scenario no. 2 and fluff dialogue number 14 with baby Ace though if possible
Okay so I don't write for abuse, however this does vaguely allude to some abuse. Also! I don't have kids, I don't do well with kids, I know nothing about kids! Therefore, I hope my portrayal of little Ace and Reader are about right.... I tried if nothing else!
Warnings: allusions to abuse, GN!Reader, Ace and reader are about 2-3 years old, modern-ish AU
Word Count: 1230
Hurrying down into the basement, you tried your best to be quiet. It was a game your foster mother played frequently after getting off the phone with your foster father. She’d tell you that it was time to hide and not come out until she got you, no matter what. So you’d pick the best hiding spot you could and stay there. Trying to stay quiet like she said until she found you. Sometimes it only took a few minutes, other times it took a couple of hours, but she’d always come and find you and give you the biggest smile, telling you how great of a job you did and how you won the game! She’d then give you a cookie or a single piece of candy before making dinner for you and your foster father. This time you had a really good hiding spot. You’d been scouring the house for good places to hide, places your mother hadn’t already found you in when you’d stumbled across the old toy chest. It was mostly empty save for a couple of stuffed animals, but more importantly, it was big enough for you to fit into. Struggling into the toy chest, you smiled to yourself, shutting the top and trying not to giggle. It would take your mother so long to find you this time! Despite the cramped space, the stuffed toys were surprisingly comforting, laying your head on them and whispering to them to pass the time, slowly dozing off. When you awoke you knew something was off, you weren’t in your bed, your mother hadn’t found you, and the house was relatively quiet. Pushing the lid open you looked around, your small face scrunching up in confusion as you looked at the basement. Furniture that had been pushed up against the walls were replaced by boxes, wooden boards that were supposed to be for a small repair project were missing and the layer of dust was already making your nose itch. Struggling to get out of the chest, you stumbled before tumbling and landing on your butt, kicking up more dust. You let out a loud sneeze before whimpering. Something felt wrong, you didn’t know where your foster mother was, and now the dust was getting in your face.
“Who’s down there!” an unfamiliar voice shouted from the top of the stairs, drawing your attention. Getting up, you walked to the bottom of the stairs, noticing a small black haired boy.
“M-my name’s Y/n, who're you? What’r you doing in my house?” you whimpered, looking up at him. From what you could tell, he looked about your height, not even able to reach the door knob without a step stool as he glared down at you.
“You stupid? This is my house, not yers! I shoul’ be askin what yer doing!” he shouted, making you shrink back as you stared at him.
“No is not! My fos’er mommy said that she and my fos’er daddy bough’ it all on their own! You’re the stupid one!” you shouted back, your fear of him morphing into anger.
“Wanna bet? Come up ‘ere and I’ll show you!” he said, crossing his arms. Carefully climbing the stairs, you joined the boy at the top, looking around. It looked like your house for the most part. Same living room walls, same ugly carpet, same dirty ceiling fan. Except the furniture was all wrong. Gone was your couch, your TV, your coffee table. Your father’s ugly recliner was missing, as was your mother’s favorite standing lamp. Hurrying into the kitchen, you looked around in a panic. It was just like the living room, same walls, same floors, same cabinets, but different furniture.
“See? Told you wasn’t yer house! Now answer my question! What’r you doin here?” he demanded. Staring at the kitchen, you fell back onto your butt, tears running down your cheeks as you started crying, surprising the boy.
“H-hey! Why’r you crying? Stop crying!” he demanded as you sobbed. The boy stood there for a few seconds before wrapping his arms around you, patting your back as best he could, “stop crying li’l brat! I need sleep.” Ace whispered, confusing you as your sobs momentarily ceased.
“W-what?” you asked, about to start crying again, struggling out of his arms.
“It’s what Dadan a’ways says when I cry to make me to stop… n-not that I cry.” he said, looking away from you. You stared at him for a moment before wiping your tears away, though still sniffling.
“Who’s Dadan?” you asked, wiping your nose on your sleeve, looking up at him.
“She’s th pers’n that takes care o’ me.” he said simply.
“Do… you not have a mommy or daddy neither?” you asked, tilting your head.
“Non a’ yer beeswax!” he shouted, fully turning away from you now. You looked down at the floor, drawing squiggles on the linoleum.
“I don’t got ‘em neither. My fos’er mommy says they wan’ed ta give me a be’er home, but my fos’er daddy says they didn’ wan’ me.” you said, trying to wipe your nose again.
“I… my mommy an’ daddy died.” he said softly, looking back at you again. You nodded, seemingly in understanding before getting up to your feet.
“I… I don’ know what ta do now. My fos’er mommy took care a’ me but I don’ know where she is.” you said, fidgeting nervously. The boy looked at you before taking your hand in his.
“Come, I take you some’ere special.” the boy offered, gently tugging on your arm, only to have you tug back and shake your head.
“My mommy says not ta go anywher’ with str’ngers.” you said, looking away from him.
“My name’s Ace. There! Now we’r not strangers.” he said before tugging at you again. You followed him this time as he pulled you outside, leading you to a small shed, pulling a rope to open the door before leading you inside.
“This is wh’re Dadan tell me ta go wh’n she doesn’ want me ‘round. You can stay here now.” he said as you looked around. It was a little rickety, the only place to sit or lie down was a pile of blankets in the corner, and a few children’s books and wooden ‘toys’ sat in another corner, but with no idea as to what else to do, you agreed.
It didn’t take Dadan long to find out about you, finding Ace’s ‘smuggling’ of food out to the shed more than a little suspicious, her eyes damn near popping out of her head when she found you. After a thorough and in depth search with the help of a man named Garp, it was decided that, with no place to go, you’d stay with Dadan like Ace. Though to be honest, you were just happy that sharing a bedroom with Ace was nicer than staying in the drafty, somewhat terrifying, shed that Ace had shown you. It was different from your life before, but you liked it more, soon forgetting about your foster parents and easily falling into a surprisingly comfortable and happy life with Ace. While you didn’t remember much about your foster parents, you did remember how you’d gotten here, never more thankful that you’d crawled into the toy chest, though you were never going to do so again, just in case.
