#Even though she's probably watched a few of his court cases on the news

[oculusxcaro]

(If she ever gets patrons who tend to make frequent 'appearances' on the news, how often does she recognize them, and how awkward are those interactions? Does she ever report them to the GCPD or feel tempted to do so?)

send me questions you have about my character!

You'd think a waitress in a demanding job would at least have a somewhat decent memory when it comes to recognizing faces but honestly? Khare has a horrible memory and isn't likely to start remembering faces unless they are REALLY distinct (or have visited enough times for their appearance to register in her brain). Seeing the Joker himself strolling in and ordering up some pancakes is the most you can expect for her to acknowledge there's a serious fucking situation on hand but after that? Forget it, she's not likely to make the connection.

However, this is Gotham so chances are that at least somebody's going to rock up at the diner in their costume. Khare may be so preoccupied about getting their order right that... you know, it's going to take a minute or two to catch on that something's not right about their appearance, but she can't quite put a finger on it. Alexa, play the Jeopardy! Think Music! It's probably more awkward for the patron visiting that everything is so calm - The waitress isn't screaming bloody murder or jamming the silent call button beneath the counter to alarm the police that trouble is there, she's just smiling and doing her best to remember their order, just as they want it but on the off chance she does recognize somebody... she really, really doesn't want to call the GCPD and cause a scene, because really, nothing's happened.... yet, and the thought of police taking her statement and asking awkward questions is a far more frightening prospect than the Mad Hatter asking for a pot of tea, because... you know, she's an illegal immigrant at this point, and if she calls the police, who's to say she's not joining them in jail after her shift ends? Having a bad memory makes life difficult but in Khare's case, it might have saved more than a few potentially dangerous situations from blowing up as a hungry rogue gets a tasty meal without any screaming or overhearing any hushed calls begging the GCPD to arrive, because even criminals need to eat and boy, do most people feel a lot better after getting a proper meal inside them!

[hellodarling1357]

Flames and Embers: Part 2 - Cassian x Vanserra!Reader (slow burn)

Thank you for all of the love on part one of Flames and Embers, it honestly means the world!

The next few parts will still have a bit of character set up, but I'm going off of this for everyone's (approx) ages because there will probably be a few different time line jumps throughout the chapters, at least until it's all caught up.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list or if you've got any questions about this fic (or any of my others)!

I'm hoping to get a new chapter out every week. I've got a mass word doc already with so so so many ideas and little snippets that I'm so excited to properly write!

As always, requests are open!!

Enjoy 🥰

Word Count: 2.6k

~ 528 years earlier ~

“But Father, I don’t want to go.” You were seven years old and had just been escorted to the entrance hall after being stuffed into a gown, hair done up in twirls with a small tiara placed atop your head.

Beron fixed you with a cold look as he assessed your appearance, causing you to shift on the spot as your brothers snickered behind his back.

“What did you say?”

“I just said that I didn’t want to go…” You trailed off, too late in realising your mistake.

Rule one, don’t question your High Lord.

Rule two, don’t talk back.

It made no difference that he was your father, your loyalty and obedience to his throne always came first, and within the span of just a few seconds, you had already broken the rules that had been outlined for you since before you could talk.

“If I say you are going, then you are going,” The lack of emotion in his voice sent chills over you, making you stare down at your feet to escape his pressing glare. “The only good that comes from having you as a daughter, is the chance of marrying you off and receiving a handsome dowery– “

“But Father, surely she is too young–“ The slap to the face that Eris received had the room coming to a standstill, even the snickering of your other brothers was silenced at the impact.

“Obviously she’s not getting married tonight, stupid boy. No, we need to start making her presence known, so that when the time comes it will be an easy enough transaction.”

You quietly sniffled, trying to hold back your tears. All you wanted to do was to run back upstairs and hide in your room. Your father turned back to the fae males who had silently watched the scene with smug smirks, resuming their previous conversation as you waited to depart for the Spring Court Ball.

With wide, watery eyes, you turned to face Eris. He had tried to help you and had gotten hurt in the process, but now he was back to his cold, distant self. This happened a lot, you had begun to realise. He would be warm and loving towards you, would try to protect you, but as soon as the others were around or it became too noticeable, he would act as though you didn’t exist.

You didn’t know what you had done wrong to have the others treat you like this, but you didn’t want to disappoint your father or your brother’s any further, so you wiped away your tears and raised your chin, silently waiting for the order to leave; slipping into the role of the perfect, silent female as you pushed away you worries surrounding the night ahead.

*****

The fae male your father worked with sneered down at you when he was ordered to winnow you to the Spring Court, still, you wouldn’t mention it to your father in case it was further reason for him to be angry with you, in case the male’s reaction was because of something you had done – not realising it was purely because you were a female who existed within the Autumn Court.

You timidly trailed in behind your brothers, who were pushing each other around as they followed your father into the glowing ballroom. Your family was announced upon entrance, and they all quickly dispersed into the crowd, leaving you lingering in the doorway with no idea what you should be doing; whether you should stay out of sight or if you should be following their lead. It was too late now; you had already lost sight of them so resorted to making your way around the edge of the room where you tried to copy what the other fae females were doing. It was too bad that none of them were anywhere near your age or bothered to acknowledge you in anyway. With a sigh you retreated to one of the shadowed corners and slumped into the seat as you observed the ballroom with disdain.

“Who are you?” The sudden appearance of the boy made you jump out of your chair, edging around it to create some distance between the two of you.

“Who are you?”

“I asked you first,” You warily glared at him, taking in his dark hair and violet eyes; he had to have been around the same age as you. There was a beat of silence before he continued, “I’m Rhys. Or Rhysand. But only my father calls me that. I much prefer Rhys. Did you know that I’m going to be a High Lord one day?”

You stayed silent, glancing around the room for any sight of your own father or brothers. Regardless of who this boy said he was, or who he was going to be, you knew your father wouldn’t approve of you talking to him and that it would most likely result in a lecture about maintaining appearances and, depending on his mood after tonight, a potential beating at your disobedience.

Oblivious to your discomfort, the boy, Rhys, continued talking, “Are you from Autumn?”

Your eyes shot towards him, before quickly looking around “Why? Why do you say that?”

That was another of your father’s rules broken if Rhy had already figured out who you were.

“Your hair,” You gave him a look of confusion, “It’s red?” He said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yes, it is. By why does that mean I’m from Autmn?” Maybe you could try to throw him off, after all, your father had always said not to trust anyone from the other courts.

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t.” His face was a mixture of deep contemplation and intrigue. “But it’s a good guess. Look, that’s all the High Lord’s sons over there, and they all have red hair.”

You head whipped around so fast, fear widening your eyes but, thankfully, they weren’t paying any attention to you.

“Can I tell you a secret? But you have to promise not to tell anyone.” It seemed the future High Lord had already jumped onto his next trail of thought, no longer curious about which court you hailed from.

“I heard, and I wasn’t supposed to hear, but I did. I heard my father, he’s the Night Court High Lord, saying to the males he works with that the Autumn High Lord is,” He looked around, giving you a conspiratorial smile as he leaned in closer, lowering his voice to quote his father, “a real piece of work.”

Rhys looked at you, gauging your reaction to the scandalous piece of news. You froze, not sure how to respond, but then a giggle left you, followed by another and another. You tried to hide your smile behind your hand but the pleased look on Rhys’ face and his laugh that followed made you giggle even harder.

“Rhysand.” A stern voice bit through the air, halting you both mid laugh. “Come over here. Now.” You had frozen at the tone of the male’s voice, used to associating the coldness of it with some form of punishment. Rhys, however, didn’t seem too concerned as he merrily said, “See you later, Autumn.” and made his way over to where his father and a female, who you could only assume was his mother, stood.

*****

You shook your head as if to clear the memories that had begun to resurface after your encounter with Rhysand in the dungeon. A part of you yearned for the simplicity of your youth, however, you now knew that simplicity didn’t necessarily mean happiness. And that, in reality, the simplicity you had experienced was purely your own youthful ignorance to the world around you.

Weeks had passed since the bargain had been made and Rhysand was yet to properly utilise your side of the deal. Not that you were complaining. The only times he had even deigned to acknowledge you since that night always seemed to coincide with your visits to Feyre. You could now guarantee that within the hour of you return from the dungeons, his voice would infiltrate your mind; only ever asking how “Feyre Darling” seemed to be faring.

The night before Feyre’s final task had arrived all too quickly. The party was in full swing – the fae around you drank and lounged and danced, others stood around laughing and singing as though they had no care in the world.

You stood with Lucien against a wall, both of you had a drink in hand but that was as festive as you would allow yourself to appear, especially when considering what Feyre would be facing tomorrow.

Neither of you talked much in public, leaving the decades worth of missed conversations for when you managed to find some quiet in the privacy of your own rooms. Instead, you observed the partygoers together and kept an eye out for the rest of your brothers and your father. Your mother was a rare sight at events such as these, over the years she had become more and more reserved, now, however, you couldn’t blame her one bit. Especially when considering the sight you were forced to witness as two young fae females sat draped across the arms of the seat your father occupied; you turned away in disgust, a scoff from Lucien was the only acknowledgement that he had also noticed.

Lucien pulled you from your thoughts with an elbow nudged into your side, inclining his head towards where Tamlin had silently moved to stand next to Feyre. You smiled at the sight, knowing how much she had missed him. At the sight of Tamlin sauntering off and Feyre trying to casually follow after him, you and Lucien shared a knowing smirk. All too suddenly, that small flicker of joy was extinguished with a scrape across your mental shield.

“Eyes and ears. Y/N, dearest”.

He offered no further instruction, but you knew what, who, he was referring to. With a disgruntled sigh, you pushed off the wall, murmuring to your youngest brother that you would see him later, before making your way through the crowd and out the door that Feyre and Tamlin had disappeared through.

The scene before you in the long stretch of corridor had you hesitating as you quietly shut the door behind you. They were clearly too caught up in, well, one another to even realise they were no longer alone. Also, seemingly oblivious to the fact that anyone could have walked in on them; you didn’t want to imagine what would have happened if they had been caught by someone else.

“Is this what you were wanting?” You shot back at Rhys, showing him the sight before you.

“I appreciate your efficiency. Best to make yourself scarce.” He purred back. You were too tired to think about what his words meant.

Not wanting to head back to the party that was becoming more and more unruly as the night went on, you made your way up the stairs and headed to your room, careful not to disturb Feyre and Tamlin as you passed by, hoping to allow them even just a moment of peace. You knew you wouldn’t be sleeping, not with the thought of what was to come tomorrow, but at least you would have a bit of quiet before everything changed, whether that be for the worse or the better.

*****

“Well, you certainly maintained your knack for having perfect timing over the years.”

The drawl of Rhys’ voice and his sudden appearance by the small window in your room had you jumping back, heart beating furiously in your chest.

“What do you want?” You voice was a low snarl as you glared at the High Lord, too tired and too fed up with the situation at hand to feign even an ounce of respect.

“I’m hurt, I thought you were beginning to warm up to me, what with your recent little trips down memory lane,” He tapped a finger to the side of his head, making a snarl appear on your face at the implication. “Seems as though you’ve been thinking about a lot of people from our past lately.” This was the most either of you had ever acknowledged the friendship you had once shared; of the other life you were so close to having before it was so cruelly snatched out of your hands.

“Stay out of my head.” He simply chuckled in response as he leant against the wall, silently observing you as he absentmindedly picked at his dark dress shirt.

“Why did you have me do that? You couldn’t allow Feyre a moment of happiness before whatever she has planned for her tomorrow?” You quickly changed the subject before he decided to delve even deeper into those memories of the past, your voice spitting out the word in reference to Amarantha.

You were surprised at the scoff Rhys let out, a scowl of his own appearing on his face at the thought of what he had walked in on, what you had shown him.

“Utter fools,” he seemed to say to himself as he crossed the room and sat in one of the old armchairs. “You're honestly telling me you don't see what was wrong with that whole…situation?”

Honestly? No, you didn’t. But you weren’t going to offer up an ounce of conversation as he begun making himself at home.

“He had a chance. A chance to get Feyre out. But instead, he wastes the opportunity on a quick fuck,” Your eyebrows narrowed at his words. That was not what you were expecting him to say, but now that you thought about it… Rhys hurriedly continued, voice laced with irritation, “If you were even just a minute later with showing me what was happening, it would’ve been too late for me to intervene, and then Amarantha would have seen everything.”

“I don’t understand…”

“That bitch would have killed Feyre on the spot if she had seen the two of them together. And if Feyre is dead… well, then the rest of us are well and truly fucked because there will be no other chances of getting out of this mess.”

His candour had your head spinning in cartwheels, still trying to catch up on the implication of his words, his actions.

“So…,” You started, still piecing it all together, “you were trying to protect her? After everything you’ve done, you, what? Suddenly grow a conscience?”

He just gives you an incredulous look before standing up with a disappointed sounding sigh.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, YN.” The dark shadows start to gather around him but something in your stomach felt unsettled at his sudden departure.

“Wait, Rhys? What’s your end game here? What are you planning?” The shadows disappeared the moment the words were out, a smug grin appearing on his face.

“So, it’s back to being Rhys again, is it? Here I was thinking you preferred to call me Rhysand nowadays.”

Letting out a scoff you rolled your eyes. For a fleeing moment he had seemed so much like the male you had once known. Now, however, the new asshole version of him stood before you again; the epitome of arrogance and entitlement.

“Honestly, I would prefer to call you a prick, but it doesn’t seem overly appropriate, High Lord.” You offered a mocking curtsey.

A deep laugh escaped him as the darkness gathered around his shoulders again, leaving you with a final, “goodnight, Y/N.” then you were once again alone in your room, the dread of what tomorrow would bring curling itself around you.

*****

Thanks for reading 🥰

Tag List: @dr4g0ngirl @esposadomd @judig92 @hnyclover @sarawritestories @anotherbook-obsessedhoe @macimads @gorlillaglue25

[pearlywritings]

Okay, BUT

Just imagine a reader with mannerism of Shellsea from Fish Hooks in Fontaine

(Tik tok did it to me)

Written before Fontaine's release

First of all - she is some kind of sea creature but under human disguise - pretty much like Neuvillette. She can be a Genshin lore-accurate mermaid if they have one for all I care, but currently with legs and residing in the nation of Hydro.

Trendy, flashy, yet classy. Works as an attorney in the Court - which she is actually good at. But mostly her role is entertaining Furina with her wit and way of advocating, which gradually reduces the number of executions, and gains her a bit of unspoken gratitude from the Chief Judge, even though sometimes his eye twitches from some of her comments. Which the Archon also finds hilarious.

Like, listening to the defendant’s case, and then just going “wow, ma’am, I think you just dropped something. My jaw. Now to the evidence…”

Or “Neuv, relaaaaax. I wanna do it this way, and if I am wrong, I don’t wanna be right.”

Just causing manageable chaos and being iconic.

Feel like being besties with Navia is a given.

And the blondie is so pretty that she probably gets asked out at least once a week.

“Oh, this man is gonna have his heart smashed in a minute. I wanna watch it.”

Also going all “Girl, you’re craaaaaazy. I like it!” the moment the reader learns that she wields a hecking claymore.

No matter what probably spends quite some time in the Chief Judge’s office, reviewing some of the cases and actually coming up with ideas on how to keep Focalors content.

“Ew, this man’s case is actually concerning. He is so dead, this little creep. You know, that’s actually what I’m gonna tell him. And then smack his head with one of these books on your shelves.”

“Y/n, you can’t hit him.”

“When did that stop me? Which volume 5 of Fontaine laws is heavier - the 23th edition or the 35th one? Both look so thick.”

“sigh”

Most likely wears a new attire every single hearing. One time Neuvillette even questioned her after seeing the report of her spendings where the big portion was dedicated to clothes. It was just a few decades ago, after her decision to permanently stay on land and take over what she is so good at now. He won’t admit it, but maybe he was a bit concerned about her having a hard time handling her budget.

“Listen, Sir. I got those pretty walking legs to dress them up nicely as the rest of my body. Speaking of which, now I am craving a Natlan lava hot dress with ¾ sleeves, off-the-shoulder, a fixed box pleat skirt and embroidery on my girls,” casually motions to the chest.

As shameless as she is, nothing shocked the poor man more, than when three days later she arrived in exactly that dress. After this he almost never questioned her abilities.

Speaking of abilities, probably good at gathering intel. Unintentionally.

Also so chill, that when Furina threatened to turn her into water, she just stared at her point blank and went “Loooook, milady, it’s nothing personal, but I had to stop you. I read it in Neuv’s eyes, he was pleading for it. Don’t turn him into water though, I like him. Besides, Fontaine's waters might turn sour if he replenishes its volumes.”

She is Furina’s personal favorite.

When shit starts further down the Archon quest and everyone is panicking, reader, standing next to Neuvillette and Furina, just smacking her lips and exclaiming “we’re all gonna die! And if some of us actually do, Neuv, I’m stealing your coats,” not taking it seriously enough.

Would be so funny if she and the Chief Judge got together at some point lol. But staying sarcastic colleagues borderline a different kind of besties is also hysterical. But they do unintentionally "parent" Furina.

[the-bed-gremlins-reading-list]

The Auberon snippet was 🥰 chef kiss 💙 it got me curious, he thinks that noone knew of the engagement apart from their "family" and the Imperial one, so here my questions: 1 Who proposed this marriage?

2 What power/advantages would have granted to both parties?

3 When the murder happened, months before Auberon killing the uncle?

4 Did he suspect it was the uncle?

5 Did our bethroed already have a lover at the time?

6 Is the lover family powerful?

7 The princess was still the future ruler right?

8 how the four possible MC's teachers/masters took the news?

Oooh, lots of questions! Love that! (Gonna drop a read-more for folk's dashes though.)

The Empress whose main backing is within the major religious organization. (I have a name for them written down somewhere but can't remember which out of the list I finalized for them. They're associated with the sun god and his court though.)

Lux was actually being put at a disadvantage. The betrothal with the younger Medulloi means they can't use their marriage to increase their influence and status. However they would be coming up on being of age to start receiving military commands and so a betrothal and marriage avoids the superstitions around unwed commanders being bad luck. It could - potentially - have opened the way for Auberon to make a formal argument regarding their uncle's actions and the murders/executions that were involved. But it was a case where Viria Laetoria doesn't actually have the political pull to refuse an order from her Emperor even if she hates her charge being involved with their nonsense.

Auberon did take a few months to link his uncle to the murder. He's given the information by one of his allies among the resistance but acts on it as soon as he has it. (Auberon prior to killing his uncle is primarily involved in espionage for them, when he inherits Ausones he shifts his role because he has access to ships and men.)

He knew that his uncle was still dangerous but it had been years since there'd been any real threat from that quarter. Viria and her people had made sure of that. Auberon had him on his list of suspects but had no real proof and he knew that once he acted against someone with power his play-act of being the obedient Laetoria heir would be over so he had to be sure of his target.

Lux does not have a lover at the time of the betrothal. They meet their lover while on the Ithellen front.

Nope. They're from a respectable family but not a powerful or well-known one.

Yup! Octavia is assassinated on her way to the Ithellen front from Ausones after she finishes dealing with Auberon and sends her brothers back to the capital.

BADLY, as one would expect. Whether or not the kids call any of them by familial titles they are family so it as basically like they lost their kid or nibling.

Ashkeru is the closest to the "canon" younger Medulloi because the poisoning attempt from their childhood left them weakened in a way it doesn't the game MC. As the family healer they end up in her care a lot. She's shattered by the loss - to the point she returns to Khemia and her family after Auberon's taken the ducal seat. She's still family but she doesn't have it in her to watch him burn himself up.

Halli is off making Caerwyn's life a living nightmare. He doesn't process the grief until weeks later when he has to give up the assassin's trail completely because the other little one decided to brand himself with a hell of a nasty reputation by using corpses for decoration. He throws himself into taking care of the family he has left, especially since Zaphon has never met the meaning of "self care". It doesn't work the best but he keeps trying.

Zaphon's reaction is probably the most outwardly stoic of the four. Mostly because his self-appointed role in the family is "the sane one". He's the one making sure Auberon and the others don't break until Halli comes back. (He just sort of collapses into his arms when they finally get some privacy.) He doesn't have the most outward response but he's a lot more protective of Auberon after that - he makes sure that there IS a plan in place, even if it's a bit rushed. (It's after this that Zaphon admits - at least privately - that he thinks of Auberon as his son, and that scares the hell out of him because he knows what hatred and vengeance can do to a person.)

Viria grieves. It's quiet and lost - but she's lost a lot in her life and had to bury that grief beneath duty to survive, and it isn't something she's good at. So she ends up adrift, not quite finding her footing but forced to try because she's a general and Octavia's loss means that she is in command of the Ithellen war. She focuses on what she can but it probably doesn't surprise anyone that knows her when she falls in battle not long after the MC's and Octavia's deaths. (An unwillingness to cut down an Ithellen fighter that was the same age as the MC and another enemy who took advantage of that hesitation in the heat of combat.) House Laetoria officially dies with her, she had never named an heir intending to offer the house to the Medulloi siblings once Auberon finally gave up the idea of retaking Ausones, or offering the name and the associated lands to the MC if Auberon managed to become duke.

[inscrutable-shadow]

Mine

guess who's writing prized possession au instead of anything else they should be doing it's meeeee i barely edited this have fun (it has footnotes!)

also on ao3!

"Reality. Settle," his father commanded, and Reality forced his knee to stop bouncing.

Holding still proved to be impossible, though. The itch built up inside of him and made him squirm. "Apologies, father, I am afraid I must…"

His mother squeezed his shoulder in concern. "Is it your magic? Do you need to go outside and blow something up, darling?"

The idea sounded promising, but he'd done quite a lot of that this morning, and the arcane power roiling inside of him was actually much calmer than usual. With a flick of his fingers, Reality turned the remainder of his glass of wine into champagne. Delicious, but casting the spell didn't bring the feeling of relief that it usually would if his magic were acting up. "No, I am simply… restless."

"He's just bored with the party." His cousin Delphina's voice was full of reproach, and he didn't miss the "spoiled brat" she muttered under her breath, either. At nearly thirty years of age [1], Reality thought he was a bit old to be called a brat. Delphinia's hatred of him was both well-known and a constant, though, so he ignored it.

The party was rather dull. As the premier social event of the season, the Midwinter Ball was the central hub for the political doings of the Winter Court, and the royal families of each of the Courts were obviously required to attend. The Hibernal King was both saturnine and mercurial, not given to socialising, and had spent most of the evening watching the proceedings silently from his throne. Reality was desperately trying to avoid the Vernal Queen and her daughter, who would either try to rope him into dancing or talk his ear off about something inane, and the Autumn Court's royals seemed to have about the same idea, given that they were remaining stubbornly on the other side of the ballroom. There was also a scattering of human royalty in attendance, invited as a formality and not worth his time. He'd hoped to see an old acquaintance, a prince from the Dragonlands with whom he'd been friendly as a child, but the Diamond Heir didn't seem to be here. Dragons disliked the cold. He supposed it was only fair. In lieu of anything interesting to do, Reality been busying himself trying to make sure he ate at least one of everything being served, but now his stomach was getting full and the wine was going to his head and he just didn't feel like it.

As his listless gaze scanned over the crowd, he accidentally caught the eye of the Princess of Blossom. Not good. She smiled at him and started cutting across the dance floor toward him. The last thing he wanted to do was talk, or Divines forbid *dance,* with the princess of Spring, but there didn't appear to be any sort of escape for him available. His parents didn't understand his distress, and Delphinia only laughed at him. Nothing for it, then. He buried his face in his hands, summoning together the will to put his court face on, but then the music stopped.

The dance floor cleared, and the partygoers all withdrew to their own tables, the Blossom Princess included. The orchestra that had been playing for the night so far mostly departed, leaving behind a string quartet, which began to tune and check strings, preparing for another segment. While they did so, a fifth young man approached, bowed to the performers, exchanged a few words, then opened his own violin case.

This new person was human, going by the shape of his ears, and probably only recently of age. Dressed in a doublet of black with red embroidery, he set the violin on his shoulder, pushing aside waves of dark hair that framed his face. A silver circlet nestled into that hair, studded with emeralds. A prince?

"Who is that?" Reality whispered to his manservant, Ioan. An inexplicable curiosity had come over him.

Ioan followed his gaze. "Ah, the young heir Iuventus. Prince Thanatos, I believe, my lord."

"His eyes are red."

"A hereditary trait, my lord. House Iuventae is known for producing scions with the most brilliant eye colors. He's quite the sought-after match," Ioan added pointedly, and Reality rolled his eyes.

Even as young as he was, people were already "subtly encouraging" Reality to choose a match. The divinity inside him shifted uncomfortably at the thought, and he turned the champagne flute into a butterfly in an attempt to calm it. He was already a magical weapon of mass destruction, a disaster waiting to happen. He couldn't risk passing this on to an heir [2]. No, the Fiothrey line must end with him. It wasn't as if any of the noble fae daughters had caught his eye. This had given many the notion that it was a good idea to waggle their eyebrows pointedly in the direction of the sons. Reality didn't appreciate that either. If he wanted something, he took it. If he didn't have something, it was because he didn't want it.

The human prince was rather attractive, though, he had to admit. Everything about him was long and thin: from his delicate fingers dancing on the violin strings to his elegant lashes and sculpted brows; save for his face, which while long was soft, and his body, which while thin, was rather short compared to most fae [3], though he was probably average for a human. He reminded one of a puppet dancing under the control of a masterful puppeteer: every movement graceful but regimented, shifting from point to point with calculated ease. Reality found himself watching the boy with a mix of amused curiosity and captivated wonderment.

And then he began to play.

The quartet came in first, playing a tune that was common in the Winter Court and often played at Midwinter Balls. Boring, and Reality mentally checked out before the second measure, but just after he'd settled his chin on his chest and committed to allowing the food coma to claim him, he heard a sound that stopped everything in its tracks. The prince's bow on the violin strings produced a haunting countermelody, a juxtaposition of death with rebirth, the essence of winter. Reality was absolutely transported to the center of a snowy lake, watching a single figure dance gracefully to a tune only the two of them could hear. He'd never felt such a sensation of internal peace. Even his magic went completely calm, without a hint of the shifting, crackling pulse that had underlaid his whole life. Every fragment of his attention was on this mortal prince.

Reality was sure he must look quite the fool, sitting here with his mouth agape, just staring, but it was as if he'd been spellbound, utterly incapable of movement. The human boy's crimson eyes remained mostly shut, save for when he opened them slightly to check the next section of music, but for a moment, his hooded gaze swept over the audience and caught on Reality's. Their eyes locked for a moment, and along with the rhythmic moment of his head as he played, Reality was sure he saw the prince smile at him. A pang of emotion struck him through the heart.

When the music stopped, the prince boned and exited the stage amidst enthusiastic but restrained applause. Reality turned to his father and gripped him by the sleeve.

"I want him."

"Whom? The human prince? They are not toys, you know, my son. It may be difficult to—"

"I want him."

[1] Fae, while not immortal, are incredibly long lived, and can achieve lifespans in excess of five hundred years. In the Courts, the accepted age at which young fae reach maturity is held to be twenty-five years old.

[2] The royal lines of the fae Courts are, for reasons lost to time, cut with divinity. This grants them unprecedented control over magic, with the cost that, if not sufficiently diluted, their bloodlines can produce demigods. Reality Fiothrey was one of these. the body of a mortal is not designed to contain the power of a god, and that divinity will regularly attempt escape, often explosively, if not kept rigorously in check by frequent usage of large amounts of arcane energy and exemplary self-discipline. Reality was already teetering on the edge of the maximum divine-to-mortal ratio possible to keep stable into adulthood. Even if he were to attempt to reproduce with a human with no chance of divinity in the blood, it was probable that the offspring would destabilise and detonate, taking half of the fey wilds with it. That Reality himself had not was a testament to his sheer force of will.

[3] especially Reality, who was nearly seven feet and showed no signs of slowing. The Divine Reality, who would likely incarnate into him, was known to appear at fantastic sizes usually no less than thirty feet. Everyone who knew Reality desperately hoped he would not grow that large.

taglist: @crash-bump-bring-the-whump @athenswrites

[uefb]

New chapter of With Its Head Under One Wing up today! (Finally.) x

In which Newt arrives very late; Tina and Newt...communicate; Newt apparently has secrets (though he’s not the only one); the two engage in something approaching a heart-to-heart but its really just Newt unintentionally courting her; and then a [non-literal] bomb drops, precipitating a mini-adventure, next chapter.

Excerpt

They finished dinner with far more speed than she’d intended, for it quickly became clear—at least, following her unintentionally provocative press conference on Tuesday—that dining in a Jewish wizarding deli as Chief Auror Goldstein with her eccentric, gentile, beau Newt Scamander was anything but conducive to a meaningful, private conversation... (Newt hadn’t even been able to finish telling her his story about the fellow in Greece who’d tried to sell him hair elixir infused with unicorn blood.)

Tina, meanwhile, had nearly jumped out of her skin when one Hal Abadi of the  Shalom Standard  slipped into their booth with a strained smile, an apologetic stack of black-and-white cookies, and a whispered promise to cover them if they wanted to slip out. (Tina had apparently been  very  visibly wearying of tossing up eavesdropping deflection charms every few minutes as people pointedly peered at her over their evening broadsheets; and Newt’s face had long settled into a resigned grimace, though he continued to crunch determinedly at an oversized pickle.) 

Tina took Hal up on the offer—promising him the first question at next week’s press conference in return—before wrapping up her unfinished pastrami in a transfigured wax bag. She gratefully tugged Newt away from the table as Abadi cast a subtle series of misdirection spells behind them, all the way to the door.

Outside in the late summer air, Newt collapsed against the front of a bookshop with a confused grin and—half-obscured beneath a hanging basket of sprawling, magenta petunias—huffed out a breath. He tightened his grip on his case before fixing her with a direct but querulous look:

“I’m almost sorry to ask, Tina, but... What in Merlin’s name has been going on over here?”

She crossed her arms tightly before reaching down with a spit-slicked finger to rub a splotch of dirt off her oxfords. He was still looking at her when she straightened back up. 

“It’s a — long story…”

He gazed at her imploringly from behind the petunias. 

“Look, it’s one that’s probably better saved for whenever  you  decide to share what I’m sure is a gripping tale regarding your late arrival. But elsewhere,” she clarified. “In private.”

Newt watched her for another long moment and Tina watched him back, but he eventually nodded, ducked out from beneath the plant and offered her his arm, after which they proceeded down the street with a relatively comfortable silence between them.

They walked the length of Hall & Harrison Square to reach the public Floo hearths (for Newt was  not  in the mood to be dragged along again via apparition so soon after three days on a boat), only stopping once at an apothecary for him to pop in and replenish a handful of ingredients. 

In the end, Tina only had to threaten to jinx one journalist on their way, a fellow who wanted ‘just’ a statement on one of the Auror Office’s ongoing cases. 

Plus an update on Grindelwald. 

And then  also  a response to the lecture Tina had given the  New York Ghost regarding antisemitism on Tuesday…

Now, in her defense, Tina had not actually  threatened  the reporter until he’d tried to send a message to his photographer when Newt emerged from the apothecary behind her—balancing a spray of vibrant wolfsbane and dried knotgrass on one hip while clutching several bulky wax bags to his chest—for the journalist seemed to think the two of them would make  excellent  Spellbound material…

Newt had found the whole thing overwhelming but – also –  endlessly  amusing. At least, until Tina had threatened to hex him,  too, at which point he’d disappeared into his case—in the middle of the damn promenade—faster than Tina had ever seen.

Nevertheless, a few minutes later, he emerged ingredient-less with a fond smile that warmed her chest and lit him all the way to his eyes.

Tina had had to shake her head to regain concentration, before reaching deep into a trouser pocket for the Floo powder.

They disappeared from the Square in a burst of flickering flame.

Footnotes from the chapter under ‘read more’!

Footnotes from the chapter:

1. Did I craft this bouquet based on (a) what I thought would look pretty; (b) their meanings in ‘the language of flowers’; and (c), partially, what I thought might represent Tina visually and symbolically? I absolutely did. My tentative research indicates the following meanings for the flowers: 

Coneflower/echinacea: no identified meaning, but they are used for health & healing traditionally

Rudbeckia (black-eyed susan): justice

Lavender: devotion

Chives: usefulness

Lisianthus: no identified meaning, but—though often perceived as delicate—they are exceptionally hardy

Baby's breath: ever-lasting love(?)

Red or scarlet poppy: consolation, fantastic extravagance

Ranunculus: ‘You are radiant with charms’

Honeysuckle: bonds of love

2. Absolutely humiliating that I did this, but here’s the shipping news from Wednesday August 16, 1933 (published in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle), showing a boat that picked up passengers in Southampton, UK was set to arrive in NYC—at the identified docks—on August 17th. The things you can learn on the Internet… (Fun fact, which I’m sharing because it is a common misconception: Transatlantic trips did not take a month in the 1920s & 1930s. We would’ve all been screwed in the WWs if that were the case. Think a handful of days to a little over a week. </end infodump>)

3. In-text links on Guanyin.

4. Guanyin is, in fact, often artistically represented with the Chinese mythological creature, the Qilin, which I assume inspired she-who-must-not-be-named to create the FB Qilin. It also appears in other Asian cultures.

5. The name of Hall & Harrison Square—the NYC equivalent of Diagon Alley I made up—is inspired by the first witch trials in New York state and surrounding areas. You can read more here (also linked in text).

6. For non-US and/or non-Jewish folks, the Jewish Deli may need a bit of explanation. (For those looking for a pop-cultural “touchstone”, Jewish delis have recently been featured in Amazon Prime’s The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, which—admittedly—has had wildly mixed reviews from Jewish consumers. There’s also a famous scene at Katz’ Deli in the 1989 movie When Harry Met Sally, though I’m pop-culturally ignorant & haven’t seen it.) Anyway, Jewish Delis are a fantastically rich feature of many urban, Jewish communities in the U.S. One of my dear friends who moved away from NYC in the 70s still has his elderly mother mail him bagels and lox and other delicious things from the Upper West Side*—delis are a huge part of many people’s lives, and they were even more so in the interwar years, and during and after WWII. If you’re ever in NYC or a city with Jewish delis, I highly recommend it. Google for more info. The in-text wiki link is NOT sufficient.

*Click this link to see a map of the areas I talk about in this note, and the chapter itself. Anyway, from what we can surmise from (a) tiny little details in the film (e.g., Jacob’s bakery, which is in the Lower East Side—Rivington St., a few blocks over & down from both Katz’s and a corner that has hosted a synagogue for over a century—and making some guesses based off of producer choices to model Tina & Queenies apartment on the NYC Tenement Museum (also in the LES, as the LES was particularly well known for tenements and—coincidentally?— also a couple handful of blocks from Kowalski Baked Goods); in combination with NYC neighborhood history and immigration trends… I write Tina & Queenie having grown up in the Lower East Side, as opposed to Upper West Side or Brooklyn or even Chelsea, where they live during, at least, the first film. (Not to be confused with the very Jewish town of Chelsea, Massachusetts, though Chelsea, NYC has it own Jewish history that I’ve found difficult to research as a non-New Yorker, and on the internet. It appears to have been rather Sephardic-influenced, though?) Even besides all that, though—especially based on waves of Jewish immigration from different regions of the world to various parts of NYC—I don’t think it *quite* makes sense for them to have grown up in Chelsea, especially since I write their parents as second generation immigrants, e.g., Tina & Queenie’s grandparents were the ones to originally immigrate to the US, along with good ol’ Great Uncle Arnold, from the Hesse-Darmstadt region of Germany (and many middle-class Jews immigrated from Germany to the LES between the 1830s-1880s, before spreading out across NYC from there). Anyway, for the sake of “my” universe, I think it's more likely they moved away from the LES after their parents’ died or after Tina graduated Ilvermorney, depending on where one imagines Uncle Arnold to live. The West Side (where Chelsea is) is, however, much closer to Harlem, where Lally grew up, so if Arnold lived in Chelsea that’s two good motivations to move, apparition aside... (Not that any of it even matters, of course! ….I just think it’s fun.)

Another fun fact, that many of y’all already know: Dan Fogler’s great-grandfather Isaac Fogler ran Fogler’s Pumpernickel in the LES in the 1900s—up until his death in 1943, it seems, though it didn’t always go excellently (e.g., he applied for bankruptcy in 1918, according to the papers, but was released from his debts in 1919)—in the same area of the Lower East Side that Kowalski Goods is in the films, within site of the Williamsburg Bridge. (Which—for you non-USians—connects Manhattan to Brooklyn, where both Jacob Kowalski & Dan Fogler grew up, though Jacob is likely Polish & Fogler’s great-grandfather was an Austrian immigrant). Anyway, Fogler has said he feels like he was made for the part, and feels connected to his grandfather and family history through his role as Jacob in the film. Pretty cool, huh?

(….all of that was entirely unnecessary, I am so sorry. I’ve been using overly niche history binges to cope with life recently lmao.)

7. So it was brought to my attention how very specifically US and New York black-and-white cookies are. So I’ve linked to the Wiki article on them in the text.

8. Link in text.

9. Links in text.

[2offayyo-kzt]

Nandermo isn't the only dysfunctional couple on the show, Sean/Charmaine is something as well

This post can be considered as a character analysis, even though Sean only has 40min of screen time and Charmaine barely 5'

This is just my own interpretation :

///

What makes a marriage last is obviously the communication, indeed the most concrete example in the show is Nadja/Laszlo (300 years baby)

Before the episode "Brain Scramblies", the marriage between Sean and Charmaine was already on the rocks

What I see as the main reason for the marital dysfunction is due to Sean's selfishness, irresponsibility, inability to communicate and frequent lying

-

When Charmaine asked Franky to return the 20$ from the pizza party, instead of supporting his wife who was clearly in the right, Sean preferred to side with his friend.

He clearly lacks trust in his wife.

-

After receiving Laszlo's money at the end of the episode, he makes another empty promise "I'm never, ever, ever, gonna do this again. I'm never gambling again, I'm a new man !"

In order to renew his vows of remarriage, he decided to go to Atlantic City, and promised that he would be "good this time"; which obviously wasn't the case (he went broke at the Casino)

And at the last second we see him bet absolutely everything on the "lucky number 12"

His behavior is obviously due to his gambling addiction, however he considers that it is long over "I used to have a big time gambling problem".

Fortunately, Charmaine appeared out of nowhere to probably yell at him.

Speaking of money, fully aware that he is already in financial trouble, Sean lends his bank card to Laszlo without thinking about the consequences of the gesture.

Charmaine trusted him to behave in moderation, if Laszlo hadn't been there to save the day, the situation in the couple would probably have gotten worse.

-

He has complete blind trust in his best friend, which is why they get along so well

Same example in the episode "Chamber of Judgement" , Sean tells his secret to Laszlo and not to his wife, who would be the first one concerned by this. "Even Charmaine doesn't even know..", at this point Charmaine may not even be aware that her husband went to court.

Sean is very open-minded and at the same time completely narrow-minded :

He started a pillow business without consulting his wife, and when he gets in trouble he blames others (his friends who didn't want to buy him pillows)

-

He fully supports the LGBT community, however the idea of selling a so-called man pillow to his wife is too much to bear.

This very gendered way of thinking is probably due to the education he received from his father.

It's not surprising that he married an extremely feminine woman, to fit the criteria of a heteronormative couple

Sean instead of making an effort to spend time with his wife and try to find common interests with her, does everything to run away from her.

"A long weekend away from the ladies"

This explains the fact that Sean and Charmaine were seen together in the show for only 5 minutes.

We can see a parallel with Nadja who wants to spend time only with women, but she has the excuse that she has been living with men for centuries.

At first glance Sean and Laszlo have nothing to do with each other and few traits in common but both make an effort to spend time with each other, to get to know each other.

Charmaine seems to be making an effort on her side, as she also watched Ocean Twelve with her husband and even learned a line from the movie.

At the time of his speech during the marriage of Nandor, one feels obviously that Sean projects his own couple towards the young re-married :

The relationship between Sean and Charmaine is co-dependent, Sean is aware that at any moment she can leave him "She's gonna leave me Laz !" but unconsciously he continues his abuse because he knows that deep down she will never leave.

"It's a long time to be with another person, you like her right now but..."

-

Sean is rarely aware of the sacrifices his wife makes and instead is harsh towards her.

During the wedding credits scene, she approaches a completely wiped out Sean on the floor "OMG Seanie... 🥺"

Sean responds with a simple "STFU."

And Charmaine replies "What's wrong with you ?!" (sis, you already know)

Charmaine is also relatively closed-minded, like when she blames Marwa (new in the neighborhood) for not knocking on the door and bringing cookies

The two of them (Sean & Charmaine) are really a pair, and they probably love each other to death

In the Brain Scramblies episode, his first reaction after seeing Charmaine on the porch (with his brain completely fried) is to fall in love all over again, and he didn't expect that such a beautiful woman would get married to him

(Nadja) "She's your wife."

(Sean) "A wish huh-"

Conclusion : To me they are as fucked up as Nandermo, Sean has self-destructive tendencies and deep inside he considers that he doesn't deserve Charmaine and that's why he does everything to screw up the marriage. (self-sabotage)

So now that he has conquered Charmaine, he doesn't make any effort (at the beginning of their relationship, when Charmaine's dog died, Sean brought her a bouquet of flowers every week)

-

If he doesn't open up to his wife, their relationship will just be superficial and tumultuous.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Sports Festival: AKA How Many Times Will Izuku Blush Chapter 4

Summary: With the future spelled out in multiple ways, Izuku now faces off in a series of battles to win the sports festival! Except you know, he’s facing off against all his future lovers and they’re all very interested in winning his heart. The stadium, Japan, and various others watch!

Part of the Photos/Videos Verse!

ON AO3

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The high from coming in second at the sports festival came crashing down

 His mom had given partial custody to UA, to Aizawa-sensei and Mic-sensei. She’d told him she was sorry and told him her reasoning behind many of her actions. Izuku never knew about her cousin. He never knew how his grandparents died. He never thought of why his mother seemed so convinced of his breakability compared to other kids.

 “I’m sorry,” Midoriya Inko whispered in Nezu’s office. Bakugou Mitsuki hovered in the background, looking worried as she stood there. “I’m so sorry, Izuku.”

 “I forgave you,” Izuku tried. Inko shook her head. 

 “You did, but I can easily ruin that can’t I?” Inko asked rhetorically. “I can become the woman from the future who drove you away because of her own attitude.”

 “From a future,” Izuku corrected even as his stomach tightened. Inko snorted.

 “How many didn’t mention me that ended up with us not being in contact?” she asked. She wiped her eyes. “I love you, baby, and I need help. It’s probably a bit much, but I’ll be checking myself into an inpatient program for a few months. Mitsuki… she…”

 “I’m divorcing Masaru,” Mitsuki said calmly. Izuku nodded slowly, remembering the future where she did. He still wondered why. They’d always seemed so in love. “I’ll be staying in your guys' apartment while it goes through. Katsuki… he might stay with me..” 

 Izuku bit his lip, looking down. A sharp stab of anger hit him. So Kacchan would get to stay in his apartment, in HIS room. It wasn’t FAIR. He didn’t say anything, though; he simply gave a nod. 

 “Due to the reveal of the future, Aizawa and Yamada are the ones who will be taking you in,” Nezu said simply, confirming earlier decisions. “As well, the young child whom was said to be Aizawa’s daughter will be coming. She was saved from a villain earlier by a civilian. Apparently, she was allowed to watch TV and had seen the future, which led to her escape.”

 “I understand,” Izuku said quietly. Inko sniffed, rubbing at her eyes. Izuku’s eyes prickled, and he let out his own sob.

 “Oh, Izuku,” Inko threw her arms around him carefully, and he hugged back, sobbing into her shoulder. The door opened to let in more people, though Izuku didn’t look up. He had a feeling he knew who it was.

 “Inko will be checking in tomorrow to the facility,” Mitsuki’s voice said. “You can come grab his things then. I kicked Masaru out of the house for the night, so I’ll be fine there.”

 “Thank you,” Present Mic’s voice replied. “We’ll have to move some furniture around our place.”

 “Little Eri will be in the hospital for a few days,” Nezu chirped. “It gives you time. As well, I have an offer for Izuku here for his internship.” Izuku pulled away from Inko to look at the principal.

 “Huh?” Izuku asked croakily.

 “A friend of mine is going to another country for the week and reached out to offer to take you as an intern,” explained Nezu. “Their Japanese hero name is Info Dropper, but at the time, they will be operating under the name Goblin as part of the Fae Court.”

 “The international hero group?!” Izuku asked in shock.

 “Indeed!” Nezu beamed. “They’re currently watching over Ingenium but need to go to Otheon to help out with a case. Possibly Ingenium will be going as well in order to keep him firmly from Stain.” Nezu hummed thoughtfully. “It’ll get you out of Japan’s eyes and the media's grasp while allowing you some time to focus on your new ability. Goblin is doing more information gathering than fighting but has a sidekick named Statista who can help train you.”

 “ID is going to have fun with him,” Aizawa said through his bandages. Izuku craned his head to look at his sensei.

 “You know them, sir?”

 “Call me Shouta or Aizawa,” Aizawa-sensei said. “While not in class, that is. And I went to school with them. They’re information, infiltration and ambush based. I think their sidekick is the same… I haven’t met her.”

 “I have,” Present Mic said. “She is that but also combat-based.”

 “So Izuku will be gaining a good education while out of the country,” Nezu said happily. “Letting everything hopefully blow over.” Izuku nodded as Inko sniffed, looking stressed as she glanced between Nezu and the teachers. She bowed her head.

 “Thank you for looking out for him,” she whispered. 

 “It’s our job. As teachers, heroes and foster parents.” Mic told her. Izuku felt tears begin to trail down his cheeks again.

 He didn’t know how he felt about them being called parents.

-0-

 If Izuku had wondered or participated in discussions about where his homeroom teacher lived, he’d have honestly thought it to be like under a bridge or in some rundown apartment. Likewise, if anyone asked about Present Mic, he’d have said a penthouse or fancy studio.

 Instead, it was an apartment the two lived in, with a guest room, office, at-home gym, panic room and their room. Or, well, it had an office the two were changing into a second bedroom for the girl named Eri. Midnight, Snipe and All Might showed up to help, though they badgered All Might into taking it easy by just helping get linen for Izuku, who’d get the guest room.

 “Are you going to be doing a press conference about One for All?” Midnight asked All Might. She wasn’t wearing her hero uniform, instead dressed in a baggy sweatshirt and jeans. It startled Izuku a little. Her bodystocking suit thing wasn’t that attractive, but it was form fitting which he’d felt suited her. The casual clothes felt different, more natural, or perhaps just another form of herself.

 “I’m thinking about it,” All Might admitted. “I’m not sure if only due to the reveal of…”

 “My dad?” Izuku said shakily. All Might winced, as did the others. “...No one’s said anything,” Izuku said softly. Snipe, also not in his hero costume but wearing a face mask to cover the lower half of his face, reached out to pat Izuku on the head. He had shaggy dark brown hair that hung around his face and dark eyes. 

 “Kid, being a villain’s kid ain’t the end of the world. From the sounds of it, this scoundrel is a piece of work, but that doesn’t mean you’re a bad kid, yeah?” Snipe said gently. “My own ma and pa were villains, and I only got out ‘cause Nezu found my message online.” Izuku nodded slowly in understanding.

 “Indeed!” All Might said. “You’re a good hero in training young Midoriya! Don’t forget that while worrying of your father.”

 “I understand,” Izuku said, smiling a little. It still plagued his mind but being told by heroes it would be okay made his heart warm. “Wait,” Izuku said, eyes widening. “My mom!”

 “Your mother is going to be going to a center where heroes tend to go to for mental health issues, and their family members reside if needed,” Midnight told him. Izuku looked at her in surprise. “I overheard her talking about it. I go there for therapy twice a month, and I know Endeavour’s wife….” Midnight paused and then frowned. “I wonder if I should speak with the police on that.”

 “You should,” Izuku said. “Todoroki… told me a bit earlier.” he swallowed. “It’s personal though, and since he’d getting help….”

 “Of course.” Midnight waved her hand. “A confidant is important, so don’t stress. Knowing Thirteen, he’ll be in therapy anyway. Which frankly, I suggest you go to.”

 “Hound Dog is willing but would prefer to refer him to someone who specializes in his stuff. Hound Dog is more PTSD based with his training.” Aizawa said. Izuku sighed, not fully happy with this. “And the rest of the counsellors all agreed it would be best for a neutral party to be in charge. They’re all biased.”

 “How?” Midnight asked.

 “Betting pool,” Aizawa said. Izuku frowned at his teacher in confusion.

 “Huh?”

 “Oh, the one that opened up for the sprout’s future partner?” Snipe asked. Izuku’s cheeks felt on fire as he squeaked, covering his face. The adults laughed, leaving Izuku to pout. They were all mean.

-0-

Class 1-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Pichu: Alright, so Midoriya, would you prefer us to have a chat where we gush over you or should we do it here?

Small Might: What?

Bass Boost: Dude, we all saw futures where we got with you. I so wanna get my flirt on.

Small Might: WHAT

Class Prez: Please do NOT push Midoriya right now please.

Alien Queen: Not pushing! Just we wanna gush, and with how red Starlight got, he’d be a MESS if we did in this chat.

Rock HARD: Starlight? We already having nicknames?

Small Might: Please make another chat, Present Mic is seeing my face and guessing.

Class Prez: Ah, you’re living with him and Aizawa-sensei now?

Small Might: Mom came to UA to sign papers. She’s going into inpatient care for mental health reasons. That’s all I’m saying. Though apparently, the kid from the future, the one with the horn, is going to be staying here to.

Dr. Dolittle: Oh, that’s good. I was wondering.

Alien Queen: Send pictures PLEASE. Aizawa-sensei being a parent to a little girl is adorable.

Sensei: Good to know, Ashido.

Alien Queen: Mistakes were made.

-

Kaminari Denki has created a group. Group Name: Simping for Midoriya

Kaminari Denki has added Ashido Mina, Sero Hanta, Jirou Kouyka +12 others.

Kaminari Denki: Anyone have any other of the numbers? Other than the obvious.

Nezu: :3 

Nezu has added Togata Mirio, Amajiki Tamaki, Hatsume Mei +2 others

Kaminari Denki: How?!

Nezu: I made the social media platform Kaminari. I know all.

Shouji Mezou: And Izuku will be learning from you, so he’ll know all eventually.

Ashido Mina: Hot.

-0-

The day after the move-in, Izuku went to the doctor who would help Izuku out. The man’s name was Dr. Anders, a German man who was in Japan for a conference but took the time to help him. Not out of awe for the future, the lanky blonde said dryly to Izuku as he’d checked the teen’s injuries but; “I respect Recovery Girl and all of the doctors here, but I know her well enough she’d have had to leave behind some lingering issues.”

 “And you can do better?” Izuku asked.

 “Well, I used to be known as Mage with the Grey Wardens group called Amaranthine. So yeah, I should be able to.” Anders grinned at the dropped jaw from Izuku. “Man, it’s great to get those reactions.”

 “Mage?!” Izuku choked out. “I… you have the greatest healing Quirk in the WORLD. And…”

 “And I got accidentally possessed by a comrade which made us BOTH insane.” Anders shrugged. “It’s why I quit, kid. Ran off to Kirkwall, and that was undoubtedly a dumb idea given their policies.”

 “I don’t know those,” Izuku admitted. Anders hummed, checking some charts.

 “They’re anti-Mutation Quirk, anti… anything not what the old Knight Commander, the hero in charge, wanted. She was a power-hungry, paranoid, egotistical and delusional woman. Eventually, it got fixed; I ended up in a hospital, got out and learned the Wardens sucked still, so I didn’t go back.” Anders told Izuku. “You get good hero organizations and bad ones, and the Wardens have various good cells, but the core is bad. Or it was. Last I heard, a few cells went rogue and started changing things.” Anders shrugged. “Not my problem anymore; let’s heal you.” After that, it took an hour to heal Izuku fully. Dr. Anders went through it slowly, knitting together the broken pieces. Izuku asked questions, but all he got was that the man could ‘connect’ to some sort of energy in the world to heal people. Dr. Anders called it ‘Magic’ with a wink that had Izuku groaning in annoyance. That wasn’t an answer! 

 However, Izuku figured he might not get anything with how tightlipped the doctor was.

 Outside in the waiting room, Hizashi was fielding calls from his agency who were bombarded with messages from various media stations. Everyone knew Izuku had been placed in his custody. A leak somewhere caused it in one night. 

 “Look, I won’t be doing interviews or accepting them for him,” Hizashi told his PR manager, a guy named Sawada Tsunayoshi. A nervous kid but a good one. Hizashi also knew the kid was a vigilante, but they all pretended not to know.

 “I get it, Present Mic,” sighed Sawada. “But there’s going to be gossip. Are you sure we can’t have him intern with you?”

 “He’s got an internship with the Fae Court, taking him out of the country for the week,” Hizashi explained.

 “Ah, keeping him out of the media may help soothe some of it, but I doubt it’ll last.” Sawada mused. “I can get Takeshi to run some numbers if you want? Or Hibari, but that’ll cost you. And me.”

 “I would rather die than deal with Hibari, so Takeshi is good,” Hizashi said. He was not dealing with that monster. Bad enough that the others sucked at hiding their vigilante lifestyles, Hibari didn’t bother and was a violent brat. 

 “Alright then,” Sawada laughed. “I’ll talk to him, and we can figure it out. Of course, Hayato might also toss in his two cents, but well, it’s Hayato.”

 “He’ll have already charted everything and figured out the best option,” Hizashi agreed. “Thanks, Sawada.”

 “Of course, sir, have a good day.” Sawada hung up after, and Hizashi sighed, leaning back in his seat. God, taking in a kid was more complicated than he thought. Then there would be Eri when she came. Shouta had gone to see her after getting his bandages removed finally. He hadn’t even needed them but kept wearing them to mess with his students.

 Hizashi glanced at the door where Dr. Anders took Izuku, thinking about the future. Not the one shown by the Quirk. But the one he’d be facing soon, where he would have two kids plus his husband. Honestly, it sounded like a fun time, one he was eager to see. Even if his eldest would have a few people after him romantically, it would surely be a promising future. 

 They saved Tensei; they knew where not to step, and things would turn out great! He just knew it!

-0-

 Sasaki Mirai, known to all as Sir Nighteye, left the hospital with lowered shoulders. The arrest of Overhaul had been brutal. So many lives were lost, and now his sidekick was in the hospital, injured enough that they wondered if she would continue her hero career. Plus everything else. 

 Mirai believed in fate. A one-track destiny. But now he’d been confronted with multiple futures and options for one person. It didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be possible, yet here they were. He questioned everything. 

 If he was wrong here, did that mean he was wrong about All Might’s face? Would the man live on? Or was he still trapped inside a fate of inevitable death? Or were there more paths than what Mirai knew? One thing he knew, though, was that he hadn’t seen this. Hadn’t seen a future where Mirio wasn’t at his agency, wasn’t his intern. Wasn’t his boy. 

 However, Mirio said he wouldn't return. Nezu’s sent an email to decree that all internships with Mirai’s agency would be terminated for now. He lost his boy. Over some green-haired brat! He turned down an alley, anger filling his gut as he thought about it. That child! Him, the future number one!? Mirio should be; how could Mirio just happily accept that? Was it the fault of the Quirk? Perhaps… Mirio would understand when the effects wore off; he had to-

 A sharp slice crossed Mirai’s arm, and he jerked back, turning around. Yet as the hero turned, he froze, unable to move, eyes staring ahead.

 “Hello, Nighteye,” snarled a voice. A man carrying swords and wearing a red scarf appeared. “I thought to let you live, being the sidekick of All Might once upon a time. But the future has shown me what sort of hero you are. A fake.” Mirai couldn’t move or flinch as the swords were raised and stabbed down at him. Once, twice, thrice. Stomach, arm, and leg. The man laughed as the paralysis that held Mirai failed, letting him fall to the ground. His hand twitched to his pocket, but the villain lazily licked the blood off his sword, paralyzing him again. “Goodbye.” the man lifted his sword.

 Mirai watched with terrified eyes as the sword came down, only one thought in his head.

Mirio.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Notes:

-Yeah, NaNo has turned into me writing fanfic. All very sporadic and random but… here we are!! This is shorter then the others due to being more of a wrap-up but the next few fics are currently plotted!

-I originally was going to use a canon hero but realized that with the intro of Info Dropper I had a way to get Izuku to Otheon while having it make sense as ID does work internationally. 

-GROUP CHAT GROUP CHAT. I couldn’t resist. Expect a few one shots/asides of this.

- Anders just showed up. He’s more Awakenings then DA2 as Kristoff (Justice) was removed safely but he kinda just… appeared here ngl. He’s not the same as other fics I have where Justice is his Quirk. Here he has the healing powers from Dragon Age game series, so he’s very powerful. 

-I very much need to like make a chart/post about all of the various hero groups/world building I’m doing. I 100% just keep using other franchises. Except the Court. That one’s mine.

-... *cough*... yeah Nighteye is dead now!... uhh don’t hate me? I wasn’t gonna but then I got to this and went: actually… this makes sense. So… yeah.

[handelplayssims]

We rise! We shine! We take a Citrus Soak to get a focused moodlet for Meredith as we go into a work-from-home day! It’ll be time to file court documents, aka stay at the computer for awhile, and research current case, going to the library. Let us get to work then, and start out with those court documents!

...both laundry hampers are looking real full. Should probably also do the laundry today as well. After heading off to the library to research the court case. Ohp! Markus is up and he is hungry. Let’s just set some grapes along the floor for him to eat. The things you do for gameplay conveniences. ...I also had him yell at Meredith to simulate that “Moom, I’m hungry!” thing. The thing I circumnavigated but ah well! Annnnd communication level 4 for Markus. Huh. Anyway, let’s gather up some books and toys and head on over to the library!

Annnnd Meredith is hungry and I didn’t even notice. Well there is a grill outside at least. We could have food there, after we research! We research, Markus actually plays with his blocks and gets some good thinking progress and have a burger dinner! To home we go again! Because normally, I do Meredith’s whim but I think we got a lot of laundry piled up. Gotta stay ontop of that laundry!

We did get a call from those new neighbors asking us to come over. If we must. But while she would, we got laundry! And also I wanted to have Meredith teach Markus about Please and Thank You. Because she would raise a well-mannered kid! Also since the temperature is super hot, I figured it’d be fine for Meredith to have an actual clothesline to dry things off with. I’m taking out all these lovely gardening furnishings and just adding in bits and bobs. Ah well!

Oh I should actually mention! This house is called Pour Ellie, and it’s created by cedergrave! It’s a real nice home so I figure it’d slot right in as Meredith’s single solitary life...which isn’t so solitary now! Though I did a thing and gave it to her without actually accounting for the money she would have. Not something I would normally do but hey, Meredith has sway in this small town community. And I like her and want good things for her! And now, for a few brief moments, Meredith has time for herself. And she wants to make a friend! So let’s invite over Simeon. She finds out he’s Gloomy. Well. Snob and Gloomy. What a combo. After some light-chit-chat, we head to bed, though she does find out that Simeon is a Geek after talking about chess with him! And so Simeon gets the pleasure of just wandering around the home doing whatever he pleases while everyone else is asleep. What fun! He finally goes home and all we’ll be left with is-

Neighborhood Watch!

Rachid Mounib in the Mounib household has died. Rachid heard a dad joke and laughed a little too hard.

Ernesto Rebuschatis in the Rebuschatis household has died. Ernesto fell for a cowplant’s cake bait. He could not have his cake and eat it too.

Again, light day so let’s continue on! Meredith arose early due to the need to go overpowering sleep. As it does. With this time, I’m able to make french toast for both herself and her son! And in the small time before work, we can put in another load of laundry. Now here is the question. Will Markus be able to reach the French Toast made for him before Meredith goes off to work? The answer is…nope! Not with wanting to go and sit over on a chair in the living room! Only a few bites before he got sent off to daycare. And now, once more, he needs a bath, a light munch and sleep. Alas, poor Markus. At least he gains skills at daycare. We take care of Markus’s needs and then Meredith’s. And by the time those are done, it’s already bedtime. Except we’re staying up because laundry never ends. Allows us time to raise her fun need at least. And then we can just set them up on the clothesline overnight. So then we sleep! And it’s time once more for!

Neighborhood Watch!

Forgotten Hollow: The Okada household recently moved out.

Newcrest: The Ferhat household recently moved out.

[sixosix]

kuroo tetsurou: good luck charm

fem!reader, kuroo is pathetic and whipped, your kisses are his good luck charms :) unless it’s on the lips; in that case, he will not function properly, wc 2.1k

“just let y/n give kuroo a kiss on the cheek,” says nekoma teammate, “it works wonders.”

kuroo steps out of the bus, yawning with his mouth open wide. he spots karasuno’s bus from the corner of his eye, and smiles fondly -- before it falls, his expression mixing into something more curious.

someone steps out from behind daichi; someone who kuroo has never seen before.

it was only a quick glance but kuroo took one look at you and thought: huh, today must be a pretty good day.

and, as if struck by a charm, it was.

“karasuno’s manager is pretty cute, isn’t she?”

kuroo pulls his shirt back on, grimacing at the sweat clinging to his back. he looks around for his towel, wondering where the hell he had dropped it; kenma walks past and throws it on his face, before returning back to his game. kuroo mutters his thanks.

“eh? kiyoko-san? obviously! we already talked about her!” kuroo sometimes wishes yamamoto has an off button.

“no, no. the new one!”

“there’s a new one!?”

kuroo sniffs, not bothering to look up. “if you have time to chit chat i’m sure you have time to practice a few more rounds, don’t you think?”

he smiles to himself, pleased, as his teammates cower and resume conversations, though at a lower volume. they had just finished rounds and rounds of practice matches with karasuno -- that damn chibi-chan with his damn stamina!!!! -- so of course they know kuroo wouldn’t dare.

however, kuroo would dare bring yaku in, and they didn’t want that to happen, dear god no. heavens no.

he strolls to where the water bottles are, and sees his good friend (that he obviously doesn’t want to throttle to the ground with a volleyball on and off-court) daichi talking to some girl he recognized hopping off the bus and standing next to the ‘kiyoko-san’ yamamoto and tanaka keeps babbling about. the new manager, kuroo thinks to himself.

he was very pleased to note it was the pretty girl he caught a glimpse of earlier.

maybe it really is a good day today.

“daichi, you didn’t tell me he was hot!” you fume. kuroo is immediately intrigued by the topic of this conversation.

“i wasn’t aware i had to inform you,” daichi says, blank-faced.

“you should’ve!” you snap, though there’s no real malice to it. daichi grunts when you smack his back. surprisingly, kuroo watches as daichi doesn’t smack you back. “you’ve told me all these sexy stories about him and expect me to act normal when i finally see his face? damn you. bastard.”

daichi groans, defeated by absolutely nothing -- disgust, probably. “i have not been telling you anything remotely close to that. you’re the one who has a huge crush on someone you haven’t met.”

you gasp. “now--”

“now, daichi,” kuroo muses, almost chuckling when you flinch and when daichi’s shoulders slump further. “that’s a bit cruel, isn’t it? a little hope wouldn’t hurt.”

“if it isn’t false hope,” daichi murmurs, looking at kuroo like he knows that kuroo tripped over his smooth floor last night. “maybe i don’t have to worry about that.”

“creepy,” kuroo comments, laughing when daichi huffs at him, all lighthearted banter that’s familiar for the two captains. you, however--

kuroo smiles, though it's much more pleasant than what he usually flashes at the rival captain. “nice to meet you. new manager?”

you nod stiffly, almost uncomfortable. kuroo takes a mindful step back to give you more space. crap, he winces, i didn’t even realize i was too close. don’t be a creep.

“yeah.” it was almost as if he was just imagining your nerves, because then you shoot him a grin that’s way too smug and bright. it mirrors his. “it’s an honor to meet nekoma’s captain, kuroo tetsurou. i have fun watching your team play.”

kuroo feels himself burst with pride. you sure know the way to a man’s heart. “not everyone has the pleasure, that’s true.”

daichi slips away, unnoticed.

his eyes lower to something more mischievous, toeing the line. “it’s a little unfair you know my name, but all i know from you is a pretty face who seems to have a little crush on one of the boys here.”

you falter, that's one thing kuroo knows for sure, but instead of turning all shy and nervous, you laugh -- and wow the sky is really blue today. he might just walk home everyday if the weather’s this nice. if the air is this fresh. if your smile is this pretty.

what? stupid, you just met.

“l/n y/n.”

kuroo can’t bring himself to look away anyway.

“it’s nice to meet you, l/n.” it really is. the wedding bells ring somewhere far back in his head -- which is. weird. he watches your back when you nip on over back to your team.

has his chest always felt this light? kuroo shrugs. he’ll use this to his advantage for the next round then.

So, how did it go with y/n?

kuroo was expecting a lot of things. he was expecting a bit more relaxation -- it’s saturday, for fucks sake -- and maybe coaxing kenma into playing with him. he’d have to be sneaky with kenma, or else he’s the one who’ll end up with a joystick in his hands. it’s a hit or miss with his best friend.

he does not expect to trip over nothing seeing daichi’s text. it’s smooth floorboards, how the hell is he tripping?

[kuroo 7:28] good morning

[kuroo 7:28] what the fuck

[kuroo 7:29] Σ(;Φ ω Φ)

[daichi 7:30] She seems really happy. don’t distract her too much though, she’s still OUR manager. don’t get any ideas.

[kuroo 7:30] it was nice. i think she likes me lol. u better watch out

[kuroo 7:32] wait what the hell ar eyou talking abouth again????

[daichi 7:35] You think i don’t know?

[daichi 7:36] Oh, wait. Sorry.

[daichi 7:36] Were you planning to keep it a secret?

“i’m pretty sure i’m the one who doesn’t know,” kuroo grumbles, shoving breakfast in his mouth.

[kuroo 7:36] stop it what;;;; can u tell me whats going on first

[kuroo 7:40] WHAT

[kuroo 7:40] YOU THINK WE’RE FUCKING DATING????????

[kuroo 7:40] SAWAMURA

[kuroo 7:46] DUDE. ITS BEEN A DAY

[kuroo 7:50] COME BACK AND FUCKING EXPLAIN

[daichi 8:00] Sorry for assuming

[kuroo 8:00] doesn’t she have the hots for someone rn?????? dont weird her out away from me i rlly like her

[daichi 8:05] For someone so smart you are an idiot

[kuroo 8:06] HOYL SHIT

when it’s revealed that your crush is indeed no one other than kuroo, he wasted no time in sweeping you away (read: asking you out before anyone else gets any ideas) and wooing you with his charms (read: failing and being pathetic in front of you, which you found endearing).

(however, he does not let you live down the fact that you called him sexy and hot multiple times. if weaponized correctly, you end up a flustered puddle and he rides that high for weeks.)

it’s bliss, kuroo thinks. sometimes he wonders what he did in his past life to deserve you. not someone like you, but l/n y/n.

it is a tad awkward that karasuno’s manager is dating the captain of their deep-rooted, long-established, everything-volleyball-related rival, but you two make it work. kuroo reluctantly agreed he’ll let you cheer for karasuno when they’re going against each other, i guessssss :/

but what really takes the cake is when schools -- including karasuno; including you -- come over for practice matches and you wish him luck before rounds -- unless he’s showing daichi who’s boss. you usually do it for him, though.

“tetsurou!!!”

it’s as if his body is wired to respond to you instantly, no hesitation. kuroo looks up, grinning lazily as you jog up to him.

some players look his way, watching you with some awe on their stupid boy faces. kuroo, with smug satisfaction, watches their stupid boy faces fall when he pulls you by the waist to keep you close.

“pretty girl,” he says in lieu of a greeting. it’s always true, with you. one look your way -- pretty, pretty, pretty.

“dumbass,” you greet back, grinning so brightly he can’t even bring himself to feign anger. as if he can ever be mad at you no matter how hard he tried. “against dateko, huh? sounds fun.”

he shrugs, tapping his fingers on your back. “won’t be for them if it’s a clean victory.”

“it’s a practice match, chill.” but you laugh nonetheless, elbowing his side. “karasuno’s starting soon so i’ll head over there in a sec. just wanted to say hi.”

kuroo makes a show of pouting. “can’t even excuse yourself one time? for me? what am i to you, babe?”

“no,” you say, and he stumbles back as if struck by an arrow. “i want to watch shouyou-kun’s new quick! you’ve seen it, right? pretty cool, right?” kuroo huffs but smiles and nods anyway -- any sane person on earth is impressed by that freak duo. “not as cool as you, of course.”

it’s a beautiful day today. “damn right.”

“captain! kuroo! tetsu! rou!”

kuroo inwardly groans.

you laugh, waving at yaku and inuoka. “that’s your cue, captain.” he loves it when you call him that. “beat their asses, okay?”

“of course i will.”

you curl your fingers on his shirt, then abruptly pull him down for your lips to meet his cheek. kuroo’s soul and mind descend into a series of frantic keysmashes, mouth agape like a fish out of water.

“meet me after the match if you win!” you say.

nekoma wins.

kuroo does not let it go.

every time, without fail, he makes you kiss him on the cheek, and then he is filled with determination, enough to make him do his best -- which usually leads to rounds easily won.

there is no scientific reason, no matter how much his friends insisted there was. kuroo simply went to court happier than he was pre-kiss; oftentimes, playing a game you’re meant to enjoy leaves less stress when you enter with a bounce on your step immediately.

you truly did not mean for it to turn out this way, though.

“y/n.”

“hm.”

“y/n.”

“i’m busy, tetsu.”

“you’ve reviewed the same worksheet twice!”

“i’m double-checking!”

kuroo shakes his head. “i have a match later.” his pleading eyes is almost as cute as a cat’s if he wasn’t such a little shit. “please?”

“no. you’re getting too spoiled.”

“y/n!!! i’m not, i promise!!!”

yaku sniffs, judging him silently with just a look in his eye. “do you really need to do this every time?”

kuroo grins slyly, waggling his eyebrows, caging you on your seat from behind with his arms on either edge of your desk. you are a tad fascinated by how his hand almost swallows yours whole. “it’s tradition. it ain’t my fault you don’t have a cute girlfriend cheering you on.”

“fuck you.”

you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you, finally looking up from your notebook. “does everyone actually believe him that it works?”

“it’s true, in a way.” yaku shrugs, glaring sternly at the now-sheepish captain. “he made us lose one round because he was too busy worrying about his girlfriend sick at home.”

he gapes. “you told me you wouldn’t snitch!”

“i didn’t promise anything.” yaku then  makes a gesture with a finger -- hold on, it means -- and answers his phone. “kenma is missing!” the speakers say, then something else about a walking-fluff-of-orange stealing him away. you and kuroo look at each other.

“well,” yaku ends the call without another word, grinning at you, “see you when we celebrate,” yaku winks, ignoring kuroo’s hostile hiss.

“good luck out there, yaku-san~!” you call out; he gives a single wave in response.

when you turn to your boyfriend, he’s still looking like a cat that’s been sprayed with water.

“tetsurou,” you say; it’s effective when snapping him out of it, “have fun, okay? don’t let the coach down.”

“i never do.”

“i know. it’s why you’re my favorite.”

the sparkle in his eyes and the way his chest puffs up with pride means you’re treading in the right direction. it’s so laughably easy to stroke his ego when you’re named y/n and you say a few nice words.

“do i get my good luck kiss now? or do you want to make me work for it again?” he does the weird waggling of eyebrows again.

you pull him down by the tie, hitting him right on the lips. he startles, yet composes himself quickly by squeezing his eyes shut. when you break the kiss, he chases after you immediately, but you cut him off with a hand on his mouth.

“good luck.”

nekoma wins. (though, if you ask around, they’d say that it’s everyone but kuroo’s effort. the poor man was steaming from the ears and colored red for a good portion of the match.)

it’s a perfect day today.

[storiesofsvu]

Too Sober

Warnings: Language, flirting, usual banter Peter Stone x fem!reader  

You gave a friendly wave to Sergeant Platt as you walked into the 21st District, case files in your hands. You’d come straight from court so you were in a hip hugging pencil skirt, heels, and pale purple dress shirt, buttons undone a bit to be more comfortable, your blazer hung low over your waist, shielding your badge.

“Y/N, Good to see you again.” Trudy greeted happily, you approached the desk, 

“Good to see you too.” You started, “How’s McHolland?”

“Great.” She beamed, “You here on business?” You held up the handful of files, 

“To a point I guess, Peter still up there?” 

“Yeah. Head on up.”

“Thanks Trudy!” You flashed her a smile as she buzzed you up to Intelligence. Your eyes scanned around the room as you climbed the last couple of stairs, unfamiliar faces bent over their work at their desks, or chatting amongst themselves. A few looked up at the sound of your heels clicking on the floor, a scruffy faced blonde was the first to approach you, a gleam in his eye as he drank in your appearance,

“Hey, what can I help you with?” 

“Looking for Peter Stone.” You’d been at the precinct before but never up to Intelligence, you figured he was either in or watching an interrogation, but weren’t sure where that exactly was. 

“He’s in interrogation right now, should be out soon. Make yourself comfortable.” He gestured to his desk, you could practically feel his eyes burning through your skin as you walked towards him, leaning against his desk. “Stone never mentioned his assistant was so pretty.” He said that part quietly so only you could hear, a smirk evident on his face. You scoffed lightly at that, crossing your arms on your chest.

“Let me guess….you’re Ruzek…” 

“Call me Adam.” He smiled over at you, reaching out to shake your hand, lingering at the touch a little too long, you rolled your eyes, 

“I am way too sober for this.” You muttered under your breath,

“I mean, I could always buy you a drink at the end of the day.” Adam practically licked his lips as he drank in your form again, causing you to outwardly laugh at that. He mocked offence, moving even closer to you “Multiple drinks? Dinner maybe?” You cocked an eyebrow, 

“Y/N!” Peters voice rung out through the room, and you were so incredibly thankful for the save, (though you were one second away from revealing just who you actual were, probably humiliating the young officer, this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened) turning away from Adam, your eyes giving a grateful look to the A.S.A. You held the files out for Stone to take, 

“You wanted these?” 

“You’re a lifesaver.” He replied, taking the files from you, starting to flip through the first one as Adam spoke up from behind you,

“Stone, didn’t know you got a new assistant.” Peter stopped, glancing up at the officer across from him, cocking an eyebrow looking between Adam and you, a smirk placed on his face.

“Assistant? Is that what she told you?” He chuckled lightly, Ruzek nearly immediately started to retreat, taking a step back, a confused look on his face, his eyes flickered to Voight as he made his way into the room.

“Captain!” He exclaimed, making his way over to you, giving your hand a shake before pulling you into a quick hug, “Good to see you again, need something from us?” Adam’s face paled, you laughed softly, 

“No, just dropping off something for my husband.” You stroked Peters arm gently, your eyes made their way back to Ruzek, “You know, for someone wanting to be a detective you should really be better at taking in clues.” You made a purposeful show of pushing your blazer back with your left hand, showing off not only your badge but your wedding ring. “Captain Stone, major crimes,” You gave a tilt of your head to Ruzek considering you’d already shaken hands.

“Captain…”He muttered out, “Or…Mrs Stone….nice to meet you.” Peter let out a laugh at that, giving a soft kiss to the side of your head,

“Call her Captain at work unless want your balls cut off.” You laughed, smacking his chest with the back of your hand, Adam visibly tensed,

“He’s joking.” You smiled, “You didn’t know…but if you show up at my precinct I expect Captain.”  Voight glanced amidst the three of you as Jay and Kim tried their best to hide their hysterical laughter in the corner of the room.

“Adam, you harassing one of my best detectives?” Ruzek sputtered as Voight laughed, clapping you on the back, “Thanks for giving me some entertainment this week, you should stop by more often.” You laughed at that,

“Thanks Hank. I’ll always remember where I came from,” You squeezed his hand gently, “I’ve already been gone long enough, gotta get back to my squad.” You kissed Peter on the cheek gently, turning to leave.

“I’ll walk you out.” He stated, gathering up the files into his briefcase, following you out of the precinct, “You really enjoy torturing people who don’t realize you outrank them, don’t you?” He chuckled lightly,

“Of course baby, I’ve got to entertain myself somehow.” You smiled against his lips, kissing him softly, looping your hand around his tie, pulling his body against yours, enhancing the kiss. “I also enjoy torturing officers who think I’m a piece of meat when I happen to be married to their A.S.A.” Peter laughed at that,

“You’re evil, baby.” A quick kiss to your soft lips,

“Oh I know.” Your lips met his again, “I’ll see you at home?” You questioned, Peter stroked the side of your face his thumb stroking over your lips,

“Of course my love,” He pulled you into him for a gentle forehead kiss, “Stay safe.”

“Always.” You gave a strong squeeze to his hand before making your way off to your car to head back to your squad. 

[griffintail]

I literally just had a thought-and I'm not sure which I like more. Techno brining either Phil's kid or his kid to the nether with him (probably when they're a little older) and a piglin gives them a courting gift. And they don't understand but techno goes protective. I just-the lost ones series has been so much angst lately man. You don't have to write this but at least it's a cute thought 🥰

Courting Gifts

Pairings: Parental! Technoblade x F! Reader

Warnings: None :)

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

Techno had taken (Y/N) into the Nether a few times before but it was simply to cross from one portal to another. He never had a reason to interact with the life there, other than striders when he taught her how to ride one and ghasts when they were attacked by the vicious things. They never had a reason to interact with the piglins.

So, when Techno was running out of a few things and he had a few bits of gold hoarded away, he decided to trade with the piglins.

“Hey, I need to go trading but the village is too far out. So, I’m going to the Nether to trade with piglins, want to come along?” Techno asked (Y/N) as he came outside to see the young adult laying in the snow but her head on Steve.

“Sure! I’ve never seen you trade with piglins.” She got up and pet Steve before she left the bear’s side.

“I never have much of a reason to, I usually plan a village trip ahead.” He said as he went in with her behind him. “But, with the you know what Athena, I used a few more supplies than I should have.”

“Ah, right.” She nodded.

She was truly a girl of wisdom and Techno had thought the name proper for her when he formed the Syndicate with her and Phil. They both went to grab their gear for a Nether trip and Techno quizzed her before they left.

“What do we need for a Nether trip?”

“Crossbow for ghasts,” she patted the crossbow on her back, “gold as a sign of peace,” she held up her arms to show her gold bracers, “and a couple of fire resistance potions just in case. And of course, the normal armor and sword.”

“Correct.” He nodded. “I’ll deal with all the trading today, come on.”

Both father and daughter walked to and into the portal, capes flowing behind them and crowns glinting. (Y/N) walked beside Techno as he led the way to a bastion hold.

“Piglins like the good things in life,” Techno told her as he showed her the gold he had taken. “They’ll give you almost anything for a bit of gold.”

“So would you.” She joked with him and he snorted.

“You’ve been hanging out with Tommy too much.”

She grinned as she looked around as Techno went up to one of the piglin traders. Around, she took in the black stoned building with a couple of gold inlays in its stone foundations. They must like their gold even more than her father did. She supposed that’s why gold armor was a sign of peace.

Following her father around to a few traders, she quickly found out that Techno could communicate through their snorts and such while she didn’t understand it at all. She didn’t understand the bartering either though. Techno seemed to get some decent items with just one bit of gold but what seemed like nothing at all for more gold.

“How does their trading work?” She asked him as he moved onto a new trader.

“It’s mostly how greedy they are. Sometimes I can talk down their prices, sometimes I can’t.” He shrugged. “I don’t trade with the greedier ones unless I really need something.”

“How greedy were they?”

“They weren’t bad, you should see the ones that want to trade with ender pearls.”

“Would they trade with me?”

“Eh, some of them might try to trade with you to get a steal. Some of them might be kind and actually, barter with you.”

“Huh, do you mind if I sit and write some of this down?”

Techno chuckled lightly. (Y/N) loved to take notes of things she learned and documented findings she had never seen in the many books they both read.

“Ok, just stay in my sight.” He nodded.

She nodded before leaving his side to go sit on a black stone bench. Carefully putting her crown next to her, she pulled out her journal and ink before writing down what Techno had told her. As she was documenting, she saw a small hand going for her crown in the corner of her eye.

“Hey!” She grabbed the crown and pulled it to her to see a small piglin. “That’s not yours.”

The child shrunk, giving small snorts. Shit, they were adorable.

“You shouldn’t take something that isn’t yours.” She told them, putting the crown on her head before digging through her bag and finding one bit of gold. “But here.”

They perked up at the offering of gold before happily taking it. She smiled as they climbed onto the bench next to her, playing with the gold in their hands before trying to look at her journal, making snorts.

“This is my journal; I was writing down what my dad told me.” She explained even though she doubted the child could understand her. “I’m documenting things no one has ever written down.”

The piglin gave little snorts as he pressed close to her to just stare at her journal and she chuckled, tickling the feather of her quill on the child’s nose making them give a little snort of what she assumed was laughter.

“You should go find your mom or dad kiddo. I don’t want to be responsible for you.”

She supposed he understood some of her words at least because the little piglin got up and wandered over to an older piglin, tugging on their pant leg. Chuckling softly, she turned back to her journal, writing down a few notes that the piglins probably understood a bit of common language as she now kept her crown on her head, despite it being annoying that it would fall forward. As she was scribbling away, even doodling a piglin, she looked up as a shadow came into a view.

It was the older piglin that the small one had gone to and she smiled up at them.

“Hello. Can I help you?” She asked.

The piglin gave a few snorts before holding a golden bracelet to her. She tilted her head, confused.

“Uh, I’m sorry. I don’t have any more gold for that.” She said carefully, hoping the piglin would understand.

They gave a few more snorts, still holding out the bracelet.

“Um…ok?” She said confused as she stood, putting her journal away then reaching for the bracelet only for an ender pearl to shatter in between the pair.

Technoblade then stood there, towering over the piglin and giving a mix of a growl and a snort as he had a hand on his sword. The piglin shrunk before scurrying off.

“What was that?!” (Y/N) exclaimed in shock.

“We’re leaving,” Techno said as he kept his tall posture while walking back towards the entrance.

“What? What just happened?” (Y/N) asked hurriedly as she followed after her father.

“Not now, back at home.” He said stiffly.

(Y/N) was very confused but she followed after him regardless. He’d tell her once they got where they needed to be. It took till they got to their portal before he stopped, relaxing his tall stance. (Y/N) realized now was he had been making himself appear tall and intimidating as he gave an angry huff.

“The nerve…”

“What was that?” She questioned.

“A piglin custom.”

“What custom? Dad, I don’t understand. All I know is you terrified that piglin.”

Techno groaned as he took off his mask so he could run a hand down his face. He stood there for a few moments before looking at her.

“It was a courting gift.”

“A what?” She said shocked.

“Piglins give gold jewelry to women they want to court. He wanted to court you.”

All (Y/N) could think was that piglin was lucky he wasn’t dead.

“Oh. Uh. What would have happened if…you didn’t come in?”

“They would have tried to court you! I was not letting that happen.” Techno shook his head as he went towards home now, (Y/N) following behind. “I was watching you as I traded though and was trading for ender pearls when I saw him trying to give you the courting gift.”

Techno had practically shoved all of his gold at the ender pearl trader before taking the ender pearls, immediately using one to separate his daughter from the piglin. He remembered the voices screaming simultaneously, but he was acting on his own instinct as a father.

“Oh, well, thank you?” She questioned.

“Yes, you are welcome. No boys, no nothing.” Techno told her as they stepped into the house. “You’re still too young.”

“Dad, I’m almost twenty.” She joked.

“No. Boys. No, nothing.” Techno pointed at her, looking deadly serious.

“Uhh.”

“What boys?” Phil asked as he came in having seen the pair come home.

She had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

[amjustagirl]

Firecracker - a meet cute with Suna Rintaro (923 words, fluff) 

It doesn’t begin with the standard hello, it’s nice to meet you. 

Instead, it begins in the middle of a crowded hallway in school as you’re facing off one Miya Atsumu. The disparity in size is what makes him chortle at first, you’re dwarfed by the six foot tall blonde pain in the ass, and that is probably what makes Kita hiss in disapproval, ready to curb his wayward kouhai from courting further trouble with the discipline master. 

But from his vantage point, he notices a few things. 

First, while Miya Atsumu is currently holding your pencil case hostage, dangled teasingly way above your head, he’s keeping a careful distance from you. Second, you show no signs of being dissuaded by your physical disadvantage, nor are you resorting to whining to get your way - something he detests. Instead, your stance is light and casual. You're even advancing with deliberate, sure steps towards Atsumu. Third, you’ve somehow managed to shift the terrain to your advantage, cornering Atsumu beside a study bench, his idiot teammate blind to the fact that he’s being played. 

Suna does, because he observes and thinks. Like you, he thinks appraisingly. He appreciates that. 

Perhaps it’s just sheer curiosity that makes him catch Kita’s sleeve before his captain darts out to diffuse the situation, or it’s his penchant for filming Miya twins shenanigans (his camera was out the minute he spotted Atsumu stealing your pencil case from your bag). 

Whatever it is, he thanks his instincts. 

Because with one swift step onto the bench, you manage to negate the height disadvantage. The way your feet kick off the raised platform the bench offers makes him think of a feral cat hunting its prey, and everyone in the vicinity gasps in disbelief as you leap into the air. 

(You’re wearing shorts beneath your skirt, but Suna’s face still heats up as he watches your skirt flutter up to expose the soft skin of your thighs). 

Before Atsumu can react, you snatch your pencil case away with one hand. Your other hand isn’t idle, because with a hearty thud, you slap the back of his head so hard he nearly face plants on the floor.

(You’d make a damn good spiker, if the force of that slap were any indication)

“She’s crazy” he hears a girl whisper. 

“Definitely psycho”, he hears a boy sneer. 

Kita and Aran just shake their heads at the entire scene, eerily in sync. 

Osamu just snorts. “Serve ‘Tsumu right. He’s never gotten the better of her, even when we were kids.”  

Very casually, Suna stops filming. “His girlfriend?” he asks casually, keeping his face neutral, even though he knows Atsumu has absolutely zero interest in anything that doesn’t have anything to do with volleyball. 

Osamu snorts again. “Our neighbour. Grew up together, practically our lil’ sister. Tsumu likes clownin’ on  her cos’ he doesn’t wanna admit that he’s always gonna lose.”

Interesting. 

He’s never quite known how to answer when the other guys ask what his type is. His teammates answer easily - Kita likes quiet, intelligent, competent girls (a robot, just like him), Aran likes nurturing, sweet girls (boringggg), Atsumu likes girls that don’t get in the way of volleyball (they don’t exist) and Osamu likes good-natured girls that make him laugh (tepid, but alright, he supposes). He always adopts an amalgamation of their answer, but he personally thinks kind, sweet, smart - those attributes are just the bare minimum he desires. 

Now, staring at you, he discovers something new about himself. 

He likes girls who aren’t afraid to play with fire, who crackle with spunk. 

So he decides to dig for information from one of the twins (Osamu’s definitely a better bet than the sulking Atsumu), to see if he can strike up a chance meeting with you. But he doesn’t need to, because you’re waiting for him when practice ends, an ice-cold glare directed at Atsumu making him scuttle off in the opposite direction, a friendly poke to Osamu’s side when he just shoots a half smirk at you and warns you to play nice. 

“I want the video you took”, you say without preamble. “Need it for blackmail purposes.”

“What do I get out of it?” he challenges, a thrill running down his spine. 

“Depends on what you want”, you snap, expression simmering into a glower. 

Perhaps he should be more honest with his intentions. 

“Your number so I can send the video to you”, he says, and because he suspects fortune rewards the bold - at least, it should, with you, he adds - “if you’re looking for more blackmail on Atsumu, I have plenty. I can share them with you if you’d go out for ice cream with me.”

Your eyes narrow and you remain silent for a beat. He wonders if he’s next in line to get slapped but he doesn’t retreat, stares at you unflinchingly. 

You surprise him by sticking your hand out. “Deal”, you reply, eyes sparking, mouth slanting into a smile. “I guess it’s a date.” 

He takes your hand, squeezes it. 

The Miya twins watch on from their hiding spot. “Sunarin’s not gonna know what hit him”, Atsumu pronounces, whistling low and amused, shit eating grin on his face. Osamu tilts his head, considering. “Nah”, he eventually says. “Different strokes for different folks. Seems like Suna’s the kind to enjoy playing with firecrackers even if they might explode in his face.”

“He’s crazy”, Atsumu remarks. 

“Definitely psycho”, Osamu laughs. 

It doesn’t matter what they think. Suna thinks he might like you.

a/n: coughs. well this was a blast to write, esp since it’s how (according to mr. nikki) i caught his eye in school. hope you enjoyed this! <3

[terapsina]

tattletale (snitches get stitches from laughing too hard) - elejah fic

--- ao3 ---

“It probably took him about ten seconds to realize that she wasn’t me, at which point he probably yanked her heart right out of her chest.”

For a few moments Rebekah’s mind - barely past the ickiness of Katherine’s last announcement - blanked at the horrific picture being painted across the back of her eyelids now, and Rebekah felt her nose scrunch up in disgust once more. As soon as the idea of Elena - running on payback and spite and lacking all inhibitions - currently being alone with her brother crystallized in vivid detail, she wanted to scrub it clean. For the good of her own mental health.

Then she pulled up her gaze and looked from the worry on the faces of Dumb and Dumber - one of the more stupid movies Nik had given her to watch after she'd been woken from being daggered for nearly a century, though at least it had given her a few more insults for the Salvatores - to the supreme look of smug satisfaction on Katherine’s face, and burst out laughing.

It seemed to throw the other three vampires sitting around the cheap, slightly peeling table of this small-town diner off their tracks because they fell silent, their looks now ranging from confusion and irritation to anger.

"Is Elena being in danger funny to you, Original Barbie?" Damon asked, voice acerbic. "Thought you were besties now?"

"No, but the three of you are hilarious," she said, beginning to quiet down but refusing to lose her grin, "for actually thinking that that is what is happening right now."

"What's that supposed to mean?" All humor had fled Damon's face, which almost caused a new wave of hilarity to rise in Rebekah. He looked like he expected her to be intimidated, somehow still unable to comprehend that she was a Mikaelson too, just as able to tear him limb from limb as her brothers.

She considered whether she wanted to illuminate them or not, she knew Elijah certainly would have preferred for her not to have noticed herself. But if that were the case he shouldn't have always stared at Elena like she was some kind of oasis in the middle of a desert. A look she had been forced to observe from that first occasion when Rebekah had tried killing her - when he'd ripped her away from the girl and slammed her against that car, seeming to forget her entirely as soon as his eyes had landed on Elena.

And it’s not as if Elena was any better, eyes magnetized to Elijah and heart fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings.

You know what? Screw the both of them, if Rebekah had to be bombarded by all these brain-melting images, she’d make them pay for it.

“I mean, I get Katherine,” she said slowly like she was addressing a bunch of very young children; or idiots, “she's never had to see the two of them dancing around each other like courting swans, but I thought the two of you had front-row seats to at least a few of their meetings?”

“Elena would never-” Damon started out at once.

“I don’t see how-” Stefan finally chimed in himself.

“What?” Katherine finished, a brief flash of something nearly like hurt in her eyes that inspired an even briefer feeling of sympathy in Rebekah. Then she remembered that she rather hated Katherine’s guts and the feeling vanished.

“Right,” she raised her eyebrows nearly to her scalp, and her voice dripping with condescension added, “Elena would never. It’s not as if the air around her and Elijah isn’t disgustingly full of pheromones any time they happen to share breathing space.”

That seemed to have struck them all mute momentarily, which gave Rebekah just enough time to land on a truly evil idea and let her enact it. She fished Katherine’s phone out of her pocket and had pressed the screen to call ‘em’ before anyone had time to do more than ask what she was doing.

It rang for only a moment before being picked up.

“Katerina,” came the voice of Elijah, lacking even a hint of the confusion that might have been present if he’d actually thought that the woman in front of him had been Katherine. Rebekah wasn’t surprised, at least that far she agreed with the bitch from hell, Elijah would have clocked Elena as soon as he’d seen her.

“Brother,” she smiled back, eyes running over the two Salvatores and a Petrova in preemptive mirth “I’m guessing it’s been long enough by now that you’re done making out with Elena?”

The silence on both the other side of the line and this one was suddenly weighted, Rebekah’s smile widened. She heard the unmistakable sound of Elijah clearing his throat. As did the three other vampires listening to the conversation.

Rebekah burst back into laughter.

[the-magicians-blue]

10:31am

Something about dating a thick black girl just makes so much since in Bokuto’s head. Just about everyone knows he likes plus sized people but its just something about how you carry yourself that drives him crazy. Akaashi has seen Bokuto do some weird things, but physically drooling as he stared at you from across the court? That was a new one. You weren’t even there for them you were an exchange student at Nekoma and promised your friends Kenma (your online gaming buddy before you moved to japan) and Kuroo to be a manager so they could brag to Karasuno about having the cutest manager during the summer training camp. And to Bokuto, cute was an understatement. The way that red tracksuit complimented your skin tone and the way your thighs jiggled as you walked by made Bokuto almost lose it.

He can’t help but show out the whole game, trying his hardest to catch your eye (which wasn’t hard to do since he stared at you every time he got a spike through). After beating Nekoma, Bokuto rushed for Kuroo and Kenma, begging them both to introduce him to their gorgeous manager to which they both refused immediately. This didn’t stop him in the slightest. Though Kiyoko lived close enough to go home every night you were a different case. Your guardian’s house was too far so you stayed in a room to yourself in the building meaning you would be having dinner with them. This was Bokuto’s shot. Before Kuroo and Kenma could respond fast enough to defend you Bokuto swiped a seat right next to you and introduced himself. He almost malfunctioned hearing your voice and Akaashi had to come get him when he immediately asked you to marry him before Kuroo came to drag him away. You didn’t mind it, you actually thought he was kinda cute when you saw him play but Kuroo and Kenma were always super protective of you.

The next time he saw you you were with Kenma tying up your hair for the night before playing a few rounds of smash. Bokuto immediately sat down mesmerized by your actions. He asked a ton of questions about you hair before commenting on how much he loved it. He made sure he didn’t touch it though, Akaashi taught him that its rude to do so without asking and he didn’t think you knew him well enough to ask. Bokuto spent the rest of that camp spending any free time he had trying to sneak you away from your guard dogs to talk. After a while it was you searching for him, you found his presence so energizing and sometimes got bored when he wasn’t around. He nearly fainted when he overheard you ask Akaashi where he was.

The last night of camp was what got the both of you in some trouble but it was the most important night for both of you. Bokuto snuck the both of you into the gym for some late night practice with just you and him. You weren’t the greatest player but you knew enough to set balls for him to spike. He’d boast about how he was the best ace in all of japan to which you claimed you could probably block him. This immediately caused an uproar between the two of you. Then grabbing the ball you told him if you could block him he had to take you on a date. This made him freeze completely. He was gonna ask for the same prize if he won. You liked him? Like, REALLY liked him? He wanted to prove you couldn’t block him but he wanted that date so bad. So he purposefully lost and excitedly picked you up, asking where you wanted to go for the date. When you headed back to the rooms you stayed up just a little longer to watch some anime. You even let him wear one of your bonnets since he seems so intrigued by it. Before you knew it, you were both sound asleep in your room.

That morning you awoke to screaming. Bokuto, who was half awake, was getting dragged out by Akaashi while Kuroo, who was being held back by Kenma and Morisuke, was attempting to kill Bokuto for supposedly sneaking into your room. You tried to calm the group down by explaining you were just hanging out because you couldn’t sleep and ended up sleeping together on accident but what came out of the half awake ace’s mouth made the situation worse.

“I mean, she’s gonna be my wife one day, what’s the harm in sharing a room for one night?” At that comment Kenma and Morisuke let Kuroo go leaving poor Akaashi to block him as best he could so Bokuto could run. You grabbed Kuroo before he could chase and asked him not to make a scene. The Nekoma boys tried to ban Bokuto from ever speaking to you again but you informed that he owed you a date and therefore that wasn’t possible. Once everyone was finally ready to go home everyone packed onto their respective buses. Before you could get on Bokuto stops you, quickly earning glares for the entire team from the bus windows. He gave you his team jacket and a small peck on the cheek before scurrying off to his own bus. You had to fight some of the Nekoma boys once you got on your own bus as they tried to wipe the kiss off of you. As you sat down an put on the jacket you noticed a note in one of the pockets.

“I can’t wait to see your smile again.Don’t forget about me before our date ok!? -Bo”

Like you could forget someone like him.

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Sorry for your lost - Part I “I will grieve”.

Serie Masterlist here || Part II|| Read on AO3 

Summary: When your wife Natasha passes away in a car accident, a part of you dies with her. It takes a few months of mourning for your psychiatrist thinks the best alternative is for you to join a grief group. And there you meet Wanda Maximoff, and learn to live again.

Warnings: (+16) mentions of death, panic attacks and anxiety, grief, self sabotage, mentions of abusive family background, mutual attraction, explicit consent, therapeutic conversations about death, self-deprecation, healthy methods of coping with grief, possible triggers about anxiety, hurtful behaviors, domestic wanda.

Chapter warnings: Heavy angst, death.

Author’s notes:  Hello readers! I'm finally back to posting something, but I disappeared for a good reason, I was writing three new series. And here is the first of them. I really enjoyed this work and it's something I've been trying to write since I watched WandaVision, and only now I've managed to put it into words. I am not finished yet, but there is only one chapter left, so your reading will not be affected. Pay attention to the warnings, and good reading!

Tag list (let me know if you wanna be tagged) 

@mionemymind​ / @abimess​ / @stephanieromanoff​ / @yourtaletotell​ / @tomy5girls​ / @justagaypanicking​ / @thegayw1tch​

//-//

Chapter One - I’ll grieve.

You wished you could go back to sleep as soon as you opened your eyes. The sound of your alarm buzzed loudly throughout the room, and after putting it on snooze mode at least four times, you finally got annoyed enough to grab it and throw it across the room. But the sound continued.

Letting out a grumble of dissatisfaction, you pushed the comforter off you, and sat up in your bed. Your room was a mess, but you just skipped through the clothes on the floor to reach the phone, turning off the alarm through the new crack you made in the screen.

"Honey, are you up?" you heard your mother's distant voice calling you through the door, probably from the living room or the kitchen. "Don't forget your therapy today."

You sighed impatiently, running your hands through your hair. The damn group therapy. 

Grumbling lightly, you forced yourself to take a shower, not wanting "poor hygiene" to end up on your progress report card. 

A while later, when you were finished, you went into the kitchen. Your mother was using her laptop on the counter, and just waved at you.

"Are you going to take me?" You asked her with your hands in your pockets. Your mother took her eyes off the screen to evaluate the sweatshirt you were wearing, and you rolled your eyes at her disapproving expression. 

"You know, you could try driv-"

"Mom" You cut her off in earnest, your heart racing momentarily. You don't drive. An she knows. Your mother sighs, putting her hands up in a sign of surrender.

"It was just a suggestion dear." She retorts as she stands up, reaching for her car key on the key rack exiting the kitchen. "But I'm busy with the store, you'll need to take the subway next time."

"Thanks for the support." You grumble as you step out in front and your mother lets out a wry chuckle.

You frown and let out a dissatisfied exclamation as you step outside feeling the sun's rays on your face.

"You're not a vampire, cut the drama." Mocks your mother by pushing you lightly to get you out of the way. 

You grumble  as you walk to the car. And when you are sitting on the seat, your mother is starting the vehicle and she asks:

"Are you sure you're not going to eat anything?"

Looking out the window, you just mumble that you're not hungry, and she shakes her head in disapproval before you back the car up. You don't speak any more on the way.

//-//

Your mother dropped you off in the parking lot of a gymnasium where the therapy group would be meeting. You sighed as you got out, and thanked her for the ride and the money she gave you to eat, even though you probably weren't going to use.

Resisting the urge to run away, you forced your feet to walk toward the place.

There were a few people at the door, but you didn't smile at any of them, entering the place with your head down and your hands in your pockets. 

And then a woman greeted you, and put a little sticker with your name on your shirt when you gave her your papers. 

Then she signaled the way you should go, and you ended up on the gymnasium court, where there was a wheel of chairs, and a table with food and drink, and several people scattered around, who you thought were part of your therapy group. 

Sighing impatiently you made your way to the bleachers of the venue, hoping to be alone until the session started and you could leave.

Fortunately it wasn't long before the leader signaled for everyone to sit in the circle, and you sighed as you stood up. You ended up with one of the chairs on the far left opposite the therapist, which could be bad since he would see you clearly.

"Thank you very much for coming." Said the therapist smiling gently as his gaze roved over everyone in the circle. You kept your gaze on your shoes. He made a noise with his throat. "Who would like to start today?"

The silence lasted for a few seconds, but then someone was speaking. You forced yourself to come back to reality and pay attention.

"[...] and this is my fourth week around here." Said a woman in a leather jacket. You noticed the army lanyard around her neck. She was talking about an accident when you got distracted again. Lightly poking your eye with your finger, you tried to focus again, letting out a low sigh. And then the therapist was talking again.

"We have new faces today." He said and you felt your heart speed up. You absolutely did not want to talk in front of strangers. "Why don't you share with us, miss?"

You raised your gaze to meet that of the therapist, smiling gently at you. The rest of the group looked at you as well. Taking a deep breath, you began to wiggle your fingers on your leg.

"I don't... I've never been in a group." You say clumsily. "What should I say?"

"Whatever you wish to say." He answers with a smile. You swallow the urge to tell him you didn't want to talk at all. Realizing your lack of response, he is quick to add. "Why don't you tell us why you are here?."

You let out a dry laugh. 

"I really didn't have much choice." You retort wryly. The therapist looks slightly surprised, but makes no mention of interrupting you. You let out a sigh before clarifying. "My psychiatrist, she...she didn't approve of my social ratings. She wanted me to talk to other people. People who... went through the same things I did." You count staring at the floor. When you look up again, the group still waits for you to continue, and you sigh, running your hands through your hair. "I haven't... I... I haven't talked to other people outside of my family in six months. Not since..."

You move your head, sniffling slightly as you straighten your posture. The therapist clears his throat.

"You just need to share whatever you are ready to tell us." He says gently, you nod slightly feeling extremely vulnerable. "But remember that this is a safe space. There is nothing to fear here."

And then he is talking about methods of easing the guilt, and dealing with the pain and you were distracted again. You would like to go back to bed. It must have taken a while, but the session is finally over.

The group dispersed around the room, and you went toward the therapist's desk to have him sign your schedule. He smiled as you approached.

"Miss Y/N/L, I was happy to hear that you would be joining us today." He said greeting you with a handshake. You nodded, taking the paper from your pocket. He chuckled, but accepted it. "You know, I'd like you to try to have a partner in the group, it's recommended for cases like yours."

"What do you mean cases like me?" You ask snidely, but he doesn't care.

"Doctor Harkness gave me your chart." He explained as he signed the paper you gave him while you frowned. "Extreme Social Anxiety in the first few months of treatment. Tendency to complete isolation, introverted..."

"Yeah I know my problems, buddy." You interrupt him with irritation. "You don't have to list them for me."

The therapist gives a lopsided chuckle, and holds out the signed paper to you. But he adds with a serious look:

"I'm here to help you, Y/N." He says. "Don't forget that."

You don't respond and take the paper, turning toward the exit. 

//-//

Your week passes slowly and tortuously. Which is surprising because you barely get out of bed. And then it is group therapy day again, and you are making a new crack at your cell phone screen.

Your mother greets you with a pat on the back as you enter the kitchen, and she is walking past you toward her own room.

You know you have to take the subway today, and you are trying not to think about it too much. As you are walking out the door, your eyes pass quickly over your car key, and you think you have a flash of memory, but you shake your head quickly, pushing the thought away. And then you walk forward.

And you are late for the session, because you can't take the bus to the station, since your feet simply didn't obey you. But that's okay, you don't really care.

You weren't the only one who was late. When you went to enter the door, a red-haired woman bumped into you, also running to get in. She smiled slightly as she apologized, and you just made room for her to enter first.

"Sorry Stephen." She said to the therapist as soon as you two entered the gymnasium, "I had an emergency with the kids."

The man just shook his head with a smile, and waved for you both to sit down.

"And why were you late today, miss Y/L/N?" He asked you. You shrugged your shoulders.

"I didn't wanna come." You retorted and the group giggled, and the sudden sound startled you slightly, but you just sat with your arms crossed. 

"Do you want to try again?" He retorted with light humor in his voice. And you bit the inside of your cheeks. And then you looked down at the floor.

"I couldn't get on the bus." You confessed next. Stephen looked at you tenderly, though, and you didn't like the feeling of your chest heaving slightly.

"And why do you think that happened?"

You shrugged, uncomfortable. 

"I don't know. I... There were too many people." You said embarrassed. And then you started twiddling your fingers, feeling all eyes on you. "I just... I knew I'd have to say hello to the driver, and the conductor. And then I would pass strangers in the hallway, and one of them would sit next to me. And I just... I couldn't."

Stephen nodded slightly in agreement.

"It's okay, Y/N. " He stated. "No one is judging you here."

You let out a dry laugh, and Stephen blinks in surprise, which spurs you to explode.

"Everyone is judging me, Doc." You say through gritted teeth, swinging your leg. "It's as if I can hear the gears in people's brains forming opinions about me." You state with a sigh. "Like my mother for example. She...she...acts like I'm past the time of mourning." You explain with tears in your eyes. "Like there's a limit, and I'm extending her goodwill. Because it's been six months, and she doesn't want me to be sad anymore. But guess what? I don't know how to move on!" You state angrily. "I can't! If I don't miss her, what's left for me? If I don't... God, I can't do this."

And you stand up, wiping your tears away, and walk out of the gymnasium, heading for the restrooms. You feel your heart racing, and it's hard to breathe. 

As you rest your hands on the sink, your brain starts to wander back to the day of the accident again. You choke, because it feels like you're sinking again. You see the water rising through the metal of the car. Your hands on the steering wheel, and then on the seat belt. You shake your head, pushing the images away, and rush to turn on the faucet in front of you and pour the water on your face.

You take a deep breath, trying to stop the tears. And then there is someone entering.

"Are you okay?" Stephen asks and you nod lightly, ignoring the trembling in your hands as you stare at him through the reflection of the mirror. "I gave a break to the group, wouldn't you like to walk with me?"

"I'm not good company right now." You grumble but he smiles, nodding slightly as if to repeat the invitation. You take a deep breath before turning around.

You walk silently and slowly to the outside of the gymnasium, and then he is speaking again.

"You were very brave today."  He comments, and you let out a dry laugh. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I panicked today." You say. " It doesn't sound very brave to me."

Stephen smiles guiding you through the gymnasium entrance toward the parking lot.

"You talked about a trauma to a group of people." He says. "That takes a lot of courage, even if you don't believe it."

"I don't believe in anything." You grumble, but Stephen doesn't mind your hostility. He stays with his friendly posture.

"I would like you to accept my request from before." He said after a moment. "About a group partner."

You let out a sigh.

"I don't even know what that means." You retort with slight impatience as you reach the edge of the parking lot. You notice the garden a few feet ahead of you.

"It's like a therapy buddy." He explains with a smile. "We encourage socializing here. That's why Agatha recommended this group to you."

"Oh, of course you do. Agatha is a bitch." You wryly wipe your hands across your face. Stephen laughs lightly. "How does that work anyway? Do I have to hold someone's hand? Exchange friendship bracelets?"

"No, it's much better." He says with a chuckle. "You talk to that person. You exchange experiences with them. You learn to trust somebody else again."

"My god, it looks like a fucking Disney movie." You retort with irritation and Stephen lets out a laugh. And then you let out a sigh, shrugging your shoulders. "Okay, I'll do it. I have nothing to lose, and it seems that neither you nor Agatha will leave me alone if I don't agree."

"We want you to feel better. Don't take this as a punishment." He says, guiding you back to the gym. You nod slightly, thinking that it really does feel like punishment anyway.

//-//

You see Agatha the same week. Your appointments have been switched to monthly meetings instead of weeks as they were at the beginning of treatment, and while you appreciate the familiarity of seeing her, you can't help but feel irritated with her.

"Someone's grumpy." She comments as soon as you sit down on the couch in the room, to which you roll your eyes.

"You are always so very tender, Agatha." You mock as you cross your legs, hoping the time will pass soon.

Agatha laughs lightly, finishing tidying up a few things on her desk. And then she gets up and sits down in the armchair a few feet in front of the sofa where you are, carrying a small notebook in her hands.

"So, why don't you tell me how your your first two sessions in group therapy went?"

You let out a dry laugh.

"Like Stephen didn't tell you everything." You sneer and Agatha just smiles, waiting for you to speak. You let out an impatient sigh, before stating wryly. "It was amazing, doc. It only took two sessions for me to have a panic attack, so thank you for that."

"Why do you think that happened?"

You squeezed your eyes.

"I have no idea." You retorted. "I'm not the doctor here." Agatha laughs lightly, and then opens her notebook and starts writing something. You sigh impatiently. “Really, you're going to start that again?”

"If you don't talk, I write." She states simply, and you roll your eyes, shifting on the couch uncomfortably.

"Agatha, I just... I couldn't get on a bus, okay?" you tell her, and she closes her notebook to look at you attentively. You take a deep breath. "There were a lot of people. I don't mind walking anyway. It helps me think."

"You don't mind walking eight blocks?" She asks with a slight irony. "That's pretty athletic of you."

"It's weird that you know my address off the top of your head." You play lightly, and she just laughs, straightening her posture. 

"Why don't you just tell me what you want to tell me?"

"Why don't you ask me what you want to ask?"

Agatha blinks slightly in surprise, and then she shakes her head slightly, opening her notebook again. You sigh.

"Okay, sorry." You say, and she looks at you for a moment before closing the object again. I... I thought I was drowning again.”

"Are your nightmares back?" She asks seriously, and you deny it with your head.

"I feel too anxious to sleep." You tell. "And then I black out from exhaustion in the night or in the morning. I don't dream anymore."

"Have you been taking your medication?"

You sigh.

"Of course I have."  You say. "I don't... I'm having trouble keeping my mind still. Like the first few months, you know. Everything seems so noisy now."

Agatha nods slightly, becoming thoughtful for a few moments. 

"I know it may sound strange to hear that, but that means you're getting better." She declares and you frown in surprise, then let out a dry laugh.

"How is my peak anxiety a good thing?"

She opens the book again, but before you can ask what you said wrong, she is reading.

"The first day you were here, you said you felt like you were empty." She narrated and you swallowed dryly. "During your first two months, you continued to describe that you felt like an empty shell. And that you no longer had any dreams, thoughts, or opinions. Without your wife, you said you were no longer here."

You felt your eyes fill with water at the mention of her. But you swallowed your emotions. Agatha turned a page, and read for a few seconds, and then looked at you.

"With your history of anxiety, your mind was remarkably quiet after the passing of your wife." She says. "But now that you're on medication, and therapeutic treatment, plus you're socializing even superficially with the world again, you're starting to feel things again. That's progress."

You look away from her, nodding slightly, trying to believe her words, and trying not to be so terrified at the thought of learning to live again. Without Nat.

You choke slightly, holding back a sob, and then Agatha hands you a box of tissues, but you refuse with a nod, wiping away the tears that have slightly escaped.

"What do you want to talk about now?" She asks after a moment. You take a deep breath, still trying to calm yourself.

"Last week I took a cold bath." You count. "It was snowing."

Agatha blinks in surprise at the information and then lets out a giggle.

"You want me to write it in the book don't you?"

You laugh, wiping away the last of the insistent tears. You just hope Agatha could help you.

//-//

You hate coffee. But you barely slept last night, and now you need to stay awake during the group meeting, so instead of walking to the chair in the corner like you used to, you detour your way to the food and beverage table as soon as you arrive at the gym.

There are a few members around, but you don't look at them, just sidestepping as you extend your arm to the coffee bottle. You pour some, and as you touch the cup, you notice. It's cold.

"Hey sorry about that." Said a girl you thought was named Val or something, as soon as she saw you touching the cup. "We mixed up the shifts yesterday and nobody made new coffee."

You rolled your eyes, picking up the cup and throwing it in the trash. Then you forced a wry smile on the girl and walked outside. 

It was cold, but you are boiling with rage. It was just a damn cup of coffee, you thought as you closed your eyes and tried to reduce your anger. Just coffee. 

You stumbled with fright when Stephen called out to you.

"We'll get started in a minute." He said looking at you curiously. You just nodded, following him after a few seconds.

You bit the inside of your cheek when you noticed the same coffee girl as before, now sitting where you usually sat. The universe was testing you today. 

You just sighed, twiddling your fingers inside your pocket, and walked over to one of the free chairs.

After Stephen gave the briefing, he asked if everyone was all right, and the group lied in unison. You were almost asleep when he called your name.

"I would like to choose your partner today." He says and you feel your heart racing as you straighten your posture. "But I want to know if you have any preferences."

You blink in confusion, and roll your eyes.

"I don't know anyone here, but I'm sure they will all hate me equally, doc." You tried to joke, but Stephen only looked at you with concern.

"No one does or will hate you." He says and you swallow dryly, looking away as you mumble that it was just a joke. Stephen pauses momentarily before continuing. "You know that everyone here has their own experiences of loss and they are unique in their own way, even if they have similarities." He begins and you just wish he would speak soon who your partner is at once. "Usually we don't put new members together, but with the release of one of our members, the number ended up getting odd." He explains. "Anyway, I'm sure you and Mrs. Maximoff will get along very well together."

You frowned slightly at the whole explanation. Then you looked around the group, and realized that this Maximoff woman was the late redhead from the previous session who looked at you curiously. You looked away from her to Stephen.

"Thank you, doc." You said with a slight irony and Stephen just nodded smiling.

"Partners are grieving companions ladies." He says. "We will assess your progress at each session, and then switch partners once the necessary improvement has been achieved."

You grumbled in understanding, and looked away to your lap. When Stephen began to ask about the stories, your mind wandered to the departure time.

And when the session was over you wished you could go to sleep. But Stephen made a slight movement of his head in Maximoff's direction, and you understood that you should talk to her.

Ignoring the urge to show Stephen the middle finger, you just sighed as you got up from your chair and lazily walked over to the woman at the exit. She was talking to a man, and you were even more anxious to address not one, but two strangers.

"Hi." You greeted awkwardly, and both of them turned to you with mild curiosity. 

"Hey, you're Y/N, right?" Said the man with a smile as he held out his hand to you. "I'm Bucky. James Barnes actually, but everyone calls me Bucky." He said and you shook his hand, smiling awkwardly. Then he quickly pointed at the woman.  "And this is Wanda Maximoff, your grief partner."

"Hi." Wanda said shyly as she offered her hand to greet you. You accepted as clumsily as she did.

"Sorry, I don't know how this works." You say. "Should we exchange numbers or something? Or is that just a therapy thing?"

Bucky gives a little chuckle.

"Oh believe me, they'll know if you're not making it work." He counters. "My first partner was Sam Wilson and we wanted to jump on each other's necks whenever we saw each other. And then Stephen asked us to move in together." He says and you blink in surprise. "We're married now, but that's not the point. I guess I'm getting off topic..."

"Bucky." Wanda interrupts with a smile, and he smiles half-heartedly as well. You frown, annoyed by Bucky's story. You didn't want to marry anyone. "I guess we'll make it work, I hope you don't mind having the company of two tiny restless creatures on our walks."

You look at her with confusion and then you understand, smiling shyly.

"No, it's okay." You say. "I like children."

"Really?" She asks in surprise.

You nod slightly. "Unlike adults, they tell the truth."

Wanda seemed to be thoughtful, but then Bucky lets out an exclamation.

"As group guide, I have to pass the to-do list to you ladies." He says pulling a small notebook from the back pocket of his pants. He pulls out a sheet of paper and hands it to Wanda. "Partners need to develop these habits of socializing and coping with grief together. And yes, there is a test."

You sigh impatiently, tucking a loose string behind your ear. 

"That sounds fun." You mock lightly making them smile. 

"Anyway, good luck to you two." He says tenderly. "And Wanda, call me if you need help with Tommy. I know a good therapist."

You frown slightly, not understanding what he is referring to, but you prefer to stay out of matters that are none of your business. And then Bucky kisses Wanda on the cheek in farewell and waves to you smiling before leaving. You switch foot weights when you are alone with Wanda. Talking to other people is not exactly your strong suit these past few months.

"So..." You start clumsily when she turns to you. 

"So." She repeats equally embarrassed. You then clear your throat and rush to pull your cell phone out of your pocket and hand it to her.

"Give me your number." You say. "That way we can arrange...whatever this is." 

Wanda smiles weakly as she accepts the device, and you ignore the curious look when she notices the cracks in the screen. A moment later she hands the cell phone back to you.

"I gotta go." She says. "I need to pick up my kids from school."

You nod slightly and force a smile to say goodbye, and Wanda copies your movement before leaving.

You stare at your cell phone next, noticing the slight anxiety in your stomach as you read the contact "Wanda Maximoff" on the screen.

//-//

By the weekend, you are miserable. Just like the first few months.

You spilled some tea under your bed, and when you went to clean it up, you ended up taking the objects that were lying there. And then you found a crumpled piece of paper.

It was your farewell speech. The words you wrote down to speak on the day of the funeral. The paper you pulled out of your pocket when you got home from the ceremony and probably fell under the bed when you collapsed on the floor from crying so hard.

Suddenly your chest tightened and you couldn't breathe. But you didn't want your mother to worry, so you concentrated on remembering the exercises your therapist had taught you.

And when the room started to get too small, you left.

But because it was cold and rainy, you had just taken a hot shower and had decided to brew tea before you finished putting on a sweater, you had bent down to pick up your socks, and the liquid fell on the floor. 

You went outside without your shoes, and your mother let out a worried exclamation when she saw you standing outside, staring at nothing.

"Honey?" She asked walking out the door after seeing you through the kitchen window. "Honey, what is it?"

You didn't answer. Your face was wet. Your mother's hands wrapped around your shoulders, and she gently pushed you inside, worried that you would end up getting hypothermia.

"I'm fine." You gasped as she led you inside, but she just shook her head. "I'm fine."

"No, honey." She retorted making you frown. "You're not."

"Mom."

"Sit down." 

And then there were blankets around you, and socks on your feet. And your mother was in the kitchen, on the phone, but everything seemed stuffy. You began to be absent again. Thousands of memories flashing through your eyes.

An image of yourself on that living room floor, laughing while your girlfriend had her arms wrapped around you. Your mother was pouring a glass of wine for each of you, and you were happy to tell her about your engagement.

Then an image of you running across the room, trying to dodge the tickles your father tickled you while you laughed.

Then a puppy in your hands on the floor. You looked at it fondly, laughing at how cute it looked. 

Looking down, you saw a hand on your thigh. It was your wife's, the ring on her finger. She smiled at you. You were happy because that was the day you told your mother about the house purchase.

You gasped slightly when you felt someone's hand on your shoulder suddenly.

"I need you to tell me three things you can see." It was Agatha. God, you should have been out of reaction long enough for her to get here. Wiping away your tears, you took a deep breath, trying to reason straight.

"I... I..." You started, but your brain didn't seem to obey you. You took another deep breath. You could see the carpet, so you told her so.

"Two more." Agatha asked tenderly, her hand caressing your back from top to bottom. 

"The... table." You replied crying. "I can see the table."

"That's right, honey." She said. "Just one more now. Tell me what else?"

"My feet." You add breathlessly. "I can see my feet."

"Now breathe with me, okay?" She asks. "Like I taught you."

The exercises help you to calm down again. You apologize for scaring your mother, and for making Agatha drive to your house, but neither of them is upset with you. You feel exhausted, but the doctor wants to talk to you after she accepts the cup of coffee your mother offers her.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" She asks as you sit on the covered porch, fluffy pillows around you.

You lower your gaze to the floor, sniffling lightly.

"I found my grief speech." You count. "Under my bed. The next minute I was outside."

Agatha sighs.

"You ready to talk about the accident."

You raise your eyes quickly, frowning, because it wasn't a question.

"W-what?"

She takes a deep breath, crossing her legs.

"It's suffocating you." She clarifies. "You need to talk or these attacks will happen again."

"I-I don't..."

"It won't be today." She interrupts with a tender smile. "Tonight you need to sleep. But we won't prolong this any longer. You need to talk about it, even if it’s only to scream."

Clenching your jaw, you hold back your tears as Agatha takes one last look at you before getting up. She murmurs that she will see you on Monday, but you don't look at her.

//-//

You don't sleep well on Sunday. And it's definitely because you can't stop thinking about your appointment.

And it goes well for the first twenty minutes. Agatha doesn't pressure you, and agrees to hear about your week, without mentioning the incident on Thursday.

There is a pause after you have told her about the dog barking noise in the early morning and then you know it is time to speak up.

"I was driving." You say softly suddenly, ignoring the feeling that your throat wants to close up. Agatha has her hands folded in her lap as she listens to you. "She...she was sleeping in the passenger seat." You swallow dryly, trying to count and not get caught up in the memory again, your heart racing. Talking is almost like going back there. "I looked at her for a moment and I got distracted... and then... we just..."

You only realize that you are crying because tears fall on your hand. You blink, sniffling. Taking a deep breath, you continue.

"We fell into the water, and Nat...she just...I couldn't get her belt off." You gasp breathlessly. "The water just...kept coming up around us. And she looked at me, and... she just shook her head like she knew what was going to happen." You tell between sobs. Agatha's eyes water, but she doesn't interrupt. "I just...she pushed me. She pushed my hands away and she told me she would follow me. And god... my dumb brain believed her!" You confess angrily. "She told me she was right behind me! And I swam out and when I came up she wasn't with me."

You shut up, not being able to tell anymore through the sobs. You can't even see the office clearly because of the tears.

It takes a moment for you to speak again, your head down.

"When I swam back, the car was completely covered with water everywhere" You recount. "I...I was going to dive again.... I wanted to get her out of there. But the people who saw the accident jumped in after us. And they pulled me out of the water. And I kept thinking that if I hadn't been distracted, she...she would be...."

"No." Agatha interrupts by offering you a tissue. "Natasha had a stomach injury, don't you remember?" She counters and you gasp, the words echoing in your brain. "That's why you couldn't remove the belt."

And then you were remembering clearly now.

Soft music echoed in the car as you hummed the tune and drove to your friends' house. Your wife mumbled softly beside you, making you smile as you watched the sleeping figure. The red hair in front of her face.

"Hey sleepyhead." You called softly, looking away from the track for a moment. "We're almost there."

Nat muttered in agreement. You bit your lip, thinking she looked beautiful. And then you heard a noise, and a white light in the window. You barely had time to frown when the impact threw your car off the road.

Your body tensed immediately as you sat up, looking around with desperation. The car was sinking fast and you turned to Nat.

A wound on her forehead was bleeding, and she was clearly disoriented as you touched her hands. You hurried to unbuckle her belt, but it was jammed tightly in her waist, and you gasped in shock at the wound.

"N-no." You grumbled, trying to move the metal, but Nat gasped in pain, pushing your hands away. You could barely breathe in desperation. Your feet were freezing, because the water was already at your ankles. "Babe, move please. We have to get out."

Nat advanced toward you, taking off your belt. You tried to touch her, but she pushed your hands away again, intending to guide you out.

" Sweetheart, go! Open the door! " she commanded and you shook your head, the water on your knees. Nat forced a smile, the tears in her eyes made your stomach turn. "Don't worry love. I'm right behind you."

As you opened the door, the water moved all the way into the car, and you held your breath Nat repeated the words "I'm right behind you" one more time. And then you swam out.

When you reached the surface, you were alone.

Sobbing, you couldn't say anything else to Agatha, and she proceeded to stroke your back, trying to soothe you with words of affirmation.

"I need you to remember some things honey." She says tenderly. "You couldn't have helped Natasha. She got stuck. You have to stop blaming yourself for what happened." Agatha whispers to you, and you sob. "Remember the investigation, okay? The police said that the driver of the truck was drunk and hit your car after he fell asleep. It wasn't your fault." Agatha says trying to remind you. You gasp, countless memories flooding your head at once. "Say that for me, will you?" She asks and you gasp. "Tell me it wasn't your fault."

You sob, burying your face in your hands. It takes a moment, but you repeat the words.

"It wasn't my fault." You whisper breathlessly. "It...it wasn't my fault."

When you leave therapy that day, you feel different.

You think that it is the healing process that is beginning to work. You still have a long way to go, but you have the feeling that a weight has been lifted off your back, because you have started to believe your own words. You could not have saved Natasha.

There is still a deep sadness in you, but you still buy your favorite drink on the way home, and try to stay in the living room for a few hours before going to your room when you are inside.