#in happier news.. I’m trying out a new crayon set!

[bubbeebear]

I’m going to be really late with posting valentines art!

I’ve been working on my personal project behind the scenes and wanted to be a little quiet about it!

I really think at some point this year, I’ll show off a few things but it’ll mainly just be the characters that I’m working on.

It’s very hard thinking of designs, haha! Though, I do have one down.. sooo, expect him soon! ❤️

[littleavengerfics]

Hiiiii I’m not sure if you’re taking requests but if yes can you do Wanda (mommy) and Nat (Mama) spending their first full day with y/n as their new little. I’m just thinking of The Lion King one you wrote and what their first full day with little y/n would look like. Idk like they’re excited for their new CG/Little dynamic so they play and love on and feed y/n with airplane noises and all three of them are just like wow I have never been happier in my life than now, this is what I was missing. I sowwy I’m getting smaller and big thoughts are getting harder to say🥺

LITTLE SECRET- PART 2

It's okay you did great :) i love this idea.

warnings: age regression, little reader, Mommy Wanda, Mama Nat, unspecified little age.

"Hey y/n." Wanda smiled taking a sip of her coffee. "Oh hey, good morning." Y/n smiled, opening the fridge, trying to find something to eat.

"I can make you something if you'd like." Wanda offered standing up. "Uh thanks, I would do it but I'm still-" Y/n trailed off nervously. "You still feeling little?" Wanda asked softly, y/n gave a slight nod. "I'm on the edge of slipping so I'm still big but I don't think cooking is a great idea right now."

"Well I'm more than happy to do it for you sweetheart." Wanda pulled out the ingredients for y/n's favourite breakfast and began preparing it when Natasha walked in.

"Hey y/n, how are you feeling dorogoy?" Y/n gave them both a worried look as they started to enter their headspace. "It's alright detka you can slip, we'll take care of you."

"Is that what you want, us to be your mommies?" Wanda asked moving your hair out of your face. "Yeah." You whispered reaching out for the Russian.

"Hey little one, why dont you show me all the things you like to do then we can have breakfast when Mommy's done." Nat offered picking you up. "Mhm mama see my stuffies?"

"I would love to meet your stuffies baby." The spy set you down on your bed where you babbled on about each of your stuffed animals and toys you had in your room. You expected the Russian to get bored of your babbles and rambling but she sat through it all with an amazed smile as if it was the most interesting conversation she'd ever had.

"Hey guys breakfast is ready." Wanda smiled at you and Wanda playing on your bed. "Mommy!" You cheered doing grabby hands at the witch. "Hey love." Wanda chuckled lifting you into her arms.

"Oh so you want mommy now?" Nat fake frowned. "Nuh uh wan mama toos." You giggled at the Russian. "Well that's good then."

"Mama can i has toy at bre'fast?" You asked doing the best puppy dog eyes you could muster. "Only if you let mama have one too." She grinned kissing your head. "Only for today though y/n and you still have to eat all your breakfast." Wanda said firmly, Nat grabbed some toys and you headed to the table.

"Tanks mommy." You smiled as she placed you on her lap, where you had requested to sit. "No problem baby."

Half way through eating you stopped and leant back against Wanda, still clutching your toy.

"What's wrong dorogoy?" Nat asked with a worried look. "No wan eat wan snuggles." You didn't like having to sit forward to eat your breakfast you liked being close to Wanda. Nat smiled warmly at your adorableness, grabbing your fork.

"Here comes the aeroplane." She sang bringing the fork to your mouth. You happily ate the forkful of food before she gave you another. "Here comes the Quinjet." She stated, mimicking the hum of the engine. You giggled and carried on eating what she fed you until there was no food left on your plate. "Good job baby." Wanda smiled, kissing your temple.

"What do you want to do next?" Nat asked clearing the plates. "Um color an toons!" You exclaimed, running off to grab your crayons and favourite colouring book.

Wanda watched in confusion as Nat whispered something to you making you giggle. You grabbed the russian's hand before you both took off. "Last one there is a silly monster!" Nat shouted back at the sokovian who chased after you both.

"Mommy's silly." You giggled when Wanda finally caught up. "Oh I'm not just a silly monster... I'm a tickle monster." Wanda smirked stepping closer to you. "Mommy no!" You squealed hiding behind the spy. "I'm gonna get you." Wanda teased before grabbing you and tickling your stomach. You exploded into a fit of giggles wriggling around in her arms. "Mama!" You shouted through the laughter.

"Come here baby I'll protect you." Wanda and Nat could still hear your giggles against the Russian's neck as she lifted you up into the safety of her arms. Wanda gave a content sigh, before collapsing back onto the couch.

"Alright little one what do you want to watch." You had changed your mind from cartoons and decided to watch your favourite movie instead so Natasha pressed play and the two of you got settled on the floor with your colouring books.

Wanda couldn't help but smile at the two of you sprawled out the floor, you with your tongue sticking out and Natasha kicking her legs in concentration.

Once the film, and your masterpieces were done Wanda carried you over to the fridge where they displayed the artwork, even Natasha put hers up, she of course also included a not so friendly reminder to everyone stating to not take them off or even touch them.

"They look beautiful, you did such a good job sweetheart. I love them." Natasha nodded in confirmation however gave Wanda a frown for not appreciating her art. "Yours is perfect too Natasha." Wanda said playfully rolling her eyes. "Thank you Wanda."

"Baby do you want to pick something else to do before we start making lunch?" Wanda asked bouncing you slightly. "Movie!"

"Let's go watch a movie." Wanda smiled carrying you back to the couches. By the time the movie was over you were trying not to fall asleep. "Come on let's get some food then you can have a nap after." Wanda smiled lifting you into her arms, you instantly relax, sleepily resting your head on her shoulder.

"Aw look how cute you are, our little sleepy baby." Nat cooed taking you off Wanda so she could make food whilst you rested. Nat paced around rubbing your back, loving how adorable you were. "Nat, y/n food's ready!" Wanda called out from the kitchen.

"Do you want your own seat or would you like to sit here with me?" Nat asked when you got to the table you clung on to her which she took as the latter so got you comfortable on her lap.

"I decided on sandwiches because they're quick so this little cutie can go to sleep." Wanda chuckled as you all ate the food.

"At least we don't have to worry about planning something for the afternoon it looks like we're taking a nap." Nat smirked as you fought to keep your eyes open once again. "mommy mama stay?" You mumbled against her neck.

"How about we get changed and go to my room and we can take a nap together, it's not very comfy here." Wanda suggested clearing the plates and changing you all into pyjamas with her powers.

"Mama comfy." You mumbled against her neck.

"Aw." Nat chuckled, "I'm sure she is but these chairs aren't very comfy, do you want to go to bed? You can still have cuddles there." You gave a small nod.

The three of you left for Wanda's bedroom for cuddles and naptime.

You cuddled up between the two of them as they stared down at you. All of you thinking about how happy you were in that moment. This was the happiest and the most loved any of you had felt, maybe ever. You all fell asleep tangled up together in a comforting hold, the perfect little family.

[alexthedrummerboy]

Darkest Before The Dawn

pairing: willex, past luke/alex

summary: "your parents were never cool again after you told them you were gay.” OR an exploration into alex’s past, his family life, and his relationship with religion

essentially this is all one big angsty headcanon

authors note: basically i’ve been thinking about the gold chain alex wears around his neck and i’ve been way overanalysing what it is and i thought - what if it used to be a cross necklace that his devout parents made him wear?? also i’m so desperate for alex to have more backstory that i’m pulling it out of every nook and cranny at this point

trigger warning: homophobia, bad parenting

ao3

It starts when he’s seven. He’d invited Bobby over to his house after school to play, not knowing that his dad had come home from work early. They’re sitting at the dining table, drawing with Alex’s new 36 pack of crayons when he hears it.

“I just think letting him do all that... art stuff is gonna make him...” he hears his dad say to his mom, “...soft. Girly. We already have one daughter, we don’t need another one.”

Alex doesn’t really understand what his Dad means, but he drops the crayon he’s holding and pokes Bobby on the wrist lightly. “I’m bored,” he says quietly, though his picture remains on the table unfinished. “Can we go do somethin’ else?”

Bobby furrows his eyebrows and looks down at his paper. “But... I didn’t finish colouring my dragon.” 

Alex looks at his Dad in the kitchen. He’s still talking to his mom, both of their heads bowed. He has that look on his face that reminds Alex of the time his mom tried to convince them to go vegetarian for a week. “We can finish colouring later... maybe,” he says. “Let’s go play in my room.”

Bobby takes one last look at his drawing but nods, gently folding the piece of paper in half and tucking it into his backpack. “Okay.”

They walk up to Alex’s room together, hand-in-hand like always. They pass the kitchen on the way and Alex’s dad turns his head, scowling deeper when he looks at their hands. Suddenly Alex feels cold all over. 

“Boys,” he says, deep voice booming. “You’re getting a little old to be holding hands, aren’t you?”

Alex lets go of Bobby’s hand immediately and tucks it into his trouser pocket instead, nodding. Bobby looks like he wants to protest but Alex just nudges him and nods towards his room. 

They walk away and Alex tries to brush the experience off. He doesn’t eat much at dinner that night.

---

His dad makes him quit choir the next year. He’s up in his room practicing for the Christmas festival when he hears three quiet knocks. 

“Come in,” he says, closing his music book. His dad walks in, still in his shirt and tie from work. “Oh. Hi, Dad.”

His dad smiles stiffly. “Alex, what are you doing?” 

Alex looks between his dad and his choir book for a moment. “Practicing for the festival,” he says, a smile growing on his face. “Mrs. Carson gave me a solo for the first--”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” his dad says, pursing his lips. “Wouldn’t you be happier... playing a sport or something? What about baseball? You know when your old man was in school, I was a real killer on the pitch.”

Alex’s tongue feels dry in his mouth the longer his dad speaks. He hates baseball. “Um... I-I like choir, though.” His voice is quiet, barely above a breath. His dad sighs and shakes his head. Alex feels an overwhelming sense of anxiety rise inside his chest. He hates disappointing people.

“I’m just worried about you, son,” he says, sitting down on the edge of Alex’s bed. “Okay, maybe not baseball. How about... soccer?”

Alex shuffles around on his chair. He feels like his heart has stopped beating. “Drums,” he mumbles, looking down at his hands. His dad leans closer. 

“Speak up, Alex.”

Alex looks up, clenching his jaw. “I-I wanna learn how to play the drums,” he says. “L-like that guy from The Rolling Stones.”

His dad goes quiet, scratching his chin like he’s thinking about it, before he smiles and nods. He claps Alex on the shoulder hard enough that it makes him wince. “Drums eh? Sure, we’ll get you a kit and you can set it up in the basement.” As he turns to walk out of Alex’s room, he turns and throws him a cheeky smile. “My boy, the drummer. You know they say girls love drummers.”

Alex isn’t sure why, but that comment makes him feel sick. He stares at his closed door for too long after his dad leaves, his thoughts twisting and turning in his mind.

---

When Alex receives his first cross, he’s 12-years-old. He immediately vows never to take it off. It’s a beautiful piece of jewellery; a small gold cross on a solid gold chain. When his mom slips it around his neck, he feels... protected, somehow. Safe. 

His mom smiles at him tearily as she hooks the clasp around his neck, running her hand down the side of his face. “Congratulations, baby,” she says quietly. “You know, my mother gave me my first cross when I was exactly your age. ”

Alex just smiles and tugs on the chain lightly, feeling the cool metal against his thumb and forefinger. “Thanks, mom,” he says quietly, looking down at where it’s dangling against the soft blue of his button down. 

His sister, Andrea, comes from behind him and knocks his shoulder lightly. Her own cross is silver and smaller than his, contrasting against her light skin perfectly. He doesn’t remember when she got hers. She was four years older than him and got hers when he was just a little kid. “Congrats, Lexi,” she says.

His dad comes out of the kitchen, a bottle of champagne in one hand and two flutes in the other. He’s beaming. “This calls for a celebration!”

His mother looks at his dad and tuts quietly, though she still looks pleased. “Michael, it’s barely 9. We have to leave for church soon.”

His dad simply brushes off her worry. “My son is being confirmed, Linda. We’re celebrating.” He kisses her on the cheek and hands her a champagne flute. “It won’t take long.”

He pours himself and Alex’s mother a small amount of champagne and Alex watches, entranced as they cheers and take a sip. His mother and his father lock eyes before handing their glasses to Alex and Andrea, smiling secret smiles. 

“Just this once,” his dad says. “Just one sip.”

Andrea takes the flute immediately and takes a sip. Alex watches her for a moment before taking his dad’s flute and lifting it up to his mouth.

The bubbles fizz and pop in his mouth. The taste is unpleasant, but... the feeling of his dad’s eyes on him, proud and sparkling with happiness make the experience a million times better.

As they drive to church, Alex keeps his hand firmly clasped around his cross, smiling the entire time.

---

Alex receives his first kiss when he’s 14. It happens in his basement with Luke Patterson. He’d invited him over so they could work on a song together. Luke had discovered him playing drums in the music room one day and had instantly recruited him to join his band, alongside Bobby and Reggie Anderson.

They’d long since abandoned practicing any form of music and were lounging on the couch in Alex’s basement, playing video games on his Sega Genesis. He’s so close to beating Luke at Mortal Kombat. They’ve been playing for 45 minutes and Alex has managed to lose every round so far.

But, with a fatal blow, Alex watches his character drop to his knees as Luke’s character poses victoriously. He groans loudly and leans back against the couch, trying his best not to pout as he hears Luke’s laughter next to him. “No fair!” he exclaims, dropping his controller beside him on the couch. 

Luke smirks, boxing Alex in the shoulder lightly. “Not my fault I’m better at this game than you are,” he says. He’s leaning towards Alex, his face mere inches away from his shoulder. “I’m just naturally skilled.”

Alex blushes and shuffles away from him, leaning into the arm rest and trying to ignore his heart as it pounds away in his chest. “Naturally ugly, more like,” he mumbles. It’s not the best comeback, but he can’t really focus right now.

Luke laughs anyway, punching Alex’s arm again and turning back to face the TV. Neither of them speak for a moment but Alex can feel the air thicken with a strange tension that he’s never felt before.

His hand automatically comes up to grip his cross, the edges of the metal digging into his palm. He takes a short breath in and out, feeling the cold metal warm up in his hand. 

He feels Luke’s eyes on him and he turns. There’s a small smile on Luke’s face that Alex can’t help but return. “What?” he asks.

Luke shrugs. “Nothin’,” he says softly.

Then, he leans in closer. Alex does not pull away.

Before he even realises what’s happening, they’re kissing. It’s chaste and completely innocent; a light press of lips against lips. Alex can tell that Luke hasn’t bothered to put on chapstick in his entire 14 years of life, but he tastes vaguely of grape bubblegum and iced tea. It’s nice. 

As they kiss, he feels his grip on his cross loosen until his hand falls completely slack, landing on top of Luke’s hand where it’s resting on a cushion.

They’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps against carpeted stairs. Alex jumps out of his seat and lands on the floor in front of the couch. Luke loses his balance and falls after him, landing face first in the couch cushion where Alex had just been sitting.

The basement door opens and Andrea pokes her head through, holding two capri suns and a bowl full of chips. She sees Alex on the floor and furrows her eyebrows. “Why are you on the ground?”

Alex clears his throat and blinks down at his knees, trying to hide his shaking hands. “Um... it-it’s more comfortable down here,” he mumbles. 

Andrea shrugs and walks in, placing the bowl of chips and the drinks on the coffee table. “Mom told me to give these to you.” She looks between the TV and the two of them. “I thought you guys were practicing.”

“We were!” Luke says, standing up and walking over to where his guitar is resting on the other side of the room. “We took a quick video game break, but we’re ready to get back to work. Right, Alex?”

Alex nods, but he can’t stand back up. “Right,” he says breathlessly, giving Andrea a weak smile. “Thanks for the snacks.”

Andrea nods, but she looks suspicious. She walks out of the room and shuts the door behind her. Alex doesn’t exhale until her footsteps have retreated completely. He breathes out shakily and draws his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. 

“Hey,” Luke says, running to Alex’s side. His hand hovers above Alex’s back before resting just behind him on the couch. “You okay?”

It takes a minute, but eventually Alex nods and looks up at Luke. “Yeah,” he replies, though his hands are still balled into tight fists. “I’m good.”

Luke nods, his hand tightening and loosening its grip on the couch cushion a few times. “Was that... weird?” he asks quietly. Alex has never heard him sound this unsure before. 

He shakes his head, a small smile growing on his face. “No,” he says quietly, and he means it too. “I don’t think so, anyway.”

Luke nods again, smiling brightly at Alex. “Okay. Cool.”

“Can we not... tell anyone? About that?” He asks quietly, looking up at Luke, eyes pleading. “I-I don’t know if I’m... if that...”

“Alex, of course,” Luke says earnestly, finally reaching over and resting his hand in Alex’s shoulder. “It’ll be just between us.”

Alex nods, smiling weakly. “Cool. Thanks.”

He feels mildly comforted by Luke’s words, but he can’t help the anxiety that grows in his stomach. He stands up and walks over to his kit, sitting down at his stool and twirling his drumstick in his hand.

When he closes his eyes that night, snuggled up in his bed, all he can think about are warm lips and iced tea.

---

He comes out at 16.

It doesn’t go well.

His mom cries like he’s just told her he died... but what makes him more anxious is his dad’s reaction.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just stares at Alex with that those hard, light eyes. He doesn’t even look angry, he just looks... disappointed.

“Dad?” he says quietly. The word gets caught in his throat.

His dad breathes in slowly and stands up. He walks out of the living room shaking his head. Alex watches him go until he’s completely out of sight. All he can hear are his mothers sobs. All he can feel is the weight of his guilt pressing down on him.

His cross feels like it’s burning his skin through the fabric of his t-shirt. Suddenly it feels like he’s wearing a ten pound weight around his neck. It’s hard to swallow.

He wants to comfort his mom, but he doesn’t even know what he would say. What could he say that wouldn’t make everything worse?

So, he stands up and takes one last look at his mom before walking down the hall. He passes Andrea on the way to the basement. She looks at him and then toward the living room where they can both hear their mother’s sobs. 

“What’s wrong with mom?” she asks, placing a hand on his elbow. The touch burns. 

Alex opens his mouth to speak but the words he wants to say get stuck in his throat. He brushes past her, ignoring her questions and running down the stairs to the basement and shutting the door behind him.

He sits down behind his drums and raises his hand to clasp his necklace, holding it so tightly his hand begins to hurt. He can’t cry. He thinks if he could, then maybe he’d feel better, but... the tears won’t come.

So, he lets go of his cross and picks up his sticks instead, twirling the left one in his hand a few times before hitting his high tom once, hard. It feels good, but the feeling doesn’t last long.

Eventually, he loses himself in the rhythm, hitting each drum harder than the last. He forgets for a moment; forgets about the disaster that had happened just minutes ago upstairs. He pauses for a minute to catch his breath but finds his mind wandering; is his mother still crying? Why hadn’t his dad said anything?

He shakes the thought free before pounding on his drums again. He’s not even beating out a rhythm now; he’s just trying to fill the space with noise to keep his thoughts out.

He’s interrupted when the door opens. It's his dad, holding an empty duffel bag, a somber expression on his face. Alex raises his eyebrows and takes his earplugs out of his ears. “Dad?”

His dad winces when Alex speaks, throwing the empty duffel bag onto the floor. “Pack your things.”

All the blood drains from Alex’s face and he stands up on shaky legs. He’s gripping his drumsticks so tightly, it’s a miracle that the wood doesn’t fuse with his skin. “Wh-where’re we goin’?” he asks, though he has a suspicion. 

“We aren’t going anywhere, son,” his dad says. His eyes are on the carpet. He can’t even look at Alex. “Your mother and I... we can’t have you staying in this house.”

“What?!”

“If you’re going to choose to live with your... affliction,” he spits out the word like it’s poison; and in his dad’s mind, perhaps it is, “then it won’t do to have you living here, corrupting us with your ungodly temptations.”

“Dad--”

His father holds up a hand. “I’ll give you 15 minutes to get your things and leave.” He turns to leave the basement but Alex calls him back.

“Where am I supposed to go?” he asks, voice cracking as he tries to fight the tears that threaten to run down his cheeks. He knows crying will only make him more upset. His father doesn’t turn around.

“You can figure that out on your own.” Then, he walks out. Alex is alone. After a few moments, he walks out from behind his drums and picks up the. empty bag with weak hands and walks up to his room. 

He’s working on autopilot as he shoves clothes and shoes and random items (when will he ever need his model robot?) into the bag until it’s almost full to bursting. He drops the bag on his bed and stares at it. He can’t hear anything; all the sounds around him are dull, muted almost. 

He turns around and catches a glimpse of his reflection in his bedroom mirror. He still looks the same as he had that morning when he’d gotten dressed for school. There are still drawings on the back of his hand in blue and black ink from third period when Bobby and Luke decided to draw on him in lieu of paying attention to what Mr. Peters was saying.

Remarkably, he looks the same... but he couldn’t be more different. 

Alex’s eyes drop to the necklace around his neck. It almost hurts to look at now. He’d done well by his vow; hadn’t ever taken it off, even when Jeremy Matthews teased him about it (and received a firm smack on the head from Reggie).

Shakily, he lifts his hands and unclasps the necklace, holding onto the chain so tight that the links begin to make grooves in his skin. He takes hold of the cross and swallows thickly, looking at his warped reflection in the surface of it. 

He slowly slides the cross off of the chain and places it on his nightstand. The chain, though, he keeps though he doesn’t really know why. He puts the chain back around his neck. It feels bare without the cross on it weighing it down, but... Alex finds he kind of likes it. 

With that, he picks up his duffel bag and walks out of his room. He can hear the quiet sound of scraping cutlery against ceramic and he winces. They’d started dinner without him. 

As he walks towards the front door, he passes the dining table. When she hears his footsteps, Andrea looks up from her untouched plate of food and stands up. Alex shakes his head silently at her, gripping his bag strap tighter.

His parents don’t even look up. He gives Andrea a half-hearted smile and a wave before walking out the front door. He doesn’t bother taking his keys with him; he knows he won’t need to use them again.

The cold, night air smacks him right in the face as soon as he closes the door behind him. Then, without a second glance, he leaves and begins the short trek to Bobby’s house.

---

“So, I was wondering...” 

Willie turns to Alex and smiles at him, squeezing his hand gently. “Yeah?”

They’ve been walking down the pier together in comfortable silence for almost 15 minutes, but the question bubbles up in Alex’s chest before he can control himself.

Alex looks down at their interlaced fingers before gesturing towards the necklace around Willie’s neck. “What’s that key around your neck for?”

At the mention of his necklace, Willie wraps his hand around the key and gives it a light tug with his free hand. If Alex notices how Willie’s slowed their walking pace slightly, he doesn’t say anything. 

“It’s my house key,” he says softly. Alex parts his lips in surprise. “When I was a kid, I... I was pretty irresponsible. I was always losing things in random places. My mom used to tell me I’d lose my arms if they weren’t attached to my shoulders.” The smile on his face makes Alex want to cry. “When my folks gave me my first house key, it felt like I was finally growing up. I was so scared I would lose it, so I bought a chain. I’ve worn it around my neck ever since.”

“Even after...” Alex doesn’t continue his train of thought but Willie understands regardless. He nods.

“When I woke up after the accident, it was actually the first thing I reached for,” Willie says quietly, gripping Alex’s hand like a lifeline. “Force of habit, I guess.” 

“Have you ever tried to visit your place?” Alex asks quietly, steering Willie towards the edge of the pier so they can sit by the water. Willie nods.

“A couple times. After I died, I didn’t visit for months. It hurt too much.” He pauses, looking out over the water as he scoots closer to Alex until their shoulders are pressed together. “I visited them for the first time a year after I’d died. I couldn’t go in. I was too scared, so I just watched from the windows like a total creeper.” There’s a chuckle in Willie’s voice that astounds Alex. He doesn’t know how he can be so cheerful even while talking about something so heartbreaking. “My family moved sometime around ‘89. I haven’t tried to find them since.”

Alex nods, listening to the sound of the crashing waves and seagulls as they fly overhead. He doesn’t feel pressured to comfort Willie at all. He thinks that telling him his story might’ve upset Alex more than it upset him. Instead, he rubs his knuckles with his thumb slowly, his finger savouring the feel of every dip and crevice. 

“What about you?” Willie asks suddenly, turning to Alex. There’s a smile in his eye that Alex never wants to look away from. “Is that gold chain around your neck a remnant from your gangster rap phase, or...?”

Alex laughs brightly, throwing his head back. He can feel Willie laughing too, his shoulders bouncing up and down with every giggle. He stops and breathes out quietly, looking down at his chain and hooking his finger through it. 

“Um... there used to be a cross hanging from it,” he says. “My parents got it for me for my confirmation when I was 12. I basically didn’t take it off for five years.” 

Willie pauses, shuffles closer; almost as if he can tell what’s coming next. He doesn’t say anything, though, and somehow that makes it easier for Alex to keep going.

“When I came out, my parents um... they weren’t very cool about it,” he says, tugging a little harder on the chain. “My dad kicked me out.” Willie’s grip on his hand tightens and Alex lets out a breath. “When I was leaving, I took the cross off. It didn’t seem right to keep it after...” he clears his throat. “I kept the chain. I’m still not really sure why... I’ve been thinking about it ever since I left home. I think it’s just... a reminder of why I left and what I have now.”

Willie smiles, bumping their shoulders together. “What do you have now?”

He looks at Willie and find that he can’t control the smile that’s growing on his face either. Under the setting sun, Willie looks so beautiful; his tanned skin practically glowing and long dark hair moving with the breeze. He leans in and brushes a gentle kiss against the side of his lips. He feels Willie’s hand come up to cup his cheek and he leans into the touch. 

They pull away from each other after a few seconds and Alex smiles again, resting their foreheads together. 

“Freedom.”

[melancholic-pigeon]

WIP Wednesday #15

Since Jason's birthday is tomorrow and all, I'm doing something longer as a treat. A triptych, if you will!

Content warnings for child abuse and neglect, alcoholism and food insecurity.

Thalia wakes up, like she usually does, to Jason curled against her with his fingers in his mouth. She can't easily put him in his crib by herself, but her mattress is on the floor and there's nowhere for him to fall, so she can ensure that she's there to hold him whenever he wakes up crying. Her shirt's a little damp, but this time it's just because he's drooling in his sleep. Last night, thankfully, was free from disruptions.

For him, at least.

He's a year old today, and she hasn't seen their mother since two nights ago, slumped on the couch with an empty bottle of vodka on the ground next to her. The door to her room is closed. Whether she's in there sleeping it off or out somewhere getting drunker, Thalia has no idea.

Bitterly, she doesn't care. It's not like their mom cares about them, either.

Jason yawns, his hair sticking up like a cockatoo's feathers. The first eye contact of the morning always leaves him giggling and reaching for her, and the feeling of his small, warm body flopping onto her brings her focus back to where it should be.

"Happy birthday, shrimp."

"Happy," he repeats, nosing at her stomach.

It's up to her, like usual, so she gets him dressed and ready and gives him the last of the cereal to occupy himself while she digs through her closet to find the old coffee can she stashed there.

Every time she thinks she can get away with it, she lifts a bill from their mother's wallet and puts it in the can. Every nickel she finds on the street, every dime she pulls from the couch cushions; it all adds up, a little at a time.

After carefully saving as much as she could for the past few weeks, she's squirreled away enough. She takes out a fistful and stuffs it in her pocket, then re-buries the can under a pile of her laundry.

Today's special, and she'll cover the loss somehow— by sneaking some extra groceries under her coat again, if she has to.

Jason's finished with his breakfast by the time she emerges, sitting patiently and playing with the plastic dish she'd given it to him on. Her sweet baby brother, looking up at her with a smile so sunny you'd think they were living like kings.

Her chest feels tight and her throat's in no better condition. After a deep breath, she reaches down to grab his hands.

"Do you know what birthdays mean?"

He takes a second to think about it as she pulls him to his feet, then shakes his head.

"Birthdays, Jason," she says, grinning— it's harder to dwell when he's holding onto her hand— "mean birthday cake."

The gas station a block away at least has the miniature kind wrapped in cellophane. He won't know the difference, since he hasn't even been introduced to the concept of cake yet, but she'll still have to make it up to him with a real one someday.

—

By the time Jason turns two, Thalia has shoplifting down to an art form.

People are usually too busy fawning over how precious her brother is to pay her much attention, and having Luke along makes it almost easy. Jason adores him, and he's happy to draw focus away from her by translating the toddler babble and proclaiming that they're his favorite babysitting clients, which conveniently explains the lack of adult supervision.

Thanks to him, she's managed to get Jason something a lot better than cake.

She saw it in the window of a toy shop and immediately knew it was perfect, but it cost more than she'd scrounged in the past six months. She'd been resigned to the idea of stealing a brownie instead, and then last night, Luke showed up at her doorstep with it tucked under his arm and his face split into a wicked grin.

She's not sure she wants to know how he managed to smuggle it out without getting caught, but the way Jason lights up when he lays eyes on it, happier than she's ever seen him, is enough to make her ignore the uneasy feeling.

"Puppy!"

She can't help but mirror it back to him, her heart swelling with emotion as he flings his arms around the stuffed animal's neck. It's almost as big as he is.

"That's right. It's a wolf puppy. She's named after a mama wolf called Lupa."

The real Lupa is the matriarch of a pack living at a conservancy in San Diego county. Her likeness is an embodiment of the fiercely protective love Jason should have gotten from his own mother, and which has fallen to Thalia and her limited capabilities instead.

Jason rolls over, still holding tight to his new doll, and lays his head in her lap. If she's coming up short, he certainly hasn't noticed.

"My Lupa?"

He's gently petting the wolf's fur, in a movement that's strikingly similar to how Thalia's petting his hair. She blinks a few times to chase away the burning in her eyes.

"Your Lupa."

She can't give him the childhood that he deserves. It's a struggle to make sure even his most basic needs are met, and some days it feels like the whole world is united against them, but then he hugs her leg or curls up against her shoulder or tells her in that sweet voice love you, Taya—

And everything settles in her chest, refining itself into a white-hot determination.

She's all he has, and the one thing she can make sure he'll never want for is someone who loves him enough to fight for him.

She understands how the real Lupa must feel about her cubs. She knows, with more certainty than she's ever known anything, that if anyone so much as thinks about hurting her little brother— hurting her baby— she'll tear them to shreds with her teeth before they have time to run.

—

Everything is perfect. Thalia's made sure of it.

The party doesn't start for another hour, so she has to keep Jason occupied until then. He thinks she has lunch reservations and they're meeting at her place for coffee first— the second part is true; she has a pot of Kona ready to go as soon as he arrives.

While she's preparing his decoy surprise, the rest of his friends are in Manhattan, helping Percy and Sally get his bash underway. She finds herself quivering with excitement as she puts the last few touches in place.

The doorbell rings and she squeaks, shoving the main item behind a bookshelf before racing to answer the door.

"Happy birthday, shrimp." She stands up on her tiptoes and hugs him around the neck. "I have something for you."

Jason beams, pink, and squeezes her back.

"I told you last year that you don't have to get me anything. Your company is a gift in and of itself."

"Ha ha," she counters dryly, knowing he can hear her getting a little emotional at the sincerity on his face. "Very funny. Like I'm not going to try to make up for the ten of them that I missed."

She takes hold of his arm and pulls him into the apartment, past the kitchen to the hall that leads to her bedroom. She opens the door beside it, the one that used to be her study.

Jason's eyes go wide.

The desk is still there, but the chair is new, much larger than the one she used. The bookcase is the same, too, but she's put her video games in a box in her bedroom and filled the shelves with fresh sketchbooks and paints and pencils instead. The bed is new too, as well as the nightstand and the dresser.

Sally stripped and varnished all of the wood, and built a set of floating shelves that are currently storing a series of framed photos from Annabeth's camera reel. Piper decided on the paint colors— sky blue with a deep purple accent on the wall that slants to the ceiling. Leo took care of borrowing Jason's favorite sketches to make the framed prints above his bed, by pretending he was doing a photography project with them.

(He'd burst into laughter when she gave him Jason's baby drawings to frame too, and she'd almost punched him in the mouth— but then she'd noticed his voice was a little tight when he told her the crayon scribbles looked just like her.)

"Wow," Jason breathes, staring around the room as though he doesn't know where to land his focus. "This— is all of this for me?"

"Anytime you need an escape, you've got one. Think of it as your safe house. And there's one more thing."

Reluctantly, she steps away and retrieves what she hid earlier.

Jason's mouth drops.

"Lupa," he whispers, raising his hand. He stops himself halfway through reaching over, like he doesn't know if he should. "How did you find another one? I thought they were a limited run."

Thalia takes his hand, wrapping his fingers around the new doll's front leg.

"I traded twenty-seven ultra-rare mint-condition beanie babies for her with a collector in Montana."

"Do I want to know how you got twenty-seven ultra-rare mint-condition beanie babies?"

"It's not as sordid as you're thinking, I just spent a lot of time on Ebay."

Jason laughs, shaky, and sits down on his new mattress. He's probably not even conscious of the way he's running his thumb over Lupa's paw, exactly the way he did the first time.

He said that donating the original to charity was his idea, but Thalia has a suspicion he was pushed into it with a healthy dose of shaming and manipulation, and the look on his face— shocked, bright-eyed, a little scared like he thinks she'll disappear if he blinks— pretty much confirms it.

Thalia sits beside him and wraps an arm around his back. He slides down along the mattress until he's lying with his head in her lap.

"My Lupa," he says quietly, and she knows he remembers doing it before.

"Your Lupa," she chokes back. "For real, this time. Nobody's going to take her away from you, ever again."

It's different now, because Lupa is about the size of a two year old child, and Jason very much no longer is. She fits in the crook of his elbow, and he couldn't wrap his arms and legs around her if he tried.

Thalia tries not to think about all the nights between then and now that he's needed her, and didn't have her.

He smiles, wiser than his fifteen years.

(He's fifteen years old. God. She missed so much— thirteen months isn't long enough to even really begin to catch up.)

"I know they won't," he tells her. "You won't let them."

She's never going to get those years back. The only thing she can do is make sure she appreciates what she has now.

"I believe you would."

"I'll bite anyone who tries," she whispers back, leaning down to kiss his forehead. He bursts into laughter, reaching up to ruffle her hair like she used to do to him.

@perseusjackson-jasongrace @msdrpreist I still feel self-conscious about pinging people tell me if you'd prefer I didn't difjvhg

[rainbowbutterfrosting]

The Revived - Chapter 16:

This is chapter 16 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @dramaticsnakes​ and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Ghostbur, Tubbo, Ranboo, Michael

Word count: 3504

Cw: implied loneliness, discussions of bad coping mechanisms, jokes about drugs, guilt

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

The evening in the mansion was rather quiet and peaceful, all things considered. Michael had immediately handed the drawing to Wilbur, who reluctantly kept it close. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Tubbo or Ranboo to see it. Not so much because of his own appearance in it, but because he realized that the sight of his ghost counterpart would likely bring up some bad memories.

Another thing that was mostly quiet during the evening was the actual ghost counterpart, much to Wilbur’s dismay. It was simpler, to distract himself from it when Ranboo and Tubbo were talking to him during dinner, or when Michael wanted to show him something, but it bothered him nonetheless. Tubbo and Ranboo had let Wilbur stay in a medium-sized bed in an almost empty room, with a couple of boxes in the corner. Wilbur had promptly excused himself to it, once the silence in his mind, and the chaos from outside, became a little overwhelming.

“Ghostbur?” Wilbur asked, once the door was closed safely behind him.

There was a moment of silence before he heard a quiet gasp. “Oh! Hello!” Ghostbur said, sounding excited to be addressed, but disheartened nonetheless.

“Did you have a good day?” Wilbur asked, taking a deep breath, a little relieved to hear the familiar voice again. “You didn’t say much, so I wasn’t sure.”

“Ah, sorry!” Ghostbur said.

“There’s no need,” Wilbur said, gently. “You can talk if you want to, or remain quiet if you want.” He shrugged, because it shouldn’t matter to him after all.

“Right, right…” Ghostbur said, and Wilbur wasn’t entirely sure if it was understanding or defeat.

Wilbur strolled towards the bed, and sat down, at the tempting mattress. His limbs grew heavier at the feeling. He hummed, thinking of what to say. “Did you know Michael drew you?”

“Huh?” Ghostbur asked, a bit of interest creeping into his tone.

“He did! He made a little crayon drawing of you and Friend.” He laughed slightly at the sentence, “And me.”

“He did?” Ghostbur said, familiar excitement slipping into the words, “What does it look like?”

Wilbur went on to explain as many details of the drawings he could reasonably give, despite the minimalist art style. The ghost listened intently. It was strange, the peace Wilbur suddenly felt, as the ghost sounded gradually happier, and he was sitting there alone as the night grew darker outside. Eventually, the inevitability of sleep snuck up on Wilbur. It felt strange, unfair even, to leave Ghostbur hanging like that. Not that Wilbur concerned himself with it of course, but it was a bit sad to think about the silence Ghostbur would experience, as soon as Wilbur drifted off to sleep.

But it happened nonetheless, and the darkness surrounded him, carrying him to rest in a matter of minutes, all the events of the past day slipping away calmly. They wouldn’t bother him until he turned to the waking world again.

The next morning he awoke to the sounds of birds chirping and the sun barely visible, but still visible enough to fill the room with a faint light. He stretched in the bed, before lying there for a few moments. His mind wandered, mostly refreshing his mind of yesterday and if there was anything he was supposed to do again. He remembered Ghostbur’s gloominess from the day before with an awkward feeling in his chest. He mumbled, “Good morning.”

A few moments passed with no response. Wilbur slightly frowned, “Ghostbur?”

“Oh! You were talking to me!” Ghostbur’s tiredness showed through his voice. It wasn't tiredness from a lack of sleep that made your voice gently crack on itself, but rather an exhaustion that couldn’t be fixed with rest. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm.” Wilbur sat up from the bed, swinging his legs over so he was sitting normally. “I don’t remember being able to sleep that well in limbo, can you?” 

He hoped it was different for the ghost. That maybe he could also have a copy of Friend there for him instead of only having a faint grip of reality through Wilbur. “Nope. What did you do for fun here?” He heard a sigh from Ghostbur.

Wilbur pursed his lips. “I mean, it wasn’t really the best place in the universe.” He heard a small hum of acknowledgment. “Sometimes I walked down the tunnel. I would go ‘til my legs were tired. Then I tried to go for longer.” The words slipped out effortlessly, yet his voice became quieter the further he got into it, “I timed myself in my head, the quickest I could collapse was… two minutes? There were some seconds added on, but I can’t remember.” 

“Yeah, maybe I’ll try that.” His voice wasn’t enthusiastic- something Wilbur was grateful for.

Wilbur shook his head, “No no no, I’m a bit of a hypocrite. You shouldn't follow in my footsteps.”

“Don’t worry, maybe I’ll run the way you didn’t go! Wait- why shouldn’t I run where you did?”

Wilbur sighed, “I didn’t mean that. I just meant you shouldn’t do what I did. I’m just…” Wilbur wanted to say he wasn’t a good role model because while it certainly was the honest truth, he didn’t care for the truth all that much. Information gives you the upper hand. “It was just a dumb decision and I don’t want to waste your time.”

Ghostbur’s voice was clearly dismayed, “There’s nothing much else to do. I mean- sometimes I can imagine stuff in my head! Like when I would play with Michael!” His excitement picked up at the end, but it wasn’t at the same level it used to be.

Wilbur tried smiling, “Yeah. That’s good. You should continue doing that.”

“I try to, but then it makes me sad. The feeling doesn’t go away anymore.”

Wilbur would’ve stood up from the bed and walked downstairs, but he didn’t want to end the conversation. “Doesn’t go away anymore?”

Ghostbur sighed, “Yeah. When I was alive, I would talk to people. Then- I think something bad would happen. At least that’s what other people said. After it was over, I would be talking with friends again! It was nice because I felt better a lot sooner than other people would.” Ghostbur paused for a moment. “I’ve heard that people get sad for multiple days, and I’m glad that never really happened to me. I wish it didn’t happen in general though. They deserve to be happy.”

“Yeah… being sad isn’t that fun.” Wilbur felt oddly empty at the words, the simplification of them making him remember the past. The days he went without sleep, trying to figure out how to win the election. The look of concern he got when Tommy told him that he should rest. Yet, he supposed those days weren’t exactly sad. They weren’t cheery, but they weren’t sad either. They held an odd sort of void to him, blending together before he even knew they started. 

He’d known about it, partially. About how Ghostbur was shaped by the good and didn’t remember any of the bad things Wilbur had experienced, nor the bad memories he had on his own. Yet it was quite another to hear him say it. To hear him speak of it as if it was something natural. Feeling better faster than others, because the memories slipped away. Wilbur hadn’t realized that wouldn’t be the case anymore. Perhaps forgetting was more merciful.

Wilbur stood up from the bed, “I’m gonna go eat some breakfast.”

Ghostbur seemed excited once more as he clapped. “I love breakfast so much! It’s one of my favorite meals.”

Wilbur nodded as he let out a sound of amusement, “Good choice.”

He walked to the door of the room, opening it slowly, afraid of disturbing any peace inside the house. He peeked his head out and looked both ways, yet he couldn’t see anyone awake. He exited the room, closing the door behind him. He carefully made his way downstairs.

When Wilbur entered the barely set-up dining room, it was as if the entire place hadn’t quite woken up yet. Tubbo was languidly standing on one side of the room, half doing the dishes, and half making breakfast. On the floor on the other side, by an open box of whatever furniture or household items it contained, Ranboo was sitting up against the wall, flipping through a book. Michael was sitting right next to him, once again leaning over a piece of paper, happily doodling on it with crayons.

He walked to where Tubbo was, making his footsteps loud enough to be heard, but not enough to startle him. Tubbo turned around, a welcoming smile on his face, “Good morning.” 

Ghostbur cheerily replied, “Good morning!”

Wilbur stood next to the boy, looking over his shoulder, “Whatcha making?”

Tubbo shrugged. “I’m just cutting up some apples right now. Makin’ pancakes. American ones specifically, because Ranboo says English ones are just sad crepes.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes. He was surprised the centrist even had an opinion on food. He seemed to stay neutral on so many other regards, yet pancakes were where he drew the line, “What a weird guy. What should I start doing?”

Tubbo furrowed his eyebrows for a moment before speaking, “You’re a guest, you aren’t going to be the one cooking.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes as his tone returned gentle, “Like old times.”. He spent so many days making breakfast in L’Manberg that he hadn’t even thought that things were different. Most of those early moments were spent with Tubbo before he went undercover as a spy. They both couldn’t stay asleep or didn’t sleep soon enough and decided to just start the day. They formed the routine of the person in the kitchen, decided what they were making, and the other helped until it was finished.

Tubbo looked away, his posture more rigid. Wilbur pursed his lips, he ruined another moment. Another peaceful moment was torn out of Tubbo’s head by the hands of a person he only invited to his home out of pity. He forced words to roll off his tongue, ones that didn’t belong but had to be placed there, “Just joking, man.”

Tubbo hesitantly laughed, “Yeah,” He returned his gaze to the fruit in front of him. Wilbur slightly narrowed his eyes, not out of anger, but the confusion that persisted ever since his return. Everyone asserted that everything was different, but it all lingered in his head all the same. He could picture L’Manberg in its glory along with the uniforms that fit his soldiers perfectly. Yet no one else could. 

“Michael, no!” a voice from the other side of the room suddenly exclaimed, Wilbur immediately turned his head. He was met by the sight of Ranboo, worriedly trying to pull a piece of paper out of Michael’s mouth. Only a small part of it was stuck in there as if Michael had merely tried to lick it and had decided to chew on it afterward. “Let go, it’s not food.” Ranboo tried. With a sharp pull, Ranboo landed on his back with the paper in hand, and Michael looked disappointed.

Tubbo’s squinted, looking confused and concerned at the same time. “Didn’t we take away the yellow crayons?”

Ranboo sighed deeply, “Orange.”

“Michael doesn’t eat orange though?” Tubbo said.

Ranboo sat up and looked at Tubbo with a completely deadpan expression. “You haven’t considered the implications of light orange.”

Tubbo gasped with realization. “Oh,” he rushed towards the packet of crayons, picking out the orange ones hurriedly. Ranboo discarded the paper, and Michael watched with crossed arms, looking a bit annoyed at the whole ordeal. Wilbur couldn’t contain some light laughter as the scene unfolded.

Not too long after, breakfast was served. It was a lot less strained than Wilbur had perhaps feared. They chatted about Michael’s strange habits of eating crayons along with similar childhood stories. Light-hearted chuckles passed around the table, with Michael joining in occasionally. Even when they all finished their plates, they continued to sit. They only started moving when Michael seemed fussy with his high chair. Tubbo quickly took him out, setting him on the floor again. 

Tubbo picked up the dishes from the table. “I’ll clean these up. You and Michael can play for a bit.” Wilbur nodded and got up from his seat at the same time as Ranboo. Wilbur felt a pulling sensation on his pant leg, he goofily smiled when he looked down and realized it was Michael. 

Ranboo took the plates from Tubbo’s hands. “You cooked breakfast, it’s only fair that I wash the dishes.”

Tubbo gently pulled on them back. “And you played with Michael all morning.”

Ranboo rolled his eyes as he set the plates onto the kitchen counter. “Oh my, it’s so hard to be a Dad. Wow, it’s so difficult to just watch a child when the child is still waking up.”

Tubbo groaned, “I can’t believe you.”

Ranboo nodded. “I make such good points that you can’t even try.” While he seemed disinterested in the beginning, a small smile appeared on his face.

Tubbo sighed, “Yeah. I really can’t compete with the world’s best dad and husband. If only I could wash the dishes to pay him back.”

“Awww, I think they’re flirting again,” Ghostbur cooed. 

Ranboo let out a laugh, “Sure sure, maybe tomorrow.” He quickly leaned down and planted a quick kiss on Tubbo’s forehead. 

Tubbo scoffed, “Bitch.” He playfully punched Ranboo’s shoulder before heading off in Wilbur's direction. Wilbur even forgot he was there, wrapped inside the domestic peace of their family. He blinked and looked down at Michael, the child still pulling gently on Wilbur’s pant leg. 

“We’ll be in Michael’s room,” Tubbo called out to Ranboo. Ranboo nodded and continued putting the dishes in the sink. Tubbo started walking up the stairs and Michael quickly followed. Wilbur was walking a bit slower than before. Cautiously perhaps, though he wasn’t certain why. He smiled at Michael.

“Ooh, what are we going to play with Michael?” Ghostbur asked, though it was said in such a way, that he likely didn’t expect a response. Wilbur let out a relieved breath, at least a little comforted by the fact that Ghostbur had been talking this morning. It was going to be alright. Wilbur held on to the faint thread of a connection for now, each word from the ghost feeling like his one chance to take a breath. 

As they returned to Michael’s barely furnished room, Wilbur almost felt as if he’d settled into a routine. It was silly really, having been there for just one night, but the walls seemed familiar. Familiar in a way that was a lot less suffocating than most familiar walls Wilbur could think of. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to settle into that feeling. It wasn’t there to stay, but he could pretend it was for the time being. Though the warmth almost seemed to burn him.

Soon enough, he found himself sitting on the floor, playing with little toys shaped like various animals and other mobs. While Wilbur found it difficult to figure out exactly what they were playing, he released a scream from a toy he’d dubbed the Skeleton King, as Michael played the chicken protagonist, defeating the king for the last time. Ghostbur chimed in every once in a while, despite him knowing even less of what was going on. Ghostbur suggested that the chicken hero had a friend who was a ghost cow, and Wilbur had decided to incorporate it into the story. Partially just to please Ghostbur, though the smile on Michael’s face was priceless.

He looked over in Tubbo’s direction. The boy was feeling the walls when Wilbur realized they had a bit of crayon on them. Not much, but enough to notice if you looked close enough. He gasped quietly at the thought in his mind. He reached in his pocket, feeling the sugar cane in his hand. A small grin slipped onto his face as he discreetly crushed it up, forming a small pile of sugar in his hand. 

He shuffled slightly towards the edge of the table, gesturing for Michael to come along. The toddler tilted his head but walked over to where Wilbur was. Wilbur barely resisted laughing as he put the sugar on the table in a thin line. It wasn’t the neatest one in the world, but it would have to do. 

Wilbur spoke loud enough for Tubbo to hear, “Alright, first you get it in a line. It can be a bit hard to do sometimes, but you can always use the edge of a sword or a piece of paper if you’re really desperate.” Tubbo raised an eyebrow as his eyes widened at the scene. He immediately ran over, picking Michael up as he quickly placed the child farther away from Wilbur. Michael, on the other hand, didn’t understand the situation as he attempted to run back to Wilbur. 

Tubbo grabbed onto Michael’s shoulders before he could go far, turning the zombie piglin around to see him. His voice was tense, but still light enough. “Michael, how about you play tag with Dad for a bit, okay?” 

“Tubbo doesn’t sound okay,” Ghostbur supplemented. Although Wilbur could’ve been able to read the room himself, the ghost’s voice was always a nice echo in his mind.

Michael huffed, looking between Tubbo and Wilbur. Tubbo nodded, showing him the direction of the door. He even slipped a smile into his voice, although the one on his face seemed tense, “You can go down the stairs by yourself.”

Michael squealed excitedly as he ran out of the room, his footsteps heard as he excitedly ran down. Tubbo closed the door behind him as his eyes met Wilbur’s. A foolish grin sat on Wilbur’s face, “Your reaction was priceless!” He cackled as he casually pushed around the sugar on the table.

Tubbo sharply exhaled, “Wilbur.” His voice was sharp and jagged in a way Wilbur didn’t quite expect.

“It’s just some sugar in a line. C’mon, man, you can taste it yourself.” He picked a bit of sugar from off the table and put it in his mouth, making slightly exaggerated expressions as he emphasized that it wasn’t anything bad.

Some of Tubbo’s edge disappeared, but at least half of it remained, “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t hurt Michael it’s just-” He cut himself off with a sigh. He looked away from Wilbur’s gaze and back at the wall with some crayon on it. “L’Manberg.”

Wilbur furrowed his brow, “What about it?”

They waited a few moments in silence before Tubbo hesitantly spoke, “Why did you start L’Manberg?”

Wilbur stated his answer automatically, “To declare independence from Dream. You were there, Tubbo.”

Tubbo shook his head, “No no, what was the original purpose of L’Manberg?”

Wilbur thought for a moment. Tommy’s disks flew into his mind, but L’Manberg was never really centered on them, only Tommy and Dream did. He drifted onto the idea of community, but that was found after the nation was formed. Power maybe? Power seemed like a nice answer, but it somehow didn’t feel right on his tongue. He snapped his fingers as a look of realization came across his face, “Oh! We were gonna set up a drug empir- oh.”

History really does repeat itself in an ironic way.

Tubbo pursed his lips as he couldn’t meet Wilbur’s gaze, “Yeah.”

“Tubbo…” Wilbur’s voice trailed off before he continued again, “I mean, L’Manberg is over and done with. It’s not too big of a problem.” Wilbur scooped up the remaining sugar on the table and dumped it into his mouth.

Ghostbur seemed flabbergasted, “What are you eating? It seems… good? Is that the right word?” Wilbur nodded but Ghostbur couldn’t see.

Wilbur moved his gloves against each other, removing the rest of the remaining substance from himself. “Sugar never really loses its touch.” He stood up from the table. He slightly frowned when he spotted the cloudy look in Tubbo’s eyes. “You… okay?”

Tubbo met Wilbur’s gaze for a moment before looking towards the door. “I know it was yesterday when you read the destruction of L’Manberg, really, it’s a new day. But-” Tubbo shakily exhaled, “Just because you got to destroy all of your hard work, doesn’t mean you’ll get to destroy mine too.”

Wilbur sympathetically looked at the boy as he walked closer. Tubbo tensed up noticeably. Wilbur stopped a few steps in front of Tubbo. “Tubbo.” A gentle assertiveness filled his voice, “Tubbo look at me.” Tubbo narrowed his eyes for a moment but met Wilbur’s gaze. Tears laced the boy’s eyes, the shine of them giving it away.

Wilbur took a breath, “Dream is in prison. L’Manberg is… gone.” The word felt bitter on his tongue. “I don’t have anything against you. I- I care about you being happy. I wouldn’t do anything to purposely ruin it.” Wilbur opened his arms for a hug.

Tubbo stepped forward as Wilbur’s chest lept and a small grin went across his face, but Tubbo side-stepped at the last moment, opening the door just a bit behind Wilbur. Before the door closed, Tubbo mentioned a whisper into the air, “It’s okay.” The words seemed to waver slightly as if they were meant to comfort himself and not Wilbur. The door clicked and he was alone once more.

[hopelikethemoon]

Wake Up (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: wake up Rating: PG-13 Length: 2600 Warnings: Nightmare Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Set in Februrary 1997. Also shout out to @grapemama​ who played with this idea with me this week and I COULDN’T WAIT TO TORTURE JAVIER.  Summary: Javier has another nightmare. 

Taglist:  @grapemama  @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes​ @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow​ @hiscyarika @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501​ @fioccodineveautunnale​  @roxypeanut @just-add-butter @snivellusim​ @amarvelousmandalorian @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper​ @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano​

Something felt off from the moment Javier woke up. Or at least… it felt like he had woken up. But the sky seemed to blur and the grass seemed too green and…

He was in Texas. Living out of the same apartment he’d lived in before Colombia. A space devoid of life — a place that wasn’t home. No matter where he looked, he couldn’t find a trace of her… of Josie. 

The spare room was filled with junk, his closet held only his own clothes. There were no sippy cups in the sink, no red wine in the refrigerator. 

He tore the place up looking for something — anything that would give him a clue. Her number was nowhere to be found, there were no crayon-scribble pictures proudly pinned up on display. 

The three most important people in his life seemed to have vanished without a trace. 

So he called Murphy. It took two tries before he finally answered.

“How the hell have you been, Javi? It’s been a minute.”

“It has?”

“At least a year.”

“Right.”

“You okay?”

“Where are you at?” Javier questioned, flipping through a number book beside the receiver. There was an address scribbled down under Steve’s name. “Miami?”

“Yeah, same place we’ve been for the past five years.” Steve chuckled. “You good, man?” 

“I don’t know.” Javier admitted, sinking down into the chair at his desk. “Where is—“

Steve cut him off, “How about you come out here and visit? Change of scenery might do you some good.”

Javier exhaled heavily, dragging his fingers through his hair. “Sure. Yeah.” 

Something shifted, the edges of his apartment blurring around him. He was dreaming — he knew it now. But that didn’t help shake the sinking feeling he felt, like the darkness around him was trying to get a hold of him. 

“What the fuck?” Javier muttered, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes before he looked up — faced now with a familiar place. 

The Murphy’s townhouse. He could hear Olivia and Emily giggling down the hallway and his heart clenched as he waited… prayed… But he never heard her. It was just two little girls — not three. 

“You look rough man.” Steve said as he sat a beer down on the table in front of him. “You had me worried. I know coming back from Colombia was a difficult transition.”

Javier took a greedy swig of beer, but it didn’t quench his thirst. He sat it down heavily and rubbed at his temples. “I don’t understand what’s going on, Murphy. Something is wrong.” 

“What’s wrong?”

“Where is she?”

“Where is who?”

Javier blinked. “Who do you think?”

Steve shrugged, “I mean, there’s a pretty long line of shes, Javi. You can’t expect me to know every one of them.”

He shook his head slowly, sitting back in his chair defeated. “This has to be a nightmare.” He muttered, glancing out the window. Just the other day he’d been sitting in that swing with her — dreaming about their new house. Talking about the future. Josie… the baby. 

“Javi, you’re gonna have to talk if you want to get past this.” Steve told him, leaning forward in his seat. 

Javier looked towards Steve then, but something caught his attention past his ear. Something hanging on the refrigerator. “Josie.” He breathed out as he got up and walked across the kitchen — eyes fixed on the picture of his daughter. She looked a little older. Her curly hair was longer, now resting against her shoulders as she sat for her kindergarten class photo. She had an apple in one hand and a slateboard with her grade propped up at her feet. 

“Javier?” Steve questioned, following after him. “Who’s Josie?”

Javier felt like he was going to be sick. “My—“

Steve reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “That’s Alexis.” He shrugged a shoulder. “They’re doing really good from what I hear. Such a shame what happened.”

“What happened?”

Steve stared at him. “She only told Connie a little. Don’t you remember? The same week she found out that she had gotten knocked up, she got relieved of her duty with DEA. No idea what happened, but bad timing.” He folded his arms across his chest. 

“Where is she now?”

“I think she and Lance live in Washington.” He arched a brow at Javier 

Lance.

Javier’s fingers trembled as he took the picture off the fridge, turning it over. 

ALEXIS COLLIER, AGE 5

“This is wrong. This is all wrong.” 

“Javier, what the fuck is going on?” Steve grabbed his arm. “What is wrong?”

Javier turned towards Steve, the colour draining from his face. “This is my daughter.” He held the picture of Josie up in front of Steve’s face. “She’s mine.” 

“You’re not funny.”

“We fucked when you and Connie left and—”

Steve’s hands went to his hips and he stared at Javier, jaw set hard. “So you’re the asshole who wouldn’t own up? Honestly, I can’t say I’m surprised... “ He shook his head slowly. “Shit, Javi.” 

“But I did.” Javier stared down at the picture. “I did everything she wanted. I was there for her. I don’t understand.” His eyes burned with unshed tears. “We had everything. A life, a home, another baby on the way.”

“Yeah, well… I don’t think that’s the case.” Steve took the picture away from Javier, sticking it back up on the fridge. “She’s happy, Javier. They came down for Christmas a few months back and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so happy. Whatever you think you had, it’s not real.” 

 Wake up. 

Wake up. 

 Javier clenched his eyes closed, trying to will himself to wake up. But all he could hear was the ticking of the cat clock that hung on the Murphy’s kitchen wall. 

The dream morphed again. Steve faded away as Javier’s surroundings shifted — the house giving way to the inside of his car. He dragged his hands over his face, leaning forward against the steering wheel.

He knew he was having a nightmare, but his brain wouldn’t let him wake up. 

Javier looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was sitting outside of an elementary school — the one Olivia went to kindergarten, only he could see the Washington Monument in the distance. He was in D.C. 

Shit. 

Children streamed out of the front doors of the school and his heart clenched as he spotted them. God, she looked beautiful. Walking hand-in-hand with Josie down the stairs… right towards Lance. Josie shouted out ‘Daddy’ loud enough for him to hear inside the car. But she ran towards Lance — not him. 

“Javier!” 

He blinked.

“Javier!”

The dream surrounded him, dragging him into an inky darkness. 

Someone was shaking him. 

“Wake up.” 

Javier mumbled something unintelligible, blinking as he stared up into the darkness. He could make out a shape, a face, staring down at him. “Baby?”

“I’m right here.” She whispered, brushing her fingers over his forehead and pushing his hair back. “Are you awake now?” 

“I—.” Javier swallowed thickly, reaching up to touch her face, to feel the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips. “Is this real?”

Her laugh felt like a breath of fresh air. “Yes, it’s real.” She assured him, pinching his side. “You were having a nightmare.” She leaned over him, pressing a hand against the bed beside his head as she reached to turn the bedside light on.

His eyes flickered around the bedroom, taking in the familiar surroundings. He was home. He wasn’t back in Austin, miserable and alone. He hated how easily a dream had been able to recreate that feeling. Loneliness. 

It had been years since that ache had taken up residence in his chest. 

She moved to straddle his stomach, looking down at him. “Are you going to tell me about the dream?” She questioned, reaching down to cup his cheeks. “You kept saying my name.” Her thumb brushed a tear away from his skin. “And not in a good way.”

Javier ran his hands up her legs, welcoming the warm reality of her. Everything had felt so cold in his nightmare. Cold and distant and unforgiving. False memories conjured up by a self-deprecating brain. 

“We weren’t together.” Javier’s voice wavered, leaning into her touch. “I don’t know… I think I fucked up.” 

“It was just a nightmare.” She reassured him, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “I’m right here.” 

“You were with Lance.”

She laughed softly, “That would never happen.”

“I think… I think I got you fired. You went back to the states and…”

Her brows furrowed together as a frown set over her features. “Was Josie…”

“You named her Alexis.” He brushed his thumb over the top of her thigh through her sleep pants. “I think Lance adopted her. You were… happy.”

“Lance would’ve bored me to death.” She shook her head. “It was just a nightmare.” She stroked the backs of her fingers against his cheek. “You have us.” 

“I was miserable.” 

“Well if you got me fired, I would hope you were miserable.” She said seriously. “But you didn’t and you’re not… right?” She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “You’re not miserable.” 

Javier sat up then, curling his arms around her as he bent his knees behind her. “I’m far from miserable, baby.” He pressed his forehead against her chest. “I’ve never been happier. You and Josie and…” He reached down and rest his hand against her stomach. “Sofía.”

She combed her fingers through his hair, cradling him to her. “Nightmares are usually trying to tell you something, Javi.”

“I don’t know what this one was trying to tell me.” Javier ran his hands over her stomach. “Why the hell was Lance even in my dream?”

“That’s between you and your brain.” She kissed the top of his head. “Are you still afraid of losing me?”

“Every day.” Javier admitted quietly. “It scares the shit out of me.”

“And I keep telling you that you’re stuck with me.” She tugged at his hair lightly, making him look at her. “We’re buying a house, Javi. We’re those people now.” She brushed her thumb over his bottom lip. “Is it that? Your nightmares were bad after we moved to Miami.” 

“Change, maybe?” He shrugged his shoulders, raking a hand over his face. “Steve — in my dream — told me something about… talking about it. I don’t know what.” 

She chewed on her bottom lip again. “We’re better at talking now… If there is anything—“

“There isn’t.” Javier admitted quietly. “I don’t know what else needs to be said.”

Of course there were still plenty of things about Colombia he kept tightly packed away. They all got boxed up during the first move into her apartment, then sealed away even tighter when they moved to Miami. 

“Well, if you ever decide that there is more to be said…” She tilted his chin, smiling softly at him. “I’m here.” Her fingers brushed the stray curls off his forehead. 

“They took so much from me.” Javier said quietly, closing his eyes. “It’s fucking stupid.” He shook his head. “Fucking grown-ass man worried he doesn’t have enough emotional bandwidth left for his own family. It’s bullshit that the DEA can still find a way to fuck with me.”

“Hey, hey.” She whispered, cupping his cheeks. “Is that what this is about?” 

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know if that’s a can of worms I want to open,” She whispered. “I know you’ve put in the requests and made the contacts… but, if it’s going to dredge all of this up for you…”

“You had a dream, baby. They took it all away.” 

“Yeah, but my dream seems to be your nightmare.” She kissed him gently, brushing her fingers over his cheeks. “I’m not going to pour salt in wounds that haven’t healed.” 

Javier sank back on the mattress, rubbing at his eyes. “I don’t want to do this right now. I don’t…” He shook his head slowly, staring up at the ceiling.

She slid off his lap, kneeling on the bed beside him. “I’m going to go get Josie.” 

“Don’t wake her up because of me.” 

“I’m going to go get Josie.” She repeated with an edge to her voice. 

Javier watched her as she got off the bed and slipped out the door. He really didn’t deserve her. She put up with so much shit because of him. They had both put each other through hell in very different ways. 

He couldn’t shake the way he’d felt seeing her with Lance in the dream. She’d seemed so happy — a smile that had only ever been reserved for him had been given to that fucking suit. And Josie… that was a perfectly crafted twist that felt like a shot to the chest. 

The truth was, he felt guilty for how things played out for her. There were so many ifs. What if he’d admitted to his feelings years before? What if he’d convinced her to come clean with the DEA from the start? What if. What if. 

Javier raked his fingers through his hair, sitting up as she returned with a sleepy Josie in her arms. This was his life. This beautiful, badass of a woman had given him not one but two daughters. And more understanding and love than he’d ever expected. 

“C’mere.” Javier held his arms out as she deposited Josie on the bed, she crawled up the covers and nestled into his hold. “Did mommy wake you up?”

Josie nodded. “She said you had a nightmare, daddy.” She put her little hands on either side of his cheeks. “I fight them for you.”

Javier wrapped his arms around her and laughed, scrunching up his nose as he looked up at her. “Just the three of you being here with me has fought them off.” 

Josie mimicked his expression, scrunching up her nose as she leaned down and knocked her forehead against his. “Love you daddy!” She said sweetly, kissing his cheeks. 

“She’s capable of chasing all nightmares away. Isn’t she?” Javier grinned as he watched her climb into bed beside them. He shifted so he could curl an arm around her shoulders and pull her in close to his side as Josie stretched out on his chest. 

She laughed softly, pressing a kiss against his arm. “She certainly is.” She reached out and played with Josie’s curls, “I’m so glad she has your hair.” 

“In my dream her hair was longer.” Javier recalled, rubbing Josie’s back as she quieted. “It was a school photo.” 

“Already dreading sending our baby girl to kindergarten?” She teased lightly, reaching up to brush her fingers against his cheek. “It was just a nightmare, Javi. You’ve got us. And you know I don’t let go of anything easily.” 

“Momma shhh.”Josie waved her hand at her mother. “Daddy’s sleeping.” 

“Are you sleeping, Javi?” 

He nodded his head with a grin. “I am.” 

She reached out and brushed her thumb down his nose, before rubbing it over his bottom lip. “Goodnight, Javi.”

“Goodnight, baby.”

“Night-night daddy.” Josie whispered. 

Javier moved to turn the light off on the nightstand, before settling back onto the bed. He wrapped his arm around her, keeping her nestled close to his side. He gave her shoulder three short squeezes and he felt her smile as she pressed her lips against his chest. 

He didn’t think sleep would easily return to him, but at least he could listen to them breathe and remember what he had. Maybe he needed to talk to Steve again, hash out all the shit that happened in Colombia that he didn’t want to burden her with. 

[thenameisel]

(It's been years since I wrote, but this game, well, gave the inspiration to do so again. So if it's a little long, and I tend to write on mobile... so forgive me. :) )

The Titan walked along the pebbled shoreline, an orange thermos in hand. It was a particularly large thermos, of the kind one uses to carry enough beverage of choice for multiple people. But in the Titan's hand it looked perfectly normal. An oversized thermos in an oversized hand.

A Ghost glittering golden floated sedately along side, occasionally pausing to scan a particularly interesting pebble.

The sun had not quite yet set, however thick clouds threatening rain obscured the little light remaining, making for quite a dreary evening. 

Ahead, a half dozen Fallen bickered over a collection of washed up junk, looking for anything salvageable. Each in turn looked up from their work, eyeing the newcomer warily. Their movements were fluid, but jumpy. A weird bobbing grace. Suddenly, all heads come up in unison, many hands reaching for almost as many weapons. 

The Titan snorted a short laugh as the Ghost vanished. "We're not interested in your junk. Just let us pass."

Either the Fallen didn't understand, or, more likely, had no reason to trust the statement. After all, what Guardian would walk past a group of humanity's foes without beating them to a pulp? One of them took a step forward, lifting a lance into an aggressive position. The Titan sighed, shrugged in mild disappointment and looked around for a flatish rock. Finding one, a hand came up in a classic 'one moment' gesture, and the thermos was placed on the rock with the utmost care.

As the Titan stood upright, the massive hands started to spark with Arc energy. 

"Allrighty. Let's do this." 

Further along, up in a nook on a bluff, a Hunter lay in wait for prey. There had been a tip off about a smuggling ring making a trade somewhere in this area, and a master of shadows had been sent to intercept it. Once in the area, a suspicious beacon had led to a particular stretch of beach, and an inlet hidden by tall rock walls, with plenty of nooks someone could hide in.

One such had proven particularly useful. It was a good perch, well up above the small sheltered area, just enough space to lay prone. Dressed all in dark colors, the figure was almost invisible in the fading light. A matte black Ghost rested beside, a single eye as intent on the empty beach below as the Hunter's two. Rifle in hand, the pair lay in wait for something to happen. When it did, it most certainly wasn't what they were expecting. 

"Those Fallen down the beach are making noise again." The Ghost whispered. "Something's got them mad."

"Think it's the smugglers?" 

"Maybe."

So they settled in to wait again, but the noise got loud enough that the two could pick out distinct words. "No, not the smugglers." The Ghost said disappointed. "Their clamering about killing someone."

The Hunter groaned, face in the dirt. "Ok. I guess we should go see what's going on. If someone needs help..." The statement remained unfinished. 

A soft glow emitted from the Ghost as it gained height, and the Hunter stretched muscles sore from laying in wait. Suddenly the noise from the Fallen was punctured by the crack of Arc energy, and the outline of the inlet's entrance was lit with blue light. The noise of Fallen gunfire returned the assault. 

"Damn it. That's going to warn off the smugglers." 

"Oh look on the bright side!" The Ghost chipped in cheerfully.

"And what would that be?" 

"I think I know who that is!"

Another groan and the Hunter, head shaking, jumped out of the nook to the beach below. The Ghost chirped happily and followed. There had been the beginnings of a smile on the Guardian's face after all. They may have lost their intended prey, but one of another kind had just blundered into their sights. 

The Titan continued down the shoreline, thermos in hand. Behind, a half dozen Fallen lay, a few barely clinging to life. The remains of the Arc onslaught sparked among the scrap. 

"There's an inlet up around the next bluff" the Ghost said, popping back into reality, "I'm picking up a faint beacon. It's not one of ours." 

"Oh?" The Titan said, "That sounds interesting. Shall we take a peek?" 

The Ghost made a simple affirmative sounding tone, then paused. After a moment a second, slightly more complex and happier sounding tone was emitted, before vanishing in a flurry of sparks. 

The Titan chuckled quietly. That Ghost tended to be a somber fellow, and that was practically joy. So something was definitely up. 

The bluff ahead jutted almost out into the water, only a narrow band of large rockfall skirted it with just enough pebble shore to pass. Good spot for an ambush. Not that something like an ambush was concerning to a Titan. But it wasn't to be, and the way was uneventful. However, there had been a distinct feeling of being watched. But that wasn't a bother either.

Round the corner, and into the deeper gloom of the inlet. A few strides in and visibility was getting very poor. The Titan methodically peered into the shadows, though there really wasn't much use, as the day was ending and the black of night was coming fast. An oversized hand was raised, palm up, requesting some additional light.

Before the Ghost could materialize however, a shadow detached itself from the bluff wall, launching itself at the hulking form. 

The shadow hit broadside full force, but the Titan's stance held. Bellowing, one hand desperately clinging to the thermos, the other pulling at the dark form, which had worked up to the wide shoulders. 

"WATCH MY TEA!" The voice thundered through the inlet, echoing across the walls, disturbing sleeping birds, loosing rocks and who knows what else. 

"Well stop thrashing about!" The Hunter said, now balanced in a squat. Dark gloved hands quickly worked around the edges of the Titan's helm, trying to find the latch.

There was a shout of triumph, which quickly became holler of shock as a massive hand came up, managed to grab a good fist full of cloak, and pull the Hunter from the perch. 

"Enough of that!" The Titan held the Hunter in the air at arm's length. Legs came up however and wrapped around the large arm. A wriggle, and the Hunter dropped free, but cloak-less.

With a grunt the Titan tossed the dark fabric towards the triumphant shadow. 

At some point their Ghosts had materialized, circling the pair. The golden one's eye rippled in humor as it surveyed the scene. The black one made cheerful burbling noises while circling what was apparently old friends. 

"Allright allright." The Hunter laughed "I'll get you next time. But seriously, what is with the tea? I have never seen you out of the Tower without your helmet. You refuse to take it off! And yet, you always bring tea!"

"It's for after." 

"Leave it in your jumpship!" 

The Titan thought for a moment, studying the thermos, as if looking for damage. "Perhaps." 

"You're ridiculous. You know that right? Ridiculous." 

"Am I?"

There was pause, then a moment of realization, and a large hand produced from a belt pouch a fist sized paper wrapped package and tossed it to the slender form.

The pair were illuminated solely now by their Ghosts. On odd match, one small, slender and graceful, the other large, hulking and intimidating. One in shades of black, the other tan and navy. The Hunter unwrapped the package partially. 

"OooOooH. Sweet! You know I love these things!" Inside was a popular street food from the Tower. A deep fried bun filled with herbs and cheese. It was a food that was cheap and traveled well. The fact they were high calorie helped too, what with the running around Guardians did. 

"So." The Hunter said, finding a low rock to sit on, and removing a blackened matte helmet. However the face stayed hidden in the shadow of the hood. "What you been up to lately?" 

The Titan looked around for a suitable seat, and finding none, shrugged and went to sit right on the ground. The movement wasn't the slightest bit graceful, especially not in all that armor. It was a little better than collapsing, complete with an expected curse. A suitable flat rock was found within reach for the thermos.

"Well. The usual mostly. But, oh boy, do I have a story for you!"

"Oh?" The word came out around chewing.

It had become tradition between the pair for the Titan to 'happen' to have the Hunter's favorite snack handy. It started a few years back, the then already veteran shadow had taken an odd liking to the hulking new light, and much enjoyed stealing parts of meals to get an outburst.

Sometimes, instead of outright theft the Hunter would swap out the contents of Titan's lunch for a box of crayons. That always got a good rise and threats in return. Eventually, the Titan's laid back nature won out, and instead there were often extra buns tucked away to keep the Hunter at bay. Turns out a well fed shadow causes less grief! 

"Well. I was in the Tower last week when we had that crazy snow storm. I was waiting on a scouting party to return. You know how it is sometimes. I was doing my part, guarding the walls, and bored out of my mind. So bored I would have happily run a Rumble. And you know I hate those." Massive hands idly stacked pebbles. "So bored that when we saw a notice for a new Crucible event we jumped on it." 

"A new one?" The Hunter leaned forward, interested. 

"Yea! This one was called 'Removal'"

"'Two four person teams compete for the fastest time.' it said." The golden Ghost chimed in. "'Why not?' we thought, 'might be fun? Might be a variation of Control?'"

The Hunter chuckled. The Titan took over the telling again. 

"So, we grabbed a couple more Titans, those two big Exos, I think you've met them, and somehow along the way we managed to gain a Warlock. Not really sure. I tried looking for you but I think you were off somewhere that day. Anyway, we march up to the main courtyard, and there's already a good collection of people who must have heard about the new event. Both Guardians and lightless. So we shouldered our way through the crowd."

"Of course you did."

"Well we were didn't want to be the last to try this 'Removal'! Anyway. We get through the crowd, somehow kept the Warlock with us too, and there we are the four of us in front of Lord Shaxx, and besides us another four, a Titan, two Hunters and a Warlock. Now Lord Shaxx is standing there, hands on hips pleased as punch."

The Titan paused for dramatic effect, "'GOOD TO SEE SO MANY TURN UP FOR THIS NEW TRIAL!'" The Titan boomed, imitating the Crucible handler's exuberant speech. "'ALWAYS GOOD TO SEE SOME ENTHUSIASM! AND I THINK WE HAVE OUR FIRST COMBATANTS!'"

The Hunter laughed again at the apt impression, dusted crumbs off and waited for the Titan to continue. 

"Lord Shaxx looks us over. 'REMOVAL IS ABOUT CLEARING AN AREA. WORKING AS A TEAM QUICKLY AND EFFICIENTLY AS POSSIBLE.' Then he hands me, no joke, a darkness damned SNOW SHOVEL. I think he's kidding. Maybe he's lost it. He proceeds to hand snow shovels out to the others. All the time going 'ONE FOR YOU, ONE FOR YOU.' I'm just staring at mine, and at Lord Shaxx, confused out of my mind." 

"And you fell for it."

"...What?"

The Hunter's head shook back and forth. "You fell for it. He tried that a couple years back with another big storm. Back before your Ghost found you."

The Titan's shoulders sank in disappointment that the storey wasn't new. 

"Continue!" The Hunter urged, seeing the dejection. "How did it go? I still want to hear this!"

"Uh well…" another pause as the Titan gathered enthusiasm again.

"Well. Once we all had shovels, one of the Hunters threatened our Warlock with it. That was pretty funny. But I stepped between them and the Hunter stopped right quick.

Lord Shaxx sent us off to two of the larger jumpship landing terraces on the wall. You know the ones, big parking areas. Now I think ours was quite a bit bigger, but was higher then the other team's, which was right beside and below us, and I think they had more drifting. So I guess Lord Shaxx thought it fair. There were the usual extra Ghosts watching, no doubt streaming this…. Match." 

At this point the pebble stack had become a small wall.

"So?" The Hunter asked, leaning forward. "Who won?" 

"Neither." The Titan grumbled. "It started out well enough! We three Titans were clearing snow, quick as we can, just barreling through it. The Warlock helped here and there, but was mostly doing that thing where they heal you. Turns out it works just as good on sore muscles as bullet wounds. Unfortunately though the other team's Titan was a Sunbreaker. Apparently melting the snow was a viable tactic. And somehow is getting through the snow faster than we are!"

"Those Exos…." The Hunter asked, "They're big, but Sentinels right?"

"Yea. Totally useless in that situation. My Arc too. But we keep shoveling. But they keep out pacing us. Then the Warlock has a bright idea. Sounds good at first, so we go for it. Instead of piling the snow neatly we start chucking our snow onto their terrace. Oh boy that made them mad. Especially when the three of us heaved a large bank over and buried the same Hunter that threatened our Warlock earlier. That felt so good."

The pair laughed. "Unfortunately it went downhill from there. Lord Shaxx had already warned us a few times that we were… bending the rules. But as we stood there laughing at the Hunter, a flaming hand shot out of the snow bank and well…. I was the only one who never heard the gunshot."

"No… it came to that?" The Hunter asked, hanging on the Titan's words.

"It certainly did." The golden Ghost chirped. "I put my Titan's head back together just in time to witness it devolve into a fist fight."

"Lord Shaxx was so mad!" The Titan declared. "So mad. He's yelling at us over the loudspeaker, demanding we stop. Threatening to come in person. But, well, you know how it can be once the blood is pumping. I'm honestly not sure which of us jumped down first.

The Warlock pulls out a bow, starts firing on the opposing team, aiming for whoever's pointed a gun at us. I grab the Hunter who shot me, who's still stuck in the snow bank. I turn for a throw off the tower and my head slams right into the Sunbreaker's fist. That makes me drop the Hunter and we start pounding each other.

Pretty sure I broke a nose and who knows what else right through the helmet. Caved it in pretty bad. Still standing, still returning blows though. Suddenly hands that even I find big pull us apart.

'ENOUGH OF THIS FOOLISHNESS!' Lord Shaxx is bellowing. 'THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE AN EXERCISE IN COOPERATION!'

We're just standing there, Ghosts patching us up and he's lecturing us about not being so quick to blows, teamwork, and something and something else. I honestly can't recall a lot of the rant, my head was still swimming from first being brought back, then the fist fight. But I was maybe a little tiny bit sorry. The goal was to clear snow. Nothing else… but then again we weren't told fighting was off the table. I still say that Hunter started it by threatening our Warlock at the beginning."

"So then what?" The Hunter asked, putting the helmet back on. "Did he run any more 'Removal' matches?" 

"Oh no. No way. After a good 10 minutes of lecture Zavala himself arrived. Started lecturing Lord Shaxx about his ideas. Said if he ever made mundane labor a competition again, he'd take the Crucible away from him. You'd think that would shut him up. Oh boy an argument started and to be honest, we took our leave then and there. Didn't matter, we all got stuck with snow clearing duty for the rest of the week anyway." 

The Hunter chuckled, standing up. "That's kind of what happened last time. Zavala banned it, guess Lord Shaxx didn't take the order to heart."

"Where you headed next?" The shadow asked, playfully patting the massive forms helmet. Even sitting, the Titan's head came up to the smaller one's chest. "I've lost my prey for the night, you got any I can tag along for?"

"Oh definitely!" The Titan said happily, standing up and rolling shoulders before retrieving the thermos. "There's been reports of hive activity nearby. I was sent to scout it out. Maybe cause some damage. I bet with your help the two of us could clear it right out!" 

"That works for me! Lead on!" 

One large figure was seen leaving the inlet. The armor was tan and navy, holding a large orange thermos, barely visible in the small amount of light a glittering golden Ghost provided.

An odd matte black shadow, much smaller than it should be and sporting a cloak, flickered along the bluff wall not quite in time with the figure.

Every once and a while the golden Ghost would stop and sink to scan an interesting pebble. And every once and a while a Ghost shaped shadow that seemed to glow ever so slightly would dart ahead or lag behind, making the ever so quietest happy chirps. 

[bangtansbun]

Little Ones || Part Two

pairing: human!jin and namjoon, and hybrid!jimin, taehyung, & jungkook

genre: fluff

summary: Jin’s best friend, Namjoon, gets to see the boys for the first time since they left the adoption center. The two adults get to catch up with each other and Namjoon suggests something to Jin that he thinks will make both of them happier.

series: part 2/??

part 1

word count: 2,348

To Namjoon:

[10:17am] Hey, Joonie!  Are you free for lunch today??

From Namjoon:

[10:18am] Yeah, I’d love to have lunch with you guys! :)

To Namjoon:

[10:20am] Perfect :) the boys would love to see you and I miss you!

From Namjoon: 

[10:21am] I miss you too, hyung! Name the time and place and I’ll be there :)

To Namjoon:

[10:24am] How about noon at Stardew Diner?

From Namjoon:

[10:25am] I’ll see you there!!

“Alright boys! It’s time to start getting ready for the day!” Jin shouts to them from the kitchen where he’s been puttering around for his next article. Jungkook and Tae had been watching Fairly Odd Parents all morning while Jimin snoozed in a sun spot on the ground, his gray fluffy tail curled around him for extra warmth. 

The two cartoon-watching hybrids snapped their heads around, “where are we goin, hyungie?” the bengal kitten asked with round eyes. “We’re going to have lunch with Namjoonie today. We’re friends remember?” Before Jin could even think of saying anything else the two of them jumped off the couch yelling a chorus of yays, effectively waking up their older brother. “Wh-what’s going on?” Jimin asks with his eyes slowly blinking open. “WE’RE GOING TO SEE NAMJOON-HYUNGIE!!!!” the youngest shouts at him out of pure excitement. That wakes Jimin right up, but now he has a huge grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I know you’re excited, but you all need to go wash up and get dressed. We’ll head out at 11:45, so be ready.”  They all nod their heads quickly as they take off down the hallway toward their respective bedrooms.

The boys had been with Jin for a couple weeks now and were finally starting to really settle in. Jimin now has his bedroom all fixed up with everything he could possibly need and they were all starting to get more comfortable as a new little family. Jin has been feeling so content with boys starting to come out of their shells more, especially Jimin who seemed the most guarded from the beginning.

While Jin cleans up his mess in the kitchen and heads to his own room to get ready, the hybrids are rushing around to grab bath towels and clothes so they can be ready in time. “Wait! Jungkookie-ah, before we go shower, which shirt should I wear: green teen titans or blue airbender?” Tae asks as he looks  between the shirts, brows furrowed and spotted ears twitching as he waits for a response. Kook begins to tap a finger on his nose, “hmmm, dat one, Tae-Tae!” he says as he points to the avatar t-shirt. Taehyung gives a big toothy smile to him before they both scurry off to take their shower.

Jimin likes to take his showers at night so he didn’t need to worry making  sure his little brothers didn’t hog up all of the hot water. However, his hair was a mess this morning from his nap and no matter what he did he still thought it looked bad. He frowned at himself in his floor length mirror before he padded off to Jin’s room.

He knocked on the door before lightly pushing the door open, peaking through the crack to see if it was safe to enter. Jin was just pulling a hoodie over his t-shirt when he heard the knock. “Come on in,” he said to whoever was behind the creaking door. Jimin stepped in and walked up to Jin, hair brush in hand. “Can you please help me Jinnie-hyung? I can’t do my hair,” he says with his plush lips in a big pout and dark gray ears flat on his head out of frustration. How could Jin possibly say no to that face? “Of course, Minnie. Your hair is long enough to do braids, how about I do two french braids in a half-up, half-down style?” Jimin’s ears immediately perked up and eyes turning into crescent moons. He handed over his brush and sat on the bed with Jin so he could do his hair. Jin hummed softly while he brushed through his soft hair, giving Jimin little ear scratches here and there. The little boy seemed so relaxed in that moment and Jin savored it, storing it away, a keepsake for his memory.

Once 11:45am rolled around, everyone was ready and getting themselves situated into the car. “Okay, you boys ready to see Joonie?” he says with excitement, and the three hybrids in the back all start chanting “yes! yes! yes!” with fists pumping in the air. They were ecstatic, to say the least. 

They arrive just in time, but as Jin expected, his best friend was already there and had grabbed a table for the five of them. The second the three little ones see him they all run up and pile onto him, effectively suffocating him in the process. “Hey, guys! How have you three little monsters been?” he asks as he squishes them to him in a big group hug. “Hey, we’re not monsters! We’re good boys!” Taehyung says to him, with a serious look on his face. Namjoon and Jin laugh at this, “I’m just messing with you, buddy, but knowing how you and Kookie play, I’m sure you wear Jin out sometimes.” The two hybrids named turn to him with questioning looks, “ah, they’re really not too bad, they just play hard.” He reaches over and scratches their ears affectionately.  

Jin takes a seat across from his friend, Jimin coming in beside him, and the younger two sandwiching Namjoon. The two adults get the boys to settle down as the server takes their drink and food orders. Young hybrids out in public with empty tummies do not usually make for a great time, as Jin has quickly discovered.

While the boys are preoccupied with crayon games of tic-tac-toe and coloring, Jin and Namjoon start to catch up with each other. Since making the adjustment of going from a one person household to a four person household, Jin hasn’t gotten to see his best friend and, truth be told, he missed him a lot.

“How’s it been going so far? I feel like we’ve barely spoken since you adopted the three little rascals,” Namjoon chuckles at the end of his sentence and takes a sip of his water. “Actually, a lot easier than I thought it would have. They argue sometimes, as any set of brothers would, but they’re actually really well behaved most of the time. I’m mainly just trying to make them comfortable and trying to get them to come out of their shells more.” Namjoon nods his head to this. 

Having been with the hybrids for a little bit while they were at the adoption center, he knew how closed off they could be sometimes. Namjoon lowers his voice, “how’s Jimin been? I know you were a little worried about him at first. No doubt the other two are adjusting just fine.” they both look over to the animated bunny and bengal hybrid, smiles on their faces. “He’s still a little more reserved than the other two, but I can definitely tell he’s warming up to me. He let me do his hair this morning,” there’s a gleam in Jin’s eyes when he tells his best friend this. Namjoon’s heart swells, he couldn’t be happier that Jin and the boys are doing so well. He can tell that Jin truly loves them with his whole being. 

The server brings their food to them, bringing their conversation to a halt for a minute or two. The hybrids gasp with ooohs and ahhhs as their food is set in front of them, clearly excited to start munching. “I’m glad it’s going so well. You all seem very happy and that makes me happy too,” Namjoon grins widely, and Jin notices his cute dimples that are on display. “Thanks for checking in so much, Joonie. If it wasn’t for you, none of this would have happened anyway,” Jin gives a soft smile back to him. Namjoon nods at him, shyly acknowledging Jin’s appreciation. With that, they all happily eat their lunch, growling bellies being tamed.

Before they head off to go to their respective homes, Namjoon grabs Jin by the elbow, wanting to run something by him. “Something wrong, Joon?” Jin asks with concern written on his face. “Oh, no! Not at all. I just wanted to ask you something.” Jin’s shoulders noticeably relax, “sure, what is it?” Just before Namjoon asks, Jin hurries the boys into the car just in case the subject matter is more serious than what they need to hear. “I, I just really miss getting to see you and talk with you. I know you’re really busy with work and them, but you’re my best friend and I don’t want to lose that. I’d like for us to make more of an effort to hang out with each other. I also really love those boys, so I have a proposition,” Namjoon is nervously running his hand through his hair. 

Jin is intrigued as to what his best friend is going on about. “Again, I know you’re busy and everything, but I was wondering if maybe I could come over on some of my off days and spend some time with you and the boys if you’re not working. I can even watch them for you on some days, keep them entertained if you need. Point is, I just want to spend more time with you all. Even if that means playing PUBG or watching Teen Titans all day.” 

Jin’s heart is warmed by the thought that Namjoon would offer up so much of  his free time just to see each other more often. He didn’t know how he got so lucky as to have him in his life, and he certainly wasn’t about to let him go. “Of course, I miss you too and I’d love to have you over more often. I know the boys would love to see you too. Maybe we all can even go out on days where I’m not busy working - to the park or something. Don’t worry, you’re not losing me as a friend just because I’m busier. I’ll always make time for you,” Jin smiles at him and gives Namjoon’s shoulder a rub.

Namjoon lets out an audible sigh of relief. “Okay, well, I’ll see you soon then?” Jin nods as they start to part slowly in the direction of their cars. “Of course, just let me know what days you’re off!” Both feeling lighter and optimistic from their talk, they head back home, looking forward to the week ahead of them.

Once they’re back home, the boys all seem to be tuckered out from all of the excitement at lunch. Jimin walks almost like a zombie over to his designated napping spot, fluffy gray tail dragging on the floor behind him. Taehyung also heads toward his room, eyelids fluttering as he walks in that direction. Kook is stood in the middle of the living space, unsure of what he wants to do. “Come here, Kookie,” comes a voice from the sun spot in the living room. Jungkook walks over and Jimin has one eye peaked open and he’s holding his blanket up for Jungkook to get under with him. He hurries over and snuggles in closely to his eldest brother. 

With all of them napping soundly, Jin uses this time to catch up on some more work. He’d actually gotten the idea from their first family meal they had together. His article for this month’s issue was “7 Simple Meals for Fussy Eaters.” Although he thought it might be difficult to satisfy Jimin’s eating habits, he’d actually had a lot of fun coming up with recipes that were simple and delicious enough for the picky hybrid. He thought sharing what he learned might be helpful to others too. 

As Jin sat there writing his article, he began to reminisce on the past couple of weeks. He felt like the boys had already bloomed so much from when they first arrived. He new a lot of their habits now and how best to talk to them. He loved getting to learn more each day. Taehyung was such a free spirit, always doing what made him most happy. He loved a wide array of things, spanning from painting, to video games with Kook, and playing dress up. Jungkook was the most open out of all of them, always wanting snuggles and to play with his brothers. Jimin, although reserved at times, was possibly the sweetest of the three. He valued quality time, watching cartoons as a family, and taking care of this little brothers. Each of them so different from the other, but all so lovable, nonetheless.

Caught up in the moment, having subconsciously stopped typing as he daydreamed, a buzz from his phone finally broke him from his trance.

New Message From Namjoon:

[2:22pm] So, I’m free Tuesday, Wednesday, and Saturday this up coming week. Any of those work for you?

To Namjoon:

[2:23pm] They all work great! In fact, why don’t you spend the night on Tuesday? I’m sure the boys would love a sleep over :)

From Namjoon:

[2:24pm] Really?? I’d love that :)

To Namjoon:

[2:26pm] Of course! We’ll probably have to build a fort or two with the boys, but once we send them off to bed we can have a beer together!

From Namjoon:

[2:27pm] Sounds perfect :) I’ll see you Tuesday then!

To Namjoon:

[2:28pm] See you then, Joonie!!

Setting his phone down on the desk, Jin looks back at the two boys fast asleep in each other’s arms. He’s smiling at himself and at the prospects of next week. He’s excited to get to see Namjoon more and he knows that it’ll make the three little hybrids really happy too. With next week’s plans all figured out and contentment washing over him, Jin returns back to his work, determined to get some of it done before they all wake up.

taglist: @littlewolfieposts

[ts-unpopular-opinions]

Side Tracks opinions part 3: Logan

(Here I go again! Logan’s playlist is a bit more straightforward than the other bois, so heres hoping this one doesn’t take me as long 🤞)

1) The Elements: Not much to say. It just a literal musical list of the periodic table of elements. You can’t get much more Logan than that 😂 Also, Logan likes chemistry!

2) White and Nerdy: Apart from the obvious listing of nerdy things and the legitimate title, Logan feels like he doesn’t always get taken seriously enough by the other sides (“I wanna roll with the gangstas, But so far they all think I'm too White and nerdy” “I wanna bowl with the gangstas, But, oh well, it's obvious I'm White and nerdy”). Basically Logan is a big nerd and a dork. He knows that and he’s worried that sometimes it ostracizes him from the others.

3) Algorithm: Logan doesn’t understand humans very well, at least, he doesn’t understand anything but the logical aspect of humans and the world. He has a different view on life than the other sides (“Supercomputer status, walkin' along streets”). He thinks that the dilemmas and problems in the world would not exist if it wasnt for humans throwing a wrench into all of it with their feelings and emotions (“Humans don't understand, humans will sell a lie. Humans gotta survive, we know we gon' die. Nothing can live forever, you know we gon' try. Life, is it really worth it?”). As the song puts it, Logan believes that the theoretical algorithm of life is perfect, and he doesn’t understand why it needs to get muddied and ruined by simple human issues (“Looking for something worth it, the algorhythm is perfect, mmh”).

4) Fitter Happier: This song is interesting because it shows us the innerworkings of Logan’s thought process. A lot of what he does involves simply planning daily tasks (things as small as drinking or eating) based on what he knows is most healthy for Thomas. The song completely lacks any sense of feeling or emotion and is, as I stated, a legitimate list of things to do in a day. All tasks are put in place to keep Thomas fitter and happier, however, Logan doesn’t have a grasp on emotions and clearly doesn’t know all of the things that Thomas needs to be happy AND healthy. I’ll just list some interesting daily tasks in the song here: “Regular exercise at the gym, three days a week” “Eating well, no more microwave dinners and saturated fats” “Careful to all animals, never washing spiders down the plughole” “Favours for favours, fond but not in love” “Still cries at a good film” “Still kisses with saliva”. As the song goes on, you kind of get a sense that Logan is losing his grip on Thomas, or doesn’t understand why Thomas isn’t feeling satisfied with the plan that, to him, is perfect. Thomas feels trapped in the life that Logan plans for him, and Logan does not understand why that is (“A pig in a cage on antibiotics” “No chance of escape”). There are also a lot of points in the song where Logan shows that he finds emotions to be a weakness, or something to hide away (“Will not cry in public” “Nothing so childish” “No paranoia”).

5) Medicine: I’m not 100% sure what this song is about, but it talks a lot about ancient philosophy. Basically being curious about the world and people in it. I’m guessing that Logan just likes philosophy and thinks that people should always stay curious. Logan really values curiosity and thinking (of course).

6) The Watchtower: This ones... interesting to say the least. If you’re a fan of the broken blue crayon theory you may want to look into this song a bit more. The song talks about being broken and wanting to restart things, possibly showing that Logan will crack at somepoint and need to reevaluate how he’s been handling things (“I'm breaking, I need another start. Far away, From the city lights.”). Ultimately, I think this song is about Logan’s neutrality over all the situations that the group handles. He doesn’t really see problems as good or bad, because he can see logical scenarios with both options (“From the watchtower, We can see things coming. Good or bad”). He knows that this mentality makes him a bit unlikeable because the other sides want him to side with them, but he doesn’t really mind (“I don't mind, If I'm impopular-ar.”).

7) The Breach: Another interesting one which I feel like could have two meanings. My first take was that this song was about Virgil escaping the dark side of Thomas’ mind and mixing in with the light sides. Logan wasn’t quite sure how to process this new arrival at the begining and had no control over his escape (“Generally operating normally, A small anomaly has become evident” “There is spiking in the pulse of a member of the cargo” “First: the recommended course of action should be to Administer a sedative to all the cargo via ventilation” “Now: one specifically is up and moving to the door”). After looking into the lyrics a bit more though, it seemed like a lot of them could be applied to Janus as well, specifically his first appearance when he was disguised as patton. Logan knew from very early on the Janus was taking pattons spot, but was unable to say or do anything about it due to Janus being the only one with “the access code” (“The ship is fully capable of automating this But requires an approval code from the administration” “He has found the access panel situated in the floor. He is entering the codes and overriding has begun. Reading rage in the nervous system, nothing can be done”). Either way you see it, I’m nearly positive it is about a dark side coming out to the light and Logan not being able to control it.

8) The Letter C: I LOVE THIS ONE 😂 And it’s the first in our list of songs that Logan vent’s about Roman in! The premise of the song is that someone insulted the main singers rap and so the main singer goes off about the comeback he wished he would have used to tell this guy off. It’s honestly such a funny song and I couldn’t give it the justice it deserves here by just listing the lyrics. It gives off huge rap battle vibes and I’m sure Logan would have been imagining the one who insulted him as Roman. Here’s just some great lines that I’d like to point out: “Man I wish I could’ve hit him with a zinger. Should’ve served him with the verbal equivalent of a middle finger.” “I’d say, "Are you insured medically? ‘Cause you sure better be When you’re broken in half from provokin’ the wrath” ““Aw shit!” “Oh crap!” Everybody within earshot would be like, “Oh snap!” I’d high five all around while the guy falls down in a ball on the ground” “I pull out a sharpie marker, Narrow my eyes through my Warby Parkers. Like, “Watch who you’re f-in’ with, with your f-in’ ish””.

9) Galaxy Song: Logan trying to calm Thomas down in the only way he knows how: Gushing about how great the natural world is (“Just remember that you're standing on a planet that's evolving” “Now the sun, and you and me, and all the stars that we can see, Are moving at a million miles a day” “Our galaxy itself contains a hundred billion stars” “And our galaxy itself is one of millions of billions In this amazing and expanding universe”). It’s cute, its wholesome, and Logan tries his best to be comforting 🖤 (“So remember, when you're feeling very small and insecure, How amazingly unlikely is your birth; And pray that there's intelligent life somewhere out in space, Cause there's bugger all down here on Earth!”).

10) Streaks: Logan explains to Thomas that growing up is a process that he needs to experience. He understands that it’s hard and scary, but he believes that if you follow the plan and stay in the lines, everything will work out alright (“You can decide on the colors that you like As long as you stay in the lines” “All these years of filling out papers, Building a future, keeping your head down. Tryin' to keep a head on your shoulders” “Cause It's all a piece of the plan. It's something You'll understand When you're older” “Give em what they need to move on, then you let them go”). As he’s explained in canon, he doesn’t really see room for taking a lot of creative liberties in life, and he believes Thomas should follow the mold set out for everyone in life. That’s the logical way to survive anyways.

11) What I do for You: (This song and the next song feel pretty connected to me, so keep that in mind) In this song, Logan really shows his pride and ego. He believes he is the most important side for Thomas and that he will get Thomas the furthest in life (“I want you to survive” “I'm your only hope, I'm your savior too. Every single test You've been ever carried through”). Despite his superiority complex, he knows that Thomas doesn’t see Logan as important as he should. Logan knows how much he does for Thomas but is a bit annoyed that Thomas never seems to notice (“I couldn't ever give up on you, But don't thank me”).

12) Erase Me: Oooh boy. This ones heavy... Logan is PISSED. The whole song feels like a jab at Thomas, daring him to get rid of Logan to see what happens. Logan still feel important and knows his necessity as part of Thomas, but he’s frustrated with the lack of recognition he gets for all of the things he does (“Would it be easier? To just delete, our pages And the plans we've made” “Erase me, so you don't have to face me. Put me in ground and move the daisies” “So what will you do? With no me for you” “Erased me, what the fuck is this? You're crazy, Turn around and do each time, Replace me”). Logan sounds MAD in this song, something that he’s shown in canon quite a few times. It’s interesting that Logan alone seems to be the only side whose shown such anger and furstration, this song just adding to his list of instances. I’m not sure what that could mean going forward...

13) Art is Dead: Well what do yah know? Another rant song for Roman! We all know how Logan feels about Thomas’ choice of career as an entertainer and this song is basically just that. Logan can’t understand Roman’s dreams and aspirations for Thomas because they don’t make any logical sense to him (“ Have you ever been to a birthday party for children And one of the children won't stop screaming Cuz he's just a little attention attractor. When he grows up to be a comic or actor He'll be rewarded for never maturing, For never understanding or learning That every day can't be about him. There's other people, you selfish asshole!”) Logan would rather Thomas take up a job that is benefiting society and making his world a better place (“Cause I wanted my name in lights When I could have fed a family of four For forty fucking fortnights”). Roman’s self-centered and fantastical view on Thomas’ future is just childish to Logan and he feels like Thomas may one day grow out of it (“I'm just a kid And maybe I'll grow out of it”).

14) Equation: Oh man... I just don’t know. The song mentions a mom and dad, so I automatically go to a younger Thomas and his younger version of Logan. The song just asks a bunch of questions that feel like things a little kid might ask (“Have I made you cross? Have I made you sad? Have I made you proud Mom?” “How white is the snow, Does it matter after all?Will I ever learn How to fly like a birds?” “Are you going to school? Are you far from home? Are you well alone Dad? Will I be a brave? Will I be a bright? Will I be a good grown up?”). Logan may have represented more of Curiosity in Thomas’ younger years than Logic. A lot of Logan’s songs have an encompasing theme of wonder and curiosity being amazing things to have. I think Logan really values that part of himself/Thomas.

15) Sunrise: Yes! The love song everyone! I’ll shut that down right away and say that Logan DOES NOT UNDERSTAND LOVE. He isn’t even capable of “love” as some of the other side may be. He of course understands love and how it works, but it’s merely a process to him, and a word which he’s openly stated that he doesn’t like to use. So lets try to look at this from Logan’s perspective. The song is literally about learning spanish, yes its clearly romantic, but its about learning spanish. Something that Logan has shown an interest in since wayyyy back at the begining of the series. I like to imagine that this song came up in Thomas’ playlist and Logan was overjoyed that Thomas was not only learning something from the song, but also learning spanish!

16) One More Time with Feeling: This one feels kind of tough to crack. To me, I get the feeling that Logan’s again talking about the others and the fact that they don’t listen to him. He prepares his words and hopes to get through to them, but is only welcomed by blank faces and misunderstanding (“Everyone takes turns. Now it's yours to play the part And they're sitting all around you, Holding copies of your chart, And the misery inside their eyes is Synchronized and reflecting into yours”). After getting shut down, Logan tries again ‘with feeling this time’, hoping to get through, but it falls flat over and over again (“Hold on. One more time with feeling. Try it again, breathing's just a rhythm. Say it in your mind until you know that the words are right”). Logan has been trying really hard to appeal to the others in different way, but if seems like it never works in his opinion (“You thought by now you'd be So much better than you are. You thought by now they'd see That you had come so far”). He want’s to finally be shown the respect that he believes he deserves and hopes to one day be loved by the others and much as they love each other (“And the pride inside their eyes Would synchronized into a love you've never known. So much more than you've been shown”).

17) In My Mind: Logan has a drastically different view of Thomas’ future than is actually the case (“In a future five years from now. I'm one hundred and twenty pounds, And I never get hung over Because I will be the picture of discipline” “And I will be someone I admire And it's funny how I imagined That I would be that person now, But it does not seem to have happened” “Maybe I've just forgotten how to see That I am not exactly the person that I thought I'd be”). He’s realized that he has some unrealistic expectations for Thomas and that’s odd to him as, logically, things should have played out how he thought they would. At the end of the song, Logan seems to accept the fact that even though Thomas hasn’t strictly followed the plan that Logan expected, he’s still doing great and succeeding at life (“I am exactly the person that I want to be”).

18) Not Perfect: This song has a lot of lyrics, but most of them can be taken at face value. Logan recognizes that everything in Thomas’ life (his world, his country, his house, his body, and his brain) is not perfect. I’m sure it’s a metaphor for Logan realizing that he, himself, is not perfect and he’s begining to realize that he can’t solve every problem.

19) Human: This song is also long. REALLY LONG. But thankfully it is fairly straight forward. When life is getting Thomas (or any of the sides down) Logan will list facts about their life as a human that are supposed to be comforting or inspirational. It’s basically just like Galaxy song, but a bit more personal and loving. Here’s just some cute quotes from it to keep you all going: “For you are a force of skin & nails & heart. A walking Monae, you're breathing art” “The average human heart will beat over 100 million times in one lifetime. I'm sure you'll find someone who won't mind skipping one for you” “You need to grow up. You need to grow out of things. When something doesn't belong, even your body knows when it's time for that thing to be Replaced” “15 million blood cells are Destroyed in a human body every second. If your body can get over it You can get over that last relationship”). Basically Logan trying to ground Thomas in reality to make him realize that everything he’s going through is just human.

20) Time Adventure: (ughhh this song make me cry every time I hear it) That being said, I was a bit surprised to hear this on Logan’s album and not Pattons. Not only that, but it’s his finishing song. The song is all about growing up and how, even though time passes, you will always have the good memories that you built along the way. It’s also about how, no matter how much time passes, the singer and the person theyre singing about will always be friends. Seems kind of like a weird song choice for Logan right? It seems like it needs to include Patton in someway... So perhaps its Logan trying to comfort Patton. Patton has shown a fear of growing up and changing, so perhaps telling him that he’ll always have a friend in Logan no matter how the times change is something that Logan does to ease his worries.

(Oh boy... this one took a long time 😅 Sorry about that! Like usual, let me know what you think and give your own opinions if you’d like!)

[sunmoonandeddie]

she was home

pairing: natasha romanoff x single mom!reader

word count: 1,943

summary: Your daughter calls Natasha ‘mommy’ for the first time.

chapter warnings: Maybe swearing???  An extreme amount of fluff??

a/n: This is my first Natasha x reader fic and I’m really happy with it.  I just love the idea of Nat and a single mom and them making a little family.  I’m considering making this into a series of blurbs.

Natasha was exhausted.  Her bones ached as she slowly went up the stairs that led to your apartment.  The mission was grueling, though she’d gotten back two days earlier than expected.  All she wanted was to curl up in bed with you.

But considering that it was two in the morning, you’d already be asleep.

The lock opened with a soft click and she pushed it open as quietly as possible, wincing as it creaked.  You worked long hours during the day and she didn’t want to risk waking you up.

Her heart warmed as she took in the familiar scene, the crayons that were scattered on the kitchen table next to a coloring book, the dirty plates left from dinner still in the sink, your jacket tossed over the couch.  This place had come home over the past year and she could even see little signs of her own existence dotted around.  There was a picture of your tiny family on the fridge, an extra mug set beside the coffee pot.

It was a strange feeling, having a family.

Nat tiptoed down the hall, carefully peeking open the door to your daughter’s bedroom.  The six year old was fast asleep in her princess bad, safe and sound under her pink comforter.  She was holding the stuffed lion that the redhead had gotten her on her last mission in Africa.  It warmed the chill in her bones, seeing her look so peaceful.  She’d never thought that she’d date a woman with a kid, but here she was a year and a half in, and she was already sure that you were her forever.

After closing the door, she made her way to your bedroom, slipping in silently.  You were burrowed under your blankets, a spitting image of the little girl in the room next door from the way your nose scrunched up as you dreamed to the way you clutched onto a pillow.

Your e/c eyes fluttered open as she crawled into the bed beside you, her uniform discarded in a corner of the room. “You’re home early,” you said, a sleepy smile on your lips.

“Mission went faster than expected,” Natasha murmured as she pressed a soft kiss to your lips.  “Missed you.”

“Missed you more.”

She can’t help but grin as you nuzzle into her chest, skin to skin.  “Impossible.”

“Nat?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can you pick up Lucy from school tomorrow?”

The redhead’s eyes were wide open from shock, though her grip around you tightened.  “Are…  Are you sure? What about Mary?”

Mary was your go-to babysitter for Lucy, but lately you’ve been thinking about including your girlfriend a little more into the parenting thing.  She already moved in with you six months ago and had taken over making your daughter’s lunch every day, but you wanted more.  You wanted to show Natasha that you trusted her.

“Mary’s busy tomorrow,” you lied, even though you were still half-asleep.  “If you’re busy though—”

“No!”  You went silent as Natasha interrupted, her fingers splayed against your back.  “I want to pick her up.  But…  are you sure? Won’t the other parents see me?”

Ah.  There it was. Even though you lived in New York City and your daughter when to an extremely progressive school, there was still that fear of what others would think about Lucy’s mother dating another woman.

“So what if they do?” You asked, pressing a kiss to her sternum.  “I love you and I trust you.”

“I love you, too,” Nat said, relaxing into your embrace once again.  “I’ll be there to pick her up tomorrow.”

“Good,” you said, a yawn pushing past your lips. “Now get some sleep, woman.”

The redhead smirked down at you, the love of her life, as she pressed one final kiss to your forehead.  “Goodnight, my love.”

The next day, a exactly three o’clock, Natasha found herself parked outside Lucy’s school.  She stood by the hood, her hands nervously wringing.  The other parents around her were trying to sneak glances at her but weren’t very good at it.  She knew they recognized her and were probably wondering what the Black Widow was doing at an elementary school, despite the fact that she had tried to blend.  She was in just a sweater and a pair of jeans with a pair of your boots that she had stolen that morning.

She had even only taken one knife with her.

Trying to seem unbothered by their stares, she watched the front entrance of the school.  It was a nice place, though the amount of windows made her worry.  No doubt they were just standard glass and wouldn’t withstand a break in.  She made a mental note to possibly ask Tony about getting replacements for the school.  Something strong and bulletproof, free of charge.

Anything to keep Lucy safe.

A bell rang through the air and seconds later, children started pouring out.  They went this way and that, finding their parents or the bus they were supposed to ride.

“Mommy!”

At first, Nat didn’t realize that it was directed towards her.  But when she saw Lucy, the pigtails you had put her hair in a little loose, running towards her, she realized.

“Mommy!  Mommy!”

She was calling her ‘mommy.’

She was calling her ‘mommy’ for the first time ever and oh, Natasha didn’t know that her heart could feel so full.  For a year and a half, she’d worried that Lucy wouldn’t want her to be in her life, let alone be another mother.  She’d spent a countless number of nights awake, thinking of ways to bond with the little girl.  She’d taken her out almost every chance she could, taking her to the zoo, to get ice cream, to the movies.  She’d gotten her little souvenirs on every mission she went on, filling up her room with the little knick knacks.

And it hit her just how far your little family had come. When you first met almost two years ago, the fact that you had a daughter didn’t bother her in the slightest. You were one of Tony’s assistants, hardworking and kind, and it hadn’t taken her long to ask you on a date.  She’d heard the story of how your ex left you once you found out you were pregnant and it had only endeared her even more to you. And now, she had made it.  Lucy truly accepted her, loved her.  She had told Nat she loved her many times, of course, but this was the first time she’d ever used that name and it meant so much to her.

She crouched down on her knees as the little girl flew towards her, launching herself into her arms.  Tiny arms wrapped around her neck as she held her tight, kissing her hair.  “Hi, sunshine,” she said, squeezing her to her chest.  The soft bumble bee yellow wool of the sweater she wore tickled her nose, but she didn’t care.  She knew she’d be crying happy tears to you later, but right now all she wanted to do was hug the six year old.

Lucy pulled back, grabbing onto the redhead’s hand and dragging her back towards the school.  “Mommy, you have to meet my teacher!”

A wave of panic rose in her but she didn’t have any time to think about it as she was dragged towards where a woman about her age was standing near the double doors all the kids were pouring through.

“Miss B!  Miss B!” Lucy said, pulling Natasha over to the woman.  “This is my mommy!  The one I told you about!”

“Hello,” the Avenger said slowly, waving her free hand anxiously.  “I’m Natasha Romanoff.  I’m—”

“Y/N’s girlfriend,” Miss B said, lighting up as she quickly grabbed her hand and shook it.  “It’s such a pleasure to meet you.  Lucy never stops talking about you.”

Her green eyes watered as she looked down at the little girl, finding eyes that were a mirror of yours staring up at her.  Relief was running through her body, both at the teacher seeming to be accepting of her relationship with you, and of realizing your daughter really did care about her.  “Really?”

Miss B nodded, seeming to understand Natasha’s reaction.  “She’s been telling us about her ‘mama’s girlfriend’ for over a year.”  She smiled at the way Lucy clung to the redhead’s leg. “She really looks up to you, you know.”

She ruffled her hair, grinning down at her.  “I’m lucky to have them in my life.”

By the time the two of them got home, you were already in the kitchen making dinner.  You couldn’t help but giggle as your daughter set her shoes by the front door before running to you.  The air smelled of freshly made pasta and garlic.  Whitney Houston was playing from your phone on the counter.

“Mama!  Mommy met Miss B!” She shouted excitedly as you bent down to hug her.

Your e/c eyes widened as you looked up to see your girlfriend in the doorway, Natasha looking a little sheepish.  “That’s amazing, sweetheart.”  You turned your eyes back to Lucy, squeezing her hand.  “Why don’t you go play in your room and we’ll call you when dinner’s ready, okay?”

She was all to happy to go play with her toys, and when she left the room, Natasha said, “She called me that on her own, I swear.”

You grew confused, your eyebrows furrowing.  “What?”

“I didn’t tell her to call me ‘mommy,’” she said, still standing in the doorway as though waiting for you to get upset.  “I promise.”

“I didn’t think you did,” you said as you walked over to her, leaving the alfredo that you had been making.  “Nat…  What’s wrong? Did you think I was going to get upset?”

“You’re not?”

Her stunning green eyes were searching yours, and your heart broke a little.  “Natasha, my love, why would I be upset?”

She shrugged, suddenly finding the floor very interesting as her feet shuffled.  “I don’t know.  We’ve only been together for a year and a half, and I don’t know how close you want me with Lucy, and—”

“Natasha,” you said, interrupting her as you grabbed her hands.  You gently rubbed the callouses in her palm, evidence of the hard work of being an Avenger. “I want you to be close with Lucy. Nothing would make me happier.”

“Really?”

You couldn’t help but find it a little amusing that she was still worried, giggling softly.  “Yes.”  You brought her in close, resting your head on her shoulder as the two of you began to sway.  “I knew you were the one for me the first time you met her.  I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather her call ‘mommy.’”

“I think Steve could be a good candidate,” Natasha said, a slight smirk forming on her lips as she wrapped her arms around you.  You smelled of your homemade alfredo sauce and your favorite perfume.  You smelled like home.

You snorted as you rolled your eyes.  “Yeah, sure.  I’m sure Captain America would really love being called ‘mommy.’”

“Hey, we don’t know what he’s into.”

“Nat.”

“What?  I’m just saying.”

You bite your lip as you leaned back, staring up into her eyes.  “I love you, you know.”

“I love you, too,” Natasha said, resting her forehead against yours as a sort of peace settled over her.  She could hear Lucy in her room, playing with the Avengers action figures Tony had given her, your heart beat felt steady from where her hand was resting on your upper back, and she was home.

She was home.

[swiftlymoniquesblog]

You and Me and You- Winchesters x OC Milania

Series Note: Before I dive into this story, I want to make something very clear. In NO WAY will this have ANY aspect of inappropriate content. No smut, no incest, just a very clean story. I imagine this as the concept of Twilight, just with the Winchesters; no vampires and werewolves unless they’ll be killed. There were two boys who loved one girl and that’s all this will be, the boys just happen to be brothers. Will there be kissing? Of course, but that’s as far as I write. I will also try to be as accurate to the series as possible but if something doesn’t sound true to the show, it’s probably my own take on it and the characters. I still hope this will attract plenty of readers and I hope everyone enjoys! -Monique

Second note: John Winchester, Jody Mills and Bobby Singer all work together on cases in the early chapters. Warnings will be added to each chapter.

Summary: Milania was left abandoned as a child, taken in by Bobby Singer. Being raised in the life of hunting monsters, it was a rough upbringing but she wouldn’t have changed a thing. When the Winchesters became involved, it was a whole different ball game, one that no one knew how to play.

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, child abandonment, injuries to a child, Bobby being a good Dad.

Word Count: 2,147

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Chapter One- 1984

Bobby’s POV

I was out on a hunt in Washington State, trying to track what was causing a string of murders of daycare children. Storybrooke Daycare Center, founded in 1921, was the source of missing children that later turned up dead. Investigating this location, I unraveled a web of secrets that no one in the town knew about. In the thirties, one of the daycare workers had been a pedophile and not caught until seen in the act on the property, and was he fired and sent to jail. However, once released a year later, he came back and killed several of the children. Fast forward to today, and the reason for these killings was linked to the ghost of the worker. I and my pal Rufus had ganked that son of a bitch, causing the center to be closed down indefinitely. As police arrived on the scene, social workers worked with the remaining employees of the center, to wait or parents of the children. Slowly, every child was taken home and offered guidance from the social workers. When everyone was accounted for and I was no longer being interrogated, I start packing all my belongings. I head out to my car to load back up for the next case when the faint sound of crying filled my ears.

“What the?” I say aloud, following the sound coming from a small child. As I grew closer, I see a little girl, no older than three, sitting on the wet rocks in the playground area. Her clothes were stained and ripped, her hair a matted mess.

“Hey there, little one. Where’s your Mommy?” I ask, crouching down to her level. Instead of answering me, she continued to cry. Looking around and seeing absolutely no one left to pick up kids, I figured she was abandoned.

“Here, come with me. I’ll help you.” I try to coax the little girl into coming with me.

“She’s not going to go with you, Bobby. You’re just as scary to her as those monsters were.” Rufus said, seeing what I was doing. 

“Well, I can’t just leave her! I found her and no one is left to care for her, so I’m taking her.” I yell back to my partner, who still disproved.

“Look you old fool, I’m not asking for your permission! This is what I’m doing so you can either join me or leave me the hell alone!” I turn to look back at the little girl, who had now come to my side and was staring up at me.

“Do you wanna come with me? I promise I won’t hurt you.” I say in the softest voice I could come up with and she nodded at me. I pick her up and walk to the car, and buckle her in. Unfortunately, she was too small to sit by herself, so I move her to the front with me and cradle her into my side.

Honestly, I have no idea how to raise a child. I’ve never had any of my own considering my wife died from a demon before we were ever able to think about that. However, I do know a few female hunters that would probably be more than happy to help out. So, I threw the car into drive and drove off to the first person I could think of.

“No Jody, she was abandoned. No one was there to pick her up. You know I couldn’t have just left her. Not at all. Okay, yes, I know I have no experience raising a kid but I couldn’t just let her stay there. She’s a mess and since the daycare ended up shutting down, I decided to take her. Look, will you just help me, please? Okay. Thank you. We’ll be there soon. Bye.”

Arriving at Jody’s a few days later, I get out of the car, and I can tell the little girl was afraid but her mood changed as she saw me on her side of the car. Damn, this kid is getting attached fast. I help her out of the car and put her on my hip as we walk to the door.

“Hey, Bobby, and hello, who is this?” Jody said to the child in my arms.

“That’s a good question. All the kids at the center had nametags they kept on their backs but I think hers fell off.”

“How about Milania? Millie for short.” Jody suggests.

“You know, that’s quite fitting for her. What do you think, Milania?” I look down at the child who squeals and claps her hands.

“I’d say she likes it.” Jody and I chuckle as Millie runs off to the couch in the living room.

“Okay little lady, you are in desperate need of a bath,” Jody says, going to pick Millie up and take her to the bathroom. Much to both our surprise, she didn’t fight Jody on it as most children would. I followed the two into the bathroom since I was going to have to learn how to care for Millie on my own, and saw the shocking and sickening part of her neglect. Underneath all her little clothes, her arms and legs were bruised, she had food and dirt all matted in her hair and spots of dry blood around her body. It also seemed like she cigarette burns scared onto her skin too. Jody filled the tub and slowly set Millie into the water, and that was when all hell broke loose. Millie screamed at the top of her lungs and was crying uncontrollably. It must’ve been because she still had wounds that weren’t healed. 

“Bobby, can I get some help over here?” Jody yelled to me, trying to hold Millie in the tub, but it was a battle she was losing alone.

“Come here, sweet girl,” I say, sucking in some air and trying to assist as much as possible. I hold Millie in my arms as Jody washed her hair and body, getting all the dirt and blood off. I’ve seen plenty of people, adults, who looked like this, but most of the time, they’re monsters and they deserved it. It was a whole different story seeing a child treated in such a terrible manner. I may not know what I’m doing when it comes to raising a kid, but I do know I will always protect Milania; she’s been through enough.

Once we got her all cleaned up, Jody took her into the next room to put some clothes on. She said she had gone to a clothing store and stocked up on as many toddler clothes as she could find. Our whole worlds had flipped when I found Millie but it was what needed to be done.

“Hey get ready, John said he was coming by with the boys to get some help on a case he is suspecting in Colorado,” Jody said, as Millie ran back into the living room, looking much happier than she did a few minutes before.

“I gotcha. How’s he been doing?” I ask.

“He’s been okay. Things are still hard on him since Mary died and I don’t think it’s getting any easier.” Jody said.

“How are the boys?”

“I’m not sure. I mean, Sam is about to turn two and Dean just turned six. They still rely on John a lot but I know he hasn’t quite been all there.”

Just as our conversation about the widower ended, there was a knock on the door; it’s them.

“John, good to see you and the boys.”

“Hey Jods, thanks. We’ve surely missed having any female perspectives on certain things.” John tries to joke but his face is full of sadness.

“Jod-Jod!” Dean yells, waddling his way over to Jody, who bends down to the boy and scoops him up in a big hug.

“Hey Deano, how’s it going?”

“Good!” He answers, with a big smile on his face.

“Have you been keeping an eye on Sammy?”

“Yes.” He giggles as Jody tickles him before he gets set down and he runs to me. 

“Hey, sport.” I ruffle his hair and wrap around him as he hugs my leg. 

“Bobby, how you doing, man? Jody tells me you have a kid?” John asks. 

“Hey, yeah I do. I found a little girl abandoned on the location of a hunt Rufus and I worked on the other day and I decided to take her in.”

“Wow, well I’m not doing too well in the parenting department myself but I do think she’ll be in good care with you.” John compliments.

“Thank you. Jody here has been helping me out a lot, giving me all the tips, I may need, but I have her on speed dial for emergencies.” We both laugh as Jody comes into the room with Millie.

“Hey, there she is.”

“Daddy!” Millie yells as she runs over to me. That was the first time she’s said anything and she already knows me as her Dad.

“Hey Mills, I want you to meet some people, okay?” She nods as I pick her up. 

“John, this is my daughter, Milania. We call her Millie for short.”

“Hi Millie, I’m John.” She hides her face in my shoulder, still not used to people.

“I guess she’s still shy. That right there was the first time I’ve heard her talk since I found her.” I say to John who just smiles.

“Guess you got a magic touch or something.”

“Hey Millie, come meet my boys,” John says, walking over to where Dean was sitting, next to Sam on the floor.

“Dean, this is Millie. She’s Bobby’s daughter. And that little guy there is Sam.”

“Hi, Millllllie,” Dean says, singing Milania’s nickname out. She looks over to Dean and just stares at him.

“Say hi Mills.” I try encouraging her to meet new people. 

“Hi.” She spoke in a small voice, before turning back to me.

“Hey kids, I have an idea. Do you guys wanna draw? I’ve got crayons and paper in the kitchen.” Jody said, leading the children away from John and me.

“So, what do you got?” I ask, taking a swig from a bottle of beer, looking to the younger man.

“It looks like Wendigos. They’ve made quite a mess in the town of Silverton, Colorado. But it seems like more than I can handle on my own.” John explains.

“Well, I’d be more than happy to go with you and try to figure this thing out.”

“What about the kids?” 

“We can always ask Jody if she could watch them?”

“Of course, I’ll watch the kids while y’all go on a hunt. It gives me more time with Sam and Dean and gets to know Millie a little better. Plus, she’s been through a lot; she needs a chance to catch a break.”

“Thanks, Jody. We’ll check in often, make sure the kids are alright.” I say.

“They will be; they’ll be with their Aunt Jody.”

“So, we’ll head out in the morning then,” John suggests before gathering the boys up and leaving to stay in a motel in town.

“You and Millie can stay here for the night. Can’t have Baby Girl in a nasty motel room after what she’s seen. She deserves to sleep in a neatly made bed.

“Can’t argue with that.” Putting Millie to bed was easier than I thought it was going to be but it was later than any child should be up. She sleeps on the bed, next to me, and soon we both are taken over with sleep.

When morning arrives, I get Millie dressed and get her some breakfast before John and the boys come over. I try to explain to her that I will be away from her for a while, which went well.

“Hey princess, listen. Daddy is going away for a few days and you have to stay here with Aunt Jody. But I’ll call to check on you, okay? You be good for Aunt Jody and get along with Sam and Dean.” I say to the toddler as she rocks back and forth on her heels.

“Okay, Daddy.” She says as she leans in to hug me tight. She was tiny but mighty when it came to affection.

“Dee!” Millie yells when she sees John and the boys walk in the front door. Dean lets go of John’s hand and runs over to me and Millie.

“Millie!” Dean yells back to the young girl and hugs her tight like she just hugged me.

“Alright guys, I got a movie and popcorn all set up for you in the living room,” Jody says as the kids rush into the other room, and taking Sam from John’s arms.

“Thanks again, Jods,” I say.

“No worries. You guys be careful out there; you have kids counting on you to come home.”

Tag list: @tloveswriting​ (if you wanna be added to the tag list, let me know!) @akshi8278​

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine one-shot “On Your Mind” (Rated NC17)

Summary: Blaine is sitting at a bar, ill-advisedly looking for Mr. Right ... and failing. But as he plans to leave, he sees an incredibly gorgeous man who captivates him. He sits back down and watches him, fantasizing about who he is, what he's doing, and why he's there. But before too long, Blaine discovers that this man is far from ordinary. (3448 words)

Notes: This is a re-write. 

Read on AO3.

Being a New Yorker isn’t for the weak-hearted. Living here is rough.

And as the days go by, it doesn’t get any easier.

The city can be cruel. But it’s exciting, too. Blaine loves living here. He may be a small town boy, but he can’t imagine living anywhere else. But he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t overwhelming.

Back home in Ohio, people wore their hearts on their sleeves. That made it easier for him to survive as the token gay kid at his high school. From bigots to allies, he pretty much knew where everyone stood from the start. But in New York, everyone has their own unique brand of armor, forged through the give and take necessary to thrive in a diverse metropolis. It’s harder to tell from the outset who’s truly on his side and who’s faking it.

When Blaine first moved to New York, he stumbled into a few hornet’s nests. He learned a valuable lesson, but now he has a habit of being super-cautious about everyone, over-analyzing behavior, picking actions and conversations apart in search of clues.

It keeps him safe, but it also leaves him lonely.

He feels the weight of that as his butt falls asleep on the hard-as-a-rock barstool he’s monopolizing, stirring the watered-down rum and coke he’s been nursing for over an hour. He doesn’t actually like rum and coke too much. He’ll drink it, but it’s not his preferred choice overall. If he wasn’t so concerned about looks, he’d order a strawberry daiquiri. But a tall curvy glass filled with pastel pink drink and topped with a colorful umbrella isn’t the impression he’s trying to give off. He’s afraid it might scream flaming gay. A rum and coke always struck him as a man’s drink, probably because that’s what his dad used to order. And if there was a man’s man anywhere out there in the world, it was definitely his dad.

But Blaine, sighing in the solitude that is his corner of the bar, really wants a daiquiri.

He runs a hand over his tired face and up into his hair, mussing what was once a helmet of meticulously plastered curls, though he figures that the way he looks far from matters now. If not a single man looked him up and down when he was fresh faced and crisp as a brand new hundred dollar bill, then no one’s going to look at him now.

Not anyone who’d want to spend more than one night with him anyway. And even then, he’s giving them too much credit. More like fifteen minutes in the bathroom. And as much as Blaine has had fun in his fair share of bathrooms, he’s really looking for something deeper. Something more.

Of course, this bar that he’s scored most of the ass he’s tapped since he’s lived in New York probably isn’t the smartest place to go looking for it.

But his choices are limited. He’s a creature of habit, and this bar happens to be a block away from his apartment. Aside from that, he’s a certifiable workaholic, and he doesn’t like to shop at work. He’s a producer and a songwriter, currently slumming the orchestra pit down at the Lyceum Theater as a favor for a friend, and even though Broadway is rife with gay men, the ones he’s hooked up with have mostly been social climbers, warming his bed, hoping for the opportunity to snag something better than chorus line.

Blaine Anderson is no one’s stepping stone.

He takes a sip of his drink, checking to see if it’s any more salvageable than it was five minutes ago, and since the answer is no, he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet, preparing to settle his tab and head out. Who knows? Maybe if he hits Whole Foods on the way home, he might stumble across a nice, eligible bachelor in the organic produce department.

And this is where his imagination runs wild.

They’ll both reach for the same Asian pear. They’ll brush fingers, giggle bashfully. Blaine will offer it to him, but the man will insist Blaine take it instead. Small talk will ensue. They’ll find out they have tons of stuff in common. They’ll go for coffee and end up talking till five in the morning because time will fly by. And as the sun peeks over the horizon, they’ll share Blaine’s pear, along with a few sweet kisses …

It’s the rom-com variety meet-cute New York City is known for.

The romantic in him says it’s worth a shot.

The realist in him says don’t hold your breath.

He puts a tenner on the bar and tells the bartender to keep the change.

High-pitched laughter cuts through the murmur of drunken conversation, stopping Blaine cold, half-standing with his hand thrust awkwardly down the back pocket of his pants. He doesn’t understand why he has such an extreme reaction to it, but it calls to him, goes through him – in his ears and around his brain like a silk sheet, sliding down his throat like a rich mouthful of hot chocolate and settling in his belly. He’s never had that reaction to a laugh before. It’s almost ludicrous. He waits for it to continue, but it doesn’t, and the heat in his belly begins to cool.

But I didn’t just imagine it! he thinks as the sensation drifts away. It was clear as day!

He turns his head, eyes sweeping the dingy bar for whoever made that sound, pausing at the front door as traffic flows in and out. A thin stream of average, uninteresting faces make an appearance but nothing that fits that voice. A few faces later, Blaine decides to go with his first instinct and leave, but he stops for a second time when a gorgeous, almost otherworldly man with pale skin and impossibly blue eyes walks into view. He turns to the bartender as he passes Blaine, not even sparing a glance for the man staring numbly like a dumbstruck teenager. When the stranger speaks, his voice sounds even more magical than before.

“Shirley Temple, extra cherries if you please, Ronnie.”

Ronnie, a surly manticore of a man with a handle-bar moustache and bright red suspenders, raises a hand to acknowledge his order.

“Sure thing,” he says, his gruff, smoker’s voice sounding happier now that he – whoever he is – has arrived. Other patrons at the bar turn to welcome him with a wave or a smile. Blaine notices that the overall atmosphere of the bar has become lighter, less depressing, as if whoever this man is swept in and cleansed the aura of the room.

Or maybe the rum, weak though it is, is finally hitting him.

Either way, this man, taking a seat at a table not too far from him – this ethereally handsome, fashion-forward man with the sea blue eyes, and (Blaine can’t help noticing) incredible ass stuffed into ridiculously tight jeans - convinces Blaine to sit back down and hang out a little while longer.

Whoa, those jeans are tight! he thinks. I mean, I guess I can’t talk. My pants are pretty tight, too. But those look dangerously tight. Like … health endangering tight.

The man sits up straight and runs his hands down his thighs, stopping briefly at his knees, then continuing back up to his hips again. Blaine leans forward at the sight of this man touching himself, stroking the dark denim pulled tight over trim legs, and nearly falls straight off his stool.

Blaine pinches his lips together tight before he can accidentally moan out loud and make a fool out of himself.

N-not that I’m complaining. If you’ve got it, flaunt it. And you definitely got it. I mean, have it. And that voice … are you a singer? I think I would have heard of you if you were a singer. You’d have Broadway wrapped around your finger if you were …

The man bites his bottom lip, holding back a smile, eyes searching the bar, looking for someone. His hand trails up the buttons of his shirt, fidgeting with his open collar, touching his neck lightly with his fingertips.

He must be waiting for someone special. Probably a lover with a reaction like that.

Looks like I don’t stand a chance, huh?

Blaine watches his fingertips move, envisioning opening the man’s shirt, button by button, following with a kiss to every newly revealed patch of skin, ending at his long neck, tracing a path up to his ear with the tip of his tongue. Blaine blinks his eyes, snapping back to reality.

Okay … I don’t know where that came from …

The man looks distracted as he peers off into the crowd and swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bouncing when he does. A waitress comes up to his table with a tray carrying a single drink – a bubbly beverage overflowing with crayon red maraschino cherries. The man’s eyes flick up to the waitress and he smiles, the distracted look dissolving with his enigmatic grin. The waitress sets a napkin down in front of him, and then the drink on top of that. The man nods and watches the waitress walk away before he regards his drink.

Blaine has become positively fascinated with this man, every minute detail of him, even though apart from being inconceivably sexy he has yet to do anything more extraordinary than smile and sip his drink.

But that smile.

It has more character, more personality than the half dozen men he’s tried talking up this week.

The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. He opens it up on the table in front of him and looks at it intently, reaching for his drink again and forgoing the straw this time to take a healthy sip.

That’s an awful lot of cherries for one poor drink, Blaine muses. And here I was, stressing over a daiquiri …

The man looks up from his paper (list? letter? Blaine can’t tell from where he’s sitting …) and chuckles. He pauses for a moment, as if he’s expecting something to happen, gaze shifting left and right, and then returns to the words on the page. The smile on the man’s face drops an inch, than an inch more, until none of it remains.

Sucky news, huh? Blaine commiserates. I understand how that is. I hope that’s not a Dear John letter. Blaine’s mind drifts to thoughts of an envelope resting against his lamp on his bedside table, the letter inside months old but read so many times that creases from the folds in the paper are tearing.

But the edges are still sharp enough to sting.

Someone with gorgeous eyes like yours shouldn’t have to read something like that, he thinks with a sigh.

The man sighs as well, eyes skimming the last few lines. His smile returns. He folds the letter back up and puts it in his pocket.

Guess not, huh? Well, good for you. A man like you deserves love letters … and poetry …

The man shakes his head, but this time he’s staring straight ahead at someone approaching his table. Another unspectacular man from the bar - this one wearing a long, tan coat - walks right up to the only vacant chair at the table and sits down without being invited.

Rude, Blaine thinks. The man he’s been watching for the last half-hour raises both eyebrows and nods his head once, as if he agrees. Blaine watches the second man closely, observing the way he sits, how his eyes bounce from face to face around him, how he keeps his hands folded in his lap, suspiciously close to his hip. The waitress comes up to take his order but the man waves her away, and Blaine gets it.

This second man is a cop.

Suddenly, this show he’s been watching has just become way more interesting. His thin rum and coke forgotten along with all pretense of ever leaving this bar, Blaine focuses on the couple, no longer concerned whether they know he’s watching them or not. He debates finding a chair closer to their table so he can hear what they’re saying, anything to give him a clue as to what his mystery man is up to.

The cop monopolizes most of the conversation from what Blaine can see. He starts talking, low and calm at first, but then more and more animatedly, gesturing with one hand since he keeps the other pinned to his side, probably where his holster is. Blaine prides himself on the fact that he has watched enough episodes of Law and Order that he’s well-versed in many aspects of police behavior by now. In fact, he’s considered becoming a police officer. He thinks he’d be really good at it. He’s athletic and smart (if he does say so himself). And he can be assertive. Only problem is he’s not too keen on guns … or chasing after people … or getting shot at …

In the middle of the officer’s speech, the man with the iridescent blue eyes starts to laugh, apparently at an inappropriate moment because the officer stares at the man with mouth agape and eyes wide, offense written in every line of his strained face. The blue-eyed man peeks up at his companion and waves a dismissive hand. It looks to Blaine like he’s assuring the angered officer that he wasn’t laughing at him or anything he said. He quiets down, gesturing for the officer to continue.

Blaine watches in silence as the two talk back and forth, concentrating on their lips to see if he can catch any snippets of conversation. He narrows his eyes until he gets a migraine, but the only words he thinks he can catch are ‘lost’ and ‘help’, and maybe ‘dead’, though it could have been ‘den’ or ‘desk’. Blaine’s eyes begin to cross, and more and more he’s starting to wish that the police officer guy would just leave so he can go back to unraveling the mystery of this man with the prismatic blue eyes.

The man (Blaine has decided to call him ‘Noel’ since he bears a striking resemblance to a young Noel Coward) closes his eyes and puts his fingers to his temples, pressing and massaging tiny circles into his skin.

Is Captain Overbearing bothering you? Blaine thinks. Is he giving you a headache? I know people like that. They walk into the room and pow! My head throbs. I used to let them walk all over me, mostly because we’d been friends forever. It happens with my brother, too. I could tell them to eff off, but I guess I have a phobia of not having any friends. But now, being a New Yorker for the past decade, I opt for revenge. Not the big kind of revenge. I mean, I don’t think I could hurt anyone, or ruin their lives, or anything. I have been known to slip a few drops of Visine into their soda. Gives them the poops for hours. That’s fairly satisfying …

In the midst of massaging his temples, the man smiles. He opens his eyes, throws his head back and laughs, and again the officer looks entirely put off. The man shakes his head, leaning toward the man across the table, putting a hand up to either amplify his voice or shield his lips from view. Blaine pouts, feeling intentionally left out of the conversation. Even though his lip reading skills have so far gotten him nowhere, now he has no hope of finding out what’s going on between Noel and his police officer friend.

The officer nods, his eyes performing a cursory glance of the bar one last time before he gets up and heads for the exit. The man at the table stands as well, reaching into his back pocket, squeezing his hand into the tight fit and pulling out his wallet. Blaine deflates when he sees the man pull out a bill along with some other thin piece of paper, something that looks suspiciously like a business card, from his wallet. He places the bill beside his half-drunk Shirley Temple on the table, and then turns on his heel. Blaine expects the man to head out the door after the police officer, but instead he looks straight at Blaine.

Blaine pivots his head left and right, then turns his head completely around and glances behind himself to be sure, and yes, he’s the only one in Noel’s sight line at present. He heads right for Blaine, eyes locked unnervingly on Blaine’s face, and for a moment Blaine becomes confused and frightened all at once. The man is striking, but he also has an undeniable air of confidence and power that makes Blaine want to drop to beg for forgiveness and do whatever this man tells him to do. But why does Blaine feel so guilty? He hasn’t said word one to the man! He’ll admit, he has been staring, but that’s all.

Maybe he should have just gone home when he’d planned. Now he’s about to get into a fist fight in a bar.

Not really. Blaine has no intention of throwing a single punch.

The man stops before Blaine, hands resting on his hips, doing nothing but look at him, eyes going over his body from head to toe. A range of emotions pass over his face from amusement to sympathy to curious. He lands back on amusement and stays there. He holds the thin card out to him. When Blaine just stares at him, speechless, he leans forward and slips it neatly into the outer pocket of Blaine’s button-down shirt.

“The name’s Kurt,” the man says, “not Noel, but I appreciate the compliment. Also, I appreciate your concern about the effects of my pants on my health, but I promise you, they’re no tighter than I can handle.”

Blaine leans against the bar, knocked out of his stupor by the man’s opening line.

“Believe it or don’t, I understand what it’s like to feel alone in a city of 8 million people. We have that in common. And by the way,” the man Blaine now knows is Kurt, not Noel, says, “I’m not a big fan of rum and coke, either. So when you take me out on Friday night, just order the damn daiquiri? Life’s too short for shitty friends and crappy drinks.”

Kurt pats Blaine’s pocket where the card is safely tucked and winks, turning and heading toward the entrance where the police officer has ducked back in to wait for his companion to follow.

Blaine still hasn’t said a word, stunned into silence as he watches Kurt leave. Kurt says something to the officer at the door, motioning vaguely in Blaine’s direction. The officer’s eyes find Blaine and the weary man smirks. He holds the door open for Kurt, who turns one last time to see Blaine stuck in the same position that he left him. He raises an arm and waves, blowing Blaine a kiss. He steps out the door with a satisfied grin, and like that, he’s gone.

Blaine waits a moment longer after Kurt has gone, trying to wrap his mind around everything that happened. But try as he might, it’s too surreal for him to comprehend. Noel – not Noel, as it turns out, but Kurt – had called him out on everything he’d thought while watching him. But how? How in the hell is that possible? Well, he works with a police officer. Is there a chance that maybe he … what?

What, Blaine? he asks himself. What on God’s green earth could possibly explain all of that?

Remembering the card waiting for him in his pocket, he pulls it out carefully, not willing to lose it and the opportunity to contact that fascinating man. Blaine reads the words embossed on it, then he reads them again. He reads them over and over, close to a hundred times, and after their meaning sinks in fully, he’s not sure if he should laugh or find the nearest rock and hide under it.

Blaine mentally goes over everything he saw tonight – every inflection Kurt made, every movement, every shift of his inquisitive eyes. Blaine has spent the past ten years of his life being a skeptic, constantly questioning everyone’s intentions and emotions, feeling like no one he’s met has truly understood him, nor has ever really wanted to. But after tonight, none of that matters.

This might be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

Kurt E. Hummel

Medium

Psychic Investigator

[beckzorz]

PREMONITIONS 2 (5/8)

or, Adventures in Pursuit of a Seven-Year-Old Seer

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Words: 2483 Summary: It’s been over a year since you met Bucky, and you couldn’t be happier. If only you could figure out why your precognitive niece is burying you in abstract crayon art… Warnings for part 5: Mild swearing, mild violence

Canisteo. Steuben County, New York. Population: 3,254.

Distance from the city: 300 miles.

Expected travel time? Five hours.

How long does it take you to get there?

Seven. Fucking. Hours.

A semi-trailer truck crashed on the highway an hour out of the city, blocking all three lanes and setting traffic to a standstill. You’re stuck in the same spot for almost forty minutes. After that, things pick up, but just barely. The cars inch along until, finally, you beak free of the bottleneck. With every minute that passes, you can’t help but imagine what horrors your family is going through. It’s an effort to unclench your hand from the wheel to change gears, adjust the heat, try to listen to the news…

Every minute is torture.

When you finally pass the “Welcome to Canisteo” sign, your heart leaps. Finally! You can swoop in, find your family, save them…

Find your family…

Main Street is quaint, almost disturbingly so. Light, colorful buildings with detailed facades line the sidewalk. The last snow was a week ago; what remains has gone gray and yellow. Weak winter sun streams in through thin clouds overhead.

You drive up and down Main Street, passing banks and restaurants and people wandering around during the lunch hour. No one is familiar. The sun on the snow is blinding, and you alternate between squinting and blinking.

After your second U-turn, you pull over. You peel your hands away from the wheel and go into park. Your hands are stiff, stiff with cold and terror. They tremble as you pull the key from its slot. You shove your hands between your legs and press your forehead against the steering wheel, vision blurring.

You’ve followed Gemma’s map. You made it to Canisteo. But what are you supposed to do now?

Well, sitting in your chilling car isn’t going to accomplish anything. You check the signage—yes, you’re good to park here—and stuff the map of Gemma’s drawings into your backpack. The bag is a solid weight on your shoulders as you wander through the center of town. Things seem as tranquil as they appeared at first glance. The restaurants aren’t too busy, the sidewalks are neatly paved, traffic is limited. After a lifetime spent in the city, the serenity is more disturbing than anything. Even if your neighborhood is relatively quiet, there’s still the hum of the subway, the cars and taxis…

This place feels halfway dead.

Every person you pass gives you a look, and you prickle under their stares. Sure, you’re a stranger. What of it? There’s no harm in city folk visiting small towns.

Your shoulders are around your ears by the time you duck into a cafe for a bite to eat. You haven’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon, and your gut is cramping. You force down a sandwich. Nausea curls at your gut as you eat—more wasted time! these twenty minutes might be the difference between life and death!—and you try not to cry into your tea.

If you get so hungry that you pass out, you’re no help.

But having eaten, you have to come to terms with the fact that even sated, you don’t know what to do.

What if Canisteo isn’t the right destination? There’s no message for you here, not that you’ve seen, and you have no idea how to grill the locals. Interrogation is a skill you don’t have, be it as a good cop or bad. You don’t know how to weasel information out of people—being honest is what you’ve been taught, what you know. How the hell are you supposed to magically discover the—lair? Hideout? Maybe they’re upstairs in this very building. Who the hell knows! You sure don’t.

You bite your lip hard as you stare down at your empty plate. You will not cry in a cafe. You will not.

“Are you alright, miss?”

You flinch and stare over at the older man looking at you from the next table. Your heart races. Why is he bothering you? Does he know? Is he one of them?

“Y-yeah,” you manage. You unclench your fists, force a smile. “Just trying to figure out where my brother got to.”

The old man nods and turns back to his bagel and newspaper. Your hands shake as you gather your things. Is the man watching you? Are the eyes you feel on you malign or concerned?

Are you even thinking straight?

You flee the cafe, not once looking back until you’re locked in your freezing car. From here, you can just make out the man at the cafe window. And all he’s doing is sitting there, bagel and newspaper in hand.

You sag in your seat, breath coming as heavy as if you’d just run a marathon. Through the windshield, Canisteo’s tranquility laughs at you.

Why did Gemma summon you here? What are you supposed to do?

Were you even supposed to come?

Hands shaking, you pull out your phone and try Bucky. You haven’t tried since the last call before you left, and he hasn’t gotten back to you. But it’s been almost eight hours. Maybe now…

“The number you are trying to reach is not available. Please leave a message at the tone.”

You let Bucky’s voicemail message finish before hanging up. You don’t bother leaving a message. What is there to say? ‘Hi, Bucky, I drove halfway to Canada because Gemma’s abstract art looks like a Google map and that definitely means I’m in the right place!’

Right. Because that sounds so convincing.

You bang your forehead against the steering wheel and stare mindlessly at the dashboard beyond. The plastic of the wheel is cold against your face. Focus, dammit. There’s no point in letting yourself get paranoid. Gemma’s never led you astray before.

Astray, no. Into trouble?

Your hand drifts to your side, where under your jacket and shirt a scar lingers. The one time Gemma had led you into trouble, you’d been shot saving Bucky’s life. You were fine, in the end, and you’d gotten a dream boyfriend out of it to boot. For whatever reason, the assassin had never come after you, and nothing like it had ever come up again.

But now?

Kidnapping isn’t the same as murder. But as much as you’d stopped the bullet, it was Gemma who’d put you where you needed to be.

Your breath catches. Slowly, you sit up, tension clogging your throat. That fateful night was well over a year ago, but revenge is a dish best served cold.

Is this kidnapping to do with last Halloween?

“Oh god,” you whisper.

The silence is deafening. Your heart thumps in your chest. No wonder Bucky’s been off the grid. Of course he’s been ignoring your calls. If there are assassins involved, he’d certainly try to keep you out of it. He was apologetic about you getting shot even when you were a stranger. Now that you’re dating…

Certainty settles over you like a wet blanket. If anything happens to you, Bucky will blame himself. And you aren’t about to let that happen to the man you love.

The man you love?

Your lips part and your eyes widen.

Well, shit.

Sure, you and Bucky have been dating for almost a year. You’ve teased each other, shared longing looks, and reached for each other in moments of distress. But neither of you have ever mentioned love.

Maybe you’ve told him you love his body, or his hair. Even his arm, with all it can do. But not him.

Hell, it took months for you to even put a label on each other. You can still remember the summer day you took Gemma upstate when Bucky first called you his girl.

Your throat burns; you clap a hand over your mouth. Oh god, why didn’t you realize it before? Of course you love him—he’s perfect. Funny, beautiful, smart, sexy… And he’s had nothing but respect for you from day one. Not like so many others, who roll their eyes at your boring job or wince at your cheekiness. Bucky just grins.

Before now, you’ve never really worried about his superhero status. By the time you see him after missions, he’s back to his usual fantastic shape. The things you’ve worried about are more mental than physical.

But now?

If you hadn’t been there, if Gemma hadn’t brought you to the right place at the right time, Bucky might have died last Halloween, gunned down in the street with his milk and his phone. Steve would have arrived too late. You… you never would have met him. Your heart clenches at the thought. You can’t imagine life without Bucky Barnes. He’s your everything.

You take your phone in hand again, your finger hovering over Bucky’s name. He might not answer now, but he’s bound to listen to your messages at some point. You tap on his name and press your phone to your ear, your jaw set.

“The number you are trying to reach is not available. Please leave a message at the tone.”

This time, you don’t hang up right away. Instead, you wait for the tone.

“Hi Bucky, it’s me. It’s, uh, around one pm. I know you’re busy, but I w-wanted—” Your voice shakes. What if this is the last message you leave him? What if he doesn’t feel the same? You swallow away your fear. “Sorry. I wanted to tell you I love you. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but no matter what happens, I love you. So damn much, Bucky.” Tears are pricking at your eyes. You’re sure you sound wrecked. “Please be safe. No matter what happens to me, please take care of yourself.” You sniff. “Bye.”

You hang up.

---

The next four hours, you drive around Canisteo and the surrounding towns. There’s no sign of Matt, Sarah, or Gemma, let alone any assassins. With every hour, your heart drops. Isn’t there supposed to be some special time window for finding kidnapping victims? You can’t remember it off the top of your head, but it’s been close to twenty hours.

What about Sarah’s morning vitamin? What about Gemma’s? It’s the middle of winter—are they warm enough?

Are they even alive?

You try not to consider that.

The sun sets around five, and you go back to Canisteo to grab dinner. Maybe there’s a villain at the convenience store. Maybe it’s the woman with the pink hat and bubblegum, or the skinny teenager with skin-tight jeans.

Probably not the teenager.

Hopefully not. No teenager should have to be involved with anything remotely connected to this—but then you think of Gemma, and what she is going through at age seven, and you can barely muster a smile for the cashier.

There’s a hotel five miles away, and you drive to it with a heavy heart. For all your determination at dawn, today has been nothing short of wasted. What good has your upstate adventure been? You haven’t found your family, nor even a hint of them. Bucky and Steve are on the case—what was the point in getting involved yourself? You’re no detective. You certainly aren’t a hero, either.

You check into the hotel. When you get to your room, you pull the curtains tightly closed and dump the contents of your backpack on the bed. Gemma’s folder, your laptop, some granola bars, and a water bottle is all you thought to bring with you. You don’t even have a toothbrush. And of course, you’ve forgotten about the granola bars until right now. Great. More money wasted.

You open your laptop and log into the spotty wifi. You put the rest of your things back in your bag and stuff it under the bed.

It’s been over four hours since you called Bucky. There’s no harm in trying again, right?

“The number you are tryi—”

You hang up. There’s no point in leaving another voicemail. He’ll get it eventually. You curl up on the bed with just the bedside lamp on and search Google maps for likely lair locations. A warehouse here, an abandoned building there… They could be anywhere, and you just don’t know.

You hate not knowing.

An enormous yawn cracks your jaw. You don’t know how you can be tired after everything that’s happened. Then again, terror is exhausting. And you’re no help to your family right now. Tears come again to your eyes—you’ve never cried this much in twenty-four hours—and you wipe them on the stiff pillowcase.

Then your phone rings.

You sit up so fast your vision blacks out. You feel blindly for your phone. Your vision clears as your fingers finally catch hold of your phone.

It’s Bucky. You answer in a flash.

“Bucky,” you breathe. “Oh my god.”

“Darlin’, what’s going on?”

Bucky’s voice fills your ear. Tension you didn’t even realize was there seeps out of you at the sound. God, you love that sound. You hold the phone with both hands, fingers curled around it as though Bucky could feel you holding onto him.

“Are you okay? Did you get my calls?” you ask.

“I’m okay, yeah.” He sounds exhausted. Has he slept since last night? “I saw you called. Didn’t listen to your messages yet, figured I’d just call back. What’s going on? Did the police get back to you at all?”

In the background, you can hear someone else talking. Steve? It’s impossible to tell.

“No,” you say. You bite your lip. “Do you have any news?”

“We tracked them upstate, but we don’t know exactly whe—”

“Finger Lakes?” you interrupt.

Bucky’s brief silence is tense. “How do you know?”

“Because Gemma left a map,” you say, gaining confidence as you continue. “The art she left me—it was a map, Bucky. A map to Canist—”

A bang on the door cuts you off. You stare in horror as the knob turns, gray plywood splintering against the dark rug.

“What’s going on?” Bucky demands. “What—”

“They’re here,” you gasp. You scramble off the bed and run to the bathroom, locking yourself in as the front door slams against the wall. Your hands are shaking so bad you can’t even tell if Bucky can hear your harried whispering. “I’m in Canisteo. No, the hotel near it—Gemma’s map is under the be—”

You scream as the bathroom door bursts open. A man in dark clothes and a scarf and goggles over his face rushes at you. The phone drops from your hands as you careen back, and you can dimly hear Bucky yelling at you through the phone.

The man grabs your neck and slams you against the wall. You see stars as your head ricochets. The man lifts his foot and slams it down on your phone.

The screen cracks. The line goes dead.

The man slams you against the wall again, and then you see nothing else at all.

[tarotdeckshuffle]

I have seen that you were making requests for fics. I am wondering if I can request an angst  Noctis x reader story with a happy ending? The story could have a background of how they grew up with each other and fell deeply in love, but both have to struggle with the news of Noctis and Lunafreya's engagement. S/o tries to be strong and understanding during their journey. You can decide if by some miracle they get back together or not. I know this is a mess but I am in a tragic romance mood 😅

Thank you for the request! Sorry for the wait, full fics take awhile to get out. I hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @idiotflowerex

Paper Planes

Your smile was one of the constants in Prince Noctis’s life. It had always been there for him.

The two of you met when you were both quite young. Noctis had run away to the Royal Gardens, crying, trying to hide from the other royal children who were making fun of him. Life wasn’t easy being a prince; it didn’t help that no one understood that.

As he sat huddled, crying under the leaves of a tropical plant, he felt something bump his head. He looked down to see a paper airplane on the ground next to him, the point crumpled from hitting him.

The paper had some sort of drawing on it. Curiosity overtook the small child and he unfolded the airplane. On the paper, drawn in crayon, was a smiling sun.

As the young prince pondered over the paper, another one hit him in the head. A pout crossed his face as he looked up to try to find his visitor. He couldn’t see anyone, but heard shuffles.

On the inside of this plane was a strange drawing, Noct thought. It was a smiling little rain cloud with blue and purple flowers under it.

Soon after, a third paper hit him. The frustrated prince stood to his feet. “Come out!” he yelled. Like a dream remembered, your young self crept from your cover in a nearby flowering bush. The two of you just stood and stared at each other for a moment. You gestured at the paper plane Noct was holding.

He frowned but unfolded the paper. On it was two children, holding hands. Noct recognized the one with messy black hair. The other was an image of the person before him. He looked up, stunned and confused.

“Wanna be my friend?” you asked the future king.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

From that moment on, the two of you kept each other company. As children, you didn’t understand the differences in class between you, nor the different destinies you would face. All you knew was that you enjoyed each other’s company.

You became the best of friends. Many royals complained about a servant’s child running around with the Prince, but Regis would have none of it. You made his son happier than he could imagine.

The two you had games you’d get the whole castle involved in. You taught the Prince how to make paper airplanes and paper cranes. You’d leave colorful cranes all around the castle for various servants and attendants to find, bringing smiles to everyone.

You’d have contests launching planes from different places. Ignis would typically win if he played with you.

The Prince was the light in your young life. Over time, butterflies grew in your stomach at the mere sight of him. It was embarrassing to fall in love with you childhood friend, but you couldn’t imagine life without him.

Your playdates came less often, as the Prince became increasingly busy with age. If you spent time together, it was likely sitting somewhere and listening to music together.

Fearing he was growing distant from you, your teenage self cornered the Prince in the halls and invited him to “hang out.” He accepted with a flustered tone. The two of you made your way to the castle roof, one of your secret spots.

You had a pile of papers waiting on you. The two of you spent much of the time, folding the papers into planes and tossing them from the roof, rarely speaking. Many of the little planes were caught in the downdraft of the great building and plummeted to the ground.

Not being able to stand the silence, anymore, you started making small talk as you threw planes. Noct barely answered. Your tone grew softer with defeat.

Finally, one plane escaped the building’s winds. You watched as the small plane set off towards a setting sun. Noct came up beside you, to watch in awe as it departed.

In that moment, you took the Prince’s hand in yours. He was surprised and flustered, turning red in the face. You apologized and pulled away, fearing you had just ruined your friendship. He cried, “No!” and snatched your hand back.

You stared at each other, shock reflecting back. He hastily pulled you close. On the rooftop of the palace, as your paper plane took flight, you shared your first kiss.

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

Time went on. The two of you grew closer each day, sharing secret smiles, brushing of hands in the halls, and running off to steal kisses in forgotten rooms.

Your friends became Noct’s friends, and his friends became yours. You met Lady Lunafreya and grew close, writing letters to each other and occasionally spending a holiday in Tenebrae.

You worked to stay by your Prince’s side, learning to fight, to strategize, to heal, and everything that needed to be done. Ignis and Noctis “recommended” you to be Ignis’s assistant, Noct’s second advisor. King Regis laughed and allowed the position. Your rendezvous were not as secret as you would like.

But destiny is a cruel storm, appearing unexpectedly and sinking the sturdiest of ships.

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

The Peace Treaty was written without the consultation or consent of the Prince.

He invited you to the gardens one day. You were happy to oblige. Dreams of a future with your king dancing in your heart.

You found your prince as you looked over the gardens from a balcony in the castle, staring off on a bench below. Keeping your games alive, you threw a special paper airplane at him. It bumped him in the head. Startled, he looked up to your overlook and smiled, a sorrowful love in his eyes.

You hurried down to meet him, wondering what this was about. You had heard rumors of the Peace Treaty and hoped the fighting would soon end.

“[Y/N]…” Is all the Prince said as you approached. It was so rare for him to use your name…you heart started to weigh you down.

“Sit…”He led you to the seat beside him, holding onto your hands. He took a deep breath, before revealing the details of the treaty.

Your very world rushed away from you, numbness filling your body. Your Prince, your love, your Noctis was going to be wed, to someone else?! Your future was being torn from your very grasp.

Why was this happening?!

Who’s cruel idea was this?!?

You sat there, staring at nothing in particular, Noctis holding on to you before you drifted away from him.

“[Y/N]?” the Prince whispered to you. “Talk to me, please…”

“Why…” is all you could manage, the shock giving way to tears spilling from your eyes.

“I…don’t know.” The young Prince took you into his arms.

“What’s…going to happen?” You plead, wanting some certainty for the future.

“I’m going to leave for Altissa…” He began, not looking you in the eyes.

“I KNOW THAT! I MEANT ABOUT US!” You yelled at your thick skulled love. You knew the plan already, he was going to go to Altissa with his Retina to be wed. After the festivities died down, he’d return to Insomnia to rule.

“I…don’t know…” He admitted.

Ideas swirled through your mind, each one tearing a piece of your heart away. You could be his secret lover, or his guard. You could stay by his side as a friend…but, could you really do any of these?

You knew Noctis had a certain fondness for Luna, everyone did. It wouldn’t be fair to her if you were his lover…but how could your friend do this to you?!

“Just…come with me. To Altissa,” Noct began. He was procrastinating, as he always did. The Prince simply wanted more time with you.

But was that right? The car was already going to be full. Could you keep up? Could you handle being at the wedding of your love?

But he needed you…didn’t he? Wouldn’t you just slow him down? Make this harder on him? He had a destiny to face, a kingdom to rule, darkness to banish. What did he truly need with you?

Oh, but you wanted to stay with him, to be close, to not give the territory of your heart…

Your heart and your mind playing tug-of-war with your decision, you stood.

“Love?” Noctis plead. “I’ll…think about it.” Is all you could say as you walked away, leaving your prince sitting next to a paper airplane with a lipstick kiss on it.

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

You spent the next few days avoiding Noct. He sent for you many times, sending Ignis to find you. Each time, Ignis returned, saying you could not leave your duties.

You had made your decision.

On the day of their departure, Noctis waited for you at the Castle steps, but you never came. All of the men were worried, but Ignis knew you had chosen to leave. You watched as the future king drove away from a position high above.

No goodbyes were spoken, for fear you would lose your nerve. You had written him countless letters, but none of them were quite right.

As Noctis got into the Regalia to leave Insomnia, he found on paper plane. It simply read, “Good luck. My heart goes with you, always.”

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

Your royal duties did not subside, even without your Prince. A mask of indifference graced your features as you carried on.

You saw to Luna, when she arrived with the Empire. While emotions swirled inside you, you knew this wasn’t her fault. Still, your every fiber wanted to lash out! To scream and cry, to let the God’s know this wasn’t fair. But you knew better.

On your desk one day, you found a folded paper crane with a note that said, “Meet me in the courtyard.”

You obliged, as you knew the note to be from Luna and it was your duty to see to her. Perhaps, you through, this would bring you closure. Or maybe she’d tell you she wasn’t going to go through with the wedding. Your heart held only a glimmer of hope as cruel logic rang in your mind.

You found the fair Oracle, an image of radiance and beauty, alone in the courtyard.

“This is the will of the gods themselves…I have no part in this play.” You thought as you approached, preparing yourself for what was to come.

“[Y/N]!” Luna said, smiling to greet you. “How long has it been?”

You couldn’t remember. Months, years since the two of you spoke together as friends. Everything felt like a lifetime ago.

Your body tensed, straining to hold back your emotions. “May I assist you, my lady?” You politely asked, taking a bow. You didn’t want to snap at your friend, she didn’t deserve it. So it was best if…if you weren’t her friend for that moment.

Luna’s face took on an expression of pain. She knew of your love for Noctis, you personally had told her many years ago. These were wounds she could not heal.

“Know that I did not choose this arrangement, my friend.” She said. Her words were carried to you on the winds of a coming storm.

“I know…” You said as tears started to rain from your eyes.

“He loves you…” Luna looked to the ground, ashamed of everything. Part of you knew she wasn’t completely upset by the arrangement.

“But…it is for all of Eos that we go on…” You knew she wouldn’t back down. Luna was too devoted to her people, and to Noctis, to ever run away.

You sighed.

“His love for me is that of a boy’s. His love for you will be that of a man’s.” You exclaimed, turning to walk away. Your words rang true in your heart. The time you spent with your Prince was over, he would soon be a King.

As an oncoming storm cannot be stopped, neither can pain.

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

Insomnia fell.

You helped Luna escape the burning city. You watched your friends fall. You saw the body of the King.

In the fray, many of your possessions were lost. Your phone was broken as an MT tried to stab you, your room lit aflame. You escaped with a single photo of you and Noct as children.

Rumors reached you that both Lady Lunafreya and the Prince were dead. You knew better as to Luna’s fate, but your heart shattered at the news of Noct. You openly wept when the rumors were proven false.

You volunteered your services to helping refugees and joining the Hunters, discovering some of your friends lived. The small joys of life kept you going for the dark years ahead.

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

Darkness covered the land.

You looked up the last time the sun even attempted to rise. “Noct…where are you?” You whispered.

The world’s innocence stripped away, the fight for humanity began.

You joined the Hunters almost exclusively, escorting refugees to lit outposts.

“[Y/N]!!” You heard one day after bringing another group to Lestallum. You turned around to see the King’s shield running towards you.

“Gladio?!” You shouted. Two more figures turned around: Ignis and Prompto. You rushed to each other and were engulfed in a great hug by all of them.

Pulling away from the tangle of arms, a question that had plaguing your heart arose: “Where’s Noct?” The three men had to gather themselves before regaling you with their exploits.

Luna was…gone? Noct was…asleep? Was this fate? Had you failed them both?

Why had you been so selfish?! A child only concerned with their own heart? When others needed you?!? What had you done?!

Ignis helped you to a seat as you almost fell. Everything was gone.

“He’ll come back…” Prompto said, looking up at the darkness. “He has to.”

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

The four of you stayed friends for the next few years. Hammerhead became your home. You promised yourself that when Noct returned, humanity would greet him.

Finally, he did.

He rushed to greet his brothers after stepping out of Talcott’s truck. You stayed back, watching. The world had taken its toll from your heart. Your joy at seeing him was muffled below years of regrets and pain.

You saw Prompto point in your direction while speaking to the King. He turned, meeting your eyes with shock. “[Y/N]!” escaped his lips. In an instant he was embracing you, having practically warped the distance between you.

Feeling his arms around you after so very long. It felt as though a fog was lifted from your skin, you could feel him. He was here.

Tears welled as you embraced him. You never wanted to let him go, again. Never.

You both cried, whispering each other’s names.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” Is all you could say. He was your first love, your heart, and your hope.

“You have nothing to apologize for…” He said.

The two of you spent the night close. The romance you once had would take time to rekindle, if it ever did. But you had your King, now.

As the hours slipped away, you prepared to enter Insomnia. You weren’t going to leave him again.

Upon reaching the gates of the pale city, Noct held out his hand to you. “Let’s go home.”

You nodded and took his hand, walking into the darkness together.

[pocket-luv101]

I was supposed to finish this kuromahi family fanfic a while ago but here it is late :p

“I’m home!” Mahiru was barely able to take off her shoes before her toddler daughter launched herself into her arms. She quickly dropped her bags so she could catch Machi. She lifted her high above her head and then hugged her tightly. Machi squealed happily when Mahiru kissed her cheek. “Did you grow even taller while Mama was gone? I was only at the office for an afternoon. You’ll be as tall as Mama soon.”

“I can only hope she won’t be as reckless as her mother when that happens,” Kuro came into the hall. He smiled when he saw the sweet scene of Mahiru holding their small daughter. He picked up the bags she dropped on the ground earlier. Then he kissed her softly and said, “Welcome home, Mahiru. Machi was drawing something for you and I think you’ll like it.”

“Present for Mama!” Machi tried to wiggle out of her arms to run back to the living room and Mahiru place her on the ground. Her small hand gripped her skirt and excitedly pulled her forward. Mahiru giggled and followed her daughter with a smile. She looked very happy and proud as she skipped so Mahiru wondered what she made. She repeatedly cheered, “Mama’s day!”

“Mama’s day? Thank you for making me a present but it’s not my birthday.” She said softly. Machi didn’t seem to be deterred as she let go of her hand. She picked up a picture and shyly held it out to her. The childish drawing made Mahiru’s heart melt. She had drawn their small family in crayon and above it was Kuro’s handwriting. To the best mom in the world! Happy Mother’s Day!

Mahiru smiled down at the picture and she couldn’t be happier. She only looked away from the drawing when Machi hugged her leg. “Mama like?”

“Mama loves your present! Thank you so much, Machi. Let’s put this on the fridge so everyone can see how wonderfully you draw.” Mahiru picked her up again and carried her carefully in one arm as she took her to the fridge. It was already covered in pictures and drawing. She found a free spot and placed her gift against the fridge. “Which magnet should we use?”

“Auntie!” Machi decided and took the wolf shaped magnet to pin the picture to the fridge. She looked over all the drawings Machi made for them. They were far from professional but each one was precious to Mahiru. Her bright smile had to be the greatest gift she could ever receive though. She loved her daughter and Mahiru would do anything to make her happy.

Kuro stood behind them and wrapped his arms around the two. He placed his cheek on the top of her head and nestled against her. “I booked us a dinner at this new restaurant downtown. Lily suggested it. You work so hard all the time and I thought you deserved a nice dinner. I wish I could cook as well as you can so we can celebrate at home.”

“I love this day already. Thank you again, Machi. Mama loves you so much. Kuro, can you get Machi ready to go out while I talk to my mom?” Mahiru stroked her hair before she handed her to Kuro. He understood that she needed a moment alone and nodded. He kissed her forehead softly before he walked down the hall. Once she heard the door close, Mahiru walked to her mother’s shrine.

She had mixed feelings whenever she stood in front of the shrine. She moved on but there were days she would think of her mother and miss her. It wasn’t only Mother’s Day. She couldn’t celebrate with her mother on her graduation or ask her for advice while she was pregnant. Her uncle was wonderful and he did his best but sometimes she wished she could speak with her mother.

Mahiru lit the incense and knelt in front of her mother’s photo. “I’m sorry, I almost forgot Mother’s Day. We haven’t celebrated it for a long time and… it’s not your fault. I miss you. Machi is almost three and I wish you could see her. She’s perfect. When I got that drawing, I was happy but I wanted to cry a little. Best mom in the world… To me, that was always you.”

She always tried to put on a brave face for her family but Mahiru felt her throat tightening. “I remember, on my fourth birthday, you told me: ‘Mahiru, you’re growing so quickly that you’ll be an adult without me even realizing it.’ I was young but that always stuck with me because I never understood what you meant. We were going to be together forever so how can that happen?”

Mahiru wiped a tear and laughed at herself. “I think the same thing with Machi now. It feels like I need to buy her new clothes every time I look away because she’s growing up so fast. In a blink of an eye, she went from crawling to walking. One day, she won’t need me to hold her hand anymore. I’m trying my best to be a strong woman like you but sometimes… Kuro wrote it so I hope Machi actually thinks I’m a good mother.”

“Best Mama in the world!” Mahiru turned slightly and saw her daughter behind her. She crawled onto her lap and patted Mahiru’s tear stained cheeks. “Pain, pain, go away. No more hurt Mama!”

“Oh, Machi.” Mahiru smiled softly down at her daughter. “Thank you for making the pain go away. I love you so much. I was just telling Grandma in heaven ‘Happy Mother’s Day!’ She said that she had been watching over you and that you’ve been a very good girl. Both of us are so proud of you.”

“Thank you, Grandma.” Machi innocently waved at the photo. She was too young to fully understand death and Mahiru dreaded when she would be old enough to. She couldn’t keep Machi a child forever so the only thing she could do was raise her well and prepare her for the world. Mahiru hugged Machi tightly and kissed her forehead.

“We should head to dinner, Machi. If there’s a special Mother’s Day dessert, I’ll split it with you.” She nodded eagerly and Mahiru stood up. If Machi thought she was a good mother, she was assured that she was doing a good job.

“I’m too full to walk. Why didn’t we take a taxi home again?” Kuro muttered to himself as they walked home from the restaurant. He and Mahiru each held onto Machi’s hand as she walked beside them. She insisted that they buy ice cream and walk home. Machi had already finished hers but she would occasionally steal bites of her parent’s ice cream cone.

“Swing me, please!” Machi pleaded as she tugged on their hands. Her parents were only too happy to indulge her. At the same time, Mahiru and Kuro lightly swung her a few inches off the ground. He forgot how tired he was when he saw the two laughing with each other. “Swing me higher, Mama. I wanna catch a cloud and eat it!”

“That’s dangerous, Machi.” Mahiru laughed and wondered if she had such an active imagination when she was a child. She knelt and offered her another bite of her ice cream. “How about you have some ice cream instead? Thinking simply, vanilla ice cream is much more delicious than clouds. Open up.”

“Mama’s Day ice cream. Mama say ah,” Machi pushed the cone back towards Mahiru. She went too far and smudged the ice cream onto her face. She looked worried for a moment until Mahiru began to laugh good naturedly. Mahiru ruffled her hair and then playfully smeared ice cream onto Machi’s cheek. “Sticky!”

“Hey, don’t use Papa’s jacket to wipe your face!” Kuro shook his head wearily when she didn’t listen and rubbed the tails of his jacket against her cheek. He took out his napkin and cleaned the ice cream from her face. Then he turned to Mahiru and cupped her face in one hand. “I thought I only had one troublemaking cat to worry about. Hold still.”

Kuro leaned closer and licked Mahiru’s cheek. Her face became bright red and flustered because of the teasing gesture. She covered her face and turned away from his grin. “Don’t do things like that in front of Machi! You’re a father and her role model, Kuro. What are you teaching her? What if she does something like that to someone?”

“Don’t be so serious, Mamahiru.” Kuro laughed. He picked up Machi and poked her nose. “Cats mark people they like with kisses. It’s a thing Papa does to Mama. You’re not allowed to lick people until you’re older and it has to be with the person you love.”

“Okay!” Machi nodded.

“That’s not any better, Kuro!” Mahiru yelled at the same time.

“The ogre turned into a tiny mouse. Now, he was no match for Puss in Boots.” Mahiru stopped reading the fairy tale when she heard Machi snoring softly. She smiled and set the book aside. She rearranged the blankets around Machi so she would be comfortable and warm. With a light kiss on her forehead, she whispered, “Sweet dreams.”

“I can’t believe you banned me from story time just for a little teasing.” Kuro poked his head into the room when he heard Mahiru finish. He walked into the room and stood next to her. He could see that she was tired and Kuro carefully lifted her off the bed without waking Machi. “Will you forgive me? Cats can’t go a night without cuddles.”

“Oh, please, Kuro.” Mahiru rolled her eyes. Her light laugh told him that she wasn’t angry with his teasing anymore. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned her head against his shoulder. “You’ll never change. I don’t mind though. I love you, cat jokes and all. Thank you for everything you did today. It made me very happy.”

“I didn’t do much. I just thought you would like a simple dinner for Mother’s Day.” She felt him shrug and began to walk back to their room. She leaned away slightly so she could look into his eyes and kissed the corner of his lips. They both knew how difficult it was for her to grow up without her mother. She loved her mother and she hoped that she could be as nurturing as her.

“You’re wonderful, Mahiru.” She realized that she had said the words out loud. “I’m sure, fifty years from now, she’ll be telling everyone how proud she is to have you as a mom. I couldn’t ask for a better partner either. We wouldn’t be a family without you.”

“Thank you,” Mahiru’s eyes drifted close as she fell asleep in his arms.

I was only going to have the first part but I really wanted to have more fluff so I added the last two scenes.

[coeurdastronaute]

Either/Or: Single II

More SINGL?

Previously on Single

The apartment was decked in all of the holiday spirit. Lights on every surface, sloppy snowflakes cut and taped on the windows, stockings hung with care and construction paper and cotton ball snowmen on the walls. The tree itself was modest in girth, but laden with ornaments, all kinds of handmade, hot glue gunned and glitter bespeckled entities.

The early evening sun set outside, allowing the balcony to glitter in the dark, the multi-color lights coming inside, strung all around, covering the walls. The modest apartment was all greens and reds and golds and blues and filled with possibilities for merriment that the season lent all moments to having.

Even though it was still three days before Christmas, there were already gifts, much to the joy of the four year old.

“Hey! I can hear you touching those presents!” Kara called from her bedroom.

“I was just looking!”

“Looking is done with the eyes.”

With a growl, the little girl crawled away from the tree, once again taking a seat on the couch and staring intently at the gifts that taunted her. Some movie played on the television, though it was not as interesting as what was hidden in those lead lined boxes.

In the background, she listened as her mother finished getting dressed, and she tugged at the collar of the sweater that itched her neck.

“Lena, if you get this, please call me. I think we should talk. Or at least I hope you still want to,” Kara sighed as she walked back through the living room in search of something in the laundry room behind the kitchen. “I miss you. And I’m sorry. I never meant to… I just. I know you need to process and think-- dang.”

“That’s a bad word.”

“I’m sorry,” Kara mumbled, staring at her phone. She gave herself a deep breath before nodding and deciding that was all she could do. “Are you ready for Uncle J’onn’s Christmas party?”

“Maggie said she was going to make those cookies, with the icing but I could put sprinkles on.”

“Oh wow. I didn’t know that,” Kara smiled wide. “And tonight, what movie would you like to watch?”

“The one with the train.”

Little feet hopped up from the couch and followed her mother as she tried to finish getting ready, which was a feat with an inquisitive little one and presents in the same room.

“What about the Grinch?”

“Oh yeah! I want that one too.”

“Too? We should watch more than one?” Kara held her jaw open in mock surprise. “I don’t know… we might have to make popcorn, and then eat some of those extra Christmas cookies. Maybe stay up past bedtime to watch two movies.”

“Can we please, Mommy?” she asked, crawling up on the bed.

Katie liked watching Kara get ready. She liked sitting on her big bed and imagining she’d be big and strong like her. That was a nice thought.

“We’ll see,” she decided. “Let’s get shoes on. Up up, little one.”

In a move, the little girl braced herself before sprinting out of the room in a blink. Kara just smiled to herself and followed at a human pace.

“Hey, hey, not on the couch,” she chided, pulling on her own shoes and grabbing their coats as the door rang out with a knock. “Coat and mittens and hat or else we aren’t going anywhere.”

She wasn’t expecting anyone, and she certainly wasn’t expecting a man in a suit with bags in his hands.

“Hi,” Kara smiled while a little girl ran around behind her, trying to pull on her mittens before her shoes.

“Ms. Danvers?”

“Yes?”

“Ms. Luthor asked me to drop these off for you. She left to spend the holiday vacation abroad, but wanted you to have them.”

“Did she… is she… I mean. She’s okay?” Kara furrowed.

“She’s skiing with friends in the Alps,” he promised. “Happy Holidays.”

A second later, bags were thrust into her hand and Kar took them carefully. Maybe that was why Lena hadn’t answered calls and been too busy for lunch. That would make sense. For a moment, it was a relief.

“Who’s are these for? Me?”

“Hm? Oh. I don’t know. I think…. Do you remember Lena from the bookstore?” Katie nodded. “She must have sent us presents.”

“That’s nice. We can open them now if you want.”

Still in a bit of a whirlwind, Kara closed the door and looked at the items. She suddenly understood how her daughter could be so eager to open things when she didn’t know what was in them.

Kara as a goner for that look her daughter gave her. That, and her own eagerness to know what Lena could have possibly sent her for the holiday. A little box was wrapped on her dresser for the Luthor, though she wasn’t sure she’d have a chance to give it to her.

“Just this one, and we will write Lena a thank you note, right?”

“Right,” she agreed, eagerly tugging off her mittens.

They were going to be late, but neither Danvers cared at all as they settled on the couch. Gently, Kara handed her daughter the bag with her name on it in the precise, tiny letters she recognized as Lena’s.

“I don’t know Lena and she got me presents.”

“She’s nice.”

Katie thought of the words before pulling things from her Christmas bag. Kara had to move quick to snap a picture of the face that came when a tiny stuffed whale emerged. Excitedly, the little girl rubbed the soft against her cheek before digging into the bag again. A stack of children’s books emerged, all with a distinct theme.

“How did she know I love this?” Katie breathed all joy and eagerness. “Can we read right now?”

“We have to go to the party.”

“Tonight?”

“Of course.”

Kara wanted to stop herself, but she couldn’t. Slowly, she pulled the beautiful notebook from her gift bag, followed by the set of pastels and another of pencils. She smiled to herself at the gift before stilling her heart.

“Now you can color more with me!” Katie observed, crawling across the couch to see what her mother got. “Those are nice things.”

“They are,” Kara agreed. “Should we send Lena a picture of how much we like our things?”

“Yes! Here,” her daughter wiggle to the floor and tried to hold all of her books. “Show her how much I love all of my new stories please!”

Beaming, both smiled so big theirs eyes were closed, and Kara snapped a picture before sending it to Lena.

Christmas came early. Thank you so much. We both are very excited and grateful. Can’t wait to give you yours when you get back.

The entirety of the Christmas party, Kara thought about the gifts, and she thought about Lena, wondering if she hadn’t just ruined something good. And she tried not to, but she couldn’t help it, and so she kept checking her phone for a response from the other side of the world. And she would catch herself looking at the picture she sent, and how her little girl was over the moon to have books about whales.

Because of the strict movie schedule they had for the month, they didn’t stay late at the party. It was all adults anyway, and Katie could only stomach so much of being the cute little girl everyone doted on.

Snug in warm jammies, snuggled in her spaceship themed comforter, beneath the fake constellations on the ceiling, Kara laid beside her sleeping daughter on her single bed and inhaled the smell that was just her, all little and quiet and Katie. She listened to the quiet of her breathing and flipped through a few of the books they didn’t make it to, and she watched her daughter tug the little whale a little tighter as she dreamt. She couldn’t imagine being happier than a moment like that, and yet her mind was asking if it were possible.

Quietly, she turned off the light after gathering the books and leaving them on top of the bookshelf.

Once more, Kara checked her phone.

I don’t know if anything cuter has ever existed than the two of you receiving Christmas gifts, Lena messaged sometime between bath and storytime.

Isn’t it like 4 in the morning where you are?

I’m not a great sleeper.

Kara considered her options for a moment. She looked at the blank drawing book on the coffee table with the expensive tools and colors atop it. Her phone hovered over a name for a minute before she gave up and called.

Each ring made her heart stop over again.

“Hey,” Lena whispered.

“Hi,” Kara grinned.

The best time of the day was when the hurricane that was her daughter was somewhat tired. But to get her to that state took an alarming amount of work. Half-Kryptonian, Half-Daxamite and fully charged, she was just a lot. This meant there were days spent running around the park, and days where Kara would take her flying, just to burn off some of the energy that the after lunch nap seemed to recharge. Kara got good at being creative, hoping to exhaust her daughter physically and mentally in new ways as often as possible. Leaving her to her own devices was dangerous. It led to broken furniture and ceilings covered in crayons.

Nearly five years old, and she was too smart. Kara wondered if she was like that as a kid. Twelve thousand questions per day, some nonsensical and impossible to answer, others that just spiraled into deeper, more complex issues. Katie was her favorite thing on the planet. In the universe.

“Blow on it, but blow gently,” Kara warned as she placed hot chocolate on the counter and her daughter knelt on the stool. Gently was a word they were still learning.

“What are marshmallows made of?”

“You know, I’m not sure.”

“Is there a tree? Do they get picked?” she asked, watching the little candies swirling around as she blew on the cocoa. “Grandma has a orange tree where oranges grow and I can pick them. She let me fly up there to get them.”

“I’m almost certain they don’t grow on trees,” Kara smiled and blew on her own.

“Ask your phone where marshmallows come from please?”

With a tug in her pocket, Kara pulled out her phone and they commenced another round of research. Her daughter was attempting to use Google so much that her search history would surely be the amalgamation of the weirdest queries of all time, with such golden moments as “Do dolphins dream?” and “Who invented alarm clocks?” in good company with “Where do marshmallows come from?”

A few videos and a rabbit hole of links later, and Katie hurried into her room to grab her messy notebook she kept adding to with new information.

“So it does grow on trees,” she asked, pushing it toward Kara, so she could write in the facts.

“It was once made using the roots of a plant,” her mom corrected. “Now, it’s just a lot of sugar and junk mixed very fast.”

“Can you write that marshmallows come from roots sometimes?” she asked, sipping her hot cocoa. “And maybe draw one so I can color it.”

“Sure,” Kara grinned, carefully adding the note on the next open page.

Feet kicking in the air from the stool, Katie watched her mom work and draw and write. She furrowed, as she was prone to do, deep in thought about the newest addition to their encyclopedia.

“I still wish they grew on trees,” she decided.

Kara agreed and drank some of her own once she finished jotting. For good measure, she added a mug of cocoa in the drawing.

“Is it Aunt Alex? Can we go sledding now?”

The notification that buzzed the phone wasn’t her sister, but still, Kara opened it eagerly, smiling at the text from Lena.

“Sorry, it’s just a friend of mine. I’ll call though and hopefully we can go soon.”

“Which friend?”

“Lena.”

“Whale lady,” Katie nodded appreciatively, sipping from her mug quite studiously, earning a chuckle from her mother.

Before she replied, Kara stared at her phone and then again at her daughter. The faintest spot of dimple could be seen, even when she wasn’t smiling. Her eyes were bluer than her own, her hair a lighter blonde. A chocolate mustache completed the look of a wintery Sunday. Sometimes, Kara had trouble even believing she existed.

“Hey, can I ask you a question, Katie?”

“But of course,” she nodded, repeating her Uncle J’onn’s favorite line and accent.

“Do you know how your friends in daycare sometimes have mommies and daddies?”

“Yeah, like Becca. Sometimes they both pick her up.”

“Right, exactly,” Kara nodded. “And you know how Mommy and Daddy don’t live together? And that’s okay, too?”

“Yeah, because Daddy is on another planet,” she nodded, matter-of-a-factly.

“Well, yes. But even if he lived here, we wouldn’t live together. Because we aren’t married, and we aren’t together like Becca’s parents are.”

“Because families are all weird. Like ohana. You can be ohana and be a picked family.”

“Yes. Exactly. Becca lives with her mom and dad, and you live with just your mom. Both are normal and good, right?”

“Sometimes I wish Daddy was on this planet,” Katie confessed between sips.

“Sometimes I do too,” Kara agreed with a sad smile. “But I wanted to know if you would mind if Mommy spent time with someone.”

“How much time?”

“I’m not sure.”

“When?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Why?”

“Okay, um,” she ran her hand along her neck awkwardly and tilted her head slightly, searching for an answer. “So before mommies and daddies have babies, they date. Like, do you remember before Alex married Maggie?”

“No.”

“Right, you were two,” Kara sighed and took another drink of hot chocolate. “This would be easier if you remembered.”

“What is dating?” she asked, cocking her head slightly as she licked her lips of cocoa foam.

“It’s when adults get to know each other and see if they want to get married and have babies. Sometimes you get married when you date, and sometimes you don’t.” Kara winced and wondered how so many words could describe such a simple notion. “Like when you go on playdates. It’s just hanging out with someone else. But when you’re a grown up, it’s a little different.”

“Like you and Daddy.”

“Right! We never got married, we just dated,” Kara nodded, leaning forward. “Our family has always just been me and you, and I love that. But I was wondering if you might not like Mommy bringing someone else around.”

“So it won’t be you and me anymore?” she worried, eyes growing wide at the idea of it.

“No, no no. It is always going to be me and you, love. Always and forever. Just maybe we can have another person who hangs out with us sometimes? Like when Lilo adopted Stitch, and then Stitch joined and they had a new ohana. Remember that?”

“Like when Dylan comes over to play?”

“Um, kind of,” Kara nodded, regretting this conversation immensely. “Mommy met someone she likes a lot. Likes like how Aladdin like Jasmine.”

“To do the kissy stuff with?” Katie squinted up her face at the notion.

“Yes.”

“I don’t have to see the kissy stuff do I?”

“No, honey. You don’t. I just wanted to see if it would bother you, to see me kiss someone who wasn’t Daddy.”

“You kissed Daddy?” she yucked.

“Oh man, this is getting out of control.”

Both resigned themselves to their drinks. Both wanted to forget this conversation. Kara wasn’t sure if she’d accomplished anything at all, or if it was all in her head that it would be a problem. Katie was stuck on the kissing part.

“If you want to kiss kiss someone, I think you should,” Katie decided after finishing the last bit of hot chocolate. “Maggie was sad once when she comes home, and Aunt Alex gave her a kiss and then she smiled. If kisses make someone happy, they should get lots of kisses. We need a Stitch.”

“I agree,” Kara smiled warmly.

“Can you write a note about all of this. I should learn what dating is.”

“Um. Yeah, but we can discuss that in a lot more years away from now,” the mother decided, picking up the pen once again.

“Okay,” Katie decided, waiting for Kara to start writing on the page after Marshmallows. She watched her hesitate and contemplate many things. “Mommy, if you have someone to kiss, will you be happy like Maggie?”

Kara looked up at her daughter and relaxed a little at the innocent question that she’d been asking herself in some form or another for weeks.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “But I do know that Katie Kisses are my favorites.”

“That’s me.”

“I think it’s time,” Kara sang, her hands going up wide and tall.

“No! No!” she giggled and tried to crawl off of the stool. “Mama no!”

“Oh yes,” Kara roared and stomped around the kitchen with a big smile. “Monster kisses are coming!”

Squeals and giggles could be heard as she chased her daughter to the couch, pinning her there and tickling her ribs while slobbering on her cheeks and neck. Not one thing would matter more than a moment like that.

Something about coming home after a long time was delicious and sad at the same time. Just three weeks, and already the penthouse felt a little less familiar. There was this eerie feeling to stepping into a quiet place that hadn’t seen life in weeks. Everything was the same but felt as if it came from a dream.

Lena placed her purse on the table beside the door and thanked the doorman for helping her with her luggage as she took in a deep breath of her home.

It took a lot of working over in her head. The vacation was needed, and it turned into something better than expected. When Kara called her in the middle of the night, they talked for hours. And it happened again the second night. And it happened again, every night. It took a lot of working over in her head, but Lena could understand the lie, as much as it hurt. It was the getting over it part that was still difficult.

The Christmas decorations were all gone, and the house looked normal, all white and muted hues, all pristine and unlived in. Quietly, Lena stood there, almost afraid to move, suddenly very alone and awkward in her own house.

Despite the late hour, Lena dug for her laptop and decided work was the best distraction from being in the same city as her… as Kara. It was short lived, as she found a Christmas themed present sitting on her kitchen counter.

‘This was delivered to the office. I thought you might like it when you got home. -Jess.’

Lena smiled at the note and picked up the other piece of paper, a large drawing done in crayon with scribbles and not much else to it. At the bottom, in perfect pen and then traced by messy blue crayon, was the name Katie Danvers.

‘I couldn’t find a real bridge for sale, but we went to the museum and saw this and I thought of you. Merry Christmas, Lena, XoXo Kara.’

As quickly as she could remember opening a present in her life, Lena tore into the delicately wrapped box. Gently, she took out the snow globe with the Justice Bridge in it, gallantly connecting East and West Metropolis. Tall buildings were eclipsed by the exaggerated bridge, and Lena shook it a few times, creating a flurry swirling around it.

She looked at the scribbled picture and she looked at the snow globe and shook her head. It wasn’t possible. She couldn’t do… that. She couldn’t… Kids wouldn’t like her. And to be with Kara meant having a kid attached and that was a lot. How could Lena, the childhoodless child who still needed someone to remind her to eat possibly be involved with someone with a kid? Her earliest memories were hiding under the bed from a stepmother and trying to run away. She wasn’t an example that anyone should want around.

To have Kara meant she had to have Katie. And it wasn’t that the little girl wasn’t cute and surely sweet like her mother, but just that Lena, was, in her own opinion, by far the absolute worst person to be around.

The door knocked with the inevitable arrival of the rest of her luggage. She left her laptop on the counter and took the snow globe with her, toying with it and smiling fondly at the reporter she met on accident.

“Thanks, James,” she smiled as she opened the door, still swirling her toy in her hands.  

“You were expecting someone else?”

“Kara,” she breathed, looking up instantly.

“Welcome home.”

The luggage arrived as the elevator dinged. Both stepped aside as it rolled into her living room behind them. The entire time, Lena stared at Kara as if she were an alien, as if she couldn’t believe she was real.

There were still snowflakes melting in the gentle waves of her hair. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose had a pinkness to them because of the January tint in the chilly night. Breathlessly, she just stared back at Lena with a lot of words to say and no way to make them come out of her mouth.

“Thank you, James,” Lena nodded as he politely excused himself. “Would you like to come in?”

“You got your present,” Kara nudged her chin as she unwound her scarf. “Thank you for what you sent us. Katie has had me reading Amos and Boris every night. And I’ve… I really enjoy having an excuse to draw again.”

“What did you think of the museum?”

“What?”

The door closed and Kara unzipped her coat. Lena looked back at the snow globe and smiled, cradling it to her stomach.

“The History Museum. I sponsored the Women in History section. Well, LCorp did.”

“We loved it, actually.”

They were left there, not looking and looking at each other. For the eternity, Kara couldn’t remember why she thought coming over was a good idea. But Lena looked very good, and she smelled good, and she’d missed her greatly.

“Kara, I think we--”

“We should talk,” they both rushed.

“You first,” Lena offered.

“I know we’ve talked a lot, but we haven’t talked about… something. I didn’t mean to lie to you. We met, and just… I wouldn’t let myself consider how I’d feel about you.” She wrung her fingers as she explained, hoping to keep them locked up from waving around as she tried to find the right words. “But I have a daughter, and I thought I was happy. I never thought to be unhappy… But I realized I could be happier, if you were around.”

“We’re friends, Kara.”

“I know, but we’re not, you know? You were right. It’s not just you. There’s always… just… this layer to us,” she shook her head and knit her hand in her hair. “I met you and now I can’t stop thinking that there could always be more happiness.”

“I… Do you… Kara, I don’t know anything about kids. I’m not exactly an expert in normal.”

“Neither are we,” Kara chuckled. “I’ve been so nervous to see you, because this is scary. But I think it takes just a little bit of courage and then you move on from there.”

“I like you,” Lena confessed, looking at the bridge and the snow flurrying around in her hands, afraid to meet her eyes when she admitted it. To say it out loud was a violent kind of rebellion.

She swallowed as Kara’s hands held her own, as they moved to her neck and jaw, making her eyes close at the feeling and closeness. When she finally opened them, she sighed at Kara’s smile.

“You walked up to me at a party, and nothing else really matters,” she promised.

“I don’t know. A lot of things matter.”

“Is it the kid thing?” Kara fret. Her hands were still on Lena. She was still close. “Or is it something else.”

“We do have differing opinions of pizza toppings, and honestly that’s what’s holding me up.”

Lena earned a smile. She did everything she could to get Kara to smile and laugh when they talked late into the night. She wasn’t successful as much as she would have liked, but having it in person was a lot.

“I didn’t want to try because I thought something might change,” she whispered. “But I talked to her, and I don’t think she understands, but I think she knows that having the whale lady around makes her mom happy.”

“The… the whale lady?”

“That’s nowhere close to the weirdest thing out of her mouth.”

“Kara, are you going to kiss me anytime soon?” Lena shook her head, disregarding the many questions she had regarding the entire kid thing. Her thoughts were solely on the girl who bought her a bridge.

“I, um,” she swallowed and searched Lena’s face. “I want to, but… if we’re being honest. There’s one more thing I might have to tell you.”

“If you’re married, I’m retiring and moving to Switzerland.”

“Um, no,” Kara laughed awkwardly. “Never married. But my daughter’s father is an alien.”

“Oh.”

“And so am I.”

“Oh.”