escort. But thank you. You two have a comic business to run.”

Victor, “Oh we can do both and you know it.” Going to handle Teddy’s changing, “Certainly old enough to know how to manage our time.”

James looked her over asking, “People being nice to you?”

She nodded, “Yes, they are. Like to ask about the house and how everyone is.”

James chuckled, “They do like to be well informed here.”

Dawn asked timidly, “Do you have bad dreams?” James looked her over at her adding, “Eddie woke up a few times last night. Said it was a car door. He hasn’t, but we haven’t lived together very long.”

James, “We have more bad dreams than they do. Eddie’s been much better since first moving in with us. Venom, well,”

Victor came back saying, “Eating people whole is a rough business. Even Pipsqueak has some bad ones from time to time.” He sat down saying as he settled Teddy on his lap, “We had a bad skirmish, few years back,” She nodded and he said, “Bunny got shot in the neck, it wasn’t pretty. Anniversaries happen, but they get easier.”

“The neck?” Dawn asked voice trembling.

James reached over patting her hand, “Super healing, part of her strengths, the wound turns metal for a few weeks and she walks it off. Doesn’t make it hurt any less, we took more fire than Bunny but it doesn’t make her pain any more tolerable.”

“What sort of nightmares does Bunny have?”

Victor, “Ooh, from before or through the war? Poor jumpy thing when we met in her nursing training on the base. Didn’t help I broke her hand first time we spoke. Worst she’s done is stab Jimmy when I startled her on celebrating her ged.”

Her eyes went wide looking at James who grinned at her, “She was asleep, I woke up my claws popped out and she sort of mimicked my response and metal claws came out of her knuckles. Unintentional and she took it bad, scared her terribly. We don’t have any weapons by the bed don’t worry,”

Dawn shook her head, “I’m not, our grandpa took war hard, never got over it we had a list of how to come up to him even just to talk, she must have been so scared.”

James, “She was just a kid, fifteen when we met, just turned sixteen on the battlefield.”

Victor, “More scared of hurting others than getting hurt. We both faced that when we found out what we could do. You want to hide, not draw attention, but you can’t hide it. Eddie said the first time Venom broke loose she was face to face with Germans the first time and she dropped her gun, covered her face. By chance that triggered her magnetic power to form a wall in front of her. She kept her men safe, all the way through as best she could. The quiet back home did them good.”

James, “He just jump up?”

“And paced a bit. Got him back to bed after some tea.”

Victor smiled, “See, you’ll calm him down. He’s improving with you, being with someone you love helps. Even I have the puppies and occasionally Teddy to cuddle up with.”

Dawn smirked, “That’s why he doesn’t cry at night?”

James, “He never cried at night. Very even tempered boy and we had his schedule down in a matter of days.”

Victor, “Still I like to help you guys sleep by changing the little guy and the occasional snack. Gonna be big like his daddy,” he said pressing a kiss on Teddy’s forehead that bumped into his chin trying to stand up on his lap. “Certainly has his aunt’s appetite.”

Dawn said, “Eddie said it was a hard labor, for Teddy?”

James sighed, “We can’t say we know what your kids might be, but Venom has said your blood is different. You’re stronger a match for babies.”

Victor, “We’ll take care of you. Make certain nothing goes too rough, even in labor we’ll help how we can.”

Dawn asked timidly, “How old are you? Jaqi mentioned once, you’ve been married before.”

James answered, “I’m 138.” Parting her lips, “Vic is a couple years older, every couple decades we start over. Powder our hair, have to fake our deaths come back as our sons, but now that our faces are out there, and there’s no telling with how Jaqi ages either. Might have to own up to our ages. Or hide a while and hope people just eventually forget us.”

Seeing the question in her eyes Victor said, “And no, there is no abandoning you. You’re family now. We always protect family.”

Pt 29

#James Howlett x Reader OC #Victor Creed #Venom #Eddie Brock x OC

[jenoptimist]

pocket-sized!sicheng

There was something to be said about Yongqin’s tardiness when neither you or Kun are surprised when he didn’t show up at the time that the two of you secretly agreed between each other to tell him. In true Yongqin fashion, he was late at the later time that he was given. As you and Kun flipped through the menu for the nth time, you traded plausible reasons as to why your friend was late. The last time he was late it was because he got distracted by Yukhei’s challenge to see who could stuff more jelly beans in their mouths, and the time before that, he claimed that he was helping Kunhang and Yangyang figure out whether or not the pavement was hot enough to fry an egg–their hypothesis was a bust and they ran away from the scene of the crime, leaving the raw egg behind until Kun berated them and made the three of them clean it up under his supervision.

Just as the waitress was about to approach your table for the fourth time, Yongqin finally made an appearance. As he beelined towards your table in a hurry, you shot an apologetic smile at your waitress as she suppressed a laugh, already accustomed to you and your group of friends, and nodded at you cordially. You would definitely be tipping her more than you usually did, she was always one of your favorite member of staff.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Yongqin said breathlessly as he plopped down onto his seat, placing his tote bag on the ear of the chair rather than on the floor. “I was actually going to be early this time!” He declared. At the deadpan expression that you shared with Kun, he added, “but I helped an old lady cross the street and then she started having a conversation with me.”

It was certainly unsurprising that that was the reason why he was late. Dejun must have instilled even more compassion towards the elderly in him as he did with the rest of you by volunteering your group at nursing homes and the like. Once you gave your orders and have settled in, the three of you talked about university and the upcoming movies that you wanted to watch the next time all seven of you went out together.

“Oh! Actually,” Yongqin spoke after a small pause, mouth full of pad thai, “that old lady from this morning gave me something.”

“Don’t speak when your mouth is full, you could choke or something.” Kun chided as the other man roughly patted at his pockets, grumbling to himself as he searched for whatever it was that she had given him.

“Sorry dad,” he replied sarcastically, coaxing a chuckle from you and a playful shove from Kun that was successfully dodged. “Ah ha!” He exclaimed, thrusting his left hand in front of you to show off a large white bean. “Tadah!”

You shared a look with Kun before returning your incredulous stare at Yongqin, who was still smiling excitedly. “She,” you paused for extra emphasis at your disbelief, “gave you a bean?”

“It’s not just ‘a bean’!” He huffed defensively, throwing you a mock glare.

“Uh huh,” Kun hummed, “what it then?” He challenged before taking a large sip of his water. You leaned back so that your shoulder blades were touching the back of your seat as you folded your arms across your chest, staring at Yongqin expectantly. He mumbled something incoherent that made both you and Kun lean towards him in hopes of hearing him better, but to no avail. “What did you say?” Kun asked, face pinched in confusion.

“It’s a”–Yongqin’s eyes swung back and forth between the two of you as he licked his lips–“magic bean.” Fortunately you weren’t drinking your soda because you surely would have choked on it, or did spit-take like in that one episode of iCarly, because the minute the words left his mouth, you keeled into yourself as you exploded into fits of laughter. Kun was quick to join you, unsuccessfully stifling his laugh behind his hand. “Guys,” the blond man whined, “it’s not funny!”

When your howls of laughter died down into small giggles you said, “so wait, is this going to be like Jack and the Beanstalk? Are you going to, like, steal golden eggs and sell them for tons of money?” Your statement had Kun slapping a hand on his thigh, practically crying as he continued laughing.

“Uh, no?” The fact that his reply sounded like a question made you want to laugh all over again. “Okay you know what?” Yongqin asked, clearly sounding like he had enough of the two of you, “if you think it isn’t magic then why don’t you grow it?” Never one to back down from a challenge, you agreed. “Awesome! The lady said it’ll bring luck which is good ‘cause you’ll need it to get your degree.”

You squawked in return, knowing that you were unable to come up with a witty comeback since you knew that the road to becoming an engineer was a tough one.

From there, the three of you obliterated your meals, paid and left in search of a thing of compost and a plain pot, which you made Yongqin promise he would decorate before you planted the bean, from a nearby garden centre.

You planted it that same evening, rearranging the items on your desk that stood against the window so that you could position the small pot in an area with optimum sunlight–a difficult feat since it was nearing November.

Unlike in Jack and the Beanstalk, you didn’t wake up to a thick, massive beanstalk that punched it’s way through your ceiling and into the sky. What you did wake up to was a cute little sprout that had you snapping a picture to send into your groupchat so that you could coo over it to your friends.

*

The whole situation had to be a dream. In fact, you were ninety-nine percent sure that you were still asleep. It was entirely impossible that your plant, which at that point had grown tall with a bud the size of a pistachio on top, had disappeared and left a tiny person in its wake. The little guy was still asleep, curled in on himself and blissfully unaware of the thoughts racing in your mind. There were numerous questions that you wanted to ask, the main ones being: if you weren’t dreaming, how was any of this real? Was the bean that Yongqin was given magical after all? And, also, how was he fully clothed? However the big block that prevented you from believing that the situation was a reality, was that it just wasn’t possible scientifically.

Your internal freak-out came to a screeching halt when he began to move slowly, eyes blinking away sleep as he stood up and stretched. Unsure of what to do, you continued to stare at him in disbelief as he scanned the room. When his gaze landed on you, a staring contest ensued. Neither of you looked away and you refused to melt at how cute he was with his tousled black hair and doe-like dark brown eyes.

“Uh,” what were you supposed to say when a tiny person took over your plant? “Hi,” you welcomed, hoping that your smile wasn’t as awkward as your voice. “My name’s y/n, it’s nice to meet you.”

The boy’s (or was a he man? how did tiny people age?) expression went from blank to wary. It was clear that he was fully awake at that point, hunching in on himself as he remained mute. Evidently, he lacked trust in you–if the way he frantically scrambled backward at the step that you took toward him was any indication.

Frowning, you decided to leave the room. You made your way to the kitchen and headed directly towards the fridge. Some sort of peace offering needed to be made. You needed to show that you meant no harm and what better way to do that then to feed him? The state of your fridge was sad but you grabbed the box of strawberries and diced them into tiny pieces.

“I brought you some food.” You announced gently when you stepped back inside your room. You waited patiently as he eyed you for a few moments before slowly making his way down the pot, jumping down your stack of textbooks before sitting by your laptop. “Um, I just cut up some strawberries since it’s the only thing I could find.” You explained as you placed the chopping board of fruit onto your desk.

He stared at it momentarily in curiosity at first before he hesitantly reached out and grabbed a piece. With a quick glance at you, he shoved as much of it as he could inside his mouth. His eyes widened comically, cheeks resembling a chipmunk, as he chewed. After swallowing, he was quick to shovel down the remaining fruit.

“So,” you began as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “do you have a name that I can call you by?” When he shook his head at you in response, you frowned. “Okay, well, how ‘bout we give you one then?”

The names you stated from the top of your head had him shooting you various expressions of disapproval–the name Yixing had him blowing a raspberry, Yifan had him giving you a thumbs down, at the suggestion of Zitao you received a huff as he folded his arms, and Luhan ended up with him shaking his head violently. There were only so many EXO members you could name him after before you gave up.

“Alright, what about,” you paused. Unfortunately, creativity wasn’t something you possessed. “Sicheng?” It was the name of a kid you went to middle school with. From what you could remember, he sat beside you in a few of your classes and kept to himself. The silent nature of the tiny person reminded you of him. At first you thought it was going to be another fail of a suggestion with the way his face shrewd but then, to your surprise, he nodded in agreement. You couldn’t suppress a giggle when he bashfully pointed at where the strawberries were before making grabby hands. “Okay Sicheng, we can get you more strawberries.”

That had him smiling brilliantly, easily jumping onto the palm of your outstretched hand. You set him on your shoulder and then grabbed the chopping board before heading back down to the kitchen again.

Once Sicheng had gotten his fill of strawberries he sat down against your glass of water, planted his hands on his stomach and closed his eyes as he smiled serenely. Since he loved the fruit so much, you would have to get more of it in the future which would be difficult since they weren’t in season.

“We should go grocery shopping,” Sicheng opened an eye but closed it soon after. “So, what, you wanna just lay there?” His answer was clear by the way he didn’t move from his position. Mouth twisting you said, “we can get more strawberries.” That had him standing up in a flash, raising his arms in the air as he waited for you to carry him up.

Bundled up in a puffer jacket that layered over your hoodie, you stood opposite from your door as you thought about where you could place Sicheng. The pockets of your coat would probably suffocate him and you had the tendency to jam your hands in them at random times. If you placed him on your shoulder like you have been doing so far, other people would spot him in an instant. Unable to find a suitable spot to hide him, you suggested that he stayed at home to which you received a pout. Before you would swear that Yukhei and Yangyang had the cutest pouts but Sicheng definitely took the cake–especially with those puppy eyes of his.

Sicheng’s tiny head poked out of the pocket of your joggers. The only reason why you witnessed his movement was because you kept checking on him, just in case something went awry. He was peering curiously at the mini supermarket you were in, his head wildly swinging back and forth. You knew that he was probably curious and so, after a quick glance around the store, you lightly tapped the crown of his head with the tip of you finger. At your touch he immediately disappeared inside your pocket. You decided to stick two fingers inside his hideout, hoping that he would get the idea and climb onto them. When he did, you gently raised your arm and placed him on your shoulder.

The small sounds of amazement that he created surprised you because you thought that he didn’t, or rather couldn’t, speak at all considering that he only communicated with you using various facial expressions and body movement. Briefly, you wondered how his voice sounded; would it be high or low pitched? Would he speak fast like Dejun and Yangyang did when they were excited about something? Or would he speak similar to Kun, calm and slow? You hoped to find out soon–but only when he was comfortable, of course.

The trek home took longer than usual because you fed into Sicheng’s curiosity and allowed him to walk on his own rather than stuffing him back into your pocket. It was definitely because you loved the way he looked at everything in awe, head whipping back and forth as he took in the scenery. At first you were nervous about setting him down to let him roam freely, afraid that he would run away or somehow alert his presence to the rest of society. But you soon figured out that there was nothing to worry about because he was stealthy and would look back every so often as if he was afraid that you would run away from him.

As you neared your apartment complex, Sicheng climbed onto one of your sneakers and clutched the laces so that he wouldn’t fall off. The sight of him made you titter quietly to yourself as you adjusted your pace so that he wouldn’t swing side to side wildly. When the distance you walked towards the building shortened even further, you could see six familiar figures loitering around the entrance. Before you could usher Sicheng back into his hiding place, Kunhang spotted you and started waving madly as he began running towards you. Yukhei and Yangyang followed in suit and you were thankful when they took the shopping bags away from you, your arms aching at the weight your massive food haul.

“Why are you guys here so early?” You asked as Kunhang placed his arm around your shoulder while you subtly attempted to eye Sicheng. If you were hosting game night, they always came a little after four o’clock in the afternoon.

“We missed you.” Dejun replied as he smiled charmingly, his arm hooked around a box of Clue and Monopoly. Yonqin mocked him, swiping non-existent long hair behind his ear as he batted his eyelashes at him.

Arching a brow you said, “but we faced-timed last night.” When you tapped the electronic key onto the machine on the wall which opened the door, you added, “and we spent our break together yesterday.” Out of all your friends, Dejun’s lunch schedule mirrored yours the most which made university all the more bearable. As Dejun defended his statement, the others teased him like they always did. You didn’t know how he didn’t snap at them, just absorbed their words with a small huff of laughter or faux hits at their general direction.

It was a surprise that you made it to your apartment without the boys noticing Sicheng–he was still gripping onto your laces, peering cautiously at your friends. At some point you needed to introduce Sicheng to them since they were a solid presence in your life. You could already hear Yongqin saying, ‘I told you so!’ since he did tell you that the bean was magic. You already knew that he would reference it in the future when he needed to prove something.

Later on that night, when you all decided to take a short break, you took the opportunity to show them Sicheng. The minute you opened the door and went to remove your sneakers, he immediately slid off of it and zoomed in the direction of your bedroom. You followed him, muttering a weak excuse to your friends and found him shoving your door with all his might. The laugh that escaped you made him cast a playful glare at your direction, huffing as he crossed his arms. After you opened the door he ran to your bed, climbed up the leg and eventually made it up onto your mattress and then walked up to your pillows to flop on them as he closed his eyes. You left the room when you noticed his breathing evening out.

As you relayed your morning to your friends they all looked at you disbelievingly, like you had finally lost your marbles, which you expected. If you were in their position you definitely wouldn’t have believed yourself either. You led them to your room, silencing their words of incredulity by pressing your index finger onto your lips. They played into your request, mumbling something to one another giddily.

“Don’t freak out.” You said as you stood in front of your bed, blocking their view of Sicheng. When they gave you a chorus of affirmatives, you stepped aside to reveal your tiny sized acquaintance. The longer they stared, jaws practically touching the floor, you rambled and showed them the pot as evidence. Luckily you had been a proud parent of your plant, documenting it’s growth to them in your groupchat, as it helped strengthen your story. They knew you would never do anything to harm your beloved plant.

“I- So-” Yongqin struggled to find the right words before settling on exclaiming, “oh my God!” The others murmured something similar to express their wonder. “That means the bean was magic! Oh my God, y/n!” You prepared yourself as he whipped his head towards you, “I told you so!” Then, because he was Yongqin, he launched into a dramatic speech about how none of you should ever doubt him because he was always right and, nice old ladies never lie, y/n.

Yongqin’s lengthy rant was cut short when Kun and Yukhei cooed, followed by the others apart from you and Yongqin. You spun around to find that Sicheng had woken up, looking extremely disgruntled until he caught sight of your friends and scrambled to hide underneath your duvet. You eyed the blond accusingly before you lifted your duvet and found Sicheng huddled into himself, his arms around his bent legs.

“It’s alright Sicheng,” you whispered gently, trying to coax him out of his position. All you got were two dark eyes peeking at you in return. “They’re very nice,” you added to which he moved his gaze to your friends quickly before returning it back to you, “trust me?” 

It felt like a gamble to ask that of him because the two of you hardly knew each other but you had hoped that you showed him enough kindness to earn his trust or make him feel safe in your presence at the very least. Knowing he wasn’t quick to make decisions, you waited it out. Sicheng slowly stood up, arms out to try and balance himself on the mattress. He was quick to jump onto the palm of your hand when you reached out to him. Once you he was settled, you turned to meet the excited faces of your friends. 

“Sicheng these are my friends,” you announced as you used your other hand to gesture at them, “friends, this is Sicheng.” They spoke all at once, voices piling on top of one another, which made Sicheng’s eyes widen in surprise, probably unused to such a loud volume, as they introduced themselves to him. 

Game night was over, it seemed, judging from the way they enthusiastically tried to befriend Sicheng and show him the wonders of the world.

“Oh my God!” Yongqin exclaimed as you all ate some hotpot, which Sicheng adored if the way he was scarfing down his food was a sign. The rest of you looked at him expectantly as you munched your food. “This isn’t Jack in the Beanstalk, this is Thumbelina!”

*

Life with Sicheng was a simple one once he became accustomed to your daily routine that mainly consisted of attending university and hanging out with your friends. You were one of the few lucky university students that didn’t have to work a part-time job because your parents made enough income to support you financially even though you no longer lived with them. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to get one, in fact you did apply for several vacancies, but your parents refused and told you that they would keep giving you financial aid as long as you continued to study hard. They always gave you more money than you needed which you tucked away in your savings account. 

The large amount of free time allowed you and the boys to take Sicheng to different sights; you took him to the zoo and the aquarium with Yukhei and Yongqin, cooing over how scared he was of the tigers, hippos and sharks. Yangyang and Kunhang took him to the local outdoor basketball court where they played a few one on one games while waiting for their allocated physics lab time. By the time you found them they relocated to the arcade, Sicheng focused intensely on one of their games as he remained slightly hidden in Kynhang’s backpack. Dejun decided to treat you to some ice-cream, ecstatic to include Sicheng who ended up having so much of it that it caused a sugar rush which resulted in the rest of the day being spent catching up to him and his hyperactive behavior. Kun spent his time with him in the music room that was available for students on campus, playing him several songs on the piano and even composed on specifically for the tiny boy. 

Unfortunately, Sicheng’s sight-seeing trips were put on hold due to upcoming exams. Exam season was hell for everyone and you spent it cooped up in your room, frying your brain as you tried to learn off useful information and tricks that would help you solve sample problems that included math–which was everywhere considering the degree you were trying to obtain.

There were tears welling in your eyes as you tried to work out some sample problems that your lecturer heavily hinted would make an appearance on the exam paper. Eraser bits were scattered all over your desk, the paper rough and void of its grids due to the amount of times you had to rub out your frequent mistakes. An ugly voice in your head was telling you to give up, that it was your worse subject anyway and that the repeat paper would probably be easier to do. You were ashamed to give in but it was extremely late and you spent the whole day studying, so you thought that it was fair that you could go to sleep. 

When you woke up the next day, after your big breakfast with Sicheng, you reluctantly returned to your desk to continue the problem but stopped when you saw that it was already completed. Eyebrows furrowed, you turned to your small friend who was happily listening to an audiobook–he recently discovered poetry and came across a certain old poet that he came to really like. 

You hated to disrupt his peace but couldn’t contain the need to voice your question. “Sicheng,” you called, he paused the audiobook and gave you his full attention, “did you do this?” There wasn’t anybody else in the house except for the two of you and if it wasn’t you who completed it then it was clearly him but you had to make sure, seeing as having a secret fairy godmother or something wouldn’t be so far fetched considering, well, Sicheng. “Sorry for bothering you but I just have to ask. You did this for me, didn’t you?” A shy smile made its way onto his face as he lowered his gaze, nodding his head in reply. You took him in for a moment, eyed your copy and then returned your eyes onto him. “Wow,” you breathed, “you’re so smart!” He became even more shy as you showered him in praises. “How did you solve it?” You asked eventually, you were stuck on that particular problem for days.

Sicheng looked extremely adorable as he wielded your mechanical pencil in his arms, using his whole body whenever he wrote something. He hadn’t spoken yet in the two months that he’s lived with you but he was still great at explaining how solve the problem, smiling at you encouragingly after he gestured for you to work one on your own. It took you longer than he did to solve the new sample question but after he reviewed it and made some corrections, he smiled proudly at you and urged you to keep practicing by gesturing to several other questions.

From there, Sicheng listened to his audiobook on your tablet on the desk so that he could keep an eye on you as he munched on some corn chips. Once you finished the remainder of the problem questions, seeming easier and easier to solve the more you did them, he did his best to hand you a full sized chip but due to his stature he could only offer you a crumb from the end of the bag. You thanked him as he placed it on top of your open hand, melting at his cuteness.

In the following weeks that lead up to your exams, Sicheng became your study buddy. It seemed that he had an affinity for math, gladly helping you whenever it was involved (which was a lot) and although you questioned how he possessed such knowledge, you were entirely grateful that you had someone to help you double check your answers and help you whenever you were facing some difficulty. You deeply wished that you could take him with you in the exam hall but you knew that it wasn’t a good idea. 

When exam season was over, you and the boys decided to sleepover at Kunhang’s house for the weekend. The sole purpose of it being at his house was due to his projector, which was great for streaming movies on Netflix to create an indoor cinema type of atmosphere. As always, you and Kun provided food while the others brought over their portable heaters because of the poor insulation of the building. Sicheng was particularly excited about the sleepover since he hadn’t seen the others since the small New Year celebration that you guys had.

It was plain as day that Sicheng loved the boys just as much as you did. Whenever they were around, he was extra content, willingly participating in whatever mischief they planned. Though he thoroughly enjoyed their company, you observed that he evaded their frequent attempts to touch him. Touching him only seemed to be reserved especially for you and you only. You tried not to think about what that meant although it did nothing to suppress the fondness that it made you feel whenever he stuck closely to you.

Feeling a tiny poke on your thigh, you looked down to find Sicheng offering you a small piece of popcorn. Ever since he offered you some of his corn chips he took it as his job to present you with food whenever it was possible; bits of strawberries whenever you chopped some up for him, using all his strength to push gummy bears towards you whenever Yangyang had a bag or blocks of chocolate whenever Yongqin was eating some. It was endearing, especially the way his whole face lit up whenever you took it and ate it in one go.

After you took the piece of popcorn and ate it, Sicheng turned back to the wall where The Pursuit of Happyness was playing. From your peripheral vision you noticed Yongqin staring at you from where he sat on the opposite side of the room, a shit-eating grin forming when Sicheng laid on your thigh with his back against your stomach. It felt as though the private moment the two of you shared was invaded so you made a quick face at him before returning you attention back to the film. You didn’t want to know what he was thinking.

*

The end of your second year gave you a stress-free summer since you didn’t have to repeat any exams from either semester. The grades you obtained were phenomenal, closer to 4.0 this time around and there were some tears in your eyes when you saw it on your phone screen. It was definitely Sicheng’s doing, you couldn’t have done it without him. Yongqin was right when the old lady said that he would bring you luck. As per tradition, you and the boys packed up and went to the lakehouse that your parents owned–as a kid you would often go during summer when your parents wanted to have a getaway in favor for some family time. The yearly tradition was something that started when Kun obtained his full license and would drive all of you around until he decided that he wanted to go on a trip with you guys.

You and Yongqin laid on beach chairs as you watched the others swim. Sicheng was with them and although at first you felt your heart grip with anxiety at the thought of him going swimming, it chipped away when you saw the others taking care to show him how to swim despite his size. Now there he was, swimming in all sorts of directions as he paid no mind at the antics that the others played.

Your eyes on him were torn away when Yongqin spoke. “Do you ever think about what it would be like if he was a full sized person?”

Of course you did. You thought about it so much you started to dream about it–about what it would be like if he were human sized instead of the six inches he stood at. You liked to imagine that he would be tall, maybe taller than you, and move as gracefully as Yongqin. In your imagination he would speak charmingly and be quick witted, perhaps he would even have a loud laugh. One that was so contagious that you wouldn’t be able to do anything but laugh along with him. Sicheng was incredible in his pocket-sized form but sometimes you couldn’t help but think that he would be even better in full size. You wanted to hang out with him regularly but there were only so many things you could do with him at the size he was. It was getting increasingly difficult to shield him from society, especially since more people were out and about due to the beautiful weather.

“Yeah,” your eyes moved down to your lap, “I guess I have.” Is what you say in return, suppressing your thoughts.

“What if I told you that we could find a way?” You couldn’t look at Yongqin fast enough which made him laugh a little. “I’ve been seeing the old lady around more and more recently, and she keeps looking at me like she knows which is probably because she does.” He admitted and allowed you to soak in his words before adding, “I think we should talk to her.”

You kept silent as you thought about his suggestion. You would love it if Sicheng could somehow grow and live like the rest of you. Maybe he could attend your university or something, he could definitely major in math if he wanted to. But that was what you wanted. Sicheng had to have a say in the matter because for all either of you knew, he actually liked being his size. You passed on your thoughts to Yongqin who nodded empathically, agreeing that you should ask before even thinking about approaching the woman who gave him the bean.

Sicheng cocked his head to the side when you asked him later that night as the rest of the boys stargazed at a slightly further distance, although you were pretty sure that Dejun fell asleep which wouldn’t be surprising at all considering that he could sleep anywhere. What you got in return was an eager nod that made you release a breath that you didn’t even know you were holding. 

The remaining few days at the lakehouse were spent lazying about in the sun, watching as some of the boys tried their best at fishing although Dejun chose not to participate and reasoned that he couldn’t eat the fish he had caught knowing that he had to look it in the eye as its life was ending. Night was spent either stargazing or huddled around a fire as Kun played his guitar, the other boys singing in unison as he played their song requests. It had Sicheng swaying back and forth as he listened, completely enthralled. 

While you loved the time that you spent there, you were more excited when you returned to your apartment. The thought of Sicheng finally being able to enjoy hanging out with you to his fullest ability was building up so much anticipation within you. Yongqin teased you about the transparency of your feelings and was quickly joined by the others but you couldn’t find it in you to care that much, instead focusing your gaze on Sicheng who looked at you with eyes bursting of hope.

Yongqin wasn’t kidding when he informed you that she was everywhere he went, he sent you a flood of text messages every single time he caught a glimpse of her. They usually ended up with him asking you whether or not you wanted him to go over to her but before you even had a chance to reply, you would receive another text from him telling you that she got away. Catching her was more difficult than you originally thought but eventually when you, Sicheng, Yongqin and Dejun were having some coffee at your local café, she walked in. She caught your eye, smiling mysteriously as she made her way over.

“I see he’s sprouted,” she said as soon as she arrived at your table, glancing at Sicheng. “Hi there little one.” That earned her a small smile as he shrunk in on himself. “So, you want him to be regular sized. Am I correct?” Without even questioning how she knew that to begin with, you nodded fervently. She produced a small, purple pouch from the inside of her jacket. “Make sure he sleeps on this tonight and everything will work accordingly.”

“Really?” You didn’t believe that it was that easy. Not that you knew magic or anything, didn’t even know it existed pre-Sicheng days, but there had to be a catch or something. She inclined her head regally toward you in reply. “Is there something I can give you in return, or something? Like, I dunno, money?”

She shook her head as she said, smiling kindly, “you have given him love and that is all that I wanted for him.” And with that she sauntered away, turning her head back only once to wink at you.

That night you slept early, too excited about the events that were going to transpire the next day.

*

When you woke up the next day, you found yourself face to face with a man who was still asleep. Sicheng as a regular sized man. You couldn’t believe it. When he opened his eyes, slowly widening when he realized the situation, he shot up and immediately jumped off of the bed. A tiny gasp escaped you at his height–he wasn’t as tall as Yukhei, who was in a lanky league of his own, but he was easily taller than the other boys. You watched as he examined his eyes in wonder, moved his legs repeatedly before inspecting himself in the mirror on your vanity table. After he had gotten his fill of surveying himself, he turned to stare at you and slowly walked toward you. 

Once he was within touching distance, he held up his hand in front of you and waited for you to connect it with your own. When you did as he wanted, both of you marveled at the difference in size. Experimentally, he dropped his fingers in between yours and you followed in suit so that your hands were interlocking.

“Hi y/n,” Sicheng greeted, his voice scratchy from lack of use. “It’s nice to finally look at you eye to eye.” If you were immensely astonished by his sudden growth spurt, you were even more so by the pleasant sound of his voice–even though he sounded groggy, you could already tell that you were going to be enthralled whenever he spoke in the future.

“Wait,” you said, snapping out of your thoughts, “you can talk?! How come you never said a word before?”

Sicheng smiled shyly, his eyes wandering back to your interlocked hands as he said, “I liked listening to you talk.” A string of noises left your throat that made the tips of his ears a cherry red which made you noticed how one of them was adorably shaped like an elf’s. 

“You liked listening to me talk? Sicheng,” you called, tugging at your hands until you gained his attention, “I love your voice. I should be listening to you talk.” In response to your declaration he let go of your hand in order to cup his face, his smile was so beautiful, so pretty, and wide that you were sure you melted into a puddle of goo.

Later that day, when the other boys barged into your apartment as quick as they could after you told them the news, it dawned on you that the man in front of you was fatal because he had everything, not just a cute face but also the brains and personality.

When Sicheng laughed at something that Yangyang said, you recalled the shit-eating grin that Yongqin sent your way that night at Kunhang’s house because you finally understood. Your eyes widened although they stayed glued to Sicheng as he continued to laugh because oh boy were you in trouble.

#TO THE ANON WHO ASKED FOR SOME SICHENG FLUFF THIS ONES FOR U #i hope its fluffy enough !! if not lmk and i’ll work on smth else for him #this au was actually supposed to be for jeno #but my jeno au morphed into something else??????? #so yeah i hoped u thoroughly enjoy this one !! #i know shes a bit long considering the plot and idk if i included enough cute scenes of pocketsized sicheng #but like okay imagine this: #pocketsized!sicheng rolling strawberries in your direction when he wants to eat some #or feed u considering thats his love language in this #or omg pocketsized!sicheng falling asleep on your forehead cause u were holding up ur phone in bed #so that the two of u could watch some anime or netflix or vine compilations #the possibilities are endless !!!! #anyway here come the tags: #wayv #wayv au #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv sicheng #wayv winwin #wayv x reader #dong sicheng #nct #nct 127 #nct au #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct sicheng #nct winwin

[scandeniall]

mirrors for friends //ch.5

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wc: 1741

pairing: TBD x reader

notes *this is the version of the song they cover 

chapter 5: We drive, We Film

The music is blaring when Atsumu pulls up. He's bobbing his head along to the guitar, hardly sparing you a glance as you slide into the passenger seat. Despite that, you offer a quick greeting as the car speeds off before you even finish putting your seatbelt on. You nod along to the familiar song as the two of you shoot through the street, 

“And I don't care if you're sick, I don't care if you're contagious,” you begin Atsumu chiming in matching your pitch.  

“I would kiss you even if you were dead” “Would somebody make me go blind for the rest of my life, cause I’d do anything to hold your hand.” 

You find your hand hanging out the window as you two sing along to the rest of the song. Once it ends, Atsumu lowers the volume, enough to have a conversation. “I see ya changed from a sweaty slob and are now looking better.” You roll your eyes at the bassist, and had he not been driving you probably would’ve resorted to slapping the back of his head. “Why do I willingly hang out with you. And, where are we going anyways?” You question, remembering your promise to Iwaizumi

 You ignore his comment about you clearly not having any other friends as you send a message to Iwaizumi confirming your location. You let out a little laugh at Iwaizumi’s complaint about the blonde always running his plans, before locking your phone. “Who ya texting?” Atsumu takes his first real look at you for the night as he slows at the red light. “Iwa, just telling him if I die tonight it's all your fault.Your driving fucking sucks” You follow up the sentence flicking off your friend who looks unbothered. 

“Speaking of our dear Iwa, you know something that me and Kuroo don't.” Your eyes widen just the tiniest bit as he grants you a knowing smirk. “But I’ll let that go for now. How's the tattoo healing?” Just like that Atsumu’s voice shifts into a more serious tone and you groan loudly. You instantly catch on to the real meaning of the question. How are you doing?  “Not you too”. 

“C’mon, I’m just checking on ya (Y/N). Making sure you’re ok. Took me a minute but then I remembered you showed me the picture a few months ago.” His gaze focuses back on the road giving you at least the relief from his stare down. “First Iwa, now you. And I know Kuroo is gonna pick my brain the second he gets the chance,” your words come out in a huff of annoyance. “What can we say, we care about ya. The band would flop without our front man.” His tease is enough to lighten the tension that began to grow as you rolled your eyes again. “Our combined hotness would drop by like 90% without me.” 

“More like 5%” He could only laugh as you promptly told him to go to hell, as you turned the music back up some. The rest of the drive was void of any conversation. The only noises coming from the radio and any time either of you would sing along to what was playing out. Atsumu would only shoot you annoyed looks, whenever you’d skip one of the songs he had to which you'd just shrug without a care.  

“Hey Samu.” You and Atsumu spoke at the same time as you slid into the booth. “What are you two sharing a single brain cell now?” Your look of disgust is enough to cause the gray haired twin to laugh. “The only thing I’d ever share with Atsumu is my foot up his ass.” 

“That’s a real cute way of saying you’re the dumb one of us.” The blonde catches the wrist of your arm that aims a punch at his shoulder easily. “Take you and your shitty dye job over there next to your brother,” you mutter pushing your bandmate out of the booth next to you. He obliges, moving so that him and Osamu are both sitting across from you. 

“Now Tsumu’s stupidity is gonna seep into my head.”

 ---- 

“Hello boys, and piss head,” you greet cheerily as you enter the unlocked door of Iwaizumi’s place. You shift the drink carrier in your hand as you remove your bag, lightly placing it on the floor. The owner only raises his eyebrows at you while your guitarist just laughs.”What’d he do now,” You make your rounds handing off the coffee drinks you’d bought for your bandmates. You stop by Iwaizumi first who accepts it with a grateful smile. Next is Kuroo, who raises the cup in thanks. “Every time I hang out with him, I wonder why I do. He sucks,” you speak before handing Atsumu his drink. “Osamu really is the better twin, not by much though.” 

“You claim to hate me, yet you bring me food. Thanks mom,” the bassist mocks. You mutter something about it being the only thing that gets him to shut up before shifting your attention towards Kuroo. “Hey, can you go get our instruments, couldn’t hold them cause of the drinks.” He only nods, you asking him to please lock your door after. 

“We’re filming that song today right?” You nod at Atsumu’s question. While he goes back to typing away on his phone you settle onto the couch next to Iwaizumi. He looks at you and you raise your eyebrows in excitement. He shoots you a small smile and a thumbs up, and you struggle to contain your excitement. You shoot him a knowing look that the two of you have to talk later as Kuroo enters carrying both your guitar cases. “Bring my drink down would you,” is the only thing he says before making his way towards the basement. The three of you wordlessly follow.  

“Why are we doing this song again,”

“Come on old man, it’ll be fun, plus our dear (Y/N) gets to show off that growl today. Doesn't happen very much,” Kuroo smirks at Iwaizumi, shooting you a quick look from where you are tuning your guitar. “Plus, the viewers wanted us to do Gaga.” 

“Oh, you're just happy ya get to be heard more with this song,” Atsumu chimes in before fiddling with his bass. “Maybe,” is Kuroos response as he sits on a stool to tune his own instrument. “Besides, Judas is a pretty badass song. And our arrangement is pretty sick.” Iwaizumi can’t help but agree with you, opting to get the video equipment set up. After he finished you all ran through the song a few times before you were ready to go.  

“Hey guys, we’re Mirrors For Friends,” the four of you said in unison. Before introducing yourselves as individuals. “So, you guys asked, and we answered. You all wanted us to do Lady Gaga so bad,” Kuroo started before pausing for his self-proclaimed dramatic effect. “So, Judas here we are.”

 ----

 “Judas- Gaga” You practically screamed out the last words of the songs, before bursting out into laughter. The entirety of the song both Kuroo and Atsumu were making ridiculous facial expressions at one another, and with you being in the middle of the two, you saw it all. That, paired with post singing adrenaline and the fact that you all were even singing it in the first place seemed absolutely comical You had been so caught in laughter that you didn’t even notice Iwaizumi come up from behind his drums to nudge at camera perched on the tripod in front of you. 

“Fuck- do you guys see what I have to go through with these guys. Iwa is the only normal one,” you joked out after your laughter died down. You ignored the said members exclamations about not being that bad. “Alright that's it for us today, we hope you enjoyed, and we’ll see you when we see you.” You stuck up a peace sign heading towards the camera and picking it up. “Say bye you idiots.  

You first pointed the camera at Kuroo who was the closest to you. “I feel like (Y/N) is catching my double chin at this angle. Stream our songs and we love you.” With that Kuroo just walked off the frame, and you turned towards Atsumu. “Say bye to the video fake blondie.” 

“I just want to say that I’m the hottest member of the band and-hey” Atsumu exclaimed as you just cut his segment short, before walking to Iwaizumi.  

“You know the drill Iwa. Your turn” This time you moved the camera up and down as if you were giving the audience a chance to check him out. “Now this is the real hottest member of this band,” you teased before aimling back towards his face. You stifled your laugh at Atsumu and Kuroo in the background yelling for him to take his shirt off. “I hate this band. See you all in the next video.” With your drummers closing you stopped the recording before letting out a sigh of relief.  

“Well that was exhausting,” you automatically made your way to the couch where you had your laptop resting. “I can probably get this edited and uploaded by tomorrow guys.” You felt the couch dip next to you and the voice of the band’s guitarist. “I can do it. I know it's been an interesting week for you,” he gestures towards your ribcage, where your new tattoo rests under your tshirt. The tone of his voice lets you know there’s no point in countering. When Iwaizumi gets into his band labeled ‘dad’ mode, you won't win. “You're acting as if I have a choice,” you huff handing him the camera’s memory card.  

“Shit- guys, I gotta go. I forgot the team got a last-minute practice match with another school,” Atsumu’s panicked voice cut through the room. “Were done here right?” He looked between the three of you sighing in relief as he quickly started putting up his instrument. “Hey, don’t forget next week we’re at Bauhaus.” He only nodded mindlessly, before making his way to the stairs, before stopping halfway. “That's the 3rd, right?” 

Kuroo’s thumbs out caused him to practically run up the stairs and out the door. Once the bassist leaves, he plopped himself next to you on the other side of the couch. “So lovely band members of mine, what secret are you two keeping from me and Tsumu.”

⤿taglist: @o51oc​ @suna-allie​

a/n: yall know that one tiktok audio from what bgc? wheres like awkwardly quiet then its like “hey guys”--- thats how I feel after coming back to this fic after a month. But yeah life and then more LIFE. So with that, sorry this chapter is kinda awkward writing bc i literally havent written for this in that month at all. Anyways, now that we’ve gotten our band dynamics established we are kicking off the real plot starting next chapter. I still don’t know which boy to do so pls help a loser out. I think I’m gonna take out the possibility of Iwa though ????

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #atsumu x reader #mirrors for friends #kuroo x reader

[expolikestoart]

Fam-ILY au headcanons post!

listen I love them a lot and I want to talk about them even if no one else really cares

Character Designs

Sleepover/Movie Night for the boys

The Picani Family

the Picanis have a day once every week where they all watch a few episodes of Avatar together. tis law.

Emile is genderfluid!! So sometimes they're Patton and Dee's dad, sometimes they're thier mom, sometimes they're their ren. Patton and Dee tend to just call them their dad though, just cause it's easier to explain to the other kids. And it doesn't cause Emile any issues so they don't mind. They were a pronoun braclet a lot. (tbh they're really just happy their kids sees them as a role model.) (He/Him, She/Her, They/Them, depends on the day)

Patton likes to play with his stuffed animals a lot!

his favorite blanket is his weighted blanket

Dee is HoH so the entiree family knows ASL and he wears hearing aids.

Dee's very passionate about octonauts and his favorite episode was the coral reef snake one. (his favorite character is tweak)

Patton and Dee are bio siblings but they're both adopted by Emile. Emile had a partner during the adoption but they broke up a few years later and he(the partner) never offically had any custody.

at the start of the storyline (maybe writing a fic) they just moved and Emile and him broke up.

Emile keeps pictures of them in his wallet and Will talk about them whenever someone asks.

Emile is a children's therapist in this AU, and specifically works with kids who deal with learning disabilities.

The Kingsley Family

When Remy was like. 17 he got in a relationship with this one girl and they did the do. When the twins were born, she left. He hasn't heard from her since.

His family wasn't that supportive except his Great Aunt Becca who's a wonderful woman. She lived with her partner for years until she died a year or two before Remy moved in.

So they all live with her now.

Roman likes to sew little costumes for his stuffed animals. Remy helps.

Roman begged Remy to let him join dance classes. Remy doesn't currently have the money to take so he's saving up to let him.

Remus is in that weird kid phase? You know the one where they're weirdly obsessed with like. Death and witches and shit? He's in that phase.

He also makes "potions" and shit outta stuff in the kitchen. 50% of them are probably poisonous. Remy lets him drink absolutely none of them.

Remy's Bi and proud. He hasn't really dated anyone since he was 17 but. He's open to dating again. But only if his boys like them.

Remy works at a few different places. He's the manager at a coffee shop when the boys are at school and at night when they sleep he works at a gas station. Neither has great pay but he's doing his best.

Roman and Remus have very active imaginations. It has led to them waking up Remy or Becca due to monsters in the closet more than they like.

Disney! And! Pixar! Movie! Nights!

Remy and Aunt Becca have most definitely made scrapbooks of the boys together. (even though Remy might deny it to keep up his tough guy image)

The Cogsworth Family

Brian showed the boys some of Star Wars: The Clone Wars and Logan fell in love with the show immediately. Virgil doesn't like it as much but he likes to see Logan excited so he watches it too.

Virgil freaking Loves Gravity Falls though. He likes to try and find monsters in the apartment complex and nearby park. He swears he heard a hide behind once. (Brian played the sound effect on his phone and placed a speaker in a tree to make him happy)

Logan only likes certain textures with clothes so Brian makes sure that when they go clothes shopping Logan feels them first.

Logan has a prosthetic foot (it doesn't show in the family portrait because his socks and shoes cover it up) ((he also has a barbie doll because her leg was a prosthetic))

Virgil likes to draw a lot, especially monsters and stuff that he sees on tv. It's really cute looking half of the time but sometimes it kinda worries Brian.

Brian is Trans! And Aro/Ace. The kids are his. He had them pre-transition. His family wasn't supportive of him transitioning so he doesn't really talk to them. Has been on T for 5 years. (He/Him)

Brian's a bit of a space nerd so he likes to watch documentaries on them and the kids will often curl up on him and watch too.

Brian's compiter has a metric fuckton of baby photos of the boys!

They go to the park because he tries to keep them as healthy as possible and hopefully his kids will make friends. Both are painfully shy.

He's a security guard/Janitor for Walmart's l a t e shifts.

The Sanders Family

Thomas isn't adopted y e t but god is Anton working on the paper work for that because bitch that's their son now and they love him.

Thomas still is the goofy guy we know, happy, enjoys Disney, likes to sing and stuff.

Since Thomas is old enough to join the school choir he did and he loves it.

Anton and Thomas met the others because Emile was Thomas's therapist and once Anton asked Emile the best thing he could do for their kid and Emile commented on how that they knew it was scary, cause they had the same thoughts when they adopted their kids.

Emile is no longer Thomas's therapist due to him no longer being impartial since that's his kids friend and that's kinda iffy so now their friend is.

Anton is nb and pan-romantic ace. (He/Him, They/Them)

Both of them are kinda chaotic at times and sometimes you can find the two of them trying desperately to bake but there's batter on the ceiling and flour in Anton's hair. (they can't bake but anton can cook so it's okay)

When Thomas gets adopted all the others will be invited to see the signing.

Thomas didn't get to watch most Disney movies while in Foster care so Anton is showing him everything.

He also didn't get to see the Barbie movies so guess what else he's watching because Anton insists.

Anton still has an appreciation for fine arts and has a painting hanging up in his Living room framed and right next to it in just as fancy a frame is a drawing Thomas made. (it's a family portrait that Thomas made with stick figures. When he gave it to Anton, Anton c r i e d.)

Thomas has two friends from before he writes to, Joan and Tayln. He writes them letters every few days. They write back and everytime he gets one he's like!!!!!

Anton's the most well off of anyone in the squad so he tends to give gifts to the others when they find something.

All of them

The Parent Group are all very supportive of their kids interests, and also have meetups while the boys have playdates where the drink they're preferred hot drink (Emile likes Tea, Remy and Anton like Coffee, and Brian likes Apple Cider) and bitch about the shitty PTA moms and work (not emile though he loves his job and has patient confidentiality so... no)

Roman and Logan both love Percy Jackson but in different ways. Logan read all the books. Roman read the comic book adaptions and listened to the Lightning Thief Musical.

Virgil and Patton like to hunt for monsters together in the apartment complex and park but everytime it happens they both get a little scared and run if something actually looks spooky.

When all the kids became friends they had Patton teach them ASL secretly for a couple of months to surprise Dee. They showed Dee and he c r i e d. Happy tears of course but he was so surprised that all of them learned that for him.

Virgil, Dee, Remus, and Roman all have the same Recess break on the little kids playground so they play pretend together a lot. Usually it's Roman and Virgil vs Remus and Dee, but sometimes they switch it up.

Patton, Thomas, and Logan are the Big Kids, but also are kinda the weird kids too so they don't have much friends outside of the group. But it's okay, because they got each other and they like to hang out.

Patton has punched some kids cause they made fun of either his friends or Dee or maybe his Dad. He will throw hands. Logan might hold him back. Thomas will hold him back but only after a punch or two.

Remy once joked about having one brain cell in front of the kids and all the kids who weren't his got very alarmed and started to make him realize he was smart but Roman and Remus went: yeah you do. He's never been so heavily burned before or since.

Roman and Remus don't do the weird twins finishing each other's sentences thing but Logan and Virgil do.

Patton still makes puns but not good ones because kid's humor is nonsensical so half of the time he'll go up to Logan and Thomas and try them on them and every time they're both like "???? what did you just say????????"

They will all go and do fashion shows where Roman and Remus will take the others and drape them in sheets and cutains and blankets and have everyone walk the fake runway while someone sits out and judges.

Remus, Dee, and Virgil try to do magic together. It doesn't always go well but they try.

Roman, Patton, and Logan will try to play demigod but Patton has no clue what he's doing.

Roman and Remus showed Thomas some Disney sing alongs he could play on his tablet. Anton thinks their son has a lovely singing voice but also. they doesn't like hearing him sing at 6 am when they're barely awake. Can someone hold a grudge against a kindergartner? Ask Anton.

#sanders sides #cartoon therapy #family au #emile picani #patton sanders #deceit sanders #remy sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #brian sanders #ts brain #logan sanders #virgil sanders #anton sanders #thomas sanders #All of them are babey and i love them a lot okay. like #please love them too I just have feeling

[avengerscompound]

Legacy - Chapter 1

Legacy: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x  F!Reader

Word Count:  1678

Rating:  E

Square filled:   @marvelfluffbingo - Single Parent AU

Warnings:  Pregnancy, domestic abuse, post-endgame, angst, developing-relationship, hurt/comfort, smut, Laura and Clint have broken up.  Comic Clint/MCU Clint mix.

Synopsis:  Nothing is the same after the events of Endgame.  When Clint has trouble returning to a life where his family hasn’t changed but he has lost everything, he moves back to the city and tries to move on as a single parent. When Nate finds you bruised and pregnant in the stairwell of his building, he decides that there might be another way that he can make Nat’s sacrifice worth something.

Chapter One

It was Nate that had spotted you first.  Of course, Clint knew you’d lived in the building.  He owned it after all.  A lot of things had changed since the battle with Thanos that had brought everyone back.  It was supposed to have fixed everything.  He was supposed to go home and have a happy life with his wife and his kids and everything would be okay.

It wasn’t.

He was different and the problem was, Laura was exactly the same while he’d spent five years on a world wild killing spree.  He’d wanted to die for it.  Only instead it was Nat.  Nat had died so that the rest of her family could live and he couldn’t just settle and give her that.

It should have been him.

The problem was that Laura was still the amazing, caring, supportive person she’d always been.  She never lost him or the kids.  She never had to see Natasha fall to her death.  She didn’t carry the burden of all of this.  He didn’t feel worthy of her.  Or of Nat saving him to go home to her.  He was dirty and … and …

He missed Nat.

God, he missed her every day.  If she was there maybe she could have stopped him acting like a fucking dumbass at home.  Maybe she would have slapped him over the back of the head and called him an idiot for shutting Laura out the way he did.

She wasn’t though and he did and in the end, he’d left.  He didn’t want to keep hurting her.  That was two years ago.  Since then he’d bought this building in Bed-Stuy.  He had joint custody of the kids.  God, Laura had been too good about it.  Lila and Cooper weren’t even technically his kids but she didn’t keep them from him.  He honestly didn’t know what he’d ever done to deserve having her in his life in the first place.  Which was why it hadn’t worked he guessed.

So he has the apartment, the kids every second weekend and for part of the school holidays, he still got on okay with Laura, he had a dog, he managed the building and the girl who had taken over the name Hawkeye when he retired came by every week or so to be mentored or… something.  Maybe it was just to make sure he took care of himself when the kids weren't there.

He still missed Nat.

You and your boyfriend lived two floors down from his place.  He saw him more than you.  Something about the guy always seemed to sit wrong with Clint.  Like he was the kind of guy who kicked puppies and stole lunch money.  Not that he had evidence he was anything other than polite.  Clint was the landlord, people were polite cause they didn't want to be evicted.

You, he saw less.  He had known you were pregnant.  He had also noticed the bruises.  He'd asked once how you'd gotten one on your arm and the story was so weird and unlikely he just assumed it was true.  Something about a guy dressed as Darth Vader on the subway.  He was a bruise magnet himself so he’d just assumed you must be too.

Now that he saw you sitting on the steps, your eye swollen, trying to stop yourself from crying so as not to upset the little boy who had just come in the front door and run over to see if you’d hurt yourself, he realized he was a huge fucking idiot.

“Did you fall?  You need some help?”  Nate asked in his small innocent voice.  You wiped your eyes and gave a strained smile.  Your eyes were puffy from crying but the left was also starting to swell shut.  That mixed with an array of bruises up your arm put Clint into immediate fight mode.  He looked up and down the hall for the asshole who thought beating on women - pregnant women at that - was fun.

“Yeah, sweetie.  Just a fall.  I’ll be okay.”  You said.

Lila looked at Clint and frowned.  “Dad?”

“I know, honey,”  He said.  “You and Coop take Nate upstairs.  I’ll be up when I can.”

She nodded and came and took Nate’s hand while Cooper grabbed the lead from Clint and they all made their way upstairs.  When he was sure they were gone he came and sat beside you on the steps.

“Where is he?”  He asked.

You shook your head.  “In the apartment.  He locked me out.”

“I can go throw him out if you like.”

You shook your head again, a look of absolute terror on your face.  “He’d kill you.”

“He’s welcome to try, but tougher guys than him have failed,”  Clint replied.  He turned to you and looked you over.  “What do you want to do?”

“I - I don’t…”  You finally raised your eyes to meet his.  “He got dusted you know?  I thought I was free to form him.  I moved away.  I got a job.  I was happy and then… they came back and… and I mean, that’s good.  Except he did too and he found me and I was right back here again.”

Clint wanted to hold you.  Or at least take your hand and tell you it was going to be okay.  That he would be the person he had needed when he was a child.  He felt guilty too.  It was partially due to him that everyone had come back.  He wouldn’t change it, but he’d never thought about the fact that bringing people back might mean making life worse for people.  He held back though.  You and he were practically strangers and you had a guy who was fine with laying hands on you when you didn’t want him to.  He didn’t want to add to that.  “I’m sorry.”  He said softly.  “I think we should call the cops.”

“I tried once.  He told them some story and they believed him.”  You said.

“We’ll now you have an ex-Avenger backing you up.”  He said.  “Here’s what I think we can do.  We go upstairs, call the cops.  Get him arrested.  While they’re processing him, we go get your stuff and move it up to the apartment near mine.  Then we get a restraining order and work at having him serve time.”

You looked up at him with such hope and fear.  “I don’t want to be with him but if death can’t keep him away…”

“Then I will.  I’m an Avenger.”  He said.

“Ex -”

“Ex-Avenger.”  He said with a nod.  “Trust me, okay.  I spent half my life keeping people safe.  This is what I do.”

You ran your hand over the small swell of your stomach and nodded.  “Okay.”

He led you upstairs and called the cops while Lila doted over you, making you tea and bringing you ice for your eye.  Nate brought you some of his toys to show you and Clint watched as you listened to all his little stories intently.  It made his heartbreak that little bit more for you.  You were going to be a great mom, but the choice you now had was, do it alone or with that fucker downstairs.

When the cops came he sat quietly and listened to you tell your story.  After the arrest was made he even took you to the station so you could press charges, leaving Cooper in charge.  God, the fact Cooper was both old enough to babysit while at the same time five years younger than he should be was something he still had trouble thinking about.  He felt both too old and yet somehow things weren’t at the place they should be.

When you got home the two of you ordered a pizza for the kids and while they waited for it, he took you downstairs to grab your things from the apartment.

"I don’t know how I’m gonna do this.  I don’t have any savings.  I don’t have a job.”  You said as you pulled down a suitcase.

“We’ll move you next door.  You can stay there until you figure yourself out.  Don’t worry about the rent or the utilities.”  Clint said.

“I couldn’t let you do that.”  You said.

“Yes, you can.  It’s my building.  I can let anyone I want to live here.”  He said.

You sighed as you shoved clothes into a bag.  “Most of this stuff isn’t mine.  I don’t even have any furniture.”

“Hey, trust me, I know exactly how you feel right now.  Sometimes taking the beating and knowing is better than escaping it and not.  You can stay with me for a while.  You can take the bed.  I’ll sleep on the couch.  I know people.  I might be able to get you work, while you still can.  Shit, you can run the books on the building if you want.  We can find second-hand furniture.  I might even have Nate’s old crib back at his mom’s and his old baby stuff.  You aren’t alone right now.”

You stopped and looked at him, sizing him up.  “Why are you doing this?  You don’t even know me.  I could be anyone.  You have kids to worry about.”

He smiled sadly.  “I told you.  I’ve been there.”  He said.  “Besides, I think I’m a pretty good judge of character.  My best friend…”   He stopped, he didn’t think he had it in him to talk about Nat.  Not now.  Not like this.  He shook his head.  “I got told to kill Thor one time, and I knew that was the wrong choice.”

“Thank you, Mister Barton,”  You said not meeting his eyes.  “I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you for this.”

“Just… get away from him.  You deserve to be safe.  So does your baby.”  Clint said.  “And call me Clint.  I don’t even know who Mister Barton is, but it’s not me.”

You chuckled and nodded.  “Okay, Clint.  Thank you.”

Clint nodded and grabbed a couple of your packed bags.  While he still worried for you, and he was sure that wouldn’t pass anytime soon, it did feel good to know he was still able to help people who needed it.

// NEXT

#marvelfluffbingo2019 #clint barton #clint barton x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #pregnancy #legacy

[shaineybainey]

“Noble Intentions”

Lab Rats [T]

The Lab Rats and Mighty Med teams face off with the greatest threat to humanity yet: The Incapacitator, a supervillain bent on becoming the most powerful in the planet. …Which makes things super awkward for Leo, considering that their newest nemesis is his father. AU. Lab Rats vs Mighty Med redux.

** DISCLAIMER: SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR DISCLAIMER **

tagging: @fruggin-bitch​ @verified-dumbass​ @dysfunction-ality​ @neshatriumphs​ @clockradio93​ @serpent-princess​ @weareoutofmaplesyrupdave​ @aaaaahhhhh1234​ @lover-of-dc-comics

X: Castle in the Sky

Leo watches quietly as Horace listens to his breathing with the stethoscope. The instrument is cold against his skin, but he does his best not to flinch. One wrong move, and the pain in his ribs can double.

“Well, your lungs seem like it’s working okay,” Horace says, taking off the apparatus and draping it back on his neck. He stares indecisively at the nasty bruise beginning to form on his patient’s skin. “Of course, we’re going to have to transfer you to the hospital outside. We have x-rays here, but not really for humans.”

“Okay.”

“Hm.”

Leo sits up and observes the doctor as he leaves the room. So far, so good. He had thought on his way there that glares would rain down on him since everyone apparently knows now that he’s the son of a supervillain. However, the people he had talked to since getting there have treated him like a normal person.

In fact, besides the look Tecton gave him earlier, the nurses and Dr. Diaz had been kind of apathetic while dealing with him.

It’s as if he was just another patient.

When Horace comes back, wheeling in a wheel chair, a thought pops up in Leo’s head.

“One of the nurses has gone off to alert your family of you being here,” Horace says. He blinks back the sleep stinging his eyes, rubs it off, then adds, “It’s probably best if they don’t see you until after the examinations. They’ve been kind of frantic. Don’t want them squeezing you, what with your seemingly broken ribs and everything.”

“Um – “

“They’re probably going to have to meet you at the other hospital, though. We have x-rays here, but not really for humans.” He frowns. “Did I already say that?”

“Dr. Diaz.”

“Huh?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

Horace sighs, his shoulders dropping dramatically. “Is it going to take all night? Because my shift ended two hours ago.”

“How long have you been here?”

Horace consults his watch. “Probably going on 36 hours.”

“No, no – I mean, how long have you been working at Mighty Med?”

Horace’s features furrow as he contemplates on it. “Probably since the hospital was first built, long before you were even born,” he answers. “Why?”

“So, you know a lot of the people who’s worked here. Right?”

Horace eyes him suspiciously now – a glimpse of Leo’s expectation from earlier. “We may not be like a regular hospital,” he says, “but protecting the patients’ and employees’ identities is still a responsibility that I don’t take lightly as chief of staff.”

Leo nods. “Good,” he says. He then hops off the examination table, but instead of sitting on the wheelchair, he limps past Horace to retrieve the black safety box.

With the chief’s eyes on him, Leo shows him the emblem on it.

Horace frowns at it. Then, the expression clears. “What is this?” He closes the door behind him and asks, “Where did you get this?”

“So I can count on you to keep a secret,” Leo says, wincing as he climbs back on the examination table.

“Those safety boxes were issued only to chief of departments some decades ago,” Horace says. “Where did you find this?”

Leo doesn’t reply. Instead, he opens the box, finds the ID, and then hands it to the doctor.

Horace takes it. A look of shock and sorrow rises to his face after reading it.

“Do you know him?”

“Where did you get this?” Horace asks.

Leo notes the coldness of his tone and the sharpness in his gaze. “I found it by accident,” he says, holding back for now just in case. “I saw the emblem and figured I should ask someone who’s worked here a long time. It says Dr. Castle was a neurologist here. Is that true?”

For a long while, Horace only stares at the card. Then, he smiles sadly to himself. “Hezekiah was my best friend. He had the craziest ideas, but he was a good person. He loved helping people. He was a people person.”

“Did he have a family?” Upon Horace’s glance, Leo says, “This isn’t information that my father will be interested in, I promise. And even if it is, I think I proved already that I can keep secrets – from heroes or villains.”

Horace considers it. “You said ‘did,’” he points out. “There’s a reason for the past tense, isn’t there?”

Leo’s eyes give the answer.

Horace sighs, disheartened. “His family was originally from Tennessee. His parents worked hard to put him through school, but then his mother got sick a year before he graduated. Died right after. His father got to see him become a doctor, but years of working in a factory with poisonous chemicals took a toll on him. He died after Kai’s 26th birthday.”

“He lost his parents young.”

“He did. He didn’t have any siblings, so Mighty Med was his family.” Horace smiles. “Like I said, Kai was my best friend. We drove each other crazy, but he was a brother to me.”

“Why doesn’t he work here anymore?”

Again, Horace pauses contemplatively.

“Who’s Solstice?” Leo asks, hoping to encourage the conversation forward.

Horace frowns. “Who’s Solstice?”

“Female superhero. You haven’t heard of her?”

Horace shakes his head, curious. “No.”

Leo sighs—causing a powerful pang of pain to knife through his insides.

It snaps Horace awake. “Uh, we probably should – ”

“I’m fine,” Leo lies, holding his hand up. Answers are more important right now. “I’m fine.”

“Uh, I’m the doctor here,” Horace says. “You are not.”

“Please, Dr. Diaz. I need to know more about Dr. Castle and Doris Snow.”

“Doris Snow?” Horace’s eyes narrow as he thinks. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

Despite the limitation imposed on him by the broken ribs (and probably broken many other things), Leo gingerly opens the box to search for the document. “Originally, she was a mathematician at NASA,” he says for the meantime. “Then she became a superhero.”

“NASA?”

“Yeah?”

It stumps the doctor for a while. Then, an incredulous laugh escapes him. “That crazy guy…”

“I’m sorry?”

“NASA, you said?” Horace laughs, shaking his head. “I knew it. I knew he would fall for something like this.”

“Something like what?”

Horace lets out a breath, amused. “That’s why he stopped working here,” he answers. “He had just been appointed as head of the neurology department when a case came up. Hopefully I can talk a bit about this now, but from what I know, there was an accident involving a mysterious alien artifact exploding at a remote facility.

“Different experts were called in; NASA, too, unsurprisingly. The government wanted to know what it was that the Air Force found. They were examining it. Next thing they know – boom!”

“It…exploded?”

“Yeah. Rumor is that something in the test caused it to do that.” Horace’s eyes narrow. “Something was up with it, because we had an influx of reports of people acting strangely, people going missing. People acting strangely and going missing—”

“NASA employees?”

“Almost everyone who was in that building, not just people from NASA,” Horace says. He frowns thoughtfully at Leo. “I can check the files of the ones who came here before, but I don’t remember a Doris Snow. The name sounds familiar, but not as a superhero’s alter ego.”

“The League won’t have anything on her, would they? They probably weren’t even established when these accidents happened.”

“Huh. You know more than a regular kid from California should know,” Horace notes. “I’m suspicious.”

Leo hands him the draft letter. “I think the gap in the time between the first documented proposal for the establishment of League of Heroes and the actual date it’s established gives me more reason to be suspicious.”

Horace reads. “This…” He shakes his head. “This can’t be real. The League was established in the mid-90s. It was proposed by Dr. Sebastian Kline.” He hands the letter back to Leo. “I was there when it happened. It can’t have been by her.”

Sebastian Kline. It’s the first name he’s gotten in regards to his grandparents. Leo wonders if it’s a name his father knows too. “You said Dr. Castle left because of what happened with the alien artifact,” he prompts.

“Yeah, but I can’t tell you exactly why he left. It’s top secret.”

Leo stares at him. “Fine,” he hops off the table when the doctor won’t give. He sits on the wheelchair. “I’ll just wait until Tecton sees me again. I’ll ask him.”

“Okay, wait.” The decision tears Horace apart, but it’s evident even to Leo that the temptation of knowledge has become too irresistible. “Ugh, I can’t tell you this. It’s too dangerous.”

“My dad and I just got caught in a crossfire. Nothing in my life right now is not dangerous.”

“No. You don’t understand.” Horace walks on over to the examination table, leans on it as he decides. “I can’t tell you. I want to, kid, but I can’t. Like I said, I have to protect my employees and my patients. If even the little that I know gets out, we can be looking at something catastrophic.”

“But it’s been decades since.”

“Don’t underestimate how long evil can linger,” Horace cautions.

Leo wants to press for more, but somehow he understands. There’s something bigger at play, something that his father understands and Dr. Diaz doesn’t know he hold pieces of. More and more, it becomes clear that his grandparents’ deaths may be more than just a random act of violence.

Grandparents.

Leo fishes for the photograph from his back pocket and is relieved when he finds it still there. He takes it out, unfolds it, and smiles at them. Then, he gives it to Horace. “He married her, you know. Solstice,” he tells him.

A smile comes up to Horace’s lips as he looks at his best friend and his wife. “She’s pretty.”

“She is. Their kids don’t know what I know about them, though, so I’m kind of hoping we can keep this a secret.”

“Kids?”

“Two sons. Men now, actually,” Leo says, taking the picture back.

There’s a knock on the door. “Dr. Diaz, they’re waiting for him outside,” Philip says, peeking in. “I’ve told the Davenports. They said they’ll be making their way there.”

Horace nods, disoriented.

“Did you want me to cart him out for you?”

“No, no. I – Yes, but give us just one second.”

Philip nods, confused. He takes his leave and closes the door.

“Where are his kids?” Horace asks quietly. “Are they alive? Do you know where they are?”

Leo chuckles. “They’re no stranger to you, Dr. Diaz.”

“They’re...?”

The grin on his face shrinks. “You’ve probably been hearing about their oldest all shift long,” he says. “The Incapacitator. Joel Jones – Castle, actually. My dad is Dr. Castle’s son.”

The door opens again. “Dr. Diaz, I’m so sorry, but we really have to take him out there,” Philip says, grabbing the handles of the wheelchair. “The nurse said they’re pretty swamped, and if they don’t take him in within the next five minutes, the kid will have to wait for a few hours for a check-up.”

Horace nods numbly, his mind swimming with the new information. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

It dismays Leo that he didn’t get any more information. Still, the thought that he’s met someone who was another important part in his grandfather’s life makes him smile. “Thank you, Dr. Diaz,” he says as the nurse carefully turns his wheelchair around.

Horace grabs the armrest of the chair before they get out the door. He hesitates a moment. “Can you tell me more about what happened to him?” he asks. “Your grandfather?”

Leo nods. “After we both get a decent amount of sleep,” he promises.

Horace nods. He doesn’t seem to want to let go, questions about his best friend anchoring his fingers in place, but eventually his grip loosens.

Leo gives him a smile before he completely vanishes from view. It gives him some hope knowing that his grandfather is important to someone who’s in a position of power. Maybe that can keep the superheroes off ending The Incapacitator. Maybe they can arrest him without hurting him.

He looks down at the picture of his grandparents, grinning at him.

Maybe the world isn’t such a hopeless place after all.

#Lab Rats #Mighty Med #Chapter Ten #Noble Intentions #Leo Dooley #Horace Diaz

[fanfixsavelives]

Hooked [Dean Winchester x Reader] {Part 2}

You got off only an hour later, and being the curious witch you were, you just had to go snoop around your father’s house. You got in and out without anyone other than the family gerbil knowing you were there- but unfortunately, even the shrine basement was bare. More bare than you’d ever seen it, even. You hurried home after that, making sure to change out of your waitress gear that had you smelling like grease and coffee. You took a quick shower before quickly changing into an old, oversized college sweatshirt, and some leggings. The sweatshirt had been your only souvenir from the college of your dreams- your high school best friend had brought it back from her college tour of the campus.

You ventured into your kitchen, where you got to work on making a cherry pie and some dinner for you. You listened to music and danced around the kitchen while mixing the batter for the pie crust and stirring the pot of pasta.

As soon as the pie came out of the oven, you saw the reflection of headlights through the window, and you heard the faint rumble of an old engine. You took a deep breath and looked around to make sure everything was as it should be.

You opened the door and stood on the porch with your arms folded across your chest as they made their way from their car to your steps. “I don’t believe I got your partner’s name?” You mentioned to Dean as soon as they entered your house.

“Oh. This is Sam.” He mumbled. The two men looked almost comical standing in the threshold of your living room, sharing looks and examining their surroundings.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sam. Make yourself at home. Take a seat anywhere.” You offered.

Sam was the first to sit down. Dean continued looking at your shelves of books and trinkets. “How’s the investigation going?” You asked, making your way to the kitchen to cut the pie.

You heard whispering before you heard a deep voice respond. “It’s slow. We were hoping you could help with that.”

You came back into the living room with two plates of pie. “I owed you some pie. I figured I’d hold up my end of the bargain before I have to betray my father.” You sent a small smile Dean’s way.

You’d known they were hunters from the moment Dean walked through the door. Sam talking about witchcraft only confirmed it for you. That meant they knew about you. Before you outed yourself and your father, you wanted to have one last civil conversation with a hot man and his hunting partner before you died.

Dean’s eyes widened as you sat both plates down. “I think I can get on board with that.” He smiled, sitting down and digging into the pie.

“Can I get either of you anything to drink?” You asked.

Neither of them answered your question. “This is a lovely home.” Sam commented before taking a bite of pie.

You smiled. “Well, thank you. I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not mine. This was my mother’s old house. My father bought it after they got married and she moved into Y/L/N manor. I moved in when it was clear to my father I was ready to leave. He didn’t want me to leave town so he thought that by giving me the illusion of freedom, I’d be happy.”

Dean leaned in, his half-eaten pie forgotten on the coffee table. “And are you? Happy?” Dean asked.

You shrugged. “I have my moments. But generally? Not at all.” You let out a small smile. “When you finish your pie, I’ll be happy to tell you all that I know.” You offered, standing up and making your way to the kitchen. “But as for now, tea is calling my name.” You chuckled.

By the time you came back with two mugs of tea, both men had finished the pie. Dean was on the phone quietly speaking to someone very intensely. You set the other mug in front of Sam. “You look like a tea guy.” You shrugged, taking a sip of your tea.

Sam nodded. “I am. Thanks.”

You looked over at Dean. “Who’s he talking to?” You asked.

Sam shrugged. “Just one of our informatives. She said she had some information on part of one of our other cases we were looking into.”

Dean returned to the couch and looked over at Sam. “Rowena said she’s got nothing.” He murmured. “She think she’s got a lead on where to go next though. She’ll let us know when she finds something.”

You sighed as Dean turned back to you. “Before I start, I’d like to tell you that I know what you are. And I know you know what I am. So we should just get that out of the way. Before you kill me though, I’d like to tell you that I’m not like my family. I will tell you the truth. Whatever you want to know, I will tell you.”

Sam looked alarmed, but Dean looked almost hurt. You didn’t know why, but you figured maybe he had been in denial. “Was it your father that killed Zac Pillmouth?” Sam asked.

You shook your head. “Probably not. He would have sent one of my brothers to do his dirty work. But my father would be the mastermind. It wouldn’t surprise me if he did stoop so low. My father puts on a nice little charade for the town. Even for the majority of our coven- but in reality, he would do anything to make sure he never got found out. Even if it meant dirtying my brother’s hands to make sure that Uncle Zac stayed quiet.” You explained.

Dean shook his head. “I thought your father was close to Zac?”

“He was. But Zac would’ve been dead anyways. You said that Uncle Zac was planning on exposing my family as witches? The coven kills anyone who exposes them. It hasn’t happened in hundreds of years from what I understand.”

“But why would your father kill him then? Why not just let the coven do it?” Sam asked.

“Because my father would’ve been killed too. You see, my father told Uncle Zac about the creatures of the night- along with the secret of the coven. That’s the number one no-no rule. If Uncle Zac exposed my father's witchcraft- it would’ve been obvious that my father was the one who drew back the curtain for him. The coven would have to execute him.”

Sam scratched his head. “But that still doesn’t explain why Zac would want to expose him. I mean, they were best friends. Why would Zac suddenly change his mind?”

You shrugged. “That’s where I’m confused. I have no idea. I haven’t lived with my family for almost 6 years now. And I don’t go over often.”

“Could you find out?” Sam asked.

Dean squirmed. “Dude, you can’t just ask her to spy on her family.” Dean argued.

Sam sighed and ran his large hands down his face. “No. But you can.” Sam proposed.

“What?” You asked.

“Sam was the only one who went to Y/L/N Manor to question your family. I questioned Zac’s sister and then went to the diner.”

“So my dad wouldn’t know who you are?” You asked.

Dean shook his head. “I don’t think so. Why?”

You perked up. “Because I can get you in the house.” You got up. “I’ve been lying to my mom. I’ve been telling her that I’ve been seeing this guy. That’s the perfect disguise. My parents won’t be suspicious of your true motives at all.”

Sam and Dean shared a look before Sam shrugged. “That’s sounds easy enough.”

“If… that’s okay with you, Dean?” You checked.

Dean stared at you for a moment before shaking his head. “It’s better than nothin’.” He sighed.

“I’ll call my mom and get it set up.” You offered. "We can meet for coffee before, and I’ll tell you everything, so you don’t raise any suspicions. Say, 10:30?”

Dean nodded. “See you then?” He asked, as both of them got up and started towards the door.

You nodded. “Of course.”

The door shut behind them, and you slowly made your way to the phone. You dialed your mother’s number, taking a moment to compose yourself before pressing the green call button. It only rang twice before your mother’s sweet voice came through. “Hello, pumpkin.” She answered.

“Hey mom. How are you?” You asked

“I’m doing just fine, thanks for asking. What about you? How was your shift last night? Or should I say this morning? Olivia said you picked up someone else’s shift.”

“Yeah. Rita was having morning sickness, so I offered to take her shift for a while. My shifts were great.”

“Well I’m glad to hear it.”

You took a breath to steady yourself before speaking again. “Hey mom, I was thinking that tomorrow I could come over with my boyfriend.”

You heard your mom gasp on the other end. “Really? Oh of course, sweetie! Oh dear, you have no idea how happy that makes me! What made you change your mind?” She asked.

“I just thought it was time. Our relationship has been getting pretty serious.”

“Really? How serious? If you can even tell me.”

“I don’t know. Just… something this morning changed. He told me he loved me.” You lied. “And I realized… I think I love him too. He was there for me through Uncle Zac’s death and he’s just been… an absolute darling to me.”

“Oh! Y/N! I’m so happy for you! Do I get to know his name now?” She asked.

“His name is Dean.” You offered. “And please, make sure that all the boys are away?”

“Dean is such a lovely name! The boys will be at the office all day, so you won’t have to worry about them. I can’t do anything about your father, though.”

You chuckled. “I know. I wouldn’t expect you to. But I think Dean can handle Father.”

“Oh do you?” She asked. “Well, he must be an interesting boy after all. What time can I expect you?”

“How about noon?” You suggested. “I’ll bring some food and we can have a patio party. Just like we used to do with Nicky’s girlfriends.”

“Oh… why don’t you let me cook?” She asked.

You winced. “You know why, Mom. I don’t think that Dean would really appreciate frog’s legs for lunch.”

Your mother may have been a human, but she had been cooking for witches for 38 years. She rarely cooked anything other than odd food anymore. Any company had just chalked it up to being your family’s lavish lifestyle. Besides, you didn’t want to take any chances. If your father was the slightest bit suspicious, he would have the food poisoned, and you didn’t want that.

“I guess you’re right.” Your mom chuckled. “I’ll see you then. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You hung up and ran up the stairs to fall in your bed.

It was only then that you thought about Dean. You didn’t even know his real last name. But he was quite the specimen, you couldn’t lie. If you were going to be killed by anybody, you wanted to be killed by him. Looking into his deep green eyes was like being kissed by the sun. Receiving a smile from those sinfully pink lips was like getting dipped in stars. He was going to be your downfall. You knew it- you knew it a little too well. It scared you how much you didn’t care that this man would kill you. You welcomed it, like death was a his personal gift to you. And you were going to love it. How wrong of you. You knew it was only because your mind naturally rejected the idea of any sort of other relationship between the two of you. I mean, even if things were as they seem- him and FBI agent and you a waitress, your father would never let you leave. But you were a witch. He was a hunter. He was the only thing you’d probably ever meet that was higher on the food chain than you. You rolled over in bed and tried to expel him from your mind.

It didn’t work. You were up for the next several hours trying to rationalize your thoughts. Trying to calm your fears. Trying to grieve the loss you were feeling already. You fell asleep while thinking of the many ways you could run away with him after this was all over.

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