#//He may already be her nephew; but she won’t treat him like family until he himself is completely comfortable in that

[dutybcrne]

After starting getting back in the swing of being an Archon and gaining the respect of her nation, for some time, Nahida was fully unable to be alone for certain period of time. Her centuries in isolation made her feel incredibly anxious each time it happened, to the point where she would actively seek out people to chat with, even when she herself felt a bit worn out. And sure, she could linger in dreams, but that in and of itself is too reminiscent of the way things used to be. Ideally, she’d have someone’s hand to hold, to better ground her and set her mind at ease, but she’s content enough just having others around her too.

[jackwinchester273]

Mickey and Ian

I watched Shameless in less than a month. I only watched it because of Ian and Mickeys relationship, and there are some random thoughts about the show. This has nothing to do with the actors.

I hated that in the last season Ian shit talked Mickey to Lip and called him crazy and not marriage material and shit. He wanted to be with you even when you broke up with him and you were manic and you kidnapped his baby. He had been with you for years, chill out. He went to jail so you won’t be alone, stop bitching cause he ain’t perfect, your not perfect either.

I loved that Lip had a baby. I didn’t see it as a random thing, I saw it as a logical next step in his life. He wanted to be a dad since Karen’s pregnancy, and was ready to do anything for her and the kid, this was the ending he deserved.

I loved Carl’s ending. Him being a cop, having experience with being in gangs so he can help more people? Being community oriented and loving his town, opening up his own cop bar? And that girl who may or may not be pregnant with his kid? I liked it. Now, I don’t think it’s his kid, I kinda hope that it’s gonna be that she’s a surrogate or something, but then Carl wants to make sure she’s okay, and she explains it to him, and then they start going out again and eventually get married and adopt kids. I think Carl would have the “Why should I bring more kids into this hell hole of a world when there are so many who already need a him” mindset and help get kids out of foster care and out of gangs.

Mickey would be a terrible dad. So would Ian. They would adopt a dog or something, maybe even a cat, but not kids.

Fiona should have taken Liam with her. Just taken him out of the city, get him in a better community with a good public education system.

I can see Liam being a kid who does AP classes and gets his associates degree before he turns 18. He’s really smart and driven. And I think he would do it out of spite to make something of himself. He just needs to get somewhere where he has those opportunity’s.

Debbie isn’t a terrible mom. She’s not a good mom, but she made something of herself and has a job and supports herself and her child. She is a better mom than Monica. She’s a better mom to Franny than Fiona was to Liam.

Debbie treated Liam like shit. I can barely remember them interacting on screen.

I wish Debbie never got a pregnancy plot line. Bad writing. I wish she put the kid up for adoption or something or had a miscarriage, becuase trying to be a mom was most of her character. Until she fucked that mom and the moms kid, which was way out of left feild.

I wish Mandy was in the show more, she deserved a real plot. Her own story line, and she had the potential to be apart of the main cast.

I can’t rember her name, but Mickeys best woman at his wedding? The one Debbie dated? Hates the hole, I had a secret family thing. They could have written that better. For Debbie, that should not have been a deal breaker.

Franks death was preformed well, written well, and was timed well.

Frank and Ian should have had a talk about how Ian is Frank’s nephew, not his son.

Monica should have had a better death.

[isthisthingeven0n]

nothing left to give : s.r

just wanted to put this out there. it’s been a while since i’ve posted, and this is something. 

you’re worn out, unsure whether the bau is your home after all. but the resident genuis won’t stand for that, especially when there’s things still unsaid between you both (2.5K)

It wasn’t as subtle as you hoped it to be. Then again, you should have known better working with a team of profilers who you consider family. Meaning in some sense, this wasn’t something that would’ve stayed hidden for long.

Initially, you just felt your eyes losing focus on case files. You’d been in California for two weeks on a case, resulting in a hefty amount of paperwork and the time difference combined threw you off, but it was meant to pass.

Except it didn’t.

You were beginning to get restless, waves of tiredness hitting you like a brick wall during office hours and Spencer was the first to catch on. Whenever you would leave your desk and later return you’d find a new mug of coffee, freshly brewed for you along with a small smile from across the room as you looked over in appreciation.

Convinced you had simply caught some kind of bug, you took a day off to rest. Yet, one day turned into three and once you returned, Spencer’s eyes widened at the sight that greeted him.

“Is that any way to greet your best friend, huh, Spence?” JJ chuckles, walking in behind you as she rests her hand on your shoulder, catching your gaze. You could tell JJ was profiling you with her soft Mom smile. “How’re you feeling, Y/n?”

Avoiding various glances from the rest of the team, you quickly nod. “Better.” You respond, wanting to carry on as if nothing were wrong as your glow began to flicker and fade.

“If it isn’t my angel, having returned from her duties in heaven.” Derek speaks up, happily walking towards you as Penelope remains in tow.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re back. I don’t know if you got the-”

“The animal videos and relaxing music tracks,” You smile as Penelope nods, Derek rolling his eyes. “I did, thanks, Pen.” You rise to your feet, blocking out the blurred vision as you lean into a tight hug.

Whilst in Penelope’s embrace, Derek shoots Spencer a look, motioning him to follow.

“Just take it easy, we can’t have half of our favourite duo going on us.” Penelope jokes with you as you watch Spencer walk sheepishly behind Derek into the conference room, the door closing behind them. “Well, if you need me, I’ll be in the Batcave.”

The Batcave had never appealed to you more than now. The dark walls, few visitors and all of Penelope’s fluffy things to play with. Maybe you’ll find a reason to stop by later if the headache that looms over your thoughts returns.

Over in the conference room, Derek leans against the table whilst Spencer tries to stand tall, his hands resting in his pockets. “Kid, what’s going on with Y/n?”

A heavy sigh escapes Spencer’s lips as his eyes fall to the ground. “What’d you mean?”

Derek shifts, his eyes hardening as Spencer lifts his head back up. “Reid,” Derek starts.

“She, she won’t tell me,” Spencer states, taking Derek by surprise. “I, I want to ask her, but I’m worried she won’t take it well.” Spencer sighs as he turns his head, looking out from the blinds to see you talking with JJ, a tired smile wearing heavy on your face. “We made an agreement a while ago to always be honest with one another, but I don’t know if that still stands.”

“Is she struggling with things?” Derek questions, resting his arms against the table as Spencer opens his mouth, but words struggle to follow.

“I, I know I’m a profiler, that’s my job but with Y/n, I, I hate doing it. She’s supposed to tell me these things, I don’t want to figure it out.” Spencer stumbles, but he knows exactly what is wrong with you, and that’s the issue.

“Judging by the guilt in your voice, you’ve already figured it out, huh?” Derek comments as Spencer nods in response. “You gotta talk to her, Reid before it gets worse.”

Another nod follows as Spencer remains lost in thought, barely registering the quick pat on the shoulder from Derek before he exits the conference room, leaving him alone until Penelope enters, announcing there’s a new case.

*

It was a long case, one that dragged out with several victims and a blur of family members cross your mind as you curl up in your seat on the jet.

Closing your eyes, all you can picture are those screams and violent sobs from the victim's families. You promised them you’d bring their child/sibling/friend/niece/nephew/grandchild home, but you couldn’t, you didn’t.

“Hey,” Lifting your head up, you’re greeted by Spencer holding a mug of green tea. “Did you know that Green Tea contains epigallocatechin-3-gallate, or more commonly known as EGCG. It’s a natural antioxidant, and that’s only one of the benefits from drinking green tea, did you know,”

Holding your hand up, Spencer pauses before sitting down beside you.

“I’m glad you stopped him before I did.” Rossi comments from across the jet, nursing a glass of scotch along with Hotch.

“Thanks, Spence.” You mutter, grasping the mug closely as the burning sensation trickles through your skin, but you refuse to let go. “Sorry, my heads just thumping.” You smile weakly to your best friend who wears that uncomfortable tight-lipped grin. “Don’t do that,”

Spencer pauses, his lips parting. “Do what?” He asks, shuffling in his seat so his body is facing you, closing off everyone else who is asleep or drifting on the jet.

“Treat me like I’m ill or tiptoe around things.” You sigh, releasing your hands from the mug as you rub your temples, the warmth from your fingertips soothing you momentarily.

“Then tell me what’s going on, Y/n.” Spencer states quietly, trying not to raise his voice as JJ stirs in her sleep across from you both. “Please,” He whispers, and the mere plead breaks your heart.

Closing your eyes, you shake your head. “I don’t know if I can Spencer,” You tell him, opening your eyes and focusing on his, how big the universe looks through his hazel gaze. “and it hurts to admit that because I care about you and, and everyone so much.” You never get overly emotional after cases, but with everything else, it’s just hit you.

Reaching out, Spencer rests his hand on yours, his thumb gliding over the back of your hand. “I just, I don’t like seeing my friends in pain and I just want to stop it happening.” He admits, his eyes fixated on yours as a tear falls down your cheek.

“Well,” A scoff leaves your lips as you take your hand from Spencer’s as you forcefully wipe your eyes. “not everything can be fixed that easily, Reid.” You remark before rising to your feet, shuffling past Spencer and over to the bathroom.

In a state of shock, Spencer registers JJ opening her eyes opposite him. “If that was your best attempt at comfort, I’ve seen better effort from serial killers.” JJ jokes as she sits upright whilst Spencer’s brows remain deeply furrowed.

“Y/n never closes herself off like this, JJ.” Spencer sighs. “We’ve been friends for nine hundred and twelve point five days. And during all this time she’s been honest with me, never once has she hidden something.”

Memories from late nights watching Doctor Who reruns, attending book signings or being Spencer’s plus one to obscure foreign films when no one else would go, you both were happy just to be in one another's company. Even if you had no idea what was happening during a film in Russian, Spencer aided as a translator, much to the others attending annoyance. All Spencer wanted was for you to be happy.

“There are some things you can’t share with your friends, Spence.” JJ reminds him. “Y/n might not have figured it all out yet, just give her some time.”

Spencer nods and his ears perk up to the sound of your footsteps approaching.

“Thanks,” You mumble as Spencer rises to his feet, allowing you to slide back against the window as you close your eyes in an attempt to sleep or avoid the inevitable conversation with Spencer. For now, it remains to be the latter.

*

Since you returned from the case, you only felt worse in every sense.

You wanted to carry on, you wanted to make this work because you loved this. No, you love this.

“Y/L/N?” Hotch calls out, catching you by surprise as you turn around. “Do you have a moment?”

Nodding in response, Spencer’s eyes follow you as you walk up to Hotch’s office, the door closing behind you and the blinds being drawn.

“Someones in trouble.” Derek sings, causing JJ and Penelope to laugh. But Spencer only tenses, wishing he could be in there with you, hoping you’re alright.

When you walk out, it’s been thirty-two minutes and twelve seconds, and during that time all Spencer has been able to focus on is the door of Hotch’s office.

Hotch gives you a curt nod before he shuts the door to his office, retreating back to his desk whilst you walk toward yours. “Everything okay sugar plum?” Penelope asks, wrapping her arms around you as you weakly hug her back.

“Yeah, I’m just going to take some time off. I’ve got a few things to sort out.” You explain, trying to avoid the concerned glances of your friends at the anonymity of your statement. “I’ll be back before you know it, guys.” You force a small laugh. “And I’ll only be a phone call away. I don’t wanna miss out on the action.”

“Like we’d let you.” Derek remarks.

“Rest up, okay?” JJ comments with a small smile as you grab your bag and coat.

As you lift your head up to wave, you focus on Spencer. You know you’ll always focus on Spencer in a room, no matter how many or few people there may be; Spencer is the first person you’ll notice.

More specifically, your focus lands on the solemn expression he is wearing. One you’re aware of but not well accompanied with.

“Take it easy, okay?��� Penelope calls out to you as you walk through the glass doors.

Once out of sight, everyone turns to face Spencer who lifts his head up, forcing that tight-lipped smile. “What?”

JJ crosses her arms whilst Penelope steps closer. “Why are you just standing here? You’re our resident genius and you’re clueless!” Penelope groans, gripping onto Derek’s arm. “How can he be so naive?”

“I’m right here, Penelope.” Spencer speaks up. “But I don’t follow, for once.” He remarks, and JJ laughs quietly at Spencer’s attempt at humour.

Rolling her eyes, Penelope lets go of her favourite man and reaches over to Spencer. “Y/n, our sweet, loving agent with the heart of gold and the mind of a thunderstorm.” Penelope begins, and Spencer nods along, not wanting to interrupt about how a thunderstorm isn’t the best use of a metaphor to describe your mind when in reality it’s more like a-

“Spencer?” Derek waves his hand in front of Spencer’s face, bringing him back to reality.

“What about Y/n?” Spencer clears his throat, but the change in his pitch doesn’t favour him as Rossi raises an eyebrow as he approaches the rest of the team.

“He’s figuring it out, isn’t he?” Rossi comments as a series of nods follow. “About time, kid.” Rossi raises his mug to Spencer who leans against the edge of his desk.

“Just give him a moment,” JJ speaks up as Spencer fixates on your desk, your absent desk.

How every morning you’re the first person who makes him laugh from across the room. You bring him coffee or he’ll bring you one. You always try to persuade him to eat out, or go on a walk or try riding a bike after work instead of the subway. Spencer will sing along to cheesy songs with you just to hear you yell at the top of your lungs and dance in your apartment. Spencer gave up a chess tournament to go on a bike ride with you at sunset, just to see the warm glow against your face, knowing how soft your skin would feel against his.

And that’s when it hits him. Every single moment over the past two and a half years.

“I, I have to go,” Spencer mumbles, pushing himself from his desk and quickly walks out from the BAU, rushing to the elevator as the team quietly celebrate.

*

Spencer is running, and it isn’t a flattering sight to witness as he breathes heavily, bursting through the doors of the parking lot.

“Y/n?” Spencer calls out, running toward the far block F where you always park your car, hoping he isn’t too late.

“Spencer?” Your voice falters as you exit your car, wiping your eyes as Spencer pants, but still walks closer toward you. “What’re you doing here? Why aren’t you working?” You want to laugh as an attempted smile crosses your lips as Spencer’s hair clings to his forehead, his lips remaining parted as he breathes shallowly. “Okay firstly take a breath, you need it.”

Nodding in response, Spencer takes a deep breath before composing himself. “I had to talk to you before you go.” Spencer speaks smoothly as you step away from your car, standing in front of him as tears line your cheeks.

“Is something wrong, Spence?” You ask sweetly, despite your current state, your attention remains fixated on Spencer as he shakes his head.

“Y/n, I,” Stuttering over his words, Spencer exhales deeply. “I know I can’t make you better overnight, but I also don’t want to lose you- none of us do, but I guess I especially don’t.” Spencer begins to explain. “All I ask is that you let me in, let me help in some way, even if it’s just opening your car door or sending you those memes Garcia finds, I’ll do it.” A smile graces Spencer’s lips as you chuckle softly.

“I feel so lost, Spencer.” You admit, your eyes glazing over. “Of late it’s just all too much, I can’t, I can’t take the pain and sorrow of those who’ve lost loved ones.” You wipe your face, taking a shaky breath as Spencer steps closer.

“But think of how many lives you save, Y/n.” Spencer interrupts. “Statistically, those outweigh the lives lost.”

“I was expecting a statistic I’ll admit.” You joke, and Spencer shrugs his shoulder. “I know it’ll pass, but it just hurts.”

Spencer places his hand on your shoulder, his eyes scanning yours for any uncertainty before he wraps his arms around you, holding you close against his chest as silent sobs leave your lips.

“I’m always here, Y/n. We all are.” Spencer mutters as his lips press against the top of your head, lingering as he closes his eyes, not wanting to let you go.

Pulling away from his embrace, you cross your arms over your chest. “Thank you, Spence.” You smile sweetly. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“I’ll keep you to that, Y/n.” Spencer chuckles before you lean forward, kissing his cheek softly before retreating to your car. “Don’t be a stranger, Y/n.” Spencer mutters under his breath as you reverse out from the parking space, exiting the parking lot as those words linger on his tongue unsaid.

[anarchyduck]

Get Out of Jail Free Card

Day Two: I don’t want to go

AO3

---

‘Heads up. Kid is in a mood.’ 

Tony frowns at Happy’s message. Considering the teenage raging hormones, there’s no telling what sort of ‘mood’ he’s expecting from the kid. Judging from the tone, it must not be good. 

So he prepares himself for whatever comes up the elevator. 

“Hey Mr. Stark!” Peter chirps, grinning ear to ear as he enters the lab. 

Or so Tony thought. 

“Hey kid.” he greets, watching the kid haphazardly toss his backpack on the floor near his work station. The kid doesn’t seem upset. “How was school?” 

Peter shrugs. “It was fine.” he replies. “Aced my Spanish test. Tomorrow’s Decathlon meeting has been moved to the day after because of Mr. Harrington’s doctor appointment. Or something, I don’t know.” Kid gives a half hearted shrug then turns to grab a bottle of water out of the lab’s mini fridge. 

Tony remains seated at his own work station, perplexed. Parker seems to be fine. Cheerful, hyperactive, chatty - the usual. He picks up his phone to look at the message again and resorts to writing his own. 

‘Define ‘mood’’

“So nothing bad happened?” Tony prods a little more. “That Thompson kid didn’t give you any trouble?” 

Peter shakes his head, mouthful of water. “No.” he replies, pausing as he takes another long drink and adds, “No more than the usual, you know?” 

Okay so it isn’t a bully problem. 

Tony’s phone buzzes on the table and he picks it up to read Happy’s reply. 

‘Won’t talk about it. Something at home’

Something at home? The mystery deepens. Tony has met May Parker several times, even more once Peter’s real internship was discovered. She treats Peter like he’s more of her son than her nephew. A kind, formidable woman who would not hesitate to fight anyone who even dared side eye Peter. 

“How about your aunt?” Tony inquires, finding it increasingly difficult to keep the questions casual. 

“She’s fine.” Peter says with uncertainty. He shoots Tony a questioning look as he sits down. “What’s up with the interrogation?” 

Tony rolls his eyes. “If you think this is an interrogation, you’d never make it through a real one.” he remarks then waves his hand dismissively. “It’s nothing. Just wanted to check in on my favorite intern.” 

“I’m your only intern.” 

“Which automatically makes you my favorite.” Tony reiterates, drawing a light laugh from Peter. He realizes he sits at a crossroad with the kid, to flat out ask what’s going on (if anyone is really going on) or leave it be. Parker has the terrible habit of not being frank about things, especially when they’re personally happening to him, which can lead to complications down the road. 

“It’s nothing, Mr. Stark. Really.” Peter says dismissively, eyes turned downcast to his desk where he makes an impressive attempt in looking busy.

So there is something bothering the kid. 

Tony leans his head back, looking up at the ceiling as though it has all the answers. “Okay,” he sighs heavily, running a hand down his face as he directs his attention to Peter again. “Look, enough beating around the bush.” To this, Peter gives him a deer caught in the headlights look. “Happy already gave me the warning something was going on with you so let’s hear it. What’s the problem?”

Peter opens his mouth while spinning a mini screwdriver around in his hand then closes it. Tony can practically see the warring thoughts on his face, though the internal conflict doesn’t last very long. The kid gives a long suffering sigh then says “My Aunt Jan is getting married next Saturday.” 

Tony frowns and tries to connect how that's relevant. “Okay…? Wait.” he gives it some more consideration and adds, “I didn’t know you had another aunt.” 

Granted, he never thought to look very deep into the Parkers family tree but that’s beside the point. 

“I have four aunts actually.” Peter says then adds, “Or, had four aunts. May had a sister named Annie who died before I was born. May has two other sisters - Aunt Jan and Aunt April, which no one talks about for some reason. Aunt Jan says she’s the black sheep of the family and May doesn’t talk about her either, so I imagine her name is burned off the family tree.”

Tony thinks there’s a pop culture reference in there somewhere but he can’t place it. “So your Aunt Jan is getting married.” he says to get things back on topic. “And that’s a bad thing because…?”

“Because she’s just… awful.” Peter groans, chair squeaking as he leans back into it. “She always made these really mean comments and talked about Ben and then talked about Ben and May taking me in, as if they shouldn’t have. And the wedding is all the way in Boston, which means we’ll have to stay at Aunt Jan’s house and I just... “ Peter heaves a sigh, slouching in the chair as he continues playing with the screwdriver. “I don’t want to go.” 

“So don’t.” Tony says, believing it being the simplest solution to Parker’s problem. 

Peter’s head snaps up, looking aghast. “I can’t do that! I promised May and it’s a family event and-”

“It’s obvious you don’t want to go.” Tony says. “So just tell your aunt you changed your mind.” Peter looks like he still wants to protest, to which Tony adds, “Would she force you to do something you don’t want?”

“Yes.” Peter grumbles. 

“All right. Then I’ll give you a Get Out of Jail Free card.” Tony offers. “Just say you have something going on with me that weekend like” - he snaps his fingers until an idea comes to mind - “tell her we’re going to the Compound and I need your help working on some gear.” 

"You would do that, Mr. Stark? Really?" Peter asks, having the gall to sound surprised about it. As if Tony wouldn't do something for the kid. But then Peter deflates into the chair again and shakes his head. "No, I shouldn't. If I don't go, May will be there alone with them." 

Tony hums and nods. "For the greater good, huh?" 

This kid. Sure it's just to a wedding, but this is just another example of who Peter is. Self sacrifice and unwilling to let him become a burden or let someone else suffer. Tony's admiration grows for him day by day. 

"Well, now that's out of the way." Tony claps his hands together as he stands, chair rolling against the tile floor. Peter perks up in his chair, eyes on his mentor as Tony approaches his desk. "Let's go over some upgrades for the suit. Any new ideas?" 

He watches that spark in Peter's eyes, how the kid lights up. "Yeah! Uhm, actually I was thinking about stuff in class today and wrote it down…" 

Tony grabs another chair to join the kid as Peter rambles on about his latest ideas. When he isn't looking, Tony sends a message to Happy. 

'Kid is good. Btw, send a list of hotels in Boston.' 

[alluringjae]

[ 23:45 ] ⮕ END   

part of my collection of cookie cuts from all i do is wait

in order to understand, read the main story first here.

pairing: ghost!doyoung x female!reader

genre: angst, sum fluff if you really squint

warnings: death, grief

author’s note: someone asked me how i would interpret this scene, so here it is. this hurt A LOT. have fun though!

leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Mid-1953

At long last, the Korean War has ended after 3 years.

Over 5 million people dead, and to be one of the lucky survivors was a miracle.

The remaining soldiers who’ve fought through it all could return home, whilst civilians can properly rebuild all that was devastatingly destroyed in their cities. Their own normal lives included.

The fiercest 3 years of your life must you say, too engaged with self-studying your history books saved pre-war while dealing with the bargaining stage of your grief towards Doyoung. Every day, you couldn’t go on without overthinking the what-ifs. On top of that, your toddler Areum was at the stage where she loved creating a mess on the walls with her crayons. No matter how many times you’ve corrected her because it wasn’t your house, she continued anyway.

Now, she’s full-blown crying after you confiscated them and you’re on the verge of it. Thankfully, your mother stepped in to take her out for a walk in the neighborhood so you could unwind for a bit.

Since news broke out that the war ended, everyone from every street cheered and danced on the streets. You hailed with praise along with them, positive that things were going to get better. Yet deep down, you’ve selfishly wished that he was one of the lucky few to come home.

If only you didn’t chicken out so easily after he told you he was enlisting so you had a few more seconds with him.

If only you compromised him to join another field.

If only you told him about Areum earlier so he could go home.

These thoughts revolved your mind the most, instantly getting you to break down wherever you were. Even photos of him and you together were enough to tear down your walls. So, they remained hidden until the day you’re in a much better state of mind.

Dear god, you longed for him. Everything that consists of him.

In hopes to forget this tremendous loss in your life, you poured hot tea in a cup and started on this new book from this ongoing series, The Chronicles of Narnia. Getting it during this harsh period was tough, bartering it with old books you’ve owned in the market.

Fully preoccupied in the fantastical universe, flipping the pages quickly, you almost missed the continuous knocking on your door. You let out a tiny gasp and made your way to the entrance. As delusional to think it was Doyoung, you knew it wasn’t your mother and Areum either because they would’ve simply walked in. Opening it anyways, you were met by two young tall men. One had a bandage on his cheek while the other had a cast on his right arm. Noting their growing hair, they must’ve fought in the war.

Oh, if Doyoung was one of them.

“Hello, may I know who you two are?”

The one with the bandage spoke up, bowing first. “Hello, I am Lee Taeyong and this is my friend, Kim Jungwoo. We were good friends of your late lover, Kim Doyoung.”

Late lover.

Haven’t heard that since people in the neighborhood gossiped about your taboo pregnancy, but it’s not like they knew anyways. But from the letters exchanged with Doyoung before, he talked about these two highly. Whenever there were times of ease while serving, Doyoung was always up to mischievous things with these two. In a situation where they had to man up, they brought out his inner child.

“Oh, yes! Doyoung used to talk about you two in his letters, but I had no clue how you guys looked.”

By instinct, you invited them inside for tea by the patio. You’ve always wanted to meet them despite the circumstances. Bringing in a tray with a teapot and treats, mostly you were inquiring about their lives. Aside from knowing their positions in the team, you learned of their new plans moving forward.

“I want to return to university to finish my studies in mechanical engineering, maybe travel the world too.” Jungwoo stated, blowing on his cup before sipping it. He’s said to be an organized man according to Doyoung, always cautious of his surroundings. It balanced out his liveliness.

“Me too! I want to complete my major in finance, then marry my childhood sweetheart after a few years.” Taeyong expounded, his round eyes glowed in wonder. He must’ve been looking forward to this day, and you were content for him. Meanwhile, it processed to Taeyong what he said, realizing that it may have been insensitive.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” He burst out instantly. “I got stuck in my feelings there.”

“It’s okay, nothing to worry about. You shouldn’t apologize for how you feel.”

“I do think we should feel worried about you though.” Jungwoo interrupted, sighing heavily. “What happened with Doyoung-hyung all those years ago, we’re really concerned for you especially.”

At the mention of the painful memory, this wasn’t the right time to crumble. You weren’t capable to show your vulnerability to anyone but yourself. Plastering a wrenching pretend smile, “I appreciate the concern, truly. But I’ll be okay again. I’m planning to return to university too, then proceed to law school. A shared dream of mine and his.”

Taeyong and Jungwoo transparently viewed you like glass, coping with the grief of it. They were on the same page as you, and unaware to you, they knew his final words. With their interpretation, it only felt right to reach out to you. Befriend you, aid you in any possible way.

At the end of the day, three of you equally shared the suffering over the death of a loved one.

Sitting in peaceful silence, the front door creaked open followed by a tiny, high-pitched voice squealing.

“We’re home!” Your mother shouted.

“I’m at the patio, we have guests over!” You replied, pouring more tea for the two quiet boys.

From such a low-spirited atmosphere only did it liven up when an energetic Areum came into your setting. She had pigtails this time, satisfying herself with fresh bungeo-ppang from the neighborhood. No matter what you’re feeling, it took a single glance of her with her small moon-like eyes to recharge you.

“Mom, who are your friends here?” She pondered cluelessly.

The two boys exchanged looks at each other first, then to you in one breath. Their expressions of perplexity by how one’s hand was on their mouth and the other boy couldn’t stop staring at Areum, you identified exactly what they were thinking of.

“Areum, these are your dad’s friends in the army.” You animatedly confirmed. “The one with that tiny bandage on his face is uncle Taeyong, and the one with the white cast is uncle Jungwoo.”

Doyoung’s death was already so heavy to take in, but upon discovering this hidden surprise, Jungwoo wiped his tears on his sleeve. But you were fast to hand him some tissue. He was younger than you, so your older sister instincts kicked in.

“This is unjust, (Y/N).” He murmured across you so Areum won’t pick up his words. Your lips pressed against each other, maintaining a straight face at him. He was right.

With Taeyong, his arms spread out wide for the small girl who willingly walked to him. He loved children, having a nephew back home. He caressed her smooth hair down to her jaw. The first thing he distinguished was her pretty eyes followed by her squishy cheeks, resembling so much of his late friend.

“You’re so pretty, Areum. Did your mom tell you that you mirror so much of your dad?”

“Yes, she does! But I’ve never met him and I don’t when I will, uncle Taeyong.”

A tragedy how the splitting image of his best friend doesn’t see what everyone sees. But again, she’s only 3 and she can only process so much. She doesn’t know the real truth behind her father’s location, except that he was working far, far away. There are days she’d ask if he’d come back soon, yet your only response is not now. This isn’t the right time for her purity about life to stain.

“Well Areum,” Jungwoo gathered his senses again, crouching down to her level. “As his friends, we know that you look just like him! Prettier even.”

“Really? Tell me more about him, uncle Jungwoo!”

It’s about time someone else shared stories about your late lover because yours was short-lived. It’s even more intriguing to listen to what other people have to say about Doyoung that weren’t his parents. Some stories told by Taeyong and Jungwoo were new to you too, giggling along to their ridiculousness when they’re not training or fighting. Loving their presence, you invited them to stay for dinner with your family, which they couldn’t reject.

What started as a tense conversation transformed into a heartwarming experience. These two boys earned a spot in your life, aspiring for longtime friendships with them. The tender way they cherished for Areum like they’re own after meeting for the first time, it’ll fill in bits of her void. In exchange, they insisted to chip in for you and her lives so it wouldn’t be just you and your family. Struggling already with the consequences of the war, it only felt proper to do so.

“Doyoung has always been there for us, now let us return the favor and be there for you and Areum.”

Your protests were deemed useless, so you allowed them to do so. Once you finished law school and take the exams, you could pay them back. It’s phenomenal how Doyoung’s good influence towards others multiplied even after his passing. Maybe if you began to view things this way, you’d recover sooner. Although he’ll always be in your thoughts, it wouldn’t be as sensitive as it is now.

For now, you’re just going to enjoy the bliss Taeyong and Jungwoo brought, retelling old tales of a drunk Doyoung on the dining table.

From behind your garden fence in secret, Doyoung secretly observed as his treasured companions interacted at last with positivity. His only daughter mirroring his adored smile, he lived in that moment vicariously through her.

What a good time to visit today, truly.

[carewyncromwell]

[Ficlet] Gonna Hit Rewind

Hi guys! So this is a little drabble inspired by a prompt by my friend @drinkyoursoupbitch​, where I show what my MC, Carewyn Cromwell, was up to during a certain scene in the Harry Potter series! 

Before we begin, just a couple of notes --

Post-Hogwarts, Carewyn becomes a lawyer for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement -- you can read more about her life as an adult here, if you’d like! When it comes to the Order of the Phoenix, Carey-Bear doesn’t formally join, instead providing covert assistance while staying autonomous from Dumbledore (who she doesn’t really like as a person) and looking “subservient” to Fudge’s wishes. Later on, this becomes very useful after the Death Eaters take over the Ministry in 1997: when the Battle of Hogwarts begins, Carewyn actually helps take back the Ministry by placing Umbridge under citizen’s arrest and temporarily taking charge until Kingsley Shacklebolt is officially appointed Minister. Carewyn’s outfit in the sketch enclosed below is inspired by this design. Musical accompaniment for this ficlet were “Leave Me Alone” by Michael Jackson (for Carewyn’s conversation with that...certain family member in the aforementioned sketch) and “Turn Back Time” by Derivakat (which inspired the title of this drabble!). And in regards to Carewyn’s negative attitude toward Time Turners...that is 110% my mother talking. When we read Harry Potter and the Cursed Child together, she absolutely hated that it involved time travel, as she found the whole idea ridiculously confusing and illogical. (The whole climax of Prisoner of Azkaban was even her least favorite aspect of the original Potter books. 😂)

Hope you enjoy -- and much love, Soup dear! xoxo

x~x~x~x

“Down here, down here,” panted Mr. Weasley, taking two steps at a time. “The lift doesn’t even come down this far…why they’re doing it there…”

They reached the bottom of the steps and ran along yet another corridor, which bore a great resemblance to that which led to Snape’s dungeon at Hogwarts, with rough stone walls and torches in brackets. The doors they passed here were heavy wooden ones with iron bolts and keyholes.

“Courtroom…Ten…I think…we’re nearly … yes.”

As Arthur Weasley rushed down the hall toward Courtroom Ten, he was unaware that in Courtroom Seven, the door of which was left slightly ajar, Carewyn Cromwell was speaking to her estranged uncle, the new head of the Cromwell Clan, at that very moment, nor that their conversation would ultimately determine Harry’s fate in that courtroom happening just three doors down. 

“You’re not supposed to be here, Blaise, and you know that full well.”

“I merely wished to speak with the Minister, little Winnie -- you are aware of how much our family still supports the Ministry and, by extension, your career, are you not?”

Carewyn fixed Blaise with a very cold blue eye. “And I suppose Lucius Malfoy speaking with the Minister down here mere moments ago had nothing to do with you making an unscheduled visit?”

Blaise cocked his eyebrows, his identically colored and shaped eyes narrowing under them.

“I can sense you trying to enter my mind, Winnie,” he said very softly, his eyes rippling like light blue flames despite the hardness of his face. “It won’t work. You couldn’t reach my thoughts when you were a girl, and you can’t reach them now.”

His voice became cooler, to the point of sounding condescending. 

“Whatever questions you have, you know your uncle would be more than willing to answer them, if you merely ask nicely.”

‘Answer’ -- ha! Carewyn thought to herself scornfully. Lie your face off, more like. But even so...if I’m going to get what I need, I need to keep him talking...

Carewyn went very quiet, considering Blaise carefully and her next words even more so. 

“...Are you or are you not associating with Lucius Malfoy?” she asked softly.

“You might recall that he and Father were business associates back in the day.”

“Of course I do. That’s why I’m asking. Or have you forgotten where Grandfather’s activities sentenced him -- where they sentenced you, until you were able to bribe the Minister to reduce the rest of your family’s sentences?”

“Our family, little Winnie,” Blaise corrected her, a notable, fiery edge to his voice.

You all may be related to me by blood, but you are not my family, Carewyn thought fiercely, but she once again bit her tongue. If she provoked his temper the way she was tempted to, he’d be less likely to talk to her. 

When she didn’t respond, Blaise continued. 

“Lucius Malfoy has always had a working relationship with the Cromwell Clan. It’s only natural that we speak from time to time, as two patriarchs of prominent magical families.”

“Magical families with certain reputations, you mean,” Carewyn said very coolly. 

“Cornelius Fudge thinks very highly of Lucius Malfoy.”

“And of you, thanks to your impressive acting. But that doesn’t extend to everyone else, and you know it.”

“Of course,” said Blaise with a very cool smirk. “That’s something we have in common, isn’t it, Winnie? Putting on a charming face to get what we want, and not caring who hates us for it?”

Carewyn didn’t care enough to argue this point -- she’d already had this sort of discussion with Rakepick several times back in the day, and she knew that it meant Blaise was not only trying to divert the conversation, but also was absolutely full of it. 

You’re acting like this fact makes us just as bad as each other, Blaise, but it doesn’t. Even if we have some similarities in our methods, that does not make us the same. I’ve never terrorized people to try to advance myself. I’ve never manipulated or forced anyone to join a criminal organization. I’ve never masqueraded as my nephew in order to try to manipulate my niece into selling her soul and her freedom just to save him. However much I’m not perfect, I’m head-and-shoulders above you, when it comes to the moral high ground.

But honestly, there was no point in arguing with people like Blaise. It wasn’t like she’d ever convince him that everything he thought was wrong -- that Muggles weren’t inferior, Charles Cromwell was an abusive monster, and everything he and the Cromwell Clan did to try to get Carewyn, Jacob, and Lane back under their control was reprehensible rather than justified -- and she didn’t feel enough passion to try. Especially not when there were more important things happening at that very moment...

Harry would be in the courtroom by now. She had to hurry.

Although Carewyn tried to keep her face stoic, her brain was working very fast. Her eyes drifted away, off toward the far wall of the courtroom where the Wizengamot benches were lined up.

“...Look,” she said slowly, her voice becoming a little softer, “my Legilimency has become very sensitive, in this line of work. It allows me to read people’s intentions and feelings very quickly, even when I’m not actively trying to. And Lucius Malfoy...he doesn’t see you as an equal, but as a pawn.”

Blaise’s eyebrows came down over his eyes, but he didn’t respond.

“You and the rest of the Cromwell Clan only got out of Azkaban because you were able to appeal to Fudge,” said Carewyn, “but if you’re associating with the wrong people, that could very quickly sour. Your position will become uncertain again, and you won’t be able to protect them -- especially if Fudge gets the kind of control over the Wizengamot that he wants...where charges and judgments are laid down based on favoritism more than legality. We’re already seeing it with how Fudge is now treating Dumbledore and Potter, after how much he always sucked up to them. End up outside of Fudge’s good graces, as they did, and the same might befall you. I realize that you and Malfoy...”

Are Muggle-hating bigots.

“...have similar politics,” she said at last very stiffly, “...but Lucius Malfoy’s politics are far more extreme than yours, and although the courts decided there wasn’t enough evidence to prove his methods were also...we both know that’s also true. If he falls, he will drag you down with him -- and if you take the fall for his actions, he won’t lift a finger to help you.”

Carewyn forced herself to look Blaise in the eye. 

“Grandfather’s dealings with R got you all in enough trouble. You bought yourself and the rest of...our family a second chance -- something many others did not get. Are you sure you want to endanger that?”

Blaise considered Carewyn very carefully as she spoke, his blue eyes boring into hers critically. By the end, they’d actually widened.

“...Are you actually expressing concern for us, Winnie?” he asked very lowly. 

Carewyn scoffed. “Don’t misunderstand me, Blaise -- I don’t really think you all deserved a second chance in the first place, after everything you’ve pulled.”

Her blue eyes became a bit more solemn. 

“But truthfully...I’m not that upset that you were released from Azkaban. Dementors...they’re wretched creatures. I’ve seen what they can do to people.”

Her expression darkened.  

“...I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, however terrible they are.”

Something confused and almost disgusted rippled over Blaise’s face, making his nose wrinkle.

“Ugh -- and here I’d thought you’d actually weeded out that weakness in your heart...”

Carewyn’s red lips came together tightly, but she didn’t reply. The two stared each other down for a moment, before Blaise finally exhaled.

“Very well, Winnie -- you want to know why I’m down here?”

He reached into his scarlet robes and pulled out a gold chain, on the end of which dangled a tiny gold hourglass. 

A Time Turner. 

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed upon it. 

“Lucius Malfoy has expressed quite a bit of interest in my old department, when we’ve spoken,” murmured Blaise. “One sub-section in particular -- one where records of magical predictions are kept.”

Carewyn’s eyebrows furrowed. “Prophecies?”

“They are truly a fascinating thing,” said Blaise, his voice sounding rather airy. “So much value is placed on them -- too much, one could argue...just as one puts too much value on all attempts at ‘future sight.’ Alas, the section of my old department that Malfoy was interested in was not my area of expertise -- my area was in the study of Time, specifically backwards-facing. We did occasionally dip into the study of forward-facing time magic, but more in the sphere of inevitabilities -- things that evolve naturally in nature, every season -- not human affairs. Unfortunately when I was there, there was an employee monitoring the perimeter of the section I meant to enter -- I couldn’t have explored further even if I’d wanted to.”

“So Malfoy wanted you to stop by your old desk and pick up something that might help him or someone else enter the Department of Mysteries?” Carewyn asked. “Why?”

Blaise shrugged. “He didn’t say.”

“And yet you have a suspicion as to why?”

Blaise’s eyes narrowed upon Carewyn’s face, not angrily, but almost darkly. 

“I may no longer work for the Department of Mysteries, Winnie, but I cannot discuss the more classified branches of their work too deeply. That is part of the Vow I made when I first joined the Department -- it forces me to speak in hypotheticals and vague descriptions more than specific details. But I fear no random stooge using this tool to try to enter my old department, whether Malfoy or otherwise. In fact,” he added with a smirk, “I would frankly love to see them try.”

He ignored Carewyn’s critical, confused expression and pressed on more seriously. 

“You’re not a stupid girl, Winnie. I know you know what’s really going on, under the surface. Me offering assistance to Lucius Malfoy early on is merely how I intend to earn enough favor to keep my family safe, should the worst happen.”

“And what is that?” asked Carewyn.

Blaise cocked his eyebrows again. “Ask your mother. She remembers the First Wizarding War just as well as I do -- how it all started before.”

He turned on his heel and headed for the door.

“Blaise.”

Carewyn speaking his name and sharply grabbing his arm holding the Time Turner made him stop. 

“If you wish to provide Lucius Malfoy useful information,” she said lowly, “you can tell him that that employee was not there by accident.”

Blaise looked back over his shoulder, startled. Carewyn closed her eyes tight, trying to block out the intense nausea rippling over her. 

“He’s there to make sure Malfoy’s superior can’t reach what he wants,” she murmured. “There are many more, just like him, all with the same goal. It doesn’t matter when you go there -- there will always be someone there who will keep him away from what he wants.”

Blaise stared at Carewyn, his eyes narrowing in bewilderment. 

“...Why are you telling me this?” he whispered. 

Carewyn swallowed back the lump in her throat. 

“I haven’t worked with time magic like you have...but people aren’t supposed to be in two places at once. That I do know. A lot of problems have been caused by people trying to mess with time. Mum told me that once in the 19th century, a whole bunch of people’s lives were erased out of existence, all because someone messed around with a Time Turner...”

“Ah, yes, Eloise Mintumble,” said Blaise, sounding as darkly amused as a bully might upon seeing one of their usual targets wearing a particularly obnoxious dress. “Tried to go back more than a few hours and ended up changing things so dramatically that she both erased 25 people out of existence and aged her body five centuries and died upon return trip. A rather fascinating case study.”

“You’re disgusting,” Carewyn said coldly. But she got back to the task at hand, her voice hardening. “Even if Malfoy couldn’t get what his master wants from the Department of Mysteries with that Time Turner, he could still do irreparable damage with it. If all Malfoy needs is assistance, to believe that you’re helping him and for you to earn enough esteem that the Cromwell Clan stays safe...then give him the intelligence I’ve given you. Don’t give him that Time Turner.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow, his lips spreading into a rather condescending smirk. “Why? Because it’s wrong, little Winnie? Because it’s illegal and immoral, and ‘not the right thing to do?’”

“I’m not foolish enough to appeal to you with morality, Blaise -- I know you don’t have any,” spat Carewyn. “I’m asking you not to do it for your own self-preservation. For the Clan’s. ...For your family’s.”

Blaise’s smirk actually slid off his face. Carewyn held his gaze as best as she could, even with how ill she felt. 

“I may not be one of those who takes turns standing watch in your old department,” Carewyn said very softly, “but Jacob is.”

Blaise’s face went rather white, and Carewyn knew she’d struck a cord. For as cruel, selfish, and immoral of a person as Blaise was, he still saw his family -- all of it -- like his personal belongings. And he “took care” of his belongings. He wanted complete control over them and, like Charles before him, he never respected them as people, nurtured them, or gave them any freedom...but Blaise didn’t want anyone touching “his things.”

The older man’s jaw clenched as a rather dark glint flashed through his eyes.

“...I see.”

His teeth still bared, he extended the hand holding the Time Turner’s gold chain and, very slowly, lowered it into Carewyn’s hand. 

Carewyn’s eyes softened in relief.

“Thank you.”

Blaise exhaled heatedly through his nose.

“Jacob always was a fool,” he growled, his voice full of resentment. “Risking his life for people like that Muggle filth who abandoned you and your mother -- ”

“Better than selling his soul and freedom to serve the person who locked my mother and all of you up like prisoners,” Carewyn shot back rather coolly.

Blaise’s eyes flashed angrily. “You will not speak ill of your grandfather, Winnie! Everything he ever did in his life was for us, including you, your brother, and your mother, and I will not have you forgetting that!”

“Crow that lie as much as you want -- it won’t ever make it true.”

Blaise seethed as Carewyn pocketed the Time Turner in her robes. Slowly, his temper cooled enough that his lips spread back out into a rather vindictive smirk.

“For the record, Winnie...Time moves in a loop. If Lucius Malfoy were to use the Time Turner after I give it to him a half-hour from now, the effects would’ve already been felt by us by now. We would have heard about someone having broken into the Department of Mysteries before our conversation even started. The fact that we are not hearing that means that he never receives the Time Turner from me. So, in fact, it was already clear that I would give you the Time Turner before I actually did -- ”

“Oh, shut your trap,” Carewyn said tiredly. Just listening to Blaise wax on was giving her a headache. “I don’t even want to try unpacking all that time travel rubbish. All I care about is that Malfoy and his ilk can’t try to mess with time, now or ever.”

She turned on her heel and strode for the slightly ajar door. Pushing it further open, she then looked back over her shoulder at Blaise. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to take care of. Stay out of trouble, or I will not hesitate to prosecute you.”

Blaise’s eyes were very cold even around his smirk. “If there’s anyone who should be warned to stay out of trouble, it’s you, Winnie. I’m not the only one who’s aligned themselves with people who could drag them down, if they fall.”

“Perhaps,” said Carewyn mildly. “But my friends will catch me if I fall, just as they have before. Just like I always catch them. That makes all the difference.”

She walked away, her heels clapping against the black tiled floor as she strode to the end of the hall, listening at the door of Courtroom Ten. She could hear several voices talking inside -- after a moment, she recognized two as Amelia Bones and Cornelius Fudge. 

“...certainly described the effects of a dementor attack very accurately. And I can’t imagine why she would say they were there if they weren’t -- ”

“But dementors wandering into a Muggle suburb and just happening to come across a wizard! The odds on that must be very, very long, even Bagman wouldn’t have bet -- ”

“Oh, I don’t think any of us believe the dementors were there by coincidence,” said a very misty, serene voice from inside the Courtroom.

Carewyn’s shoulders relaxed, even as her eyes rolled up toward the ceiling.

Dumbledore. He’d made it in time. 

Exhaling heavily, Carewyn quickly turned back around and walked briskly back down the hallway, back upstairs toward her office. On the way, she walked by Blaise, who was now deep in quiet conversation with Lucius Malfoy, and Carewyn and Malfoy coldly stared each other down as she passed.

x~x~x~x

Carewyn hated keeping the Time Turner in her desk. She wanted to be rid of the thing immediately, but she knew she had to be patient. 

Around 11:00, just before lunchtime, Carewyn asked to borrow a Dungbomb from Tonks and covertly dropped off it just outside the Auror Department on her way back to her tiny office. The resulting smell resulted in the entire floor clearing out, until someone could deal with the smell. Carewyn herself, however, stayed in her office and powered through, spraying some Muggle air freshener to try to mask the smell. 

I forgot how much I hate Dungbombs, Carewyn thought dully. Oh well...desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess.

Keeping the files on a case she was working on open on either side of her, Carewyn read through them every-so-often as she pecked away at a letter she had to write. This letter had to be concise and to the point, if its recipient was going to know it was safe and exactly what she had to do, to help keep Harry Potter from getting unjustly expelled. 

Right on time, three hours after Harry’s hearing, Carewyn’s Legilimency picked up the feeling that someone was approaching her office. A moment later, there was a knock on her door. 

The ginger-haired lawyer exhaled heavily, her eyebrows knitting together. 

“Come in,” she said. 

Although she kept her voice level, she already felt a headache coming on. She knew who was on the other side of that door -- and sure enough, when it opened, in came tall, silver-bearded Albus Dumbledore, dressed in long midnight-blue robes. 

Carewyn’s eyes hardened as the Hogwarts Headmaster closed the door behind him.

“Hello, Carewyn,” Dumbledore said pleasantly. 

“You got my message from Tonks, then?” Carewyn asked. 

“To come straight to your office as soon as I arrived, but to not let anyone see me entering? Yes. Though I daresay the evacuation of this floor thanks to the smell of Dungbombs helped with that considerably,” said Dumbledore, and his light blue eyes twinkled. “I presume it has something to do with why some members of the Wizengamot were asking what I was doing back here so soon, and why Cornelius looked even more sour at my presence than usual.”

Carewyn’s face was twisted in a deep frown as she finally took the Time Turner out of the drawer and put it on top of her desk. 

“The time and place of Harry’s hearing was changed three hours ago, with no notice,” she said stridently. “The hearing originally scheduled for 11 o’clock instead was moved to 8 o’clock at 7:58 this morning. The letter was sent by owl to Privet Drive at 7:59, right before a second letter informing Harry that because he didn’t show up for his hearing, he was presumed guilty and therefore expelled from Hogwarts. Both letters arrived at 8:52. The Order wasn’t informed of the change until a little after 9, but was also informed by Arthur Weasley that you’d had the matter well in hand and had arrived miraculously early.”

“And so they felt no need to send me any post regarding the matter,” presumed Dumbledore with a dewy smile. “But in order for all of that to have happened, I will have to go back and ensure it does happen -- isn’t that so?”

Carewyn nodded curtly as she handed the Time Turner and a sealed envelope to Dumbledore. 

“Three turns back should be enough -- you don’t want to risk changing too much, by arriving too early, and I have a closed-door meeting with Chester Davies prior to that. Give this letter to me as soon as you arrive in the past. As soon as she...escorts you out, head straight for Courtroom Ten. You should arrive just after Harry does -- it shouldn’t raise as much suspicion if you make it to the courtroom after Harry, since he was already in Arthur’s office when he first received word of the change...”

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with some mischief. “Clever as always, Carewyn, my dear. You do the Order very proud.”

Carewyn’s eyes flashed. “I’m not doing this for you or your ‘Order,’ Dumbledore, as you know full well. Jacob was completely at R’s mercy after he was expelled from Hogwarts, and I don’t want to even think about where Potter might end up, if the same thing happened to him. And if Jacob’s guarding something in the Department of Mysteries, I don’t want to make it any easier for You-Know-Who and his goons to get the drop on him.”

Dumbledore’s calm didn’t shift, though his eyes did turn a bit more solemn. “And as always, Carewyn, your cleverness is only rivaled by your caring for others.” 

Rising to his feet, the Headmaster tucked the envelope inside his robes and then picked up the Time Turner. 

“I’ll be seeing you,” he said cheerily, “or, should I say, ‘I will have seen you?’”

And with three turns, he’d disappeared.

Carewyn gave an exhausted, groan-like sigh.

“I hate Time Turners,” she muttered to herself.

x~x~x~x

When Dumbledore appeared in Carewyn’s office out of the blue at 8 o’clock that morning, the ginger-haired lawyer reacted with a lot of irritation and suspicion. Those feelings weren’t helped when Dumbledore handed her the letter addressed to her, and yet written in a hand identical to hers.

Carewyn,

First of all, yes, I know you recognize this handwriting. This isn’t a trick -- it’s just the work of a Time Turner: specifically the one Dumbledore’s holding. On that note, ask him to hand it over and then smash it. We have more than enough problems in the here and now: no sense in adding more time travel rubbish to the pile. 

Now that that’s been taken care of, let’s get to business --

The time and place of Harry’s hearing was moved just a minute ago. It now starts at 8 o’clock in the morning in Courtroom Ten. Don’t worry, Arthur’s already been notified and is ferrying Harry as we speak, but Dumbledore needs to get down there right now. Kick him out of your office, nice and loudly -- there are people outside who could overhear, and you don’t want anyone to think you and Dumbledore are on good terms. Which, fortunately, you’re not. 

Now that Dumbledore’s out of your hair, let’s go over what you need to do -- 

Blaise has sneaked into the Ministry, specifically the bottommost floor near the Department of Mysteries, on Lucius Malfoy’s direction. No, Blaise isn’t a Death Eater -- just short-sighted and self-serving as ever. The point is that he has a Time Turner on his person, which he cannot be allowed to walk away with, under any circumstances. You’ll be able to catch him leaving the Department of Mysteries if you go downstairs in the next fifteen minutes. He’ll be meeting Lucius Malfoy around 8:30, in the middle of Harry’s hearing, so don’t let him walk away without getting that Time Turner away from him. Don’t come at the issue straight-on, though -- you can appeal to Blaise to give it to you willingly. Just keep him talking. Once you have the Time Turner, you can hold onto it until Dumbledore arrives in your office at the time that was originally scheduled for Harry’s hearing, so he can use it to go back far enough to arrive at Harry’s hearing on time. 

I know, this Time Travel stuff is absolutely bloody ridiculous. But at least this way Malfoy won’t be able to use the Time Turner Blaise stole to cause even more havoc. 

Burn this letter as soon as you’re done reading it. We don’t want anyone coming across it. 

Good luck. 

As for Dumbledore himself, he arrived at Harry’s hearing right on time, all according to plan. 

“Ah,” said Fudge, who looked thoroughly disconcerted. “Dumbledore. Yes. You --er -- got our -- er -- message that the time and -- er -- place of the hearing had been changed, then?”

“I must have missed it,” said Dumbledore cheerfully. “However, due to a lucky mistake I arrived at the Ministry three hours early, so no harm done.”

[zodiyack]

Good Intentions with Bad Outcomes

Requested by anon: Could you write for shelby sis who fights with tommy and in his anger he says something really hurtful to her and she leaves. Tommy doesn't take it seriously cause he thinks she'll be back soon anyways but she stays way a couple weeks because she had to hide from someone? and when she comes back everyone is angry at first till they realize that something's off with her and she tells them later on? With a fluffy family end? Sorry if it's too specific:)

Pairing: Tommy + Shelby!Female!Reader, Shelby & Gray family + Shelby!reader (no romance)

Warnings: Swearing, angst, reader being best friends with Esme that’s a warning and we all know it, fluff, smol sexual reference, mention of homophobia + abuse, mention of blinding; Peaky Edition™, slight straying from request(?)

Taglist:  @matth1w​, @redspaceace​, @simonsbluee​, @peakysputain​

Tags just for this fic: @mzcrazy2​

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

He snapped.

It was just a small argument, at first, but Y/n wouldn’t stop digging. She fought first, he tried to reason with himself, but he knew it was his fault. He was going to apologize, as soon as she dropped the act and came home.

He waited in a chair by the door.

Any moment now. Just a couple seconds and she’d come bursting through the door, admitting her defeat and accepting her brother’s apology, perhaps even apologizing herself.

He checked his pocket watch.

If not now, maybe, and preferably, before 4 am. Tommy grew tired with each passing moment. He knew Pol would kill him if anything happened to Y/n, and he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself either, so he told himself to sit by the front door and wait for her, but sleep just seemed far too important. It was something he didn’t get much, and it wasn’t like he could stop himself.

So he slept on the couch. Like a baby, might he add.

However, his awakening was not as peaceful as his sleep. Polly slapped his leg rather harshly with her glove. Her eyes were beat red and her heart was racing faster than the horses her and her family bet on. “Wake up, you bastard!”

“Whatever seems to be the matter, Pol?” He rubbed his eye sleepily and sat upright, but yet again was attacked by his aunt’s gloves.

“You know damn well what’s the matter!” Tommy gave her a look of confusion. “Your sister is missing, goddammit!”

He chuckled, loudly. His amusement earned him more attacks from the gloves as Polly glared down at him, “What the bloody hell do you think is so funny about Y/n being missing?”

“She’s not missing Pol, she’s too fucking chicken to run. Just, relax, alright Pol? She’ll be back in what, five hours?” Thomas smirked at his aunt before grabbing his coat and walking out the front door. He went on his way, walking back to his own home.

“Tommy! Like I’ve said, he’s just a friend!”

“Yeah? Just a friend? Look at him, he just wants to get in your knickers, Y/n/n!” He laughed with his older and younger brother, watching the boy, their sister’s age, flush red with eyes the size of saucers. He noticed his sister look away, equally embarrassed as her guest. “Is that what you are, huh Y/n? A whore? Look at that brothers, our baby sister’s become a whore!”

Y/n grunted and pushed past them, trying to get out of the room, but Tommy grabbed her arm. His teasing smile was long gone. “Y/n/n. Send. Him. Home.”

“You lost the right to call me that when you called me a whore.”

Weeks had passed. Still no sign of Y/n.

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you too! Whoring around with some kid-”

“Thomas! I’m not a fucking whore! You may keep your sanity by sneaking around with those women, but I can assure you, brother,” she spat the word with a certain venom to her tone, “none of the whores in the whole bloody fucking world could show you how much of a worthless, sad, piece of shit excuse for a brother you are. Lucky for me,” she leaned in, speaking through clenched teeth, “I’m no whore.”

Y/n grabbed her coat and ran out the door, flipping Tommy off in the process of her exit mission. The shocked expression lazily covered with a horrible attempt of a blank look on Tommy’s face was priceless. He never expected nor meant for it go this far.

That’s when she left. That’s when he laughed to himself and waited by the door, telling himself over and over that she was only kidding around. That she was going to come home.

It had almost been a whole fucking month.

He finally saw the truth.

She was either missing, serious about leaving, or had, as much as he didn’t want to think about it, died. And he was the one who had to break the news to his family. When he did, many different reactions were shared.

Esme, who held a close bond with Y/n, slapped Tommy with small “cat-fight” hits to his arm until John pulled her back. John refused to look at Tommy, full of his own guilt for not stopping the joke before it got too far. Arthur drank his sorrows away, but not before bowing his head in shame as well.

And as for Polly, she gave Thomas a disappointed, disapproving glare and hit his arm, similar to Esme, but with full force, figurative steam coming from her ears accompanied by the tears flowing from her brown orbs. The action spelled it out better than words could’ve. Not that she would’ve said anything about it anyways, as she currently wished to be on something, anything, worse than “not on speaking-terms” with her nephew.

They knew Y/n was at fault as well, but she wasn’t there at that moment, so Tommy was facing his punishment while they had their free time. Esme baked Y/n’s favorite Romani treats, the reasoning quite obvious when Pol and Ada had pointed it out,

“You’re going through a grieving process. She may not have died, for all we know, but you feel that you lost her, and it’s hurting you intensely.”

Some days, Ada joined in, baked her share, and brought them back to her house. Today, however, it was just Esme.

Or so she thought.

The feeling of unease washed over her. A chilly wind blew into the room. She’d had her fair share of the supernatural, but this presence felt alive. Esme’s hand reached for the knife before she spun around, dropping the blade at the sight in front of her.

“Y/n- what the bloody hell...?” Y/n tried to walk over for a hug, but only managed to get half way before Esme snapped back to her senses and hit her friend over and over again with one of her aprons. “Where” hit “Have” hit “You” hit “Been!?”

“Oh you know...exploring.”

“Fucking hell, Y/n, you grew up in Birmingham, in fact, you’re still growing up, here, in Birmingham. So tell me. What’s wrong? If you decide not to tell me, just know that John’s sleeping upstairs, and don’t, for one second, think I won’t go wake his lazy arse up.”

“Oh yeah, sure, Esme, maybe get him to tell Tommy to get that stick out his ass, would you? I mean, it’s got to be painful with how far up there he makes it out to be.”

Esme frowned, remembering what Thomas told them all. “Oh hun... you should’ve told me and came over here! I’m sure John wouldn’t have minded, and if he would’ve... well that’s too bad for him, innit?” Y/n giggled softly and began to smile, causing Esme to cheer with joy. “See! Come, I’ll make you some tea!”

“Well? Where the fuck were you!?” Polly inspected Y/n for injuries, finding bruises along wrists. 

“Nowhere, I’m fine. I just fell into some trouble and, like Arthur taught me, won.”

Arthur chuckled proudly, “Attagir-”

“No. Tell us the truth, Y/n.”

“I am.”

Polly leaned closer to her niece. They held eye contact, Y/n could see the tears threatening to spill over her Aunt’s lower eye lids. She inhaled, preparing to speak, hesitated, to up the dramatic effect, and finally let a word free. “Liar.”

“To be fair Pol, she had been at my home for the past week-”

A gasp and a cough, both from Pol, sounded in the room from shock. “She what?” she drawled.

“My point is, Aunt Pol, my small home, all the little ones, there would be some points where she’d trip, ya know? Even Esme gets some bruises like that-”

“Mhm. It’s totally from the small house.” Arthur chuckled into his cup, snorting when Pol flicked him on the back of his head. “Anyways, she said it Pol, she’s fine. No broken bones, no bloody noses, John gave an explanation for any bruises, she’s fine.”

“I’m with Polly on this one. She didn’t seem all that well at our home, John, and she didn’t run around enough to get bruises. Sorry, love.” She winced apologetically at her sister-in-law.

Y/n shrugged and walked from the room, trying hard to keep the emotions inside. If she didn’t cry, they couldn’t know that she had lied. Not that it was any use, Pol was already onto her and her siblings were giving her suspicious looks.

Tommy followed his younger sister and closed the door behind himself. “Y/n/n. Are you alrig-”

She hugged him, tightly. Thomas could feel his shirt dampening from his sister’s tears. Y/n broke, despite her plan not to, she couldn’t hold it in anymore. Her sobs were painful for Tommy to hear. His protective and brotherly instincts kicked in as he processed the muffled cries of the voice belonging to the girl he watched grow up, the girl cared ever so deeply about, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her tightly.

“Tommy... I couldn’t help him.”

“Who?” She looked up at him with sad expression. He remembered the night. He called his sister a whore for joking purposes and with the intent of preventing her from ending her night with a broken heart, it didn’t help that he was slightly drunk, and he didn’t realize she’d take it to heart. “I-”

“It’s alright, Tom, you had good intentions, they just didn’t have the best of outcomes.”

“Y/n/n, I shouldn’t have called you that, no matter my intentions.”

She hugged her brother again, both Shelby siblings unaware of the door opening and their audience that stood on the other side of it. “Tommy, you wanna know what happened? I was like you, had good intentions, but a bad outcome.”

“What’s this of bad outcomes?” Pol stepped forward, tears spilling over the brims of her eyes and a small smile upon her lips. Y/n began to cry harder, and Polly wrapped her arms around her after Tommy moved out of the way. She rested her head on Y/n’s and mumbled soft affirmations as her hand moved up and down her back soothingly.

“Tells us what happened, dear, from the start, okay?” Y/n nodded, separating from her aunt and sitting in the middle of her clan, who sat on either the sofa or a chair.

“The boy Tommy assumed was into me, was being abused. I was trying to help, prevent him from being hurt anymore than he already was. His father hated him because he... he likes boys. I figured, if I hung around, his father would think the opposite and leave him alone. But one day he slapped him, right in front of me. I got so mad, I- I- it was like I- like all I could see was red-”

“Deep breath, there’s no rush, little sister.” Arthur rested a hand on Y/n’s shoulder reassuringly, earning a kind and appreciative smile from the girl.

“Thank you, Arthur. I hurt his father, so I wasn’t lying about that part, but he got back up. Illia, the boy, helped me out of his house and ran with me. We got pretty far and ended up staying at a small abandoned cabin, a good place for us while we were in hiding. He managed to find a place with his grandmother out of the UK, who could care less about his romantic or sexual preferences in gender, and that’s when I started for home. We went our separate ways and our hiding was no longer necessary.”

“I have a question.” Ada raised her hand, in attempt of getting her family to notice her. Y/n nodded and awaited her older sister’s question. “If you were free from hiding...why didn’t you come home right away? Why’d you stay with John and Esme for an extra week?”

“Yeah, I’d like to know that too. We all thought you’d died, Y/n.”

“Oh...” She looked down, wiping away some of her tears, “I didn’t want you to get mad at me. Or have Illia hurt due to certain lovely trios attacking before thinking. He didn’t kidnap me, but if I came back after news of him fleeing Britain spread, you’d probably assume such.”

Polly sat beside her niece with a soft smile and pulled her into yet another hug. “It’s good to have you back. You’ve missed so much, and we’ve missed you. What do you say we eat dinner as a family today, celebrate your return?”

Ada walked over and joined the two women, wrapping her arm around Y/n as well.

“Get over here, all of yous. I don’t give a fuck if you don’t want to hug all of us, right now it’s about Y/n-”

“Pol,” Arthur chuckled heartily, “We’re not gonna argue, we missed her too.”

Tommy was first to step up, stopping in front of Y/n. He pulled her into him, welcoming her into a warm hug, then Polly wrapped her other arm around Tommy, Ada mirroring her Aunt. Arthur found a spot, as did Esme and Finn. John muttered something along the lines of “to hell with it” and finally joined in on the family hug.

That night, they celebrated, just as Polly said. The girls exchanged gossip with Y/n about what she had missed, the boys teased her, with lighter jokes this time, and shared the news the girls failed to inform Y/n of. By the end of the night, everyone had passed out in the living room with smiles on their face, adults with alcohol in their stomachs, all apart from Y/n and Tommy.

“Tommy?” He grunted in response to his sister, fidgeting with the glass in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

Tom paused, inhaling slowly. The entire time, he thought she was the own who owed him an apology, at least a small one. But he was the one who said the words. He was the one who watched her leave without chasing after her. “Don’t be. If anyone here should be sorry, it’s me.” He looked over to her, the siblings holding eye contact, “You’re not a whore, okay? I never should’ve said that, even if it was true or not, it wasn’t kind of me. I hurt you because I misread your friend’s intentions and-”

“Good intentions, bad outcome.”

“Y-yeah. But my intentions were not needed, Y/n/n. They were something I should’ve kept to myself, but I did it with Ada too, and now she and I have... well a relationship that’s not as strong as ours.”

“Tommy,” she knew what he was trying to say, “you could never ruin our relationship. We may fight, but at the end of the day, your my big brother.” She moved closer to him. “I look up to you, admire you, shit, I wish I was you sometimes.”

“You don’t want to be me, trust me.”

Y/n laughed. “You’re right, I don’t want to be you. I don’t think having a stick up my ass sounds the most comforting-”

“Oi, watch what you say, Miss Blinder, you’re messing with the rest of the world now.”

He tickled her, but stopped when she held up a hand and made a face. “Wait- Peaky Blinders..?” He nodded. “No- you aren’t- Tommy!” Thomas shushed his sister with a chuckle that matched hers, pure happiness in the Shelby home.

“Yep. You’re a Blinder now, sister.” He raised a shot glass, “May all your good intentions have greater outcomes.”

“No, actually.”

“What?” He stopped his hand before the glass could reach his lips, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

She smiled at her brother, raising her own glass, “I prefer the good intentions with bad outcomes, after all, if this is the aftermath of a good intention and it’s bad outcome, I’d be more than happy to make sure all my good deeds had bad endings.”

“Careful there sister, one should be wise about how they phrase such a promise.” 

He didn’t believe in bad luck, nor God, or really anything, for all Y/n knew. That’s what he led others to believe- yet it was like he was warning her about the possibility of bad luck. Beliefs aside, his words were showing a hidden genuine concern to his sister’s.

“I suppose a few good outcomes are acceptable.” They clinked their glasses together and drank their drinks with matching smiles. 

It felt amazing to be back, even better to be back and offered with an opportunity to initiate revenge for Illia. Being a Peaky Blinder had many perks, like the infamous line that was known for being the first thing one hears after losing their sight.

The line that brought motivation to her good intention that could end with a very bad outcome for herself instead of the person she planned it for, had she gone through with it before being presented with the razor dawning cap. The line she’d finally be able to say. The line that could, should, and would be the last thing the evil bastard heard.

Don’t fuck with the Peaky Blinders.

[livia-dovehallow]

Hello ! I just finish COI and I love your gabrily fics,

CHAIN OF IRON SPOILER

so can you do one about the part of Gabriel near death experience, maybe in the infirmary or Cecily realising Gabriel in distress with Anna, Christopher and Alexander in it ?

THANK YOU!! :’) You actually have the perfect request as I was already working on a piece on that exact topic. I plan to make an extended version of this soon, but for now, please enjoy!

WARNING: COI SPOILERS AHEAD

Stay With Me - Gabrily (Chain of Iron Fix-It Series by livia-dovehallow)

Characters: Gabriel Lightwood, Cecily Herondale-Lightwood, Anna Lightwood, Christopher Lightwood, Alexander Lightwood, Will Herondale, Thomas Lightwood, Alastair Carstairs

Time slowed down.

As if the world had stopped along with the beat of her heart, Cecily could only watch as the creature’s barbed tentacle grabbed hold of her Gabriel and brought him down.

“Father!” she heard her precious Kit scream before he ran toward Gabriel, Thomas and Alastair Carstairs close behind.

No, Cecily thought, Raziel, no, please no. She held the witchlight stone in her hand with a grip that should have shattered an ordinary rock. She knew she shouldn’t scream; Alexander was in the room, sitting quietly on the bed behind her, and she need not frighten him more than he already was.

“Be brave, my darling,” she had told him when they first fled up the stairs. She had tucked him in below the sheets, kissed his head, and gazed into his wide, scared eyes. “We are brave, yes?”

Alex had nodded and believed her. Cecily did not believe her own words now.

A scream—a terrified, broken scream—lay stuck in her throat. Gabriel was nowhere to be seen, taken below the murky waters. The only sign he was still alive were the signs of struggle in the rippling water and the young boys slashing vigorously at the creature’s extended body. Christopher was unlike his normal self; his face was hard, his body swinging and throwing with all its might. Cecily did not know what she would do if she lost them both today—the love of her life and their sweet, sweet boy.

She knew her marriage runes were symbolic—meant to display their vows of love and loyalty to one another—but she did not lose faith that there was something more. Something beyond symbols that connected her to Gabriel.

Come back to me, Cecily prayed. Come back to me, Gabriel. Please don’t leave me now.

.

.

This was not how Gabriel wanted to end his day. Or his life, for that matter.

The barbs on the tentacle twisted around him dug deep into his skin. Had he screamed with the pain then he would have drowned by now, surely. He heard Christopher’s shout before he went below the water and hoped he was all right. Gabriel wanted to live, but if giving his life meant his family would live, it was an easy decision.

Above him he could see the faintest of shadows indicating that there were people above him fighting to set him free. He knew from the shape of one of the shadows that it had to be Thomas and Christopher there, hacking away. The third shadow was anyone’s guess.

Gabriel thrashed, ignoring the continual digging of the barbs into his skin. He’d lost his knife in the fall but there was no time for sorrow now. Just as he was about to pull a Will Herondale and sink his teeth into the closest flesh, a ringing sound went through his mind.

Come back to me, Gabriel.

It was Cecily. He would know her voice anywhere. He thought of years past, when she had nearly died taking down a pack of Raum demons and he was sure he was moments away from losing her. He would not do that to her.

A wave of strength came over him. He turned his body and rammed against the boulder he had fallen from. He fought for a sturdy grip, reaching higher and higher until—

A hand clasped around his wrist and pulled hard. At the same moment, the tentacle engulfing him fell away with a screech, and the rest of his body came flying through the waves and back onto the solid rock, where he lay gasping for air.

“Father!”

“Uncle Gabriel!”

Gabriel coughed up water before looking up into the concerned and frightened eyes of his son and nephew. “Are you hurt?” he choked, reaching his hands toward the both of them.

Christopher burst; his lavender eyes wild. “Me? Father, you are bleeding! Thomas, where is your stele?”

Thomas fumbled at his coat desperately and swore. “Bridgestock took it from me!”

“Use mine.”

Gabriel glanced behind Thomas and was surprised to find Alastair Carstairs standing there. He held his hand out to Thomas, offering his stele with a softer expression on his face than Gabriel had ever recalled seeing. Without a moment’s hesitation, Thomas took the stele and began scribbling runes all over Gabriel’s arm.

The world suddenly went silent. Then, a roaring thunder sounded across the Institute lawn as the water that had filled the land drained away; the monstrous tentacles draining away with it.

“Bring him down,” Thomas said to Christopher. “They’ll be filling the infirmary soon.”

Christopher paled; his eyes wide toward the Institute. Gabriel started. He was badly injured and bleeding, but the look of fear on his son’s face paled in comparison. “What is it, Kit?”

Christopher swallowed; then, in a shaking whisper, said: “Mam’s coming.”

The boys scrambled quickly to bring Gabriel down to flat ground. Gabriel turned toward the doors. The closer Cecily got, the more he realized that the fierce expression on her face was not anger--it was desperation. She was, or at least had been, crying.

“Mam,” Christopher started, but faltered when Cecily reached them. She fell to her knees beside them and brought Kit into her arms in an iron embrace. “Are you hurt?” she fretted, looking him over. A stele had appeared in her hand, though from where, Gabriel couldn’t say. Years of marriage had not yet answered the mysterious origin of a mother’s love and protection.

Christopher shook his head. “Father—”

Cecily turned to him, her skin flushed, eyes wide with worry. She kissed Kit’s head and scrambled to Gabriel’s side, her eyes now scanning his body. He knew it was not a pretty sight—the barbs had torn his flesh and he’d lost a significant amount of blood. “Cecy—” he began and was promptly cut off.

“Boys, we must move him to the infirmary,” she commanded, gathering her skirts and squatting, ready to lift. “Now.”

There was no disobeying her; Thomas, Christopher, and Alastair all assisted her in lifting him off the ground without the slightest hint of hesitation or protest. The scenery passed Gabriel in a blur; of Anna spotting them and racing down from her position; Will running between the injured and barking commands; even James, Lucie, Matthew, and Cordelia appearing at the gates.

The infirmary was in chaos. Beds had been quickly assembled and set across the vast room. There had been no deaths reported yet, and Cecily Lightwood was determined to keep it that way.

After ensuring that all three of her children were safe and unhurt, she sent them upstairs to stay with Alexander. “Keep him busy,” she had told them, her heart racing. “He’s frightened.”

“So are we,” Anna had answered, but it was not argumentative. Cecily placed her hands on both their cheeks.

“Your father is a stubborn one,” she had said. She smiled, though it was wavering. “He will not go without a fight. I will make sure of that.”

With a flurry of kisses and “I love you’s,” the children finally left to care for their brother, leaving Cecily at Gabriel’s beside squeezing his hand tight while a Silent Brother tended to his wounds.

“Stay with me,” she whispered to him. His eyes were fluttering. He was fighting hard to stay awake, yet he had not the energy to do much else. Against her will, Cecily’s tears had begun to fall again. “Stay with me, Gabriel. I love you. I love you.”

Cecily had begun to fall into a dark pit of grief when she felt a hand grip her shoulder tight. She turned to find her brother looking at her intensely, concern evident in his expression. He said nothing, but she knew that he would always be there when she needed him, and here he was. “I can’t lose him,” she told him blankly.

“You won’t,” Will said.

“Is that what you told him, too?”

Will’s eyes were sad. “Yes. And here you are, aren’t you?”

Cecily placed her hand over her brother’s on her shoulder and looked back at Gabriel. His fight to stay awake was lost. He was too pale for her liking, his lips faded into the slightest memory of pink. “The children need their father.”

She felt a tugging at her arm and found herself being lifted from her seat and into Will’s arms. He held her tight and rubbed her back soothingly. “The last thing Gabriel would ever do is leave you or the children,” he assured her. “Not if he has any say about it. The man is a stubborn and loyal bastard.”

.

.

Cecily was unsure how much time had passed since she had last seen her children. Jem had come by to treat Gabriel, who slept, and had told her to take a break. It would do him no good if he woke and saw she had not eaten or slept.

When Cecily emerged from the infirmary, she found all three of her children posted along the wall across from the infirmary entrance. Anna and Christopher sat beside one another, each resting their head on the other’s. Alex sat in Christopher’s lap, his back to his brother’s chest, and was fast asleep. The sight alone warmed Cecily’s heart, a welcome distraction from the wounds that nearly tore the love of her life away from her.

She stepped forward and kneeled in front of them. She hated to wake them, but the corridor was cold, and she worried they may catch a cold waiting out there for too long. “Fy anwylyd,” she said gently, brushing their cheeks with the pads of her thumbs. “Come along. It’s much too cold to wait here.”

“Mam?” It was Alex, blinking sleepy eyes at her. He shifted his position, which woke Christopher with a sudden, “What ho!” and disoriented expression.

Cecily smiled gently at them. Her boys were such gentle people that sometimes she could not believe they came from her. “Come along now,” she repeated.

Anna lifted her head from Christopher’s with a tired scowl. “Watch your head,” she told him, rubbing her temple. “Those curls do not provide ample cushion for sudden movements.”

“Sorry,” Christopher mumbled, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. “Mam,” he said upon noticing her kneeling in front of him. “Is Father all right?”

Cecily brushed his curls from his face. “He will be,” she said softly. “It will take time for him to heal, but he will be all right.”

Relief filled her children’s faces—even Anna’s, who had pretended she wasn’t terribly worried despite rightfully being so. “Can we see him?” she asked carefully. Cecily patted her knee.

“In a bit,” she told them and stood. She held her hands out to them, to help them stand or hand Alex over, whichever they chose. They chose to hand Alex over. He immediately hooked himself onto her neck and dug his heels into her side, firmly planting himself there in her arms. “He’s been given a sedative to sleep while the Brothers work to heal him. Your father will fret over us all if we have not eaten or slept before visiting him, you know.”

“Bridget is cooking a feast in the kitchen with so many people about the Institute. I hope there are still lemon tarts,” Christopher said wistfully. “I can save one for Father, too.”

Cecily smiled. “Let’s go find them before the others do.”

.

.

When Gabriel awoke, he had forgotten where he was. His body ached terribly and he could feel beads of sweat drip from the hair at the base of his neck. He could feel something warm in his hand—something comforting. He forced his eyes opened and groaned.

“Father,” someone gasped. The warm feeling—a hand—tightened in his and a head full of dark hair shot up beside him.

Cecily gazed at him, her grip strong as it ever was. Her hair had fallen from its pins when she rose from his shoulder, but he’d never been so happy to see her looks so disheveled. She rose her other hand and brushed at his cheek softly. “How are you feeling?” she whispered. Over her shoulder he could see his children. Anna, with Alexander climbing about her back, and Christopher stood beside each other, hope and weariness filling their eyes. He smiled at them all.

“I ache,” he admitted. “I don’t think I can move very much. But I don’t feel terribly under the weather.” He squeezed his wife’s hand with as much strength as he could muster. He saw the tension release from her shoulders and felt himself relax with her.

“Incredible!” Christopher said in awe. Gabriel met his son’s eyes and smiled in amusement. Christopher was observing the bandages across his body with fascination. “These were severe injuries, Father, and you only ache? I must figure out how that’s possible and recreate it in the lab.”

“I’ll do what I can to help,” Gabriel answered affectionately. Christopher grinned.

.

.

Cecily brushed away the hairs that had fallen into her husband’s eyes. He had regained color in his skin soon after waking up and looked like her lively Gabriel once again. She’d sat beside him for hours upon hours, her children coming and going throughout. “How many times do I have to tell you to stay with me?” she wondered aloud with a soft shake of her head. Gabriel chuckled. “This is not a request. It is a demand.”

“Leave this?” Gabriel asked, gesturing to their children asleep, their heads on the end of his bed, and Alex clearly enjoying the nook between Gabriel’s feet and the iron railing at the foot of his bed. He turned back to Cecily. “Not a chance. I’ve worked too hard to get here. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Lightwood, but I will not be throwing away all my hard work.”

Cecily’s smile grew until she could no longer hold in her laugh. “Hard work indeed,” she said and kissed him.

@tsccreatorsnet

[sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose]

Thorin x reader | Hanahaki |

Summary: Reader falls in love with Thorin even if he isn't always nice to her. Reader gets Hanahaki disease and it worsens everytime she realizes Thorin won't ever love her.

Hanahaki: A rare disease caused by unrequited love. It manifests when the afflicted believes their feelings are unrequited. Thus even if the feelings are requited, they will have to be convinced they are loved.

If the afflicted has been rejected then the disease will worsen and the afflicted will die within a few hours.

(I once read this version of Hanahaki somewhere but I don't remember where so it might seem familiar.)

Warnings: Angst, panic attack (but good ending, promise, I can't stand bad endings lol my heart can't take those)

You would've never guessed that love could produce such a disease. Flowers rooting themselves in your lungs, growing and limiting your breathing capabilities. Gandalf, the sly wizard, found you throwing bloody petals away and pulled you aside.

Your gut told you the Grey Wizard already knew who it was but you still refused to say. It was painful enough to realize he would never love you back, so why say it out loud? So you would die quicker? No. You refused to die until you've done your part in the Quest for Erebor.

Gandalf kindly (urgently) told you the 'cure' of the Hanahaki disease. Should you confess and your feelings are requited, then the disease would disappear. But the afflicted would need to truly believe they are loved, otherwise they will end up the same way should their feelings be unrequited. If you confess and the other person doesn't feel the same, then the afflicted would die within a few hours instead of dying a slow suffocating death.

After being transported from your home to Middle-Earth and stumbling upon the little hobbit hole, you were swept away on this quest. Gandalf had to do a lot of convincing the King under the Mountain to let you join the Company because he thought you would be an asset to the quest. How? You did not know...

You were certain you weren't fit for this quest but you knew the feeling of missing home. Something you hadn't talked about it with anyone yet. No one asked so you didn't say a word about it.

The first to approach you were the nephews, Bofur and Bilbo (and Gandalf of course). They made you feel welcomed when the others didn't.

Thorin didn't budge from his first impression of you. Frail, weak and just a human female. Useless and an extra mouth to feed.

Your first impression of him on the other hand was quite the opposite. He was more handsome than in the movies, more majestic and even more intimidating.

You developed a little crush on the brooding King but that was only because he was attractive. His personality made you gag in the beginning, but after some time on the quest, you saw through little actions that he cared greatly for his kin.

You began to admire him more, even if his attitude towards you was less than optimal and even though you weren't the recipient of his small acts of kindness. Even Bilbo was more accepted by the Company and Thorin than you were. This made you feel like an outcast.

Even though Thorin treated you like you were less, your crush on him began to develop into love because you saw what a great king he would be. The important decisions he makes and leading the Company, you wouldn't be able to do any of those things, and you doubt anyone just could. He was extremely loyal and honorable (just not to you I guess).

After a while your throat began itching and you felt an urge to cough. It began as an annoying itch and transformed into a painful cough. You didn't want to be seen as an inconvenience (even more than before) so you hid it.

Then came the petals. Bloody petals. Hiding these were easy enough since it didn't happen a lot, but Gandalf was able to pick up on it. It looked like he pitied you, and was always kind and understanding when you didn't want to say who it was (but he probably already knew).

After the ordeal with those trolls (were you weren't much of a help) Bilbo became more accepted into the Company than you (though Fili, Kili and Bofur were still very accepting and open minded).

The Company slowly opened up to you, reluctantly albeit, because of your gender. Dwarves thought that females should stay safe at home and not be out adventuring.

That hurt you to be honest. After transporting to this world you didn't have a home to turn to, but apparently these dwarves never realized that. It bothered you greatly since you never talked to anyone about your family, but you did talk about your world when certain dwarves asked questions about your world.

Little by little you began feeling more worthless and depressed, even when the Company keeps you company. (hah get it?)

You stayed quiet more than ever, only saying something when something was asked, and with less enthusiasm. The Company must've noticed how your mood dampened. You missed home and Thorin's harsh words didn't make it any better. He always remarked how you should've stayed home, but it's not like you a choice now had you? You always went out in the woods to cough out all the petals you were keeping in and hoped no one would notice.

One night, when you were keeping watch (yaaay you got a task...but it was a sign that the leader thought you weren't completely useless) you felt someone sitting next to you. You hoped your tears weren't visible as you were thinking of home and how you're probably stuck on Middle-Earth.

The fur of the King was unmissable as he was sitting next to you. Little did you know that he saw your tears glistening in the moonlight. He probably thought you were too emotional and not fit for this quest.

What he said next was unexpected. "I am sorry for how I acted towards you in this journey. You clearly have an effect on the moods of everyone here. So much, that when your mood dampened, it affects every one of us."

Confused you looked at Thorin and furrowed your brows. "There is something clearly bothering you, something you haven't told us. May I ask what it is?" He said with concern laced in his voice.

That made you break down and cry out all your pent up emotions. Thorin must've thought you were an annoyance as he shifted a bit, probably out of shock.

"I don't have a home, I don't have anyone, no family or friends to turn to, so when this journey is over where do I go?", you said with frustration and tears streaming down your face. You felt hopelessness increasing as you said those words aloud.

As your body was shaking, trembling, you put your head in your hands and soon your crying turned into a panic attack. Your mind foggy and blurry, face wet from the salty tears that were flowing down your cheeks, body shaking from the mental stress you endured during the trip.

Your breathing shortened and you brought your knees to your head while using your arms to shield yourself from the outside world.

You couldn't take it anymore missing home, the loneliness, being out of your comfort zone. Even if the Company was there to comfort you, it just wasn't the same. It became to much. You loved the soon-to-be-king and that didn't make it any easier.

His eyes widened as he took in your trembling figure. The gruff dwarf sat next to you, as seeing you in such a state made him want to comfort you. He didn't know everything about you but he had a snippet of knowing that you missed your home, even though you never said it. He heard it in your voice and when your eyes looked distant and glazed over.

He was very prideful, but seeing how he never saw signs that you would break down like this he got worried. He wondered how long you were bottling up all your emotions.

It comforted you greatly to have warmth next to you, especially when it was him.

After trying to get your breathing under control in which you failed as it almost induced another hyperventilation, Thorin helped you.

"Breathe in, breathe out, listen to my breathing and to my voice only," his deep baritone voice said as he turned to you and placed a hand on your back, "your doing great (y/n)."

The first time he said your name. That was enough to make you calm down but you didn't dare to look at him so you kept your eyes on the ground.

"I am truly sorry that I did not discuss this earlier with you," he said with a voice full of regret, "I didn't think how my words would've hurt you and how I treated you would've affected you. You are but a mere daughter of the Race of Men and this is a dangerous quest. Your life and health is my responsibility and I will not have you get killed because of a quest you have nothing to gain with. But I see that you did have a reason after all. It's my fault that I didn't see the dedication you put into your contribution to this quest."

It's true. You wanted to help them (after Gandalf informed you of this quest), because you didn't have a home either (at the moment).

In reality Thorin didn't hate you or anything, he thought it best to scare you away so he wouldn't have to worry about a woman getting hurt in his presence. Though it was very obvious that it wasn't a good method of showing his concerns. He felt an unknown pull towards you and it irritated him that he didn't know why.

"Perhaps," he continued, "when this journey is over and Erebor is ours again, I- we would love it if you stayed with us... in the mountain."

The dark-haired dwarf fidgeted a bit.

"R-really," you said tears still staining your face and a bittersweet smile after calming down a bit, "that would be my honour."

For the first time during this quest, Thorin smiled at you. A heartfelt and genuine smile. His eyes twinkled. "My apologies for being blind, my lady," he said with a soft look on his face, "you deserved better, and I will make sure no one treats you the way I treated you."

Both of you smiled at each other and began talking about your life before plunging in this world until it was time for the second watch.

~~

After that night, you felt better. Everyone treated like you were one of the Company and things seemed to go perfectly. Except your disease, which worsened.

Weeks after that night you finally had first watch with Thorin again. He was much nicer to you. He gave his coat to you on multiple occasions, made sure you ate enough and you loved it. But you dreaded moments alone because it was becoming increasingly difficult to hide your disease. After every one of those sweet moments you felt an urge to cough, because you realized your feelings would never be returned. He was just being friendly after that night.

You were having a pleasant talk with Thorin when you felt the petals coming up.

Throat itching more than ever, you began coughing violently, trying to catch your breath. Thorin saw you struggling  and it alarmed him because he didn't know if you were sick or anything like that. As he raised his hand to rub your back to help you or soothe you while coughing since it looked painful, you turned away from him.  You didn't want him to see the petals, almost full flowers now.

He still  put his hand on your back. Then his eyes widened.  Bloody petals. Bloody half-flowers.

He knew of this disease. He knew it was bound to end with a heartbreakingly and sad death.

You knew he had seen them.

"Who?" he asked with the softest voice you ever heard from him. His voice laced with concern and something you couldn't really place.

Shaking your head you said, "It doesn't matter."

"It matters, (y/n)," Thorin said sternly as he looked worriedly at you, "the person who holds your heart must see what a kind and strong person you are."

"If it's someone in the Company, I can talk to him if you want," the Dwarven King continued.

You hurriedly shook your head and looked up at him, slightly surprised by his concerned face, "No that's not needed, I am content watching from afar."

The gruff dwarf dropped it, for now. But you could see the glances and worried gazes from him across the campfire if he heard you cough or clear your throat.

Balin knew of your predicament as he also knows of the extremely rare disease and saw some of the telltale signs. And seeing his King staring at your sleeping figure also cleared up some things for the old dwarf.

Balin, together with Oin helped you hide it from the rest of the company, they were already protective enough and you didn't want to complicate matters further. Oin made something that would soothe your aching throat.

One evening Thorin followed you out when you were 'gathering wood'.  And was surprised to see you coughing up full flowers, blood included.

Tears were streaming down you face as your throat burned from all the flowers you had to cough up.

"(Y/n)?"

You turned around and saw Thorin's eyes glazing over. "Please, tell me who it is. I will do everything in my power to make them see what a beautiful woman you are. If not, please let Gandalf help you."

He was referring to the surgery to remove the disease, which would also remove your ability to ever love again. You couldn't blame people for taking or not taking the surgery. Everyone to their own. You understood the pros and cons of undergoing the surgery, but you liked the pros of suffering from the disease more than the consequences.

You only shook your head as you began crying. "You know I can't, I don't want to be rejected. I'd rather die loving him than live never being able to love."

"Who is hurting your heart, amralime?", the usually gruff dwarf said with a cracked voice, "please, let me help you. I can't bear to see you suffering like this."

Thorin's eyes were glazing over and he held a very sorrowed look. His heart was breaking as yours was, but you didn't know that. The foreign word was also unknown to you which made you confused but you didn't pay any attention to it. You still refused.

"(Y/n), please," he put his forehead on yours, "I'm begging you. I love you too much to let this go. I don't want to lose you. I want you to be my Queen under the mountain so please... let me in. Even if you don't love me, I will still love you even after I go to Mahal's Halls. You are my One, (y/n)."

Gasping as your eyes widened at his confessions. The tears streaming down your face turned from sadness turned to tears of happiness.

You smiled brightly at him. "You love... me? ", your voice wavered.

"Yes, I do. I truly do," he said with a light smile on his face as a tear of worriedness trickled down his cheek. All the brooding dwarf wanted, was for you to be happy.

"But...," your smile faltered and you stared at him, "w-why?"

It broke Thorin's heart to hear you say that for he thought you were the definition of perfection, "At first I didn't know what I was feeling but then I saw you for who you really are. You didn't complain and kept walking while the others complained and whined. I fell in love with you, your beauty and personality. I was hoping to be the target of your affections, but if it's someone else... I would totally understand for I am not an exemplary dwarrow." The blue-eyed dwarf looked at you with a pleading look in his eyes.

"Thorin, if you would've told me this sooner then... this disease wouldn't have gotten so far," you said with a gaze filled with adoration, "I-I love you too, Thorin."

Suddenly, your breathing hitched and you couldn't breathe... Thorin looked alarmed "Ghivashel, what's wrong?"

Clawing at your throat you tried to catch your breath. As if the Valar heard Thorin's whimpers when you collapsed, you started to breath again. Normally, without any pain whatsoever.

You could feel the disease going away as it had a strong reaction to the feelings Thorin and you held for each other.

"I'm fine, my love. Everything's going to be fine," you reassured the love of your life as he held you.

Thorin smiled brightly as he finally had you in his arms and he had no fear of you loving someone else. Just him and only him. You were made for each other and the Valar knew it.

[cblgblog]

Imagine that AU where Peter's accused of some very terrible crime(s), and while he has a rock solid alibi - he's on video and EVERYTHING! - he can't use it. Because it's Spiderman on video, with an alibi, and proof of where he was. Peter Parker just has a blank space of time with nothing to show for it, and nothing he can say. He's obviously hiding something, he's jittery, he's scared, and May trying to defend him when she doesn't even know what his alibi is (or who he really is in the mask)

So I have…basically an amalgamation of 3 scenes going in my head for this.

1.       The ‘Did you do it’ scene from Defending Jacob where Andy/Captain America straight up asks his kid if he murdered the boy people think he murdered.

2.       The ‘I can’t sleep!’ scene from The Amazing Spider-man (2012) which is a flawed but massively underrated film, fight me. Where Sally Field! May asks Peter where he goes at night, what’s happening to him, why he’s hurt, and, “Secrets have a cost, they’re not for free. Not now, not ever.”

3.       Marisa Tomei! May in Spider-man: Homecoming. The, “You have to tell me what’s going on!” scene.

All of these are Good Scenes btw, and short, and I recommend watching them if you haven’t but anyway. No Irondad here, because eww, no, never, but some references to actual Spider-man canon, whether Feige likes it or not.

Fuck Irondad, let Peter have his own movie, justice for May Parker.

****

May and Peter having to leave their apartment building. Neighbors they’ve known for years not talking to them, not looking them in the eye. Hell, maybe the ‘Murderer burn in hell’ bit from Defending Jacob shows up in there too, where there’s graffiti on their apartment door, you need a key to get into the building, but of course no one saw anything. Them having to stay with Ned’s family.

Peter’s getting all kinds of shit suddenly for being the weird kid who snuck off all the time, and the only ones who don’t treat him like a leper are Ned and MJ. And MJ digs murderers anyway, so while he’s glad of the support, it doesn’t exactly help his rep.

May who will defend him to anyone and everyone. No, no it isn’t weird that his computer stuff was completely wiped when the cops showed with their warrants. He’s a teenage boy, embarrassed of his search history, that’s all.  May doesn’t know that he and Ned had to scorched earth everything because of the weird shit one Googles as a superhero, but she knows he wasn’t looking up murder techniques, okay?

No, it’s not weird that he had cuts and bruises and things when they dragged him in. Boys and their roughhousing, no he doesn’t play any sports, but who hasn’t woken up with bruises they can’t explain?

Her nephew is a good boy. Her son is a good boy, damn you. Sure there were some fights last year, but her husband had just been murdered and those kids had been bullying Peter for years but no, no he doesn’t have anger issues, he’s not a murderer!

May and Peter alone at Ned’s place some night. Ned and his fam have gone to get food, give some space and get it. Peter and May…they don’t really walk around the old stomping grounds anymore. Them alone in the house after weeks of this and May just, “Are you on drugs?”

Calm as hell question that startles Peter away from the book he wasn’t reading. “What? I—what?”

“Are you on drugs?”

“No?” More a question than he means it to be but, the hell?

“Are you selling them? Were you selling them?”

“What? What are you—”

“I know you’ve been worried about money since Ben died. Even though I told you not to. But I get it. So if you were—”

“May! May, I’m not…no. No drugs. No using or selling or anything. I don’t even watch Breaking Bad.”

Slight relaxation of May’s shoulders, twitch of a smile that doesn’t go to her eyes. “Okay. Okay. Where were you?”

“May, I, I told you I can’t—”

“No. No more “you can’t,” Peter. Because this? Not going away. I thought these assholes would come to their senses, find the real person—”

“May—”

“But they’re not. They’re not, and they’re not going to. All they see is you, Peter, so you…”

And holy shit, May’s crying. Or so close to it that there’s no difference. Jesus, May is crying, and she’s already cried so much since Ben, but always when she thought Peter wasn’t aware. Now they’re here, in front of each other, and she’s just, just crying.

“All they see is you,” May says, clearing her throat. “And that’s all they’re going to see until we give them a reason to look somewhere else, so you have to tell me. You have to tell me, not them. Me.”

“May…”

“Peter, it’s just us, just me and you, okay? So you tell me, and we’ll figure it out. But you…you have to tell me. You have to tell me, because it’s just us. We’re all we have right now, baby. You’re…you’re all I have. And I can’t lose you, understand? Not you too.”

“Aunt May,” he rarely calls her that anymore, rarely adds the title, not since he turned double-digits. But Aunt May looks so small now, and she’s making him feel small. Smaller than he’s felt since Uncle Ben died. Because of him. And now Aunt May’s suffering again. Because of him. “Aunt May, you won’t lose me, okay? I prom—”

“Peter!”

She’s still in tears, but she says it sharply enough that he very nearly jumps to the ceiling. Literally.

“Peter,” she says, much softer, but still laced with steel. “Peter, I know you snuck out of our house every night. I know that half the time you said you were with Ned, you weren’t. I know you weren’t doing your robotics stuff because you quit that three months ago. I know you don’t stay late studying at the library. Who the hell goes to libraries to study anymore, Peter?”

Peter’s got no answer to that, hangs his head.

“Everyone thinks I’m this clueless, gullible, uninvolved parent, too stupid to know what her kid is doing.”

“That’s not true, Aunt May.”

“I know it’s not. Or I thought I knew.”

That one hurts, twists Peter’s guts even as May reaches for him, takes his face in her hands.

“I knew what you were doing. Knew enough, I thought. Ben gone, losing the house, me barely keeping us above water.”

“Aunt May, you—”

“I thought you had things to figure out. I thought—fuck, I don’t know what I thought. But I knew I couldn’t blame you for not wanting to be around here, around me.”

That’s too far. That’s too much, and Peter pulls her into a hug because he has to. “You’re so wrong. That’s—no, Aunt May. I love you so much. I love you so, so much.”

“I love you too.”

“I’ve never wanted to be away from you. I never will.”

May pulls back then, cups his face in both of hers. “Then you have to tell me, Peter. You have to tell me, baby, because they want to take you away. And I am never, never going to let that happen, but you have to help me, baby. I can’t…” What’s left of her composure crumples. “I can’t do this on my own. Any of it. Don’t you dare make me.”

Peter tries to say something, he doesn’t know what, but all that comes out is a sob.

“Secrets have a cost, Peter, always. And whatever this one is, whatever you’re hiding? It’s going to cost us everything. Were you doing something else illegal, something different? Are you covering for someone? Is someone threatening you, hurting you?” She looks sick at the thought, but her voice is steel and her grip on Peter goes painful tight, even for him. “Because if they are, Peter, I swear to God. I swear to God, baby, I’ll make them stop. I’ll make them stop; I’ll kill them. You just have to—”

He can’t hear anymore of this. He can’t. Because he is doing something illegal, he is covering for someone, and someone is hurting him, but none of it in the way she thinks. “You haven’t asked me the big question.”

“What?”

“You keep asking me questions, but not…you haven’t asked if I did it.”

May looks stricken at that. A strange combination of stricken and baffled. “No.”

“Because you don’t…” He can barely say it. “Because you don’t want to know?”

Somehow the horror on her face intensifies and Peter wants to die, wishes for the thousandth time it was him, not Uncle Ben, but he doesn’t have to see that look on her face for long, doesn’t get to. May pulls him down, holds his face against her shoulder, grips onto him with the painful, desperate, grounding hold.

“Because I know, Peter. I know my boy. I know who you are, Peter. I know who you are. Oh baby, shhh.”

He can’t though. He can’t be quiet anymore, and he has to, and it’s killing him, and all he can do is sob into her and sink into her until they’re both sat in the middle of the Leeds’s living room floor, shaking and crying in the dark, behind closed curtains.

[rainiswriting]

BLACK BUTLER MANGA SPOILER

Rather than R!ciel being taken as the sacrifice that night what If it was O!ciel

WARNING: unfinished idea these are pile of drabbles I'll put until I get to see the full picture (like some of them are REALLY short)

Disclaimer:non of these are implying any ships I did make r!ciel I bit brocon but not too much to make it incest and if it come out that way I'm sorry I didn't mean it

Before the man is able to grab the closest twin O!ciel immediately switch places with R!ciel and he was taken instead

(Personal headcanon of mine and many others that I prefer the name "astre" for o!ciel because it just rings apologize if anyone doesn't like that)

"Ciel is the true heir, the true earl. A strong and brave boy who is admire by everyone

And I will never be him I will forever be his spare and now I'll fulfill my duty as your spare

As your twin"

Despite the horrible pain his pale weak(er) body felt after that he felt content to protect his big brother

---------

'I'm a liar'

'A horrible big brother'

'A world without astre'

'His precious baby brother his precious twin'

"I rather die"he mutters

Surrounded by these filthy adults being held against his will being treated as a low animal a sick slow and torture entertainment for these rats

Ciel had hope for the best they will get out of here they will survive and live happily as before the two of them, grandpa, lizzy, and it will all be okay

But they decided to take his final shred of hope

"I'll kill you"

'It must be nice playing outside all day'

"I'll kill you!"

'Ciel let's play chess!'

"I WILL KILL YOU ALL"

'astre you are more than a spare'

---------

"Demon this is my first request"

Astre stare at the demon blood eyes

"I proclaimed myself as astre phantomhive and you will always raise my reputation to the public at all times"

The demon let out an amused chuckle and raise a brow

"My my what an interesting request thought I do say it's not abnormal, some humans have ask for fame"his eyes shift to the corpse

"But if I may ask, why for astre and not you?"

Astre flinch and grip his thin dirty shorts

"Everyone always looked down at astre calling him a 'spare' calling him my replacement, yes he's weaker than me but he have alot of talents! Astre wants to make a toy company something that is him but nobody ever took a glance at his request except our parents!" He heave some air after the long rant

"I want to be the astre that nobody can see, the sweet and gentle astre the astre who always inspired with books and drawings that can make many amazing stuff without anyone help, I will show people that astre can become earl and not because HES A SPARE!!" The child clutch the thin fabric harder

The demon chuckle start removing his gloves his left hand showing the same symbol aster have on his tongue

(Why? R!ciel is more noisy than O!ciel so I think in the forming the contract he keeps yelling which makes Sebastian marking his tongue to shut him up, and a bit of alois trancy reference since I won't write him in the story)

His tongue and the demon hand star symbol glow and the first request of the contract is written

---------

(Second request is the same revenge but I made the third request slightly different)

"And my last request.."

Astre think hard what would astre final request will be?

"Until I finally see the people who have done this to us suffer..you will be by my side protecting me no matter what"

--------

"Demon I need you to do something"

"Oh? And what is it my lord?" Astre blankly look at his dear baby brother corpse caressing his already cold and pale baby cheeks

"The phantomhive have a family ring that I swallow to hide it from the cult, now it's stuck in my stomach so I need you to do a quick and painless operation on me"

"So you wanted to stay side by side of your brother during the operation?"the demon chuckle this human child is highly amusing

Astre nod and move astre corpse gently to the side so the both of them could fit

Seeing upwards with a man holding a knife planning to cut his stomach he wonders briefly if this is what astre witness before his death

He woke up with stitches on his stomach he barely felt a thing

"I guess demons knows medical knowledge" astre mutter

"Well I have live for so many years"

Astre look down at his brother corpse

What should he do with astre? Leave him be?

No

Astre won't leave him anymore

"Demon, try to find some sort of coffin for my brother, we'll bury him near my mansion"

--------

"Oh..astre my boy, your so thin!"aunt ann is in tears with happiness of course, atleast one of her dear nephews are alive although she does prefer both she's so glad

Astre loves auntie ann he really do but from her expression herself astre can tell

'Why not ciel?'

---------

Bruises and battered with filthy clothes astre watch as his brother is lowered to the grave with auntie ann

Both of them mourn auntie ann mourn for ciel and astre mourn for astre

It's painful so so painful seeing astre being lowered into "ciel phantomhive" grave he will prove he will prove that astre is more than a spare

"May we meet again brother"

Note:this has gone long enough I'll make another part soon

[woulddieforperrytheplatypus]

My mind was plagued with thoughts of the episode where the kids think Perry laid an egg and the comic where Perry saves a baby platypus from Doof, and that got me thinking: what if Perry was actually a dad to a baby platypus? One possibility is that Perry wouldn't want his child to become an agent at such a young age and would rather have his kid decide if they want to do it when they're older, but I believe that either way, the young platypus would inherit Perry's anthropomorphism.

oh my god I’ve never even thought about Dad!Perry before 🥺 I thought his relationship with the Flynn-Fletcher kids was wholesome but that has some real potential to become the superior relationship

obligatory “read more” to save everyone who doesn’t care how I feel about Dad!Perry

Okay first I gotta ask how we think this would happen. Is it the egg from Perry Lays An Egg that hatches, except it really is a baby platypus and Perry ends up taking it in because no one else can? Or is it Perry taking one of Doof’s platybabies home? Or is it trans!Perry laying his own egg? Or Perry has sex with another platypus (that’s such a weird thought lmao) and somehow he becomes the sole guardian of the egg? As the numero uno “Perry is an asexual demibiromantic platypus” stan, I kinda like the first or second one, but I also feel like the platybaby should be related to him? But at the same time Phineas and Ferb is all about how family don’t end in blood so maybe that’s not important?

Anyways onto Dad!Perry because holy shit I’m excited to explore this

I’m gonna start at the end of the ask by saying that I feel like anthropomorphism isn’t genetically inherited; I feel like it’s something that’s taught. It’s kinda a nature vs nurture type thing so I guess it’s more a psychological debate than anything, but if I had to channel my inner English teacher and draw evidence from “the text” (aka the show), I gotta bring up the koi from Attack of the 50 Foot Sister that were just kinda vibin in the neighbors’ pond at the beginning of the episode and then Monogram had to make them agents to avoid a lawsuit and by the end they were saving Perry’s ass? Which is relevant to literally nothing except that I think any baby animal Perry raises, regardless of whether or not they’re related to him by blood (or even by species), will probably turn the lil baby into an anthropomorphic lil platybaby just because of all the human and human-like influences

And now the elephant in the room (cue OWCA Files Agent E joke): how does OWCA react to the news? Which I guess is really a follow-up question to how OWCA finds out in the first place. I think we can all agree that Perry won’t want to tell them. It’s not like he sees the other agents as friends that he wants to invite to the baby shower. But Monogram would want to know if there’s a new player in the Flynn-Fletcher house not that he knows who lives there now; that’s Carl’s area of expertise. Would he have to tell them? Is there a protocol for that? Especially if it’s just an egg he picks up from The Tree™ in the backyard. That’s basically just getting a new pet, right? And sure, Monogram would want to know, but is Perry legally obligated to tell him is the question.

But Monogram has to find out one way or another, and given that Perry is the best of the best, Monogram is going to want his kid in the club. Perry would 100% say no, too, but I don’t know if it would be because he wants his son (yes it’s a boy platybaby no I don’t know why) to have his own say in his future; I think Perry would consider OWCA too dangerous for his son. I mean, we saw what happened when Phineas, Ferb, and Candace got mixed up in his job: they were almost eaten by a goozim and the tri-state area was almost taken over by an evil dictator. He would definitely want to keep his son out of that scene if he could. At least all the dangers at home are Phineas-and-Ferb-sponsored, and unlike OWCA, they would make sure he didn’t get hurt.

Buuuut Monogram is also a dumbass and doesn’t know how to take no for an answer, so he’d keep pushing. It has to be a well-known fact around OWCA that changing Agent P’s mind about anything is not an easy feat, so maybe when Monogram realized it was a lost cause, he’d try to go around Perry’s back? Maybe while Perry was at work, he’d head to the Flynn-Fletchers’ house (or send Carl again like Undercover Carl) to try to get the platybaby alone? He could explain what OWCA is and that he would make a perfect candidate. I doubt Perry would have told his son about OWCA in any detail yet other than the fact that he works there and that’s where he goes every day, so this would all be new and interesting. And then Perry either comes home when Monogram or Carl is talking to his son about OWCA or his son brings it up himself, and Perry is fuming because he made it very clear that he didn’t want OWCA anywhere near his family. 

And now I can’t help but wonder if that would cause bigger problems between him and OWCA? What if that’s his breaking point, and he just flat-out quits because if they can’t respect his very few boundaries, he doesn’t owe them anything? And assuming the platybaby didn’t come from Doof, maybe that’s how they meet? Somehow he finds out that the reason there’s a new agent working his case is that Perry’s out on “permanent paternity leave” or something, and word gets back to Perry somehow (maybe Pinky heard it through the grapevine and told him? idk) that Doof wants to meet him? And Perry’s kinda wary buuuuut at the same time, Doof isn’t his nemesis anymore. If you take OWCA out of the equation, aren’t they just friends? 

WAIT A SECOND

IMAGINE HOW NORM WOULD REACT TO SEEING A BABY PLATYPUS

LIKE

I DON’T KNOW WHY

BUT NORM WOULD ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS BABY PLATYPUS

and Doof would get kinda annoyed because “He came here so I could meet the baby, you know,” and usually that’s enough to convince Norm that he’s doing something wrong, but this time Norm is just like, “But I love him?” And Doof expects Perry to back him up and he probably should but at the same time, his son looks so happy with Norm? Without OWCA’s training, he still has that platypus aspect to his personality that comes from both his animal instinct and how the Flynn-Fletchers treat him, so he’s just kinda snuggled up in Norm’s lap and Norm is just petting him?

And this is probably after he’s shown some human-like features and Doof knows that he’s about as human as Perry, so he asks, “Does he like being pet?” and Perry nods because duh of course he does and Doof just kinda looks at him for a moment and he’s like, “Do you like to be pet?” and Perry just fuckin decks him because no he does not yes he does and Doof just nods like, “Okay, fair enough.”

AND THEN VANESSA WALKS IN???

and she had absolutely no idea this was happening she’s about to go drop her stuff off in her room for the weekend and Norm’s like, “Look at my new friend!” and Vanessa thinks it’s gonna be something stupid but she walks over and sees the baby platypus and she starts freaking out because holy shit Perry is that yours? and obviously she needs to know literally everything there is to know about him because this is her nephew now and she will not take no for an answer.

And I feel like OWCA really wouldn’t like this? I mean, Perry completely severed ties with them over this platybaby, and now he’s bringing his son over to DEI at least twice a week to see his former nemesis? And idk what they would do about it because I don’t think there’s an actual protocol for this, but Monogram is Very Sensitive™ and he won’t stand for this.

Also and I’m totally just spit-balling here but what if, because the platybaby is kinda also being raised by the Doofenshmirtzes (and the Flynn-Fletchers but idk if that would make much of a difference here bc he has to pretend to be a mindless pet around them like his dad), he gets the best of the human and animal experience all in one, without all the shit Perry had to deal with from OWCA? And what if that somehow leads him to be able to speak? I don’t quite know how that would work, mostly because I don’t really know what prevents Perry from speaking, but we already went into that back in May so I’m not gonna go there again lol

okay I’m pretty sure it’s been over two hours since I started working on this ask but I can’t help it because this is literally such a cute idea fjdshflakfa I don’t even know if I’d be content reading this like I feel like this is just something I want to write. I kinda want to see how Phineas and Ferb would treat him, and if they’d treat Perry any differently now that a) he’s a dad and b) there’s a new platypus for them to love. I also want to see how Candace would handle probably falling in love with the platybaby but still getting annoyed by Perry. I really want to see what Vanessa and Norm’s relationship with the platybaby would turn into. Idk so much about the Doof/platybaby relationship though; I feel like I’d be more interested in how this affects the Doof/Perry dynamic instead. Something about Doof makes me think he wouldn’t be as easily swayed by the platybaby as everyone else, but the fact that Perry would now be a dad just like him would probably make him unreasonably happy. And that’s not even touching upon how different life would be for Perry now that he has a son, and he would obviously adore the little guy with his entire being, but, like, he has a son? How is he supposed to deal with that?

also I really should’ve given the platybaby a name to make this more readable and it’s a little too late for that but I hereby decree that his new temporary name until such time as this fic gets written is Horatio (unless y’all wanna hit me up with your platybaby name ideas because I would love to see them?) so welcome to the Dwampyverse, Horatio :,)

[lunarosewood23]

The Next Gen of LbR (Pt 1: Cross)

Alright everyone so a very sweet nonny asked about the next gens of the LbR ships. And because I love rambling about these kids I’m gonna do a post series about each of the families (and make it easier on my dumbass brain to find all my relevant information about each one bc it’s all scattered everywhere between DMs and gcs and other things. ^^;)

This got long so let’s yeet this under a cut, but let’s start with...

House Cross. Charibert and Yotsuyu have a daughter, Idienne!! She is an AST/MCH main and her story is a doozy. She was officially adopted into the family almost a year after they find her, she found out on her fifth birthday (that wasn’t planned, the adoption process finalized around that time). She’s a big sweetheart but make her mad and one can see that she is very much her parent’s daughter.

Her story: She was four years old when she was found as the only survivor of a deadly fire and once she was patched up she would’ve been sent to Rolandberry Fields in the Firmament, but she bolted from the chirugeon treating her...right into the Cross siblings, called to investigate what had happened. Or, Raven had been called, and she brought Charibert since he has far more experience with flames and the residue it can leave aetherically. One would think Idienne would run to Raven, who by this point is a mother of three, heavily pregnant with her fourth, but instead she runs to Charibert, who she knocks on his arse trying to cling to him and the next thing he knows there’s a four year old girl who looks so much like him that it raises questions covered in soot and ash curled up to his chest.

Now keep in mind that by this point he and Yotsuyu have babysat for their nieces and nephews and have figured out their ways of "parenting" so to speak, but the idea of raising a kid of their own scares the heck out of them both, even if the idea is a somewhat nice one. He wants to see her safe and somewhere he knows she'll be safe to grow and flourish. They offer the chirugeon to let them take her to where she can be cleaned up and treated for her injuries (they both know skilled healers and have their own healing magic) and get some answers to what happened, and the fact that the girl had been shaking like a leaf and clung tighter when the chirugeon tried to pull her back. Ofc that set off some mental alarm bells so they did what they could to get her as far away from there as possible.

They take her to Haumeric, and while he and Coronette treat her for her injuries and get her something much warmer than the clothes she was in, Raven and Charibert talk about where she’ll stay while they figure out what happened. Raven would love nothing more than to keep her, but worry that she may be frightened by the bumping around and fussy children, especially after her youngest daughter is born, and plus she’s already attached to him. He says that he needs to talk to Yotsuyu about it, he would not just drop this in her lap without warning. Raven can tell he wants to because he sees much of what he went through in what she’s going trough and hates the thought of anyone suffering what he went through. He tells Idienne that he needs to talk to his partner, but pinky promises that she'll see him again, but in the meantime she'll be spending time with his sister and her family, she has kids around her age that would be happy to meet her. She gets sad and hugs his neck as tight as possible before letting go to go with Raven.

He heads home and he does talk with Yotsuyu, but damn if it isn't really difficult to talk about it bc while he wants to bring her in, he won't if that isn't what she wants and stresses that if she doesn't want to then it won't happen, regardless of his own feelings. She just sighs and says that while she can't give him an answer for what he really wants, she is willing to keep her there with them until they can find either relatives or a better home for her. He nods in understanding before they go to Raven’s, and when Yotsuyu meets her she just crawls up on the couch and curls up in her lap with a big smile on her face while going "Hi Mama, you're really pretty! Will I be as pretty as you when I get big?"

The adults go dead silent. Yotsuyu doesn't know what to say or do but once she gets over the shock she just...hugs her. Hugs her to her chest as a smile pulls at her lips. Idienne doesn't move all night, settled in her lap as the others talk and eventually falls asleep with her. It takes a little time, but eventually she does say that yes she'd like to adopt her, after spending time with her and bonding with her.

Likes: Fashion, design, makeup, magic, weaving, spending time with her cousins, some spicy food (she doesn't have her dad's iron stomach), dressing up (her favorite thing to wear is her mother’s kimono because once she’s learned more about her story she still believes her mama to be the strongest person she knows, even if she wasn’t a nice person before.)

Skills: Idienne knows how to use a gun and a starglobe as her primary weapons, but also has some skill with thaumaturgy. She’s nervous about using it until she discovers old journals detailing how one can heal with fire, a skill her dad has perfected as a full pyromancer. It’s how her personal LB3 manifests, what she calls Holy Phoenix. It drains her of her aether but she eventually learns how to rework it to her advantage. She’s also a skilled weaver, a skill she learned from both of her parents, her favorite things to make are dresses. She still can’t weave her mama’s favorite kimono though.

Fun facts: Idienne came up almost completely by accident, starting out as a “What would Charibert’s and Yotsuyu’s kid look like?” and an evening chatting with Ming made her manifest.

Many nobles try to make her feel crappy due to the fact that she looks so much like Charibert and even try to call her his bastard daughter. Normally someone would get their asses handed to them for such slander (he’s very ace thanks) but he knows that if he tried to kill them it’d only bring some truth to the slander. He and Yotsuyu know that she’s not theirs by blood and they don’t give a fuck, she’s theirs in every way that counts.

When Idienne wants to be a little more intimidating, she’ll steal her dad’s favorite lipstain, being the fact that she looks so much like him and knowing his old reputation, she uses it to her advantage. She has very much flustered the heck out of him when she pulls a certain face, and the running joke among her aunts and uncles is the question of whether she really is adopted with how much she acts like both of her parents.

Idienne is probably the one who I have the most pictures of. CAN YOU BLAME ME SHE’S JUST SO CUTE!!! X333333333333

Little bit of a reference of her with her parents. :3

(Yotsuyu is still so tiny next to her daughter ahhh!!! AND IDIENNE AS AN ADULT IS MIN HEIGHT ELEZEN)

[subarublue]

Sparda Family Bonding Time Series - Part 2

Series Description: It’s family bonding time! Sparda family style! A series of short stories revolving around platonic familial relationships between the members of the DMC crew. Warning: Lots of fluff and bonding ahead.

One Shot

Title: The Apple Never Falls Far From the Tree

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Timeline: Post DMC5

Rating: G

Word Count: 3450

Read on Ao3

Summary: Dante gave his brother a pointed stare that clearly stated: Isn’t there something you should be doing right now? Which Vergil pointedly ignored as he turned his eyes elsewhere. Dante sighed.

They hadn’t been back from the underworld for long and this was the first chance Vergil really had to try and connect with his son...and of course he was getting cold feet.

Notes: Not too sure I’m any good at writing Vergil, but hopefully this turned out okay. Sorry if he’s a bit ooc.

Dante watched his brother closely. To anyone else at the table, Vergil probably looked calm, stoic, detached even. But Dante knew better. They were brothers, after all; twins in fact. Yeah, sure there was about a twenty year span of no contact between them (no, Dante did NOT count Mallet Island), but they did grow up together as children. Nobody knew Vergil better than him.

And Dante could tell that Vergil was nervous.

It was in the way he gripped the fork in his hand so tightly, his rigid posture, the way his eyes kept darting around the room, taking in his surroundings as if keeping all escape routes open even though it was unnecessary...until they landed on Dante himself.

Dante gave his brother a pointed stare that clearly stated: Isn’t there something you should be doing right now? Which Vergil pointedly ignored as he turned his eyes elsewhere. Dante huffed.

They hadn’t been back from the underworld for long and this was the first chance Vergil really had to try and connect with his son...and of course he was getting cold feet.

Dante supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, considering it was more than just the two of them and Nero sitting down to dinner. Neither of the brothers were the best at communicating, but Vergil was definitely worse considering his lack of experience. Especially since there were others present that he didn’t know very well.

Not that he knew Nero very well, either. Which is probably why he’d grilled Dante for information about his own son while they were stuck in Hell.

“What is Nero like?” Vergil’s question drew Dante’s attention to him. They were currently resting; no devils had found it necessary to try and kill them over the last few hours and sparring, as much as they enjoyed it, did get a bit old after a while. Honestly, Dante figured Vergil would ask eventually, since he couldn’t really discern that for himself now that they were stuck until they found a way home.

“Thought you got a pretty good taste of that already when he beat you.” Dante chuckled when Vergil shot him a glare.

“I meant under normal circumstances.” Vergil already sounded annoyed. Dante figured if he kept this up, it wouldn’t be long before they were fighting again.

“You mean when he’s not pissed at you?” Dante chuckled again when another glare came his way.

“As I recall, he was angry with you as well.”

Dante grimaced as he rubbed his chin, recalling the punch Nero had decked him with. He swore he could still feel it. “Yeah? Well, can you blame him? Kid grew up without any family and once he has one, seems like they’re just trying to kill each other. Course he’s gonna be pissed.”

“So…he grew up alone?” There was the slightest bit of regret laced in Vergil’s question.

Dante sighed. “Sort of.” Vergil turned to regard him as he spoke. “He grew up in an orphanage. Guess he got left there as a baby with no idea who his parents were. Not completely sure about the whole situation ‘cause I didn’t run into him until he was almost twenty. When we did meet, he had a girlfriend and she and her brother treated Nero like family, so I don’t think he was completely alone.”

Vergil looked at him confused for a moment and Dante could tell there was a question on his mind, about to be asked. “Who taught him swordsmanship, then? I thought perhaps you had, but he’s far too good to have learned since only twenty.”

“Ah, that would be Credo.” When Dante didn’t elaborate, Vergil knew he would have to ask since the name was unfamiliar to him.

“Who?”

“His girlfriend’s brother. He was the head of the Knights of the Order of the Sword at the time or something like that. Like I said, those two treated the kid like family.”

“I see.” Vergil looked away, becoming pensive for a moment. “Well, this Credo has been a good teacher for him, then.”

“Was.” When Dante spoke, Vergil turned to look at him in surprise. “He was a good teacher.”

“He is...” Vergil paused going through the various reasons for Dante’s choice of words in his head before deciding on the most likely one. “...dead?”

“Yeah.” It was hard to miss the frown on Dante’s face. It was so different from his normal countenance. “Died trying to save his sister and Nero from some crazed old maniac trying to use the bloodline of our dad for some idiotic world domination plan. That’s how the kid and I first met. I was there trying to stop the old dude. Unfortunately, I didn’t make it in time to save Credo. Nero or Kyrie either, but at least they were needed alive, so I was able to save them later. Guess the old fart thought his own general was expendable, though. Pretty sure the kid still blames himself for that one.”

Vergil went quiet after that, not saying anymore. Apparently, Dante had given him a few things to ponder on for a while.

That had been the first of many conversations about Nero they’d had while trapped in the underworld. Dante of course, hadn’t told Vergil everything, figuring that it would be better for him to discover some things about his son for himself, but he’d given him a start to grasp onto.

Now if only he’d take it.

Perhaps dinner at Nero’s wasn’t the best time to try and get Vergil to talk to his own son. There were too many other people for it to be comfortable to talk about something so personal. Dante only hoped that once dinner was finished Vergil wouldn’t try to beat a hasty retreat to one of those escape routes he seemed to be constantly looking for.

It was when Kyrie stood up to start clearing the table that Dante saw an opportunity. Nero usually helped her with it, but if someone else did…

“Here let me give you a hand with that, Kyrie.” Dante jumped up and immediately started helping her clear away the dirty dishes. This wasn’t exactly his style, but if it gave his brother some time to talk to his son in private, then he’d make an exception. Just this once, though.

“No! That’s alright! You’re a guest here. There’s no need for you to do that! Nero always-” She stopped short when she noticed Dante was covertly gesturing for her to look over her shoulder. When she turned, she saw Vergil doing his best to avoid eye contact with Nero, who seemed to be studying his father intently, but trying to be discreet about it. Of course, he was failing miserably.

It only took a second for the light bulb to go off in Kyrie’s head and she immediately began to play along. “Oh! I mean, of course! I could sure use the help. Thank you so much!”

This drew Nero’s attention to them. Dante met his gaze, then looked at Vergil and rolled his eyes, attempting to convey to his nephew without words that his father wanted to talk, but was being a coward about it. Maybe this way, Nero would take charge instead. He knew the kid wanted to talk to his father, so maybe knowing Vergil wanted to talk to him as well would help break the ice. Luckily, it worked and Nero nodded in response.

Kyrie had just dismissed the boys from the table and Nico had already booked it back to the garage to work on her next project when Dante heard Nero address his father. “Hey, I was gonna head out back and gets some fresh air. You can join me, if you’d like?”

Vergil’s head whipped around to look at his son while Dante and Kyrie slipped away into the kitchen, but they were still listening intently from just the other side of the door.

“That is…acceptable,” was Vergil’s reply.

Dante cringed. He couldn’t see Nero and Vergil anymore, but he could see Kyrie, and she was cringing, too. The unspoken words between them were conveyed with just that look: certainly not the best choice of words, but at least he hadn’t said no.

Thankfully, Nero seemed to take it in stride. “Come on, then. It’s this way.” A few moments later, they heard the back door shut as the two men stepped out onto the porch.

Kyrie looked at him, then. “If you want to keep an eye on them, you’ll be able to see them from the window over the sink. I won’t be able to hear them from outside so there’s no worry about me being privy to anything Vergil doesn’t want others to know, but you might be able to since your hearing is better so if you’d rather give them some privacy…” she trailed off, not sure how he wanted to go about this. The dishes could wait, if need be. This was far more important.

“We can keep an eye on ‘em. If they’re quiet enough, I shouldn’t be able to pick up on what they’re saying. And if I do hear anything, it’s probably gonna be something I already know. I doubt Verg will tell Nero his whole life story the first go around, but thanks for respecting his privacy, anyway.” Dante smiled at her. Nero couldn’t have made a better choice in a girlfriend. Kyrie smiled back and they set to work on the dishes while keeping an eye on the two men now standing on the back porch.

“So...Why did you leave?”

Vergil was jarred out of his thoughts when Nero suddenly spoke. He’d been standing there, admittedly a bit nervous, trying to sort through what would be the best thing to say. But what can you say to a son you practically abandoned?

In a way it was a relief that Nero spoke up first. It gave him a foothold to start with, at least. He was a bit surprised, though. It wasn’t hard to tell that Nero was just as nervous as he was. He was almost certain they would have stood out there the whole time without saying a word.

“You already know this. Yamato was necessary to close the portal. I had no choice but to go.” He knew he probably should have said more, but the words just wouldn’t come. Why was this so difficult?

“Yeah, I know that.” Nero already sounded annoyed and Vergil realized that if he tried to keep his distance, he’d ruin this chance to connect with his son. “I meant before I was born. Why did you...leave?”

Vergil blinked in surprise. That had not been what he thought Nero was referring to, though he supposed he should not have made assumptions in the first place. Of course his son would want to know about why he was left alone as a baby. And Vergil could tell there was more left unspoken than what Nero had conveyed: Why did you leave us? Why did you leave my mother? Why did you leave me? He recalled what Dante had said about how Nero grew up. He deserved an explanation, at the very least.

“I was unaware of your existence. Not that that is an excuse, but I...I was searching for my father’s power. I couldn’t find the answers I needed in Fortuna so I left. I had to.”

The hard look on Nero’s face softened slightly and gave Vergil a bit of confidence that maybe this wouldn’t be a total disaster.

“Why did you need your father’s power so much?” Nero was genuinely curious Vergil noted, but the reasons hit a bit too close to home for him at the moment. Someday. Someday he would tell him everything, but not now. This conversation should focus on his son, not himself.

“Because without strength, you cannot protect anything, let alone yourself.” He knew his answer was vague. They were the same words he’d spoken to his brother all those years ago, except Dante understood what he meant. He only hoped Nero wouldn’t prod further.

Nero, for his part, just looked at his father for a moment. Vergil was half afraid he would ask him to elaborate, but surprisingly, Nero seemed to understand there was a reason for his vagueness and let it slide. His son was perceptive. The barest hint of pride welled up in him and he decided he rather liked the feeling.

They were silent for a few more moments, and while it still felt a bit uncomfortable, it wasn’t nearly as bad as when they’d first stepped out on the porch. That was progress, he supposed.

Apparently, he was silent too long though, because Nero spoke up again, with a different question this time. “Would you have done things differently had you...known about me?”

Now how was he supposed to answer that? It was over twenty years ago. He had been young and determined. He was no longer the same person he was back then, but he feared what the true answer to that question could have been. Would things have been different if he’d known?

“I...don’t know. I’d like to think that I would have, but...” Vergil faltered, unsure of what real answer he could give Nero.

“But?” Nero prodded when he didn’t finish. He was looking at his father expectantly. Nero deserved to know the truth at least, Vergil decided, after everything he’d grown up without.

“I was young. I had a goal and nothing was going to stop me from getting what I wanted, not even my brother; my own flesh and blood.” The reality of what Vergil was trying to convey seemed to hit Nero, but he remained silent, allowing his father to finish. “I can’t say for sure if there was anything that would have swayed my decisions, but I’d like to think you would have. Forgive me if that’s not enough.”

Nero stared at his father. Vergil refused to meet his eyes, worried about what he might find there. Instead he set his gaze on nothing, simply staring out into the night and braced himself for whatever his son may have had to say in response.

“Maybe it wouldn’t have been enough once, but I’m okay with it now. You had your reasons, you didn’t know, and there’s nothing either of us can do to change it now. All we can do is move forward from here, I guess.”

Vergil turned in surprise to look at Nero. That was certainly not what he expected. He seemed to be a far cry from the angry young man he’d fought at the Qliphoth, but then again, that had been a rather tense situation.

Dante had warned him that Nero could be a bit hot-headed at times; that he sometimes let his emotions get the better of him and reacted without thinking. But this side of Nero, Vergil hadn’t anticipated, though it probably shouldn’t have come as such a surprise. This was his son, after all. Right now, he seemed far more mature than his young age would lead one to believe. That small hint of pride was swelling up within him even more now.

But there was also a deep sense of regret coupled with it. He’d missed everything. From before his son was even born until the moment he’d met him on that fateful day, he hadn’t been there. He hadn’t seen his son grow up over the years into the young man before him today and he felt a sudden overwhelming need to apologize for that as well.

“I’m sorry you grew up alone.”

Nero simply shrugged as if it was nothing, which Vergil knew was not the case. “I wasn’t completely alone. May not have been the best situation, but I had Kyrie and Credo so it wasn’t all bad.”

Vergil recalled what he’d heard from Dante about the two siblings that had been the closest thing to family Nero had while growing up. “Dante mentioned that this Credo taught you swordsmanship. I thought at first that perhaps Dante had, but he said you two did not meet until you were almost twenty.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Nero’s voice took on a hard edge, as did his expression. It was easy to see that thinking of his surrogate brother was still a painful memory for him. Vergil wasn’t sure he would be any good at comforting his son in this, but even he knew not trying would be a worse option.

“Dante told me what happened to him. I’m...sorry for the loss our father’s legacy has caused you.”

Nero didn’t respond and Vergil worried if maybe that had been the wrong thing to say, so he tried another approach. “He must have been a very good teacher. It shows in you.”

That got a response. Nero looked up in surprise at his father. “You...you mean that?”

“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. Giving you a false sense of accomplishment would only hinder, not help you. I may have been tired from my fight with Dante, but it was easy to see your level of skill during ours. You learned well.” Vergil smirked then. He was aware that Dante could likely hear their conversation and would never pass up an opportunity to make a jab at his brother. “Far better than you would have if Dante had taught you.”

That got a laugh out of his son. “Definitely,” Nero agreed. “Dante wasn’t very straightforward about a lot of things, anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Vergil was confused now. What could Nero mean by that?

“Well, I didn’t even know he and I were related until the Redgrave incident.”

Vergil’s confusion turned to surprise. Dante had never said anything to him before that? “He never told you?”

“Not until you disappeared through that portal after you put yourself back together. Dante kinda just dropped it on me so I wouldn’t keep trying to go after you.” Nero could tell by Vergil’s expression that he wasn’t too happy with his uncle. He certainly didn’t want them fighting again and decided to try and diffuse any possible problem before it could start. “But it’s alright, I guess. Can’t change it now, anyway. Makes me not feel so guilty about stabbing him the first time we met, though.”

That threw Vergil for a loop. “You...stabbed him?” Dante had somewhat glossed over his first meeting with Nero and Vergil was now realizing there may have been a reason for that.

“Yeah well, He kinda dropped in and assassinated the head of the Order in front of the whole congregation. I was a knight under Credo’s command, so we ended up in a fight. Pretty sure he was going easy on me. Still, I impaled him with his own sword because he went a little too easy on me.” The smugness in Nero’s voice was not lost on him.

But disbelief was on Vergil’s face at first. It didn’t last long though, before Nero’s story drew a wry chuckle out of him. He recalled a certain fight with his brother during the Temen-Ni-Gru incident which bore a similar ending for Dante.

“The apple never falls far from the tree, it seems.”

Father and son looked at each other in what might have been a nice moment for the two, but was interrupted by a very familiar voice yelling, “Aw! Come on!” from the direction of the kitchen window.

It was followed by the panicked sound of Kyrie’s voice asking, “Is everything okay?!” which had both men out on the back porch chuckling. Whatever conversation went on in the kitchen after that was blocked from their hearing, but it was unimportant in the moment anyway.

A silence fell over the two of them, but now it was no longer uncomfortable. That feeling of pride in his son, for what he had endured and what kind of life he’d made for himself, was back stronger than ever and Vergil felt the sudden urge to let Nero know how he felt.

“I’m proud of who you are.” Vergil looked his son in the eyes and watched as the reality of what he’d just said dawned on his son’s face.

Nero recovered quickly though, and what he said next Vergil knew he would never forget, for as long as he lived.

“Thanks...Dad.”

Vergil looked away out into the night, afraid of the amount of emotion he might be showing in his expression. But out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Nero was smiling. And now, he was too.

← Part 1 • Part 2 of this series • Part 3 →

[lyssismagical]

we swapped our smiles, gifted advice

Parkner Week Day Five: “He ordered one black coffee for himself and kept driving.” / irondad / parents au

 Tony doesn’t get to babysit very often. Living so far out of the way in the cabin, already dealing with one child, he’s not the first choice very often as a babysitter. Whenever it’s only for a couple hours, they have a babysitter in the same building they’ll pay, and whenever it’s overnight or longer, they’ll let May have the kids.

Tony really only gets to see his children and grandchildren is if it’s at the same time. For holidays or birthdays or anniversaries or whenever he begs them to spend a weekend at the cabin.

This weekend is one of those times.

Harley and Peter take their three children up to the cabin on Friday night, planning on staying until Sunday afternoon. Morgan’s home too, now sixteen, and misses the family like crazy whenever they spend months away, too busy to make trips down to the cabin with all of them. She’s decided that when she leaves for college, she’s hoping to go to NYU, she’ll become the permanent babysitter for their kids.

Their oldest is five, Elizabeth. One of their mutual friends got pregnant, but couldn’t keep the baby, so they offered to take her in. The other two are twins, June and Ben, surrogate kids, who just turned three.

Between the three young kids’ schedules, especially now that Lizzie’s started kindergarten, their careers as co-owners of SI, and superheroing, it’s nearly impossible to find weekends they can all take off.

Harley makes it to the door first, grinning brightly with a cup of coffee in his hand. He’s holding June on his hip, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he lets Pepper take her from him. She doesn’t seem too bothered, but Peter makes it through the door pouting with an angry Elizabeth on one side, an uncaring Ben on the other side. 

“What happened?” Pepper sighs exasperatedly.

Peter rolls his eyes, shooting a glare at Harley. “We wanted to get Macdonald’s. We all wanted fries or milkshakes. Harley was driving. Do you want to tell them what you did?”

Elizabeth pipes up from where she’s got her head tucked in the crook of Peter’s neck. “He ordered one black coffee for himself and kept driving.”

“Nice one,” Tony says, lifting his hand to high-five Harley. At Peter’s scoff, he moves forward and takes Ben off him so he can put Elizabeth on the floor too before moving into the house to close the door behind him. They’ve left their suitcase in the car for now, not having enough hands.

“Hey, bug,” Peter murmurs, seemingly forgetting about his previous sadness. He tugs Morgan into a hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “How’s high school treating you?”

Morgan smiles, corners of her eyes crinkling. “Good, it’s really good. And before you ask, no, nobody’s treating me badly, nobody’s mean to me, I’m not hiding anything from you, and I’m still very much single.”

“Acing all your classes?”

“You know it.”

Elizabeth, still hanging onto Peter’s jeans, lets go in favor of grabbing onto the hem of Morgan’s shirt. Morgan tries to pretend she doesn’t have a favourite between her nieces and nephews, but she’s got a particularly soft spot for Elizabeth.

Morgan scoops her up, peppering her nose, cheeks, and forehead in raspberries and kisses. “I’ve missed you, Liz. You ready for a weekend of fun with your favourite aunt?”  

Careful of everyone gathered in the foyer, Peter moves to the side where Harley’s leaning against the wall, sipping his coffee, to step into his arms. He slips into Harley’s awaiting arm, leaning his head against Harley’s shoulder and accepts the coffee when offered.

“You excited?” he asks, ducking his head to press a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “We get to sleep in tomorrow!”

Peter laughs, leaning heavier against Harley like just the mention of sleep is enough to make him feel exhausted. There’s been a lot of late nights and early mornings and no time to catch up. It’s no wonder they’re tired, CEO’s of a multibillion-dollar company, parents to three under the age of six, and Spider-Man to balance.

“I’m so happy to be back here again, we need to make this trip out more often,” Peter murmurs, pressing his lips to Harley’s jaw quickly.

“Next trip we make has to be Tennessee. I know you said we’d wait to take the twins on a plane, but Mom’s starting to freak out because she hasn’t met them yet. Abbie’s going to be back home in a couple months, maybe we should match up our trips.”

Peter laughs, looking over at where Morgan’s dancing with Elizabeth on her feet. June and Ben’s watching with wide eyes, and Morgan promises she’ll dance with them too.

“Abbie has to fight for her title as favourite Aunt. We need to get the whole family together too. Maybe this Christmas we’ll do a party, pay for Mom and Abbie to come out here,” Peter suggests, lifting an eyebrow tiredly. “That way, Abbie and Morgan can duke it out in person.”

The younger girl looks over with a glare. “I’ll win. I fight dirty.”

“Abbie fights dirty too. Don’t forget she grew up in Rose Hill, she spent most of high school getting into fist fights behind the school like I did.”

Peter opens his mouth to join the argument, but June lets out a whine before he can, squirming in Pepper’s arms. He sighs and pulls away from Harley’s chest to take the toddler back.

“It’s not really babysitting if you won’t let us help,” Pepper says, but she hands June over nonetheless. June’s a shy kid, so she doesn’t talk much to strangers. Ben and Elizabeth are both much louder and chatterboxes like their dads.

June presses her face against Peter’s chest, little hands curling into his shirt. “Hey, sweetie. You getting a bit overwhelmed?”

Harley presses his chest against Peter’s back, kisses his temple and then turns to the rest of the family. “What do you say we get dinner going and then a movie?”

“I could use a hand or two in the kitchen,” Pepper says, nudging her husband and then giving Harley a pointed look.

The three of them head off without a question, leaving Peter and Morgan with the three kids.

“How’s parenting treating you?” Morgan asks, lifting Ben onto the couch and patting the cushion on her other side for Elizabeth to sit. Peter falls into the armchair, June curled up on his lap.

Peter yawns, finally letting his muscles relax. “Lizzie being in school is a gamechanger, but don’t let people fool you, it’s hard. I have no idea how May did it. If I didn’t have Harley, I think I would’ve lost my head a long time ago.”

“Can you be honest about something?” Morgan’s voice goes serious, eyebrows furrowing, making an identical expression to one Peter’s seen on Tony hundreds of times. “Are you going to give up Spider-Man?”

“Why? Do you want me to?”

Morgan shrugs, swallowing thickly. She looks down at Ben who’s playing with the string on his sweater, so small and innocent. “I just worry. About you, about Harley, about your kids… Do you not think about what could happen?”

He pauses for a second, not wanting to give her an answer off the top of his head.

He’s thought about it before, but he tries not to. It hurts to think about the possibilities. He grew up without his parents, he lost his uncle, he spent a long time scared that May would be taken from him too, he got awfully close to losing Tony. He was drowning in grief for years of his life, he’s dealt with a lot.

And he knows the consequences. He knows that one wrong move out in his suit would leave Elizabeth, Ben, and June without a second parent, without their Dad. It would leave Morgan without her brother, May without a kid, Tony and Pepper without a son. It would leave Harley on his own. Harley would lose his husband, his best friend, his second half. He knows the kind of stress he’s put Harley under because of Spider-Man.

But if he doesn’t go out, it’s risking a lot.

There would be daughters and sons who wouldn’t make it home to their parents. There would be husbands, parents, who wouldn’t make it back to their family.

He can’t even imagine what it would feel like to lose a child. If he can stop that, he has to try.

“It’s more complicated than that,” he settles on eventually. “I know what I have to lose, and I will do everything in my power to make it home to them. I wouldn’t do anything to put me too close to harm. I know my limits. But I can’t leave New York to fend for itself. I can’t, in good conscience, leave the little guys.”

Morgan frowns like it’s not the answer she expected. “I almost lost Dad because he’s a superhero. He gave it up for us. He retired to make sure none of us would go through that.”

“Do you really think he wouldn’t put on a suit if the world was in danger? Do you think he’ll stay side-lined forever?”

June snuffles against his chest, little fist lifting up to touch his jaw and mouth before falling back to his shirt. Elizabeth’s eyes are on him, face set in concentration and hands fiddling in her lap. “Daddy?”

Blinking back sudden tears, Peter focuses on his oldest daughter. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Are you going to leave?” She looks too worried for a five-year-old. It’s one of those things that would haunt Peter forever if she felt like she was going to lose her dad. If he made any close calls. This is what he’s fighting for.

“No, honey, Daddy’s just fine. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

Morgan seems to see just how close Peter is to breaking, and guilt immediately floods her eyes. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up, I just- I guess, I just worry about you. Do you need a second? I’ll watch them if you want-”

He nods quickly, definitely needing a second to stop seeing that future. The possible future of these wonderful children growing up knowing loss and grief and pain like he did. He quickly shifts June onto Morgan’s lap, bending down to kiss both girls’ foreheads and promising his children that he’ll be back in a second.

As soon as he can, he ducks into the kitchen where Tony’s make a bad dad joke, and Harley’s cracking open a bottle of wine, and Pepper’s cutting vegetables, looking properly like a family.

“Harley?” Peter says, voice thick and shaky even to his own ears. Immediately, all three sets of eyes are on him, and he knows he must look like a mess already. “Could I talk to you for a second?”

His wonderful husband, all wide-eyed with worry and hushed tone, leads him down the hall to their bedroom where they’ll be staying, Peter’s old room. As soon as he shuts the door he asks the question, “What happened?”

“Morgan asked why I haven’t retired from Spider-Man.”

They’ve had enough talks, enough breakdowns, enough arguments, to know the heaviness and the meaning of the words. It’s been something Peter’s been struggling with for a while. Ever since they took in Elizabeth, Peter’s been weighing the pros and cons.

“Darlin’,” Harley says gently, arms encircling his waist and drawing them close. “We’ve got the weekend off, you don’t have to think about-”

“I want to give it up,” Peter says, something he hadn’t even admitted to himself yet. It’s so true, it hurts, but he needs to say it. He needs to be honest with himself and with Harley.

Harley frowns, bending just enough to look at Peter in the eyes properly. “What?”

“I want to give Spider-Man up, I’m just scared that New York won’t be safe if I’m not there. Whenever I go out, I can’t stop thinking about not coming home to you, and I can’t do that.” His voice breaks and he curls his hands around his husband’s biceps to ground himself. “I don’t want you or our kids to have to worry about my life every day. I don’t want there to be a possibility that our children grow up without me.”

“Okay, take a breath, if that’s what you want, we’ll make it happen. We’ll find someone else to look out for the city. We’ll figure it out,” Harley soothes. “If you want to hang up Spider-Man, you can. Nobody will stop you.”

Peter finally lets out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and relaxes into Harley’s hold. “I know what it’s like to lose parents, to lose people, I know what it’s like and I don’t want to do that to them, to you.”

There’s a knock on the door and they both look over to see Tony leaning against the doorframe.

Harley offers a half-smile, tightening his hold on Peter. “I suppose you want to give your advice?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Tony says. “Less grey hair for me, at the very least. I’ll get in touch with Wilson and Barnes, and the Young Avengers program. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Love you, dad,” Peter mumbles, smiling against Harley’s shoulder. “I’ll love you even more if you want to watch your grandkids tomorrow and let me and Harley sleep till noon? Maybe even take the whole family to the zoo?”

Tony scoffs. “And leave you two in the house by yourself? I don’t think so.”

“We’re married adults now, Tony. I can’t believe you still pretend we don’t have-”

Tony, forever the mature adult he is, plugs his ears and starts humming loudly, backing out of the room. “You’re coming to the zoo with us!”

Harley laughs, pressing a kiss to Peter’s temple. “Please tell me we’re cooler parents than Tony.”

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina  @spidey-reids-2003 @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @pj-hermes-tonystark-obsessed  @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester  @emo-girl10 @justme--emily  @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

[shootingsun]

There was a prompt knock at the door of Félix's guest room in the manor. Kali disappeared almost instantly to hide from the person about to enter the room. "Come in!" He called for the person at his door. Nathalie entered the room and looked around, seemingly searching for… something.

She's looking for me. Kali whispered into his ear.

"Your uncle desires to see you in his study soon." She deadpanned. Félix liked Nathalie, she was a decent person - although he still believed she was an idiot for putting up with Public Enemy Number 1, Gabriel Agreste.

As much as he despised his presence, there was something about the whole, "I tricked you into shaking my hand so I could steal these really cool rings that ended up being magical jewellery!" thing that was supposed to be just a fun little way to mess with him - it wasn't supposed to cause any more harm to their already unstable relationship.

That is, until now.

"Greetings, Félix." Said the designer, putting his arms behind his back. Because, being related is no exception to being professional at all times.

"Hello Uncle, you wanted to see me?" 

"There's something I've been meaning to discuss with you for quite some time now. I assume you must already know what that is, correct?"

Ohshitohshitohshit! Quick, play dumb!

"I'm afraid not Uncle, I would be delighted if you were to enlighten me." He lied, internally screaming.

"Hmm. Well then, I'm sure you recall your visit a while back. Your mother has so kindly asked me to hand over the rings that seemed to belong to her family. Does that ring a bell?" He smirked. 

That absolute bastard. Nobody talked about Félix's Mother in a passive aggressive manner!

Except for you, Kali reminded him. 

"Yes Uncle, I do seem to remember that." He commented, rolling his eyes.

"A couple hours after you left, I couldn't find the ring anywhere in the mansion. I'm not accusing you of thievery, really - I just want to clear matters up."

"But Uncle, I seem to recall you having a ring on when Mother and I came to stay because of her production." He had, of course, stolen that ring too. He was petty like that, and they were his after all.

"True indeed. Coincidentally I lost that one too afterwards, which brings me to this point - may I check your hand to make sure of something?"

Ha, jokes on him, they weren't on his hand, he was smarter than that, they were hidden in a custom made pocket in his jacket, and that would be incredibly invasive for him to pull Felix's jacket off and search it without consent wouldn't it? 

As expected, Gabriel didn't find anything. Then again, he's the same person who's been keeping tabs on two literal minors and still didn't succeed at stealing jewellery from them. Whatever Félix did was probably karma for all that. Either way, the topic at hand was another set of rings. And had he thrown a temper tantrum, it would've made him look especially bad in front of his mother. Oh, and his own kid too but, whatever, right? 

"This is a one time offer, Félix. Hand over the rings, or I may take them myself. I have my very own ways to do so." He scoffed. "My patience has a limit."

And suddenly, Félix felt fear.

Fear that didn't come from him, it that came from…

Kali?

no, No, No… No, NO, NO!! Not AGAIN. I DON'T WANNA LEAVE! HE CAN'T MAKE ME LEAVE!

Kali, calm down!

Her emotions were like a flood, there was fear, then sadness, then anger and fear again. She had to calm herself down before they had a panic attack. How to get out of this situation…? He couldn't think straight, his breathing was sharp and shallow, mimicking his Kwami's.

Oh God..  this wasn't gonna end well was it? 

This was it…

"Gabriel? I've been looking all over for you!" His Mother flounced into the room, thank god. He decided then and there that he would never make another sarcastic comment about her again.

"What is it this time?" He asked, slightly irritated.

"Gabriel, you know you always have a 2 o'clock meeting! Nathalie wanted to remind you, but the poor woman's having another dizzy spell and so I insisted I would come and get you instead!" She beamed passive aggressively, an art of which Amelie Graham de Vanily was well versed in. 

It was moments like this that made Gabriel want to punch his in-laws - and it was moments like this that reminded Félix how much he absolutely loved his mother. She was always there, just on time. 

Thank goodness for that. 

His Uncle looked down. Then he glared at his nephew, and he sighed. "Thanks for the reminder, I'll be going soon." Is what he said, but what he really meant was, "This isn't over yet!" And Félix knew.

He stumbled out of the study, breathing wildly, attempting to block out his Kwamis pained screams. He slammed the door to the guest room closed and slumped into a chair.

Kali it's okay! 

NO IT'S NOT! HE WANTS TO HURT US!

MAKE HIM STOP! MAKE HIM STOP! 

Kali we're perfectly safe right now. He tried to reason.

We aren't safe as long as we're in this house! We need to leave! He wants to separate us! 

That can't happen! It can't! It can't!

The thought of forcefully having his Kwami taken from him made Félix want to scream! But he had to remain calm.

Kali, that won't happen, I understand your fear, but you need to take a breath. He went first, showing the breathing exercise he had learnt over time, 5 in, hold for 7, out 8. As her breathing evened out, the Kwami began to lose her invisibility, her form flickered as she slowly calmed herself down.

Do you promise?

Huh?

Promise me that nobody will make me leave you, please?

Her voice and demeanor were unlike the Kali that had developed, it reminded him of when she had first come out of those rings. 

Scared and afraid. And now he knew why.

I promise Kali, nobody will ever keep us apart.

And he truly meant that. Nobody, not even a superhero, could keep them apart for long.

Just a bit after that confrontation, someone came back from his most recent photoshoot. He found his cousin laying on his bed, likely lost in his thoughts. 

He knew Félix was going through a hard time, and he also knew that they've been very close for most of their lives. Adrien would've done anything to help his cousin - and this instance was no exception.

"Hey! How come you're in my room?" He chuckled.

"Ah, erm, it appears I took a wrong turn, sorry about that…"

"How come? You never get lost usually…"

"Well, let's just say that your Father doesn't exactly do good things for my anxiety." He sighed.

"...Oh." And there it comes, stupid Adrien, wrapped around his father's finger, always choosing his parent over him! "Listen… I'm sorry."

What?

"I'm sorry! I think I owe you an apology," he frowned. "for, you know, constantly excusing my father. I'm sorry he's putting you through some stressful stuff, and I'm… not doing anything about it." He turned to look at him. "I hope you can understand that, really. I wish I could do something about it other than offer a shoulder to cry on, but I'm scared of disrespecting his wishes. I apologize." The boy muttered.

"...I guess I was wrong. You didn't do it to hurt me. I thought that was why-" Félix was dumbfounded. Adrien? Admitting his Father was a jerk?? Was this some kind of fever dream???

"...That was why I didn't go to your Dad's funeral?" He guessed. Félix quietly nodded. "No, I'd never want to do that, not after you were there for me when I lost Mom. I'm so sorry, Félix, I should have been there." Tears shone in the latter's green eyes.

"You shouldn't have to apologize, I'm sorry for the way I treated you! You were manipulated, I was just a jerk." He protested, how could he have thought such awful things about such a caring person?

Because you were grieving Lex, you still are.

Don't call me Lex - it was a weak response.

"We were both in pain. And look at you now, you're a good person, I know you are, I can feel it! So maybe since we both apologized for being jerks we just, I dunno, eat ice cream instead?" He smiled awkwardly, for a model he always was such a dork.

Félix raised an eyebrow, "Aren't you lactose intolerant?" he let out a smug grin.

"Oh hush! I can handle a tub of ice cream!" He was going to get so sick tomorrow... Eh, what the hell!

Hey, are you sure you don’t wanna tell him that you know he's Chat Noir?

Kali! You're ruining the moment!

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

This fic was made in collaboration with @yawngearyoie at around midnight while we both craved hurt/comfort

This fic IS Cannon to our Bat Félix AU, and will be referenced in other oneshots and the fic. Approximately a quarter of this fic has foreshadowing in it for the actual AU. Pick up on that and you get a cookie 🍪 lol.

The first (offical) part of our AU should be coming either today or at some point next week. We're gonna create a masterpost so y'all can read the fics in the order they actually happen in and not our crazy upload schedule (whenever we feel like it).

Send in Asks if you have any questions, or if you just wanna talk about the AU.

Thanks for reading! (We will be making a tag list, so if you wanna be on that, just say)