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subrenaspade · 5 months

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Twisted Wonderland x Reader :No Place For Children Heartslaybul Pt. 1

This story is just some cute fluff I thought that some of you all would enjoy. There might be some cursing, that's all I can think of at the moment. The reader does have a bit of a backstory, giving her a little bit of OC vibes, but besides some background elements the rest is up to you. I only write Female, if that bothers you I'm sorry, I'm used to writing female and I keep having to go back to take away she/her pronouns.

I do plan to make a series but more along the lines of while in this dorm for one chapter then while in this dorm for this other chapter.

A little background about the MC in my story so you're not all too lost. The MC used to suffer from androphobia (A fear of men), that has to do with some past trauma That I might go into more detail about later on if I decide to continue this story. The MC is also a Orphan losing her father at four, then her mother at fourteen, so there will be mention of family. The MC spent all her time in foster care, due to her mother being an orphan herself and her fathers family disowning him.

:(Prologue)

Heartslaybul: pt one (you are here)

Savanaclaw: Soon

Octavinelle: Soon

Scarabia: Soon

Pomefiore: Soon

Ignihyde: Soon

Diasomnia: Soon

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The second Riddle had caught sight of the troublesome duo, they had collars around their necks. They also got stuck on hedgehog duty, by themselves may I add. About an hour after arriving (Name) Woke up in the arms of Trey who, let's be honest, was using her as an excuse for some quiet time. (Name) pulled away from the green haired man with glasses with a start, confused about her surroundings. A hand was placed on her head, making her stop frantically looking around.

“Don't worry, (Name). You are just at Heartslabyul, our dorm.” Trey explained, the girl slowly relaxed at his gentle words. “How was your rest? You where really tired.” Trey laughed a little. (Name) nodded her head as she rubbed some of the lingering sleepiness from her eyes.

“Oh! (Nickname) is awake! Hey cutie!” A ginger with long hair and a red diamond under his green eyes almost squealed. The girl shrank a little in Trey's arms, making him send a scolding glare at Cater. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare her.” Cater chuckled warily. Trey stroked her hair soothing the already nervous child.

“Its okay, He is my friend, Cater. I guess I have yet to introduce myself too, Im Trey.” He explained, knowing that this information might give the girl some comfort. She eyed both men before giving them a hesitant nod. Her body relaxed as she looked at the two boys.

“Hi Mister Cater and Mister Trey.” The girl said politely. Both boys looked at the young girl, feeling really old all of a sudden.

“You… uh can just call me Trey..” Trey muttered, feeling tired.

“Yeah, Just Cater…” Cater followed, sitting next to Trey to pull the girl into his lap. (Name) kinda sat there feeling like a baby getting passed around at a family reunion, once she remembered what happened in Crowley's office.

~~~(Moving to your POV cause this 3rd person is throwing me off)~~~

I shifted around as Cater started to play with my hair. As strange as it was, these strangers didn't seem dangerous to me, they almost felt comfortable. I jolted as I heard someone coming into the living room we were in. I turned around to see the man from earlier with something around his neck. I smiled at the sight of him, leaping off of Caters lap and rushed over to him.

“Ace!” I cheered as I wrapped my arms around his legs, earning a yelp from him. He had frozen in my grasp as I looked up at him. A sly smirk played on his lips as he kneeled down in front of me, meeting me at eye level.

“Hey pip squeak. I see you're awake now.” Ace said as he patted my head. I grinned at him with a nod. “It's good to see that you calmed down now. I thought that I was going to have to get the tickle monster after you earlier.” He said as he started to poke at my side. I let out a small squeal, giggling at his playfulness. I reached out and booped his nose, making him freeze. A slow evil smile played on his lips as he raised both hands slowly, wiggling his fingers to indicate that he was going to tickle me for real. I yelped as I bolted away and around the couch with him following me.

I let out playful cries for help, though it only made the boys chuckle or smile at us. After running around for a bit I finally started to feel my little legs tire out a little, so I ducked behind the leg of a navy blue haired boy who had entered with Ace when he came in. I held his leg breathing really hard, trying to catch my breath. Ace had stopped in front of us with his arms out ready to catch me. The boy looked down at me with a blush. I fisted his pants leg in my hands giving him my best pleading look. “Please help me, mister.” I begged he stiffened at my words looking shocked I was asking him for help. Ace froze at that too, giving me a shocked expression.

We all sat in silence for a few, then the boy swooped me off my feet and into his arms. A look with fierce determination and a challenging smirk played across his lips. Then… He bolted. I squealed as he took off down the hallway and out the door into the front yard or was it a garden. I saw Ace rushing after us and giggled into The boy's shoulder. “Deuce! You traitor!” Ace called out. I felt the boy laugh at the call out of his betrayal.

“It can't be helped! You saw her face!” The boy who I now know as Deuce called back. “She was too cute!”

I gave Ace an ornery wave as I tightened my grip on Deuces shoulders. Ace gave a scowl at me but soon replaced it with a smirk. He tried to pick up the pace, though Deuce still seemed to run faster than him. I then saw Aces face drop into what I would assume was horror. Followed by Deuce letting out a gasp and slipping on his own two feet. I yelped as I felt his feet slide under him, letting him land on his butt. He made sure to keep a firm grip on me, even going as far as to place a hand on my head to prevent me from bumping my head.

“What do you two think you're doing..” I heard someone seeth. I stiffened at the enraged tone, gripping Deuces jacket. Ace had caught up to us and stopped right next to us.

“We were just playing-” Ace was cut off with a stern voice.

“You two have yet to do the flamingo enclosure, and your out here playing?” I had finally looked up from Deuce's shoulder to see that it was the red haired boy from earlier. I shivered at the look of anger on his face. “First you cause an accident in your class, then you try to-” I looked down feeling guilty since I was the one who got them in trouble. I pushed off of Deuce, somehow getting out of his tight hold, making Riddle snap his lips shut. I stood in front of both of them, trying to act like a shield while looking down in shame.

“I-Im sorry mister. I was the one who had them play with me. I-If you need to punish me.” I claimed to feel my legs shake. I pulled all my courage to look up and met the red hairs glare. His eyes were wide as saucers and his mouth shut and closed like a fish out of water. Slowly his face turned red. He stood still as a statue and stared at me as if contemplating every life choice he made. Finally after defeating silence he sighed, seeming to relax. He moved his gaze back to Deuce and Ace.

“Go finish the rest of your chores.” He commanded, earning surprised looks from the two boys. He looked back down at me and held out his hand. “You will be coming with me, we need to talk for a bit.” He started, waiting patiently for me to take his hand. I nodded my head, taking his hand. I turned and waved at the two still shocked boys as we walked away.

~~~~~( third POV)~~~~

The little girl hung her head in shame as she was led through the hallways. Riddle felt a cold sweat run down his neck. Riddle can honestly say he had no clue what to do with her. He didn't have a real childhood like many of his peers, and he knew that not every child would be able to follow the rules that he had abided by in his raising. This meant that he had to control his temper and learn to let some rules go, even though it went against everything he learned.

He was normally very lenient with her since she was from another world with no knowledge of the rules here, but she had always made an effort into abiding all the ones she could remember and keeping in mind the ones he would explain to her if she broke a rule unknowingly. However a child wouldn’t be able to remember all of them, so with a talk with Trey, as long as there was really no harm he would let it go.

Finally making it to his room, he opened the door and ushered the young child in. He had asked Trey to bring in some tea and snacks that sat on the small coffee table in front of his chairs. Riddle finally released the girl's hand walking over to pour the tea.

“Go ahead and have a seat (Name).” Riddle ordered. The little girl who was sure she was in trouble, nodded her head and crawled onto the sofa waiting for her scolding to begin. She looked down at her hands in shame as she waited for him to start, only he never did. She stiffened a little when a tea cup on a saucer blocked her view of her hands. She looked up at Riddle who held out the drink to her. With steady hands she took them into her hands, making sure not to spill anything. She looked back up at him confused at the kind gesture.

“I suppose I should introduce myself” Though you already know me Riddle fought the urge to say. “I am Riddle Rosehearts, the dorm leader of this dorm. For the next few days and nights you will be staying here and sleeping in my room. Some of the students have offered to let you tag along with them during classes. So you wont be alone.” He explained, taking a sip of his tea. His eyes drifted to the still confused girl. She bobbed her head up and down to show that she understood him. “Trey told me I should inform you that I can be a little…… strict when it comes to rules… But I will try too be lenient and let some things go since these rules will seem… odd to you.” Riddle tried to explain in a slow but easy manner.

“Rules? But aren't there rules for a reason?” She asked, tilting her head.

“EXACTLY!!” Riddle exclaimed, making the child jump in surprise. He stared at her awkwardly then moved back to cough into his hand. “It's more… tradition for this dorm. So there is no need to worry about it.” He explained. The girl nodded still startled. She finally tilted her head at him confused.

“So mister Riddle… You're not mad at me?” She asked. He looked at her confused at the question.

“No, why would I be?”

“Well, you were really mad when we were playing earlier…” She explained. It was Riddle's turn to jump a little. He placed his saucer down as he recalled that he never explained that situation, though he would have to jump over special information.

“There seems to be a misunderstanding. I was more upset with Deuce and Ace for dodging their punishment. You see they put someone I care about in a bind due to their negligence. I MEAN SOMEONE WHO IS IMPORTANT TO MANY PEOPLE IN A BIND!!” Riddle corrected the last part as he realized he admitted out loud he cared for the perfect, though she had no clue she was the person.

“Oh…” She said, looking at him in understanding.

“A-Anyways dinner will be ready before too long, go wash up!” Riddle stood feeling his nerves rattle around. She looked at him then down at the tea she had yet to touch. She chugged it down and slid off the sofa to place it on the coffee table. She let her eyes linger on the cookies on the try, hesitantly looking up at him.

“Be for that… c-can I have a cookie?” She asked. Riddle felt his mouth form a no, but stopped himself. It was like a wave of trauma washed over him. He stood there, living every moment his mother told him he was not allowed to have any sweets or anything that was considered not healthy. Every smoke on his hand, Every time he was forced to sit at his desk to work on a problem or think over his actions that were wrong in his mothers eyes. His hands trembled and he bit into his lip to keep from having a wail leave his throat.

A hand.

A small hand grabbed his arm and held on tight. He blinked his wide eyes still holding the trauma that he was reliving. The small girl stared up at him, worried swimming in her expressful eyes. He gave him a gentle nudge, making his legs buckle under his weight. However she had him pushed against the chair he was once sitting on. She crawled up next to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. All those horrible memories faded away as the warmth of her arms brought comfort to his shocked heart. He sat there silently as he regained his composure. His breath that he had not noticed he was holding started to come out in slow and even breaths.

Once his brain started to catch up he wondered what happened. He has told many people no before. It was a common word he used for the troublesome duo, why was it so different all of a sudden. He then looked at the girl who still held him in her small arms as if protecting him. Maybe it was because he was saying no to a child? (Name) Finally pulled away from him, noticing he had calmed down.

“Are you feeling better?” She asked in a small voice. She stroked his hair as if comforting a child. He then came to the understanding that this was not the first time comforting someone. She analyzed the situation and his person and acted how she thought fit. No child should be able to react like that.

“H…have you done this before?” He asked. The girl gave him a small nod.

“When anyone mentions daddy to mommy… she gets the same look in her eyes you do. Hugging her and letting her sit helps….” She explained, still stroking his hair. He felt his body droop a little, this time wrapping his arms around her to get an extra grounding. The small child did not complain or say anything to make him pull away, she wrapped her arms around in return and leaned into him.

“That's…. Not something I would have expected….” He muttered, trying to finish gathering his thoughts. He felt the child let out a tired sigh, but not say another word. He already knew she had suffered quite a few loses in her life, from her father, then her trust, than her mother. But he didn't know what happened to her after the passing of her father. Not once has she brought it up or pushed blame onto her mother. However as an adult she was never one to bring up much about herself without being asked. That seems to be similar to her as a child. Someone who had to learn to be sympathetic and selfless at a young age. Someone who gave up their childish mind at a young age to please others. Someone…. Who was starting to seem similar to him in many more aspects, yet different in their own situation. They both just held each other, enjoying the human contact the silent comfort they got from the other.

‘Knock Knock”

“Riddle, you guys ready to go get dinner?” Trey’s voice came from the other side of the door. The second a knock hit the door, Riddle stiffened, but when he heard Treys voice he relaxed, knowing that Trey would not enter without permission. He pulled back, coughing into his hand to get the nerves out of his voice.

“Yes, we are coming.” Riddle called out, cursing the quiver in his voice. The child pulled away letting him have his space. She reached over for the tea, pouring him a cup and handing it to him, hoping that it would make him feel better. Out of every rule in the book, from the way she poured it and failed to place three cubes of sugar in it, he could not turn down her kind offer. He took the cup and took a sip, earning a gentle smile from the young girl. He fought the horrible feeling of breaking the rules and downed the tea like a champ. Once finished he stood up, taking the (Name) into his arms and walking to the door to go have dinner.

#twisted wonderland #twistedwonderland #deuce spade x reader #deuce x reader #heartslaybul x reader #heartslaybul #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #trey clover x reader #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola #trey clover #cater diamond x reader #cater diamond #twisted wonderland x reader #reader insert

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reinieseason · 6 months

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begging someone to pls help me construct a gen v hunger games au ......... my brain is so dead from college but i might actually write while the roman empires are empiring

marie is a tribute (maybe 16 or 15), probably for a district who hasn't one in a long time, similar to district 12 in the books/movies. honestly, i do not know who would be her mentor or a former victor for her, so i do sort of see marie having to enter the games alone.

i don't think she's a volunteer or if she'd volunteer for her sister because i think i'd like to keep the complexity of their relationship and not speaking but now that i think of it, i do see her volunteering for the sister she doesn't speak to anymore but still loves.

i'm not sure if this au will have powers, but marie would be skilled at long-range combat, she's good with a knife- fights like a street rat, fights like an orphan.

i'd imagine she gets the name bloody marie after murdering most of the tributes, always covered in blood (hence the name). or maybe in her final battle, we get the blood rain from catching fire, covering her and the other tribute in blood as they battle to death. trying to breathe and see as hot thick blood envelop them. i think that marie ends the battle slashing the throat and the tribute sputtering blood at her.

if not the blood rain, she slashes the throat and it covers her in blood. or she when she kills a tribute the blood gets everywhere. something like that.

if she doesn't have a mentor, for some reason, i can see emma as the daughter of a capitol member having to be the escort- but her quickly knowing the games for the cruelty it is and trying to campaign for marie throughout the games- oh or a stylist.

the others in this case... hm...

jordan li is a victor, they won a few games ago, they're probably a year older than her and was reaped when they were maybe 15 or 14. i feel like youngest victor would give them some clout. not sure how the shifting would work but who fucking cares its like year 2110?

i'm not sure how jordan would hate her, they might find her annoying, especially if she has no mentor to hold her back. marie's personality is spitfire and it's passion and she doesn't bother to act prim because she has no reason to think she'll live after this. she can try her hardest but she'll probably die.

luke riordan is a victor, he's definitely the finnick od'air of this au. he's the capitol's golden boy, what they don't know is he's planning the rebellion behind their back. i do see luke being a youngest winner as well, it adds to the appeal. probably has the same post-games treatment as finnick as well, he's appealing to the sponsors and won his game from the sponsors. while i'm unsure with marie, luke definitely volunteered for sam- had a whole "i volunteer! i volunteer as tribute". he made a deal with snow post-games to keep his brother out of the reaping bowl.

andre anderson is the son of a victor, his father works closely now with the capitol to make tech. andre is being looked at for a position in the capitol, maybe as gamemaker? not sure what to do with him.

cate is the adopted daughter of shetty, maybe shetty is the president or she has a high position. cate was luke's stylist maybe, i feel like cate would be a stylist.

shetty, like i mentioned before maybe is snow, if we want to contain this to solely the gen v cast. i'm struggling to come up with the president, maybe stan edgar. i wonder how newman falls into place here, she's definitely a sponsor for marie that's for sure.

anyways that's all. ihave so far lol

#gen v #gen v amazon #gen v prime #gen v spoilers #jordan li #marie moreau #marie x jordan #mariejordan #limoreau #emma meyer #cate dunlap #andre anderson #luke riordan #sam riordan #the hunger games

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wmarximoff · 1 year

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𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 | 𝐰. 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟

summary: your relationship with Wanda is not the same as it was.

warnings: mentions of smut, mentions of smoking, canon typical violence, angst.

pairing: Wanda x fem!reader

word count: 7k

A/N: and finally IWBS is back, brand new and all! seriously guys, i'm so happy to finally bring this fic back!

main masterlist| series masterlist|

༺ᱬ༻

Your awakening was costly, as the agent responsible for the event happened to be a chain of vibrations near your left elbow. From outside, sharp beams of light breached the room through the half-open window partially hidden behind the thin fabric curtain; a trickle of sun burning the apple of your left cheek and the expanse of skin there already hinted at the itch to come, gaining a brief intonation as ruddy as a ripe peach.

The vibration continued. You felt the stiff pulses through the fabric of the jacket that you hadn't bothered to consider taking off your shoulders the night before that morning, when you were the one who staggered home and didn't even untie your shoelaces beforehand of sprawling on the mattress like a rag doll and pass out for a good nine hours straight – the world around you spinning in a paradoxically slow alcoholic spiral, a constricting cloud of meager cigarette smoke tracking you like an obsessive spirit into the walls of your small apartment.

You felt a tightening grip in the pit of your stomach, but the vomiting never came and you just sat with your shod feet flat against the floor, elbows resting on your kneecaps, your heavy head drooping between your legs like a bowling ball hanging from a string. You then sluggishly brushed the palm of your right hand against the expanse of your wasted-faced self, your lids weighty and your eyes stinging as if they were carpeted with a tiny layer of sand. Your mouth felt dry. And the vibration kept puddled through your cheap bed sheet.

With confused fingers, you captured the cell phone tucked inside the case of your pillow, groping for the device that you soon brought close to your face half swollen with sleep. There was a lethargic blink of eyelids on your part. But what you saw there, the oh-so-unforgettable name gleaming on the cracked glass screen, startled you, and you creased your brow in response to the sudden confusion shown in your twisted expression.

She was looking for you. She would never be looking for you. At least not anymore. Not her. Not Wanda. And your mouth continued to feel dry and your gums numb, but there was no more blaming last night's Bourbon for that.

ᗢ

You were never quite sure what the origin could be traced when dealing with your inhuman capabilities and the causative agent of them. You hadn't been bitten by some radioactive animal or hit by gamma rays; you certainly hadn't studied mystical or supernatural magic, and being as human as you could be, there's just no way you could be an alien from a distant, extinct planet, sent to Earth as a child in a spaceship that landed in your parents' backyard. Parents who were normal humans in the purest and most acute sense imbued in the word.

Your world shifted suddenly, however, after the accident. The Accident, an unforgettable event, a memorable affair. When everything changed within you from one hour to the next, without you even being able to realize what was happening.

Late one night on the road, coming home from a little family trip to a national park in the next state, a song on the radio you can't quite remember what it was. And then a white light in front of the car. The noxious front of a truck making its way through the darkness of the night. A scream from your mother. A bang, a loud one. Your forehead bumping against the glass. And then the white became dark. A deep darkness that flooded your lungs and drowned you in a state of unconsciousness. When you woke up in the hospital a week later, you were nothing but a little orphan with nothing to lose. That had been your new identity since that day. Orphan. Utterly alone.

Your relatively short stay at Madame Dupont's School For Girls is what caused you a certain aversion to the sacred – undoubtedly the recurrent beatings, the nights deprived of food and the constant disappointment that haunted the melancholy walls of that dismal place fed your disgust towards your interpersonal relationships outside your own thoughts. In the chapel, an image of the crucified savior seemed to look at you with regret. At just fourteen years old, your best idea was to run away and that's what you did.

The streets were tough. Every day it was necessary to survive without knowing what would become of tomorrow. There wasn't a bed or a shower for you on the streets, but you learned to fend for yourself and take care of yourself as you could, the way your limitations allowed you to live – it was the alleys of New York, the pickpockets that raised you and the stolen scraps of food, sometimes depending on the charity of some generous stranger so as not to starve to death.

Cold nights were spent in hostels, subways or homeless shelters, but not long enough for them to realize you were still more of a kid than an adult. During those warm summer nights, the place to sleep was fire escapes and dark alleys. The world, however, was not prepared for an alien invasion. At the age of fifteen, you certainly weren't either. The Chitauri invasion was, in fact, a watershed for what would become of you after that remarkable day.

There were screams. People running away and falling, people crying everywhere. Bleeding people. Explosions. Glass and concrete falling onto sidewalks and streets. And you were running. You were dashing as hastily as you could through the streets of Manhattan, as hard as your legs would allow you until your muscles ached and your lungs burned like they were going to burst out of your chest. But a runaway truck turned the corner and was speeding towards you, cutting through the wind and scarring the asphalt.

There was no way to dodge it. The truck was coming and it was fast and just for a second you felt your stomach knot inside your belly, your knees locked in fear, a chill running down the length of your spine and dissipating down the back of your neck.

“This is it,” you thought, just fifteen years old, numbed by the lull of acceptance, tongue fluttering inside your mouth. Your heart pounded, pumping hot blood through your veins, and then suddenly froze. The air turned to ice inside your lungs, “That's it. Shit. That's it. Life is an unfair bitch.”

The reflex of self-preservation made you raise your hands to protect yourself, closing your eyelids tightly in the illusion that a hit like that would hurt less if you didn't see what would hit you, a certain bitterness of disappointment taking shape in your stomach. During an alien invasion, you certainly didn't expect to be killed by some hit-and-run situation.

You felt an impact against your raised palms. It pushed you back a little, the soles of your shoes scuffed against the asphalt, but you weren't thrown away. You didn't fall and break several bones and rupture several tendons, you weren't left to die bleeding with a broken skull in the middle of the street like you thought you would – with a dark puddle forming behind your head, your vision going dark as your gaze would become empty and lost.

You dared to open a curious eye, testing, experimenting. But the other one opened soon after. The world around you was strange. The truck's bodywork was dented by your hands. The driver, unconscious, was slumped forward, his forehead pressed violently against the steering wheel. His nose and forehead were bleeding, but you were whole and intact, brand new. It didn't make sense. But perceptions of what's normal and what's not can change when there's an alien invasion of New York.

The Chitauri were defeated. The Avengers (those Earth's greatest heroes) won, but the citizens had to deal with the damage left behind in a desolate city. It didn't take you long to find a use for your newfound unusual abilities.

After making sure of your capabilities and limitations (you could jump as high as a medium-sized building, but jumping didn't mean flying, which you definitely weren't capable of doing), it didn't take you long to realize that superpowers could mean easy money and fast if you only knew how to talk to the right people. In New York's underworld, there was no shortage of the right people to do the wrong things.

Thus, life on the streets became a little more bearable when you found yourself in possession of inhuman strength. But it didn't take long for you to get on the Avengers' radar. They were the pros, of course, and they would be aware of you – the bounty hunter who could lift a car over her head with her bare hands. You knew better. They got in touch. You were sixteen and you forgot to celebrate your birthday that year.

Tony Stark's butler shows up in a fancy car outside your tiny Brownsville apartment one fall night, and soon you're comfortable heading toward Manhattan, into the gigantic Avengers Tower – perhaps a way more appealing tourist attraction than the Statue of Liberty itself, which at the time did not yet carry Captain America's shield on its massive right arm.

Nobody in the group of superheroes managed to hide very well the expressions of surprise that came over their faces when they found out that you were still just a kid. A superpowered kid, sure, but a kid nonetheless. Bruce Banner said it out loud when no one else did, “But she... she's just a kid...”.

Between expensive food that you could never afford on your own and a considerable cartel of non-alcoholic drinks, they (Tony, Tony was the one who did it) offered you a spot on the team and you accepted because you didn't had the money to pay the rent anymore, and going back to the streets didn't seem like a good option.

There wasn't a dramatic story about you joining the group as everyone else's. Papers were signed, you got a black and white tactical uniform and a very annoying teacher (a tall, white man with a big nose) responsible for teaching you in the compound and catching up on all the subjects you missed from school during the your teenage years on the streets.

Natasha Romanoff, the infamous, ruthless spy, the Black Widow herself, became something of a big sister figure – she knew just how to fill those shoes because she did indeed had a little sister, as she told you about that one time you both were having grilled cheese for dinner. Yelena. Yelena Belova was Natasha Romanoff's younger sister who was older than you. You acted like you didn't think Natasha was hot before you met her.

She took you under her wing, and was the person responsible for making sure you were up to date on your homework and taking you to the mall and movies on your days off. The one who bought you a hamburger and a milkshake when you were sad. You could find a new family in that little den of adults who had been through as much in life as you had.

ᗢ

It was thanks to Ultron that you met her – Wanda Maximoff, the volunteer.

The girl with her nails painted black and a deep shade of red oozing from her gaze filled with hatred, yet in the background was a dark shadow of fear swallowed by the piercing scarlet of her magic. Her gaze was green and red and just as sad and just as hateful for a girl as young as she looked. She looked capable of chewing you up and spitting you out, and actually, something in you kind of yearned for her to.

She was a Sokovian orphan (utterly alone, like you) who had nothing to lose but her twin brother (she lost him shortly afterwards, in that same incident) and her will to change the world. Wanda Maximoff, the successful result of an inhumane Hydra experiment involving desperate volunteers and the Mind Stone. A young witch with not even the slightest notion of how the magic that shrieked and blasted inside her worked, consumed by her pulsating desire for revenge against all those who took everything from her.

She and her brother wanted Tony's head. You wanted her not to be on the enemy's side. She was nothing more than a scared girl, who didn't even understand how those powers worked that she so woefully failed to control in the first place. Red seeped from her pores in an untouchable haze that enveloped her in a furious glow.

You've seen her fighting up close in Novi Grad, the Sokovian capital – the determination in her chiseled dark brows, bursts of crimson shadow running down her fingertips as she fired spheres of magical energy towards Ultron's robot minions. She downed four of them, and then more five, six, seven, eleven, fifteen. The dark hair contrasting against the bright red of her worn jacket – the long, brown hair that you wanted to touch and caress with your fingertips, appreciate how soft it was, was smeared with dust and blood and she looked beautiful that way.

Staring at her, gaze locked on her attractive figure, you barely noticed when a robot came speeding towards you (not when your attention was all focused on that girl wrapped in red), and you were startled when the machine exploded in front of you, dismembered by a thin layer of burgundy aura that dissipated in the air along with its wires and screws, breaking it into five different metallic pieces.

You realized she was looking your way, mossy green eyes glowing hellfire scarlet – the dark eyeliner accentuating her sharp gaze, the heavy lashes pointed in your direction. The red in her eyes matched the burning red in her cheeks.

“Thank you,” you tried and were surprised when the words left your mouth, because you didn't tend to thank anyone willingly, let alone stutter while doing so.

But you were met with a thoughtful silence from the other girl. She was quiet and serious, panting a little, her chest rising and falling heavily, her pretty face a little smudged with soot. The gaze was still intense in your direction, as if it could analyze and understand right through your flesh, dismembering your soul, studying you from the inside out.

You remembered that she messed with your teammates' minds back in Africa, and thought she might have been reading your mind at that moment. If she was, you thought, she would know that at that moment you thought she was simply the most beautiful girl that ever walked the face of the earth.

“You are welcome,” her Eastern European accent was thick and wobbled deliciously between the words, “Are you… are you okay?”

You swallowed hard and hesitated for a second, “I–”

“Wanda!”

Before you could respond, her brother, Pietro, sped towards you and whisked you away in a blue and red blur, leaving behind only dust and you, somewhat doomed in your black and white uniform. The next time you heard from him, he was lying on the dirty floor, lifeless, his chest pierced by a collection of gun bullets.

When Novi Grad was plummeting from the sky and the Avengers were alerted to send the city into free fall, with Tony and Thor working hard together to smooth the damage back to the ground, you searched for Wanda's face in the crowd gathered at the SHIELD rescue aircraft hangars. Your fearful gaze searched desperately for her, for some trace of her green gaze staring deep back at you, your heart squeezing inside your chest. She wasn't there.

You had no idea what you were doing and you were fucking terrified as your legs marched back into the abandoned city, wrecked with the signs of war, to look for the girl you'd met just seventy-two hours before, between Africa and Korea, and who in at least twenty-four of those seventy and two hours had tried to kill you and your teammates.

You didn't listen when Clint Barton, the Hawkeye, shouted your name and ordered you back to the safety of the aircraft. He had rescued Pietro's lifeless body, carrying the dead boy onto the plane. But you needed to find her.

She was inside a train car, helpless. In addition to the glistening sweat on her pale face and the small trickle of blood split open in a patch of skin just above her left eyebrow, a waterfall of thick tears ran freely down her cheekbones, leaving behind them a dark trail of black blurred makeup. You wanted to say that she looked beautiful when she cried, but you stopped at the last second, twisting your tongue inside your mouth.

You knew those tears were reserved for her deceased twin brother. Seeing her cry made your heart break into several pieces – you wanted to kiss away those dark tears and hold her trembling body in your arms, promising you would support her from then on. You wanted to be her support while she suffered. But Clint's screech into the communicator inside your ear snapped you back to reality; the city was falling and if you didn't get out of there soon, you would be buried with the ruins of Novi Grad. You didn't hesitate to take her in your arms.

Just as she didn't hesitate to hug your neck and hide her head in your chest, her chin quivering to contain the sobs that made the bones in her chest ache. The physical touch was like a wave of energy that went through your body and hers as well. You saw red and she saw white.

Then she looked at you – eyes glistening with tears, no longer dark, as clear as the leaves of spring trees. Your chest filled with air and deflated quickly. Your mouth went dry. Wanda's fingertips brushed the warm, sweaty skin at the base of the nape of your neck, the cold metal of her collection of rings sending shivers down the length of your spine. You offered her a small smile before hopping back onto the plane. Her short black dress fluttered against your right forearm.

Before returning to dry land, you sat among a crowd of hundreds of helpless Sokovian citizens, your fingers intertwined the entire time, her thumb noiselessly stroking the back of your hand, the ring swirling against your skin.

“Thank you,” she said after a while, not looking you directly in the eye (because she was crying, you knew it and she knew you knew it), sounding small and fragile like a child.

“You're welcome,” you replied in the same tone as her, bestowing a friendly squeeze on the outline of her hand.

ᗢ

When Wanda returned with you and your tired teammates back to New York, her new room in the compound was behind the door next to yours, just to the right of your own room. She silently sighed in relief when she realized she wouldn't stay away from you. So you spent a lot of time together, enjoying each other's company. Even though at first she was the quiet, slightly more reserved type, you knew it was because Pietro was dead and she was alone in a new country, where everything was nothing short of alien to her.

And you understood. More than all of them, you understood. You too were a street urchin who parachuted into a billionaire's house, after all.

In the first days, the nightmares were constant and Wanda always looked for you to alleviate them. Nobody but you. She has always looked exclusively for you. She would enter your room and, without saying anything, lay down next to you on the bed, you feeling the movement next to you in the dead of night, when silence was the third person in your room. You two never talked about it.

Not until the day she hugged you from behind and, in a low, shy voice, thanked you against your earlobe – her warm breath warming the shell of your ear. You squeezed her slender arm, without saying a word, to let her know it was all right, and she relaxed against your body – braless breasts pressing against the muscles of your back.

Your similar age helped, too. It didn't take long for you to discover that Wanda was seventeen years old and only three months younger than you. So she became your classmate when the two of you were tutored by Vision (the red, green, and yellow synthezoid born of Jarvis's mind and Ultron's will), and she became your companion during the spare time between classes with the robot-man and the hard training from Natasha, when you just wanted to watch a movie, listen to some music or just have a coffee at that cozy little coffee shop on the corner.

Natasha gave you a suggestive look when you said you were going to have coffee with Wanda for the third time within that same week. But that girl made you smile, just as you did to her (making her nose twitch and scrunch in a really appealing way and her cheeks flush). You confided to each other intimate desires, yearnings and dreams that you never dared to tell anyone else. Wanda was into hibiscus tea and Sokovian poetry, old American sitcoms and alternative and grunge rock. You were found of black coffee, classic literature, thrillers and heavy metal.

She told you between sips of tea, on a particularly cold night, about the days at the orphanage after the bomb that took the lives of her parents, about the boy with a skin condition who was always trying to steal Pietro's boots. You told of the Catholic school and the time a silly little prank cost you a whole week without any dinner to eat. She spoke of the protests against the presence of the US Army in her country, of her political engagement back in Sokovia. You told of the time you worked with a blind man dressed as a red devil to ambush some bandits in Hell's Kitchen.

Her parents were Jewish and she considered herself a part of the religion, even if she wasn't practicing it, as a means of keeping them close, keeping the flame of memory alive in her soul. You watched Jurassic Park at least once a month, searching for the ghost of nostalgia for your father's arm around your shoulder. She could play the guitar. You liked photography. The first time you kissed her was right after you took a picture of her playing the guitar (she played Nirvana, your favorite which was also her favorite).

She was shy and you said she didn't have to worry because she was the most beautiful thing you had ever photographed. Then you took the sides of her face between your hands and cut the distance between your mouths, bringing your lips together. Wanda tasted like hibiscus and cinnamon and red. The red that invaded your mouth, trickled over your tongue and landed in your stomach. She put her hands over yours before grabbing you by the neck and deepening the kiss.

After your first time a few weeks later, she cried with happiness in the midst of an orgasm, pouring her pleasure into your mouth, fingers fisted in your hair until they turned white, calling out to you in a half-moan Sokovian dialect. Your fingers were the first thing that entered her. Shortly thereafter, the length of your strap-on was second. You made love to her in her bed and you fucked her in your room.

And on the sofa in the television room, late one night, when Natasha went to sleep (because she noticed that the palm of her hand was increasingly tucked into Wanda's miniskirt, who had a questionable facial expression on her face to say the least).

And on the kitchen counter, when the other Avengers were out, wearing that thick scarlet strap that was her favorite that cinched around the outline of your waist (it caressed her in several places on the inside and was just the right thickness that she could take it without hurting herself, but which was definitely pleasurable and fit just perfectly).

And in the bathroom at your favorite coffee shop (because Wanda was jealous of the bartender hitting on you and wanted to make sure you knew who you belonged to).

And in the elevator after a party roasted by Tony, when you both looked like you were going to explode and didn't have time to make it to the bed (not with Wanda's hands squeezing your breasts and your thighs through the thin fabric of your black dress, you sucking her neck as if it needed to drink from the pulsing red blood of her artery to survive, with your knee thrust between the hollow of her legs, making continuous movements up and down against her dripping center). Six months into your relationship then made official, and you could barely keep your hands off each other for so long.

“You two could make less noise next time,” Natasha commented one morning, holding a cup of hot coffee close to her face, when you and Wanda walked into the kitchen hand in hand and sharing knowing smiles on your lips.

“I don't want to know who's doing what to who at three o'clock in the morning, thank you.”

You felt your face burn, mortified, and Wanda was no different. Steve scratched his throat because all the Avengers were there. A few days later, he decided to do a (very awkward, his cheeks boiling and his blue eyes looking towards the floor) intervention with you two to ask you to “keep your intimate relationship inside your rooms, girls, please”.

The sex ed class with Vision was a painful experience, but you learned your lesson – Wanda started moaning more quietly with her face buried in the pillow while you fucked her from behind.

ᗢ

You spent the anniversary of your parents' deaths together at the beginning of the summer. Then the one of her parents' death in mid-autumn, and then the one of Pietro's death in late spring. You wish you'd gotten to know him better, given him a second chance in those seventy-two hours you've known him, in Africa and Korea.

When she confessed that she no longer remembered her father's (Oleg, she said in a thick accent, full of imbued feelings), with the two of you wrapped in each other's arms late at night in her bed, she cried with the face buried in your neck and you stroked her back the whole time with your open palm. Malcom in the Middle played softly on the television in the corner of the room.

ᗢ

Later, you had tea together in the kitchen, leaning against the marble counter, and you admitted that you couldn't remember the date of either of your parents' birthdays. She hugged you from the side, resting her head on your shoulder (wearing your shirt with a rock band logo displayed on her chest), but you didn't cry.

"I'm sorry," she whispered lightly, her face hidden in the skin gap where your neck met your collarbone, "I love you."

You blinked once and then looked at her, a warm feeling pulsing inside your ribcage, "I love you too."

The incident in Lagos, Nigeria, occurred shortly after your one-year anniversary together. You had just turned eighteen. She would do it next month. It would be the first birthday she would celebrate without Pietro's presence, and that's why she walked around with her head down – but you understood, you always understood. As Wanda's girlfriend, you went out of your way to make her happy (even if that only meant wiping her tears after a long emotional crying session).

Natasha and Steve were training her while tracking the mercenary Crossbones, who in a desperate act threatened to blow himself up, aiming to take Captain America and all the civilians gathered along the explosion area with him.

Wanda was quick to react, summoning her magic with the act she'd trained for so long to control, temporarily containing the heat of the explosion in a sheath of pulsing red magic – but she wasn't fast enough to manage to change the trajectory of the time bomb that was Crossbones, and he slammed into the side of a building, detonating half its structure in the process, glass plummeting from above onto the street.

As Wanda sank to her trembling knees, tears pooling in the waterlines of her aching eyes and a hand pressed to her mouth, stifling a sob deep in her throat, you rushed to her protection, hugging her to your chest as if you could forever hold her against yourself, wanting to protect her from all the harm in the world. The explosion was still fresh in your memory, but it would certainly never leave her brain.

“It's gonna be okay, honey,” you whispered a shaky lie into her ear, stroking her brown hair in a helpless, automatic act, her body feeling cold against yours, “It's– it's gonna be okay, Wands. It's gonna be okay. We gonna be okay.”

You knew it definitely wasn’tgoing to be okay. You just didn't know how wrong everything could go in such a short time.

Wanda had no interest in leaving her room for the following month. It was up to you to bring her food and water, which you did every day without complaint. You held her hair the times nervousness made her dump her dinner down the toilet, tear running down her beautiful face. You held her when she cried and you fucked her when she wanted to sleep and forget but couldn't quite fall asleep.

On her birthday, you gave her a red velvet cupcake, her favorite, topped with a thin pink candle (which she blew out after you instructed her to make a wish), and a bowl filled with some pathetic excuse for what would be spicy paprikash chicken you tried to cook after finding a recipe on the internet. You were never one to cook very well, you knew it and she knew it too. But she laughed, albeit weakly, and placed a warm kiss on the pulp of your lips. You hadn't heard her laugh in a few weeks, and it sounded like a warm hug in your ears.

“I thought this might lift your spirits a bit,” you informed her, offering her a small smirk.

“Spirits lifted,” she confirmed, with a weak shake of her head, “Thank you, detka.”

“Nah, no need to thank me. Just make a wish honey, any wish you’d like.”

From the look on your girlfriend's haggard face, so beautiful even behind the shadow of sadness that followed her like a ghost, never releasing her from her prison, you knew what her ideal request had been, even if she didn't have the verbalized in full when he blew out the candle flame, curling her kissable lips and throwing a gust of oxygen between them.

You could feel it and it squeezed your stomach and squeezed your throat from the inside out. She wants all of this, this sadness, to end.

ᗢ

You felt a beseeching need to throw up when Tony threw a wad of papers that slid onto the glass table in the compound's meeting room a few days later, landing with a heavy thud, you reading SOKOVIA ACCORDS on their cover in thick capital letters.

The breath caught in your throat like a needle. The government was out to tame beings with extraordinary gifts, to turn them into foolish soldiers for their mediocre and hypocritical agenda – “Wanda,” you thought, “they want to tame Wanda”. The haggard girl sat beside you, one hand braced on your right knee, a flaking black nail scraping nervously against a loose line of your dark jeans.

“You're saying they'll come for me,” she said with a lost look, her voice flat and empty. Dangerously empty.

The certainty that seeped from her voice made your heart drop and shatter into a hundred different pieces. You squeezed her hand placed on top of your knee, feeling her rings against your palm. She looked at you, the green in her gaze erased by uncertainty and fear.

“We’ll protect you,” you assured your girlfriend, maintaining eye contact with her, in a tone of voice in which only she understood the significance you were addressing, “I’ll protect you.”

It was with that promise sealed that you chose sides in the battle to come; Wanda's side, you were always on Wanda's side.

Even when Tony treated her like an enemy (a villain), and consequently the rest of the Avengers (you included) who opposed him. Even when Natasha joined him, breaking your heart in the process(but then she betrayed him). Even when the Avengers fell apart in an internal conflict that resulted in a battle at Leipzig-Hale Airport in Germany (although you had no idea who the boy in the red and blue suit Tony had summoned to combat was). You didn't mean to hurt your friends, but the punch you landed against Vision's metallic face was a little too hard on purpose.

And even when you and she were restrained by special government agents, forcibly dressed in straitjackets and stuffed into dark cells, watched twenty-four-by-seven by a battalion of security cameras and heavily armed soldiers until the tooth, caged and forgotten with the rest of your team in a vertiginous prison in the middle of the ocean, you were by her side.

Your cells faced each other. Glancing at your girlfriend through the protective glass (she looked small, angry, haggard and just sad), you promised her you'd get her out of there – you loathed to see her trapped and restricted like a caged animal, as if she was a dangerous animal, a bestial monster, and not simply the sweetest girl you've ever had the pleasure of knowing in your life. They never knew her like you did.

But Steve and Natasha infiltrated the Raft, and your release was a success. Under a stinging rain, sneaked into a tiny helicopter piloted by the Black Widow, you fled before security even had a chance to stop you (all the while Wanda's hand was hooked to yours, her gaze watching over your welfare all the time).

You then earned the title of official global-scale fugitives (it was all over the news and across the internet), with Wanda patiently dyeing her then-brown hair a coppery shade of red, the two of you sneaking into a tiny bathroom in the apartment you were using as a hideaway in the heart of Scotland when you, at nearly nineteen years of age, decided it was time to do right. Anxiety gnawed at your stomach, but you never had doubts.

She was sitting in front of the narrow mirror glass, finishing brushing a long strand of bleached hair, casually humming to some song by an alt-rock band, when you knelt before her, staring into her moss-green irises, barely stroking her chin with the tips of your fingers in a way that expressed that you wanted to get her attention.

“Wanda,” you sighed, feeling yourself levitate in your cotton socks. She offered a confused smile in your direction.

“Yes, malishka?" Her tone was understanding, yet curious. With her eyes, she encouraged you to speak when she saw that you hesitated there for half a second.

But you wiped the sweat accumulated in your palms on the fabric of your sweatpants, your breathing uneven, your racing heart almost exploding in your ears and, looking into the soul of her who was the object of your devoutness, a slight smile flourished on the commission of your lips, “Marry me?"

She was the one who chose the rings. The ceremony was a small one, not long after you asked for her hand in marriage and she smothered you with kisses as she promptly accepted the proposal. As intimate as possible it could be, at least.

You weren't even twenty and you were a runaway, and you were marrying your first girlfriend – but Wanda, at that moment with red hair (the color that suited her so well), coming towards you in a subdued white dress and a smile that sparkled in love, bathed in the golden hour at the height of sunset, was all you needed in life.

You needed her more than oxygen to survive – you proved that theory when you made love for the first time as a married couple, like two wives calling each other's name until the next morning's first ray of sunshine. Sleeping in your wife's arms was different than sleeping in your girlfriend's arms.

ᗢ

The twins followed right after, like the acts of a play that unfolded right before your eyes, with you and Wanda as the main stars of that strange show (her womb swelling for nine months, getting bigger, looking ready to explode like a balloon).

Neither she nor you were sure exactly how that happened; via a video call, Natasha had threatened to punch Wanda in the nose if she had slept with anyone other than you. But you trusted your wife, and the result of your love left no doubt; little Tommy was like you when you were a kid, and Billy had your mother's eyes (you had forgotten what they looked like, but then your son opened his eyes in your arms and looked deep into you and you cried because you remembered your mother).

You were in London, that cold, gray metropolis, and you helped a crying child across the street, holding her little hand as you guided her across the crosswalk towards her mother. You smiled at the little girl and with the palm of your hand caressed the top of the small head of brown hair – seeing it up close, you really seemed to be a mother figure to that little girl who looked up to you as if you were some kind of support for her.

Wanda's heart fluttered at the scene and she was filled with an overflowing love and imagined what it would be like if that girl were yours. What would she be like if she were even smaller, just a baby, and if she looked like you, but also like her. She wanted to know what it would be like if you put your ear to her swollen belly and whispered to the growing child inside that you would do anything for them. She would listlessly caress your hair while you stroke the warm skin of her abdomen.

That night, when you made love in your bed, Wanda's eyes glowed a profuse shade red as he came apart with her hands pressing your face against the middle of her own legs, your saliva dripping down into her, into her womb. The morning sickness came a few weeks after that day.

You were twenty-one when you first held Thomas in your arms – his nose the same shape as yours, as were the shape of his eyes and the arch of his small mouth. He was warm, affable, and he smelled like the sun. After another ten minutes or so, William might even have your mother's eyes, but his face was a small-scale of Wanda's striking features. He was yours to hold and protect, and for him and his brother (and, of course, their mother) you just knew you'd do anything.

Wanda was sweaty and crying when she looked at you, a happy smile shining on her tired lips that didn't go away even when you approached and kissed her, only because you didn't know any other way to express your feelings at that moment than by bringing your lips together.

“Thank you,” you sobbed, “Thank you.”

Billy was snuggled in Wanda's arms, and you were the one holding little Tommy. And you were happy. You were genuinely like you had never been in your life before. They were your family. You and her, together, wrapped in love, had built a family.

ᗢ

“Y/n?”

The shaky voice took you back to the fateful times of your adult life, where you could be found just sitting alone in an empty bed, the curtains serving as a wall against you and the brightness of the world outside, on the edge of the big city.

Wanda was sounding worried on the other end of the line, so it didn't take long for you to assume it was something to do with the boys – because, in fact, your ex-wife would have no reason to contact you other than matters concerning your children, the only bond then still existing between you and her. When not even wedding rings could sustain your relationship and prevent it from sinking completely into the confines of your memory, in a sweet time that would never return, Billy and Tommy were the only remnant of your union that still prevailed between you and their other mother.

“Erm, hey… hey, Wanda,” you sounded hesitant in a voice that was suddenly too high in the ear, just because you didn't really have anything else to say to her.

You were no longer the person you once were, and Wanda certainly wasn't either. You were nothing but strangers who once knew each other better than anyone else could ever know you. She also looked unsure of what she should say next though; both dancing this weird waltz, trying to influence the other to speak first. But you heard the deep sigh Wanda exhaled on the other end of the line, a warm rush of oxygen trapped inside her bronchial tubes.

“Everything’s fine around there? Are the boys okay? Are… are you okay, Wanda?” You tried to get the information out of her that she wanted to tell you, but you just didn't know how.

And then there was a silent sob that ended up in your right ear. You had previously witnessed Wanda's cries countless times, and hardened by experience, you could even differentiate them from the others. That was the stress cry. Of fear. Like the time she cried because she was abruptly horrified as she teared a hole through Vision's metallic forehead in an attempt to destroy the Mind Stone and prevent Thanos from reaching it.

The weight of the entire future of the universe fell on your wife's shoulders, and you, in the distance, lying on the ground and with a gaping hole in the right side of your navel (the deep cut draining drops and drops of scarlet warm liquid from within your veins, your conscience fading into the darkness little by little) saw her cry with fear when she feared not being able to take the life of a friend as dear as Vision was.

You pressed the plastic of the phone against the skin of your ear, sinking your upper teeth into the dry expanse of your bottom lip.

“Wanda?” your voice called your ex-wife's name one more time, eliciting in response an uncontrollable sob even stronger than the last one before it, “Wanda, talk to me please. Something happen to the boys? To you? Please, talk to me. I need to understand what’s going on.”

“The boys, Y/n,” she sobbed dimly, and you felt your heart sink into your ribcage, “Y/n, they… t-they… their skills… they, they need you here. You know what can happen if the world finds out they have powers, Y/n, and it's hard, I'm... I'm scared. Please, I don't want them to be taken away from me. I just don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know how… I don’t know how to do this anymore.”

Her voice sounded small, fearful, uncertain. You've heard her like this before, about to break down. And every time you heard her like that, you wanted to welcome her into your embrace.

“This– this won’t happen,” you then assured her, immediately jumping to your feet as you straightened your knees, “Nobody's gonna take the boys away, Wanda, nobody. They'll have to go over me and you to do that.”

She sniffed on the other end of the line. You pressed your index finger and thumb against the bridge of your nose, engaged in a imprudent attempt to ease the nauseous hangover feeling that pressed your brain into the walls of your skull.

“Are you— are you home? Are they at home?”

“Yes,” she murmurs, “They're still sleeping. Billy took a while to fall asleep last night because he said his head felt weird and he could hear a lot of things at once, and Tommy didn't want to sleep until Billy went to sleep too. You know how they can be about each other...”

“Right,” was your response as you started to search hungrily for a clean shirt in your closet, “I'll be there in about forty minutes, okay?”

“Okay…” Wanda sighed. There was relief, like a weight lifted from her shoulders. And then you realized that it was the weight of not having to do this alone anymore.

The following seconds of silence were awkward to say the least, something that supposedly shouldn't come between you and Wanda – but which was soon promptly interrupted by a small shy voice on the other end of the line.

“Thank you, Y/n.”

Your mouth opens, but then closes just as quickly as you did in the first place. You wanted to tell her that she didn't have to thank you; those were your children too, you should be there for them. You loved her, so you should have been there to support her through the difficult situations presented by the challenges of motherhood. They were your family. You should have done a lot more for them than you actually did.

But you didn't say anything. As before, you didn’t say anything. Words were born and perished within you. And, like the coward that you were, you give up even before you try, brushing your fingertips through your half-dirty hair.

“No need to thank me, Wanda. I’ll just… I’ll be there soon. Just... Just wait for me.”

#wanda reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x you #billy maximoff #tommy maximoff #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch imagine #i wanna be somebody!series

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totally-not-here-for-the-smut · 8 months

Text

SO this bad post went out on its own (not: it's my falut, I'm a dork) without a text! Apologize. Let's proceed!

Sooo apparently the handling trauma was much appreciated! I was seriously afraid to be tumblrstoned for talking about such a delicate stuff. BUT since people here love reading about people's trauma (u lovely sikos) let's go ahead with...

Handling Trauma

~asra

[tw: weals, manhandling, low-key domination, also abandonment trauma]

Asra is charming, confident, and a master magician. He has seen the worlds and always carries wonderful trinkets in his pockets; dances and sings, and when he's around everything seems to glitter and shine.

That's why is so easy to forget how actually broken he is - the mere fact that he doesn't takes it out on the people around him like Lucio does doesn't mean he's ok - on the contrary, this only makes it worse.

He was a kid when his parents didn't came back home. Do you really believe that Lucio or his courtiers bothered to tell him? He didn't become an orphan in the spur of a fleeting moment - it was a slow, scary, crippling realization. Day after day he waited, he asked, he searched. Night after night he cried, he called, he begged - until he surrendered to the looming silence haunting his parents' bedroom.

He was found by you and your aunt, but by that time he was almost a young man already. So came the days when he looked up to you and slowly fell in love. He longed for your touch when he could see you, and waited to see you every time you were away.

He had found a new family, and soon he won your love.

And then, shortly after, the plague took everything from him - his family, his master, his love, his friends. His serenity, and his happiness.

He loved you, and he lost you. He broke the most sacred law of life to have you back, and spent three long years caring for you, weaving a spiderweb of lies to secure your safety.

It's so easy to forget how desperately afraid of loss Asra is, but thinking about it makes it crystal clear. And there's no way to forget it in your moments together, for when he's the most vulnerable, it shows.

Asra's eyes are hungry for your image. You've never seen him closing his eyes when you're together, as if you could disappear if he close his eyes. There's always a purple glimpse gazing behind his white lashes.

He gifted you a silk sleeping mask, embroidered with moon and stars, because there's always a candle, a lantern, a bonfire next to you when you sleep together. The candle went out on a moonless night, once. You woke in pain, Asra's arms clenching compulsively your body, as he gasped for air through the tears. You had to conjure a magic light on your fingertips, as if he'd forgot he was a magician as well, and spent the night kissing his face, caressing his shivering chest until dawn. Only then he managed to explain.

"I felt the darkness swallowing you".

The following night, yow went to Muriel's and came home with a mossy trunk covered in fairy helmets.

A bunch of glowing mushrooms is cute and helpful indeed, but is far from being a real solution. Asra keeps disappearing for days when he feels vulnerable, just to come back more frantic and confused than before. You can feel the grasp fear has on his soul in the way he holds your wrists tight as you're making love, you can hear it in his words as he asks you with the softest voice if you do still love him, begging you to never leave.

The awareness of his fears follows you even when you're not with him, written in the weals on your skin -on your wrists and hips. When he saw it one morning he begged you to let him erase them with magic. You refused though - you're adamant this is something to be faced.

Each time he's afraid he's all over you, needy for the feeling of your bodies fuse together, for your abandonment in his arms. He's passionate and eager for your delight - each night he wants to hear you screaming his name -again and again, and then tenderly hold your body worn out by the shivers all through the night.

As you indulge his needs when the sun goes down, you become kind but firm when it rises. He when all is said and done, you know you can't do this alone. It's a long way to make Asra feel safe and loved again, and it starts from his friends knowing how much he truly needs their love.

Disclaimer: as usual, this is PURELY FICTIONAL. I'm not a therapist, and this aren't suggestions about how to handle this sort of problems. Irl intimacy problems are shitty and actually really boring. That's why no one writes about it! Oh, and the fairy helmets technically glow, but it's almost invisible to the human's eye. Sry.

#the arcana #the arcana game #asra the magician #arcana #arcana fanfic #asra smut #asra x reader #asra x apprentice #asra x reader smut #handling trauma

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toomanyrobins2 · 2 months

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Christmas in Gotham

Summary: An orphan all her life, Y/N is simply too old to remain at The Bowery Home any longer. That is where an anonymous patron has swooped in to send her off to college and all he requires…a monthly letter of her academic progress.

Based off the book and musical “Daddy Long Legs”

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

last part // series masterlist // next part

Notes: I'm finally getting around to updating this fic! If you would like to catch up and get more consistent updates to this story and others I would go to by AO3!

From the Home of the Gordon Family

31st December

Dear Batman,

I meant to write to you before and thank you for your Christmas cheque, but life in the Gordon household is very absorbing, and I don't seem able to find two consecutive minutes to spend at a desk.

I bought a new gown—one that I didn't need, but just wanted. My Christmas present this year is from Batman; my family just sent love.

I've been having the most beautiful vacation visiting Barbara. She lives in a big old-fashioned brick house with white trimmings set back from the street—exactly the kind of house that I used to look at so curiously when I was in the Bowery Home, and wonder what it could be like inside. I never expected to see with my own eyes—but here I am! Everything is so comfortable and restful and homelike; I walk from room to room and drink in the furnishings.

It is the most perfect house for children to be brought up in; with shadowy nooks for hide and seek, and open fireplaces for pop-corn, and an attic to romp in on rainy days and slippery banisters with a comfortable flat knob at the bottom, and a great big sunny kitchen, and a nice, fat, sunny cook who has lived in the family thirteen years and always saves out a piece of dough for the children to bake. Just the sight of such a house makes you want to be a child all over again.

And as for families! I never dreamed they could be so nice. Barbara has a father and mother and grandmother, and the sweetest three-year-old baby sister all over curls, and a medium-sized brother who always forgets to wipe his feet, and a big, good-looking brother named Jimmie, who is a junior at Princeton.

Bruce's eyes scanned the words on the paper, his usually stoic expression revealing a flicker of surprise and something akin to dismay. He couldn't deny the unease that settled in his chest at the mention of this mysterious young man. The thought of Y/N, someone he had mentored and grown fond of, showing interest in someone else triggered an unexpected pang of discomfort.

A low groan escaped him as he set the letter down on the desk. The idea of Y/N having an interest in a man didn't sit well with him, stirring emotions he hadn't anticipated. He couldn't quite put his finger on why it bothered him so, but the realization that she might be drawn to someone outside their mentor-mentee relationship brought a sense of unrest.

Leaning back in his chair, Bruce ran a hand through his hair, contemplating how to react to Y/N's letter. He couldn't deny the connection they shared, and the notion of someone else vying for her attention created a subtle tension in the air.

We have the jolliest times at the table— everybody laughs and jokes and talks at once, and we don't have to say grace beforehand. It's a relief not having to thank Somebody for every mouthful you eat. (I dare say I'm blasphemous; but you'd be, too, if you'd offered as much obligatory thanks as I have.)

Such a lot of “things we've done—I can't begin to tell you about them. Mr. Gordon is the Commissioner of Gotham and Christmas Eve he had a tree for the officers’ children. It was in the long packing room which was decorated with evergreens and holly. Jimmie Gordon was dressed as Santa Claus and Barbara and I helped him distribute the presents.

Dear me, Batman, but it was a funny sensation! I felt as benevolent as a Trustee of the John Grier home. I kissed one sweet, sticky little boy—but I don't think I patted any of them on the head!

And two days after Christmas, they gave a dance at their own house for ME. It was the first really true ball I ever attended—college doesn't count where we dance with girls. I had a new white evening gown (your Christmas present—many thanks) and long white gloves and white satin slippers. The only drawback to my perfect, utter, absolute happiness was the fact that Mrs. Lippett couldn't see me leading the cotillion with Jimmie Gordon. Tell her about it, please, the next time you visit the B. H.

Also, who should have been invited to this event but Mr. Bruce Wayne himself! Apparently he is friends with the Gordons and I had the opportunity to thank him again in person for the lovely chocolates. He introduced me to his friends and inquired about my education and recommended a book to me. In the most gentlemanly of actions, he sent the book to the Gordon home the next day with a note that I should keep the book and add it to my personal collection. He says that every respectable writer should have a collection of books and I find that I agree with him completely. I find myself dreaming of a day where i can live in a grand home and collect books to my heart’s content.

Yours ever,

Y/N Abbott

PS. Have you ever read Gulliver’s Travel? I wonder what you would think of such a fantastical novel!

PPS. Would you be terribly displeased, Bats, if I didn't turn out to be a Great Author after all, but just a Plain Girl?

#toomanyrobins #Batman #Batman imagine #Batman x reader #bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne imagine #Bruce Wayne x reader #battison #battison imagine #déçu #dcu imagine

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eryanlainfa · 23 days

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important thought i just had. how do you imagine hugo’s gender nonconformity like how does he identify with any label in particular or is he just Like that. and more importantly do you think he’s already figured it out by the time he meets the gang or do you think the egg breaks later. BC SEE i’ve always imagined up until the trials shes never had the time to think about herself at ALL, like she obviously knows shes kinda *flicks wrist* yk but otherwise she’s never really actually come to any real conclusions about herself. so i think as soon as they move in with varian and once they’ve finally settled and they have SO much free time and so many things going on in their head, they’re trying new hobbies and finding all sorts of things to tinker with and most importantly they finally have the opportunity to care about their appearance and suddenly the gender crisis hits them like a fucking FREIGHT TRAIN

all this is to say because. I was thinking about that again today and then i remembered aiden and it was like my third eye opened bc i realized the sheer potential in that scenario with airigo. like i feel like aiden would’ve seen that shit coming a MILE AWAY and i think that’d be so cute and also so fucking funny and. I need to hear your thoughts ok

[Hi. Future Ery talking. I started rambling and I have no clue if what I said is actually coherent or even answers your question at all- But the idea was there! Also I personally headcanon everything and anything, I love switching labels of one character and making a whole new au for it. But covering EVERYTHING would be too long so I answered regarding Aiden's main timeline only- but if you want me to talk about transfem Hugo in particular I'd love to!!]

Sobbing and crying this is so cute and funny your brain is wonderful mwah mwah. I think all you said could 100% work and I can see a version where it would make sense for Hugo to not had the time to discover themself properly. And Aiden just clocking her right away is so funny 😭

Saddly it wouldn't work in Aiden's original timeline simply because, in this case, Hugo wouldn't be Hugo if he hadn't transition already.

I've never really openly delved into my headcanons for the whole gang, because I like people being able to interpret my art however they want (and also because I can change my mind whenever and no one would know-). But in Aiden's universe, Hugo isn't amab.

But to go back on how I imagine Hugo's gender noncomformity!

Firstly, in universe, I'm not sure neither Hugo nor Aiden really identify with a gender label. They don't really have a word for it so they're just how they are. But I personally label him as bigender transmasc. And I do still label them as gay. Cuz. Queer homosexuals representation. Yay.

Secondly- Hugo actually transitioned before figuring out his gender. Being an orphan is already harsh, being poor is terrible and he figured being female generally made things more difficult. So she didn't want to be one. When he got recruited by Don for the first time he was already dead set on not wanting to be a girl and didn't have a name anymore so Donella is the one who named him Hugo. I think Don was "supportive" as in she really didn't care, and if helping Hugo transition meant he would be more useful then that worked for her just fine. So Hugo got to transition but it wasn't really because he didn't feel like he wasn't a girl, she just didn't think it would be advantageous for him to be one.

Sorry I got sidetracked- cough- Back on topic.

One thing I wanted regarding Hugo's relationship to gender is the fact that he is comfortable being fem BECAUSE he got to transition.

For work they would play whichever role worked best no matter the gender. At first, looking like a guy needed more work, which bothered him because it was his goal, so for a while he had a clear preference for appearing masculine. But years later, after having transitioned to a comfortable point, she figured she really didn't mind being either gender. And it made playing different roles even more fun and easy for them. Not necessarily in a fluid way, he's just everything at once most of the time.

So he already got herself figured out quite well when 7k starts. Actually, Hugo being openly queer is another reason why she caught Aiden's interest so fast. And I wanted them to mirror each others in a way, with Hugo being comfortable because he transitioned and Aiden being more comfy doing the absolute bare minimum-. Also I had this one joke that sometimes Nuru and Hugo would have girls nights during the journey. So I needed she/her Hugo for all of this to work lol. But I do believe Hugo still gets to affirm and discover himself even more after he settles, it's just mostly about other things.

BUT YOU KNOW WHO'S EGG GOT TO CRACK DURING THE TRIALS IN MY MIND-??? Varian. He's agender. My whole gang is trans and the joke was that Varian is the token cis guy of the group (because I thought it was funny). But he isn't. He just doesn't know because he's always too busy thinking of literally anything else and he never really registered that was an option. He still uses he/him tho. Because I enjoy gender fuckery.

In summary :

○ Bigender ○ agender ○ genderfluid ○

Also, since I decided to finally talk about my headcanons, I think too many people assumed Aiden is the one pregnant -in that one comic-. They aren't.

#I am generally scared to share my headcanons for characters hiiii-#but I genuinely JUST wrote their labels for the airigo ask blog I'm making. so I can talk about it now #eryanswers #eryanwrites #pansy-picnics #posting it before I overthink too much about how I might get shot on sight -3-

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lesbianranpoe · 3 days

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I’m Craving Open Air and Solid Ground

Summary:

Kunikida spins around, suddenly anxious, hands raised. It wasn't the first time he'd needed to fight someone in an alleyway—and then he pauses.

There was someone in the box behind him. A child, to be specific.

Its eyes remind him of the cat he had just been petting. Eyes that currently stare up at him from a hollowed face, painted with terror.

Atsushi escapes the orphanage six years earlier. This changes things. (Or: After being kicked out by his parents, 16-year-old Kunikida finds an orphan, and Atsushi begins to heal.)

★ Kunikida & Atsushi-centric (platonic)

★ 4k words

★ 1 chapter

★ Canon Divergence/Pre-Canon

Tag list: @obsidianstrawberrymilk

finally done w the fic 😁

preview below!

When Kunikida turns sixteen, despite his situation, he has a few things going for him.

He's found a place to stay, for one. The man who owns it is always wreathed in cigarette smoke, but he hadn't asked for any identification; just gave Kunikida the room and asked him to keep the noise down. It was why he'd come to the sketchier part of Yokohama—here, no one bothered to check his identity. No one wondered why he was all alone. He was free.

And wasn't that a thought?

When he'd first ran away, a year back, Kunikida hadn't been nervous about them finding him. Hell, his parents had kicked him out of their house. They wouldn't look for him—nobody would. Surviving on the streets hadn't fazed him much either.

(Everyone around him had wondered why he'd gotten into so many fights, why someone as smart and obedient as him was beating bullies into the dirt, and he didn't know how to explain that liking authority and liking order were different things, and protecting people was more important than any symbol of power.)

He was good at surviving on his own. His scabbed-over knuckles and torn jacket were proof of that. It was why, when he walked down the dirty back alleys, he wasn't worried about getting jumped.

Kunikida wasn't an idiot. He knew this part of Yokohama was notorious for its gangs, and the Port Mafia's shadow loomed above them all, from the weakest child to the most hardened criminal. These passages, built from crumbled brick and cardboard, were prime spots to be targeted. But it was mid-afternoon, and the Port Mafia usually left him alone, so he continued walking. Besides, the cats would want to see him.

Shards of glass crunched under tall combat boots as he walked, and the scent of mold filled the air as he walked under tall buildings, awnings blocking the sun, but he didn't mind; he's walked this path so many times he could do it in the dead of night, with only the light of a cigarette flickering against brick walls to illuminate the way, and only the squeaking of rats to keep him company.

Something moved in the dimness to his right. Kunikida glanced in that direction, but didn't change his posture. It was one of the cats: Nana. There were many cats that lived in this alley, shielded from the elements, but Nana was his favorite. He was the first to approach Kunikida, those few months back. It had been injured by a car and crawled its way into a cardboard box in this very alleyway. Kunikida had cleaned it up, and just like that, he'd had a new friend. It was named Nana, nine in Japanese, after the shape of its tail, which was bent at the top, like the Japanese kanji. Checking in on the alley cats had quickly become a new part of his schedule, something that he followed religiously. (Kunikida doesn't like obeying, doesn't like obedience, but this isn't the result of some authority figure pushing their judgment onto him; he trusts himself more than he does one of those, anyway.)

It crept out of its box, slinking closer.

Kunikida holds out a piece of tuna—the remnants of his last dinner, two days before. "Hello, there."

The alleyway was silent save for the quiet sounds of a tail swishing.

He reaches out a hand and waits. Nana inches forward—tentative, like a rat crawling out of a hole. It presses its face into his hand.

Kunikida smiles faintly. "You're a strange one, aren't you?"

The cat peers up at him—

And something moves out of the corner of his eye. Nana jumps up and leaves quickly, dashing for the exit.

Kunikida spins around, suddenly anxious, hands raised. It wasn't the first time he'd needed to fight someone in an alleyway—and then he pauses.

There was someone in the box behind him. A child, to be specific.

Its eyes remind him of the cat he had just been petting. Eyes that currently stare up at him from a hollowed face, painted with terror.

Kunikida frowns down at him—he has a clear enough view to assume that it's a him. "Hello? What are you doing here? A bit too young to be out on your own, don't you think?"

That was probably a little hypocritical. But, this child was even younger than he was, and obviously didn't know how to fend for himself. If Kunikida had to guess, he'd say he was around 10 or so.

Still, it is a child. A clearly starving child who might need his help. So he crouches down at eye level, softening his voice—as much as he knows how to—and says, "I don't have any real food with me, just raw tuna, but there's a restaurant near here. Would you like something to eat?"

Again, the kid doesn't speak, just stares up at Kunikida with those large, unblinking eyes. He suppresses a sigh.

And then—slowly, like someone might hurt him if he moved too fast—the kid gives a silent nod.

Kunikida gets up with a huff. "Well then? Follow me."

He does.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #kunikida doppo #doppo kunikida #bsd kunikida #atsushi nakajima #bsd atsushi #fanfiction #fanfic

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lostmyremembrall · 10 months

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hi-im back-this isnt a request or anything; just had this idea for like- a month now thanks to that one tik tok sound; 'anything for my favorite lady' one, and also high-key got inspired by ur recent oneshot with Thief/smitten Tom; but-Sugar baby Tom and rich! reader, who just starts buying shit for him left and right after they become friends and starts embarrassing Malfoy n the others cuz this girl is just one-upping them constantly by buying things for their lord(while they never lifted a finger, the rich pricks) who is just preening at all the shiny things he now has(hey look new robes, look! fine pressed leather diary with his name on it~!)

idk just-poor orphan boy getting all the things he 'deserves' from his rich best friend who treats him like royalty(yes the puppy dog eyes work on her)-i just wanted to share this cuz i dont have any Tom R friends to talk to lol-sorry if i bothered you <3

THIS!!! This is canon. This is how he afforded Hogwarts uniforms, the diary, etc. I love this so much. I'm grinning from ear to ear reading this cause it's such a GREAT idea.

Idk why but as much as Tom is this all-powerful manipulative dark lord who dominates everyone, I can also see Tom being a sugar baby, manwhoring his way into anyone's heart.

Afraid to think how many galleons one would need to make someone like Tom turn around though...

#Karenina writes #sugar baby tommy #tom riddle #tom riddle headcanon #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle headcanons

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apompkwrites · 2 years

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Hi so like I made this post and I saw this post and it got my mind brain moving again and I physically needed to share it

this won't be as organized as my first post because it's 2AM rn and I genuinely could care less

OK, my first brain rot was about Little Kingscholar and Little Bucchi like the possibilities. Imagine Little Bucchi finds Little Kingscholar and at first avoids and teases them but eventually grows to have a similar dynamic that Ruggie and Leona have but sort of different.

like they have a very give-and-take relationship, Little Bucchi gives Little Kingscholar the praise and affection they lacked as a child. Little Kingscholar lets them use their money or just helps them with anything they need but aren't able to get because of status or smth(Little Bucchi is a sugar baby without the sex and more head pats) though over time the head pats and praise become more and more genuine or not who knows.

For the angst, imagine that Little Kingscholar has some scars because of the elders and Little Bucchi accidentally sees them, they ask where/when they got them and Kingscholar just says "guess" and so it becomes a guessing game. Bucchi remembers that Kingscholar seems to stiffen at the mention of the Elders, so taking a shot in the dark they guess ' the elders' (not really expecting that to be the case) and Kingscholar just goes silent. Bucchi looks up at them as a sort of abject fear washes over them. Did Kingscholar always look so dead? Is this why Kingscholar wanted praise? Because they were too afraid to ask the Elders for it? How old were they when they got these? Why was everyone blaming them for running away? they would too if the Elders did this to them. Does Housewarden Leona know?

also, Little Bucchi going up to their brother and just "I'm glad we weren't born into royalty" and just refusing to elaborate.

also also ( this is more of a side note) I imagine that Ruggie and Little Bucchi aren't exactly related, this is mostly because (from my limited knowledge) Ruggies mom died pretty close or when she gave birth to Ruggie, and Ruggie was raised by his grandma I think so I just imagine that while yes, they were raised as siblings it was more of an adoption of "here is another orphan this is my sibling now" and Granny Bucchi just going "Okay!" and becoming their guardian. it's not like they both don't know that they aren't related, they're both very aware, they just act like family because they were raised as family, and because they act like family, call each other their siblings, and share the same last name everyone just assumes they're blood-related and neither of them really bother to clear it up.

Second and the one I'm actually losing my mind over Little Ashengrotto and Little Leech.

Like I think Azul had his own way of protecting his baby sibling, telling them when a threat (bullies, the Leech twins) was there to make sure they were safe in their Octopot. Imagine that Azul told them to hide when the Leech twins were there to visit and Azul never really mentioned his little sibling so the twins didn't really know at all of the Little Ashengrotto's existence until a few years into their weird partnership/friendship when Azul offhandedly mentioned his Little sibling and the twins were just

"YOU HAVE A LITTLE SIBLING? WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US?"

and Azul is just

"It never came up in conversation" (purposefully, there is no way Azul fully trusts the Tweels with his sibling. Ever. especially when they're children, the Tweels were probably even more menaces than they are currently)

Then the Tweels mention their own little sibling and they sort of force Azul into making their little siblings meet (with both of them present), anyways, they're meeting for the first time and Little Ashengrotto is just hiding behind Azul the whole time hiding further behind him the closer the Tweels get, and if they're forced to move from behind Azul they hold onto his arm for dear life, meanwhile, Little Leech is just, love at first sight except platonic and when Little Leech and Little Ashengrotto are left alone they both get along really well and they become quick friends.

Imagine the Electric Eel that Little Ashengrotto ends up befriending and Little Leech are always on the verge of murdering each other constantly but then Little Ashengrotto enters the room and they're both just have a truce instantly, bestest of friends, making out, but the second that Ashengrotto looks away they're both glaring at each other. (their first fight was over who Little Ashengrotto's first friend was) either that or the Electric Eel and Little Leech are actually really cool with each other and hang out even without Ashengrotto there, though they include Little Ashengrotto anyways because they couldn't leave them out.

Little Clover spotting Little Rose and going "ahaha, You're mine now"

Thats all I can think of rn for those two lmao

Little Vanrouge and Little Draconia(I imagine that when Little Draconia was a child, Little Vanrouge was at least a young adult in fae years) meeting when Little Draconia got lost, Little Vanrouge recognized the little dragon and made sure that they were okay, talking with them, and playing with them a bit until they fall asleep before carrying the little one back to the castle to Lilia so that he can put them to bed.

They continue to meet after that unintentionally but neither of them really complain about it.

yeah thats all I can really think of rn I'm gonna go to bed now lmao

aww kingscholar!(name) and bucchi!(name) forming a bond like their brothers except it two-sided :O

they'd both be menaces to leona, ngl. like kingscholar!(name) has sibling privilege that they use to protect bucchi!(name) if leona ever gets upset :))

bucchi!(name) would 100% fight the elders for kingscholar!(name) just like the others. if they did have scars, i feel like bucchi!(name) would have little tips and tricks to help them cover them up if they wanted to. it's fine if they don't want to either! just an offer :)

i do like the idea that bucchi!(name) and ruggie aren't actually biologically related! sort of fuels bucchi!(name)'s need to help ruggie more since they see him as a sort of saint for being so accepting to them?

azul would def avoid bringing ashengrotto!(name) up to the leech twins when they first started talking. like, he's spent so long sheltering his little sibling that it's become habit. it's not like he doesn't trust the leech twins! well... maybe a little when they first started talking but regardless!

when leech!(name) and ashengrotto!(name) meet, i feel like it could go two ways? either good or bad depending on how leech!(name) takes ashengrotto!(name)'s shyness.

unrelated, but i had a thought that leech!(name) would probably file down their teeth? it would hurt, yes, but i feel like they'd do so to try and distance themselves from the leech family :((

anyway, imagine all three (ashengrotto, leech, and electric eel) being a trio just like azul, floyd, and jade :OO i like to think they all get along, specifically eel and leech!(name) because of that shared agreement that they'll protect ashengrotto!(name) :)) they're sweet little octopus <33 (also totally bc im projecting my possible poly ass)

clover!(name) and rosehearts!(name), at first probably wouldn't get along? just because rosehearts!(name) recognizes clover!(name)'s brother and has a sort of moment of "oh shit, you're the reason my brother broke down that one time". but after that, i feel like it'd be a good friendship :DD

vanrouge!(name) would porbably be the one to take care of draconia!(name) just like how lilia takes care of malleus. just a vanrouge thing, i guess? but they forma sort of parental relationship and find family in each other because they don't have that from their actually siblings <3

#a pompk answers #black sheep

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lily-blackstone · 2 years

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That Time I Found Out My Grandma Was A God: 3 Archons Idiots

So the Archons find a way to come to your world and that's when you find out that your grumpy old grandma who lives in the middle of butt-fuck no where is actually an ancient god.

Also, I've never actually played Genshin thanks to ✨N o S p a c e✨ so forgive me if the characters are slightly OOC, I mainly only know shit about the Archons so I'm gonna write about them because I randomly got this idea while reading SAGAU fics. Don't judge me, I know you've fantasised about characters from a fandom you're not part of purely due to the fact they look hot.

Also I'm new to Tumblr so if I make some dumb mistakes please have mercy. Also, the characters aren't yandere and this isn't really a Cult AU it's more like the creator is just connected by soul to the universe and it's people so the people do like make offerings and shit but it's not mandatory. Also, this is kinda just a crack fic which I plan on turning into a series so-

TW: Swearing, Hot Grandma

(Also, did any of you catch the reference in the title? And no it's not supposed to be a reference to "That Time I Reincarnated as a Slime")

----

You were just paying your grandma her monthly visit and after a lengthy drive and getting lost in the forest. Oh yes, your grandma decided she wants to live in a random-ass forest in the middle of butt-fuck no where all by herself. No red flags. Finally, you found the neat little two story cabin your grandma lives in and parked you car in the front.

You got out and were about to go up to the door when suddenly the door is almost torn off its hinges as three weird looking individuals come flying out and crashing into your car. You had just barely doged and were thankfully unscathed. But unfortunately, you couldn't say the same for your poor, poor, innocent, young car... Not even a moment later your grandma came stomping up to the door, yelling "AND STAY OUT, YOU FREAKS!-" She was about to slam the door when she noticed you. Before you had the chance to question what in fucks name was going on, one of the three people rose up "Oh C'mon your Grace! We haven't bothered you for a whole century! Won't you plleeeaasseee come back? Just for one day? For the anniversary of the day Teyvat was created~?!"

You finally got a good look at the weirdo and realised they looked an awful lot like Venti. A cosplayer maybe? But what the hell was he talking about?! You turned to your Grandma, confused "Uhh... Grandma...? Mind explaining?" Granny was about to say something when 'Venti' interrupted her "Oh wow! Are you her Majesty's grand child! Hello! It's so nice to meet you! I'm Venti or Barbatos! The Anemo Archon!" He said, shaking your hand violently. Suddenly your grandma grabbed him by the collar and threw him into a tree, leaving you stunned. Somehow though, he got back up as if nothing happened. Granny scoffed "I put up with Teyvat's shit for thousands of years! Let me enjoy my retirement!" "Your self-proclaimed retirement..." the odd man resembling Zhongli corrected but shut up with a glare from your grandma. "Um, Grandma, please explain what the fuck is going on!" you demanded again and your grandma sighed before grabbing your arm and pulling you into her cabin.

After serving you both tea she went on to explain how she's a God and that Teyvat is actually real and she created it and how one day she just got sick of putting up with Teyvat's nonsense and decided to retire with no warning and live as a mortal in some random-ass orphaned universe. Where she found a random-ass kid on the side of the road and adopted it who then went on to grow up and find another random-ass kid on the side of the road (you) and adopt it.

To prove it she transformed into her original form and...

Damn...

GRANDMA WAS SMOKIN

...

You wanted to bang your head into a wall

So after all that you bid your grandma goodbye, still very shaken up and when the door closes and you turn around...

You see the three Archons sitting patiently in front of the stairs leading up to the cabin door. They're all staring at you and you feel like there's something you're supposed to do but have no idea. Finally Venti is about to speak but is quickly interrupted by Ei who politely bowed her head "Miss/Sir [Name], we would like you to convince your grandmother to please return to Teyvat... If even for a few hours... We just wish for her to see how much has changed in her absence and to bless the land for the Ceremony held in celebration of the day Teyvat was born..." she finished and you didn't exactly know what to say "Umm.... Listen... She's reeeaallyyy mad right now thanks to you guys and I REEEAALLYYY don't wanna get beat with a sandal right now so-" You dash to you car only to remember its unfortunate demise.

And you're also stopped by Venti... "I know! We could live with you and slowly convince her to come back!" you blink.

" W h a t "

And that's how your life with Momma Ei, male-wife Zhongli and the dumbass 'tone-deaf bard' started.

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subrenaspade · 4 months

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Twisted Wonderland x Reader :No Place For Children Heartslaybul Pt. 2

I do plan to make a series but more along the lines of while in this dorm for one chapter then while in this dorm for this other chapter.

:(Prologue)

Heartslaybul: pt one/ two (You are here)

Savanaclaw: Soon

Octavinelle: Soon

Scarabia: Soon

Pomefiore: Soon

Ignihyde: Soon

Diasomnia: Soon

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

Dinner went by in a blur, at some point Riddle had to take off to finish a few things, leaving (Name) with Cater, who was currently getting selfies with her. She giggled a little as he set up a filter that made it look like they had cat ears.

“You are just the cutest thing ever!” Cater cooed as he nuzzled into her cheek, earning another song of giggles from her.

“Carter, stop it!” She let out in her fit of giggles. Cater let out his own laugh.

“Its Cater, not Carter!” The girl looked at him confused. He smiled at her, ruffling her hair. “Just call me Cay- Cay. It will be easier for you.” He chuckled. (Name) Smiled at him as she nodded her head. He smiled content with the nickname that he was never able to get her to say as an adult. He looked back at his phone and went to pick another filter when someone reached past him to ruffle (Names) hair.

“Hey squeakers.” Ace greeted the girl. She turned her head and grinned widely. She shifted off the couch and rushed around to wrap her arms around his legs. He let out a chuckle as he leaned down and lifted her into his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder as she made sure she had a tight grip around his neck. He smiled widely, surprised that the young girl took such a shine to him. However his ego also said ‘what's there not to like’.

“Awww (Nick Name) I wanted to get a few more pictures of us together.” Cater whined as he stood from the couch. She looked at him then nuzzled back into Ace’s neck.

“I wanna play with big brother!” She mumbled into Ace’s neck. Both boys stiffened at the adorable title she bestowed to Ace. Slowly a sly smirk played on Ace’s lips as he looked at Cater. Ace tightened his grip around her and spun around, getting the little girl to giggle.

“W-Wait! You can't call him big brother and not me!” Cater stumbled around his words. He cubbed the girls cheeks, squishing them. “Now call me Big brother Cay-cay.” Cater almost demanded it. Both sat there staring at each other, until a mischievous smile played on her lips.

“Cay-Cay!” She giggled and wiggled around in Ace’s hold. Cater let out a sound of mock hurt.

“You all seem to be having fun.” Trey said, walking into the room. Ace had moved to sit on the couch as he stroked that child's back.

“Just Cater knowing you the squeaker's favorite person is.” Ace boasted. Cater sighed, sitting next to Ace so he could try to persuade the child into calling him big brother. Trey hummed as if deep in thought.

“Then I guess she doesn’t want a slice of cake since she probably wouldn't want it from someone who isn't her favorite.” Trey mussed as he held a slice in his hands. The girl perked up as she looked over at Trey with wide eyes. She slowly looked at Ace who also had wide eyes. He narrowed his eyes as he shook his head no. She looked down in guilt as she pulled herself from Ace’s hold and walked over to Trey. Trey watched with interest as Ace and Cater watched in disbelief and betrayal (From (Name) or Trey we will never know) as the little girl grabbed onto Trey's pants leg and looked up with the widest, clearest eyes.

“Big bubby, I would like some cake please..” She mumbled sweetly. (cue Treys Glasses shattering due to the cuteness) Everyone sat there quietly, staring at the child who had laid down her pride to have a piece of cake. With a shaky hand Trey brought the cake down to eye level for her to take. “Thank you, big bubby~!” She chirped happily as she took the cake and ate at the coffee table.

All the boys sat there when they came to the realization…. This little girl had all the boys wrapped around her little fingers.

~~~~~~~~~ (Le time skip to Bed time)~~~~~

The small child sat on the couch with a hairbrush in hand. She ran it through her hair, grunting when the brush caught in her hair. Riddle watched the child from his desk, getting a few more minutes of studying in before getting distracted by his new room mate. The little girl had a thick head of hair that had many tangles in it, one in particular was making her struggle.

After a few minutes he sighed, turning off the light on his desk and going to the small child. He took a hold of the brush, making the girl yelp in surprise. He moved to sit behind her taking the brush through her hair. They sat in silence as he gently untangled her hair, making sure not to tug and pull. Once the brush was able to run through her hair without tugging, he smiled content. Riddle's eyes softened when he noticed that she was starting to nod off, struggling to keep her head up. Placing the brush down he scooped (name) up and gently placed her on his bed.

Once she was placed down he went to move to sleep on his couch, but a hand held his sleeve in place. He looked down to see the small child looking at him with blurry eyes.

“Dont leave…. Please…” She muttered, finally seeming her age. The look she gave him was one of fear. How many nights did she go to bed like this as a child. Has she always looked this lonely. He sat on the side of the bed, next to her (After he turned off the lights letting the lamp be the only source). He stroked her hair, easing the child into slumber. She curled into his side wrapping her arms around him. “Daddy…. Used to cuddle with me before I went to sleep….” She muttered drowsily, reliving the comfort of her fathers hold. The safety he emitted when he held her. Riddle froze his hand, surprised to hear her talk about him.

“He sounds…. Like he was a really good man..” Riddle whispered in return. She nodded her head, tightening her grip on him.

“Momma…. Doesn't like talking about him…. She….gets sad and cries a lot…” She murmured as her eyes drooped. Riddle awkwardly hummed for her to continue. “Since daddy passed…. She works a lot… She gets home late and leaves early in the morning…” She continued. She looked up at him through her lashes, a look of anxiety flashing over her face. “Will you be here in the morning?” She asked, voice cracking as her eyes watered a little.His hand froze, he looked at the girl with wide eyes. He felt a pang of sadness resonate in his chest.

“...Yeah…. I'm not going anywhere…” He muttered as he leaned into the headboard of his bed. She smiled a little, letting her eyes flutter shut. He hummed as he stroked her hair. He thought for a bit.

Has his mother ever tried to soothe him? Had he ever had to be soothed up until his blot? Thinking long and hard, he could remember a song. A small lullaby. It was a small song about dreams and creating a world of their own. A small part of him hoped that the song that crept into his mind was something his mother had sung for him. A song she sang when holding him as she rocked back and forth in a rocking chair. As she looked down at him, not with a look of expectancy, but of love and adoration.

Slowly his eyes started to get heavy as sleep started to engulf him.

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ase-trollplays · 6 months

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Visiting Hours

"Hey, asshole. You remember me?"

Ruvlin stared at the pajama-clad bronze standing in front of him, arms crossed and eyes narrowed with a deep frown on their lips. He looked them over for a moment, then briefly at the white void the two found themselves in.

"... No?" he responded and was met with a scoff from the other troll.

"Of course you don't. You probably don't bother to remember anyone that you murder," they accused with venom dripping from their voice. Ruvlin sighed and removed his ushanka to run a hand through his hair.

"Okay, I think I get it. You're someone I killed on the job, aren't you."

The brown marched up to him furiously. The top of their head only barely passed his shoulders, though they had no problem grabbing him by the collar and forcefully yanking him down to their eye level with one hand so they could get right in his face. Ruvlin's eyes widened for a moment before he returned to a neutral, nonplussed expression which only seemed to upset his antagonist further.

"Do you even care about the lives you ruin?? Or is it just another Tuesday for you?!" they spat and gave him a hard shake in an attempt to get some kind of reaction out of him. He gave a small sigh and looked away, which they responded to by slapping him on the side of the head with their free hand.

"Fucking look at me! My name is Amprus Dorzuh! I was a graphic novelist who did lusus whispering on the side! I was in a lowblood gang that protected our end of the city from highbloods looking to assault and abuse us! I had amazing friends I would and did kill for who would do the same for me! I had someone I was crushing hard on and never got to tell him! I had a life! I was a person!"

"What do you want me to do, exactly??" Ruvlin responded in frustration, though he made no move to push Amprus away or make them let go. He simply returned their harsh glare with a glare of his own.

"You think I enjoy my job? I fucking hate what I do. I hate traumatizing people and ruining their lives, especially kids. I hate when I'm forced to kill other trolls so I can kill their lusii. I hate that I had to kill my own goddamn lusus just to avoid being killed myself. I hate the person this job made me into, someone who can't even feel bad about this shit anymore or I'd blow my fucking brains out. The only thing I hate more than this is the fleet, which is exactly where I would be if I wasn't doing this shit."

Ruvlin's fins flared angrily, and the two of them remained in silent, tense eye contact before he spoke again.

"I'm sorry. That probably doesn't mean shit to you, but I am."

"You didn't even give me a good death. You made me die slowly and in overwhelming pain. You could have just plugged me in the head. I would have died quick and painless. Instead, you gut shot and kneecapped me."

"And I'm sorry for that, too."

"Being sorry doesn't fix what you did."

"Literally nothing will fix what I did unless you happen to know a really good necromancer. I still don't know what you expect from me. If you want me to grovel at your feet and beg for your forgiveness, I can do that."

Amprus scoffed and shoved him away from them. He stumbled a bit then straightened out his shirt collar and put his hat back on.

"I could have you killed. That won't fix anything, but it'll save more people from being casualties of your job."

"There'll always be other orphaners. I'm just a cog in a machine; killing me isn't going to save anyone."

"Okay, but it'll make me feel really, really good."

"Fair enough. Don't expect me to make it easy, though. I have a life and friends, too."

"And you don't deserve any of it."

"Again, fair enough."

Amprus gave him a hard stare before groaning and turning away. "Whatever. Just watch your back, fish."

...

Ruvlin slowly opened his eyes and sat up in his recuperacoon in his secondary hive. It was rare for him to dream, and he typically didn't remember them upon awakening the few times he did. That one, however, was branded into his mind. He grabbed his palmhusk and checked the time: 2:50 in the afternoon.

No one else in their right mind would be awake at this hour, and he found himself not so tired anymore, so he climbed out of the recuperacoon, toweled off the residual sopor slime, and made his way to the living room to boot up one of his gaming systems.

#things to read #Ruvlin Descur #Amprus Dorzuh #just a little thing that's been on my mind recently

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isabellafoster13 · 2 years

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This idea for a oneshot just popped into my head along with a few others, so I decided to write it.

I've always that the idea of Sting or Rogue having met Lucy at some point before the whole Tenru Island thing and developed a crush on her that persists after the seven years time skip is adorable. I really like it and I've read quite a few really good stories centered around that idea. I mean, heck, I'm writing that in my "The Celestial Princess and Her Suitors" story. So, here is a oneshot based upon that cute little story idea.

I hope you enjoy!

Remember Me? (Sting x Lucy)

Sting remembered that day clearly.

It was seven years ago. He was twelve, maybe thirteen. He had been homeless for a few years after he killed Weisslogia. He didn't know what to do. There was no place he could go considering he was an orphan and had been raised by a dragon. He didn't even know much about the civilizations of Earthland besides the few things that his foster father had told him. He traveled the kingdom of Fiore, finding shelter in alleyways and abandoned buildings, and pickpocketing people whenever he needed money. It wasn't something that he was ever proud of, but he was distrustful of other people, as all anybody ever seemed to do was yell at him and call him a “degenerate child,”and had no other options that he could see.

Eventually, he heard about what was called "guilds." Something you could join if you used magic. In a guild, you'd find friends and jobs that paid well. You'd find a purpose. The young Sting wanted to join a guild, but which one? He had managed to find magazines and books that told about each guild in Fiore, quickly coming across one that was very recent: Sabertooth.

It had a really cool name, plus he would be one of the first mages to join, which excited him. He was able to get the location of this new guild and set off for Foxglove Town, the large city just east of Crocus where Sabertooth was located in.

He had been traveling for several days when he arrived in Magnolia Town, the home of Fairy Tail, the most powerful guild in all of Fiore. He knew that it would be expected of him to join the strongest guild, considering how strong he was, but he thought that making a name for himself in a new guild that likely didn't have many strong mages, if any, was a much more attractive option. He could build Sabertooth up to a strong guild that could rival even Fairy Tail. That was his goal.

It was getting late, so he had decided to find a cheap hotel he could stay at for the night. He had managed to swipe a few hundred jewel from some woman a couple of towns ago, so he was sure that he could find someplace that was dirt cheap.

After he had been walking around searching for a few hours, he found that Magnolia was a surprisingly expensive city. Not just that, but nobody wanted to give a room to a boy that wasn't even a teenager yet. The moon was rising in the sky when Sting gave a sigh and decided that he could just sleep in an alleyway, he's done it before so he wasn't bothered.

He was walking along a line of buildings, looking for an alleyway he could hide in, when a gruff voice behind him spoke in a taunting tone, "Hey, kid, what are you doing out here?"

The little dragon slayer stopped in his tracks and whipped around to find three large men stalking toward him. He narrowed his eyes and tried to appear unafraid, despite the very obvious feeling of fear rising in his gut. He was a dragon slayer, and a strong one at that, but he was still a kid, he would admit that, not out loud though. The point is, he had enough sense to know that this situation wasn't exactly in his favor considering he was outnumbered and didn't know anything about his opponents' magic. He could feel their magic energies flowing off of them in waves, so he knew that they were strong. He knew that it wouldn't be a good idea to fight, no matter how much he might have wanted to just to see the looks of regret on these bastards' faces.

He planted his feet on the ground and gave the three men a hard look. "I don't want trouble." He hoped that he had managed to keep the steadily growing fear ot of his voice.

The lead man, a buff-looking guy with unruly, brown hair that reached his shoulders in a mess of curls, chuckled lowly before sneering, "you didn't answer my question."

Sting answered, trying to sound just as intimidating, "I'm passing by. I was just leaving Magnolia."

The lead man took a few steps closer. "Where are you going?" He didn't sound concerned in the least bit, rather, he sounded almost gleeful.

The blonde boy responded sternly, "To join a guild. One that just recently popped up."

The man chuckled again. "Sabertooth. You're talking about Sabertooth."

Sting only nodded. He watched as the man stepped a bit closer, causing him to unconsciously take a couple of steps back. He was preparing himself to run. The man asked another question, "where are your parents?"

When there was no answer, the man observed, "no parents, huh?"

Sting tensed, accidentally letting the man know that he was right. The man chuckled darkly once again, a chilling grin spread across his face. "Alright kid, just stay still and do as we say, and we won't kill you, got it?" The man then reached out towards Sting.

Before he could lay a hand on him, and before the boy could bolt away, a loud snapping sound was heard. The man howled in pain and his two buddies whirled around to face the attacker. The three men and boy looked back to see a young, blonde woman holding a whip. A look of anger was clear on her face. Sting could feel a bit of warmth spreading across his face upon seeing her.

He watched with interest as the woman yelled at the men, "Leave that boy alone! You are a bunch of lowlifes to pick on a child."

The lead man snapped his fingers and in an instant his two friends had launched themselves at the blonde woman, intending to attack her. Sting became filled with panic and worry for his savior. However, his fear and worry for her were quickly proved to be unfounded when the blonde woman took out of her pouch what appeared to be three keys. She called out in a strong voice, "Open! Gates of the Maiden, Lion, and White Ram: Virgo, Loke, and Aries!"

In sudden flashes of sparkling gold, three people appeared. One was a pink-haired and blue-eyed maid, another was a man in a suit and had almost orange hair with what resembled cat-like ears on top of his head, and the other was a pink-haired woman in a white dress that appeared to be made of wool. The blonde woman, obviously a mage, gave out her commands confidently, "Loke! Take the guy on the right! Virgo! Go after the guy on the left! I'll take the leader! Aries! Take the kid to my place!"

The new arrivals did as they were told, the maid and well-dressed man jumping into action right beside the young woman that summoned them. Sting watched in amazement. The blonde was beautiful, fearless, and if her current performance was anything to go by, a strong fighter. What was her name? Was she a part of Fairy Tail or some other guild? What was her magic? How strong was she? He had to know the answers to these questions.

He was brought out of his trance when a soft voice spoke beside him, "excuse me, could you please follow me?"

The boy turned to see the woman dressed in wool, Aries it seemed she was named, holding out her hand and looking away nervously. Sting didn't want to leave the other blonde mage behind but could guess that him being there could be a distraction for her, so he begrudgingly placed his hand in Aries' and allowed her to pull him away.

She had pulled him into a two-story house and then sat him down on a pink-blanketed bed with instructions to not leave until her wizard returned. Sting nodded in response to the command. He was a fan of being told what to do, but he didn't mind it this time since he was planning to stay and meet her. Aries then gave him a kind smile before she disappeared in a flash of golden light and sparkles.

Sting sat on the bed in silence, waiting for the blonde mage to return. After what seemed to him to be a few hours, he began to become worried. Did she get hurt? Was she in danger? Should he go see if she was okay? He was just about to go in search of her when the door opened, revealing the blonde woman. She was scraped up a little and her clothing was minorly torn in a few places, but other than that she seemed to be fine. Nevertheless, he didn't like that she had gotten even a little hurt. He felt a feeling of guilt overtake him, knowing she had gotten injured because of him, because she had protected him.

She gave a sigh before she smiled at Sting and made her way over to him. She took his hand and pulled him to his feet, then she stepped back to examine him, still holding his hand. Sting could feel himself blush at the contact. He looked up at her face. Upon seeing how her deep brown eyes were taking in his ragged appearance with sympathy, he internally cringed. He hated that she was seeing him like this. It was obvious from his worn, unclean clothes, his unruly, unwashed hair, and the dirt that dusted his exposed skin that he wasn't exactly doing well, or even living with anybody.

The blonde gave him another smile. She let go of his hand, causing the boy to slightly frown down at his hand at the loss of warmth. He looked back up to see that the blonde was gone. He concentrated his hearing to listen for her, quickly hearing the sound of running water from behind a nearby door. He walked towards the door and gently pushed it open, peeking in to see the older mage standing over a stone bathtub. He watched as she dipped her hand into the rising water and then turn the faucet off. She turned to him and said sweetly, "take off your clothes and get in. I'll get you a new change of clothes. Do you need help washing?"

Sting, recognizing that she was offering him a bath, shook his head and walked into the bathroom. The blonde walked out and shut the door. Once Sting had taken off all of his clothes, he passed them off to her and climbed into the bathtub, enjoying the feeling of warm water surrounding his small body. Not wanting to take too long, he began to quickly wash every inch of his body and hair. He didn't allow a single speck of dirt to remain.

Once he stepped out of the bathroom in a new change of clothes, he found the other blonde standing in front of a chair with a comb in her hand. She gestured for him to sit down in the chair, which he silently did.

The blonde boy relaxed as the woman combed his hair and ran her fingers through it. He inhaled deeply through his nose, enjoying her lovely scent of vanilla and strawberries. He could honestly stay here with her forever. He was broken out of his thoughts when the woman's pretty voice sounded, "what's your name?"

The boy answered after a slight hesitation, "S-Sting Eucliffe."

The woman giggled a little before saying, "that's an adorable name. Mine's Lucy. Lucy Heartfilia"

"Lucy."

Sting said her name thoughtfully, enjoying how it rolled off his own tongue. He liked that name. Pretty and sweet, just like the woman that it belonged to.

Lucy moved her hands away from his hair, much to Sting's dismay. She then walked around to stand in front of him. She smiled down at him and asked, "are you hungry?"

As if she had said the magic word, Sting's stomach growled loudly, answering her question for him. Lucy laughed lightly and took his hand, leading him into a kitchen. There on the table, was an array of food. She must have guessed that he would be famished, which he was. He looked up at her, getting a close-eyes smile and nod before he walked to the table and sat down. Lucy took the seat directly in front of him.

Sting ate all the food that she had set out for him, talking to her in between bites. He had shared with her that he was a White Dragon Slayer and was raised by a dragon. In turn, he learned about her magic, that she was a Fairy Tail mage, and she had a best friend that was a Fire Dragon Slayer. Sting was amazed to learn that last part. She talked the most about Fairy Tail itself. How it was filled with kind mages that treated everyone like family and never judged are held any past offenses against someone, instead, they forgave. It was the kind of guild he wanted to join. The kind of guild he prayed Sabertooth would become.

After he had finished eating, Lucy decided that he would stay the night. Not wanting to leave so soon in the first place, Sting agreed. As he settled into Lucy's bed and she climbed in next to him, she asked, "would you like to join Fairy Tail in the morning? Or do you plan to join another guild?"

Sting shook his head, answering, "I'm on my to join Sabertooth."

Lucy nodded with a smile and the two settled down to sleep. Sting had stayed up longer than he probably should have to watch her sleep. She looked so peaceful and lovely that he couldn't take his eyes off of her. When Lucy had wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer to her, he blushed madly as his heart picked up speed and his stomach was engulfed in a fluttering feeling. He almost wanted to take her up on her offer to join Fairy Tail, but instead, he snuggled up against her and fell asleep, steeling himself in his newfound goal to join Sabertooth.

That morning, he had left before Lucy woke up, leaving a thank you note. He walked all the way to Sabertooth and happily joined, set on his goal to not only see to it that his guild becomes powerful, kind, welcoming, and forgiving, just like Fairy Tail but also to become as strong as he possibly can. He hoped that when he saw Lucy again as an adult, he could impress her with how strong he had gotten, and maybe, just maybe, she would give him a chance to be with her. Until that day came, he would train and dream of the beautiful celestial wizard that he was determined to make his.

He also clearly remembered the day he had heard that about much of Fairy Tail disappearing, along with the entire island they were on. It was a few months after he had met her. He was walking back to Sabertooth after a job when he heard a woman gasp, "those poor Fairies!"

Sting turned stopped walking and turned his attention to the two women that were standing in front of a newspaper stand. He could tell they were talking about Fairy Tail, who else would it be? His mind began to flood with questions.

What happened? Was Fairy Tail alright? Lucy was part of that guild. Was she alright?

He rushed up to the newspaper stand and looked down at the front cover of one. His mouth dropped open in shock and horror. There, in big, bold letters, were the words 'Main Fairy Tail Mages Presumed Dead!' The boy reached into his pocket and fished out some of the jewel he had earned from his job to buy the newspaper. He then raced back to Sabertooth.

Once at his guild, he pushed open the doors, causing them to slam against the walls and earn him a few annoyed stares. He paid no mind, instead, he made his way to the table that his friends sat at. Minerva, the daughter of the Guild Master, Rogue, a fellow Third Generation Dragon Slayer, Rufus, the only child to have a parent in the guild, and Yukino, the newest addition, looked at him with confused looks as he plopped down to read the article of interest.

Rogue raised an eyebrow, teasing with a smirk, "I wasn't even aware you knew how to read, Sting." His voice cracked noticeably on the word 'read.' Minerva, Yukino, and Rufus laughed, more at his changing voice from puberty than at his playful teasing. The black-haired boy blushed and dipped his head, clearly wishing that he could disappear into the shadows, but knowing that he couldn't because Minerva would immediately catch him.

Sting, usually not one to let a chance to tease his already best friend go to waste, didn't give any reaction. Instead, he kept his eyes glued to the newspaper. Tears welled up in his blue eyes. He couldn't believe what he was reading. This had to be a dream, no, a nightmare! They just couldn't be dead! She couldn't be dead!

Apparently, the main Fairy Tail mages had gone to Tenroujima Island for their S-Class Trials. For some unknown reason, the entire island with everyone on it had disappeared. Not a single trance of anybody that had stepped foot on the island. All search parties were called off. Sting's gaze traveled to the list of names, mages that were believed to be dead. He silently prayed that her name would be there.

Juvia Lockser, Gray Fullbuster, Natsu Dragneel, Freed Justine...Lucy Heartfilia. Sting froze at the last name. He threw the newspaper down, jumped to his feet, and ran out of the guild, ignoring his friends' calls for him to wait and explain himself. Holding back tears and chest already hurting, he ran to the place that he enjoyed going to whenever he needed to relax or calm down, a secluded pond on the edge of a large park, surrounded by trees. He sat on the large rock that was on the edge of the water. Pulling his knees to his chest, he sniffed the air and listened to his surroundings. When he was sure that nobody had followed him, the boy began to cry.

He never got to see Lucy again. He never got to talk to her again. He never got to thank her in person for what she had done for him. He never got to impress her with his magical strength. He never got to tell her that he loved her.

He never will get the chance to do any of these things.

And it was apparent from his heartbroken cries.

Fast forward seven years, and everything seemed to change. Sabertooth had drifted from what it was like. Master Jiemma and Minerva were power-hungry and cruel. The mages of Sabertooth didn't care about each other, not truly. Sabertooth wasn't a family. It was a cruel, power-hungry, selfish guild. Sting had also changed. He became an arrogant, selfish, cocky jerk. At least he was able to acknowledge it. Everybody changed, and not for the better.

It was as though Sting had taken a backseat and was watching all of this happen. What happened? What caused him to go back on what he had sworn to do? What caused him to allow his guild to become the exact opposite of Fairy Tail without a fight? What caused everything to go wrong?

Stupid questions. He knew the answers.

Lucy died, and so did his will to achieve the goals he had set because of his meeting her. She was no longer alive, so what was the point? She wouldn't be around to see any of it.

Imagine his surprise when he saw her just shortly before the Grand Magic Games. He was ecstatic. He wanted to launch himself at her and confess his love right there. However, he had to restrain himself and stay in the role he had to play. He hated letting her see who he had become over those seven years, so much so that he couldn't even bring himself to look at her, at least, not for very long. He wasn't even sure if she recognized him. Probably not.

He came to the decision that he would talk to her once he could get her alone. Fairy Tail and Sabertooth were enemies and he couldn't risk Master Jiemma or Minerva founding out, or else he would face extreme consequences. He resigned himself to watching her, being careful to not get caught, of course.

He couldn't believe that she was still alive. She was just as beautiful as he remembered, she didn't seem to have aged a single day. He was confused as to how it was possible that she seemed to still be a teenager and was still alive. His answer quickly came when he learned about what happened to make Tenrou disappear. He considered himself fortunate. He was older than her now, which means he has more of a chance with her than he first thought he did. Age wouldn't be a problem. Now, he just needed to talk to her.

When the first day of the Games came, he was happy to see that Lucy was competing first. He knew that she would win. He just knew she would. When the fighting began, he cheered her on in his head, while being careful to seem as though he was uninterested in what was going on, just as his teammates did.

He was incredibly proud of the blonde woman, she holding her own very well against her opponent. Then that crazy Flare chick started practically torturing Lucy and the blonde wasn't doing anything to defend herself. Why? She could obviously fight back, so what was the deal? Whatever the reason, he was angry. How dare someone harm the woman he was in love with! He had to fight the urge to jump down there and defend her, but a firm hand on his shoulder and a small head shake from his best friend and 'twin' helped him remain in his seat. He continued to watch.

His anger turned to joy when Lucy was finally able to fight back. She summoned one of her spirits, Gemini was their name apparently, and performed a spell that he knew would take Flare out of the fight. He watched in amazement as the spell was performed.

However, when the dust cleared, Flare was unharmed while Lucy was drained. What happened? It was obvious to anybody that had any sense that Raven Tail had cheated by countering the spell. Sting was once again enraged when Flare was declared the winner and the crowd booed Lucy. He once again had to fight the urge to jump to her defense.

It was obvious that Raven Tail cheated! Were those judges blind?!

The Games went on with Sting admiring the celestial wizard of his dreams from afar and waiting for the first chance he could get to talk to her. All the while he kept up his act.

Then, that cursed Naval Battle arrived. Minerva and Lucy became the last two inside the water sphere. Sting doubted that Lucy would be able to win, it was Minerva she was facing after all, but he hoped that she would at least lose without getting too hurt. He was proud of her for lasting this long. He watched as the two women began their fight against each other.

To his horror, Minerva had decided to be her usual cruel self. He watched as she, in no uncertain terms, tortured the woman he loved. He dug his nails into his palms, so much so that he was surprised it didn't draw blood. He just barely managed to keep his perfectly crafted mask on and watched with disgust and rage. He watched with a look of apathy and even glee, while on the inside, he was dying with even second that passed by. He prayed that it would end soon.

When the two torture sessions, both Lucy's and his, he watched as Minerva dropped a beaten and unconscious Lucy out of the water sphere. Sting lurched forward, intending to catch her, but was stopped by his best friend's hand on his shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. He didn't need to look back to know what Rogue was silently saying. 'Don't be stupid. You know what will happen.' Unfortunately, Sting didn't care about the consequences anymore. He needed Lucy. He needed to hear her soft voice, smell her lovely scent, hold her in his arms and promise to her that he would never allow anyone to hurt her like that again.

Throwing all forethought out the window, he grabbed Rogue's wrist and roughly pushed his best friend's hand off of his shoulder. He then launched himself over the short wall they were sitting behind. He caught her in midair, beating the flame-brain best friend of Lucy's. Immediately upon landing on his feet, he raced to the infirmary, Lucy held securely in his arms. He heard the shouts of his teammates and the Fairies, but he didn't pay them any attention. His only concern was Lucy. He would deal with the consequences later.

He sat in a chair next to Lucy's bed, his arms folded on it with his resting on the, as he waited for her to wake. Lector was sleeping on the bed in Lucy's lap. It's been a few hours and he hadn't left her side once. He managed to explain everything to the competing Fairy Tail mages, which earned him permission to stay with her alone, even though Natsu wasn't particularly happy about that. It was Erza that promised him protection from Master Jiemma and Minerva. He appreciated it but knew that if those two wanted to get him, they would, and nobody would be able to stop them.

Movement from the blonde on the bed brought him out of his thoughts. Lucy slowly opened her eyes and looked around. When her entrancing brown eyes fell on him, she began to study him, as if trying to remember him. Sting sat simply sat there and stared back at her nervously, silently willing her to remember him.

After about a minute of tense silence, he saw recognition in her eyes. Sting smiled and whispered, just loud enough for her to hear him, "remember me?"

Lucy nodded, her eyes filling with tears. Sting quickly leaned forward and whipped the tears away. He didn't want to ever see her cry for any reason. The blonde woman gripped his hands and pulled him forward with surprising strength, pulling him into a hug that the dragon slayer happily, but gently returned.

When they pulled away Sting decide to get straight to the point. He cupped Lucy's face in his hands. With a tearful smile he declared, "I love you, Lucy! I've loved you since I first met you! I wanted to tell you when I was older, but then you died, and also didn't! I was heartbroken! I thought I would never see you again and get to tell you how I feel! But now I finally can! Lucy, I love you! Please, give me a chance! Please!"

The celestial wizard placed her hands softly on his as she stared at him with an unreadable expression. After what seemed like hours of silence, she finally spoke in a whisper, "Sting...I never thought about dating you before..." She trailed off.

Sting internally panicked. He hastily begged, "give me a chance, please! Let me take you on one date! If you aren't interested, then we'll go our separate ways...please give me a chance." The last part was whispered, his tone giving away that he was trying to not cry even as he lowered his head to hide his tear-filled eyes from her.

After a few moments of silence, he began to despair. Then, Lucy's hand under his chin raised his head so he would look at her. What he saw caused his breath to hitch and his heartbeat to pick up speed. Lucy was giving him the most breathtaking smile he had ever seen. She nodded her head as she whispered her answer, "yes, Sting. I'll go on a date with you."

Sting grinned, genuinely grinned. How long had it been since he last truly smiled and didn't have to force one? "Can I kiss you?" His question was so quiet that he didn't think she heard him, but he knew that she had heard him when she nodded her head.

Sting leaned forward and pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to her lips. He felt her kiss back, which caused his heart to beat wildly and his stomach to do backflips. He pulled away and took her hand in his, caressing the soft, smooth skin with his thumb.

He finally had her back.

She was really here.

She was alive. Beaten, but still alive.

And he swore to himself right there that he would protect her. If she decided that she wanted to be with him, he would fight anyone and anything to keep her safe and by his side. Even if he had to fight his own guild.

The pair gazed at each other, happy to have met again after so many years.

#fairy tail #lucy heartfilia #sting eucliffe #sting x lucy #stilu #stinglu #sticy #canon divergence #minor violence #minor rogue cheney #several characters are referenced but don’t actually say anything #sabertooth #angst #grand magic games #gmg #I love this ship so much #it’s getting unhealthy honestly

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winterzsurprise · 1 year

Text

Man In The Mirror || SBI

Characters: Wilbur Soot, Tommyinnit, Technoblade (Allusions), Philza (Allusions).

Tags: Soulmate AU, Orphaned Tommy, Hurt/Comfort (?), Mentions of Death, Famous Musician Wilbur, Not Beta Read, Swearing, Crime Boys Centric.

Words: 3.7k

I haven't written in so long hence, no updates. But I'll post the other parts of Thorned Exhales later on in life, have this SBI short fic that I tried writing before shit went down.

This is inspired by that one tumblr post where in a Soulmate AU, you other half dies and shows up at your mirror, I forgot their blog name so if you know them, let me know :DD.

As usual, I accept criticism and welcome them as I want to do better with my writing :D, enjoy!

_____________

There’s a man in the mirror, Tommy observed.

He rubbed his eyes hard enough that they might fall from its sockets but there's actually a man in exchange for his reflection.

He already had a shit day after the clinic's nurse scolded him for dislocating a kid's jaw --- he still thinks the fucker deserved it --- to have his insanity proven by the hallucination in front of him was the icing on today's cake.

No matter how much he blinked, rubbed his eyes and pinch his arms.

There’s a man in the mirror, staring back at him and there's no denying that he's actually there.

The man was tall, gangly limbs hanging off to his sides almost longer than his torso if you count his hands, chestnut brown hair curling to themselves to form a puffy mess at his crown, the side of his head trimmed short enough for the eyes to focus on the mop of a hair he has.

There were a couple of strands on his cloud fringe dyed in dark grey, like the old man he appears to be. Tommy thinks it's cool but he wouldn’t say it out loud.

He was dressed nicely, a thick and surely expensive trench coat with the hem stretching down to his knees, his yellow turtleneck, however was stained blue in shapes of fingerprints all around the fabric. The man looked well off and wasn’t that an irritating sight to see.

But what takes the crown was the bored look his eyes carried when Tommy met him first through his round glasses.

Dark brown eyes overflowing with nonchalance and apathy, the dark bags under his eyes only solidifying Tommy’s impression of him.

A dickbag who dares to look more tired of the world than Tommy is. How dare this bastard hold those emotions in his gaze when he hasn’t tasted extreme poverty or live everyday with your life on the line?

“Hey, get that stupid look out of your face, bitch.”

People normally get scared of the supernatural but not Tommy Innett no, the world would have to follow his whims and bow before he’d think of ever following their rhythm.

Hell, his full name is Tommy Danger Strong Smart Innett for fucks sake, how could he pussy out with such a name?!

“Who are you to order me around, stupid child?”

Tommy was floored, recoiling from the raw annoyance in the guy’s voice.

He dares to have that tone when he’s trespassing his property?! Tommy decided there on there that this man is the most annoying prick he has ever encountered, real or not.

“Tommy fucking Danger Strong Smart Innett, don’t you dare call me stupid when you look like a Jared named bastard!”

The man scowled before sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose to mutter something unintelligible before looking up again with an exasperated gaze at Tommy before shaking his head and tilting his head back to stare at the sky.

“God, why are you so cruel to me?”

“Because you’re a bitch!”

“Why do I even bother…” He looked away from Tommy to stare at the space beside him, looking at his shabby mattress. "Say kid, where are we? Rather, where are you?"

Tommy stared at the man, squinting with suspicion. The man whose eyes showed nothing but apathy and boredom intimidates him, Tommy admits to himself. He has seen many movies where killers held the same dullness in their irises for him to entrust the man with his address.

Seeing the distrust in his eyes, the man sighed in defeat. "I'm not gonna kill you man, I'm stuck in the reflection dimension or whatever this shit is."

"No, you're a figment of my imagination bitch, the other kids have them!" Tommy paused, remembering something. “But they’re walking around unlike you.”

At that, as if he realised something, the dullness in the man's eyes softened a little as he stared back at the child in front of him. There was a sad cloud of conflict that grew in his irises, as if he’s withholding a truth he couldn’t say, forbidden even.

Tommy doesn’t like how this man stared at him like that, stupid adults and their hero complex, always thinking their actions are for the best of the other party.

"Ok, I won't ask about your location but what about your name? Tommy was it?"

"Tommy Innett, the biggest and bravest man there is." He said with chest puffed out.

This got the man to chuckle lightly, pocketing his hands in his coat as he stepped forward and to the stray light escaping the closed blinds.

"How about you boss man? Are you a ‘Jared’ like I thought you are?"

The man's face scrunched.

"Fuck no, kill me if I were to be named so poorly like Jared. I'm a Wilbur type of guy."

“Wilbur.” Tommy repeats, the name rolling of his tongue smoothly, as if it was meant to be spoken by it. “That’s such a shit name.”

“You are so fucking rude, why didn’t your mother swallow instead?”

“You–”

Wilbur looked around closely, eyes darting from one place to another. Unwilling to be subject to Tommy’s word explosion, he spoke once more.

"So are you alone in this room?"

Tommy scoffed, crossing his arms. "And why would I tell you that?"

First he comes to his room — or rather his mirror — unannounced and uninvited and now he’s prodding into his lifestyle in the orphanage, didn't his unwelcomed ass already done enough?

Seeing the scowl displayed clearly on Tommy’s face, Wilbur continued.

“Said this once and I’ll say it again, I’m not gonna kidnap you or some shit. The fuck am I even gonna need you for?”

Tommy shrugged. “I don’t know! Maybe you’ll sell me off or gut me and sell them to the black market!”

“I’m stuck in this stupid mirror, what even made you think I’d ever want to stay here with you?!”

That hurted him, was he so annoying that someone wanted to leave him the first time they met? It reminded him of the parents that returned him to the orphanage, every one of them annoyed by his antics. Wilbur’s words hammered itself deep into the creases of his brain, a constant reminder of the parent’s distaste for him.

A reminder of his failure to reach their standards.

“Shut the fuck up, you fucking bastard, you don’t know anything.” he spat out through gritted teeth, feet dragging himself out of the room and away from Wilbur.

___________

When Tommy came back, exhausted from the overlapping noises outside and from the chores the caretakers gave him, Wilbur was still in his mirror, sitting crossed legged and his head supported by the arm he propped on his thigh. He was dozing off, he looked peaceful when he’s not being an insensitive prick, Tommy thought as he gently closed the door behind him.

He doesn’t want to wake him up, already sensing the awkward air build up if the man ever roused from sleep.

On his tiptoes, he trudged to his bed as stealthily as he could, his senses tenfold sensitive as he crossed the room.

“I’m sorry Toms.”

Tommy’s soul jumped out of his skin Wilbur’s raspy voice sliced through the silence, his heart rapping against his ribcage as he snapped his head towards the adult fixing his sitting position, eyes opening as he stretched his arms above his head.

He doesn’t know what to respond, honestly, he didn’t expect him to even apologise like any other adults in the area. Wilbur continues to ruin the expectations he had for people once more, maybe he’s from a fantasy world where ‘sorry’s aren’t a luxury.

"Do you really mean that Wilbur?" He asked, turning to him.

The man seemed taken aback by his reaction, furrowing his eyebrows before answering.

"Of course Tommy, I was such an insensitive dick to you earlier. I-I didn't figure out that you're in an orphanage until one of the caretakers went in to change the sheets."

At that, he turned to his bed to see his sheets were indeed switched with a cleaner one. Pristine white and a little ragged but it works just fine, providing him enough heat at night.

It must be pathetic to Wilbur, who seemed to be a silver spooned bastard, if not fed with a golden one instead. With such a fancy get up and expensive watch and rings, Tommy's living condition must be pitiful.

Of all the imaginary friends he could have, it has to be a rich guy.

"I shouldn't have said what I said. So I'm sorry Toms." Wilbur continued, hanging his head low as he picked on the laces of his boots.

Tommy felt uncomfortable by the man’s genuine apology. This is a first, he thinks as he stares at him.

He could monetize this shit, act upset and maybe he could earn a useful favor in the future from the ghost, scare off some kids or steal something for him, the possibilities are endless!

"You hurt me, Wilbur."

"I know, I'll make it up to you at some point."

A smile grew on Tommy's face. "Really?"

"Of course, is there anything you want to know about me or the world?"

Forgiveness in exchange for information? Tommy couldn't help but wonder if it was worth it but then again, what can Wilbur offer him when he's trapped in a mirror with no way out like he said he is?

Staring at his expensive and thick silver watch, Tommy wondered if the man ever travelled around the world? He must've been a guy fed with a silver spoon, he must've seen the stunning sights of Switzerland or maybe even Italy.

"Have you ever travelled abroad before?"

"Of course, I was a part of a band once."

Tommy's eyes widened. Wilbur is a musician? A popular one it seems, considering how he had international concerts, that's what big names do right? He's a huge music enthusiast, it was one of the things in life that motivates him. For a musician to stumble upon his door...

Tommy is curious about all things music. Maybe Wilbur can teach him a few tricks or so.

"What band were you in?"

There was a quick shift inside Wilbur's chestnut eyes before he spoke, hesitation and conflict, Tommy identified.

But why?

"That's the thing… I-I can't recall everything just yet." He motioned to his head. "I ca-can remember the basics but there's... empty spots in my memory."

"Oh."

It was all Tommy could say, disheartened.

All of his hopes of learning thrown out of the window, he wanted to hide how upset he is but he couldn't stop it from seeping out from the walls he established around him.

Seeing this, Wilbur's heart clenched in its cage, the disappointment in the kid's eyes leaving a bitter taste on his tongue but it was better that Tommy stays in the bliss of ignorance, at least until he hits the proper age.

With a sigh, he opened his mouth once more.

"Well, I can still remember a few areas we visited during our tour. Wanna hear about them?"

___________

Birthdays are overrated, Tommy tells himself.

Birthdays are boring, he said as he stared at the parties hosted on the 2nd floor of the fast food restaurant downtown when he passed by. Birthdays are boring, he muttered as he silently wished a celebration for his once in this lifetime.

Orphans don't get the luxury of celebrating their birthdays, Tommy knew that himself but he couldn't help but wish there was someone who'd valued them as much as he does.

Everyday he wakes up, he tells himself I'm going to be adopted today. But they never do, the adults don't want someone who's brash and loud, what they all wanted was someone soft, someone they can easily order around.

He could act docile and kind like they all want but Tommy doesn't like that.

He wants to be accepted for who he is, Tommy Danger Strong Smart Innett.

All of the adults ignored such a festivity except the man in the mirror.

It's been a few months since he appeared and Tommy doesn't know if he calls Wilbur a blessing or a curse.

The man was an enigmatic fella. One moment he's a menace, teasing and laughing with Tommy till his jaw aches then Wilbur's mood will abruptly drop into his misery and never-ending sadness even Tommy couldn't remedy with his usual antics.

Even then, he never forgets to worry about Tommy. His voice is soft, albeit rough from lack of use that day, as he reminds him about dinner, noticing him skip his meals throughout the weeks they've been together.

So when Tommy's smiles didn't reach his eyes, Wilbur knew something was up.

"Why do you look stupider today?"

Tommy scoffed. "Do you mean amazing? I think I look more handsome today."

"Your smile isn't reaching your eyes, what's happening?"

Tommy could lie and say it's just a bad day but he could never escape Wilbur's inquisitive eyes, it was almost annoying if it wasn't secretly endearing for him.

"Nothing much, big man just got bigger by a year."

Wilbur's eyes widened as he muttered unintelligible words under his breath before his voice grew. "Oh god, I'm sorry Toms."

"No worries, I'm used to it. Besides, you didn't know so it's understandable."

"Still, happy birthday man. How old are you now?"

"10 and yet I'm the biggest, strongest man in this building." Tommy puffed his chest as he stared up at Wilbur who's eyes crinkled with joy.

Then came a pause as Wilbur's eyes seemed to hold the same conflict of last time, swirling deep in his dark brown eyes as he pondered over something. Curiosity rose in Tommy at the shift in the man's mood.

But after a few ticks of silence, the man spoke once more.

"Is there anything you want, kid?"

Tommy laughed at that. There's no way someone trapped in the mirror just asked him what he wants for his birthday. It was more comical to him that Wilbur looked determined and dead-set on it.

How can he even leave the mirror and buy him a gift when he couldn't leave the place through all of those months spent together?

"How can you even buy for me man? Aren't you stuck in the mirror dimension or some shit?"

Wilbur scowled. "Just spit it out child, I have my ways."

Tommy knew he shouldn't let the tiny hope in his heart fester, it was impossible that he'd ever get what he wanted anyways.

Yet a tiny voice at the back of his head urged him to obey him, tell him what he wanted to taste or hold for so long.

It was Wilbur after all, what can that man do to ever harm him? He knew his address and name and nothing bad has ever happened to him the whole time they've been together.

If anything, Wilbur helped him in many things.

"I think I'd like a superhero comic book, I don't care what it's about and also McDonald's."

Wilbur nods, crossing his arms. "And what do you want from McDonald's?"

"A shit ton of fries, chicken sandwich and maybe a mcflurry?"

"Gotcha, go do your homework in the meantime." Wilbur said as he walked away from his sight, blending into the reflection of Tommy's bedroom.

He couldn't help but be curious why Wilbur held such a grim expression the moment he turned away. The man thinks he's quick and sly but Tommy saw how fast his smile dropped when he thinks his face is hidden from him.

He wondered how the man trapped in the mirror dimension could even fulfil his birthday wish, his questions leading him astray from his current tasks at hand.

He knows not to hope but he couldn't help the budding light from swelling in his heart.

So he followed Wilbur's order to finish his homework and wait.

Soon enough, the sun has set and the moon took reigns over the sky along with its dark background. Every tick of the clock after it went over 5 pm sent pricks into his heart as his already small hope trickled away.

Tommy knew he shouldn't have hoped for anything. He must've looked ridiculous sitting cross legged in front of the mirror, waiting for the man to reappear as if he held the cure to every illness and he's about to die.

But before Tommy could even stand up from the mirror to resign to his bed for the night, Wilbur returns with a triumphant smile, hands in his coat pockets as he strode into the view like a man who won the lottery.

There wasn't anything new about him other than his changed expression, Tommy wonders what happened.

"Where did you go, boss man?"

"That's a secret, but we gotta go somewhere quick alright? Bring your spoon with you."

Tommy followed, taking the spoon from his bedside table and waited for Wilbur to jump into the utensil's reflection before taking the blue coat at the end of his bed and leaving his room.

With not a single cent to his name, Tommy stole a spoon from the cafeteria months ago to take Wilbur to his maths lessons for help in understanding the lesson better.

He's still smart, sometimes geniuses need someone to explain lowly things to them taught through complicated methods and Wilbur was the only volunteer to do such a work.

"This is stupid Wilbur, where are we even going?"

"Let's go to the park, I told them to go there."

Them? Who are they?

The mystery of it all makes Tommy anxious.

What is Wilbur planning? Is he finally going to kidnap him after barely escaping this horrible place?

"If you think I'm abducting you, fuck off. I'm not that evil man, I don't even have the face for it!" Wilbur exclaimed as if he heard his thoughts loudly.

"You wanted me to go to the park at night, it's sketchy as shit man!"

"Whatever, you'll get it once we arrive."

Even the suspicion planted in his heart wasn't enough to trample the excitement that thrummed in his veins. He doesn't know what he was getting enthusiastic for when Wilbur might, for all we know, be out for his head after that time Tommy teased him out of the mirror.

The park was silent save for the rustles of leaves, the trees and shrubberies glistened lightly under the moonlight from the small downpour earlier. It was mildly made obvious by the street lights on the shining cobble pathways.

But what caught his attention is the man with his helmet standing under a lamp next to his parked bicycle, a paper bag in one hand as he typed into his phone with the other.

Tommy wouldn’t have found the situation more suspicious if the man didn’t have a familiar logo of a delivery company on the side of his helmet.

"Go Toms, that's yours."

He couldn't say anything.

For once in his life Tommy couldn't utter a word out of his mouth, not even a random stream of bullshit left him like it usually does. He was stunned, shocked and thankful all at the same time.

He pinched himself but he isn't waking up from his dream.

Wilbur really did give him a birthday gift. The first ever.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Wilbur?"

"No, get it."

The man turned to him once Tommy was close enough, handing the bag to him.

It shocks him that the man didn't even hesitate in doing so.

Is he not worried that the parcel might fall into the wrong hand?

Tommy looked around, he remembers those laughs for gag shorts on the television. Surely, this must be a sick joke where a camera is hiding behind the tree or something, waiting for him to be thankful before they jump out to ridicule him.

Turning to Wilbur again, Tommy's vision blurred, his heart clenching painfully in his chest as he registered the man's soft gaze and genuine smile.

Maybe not all adults are foul and annoying. Maybe some people do adore him. Wilbur really does love him, care deeply for him, so much that it pains Tommy to think of.

Is it alright for him to have such a luxury?

"Delivery from anonymous, there's two spider-man comics there." Tommy still couldn't believe his ears. Did he really get a gift on his birthday? "Happy birthday mate, he said."

Even when the man was long gone into the night, Tommy stood there astounded, the weight of the bag more apparent than it should be. His chest hurts and his heart swells from the thought, a smile broke from his lips as tears trickled out of his eyes.

Was he dreaming? If he is, Tommy wished he'd never wake up.

Seeing tears stream from his face, Wilbur's heart ached in its cage, his arms aching at his sides, he wanted to hug Tommy. Comb his hair back as he whispered reassurance into his head. Never has he felt so helpless as he does now, he wants so much but can't have any.

It was maddening but he shouldn't put a damper on their mood, it's a good day.

So Wilbur smiled and said. "Happy birthday Toms, I'm glad I met you."

___________

Even after his birthday surprise, Tommy’s opinion of Wilbur never changed

The man in the mirror is as annoying and weird as he is helpful.

Wilbur is smart, being an adult with more experience than him, and taught him how to count and do his basic maths assignments. When there’s problems that arose from the shelter, Wilbur would tell him his own solution, explaining the hard words with care and playful teasing.

Surprisingly, Tommy understands it better even if the man fucked around than a teacher who ironed a stoic expression and wielded a book.

He was brotherly in his own way, never fleeing from the reflections around the center to watch Tommy go around his daily chores and warn him if the head cook is about to enter the cafeteria when he goes to sneak a cookie out of the jar.

Wilbur is his buddy, his shadow.

They were attached to the point of Tommy sneaking out a spoon just so he could have Wilbur hiding in his pockets. The adults will scold him later on but he could care less. He wants the man in the mirror to see the world with him.

During the whole year with Wilbur in his pockets, Tommy has entered as many foster homes and left as much. It was embarrassing every time he was sent back to the orphanage, a reminder of his failure to reach a family’s vision of a perfect child.

Whenever the night is cold and dark with little sobs wrecking his small body, Wilbur would urge him to bring a spoon beside him, his eyes darkened with defeat and sadness as he whispered into his ears, offering warmth with his words till Tommy falls soundly asleep, a silent wish of feeling a phantom touch caressing his cheeks supporting the man’s comforting voice.

The whole year with Wilbur felt like magic, a stream of light after years of darkness and it couldn’t have been more perfect. Tommy wanted nothing more but to stay with his brother figure, although he wouldn’t say it out loud.

But today seems like a different kind of day.

On the morning before his 11th birthday, Tommy found himself staring at a new reflection on the mirror.

But unlike the gloomy cloud on top of Wilbur, this man had an aura of danger oozing off of his mildly muscular body, wide shoulders draped in white silk long sleeves and a beige pair of trousers hiding his well-toned thighs with a long, horizontal scar crossing his nose bridge and ending under his nonchalant eyes to boot.

He oozes nothing but pure masculinity.

Only if he didn’t wear those stupid rectangular glasses and had long bubblegum pink hair then he would’ve been truly intimidating.

The epitome of scary.

“Who the fuck are you supposed to be?!”

#tommyinit mcyt #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #dream smp #sbi au #soulmate au #platonic soulmates #crimebois #technoblade fics #philza minecraft #philza fics #tommyinnit fics #hurt/comfort

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