#( plays favorites with this imaginary son she’s made up in her mind )

[blossomhcir]

// Esther really is just a boy mom without a son

[brat-tamer69]

Dog House

♡ Summary: Your son Eren wants a dog. Your husband Levi is a bit of a hardass. You have to meet them somewhere in between.

♡ Notable Tags: AU, Married, Parenting, Levi x Fem!Reader

♡ Send requests here!

The late day sunshine of spring provided an excellent spotlight for the imaginary stage created by the window. Its opening into the front yard of the house was picturesque; lively green oak trees surrounded the view as their son, Eren, romped around in the healthy grass, giggling at what Y/N could only presume were the images created by his juvenile imagination. A hint of a smile touched her lips as her eyes fell back down to the sink and as she turned the plates over underneath the stream of water. It wouldn’t be long before her husband would be home from work, and the breakfast dishes would be replaced by ones for supper. With that in mind, Y/N began brainstorming what she would make for the next meal, knowing that the often ravenous child playing outside would be responsible for consuming most of it.

“Eren,” she called, coming from around the doorframe to greet her child outside. She knew better than to step fully into the grassy yard though, fully aware of how much the damp footprints perturbed her husband Levi. “What would you like for dinner?”

Eren promptly sat up, his jade eyes wide and glistening at the sole mention of food. “I want– Hmm…” The toddler cut himself off and placed his thumb and forefinger on either side of his chin to emphasize the difficulty in his decision. “Oh, boy! I want cheesy potatoes! And ham! And- And steamed buns! And—”

“Slow down,” she giggled. “I think you’re answering with your empty stomach and not your head. I didn’t hear anything about a single green vegetable in there.”

“Okay,” he relented in a sulk. “We can have leeks...”

“It doesn’t have to be leeks.”

“Alright!” Eren brightened up again. “Then broccoli!”

“You got it.” She smiled at the toddler then wiped her hands on her apron half. But just as she turned to go back inside, she heard his usually chipper voice only murmur to her.

“Momma, can I also have a dog?”

With her back towards Eren and her hand gripping the splintered wood of the door frame, Y/N took advantage of the unique position to hide the anguish on her face. A dog. An adorable companion for Eren to play with during the day. A four-legged sibling. And to his father Levi, a walking manifestation of sentient filth. Probably grounds for divorce, too. Unfortunately, she couldn’t hide the disappointment in her appearance as she released a tired sigh from the depths of her body then turned to face her son.

“You want a dog? Did you talk to Dad about it yet?”

Seemingly already aware of the answer to his initial question, Eren’s shoulders fell in dejection and he shook his head. “I don’t wanna ask dad,” he muttered over his protruding lip.

YN’s heart lurched in her chest as she took in the sight of Eren’s dimmed eyes glossing over, his little arms folded as far across his chest as he could manage. It was certainly an effective pout. She knew for a fact that Levi wouldn’t agree to bring a dog into their lives, but she would be damned if she had to be the one to tell her cute baby boy as much.

“Hey,” she said softly, reminding herself to go over the floors later with a rag as she stepped across the yard to chuck him underneath the chin. “Your father lives here, too, you know. And as much as he loves you and wants you to have fun, having a dog here would be a big deal for him.”

“No, it wouldn’t!” Eren cried. “I’d make his food and brush him, and everything!”

Y/N wanted to interject with information about how the dog would be fed, but instead, she filled her cheeks with air to stifle her laughter, watching her son’s impassioned speech and gesticulations. “Still, Eren,” she finally spoke when she composed herself, “that’s a lot of responsibility. You’re gonna have to show Dad you’re responsible enough.”

“Respond-able?” he half-echoed with wide eyes. “How can I do that?”

“Well,” you tsked, “You can start by cleaning up your toys and making your bed.”

Y/N nearly bit her tongue in clashing with her son’s head as he shot up from the grass. But she was more bewildered by the newly determined gleam in his eyes and the way he had one of his tiny fists curled into a tight ball. “I’ll show him, momma!” he proclaimed. “I’ll show him that I can be responding-ble!”

“Responsible!” She had called after him but he was already racing inside the house and toward his bedroom, leaving dewy patterns of his precious little feet along the way.

• • •

Normally, the way Levi’s glower would soften to a more peaceful look upon the sight of her would make Y/N’s heart flutter. But instead, her stomach was performing leaps in anticipation of Eren’s question. It seemed to distract her from her other favorite part about greeting her husband after work. Levi seemed to not have missed her cues of nervousness either as he kissed her chastely on the lips, his hand gripping tighter on the small of her back and his eyes immediately scrutinizing her.

“What?” he both accused and questioned.

“What?”

“I mean, what the hell was that?” Levi’s voice was orotund, as always—deep and luxurious to supplement his charm but intimidating enough to dispel any temptation of dishonesty.

Y/N couldn’t help but to squirm in his hold and avert her eyes to the room down the hall where, no doubt, Eren was rehearsing his speech.

“It’s nothing,” she sighed. “Just- Eren has something he wants to tell you.”

For a moment, Levi’s piercing stare studied hers in a silent shakedown, and the combination of proximity and intimacy of it made her want to march into Eren’s room and reject the idea herself. But still, through Levi’s glare, she could see his curiosity was piqued, and that was much better than the immediate disdain and shutdown she had been expecting.

“Come with me,” Levi demanded, not giving her time to refuse as he strode in the direction of Eren’s bedroom. Y/N could hear Eren mumbling to himself and his little feet padding across the floor as he paced back in forth. However, his pacing stopped just as abruptly as both his parents appeared in the doorway.

It was more than apparent that Eren was unnerved; his eyes shone like emeralds the size of saucers as he gawked at his father. “D-Dad! You’re home!”

“Yes, I got home a minute ago. What is it you wanted to tell me?” Levi asked, gaping at the for-once, decently clean bedroom nearly as much as his son was staring at him.

Y/N’s eyes did a sweep of the room right along with Levi’s. To both of their surprise, the floor was visible. The toy soldiers that would usually litter the floor were hidden away in the chest that Levi told Eren was the soldier’s “base” many times. The duvet on his bed, albeit full of wrinkles, had a neat four-inch fold at the top. Even his shoes were lined up neatly in his closet.

Eren hesitated, clutching a fist to his chest as if to wind him up. “I want a dog!” He practically shouted the admission, his voice trembling and his eyes glittering with tears. “Momma said that I have to prove I’m respond-able and that you live here, too! But I live here and sometimes, I really want a dog so I can take care of it! And if I can clean my room then I can take care of a dog!”

Silence followed Eren’s speech immediately after, and Y/N’s only clue to Levi’s anxiously awaited reply was a quiet “hmph” and how he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Is that so?” he challenged the child in a voice slicked by sarcasm. “And who is going to shovel all the poop in the yard?”

“I- I will?”

Levi frowned. “Wrong.” At this, Eren jumped with a start, preparing himself for the stern lecture that he knew was to follow. “It’ll have to be me. You’re six years old, Eren. This is the first time you’ve picked up your own toys in months and our shovel is taller than you. A dog is an animal—an animal that’s going to track dirt in the house that you also won’t clean. It has no place here.”

The delivery of the words bit into Y/N as much as they did Eren, and she found herself redirecting her attention from her boy’s quivering lower lip to Levi’s shrewd expression. To hint to him that she wouldn’t be supportive of a further verbal lashing, she took hold of his forearm and pressed her fingertips into it as hard as she could manage. It took no time for Levi to recognize the wordless warning. But the warning came too late. Before either of them could react, Eren’s eyelashes were decorated with droplets as tears fell down his cheeks in streams.

Y/N caught a glimpse of Levi’s remorse while he stood frozen in trepidation at the doorway before she brushed past him and into the middle of the room to gather Eren into her arms. He was red in the face, completely deprived of air from the force of his crying. “Oh, honey…” she whispered, stroking his soft brunette hair rhythmically in an effort to lessen the sobs he choked out. “You’re just too little is all. This doesn’t mean you can never have a dog.”

“But—” Levi stammered with a halting hand extended toward Y/N only for her to quickly shut him up.

“It doesn’t,” she said more pointedly. “It just means you have some growing up to do so we can all be sure that the dog will be safe and happy at home.”

Perhaps after a minute of silence from all parties, and a lot contemplation from Eren amid his sniffles, Y/N finally felt as though there was a resolution. For now. As much as she disliked having to correct Levi, she knew that she would have no peace if his brash manner of speaking to Eren didn’t go unchecked. And she made him aware of it too, making sure to contradict the soft kiss she gave Eren’s cheek with the ice cold eye contact she gave her husband on her way to kitchen.

Dinner went as well as she could have hoped by the grace of a higher power. She thought it would be awkward with a moping toddler on one end and her nettled husband on the other. Fortunately, only Levi appeared to be the one moping with Eren having found just as much joy in cheesy potatoes as he previously did in the idea of having a dog. More concerned with her child’s mood, Y/N went on to clean up and help Eren to bed without paying any attention to Levi, somehow resistant to how sweet the scene of him tucking Eren into bed and kissing his forehead was all the way until it was time to address his behavior.

The comment came when Levi had already settled in bed, a small book balanced between his fingers and his brows furrowed in concentration as he undoubtedly tried to ignore his wife’s annoyance.

“Levi,” she began in a chiding tone. “Did you truly have to say all that to him?”

Levi promptly lowered his reading, his unamused eyes now trained on her. “I told him the truth, Y/N. He’s old enough to know it. He doesn’t need you coddling him and sugarcoating things anymore.”

Y/N’s arms folded across her chest in defense. “Coddling? Levi, he’s six. I don’t expect you to coddle him, but you’re his dad! It’s nice for him to know he can come to you for the harsher truths and vice versa without his feelings getting hurt.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed as they met hers. “Feelings are temporary. The truth isn’t. It surrounds us all day and every day whether we like it or not. It stung for a minute but he got over it. And so should you.”

For whatever reason, the passive aggressive request for Y/N to let the issue go was enough to push her over the edge. She could feel her blood heating as it ran through her and rushed to her face, providing just enough adrenaline for her to snatch the book from Levi’s hand before he could use it to shut her down again. Stunned by the brazen move, Levi’s mouth fell slightly open.

“Do you hear yourself?” she scolded him. “You sound like you’re talking to a damned thirty year old monk! This is a toddler we’re talking about—someone that just started losing his baby teeth. And not only that, this toddler is your son!” Y/N paused before continuing, knowing her next words would be treading sensitive territory. “I know the way you were raised! You didn’t get coddled and nice words, and hugs and kisses all the time. But we agreed when we had Eren that that was something you would change. You said you would work hard to give him the childhood that you didn’t have, and I didn’t see that happen tonight.”

Levi’s eyes fell to his lap, completing a face of guilt as he ruminated. For a soundless moment that felt more like hours, Y/N feared she had driven her point so far that it went to a place of no return. Though despite her worries, he soon spoke up, a more relaxed look about him.

“I did, didn’t I?” he mused through somewhat of a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And in that promise, I didn’t realize that Eren would be so smart. Didn’t even get to teach the damn boy how to tie his shoes before he beat me to it. I guess holding him to such a high standard just comes too naturally now.”

“He is really smart, isn’t he?” Y/N agreed, easing herself onto the bed and by Levi’s side. Conscious of not overwhelming him with too much physical affection, she settled for leaning her head against his shoulder, and Levi welcomed it by pressing a kiss to her temple. “He’s also a sweetheart, just like his dad. And he looks up to him so much that it hurts him sometimes.”

“I know,” Levi said with a frown in his voice. “I’m going to make sure it doesn’t anymore.”

“I will, too... And I’ll get him a dog.”

“Y/N,” he grumbled.

“What?” she questioned back innocently. “You said he’s really smart. He can figure a dog out!”

“The kid can’t even wash his ass on his own yet and you expect him to clean up after a dog?”

“No, that’s what you’re for.”

Levi scoffed, his eye roll from beside her nearly palpable. “We’ll get him a fish in the morning. Now go to sleep, brat.”

[night-fallz]

We’re Tired of Him

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Description: 

It was pretty easy to dislike Damian Wayne. He was an arrogant, stuck-up brat. So when the Titans get a chance to gain blackmail material on him, they took it, along with his brother's eagerly joining in.

They couldn't wait to see the look on Damian's face when he realizes that they know every little secret he has. Who knows. Maybe they can finally get the brat to shut up or if they're lucky, they might be able to force him to quit being Robin.

Or that one time Damian's teammates and brothers decide to spike his drink so they could use Damian's secrets against him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ao3 // Wattpad

previous II next 

We’re Tired of Him (Part 1)

Wally does not remember a single time where the Titans have completed a mission without him feeling annoyed or irritated at Robin.

It wasn’t a secret to anyone in the superhero community that speedsters weren’t patient people. They had too much energy pent up in their system to sit still for more than five seconds.

Which is why you shouldn’t expect much from them when you bring them to a discrete, cover-ops mission.

Everyone knew that.

At least, everyone except Damian fucking Wayne.

Wally never liked the new Robin and he didn’t try to hide that fact.

He’d make snide comments behind the kid’s back, purposely being loud so that Damian knew what he thought of him.

Hell, he’s even told Damian straight to his face that no one liked him. But the kid wasn’t affected; he only dismissed Wally with a roll of his eyes and a simple ‘tt’.

As if Wally was nothing but an ant standing in his way.

It annoys him that the kid doesn’t respond to his remarks, but he doesn’t regret making them.

In his head, Damian deserved it.

Who in their right mind decides to abduct someone to force them to join a reincarnation of an old superhero team.

At least come up with a new name!

Wally never wanted to join the brat’s team anyways and he might’ve changed his mind and stayed in the end, but it still doesn’t change the fact that he was forced to be in it.

Despite the fact that the kid might’ve apologized, Wally still hasn’t forgiven him. And frankly, he thinks that he never will.

Especially if he kept it up with the attitude.

The moment the rest of the team stepped into the main lobby, he couldn’t stop the complaints that rolled off of his tongue.

“He’s such a brat,” he couldn’t help but growl out, the disgust clear on his voice. “Like how can someone be such a dick!”

Wally felt some of his anger vanish as his words caused the room to be filled with laughter. It was always nice to know that he wasn’t the only one that had a strong distaste for their team leader.

Though, to be fair, a lot of people didn’t get along with Damian Wayne. He knows for a fact that a lot of them just put up with him because his dad’s Batman.

The more Wally thought about it, the more he wondered if the brat actually had friends.

While Damian was rather close with Djinn, along with Superman’s son, Jon. They were also some of the sweetest people that he’s ever had the chance of meeting. So maybe they just felt bad for the kid.

It made sense in his mind.

After all; who in their right mind would want to be friends with Damian?

Emiko’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, “What did the kid do now?”

He couldn’t contain the smirk that made its way onto his face, he loved it when they bonded over how much they disliked the new Robin.

And judging by how Emiko and Crush mirrored his expression, he knew that he wasn’t the only one that felt that way.

“He goes and gets mad at me for being incompetent or something. Like it���s not my fault I wasn’t raised by a crazy old hot assassin lady.”

Wally knew that he wasn’t being fair. That Damian couldn’t control how he was raised. And that there was a high chance that Damian could hear him- could hear them- tearing him apart.

But in the heat of the moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He wanted the brat to hear him. He wanted the kid to know that even if he was Batman’s son, a majority of them still didn’t like him.

That they only put up with him because they had to.

Not because they wanted to.

There’s a fucking difference between the two and Wally needs Damian to know that.

Crush jumped on the couch, imitating Damian’s pose as she mocked his words, “If you don’t halt your tongue you useless speedster, you will perish under my sword.”

She swung her imaginary sword into the air, pretending to slice Wally’s neck.

He played along, fanning his face as he forced his eyes to roll back before his back hit the soft cushions of the couch.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Djinn and Roundhouse trying to hold in their laughs.

He couldn’t say that he was surprised that they were so reluctant to make fun of their so-called leader, out of everyone in the Titans, they were the ones that tolerated the brat the most.

He saw Roundhouse’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, and he tried to hold in a groan as he heard the uneasy tone come out of his teammate’s mouth, no doubt feeling bad for laughing at the expense of ridiculing one of his favorite heroes.

“Why are you guys so mean to the small man?”

It was such an innocent question, but it made Wally’s blood fill up with such rage.

What they’re doing isn’t mean. It was well deserved. Plus, if Damian cared, he would’ve yelled at them already.

They’ve never been quiet when it came to mocking the youngest bat.

Emiko snorted, her dark hair framing her face, “Please, that wannabe is barely a man.”

He hid a smile, muttering a “That’s all he is, though. A wannabe.” as he stared at the floor.

A wannabe friend.

A wannabe leader.

A wannabe hero.

Sure Damian was trying, but that didn’t mean he was succeeding.

He would never be as charming as Nightwing.

He would never be as good of a fighter as Red Hood.

He would never be as smart as Red Robin.

He was just Damian.  

The kid with the big attitude that everyone around him had to put up with.

Emiko leaned her back onto the couch, arms on the back of her head. “You guys wanna know what Roy told me,”

Wally found himself nodding, along with the others as she continued. “He said that even his own brothers don’t like him. They just put up with him to make their dad happy. Actually, probably even his own father doesn’t want him.”

“You’re probably right.” Wally laughed, not registering just how hurtful his words could be. “I mean, didn’t his mom just force Batman to take him. The guy probably didn’t have a choice.”

It wasn’t like what he said was wrong.

He remembers Dick complaining to him about it. How an assassin came out of nowhere with Damian and just gave him to Batman, who gave Dick the task of training the spoiled brat who just wouldn’t listen.

Those were Dick’s words, not his.

“That must be tough,” he heard Crush huff, “Being tossed around like trash.”

Wally found himself nodding in agreement, “He probably deserved it.”

Djinn cut in before his mouth said something he would regret, “That’s just plain mean.”

The look she gave him actually made him feel bad so he found himself muttering a quiet, “sorry” before sitting next to Emiko on the couch, who looked like she was holding in her laughter.

Roundhouse spoke up, drawing everyone’s attention towards the blue-skinned kid. “If you guys don’t like Damian so much, why don’t you just leave.”

Emiko only shook her head in amusement, “I’m still friends with you guys,” she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “I’m not going to leave just because a kid is acting like- well, a kid.”

And even though Wally knew it was wrong. He couldn’t stop the dark thrill that curled up his stomach to know that even if Damian was the chosen leader for the team, he would never acquire the close bond that they all had with each other.

Crush rolled her eyes, “The kid’s a spoiled brat. And that’s it. No explanation needed.”

“I don’t get it. Why don’t you guys just try to get to know him more?” Djinn asked, “I know that he’s not as bad as you think he is.”

Wally held in the laugh threatening to come out of his throat- Damian Wayne? Not being as bad as he thinks he is.

If anything, Damian was probably worse.

Roundhouse bobbed his head in agreement, “Yeah, he’s usually pretty nice to me.”

Crush, Emiko, and Wally exchanged uncertain glances with each other.

Wally doesn’t believe it; Damian Wayne, being nice?

Are they even talking about the same Damian Wayne? The one trained by fucking assassins.

He knows for a fact that his brothers won’t believe it either. And out of everyone else in the superhero community, they’re probably the ones that know Damian best.

But then again, that was only because they had to spend the most time with him. Whether they liked it or not, Damian was a part of their family.

Wally found himself genuinely feeling bad for them.

Djinn tilted her head, “So will you do it? Actually, try to get to know him?”

Crush immediately shook her head, “Yeah. No.”

Djinn furrowed her eyebrows at the instant rejection, “But why not?”

“Damian is well- he’s just Damian.” Emiko intervened. “Even if we put in an effort, he might not put the same amount back.”

“Yeah,” Wally added on. “And unless he’s drunk and shit, we won’t get anything out of him.”

Crush raised an eyebrow at the two, “Why do you think we never invite him when we hang out?”

Roundhouse faltered, giving Djinn a hesitant look. “I just thought he didn’t want to join us.”

“That's probably true as well.” Wally pointed out. “If he did, he would tell us that he’d want to join, you know? He probably thinks that he’s too good for any of us.”

Djinn frowned in disagreement, but this time, she kept her mouth shut.

No one said anything for a while before he noticed Emiko turning to him, “About that comment you made, what if we did get the kid drunk?”

Roundhouse stared at the girl, eyes wide, “Is that even allowed? Or legal? Is that even legal? We’re superheroes. We can’t do illegal things.”

The archer shrugged, “I mean, yeah it can be legal. We just need a trusted adult’s consent. And lucky for us, two of his brothers are legal adults.” she met Wally’s eyes, “You know them better than any of us. Do you think they’ll allow it?”

Wally eagerly nodded, “They probably will. I’m ninety-nine percent sure that they don’t like him that much either.”

That was an understatement.

With all the complaining he’s heard from them, Wally had a feeling that they hate Damian even more than he did.

And he hated the kid a lot.

“Wouldn’t that be betraying his trust?” Djinn asked.

Crush leaned forward, her eyes full of mischief before it quickly disappeared as soon as she met the young girl’s eyes, “Let me tell you a secret, this is something Damian might call a training exercise.” she slowly explained to the two youngest heroes, “In a way, we’re technically gathering information on our target. And in this case, our target is Damian.”

Wally could tell that they were close to convincing them so he softly added on, “Plus, isn’t this technically just a faster way for us to get to know Damian? That’s what you wanted.”

The girl nodded, her lips pursed, and after a few minutes she spoke up, “Okay, let’s do it.” her eyes soon grew troubled. “But what if his brothers end up saying no?”

The speedster waved off the girl’s concerns. “Don’t worry,” he smiled, “This is an opportunity that they probably won’t be able to decline. Trust me.”

Wally’s was confident that they’ll agree to it.

Roundhouse had the biggest grin growing on his face, “We finally get to know more about Robin!” he excitedly said, “He’s always by himself. And he’s quiet. Really quiet”

His eagerness died down, sadly looking at the floor. “Does this mean he doesn’t like us?”

Crush snorted, “I don’t even know kid, I stopped trying to understand the brat a while ago.”

Wally and Emiko nodded in agreement.

The only times they willingly interacted with Damian was on the field. Because even though the kid sucked; he definitely knew what he was doing.

Emiko took her phone out, “I’m pretty sure that the bats have a game night in their little cave tonight.”

The team stared at her confused, “What does that even have to do with the discussion?”

Emiko rolled her eyes, “What I’m trying to say is that all of Damian’s eldest brothers are in their little Batcave.” she spoke slowly like she was talking to a bunch of babies. “Together. Playing a game. Probably without Damian.”

Roundhouse caught on, “So all we have to do is go to the cave and ask them if we can get Robin drunk.”

“How do you even know that?” Crush asked Emiko.

“Roy talks.” The archer shrugged, “A lot… especially if it’s about Jason.”

Crush jumped out of the couch in excitement, “That means we might be able to do this tonight!” She pointed at him, “Wally, go!”

“Right now?”

“Obviously, you dolt.”

“Why me?” he cried out, “You know how protective the bats are of their precious little cave.”

“Wally, go,” she repeated.

He didn’t budge. “Batman will kill me.”

“Batman doesn’t kill.”

“If someone just randomly enters his cave, he will.”

Crush looked like she wanted to punch him, “Wally, I fucking swear. Aren’t you and Nightwing like besties?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“Just text the dude in advance,” Roundhouse suggested. “That way no one gets killed, and we get to learn more about Robin.”

Wally sighed, leaping to his feet as he spoke, his tone filled with faux-excitement. “Great, I can’t wait to go-“

His voice trailed off, noticing Damian walking in.

It looked like the brat was about to go use the zeta-tubes but he stopped, his head tilting as his gaze landed on the team, “Can’t wait for what?”

Wally looked around, his eyes desperate for an answer.

Luckily, Djinn answered for him, a bright smile on her face as she addressed Damian’s question. “We’re going to the movies! We wanted to do a bit of team bonding.”

That response made Wally want to laugh.

Don’t get him wrong, it was a believable excuse. It’s just-

He can’t even think of a single time that they invited their “leader” to a team hangout.

He wondered if Damian noticed the fact that they went out of their way to exclude him from everything except for missions.

And If he did, did he care?

His eyes watched as the kid nodded in acceptance. As if they even needed his permission to hang out.

Damian turned his back on them, calling out a “have fun” as he disappeared in a flash of bright light.

Well, that answered his question. Damian looked like he could care less. He didn’t even give them another glance.

He just immediately turned his back on them, walking away as if he owned the place.

It made Wally’s blood boil. Did the brat even notice that no one wanted him around?

He couldn’t wait and see just what secrets the brat hid underneath that perfect, little mask of his.

And Wally couldn’t wait to tear that mask apart.

————————————————————————

Note:

guess who finally started writing the one fic that almost everyone was waiting for.

me!!!

To be honest, I was kinda confused on how I was going to write the events of “I’m fine” from the other’s POV, then I realized that I could just write it using multiple chapters, so that’s what I did.

I know that a lot of people were waiting for this version, so hopefully you guys end up liking this installment, and if you have any comments, suggestions, and feedback, make sure to comment on them.

Also, I feel like I need to mention that, yes- I know that some of the characters are “out of character” in a way. Though, Damian does receive a whole lot of shit from them in the comics so at the same time they kind of aren’t ooc, if that makes sense.

I genuinely just wanted to write a Damian Wayne whump fic that I can go back too and cry about later. So if you don’t like it, then just don’t read it. No need to waste your energy writing hate comments that I’ll probably only laugh at later.

[elentiyawhitethorn]

Serial killer prompt - a serial killer point of view pretty please? whether it’s the last murders of that mean lady and her daughter or new victims from later, and you don’t even have to tell us who the killer is 🙏🥺

Love Is Near, but Danger Is Nearer | Chapter Seven

CW: murder (non-graphic)

Masterlist//Moodboard//Send a prompt//1045 words

Friday

Danny’s birthday had gone without a hitch. He had gone to school, and when I picked him up and we walked in the house, I’d led him to the living room where Lysandra was waiting with the first clue in our homemade scavenger hunt.

After games and brownies, Danny had run outside and played with Rowan for an hour while Lys and I chatted about Rowan—my Rowan, not Danny’s. Or rather, while she chatted and I grumbled at her to mind her own business.

And throughout the whole day, I had smiled and showed nothing but joy. But inside I was thinking about the woman and her daughter who had been killed the night before—victims seven and eight. While Danny and I slept in our beds, unaware.

I’d told Lysandra about it and she had done her best to reassure me, but I could tell she was worried as well. I no longer felt comfortable having Danny play outside by himself—or with his imaginary friend, anyway—so I decided to keep him inside unless I was with him. I had let him go out on his birthday, but that would be the last time. I felt like shit doing it, but for his own safety, I would have to find a way to tell him.

Now it was the next day, I was headed to the store to grab some dinner supplies. Christmas break was almost upon us and I shivered despite my multiple layers.

I grabbed some peppers—orange was Danny’s favorite—and some cucumbers. Then a couple of apples. I did my best to keep Danny eating healthy, hoping he would never become as addicted to sugar as I was.

When I turned to look for something to make tomorrow’s lunch with, I could not believe my eyes.

“Aelin, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Rowan. Are you stalking me or something?” I teased.

He grinned. “Of course. I only stalk the prettiest ladies, though.”

“Way to make a girl feel special.”

Both Rowan and I laughed.

“How was your son’s birthday? You mentioned it was yesterday.”

I gave a radiant smile. “It was great. We had a lot of fun.”

“Great, I’m glad.”

I steeled myself. Rowan had already asked me on a date, so I knew he wouldn’t say no. Still, I was slightly nervous when I asked, “Maybe we could go out for dinner sometime?”

Rowan smiled back at me. “I would love to. My schedule’s pretty flexible. When are you free?”

“Lys, that’s my friend, can babysit next Friday. She told me I needed a day off, and I might as well have fun with it.”

“I’m glad I’m your idea of fun.”

I blushed. “So in a week then?”

“In a week,” Rowan confirmed, smirking at my red-faced expression. “I can pick you up at six?”

“Alright,” I replied, not sure what else to say. I fiddled with the bag of produce in my hands.

“I should go, but it was nice seeing you, Aelin. I’m looking forward to next Friday already.” His voice was a sensual purr, not at all fit for a grocery store. How did he manage to be so damn suave?

Ignoring the innuendo, I did my best to exude confidence in my returning smile.

“Oh, and Aelin,” he added. “Be careful. I’ve been hearing a lot about the serial killer around here.”

I was touched by his concern. “Yeah, me too. It’s awful. I’m doing my best to keep Danny safe.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.” He winked and strutted away.

—

stop here if you don’t want to read the murders

Two Nights Ago (As Aelin & Danny Slept)

Serial Killer POV

The back door was locked. I pulled a tool out of my pocket and inserted it into the lock mechanism. A few practiced swipes and the lock clicked.

As silently as I could, I pulled the door outward, slipping inside quietly. I made sure to close the door quickly, not wanting to alert anyone with the cool breeze that floated in.

I had scanned the perimeter of the house for lights, finding only one from a central area, likely the mother awake while her daughter slept.

I was glad this family lived in a house; apartments could get tricky. Unsuspecting neighbors, levels to climb, security cameras. Then again, I did like a challenge.

Focusing my thoughts on the goal I had set for myself, I listened. Faint shuffling from the other room, perhaps the pages of a book turning. Now that I knew where my mission lay, I could take my time. Using the faint light emitted by the living room allowed me to view the kitchen I was in.

It was small but well-kept, only a row of countertop, cabinets, and appliances on either side of a narrow strip of floor. I examined the fridge. There weren’t the usual drawings held up by magnets. Either the girl was too young or uninterested in art, or the mother had a stick up her ass. Of course, I already knew that last bit to be true.

Tired of looking around the spotless kitchen, I headed into the living room.

The mother was sitting on the couch, and indeed, she was reading. Her back was to me.

“Claire, go back upstairs. It’s past your bedtime,” she demanded, not bothering to look up from the pages.

When I didn’t reply, she sighed and turned. But I was already upon her.

It was easy to slit her throat with the knife I’d extracted from my sleeve. So very easy. She didn’t even have a chance to scream.

I took a moment to look at her body. Even after so many purgings, it still felt surreal to see someone talking, moving, living… and then to see it all stop.

The media had their own ideas about my motives. I needed to kill to satisfy myself, I had a deep hatred of single parents, etc. But I didn’t care that they had it all wrong. I knew about the service I was doing to the world, about the good I risked my freedom to bring about. It didn’t matter that no one else realized it. I was a savior. That was enough.

I turned and located the stairs. Then I started up them.

———

Tag List:

@aelin-bitch-queen // @courtofjurdan // @infernoqueen19 // @lemonade-coolattas // @live-the-fangirl-life // @midsizewitch // @sheharahu // @sleeping-and-books // @slytheringalathynius // @story-scribbler // @thenerdandfandoms

[olivarryprompts]

Fanfic Friday #11

Welcome to Fanfic Friday! Each Friday I post a new here and on A03. Enjoy x

Read and save it on A03 here https://archiveofourown.org/works/33567529

{fancy suits from dad}

Ships: Peter Stark & Tony Stark, Pepper Pots/Tony Stark

Warnings: swearing, just fluff otherwise :)

Wc: 2,319

Here’s the thing, Peter Parker grew up in Stark Tower, which eventually became Avengers Tower of course. So whilst his whole class was buzzing about their field trip, all he could think was, “shit, shit shit.” His dad was going to embarrass the hell out of him. His Aunts and Uncles were going to endlessly tease him.

So, no Peter was not looking forward to the field trip. Not in the slightest. He still wanted to go, though. He knew that the rumors of his internship being fake were started by Flash, the annoying teen. He also knew that Flash had not once said his real name, preferring the name Penis Parker. It didn’t bother him as much as it used to. Also since highschool began, Flash had calmed down with his bullying. Well, maybe Flash hadn’t calmed down and high school was just bigger and he had thicker skin. And a new support system with plenty of people to go to.

Peter had been adopted by the Starks when he was a mere ten years old. At first, he was terrible at receiving any gifts or even too much attention. Slowly but surely, he got more and more used to it. Now, he wouldn’t not know what to do if any of that was taken away. Plus, he really did find a liking for expensive suits, however shallow. He looked good in them, and his father always insisted on buying him more and more. Tony would always find an excuse to spoil the kid a little more, however much Pepper tried to stop him.

“Peter, please see me after class regarding an urgent matter.”

Brough out of his thoughts, Peter swiftly nodded his head.

He looked at the board to see the words from before still written on them, “Field Trip to Stark Industries!” It might as well have said, “Dig Peter Stark’s Grave!”

“So, let’s get started with today’s lesson, graphing imaginary numbers on the complex plane!” He’d done this one a while back with his father. Something about not only learning applicable science and engineering. Peter tapped his glass, and the episode of Arrow he’d been watching on the car ride over began playing. He’d be ever grateful for his father’s gift of EDITH to him. Pepper had tried to ban him from wearing them to school, but hastily gave up when Peter pulled the spiderman danger card.

“Alright, class dismissed. Please remember to do this homework pages 11-18 on this unit’s homework handout.”

Peter, forgetting his teacher's previous request, was very glad to be on his way home. He was one foot out of the door when the teacher called his name. Now, his day had gone pretty well up to that point. Bucky made pancakes for breakfast, which were delicious. There was wayyy less traffic on the way to school. He’d aced an essay and a couple of quizzes, and then he even participated in PE effectively. But alas, all good things had to come to an end.

“Mr. Parker? The discussion.”

“Right,” Peter thought, joining the teacher at his desk.

“Peter, you are truly a great kid. I know you’ve been through a lot recently and in your life, but it is no excuse to make up an internship. We both know that it is not real. Now, acknowledging that you have a bright future, the administration and I have come forward with an offer. If you agree to write an apology, expressing that you understand what you did was wrong and immoral, you will both be allowed to come on the trip and no punishment will be given to you. If you choose to not take this opportunity, you will be banned from the trip and will be chastised.

Peter just stood there, not really comprehending. Apparently Flash’s little rumors were a lot bigger than he anticipated.

“I-i-I’m not lying,” was all he could manage. He had filed all the right paperwork and proved his internship.

“I’m sorry to hear that you will not come forward with the truth. You have up until the day before the trip to hand in the letter if you change your mind. Goodbye Peter.”

Peter just let his legs take him out of the classroom, then out of the school, and then to the road, a couple blocks away, where his dad picks him up from.

“Hello mini-me.”

“Hey,” Peter said, jumping into the passenger seat.

“‘Hi Dad, thanks so much for taking time out of your busy schedule to pick me up each and every day. Sick new car by the way! I’d love to drive it sometime!”

Peter just rolled his eyes with a smile, “Car looks great dad. McLarren’s are superior yet.”

“Ungrateful, so so ungrateful. What’s got you in a mood then?”

“Nothin,” Peter said, pulling out his phone.

“Oh come on, tell me. Tell me or I’ll call Ted.”

“Ned, Dad. We’ve been friends for like three years.”

“Not the point.”

“Just something at school.”

“Wow how very descriptive. You know I’m trying to do the whole feelings thing here, and you should appreciate that coming from my emotionally stunted self.”

“You’re so dramatic. Basically we’re having a field trip to your tower, and I’m not allowed to go because the teacher doesn’t think I really have an “internship.” Which, to be fair I don’t but that’s on you and not me.”

“Nah na na. I offered you an internship, and you said I’d be bored.”

“It would be. Doing a project for your company under strict supervision of some person would be sucky. I mean I can do anything I want from the lab you built me.”

“I know, but remember technically you are my intern. Remember we did that whole personal intern bullshit for the school.”

“Oh right. Is that why you keep harassing me about submitting all my completed projects.”

“No, that’s all your mother. Something about not wanting a lawsuit over a fake internship.”

“Make sense. She tends to be a lot smarter than you.”

“Ah, I feel so attacked. The abuse I suffer.”

“You’re terrible.”

“I am internally crying, kid. Sobbing.”

“Shut up,” we laughed.

“Who’s home?”

“You saw Buck and Sam this morning. Nat and Steve came back from their mission this afternoon. Thor and Loki are back for dinner tonight.. Strange might be coming round, not sure though. Cliff and the family aren’t back for at least a couple weeks. Oh and Bruce is wholed up in his lab as usual.”

“Shit. Everyone staying till the end of the week.”

“Yeah, oh the field trip. You’re screwed. You should have not told me.”

“Ughhhhh!!!”

“I love your life Petey.”

Peter walked into the kitchen and saw Steve reading a newspaper.

“Uncle Steve! Your back!” he smiled, dropping his bag off near the sofa. Steve got up to give the smaller boy a hug.

“Yep. Mission completed.”

“Nice. Can you tell me about it?”

“Yeah, it was nothing too interesting. We just needed some more intel into a terrorist organization stationed in the US. Most of the mission was recon. The next steps are being taken in a couple weeks.”

“Good to know there’s an active terrorist organization out there,” Peter said lightly.

Steve just smiled, not quite understanding the modern humor.

“Where is everyone else?” he said, realizing the living room was not in it’s normal chaotic state that he’d come to love. The chaos was his favorite reminder that he had so many people. He liked having lots of people, even after all this time.

“Nat and Buck are training, they invited you to join if you want. Bruce is in his lab, and dont worry he slept and ate last night. Not sure about the rest.”

“Right, thanks. I think I’m going to go train.”

Before he knew it, it was Friday morning, and his school was coming to his home. He was going to try very hard to ignore them. To do so, he asked his mum to let him sit in on some meetings. He had an easy in to the R&D and mechanical side of the company via the other interns. He was actually planning on hanging out with some of the “other” interns later that day. They were always happy to let Pete in on their projects and let him give them a hand. But he was always interested in getting more detail about the business side of the company, and he liked to get a window into it. Pepper was always happy to show her son the ropes. I mean he was heir to the company after all, even if he didn’t know yet.

He asked his mum to only schedule meetings after 12 as he requested a sleep in. Pepper was always happy when Peter slept as he was a little too much like his father. So, he woke bright and early at 11:00 o’clock.

After a scroll through his phone and a quick shower, he was ready to pull on his far too expensive Brunellio’s custom suit. It was one of his favorites. His father had got it custom made when he was in Italy, and told him he simply could not resist getting one for the kid. Pepper just smiled.

He had a large breakfast (enhanced metabolism) and headed towards the 34th floor where his first meeting was located. He’d been shadowing his mum for almost a year now whenever it was convenient, so he had the rointine down. He was almost sure he could take over a few of her meetings.

“Hi honey,” Pepper said, giving the boy a quick kiss on the cheek on the way to her own chair beside him. Peter blushed before resuming his professional posture and facial expression.

“Good morning everyone, as you can see Peter will be joining us today. I want to talk about some of the services we provide for our employees and their feedback. I’m aware we have a large portion to talk about so Kendra please take it away on that front.”

The first meeting went smoothly as planned. It was a discussion on the progress of the internal services, aka the IT department. Peter hadn’t learned much about their IT department, so it was good to listen in to. Pre these meetings, he, of course, does research into the background stuff, so he’s not completely lost. Pepper’s assistant usually provides him with a packet of info about the Stark Industries side of things. He is also given a list of key words and concepts he might want to make sure he understands. The research is fun for him, it makes him feel all professional.

Usually he spoke during the meetings, asking a couple questions and suggesting some ideas, but for this one he just learned and took in. The next meeting, however, was very much so his field. He’d spoken a lot with advertising, becoming very interested in the data analysis behind it. He even took a stats class so he could keep up. In that one he asked questions Pepper was on the verge of asking twice. He also contributed to the analysis of data once. Pepper usually liked him to participate as it was good for him, but he always felt bad suggesting stuff to the senior adults. He usually spoke to his mum or dad about projects for the company, preferring that.

They hung back in the room of the second meeting.

“Good job in this one Pete. Took two questions right off my tongue.”

“Thanks ma,” he said, always appreciating some approval.

“That’s all I’ve got for you today, kid. Rest of the stuff is, ya know.”

“Course. Thanks for these two. It was good to learn about internal affairs a bit more. Have a gap of knowledge there.”

“Yeah. Was that the first time meeting our CIT?”

“I believe so.”

“Well, next time we have a broader IA meeting, I’ll pull you outta school,” Pepper suggested.

“Really? That’d be epic.”

“Course, hun. Jarvis, sort that out please.”

“Of course Mrs. Potts.”

“Thanks J,” Peter yelled.

“Anytime mini-boss. No need to disturb the entire floor.”

“Are AI supposed to be so snarky?”

“Dad programmed it, what else would it be?”

“Valid point.”

“Right, got to run. See you later.”

“Bye, love you mum!”

“Love you too, Pete.”

“Jarvis, could you send me the tour plan for the visiting tour today?”

“Absolutely, sir. They’re on your phone now.”

“Thanks J.”

Looking at the plans Peter smiled. He had successfully avoided them the entire day. It said they were supposed to head back to school at 2:30, and it was about to be three. Smile on his face, he trotted down to the lobby to grab a coffee before going to meet Loki at the arcade. Don’t judge them, it was their thing. Taking the private lift down, and then walking straight to the coffee stand and ordering.

“Mr. Parker!” he heard the angry voice of his teacher, “How dare you show up here aft-”

Shit. shit. Shit.

“Edith, call dad, and tell him it’s urgent in the lobby.”

“Of course Peter.”

“Peter, are you listening to me! You are going to face extreme consequences for this.”

“Your coffee,” the man said, not realizing it was Peter, level ten personal of the tower, that was being yelled at.

“Thanks.”

“How dare you get coffee! In this building! Security!”

Tony arrived spotting his son instantly.

“Kid this best be impor- I see.”

“Hey Mr. Stark,” Peter said weakly.

“Mr. Harrington is it? Please stop harassing my intern.”

“H-he, he is y-your intern?”

“Yes. My favorite. Please exit the building and never question him again. You will be hearing from me.”

Let’s just say, Monday was an interesting day. At least Flash backed off, he was definitely an intern at SI, and no one embarrassed him on the trip.

[samwrights]

Team Karasuno as dads [hc]

For a married woman that doesn’t want kids, I sure do fantasize about my boys being dads a lot.

Asahi;

He definitely cried when he found out you were pregnant.

When your daughter was born, he couldn’t even be in the room because he was so overwhelmed with you being in pain and the fact he was about to bE A DAD

He doesn’t even remember how you started dating because he was so blown away by your beauty or so he claims but the fact that y’all were married?? And having a kid?? When did he get so bold??

Eventually he got over it cause he felt bad that he wasn’t in the room holding your hand while you literally pushed a whole ass human out ya cooch.

He fainted

The first time he held his daughter was the first time he had felt complete, more complete than when he rejoined the volleyball team in his third year. It felt amazingly right. He tries to deny the fact and say your wedding was just as wholesome but you can tell. Fatherhood is something entirely different for him

“She takes after momma’s beauty.” A simp through and through.

Asahi is a parental HOG. Which is kinda nice cause he loves doting on your child but also HI I AM MOM AND WOULD LIKE TO HOLD MY BABY???

He tells YOU how to hold her and feed her and little ticks about her personality like you aren’t on maternity leave and are with the baby ALL DAY (although he is REALLY pushing for you to just be a stay-at-home mom)

Because he is soooo doting, it’s very rare that you wake in the middle of the night to feed or change her—Asahi is ALL over it. But he is human and there are days he’s too tired to wake up from dead sleep. It’s ok, he’s your human. Daddy deserves rest too.

Asahi would totally be a co-sleeper, or at least nap with the baby as much as he possibly could.

Definitely bought her multiple onesies that say “daddy’s little princess”.

She gonna be a spoiled brat when she’s older 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

Daichi Dadchi;

I mean he’s a literal running joke in the fandom

After being elected as the unofficial dad of the VBC in his high school days, it was no wonder that he was such a natural with your three munchkins.

Having three slightly older boys of varying ages, you relied heavily on Daichi to get through to them when you couldn’t.

He’s definitely the strict parent; your sons all try to take advantage of you 💀 demons

Your boys saw you as a pushover most of the time because you were just so tired.

“Just keep trying for a girl, they said. There’s a 50/50 chance, they said.” Was something Daichi would find you chanting to yourself often while you cooked dinner and the boys were playing soccer in the house and breaking something.

Even though Daichi is strict, he really tries to emphasize to the boys to treat you with kindness to make it a bit easier on you.

“Guys, please don’t make your mother rip her hair out.”

“We’re just playin’!” They would sing in flawed harmony

“One day, you guys are going to be all grown up with your own special person with your own kids, and you’re gonna love them so much that you’ll understand why I’m telling you to calm down and listen to your mom.” Asjdfkhlek.

“Ewwww, daddy loves mommy.”

“I sure do.”

Sugawara;

On god, Suga would be the most patient parent. He treats your toddlers like mini adults and not your insane nine year old girl or six year old boy.

He listens thoroughly when they are upset about something, cautiously listening to the deeper truths about why they’re upset and takes great care in making sure his children feel validated.

Super dad 🥰

But it’s not a random event; after being married to you for the last decade, he had so much practice with conflict resolution and genuinely listening to you that it was a natural tendency at this point.

For the most part, your children are incredibly well behaved. Sure, there’s an occasional incident because, well they’re kids. Your daughter, being the older of the two and nearly finished with primary school, was entering her phase of discovering boys and constantly writing in her diary.

Suga may be super dad, but he is not perfect, and for some reason I totally see him reading her diary.

“Koushi, put it back. Now.” He was just going to pretend that you using your mom voice on him didn’t turn him on and prepare him to fill you with another baby.

While he may be an expert on conflict resolution, you enforced respecting their privacy; quite a dynamic between the two of you in terms of validating your children as individuals.

“But honey, our daughter is starting to like boys.”

“At least one of the females in this house does.” 💀💀💀 with angels for children, someone had to be the clown of the Sugawara family and it was certainly you.

Tanaka;

You and Tanaka had your first baby in your guys’ third year of high school, which you would be lying if you said it wasn’t hell.

Tanaka fought tooth and nail to try to do everything from makin dinner, working, making sure you were getting rest, and of course still playing volleyball. Everything except actually trying to graduate.

“I don’t have time to study babe, I have practice and then we gotta put this squirt to bed.”

There was a constant argument about Tanaka continuing with volleyball that nearly forced you two to split. While you knew how important it was to him, there was no way he was going to graduate from Karasuno while he was trying to care for you, a child, work, and play volleyball.

“Ryuu, please. I know you don’t wanna quit but if you can’t pass your classes, you won’t be able to participate anyway.” He did not take well to that.

It took him time to come to his senses and in that time, you had kept you and your son away from him to allow him his space.

Apparently that was also a wrong move on your part.

He was so angry and frustrated being away from his mini me that he had easily conceded to retiring from volleyball if it meant being able to watch his little nugget learn how to sit up and crawl.

Yes, he goes HAM on the nicknames. Squirt, nugget, mini me, beanie baby, tyke, and all of the above. He pretty much calls your son everything but his actual name.

“I’m sorry for being stubborn.” He says one night while you help him study for his finals, your sleeping son swaddled in your arms.

“I’m sorry for making you give up something you love.”

“Nah, I got you and the munchkin. That’s all I need.”

Noya;

I love Noya 🥺 but at first, he is a chaotic parent. Granted y’all had your first child when you were still in college and he hadn’t the faintest clue on how to be a dad.

To be perfectly honest, you weren’t quite sure how to parent either.

Neither of you knew how to change diapers

Noya definitely got peed on more times than he wishes to admit

When your son was still a newborn, just around finals time, neither of you could figure out for the life of you why your baby was crying in the middle of the night. Which inherently made you cry because you had an 8am final and you had finished studying 5 hours prior 🙃

“Try to get some sleep, babe. I’ll take care of him.” Nishinoya’s voice was thick with exhaustion, but he knew how little you’d been sleeping since giving birth.

When you went to leave for your final, Noya was asleep in your living room rocking chair, baby safely in his arms with the both of them just snoozing away.

It was a struggle but the two of you faced the challenge together, one step at a time with your energetic four-year-old son as you graduated university. By the time you had all settled into a larger apartment together as a family, Noya had yet to pop the question. He was too busy having fun with his little man.

Sometimes it scared you how in sync he was with his child probably because he was still a child himself but it was sweet and endearing.

“Hey babe?” He asks softly after the two of you tucked away your boy for the evening. You raised in eyebrow at him, silently goading for him to continue. “Do you want to have another?” Needless to say, he sure as shit impregnated you that night asjckglpwm

Hinata;

With Hinata being an older brother, I actually see him being a wonderful dad. However, homie’s got a one-track mind and with him playing professionally, you’re usually left to do the parenting.

Your kids definitely like you more than Shoyo, not that anyone blamed anyone; they just never see daddy :(

BUT when he is in dad mode and home, you suddenly remember why you were eager as shit to have more kids with him 🥴 which explains ya you’ve got your third on the way

When he does come home, he automatically greets his older, 8 year old son with noogies and a brief wrestling session. For some reason, Hinata felt the need to compete with his own child 💀

Headass.

But when he sees his daughter, his world stops because he has favorites and EVERYONE in the Hinata house knows it

Always asking your 6 year old girl how her day was, asking how she was doing ruling over her imaginary kingdom and if she found her Prince Charming yet.

“Pffft I don’t need Prince Charming, daddy, he’s icky!!! Mommy says I don’t need a man!”

Where is the lie

“Your mom is absolutely right and you should totally listen to her, she’s the best queen in the whole world.”

Because of his one-track mind, he is engaged fully with your kids when he is actually home. Your son had naturally gotten into volleyball which, even after a long day’s practice, Shoyo spends hours training him.

“Do you think this one’s finally gonna like me more than you?” He asks one night while he’s doing the dishes after dinner, while you’re right beside him drying them off.

“Sho, our kids love you. But mom is home with them allllll day and has been since birth.”

“Can we keep trying until one of them finally likes me more?” 💀💀💀 “or until we have enough to make our own volleyball team?”

Kageyama;

How this socially inept clown got ANYONE pregnant was unthinkable. Of course, to anyone but you. After being with him all throughout high school, it was more of a wonder how you didn’t get pregnant sooner

This dude dirty. His one track mind, if not on volleyball, was entirely on you. Nearly every night was date night which ALWAYS ended with bow chicka wow wow 😏 you horny mfers yalll moved in together as soon as you graduated from Karasuno.

Clothing at home was nonexistent.

With the two of you in your second year of college, living in your apartment, and being 8 months pregnant, the air had dramatically shifted.

Kageyama’s once still high sex drive had been channeled into school work, working, and of course, volleyball. You were planning on at least completing your semester before taking time off to care for the baby. It seemed one of you would have to really step up, and from what it seems, it wasn’t going to be Tobio.

When he was home, which was very few and far between with how much he had going on, he had tried to dote on you as much as he could physically muster. Kisses here and there, bathing together, and lots of snuggles.

Kageyama is in charge of the nursery and there’s no room for argument on this. With him not being as present at home, he sets up the nursery as a way to communicate with his child that he’s never going to see because of volleyball

I love Kags, but he is nowhere near ready to even think about parenting 💀 which you tried to be patient with, but with the due date approaching very rapidly, you kinda needed him to step it up.

“I’ve helped.” He tries using the nursery as an argument and he had gone to every doctors appointment but homeboy still doesn’t know how to make a bottle or change a diaper

Was he prepared to have to clean up baby shit and vomit? Absolutely not. Was he going to anyway? Lmao, absolutely not. This boy only wants to be daddy, not dad.

Tsukishima;

It shook everyone and their mother when people found out that Kei not only had a girlfriend that he met in college, but that his girlfriend was a milf according to Kuroo and Bokuto

When you and Kei had first started dating, your daughter was already five. And while you obviously didn’t bring her to classes with you, she was always with the two of you for date nights. Oddly enough, he really didn’t mind.

His patience for kids, now that’s he’s older and kids are actually kids and NOT his peers, rivals that of Sugawara’s.

“Hey Tsukki,” your spawn asks at dinner one day. “When are you and mommy gonna get married? People keep making fun of me cause I call my parents mommy and Tsukki.”

“Making fun of people isn’t cool, it’s so lame. They’re just jealous cause they don’t get to call their parents mommy and Tsukki.”

👁—

That same night, Kei offers to read your daughter to sleep as if to reinforce the notion that mommy and Tsukki was cooler than mommy and daddy. Of course, he was pushing for this to hide that he was upset that children were making fun of her.

After that Tsukishima really gets into his dad role—walking your daughter to school with you or without you everyday, picking her up and giving her grandiose hugs. He made sure to lock eyes with every spectator, his height towering over many at the kindergarten. Silently telling them all “do not fuck with her, or you answer to me.”

He’s sosososo protective, I can’t. He ain’t scared to fight a toddler.

Even well after you and Tsukishima introduce a child of your own, your daughter still insists on calling him Tsukki and adamantly tries to teach her sister to say Tsukki instead of dada.

“You’re okay with the kids not calling you ‘Daddy’, Kei?”

“The only one I want calling me daddy is you.”

Yamaguchi;

This poor bean 💀 not only was he not prepared for fatherhood in the slightest, but twins?!

You both swore up and down they were evil. If one was hungry, the other one would refuse to eat until the other finished their meal. This applied to using their diapers as well.

Imagine the energy of Hinata and Nishinoya as baby twin boys, and lo and behold, yours and Tadashi’s kids.

While you had slightly more patience with them, knowing they were going to grow up eventually and become their own independent humans. Tadashi was not handling this well at all.

Low key, he felt like he was doing a horrible job as a parent and, after the boys had finally gone to sleep for the night, you’d spent a lot of time consoling Tadashi.

“Why can’t I be like—“

“Baby, you’ve got to stop comparing yourself to all of your friends. None of them have twin boys that are less than a year old.”

“Yeah but Hinata has three of them, so does Daichi—“

“Honey, you aren’t them. You’re you, so please, just be you.”

He’s ambitious when it comes to parenting—he wants to be the best dad ever, and he only gets better with practice.

That doesn’t make him wanna tear out his hair any less, but as the boys get older, it does get easier. We pretend their toddler years didn’t exist, it was a nightmare that Tadashi does NOT want to relive

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Home Sweet Home: Moving Day

Summary- 3.1k Andy Barber x You. You and Andy almost have it all, married and with a jointed family consisting of Andy’s teenage son Jacob, as well as your two younger children John and Cassidy. Looking to add another member, your family is in need of a bigger house, a forever home. You find just the place, 112 Ocean Avenue in Amityville Long Island.   Home Sweet Home

Written for @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho​ Spooky Scary Stories challenge. Divider by @firefly-graphics​

Warnings- Not many that I can see. Mentions of murder and spooks. 

A/N- I chose Amityville Horror for the challenge because its one of my favorite Spook Stories growing up. When reading you will find a lot of similarities to the 2005 Movie, some of the scenarios and dialogue are specifically from that film. Other parts of it are from the book itself. The family name was changed for my own personal reasons. Happy Haunting!  🎃

Chapter 1 / Masterlist 

The day the family moves in, you couldn't have been more excited to be moving into your dream home. The home you and Andy would be raising the family in. The movers were quick under your and Andy’s directions of where to put boxes and furniture. Jacob managed to keep Cassidy and John occupied by exploring the yard and along the lakes edge until most of the chaos ended. 

Andy and you called them in once the movers left. When all three came back in, you took them on a tour of the house, going through the downstairs and then going on upstairs to show each one the bedrooms you and Andy had chosen. Andy took the boys to their rooms, dropping John off in his to check out, and then Andy opened a nearby door to Jacob's room. Jacob walked in, looking around. “Yup, looks like a bedroom.” he commented, sounding just like Andy in that moment. Andy stepped in, remarking at him. 

“Smartass... do you like it? Y/N thought this one would be better for you. It's a bit away from the kids, give you a bit more privacy you didn't have at the other house.” 

Jacob gave a smile to his father while nodding. “It's great dad, seriously.” he assured him, and Andy nodded. 

“Well I will leave you to unpack then.” 

In Cassidy’s room, she was excited over the unique windows facing the front, and she ran to the first one looking out over the driveway and the rest of the neighborhood. “Wow, I can see everything.” She started waving at people passing by on the street. 

“You really like it Sweetheart?” You asked, having picked this room just for her cause of the pink flowered wallpaper, and there was a small vanity already built into the wall. She nodded and giggled at the window. 

“Yes mommy, I do.” She went back to looking at the window, and you pulled open a box to start taking care of clothes when she started speaking again. “Hi, hello… what's your name?” She tilted her head with a nod and another giggle. “I’m Cassidy, see you later!” You had been working on putting clothes in the dresser from boxers when you heard her odd words. 

“Who are you talking to Baby?” You go over behind her and she looks up at you. 

“They said a friend, but they had to go.” She shrugged like it was no big deal and went to go open more boxes to help you unpack. You peek outside curiously, but saw nothing out of the ordinary when Andy saying your name turned you around. 

“Hmm, what?” 

“I said the boys both approve of the rooms you chose for them, and are currently putting their rooms together. I'm gonna go build our bed and then come take care of Cassidy’s.” 

Agreeing that was a good idea, the rest of the day was getting the basics together. By the time dinner rolled around, Andy had insisted on ordering a few pizzas and you agreed tiredly. Andy eased a hand over your shoulder and to the back of your neck, massaging gently while you let your head fall forward, breathing in deeply. “How about you take a shower? I will get dinner handled. By the time you come back down, it should be already.” 

“You really don't mind Andy?” You ask, and he gives a shake of the head, kissing your forehead he eased you towards the stairs. 

“Baby, I insist.” He winked at you, and you gave a nod while heading up the stairs. The allure of a hot shower and getting into your ultimate comfort clothes you already pulled out and were on the bed just sounded like the best thing you've ever heard. 

Grabbing your towels and a washcloth from a box, you wandered into the master bathroom. This was the first time you’ve had a bathroom all for just the two of you, and you couldn't help but feel like this was truly living. Soon the hot water was going, and you were stepping into the shower, humming happily to yourself. 

Downstairs Andy had made the call for a few pizzas after googling for a local restaurant. He went to check on John and Cassidy to find that they had found a board game and were making up their own version. Jacob, he could hear music playing up in his room. You were in the shower and he would be taking one soon as everyone was fed and the little ones put in bed. All in all a good day he thought. Going back to the kitchen, he searched out for plates, and took care of a few more dishes. It wasn't long till the doorbell rang. “Coming.” Andy called out while checking to be sure he had his wallet on him for a tip to whomever was delivering that night. 

He opened the door to find a teenager warily standing on the bottom step, looking up at the house. Jumping a bit when he heard Andy open the door, he went up the stairs and held the boxes out. “Been a while since anyone has came out here.” 

Andy took the pizzas and set them just inside the door on a small table and then dug out his wallet to pull out a tip. “Oh yea, is that so?” Not really giving the kid’s words much thought, but he ended up continuing regardless of Andy’s uninterested tone. 

“Yea, last time anyone came out was before that night.” He took the tip, and pocketed it. “You know about the night, right?” 

Andy shuffled a bit, wanting to close the door. “Yes, we were made aware before we moved in.” 

The teenager just continued. “Yup, all five of them were in their beds. I knew Ronnie, he was a lot older than me, but he was cool. Can't believe he took a rifle and just shot them all. Guess you just never know what people are capable of.” 

Now Andy was done, and snapped out. “No I guess not. Bye.” Stepping back, he let the door shut firmly and flipped the lock, gathering the pizzas to take to the kitchen. What the kid said unsettled him. But he shook it off before addressing John and Cassidy. “Are you hungry, Kids?” 

A thud of feet sent Cassidy and John racing into the kitchen, and Andy simply sent a message from his phone to Jacob upstairs, knowing it would be faster than going up to knock on his door. Grabbing plates, Andy looked at the two littlest ones. 

“Okay kids, I got… anchovy and extra anchovy. What do you want.” He grinned innocently at them, and they both made funny faces at him in disgust. 

“Cheese?” John asked hopefully. Andy popped open the top, and showed off a cheese pizza. Peeling off a slice and plating it, Cassidy reached for the plate. 

“Andy, can you add an extra slice for Jody? They say they want a piece.” Cassidy hummed and Andy indulged her, putting on a second slice. 

“Who’s Jody Kiddo?” Andy questioned as he also handed over paper towels for napkins. 

“My friend. But you can't see them. They don’t like grownups although I told them you were nice.” She said as if it was everyday and John rolled his eyes at her 

“You're so weird Cass, Jody isn't real.”  John snickered as he reached for a piece and bit off the end while Andy handed a plate over to him to use.

“Is to! Jody says boys like you are mean.” Cassidy cried out and then the siblings stuck their tongues out at each other and Andy was quick to jump in. 

 “Hey hey hey, John don't pick on your sister. Cass, Please just tell Jody not to make a mess.”

Jacob came in the room, following his nose to the scent of pizza. “Who’s Jody?” 

Andy moved aside the cheese to the pizza with toppings underneath he knew Jacob would prefer. “Jody is Cass’s friend.” Cassidy took a bite of her pizza and gave Jacob a nod, and the teenager nodded in understanding. Picking out a slice of pepperoni. “Ya know, I had a friend like that.” 

“You did?” John asked, suddenly on board with the imaginary friends cause Jacob seemed okay with it. Andy went to find a couple wine glasses while listening to Jacob recall the story of his imaginary friend Stan the Man. Andy had to smile at the memory of Jacob and Stan the Man, his son had insisted he was taller then the house but could shrink down to his size in order to play. Laurie had been a bit concerned about how often Jacob had talked about him, but Andy wasn’t. Pulling out a bottle of wine, he opened it up and checked the time, figuring you would be down pretty soon.

Upstairs you were finishing your shower, your head tilted back into the spray and fingers scrubbing out your conditioner when you happened to look towards the showers curtain and saw what looked like Andy standing there. “Andy? You trying to sneak in with me for a few minutes?” You rubbed the water from your face, expecting to hear an answer. 

“Andy?” You looked again and the shape moved like they were about to get in, but there still isn't an answer. 

“Are the kids okay? Andy?” you frowned and went to move the curtain, to open it and when you looked around it, there was nothing. No one was standing there, the door was still shut, and you could feel your heart race a bit. You suddenly didn't want to be there anymore when your chest tightened in discomfort, you knew you saw someone on the other side of the curtain, and was sure of it. A chill ran up your spine and you hurriedly rushed to turn the water off and get out. Drying off, you hurried off into the bedroom, completely missing the whisper of your name as well as a figure moving out of the fogged up mirror, leaving behind the word ‘Catch ‘em, Kill ‘em’ streaked through the condensation. 

Dressing, you made your way downstairs to see everyone Andy and Jacob laughing about something while picking at toppings of their pizza slices to pop in their mouth,  the kids sitting at the table, legs swinging as they peeled off bits of cheese. You approached to peek in the box, grabbing a piece of pepperoni, and Andy hugged you from behind, his beard tickling your neck as he hummed against your ear. 

“Feel better Mrs.Barber?” 

“I will feel better if there is a glass of wine with my name on it.” You chuckled and he was quick to hand you one. Sipping from it, you set it aside and turned in his arms, cupping his face in your hands. “Now I’m much better, thank you.” Tilting up you gave him an affectionate kiss, John and Cassidy making eww noises and Andy chuckled against your lips at them. 

“Man, we're trying to eat. Take it to your room.” Jacob joked from the other side of the counter, and Andy gave a smug look at his son. “We probably will later.” Jacobs scowl had you covering your mouth in a laugh and you finally reached for a slice of pizza, nipping at the tip.  

Dinner was eaten, and after Jacob goes to his room, and the kids are in bed all tucked in, you go to the bedroom with wine glass in hand, Andy is stretched out on the bed to relax for the first time that day. You set your wine glass aside on the dresser, and go to work on hanging Andy’s suits in the closet before going to lay down, unsettled a bit as you look towards the bathroom. 

“Andy, you didn’t happen to come into the bathroom when I was in there, did you?” 

He looked up from his phone with a curious furrow to his brow. “No, I was downstairs with the kids the whole time. Why?” 

You shrug as you hang another suit up, coming out of the closet and picking up another. “I just thought I saw someone in the bathroom, and when I opened the curtain, nothing. I think I'm just over tired.” you admitted, and he opens his mouth to say something when your phone rings. You turn away to go back in the closet, and Andy stretches out to grab it off your side of the night stand. He doesn't bother to see who it is, but swipes his thumb across the answer button while keeping an eye on you. 

“Barber residence?” 

You are humming while fixing the suits so they don't wrinkle. 

“Of course, here she is.” He lowered the phone and “Y/N, it's your mom.” 

You brighten when you hear who it is, and flick off the light to the closet. You swear you hear a muffled growl behind you, and turn towards the sound with a frown when Andy gets your attention once more. “You have to tell her to stop gushing over me baby.” He winks teasing as he rolls up off the bed, and you scoff at him with a smack to his chest while taking the phone. Tumbling on the bed and getting comfy, you raise the phone to your ear. “Hey mom! Yes, we're all settled, kids are in bed, but you call tomorrow, you can skype with them. They would love to see you.” 

Andy feels a chill up his neck and he rubs at his arms, lowering to settle his hand over the heating grate. It feels like a heavy draft coming through and he glances up at you, mouthing. “You feel chilly babe?” 

You shake your head in a no while still listening to your mother. “Oh mom, you will love it. Plenty of room for you to come stay as well. Maybe at Christmas time? We have the most perfect family room for a good big family Christmas.” 

Andy heads out of the room while you're on the phone, sure the heater in the basement isn't turned on even though he knew that he had someone come in before to turn all of it on to get ready for them. Quick to go down to the first floor, he went into the kitchen and flicked on the basement light. 

The lights flickered several times like they were about to go out. Once it became steady, he went down the creaking stairs and rubbed his hand against his arms looking around the dimly lit basement. Basements always felt awkward. He knew there wouldn't be anything to be necessarily scared of, but they always seemed hidden away from sight, where secrets of the house might be kept. Even now when peering into the dark corners of the interior, he shivered in distrust of the shadows. 

Andy it's just a basement. He would scold himself as he crossed the icy cement floor, and tried to ignore what he thought was his imagination. 

A shadow shifted, darker than the shadows of normal for an old house. It stalked along behind the man. Andy went over to the heating system, a state of the art boiler system that was almost brand new, having been installed when the previous owners updated the house. 

Now Andy wasn't any expert in heaters, so when he squatted down, he looked along the switches, that all appeared to be in the on position, which he flicked anyways. He also leaned down to see the pilot light was still on, which it flickered reassuringly when he peeked. 

He leaned back up with a frown, and while he was sitting there on the cold basement floor, a bone chilling coldness stabbed him in the back, paralyzing his spine, and the hair on Andy's body bristled as he heard something shuffle behind him. His chest ached in a panic that made breathing  almost impossible. A dread settled on him, sunk from his shoulders and down through his body. 

This must be what a condemned man must feel like. 

His eyes squeezed shut and he fought to turn around. He had to turn around, see what was coming for him. Andy felt it come closer, the air around him freezing cold that he felt it burn with each breath that he inhaled and released. Could feel something hover near the back of his neck, like it was just about to reach out and snatch his life. Rational thought had gone into hiding, now was just the sudden fear for his soul, and he whipped around suddenly when he broke from it to see nothing. 

Absolutely nothing was behind him. 

Cursing as he gasped in relief, the memory of impending death turning into fear and scolding himself for being afraid of nothing, he pulled himself up off the floor to a stand. Andy’s heart was still racing as if it was going to crash out of his chest cavity, but he ignored it while he slammed the panel shut, and looked to see one of the heating ducts. Pressing his hand against it, a sudden hum came and a rush of warm air breezed against his palm. 

“Fucking finally” He growled, and started to make his way back upstairs, what Andy missed was the hissing from the duct work, barely audible. “Catch ‘em, Kill ‘em.” As he started up the stairs, he shivered again and a racking cough exploded from his chest out of nowhere. 

The shadow seemed to crouch further in its hiding place with a flash of red orbs before swirling away into nothingness. 

He continued coughing as he went up the stairs, weariness coming over him. When he went into the bedroom, You sat up with a teasing look on his face. “Get that heater running Andy?” 

Settling on the end of the bed, he started to peel off his shirt, and you scooted over, rubbing at his back while kissing the back of his neck. “Mmhh, yes I did Y/N. Can we not tonight Love?” He looked over his shoulder and smiled weakly. “Not feeling my best tonight.” 

You pulled back with understanding, and ran your hand down his back and nodded. “Of course Baby, long day.” 

Andy eased back and opened his arms for you to settle in. Your head went on his shoulder, and soon he coughed hard, pulling away from you to lay on his side. Frowning in worry, you settle into your spot and fall asleep.

Once he fell asleep, Andy did nothing but dream awful dreams all night. Dreams filled with him staring at you at the end of a rifle, finger on the trigger to ease it back with a click. Images of Jacob, John and Cassidy running away from him to race into bedrooms and slam the door shut on him. Something cackling from the walls, constantly whispering “Catch ‘em, Kill ‘em” till Andy was trying to smother the sound under his palms. Waking with a jerk, he doubled over in the early morning light, coughing again and shivering in the cold.

[slashyrogue]

Hannigram AU: The Christmas Waltz

A month before his wedding Will Graham decided to surprise his wife-to-be with a gift: dance lessons. The lessons would last all the way to their big day, which happened to be on Christmas Eve.

Molly had always dreamed of a Christmas wedding ever since she was a little girl and though their guest list was a bit small even Will was excited to finally make her dream a reality.  

A reality that wasn’t meant to be.

He sat across from her in Bon Appetit, her favorite Italian restaurant and the same place he’d proposed, as she tearfully told him she was getting back with her ex-husband.

“I...we...we just...I didn’t expect it but...Will, I love him. We’re meant to be a family.”

Will dug his nails into the chair beneath him as he forced himself to smile when she handed him her engagement ring.

“All I want is for you to be happy, Moll,” he whispered, taking her hands, “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

They hugged and Will held on a bit too long but he forced himself to pull away leaving the restaurant quickly. The tears didn’t start to fall till he got into his car, and he pulled out the envelope with the dance lesson receipt inside tossing it onto the chair beside him. The ring was still in his pocket, stabbing into his chest, but he didn’t dare look a it again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He hit his head on the steering wheel, stomach in knots, and took several breaths before he pulled out of the parking lot.

The ride home was a blur, and he passed out on his bed fast waking up the next morning feeling like shit.

He’d taken the day off today, wanting to prepare for their lesson, and now he was immensely thrilled they’d decided to wait to move in together. Molly had said it was for Walter, her son, but part of him wondered if she knew that even after a year she’d change her mind.

Will sighed when he heard Winston’s collar jingle and held out his hand for the dog to lick. “Good morning, buddy.”

Winston had always been a bit standoffish with Molly.

He’d liked her dogs though.

He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling with tears in his eyes.

“Always the groomsmen, never the groom,” he whispered, letting his hand snake inside his suit jacket.

The ring was a modest diamond, but still pretty.

Will stared at the way the diamond shined for way too long before put the ring back into his pocket. He stood up, groaning, and pulled his cell phone out.

Pas De Duex was a bit more upscale than Will usually went for but he’d gone there because they were the best. The clerk at the desk had looked like she thought Will was shit on her shoe even when he shelled out a thousand dollars for weekly classes. He hesitated before he looked the place up again, and waited for someone to answer.

“Hello, may I help you?” an oddly accented man asked.

“Um, yeah, this is Will Graham. I signed up for classes the other day? I was just wondering if I could cancel over the phone or if I had to come there in person to get a refund?”

There was a pause.

“We do not offer refunds.”

Will blinked, rubbing his eyes. “What? How...”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Graham, but this is a very private and selective business. We only took your wedding dance class because of a cancelation. The dance instructor is very...”

“Oh fuck you, seriously? You think you’re so goddamn special?”

“Mr. Graham...”

“I’m coming down there, buddy. Try saying this shit to my face!”

Will nearly jumped out of bed, a man on a mission, and got hastily dressed. He fed Winston and took him outside to do his business before heading out. Will was laser focused on tearing that snooty asshole on the phone a new one, so much so that he nearly got into two accidents on the way, and when he pushed his way inside Pas De Deux he nearly fell in the entryway.

Several people stared at his arrival, and he caught his breath seeing the same red haired receptionist he’d bought classes from only twelve hours ago.

She grinned at him. “Mr. Graham, I assume?”

Will glared at her. “Mr. Snooty on the phone tell you I was coming?”

The redhead, Freddie her nametag read, nodded still smiling as she pointed to her left. “Mr. Lecter is in the studio if you still wish to speak with him about our cancelation policy.”

Will stood up straight, fixing his rumpled suitcoat, and stomped down the hallway. The hallway ended in an open area where he could hear music wafting through, and when he got down to the end he froze at what he saw.

There was an oddly handsome man dancing alone with what appeared to be an imaginary partner. He danced beautifully, not one toe out of place, and when he turned a third time he seemed to spot Will.

“Hello, may I help you?” he asked, smiling as he got closer.

Will knew from his voice that this was the man on the phone from earlier. He suddenly found himself a bit tongue tied. “Um...I’m...”

“Mr. Graham,” the man finished, his warm smile fading, “I apologize but we do not offer cancelations.”

He suddenly felt the ring poke his chest and tears filled his eyes.

“Oh god,” he said, falling to his knees.

“Mr. Graham! What’s...”

Will fell forward, pressing his hands to his face, and a sudden sob came unbidden from out of nowhere.

And the ring that was inside his pocket fell to the dancefloor rolling away from him.

He sniffled, reaching to grab at the same time that Mr. Lecter did the same. Their finger brushed and Will recoiled, staring up at him. The way Mr. Lecter stared at the ring made Will feel even more embarrassed.

“I...”

“She called off your wedding.”

Will grabbed for the ring and was given it with care. He stood up and his legs shook as he glared.

“That’s none of your business.”

The frown he got in response made him want to throw up.

“I will give you your cancelation.”

He shook his head. “Don’t pity me. I can lose a grand, it’s...”

A warm hand hit his shoulder and Will slumped forward suddenly falling into Mr. Lecter’s chest. He smelled like expensive cologne and a bit like sweat but still very nice.

“I’m sorry, Mister...”

“Will,” he said, his voice cracking, “It’s Will. I...fuck.”

Mr. Lecter smiled. “Hannibal,” he said, still clutching Will’s shoulder, “My name is Hannibal.”

Will sniffled wiping his eyes. “I’m sorry about all this. I just...it just happened last night.”

Hannibal frowned. “I see. Would you...like to have a cup of tea? We would have complete privacy in my office.”

He stared at Hannibal for far too long before he answered. “I...”

“I promise you no one will see the state you’re in,” Hannibal promised. “It’s right behind that door.”

Will turned to see a rather impressive looking door at the back of the room. He sighed. “Yeah,” he said, chuckling a bit, “I...I’d really like some tea.”

Hannibal led him toward the door that opened on a rather expensive looking office that had a couch where he sat down. It also had a fully operational automatic tea kettle, sink, and a perfectly ordered desk.

“I admit your call this morning was a bit of a surprise. I don’t normally get such a response.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Will mumbled, leaning back against the couch, “I just...had a shit night.”

“I’m sure.”

“I didn’t even get to tell her about the classes,” Will murmured, watching Hannibal make their tea, “It was a surprise.”

Hannibal handed Will a very expensive looking teacup and sat down beside him. He watched Will with an odd focus, and when Will let out a sigh of appreciation he smiled.

“I take it you like the tea?”

“It’s great,” Will said, smiling back, “I...you know, you don’t have to give me the refund. I know you don’t usually...”

Hannibal sipped his own tea, still eyeing Will, and pulled the teacup back to look at him seriously. “No, I will honor what I promised. Your circumstances are...worthy of an exception. But...have you thought about...keeping the classes and taking them alone?”

Will blinked. “Alone? Why would I need dance classes?”

“Dance is a rather good distraction for me when I’m feeling low. Perhaps it would be of some help to you?”

He shook his head, chuckling. “Nah, I’m not...I’m no dancer.”

“Anyone can be a dancer, Will. Some people are just better at dance than others and if they’re lucky they can...find the right partner who will make them exceptional.”

They stared at each other for far too long without saying a word and Will blushed, setting the teacup down on the table beside the couch.

“No, I think I just...no.”

“Of course it’s entirely up to you,” Hannibal said, standing as he walked to his desk again, "I just thought I would ask. Would a check suffice? Or would you prefer cash?”

Will felt his cheeks warm as he watched him sit and open a drawer. “Um, a check is okay.”

He watched him pull out a checkbook and begin to write.

“It was a month’s worth of sessions, correct?”

“Um…”

Will suddenly felt his earlier sadness returning as the ring poked at his chest again.

“I…”

“Will?”

He stared at the closed door to the dance studio. “You...you said dancing helps you?”

Hannibal didn’t answer for a moment. “Yes, very much so. I think if I didn’t have dancing as an outlet I would unleash my upset in more...destructive ways.”

Will swallowed past the lump in his throat as he turned to look at Hannibal again. “Would you be the one who instructed me?”

Hannibal’s smile widened. “Yes, of course.”

He let out a long breath, his hands shaking, and nodded. “I think I...I want to keep them. The lessons. Unless you think you can fill them in or…”

Hannibal closed the checkbook and put both his hands on the desk. “I would be delighted to be your teacher, Will. I think we would dance beautifully together.”

Will blushed, chuckling. “Probably not, but...I think it’ll be a good distraction from now until Christmas.”

He watched Hannibal walk across the room and open the door to the studio. The room still had music playing and it was oddly inviting to Will. “ I’m certain I can teach you a proper waltz by Christmas. Would you....like to start today?”

Will suddenly had butterflies in his stomach as he stared at him. “I...yeah. I think I would.”

Hannibal walked into the studio and held out his hand. Will took his hand and was startled when he was pulled tight to Hannibal’s chest. The warmth of his breath tickled Will’s nose.

“Then...let’s begin.”

[prettypinkguts]

This one's kinda "out there" but i want jason voorhees to have a love at first sight moment with a camper at the crystal lake (male or female don't matter) and i want mama voorhees acting as a wingwoman, telling/instructing jason how to act etc.

A/N: Jason is 100% baby, and I am very glad that you requested him! He’s one of my favorite slashers, right next to Michael, Billy, Brahms, and Thomas. So, I hope that you enjoy, and I’m sorry for the long waiting times between posting <\3 Also I made slight adjustments to Pamela because I couldn’t find a smooth way to write her as entirely supportive, so I apologize. 

Jason Voorhees love at first sight Headcanons

“Jason Voorhees, you look away from that lake right this instant.” - Jason knew his mother wasn’t actually there, her tiny hands on her hips as her curly hair broke free from the cage that was her hairspray and swayed in the wind as a disapproving scowl became noticeable on her lips. 

Jason knew with all his heart that she wasn’t actually there, yet, the words still made him flinch, his eyes quickly averting away from the lake and down towards the ground like an embarrassed schoolboy. He whined, his own way of saying “yes, mama” reaching the imaginary ears of his late mother who stood behind him and smiled kindly with approval as Jason turned away towards the direction of his cabin, yet even as he trudged the familiar path back home, his eyes still snuck glances towards your swimming form in the lake.

He hadn’t meant to think about you the way he did. He hadn’t even meant to look in your direction the day he first saw you, but now the memory was engraved into his brain, the day playing over and over in his head like a broken record until Pamela would finally start scolding her son for daydreaming so much, yet even his mother's words could not stop Jason from thinking about you.

The rain had been flooding the campgrounds all day on the afternoon that Jason had met you. The paths had been nothing but muddy water in motion, nothing but large rocks covered in rainbow sheen (most likely from a children's game of hopscotch) being the only things that peeked out from the small, new rivers forming on the campsite grounds. Rain had been falling in crazy, chaotic drops, the gusting wind carrying them in wild vortexes one moment and in diagonal sheets the next. In the distance, Jason had even heard the delighted screams of children as they played in the rain, numerous shrieks hitting the air every time thunder boomed from the sky. It was only their first day at camp, but already Jason felt an uneasy itch crawl across his skin. They weren’t supposed to be there. Nobody was. 

Jason had peeked through the trees at that thought, his eyes scanning the faces of the children who were already playing tag splashing in puddles. “Look at that-” Pamela had sneered, her presence looming over Jason's broad shoulder as he watched. “Not a single counselor in sight! How awful! How disgusting! How-” Jason had tuned his mother out then. Even now as he sat in his cabin, leg shaking and fingers playing with each-other as if he was bashful, Jason wasn’t sure what had caused him to stare directly in the place where you had been sitting. The rain seemed to have been kissing your skin that day, your sweet voice drifting off into the woods around you as you said things that made the children playing next to you laugh. 

Warmth began filling Jason’s chest then, the feeling startling him so much that he had grabbed his chest in fear. If he still had a heart then surely it would have been beating out of his chest. Why couldn’t he look away? Why did your voice sound so sweet? Your skin so soft? Your movements so gentle and kind? Why did every child seem to flock to you for care and safety? Were you the only one there? The only one that cared? Jason’s head had pounded at the rate of which thoughts entered his mind. Even as his mother raised her voice, her words becoming panicked and concerned, Jason ignored it in favor of listening to your voice again. It wasn’t until a bell from the food hall began to chime that you finally stood up and guided the children inside and away from Jason’s line of sight. It was only when your voice faded and the last glimpses of your hair disappeared through a door, that Jason was finally brought to his senses.

That had been a week ago. But even now, Jason still found his chest pounding and his mind completely fried and to make matters worse, he had only come to enjoy the thought of you more and more. Now he knew what time you woke up in the morning and what position you fell asleep in. He knew how you liked your coffee and how you smiled every time you saw the squirrels play in the trees during breakfast. He knew what time you showered and what products you used. He even knew about how you had cried whenever the other counselors had told you the story of little Jason Voorhees, your reaction causing such warmth in Jason's body he was sure he had suddenly caught on fire. But best of all, Jason finally knew your name.

Pamela had been furious at first, her angry words causing Jason to flinch and back away like a small boy. Jason’s small flinches always calmed her down however, her voice instead turning sad yet stern as she spoke “They weren’t paying attention to you, Jason. Remember that.” But even as Pamela’s words caused Jason to choke, the feeling of dread and water entering his lungs becoming too much to bear, Jason still found himself looking out towards Camp Crystal Lake, his mind debating whether he should sneak to your cabin again tonight just to get a glimpse at you and these thoughts, no matter how hard Jason tried to keep them to himself, were also becoming painfully obvious to his mother. It wasn’t until Jason found himself clutching a bundle of wildflowers outside your cabin door, that Pamela finally accepted her sons feelings with a painful sigh. “Stand up straight, Jason. We mustn't slouch if we want to make a good first impression.” she instructed, Jason following her orders in an instant as his non-beating heart began to race. “Now don’t be shy, my darling boy, I’m sure that they will love you.” And with those words and a delightful feeling in his chest, Jason knocked on your cabin door. 

[conaionaru]

Honor and Blood (Ivar the Boneless)

Ragnar Lothbrok

Synopsis: 3 months later, Ragnar Lothbrok returns to Kattegat on a quest.

Warnings:  angst, fluff, unrequited love, badass Vanya, slight violence, cannon divergence (No Margrethe x Ivar), low self-esteem

Tags:

@youbloodymadgenius @didiintheblog @lol-haha-joke @shannygoatgruff @xbellaxcarolinax @heavenly1927​ @astridbaby​ @queenbeeta​ @thereareendlessopportunities​ @chynagirl13​

I don’t own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it. If you want to be tagged please write me<3

The weather was pleasant for once, and Vanya enjoyed every moment of it. Bathing in the lake or gathering flowers and herbs for both Helga and Aslaug was her favorite pastime. Ivar's overprotectiveness dulled slightly, but he still treated her like she might disappear if he didn't see her at least ten times a day. 

The rest of the time, Hoenir shadowed her instead. The silent wanderer was as quiet as a mouse, which annoyed both Vanya and Brynja, who loved to chatter and felt awkward with his grunts as answers. He was quite witty whenever he spoke, which delighted Vanya. For some reason, Ivar trusted the man and didn't get jealous of him at all.

Right now, Vanya, Brynja, and Hoenir walked the meadow gathering herbs for Aslaug, who wanted to pray to the gods as she had a vision and needed answers. Vanya volunteered to find the required flowers in her steed, as Aros slept better out on the fresh air.

The said three months old laid peacefully in a sling wrapped around Vanya. Aros liked the sun and flowers and giggled whenever he had heard loud sounds. The fact that he was Ivar's son was also obvious as ever since he could roll over, he reached his hands out to crawl, and got frustrated when he couldn't do it. 

The child made both parents very happy, and Aslaug was more than delighted to have a grandson. Which wasn't good for the other Ragnarssons as she kept pestering them for children of their own. "I am telling you, Vanya! She is mending his clothes for him!"

Vanya snickered at Brynja's complaining, Hoenir looked at the other ginger confused. "Aren't you happy you don't have to do it?"

"Well... yes." Brynja frowned and threw her arms up in defeat. "But now he won't stop saying how good of a wife she would make. Father is too old to get married again."

Vanya and Hoenir shared a look and carried on in their walk, silently laughing at the servant, whose father kept courting the neighbor. "Maybe she thinks he doesn't have enough clothes to not walk around shirtless." The Princess offered to which Brynja shook her head and pointed an accusatory finger at them both. 

"You are enjoying this, aren't you? What if she wants me to call her Mother?"

"Ignore her," Hoenir answered, simply earning a deadpan expression from Brynja. She rolled her eyes and turned back around so she wouldn't trip and fall. Her orange dress twirled with her movement, her curls bouncing on her shoulders. 

Vanya chuckled at the display and walked behind her savoring the feel of a gentle breeze on her face, her hair swaying in the wind. "I am surprised Ivar left so easily," Brynja called out, thinking of the Ragnarsson hunting trip. Truth is Bjorn threatened to drag Ivar out of bed while he slept if he refused to go, but it's not like Hoenir and Brynja needed to know that.

"He needed to spend some time with his brothers, anyway. I think they only left to escape the Queen."

"Let's not forget the joy of killing something," Hoenir added, making both gingers look at him confused. He shrugged unapologetically and continued on his way with the two females behind him. 

Brynja watched the broad back of the heathen and leaned closer to Vanya's ear. "Does he sometimes talk of me?"

Vanya raised an eyebrow at the unexpected question and shook her head. "To be fair, he is silent most of the time. Why are you asking?"

"I am just curious. It would be nie if he liked me back. But the Gods sent him here to protect you, not to flirt with me." The twenty-year-old hid her smile behind her bouquet of herbs, but the sparkle in her eye was obvious. She fancied the young Seer. "On the other hand, maybe it is his destiny to put a child in me as well."

Vanya giggled at her adorable friend and looked down at her with mischief in her steel-blue eyes. "You should ask the Seer."

Brynja glared at the joking Princess and hit her on the arm. "Very funny, Vanya. I will ask the ancient one for marriage advice."

"Are you planning a marriage already? My, my, Brynja, aren't you fast?" 

"Oh, Shush!"

Hoenir stopped in his track and looked down at the blushing redhead who gripped Vanya's hand in support. Both held their breath, waiting for what he had to say only for him to shake his head and point to the way back, silently telling them to return. "I think he heard," Vanya whispered embarrassedly while Brynja, her red face behind her wild hair.”You know it would be easier if you just spoke to him instead of daydreaming.”

“He doesn’t like me back, Vanya.” Brynja protested sadly watching the man walk before them, his tall frame casting a shadow on them, shielding them from the harsh sun rays. “He looks at Sigurd with more passion than at me.”

Vanya sighed and rubbed her friend’s shoulder sadly. The wanderer talked more whenever Sigurd was near, mostly about music. For someone so silent, he enjoyed music, which delighted the Ragnarsson. So they talked together a lot even when neither was with Vanya.

The trio walked the path to Kattegat pleasantly, talking about what they thought Bjorn would find in the Mediterranean or if it even existed, which Brynja didn't believe. "I am telling you, the map is a lie. There can be no such place."

"When we were children, England and Paris were imaginary lands to us too." Hoenir pointed out, making the servant pout and Vanya chuckle. They froze as a large crowd gathered before them around somebody or something.

Vanya stretched her neck, trying to see what all the commotion is about, but to no avail. "What's happening?"

"I don't know but stay behind me," Hoenir ordered his hand on his sword, ready to kill any possible threat. He stopped by one of the bystanders and tapped them on the shoulder. The merchant looked up at the wanderer with a frown, looking ready to complain, but held his tongue when he saw the emotionless Seer before him. "What is going on?"

"He came back. Ragnar is back." The moment the words left, the man's lips Vanya looked at Brynja, who seemed as equally shocked as her. They hurried forward, shouldering past men and women to get a clearer view of what was happening.

"It appears my return is not welcome." The man in the middle of the angry and curious crowd was nothing like Vanya imagined him. Ivar always described him as a tall man with his head held high who screamed power. But the man she sees is dressed in rags and on edge. No wonder when he returned after such a long time, and everybody seems to hate him. "You have obviously all made your mind up about me."

Ragnar walked in front of a row of men, which Vanya just now realized are his and Aslaug's sons. He stopped in front of Sigurd and looked them over. "Who is gonna do it, then? Who is gonna kill me?" The blood in Vanya's veins froze at the nonchalant way Ragnar asked the question. As if he didn't care if he lived anymore like he wanted them to do it.

The Ragnarssons looked at him with hard faces, only Hvitserk seeming put off by the question. "Well, I don' mind." Ragnar continued looking his sons over for a willing killer. "Go ahead. Please." He moved in front of them again, carefree as if he wasn't talking about death at all.

"What about you, Hvitserk?" He stopped on the other end of the row this time, looking his third son in the eyes, Hvitserk's face steeled for the confrontation. "You think you are a man now? Huh? I dare you. Put me out of my misery." Ragnar talked to him softly, but every word that Vanya or Brynja didn't hear, Hoenir provided thanks to his sharp ear. Everyone watched the King of Kattegat talk to Hvitserk, waiting for somebody to act.

Ragnar smiled at his son's lack of response. "Do it. Do it. Do it, do it." He kept repeating, hitting the flaxen-haired boy in the chest after every taunt. "DO IT!" The scream startled both Hvitserk and the people behind him. Vanya flinched at the sudden cry, Aros stirring against her chest and letting out a whine. Vanya tried to calm him before he started crying and disturbed the scene.

"Look at these people!" Ragnar shouted, extending his hand towards the crowd, his blue eyes still trained on his son. "They no longer support me! Look! Why would they? I am your leader, and I just left! What kind of leader does that, huh?"

The bald man moved into the middle of the crow with his arms spread wide and an uneasy smile on his lips. "WHAT KIND OF KING ABANDONS HIS PEOPLE?" He shouted it for all to hear and turned back to his boys, walking towards them, his jaw clenched. He looked at his oldest son with his second wife. "What kind of father abandons his sons?" Ragnar panted softly, waiting for somebody to tell something, but no one dared to open their mouths.

"So who wants to be king?" But again, no answer came, so he turned to the people, drawing his sword. "Oh, you know how this works! If you want to be King, you must kill me." He threw the sheath on the ground and offered the handle of his weapon to the people.

"Take it." But the gray-haired man refused to move, so Ragnar tried again with other people. "No? You? No? What about you? No? No? Anyone?"

He stabbed the blade on the ground, the sharp edge burying into the dirt, waiting for somebody to draw it and swing it. "WHO WANTS TO BE KING?"

Ragnar walked back to his son, his jaw tense and eyes screaming anger. He went face to face with his oud playing offspring. "What about you, Sigurd? Do you want to be King?" The boy didn't answer, so moving on, Ragnar tried with Ubbe next. "Do you want to be King, Ubbe? Kill me, and you are King. King Ubbe!"

He turned to the people, one hand on Ubbe's shoulder, the other pointing back at him. Ragnar turned towards the son who looked so much like him; a smile spread over his face. He then slapped his cheek, Ubbe head flying back from the contact. Vanya cursed loudly, shocked by the display, glaring at the boy's figures from her spot on the left, her jaw tense and eyes cold as ice.

"What are you waiting for?" Ubbe didn't answer, so Ragnar struck him again, gasps echoing from the people. "Are you afraid? Be a man!" The father went face to face with him, trying to egg him on. But when he got no reaction, he tsked and moved on again.

He chuckled and patted Ivar's head, drawing it back and flexing his fingers like he touched dirt. Vanya's husband watched the man he admired walk off, not even attempting to ask him. Ragnar walked off, seemingly done with the interaction, till Ubbe walked forward, sword in hand looking determined.

Brynja and Vanya held their breaths, waiting for the fight to start, but nothing happened. Murmurs spread over the crowd as Ragnar spread his arms wide, mentioning for Ubbe to make the strike. The brothers looked at each other, unsure what their oldest had in mind. The King slowly walked closer to him, fingers stopping at the handle of his own sword in the ground. But he made another step, leaving it there. He raised his hand up as Ubbe leaned his head back, waiting for another slap that never came.

Instead, Ragnar cupped his cheek and drew him closer, hugging the tall Ragnarsson. When the moment caught up with Ubbe, he dropped the blade and embraced him back, fisting the back of his tunic and buried his head in the crook of his father's neck. Everyone watched the interaction in shock, Brynja cursing under her breath, wanting to see the two fight. So Vanya hit her shoulder, silently scolding the ginger while Hoenir snickered.

They turned their gazes back to the King and the Princes, when Bjorn made his way through the other side of the crowd, looking pissed. He moved in front of the remaining brother, his arms crossed, looking his father up and down. Ubbe stepped back, looking down as Bjorn glared at Ragnar. "Why did you come back?"

Ragnar looked at him, both tense. Meanwhile, Ivar crawled away offended by his father's behavior. The King told his sons he wanted to talk to them in private, Vanya clenched her jaw and pushed her way through the masses, her head held high and murder in her eyes.

She made her way into the middle of the crowd, Brynja, and Hoenir running behind her, shocked by her sudden leave. The sons of Aslaug looked at her confused, Hvitserk trying to pull her back, but she sidestepped him, stalking towards Ragnar with a clenched jaw, patting Aros's back who chewed on her hair. "Ragnar Lothbrok!" She spat out as if the word burned.

Bjorn and Ragnar looked at her as well, the older male's lips lifting up, watching the stranger. The smaller female stopped in front of him, with a babe in her arms. Sigurd and Hvtiserk moved up behind her, the older of the two smiling down at the child that babbled at him happily waving it's little arms around, obvious to his mother's anger.

"And you are?" Ragnar asked, amused, his brows lifting with his head to the side. Vanya ignored the change of atmosphere and hardened her stare.

"Your daughter in law and mother of your grandchild." She spat back, surprising Ragnar, who looked at his sons for confirmation, only to see Hvitserk high five the child over Vanya's shoulder.

He smirked and looked at the boys to see who would claim the girl as theirs. "And who is the lucky one? Hvitserk? Ubbe? Sigurd?"

Vanya scoffed, turning the man's gaze back down to her. "Ivar's." She explained her tongue visibly, trailing from one canine tooth to the other. Ragnar straightened his back, looking over his family, searching for his youngest only to see an empty spot.

"Congratulation, then." He grimaced at her, not understanding why she went up to him in the first place. Brynja tugged at her sleeve, trying to make her retreat, but the Princess stayed put a glare on her face.

"Vanya," Brynja begged desperately, Hoenir pulled her back, his hand on his sword, ready to intervene if things escalated.

"What kind of pathetic man are you?" Vanya asked, shocking everyone. Ubbe's widened, he reached for her only for Bjorn to shake his head at him, the ginger walking closer to the older Viking. "He is the only one who admires you, worships you and defends you against everyone. And yet you ignore him as if he isn't worth even a mention."

Ragnar chuckles at her spat out words, shrugging, his brows up, agitating the ginger even more. Vanya scoffed and looked him up and down with disgust. "I truly don't see what all the fuss is about. You aren't anything special. Just another desperate man with no ounce of nobility left in his body." She hissed hatefully, shocking the Ragnarssons at her harsh words. Her stance and glare reminded them so much of Ivar it was uncanny.

"Not worth a mention or reaction from anybody. You should have stayed where you were." Ragnar looked at her, smirking in a peculiar way as if amused by her hateful comments. When he didn't defend himself, Vanya's hand shot out and slapped Ragnar on the same side he hit Ubbe on. The crack of the contact made everyone gasp and stare at her wide-eyed. She spat upon his feet and snarled at him. "Goodbye, My King."

She turned her back to him and walked towards Hvitserk, her eyes still steel-blue instead of the usual warm sky blue. "Which way did he go?" She requested, raising an eyebrow at him. The Ragnarsson jerked him head backward, signaling that the youngest son went that way. The Saxon nodded in thanks and moved to go after him.

Sigurd reached out to her only for Vanya to jerk her hand away, nearly accidentally hitting him in the face. She walked off, the crowd parting for her as the red sea. Hoenir looked at the King, seizing him up before he followed after her. Aros blew a raspberry towards his uncles, not caring for his mother's sour mood.

Vanya abandoned Hoenir somewhere behind when Ivar was in sight. She walked up the hillside to him and carefully sat down, fixing her blue dress so she wouldn't trip on it. The ginger got comfortable on the grass and looked at her tense husband, his eyes refusing to look at her directly, only seeing her from the corner of his eye.

She took out Aros from the sling and laid him on her lap, the boy instantly turning over and reaching for his father. Ivar reached towards the boy with his left hand and offered the boy one of his fingers, which he wrapped his small hand around, tugging at it cheerfully. Ivar moved the finger up and down, pretending to shake off his son's grip, which Aros found amusing and giggled uncontrollably, wiggling in his mother's lap.

Vanya waited for Ivar to tell her what plagued him at his own pace, patiently sitting there and letting the breeze mess up her hair. After some more silence, Ivar sighed. "He didn't even ask me, just petted me like a dog. As if I wasn't his son too."

Vanya sighed and looked at Ivar sadly, seeing the sad eyes hidden behind the angry mask. "I am the only one who didn't talk of killing him. Everyone hates him, and I was the only one who defended him. They all wanted to kill him if he returned, and then they didn't do anything. Ubbe hugged him!"

Vanya solemnly nodded and leaned her head against his shoulder, trying to silently comfort him while he vented. She licked her lips nervously and closed her eyes, steeling herself for a confession. "I slapped him."

Ivar jumped at that and looked at her confused, shrugging his shoulder so she would lift her head and look at him. Vanya gazed into his eyes sheepishly and nervously smiled at him. "I insulted him, slapped him, and spat in front of him before going after you." Ivar stared at her with his mouth open and eyes wide. "I don't regret it, though. I was defending my husband's honor."

Ivar chuckled and laid his forehead against hers, his eyes closed, silently thanking his wife. "My brave wife. What would I do without you, huh?" He joked, making her smile and chuckle, drawing her head back and kissing his forehead.

Ivar gazed up at her as she smiled brightly, the contagious expression making him smile back.

During dinner, Ivar sat there, brooding, waiting for anyone to talk. He threw his spoon away and glared at his brothers. "So... Father wants to go to England. Why do you not want to go with him?" The other brothers sighed, annoyed with the topic while Aslaug and Vanya watched on, interested in the answer. "Ubbe?" 

"You know why. Now shut up." The oldest son of Aslaug ordered observing a piece of food instead of looking his brother in the eyes.

"Is it the same for you, Sigurd?" Everyone looked at the said male, intrigued by the possibilities of the answer. "Or are you afraid of being seasick?" Ivar mocked, resting his head on his fist.

"I am not afraid of anything, brother."

"Not even me?" The smile from Sigurd's lips fell as he played with the knife. Hviterk looked at Ivar amused while Margrethe moved to pour him a cup.

"So... Lillemor ( Little mother) what was that out there?" Ubbe questioned, looking at Vanya with a raised eyebrow making the said female sigh and roll her eyes at him, tired with the questions.

"I told you. It was a backbone, something none of you had at that moment." She snapped, taking her cup to her lips and sipping the mead.

"We acted appropriately. Other than you who attacked a man, you don't know." Sigurd jumped in as Margrethe moved away from Ivar, shaking in fear from the Viking's angry eyes as Sigurd's words.

Vanya chuckled and leaned over the table towards him. "You think I don't know who Ragnar Lothbrok is? What he truly is? As if my people didn't live in fear of him, treating him like the devil and praying for his death. As if my father didn't take precautions for when he would return. But he didn't, and instead, I married one of his sons and carried on the Lothbrok bloodline. I may not know him personally, but I know what he is capable of. But I don't fear him!"

Sigurd scoffed as Vanya slammed her cup down, startling the Ragnarssons, Margrethe, and Aros, who sat in Aslaug's lap. "You make him sound as if he was some god. He is no god, just another human with power and wit. Yet you shake in your boots when he stands before you like he will strike you dead with lightning if you look at him the wrong way."

"We were cautious, instead of you who behaved like a child."

Ivar slammed his cup down on the table, angered by Sigurd's words. The ale sloshed from the cup, startling Margrethe, who nearly dropped her jug. He glared at her, hitting her on her thigh to scold her for her carelessness.

"It is wrong to treat her that way." Ubbe warned Ivar while Margrethe moved away to escape him.

"Why are you so polite? She is just a slave. You all just want to have her. You too, Ubbe." Ivar mocked, wiggling his finger at his older brother. Vanya glared at Ivar, her hand clenching around his right wrist.

"Ivar."

"Mother." The boy rolled his eyes at her warning. Aslaug tried to hold back a smile at his antics; Aros rested against her chest, sucking on his thumb. Ivar smirked at his little victory, satisfied with the outcome while Vanya frowned next to him.

The next day, Vanya sat with Aslaug in the room behind the curtain of the Great Hall, mashing herbs in a bowl, careful to do it slowly as the Queen advised. "Keep the speed up and then add the garlic. What does that stand for?"

Vanya ground the herbs in a Mortar with Pestle blowing hair out of her face, trying to remember what Aslaug taught her. "It stands for protection, strength, and healing."

Aslaug nodded proudly, watching her daughter in law work like a Völva. The Queen has been teaching Vanya somethings she knew that could be useful for the babe, Ivar, or herself. She also taught her about visions for when Aros started having them. The last part confused Vanya as Aslaug could teach her grandson herself, but Aslaug insisted on doing it this way.

Aros laid on a fur next to the table, slobbering all over the figure of Fenrir that his father made. The boy loved sucking on the toy and always played with it. No other toy interested the boy, no matter if it made a noise or shined prettily; this, of course, made Ivar very proud.

"Have you been sleeping alright?" Aslaug asked the obvious question, the dark circles under Vanya's eyes a dead giveaway. She shook her head and leaned back, resting her ass on her ankles.

"Aros keeps crying during the night. Nothing I try helps. The Healer says it's nothing, but I think he is in pain. He always looks so upset, but when Ivar talks to him, he stops." Aslaug looked down at the content child and then at her daughter.

"Maybe he just misses his father. He must feel how tense everyone is since Ragnar returned. Maybe he knows something that we don't."

Vanya shook her head and picked up the babe who whined a little bit at being moved but stopped when it saw its mother. He raised one hand towards her hair and twisted it between his fingers, babbling nonsense.

"And what about you?"

"Huh?"

"How do you feel about Ragnar's return? Everyone said what they think; you are the only one who has stayed silent. You must have an opinion as well." Vanya questioned the strawberry blonde Queen, who smirked at the question and shook her head.

"I don't know what to think. He has not spoken to me yet. I cannot blame him; we didn't part in a good way." Aslaug explained draining her cup and taking Aros from her so Vanya can finish the ritual.

Vanya took the two stones and hit them against each other until a spark lit the bowl's content up in flames. As soon as the fire started, it ended, leaving behind a cloud of smoke that both women looked into. "What do you see in the smoke?"

"I see...A ship," Vanya started but cut herself off angrily, glaring at the smoke. "And an argument on its way."

Aslaug chuckled, thinking the girl was joking, but when Vanya too Aros from her and left with an apology, the Völva knew she was serious. The Princess stormed off to her hut laying Aros into his bed, fuming angrily. "Why didn't it occur to me earlier. I was so stupid, wasn't I?" She hissed, undressing her babe to wash it with a cloth.

Aros looked up at his mother, confused while she rambled on. "He asked everyone but Ivar. He will ask him next." She spat, throwing the rag away and collapsing on the floor angrily while Aros whine at the cold. "And your father will say yes." She cried at her own stupidity. No matter how much he swore to protect them and stay by their side. He yearned for Ragnar's approval and would gladly go with him if it meant his respect. Vanya couldn't forbid him to go; it would be cruel.

She sobbed on the floor, only picking herself up when Aros's whining got louder. She finished washing him and laid down in bed with him, cradling him close to calm herself down. She sang to him the lullaby her wetnurse sang her so long ago.

The eerie song sends him to sleep son enough, and Vanya was left alone to her thoughts till Ivar returned. "Is he asleep already?"

Vanya hummed, not looking at him, instead watching the adorable face of her firstborn. Ivar undressed and climbed into bed next to them, careful not to squash the tiny babe. "Did you say yes?"

Ivar froze and looked at her before sighing. That meant he did. She chuckled and gazed into his unsure eyes, smiling sadly. "This is a great opportunity to prove myself to him, to be more than his son in the name. Everybody keeps saying that being the son of Ragnar Lothbrok is enough. But I don't feel that way." He looked at her desperately, hoping she would understand. "I love you and Aros. I always thought that I couldn't have a child or a wife. That I was truly boneless, but you proved me wrong. But I need more. I need to be more than a husband and father."

Vanya nodded and took Ivar's hand in hers, taking a deep breath to gather her thoughts. "If even you couldn't do those things, it doesn't make you any less of a man. Cripple or not, you don't need a wife or a child to prove that you are like your brothers. Lots of men can have sex. Lots of men can have children. Those things are easy. To be a son of Ragnar Lothbrok, and to find greatness... That is hard!"

Ivar looked at her with tears in his eyes, relieved that she understood and supported him. "If you feel like you must go to Wessex to feel whole..." She sighed and let the tears spill over her cheeks as well, her husband crying tearing at her heart. "Then I will wait for you here. We both will! And when you return, we will celebrate with your family because no one will ever underestimate you again!"

Ivar nodded and hugged her, crying together until they fell asleep in each other's arms, Aros sleeping between them.

[lliblo]

BN06 Fangs and Explosion

Prompt:

Dragon Bakugo becomes infatuated with the bastard son of king All for One.

Izuku was kept secret from the kingdom but the citizens knew there was a younger son (Shigaraki being the older prince) but they had never seen him. If anyone did they’d know the boy was born out of some cursed wedlock with his unnatural green hair. 

What no one knew, except for the king, was that the young prince Izuku was mothered by a dragon. The evil king tricked her into falling in love with him believing she would pass on an ancient ability of legend to their offspring. (A prophecy said that his half drake son will possess such power) But the boy was born without the quirk of a dragon (no magic, no dragon form). He wasn’t even that impressive by human standards. Unfortunately it took 5 years to find that out and by then everyone already knew of Izuku’s existence, even if they hadn't seen him that much or known of his hair, so it was too late to have the boy disposed of. Enraged he killed Izuku’s mother(Izuku was unaware of this. She was locked in the castle dungeons and he never knew of her existence). Izuku lived his life neglected but still lived with the luxuries of a prince though was moved to a secluded estate at the edge of the kingdom near the forest. The only one to raise him was the kind hearted woman, Inko, who worked in the kitchen but was basically the unofficial head of the household. 

Bakugo didn’t know it but a part of him could sense the dragon blood in Izuku. That’s what drew him to the boy. 

When he was still a hatchlings he would sneak into the prince’s garden on the secluded estate. At first he just visited the small boy as a lizard. (Magic designs hatchlings making them look like cat sized lizards. Not uncommon creatures in this world) then when he got his quirk he could control his magic. After that he visited the boy in a human form. He look like a little wild thing running around barely clothed with tribal gear. Izuku didn’t mind the brash noisy yet oddly secretive boy. He just wanted a friend. Bakugo hid around the adults. Inko was the only one that saw glimpses of him and thought he might be a spirit of the forest. She hoped that he would take Izuku away from his fate. They would be far more kind to him then the king, very few knew of his tyrannical ways since he liked to keep a good image with the public.  

From ages 5-12 they played together in secret. The only thing that stopped them was when Izuku was sent away to get a higher education so he’d be a suitable pawn to be used in a political marriage. He was sent far into the kingdom away from the border where Bakugo couldn’t follow.

Izuku was forced to dye his hair white to match that of his father. (An uncomfortable and gross presses that involve potions that burnt his scalp). He got educated, learning of politics and sword play but was treated poorly and often hurt and bullied. But he kept hold of the comforting memories of the imaginary friends he used to have. (It had to be right? Why else would there be a strange boy coming from the woods (did not know about Bakugo being a dragon))

It wasn’t until he moved to the castle at 18 years old that he accepted his role in life. He was to marry the younger princess of another kingdom and live his life as a lord of some estate as he followed his fathers orders. He would be caught in a loveless marriage and required to produce children to prolong the bloodline.

Over his teen years he’d come to accept that his dreams of going on adventures and seeing the world, becoming a hero of legend, was just that... a dream. 

His life had nothing to look forward to but at least his childhood was happy. Even if it might have been the overactive imagination of a lonely boy. 

News of the mirage spread far and wide since it would be the first step in the great kingdom acquiring another territory. 

But no one anticipated the news spreading far enough to reach the ears of one particular dragon.  

The notoriously bad tempered dragon of destruction, Katsuki Bakugo. He had grown into his magic and unique power of causing massive explosions. He was no longer a little lizard anymore but was now a matured dragon. It has been 6 years since he last saw the love of his life and he refused to let some weak ass human take what was his without a fight. 

Even if Izuku didn’t remember, they made a promise to each other: the two would be the greatest warriors in the world! or heroes, whatever the nerd called them they were going to be the best.

He gathered some of his trusted clutch mates and under the cover of night they stormed the castle. 

The castle panicked. Sure they had defensive against dragons but they were never prepared for a siege like this. Dragons had never been known to do that before. (Something Izuku knew for sure. He spent all of his free time studying the magnificent creatures. Something about them captivated him ever since he spotted the baby dragon when he was little. That, unlike Kacchan, was something he knew was real(Izuku never made the connection that the lizard was Kacchan)) 

They tore into the castle but never touched the town. Searching and prodding they looked for Izuku. 

Bakugo caught the heartbreakingly familiar sent. He ripped open the castle roof like it was made of leaves and there he was. 

His hair was white, his round face had grown into sharp handsome features but those eyes. Those eyes.  Those kind passionate eyes would never change. Even if they looked fearfully up at Bakugo with a sword in hand as he protected a cluster of maids. 

It wasn’t dragon steel so the sword has no effect on Bakugo as he swiped it out of the human’s hands. With an annoying scream from the maids, Bakugo snatched Izuku carefully in his jaws. (Izuku gets knocked out somehow)

Bakugo knew Izuku’s fate to the arranged marriage, and he wasn’t stupid enough to think that the king was as gracious as all the humans seemed to believe so to make everything easier for his heart he decided to fake the prince’s death. With many witnesses he tossed the unconscious body of Izuku to Froppy the frog dragon who could safely store things in a stomach pouch.

Though to outsiders... their beloved youngest prince was eaten by a dragon.

Note: I assume AfO and Shigaraki have some kind of powerful magic of their own.

 Bakugo, being the entitled little lizard that he was at the time, see’s Izuku’s eyes for the first time and thinks they shine brighter then even the purest emeralds and decides that he wants them. Of course his little dragon obsession turns into love as he spends more time with Izuku, and he was determined to be the greatest mate in the world and make Izuku’s grand dreams come true.

Of course... he may have forgotten to mention his feeling to Izuku. He simply assumed Izuku knew about them. How else would you explain the way Izuku’s magic hummed with affection whenever Bakugo was around?

Or something. yeah take what you want from that.

Izuku is thought to be ‘magicless’ because he didn’t posses the quirk of a dragon... but All for One didn’t consider the fact that maybe the ancient magic he was looking for wasn’t draconic in origin. 

This is one of those fics that you could have fun with! so have at it! Feral child Bakugo is always a favorite of mine and I really hope to one day get to this prompt myself. 

Rules for Use:

Feel free to expand or alter if this inspires you!

Repost a link to your fic on this post (I wanna read it!!)

Give proper credit and link this post in the fic itself (Pretty please?)

Return To: LlibLo’s Fan Fiction Prompt Index

[kneamet]

Angel of cards (12/16)

Trigger Warning: no.

Summary: Joker, Mr. J, anarchist psychopath, Tom Hiddleston. He had many nicknames. Joker was Gotham’s most dangerous and insightful man, with sharp makeup and horribly memorable scars on his face in the form of a smile. He was absolutely crazy and deadly. No one knows his real identity and everyone is afraid of his cruel jokes. But what happens when he becomes obsessed with an ordinary girl?

She belongs to him. No one can take her away from him. Even The Batman.

Chapter twelve: point of no return

"So Harvey Dent didn't make it home," the Gotham Police Commissioner said in a calm, but slightly anxious, and broken voice.

Gordon's brow furrowed and he only drew it closer to the bridge of his nose, clasping his hands together. The Joker, who was now in the room with the lights off and James, only smiled slightly.

Did this wonderful commissar have any negative feelings for him? It's really wonderful, really. The Joker, just the Joker, always found Gordon a very nice and interesting person. In the Komi Republic, to be more precise, the only person in whom that very piece of light remained in a dark and unenlightened city.

Even Batman himself, this personification of "kindness and honor" was more likely... just a toy that, although it wanted to protect Gotham from crime, but which will definitely cross the very point of no return and madness... He just needs to be pushed to do it.

"Of course not," the Joker said, smiling. Damn, he thought, starting to brush his scars more. The handcuffs, which rubbed the skin and made it difficult to touch the scars, were extremely difficult. And why are they so big?

"What did you do to him?" in a steely voice, without ceasing to be serious, the man asked, to which the Joker raised his eyebrows and made an actor's surprised face, slightly opening his mouth.

Although he couldn't hide the fact that Gordon liked him too much. He looked a lot like the Joker's father. Not at his stepfather, not at his beloved mother's boyfriends, but at his own father, who always helped him until he died.

The Joker didn't really remember the cause of his father's death. Either because of the accident, or he was killed in an alley, or he committed suicide himself. He didn't remember. I was too small then. Nor did his mother help him to console himself afterward.

"I? I was here," the Joker clearly said, gesturing at Gordon, who was concentrating, unlike the man himself, on absorbing all the information that was being conveyed to him. "Who did you leave him with? With your people?" The Joker smacked his lips, starting to scratch his hands and trying to make it not visible. Unfortunately, his gloves were taken away. What an injustice, isn't it?

"If they're still your people, of course, not Moroni," the damn Italian guy, who's playing the hell out of himself. The same to me, a criminal authority, that even during the day is afraid to attack.

The Joker smiled at Gordon, who took a deep breath. That's right, contempt. Yes, and a misunderstanding. Didn't they understand that he wanted to make the world a better place? And that was the difference between him and Batman.

"It doesn't bother you, Commissioner... realizing how lonely you really are? " loneliness... what do these people know about real loneliness and misunderstanding? That's right, nothing. Although, when you get lost and all your loved ones abandon you, you realize that it's time for the exodus. "Do you feel responsible for Harvey Dent's current situation?" it was a quick throw-in. He didn't care about Harvey Dent, though. Yes, he was also interesting, but if you compare all his advantages with those of Gordon, you can immediately understand who has more of that light in the dark.

"Where is he?" it was obvious that Gordon was trying to restrain himself and not yell at the criminal present, with whom he had to babysit and interrogate. It's just a pity that James didn't know that this most ruthless criminal had saved him.

"What time is it?" he asked quickly, trying to distract attention.

"What's the difference?" asked Gordon, seemingly oblivious to the Joker's random throw-ins.

"Depending on the time, he may be in one place or several," he said, prioritizing and moving his cuffed hands as if to indicate something.

"Since we decided to play games... I'll get a cup of coffee," Gordon jerked his chair around, which was a little jarring, and headed for the lighted door, tugging on the handle.

"The game' good cop, bad cop', guess what? " the criminal smiled and straightened his green hair with shaking hands.

"Not really," Jim smiled for the first time. A pleasant smile, Joker noted, just like his father's.

***

"Daddy, daddy, look, I'm a pirate!" exclaimed the little curly-haired boy, drawing from his bosom a small sword as tall as he was, and pointing at his father with it. The boy towered over his father, standing on the couch.

The man just smiled sweetly. He considered his son the most important thing in his life. A ray of sunshine, not a child. A kid who deserves better.

The man's smile faded for a second. His mind began to recognize the unpleasant thoughts and he looked away, looking at his hand, which had only a couple of badges left on it. One week or seven days left. Not much to catch up on.

"You will be my navigator," the boy said proudly, sheathing his sword in an imaginary scabbard. The man smiled and knelt ostentatiously, raising his hands in the air as if in surrender.

"But who are you, my dear boy Tom?" asked his father, with a mocking smile. Tom smiled fondly and drew his sword again, pointing upward.

"I'm your captain, and if you don't listen to me, I'll kill you!" the boy exclaimed loudly, raising his eyebrows and opening his eyes wider with excitement. He poked his father with his sword, and the latter, like an actor, fell from his knees, falling down as if struck by a toy sword.

"Dad, are you okay?" Tom threw the sword aside and ran to his father, sitting on his knees and leaning forward to face him. The man lay motionless until he suddenly opened his eyes abruptly and raised his hands to his son's sides, whose gaze changed from alarmed to smiling-frightened.

"Gotcha, little imp," the father whispered softly, beginning to tickle his son. There was a loud laugh from little Tom that couldn't be stopped.

***

"Where are Dent and Blake?" a loud bass voice asked, as if driven through an auto-tune. The Joker looked up. That's right, Batman, how could he forget that he was here.

Oh, how harsh he is now. It's like something out of a superhero movie that Tom loved so much when he was a kid.

Wait, did he say his angel's name? His favorite angel? How dare he, no one can say her name, only himself. And this guy in tights. More precisely, it wasn't a leotard, but it wasn't important at all.

But now he needs to be distracted from that. Is he interested in listening to talk about his angel? No, the Joker would definitely talk to Batman about his angel and maybe...

No, Tom! Don't even think about the Joker's favorite angel! It belongs to him, not to you! The Joker shook his head and licked his lips, scratching his head at the same time. That idiot Tom, you don't come here at the right time. Don't stop the adults from talking.

"That's right, don't stop the adults from talking," the Joker muttered as much as possible. It's a good thing that Bruce Wayne, who is hiding under the mask of Batman, does not have such a developed hearing. It's really nice. "These mafia idiots want to take you out... to bring back the past, " he said, blinking rapidly and repeatedly, licking his lips again, and lowering his head, but not taking his eyes off it. "But I know the truth. The situation is not reversible. You changed everything. Forever, " he shook his head and pointed at the man who had slightly opened his mouth with his hand.

"Why do you want to kill me?" what a languid voice, the Joker noted. Is Batman trying to pick him up? Maybe remind him that he has his favorite angel?

"I don't want to kill you," the Joker said, shaking with laughter. His laughter was too crazy, too selfish, too much... "What will I do without you? Robbing the mafia again? " Suddenly, his sudden laughter came to an end. He adjusted his suspenders with his right hand and shook his head. "No, no. No. No you... you complete me, " as if explaining something to a small child, the Joker said, gesturing with his hands again. Wait, did they take the handcuffs off him? He looked down. Really, how nice

"You're a creature who kills for money," Batman said sternly. The Joker saw his lips tighten. Another person expressing contempt for him? What kind of bad luck is this, the Joker asked theatrically in his head.

"Don't talk like everyone else. You're not like that, even though you want to be, " the criminal advised, as if saying something obvious. Well, it might have been obvious to him, but it wasn't obvious to Batman. Although, maybe the Joker was accepting his mental abilities? "To them, you're just crazy... like me. They need you now... and you'll get bored... they'll throw you out like a leper. Their principles, their code... these are just words that are forgotten at the first danger, " the Joker said, watching as Batman's face, or rather only his lower part, twisted his lips more and more.

Oh, dear, dear Bruce Wayne, why are you so angry?

"They are what the world allows them to be. I'll prove it. When things are bad, these... civilized people... they'll eat each other. I'm not a monster. I can see right through them, " obviously, right? Joker thought, but he hardly expected to be taken by the shirt now. Batman, clearly already angry, leaned him against the wall.

"Where are Dent and Blake?" the man spoke through his teeth. The Joker's mouth dropped open. His jaw was shaking.

"You have rules. Do you think you'll be spared? " he asked, holding onto Batman's strong arms. Hell, really strong. What a strong man he is.

"I have one rule," Bruce said, Oh, sorry, Batman, only pushing the Joker harder against the brick wall.

"That's what you'll have to break to find out the truth."

"Which one?" asked Batman, loosening his grip slightly, as if interested. The Joker could feel his scowl.

"The only reasonable way to live in this world is to live without rules. And today you will break your only rule," lowering the Joker to the floor, Batman only put his foot on his body, pinning him down. Oh, the Joker sighed slightly. No, he rarely felt pain, but now it really hurt. It's unpleasant when you squeeze your stomach with a foot made of some kind of plastic. He laughed hysterically, trying to hide the pain he felt from the world. "There are five minutes left, so you'll have to play my game... If you want to save one of them”, just give him a little push, the Joker thought to herself, and he'll be broken.

"'Them'?" there was so much hopelessness in his voice. It seems that this little rich boy has begun to understand something.

"For a moment, I thought you were right, Dent. When he rushed after her," Batman grabbed the Joker's suit again and pushed him painfully onto the table, quickly closing the door with a chair that only hindered them. Let us at least perform some useful function.

"Look, a. Does Harvey know about you and his baby? Are you in love with my angel after all?" Joker asked casually. Rachel, unlike Dent, had never interested him. An ordinary, boring person who reminded him too much of his mother. Her name was Rachel, wasn't it?

"Where are they?!" the man roared, grabbing the Joker again, but this time throwing him to the floor. At this, the criminal only laughed. How funny it is. Same to him, hero.

"Killing is also a choice," the Joker tries to deny, raising his hand and leaning one on the floor.

"Where are they?!"

"Choose," the man delivered the ultimatum, biting his lips lightly and licking them again, hoping that everything was fine with the makeup. Most likely, it is unlikely to wash off. "Your friend, the district attorney, or his beautiful fiancee. Or maybe you want to bring my angel back to you? You have nothing to threaten me with. All your power is useless, " he was acting psychologically on him. He encouraged me to make this choice in every possible way. On this difficult and disturbing choice. A choice that can affect a large number of people.

"Don't worry, I'll tell you where they are. Both. That's the whole point. You'll have to choose," Batman opened his mouth, looking into the eyes of the possessed man.

This is the point of no return. That moment was the tipping point. He will let the darkness into his heart. The hero who, without blinking once at eye contact with the abyss, looked at it directly, looked away for the first time.

[laimdalen-itellam]

Getting to Know the Inquisitor

Basics

Name: Ma'aravel Lavellan

Age at the start of their game: 24 (Born 12 Bloomingtide, 9:17 Dragon)

Gender: Male

Sexual orientation: Bisexual

Race: Elf

Class: Warrior (temporarily); Rogue

Height: 5'3"

Weight: 118 lbs

Eyes: Hazel

Hair color/texture: Auburn; Straight

Skin tone: Peaches and Cream

Do they tan or freckle?: Tanning? Not so much. But he does have plenty of freckles, mostly bunched up on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose

Any distinctive physical characteristics?: He has a full face of olive green Mythal vallaslin

Personality

Personality type: INFP-T

Optimist, pessimist, or realist?: Probably an optimist, but clueless and naive might be better words for it

Best traits:

Kind

Open-Minded

Pure-Hearted

Loyal

Attentive

Worst flaws:

Impressionable

Naive

Unassertive

Soft-Hearted

Insecure

Tropes that apply to them:

Amnesiac Hero

The Chains of Commanding

Closest Thing We Got

Dream Walker

Everyone Calls Him "Barkeep"

Expecting Someone Taller

Frontline General

Go and Sin No More

Hearing Voices

Hope Bringer

Humble Hero

I Am Who?

Manchurian Agent

Messianic Archetype

Nice Guy

Oblivious to Love

The Only One

Power Palms

Red Baron

Reluctant Warrior

Right Man In the Wrong Place

Save the Villain

Sole Survivor

Spanner in the Works

Survivor's Guilt

Touched by Vorlons

Undying Loyalty

Unique Protagonist Asset

Unluckily Lucky

Unwanted False Faith

Weirdness Magnet

Are there any songs that particularly suit them?:

"I Don't Remember" by Peter Gabriel

"Stop This Train" by John Mayer

"Being Good Isn't Good Enough" by Barbara Streisand

"Do Something Good" by Darryl Worley

"With A Little Help From My Friends" by The Beatles

If yes, would they agree with your selections?: I'm not sure he'd know how to answer that, honestly

Preferences

Favorite color: Green

Favorite animal: Halla

Taste in clothing: Whatever's comfortable. He does really like the outfits he's seen Solas and some of the Dalish elves wearing, though

How do they feel about mage rights?: Shouldn't all people at least have the right to freedom? He doesn't understand segregation or prejudice of any kind

How do they feel about the other races of Thedas?: They seem nice enough. There are some humans that don't seem to like him, and that group of Qunari did try to kill him, but he knows better than to think a few individuals are representative of their whole population

Are they religious?: In a way. He definitely was before the Conclave, but then the amnesia hit. Solas retaught him many aspects of his culture and religion (with his own opinions coloring said lessons), and he has come across countless evidence that the Dalish gods exist, so he doesn't see why he shouldn't believe in them again

If they were to find themselves in a modern AU

Favorite food: Ice Cream

Drink order: Mudslide

What would they wear for a night out?: An untucked blouse or button-up, some pants, and a pair of boots

Song(s) that would be sure to get them on the dance floor: None that I can think of

College major: Forestry or Natural Resources Conservation

Ideal date: Getting food, watching a movie, and cuddling

Favorite movie and/or film genre: Maleficent; Fantasy

Family/Friends/Love Life

Relationship with their parents: Lavellan's father was a city elf he never knew, but his mother was more than enough. She was kind and gentle and raised him lovingly until she fell deathly ill. The two of them returned to her clan, so that she knew her son would be cared for once she was gone. Sure enough, the clan kept him safe and healthy, but he was never shown even half the love he'd become accustomed to under his mother's care

Siblings (outside of canon): N/A

Best friend(s): Cole, Iron Bull, and Sera

Companion(s) they get along best with: Dorian, Solas, Varric, Cole, Iron Bull, and Sera

Companion(s) they get along worst with: Vivienne

Companion(s) from other games in the series you wish they could meet, and why: Merrill. They're both adorable sweethearts who were ostracized by their clans, so I feel like they'd get along pretty well

Age of sexual debut: Around 18 or 19

Romanced: Dorian (RPs won't go beyond an awkward date or two with anyone else, and not even that once he's started to date his vhenan)

Relationship status as of the end of Inquisition: Long-distance partners

Are there any songs that particularly suit their romance?:

"Crazy for You" by Madonna

"Teenage Dream" by Katy Perry

"Love Is Beginning" by Imaginary Future

"Your Arms Feel Like Home" by 3 Doors Down

What are they like as a romantic partner?: Eager and willing to please. Also, incredibly cuddly and doting

Do they enjoy cuddling?: As mentioned before, yes! He will take every opportunity to be as close to his vhenan as possible

Do they want children?: He hasn't really thought about it

Do they (now or eventually) have children?: Probably not

Skills

Can they cook?: If asked to. He's made some stews and roasted meats in the past

Can they sing/play an instrument?: No instruments, but he can sing slow songs pretty well. He has a hard time sticking to the beat on faster ones

Are they a good dancer? If not, do they do it anyway?: His only experience dancing was at the Winter Palace. He stumbled a bit at the foreign movements with Florianne, so Dorian let him rest his feet on his own during their later reconnaissance to avoid spoiling the mood

Do they have any creative hobbies?: No

Any martial training beyond their main weapon?: He used to use daggers or a shortbow, and eventually he went back to them, but on his first outing after the Conclave, he just picked up the nearest weapon, which happened to be a longsword he had to hold with both hands. Assuming he didn't know how to fight at all, he was taught the basics of the weapon by a few of his companions

Languages spoken: The common tongue and Elvhen

Any other unique skills they'd like us to know about?: None that he can remember

Template

[nothingeverlost]

The One You’re Born into and the One You Find (Marauder Era HP fic)

Thing I was not planning to do this week: write 10,000 words about Sirius Black.  He’s an insistent muse, though, so a little drabble about him and Andromeda talking as now a full blown fic about the time Sirius ran away from home.

Summery: Sirius runs away and finds out something about home.

Warnings for references to abuse/torture.

II

It’s two days before Christmas when Sirius Black leaves Grimmauld Place for the last time. His first impulse is to go to the Potter home, but he can’t, not with his mother’s voice in his head, the threats and ugly things she’s said.  He can’t risk that she might follow through with her promises.  It’s not safe.  Besides, James would owl Peter and Remus, and he needs to keep them safe too.

Perhaps it would be best to take a room above the Three Broomsticks, but after a week of cold silence from his family he can’t take any more isolation.  There’s only one place he can think of to go.

“Sirius?”  Warm light floods the front stoop when the door opens.  In the doorway stands his cousin, the only person that might understand what it means to be a disinherited Black.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a sofa I could crash on for a day or two, would you ‘Dromeda?”  They’ve barely talked in years; the last time was the summer before Fifth year when they both happened to be at Diagon Alley.  He’d been with his friends, his parents not wanting to be seen with their son who was buying a new Gryffindor uniform, ‘Dromda with her husband.  He’d been eight when she’d been struck off the family tree, but she would always be his favorite cousin.  His only cousin, now.

“Nonsense.  You’ll take the guest room.  I hope your silencing charms are up to par; our Nymphadora is an early riser.”  She holds the door open wide for him, enough so he can levitate his trunk into the house.  He’s not sure about accepting the room, though.

“Mother is going to be angry if she finds out you took me in.  I really only need a day or two so I can figure things out.”  He needs a lot more than a couple of days but he wasn’t about to ask for more.  It isn’t fair to her.

“Auntie has been angry with me for almost a decade now.  I’m a blood traitor, after all.  It doesn’t get much worse than marrying a muggle-born.  You’ll stay as long as you need.”  Andromeda doesn’t roll her eyes, she wouldn’t stoop to something so immature, but Sirius can almost see it anyway.  “Now shut the door behind you and come into the kitchen.  Ted is cleaning up but there’s plenty of leftovers and I’m sure you’re hungry.  Left before dinner, didn’t you?”

“During, but I didn’t eat anything.”  There had been company, people that made Sirius’s skin crawl.  His father had spoken so casually of his son joining The Cause, only debating if he should wait to finish his education or begin during the coming summer.  Perhaps, Orion Balck had speculated, his position in Gryffindor could end up being a blessing in disguise.  No one would expect a Death Eater under the scarlet and gold robes.

“You’re in luck.  Ted made his beef stew and it’s just the thing for a cold evening like this.”  She doesn’t say, but they both understand, that ‘cold’ refers to more than the weather.  “Ted, my love, we’ve company.”

“Cousin Sirius, what a treat.  Welcome.”  Sirius is surprised by the warm welcome and the following hug.  Perhaps he shouldn’t be; Ted Tonks is a muggle and a Hufflepuff, after all, but the only person he knows who is so open is James.

“Do you mind reheating some of your stew, Ted?  Siri hasn’t had dinner.  I’ll put Dora to bed.”

“Her hair is pink.”  Sirius has almost forgotten that there was a kid.  His family doesn’t acknowledge the marriage let alone the child, and kids aren’t really his thing.  He can’t remember the last time he’s seen a kid younger than eleven.  Andromeda’s daughter is a lot smaller than a first year.  Not as shy as they were either, as she climbs up on a chair to get a better look at the stranger in her house.

“Play?’  Sirius is pretty sure the tips of her hair darkened.  

“Nymphadora, this is your cousin Sirius.  You can play with him tomorrow but now it’s time for bed.”

“See-us.”  The little girl wrinkles up her nose as she tests out the name.  “See-e-us.”

“My friends call me Padfoot sometimes.”  It might be easier to say.  No one in his family considered easy names, it seemed.  Not ever his cousin.  Nymphadora, really?

“Padfoot play?”  She spreads her arms and jumps, leaving Sirius with no choice but to catch her.  She is a little thing, with less force than a bludger, but she squirms a lot.  

“Tomorrow,” Andromeda says firmly, helping to free Sirius from arms that seemed to be longer than they should be.  “I’ll be back down after storytime, Sirius.  Don’t worry about your trunk, I’ll take it up to your room.  Ted will show you where the drinks are.  There might even be a bit of firewhiskey to add to the butterbeer.”

His mother would be horrified to see him eating in the kitchen like a common person or a house elf.  The Tonks kitchen is a warm and comfortable room, though, and Sirius is glad to sit with Ted, who is keeping an eye on the cleaning charms.  They share a drink and Sirius empties a bowl of stew and accepts the second helping Ted gives him  It wasn’t like the food was bad at Grimmauld Place; it was the company that robbed him of his appetite.  He is too used to laughter and teasing and camaraderie as he eats with his mates at school, and out of practice choking down food under his mother’s sour expression and his father’s ranting.

“I’m sorry to spring this on you, Ted.”  He is halfway through his second bowl when he finally looks up at his companion.  He doesn’t know much about the man, other than the fact he was muggle-born, a Hufflepuff, and married to his cousin.

“Nonsense, you’re family.  It’s a rare treat for Andi to get to have family around.  You know what it’s like.”  Ted frowns.

“She’s lucky she got out when she did.”  Just this past summer the engagement between Cisssa and Malfoy had been announced.  The only good thing Sirius could say is that he wasn’t quite as disgusting as Bella’s husband.  The talk of pure blood had gotten worse at family dinners and words like ‘cleanse’ and ‘purify’ were tossed around more.  “They don’t bother you, do they?”

“Ignore us completely, which is probably for the best.  It’s not easy on Andi when we run into any of them in public, though.  We saw Narcissa when we were at Gringotts last and she wouldn’t even look at our Dora.  I don’t think Bellatrix has even seen her.”

“Best to keep it that way.  She’s gone mental.  More mental than she used to be.  And her husband…” Sirius bites his tongue to keep from saying more.  He didn’t need to talk about Rabistan LeStrange.  Didn’t need to think about him, or what he was capable of.  One time alone with the man had been one time too many; he still had bruises on his arm from their ‘conversation’ three days ago.  “If you’re lucky they’ll forget about you completely.”

“Your turn, Ted.  Dora’s tucked in and ready for her story.”  Sirius is almost done with his second bowl of stew when Andromeda comes down, turning off the water in the sink as the last of the dishes dry themselves.  She settles into the seat her husband had occupied moments ago.  “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“What’s the point?  It’s over and I’m never going back.  I’ve probably been blasted off that damn tapestry already.”  It had been his mother’s last threat as he’d left as if the worst thing that could happen was being disowned by the family that hated not only him but everything he cared about.

“Walking away from family isn’t that easy.  I know.”  For a moment she looks lost in memories before shaking her head.

“Family doesn’t…”  Sirius clenches his hands around the edge of the table.  He doesn’t talk about the things that happened in his home, not even to James.  Andromeda would understand more than anyone else, but that doesn’t make it easier to speak.  “They’re not my family.  I have James and Remus and Peter.”

“You have me and Ted too.”  Andromeda reaches across the table and covers one of his hands with her own.  “It’s two more weeks until term starts.  You’ll stay here and we can take you to the train.”

“I wasn’t planning on staying that long.”  He hasn’t planned anything but thought perhaps he might be able to leave for school sooner.  Hogwarts would be safe.

“You’re staying.  It’s Christmas, Sirius.  And if you’re worried about earning your keep you don’t have to worry.  Dora will adore having a new friend and you can pay us back in imaginary tea parties.”

II

Exhausted, Sirius falls asleep almost the moment he turns off the light in the guest bedroom.  It doesn’t last; a few hours later he comes awake abruptly, gasping his way out of a dream.  He fumbles for his wand, casting a ‘Lumos’ as he sits up.  He needs to be sure he doesn’t fall asleep again, not while the dream slithers inside his mind.  

He barely noticed the bedroom when his cousin had escorted him up, beyond noting that his trunk was under the window.  Everything he owned was in his trunk, and he only had that much because he’d never unpacked it when he’d gotten home for winter hols.  He’d gone up, grabbed it and his broom, and had been heading for the front door before anyone could stop him.  There hadn’t been any time to get Freddie, his owl, from the family owlery.  He hoped his mother didn’t take out any of her anger on poor Freddie.

The room, now that he can focus better, is as different as it was possible to be from the bedroom he’d abandon hours ago.  Instead of grey walls and antique furniture that had been passed down for generations, the walls were painted a pale yellow and the bed was new.  The quilt he’d been sleeping under seemed handmade, a patchwork of mismatched colors that would never earn his mother’s approval.  On the wall across from the bed is a painting of the shore, waves gently lapping at the sand.  It reminds him of a trip he’d taken with the Potters the summer between fourth and fifth years; Remus had joined them as well, though Peter hadn’t been allowed to come.  It wasn’t home - the only home he knew being his dorm at Hogwarts - but it was a cheerful and cozy space.  

He hoped his presence didn’t make it an unsafe place.  While his mother had been the loudest with her threats it was harder to guess what recourse his father might take.  Or his father’s friends.  He would run again if he needed to.  Sirius resolved not to unpack his trunk in case any threats were made. If anyone in his family so much as sent an owl he’d be off.

It’s dark outside his bedroom window, enough that he can’t make out anything in the back garden.  The moon wasn’t much more than a sliver, which was good.  It would be two weeks until Remus would need him.   If he was still with Andromeda and Ted by then he could make an excuse for going back to school early.  Until then he would lie low and hope that his family decided he was no longer worth any of their time.

After an hour of trying to go back to sleep, Sirius transforms and curls up at the foot of the bed.  Sometimes it is easier to sleep for a few hours as Padfoot; he would just have to hope his cousin didn’t ask about the black fur.

II

Someone is trying to suffocate him.  His mouth is covered, his lungs straining for want of oxygen.  He can hear Bella’s laughter and see the cold steel of his mother’s eyes.  Behind her, Regulus looked ill.

“Ge-off,”  Sirius struggles to open his mouth, to take in a breath, and almost chokes on a piece of bacon.  He blinks and opens his eyes to find that he isn’t in Grimmauld Place.  He’s in Andromeda’s guest room, and he is chewing on a piece of bacon.

“Breakfast.”  Nymphadora’s hair is blue this morning and she is holding out a piece of bacon between two chubby fingers.  “Welcome.”

“Thank you?”  He can’t think of anything else to say.  Waking up to find a kid staring at him is odd, but it was a million times better than anything that had happened the day before.

“Dora, where are you?”  The door to the hallway is open; apparently the kid was old enough to open doors because Sirius had closed it the night before.  He can’t sleep when a door is open, it felt too vulnerable.  At home he locked the door, even knowing that wouldn’t really stop anyone.  At school he was grateful for the curtains around the bed.  Here the door was now open and Ted was coming in, shaking his head.  “Sorry about that, mate.  Did she wake you?”

“I’d rather be awake.”  Memories weren’t quite as bad as dreams.

“Breakfast is ready if you’d like to join us,  I promise you can eat at your own pace, and not worry about this little scamp trying to feed you more.  You’re lucky it was just bacon.  She might have decided you were thirsty.”  Ted grins, an easy expression that reminds him a little of James.  His best friend’s smile comes easily too.  Sirius wonders if Ted’s parents were also as wonderful as the Potters.

“I’ll be down in a minute.”  He’s only slept in his pants and waits until Ted had scooped up his daughter and taken her out of the room, closing the door behind him, before getting out of bed so he could dress.

Breakfast was as good as any meal he’d had at Hogwarts.  Ted, apparently, did all the cooking in the family.  His cousin had learned as much cooking as he had, which meant nothing at all.  Pureblood snobs were supposed to have house elves to tend to their needs, rather than actually learning anything practical.  Ted cooked the muggle way, and his scones were good enough that Sirius had three.  He eats some bacon too, as well as quiche.

His plan for the day is to hole up in the guest room.  It was Christmas Eve and he didn’t want to interfere with the holiday for his cousin’s family.  Christmas wasn’t a big deal anyway; he loves the traditions he shares with his friends before the holidays but generally spent the day itself being miserable.  Andromeda has other ideas.

Once breakfast is over and the dishes are put away she pulls out flour, butter, sugar, eggs, and a mass of sprinkles.  Sirius somehow finds himself rolling out dough and cutting out cookies, often with the ‘help’ of Dora.  Once the first batch cooled he is in charge of frosting while Dora added three times as many sprinkles as anyone would call normal.  Somehow there was frosting in his hair and he is certain that his fingers would be red and green for longer than they were the last time he’d ‘accidentally’ snuck dye into James’s shampoo, but it is the most fun he’s had on a Christmas Eve in years.  When he makes one of the frosted snowmen dance across the table Dora laughs and then viciously bites his head off.  It was then that Andromeda decides it is time for Dora’s nap.

While Andromeda is putting her daughter down for a nap Sirius takes the opportunity to escape.  No matter what they say Ted and Andromeda deserved to have at least part of the day to themselves, and he can use a walk.  When staying with his parents long walks were about the only thing that kept him sane.  The walls of his childhood home were oppressive on the best of days.  Dangerous on the worst.  His cousin’s house was nowhere near the old neighborhood where his parents live, but the moment he’s gone a few blocks from the house he realizes how exposed he is.  If anyone sees him it wouldn’t be hard to make the connection to the Tonks family.  On his own he doesn’t have anyone to watch his back and it would be easy enough for a couple of people to drag him home.  Would his father have any interest in forcing him home?  Making him bow and scrape, making him swear an oath of fidelity?

“I’m not going back there,” he swears to himself, walking faster.  He looks at each alley he passes, half expecting to see someone he should fear, half looking for a plan of escape.  All he would need was a moment out of sight; no one would know to look for Padfoot once he transformed.

“Sirius?”  At the sound of his name he turns, wand already raised and a disarming spell on his lips.  

“Thought that was you.”  Frank Longbottom looks curiously at his wand but shrugs.  “Don’t usually see you on this side of town, mate.  Enjoying your holiday?”

“It’s alright.  Just stopped by to see a friend,” he lies.  Fortunately, he has a lot of practice at lying.  Frank is a nice enough sort, a year ahead of him in school.  Rumor was he was all set for the Auror program after graduation.  That didn’t mean that Sirius was about to trust him completely.  He didn’t trust anyone completely except the Mauraders.

“Alice lives around the corner.  We had lunch with the family.  Her dad has to warm to me eventually, or at least that’s the hope.  Not so pleased about the half muggle status, that one.”

“Screw him,” Sirius growls with more force than he meant.  He is so tired of the hate against muggle-borns, half muggles, and his most hated word, ‘half breeds.’  His father was of the opinion that the only good werewolf was either a dead one or a vicious pet, and had talked at length during Tuesday night’s dinner about a need for more regulations to protect against monsters.  His father’s definition of a monster is very different from his own.

“It’s important to Alice.”  Frank was so mild-mannered it was sometimes a surprise that he was a Gryffindor.  Then again Pete was pretty affable too.  He’d seen Frank’s reaction, though, when a Slytherin was scaring a first-year Hufflepuff.  Frank hadn’t been mild-mannered then.  “He’s not a bad bloke, just set in his ways.  Not like, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”  Not like his family or the loony bin they kept marrying into.  Still, he had no patience for any of it.  It didn’t matter if he’d never met Mr. Fortesque, he already didn’t like the man.

They walk a bit farther, not talking of anything important until they reached a row of muggle shops and Sirius mentions stopping to pick out some gifts.  

“A bit last minute, aren’t you Sirius?” Frank teases.

“Same way I get my essays done,” he says with a shrug.  The truth is he spent as much time plotting his gifts as he did some of his most elaborate pranks, and he’d gotten gifts for his fellow Marauders before school had even started.  Other than sending something to James’s parents they were the only gifts he had to worry about.  Even in better days his parents had not held with gifts for Christmas.  He’d be a prat if he didn’t at least have something under the tree for his cousins this year, though.  Fortunately he still had some muggle money from a trip to muggle London he and James had gone on during the summer.

He returns to Andromeda’s an hour later with a cookbook for Ted by a muggle named Julia Childs that the shopkeep had assured him anyone who liked cooking would enjoy and a stuffed dog for the sprog.  It was black and not unlike his own secret form, which amused him.  His cousin was harder, but when he’d walked past an antique shop he’d found a little painting of an owl.  It looked like the one Andromeda had when she was a girl; Sirius could remember visiting and seeing his cousin petting the bird, whispering to it softly.  Bella had rolled her eyes.  It was a muggle painting so it didn’t move, but Sirius thought Andromeda might at least appreciate the sentiment.

“Sirius Black what do you mean by vanishing for hours without even saying that you’re leaving?”  Andromeda is every inch a Black when she appears in the hall just moments after he enters the house.  Her jaw is firmly set, chin lifted at just the right angle to make it feel like she looked down her nose at him despite being half a head shorter.  For a moment he is reminded of her mother, and then his own.

Shite.

“I thought you could use some time without an intruder around.  Christmas Eve traditions and all that.”  It had started snowing as he’d walked back from the shops.  Sirius tries to distract himself by brushing the snow off one shoulder.  Regulus had given him the same look that Andromeda was giving him now, just a few days ago when he’d said the only right side of any fight was standing against everything the family stood for.

“Great.  Lovely.  So I guess if my sister’s friends had seen you and decided to hex you into the new year it wouldn’t have mattered to me because at least I had a nice afternoon away from my ungrateful little cousin?” She glares at him in a way he hadn’t seen since he’d been seven and had used the essay she’d left in the study to make paper airplanes that had magically flown themselves.

“I wouldn’t tell anyone you let me stay here.”  He’s had enough experience with Cruciatus to know that he would be able to keep at least that secret.

“You think that’s what concerns me?” she asks incredulously before her crossed arms fall to her side and she deflates.  “Merlin, they did a number on us, didn’t they?  Our family.  Toujours pur but jamais fidèle.  I was worried about you, Siri.  You haven’t told me what happened but I know enough the guess.  I’m not totally unaware of what’s happening with my sisters and their social circle.”

“I know how to take care of myself.”  For a moment he hears the shadow of another argument, weeks earlier with Remus.  They had been fighting about the full moon and returning to school early so they could be there for him.  He tells himself it’s not the same thing.

“Of course you do.  Another lesson we learned well.”  Andromeda takes a step forward and brushes the snow off his other shoulder.  “I know family is a pretty complicated word for both of us but you are my family Sirius.  I care what happens to you.”

“Does it ever get easier?”  He wants to ask if he would always hate them this much.  If he would always carry around the hard ball of anger that sometimes threatened to choke him.  Would he always feel the guilt in leaving Reggie behind, not even trying to stop him from becoming the son his father wanted?  Would he ever stop mourning the family he never had?  He has a hundred questions but doubts there are really any answers.

“I remember when I heard you’d been sorted into Griffindor.  Auntie was so angry.  There was talk of sending you to Durmstrang, but they decided against it because of the way it might look.  The first time I saw you that winter you were in Zonko’s with your mate James, and you were laughing.  I don’t know how you’d gotten permission to be there without your parents but you looked so happy.  I knew then that the sorting hat had changed something that couldn’t be changed back.  I think it’s already better.  It doesn’t go away, we can’t change where we came from, but it’s better than what could have been.”

“I remember that trip.  Mum thought the Potter connection could be useful.”  The Potters were purebloods, and rich, but in every other way as different from the Blacks as it was possible to be.  “You brought us ice creams after the joke shop.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to do that more often.”  

“Mum would have hated knowing we spent any time together.”  He’d missed his cousin, but there had always been an extra thrill knowing his mother would disapprove.  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left without saying anything.”

“You’re wanted here, alright?”  They don’t hug, not in their family, but Sirus has learned it from his mates and Andromeda from her husband.  It is a quick hug, but heartfelt.  Afterwards Sirius drops his packages off under the tree and finds that on the mantle there was now a fourth stocking, one with his name on it.

II

Christmas is a quiet day, or as quiet as it can be when a three-year-old has a newly acquired broom that hovers a foot off the floor.  The stuffed dog he’s picked out, who somehow has been dubbed ‘Spot’ despite being solid black, has a place of honor on the broom and only falls off six times.  The snow from the night before has left a fresh powder on the ground, and the afternoon is spent building a snowman that briefly joins them in an animated game of tag thanks to some clever wand work from Andromeda.

To say it is the best Christmas Day he’s ever had isn’t saying a lot, considering what Christmas is like in his family.  It is more than a good Christmas, it is a good day.  When he watches Dora feed her stuffed dog invisible hot chocolate he can’t help wondering what it would have been to grow up in a family that saw children as something other than an obligation to continue the family line.

“Would you care for a cup of chocolate that’s not invisible?”  Andromeda asks once her daughter’s attention is drawn away from their ‘tea’ party.  Ted is giving her hippogriff rides.

“Yeah.”  He follows her into the kitchen, leaning against the counter while she melts a bar of Honeyduke’s finest into simmering milk.  Moony would approve.

“I remember getting my first broom.”  His hadn’t been a toy.  His parents didn’t believe in toys.

“If memory serves you were six, and the first thing you did was try to stand up on it.”  Andromeda laughs as she stirs the chocolate, adding vanilla and a pinch of salt.

“They locked it up for a month after that, until I could promise to be more respectful.”  He’d only learned to be more careful, waiting until he was out of view before practicing loops and dives and quidditch moves.  It had been his first taste of freedom.

“Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t met Ted.  Would I have ever defied the family or would I just have accepted it as my lot?  But I never wondered about you, Sirius.  Worried, but never doubted that you were meant for something else.”

“You never would have stayed.  You’re too good for them.”

II

The letter comes during breakfast on boxing day.  Sirius is so focused on the red envelope that he doesn’t notice the owl at all.  He’s been expecting at least a letter for three days now, and his only thought is to snatch the letter and get up to his room before it explodes in his mother’s amplified and shrill voice.  No one else needs to hear the hate in her voice.

He is too slow, or the letter is faster than usual.  He’s barely taken it from the owl and stood from his chair when it begins to shake.  It grows in size, shaking and looking like a firework about to explode before it bursts open.

SIRIUS ORION BLACK YOU GREAT GIT WHERE THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU?

It takes Sirius a moment to realize that the shooting that fills the small kitchen is not his mother, but his best friend.

YOU HAVE NOT ANSWERED MY OWLS FOR THREE DAYS.  I EVEN TRIED FLOOING TO YOUR HOUSE BUT THAT CREEPY HOUSE ELF OF YOUR MOTHER’S ONLY SAID THAT HER MISTRESS HAD GOTTEN RID OF YOU.  I’M WORRIED PADFOOT.   MUM AND DAD ARE WORRIED.  RUMUS SENT ME AN OWL BECAUSE HE THOUGHT MAYBE WE SHOULD TRY GOING TO YOUR HOUSE TO SEE YOU.

“No.”  Sirius stares in horror at the envelope as if it can hear him.  Remus can’t go anywhere near Grimmauld Place.  He’s only let James come once and that was bad enough but at least James comes from a wizarding family almost as old as the Blacks.

RUMUS IS STRESSED ABOUT YOU AND YOU KNOW WHAT HE’S LIKE WHEN HE’S STRESSED.  IF WE DON’T HERE FROM YOU IN AN HOUR I AM SENDING HIM AN OWL BACK AND WE ARE GOING TO MAKE A PLAN.

A moment later the howler tears itself to pieces, the confetti burning like ash.  The only thing left was the echo in his ears.

“I can’t let Remus go to Grimmauld Place.”  He looks at Andromeda.  

“Bloody git.”  Dora waves a bit of pancake around on the end of her fork, apparently amused by the howler.  “Great bloody git.”

“Those are not words for little girls, my love.  They’re words for grown-ups who have to deal with problems.”  Ted reaches over and picks Dora up from her seat, balancing her on his knee and distracting her with a floating grape.  Sirius knows he should probably apologize, but all he can think about is Remus showing up at his parents’ door and them somehow seeing in an instant what it took him two years to figure out.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for any of your friends, but at least if they’re looking for you it rules them out as anyone who knows where you are.  It might protect them in the long run.”  Andromeda stirs her tea carefully.  “Remus is the quieter lad, isn’t he?  The one with the nice manners.”

Sirius nods, afraid to open his mouth and say anything about Remus, afraid he might say too much and spill secrets that aren’t his to tell.  It has taken months to recover from the Snape Incident. All he knows is that he has to stop any of his friends, but Remus especially, from confronting his parents.  The things the Black Family would do if they knew they had a werewolf in their home were unspeakable.  “I need to borrow your floo.”

“The floo powder is on the mantle where the stockings were.  You’ll let me know if you’re not home for dinner, won’t you?”  Sirius nods his promise.

“Your friends are welcome to tea. We’re having bangers and mash,” Ted adds supportively as Sirius carries his dishes to the sink.

“Padfoot play?”  Dora asks as he leaves the kitchen.  He hopes she won’t be too upset that he’s ignored her request.

A minute later he is in the Potters’ library, startling Fleamont Potter from his post-breakfast nap.  A newspaper half covers his face but he pushes it away as he sits up.  “Sirius my lad, what a relief.  James will feel so much better when he sees you.  Last I checked he was pacing the front hall.”

“I’ll go find him.”  At least he hadn’t dashed off and done anything stupid; that was Sirius’s job.  He doesn’t have far to go far; after walking through the library door he is tackled and might have fallen if he wasn’t so used to the surprise attacks of James Potter.  This one involved a hug he couldn’t have escaped if he wanted to.  He doesn’t want to.

“If I wasn’t so happy to see you Padfoot I’d punch you and then lock you in a small dark room.  Where have you been?”  James’ hair was messier than usual, standing on end where he tugged on it when he was nervous or frustrated.  The fact that he was wearing shoes was alarming; when he was at home his feet were always bare, so he really was planning on going somewhere.  Sirius hates thinking about where that place might have been.

“I’m alright, Prongs.”  There is no person on the entire earth that he trusts more than James Potter.  His reluctance to mention his cousin was not out of worry.

“Not one peep yesterday from you.  Even first year you popped in to say Merry Christmas and last year you came for almost two hours after you got yourself kicked out of dinner.  I kept my mirror with me all day yesterday and nothing from you.  When I popped into your kitchen the house-elf said…”

“I left.”  He shrugs as if it doesn’t mean anything.

“What do you mean, you left?  Left the house on Christmas?  Can’t imagine that made your mum happy.”

“I left a couple of days ago, actually, and I don’t give a toss what my mother thinks.”  He looks down at his shoes, noticing that there was a scuff mark on the left one.  “I’m not going back there.”

“What did they do?”  His best friend’s voice sounds like fire.  Sirius knows that James would go to war against the whole Black family without a single hesitation if he thought that they had hurt Sirius.  It is the reason he keeps the worst stories to himself, to protect James.  Remus knows more, whispered confidences in the black of night when neither of them can sleep.  After all, Remus has his own monsters and knows something about enemies being bred into your blood.

“I’m not going to be one of them, and hate who they tell me to hate, and fight who they tell me to fight.”  Rudolphus and Bella have matching tattoos on their arm.  At first he’d thought they were a warped couple sort of thing, but then he’d seen the same mark on Narcissa’s finance, and the slithering edge of black ink on his father’s arm when his sleeve hitched up a little.

“Of course you’re not.”  James smiles a little, just for a moment, before the smile fades.  “Hold up, you said days ago.  Where have you been since you left?  Pete would have said if you’d been at his place and I know you haven’t seen Remus.  Please tell me you haven’t done anything naff like sleep on a bench or take a room at Three Broomsticks.”

“I need to lie low for a bit.  I am somewhere safe, I promise.”  His mother’s threats ring in his ear, promising that no one that dared offer him sanctuary would be safe.

“You’re safe here.”  James snakes a hand around his wrist, dragging him towards the back of the house.  “Mum,” he shouts.

“It’s not about my safety.”  When the kitchen proves empty James pulls him to the backdoor, through the snowy yard to the greenhouse that is always warm and humid no matter the weather.  In the center of the space is a pond where lotus float.  Euphemia Potter is kneeling beside her herb bed.

“Mum, Sirius showed up finally and he’s run away from home so he needs a place to stay.  He can have the room next to mine, right?  Dad can figure out how to handle the guardian stuff so you can sign his school papers and..”

“Prongs, stop.  I just came so you didn’t do anything stupid like go to Grimmauld Place.  I’m not staying.”  

“Don’t be stupid, Pads, of course you’re staying.  Right mum?”

“This is always your home, Sirius.”  She stands with a grace that his own mother would never be able to emulate, no matter how many centuries of ‘good breeding’ have gone into molding her.  Deep purple and gold robes flow around her.  Indoors she’s just as apt as her son to have bare feet, but in the garden she wears leather sandals.  “Monty and I have been worried about you, dear.  It’s good to see that you’re safe.”

“I’m sorry for making you worry.”  The last thing he wants to do is worry his friends or the Potters who are always so kind to him.  Without the Potters he wouldn’t know what a real family is supposed to look like, or how lacking his own family really was.

“A mother always worries about her children.”  When she touches his arm Sirius has to fight to remain stoic, torn between the wanting to break down and wanting to make a bitter comment that some mothers want nothing more than to eat their own young.

“See, Pads?  Mum said you’re staying.  Dad will agree and that’s everything sorted.  The family barrister can send papers to your…”

“No.”  If he lets himself listen to any more it will sound too much like a dream and not having it will hurt all the more.  “You’re not listening to me, Jamie.  I will see you in two weeks when we go back for term.  I need you to let Remus know that I’m safe and that he’s not to go to my parents’ house under any circumstances ever.  Let him know that I’ll be at school on Wednesday morning like I promised, okay?”

“Tell him yourself, Pads.  You haven’t forgotten how to write a letter in the last week have you?”  James stands between him and the door to the greenhouse, arms crossed and ready for a fight. “No, but I don’t have a way to send a letter.  I couldn’t bring Freddie with me when I left.”  Damn it, he misses his owl.  It is the least of his problems, and it’sjust a stupid owl that he ignores too often when he is at school, but when he is home visiting the owlery is often the only good part of his day.  No one in his family would deign to sit amoung the birds.

“Shit, I’m sorry.”  James sighs.  “I’ll write Remus, okay?  Or you write to him and use one of our owls.  He’s sent me three letters since yesterday and seeing the scrawl you call penmanship would probably do him good.”

“I’ll write to him before I go, alright?”

“Sure, as long as you mean that you’re going to go get your trunk so you can bring it back here.  I was thinking we could transform the closet between our rooms into a lounge, maybe with a foosball table or something.  Mum’s brill at things like that.”

“Damn it, Prongs, you’re not listening to me.”

“I’m listening, I’m just ignoring you being a dense pratt. This is your home.”

“My mother…”

“Your mother is a miserable bitch and you’re well rid of her.  You can share my mum with me, she always wanted more kids and she and dad both love you.”  James speaks with the confidence of someone who has always been certain of his place.  

“You don’t understand, James.  The things she would do if she found out you’d taken me in.  The things she might set in motion.  My family is full of fucking Death Eaters.  My cousin...”  But he doesn’t want to think about Bella and what she could do.  What she’d hinted that she’d already done, the snake of her tattoo slithering around her wrist.  He knew what she could do to someone she wanted as an ally, the echo of pain still in his bones as she tried to make him agree.  The war was coming so much quicker than he’d realized.  He would protect the people he cared about as long as he could.

“We keep each other safe, just like we’ve always done, Pads.”

“This isn’t trying to get out of detention when a prank goes wrong.  I’m not going to risk any of my family coming after the people I care about.”  He could still see, too clearly, the look in Moony’s eyes when he realized how close he’d come to attacking Snape on a full moon.  If anything had happens Remus would be the one to suffer and it would have been his fault.  He couldn’t let it be his fault again.

“So instead I’m supposed to just stand by and hope you’re okay?  Do you know what it would do to me if anything happened to you?”  James tugs on his hair.

“I’ll see you in two weeks, alright?”

“Padfoot…”

“It’s better if you don’t know where I am.”  He’s been seventeen for almost two months, but won’t take his apparating test until spring like any other student.  That doesn’t stop him from disapparating, but it did mean that he is a block away from Andromeda’s, instead of in her backyard, when he reappeared.  It takes him a moment to get his bearings and to find his way to the house.  By the time he does he’s shaking, and collapses on the back porch, using the last of his energy to change into Padfoot.  

II

“Puppy.”  He wakes to find Dora stroking his fur enthusiastically, Ted and Andromeda watching with varying looks of caution and amusement.  Because it seems like the simplest option he spends an hour fetching sticks and racing through the snow, decimating the snowman they had made the day before and chomping on snowballs.  When a cat crosses the back fence he doesn’t resist the urge to chase it; James has often remarked that if they ever came across McGonagall in her animagi form there would be some serious explaining to do.  Chasing professors was not a good idea even if they were a cat at the time.

When it starts to get dark outside Ted tries to lure him in with the promise of something to eat, but he refuses.  As tempting as it is to see if they would talk about him in his absence, it wasn’t fair and Andromeda would worry if he wasn’t back for tea.  He’d promised, after all.  Sirius slinks around the corner, waiting until he is sure everyone is inside the house before turning back.  His jeans are soaked and his mouth is freezing from the snow he’s eaten, but an hour of running around and a nap have done him some good.  He is able to walk into the house without feeling like the world is completely falling apart.

“Anyone with you?” Ted asks, poking his head out of the kitchen.  Sirius shakes his head.

“Padfoot play?”  Dora asks, her hair the same black color as his own.  She’d changed it when they were playing outside, ironically wanting to match the dog.  

“It’s bathtime, remember?  And I’m sure Sirius is wanting a hot shower, considering the look of him.”  Andromeda gives him the same speculative look she’d given a dog an hour ago until she was convinced that her daughter was safe playing with the mutt.  “Your friend’s alright?”

“I think he’s mad at me.”  James wasn’t mad, not really, but it was easier than saying that he was hurt by the secrets he wouldn’t share.  He and James shared almost everything.  “I’m going to go take that shower now.”

“I’ll let Ted know to start a kettle; you look like you could use some warming up from the inside too.”

II

The next morning he lets himself sleep in, and is still in his pajamas just before noon, making himself a bacon sandwich with leftovers from the breakfast he’d skipped.  He’s just taken his first bite when someone knocks on the front door and Ted calls for him.

“See?  I told you this was the logical place.”  When Ted steps back Sirius can see a grinning James Potter in the doorway, a Gryffindor scarf wrapped around his neck.  Beside him is Remus, not dressed nearly warm enough for the day.  Crowded on the back of the porch is Peter.

“Yes, but ‘Padfoot’ and ‘logical’ aren’t usually things we say together.”  Moony has a crease line between his eyebrows, looking Sirius over.  He tries to smile, but it is a small one, his attempt at a joke falling flat.  Sirius can almost feel the worry vibrating from him.  

“If Sirius is trying to lay low maybe we shouldn’t be standing out here where anyone can see us?”  From the way James steps forward suddenly it was clear that Pete had given him a friendly shove.  Ted is smart enough to take a couple of steps backward, clearing the way for three-fourths of the Marauders to invade his home.

Sirius says the only thing that came to mind.  “What the fuck?”

“I sent an owl to Remus.  He agrees you’re being stupid.”  James aims a drying spell at his feet.

“That’s not what I said, Prong. Don’t put words in my mouth.”  The gloves Remus takes off look new, probably a Christmas gift from his parents.  They were practical souls, and most of Moony’s gifts from them are the sort of things that Sirius takes for granted.  He knows that new quills and gloves are not so easy to come by in the Lupin household, though.  “I said I didn’t like the idea of you without anyone to watch your back.”

“I agreed with James about you being a git.”  Peter grins.  Ted closes the door behind him.

“Gee, thanks Pete.”

“You’re Ted, right?  Nice to meet you.  I’m James and I’m just here to relieve you of this annoying houseguest of yours.  His bedroom is all ready for him.”  James shakes Ted’s hand when it’s offered.

“Sorry about the invasion, Mr. Tonks, only Sirius does seem to need reminding about a promise he made.  We’ll be out of your hair once we knock some sense into him.” Remus looks at him very carefully, and Sirius can almost read his mind.  He can see the bonfire they’d had the first summer they’d been together, could hear the vow they’d made to always have each other’s backs.  Marauders forever.

“Stay as long as you like, boys.  I have some biscuits in the oven that will be ready in a little while, so when you’re ready come down for a snack,” Ted offers as he shakes hands with Remus and then Peter.

“Fresh baked biscuits?  Maybe Padfoot does know what he’s on about, staying here.”  Peter licked his lips.  He’d been the one, second year, to figure out the secret of the ticklish pear that lead into the kitchens.  The house elves loved him.

“I’ll take this lot upstairs so we don’t bother you.”  He gives his friends a pointed look and heads up the stairs, trying not to think about the fact that the bedroom he’d been using suddenly feels so much more like home when all four of them are crowded inside.  Remus is the one to cast a silencing charm, meaning he doesn’t have to keep his voice down when he speaks.  “Damn it, Prongs, what part of our conversation yesterday didn’t you understand?”

“The part where you seemed to suddenly forget the last six years and think you’re a lone wolf like that prat first year who wouldn’t talk to anyone for the first week of school.  No offense meant, Remus.”

“None taken,” Remus shrugs, sitting down on the trunk under the window.  Peter has already sprawled out on the bed.  James was pacing, like he often did when he was plotting a prank or coming up with wild schemes to get Evans to date him.

“It’s not the same.”  He’d been terrified that first week after the hat had sorted him into what he’d considered the wrong house.  His mother had sent him three howlers the first two days, and he knew that Dumbledore had gotten a howler as well.  He’d never asked McGonagall if she’d gotten one; it was too embarrassing to even contemplate.  He hadn’t wanted to get to know the boys he shared a room with, not when he was going to be moved in a matter of days.  Surely someone would realize that he couldn’t be a Griffindor.  Blacks were always in Slytherin.

He’d been scared of his family then, and he was scared of his family now.  Maybe it wasn’t so different, but the threat of his family was worse than it had been six years ago, or maybe he was finally understanding just what the Black name meant.  “It‘s not safe.”

“Neither was spending two years learning to be an animagus so you could spend full moons chasing after a werewolf.”  Remus rubs a scar on his forearm that Sirius swears is fading a little every year.  The fact that he hadn’t gotten a new scar in over a year is a victory that Sirius privately celebrated every morning after a moon.

“That’s different.”

“How?”  Remus stares at him until he has to look away.

“So Wormy, how long do you think we can hang around the Tonks place before they kick us all out?”  James plonks down on the bed.

“Well they’ve already put up with Padfoot for four or five days so their tolerance is pretty high.  Might be able to stretch it a couple of days.  A week at least if we find some chores to help with.  Longer if everyone remembers to shower.”  Peter glances at the door.  “You think those biscuits are ready?”

“We could go check and let the man of the house know we’ll be crashing here for a bit.”  James heads for the door, breaking the silencing charm as he opens it.  Peter is swift to follow.

“Moony.”  Sirius looks at him, hoping that he at least will understand.  Moony, he thinks, understands what’s coming with the war more than the rest of the group.  He knows at least some of what a family like the Blacks can do.

“We’re not leaving you alone, Sirius, no matter the risk.  You’re ours.”  Remus squeezes his hand as they stand in the doorway.  “It’s going to be okay, Pads.  We’ll figure this out the way we always do.  Together.”

Sirius thinks maybe he’d like to stand in the doorway for a while, the warmth of Moony’s hand in his, but everyone else is downstairs and he still has to find a way to convince them all to go home.  

II

“Puppy?”  After she is done with her biscuit Dora slides off her chair and runs to the kitchen door.

“We can look, love.”  Ted follows her, opening the door to reveal an empty back porch.

“No puppy,” Dora sighs, her lower lip sticking out.  “Want puppy.”

“There was a stray dog in the yard yesterday.  Dora quite enjoyed playing with him,” Andromeda explains to the boys at the table.  “It was quite funny, actually.  Sirius got her a stuffed animal for Christmas and the dog that showed up looked almost the same.”

“Black dogs are common enough,” Sirius comments, shooting a look across the table at James.

“Probably just a mutt,” Peter supplies helpfully, wincing when Sirius kicks him under the table.

“He’s probably in the doghouse now,” Remus arches one eyebrow as he looked sideways at Sirius.  “He might not be very good at listening.”

“I hope he has a good home.  He seemed to be such a nice dog.”  Ted lures his daughter back to the table with another biscuit.  She decides that Remus’s lap is where she wants to sit while eating it, and tugs at his sleeve until he picks her up.

“I’m sure he’s found a very nice home.  Most dogs are clever enough to go where they know they’re loved.”  James is smiling, most people might think he is making an idle comment but Sirius knows that look in his eyes.  He was not playing fair.

“Maybe he’s not looking for a home right now, but is wandering for a bit.”  Sirius looks across the table at James pointedly.

“He looked too well fed to be homeless, and despite the lack of collar he certainly wasn��t a matt.  He had good pedigree, you could tell that by looking.”  Andromeda, of course, has no idea of the second conversation that is happening right in front of her.  Her comment is enough to makes James choke on his biscuit, though.

“He had pedigree, Sirius.”

“Sod off, Prongs.”  He was going to give away at least one of their secrets if he wasn’t careful.  Andromeda is clever, and while she’d been out of the family for years she’d been raised on subterfuge and lies.

“Prongs,” Dora repeats.  Sirius is just glad that’s the part she has decided to mimic.

“We call him that because his head is pointed,” Sirius grouces.  “Not much room for a brain up there.

“I got just as many OWLS as you did, you berk,” James fired back.  It had been a matter of great amusement, the year before, that their score on their OWLS had been exactly the same.  Peter had nearly tied them, but was short by one O.  Remus had beat them all, of course, practically acing his exams.  Only his potions score kept him from being perfect.

“I was having an off day.”  He can’t keep from grinning, for a moment forgetting everything else as he slips into the familiar patter of fake insults.  Almost two weeks without his friends has been a lonely experience.

“I swear I can’t take you two anywhere.”  Remus rolls his eyes, breaking off a bit of his biscuit for the little girl on his lap.  She seems enthralled with him, her dark hair lightening into an auburn.  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Tonks, I’d say that they’re not always this bad but my mum taught me not to lie.”

“It’s Andromeda, please, and it’s good to see that Sirius has such support.”

“Whether he wants it or not.”  James leans back in his chair and looks at the back door that leads to the yard.  Sirius doesn’t like the look in his eye; his best mate is plotting something.  “Speaking of, you don’t mind if we borrow a bit of your yard, do you?  My parents have a tent we could borrow, don’t take up much space.  We wouldn’t want to impose, and we can manage all our own food.”

“You’re not staying here.”  For effect Sirius throws half of his biscuit at James’s head.

“Good, then you’ve decided to come home with me.”  James calmly catches the treat and pops it in his mouth.

“James.”

“If you think this is the safest place of you then it’s safe enough for all of us,” Remus points out calmly.  Sirius bites his lip hard enough to draw blood.  He can’t argue the point without making it sound like he’s willing to put his cousin’s family in danger.  He looks over at Andromeda, willing her to say something to derail the current conversation.

“I think a camp out in the backyard sounds like fun.”  Sirius stares at her in shock.  Damn it, that wasn’t what he was expecting.

II

“I’m sure they’re hoping you’ll join them.”  Sirius looks away from the window, pretending he hasn’t been staring at the shadows around the campfire in the backyard.  It’s dark enough that he can’t see much of their faces, but his mates are all sitting outside the tent and drinking bottles of butterbeer.

“They should be at home.”  Remus actually enjoys spending time with his parents, and Peter seems happy enough to go home for the hols.  James has the best parents it’s possible to have.

“They don’t seem to agree with you.”  Andromeda sits on the edge of his trunk, her leg not quite touching his.  “Ted wanted to come with me when I told mum and dad about being engaged.  I wouldn’t let him, couldn’t trust that they wouldn’t lash out at him.”

“So you get it.”  Their family is capable of a great measure of cruelty.

“I understand the fear and the desire to protect.  I also know that the first place I went after I told them was to Ted’s flat and I didn’t leave for three days straight.  I couldn’t bear to have him out of my sight.  The first time I saw my sisters and they walked past me as if I didn’t exist he was the one that was holding my hand.  When the only family member at my wedding was Uncle Alphard Ted promised that he would be my family until the day he died.”

“They’ve been my family since my first year at Hogwarts.”  James was the first person to make him laugh, nine days into first term.  Peter had snuck him food when the idea of going to dinner and facing a whole table of Slytherins whispering about him had been too much to handle.  And Remus, who he’d judged as quiet and odd had hexed his cousin when she’d made a cruel comment in the hall.  Since then they’d proven themselves a thousand times, while his blood family had only been belittling and hateful.  “That’s why I have to protect them.”

“It seems like they have the same idea regarding you.”  Andromeda looks out the window where the fire seems to be dwindling.  The tent flap is open, a light burning inside.  Last summer they’d taken the tent to the Quidditch World Cup.  It had been brilliant.  He and his friends had slept in bunk beds in one room while James’s parents had the second bedroom.  Euphemia had painted mehndi designs on their hands that swirled in gold and green, proud that India had made it to the finals.  Even Fleamont, who was secretly rooting for England, wore mehndi on his hands.  “Something’s coming, Siri, and I know that’s frightening and it’s going to get bad.  But I also know that turning our backs on everything good in our lives is exactly what the Black family would like to see.  Your mother wants you to think you’re alone.  To think that the only option you have is to be one of them.”

“I’ll never be one of them,” he swears fiercely.  

“Of course you won’t.”  Andromeda is full of surprises today; she kisses him on the forehead the same way he’s seen her kiss her daughter at bedtime, then gestures to the door.  “You’re welcome here anytime you want, Sirius, but I think there’s somewhere else you’re supposed to be right now.”

“Yeah.”  He’s not sure if this feeling of worry in his belly will ever leave him, or how long he’ll look over his shoulder for a member of his family.  But maybe he can protect the people that matter better by being with them.

Tomorrow he’ll worry about his trunk.  For now he heads down the stairs and out of the house to find that the fire has been dowsed with snow but the tent flap is still open.  He closes it behind him, following the sound of talking to the same bedroom he’s used before.  

“It’s about time.”  James is on the top of one bunk, the bed beneath him empty but made up with blankets and a pillow.

“We saved you some chocolate.”  Remus has the other bottom bunk; he’s never been fond of heights, not even something as mild as a top bunk.  Flying classes first year had been miserable for him.  He points to the chocolate frog on the pillow next to a bottle of butterbeer.

“My feet are freezing.”  Peter is pointing helplessly at his feet with his wand, but he’s never been very good at warming charms.

“That’s what happens when you have a campout in the snow.”  Sirius finds warming charms easy, probably because he’s used them on Remus often enough.  He’s always cold the morning after a moon.  He helps out his friend, who grins down at him.

“Does this mean you’re done being a stubborn git?” James asks, hanging over the edge of the bed, his hair even more wild then usual thanks to the assist from gravity.

“It means I’ve accepted my doomed future of having to share a bathroom with you for all eternity, knowing you steal my shampoo and shed hair all over the place.”  He catches the chocolate frog before it can hop away, viciously biting off a back leg.  

“Good, because the kidnapping plan had a few snags in it and this is so much easier.  Mum said she’d make a cake to celebrate and anything you want for dinner.  Dad says not to worry about anything, he’s already talked to Dumbledore about the change in address.  This is going to be brill.”  James’ excitement was infectious, and despite his worry Sirius couldn’t help grinning back.  No one had ever been excited to have him come home before.

James falls asleep as quickly as he does everything else, and within minutes there’s a soft snoring coming from above him.  Peter had fallen asleep almost the moment his feet warmed up.  Sirius rarely found sleep easy unless he’d completely physically exhausted himself first.  He’s just about to contemplate turning into Padfoot, which sometimes helps, when there’s a whisper from his left side.

“I’m glad you don’t have to go back there, Pads.  I’ve always dreaded holidays knowing you had a home like that.”  Remus speaks softly but Sirius can hear the concern in his voice.

“It hasn’t been home for a long time. Maybe it never was.”  He’s never been wanted by his parents, not in the way Euphemia and Monty so desperately wanted a son.  He was an asset, like a land holding or the contents of the family vault, only with less value.  “But it’s over now.  I’m never going to see my family again.”

“You see your family every day, Pads.  We’re right here.”

“Yeah, you are.”  It didn’t matter if it was a tent, or a dorm room, or the guest room at the Potters that was secretly being redecorated to welcome him.  It didn’t matter if the blood in their veins wasn’t the same.  He had his family and his home, and hadn’t lost any of it when he’d walked away from Grimmauld Place.  “G’night Moony.”

“Night Padfoot.  Sweet dreams.”

Sirius doesn’t remember his dreams the next day, but he wakes up feeling rested and more relaxed than he’s felt in months.

“Your cousin has invited us all for breakfast before we go home.”  James is already dressed and using a charm to clean his glasses.

“Good, I’m famished.”  He dresses quickly, joining his friends as they dash across the yard, dodging snowballs that they levitate at each other.  The kitchen smells like cinnamon and chocolate, and as they eat breakfast they make plans to come back for Sunday dinner.  His mother can’t forbid him from spending time with his cousin now, and he’d like to get to know Ted better too.

Monty and Euphemia are waiting for them when they get home, welcoming him with hugs and a meal comprised of all his favorite foods.  Remus and Peter stay for the first couple of days, the four of them taking shifts to make sure nothing happens.  Other than a howler from his mother all is silent on the Black front.  He almost doesn’t mind the howler because Freddie’s the one that delivers it and he knows enough to stay.  James is with his mum in the greenhouse and doesn’t hear it.  Monty’s there, though, and it’s the first time Sirius has heard him swear.  

“They’re just words, son,” he says when the howler explodes.  Sirius knows it’s not true, it’s more than that, but the hate is tempered by being called ‘son’ by someone who means it.

“Yeah.”  He takes Freddie to the owlery to get settled and joins James and his mum in the greenhouse where they’re transplanting a bloodspot into a larger pot.  

“Just in time, my dear.  Do you mind holding a few of these leaves out of the way?  They are too tender to use a freezing charm on them.”  James has dug the hole and Euphemia has the roots supported.  Between the three of them they get it settled into the new pot, the dirt anchoring it in place.  Pleased, Euphemia steps back to admire their work.  “Just right.”

“Just where it belongs,” James says, but he’s not looking at the plant.  Sirius rolls his eyes and sticks out his tongue, but he can’t disagree.  He didn't run away from home, he ran towards it.

[kindness-ricochets]

SoC Hospital AU

First & most important, thank you to a friend for sensitivity reading this (not putting a name because I don’t have permission to do that, but you know who you are <3). Even so: I am a cis writer including a trans character, so if there’s anything wrong or inappropriate in the fic, please tell me. It is never my intent to cause anyone offense.

TW: misgendering (some out of ignorance, some less so), allusions to suicide attempts

This place was too cold. Jesper lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, with the covers pulled up to his shoulders. The crocheted blanket didn’t really keep him warm. As he tried not to die of boredom, he slid his fingers into the gaps and out, wriggled them all the way through and—

Crap.

He looked at the blanket. How had his knuckles made it through the weave only to get stuck?! Jesper tugged at it, but ultimately needed his other hand. His stitches hurt when he sat up.

It wasn’t like he had nothing to do, either. His homework was right there. A guy couldn’t even have appendicitis these days without a little APUSH reading to go along with it.

He poked at the stitches and resolved not to do it again.

The hospital was a boring place. Presumably the surgery itself had been a little more exciting. Jesper barely remembered it. How was that for a bit of luck?! One of the most exciting things to happen in a guy’s life and he was all delirious! So now he sat on a semi-comfortable bed in a too-cold room. He had a window, at least, not that he could see much through it. A curtain was drawn across the room long-ways, like he might get jealous of that empty bed and… and race them or something. Yeah, like rig up an oxygen tank and have a two-bed hospital race, that would be cool!

He wasn’t going to, but it was fun to imagine.

Jesper knew he should do some reading. Exams and all that. But he knew it was pointless, to. His mind would wander after a few minutes. And if he was being honest, he didn't actually want to study. Didn't he deserve a break? A proper sick day?

So he leaned back and decided if he was stuck on his own, he might as well entertain himself. He sang to himself. He started with “Walk the Line”—picked up courtesy of his father, who hadn’t even been born when it was first released, but played Johnny Cash all Jesper’s childhood.

It was a good song, anyway.

Jesper waited a moment after the end of it, pausing for an imaginary audience.

“Thank you so much, it’s an honor to be here tonight. Now, for my next hit, this is ‘Party in the CIA’ by Weird Al Yankovic…”

And obviously he had to do a few moves, it was a song that just begged for finger-guns, imaginary sunglasses, and pretend tie-straightening. He limited the moves after an objection from his stitches, but that in no way limited his good time. Except, Jesper had only got to a line that always got him—“We got snazzy suits and ties/and a better dental plan than the FBI’s!”—when he heard… laughter.

Jesper stopped the song.

“What the—I thought I was alone!”

There was no answer.

“Well, now I know I’m not, so you might as well speak up.” And ideally his roommate could confirm his age. Jesper was seventeen, so they had stuck him in the pediatric ward. He hoped he wasn’t bunking with a kid—that would be… weird. Plus he’d have to work on not cussing.

“H-hey,” said the other guy. He sounded a little younger, but Jesper couldn't be sure.

“Hey! So you like Weird Al?”

“Who?”

“Weird Al Yankovic. Never mind, never mind. How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“Cool, I’m seventeen. So what’re you in for? I had my appendix out.” And his roommate was close to his age, so he had someone to hang out with! Jesper glanced at his APUSH book, then back to his fingers tugging at the blanket.

“Did it hurt?”

Jesper hadn’t initially said it was appendicitis. He hadn’t known. He thought he just felt miserable, but he didn’t want his parents to worry. By the time he couldn’t pretend anymore that he was okay…

“Nah. They knocked me out, anyway. I’m just bored.”

“Me, too.”

“Want to play Twenty Questions?”

“Sure. You pick something first.”

“Got it. It’s a person.”

The game continued for a while. It wasn’t Jesper’s favorite game in the world, but it kept him occupied—that and toying with the blanket—even as they got into an argument over whether or not “a field” counted as a thing. It totally did, a specific field would have been a place, but this was a kind of place, which was a thing. 

“No, a place is a place, you can’t just decide a place is a thing!”

“Yeah, if it were a specific place, but it’s not a place. It’s a category of places.”

“So a room would be a thing, but this room is a place?”

“Glad we agree.”

“That is ridiculous.”

Jesper laughed. He was about to retort that it wasn’t ridiculous, it was logical, when the door opened. 

“You look cheerful,” Aditi Hilli reported, coming to sit on the edge of his bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Just cold and my stitches are itchy.”

“Itchy means healing,” she said, smoothing a hand over his hair. 

“There you go, siding with medicine again!”

He knew she only had a minute. She wasn’t treating him, that would be a severe conflict of interest, but she had found time in her shift to stop in. So Jesper didn’t waste time groaning. He didn’t even put up a fuss when she hugged him.

“Are you dizzy or in any pain?”

“No.” It was a medical question, but he understood that it was a mom question, too. It was a how are you question with more detail.

“Have you—”

“Ma, I love you, but I am not talking to you about pooping.”

“Honestly, Jesper, I changed your diapers.”

“Ma!”

“After an appendectomy—”

Jesper grabbed the pillow and wrapped it around his head like massive earmuffs as he informed her, loudly, “Not listening! Not listening!”

She shook her head at him and checked his chart. Okay, fine, she knew she could get that information. He still didn’t want to have the actual conversation. Seriously, was nothing sacred?

She set down the chart. He set down the pillow.

“I’m glad you’re okay, little rabbit.”

Jesper slumped just slightly. It was easy to shrug off being sick, but he knew his parents had genuinely been scared. He should have told them earlier, but that was easy to say in hindsight. But he was already enough of a disaster. Telling them meant giving them one more thing to worry about, and he had expected to hurt for a while and recover on his own.

“I love you, too. I’m fine, I promise, just… bored. Do you have my tangle? Or my zippers?”

“No, but your father’s coming to see you after work. He wanted to stay but I knew you wouldn’t like him hovering.”

“Thanks for taking care of us.”

“I’ll ask him to look for your things. Do you know where they are?”

“Um… y’know… I think I have a couple bracelets in the bathroom, and my tangle might be in the back pocket of my jeans. I’m sick,” he reminded her, playing up his ‘sick face’ to avoid hearing about how he needed to clean his room. He knew that. He didn’t mean to leave it a mess, he just kind of… forgot. The mess was organic. 

“I’ll ask him.”

She kissed his forehead and left. There wasn’t a lot of down time in hospitals. Well… there was. But it all went to patients.

After a moment, Jesper said, “So… you heard that.”

Great. His anonymous roommate had heard his ma talking about his messy room. Among more embarrassing things.

“She seems nice,” his roommate said. “My mom’s a nurse, so I’m used to… you know, being asked about symptoms.”

“Great, I can’t wait to hear about whether or not you’ve pooped.”

“I’m not here for poop-related reasons.”

Jesper laughed.

***

It was much later when his roommate’s mom visited. Jesper’s da had been in and gone. Like Aditi, Colm was glad to see his son recovering. He had a more frank, less clinical way of saying how worried he had been. He brought Jesper a hat and socks for the cold, and two zipper bracelets and his infinity cube, so the nothingness of the room stopped grating on his nerves quite so badly. The feeling was difficult to describe—it was like having this emptiness building up against him so he couldn’t find a space to exist.

Jesper would always find something to fidget with, but knowing he had dedicated fidgets at hand softened an edge.

The roommates couldn’t see each other, but they could both see the door, so Jesper saw the woman with curly red hair come into the room and head over to his roommate.

“Hey, sweetpea.”

“Hi, Mom.”

That was… not his roommate’s voice. This voice was softer, higher, and a little nervous. Jesper couldn't help having his interest piqued by the shift. Sure, Jesper changed his tone with his parents, but he still sounded like Jesper. His roommate sounded like a stranger.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay. I… ———… we love you.”

Well, damn, his roommate was a girl! Jesper thought back over their conversation, searching for anything he might’ve said that he maybe shouldn’t’ve.

“I love you, too, Mom.” She sounded like it hurt to say.

“If this is about what your father said the other day, he… he needs you to be patient with him.”

“Okay.”

“He’s trying.”

Jesper was, by now, sitting very, very still. He knew this conversation wasn’t meant for him to hear, but in a small room, he couldn’t exactly not hear what was said a few feet away. So he tried to stay quiet and not make them feel self-conscious—and, if he was being completely honest, he was curious.

“Why do you excuse everything he does?”

“He’s not perfect, but he loves us. You’re still his little girl.”

“Okay.”

“———.”

“Could you just leave me alone, please?” said his roommate, in what Jesper could only describe as an amazingly rude way.

“———.”

“If you had to lose me or leave him, who would you pick?”

“That’s not fair.”

Jesper’s roommate said nothing.

“I’ll come back later. I hope you feel better then.”

Jesper settled back on the pillow and closed his eyes, doing his very best impression of sleeping. The door opened and closed, and they were alone. He stayed quiet for a moment, absently turning his infinity cube over and over in his hand. He had wanted to go back to talking with his roommate… but now he didn’t know what to say. That had been a heavy conversation to just ignore.

Then he realized his roommate was crying.

“Hey,” Jesper said. “———?”

She didn’t answer. 

“You okay?”

“That’s not my name.”

“Oh.” Jesper looked at the cube, clicking idly in his hand. He had no idea what was going on. “My name’s Jesper, but I guess you knew that since my ma visited. You want to play twenty questions? I got a good one. C’mon, you’ll never guess!” he wheedled.

After a moment, his roommate sniffled, then asked, “Person, place, or thing?”

***

“I feel wronged.”

Jesper snorted. Yeah, that was about the most accurate summary of their current situation. He still hadn’t seen his roommate, but they called to each other across the curtains. The entire situation looked brighter in the morning light. Jesper felt better. His body was rapidly putting the surgery behind him.

Even sunshine couldn’t fix the picture in front of him, though. Last night, his da had brought him food from home. No such luck today: Jesper sat up in bed, mournfully regarding the hospital’s breakfast tray.

He lifted the toast and gave it a shake. It wriggled.

“I think they steamed the toast,” he said.

His roommate laughed. “Think they toasted it first?”

Jesper set the toast aside. “You eating yours?”

“I can’t.”

“Me too. The apple looks okay.”

“Looks are deceiving things.”

Jesper bit into his apple and shuddered. He carefully removed the piece of fruit from his mouth, trying to pretend he hadn’t felt that mealy hellflesh. 

“Cereal and milk it is!” he announced. “I got Corn Flakes. You?”

“Rice Krispies.”

“This is blatant favoritism and I won’t stand for it!”

“You just had surgery, you’re not supposed to be standing at all.”

“Wow,” Jesper said, not at all appreciating that. It was true, but… wow.

He poured the mini box of corn flakes and carton of milk into his bowl. The breakfast tray was a depressing sight. There was steamed toast and an apple that was an insult to other apples. Still, at least he had juice to look forward to and the jello had been pretty good.

Halfway through his Corn Flakes, he asked, “So what are you in for, anyway? I had my appendix out.”

“I was sleepwalking—it’s dumb. I thought I was eating Skittles.”

“What were you really eating? Steamed toast?”

“Aspirin.”

“Oh, shit.”

“I was sleepwalking.”

“Yeah, totally,” Jesper said, trying to sound like he believed it. 

A while later, once the salvagable parts of breakfast had been endured, Jesper’s roommate appeared around the curtain, leaning on an IV stand. She was small, the sort of girl who looked like she would never be more than 5'. She had freckles and a curly red-gold ponytail, and if Jesper was being completely honest, she was cute.

“Want to play cards?” she asked.

“Um—I…”

“Oh.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s cool.”

“I have a gambling problem,” Jesper blurted out. “I can’t… it’s really… I have a problem. But if we keep it chill?”

“Sure. How about Go Fish? No one gambles over Go Fish.”

Gamblers would gamble over anything, but she sounded so sweet and optimistic, he didn’t want to ruin her bright outlook.

“Sounds good.”

She sat on the end of his bed and dealt. 

They made it a few rounds without chatting much, then she said, “I’ll tell you my name, but you can’t tell anybody.”

Jesper wanted to ask why she was trusting him, but instead said, “I won’t.”

She leaned nearer and whispered it. Jesper had suspected something like this. He appreciated having it confirmed. Now that he knew, he rearranged his thoughts about his roommate to use the correct pronouns.

“Wylan’s a cool name.”

Jesper’s roommate smiled at his cards, a smile that was determinedly interrupted with a scowl.

“Not as cool as Jesper,” he continued, “but still pretty cool. You want to play again?”

By that afternoon, they had both seen their mothers again. Wylan’s mom seemed to really love him, Jesper thought, even if she did use his deadname. The visit still left Wylan withdrawn, but Jesper talked his new friend into another round of Go Fish. It wasn’t such a fun game. It was about the company, though said company remained gloomy. He had a scowl like thunder.

“Here, I have an idea.” Jesper pulled off his beanie. “Do you want to…?”

Wylan took the hat, pulled it on, and tucked his hair up under it.

“I hate feeling it,” he said. “That’s probably stupid, but I hate it! It’s stupid. You have long hair and you don’t look like a girl!”

“You don’t look like a girl, either. And you don’t sound like a girl, I thought you were a guy until I heard your mom say your name. Which now I know isn’t your name,” Jesper added. 

The stormclouds began to disperse. 

“When I was a kid, I used to imitate cartoons.”

“Oh yeah? Can you still do it?”

Jesper didn’t have to hear the answer—which was just as well, because Wylan didn’t give him one.

“Do one for me! C’mon, just one.”

Wylan shifted, keeping his eyes on their forgotten game of Go Fish. Then he said, “Meep meep!”

“Pfft, Road Runner doesn’t count.”

“Road Runner’s a cartoon!” “You said one word and it was onomatopoeia!”

“Okay, yeah, but… okay. Okay.” Wylan took a deep breath, settled his shoulders, and stared at the sheets with a deepening blush as he said, “Duck season! Wabbit season! Duck season! Wabbit season! Wabbit season! I say it’s duck season, and I say, fire!”

Jesper laughed. “That’s really good!” he said. He wasn’t laughing at Wylan, but because the impression was so good, almost like different people when Bugs and Daffy spoke. Besides, the cartoon was a classic. Wylan must’ve known, because he smiled.

[theolddarkmachine]

Imaginary - Chapter Fifteen

Midoriya Izuku’s life was turned upside by fate.

Eri’s life was turned upside down by circumstance.

And Bakugou Katsuki is about to learn that even imaginary friends need to grow up.

Also on AO3

A/N: I give up making promises about being better about posting, because it seems when I do, work takes it as a personal challenge to fill up ALL OF MY TIME. for real though im so sorry there were points when i was going weeks without a day off TToTT I DO promise this is getting finished though. Anyway, here’s another longer update that will hopefully make up for the wait. 

Also, consider this your NSFW warning.

********************

Izuku watches Bakugou closely as he smiles at Eri from where he’s kneeling before her and letting her try to fix a party hat over his unruly hair. It was almost a week since they had done, well, that, and he’d woken up confused and alone after what could qualify as one of the best nights of his life.

And it had hurt, in a way he hadn’t known something could hurt.

But then Bakugou had returned the next day, just as he had said in his note, and it he was almost inseparable from them since. Eri’s birthday invitation had evolved into more of an enlistment as Bakugou had found himself a prime part of the party planning, assisting the entire time in finding the perfect decorations, planning the perfect cake, and helping Eri with whatever various ideas she had that Izuku would catch them whispering excitedly about.

Yet, even with his constant presence in their house, it still felt like something was missing. Like Bakugou was more subdued, lost in observation in a way that made Izuku feel seen. Almost painfully so.

More often than not, he’d feel the weighted, burning gaze on his skin and when he’d turn to meet it, he’d instead find himself pinned beneath the scorching gaze with any biting retorts dying on his tongue.

It was strange, that was for certain, and it left him feeling like he hadn’t been let in on some kind of joke.

He’d often find himself wanting to ask about it. Dig deep into the meaning behind Bakugou’s sudden quiet, but every time he did, he would find himself cut off by a tempered smile, a softened comment, or his favorite, a sudden press of lips.

Izuku had finally written it off as equal parts stress working on Eri’s birthday party, keeping up with work, and the sudden realization that he had someone.

A person.

His person.

But the creeping feeling never left him, even now as he watches Bakugou’s head drop back with his loud laughter, causing the hat to fall helplessly from his head and Eri to cross her arms in mock frustration.

“Kacchan!” Eri admonishes as she reaches for the army of pointed birthday hats that line the table. Grabbing another one that matches the first, she fixes Bakugou with an expectant pout.

“Alright, alright, squirt,” he says, hands held up in surrender. “Let me see that, only a pro can defeat this hair.”

Gently taking the new hat from Eri’s hands, he stretches the elastic band to its limit before pulling it over his head with an exaggerated motion. Wiggling his head side to side as if testing its fit before he let the band snap loudly under his chin. His wince earns him a small giggle as he holds his hands out in a cheery tada motion.

“Am I party ready?” Bakugou asks, face serious as he watches her. Eri’s nose scrunched up in thought as she brought her small hand up to her chin and gave it a couple taps. Finally, after a brief moment, she shakes her head.

“No, I think you’re still missing something,” she replies, equally serious. Izuku bites down on his laughter at Bakugou’s confused look.

“Oh yeah? And what would that be?” He asks curiously. Her gaze flicks toward where Izuku stands, her smile growing wider before she looks back at the man before her.

“Your party buddy!” Eri says excitedly. Izuku watches as Bakugou’s shoulders tense ever so slightly. His shoulders stay rigid for only a moment, easing out almost as quickly as they’d stiffened, and for a second Izuku thinks he must have imagined it.

If he didn’t, Bakugou never lets the sudden anxiety reach his eyes as he returns Eri’s smile.

“But I’ve got my party buddy right here!” Bakugou says loudly, scooping her up into his arms and standing to give her a quick spin. Laughing loudly, Eri throws her arms around his neck to hug him.

“No, Kacchan!” She exclaims brightly, smacking at his shoulder blade until he stops their spinning so that they’re facing toward Izuku. Looking up from the young girl in his arms, Bakugou finally looks at him, that same tempered stare that he’s grown used to turning that gaze into twin embers.

Izuku can feel the heat of it in the middle of his chest, and it takes everything in him to stop from rubbing at the burning spot above his heart.

“Not me, Daddy Izuku!” Eri cheers, pointing towards him. Time seems to lapse as Bakugou’s grin turns sharp and hungry, wolfish in a way that strikes a shudder running down his back like a lit charge. Eyes flicking between Eri and Izuku once more, he stage whispers:

“Daddy Izuku can’t be my party buddy, he doesn’t have a hat.”

Eri’s gasp is a sharp punch of air as she struggles in Bakugou’s hold. His own laugh is a low rumble as he lets her down, coaxing the stir in Izuku’s chest as he shoots him another look.

“He’s right! Where is your hat!” Eri cries sternly, marching over with a bright multicolored paper cone in her hands.

“I was just waiting my turn!” Izuku replies, fake hurt coloring his tone as he tears his gaze away from Bakugou to look down at her. With her hair shining bright from the sunlight tangled in its silver, and the dusty pink brushed on her cheeks from her laughter, he feels an almost painful ache rock through him. She was another year older, and he almost couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that that much time had already passed.

“Well now it’s your turn,” she says matter-of-factly, breaking him from his momentary reverie as she taps on his leg. Taking the hint, Izuku kneels in front of her, fixing her with a smile as she pulls the band of the hat long like Bakugou had. Humming lowly to herself, she pushes the hat onto his head.

Even without looking, he knows that it’s lopsided.

“How do I look?” He asks, aiming his question to her but flicking his gaze up to Bakugou.

Izuku watches the way he swallows thickly before he gives him a quick tilt of his chin.

“You and Kacchan match,” Eri states proudly. “Now you guys can be party buddies.”

Chuckling low, Izuku ruffles her hair before he stands as Eri runs to a further table and starts to fiddle with some of the decorations.

A soft hush and a gentle breeze falls over the backyard as they both watch Eri in the comfortable quiet before Bakugou finally comes closer.

“Party buddy, huh?” Bakugou says lowly. He’s stopped beside him, but Izuku swears he can feel the heated brush of his words on his nape. “Haven’t heard it called that before.”

“Oh?” Izuku breathes, taking a moment to let the shudder rock along his nerves. After it settles out into his blood, he arches a brow and turns toward Bakugou. He’s not as close as he’d imagined, but close enough for him to see the different arcs of color trapped in the blonde’s eyes.

“And what would you call it?”

The question causes Bakugou pause, and the same searching look comes over him as he returns Izuku’s gaze. It looks almost like sorrow, and Izuku feels a sharpness twist between his ribs as he lifts a hand to reach out to the man before him.

In the same moment, Bakugou opens his mouth, his name just on the tip of his tongue when the doorbell rings.

“I guess I should get that,” Izuku says before he can really think it over, not missing the way Bakugou’s brows pull together. Turning over his shoulder to answer the door, he jumps slightly at the sudden heat of a hand catching his own. With a jerk, he finds himself pulled back.

Lips meet his in a momentary heated press, shocking a small gasp from him that Bakugou swallows down before he pulls away. It was brief, and chaste, yet Izuku still feels the slight daze that leave his mouth slightly parted.

“What was that for?” He asks breathlessly.

“Just because I could, Deku” Bakugou says with a short retort and a shrug, dropping Izuku’s hand as the doorbell rings again. Keeping his gaze set on Izuku’s face as if trying to memorize it, he tilts his chin toward the door.

“I guess you should get that.”

He should, but he doesn’t want to. The creeping sense that Izuku has felt the entire week is back again, stalking around them like a hungry predator and it raises the hair at the back of his neck. Pushing back against the feeling, Izuku nods, turning on his heel to head to the door.

The entire way he feels the weight of a burning stare pressed between his shoulders.

***

Izuku stands to the side by the fence, his back pressed against the wood as he watches the party before him. He isn’t sure they’ve ever actually spoken with this many people in his lifetime, let alone had that many in his backyard, and he finds himself slightly spent.

Needing a moment away from playing host, he had settled himself off to the side, just out of the way enough that he can avoid anymore conversation, but can easily watch over things. Mostly, so that he can watch Bakugou and Eri.

He can hear her happy laughter from where he stands, both of their smiles drawing a bright one across his own face. Tucking it nearly into the rim of his drink, he takes a long sip of his punch.

As he does, a warm presence sidles up next to him, heating his side as he emerges from his cup.

“So do I finally get to meet this mystery man that has become the apple of my granddaughter and son’s eyes?” His mother’s voice is teasing as she bumps his hip with her own. Or, tries to. She gets more of his thigh than his hip, a fact that has him swallowing a small laugh.

Turning his attention toward her, Izuku playfully rolls his eyes.

“Still trying to stick your nose in my business, huh?” He teases back, fixing his mother with a bright smile.

“Izuku,” she gasps, feigning shock as she reaches up to throw an arm around his shoulders and drag him down to her level. He goes easily, watching as she makes a show of looking around before turning back to him.

“I brought you into this world, and I can still take you out of it,” she continues, the mock threat heavy in her voice before she loses her composure and laughs. Unable to help himself, Izuku joins in as he gives her a quick peck on the cheek before pulling away.

“Alright, alright! As a matter of fact, he’s right over there,” he acquiesces, nodding toward where Bakugou had been playing with Eri just moments ago, only to find that he’s no longer there. Eyes widening slightly, he scans the backyard for the bright flash of blonde hair anywhere.

“Are you going to try and pass him off as an imaginary friend now, too?” His mom chuckles.

“He must have run to get something,” Izuku explains, shaking off the hush of numbness feathering at the center of his chest. It’s edged with the bright spark of panic, and he swallows down the sudden urge to go in search of the man.

Lost to his thoughts, he misses the way his mother nods along.

“Eri said he’s been here helping you out with everything this week,” she prods. Izuku hides behind another sip of his drink before he resurfaces with a nod.

“Yep,” he replies, popping the ‘p’ as he continues to trace his gaze over the crowded yard. That very same creeping feeling is spreading out along his shoulders, stealing his attention from his mother.

“Well, I’m looking forward to finally meeting him,” she says, eyes lighting as she catches the eye of one of her neighbors. With a quick wave, she looks up to Izuku, worry creasing her brow.

“Make sure to grab me when he resurfaces?” His mother urges, waiting just long enough to confirm her son’s preoccupation. Huffing lowly, she shakes her head and turns to head toward her friend.

“Yeah,” Izuku says, moments to late as his eyes finally catches on a familiar figure. Bakugou is back with Eri, his posture mirroring Izuku’s as he leans back against the fence, watching her play with some of the neighborhood kids. Lips quirking up in a secretive smile, he looks at ease in a way Izuku hasn’t seen before.

It looks good on him, he thinks.

It’s then that Bakugou’s gaze shifts, catching Izuku’s gaze from across the yard. His smile grows wider as he winks.

Mouth going dry, Izuku throws back the last of his drink.

***

Stars punctuate the dark night sky above them as Izuku pushes the last of the paper plates deep into the trash bag Bakugou is holding open for him. The party had gone one without a hitch, leaving him tired but satisfied, even if it had also left a plethora of disposable dish ware to clear up.

Though, he’d be a liar if he said having Bakugou around hadn’t made the clean up go far easier than it would have had he been alone. Izuku smiles up toward the blonde, not entirely unaware of the fact that his gaze hasn’t left him for the majority of the party. His stare had been gnawing at his senses the entire time, sending a thrill through him every time he’d caught it from across the yard.

“You have anything else, Eri?” Izuku asks, tearing his attention away to look towards where the young girl sits on the patio. She shakes her head slowly as she yawns for the umpteenth time.

It causes his to chuckle lowly as he gives a small shake of his own head.

“Thanks,” he says to Bakugou, taking the trash bag from his hold.

“Anytime, Deku,” he replies with a small shrug, as if helping with a kids birthday party was something he did on the regular. Though, Izuku supposes he just might given his line of work.

Making quick work of the trash tie, he turns attention back to Eri.

“Alright, it’s time to tell Kacchan goodnight,” he says, blanketing his voice with a thin layer of authority. This causes her to perk up slightly as her eyes widen, her stare jumping between Bakugou and Izuku.

“But he hasn’t given me his present yet!” Eri says, voice lit with accusation as her stare finally stops on Bakugou.

“Eri,” Izuku admonishes at the same time as Bakugou snaps his fingers. The sound is crisp and bright, cutting through the otherwise quiet night.

“I knew I was forgetting something,” he says with feigned shock, earning himself a pout before he leaves the two Midoriyas to go back into the house. It’s only a few moments before Bakugou exits the house once more, kneeling down several feet away and ushering Eri toward him as he keeps something hidden behind his back.

Confusion tickles at the back of Izuku’s throat as he watches Eri hop up and run over to him, their position just far enough that he can barely hear them.

He stays where he is though, as he watches Bakugou pull a small wooden frame from behind his back. Holding it out to her, he says something that Izuku doesn’t catch.

Eri reaches for the frame slowly, looking down at it for a moment before she throws her arms around his shoulders. Bakugou’s arms circle around her waist as he says something at her ear. Izuku can’t hear it, but he doesn’t miss the way Eri seems to hug him just a bit tighter before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

A staticky feeling rips through the center of Izuku’s chest as he finally moves towards them, reaching them right as they break apart.

“What’d Kacchan get you?” He asks, gaze shifting between the two. There’s a heavy quiet between them as Bakugou keeps his eyes turned down. Eri sniffles slightly, rubbing a hand at her nose before she looks up at him and smiles.

“Look!” She says brightly, holding the frame up to Izuku.  “It’s us!”

The staticky feeling only seems to blossom further as he traces the bright lines of the drawing in the frame. It’s a scene of the three of them, Izuku on the left, Eri in the middle, and Bakugou on the right, all holding hands with large cartoonish smiles.

And in the corner, in Bakugou’s scrawling handwriting, a small note that says: From your best friend, Katsuki.

“Did you tell him thank you?” He asks, trying to ignore the way his voice is almost breathless as he keeps his eyes trained on the drawing.

Eri makes a small sound of affirmation before she hugs the frame to her chest and whispers, “it’s my favorite, Kacchan.”

“You’re my favorite,” Bakugou laughs as he taps her on the nose, earning him a small giggle in return. The sound turns into a yawn as Izuku ruffles her hair.

“Alright, time to tell him goodnight for real this time,” Izuku says, still looking between the two as if he can decipher the odd air that has wrapped itself around them. Eri gives a quick nod before she gives another sniffle.

“Goodnight, Kacchan,” she says, her voice slightly watery.

“Goodnight, squirt,” Bakugou returns. It’s weighted like a goodbye, and the static opens into a gaping maw, tearing through his chest as he watches Eri head into the house, the frame still held tightly to her chest.

Turning a questioning gaze to the blonde, Bakugou just shrugs, his stare returned to its normal, heated crimson.

Nodding in silent reply, Izuku quietly assures that he’ll be right back before he follows Eri upstairs. She’s made quick work of brushing her teeth and getting into bed, her eyelids already drooping as Izuku finally pushes his way into her room. He can’t help the upward twitch of his lips as he sees the drawing tucked in beside her.

“It is a pretty great gift, huh?” He says, not expecting much of an answer as he picks the frame up and sets it on her nighstand.

Eri hums a tiny sound of acknowledgement anyway, her eyes closed as Izuku leans down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Goodnight,” he whispers lowly, turning away from the bed and flicking off the light. It isn’t until he’s almost closed her door that he hears her speak.

“Daddy Izuku?” She asks, her voice lost in the darkness. It wiggles between the gaps in his ribs, feeding the off-putting static that tickles the back of his sternum.

“Yeah?” He says, pausing at the door to wait for her reply. Met by another long pause of silence, he steps back to leave once more when Eri finally replies.

“Can you tell Kacchan goodbye for me?” Her voice is filled with a quiet, urgent pleading. As if she needed him to relay her message, instead of just mere want.

“Yeah,” Izuku replies back earnestly, his heart stuttering around a pain he isn’t sure how to place. “Yeah, I think I can do that.”

There’s a sniffle in the darkness.

“Goodnight, Daddy Izuku,” Eri says lowly. Her voice is impossibly small, and it takes everything in him to not go back in and wrap her into his arms. He’s certain he’s letting his own emotions get the better of him.

“Goodnight, Eri,” Izuku returns, closing the door with an almost imperceptible click. Making his way back downstairs, he finds Bakugou waiting for him in the living room with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The pose pushes his shoulders up around his ears, and for a moment, he almost looks bashful.

It would be funny if Izuku couldn’t taste the bitter taste of something off at the back of his throat.

Opening his mouth to ask if he knows what’s going on, he never gets the words out at Bakugou cuts him off.

“You put on some party for a nerd,” he says. The compliment fills Izuku’s cheeks with heat as he finds his mouth turning up around a small curl of a smile.

“It’s all thanks to you,” he returns, swallowing down his curiosity in exchange for the earnest words. They’re almost too sweet, even on the tip of his own tongue, but he can’t bring himself to care.

He means it.

The party, Eri’s happiness, his own, it’s all thanks to Bakugou.

A rush of emotions swirl like a tempest across Bakugou’s gaze as he flushes, his mouth turning down in a slight frown in a vast juxtaposition to his blush. He takes two strides towards Izuku, closing the distance that stands between them.

“Just take the damn compliment,” he says, raising a hand to run his touch over the crest of Izuku’s cheek. It’s almost like he captures the fire that has heated the skin along his fingertips, using it instead to connect the freckles that dot his skin. A small gasp parts Izuku’s lips as he looks up at the blonde.

Bakugou’s gaze flicks back and forth across Izuku’s own, a silent question buried deep within it as he searches for an answer. He seems to find it as he leans down, capturing Izuku’s lips with his own.

The kiss is a match, sparking to life with the slide of their lips.

It catches in Izuku’s veins, lighting him up like a fuse, and it consumes him. Moaning, he chases after the searing flare, deepening the kiss as he presses himself into the firm line of Bakugou’s form. His hands burn like brands as they trace down Izuku’s back, following the curve of his ass downward until they find a home at his thighs.

With a quick tug, he lifts him up, holding him firmly against him as Izuku wraps his legs around his waist and grinds down into him.

Swallowing down the hungry sound that rips itself from Bakugou’s throat, he smiles as he continues to chase the flame, all his questions suddenly forgotten as he gets lost in the burn.

Barely aware of their movement, Izuku doesn’t realize they’ve made it to his bedroom until Bakugou sits on the edge of the bed. Keeping him firmly pressed in his lap, Bakugou finally pulls away, his breath heavy as he looks up at him.

Those very same flames that Izuku is trying to reach flickers in the depths of his stare as he slides his hands up from his thighs and toward the hem of his shirt. As Bakugou’s fingers flutter gently across the skin there, Izuku can feel the tiny sparks popping through his nerve endings like cherry bombs.

Biting down on his bottom lip, he watches Bakugou with half lidded eyes as he starts to slowly push the fabric up over his chest. Bakugou’s own gaze is almost suffocating as he keeps it pressed heavily against him, not breaking his stare until he pulls the shirt over his head.

In the momentary blindness, Izuku feels the fluttering touch of a kiss right at his heart.

“Katsuki,” he breathes as the shirt falls to the ground behind him with a gentle hush.

“Mmm,” Bakugou hums, skimming his nose against his skin, he draws a line of goosebumps across his pec.

Izuku’s back arches, pushing him closer into his touch as Bakugou catches his nipple between his teeth before he pulls back. A gentle throb radiates over his heart as the blonde looks up at him once more, only this time his pupils are blown dark and wide with the depth of his need.

Losing himself to the pitch black tempering his stare, Izuku can’t help but capture his lips again as he twists his fingers into the hair at Bakugou’s nape.

Grinding down into him, Izuku mewls at the feeling of his fingers tightening at his waist.

“Izuku,” Bakugou hushes, breathing his name between them like a secret as he pulls away. It causes Izuku pause as he rests his forehead against his, his chest heaving around his gasping breath as he waits for what Bakugou has to say. It’s a quiet moment of indecision before Bakugou lets out a shaky breath and reaches behind his head to remove his own shirt.

His lips find Izuku’s once more with a slick, heated press as Bakugou flips them and gently pushes him back into his pillow. Fingers make quick work of his jeans, pushing them off his legs with deft movements before they’re discarded to the floor.

Sitting back on his haunches, Bakugou looks down on Izuku with a look of simmering admiration that settles itself low and heavy in his gut.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes. It’s a quiet admittance, one said so low that Izuku thinks he’s misheard it until he sees the bright red that colors the bridge of Bakugou’s nose. The admission takes him off guard, sending his nerves further alight as the only response he can think to give it to reach out toward the man before him. Izuku’s palm cups his cheek, fully intending to pull him back in, but instead he’s met by the gentle press of Bakugou’s lips at his palm.

The fluttering pressure stalls his breath, trapping it at the base of his throat as he traces his gaze across the pretty picture that Bakugou strikes before him.

Beautiful, his mind echoes before the sharp pinch of teeth on his palm shakes him of the thought.

An embarrassingly high squeak pops itself free from his teeth as he jump, his mouth turning down in a playful scowl. It earns him a wink before Bakugou settles himself between Izuku’s legs and swallows him down without preamble.

The sudden heat is searing as he throws his head back, mouth opening wide around a moan as he feels himself hit the back of Bakugou’s throat. Legs closing around his shoulders, Izuku is all too aware of the soft brush of hair between his thighs as Bakugou bobs his head up and and down over his length.

Izuku grips tightly at his sheets, fearing he might rip them as he feels Bakugou’s burning palms trace up the backs of his thighs.

Bakugou gives a sharp squeeze that pulls Izuku’s attention back towards him just in time to watch as he licks a lewd stripe from his base to his tip. It forces another deep moan from deep in his chest as he feels his lashes flutter at the sensation, the movement almost causing him to miss the way Bakugou flicks his gaze toward the nigh stand.

Swallowing down another gasping mewl, he answers the silent request by reaching into the drawer and pulling out a small bottle.

Handing it over blindly, Izuku falls back into the pillow, throwing his arm over his eyes in a vain attempt to settle his breathing as the burning heat of Bakugou’s mouth returns between his legs.

“Katsuki,” he starts, only to be stopped once more as he feels his tongue roll against him. “Katsuki, I’m not going to make it.”

Moving lithe and quick, Izuku barely registers Bakugou sudden ascent until he feels his mouth pressed hot against his ear.

“Hang in there for me, won’t you, Izuku?” He hushes as his slick fingers trace around his entrance, enticingly slow. Izuku swallows another harsh moan, biting into the full of his lip to keep it trapped.

“You can hold on for me, can’t you, baby?” Bakugou continues, voice going gruff over the pet name as he rolls his unclothed hips against Izuku’s. The sliding friction of their lengths against one another almost sends him over the edge as Bakugou gently presses a finger in.

“I can’t,” Izuku whispers, eyes still clenched shut and pressed against the crook of his elbow.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” he mewls as Bakugou slows works him open. It’s treacherous and delightful, slow in a way that’s picking him apart in the most pleasant form of torture Izuku has ever known. The pace of it leaves him all too aware of the different point where their bodies meet and he thinks he’s going to combust.

The last time had been like a spark to gasoline, but this, this was a much slower burn. One that oozed slowly like magma through his veins, destroying everything in its path so languidly, he hadn’t even realized everything he was had already caught fire until he felt like he’d just turn to ash.

It’s almost like Bakugou is trying to burn himself into his skin.

A hand slowly brushes along the line of his arm, razing the skin in its wake before it gently pushes Izuku’s arm away from his face.

Blinking his eyes open, he’s met by Bakugou’s gaze and it cuts through him in a way that hurts. The sudden realization that Izuku doesn’t want Bakugou to be anywhere else steals his breath, leaving him dizzy as he tries to imagine returning to the life that they had once known.

He doesn’t understand where the intrusive thought comes from as it worms its barbs between his ribs, filling his chest with a sharp pain as he thinks about how much the blonde had done for him and his family, and he wants nothing more than to hold Bakugou close and never let him go.

A hand cradles Izuku’s face, pushing back the invasive concern as Bakugou’s thumb brushes along his cheek and collects the tear he hadn’t realized he’d shed.

“You can,” he affirms, leaning in slowly to catch his lips once more with a simmering kiss as he pulls his fingers from inside him.

It’s reaches deep, and feels wholly different from any other kiss they’ve shared before. As if Bakugou is trying to convey something he could never say aloud.

Doesn’t want to say aloud.

Izuku reaches up and wraps his arms around his shoulders to hold him close to his chest, reveling in the feeling of their hearts beating in time. Opening up into the kiss, he breathes a startled huff between them as Bakugou uses his hold to flip them.

His confusion at the sudden change only lasts for the breadth of a moment before Bakugou pushes up into him. The slow slide runs an even slower shiver up Izuku’s spine.

Breaking the kiss, he places a palm over Bakugou’s heart, noting distantly that its thrum is like a hummingbird’s as he uses it to press back into him until he’s fully sheathed. The heat pitches higher in his veins as he gives an experimental roll of his hips, earning a low moan from the man beneath him.

Another thrill shoots through him, electrifying his blood as Bakugou’s hands circle his hips and hold him in place as he looks up at him reverently.

“Beautiful,” he breathes again, and Izuku feels it break something free from deep within his chest. Grinding down into him with more fervor, he traces his hands along Bakugou’s forearms, following their path up to his wrists before he slowly pulls them away from his hips.

Twisting their fingers together, Izuku presses their joined hands down on either side of Bakugou’s head as he gives another sinuous roll against him, meeting each of his thrusts with his own.

They push against each other, meeting like the shore and the tide as their panting breath mingles in what little space still lays between them.

“Katsuki,” Izuku whispers against his lips before he chases the name and seals it against his skin. Bakugou’s hold grows tighter on his hand as he hums, pressing up into him and catching against the exact spot that makes him see stars.

It punches the breath out of him, the taste of his whines turned saccharine as he presses them to Bakugou’s mouth.

“Katsuki,” Izuku tries again, the pace of his flexuous thrusts quickening as Bakugou hammers continuously into that same spot. With each push, the heat in his stomach grows, and he fears the words he longs to say will turn to ash on his tongue before he can push them through the gap between his teeth.

Pulling away just enough to see the vast expanse of Bakugou’s deep stare, Izuku’s eyelashes flutter from the press of another well placed thrust.

“I love you.”

It’s what Izuku wants to say.

Only, he wasn’t the one who said it.

Eyes going wide, he pushes back, balancing his weight on one arm as he looks down at Bakugou. He’s watching him, dusting his skin with the gentle hush of his gaze as if he’s committing every one of the emotions flickering across Izuku’s face to memory.

Time feels frozen, only he knows that it can’t possible have stalled, if only because the flames within him continue to build to an unspeakable pitch.

“Say it again,” Izuku hears himself plead, his fingers tightening around the hand that he still holds.

“I love you,” Bakugou replies without hesitation.

A small sob falls from Izuku’s lips as his vision blurs, turning the already dark room darker as he feels himself flipped. Pushed down once more into his pillow, Bakugou’s heat is everywhere.

He is everywhere.

He’s at his mouth, between his legs, and in his heart. He’s pressing himself into Izuku’s bloodstream as he hammers into him, as if he wants him to commit this very same moment to memory as well. Clutching at his shoulders, Izuku can feel the burning tracks of his tears along his cheeks as Bakugou’s name falls from his lips over and over like a quiet prayer.

It all comes to a head with the sudden bright implosion at his core, burning away everything as his release pants the space between them. Bakugou’s low, fevered moan is an answer to his own as he comes within him.

They lay there, frozen for some time in a suspended moment of afterglow that leaves Izuku feeling weightless, as if he isn’t even present in his body anymore. He’s barely even aware of Bakugou’s lips as they brush across his cheek, disrupting the tear track that has marked his skin.

As Bakugou gently pulls away, Izuku makes a small sound of protest.

“I’m just going to clean up,” he thinks he hears Bakugou say as his mind continues to drift, leaving his boneless form to be tended to. Lost to the gentle tide of the lingering iridescence shimmering through his veins, he thinks he feels the soft brush of a warm cloth along his skin.

It only serves to lull him further into his lucid state, and the dream that waits for him glows like the same warmth buzzing through him. There, he sees Bakugou, watching him closely from where he lays beside him.

Izuku hums to himself as he feels the man in his dream brush the hair from his eyes.

“Izuku,” Bakugou whispers gently, letting his caress trace back and forth along his temple. The lingering touch sendings tiny aftershocks through his system.

“Katsuki,” he whispers back, his name turned into a soft purr as he presses into his pillow. Izuku can almost swear he sees a sort of sadness color dream Bakugou’s eyes, and it fills him with a heavy melancholy. His fingers twitch slightly as he thinks about how he wishes he could just reach out to him.

No matter how hard he thinks it, his hand remains where it rests atop the mattress, and for just a moment, he no longer likes this dream.

If it was such a nice dream, Bakugou wouldn’t look so lost.

“I love you too, you know,” Izuku hushes. And it should be the right thing to say, he thinks. Except it doesn’t seem to be as he watches Bakugou’s eyes turn a shade darker. The moment is fleeting as he moves in close to press a kiss to Izuku’s forehead.

He lingers there, and Izuku wants to ask what’s wrong, but his tongue feels heavy in his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he feels Bakugou say, his breath brushing across his skin.

It’s then that Izuku’s eyes snap open, the sunlight blinding as he finds the space beside him empty and cold.

“Katsuki?” He asks out into the emptiness as the creeping feeling suddenly explodes around him, folding around his shoulders and weighing him down with the heavy weight of dread.

It only takes minutes for him to get out of bed and head downstairs to see that this time, there isn’t a note.

*******************************