#a bad thing is that as i finished the fic her mother broke a rib so they had to go to a hospital and she couldn't read it fully until later

[miallurk]

So i wrote. A drabble for my friend, featuring her and mine oc's and some suggestive themes. Kinda weird but she was cool with it. And i put all my talent in it, even got 2 references and got to do the thing. And when i tell you i put my fucking soul in it, i really did. I wrote that bitchass fic like it was my last. And quess what? She liked it. She. FUCKING. LIKED IT!! It was like meeting Bob Ross himself and him saying he liked what i drew. She is so fucking TALENTED both in writing and drawing. I am SO glad to have encountered her i love her so much))))

My friends inspired me to create, and i really love them. I used my creativity more with them, i actually drew digitally and started now three fanfics because of them. I shared this story with not much on my mind, all i know is i love them.

Do your thing, fing something that inspires you. If it's people, then go meet people. If it's anything other than that, reach for it.

[enthusiasticharry]

𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6.7k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : i feel like i've been waiting years for this to happen when it has only been a few months or so but here it is! feels like home is finally here and i couldn't be more excited. this fic is literally like my child, just like checkmate was, but it does hit closer to home because there are some subjects and topics discusses that are things that happened to me or close to me, so i feel as though i have to protect it with my entire life. but please, do enjoy this not so brief introduction to feels like home, christian and luisa and their little world.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : explicit language, mentions of anxiety, depression and heavy injury. mentions of a car crash.

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐍𝐄 here

“Christian!” The sound of her name rings through the entire Bed and Breakfast with how loud her sister screams it.

“What?”

“Have you seen my phone?” Christian sighs, leaning over the table that she was sat at to grab Luisa’s phone that was on the other side, holding it out for her sister. Luisa manoeuvres her wheelchair to the side of the table, “Thank you!”

“Welcome.” Christian mutters, leaning her chin back onto the palm of her hand as she scrolls through the Lodge’s booking system.

The booking system, apart from a few weekend bookings from the odd elderly couple, was completely empty. September was always quite a slow time of the year for the Lodge, and the sisters had found that out the hard way last year, during their first year of being open, when nobody booked anything for the entire month. From what Christian remembers, there were only two walk-in customer’s during the month and they only stayed for a night or so. The fact that they only had two bookings didn’t cause her to worry as much as she did the year prior though, because they had just had the biggest summer that they could ever imagine, and it was only their second year of fully being in business.

It had always been Luisa Flores’ dream to own her own Bed and Breakfast, but Christian had never, ever thought that she would be right beside her when she did it, but, she wouldn’t change it for the world now — she really wouldn’t.

Four years ago the sisters were coming home in the back of a taxi after going out for the night with their friends. They were drunk, but they weren’t driving and they never would whilst intoxicated, but they soon found out halfway through their journey that not everyone is the same. The driver hit the taxi that the Flores sisters were in on the right side as they drove through a junction, and completely destroyed Luisa and the driver’s side of the car. Christian doesn’t remember much from the accident apart from seeing a flashing light from the right side of her and then waking up in a hospital bed with her neck in a neck brace.

All she could think about was whether or not her sister was alive, and when none of the doctors would answer her Christian felt her entire world crumble around her. Even when her parents came, all they had been told was that Luisa had been rushed into emergency surgery and a doctor would be with them after to explain what was going on. Whilst they were waiting, Christian’s doctor came in and explained that she was going to have a scan and some x-rays to check that everything was alright with her. The results came back that Christian had three broken ribs and that her right arm had been fractured in three different places, but apart from that it was all cuts and bruises and she would make a full recovery.

Luisa, on the other hand, hadn’t been so lucky. Due to the car hitting them on her side, it had done unimaginable damage that Christian could only wish to take away from her sister. Luisa had lost one of her legs in the accident and lost all movement in the other, causing her to be wheelchair bound for the rest of her life. It changed their lives forever, and all Christian could ever think was that she should’ve sat on that side, not her sister.

If the accident did anything to their family, it brought them closer together. They had been talking one night whilst watching Gossip Girl for the thousandth time and Christian had brought up that when they were younger, all Luisa would ever talk about was owning her own Bed and Breakfast in the Lake District. At first, Luisa had dismissed the idea and said that it wouldn’t ever work because of her wheelchair and not being able to walk but if anything, it actually meant that Christian had more of a fire up her arse to make it happen for her sister. A lot of the things that Luisa wanted to do with her life she couldn’t anymore, but this thing, with Christian’s help, she could do.

They found the building that Little Lodge is now in a few months after deciding that they were going to start up their Bed and Breakfast and with help from their parents, they managed to get a deposit down and also managed to get themselves a mortgage. Before they knew it, they were opening their own little Bed and Breakfast.

It was a stressful experience at first, and Christian can’t lie and say that it isn’t stressful a lot nowadays as well, but it was certainly worse at the beginning. The majority of the time, Luisa did the front of house and Christian did everything else because it was just easier for the two of them and the dynamic of the Lodge. There was the odd time that the two of them would change their roles just to fit the situation but that was usually it. Christian loved the dynamic that they had created in Little Lodge more than anything else in her life. It was her new home, and she would never give it up, never.

“Have you heard anything from mamá about abuela?” Luisa asks after a few minutes or so, closing her phone and dropping it down onto her lap.

“No.” Christian shakes her head, swirling in the desk-chair that she was sat in so that she was facing her older-sister, “Mamá said that she’d message if there were any updates but I haven’t heard anything. Papá said that they’re still waiting for the scan results.”

“That’s shit.” Luisa adds and Christian nods her head, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear, “She had the scan hours ago, didn’t she?”

“Papá said that abuela went in for the scan at around six this morning, and they’ve been waiting and waiting but nothing yet.”

Christian sighs and shrugs her shoulders whilst Luisa shakes her head. Christian and Luisa’s abuela still lived in Seville, where their mother is originally from and she had recently started to get quite sick so their parents decided that it was probably best that the two of them go and visit her for an extended amount of time whilst she had tests done and they figured out what was wrong with her. It was nerve-wracking for the girls, that they weren’t able to be with her family and check that their abuela was okay but they couldn’t leave the Lodge, and they just hoped that their abuela understood that.

“Ay Dios mio.” Luisa shakes her head again, “Mamá must be going out of her mind.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.” Christian shrugs, “We’ve all seen how bad she’s gotten over the past few years. As much as I hate to admit it, I have a suspicion that it isn’t going to be the best news.”

“Christian!” Luisa raises one of her eyebrows as she looks at her younger sister, “Don’t think like that. We have to stay positive.”

Christian raises one of her eyebrows at her sister, “Positive? I’m just telling the truth, Lu.”

“I know you are.” Her sister pushes again, “But don’t you go saying that to mamá, that might be the end for her.”

“Like I would.” Christian leans forward and thumps her sister on the shoulder, but composes herself when she notices the last couple that they have staying in the Lodge for the summer make their way to the desk to check out. Luisa raises one of her eyebrows at Christian, who just responds to her sister with a roll of her eyes.

As the couple walk towards the front of the desk, Christian swivels around in her chair so that she’s facing the front again and offers them a large smile, “Morning, how are you both? Did you sleep well?”

“We did, thank you.” The man responds walking over and placing the keys to their room down on the counter, “Sad to be leaving, that’s for sure.”

“We’re sad to see you go, too.” Christian offers them a sad smile whilst she tries to find their booking on the system, “But I’m sure we’ll see you again, yeah?”

“Yeah, you certainly will.” The man laughs and Christian nods her head.

Christian sends their receipt to print and holds her hand out, waiting for the sheets to come out. Once they have, she staples their version together, and the Lodge’s versions together and opens them to the page they need to sign and passes them a pen.

“Can you sign on the dotted line and date, please?” She asks and the man nods, “It’s just a confirmation of payment and then you’ll get another one when we’ve cleaned the room and sent your deposit back.”

The man nods and signs the two pages before passing them back to Christian. She finishes the process and then gives them their receipt and wishes them a good day and safe travel. That was the last couple to leave the Lodge, and that meant that Summer was officially over and that they wouldn’t see as many customers as they had in a long time, probably not until October Half-Term when all of the schools in England broke up for a week. Once the door had closed behind them, Christian turned back to her sister who was looking at her with a silly smile on her face.

“What?”

“You’ve gotten better at that, you know?” Luisa says, moving forward so that she can slip underneath the desk with Christian, “You stuttered so much when we first opened.”

“That’s just ‘cos I was nervous.” Christian shrugs, “I didn’t want to fuck it up. Now, I don’t care. I don’t think I can fuck anything up.”

“Uh, let's agree to disagree with that one. There’s still things that you’d be able to fuck up. You get too nervous and word-vomit.”

“Thanks for reminding me of that, Lu. I really appreciate it.”

“Hey.” Luisa knocks Christian’s shoulder with hers, “What are sisters for?”

As far as a sibling relationship went, Christian and Luisa were as close as sisters could be. This had been both before and after the accident. There were only two years between them, and Christian sometimes wondered whether or not it was how close the two of them were in age that meant they were so close. They would do everything together when they were younger, and of course they had arguments and fought at little things that didn’t matter but at the end of the day they were still sisters. That was certainly one of the reasons why they made it through sorting out the Lodge without killing each other, because Christian doesn’t believe they’ve ever argued as much as they did when they were trying to sort the Lodge out, but they made it through without actually hitting one another which is better than they could say for before the accident.

They were minding their business when the computer pinged. It was loud, and it caused the two of them to sit up and stare at the screen with their eyebrows furrowed.

“Is that—?” Luisa asks.

“— I don’t know.” Christian leans forward and places her hand on the mouse, moving so that she could close the tab that she had opened and move to the booking-system app, which had been the one to make the noise.

“Has someone booked?” Luisa looked just as confused as Christian was and when she looked at the system, she saw that someone had actually booked.

As Christian flickered her eyes over the booking her mouth parted open in shock, “Holy shit.”

“What? What is it?” Luisa moves closer to Christian and focuses her eyes on the screen, “Ay Dios mio.”

Not only had someone booked in September of all months, but they had booked for the entire month. At first Christian thought that her eyes had been deceiving her and that this wasn’t the case at all. The more that she looked at the booking, the more that she realised that it was real and someone actually had booked to stay at their Lodge in the month of September.

“Holy Fuck.” Christian couldn’t help the profanities as they slipped from her lips, then parting in shock when she finally read the full confirmation.

Christian had expected to see that the booking would be for a few days, probably three at most, but when she saw that it was for the entire month. The entire fucking month, she felt her heart stop. Whoever this person was, H.Styles as the booking says, wanted to come and stay at their Lodge for the entire month. The most they’ve ever had was a week before, and that was during the height of summer when the kids were off school. To say that the two sisters were in shock would certainly be an understatement.

“Is this a joke?” Luisa asks, obviously just as dumbfounded as Christian at what she was looking at, “This can’t be real.”

“It looks like it.” Christian starts to scroll through the information that had been given, “The email, card. Everything.”

“You search him on Insta, I’ll do Facebook.”

Christian immediately takes her phone out and opens Instagram, typing in H.Styles to see if anything comes up, but it doesn’t. No matter how much Christian scrolls through all of the profiles that come up from the search as well. At the same time, one of these profiles could be of the person coming to stay at their Lodge in the next few days, Christian just didn’t know. After she closed her phone and placed it face down on the table, she looked up at Luisa who had her face too close to the screen of her own phone as she looked at something.

“Think you’ve found him?” Christian asks, leaning over her sister's shoulder to look at the profile that she was on.

“I don’t know.” Luisa mumbles, passing her phone to her sister, “Maybe this could be him.”

The profile that Luisa showed her sister was one of the profiles that look as if they aren’t used at all, but it’s actually just because they have a private account. The profile picture looked to be of a man, maybe around Christian’s age, or maybe Luisa’s but they couldn’t tell because the photo only showed the side of his face. From what Christian could also tell, the photo seemed to have been taken in a museum of some sort, and it looked almost serene.

“Could be.” Christian shrugs her shoulders, “I suppose we’ll know in two days.”

Luisa sighs and drops her head back, “I don’t think I’ll be able to wait that long.”

“Shut it.” Christian shakes her head, thwacking her sister on the shoulder, “Have a little patience. Why do you care anyway?”

“Well excuse me for being curious on who the person is who’s going to feed us in September and October.” Luisa shakes her head before moving herself backwards, “I’m going to check some things with Yani, are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” Christian shrugs her shoulders, giving her a small smile, “Have fun. Let me know if you hear anything about abuela.”

“Same to you.”

Christian gives her sister one last smile as she ventures back inside and towards the kitchen, before she places her attention back onto the booking in front of her. This was certainly going to be one for the record books, whether Christian and Luisa knew that yet or not.

As Christian sat drinking the coffee that she had made herself a few minutes prior, she quickly realised that it probably wasn’t the best idea to drink coffee at a time like this.

Christian’s social anxiety certainly wasn’t as bad as it had been, but it still wasn’t the best. Christian’s mother has said from her being a young child that she can talk for England if it’s to someone who she knows and trusts, but the second that it’s to someone who she doesn’t know and doesn’t feel comfortable with, she’s nervous and awkward and will only speak if she’s spoken to. The accident certainly didn’t help, and for a while Christian only spoke to her family and doctors but she bounced back from that quicker than anyone could have imagined, and she guessed that was because of Little Lodge and how it brought Christian out of her comfort zone.

Just because Christian was better than she had been, it certainly didn’t mean that she was completely cured because that wasn’t the case, not even a little bit. She would still fumble on her words, albeit not as much as she used to, but it would still happen. More often than not Christian wouldn’t speak unless she was spoken to and she tries her hardest to stay away from social situations that she knew would stress her out, because that wasn’t good for anyone.

One of the little worries that she had picked up since opening the Lodge, though, was whenever they had somebody book online and Christian wasn’t distracted enough to not think about it, that would be all that she would think about. Sometimes she would get herself into some quite horrible states worrying about the types of people that were going to walk through their doors, but Christian had to remind herself that speculation isn’t the right thing to do and that she can’t let herself worry like that unless that is actually something to worry about — obviously that doesn’t mean she completely stops doing it.

That was one of the reasons why Christian hadn’t slept at all last night, and why when she woke up this morning she felt the need to make herself a large cup of coffee. The only thing was that the more caffeine that the girl drank, the more that her heart started to beat faster within her chest. At this moment in time, Christian didn’t know if it was more nerves or excitement that H.Styles was arriving today.

“You look like death.” Luisa says, as she stops her chair in front of the reception desk.

“Good morning to you too, Luisa.” Christian says sarcastically, lifting her eyes up from the screen to look directly at her sister, “Did you sleep well? Are you excited for today? How are you?”

“Yeah, yeah I get it.” She shakes her head and places her hands on the desk, “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“As you lovingly pointed out, I look like death, so no, I didn’t.” Christian explains, unable to stop herself from letting out a large yawn.

“You need to sleep, Chris.” Luisa shakes her head, “I get that you worry but it certainly isn’t worth losing sleep over.”

“I know.” Christian offers her sister a small smile, “I’m not gonna be able to ever stop doing it, I hope you know that.”

“I know.” Luisa nods her head, “And I’m sure you know that I’m going to keep telling you that you look like death.”

Christian grins, “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

Luisa’s phone pings before she can say anything else, and Christian knows that it’s probably time for her to leave. Luisa and her girlfriend, Elsa, have had this day planned as their date day for a long time, and Christian wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of their day.

Luisa and Elsa have been together for three years now. They met when Luisa went away to Sweden for a few weeks with her friends from school. Elsa had been visiting her family and they met through a confusing line of mutual friends that Christian had very little interest in learning about. All Christian cared about was that her sister was happy, and if Elsa was the person to do that then that was all Christian wanted in life. When the accident happened, Luisa had been worried that Elsa wouldn’t want to be with her anymore, and no matter how many times Christian reassured her sister that Elsa wouldn’t do that and that she loved her, Luisa just believed that wasn’t the case. As Christian had reassured her sister, Elsa didn’t leave. In fact, Elsa did everything that she could to help Luisa.

For Christian, Luisa and Elsa were the epitome of what she wanted in life. She wanted someone to look at her the way they look at each other, and love her like they love each other.

“El’s here.” Luisa grinned as she looked at her sister again, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay? We can stay if you want, go out later.”

“No!” Christian exclaimed, shaking her head, “You’re not cancelling because of this. I’ll be fine. You two enjoy yourself.”

Luisa looks at her sister and raises one of her eyebrows, “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

“Completely positive?”

“Luisa!” Christian exclaims, shaking her head, “Go to your girlfriend, everything will be fine.”

“Okay.” Christian stood up and made her way towards her sister, pressing a kiss to her cheek and then making her way over to the door and opening it for her. Christian can see Elsa’s car parked at the end of the street and she smiles at the sight, “I’ll see you later. Message me if you need me.”

“Will do. Have fun.”

Christian watches for a little while longer, just checking that Luisa actually makes it to Elsa. Once she sees the car door open and Elsa steps out, Christian takes it as her cue to go back inside. There aren’t any guests staying at the Lodge at this exact time, so it feels a little odd to Christian that someone will be coming tonight and that they’re going to be staying for the entire month, and be the only guest that they have for a while.

Yesterday, seeing as though it was the only day that Christian had been given to prepare, she made a start on deciding which room she was going to give H.Styles and started to get it ready. Luisa had spent the day at reception so that Christian could do that, only face-timing her every once in a while so that she could see what Christian was doing to the rooms.

A part of Christian often felt guilty when it came to the two rooms that were on the upper floor of the Lodge. They were the largest and fanciest rooms in Christian’s opinion, but due to the narrow staircase Luisa had never been able to go up and see them in real life so she had to settle for Christian’s shaky camera work on facetime.

Christian had to choose between rooms Seda and Luz which were both nice for different reasons. She supposes that she is biased because she designed these rooms and helped decorate them more as her own than the rooms downstairs. Due to Luisa not being able to go up to decorate the rooms, Christian had basically been given free reign of the rooms to do whatever she wanted with them. When it came to the names of the rooms, Seda and Luz, which mean silk and light in Spanish, Christian knew that she wanted to incorporate some form of each of the words into the decoration of the room.

When it came to Seda, Christian made the main colour combination in the room a dark grey and peach colour and incorporated the silk in with the curtains and the cushions that were used as decoration. Everything matches and isn’t too cluttered in the rooms, which is one of the things that Christian loves about being able to decorate her own rooms. The second room, Luz, she decided to make the accents in the room navy blue, including an accent wall which was a pain in Christian’s arse to paint, but once it was finished it really did bring the room together. The vocal point of the room, though, had to be the different exposed light bulbs that light up the room: there were three on the ceiling, and other lamps assorted throughout the room.

Christian had ended up cleaning and making sure that both rooms were adequate. She changed the sheets, hoovered, placed down fresh towels, dusted and did basically everything else that she could to not only distract herself but make the rooms ready for when H.Styles arrived.

Luisa always used to say, whenever they spoke about the Bed and Breakfast that she were going to own before the accident happened, that she reckoned that the cleaning and the upkeep portion would be the worst and for a while Christian thought the same, but she quickly came to realise that truly wasn’t the case. Christian loved to clean and make sure that everything was tidy for whenever the guests arrived and after having a little more thought about it, Christian believed that the reason she enjoyed cleaning was because it gave her time to relax and not think about everything else in her life. She often had her headphones on with music playing, or maybe even a podcast every now and then. Christian couldn’t exactly pinpoint the exact moment in her life where she became an old woman, but she couldn’t say that she minded.

She decided that the best thing that she could do is wait until H.Styles arrived for her to make any decisions about which room she thought would be the best. Of course, Christian wouldn’t know anything about him by just checking him in she would at least be given a slight indication of which room he may enjoy more.

Christian had no idea what time H.Styles would be arriving, and that was one of the things that was creating a bit of suspense. She was checking their books and making sure everything was in line and at any given second he could arrive and she would meet the person who had booked to stay there for the entire month. Christian believed that maybe that was why she spent a lot of her time wondering about who was coming to stay with them, because who would need to stay in their little corner of the Lake District for that amount of time, who would need to do that?

If there was one thing that Christian certainly wasn’t doing it was complaining. This man, whoever he was and for whatever reasons he was doing this, would be paying their bills and giving them enough money to keep themselves going for a little while longer, or at least until October Half-Term.

Christian quickly learnt that there wasn’t going to be much for her to do but sit and wait, and due to her being on her own in the Lodge, she saw no issues with connecting her phone to her speakers and blasting out music into the room. Luisa always said that Christian had a weird taste in music, but Christian just said that it was eclectic.

The thing about Christian, especially when it came to her music, was that she listened to everything. If someone recommended a song, she’d listen to it, and if she liked that song then she’d listen to it again and again. She would never say that she wouldn’t listen to a song just because it’s country, or that she doesn’t like this artist very much so she won’t listen to it either. If a song is a good song, and she likes it, then she’d listen to it. That did mean that Christian’s playlists were a little all over the place, and no matter how hard she tried to organise them, it just wasn’t possible.

Don’t Go Breaking My Heart by Elton John was the song blasting through the speakers at this time, a classic if Christian said so herself. She had done everything work wise that she needed to do, so she spent her time reading one of the books that she had picked up from the bookstore in the village: one about love, death and everything in between. It was good, but it wasn’t one of her favourites, but she’d definitely finish reading it just to see how it ended.

She was completely submerged in the words on the page, and the words floating around her ears when the door opened. In fact, she hadn’t noticed the man walking closer to the desk until she saw movement from over the pages of her book which caused her lips to part open in shock slightly. Her eyes flickered to the time on the computer, and it read that it was just past one in the afternoon, and she was shocked to say the least that he was already there.

Christian abandoned her book and threw it down, hoping that she’d at least get to remember where she was in the book because the pages had closed, and clicked her phone on so she could pause the music. Her eyes then flickered up to the man who was standing above her, and she couldn’t help her lips parting as she then looked him up and down. She was trying not to stare, she really was, but she wasn’t doing a very good job of it to say the least.

From what Christian could see, he was wearing a denim flat-cap on his head with brown curls peeking out of the bottom. He was also wearing sunglasses over his eyes, but she watched him take them off and they were now placed on the top of the reception desk. She could only see just under his chest, but he was wearing a red and blue striped shirt and a blue jacket. Christian couldn’t help but wonder whether or not he liked the colour blue, since he was wearing quite a lot of it.

“Hi.” Christian couldn’t help the sheepish smile that crossed her lips as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “Sorry about that, how can I help you?”

“M’Harry.” The man says, shrugging his shoulders slightly as he does so. Harry, “I made a booking a few days ago, I’m here to check in.”

Christian nods her head, “I’ll just get that up for you."

She wiggles the mouse to wake the computer up and quickly types in the password so that their systems come back up. Christian’s a little embarrassed to say the least that their systems weren’t already up but she wasn’t expecting him to arrive yet, so she hadn’t prepared for it. Once the system is loaded up and she has his booking, she offers him another smile.

One of the things that Christian had prepared though was the bill that he has to sign beforehand with the deposit on it that states that he’ll get the deposit money back if the room is left unharmed.

“Can you sign and date on the dotted line, please?” She asks, giving him the sheet of paper and a pan. She watches as he signs H.Styles, in a beautiful penmanship if she does say so herself, and then passes back to her.

She clicks a few more buttons on the computer before opening the drawer and starting to flicker through the keys, “One room, for thirty nights.”

Christian tries to hide the shock in her voice when she says how long he’s staying but she certainly doesn’t do a good job of it. As Christian flickered through the keys, she finally landed on the one that she had been waiting for, the one for Luz. It seemed like an obvious choice in Christian’s mind when she saw what he was wearing to pick Luz, so that’s the one she decided upon.

“That’s right.” Harry nods his head.

“Great.” Christian sighs with a smile on her face, trying her hardest not to make the situation more awkward than it was, “I’ll, uh, show you to your room.”

He nods his head and she watches as he picks up the suitcases that she hadn’t even noticed he had with him and followed her towards the staircase. She was starting to feel a little uncomfortable at the fact that he was walking behind her, watching her and she couldn’t see what his face looked like. That was certainly why, and not because she had noticed that he had quite the handsome face.

Once she made it up to Luz, and she had turned the light switch on so that they wouldn’t be fumbling around in the dark trying to find where they were going, she used the key in her hand to open the door. Christian walked in first, just because there wasn’t enough room on the narrow landing for them both to stand and manoeuvre around each other — Christian had learnt that the hard way.

She placed the key on the cabinet in the room, and then turned to look at Harry who had just placed his suitcases down on the ground. He looked around the room for a little while and then moved to the window, looking out before turning to Christian.

“It’s lovely.”

Christian nodded her head in thanks, “Breakfast is from seven to nine everyday in the conservatory. I’ll, uh, leave you to get settled in and I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you.”

The second Christian walks out of the room and closes the door behind her, she lets out a sigh of relief that she hadn’t even known she had been holding.

Christian messaged Luisa that he had arrived but she received no reply. She didn’t think too much of it, because she knew that whenever Elsa and Luisa were together they were so completely obsessed with each other that nothing can distract them. Luisa knows though that if she doesn’t give Christian an update of their whereabouts by five then Christian would start to worry — they had four hours before Christian would start to worry.

For a little while Christian didn’t put her music back on, and she listened to the creeks of the ceiling as Harry moved around above her.

He didn’t give anything away of who he was, or why he was there but at the same time Christian made no indication of wanting to know anything. If Luisa would have been here when he arrived, that would probably be a completely different story. Luisa would’ve gotten some information out of him, Christian knew it for certain. She wondered who he was, and what he was doing here, but she wouldn’t ask him.

When the creeks of the ceilings stopped and there wasn’t anything else for Christian to listen to, she turned her music back on and picked up her book. It took her a while to locate where she was, having just thrown it on the side earlier when she noticed that he was there but she soon found the page she was up to. The words, as much as Christian tried to digest them, just weren’t going into her head in the way that they had been.

Christian wasn’t playing the music as loud as she had been earlier, mainly because she wanted to hear and listen when he started moving again, and when he eventually came downstairs. He had to come down at some point, seeing as though he had to eat and even though they serve breakfast at the Lodge, they don't serve lunch or dinner just yet. It was something that Christian and Luisa had been looking into, but it takes more work than they could have ever imagined to make something like that work.

Around two hours after Harry first arrived, she heard movement upstairs and towards the landing that caused her heart to skip a beat. Christian quickly turned her music off, and managed to place her bookmark in her book before he walked into the reception. She tried not to make it obvious and she placed her hand on the mouse of her computer as though she had been doing something, but she wasn’t the best actress and she was sure that it was completely obvious what she had been doing.

He gave her a smile as he walked into the room and towards the desk, and she tried not to seem awkward when she gave him one back but she was sure that she’d failed at that too.

“Is everything okay?” She asks, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

He nods his head, “Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just. . . I was just wondering whether you had any recommendations of places to eat.”

“Oh, uh, I do know of some good places.” She nods her head, “What food do you like? Then I know what to recommend.”

“I’ll eat anything, to be honest.” He chuckles, a smile crossing his lips. He had dimples.

“Uh, well, there’s a good Italian restaurant about a mile from here.” Christian shrugs, “I can call you a taxi, if you would like.”

“No, it’s fine.” He shrugs, “Have you got the postcode? Or some directions.”

“Yeah, it’s just down the road.” She points to the left, “If you go over the bridge and just follow the road for a mile or so, you can’t miss it. It’s called Galileo’s.”

“Thank you.” He smiles and turns to walk towards the door.

He opens the door and then moves to the side, stopping his actions. Christian furrows her eyebrows as she watches everything unfold. Luisa and Elsa walk through the opened door, smiling at Harry as they do so before turning to look at Christian with wide eyes. The two of them look over their shoulder and watch as the door shuts behind Harry as he leaves, and their eyes immediately fall to Christian again who’s looking at them with her teeth clamped firmly on her bottom lip.

“Oh. My. God.” Luisa slowly makes her way towards Christian, stopping when she’s finished saying the last word, “You failed to mention in your message that the man was basically a Greek God, Christ Christian.”

“Do you really think that me of all people would say that?” Christian sighs and shakes her head.

Elsa shakes her head, “Chris wouldn’t say that, Lu. You know that.”

Luisa accepts her girlfriend’s hand on her shoulder with a kiss, “Doesn’t mean it’s any less true though. Did he tell you anything?”

“His name is Harry.”

Luisa doesn’t blink as she looks at her sister, “That’s it? That’s all he said?”

“That’s all he said.” Christian nods her head, “He just came down to ask for a recommendation of places to eat and I told him to go to Galileo’s.”

“Jeez.” Elsa sucks a breath through her teeth and shakes her head, “Galileo’s? On the first night? Are you sure?”

“Galileo is harmless.” Christian shakes her head.

“He’s a nutcase.” Luisa sighs, shaking her head.

“He’s not.” Christian pouts, “He’s not around me, anyway.”

Elsa laughs and sits down on one of the couches that rest against the wall of the reception, “If he survive’s Galileo’s then he’ll survive staying here for an entire month, that’s for sure.”

“Hey!” Luisa whines, “We’re not that bad.”

“I’m not bad.” Christian’s quick to say after her sister, “You are though.”

“I’d watch your tone if I were you, missy.” Luisa says, lifting her hand up and pointing one of her fingers at her sister, “I’m still the older one in this situation.”

Elsa furrows her eyebrows and looks at her sister, “Are you sure about that?”

“Shut it, you.” Luisa shakes her head, turning her attention back to her sister, “If I were you, I’d just keep an eye on him. See if you can figure out anything about him.”

“I’m not going to stalk him, Luisa!”

“I wasn’t telling you to stalk him!” She exclaims back, “I was just telling you to observe, like a good host would.”

Elsa furrows her eyebrows from behind her girlfriend, “It sounds a lot like stalking to me.”

Luisa shakes her head, “I hate you both.”

Christian grins and tilts her head to the side, “You love us really.”

Although Christian would never admit it, watching and listening seemed like quite a good way of figuring out who this man was and why he was here. She wasn’t going to be stalking him though, just observing.

[inkwell1013]

Feeding the Starving artist - Persona 5

Pairings: Various platonic ships. Mostly Yusuke and the Phantom Thieves, but also includes Yusuke and Sojiro (familial)

Genre: Angst, but also fluff, oneshot, found family, friendship

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: This fic deals with some difficult topics including disordered eating habits and child abuse/neglect (implied/referenced).

Summary: Yusuke Kitagawa is the epitome of a starving artist - in more ways than one - and when Ren find out that his friend is dangerously underweight, he and the rest of the Phantom Thieves hatch a plan to help Yusuke with his bad eating habits. Because sometimes the solution is just as simple as it sounds.

- - - - -

Yusuke was stick thin. He always had been, even as a child. The reason was simple: he had never had enough to eat. When he lived in the atelier, complete meals were rare, and he was used to eating meagre scraps of whatever Natsuhiko could find in the cupboards. There just wasn’t enough food to go around.

Even after he left that place in the wake of Madarame’s arrest, unable to shirk the dark memories that clang to it like a thick fog, Yusuke stuck to those same eating habits. It was a comfort. It was familiar. It was enough.

As much as the school nurse told him that he was underweight and insisted that he needed to eat more, he refused to believe her. He was eating the same amount that he ate as a child and saw no reason to change his habits.

He was fine.

In truth, he was not fine. His diet was beginning to affect him, as much as he hated to admit it. He was tired constantly, and every time he stood up too fast, he felt his head spin wildly. Yusuke’s constant exhaustion meant that he was falling asleep at every possible opportunity – on Ren’s shoulder while they drove around mementos, at his desk at school or while they were just hanging out. No one minded, just like no one minded how Yusuke stole food from them when he thought they weren’t looking, chalking his behavior up to his usual eccentricity. It took a few months of this for any of them to notice that something was wrong.

And it was easy to not notice, as Yusuke was good at coming up with excuses. “I’m fine,” he would say. “Just stayed up late finishing a piece. Don’t worry about me.” Or “I just forgot my lunch. Thought I’d borrow some of yours.”

Even so, the more perceptive of the phantom thieves, especially Ren, Makoto and Haru, couldn’t help but worry about their friend.

It all came to a head during their summer vacation. Yusuke had come to visit Ren and left Le Blanc at about six o’clock, insisting that he needed to get back to the dorms before curfew. Ren had gone to take out the trash a little later that evening, and found his friend, sprawled out on the ground, unconscious.  

“Sojiro!” he yelled. “It’s Yusuke. He’s fainted!”

“What do you mean he’s fainted?” asked Sojiro. “I swear to God, if this is some stupid prank…”

“No. I swear he’s really unconscious. I think he might be hurt. Please.” Ren could hear the terror in his own voice, and he knew that Sojiro could hear it too, because there was a great clatter in the kitchen and Sojiro came running. He swore under his breath when he saw Yusuke, and quickly placed a finger to his wrist.

“His pulse is weak, but it’s there,” he said finally. “We need to get him inside. Can you pick him up?”

Ren dug his hands underneath Yusuke’s shoulders, and hoisted him upright, throwing one of Yusuke’s arms over his shoulder and putting his arm around Yusuke’s waist. He was horrified to see that he weighed almost nothing. “Is he heavy?” asked Sojiro. “Do you need help?”

“No… I don’t. He weighs nothing.”

“He can’t be that light. Pass him here.” Ren complied, allowing Sojiro to take on most of Yusuke’s weight.

Sojiro’s eyes widened. “He’s lighter than Futaba,” he whispered.

Futaba was a good foot shorter than Yusuke. He should have weighed much more than her, not so much less.

“We need to get him inside,” said Ren. From his hand’s position on Yusuke’s side, he could feel every one of his ribs. This was bad. How did he not notice that something was wrong before?

He shouldered Yusuke’s slight frame into Le Blanc and laid him down in one of the booths. “Fetch the doctor,” ordered Sojiro. “I’ll watch him.”

Ren wasn’t a particularly fast runner; he wasn’t slow, but he wasn’t especially fast either. Even so, as he ran to fetch the doctor, the world became a blur behind him. A single word repeated in his mind, repeatedly:

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

He burst into Takemi’s clinic, grabbing her by the arm. “No time to explain,” he panted, trying to drag her out the front door. “You have to come.”

“Give me a second to lock the door kid,” said Takemi. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Yusuke… my friend… he fainted… and somethings really wrong. He weighs literally nothing. He’s so light.”

“That does sound serious. Where is he?”

“Le Blanc. Hurry.”

***

Takemi’s face fell when she saw Yusuke - who had thankfully begun to stir slightly - and Ren understood why. Yusuke’s appearance was almost ghoulish, he was white as a sheet and there were deep bags under his eyes.

“Is he another one of yours Sojiro?” asked Takemi, in a feeble attempt to lighten the mood. “How many kids do you have tucked away back there?”

“No, he’s not,” said Sojiro. “He’s… He’s Ren’s friend. Just spends a lot of time here. You know how it is.”

“You called the doctor?” whined Yusuke, trying to sit up. “That was completely unnecessary. I’m fine.”

“Yusuke, you literally fainted. You’re not okay,” said Ren, placing a hand on Yusuke’s chest and pushing him back down. “Don’t try to stand up, you might faint again.”

“But I’m fine!”

“I’ll be the judge of that, thank you,” said Takemi, reaching into her bag and pulling out a stethoscope. She pressed it to Yusuke’s chest, and listened a moment. Frowning, she lifted in away. “You have a weak heartbeat. I’ll bet you have a dangerously low blood pressure too. Do you feel any numbness or coldness in your extremities?”

“A little. I thought that was normal.”

“It’s a sign of poor circulation, likely due to your weak heart. Do you know how much you weigh?”

“Umm… the last time we had physical examinations at school I weighed fifty-three and a half kilos.”

“And how tall are you?”

“A hundred and eighty-one centimeters.”

Takemi pulled her phone out her pocket and jabbed a few numbers into it. She scowled. “Your BMI is 16.3. You’re severely underweight. It’s no wonder you’re having health problems.”

Somehow, to Ren, even the word ‘severely’ feels like an understatement.

“I’m surprised your parents weren’t contacted,” she continued. “This stuff is serious.”

Yusuke stared down at the ground, not saying anything. Sensing the tension, Takemi spoke again. “I feel like I’ve touched on a sensitive issue here. You are under no obligation to tell me, but is everything alright at home?”

“He’s in jail,” came the quiet response. “My fathe- my mentor got arrested… for child abuse. And my mother is dead.”

Takemi took in a sharp breath, looking desperately at Ren and Sojiro. “You have a place to stay, right?” she asked. “Because if you don’t, I’m sure Sojiro will…”

“I’m living in my school dorms. I’m fine.”

“That’s good. Look, I can prescribe you some medication to lessen some of your symptoms, like your fatigue and low blood pressure, but the best thing you can do is try to get to a healthy weight. Given your height, you should aim to gain roughly ten to fifteen kilos over the next few months.” She handed him a business card. “If you need any further help, you can call me or come to my clinic.”

She packed up her things and pulled Sojiro to one side, safely out of earshot. “This kid has some serious problems,” she whispered. “I don’t know if it’s an eating disorder or just bad habits, but he’s going to need help. I know it’s a lot to ask but—”

Sojiro interrupted her. “I will. I’ve done this before with my daughter. She had similar issues. I know that I can help him.”

Takemi nodded, begrudging respect in her eyes. “Besides,” continued Sojiro. “The kid has good friends. I’m sure they’ll help him out too.”

Sojiro saw Takemi out the door, but once he was sure she was gone, he headed back to check on Ren and Yusuke. Sojiro’s heart broke a little in his chest as he saw Yusuke’s expression. His eyes were watering, and he looked so confused and lost. When Ren patted him on the shoulder, Sojiro couldn’t help but notice that Yusuke jumped a little at the touch.

“I need to get back to the dorms or I’ll miss curfew,” he mumbled, sitting up.

“Let me drive you,” said Sojiro.

“That’s not necessary,” replied Yusuke, a tad sharply.

Sojiro sighed. “Just accept my help kid. It won’t kill you.”

Yusuke begrudgingly allowed Sojiro to drive him back to the dorms, after Sojiro insisted that he’d rather not find him passed out on the street again.

By the time Sojiro got back to Le Blanc, Ren was already asleep upstairs. He went to lock up the café, craving a cigarette for the first time in years. For the first time since… Since Wakaba died.

It was funny to think that just a few years ago he didn’t consider himself to be a fatherly person and now he had a whole troop of kids. Sighing, he put the key in the lock and turned it, before making the slow trudge home.

***

Ren let out a deep sigh. Pulling out his phone, he made a group chat and invited all his friends, save for Yusuke.

Ren: I’m calling an emergency meeting. Don’t tell Yusuke.

Ryuji: Why not?

Makoto: This is about him, isn’t it? About the thing we discussed.

Haru: I hoped we were wrong.

Ren: Yes, it’s about that.

Ryuji: Why are you all being so cryptic?

Ren: Meet me at Le Blanc at 10am tomorrow. Don’t be late.

Ren: That means you Ryuji.

Ryuji: Dude!

Ren: @Ann Make sure Ryuji gets here on time.

Ann: Will do.

Ryuji: Don’t encourage him!

Ryuji: Seriously, what’s going on? I’m so confused.

Ren: I’ll bring Futaba. Remember, do not tell Yusuke. He can’t know about this.

Turning off his phone, Ren set it down on the table and took in a long, deep breath. He needed to tell them. He needed to be a good leader. He needed to be who everyone else needed him to be.

He was a Joker, expected to fit into any gap, and designed to be a wild card. He could do anything, fill any role, and tomorrow, his role would be that of the messenger, bearing terrible news. He didn’t want to do it, but he had no choice.

***

When Ren stirred the next morning, memories of the previous night flooded his mind. Shit. He dragged himself out of bed and went to feed Morgana. Anticipating the promise of food, Morgana jumped off the windowsill, and onto the table, where Ren portioned out a tin of tuna for him.

“What are you sighing so much for?” asked Morgana between bites. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s about Yusuke,” explained Ren. “And it’s pretty serious.”

“How serious?”

“I had to call an emergency meeting.”

“But those are only for—”

“When someone’s life is in danger. I know.”

Morgana cocked his head. “It’s that bad?”

“Yeah, it is. He fainted, he’s so thin, he’s not eating enough, and I’m really worried about him.”

Morgana flicked his tail. “I had to deal with some food insecurity back before I met you all,” he began.

“When you were a stray?”

“I wasn’t a stray. I’m not a cat!” snapped Morgana. “But yes, when I was homeless, food was hard to come by. Maybe Yusuke’s dealing with something similar?”

“Maybe. He is technically homeless…”

It sounded bad when he said it, which it was. Yusuke had technically been homeless for several months. Even so, it had never been a problem, as he had been living in the Kosei dorms since Madarame’s arrest. It wasn’t like he was out roaming the streets or something.

Maybe the dorms were the problem. There was no one there to check that Yusuke was eating. He could engage in whatever unhealthy habits he wanted, and no one would ever find out.

Ren threw the empty tuna can in the bin, and went to help Sojiro with the café, hoping that having something to do with himself would lessen his anxiety somewhat. It worked, but only a little.

 Ren dragged Futaba - who was still groggy, having just woken up moments ago - to the meeting, before setting her down at the table with a fresh cup of black coffee. Morgana came slinking down the stairs a few minutes later. Makoto was the first to arrive after that, followed shortly after by Haru.

Ten minutes after the agreed upon time, Ann and Ryuji both burst into the room, bickering as always. “I can’t believe you made us late,” snapped Ann, sliding into the booth.

“I didn’t make us late,” replied Ryuji. “You were the one who just had to fix your hair before we left.”

“Only because it got messed up while I was helping you find your housekeys.”

“I didn’t know they would be under the sofa! I have no idea how they even got there!”

“You’re such a moron.”

“And you’re not much better.”

Ann rolled her eyes. “I love you anyway dumbass,” she said, giving Ryuji a peck on the cheek.

Once everyone was settled at the table, Ren retold the story of the previous night. A hush fell over the table, and Ryuji was the first to speak up.

“What can we do to help?” he asked.

Ren sighed. “I really don’t know. This is some serious shit. I mean, you guys weren’t there, but it was terrifying. I could count his ribs through his shirt.”

“We have to do something,” said Makoto.

“But Yusuke doesn’t want to be helped,” sighed Ren. “He insisted that everything is fine, even though we both knew it wasn’t.”

“We could just… give him food,” said Ryuji. “We don’t need to make this complicated.”

“Don’t be stupid Ryuji,” snapped Morgana. “There’s no way that would work.”

“No, I’m with Ryuji on this one,” said Ren. “It’s a simple plan, but it could work. So, are we in agreement?” There was a murmur of acknowledgement around the table.

“Alright. Let’s do this,” said Futaba, taking a sip of her coffee.

***

Makoto - always the most organized of the group - was the first to enact her part of the scheme: making Yusuke eat lunch. Her plan was simple and would hopefully work. She had prepared the first phase of her plan that morning, all she had to do now was ‘coincidentally’ run into Yusuke and enact phase two.

It wasn’t that hard to spot Yusuke on the train platform, as he tended to tower a good few inches over people, just as he was doing here. She reminded herself to play it cool.

“Hey Yusuke. Fancy seeing you here,” she said, walking up to him.

“Ah, Good morning Makoto. It’s not that unusual. We do catch the same train line up until the first stop.”

“You’re right,” said Makoto, shifting a little in place, and rearranging her grip on the bag she was holding. Just come out and say it already… The words just wouldn’t form on her tongue.

Thankfully, Yusuke brought it up first. “What do you have there?” he asked.

“Oh this? I accidentally made too much lunch today, and the rest wouldn’t fit in my backpack. It’s such a pain to carry it around though…”

Come on. Get the hint already.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Yusuke, glancing up at the noticeboard for train arrival times. This absolute moron…

“Why don’t you take it?” she offered. “You’d be doing me a favor; I really don’t want to have to carry it around all day.”

Yusuke frowned. “Are you sure? It’s your food.”

“I’m certain.”

“If you insist.” Yusuke took the bag from Makoto with a cautious reverence. He glanced at her one last time, as if making sure that it was really okay to take it, before opening his backpack and placing it inside.

“Oh. I’ll need the lunchbox back,” said Makoto. “You can just come by my house after school and drop it off.” At that moment, the train came screeching onto the platform, and she and Yusuke both stepped in.

Mission accomplished.

***

Yusuke was working on a new painting when his phone rang. He was about to decline the call, but he recognized Ann’s number and picked up. Clearing his throat, he spoke. “Good afternoon.”

“Hey Yusuke! I’m going to that new café in Shibuya tomorrow. Do you want to come with me?” asked Ann.

“Are you sure?” asked Yusuke. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s fine. I want to hang out with you.”

Yusuke thought for a moment but shook his head. “As kind as that is of you, I must decline, as I don’t have the money.”

“I’ll pay for you. Come on, it’s my treat.”

“I really shouldn’t…”

“I have pictures from that art showing I went to last week. I could show them to you.”

Yusuke was about to scoff – did Ann really believe that he could he bribed with pictures of an art showing? – but he stopped himself at the last moment.

He really wanted to see those pictures. He had been unable to attend the exhibit as it was during his exam week, but he had been following the artist online for some time and found their work both beautiful and inspiring.

Who knows if he’d get this chance again?

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll come.”

The next day, he arrived at the café at precisely the agreed upon time. Yusuke was one of those people who believe that being late was a terrible sin, comparable only to leaving one’s brushes in their water pot or wasting paint.

His eyes swept around the small café, and recognizing Ann’s distinctive blond hair, he walked over and sat down. There was already a wide array of cakes and pastries spread out across the table. Yusuke couldn’t stop his mouth from watering at the glorious sight, but he quickly reminded himself not to be greedy. This was Ann’s food, not his. He pulled his hands onto his lap, restraining himself.

Ann gave him a bright, cheery smile, and slid a slice of lemon cake towards him. “Here,” she said. “You like lemon cake, right?”

Yusuke stared down at the neat piece of yellow cake in front of him. His mother had made lemon cake for him once, when he was young. He didn’t remember the occasion – a birthday perhaps – but he remembered how it tasted. It was sour, yet sweet, and blindingly bright, like a drop of sunshine.

“Its my favorite,” he said, forcing back the memories. It wouldn’t do to cry over a piece of cake, like some kind of idiot. “How did you...?”

“Do you remember when Haru brought over those pastries the other day? When she offered you one, you reached right for the lemon cake without even stopping to look at any of the others. I assumed that’s because it was your favorite.”

“That was weeks ago. You remembered all this time?”

“Of course. It something that makes you happy, so I remembered it.”

“Huh.” Yusuke took the fork from the plate and cut himself a slice of the cake. It tasted just as good as he remembered.

He couldn’t help but remember what his mother said, as she handed him the piece of cake all those years ago. “That’s the great thing about this recipe. It lets you take something bitter and sad and turn it into something of melancholic beauty.”

“So, you wanted to see those paintings from the exhibit,” said Ann, pulling out her phone.

Ah, yes. That’s why they were here, wasn’t it? Yusuke almost didn’t care about it anymore; he just wanted to savor this flawless taste for one more moment. Blissful.

Even so, he pulled his attention towards Ann’s phone, where she had various pictures from the exhibition. He studied the artwork with a careful dedication, trying his best to etch every line and color into his mind. It was just as good as he expected from the young artist whose early work had enraptured him so.

As Ann rambled her way through many interpretations of the art that was on display, she made a point to push a few plates of sweets in front of Yusuke, who ate them dutifully.

Ann gave a secret smile.

***

Yusuke damn near tumbled over as Ryuji clapped him on the back, and he had to take a moment to steady himself. “Sup dude,” said Ryuji. “I’m going to the gym later. Wanna come?”

“I’m not really a fan of… those places…” mumbled Yusuke.

Ryuji was blissfully unaware of his friend’s apprehension. “I’ll treat you to beef bowl afterwards,” he offered.

Yusuke’s mouth watered at the promise, and he found himself nodding, quite without the preapproval of his mind. “Awesome man!” beamed Ryuji. “You don’t have to workout or anything if you don’t want to. You can just spot me. Anyways, I’ll see you there. What time do you wanna meet up?”

“Whatever time works for you.”

“Is like… five o’clock okay? I have to get changed into gym clothes and stuff.”

“As do I.” Did Yusuke even own gym clothes? He wasn’t certain. He had dropped out of gym class at the end of his first year of high school and never looked back. Even so, he was sure he’d find something to wear.

Rooting around in the deepest, most forgotten crevices of his drawers, he managed to find a pair of frayed, grey shorts and a tank top. These were classed as sporting attire, right? He pulled on the clothes and felt them completely dwarf his body.

He really didn’t want to ‘work out’ as Ryuji would put it. The last time he had done any massively strenuous exercise outside of the metaverse, which was sometime the previous year, he had fainted rather dramatically. It had been a particularly embarrassing moment, as it had happened in front of his entire class during gym and ended with him being carried off to the nurse’s office. He couldn’t help but fear that history would repeat itself.

He took a deep breath that did nothing to quell his nerves and left the dorms.

The gym smelt bad – that was Yusuke’s first thought. It absolutely reeked of sweat, and Yusuke couldn’t help but be a little intimidated by the various pieces of exercise equipment scattered around him that, in his opinion, looked more like torture devices.

Sometime while he was thinking, Ryuji snuck up on him and gave him a bone-crushing hug. “Sup dude. I’m so pumped about this!” said Ryuji. “I was gonna start with some cardio and then do some lifting. Do you want to join in?”

“Um… maybe?” mumbled Yusuke.

“Let’s just start and you can see how you feel. But go at your own pace and don’t push yourself too hard.”

Yusuke let out a murmur of agreement and headed towards the treadmills. If he was remembering correctly, running was cardio. He really didn’t want to run - it just made him feel tired and dizzy - but Ryuji was already setting up his machine, so Yusuke couldn’t drop out now.

He fiddled with the buttons until the treadmill was moving at a suitable pace and set himself into motion. It was invigorating, in a strange way. He even found himself somewhat enjoying the feeling of adrenaline pumping through his veins.

And then, once around half an hour had passed, Yusuke stumbled and had to grab ahold of the handle to keep from falling flat on his face. How graceful.

Ryuji turned off his machine and turned to his friend. “I think you’re a bit worn out,” he said. “Let’s take a break.”

Yusuke nodded breathlessly, and scrambled off the machine, desperately trying to catch his breath. When did he get this out of shape? He was startled when Ryuji threw him a bottle of water, which nearly smacked him on the side of the head.

“Go on,” said Ryuji. “Drink it.”

Yusuke’s thirst had gone unnoticed up until then, but he gratefully gulped down the drink. Somehow it had stayed graciously cool, even in the summer heat. Once he had drank all the water, Ryuji pressed something into his hand, going to drink his own bottle.

It was a protein bar. Yusuke had never had one of these before, but he knew that athletes ate them a lot. Even with the promise of chocolate chips – the message for which was printed on the side of the packet - Yusuke was cautious; he had never been a fan of new food.

He watched Ryuji tear open the packet of his bar and take a large chomp, looking for… something, though he wasn’t sure what. Permission maybe? He was used to asking others for food, whether that be Madarame, Natsuhiko or the school cook, and he wasn’t good at just taking things for himself.

Ryuji looked at him with a quizzical expression. “Why aren’t you eating? It’s really good. Give it a try.”

That’s all the permission Yusuke needed, and he took a bite. Not bad, actually. No one was more surprised than him when the entire bar was devoured in seconds. Maybe he was hungrier than he realized…

Ryuji took the empty bottle from him and threw it back into his backpack, before tossing the empty wrappers into the bin. “I’m going to do some weightlifting,” he said. “Will you spot me?”

“Of course.”

***

It was a hot day, and Yusuke was sweating like a pig. His back hurt too and he slightly regretted offering to help Haru with her gardening. Even so, Yusuke was a man of his word, and stubbornly refused to quit because of something as trivial as a little pain.

He rubbed the sweat from his brow and bent down to pull up the radish he was attempting to harvest. The damn thing just refused to move. He gave it one last tug and it suddenly came loose, sending him stumbling backwards, only just catching himself before he fell. Throwing the radish into the cardboard box at his feet, he went to start on the next row.

Haru appeared behind him and passed him a can of soda. It was chilled – she had probably got it from the vending machine – and Yusuke gulped it down in one go. Haru sipped her own can, glancing over at the box of vegetables she and Yusuke had spent all morning pulling out the ground. There was a good collection in there: some carrots, some radishes, a decent sized head of lettuce, a bag of green beans and more potatoes than Yusuke could count.

“We’ve had a good harvest,” said Haru.

Yusuke hummed in agreement, going back to pulling up radishes. Around an hour later, they were finally finished, and Yusuke said his goodbyes, about to collect his things and leave, when Haru stopped him.

“Wait a moment,” she said, pulling a plastic bag from her coat pocket, and picking a few handfuls of vegetables from the box. She handed them over to Yusuke with a smile. “Here, take these.”

“Are you sure?”

“Think of it as payment for your hard days work.”

Yusuke tightened his grip around the handle and nodded. “I’ve got to get home,” said Haru. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

***

Yusuke had spent the day with Ren, doing nothing in particular. At half past six, he announced his departure, but when he tried to leave, Sojiro stopped him, setting a hand on Yusuke’s shoulder. It was a strangely gentle touch, something Yusuke wasn’t used to, but he tensed under it regardless. “Why don’t you stay for dinner?” offered Sojiro. “I’m making curry.”

Ren appeared in the stairwell. “When are you not making curry?” he said.

“Watch your mouth young man,” laughed Sojiro.  Futaba giggled from her seat, and Ren smirked too. Yusuke couldn’t help but feel a little melancholic at the sight, longing for something he never really had. His hand twitched toward them, greedy and wanting, but he stopped himself.

“I want to stay,” he said. “But I’ll get in trouble. Curfew is at seven.”

“I’ll call your school and explain things. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Hesitation fluttered through Yusuke’s mind, but he forced it down. He wanted this, more than he had wanted anything in a long time. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

He let Futaba drag him all the way to Sojiro’s house, rambling all the way about an anime that she was watching, while Ren and Sojiro exchanged a secret grin behind him.

Yusuke had been in Sojiro’s house before, but this was the first time he had gotten a good look around. It really was just a normal house, with a slightly less normal family inhabiting it. Ren went to set the table, and Sojiro went to serve the food, Futaba helping him. Yusuke was caught in the middle, unsure of what to do. He didn’t want to get in trouble for doing something wrong, but at the same time, he hated just standing there, useless, and idle.

Eventually he settled for helping Ren lay the table, desperate to be at least a little helpful, and Ren did smile as he went over, which was a good sign. They laid the kitchen table together, and Yusuke surveyed the landscape. The kitchen was quite small, but a good enough size for a family of three. He wondered, briefly, if they ate breakfast together in the mornings.

The realization came to him, deep and cutting, that he hadn’t eaten breakfast, let alone a complete meal, with anyone since Natsuhiko left.  These days, he had grown used to eating his meals, when he remembered to eat them at all, alone in his dorm rooms, usually while working on something else. Food was always an after thought for him.

It was strange how much he missed it.

Sojiro came over, holding two plates of curry and Futaba trailed behind him, doing the same. Futaba handed a plate to Ren and Sojiro handed a plate to Yusuke. Once everyone was sat at the table, Yusuke waited for permission to eat, but wasn’t granted it.

It took a few moments for Ren to notice that something was wrong, but he eventually did, giving Sojiro a sharp nudge in the side and gesturing toward Yusuke. Sojiro quickly got the message and asked, “Why aren’t you eating son?”

The reply is simple, at least to Yusuke. “You didn’t tell me I could.”

“You can always eat here,” said Sojiro. “Whatever you want, and whenever you want it.”

Yusuke nodded slowly, picking up his spoon. Taking one last glance around the table, checking that it was really okay, he took his first bite. And then another. Soon, the plate was empty, and Yusuke had never felt so full in his life.

Futaba brandished her plate towards Sojiro like a knife. “I want seconds,” she demanded.

“Okay, okay. I’ll get you some more,” said Sojiro, standing up.

“I’ll have some more too,” said Ren, handing Sojiro his plate with just the slightest hint of a cocky smirk on his face. They all cast an expectant look to Yusuke.

Why not? He had room for a little more. “I’ll have seconds too,” he said. Sojiro smiled at him – a real genuine smile, something he had never seen from Madarame – and Yusuke decided he liked the feeling.

[lou-the-switch]

Like you said Lou just because you have prompts that you got to write doesn’t mean requests are closed, so how Bakugou being an ass to his mother and his mom tickles him

Awww this is literally the cutest thing ever 🥰🥰🥰 I thought this would be another good fic to work on (they gave me this prompt while my requests were open ;) )

Family Games

⚠️ WARNING⚠️

Some of what I say in this fic take place during the BNHA series. So if you didn’t finish the show, I suggest you do that

This is also a tickle fic. Some swearing but not too extreme

Summary: After Aizawa and All Might visit the Bakugou residence, what happens after they left, they’ll never know

Words: 639

“Have a good day!” Mitsuki says, with a gentle smile on her face, waving goodbye at the two teachers.

“Of course, and thank you for allowing young Bakugou to come into the dorms,” All Might says, smiling back at her, waving. As the door closes, Mitsuki’s gentle smile turns into an angry frown. As she turns to Bakugou, Masaru, his father, widened his eyes and had a panicked expression on his face, he knew what was coming, and didn’t want to be a part of it.

“I’ll just.. wait in the bedroom.” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. He then quickly went to the bedroom, not wanting to be a part of what was about to go down. Mitsuki turned to the couch, facing her son, now walking towards him.

“So, I’m a hag aren’t I?” She growls, tilting her head to the side. At that same moment, she cracked her knuckles, and began to raise her arms. The teen knew what was coming.

“Don’t take one more damn step towards me woman!!” Bakugou warned his mother, as he backed up to the corner of the couch. There was no escaping what was about to happen.

“I’ll show you what a hag can really do!” Mitsuki yells. She then pounces next to him, and darting her fingers into his exposed sides. Bakugou yelps and tries to hold in his giggles that were being produced by his mom’s hands.

“Dohon’t touhuch... mehehEHEHEEEE!” Bakugou finally broke, giving out the most cutest giggles a boy like him could make. Mitsuki continues squeezing his sides, as she knows it’s not a horrible spot for him, but it made the blonde have the most adorable giggles.

“I’m gohohonna kill yohohohou!” Bakugou managed to say, but little did he know saying that would make it a lot worst for him.

“Ah I see, so we’re making death threats now? I see how it is” Mitsuki teased. She stopped squeezing his sides, but using her thumbs to massage his upper ribs, and he completely lost it.

“AHAHAHAHAAA KNOCK IT OHOHOHOOHFFFF” Bakugou laughed, arching his back. His upper ribs were a pretty bad spot for him, so it was logical that he reacted in such a way. He bucked his hips, trying to get away from his mother, who was being ruthless with him, giving the top ribs of his ribcage a good massage. As she moved her fingers faster, the response of the young boy became more and more loud.

“GET THE FUCK OHOHOHFF MEHEHEHEEEE” Bakugou literally screamed, thinking this was the only way to Dave himself from the ruthless tickling. Dead wrong. Mitsuki widened her eyes, raised an eyebrow, and gave off the most devil like face. That was the last straw.

“So, swearing at me huh? Well that won’t do at all..” Mitsuki teased once again, about to give Bakugou hell. She grabbed his left arm, raising it above his head, and began to scribble all five fingers into the boy’s armpit, his death spot. Bakugou gave out the most loudest yells and squeals, bucking his hips, wiggling his entire body, just to escape the hell that he was in. As his laughs turned into wheazes, she knew she had done enough. Mitsuki’s devilish face, smoothed into a soft mother like smile, and softened up on the tickles, slowly stopping, giving Bakugou time to breathe. Standing up, she walked to the bedroom where Masaru was waiting, sitting on the bed. He had heard everything. He stood up, and walked to the closet.

“So, you got him so bad he’s sleeping in the couch taking a nap huh?” He said, holding in some giggles himself, pulling out extra blankets.

“Yea, but he deserved it though,” she smiled, sitting on the bed. “Hopefully he knows now not to disrespect his mother.”

Woohoo! All done! Sorry I posted a day late! Hopefully it was worth it

[nekojitachan]

Okay, so apparently I wanted to take a break to write fluff before I got into the really dark scene in the new fic. So you folks get a bit of Armies fluff (HUSBANDS) that I call ‘An Armies Fairy Tale’.

It should be safe other than Abram predicting Andrew’s impending death and his view on Andrew’s detestable cooking choices.

*******

“Is that… ricotta and marshmallows? With lemon curd?” Abram asked, torn between incredulousness and nausea as he gazed over his husband’s shoulder to see what Andrew was making for dinner.

Andrew gave a slight nudge to his ribs to make him back away. “Mary likes it and you have Pad Thai in the fridge,” he said as he flipped the… the abomination of a grilled cheese sandwich.

“How do you know she likes it? Wait, is that what you made last time while I was off with Jamie?” Abram felt a headache coming on and pinched the bridge of his nose. “She’s going to shoot you when she finds out.”

“She’s not, because Mary’s good at keeping secrets. Now go make sure the table’s set.”

Jamie was so going to shoot Andrew (once she got out of the hospital after having her second daughter), and Abram wouldn’t stop her (especially if kept him from being shot as well). He shook his head as he put his leftover Thai in the microwave, then grabbed enough plates and bowls for their dinner.

Mary, who’d been busy playing with the cats, came running when she saw him getting the bar ready for them to eat and offered to help; Abram told her to go wash her hands instead. By the time she came back, everything was done, so he lifted his five-year old niece up into her chair as Andrew finished ladling cream of potato soup into her bowl.

“Give that time to cool,” Andrew warned her before he sat down next to Abram. “Eat your sandwiches first.” He’d cut them into small slices that were easy for her to pick up and bite into.

“Thank you, Uncle Drew,” Mary said, as polite as always; she had Jamie’s blonde hair and Sean’s blue eyes, and there were times when Abram and Andrew took her out that people asked if she was their daughter. Once she took a bite of a grilled cheese abomination, a happy smile made her plump cheeks grow round like peaches. “Yummy!”

Andrew shot Abram a ‘told you so’ look which had Abram rolling his eyes. “How come you’re not eating Uncle Drew’s special sandwiches, Uncle Ram?”

“Because they’re for special people, like you two,” Abram said as he picked at the spicy noodles with his chopsticks.

“Oh.” Mary seemed appeased by that and nibbled on another slice of grilled cheese; Abram was reminded of a chipmunk gnawing on a nut and tried not to smile at his adorable niece. “Is Mummy all right? When can I see her?”

He tried for a reassuring expression as he thought about his cousin. “She’s fine, we’ll go see her as soon as your little sister is born, I promise.” Jamie had developed a couple complications with her second (and last, according to her) pregnancy, and while the family had every faith in doctors looking after her, she and Sean had decided to leave Mary with Abram and Andrew until Fiona Miriam was born.

Mary’s full bottom lip jutted out as she dropped the half-eaten grilled cheese ‘stick’ onto her plate. “I don’t wanna little sister, I want Mummy and Daddy an-“

“Hey,” Andrew said, his deep voice calm while Abram tensed up like he always did when Mary had one of her few tantrums, at a loss at what to do. “How about I tell you a story, okay?”

Mary blinked through the tears forming in her eyes as she gazed at ‘Uncle Drew’. “What type of story?”

“A good one, so keep eating,” Andrew ordered as he picked up a piece of his own sandwich. He stared at her while he popped it into his mouth, then nodded when she resumed nibbling on the horrid thing.

He had a sip of coffee to wash it down (wash away what had to be its awful taste, Abram was certain), then cleared his throat. “All right, so once there was nasty, stupid, stinky ogre-“

“How nasty and stinky?” Mary asked as she reached for another grilled cheese stick.

“Very,” Andrew insisted as he broke apart another grilled cheese abomination. “So very nasty and stupid and stinky, but he had a nephew who wasn’t nasty or stupid or stinky, but beautiful and blessed with gifts like being able to speak many languages.”

Abram had a very bad feeling about this story.

“Because his nephew was so special, a truly horrible monster was after him, which made the ogre try to hide the young man away from everyone. He locked him up in a tower and hired all these knights look after him, because he was stupid and prideful as well as nasty and stinky.”

“Stuart is going to shoot you as well, and I’m merely going to stand there and watch,” Abram informed his husband in Russian as he gave up on his noodles to prop his chin up on his left palm; Mary ignored him, long used to his asides in different languages by then.

Andrew, ever the mature one, kicked him in the shin while Mary clapped her hands together. “So he was a prince, wasn’t he? A prince needing rescued? Couldn’t he fight himself?” She seemed to disapprove of anyone who couldn’t fight for themselves.

“Somewhat,” Andrew agreed. “But this prince had a curse on him, one that made him weak in battle, made him act like an idiot and- ow.” Abram did some kicking of his own right then. “He needed someone to guard his back while fighting,” Andrew amended while he regarded Abram through narrowed eyes.

“Okay.” Mary appeared a little confused. “He had knights to help, right?”

“Yes, one knight in particular, a special knight who crossed the ocean to come fight for him, a young man who-“

“The knight’s a boy?” Mary’s brows drew together as she scowled at Andrew, a miniature version of her mother. “They’re supposed to be a girl! The knight’s always a girl when Mummy and Aunt Liz tell the story!”

Abram barely managed not to choke on his water over that declaration, and turned his laugh into a semi-convincing cough at the consternation on Andrew’s face; Nicky and Erik’s daughter Emery never gave Andrew this much grief when he told her stories. “Knights can be boys, too,” his husband insisted.

Mary didn’t appear convinced, but went with trying her soup instead of arguing, her expression rather dubious.

“As I was saying, the boy knight arrived in time to save the foolish prince-“

“You are so lucky right now that the family doesn’t believe in introducing the children to violence and bloodshed until they’re at least ten,” Abram informed his poor choice of a life partner before he resumed eating his dinner, and got his shin kicked again.

Why wasn’t he drinking wine right then? Ah, right, Mary.

-“from the terrible monster, his stupid, stinky ogre of an uncle, and himself.”

“From his horrible choice of boyfriends,” Abram muttered, and moved his leg in time to avoid being kicked yet again.

“Did the knight fight the monster with a sword? I like swords,” Mary stated with a bright smile.

She was definitely her mother’s daughter.

Andrew leaned forward to wipe at a drop of soup which was about to drip down her chin. “A sharp blade was definitely put to use, yes. The knight fought the monster along with the prince, the ogre and the ogre’s family, and won the hand of the prince in the end.”

“Did he fight the ogre, too?”

“Oh, he’s going to.” Abram couldn’t wait until his uncle heard about this story; he just hoped he was in China or someplace else far, far away when that happened.

“It’s an ongoing battle,” Andrew admitted as he kicked the bottom of Abram’s stool. “The knight knows that his prince, who’s not too bright at times, has a soft spot for the stupid, stinky creature.”

“That’s not going to be the only ongoing battle, hon.” Abram ‘predicted’ with a false smile.

His displeasure with Andrew aside, he had to admit that Mary was in a better mood because of the ridiculous story, which only got better when she and ‘Uncle Drew’ had chocolate fudge ice cream for dessert (Abram was definitely being assigned a mission as far east as possible before Jamie was back in shape after the birth).

They were just about to put Mary to bed when Sean called to say that Jamie and Fiona were fine and that they could bring Mary to the hospital first thing in the morning. Mary was happy to talk to her father and exhausted but pleased mother before she went to sleep, eager to see them soon.

Abram picked up King, who rubbed against his legs, and carried her down to the kitchen so he could have a cup of tea (with Baileys, it had been a long day). “I don’t know how Jamie and Sean keep up with her day after day.” And now they had a second child.

Andrew grunted in agreement. “At least they have the sense to have ‘em one at a time.” He probably was thinking of his brother and sister-in-law; Katelyn was expecting twins in a few months.

“Well, I think there’s something to be said about sticking with cats.” Abram gave King a scratch beneath her chin before he set her down so he could fill the kettle with fresh water; she joined Sir and Huayra by their food dishes, ever hopeful for a snack.

Of course Andrew gave them something.

“No kids,” Andrew agreed yet again as he accepted the mug of hot chocolate (and Baileys) which Abram had made for him. “Can only imagine how messed up our kid would be with your inability to grasp health emergencies or dangerous situations.”

“Or you feeding them kilos of sugar a day,” Abram countered; Andrew clicked his tongue at that but didn’t disagree.

They finished their drinks in companionable silence, then Andrew clicked his tongue again. “Movie?”

“Oh, I don’t know, I may just wait here until my knight shows up,” Abram drawled as he gazed at his husband. Andrew didn’t respond, his handsome face expressionless, and the next thing Abram knew, he found himself yanked forward and thrown onto Andrew’s broad left shoulder. “What the- Drew!” Abram laughed as he was carried into the living room and dumped onto the couch.

“Movie,” Andrew repeated as he plopped down next to Abram. “And I’m picking it.”

“You romantic fool, you.” Abram smiled as he snuggled up next to his husband. “I’m still not doing anything when Stuart goes to shoot you, though.”

Andrew scoffed as if to show he wasn’t afraid of the man and draped his arm over Abram’s shoulders. Abram draped the chenille blanket over the both of them before the cats curled on around them, and smiled when Andrew picked ‘The Princess Bride’ for them to watch.

*******

In case you can’t guess, Mary v.2 (and Fiona) is going to grow up a MAJOR BADASS. Fear for any man who dares to try to control/harm her. The Hatford organization will gladly clean up the mess while sniffing back tears and going ‘that’s our little girl’.  Lessons have been learned.

Emery will be terrifying, too. Nicky’s bubbly personality but not afraid of anything and able to back it up, thanks to her Hatford uncles.

[madpanda75]

“Our First Holiday”

The wonderful @obsessionprofessional​ requested a fic where the reader celebrates Hanukkah with Rafael. Yes, I know Hanukkah is over...but better late than never, amiright? 🤷🏻‍♀️ ❤️ Also I’m Catholic and Latina, in my book the holidays are in full swing until Three Kings’ Day (I’m milking this, work with me😉).

You laid on the couch with your feet propped up on Rafael’s lap, your body melting into the cushions. The light emitted from the TV cast a glow across the darkened living room. Half-empty Chinese takeout cartons littered the coffee table. It was the perfect night in, a rarity as of late, due to yours and Rafael’s hectic work schedules.

You flipped through the channels, settling on a cheesy holiday movie. Just when the big city heroine meets the small town hunky mailman, your phone began to buzz. You groaned and covered your head with the pillow. “If that’s the hospital, tell them I’m not here.”

Rafael laughed and picked up your phone from the table. “It’s your mom,” he said, checking the screen.

“That’s even worse,” you whined. “I have to tell her that we can’t make it for Hanukkah. I’ve been stalling, trying to avoid her Jewish guilt trip.”

“Your mom should meet up with my mom. She’s the queen of Catholic guilt. Together they could rule the world.” He pulled the pillow from your face and waved the still buzzing phone at you.” I don’t think you can avoid it anymore, mi amor.”

You sighed in defeat and took the phone from Rafael. After a lengthy conversation, including several not so subtle hints about getting married, (“A spring wedding would be absolutely beautiful.”) and having babies (“I just want to hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet before I die.”), you finally hung up with your mom. Tossing the phone on the coffee table, you flopped back down on the couch.

“How’d it go?” Rafael asked.

You shrugged. “Not as bad as I thought it would be. She understands that I have to be at the hospital. It’s the holidays, a lot of household accidents this time of year,” you said, nudging him with your foot.

You went back to watching the movie while Rafael began to massage the soles of your feet. He glanced your way, noticing a slight change to your demeanor. There was a sadness to your expression that you tried to mask. “Are you ok?”

“I guess I’m kinda bummed about not being with my family for Hanukkah. I mean, they drive me absolutely crazy. Believe me I’ve spent many a Hanukkah hiding in the bathroom, drinking scotch out of a flask.” Rafael snorted a laugh at the image of you hiding out in the tub while nursing a drink. “But this year is different. It’s our first time celebrating the holidays together.” You sat up and took his face in your hands, squishing his cheeks between your palms. “I just wanted to show off my sexy brilliant Cuban lawyer boyfriend to my bubbe.”

“Does your bubbe also smush faces?” He asked through pursed lips.

You giggled and let go of his face. “No, she’s a cheek pincher.”

Rafael pulled you onto his lap, planting a soft kiss to your lips. “I know things at work are crazy right now, but I promise we’ll see your family soon. I’ll even drink in the bathroom with you,” he teased.

“It is a rite of passage,” you replied. “Ok, let’s finish this movie. I have to know if the girl ends up with the hot mailman in the town that perpetually celebrates Christmas or if she’ll go back to her cold meaningless existence back in the city.”

Rafael rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, I’m on the edge of my seat.”

You playfully elbowed him in the rib cage before resting your head on his shoulder. Wrapping an arm around you, he kissed the crown of your head as you both focused on the TV screen.

*****

Later on that night, Rafael tossed and turned in bed while you were sleeping peacefully beside him. He stared up at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the city outside when he felt you stir beside him.

 “CBC, BMP, and LFTs were negative,” you mumbled in your sleep.

He grinned and gently moved a strand of hair away from your face. Due to being short-staffed at the hospital, you had been bending over backwards, taking double and sometimes even triple shifts. You were wearing yourself ragged. It broke Rafael’s heart to see you like this, but he understood how important your work was. Just like he was dedicated to his cases, you were dedicated to your patients.

Rafael didn’t think he believed in love at first sight, that is until he bumped into you while picking up his mail. You were new to the building, having just moved back to New York from volunteering with Doctors Without Borders.

After your initial encounter, he thought of every excuse in the book to “accidentally” bump into you— the mysterious woman in 27G. Rafael was sure you thought he was borderline diabetic based on how many cups of sugar he borrowed.

After months of flirty banter in the elevator or passing each other in the hallway, he finally worked up the courage to ask you out for a cup of coffee. Coffee quickly morphed into dating and a year later, you and Rafael were living together.

As he watched you sleep, an idea came to him. Grabbing his phone from the nightstand, he quickly and quietly sent two emails, one to Carmen and one to your mother before turning his phone off and settling back into bed. If you couldn’t come home for Hanukkah, then Rafael was going to bring Hanukkah home to you.

*****

You were a zombie dressed in scrubs, trudging towards your apartment. It had been a rough day at the hospital. All you wanted was to strip, have a long hot bath, and collapse into bed. Fate; however, had different plans for you.

The minute you opened the door, you were greeted with the smell of burning oil. You followed the smell into the kitchen and gasped. Pots and pans covered the stove; food scraps and various utensils littered the counter. You could still see smoke dissipating in the air.

The sounds of Rafael muttering curses distracted you from the disaster in the kitchen. You whipped your head around to find him wrestling a bush in the living room as he struggled to wrap blue and white lights around it. In the battle between man and plant, it looked like the plant was winning.

“What the hell is going on here?!” You exclaimed.

Rafael froze, dropping the strand of lights in his hands. “Hi, cariño,” he said with a sheepish expression. “I wasn’t expecting you home until later.”

“Well would you care to explain why you’re fighting a ficus or why it looks like a cyclone has run through our kitchen?” You crossed your arms and arched your brow, giving him a stern look. Rafael suddenly felt like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“It’s actually a Hanukkah bush,” he replied, kicking the plant out of the way.

“A Hanukkah bush?” You repeated.

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “I also tried to make latkes. I asked your mom for the recipe, but then Liv called me and I got distracted. Next thing I know the kitchen is up in flames and I have burnt potato pancakes.” He took a step towards you, nearly tripping on the strand of lights. “It was supposed to be a surprise. I know you were upset about not spending Hanukkah with your family.”

Your face softened, noticing several dreidels, chocolate gelt, and a shiny gold menorah on the coffee table. You collapsed onto the sofa, overwhelmed by what Rafael had done. A lump formed in your throat as you took one of the dreidels in your hand. Memories came flooding back of being at your grandparents’ house during Hanukkah; lighting the menorah, stuffing your face full of sufganiyot and latkes

“Carmen picked those up for me during her lunch break,” he said, watching you spin a dreidel on the coffee table.

“You mean you did all this for me?”

“Of course.” He sat down next to you and took your hand in his. “Like you said last night, it’s our first time spending the holidays together. I want this to be special. Te quiero mucho.”

“I love you too.” You kissed Rafael and pressed your forehead against his.

“So what do you say, wanna celebrate Hanukkah with your Gentile boyfriend?” He asked with a smirk.

A giggle escaped your lips. “Absolutely. Let me shower and change, then we can tackle those latkes together.” You wrapped your arms around him. “Thank you for everything,” you whispered, kissing his cheek before heading down the hall to your bedroom.

Rafael stood up, staring down the Hanukkah bush, more determined than ever to decorate the God-forsaken ficus.

*****

You and Rafael may have been busy with work, but that didn’t stop you from finding your own ways to celebrate Hanukkah over the next several days. Not having the time to go out and buy gifts, you both would find other thoughtful ways to show that you cared for each other. Whether it was coming home to find he had ordered takeout from your favorite Chinese restaurant or leaving little love notes for Rafael in his suit pocket before he left for the office. You created your own traditions.

On one of your rare days off, you even fried up some sufganiyot and brought them to the precinct for Rafael and the rest of the SVU squad. “Feel free to make these all year-round,” Fin joked as he took a bite into his second jelly-filled donut.

Every night, no matter the time, you both would sit in the living room and light the menorah. It was Rafael’s favorite part of Hanukkah. He was mesmerized, watching the flames from the candles illuminate your face as you repeated the Hanukkah blessings spoken by generations before.

Rafael grew up Catholic and would occasionally attend church with his mother on Easter and Christmas, but he was not a religious man. And yet, witnessing the reverence you had for your faith and for your history, made him fall in love with you even more. It made him think more about the future; in particular, a future with you.

*****

On the eighth and final day of Hanukkah, you had hoped to get home early. Unfortunately, there was an emergency and you had to stay later at the hospital than usual. Between checking on patients, you snuck into the break room to call Rafael. You fidgeted with the hair band on your wrist while the phone rang, eventually the call went straight to voicemail.

“Hello, you’ve reached the voicemail of Rafael Barba. Please leave a detailed message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

“Hi, babe. Looks like I’m gonna be here a few more hours. You better start dinner without me. There’s leftovers in the—”

Before you could finish your message, your name was called over the PA system. “Dr. Y/L/N, please report to the nurses’ station. Dr. Y/L/N, please report to the nurses’ station.”

You huffed out a sigh, running your fingers through your hair. “They’re paging me. I gotta go. I’ll be home as soon as I can. Love you.”

You hung up your cell and headed straight for the nurses’ station. Turning the corner, you stopped in your tracks, your sneakers squeaking against the linoleum floor. To your surprise there was Rafael with a big bouquet of red roses in his arms; with him were your mom, his mom, and the rest of your family, even your Great-Aunt Edna. All of them stood there with big smiles plastered on their faces.

“Hi, mi amor.” Rafael awkwardly waved. His hands were shaking slightly and his cheeks were bright pink. You could tell he was nervous.

You were at a loss for words, glancing around at everyone. The nurse who had been paging you caught your eye and gave you a sly wink. “Raf...what’s going on?” You finally managed to squeak out.

He laid the flowers on the counter and took a step towards you. “Remember when I told you I asked your mom for her latke recipe?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, I may have left out the minor detail where I also asked her and your family to come for a visit, so they could watch me do this.” He audibly gulped and slowly got down on one knee, taking out of his pocket a small velvet box.

“Oh my God,” you breathed.

“Y/N, I’ll be honest. I never thought this would happen for me. I never thought I would find someone or fall in love, but then I met you. You transformed my life. You’re the first person I want to see in the morning and the last person I want to be with before I fall asleep. You’re the light of my life. The love of my life and I promise to cherish every day that I have with you.”

A tiny whimper escaped your lips, tears streaming down your face as he continued, his own eyes glossy with tears. “When I talked to your family and asked for their blessing, they told me there was a name for what we are— basherts. Y/N, you’re my soulmate. There’s no one else I want by my side. No one else I want to spend my life with. I want to spend forever with you and I want our forever to start now.” Rafael opened the box to reveal an antique white gold engagement ring. His grandmother’s engagement ring. “Y/N Y/L/N, would you make me the happiest man on Earth and marry me?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed and wrapped your arms around him, crying into the crook of his neck.

Rafael barely had time to place the ring on your finger and kiss you before your family bombarded you both with hugs and well-wishes. You managed to escape and stepped off to the side while everyone else talked amongst themselves.

“I wasn’t lying about my bubbe,” you giggled and wiped her lipstick smudge off of Rafael.

“Nope, you weren’t. I think I’m finally getting the feeling back in my face.” He massaged his cheeks, glancing over to where your moms were having a lively discussion about your wedding. “Looks like our mothers are getting along.”

You followed Rafael’s gaze, overhearing their conversation. “A spring wedding would be beautiful. Maybe in May?” Your mom suggested.

“Oh I agree,” Lucia chimed in. “I bet if we call now, we can see if Father Alvarez and Rabbi Goldman are available. I’m sure they won’t mind doing the ceremony together.”

“Kindred spirits.” You snorted a laugh before looking down at your engagement ring with a sad smile.”

The expression on your face was not lost on Rafael. “Is something wrong?”

You shook your head. “Nothing. It’s silly.”

He gently grabbed your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Try me.”

“You’ve done so much for me. Surprising me with Hanukkah bushes and latkes and engagement rings. I feel as if I haven’t done anything for you.” You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose. “I even forgot to get you a Christmas gift.”

“Hey,” he cooed and cupped your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “You gave me the greatest gift I’ve ever gotten.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion, staring into his green eyes. “What gift was that?”

“You said, yes.” He smiled and pulled you into his embrace, kissing you with such fierce passion that the staff and even some of your family whooped and cheered.

For years to come, you and Rafael would celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah, passing down the traditions to your own children. But both of you would agree that the first holiday you celebrated as a couple was by far the best one.

@glimmerglittergirl​ @southern-magnolia​ @sweetcannolicarisi​ @delia26​ @obfuscateyummy​ @sass-and-suspenders​ @eclecticminded​ @thatesqcrush​ @katmstanton​ @amirightcounsellor​ @beltzboys2015-blog​ @letty-o​ @sonnysdoll​ @lyssa1385​ @sweetsummertime99​ @burningsorr0ws​ @gibbs274​ @izzythefanfreak​ @riodallas​ @babypink224221​ @livxrafa​ @esparza-army​ @obsessionprofessional​ @ottosuricato​ @melsquared79​ @dreila03​ @frenchiefoxy​ @tropes-and-tales​ @thecraziestcrayon​ @goodluckfindingone​

[catharrington]

@harringroveweekoflove Day 1: Bed sharing

Fighting in the summer breeze.

The job wasn’t done. There was cleaning up they had to do after the battle with the mind flayer. But it isn’t always an easy job picking up the scraps. Especially if the scraps fight back. Steve and Billy can fight as hard as they want but getting outnumbered will win every time.

(3.3 k words. Simple fic of hurt/comfort. Slight blood and gore. Steve does get hurt badly. Mostly boys talking about their feelings and mutual pining.)

***

“God, stop touching it!” Steve howled with pain, his voice cracking in a way it hadn’t since he was 12, as he was carried into the motel room.

Hopper just rolled his eyes as he followed into the bedroom. “You aren’t going to die, kid!” He growled, closing the door behind them. El watched with wide worried eyes as Steve was lead over to the mattress and laid down, whimpering the whole time. Billy was holding onto his arm and helping him down into the bed, his own body not unscathed.

They had just got away from a pack of demo dogs still loose and running in the woods around Hawkins. El and Hopper were sure they would be destroyed by the portal closing but they just kept showing up like roaches when the lights turn off. There must be something still open around Hawkins that had to be cleaned up. And Billy, even though he had already proven himself as a friend by being a human shield against the mind flayer, volunteered first for the portal closing hunt.

Steve was more drafted by Hopper and the kids. You don’t get much room to not be a hero when you’ve fought these things off with a nail covered baseball bat before.

They had tracked a sighting of a starved looking feral dog to an abandoned cabin in the middle of the woods. All the evidence pointed to three, maybe two, demo dogs holding up and a small portal letting them come though for hunting, but when they got there it was more like ten. They were almost over run by the numbers. Hopper did his best with his police pistol, and El took care of most, but Billy and Steve caught the brunt of the surprise.

“Don’t talk down to him!” Billy hissed as he laid Steve down sloppily on the bed, “it’s your damn fault he got hurt!”

“Watch it!” Hopper warned. “We did the best with the intel that we had! No one saw that shit coming- even El didn’t see them!”

Billy had one leg crossed over the bed and the other leg dangling down to touch the floor. He was leaned over Steve in a protective hunch that he wasn’t even aware he was doing. “You should have gotten some fucking better intel then, Hop.” Billy pushed his curly hair back from his forehead, it turned red with blood.

Interrupting the tense showdown, Steve moaned loudly as he settled into the bed. His wounded arm laid limp next to him while his left arm griped white knuckled into the remains of his sweater ripped all the way down to his stomach.

El was quietly watching from the sidelines, her eyes going to the people talking for only a moment but mostly staying locked on Steve’s bloodied wound. He had 4 huge gashes dragged over his shoulder and down his pectoral, already bruised black and blue and still bleeding.

With Steve’s bat and Billy’s axe they had stayed to the sides of the formation to catch any straggler or finish off what Hoppers gun didn’t, but that was a perfect target for a group of demo dogs sneaking out of the woods. Steve fought off most of them, skillful with his bat, and nimble in his dodging- but as he crushed one into the ground another jumped on his back and dragged those demonic claws from his chest to his shoulder.

The scream he made is something the group won’t be getting out of their head for a while.

“We did the best we could,” El spoke softly.

Hopper continued to glare daggers into Billy but focused on taking out 2 water bottles from the motels mini fridge. Collecting towels from the bathroom, he placed some under Steve’s shoulder and whispered something heroic to the boy before he flushed out the wound.

Dumping the cold water right into the flayed flesh made Steve howl. He bent his head back into the pillow and let his voice carry until it simply cracked again into a whimpering cry. His face was covered in sweat, blood and something else much darker. His shaggy hair, equally as sweaty, clung to where ever it could catch. The famous volume was mostly lost in its wetness and that broke Billy’s heart.

He brushed a strand from Steve’s ghostly pale face in an attempt to be comforting.

When Hopper dumped the second bottle Steve cried again but only what his used throat could muster. Billy watched in horror as Steve’s eyes fluttered closed and his head fell limply onto the pillow.

“Hop,” Billy gasped, he held onto Steve’s cheek and examined the boys pale face.

“Chill out, kid, he’s just unconscious.” Hopper finished with the second bottle then threw them and the stained towels into a trash can. He took more towels and laid them softly over Steve’s shoulder. The motel owner isn’t going to be happy she’s out of four nice cotton towels but it made Billy happy to see the wound finally covered in something.

Hopper took Steve’s left hand and applied it as pressure to the wound. The room became way too quiet without Steve being awake groaning in pain. The rest of the group took a breath of silence between themselves before Hopper finally moved.

“You have to stay here, watch him! We will be back soon!” He scooped up his sheriffs hat and made for the door, El loyal on his heels.

“We need to go to a hospital now,” Billy sputtered out. “These cuts need stitches- I can tell!”

“Absolutely no hospitals. They can’t be trusted. And before anything else, we have to clean up the shit show of dead dogs all over that cabin so El can close that portal for good.” Hopper rested his hat on his head and sighed. “We gotta stop these bastards or this fight will be for nothing. Harrington is tough. He will last-,”

“That’s really not something you get to decide.” Billy stood up from the bed and marched to the door. He had gotten his share of black blood on his clothing and a few scratches here and there. Most notability across his forearm one demo dog's back leg caught him and left a nasty gash, but Billy hadn't started to feel it yet. “You can’t just expect him to go all these damn rounds for no one to be in his corner. You can’t just-“

Billy’s rant was cut off before it started by a sharp intake of breath. Steve’s soft hair shook as he came awake. “Billy,” he muttered out, fluttering his eyes as he came to terms with the burning irons on his shoulder once again. “...Billy?”

“Yeah, easy Stevie, right here,” Billy rushed back to his side, leaned over the bed a little less close than before, but he wanted to be so much closer.

Hopper took this as his time to leave. “Don’t let him out of your sight. We‘ll be only a minute!” And the door was slammed behind the two.

Billy didn’t have a moment to grumble any discourse before his attention was taken again by the injured boy.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve involuntarily flexed his good hand and shoulders as he tried to sit up only making him hurt more, “Mother fucking Mary!”

“Stop,” Billy pressed his open palm down into Steve’s chest. “Do not get up, it’s gonna hurt a Hell lot more if you keep moving.” From the touch he could feel the boy’s breaths quicken under his ribs, shallow and hard. “Just take it easy, Steve.”

Steve said nothing, but did as he was told.

Working intently on steadying out his breaths, he took a look around the room to try and steady his mind. The motel was familiar, the group used it to ready up before heading into the woods to find the abandoned house, but the spaces between that was a blur. All purple and blue like a bruised spot that wouldn’t stop hurting as Steve tried to remember it.

Billy had taken his hand back from Steve’s chest, carefully keeping his distance. He moved to the very edge of the bed hunched over with his messy blond hair covering as much of his face as he could. The streaks of blood in his hair made it seem a darker shade than it was.

Out of the corner of his eyes Steve watched Billy, half to have something to focus on, and half because he hasn’t seen this boy so far gone since he was drugged unconscious on Byers’ floor. But that time his eyes were not blown wide open. Looking at him now, Billy had a face like he was sitting in the middle of a mine field and couldn’t get out.

“Is that your blood... or mine?” Steve rasped out so weak it was easy to miss. But Billy was listening for it.

“You know, I don’t know.” He balled his hands into the sheets. “I think it’s yours. I’m not really bad off. Don’t think.” Billy knew he was distracted as he replied but couldn’t help it under Steve’s half lidded stare. The gash on Billy’s arm wasn’t bleeding or painful and the darkened blood looked like demo dog guts to him.

Steve hummed and it was pretty. “My blood,” he started, “I’m sorry I-,”

“Don’t you dare!” Billy turned his eyes sharply and dug a glare into Steve. “Nothing tonight was your damn fault.”

Steve kept watching him, kept him trained with those big brown eyes. “I was gonna say, jerk, that I’m sorry you had to actually fight while I was down...,” Steve trailed off to let out a groan, “instead of just getting creamed in the end like last time.” He laughed but it was painful sounding.

“Last time?” Billy was astounded that with his shoulder ripped out and losing so much blood Steve still had the gull to be a bratty little shit. He even had the nerve to let out a small smile. “Last time I single-handedly fought back a three story tall monster made of rat AND people bones? You mean that last time?” Billy enjoyed watching that little smile on Steve getting bigger.

“Yeah, single handed, but I do remember you getting creamed?” Steve’s words were so light and easy. They were a warm breeze in the summer time, kicking up flowers, and Billy could easily be in that breeze forever without wanting to leave.

Billy laughed. “Saving El, saving you too, by getting impaled... that’s not getting creamed, pretty boy.” Running his hand over his chest Billy could feel the scar from the mind flayer right there. Always a reminder of how he fought. And a badge that said he would do it again in a heart beat. 

“Hey maybe you’ll get a wicked scar then I can’t call you pretty boy anymore.” Billy said it as a joke but Steve’s smile fell into something else, even something sadder maybe.

Steve clutched the towels over his shoulder with his hand Hopper was kind enough to place over it. His other arm, the one that was holding on with just the bones of his shoulder and not so much the flesh, he only flexed those fingers just to make sure they still worked. But he kept his arm laying down like Billy ordered him to.

Wetting his lips and fixing the other boy with another locking stare, he whispered. “Hum. I don’t know if I would want that. Not really the scar type.”

“Not the type? But you know scars get all the chicks? You’ll be a magnet. I’ll have to use that bat to fend them off.” Billy laughed at his own joke. He lifted his hands and made a goofy swinging motion. Steve gave him a scoffing laugh and Billy felt comfortable enough to laugh with him. Dropping his hands Billy inched a little more towards Steve, trying to get more of that warm breeze on his face.

Steve shook his head in a no motion very lightly so he didn’t hurt himself. It made his wet hair fan out over the pillow. “First of all, don’t use my bat.” Billy raised his eye brows. “Second, don’t really care... about being a chick magnet.”

Billy wanted to ask so many questions. He might not be the King any more but Steve still has game, he still should want to add notches to his bed post. And now that he was out of school his game should be even better. But Billy didn’t ask.

In almost a defensive mode, Billy kept his head down and chewed his inner cheek like his thoughts were getting chewed over inside of his head. But he didn’t back away from how he was leaning towards the injured boy.

Thankfully, Steve’s breathing was as normal as one could get. He only moaned a few times between breaths. Billy had the painful realization that with the scratches across his upper chest it likely hurt to have the rising and falling motion. It made Billy angry that Hopper was taking so long to come back.

“Are you tired?” Steve’s summer breeze knocked Billy out of his thoughts. “You can...,” Steve swallowed hard, shifted a little as he spoke, “You can lay down. If you are tired.”

Billy watched Steve with a hesitant eye. Yeah- his body was screaming to lay down. Yeah- he was very, very tired from fighting off a hoard of demo dogs and then carrying Steve’s limp body to this motel. Shivers ghosted up his spine as he considered it, laying down in the same bed as Steve Harrington, but he was too tired to really pay attention to the reminder of self loathing.

“You don’t care?” He asked for permission.

“It’s a big enough bed,” Steve smiled.

Billy couldn’t help but groan as he let himself lean back into the mattress. His muscles were more tired than he thought. Adrenaline and maybe shock was to thank for that. Billy laid his head down on the pillow right next to Steve’s pillow. However, he kept his eyes trained on the ceiling.

There was a softness in the air, the rhythm of steady breathing slowly syncing up together, so close but looking away. Warmth from that closeness felt like laying in the summer sun.

Steve wanted to turn his head with every fiber of his being but he was scared it might hurt. He did it anyway, turning with a light moan to look at Billy’s direction. The others long blonde hair dark with blood crunched up against the pillow and his chiseled jaw muscles taught under tanned skin was worth all the pain to look at it. Even with his eyes drilling holes into the ceiling, he was an Adonis.

Billy kept his breathing quiet and tried not to make a big deal about laying in a shitty motel bed touching his shoulder against Steve’s shoulder. Sure it was a large bed but they were growing men, and Billy wasn’t going to punish himself with not at least trying to lay enough to the side where he could touch the other. Steve’s skin was flushed under Billy’s touch. In different circumstances Billy would have been flattered. Maybe even if it was different he would have let those questions about Steve and the notches in his bed post surface. But he couldn’t do that to him now.

Instead they just laid there and breathed.

“Hey,” Steve’s voice kept waking Billy from his thoughts. It was like the boy couldn’t keep quiet. Truthfully, he wanted something to distract him from the pain. 

Billy turned his head over on his pillow and their eyes met. Big and brown, red with tears, locked into Billy’s sharp and blue, almost glowing with a protectiveness he didn’t knew he had in himself. Those eyes meeting Steve’s felt like the best pain killer.

“Thank you.” Steve smiled.

“What the fuck for?” Billy played dumb.

“Everything,” then those big brown eyes rolled, it was positively endearing. “Saving my life twice. Being here. Being... you.”

Billy felt his breath catch. He had never once been under the lock of an emotion like this. Under the watch of those brown eyes Billy felt real, that his life mattered and his existence wasn’t a burden to anyone. Sure he sacrificed himself and was heralded as a hero, but this was on another level. And to top it off he was swimming in the high of those eyes, that melodious voice, and uniquely sweet summer winds.

“Yeah well...,” Billy’s voice caught for a second so he cleared his throat. He had to pull away from these feelings before his voice left completely. He looked back up to the ceiling and continued, “I’m just me.”

Steve laughed the same condescending laugh he pulled in the drive way of the Byers’ house. The laugh that was so superior and patronizing it would have made Billy crazy back when all he cared about was fighting the mighty King Steve. Back when he needed to pull Steve down to his level, to make him feel Billy’s pain with fists and blood. But now Billy could tell he hasn’t done the pulling, it was Steve who pulled him down. Within all this monster fighting and children helping, Steve showed him there were no levels.

Only here.

Only now.

Only saving those that he cares about. And Billy really did care about Steve. From the first moment he saw him in school he knew he cared so much for this brown haired, spoiled, smug, heroic, selfless hurricane named Steve Harrington.

To make it worse, that laugh was so beautiful.

“You are really a great guy, Billy. I want you to know that.” And just as the last word left Steve’s lips the door opened to a hurried Hopper and El.

The sheriff hesitated for a second as he noticed their closeness but Hopper was in a time crunch. He collected the few things they left around then a large duffel bag to put them in while he ordered everyone for the door. “No hospitals,” he reminded, finger pointed at Billy, “but I know someone from the department who can fix him up.”

Billy was already up moving to help Steve from the bed. Steve tried to stand by himself but he didn’t have the strength. Blood was soaking into the towel making it a strawberry pink, reminding them all that Steve has lost more than was safe by this point. More groans and slight whimpers filled the air as he stood up from the bed to attempt to walk.

El was tired herself, hanging back by the door to keep her jacket sleeve on her bloodied nose. Hopper joined her with full hands by the doorway and expectant eyes telling them to hurry.

Billy looked between them for a second before he lowered his head towards Steve’s ear to whisper, “Thanks for letting me rest up. I feel loads better.” Then in a quick movement Billy scooped the back of Steve’s knees with one arm and cradled the boy around his ribs with the other. On sure and strong legs Billy lifted him off the ground.

Steve’s one good arm kept holding the towels tightly to his shoulder while the other he could only let hang limply. Blood dripped down his pale skin and rolled off his finger tips. 

Another time, different circumstances, he would have loved to brace himself on Billy’s strong arms. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t think of anything. For once, his bratty comments caught in his throat. Instead Steve let his head drop and his forehead rest so very lightly against Billy’s neck.

“Don’t pass out on me, pretty boy.” Billy teased as he carried him out the door and started into the parking lot.

“Shut up, Hargrove.” Steve hissed but it held no venom.

Billy tucked Steve into the back seat of Hopper’s sheriff Jeep and stayed as close as he could while they rode back into town.

[otterandterrierwrites]

All I long for

A/N: Hello, it’s me... I’ve been busy and sloowwlyy working on my fic for the AotC challenge, but I finally managed to write a little something for this month’s @hanleiachallenge prompt: getaway. I’ve missed finishing a fic!

———

‘... so amazing, brilliant, and beautiful, and… and brave, when I think of all we’ve been through together, I just know we’ll be together forever, baby,’ the groom said, one hand tightly wrapped around the bride’s, the other wiping away his own tearful eyes as the crowd watched on.

Han’s warm breath tickled Leia’s ear as he whispered, ‘Ten credits says he cheats in a year.’

An elbow sank softly into his ribs before Leia turned her head, careful to put her lips as close to his ear as she could.

‘Shut up, hotshot, that’s so mean.' A deliberate pause. 'Twenty says six months.’

Leia heard him snort as he tried not to laugh out loud. A neighbouring guest turned a disapproving frown at Han.

Ignoring them, Han inched closer and bowed his head down again. ‘Maybe that dress’ll eat her sooner than we think.’

She pressed a hand against her lips to avoid what would have been a very inappropriate reaction for a wedding ceremony and turned her eyes back to the bride and groom still exchanging weepy vows.

Leia didn’t really mean her words: true, she didn’t know the couple very well—they had both been part of the rebellion and the bride now worked with her at the Senate—but they appeared to be genuinely in love. As the ceremony continued, she let her gaze wander out to the ocean beyond the marquee, to the sun-kissed sand and the blue sky. It had been nice to manage this little getaway with Han, even if it was to a somewhat melodramatic wedding. We’ve all earned the right to celebrate, however we like, Leia chided herself.

The newlyweds finally sealed their union with a kiss. She reached for Han's hand and gave it a squeeze, leaning her head on his shoulder for a moment. It was nice to celebrate love, and to be able to do something as normal as attending a wedding where none of the guests were wanted for treason.

Some time later, the crowd slowly dispersed as they all made their way back to the resort to freshen up before the reception, but Han held her back.

'Wanna go for a walk on the beach?' he asked. 'Might as well enjoy it while we’re here.'

'You read my mind.'

They took off their shoes and, with her hand wrapped around his arm, strolled to the water's edge.

‘Think you’d like somethin’ that?’ Han asked after a minute. Leia looked up and he tilted his chin back to the marquee.

‘What part of it? You already know that I want to marry you, don’t you? Or was I not clear enough when I said yes?’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ He gave her a crooked smile. ‘I mean, a wedding like this. Beach and fancy resort, puffy dress, weepin’ in front of a hundred people, I dunno. We haven’t talked about that yet. You’d have had a big fancy wedding back in Alderaan, wouldn’t you?’

She brought them to a stop and turned to the ocean, letting the water lap at her feet as the sun moved steadily towards the horizon.

‘Yes, but it wouldn’t have been for me.’ Images of the throne room decked out in golds and blues flashed through her mind; thousands of people cheering and waving flags at their princess and her consort; TooVee helping her into a monstrously pompous dress; her mother draping the chalcedony waves around Leia’s neck; her father passing his matching cufflinks on to her husband-to-be. That’s what she would have had, in an alternative timeline. Only two of those things she would grieve.

‘I don’t want a big wedding,’ Leia told him at last. ‘And I’m not going to sob in front of the guests, either, you know that. Other than that, I don’t know yet.’ She tugged at his arm. ‘What about you, do you have any wedding ideas?’

Han shrugged.

‘I’d never been to a wedding before, unless you count that scam with Sana, but I doubt you’d take any pointers from that.’

Leia chuckled. ‘Right.’

‘So I dunno anything ‘bout flowers and…’ He frowned as he struggled to finish his sentence and finally raised his hands in exasperation. ‘See, don’t even know what else there is to figure out!’

‘We don’t need any of that, Han. We just have to figure out things like… like where we’ll do it, who we want to be there, what food we want to serve. That’s pretty much it as far as I’m concerned.’

‘Huh. That ain’t so bad.’ He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer against his chest.

‘Oh, good. Otherwise I was going to say, we could always elope.’

He looked at her almost hopefully. ‘You’d be okay with that?’

Placing her hands on his shoulders, Leia pulled herself up on her tiptoes to kiss him, letting her senses soak in the brush of the breeze against her skin, the smell of sea salt and Han’s aftershave, the fine sand digging into the soles of her feet, his arms holding her, his lips moving against hers, making her wish they could ditch the party and return to their room.

‘Of course,’ she said when they broke apart. ‘I just want to marry you. Everything else are details.’

‘Alright then,’ Han said, brushing the back of his finger against her jawline. ‘We’ll talk about it when we get home.’

‘I’d say it’s about time we do.’ Leia pulled away from his embrace and grabbed his hand, tugging him back to the resort. ‘Let’s head back now; I want to dance.’

‘I don’t dance!’ Han protested, trailing behind. She knew he would, with her.

[ticklikeabomb]

Headcanon : Convincing Loki to help you out

Pairing : Avengers x PS Reader ( Gender Neutral)

Warning : Language

Word Count : 1.6k

You didn't know how you managed to keep yourself off the Avengers radar but you did. Well if you had to name one way it would probably be the fact that your powers allowed you to travel through time and space. Not even Fury was aware of your presence among the common mortals. But that was before. Before it escalated and Thanos fulfilled his final plan : wipe out half of the universe. Now you were facing a choice : stay in your corner and living like nothing ever happened or step up and help out. You being your generous and kindhearted self, chose the latter. Who were you kidding, you chose to help out because living in reclusion and alone was getting boring. So here you were, in front of the so righteous (remaining) Avengers.

You sneaked up in the compound and found odd the facility being so easy to access and landed behind Steve Rogers. They were in a deep conversation, calculating the universes lost, that they didn't even noticed you. "Ehm hello", you said. They turned around, some of them armed and confusion written all over their features. "Who are you and how did you enter without being seen?", asked Rogers. You smiled at him and replied, "Oh I'm sorry but it seems that no one was guarding the place. What happened? Do you guys are in lack of staff?" Seeing their teeth clench and not happy faces you added "Too soon?". Natasha stepped forward her gun pointed at you and renewed Rogers' question, "Who are you?" "I'm Y/N. You haven't heard of me. It's normal, I don't usually stay so long in one period but yeah, since I'm here I popped out and figured you needed a hand but if you don't I'm happy to go back. I don't know, I kinda miss the 90's."

"The 90's?", asked Bruce perplexed. You turned around to leave but knew damn well they would be too intrigued and fools to let you go. You mentally counted to 3 and at the last number, Thor stood up and blocked your exit. You looked at him not even phased by his huge figure and heard a faint wheezing. He summoned what was his new weapon but you didn't let it finish its course, by picking it mid-air. The Strombreaker in your hand, you took a good look before looking back at a dumbfounded God of Thunder. "Nice artefact", you commented and handed it to him. "You said you wanna help, how?", asked James Rhodes. "I have certain skills if you wish, like travel back in time for example." They all looked at each other before your ears wheezed. "Oh I think you have a visit", you exclaimed. Bruce checked the cameras and saw a yellowish glow in front of the compound. They all stepped outside and you decided to stay back.

20 minutes later, they entered the room again with none other than Tony Stark in a terrible shape alongside Carol Danvers. The Avengers found you laying on the couch going through a lost magazine, ready to be drawn like one of their french girls. "You cosy there? Maybe you want a sandwich while you're at it?", exclaimed Rhodes sarcastically. "Hmm that actually sounds tempting, I haven't eating in 72 hours", you replied with a shit-eating grin. He frowned and was about to argument when Stark pointed at you, "Who are they?" "They claim their name is Y/N", replied Bruce and you nodded. You walked at Carol and presented you hand, "Nice to meet you. The way you punched that grandma in the train was iconic." They all turned to her and she smiled at you. "Thanks I guess", she replied. "So what's your plan?", you finally asked them. They spent half an hour explaining their terrible plan while you tried to keep your eyelids open. "Are you even listening?", asked Steve annoyed. "No sorry, I actually died 25 minutes ago." They sighed in annoyance and you stood up. "Alright how about this : I go back in time, infiltrate the helicopter and try to get Loki to cooperate?" "You wanna go back to 2012?", said Natasha. "Yeah nothing more easy. I try to make him comply because well he wouldn't resist my charms now would he and then on the way out I get the scepter and destroy the first stone. From there on I keep on going until the stones that remain on Earth are out." They thought about the plan in question and found that it wasn't bad. "When do we leave?", asked Rogers. You look at him before starting to laugh your ass off. "Yo - you must be kidding right? You're not coming with me" "Yes we are", he spat. "No can do, see the thing with time travelling is that I never actually traveled with someone so it could go wrong really fast."

"I guess you have an hour to come up with a backup because we're coming with you." Your jaw clenched for the first time since you arrived and sat down on the couch. You began thinking how and if you were able to transport so many people with you and after a long reflexion came to the conclusion that you only could take 6 people with you and not one more. "Ok losers, I can only bring 6 of you with me and that's already a lot. Shit could go down and we could fall into some kind of abysm." Once again they looked at each other, being all dramatic and you rolled your eyes. "Me, Rocket and Nebula will stay behind. You should go", Rhodes pointed at the first Avengers. "You shouldn't come, you're too weak", you said at Tony to which he shook his head in disagreement.

"If shit goes down, you will have to deal with the consequences !", you said seriously. They nodded, willing to do whatever it took. "Hands", you motioned and they complied. You closed your eyes and focused on the period and location you were aiming for. You felt your body tense and your bones contract painfully. You began to groan through greeted teeth and felt a surge taking you all off. The next second you were at the helicopter. As predicted, Tony emptied his stomach. You felt a pain on the left part of your body and bit on your lip. The Avengers were slowly recovering from the merge when you felt fluid run down your lip. You turned around and wiped out the blood best you could. "Everyone ok?", you asked. They groaned and weekly said they were.

"Let's go", you mumbled. "We'll take care of the scepter while you go talk with Loki", exclaimed Steve. "We?", you breathed out. Natasha smirked at you and you rolled your eyes. "Fine." She opened the door where Loki was kept and smiled mischievously seeing her approach. "To what do I own your presence Agent Romanoff?", he asked. She wasn't phased at all and replied, "We already got this conversation Loki." He seemed taken aback but quickly collected himself. He was about to start his little monologue when you fake coughed. "I won't be the one interrogating you but they will", pointed Natasha your way. You stepped out of the shadows and she eclipsed to the far end of the room. "So what's up?", you started. "I beg your pardon?", he replied. "Oh you shouldn't beg me for pardon but if you insist, why not."

"Do you want the long version or the short?", you continued. You didn't really gave him time to reply and started right away. "So the fast version. Here we go. Well your little project in invading New York semi worked. The Avengers got the upper hand on that so restrain yourself. What happened then?", you asked out loud. "Oh yeah, your mother got killed partially because of you, Thor and Jane broke up but that's not really important here just figured you would like to know. You faked your own death. AGAIN and took Odin's place on the throne. After that Odin died and guess who came back? Yep your sister. Well if you didn't know you had one, now you know. She pretty much tried to kill all of you, you ended up in Sakaar and came back to Asgard for it to burn. You and Thor decided to join Earth but got intercepted by Thanos and his ugly ass children." At the mention of Thanos you saw him tense profoundly and knew you had him. "He killed almost all of your people and Heimdall. You being you decided to provide your services but Thanos kindly chocked you to death. The ship exploded and he managed to collect the stones on Earth. Snapped his finger leaving half of the universe to dust away. I humbly imposed my presence to the Avengers and convinced them of my awesomeness and here we are again. Back in time, me facing you. Do you have any questions?", you finished with a fake smile.

He looked at you wide-eyes before collecting himself and cleared his throat. "I have a question. Why do you talk so much?" You weren't expecting that but still answered, "I'm not used to company so I guess I got carried away." You saw the wires turn on his pretty little head and smirked. "So Mischief what's your plan now : you gonna go all Goth on me or do you actually wanna help us this time?", you asked him straightforward. He chuckled before a large smirk playing on his features. "When do we start?" You looked back at Natasha who nodded and opened the cage. He stepped outside and marched at you, scanning you up and down. "Follow me, the others are waiting", you told him. He stepped closer and whispered in your ear, "Your ribs are broken." "Yeah about that it would be kind of you to not mention it." He chuckled again and followed you to the meeting point.

You arrived in front of the others, Natasha at one side and Loki at the other and declared, "Showtime baby".  

* gifs and photos not mine, credit to owners*

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[bobasheebaby]

The Sit Down

Pairing: Bastien x Liza; Liam x Raven

Written for @kinda-iconic @choicesjulychallenge Choices July Challenge

Word count: 1,482

Warnings: angst

Summary: With the history between Liam Rhys and Bastien Lykel is there any hope of them moving forward and being a family for Hope?

A/N: @darley1101 requested Forgiveness for Liam and Hope as well as Family for Bas, Liza, Olivia, Hope, Liam, and Raven. Both are a tall order for this crew, I’m laying the framework trying to get them there. Neither prompt is used in the obvious manner. She also requested "Admit that you're wrong!" from Mobster Bastien ages ago and I’m finally coming through. Prompt will be bolded. Thanks @sirbeepsalot for being my sounding board and putting up with me. Again we are ahead of where we are in the story, I’m sorry. This takes place after Tattered Tears my other July Challenge fic.

Series warnings: Mobster AU, there will be violence, and death. Possible NSFW to come. Possibly dark and deals with pregnancy loss. If you ask to be tagged you acknowledge you are at least 18 years of age.

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

Disclaimer: I own my OC’s, the rest I’m simply borrowing from PB for a bit.

“Can you please tell me why we are entertaining this fool?” Olivia asked, the thin heel of her stiletto clicking against the hardwood as she tapped her foot.

“Olivia!” Liza warned, voice strong and unwavering, while inside she was shaking. The last thing she wanted to do was to speak to the person who brought them so much pain, nearly broke her completely, yet she needed to hold firm, be strong.

Olivia flinched at the use of her full first name, Liza always called her Liv, she knew she’d pushed a button, yet she pressed on. “What? He tried to kill you!”

“I know that!”

“He killed your baby!”

Liza’s hand instantly flew to the now red raised scar on her round abdomen. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as her fingers traced the scar through her shirt. “I know! Believe me I know!”

“He hasn’t ever once said he was sorry, or showed an ounce of remorse!”

“I know that Olivia!” Her voice broke, coming out almost a sob.

“Then why the hell are we entertaining him?!”

“Hope!” Tears welled in her eyes. “Because even if he never apologizes to me or Bas for what he took from us, Hope deserves to have her brother in her life.” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block all the pain she felt. “I know he hasn’t been exactly welcoming to her, but he asked to speak to us, maybe between what I said to him and what Hope did he’s finally coming around, I don’t know.” She shook her head. “But I do know that even if looking at him makes my heart ache knowing he will never take responsibility for what he took from me that I need to try to put my own feelings aside for her because she’s as much my daughter as you and Sage.” She gently grazed her round bump. “I’d do anything for any of you.”

“Liza…”

She looked down. “Don’t. I know you didn’t mean it. I need to go finish getting ready I’ll be right out.” She wiped the stray tears from her cheeks. I can do this. It’s for Hope.

*

Bastien squeezed Liza’s hand, he knew she wanted to be anywhere but at this table in that moment. Her hand shook in is, he wasn’t sure if it was from the sadness or the anger she was trying to repress, either way he found himself in awe of the way she could look the man who caused them so much pain in the eye.

Olivia shifted on Liza’s other side, her emerald eyes burning a hole straight through Liam. “Well?”

“Well what?” Liam questioned, his tone flat, clearly unaffected by Olivia’s biting tongue.

“Well, you asked us here, what the hell do you want?” Olivia spat the words like venom.

“I did.” Liam straightened in his seat, clasping his hands in front of him. “I don’t see why all that is necessary.” He nodded behind Bastien where a few of his men stood at attention.

Olivia laughed. “After what you tried to do to Liza the last time she was pregnant did you really expect anything less?”

Liam’s jaw tensed. “I don’t understand what you’re doing here Olivia, this matter doesn’t involve you.”

Liza placed her hand on Olivia’s shoulder, keeping her from jumping across the table and strangling him. Olivia glanced at Liza, nodding at her, assuring her with the gesture that she would remain seated. “Hope.” She leaned so she could see her around Liza as Bastien. “She’s my sister.”

“I don’t understand how you came to that conclusion.” Liam said with a laugh, Raven elbowing him in the ribs.

Liza squeezed Olivia’s tense shoulder. “You do realize Bastien raised her, correct?”

“I still don’t see how that makes them siblings.” Liam replied flatly.

“Bastien adopted her when she was twelve. They are sisters by adoption and in this sense it’s a hell of a lot more related than you are to her.” Liza seethed, only calming when Bastien tightened his grip on her hand. “Now can you please tell us why the hell you wanted to speak to us?!”

“Fine.” Liam replied, his tone devoid of warmth. “I see exchanging pleasantries is too much to ask.”

“Oh that’s rich coming from you Liam! When was the last time anything other than hate or an insult escaped your mouth?” Olivia rebutted, her voice tinged with laughter.

Liam cleared his throat, his narrowed gaze falling on Bastien. “Do you always let them do all the talking?”

Bastien shifted slightly in his seat. “I’m simply listening. Listening to what it is you do and don’t say. You could learn to listen more.”

“And what exactly has been said of importance?”

“You’re nervous, though you think you hide it. You want something but are afraid to ask, so you deflect and insult us instead. So Liam, please tell us why we are here.”

Liam shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the first outward appearance of his discomfort. Raven glanced at Liam, seeing his jaw twitch, and his hesitation to speak. She placed a comforting hand on his forearm. “We had been given some interesting information…”

“Oh this is rich.” Olivia laughed. “He tries to kill Liza, treats Hope with disdain, and blames Bas for his mother, and yet he’s here asking for help.”

Bastien arched his brow. “So what exactly did you hear, and how am I supposed to help?”

“Madeline told us Liam had an older brother.” Raven replied.

“Wait, I thought Madeline was handled.” Hope stated, her face was etched with confusion.

“She was. Basically he’s done all he can on his own and now he expects Bastien to help.” Olivia said with a shake of her head.

“I guess that’s one way to put it.” Liam replied. “The truth is Bastien is the only person that might know anything without anything to gain in sharing the information.”

“Why the hell should we help you?!” Liza spat, her anger coursing through her veins.

“Liza...” Bastien squeezed her hand.”

“No! Olivia is right! He’s never even shown an ounce of remorse for any of his wrongdoings yet he has the audacity to ask you for your help.” Tears welled in her eyes, her body vibrating with anger.

Bastien glanced at each of the women seated with him. “I’ll help, on two conditions.”

“Bas…” Liza exclaimed in shock, unable to understand how he would be willing to help the man who caused them so much pain with zero remorse.

“Admit you were wrong.”

“Excuse me?” Liam replied.

“Admit you were wrong. Apologize to myself and Liza for trying to take her life and what you took from us. Apologize to Hope for shutting her out simply based on who her father was, and admit that you were wrong in blaming me for your mother’s death.”

“Is that all?” Liam grimaced, the urge to leave with his pride intact fighting to win. “Fine. I’m sorry I put the hit on Liza. I apologize Hope for pushing you away.” He but down, teeth grinding together as his jaw clenched. “I was wrong to blame you Bastien for my mother’s death. Will you help now?”

Bastien smirked. “That was one condition, I had two. My second is to back it up with your actions. Prove the words you say have meaning by actually talking to Hope and letting her in.” He glanced at Hope. “That is if she wants to give you a chance.”

Hope nodded. “He’s the only one who has any knowledge of my mom as a mom. You and Olivia have helped me learn about her, but still that’s only part of the picture.” She paused glancing down at her hands. “If he’s sincere, I would be willing to give him a chance to earn my forgiveness.”

Liam scoffed.

“You wanted my help, this is what I require to do so. I have some connections as does Liza, that could prove useful.”

“I doubt she has any connections that could help.”

Liza grinned. “Liam, perhaps if you’d been more diligent before you placed your hit you would have realized how bad it would have been for you had you been successful. I’m sure you’ve heard of my ex, Perceval Hunter, current head of the Hunter family out of Seattle.”

Liam swallowed as his face blanched.

“I grew up in that family, Perceval and I are still friends, and Bastien wouldn’t have been your only worry had you killed me.”

Liam sat in stunned silence. Vilegence then vengeance. His father’s words ringing in his head.

Bastien rose to his feet. “His name was Leo. If you want more than that, then you will earn Hope’s forgiveness as well as mine and Liza’s.” He pulled Liza to her feet. “For now we are done. I wouldn’t take your time. My kindness has an expiration date.”

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[hellolittleogre]

Dusting off the archives

Since I like a lot of other fanfic writers are spending this time aggressively staring at different WIPs and NOT WRITING I thought I would dust off various WIPs which have stalled through the years. These are to a large extent morgue files, they will probably never be finished fic. I thought I’d share what I have written, plus synopsis or outline if I have it. I feel like they are like rings in the core of a glacier and different trends and tropes can be read in them. Some of them are also incredibly embarrassing.

Under the Cut: Avengers kid fic

Fandom: The Avengers

Paring: Clint Barton/ Phil Coulson 

Working Title: Uhhhhh.....Superspy Daddies  (not brilliant I admit)

Year written: 2012 (god help us all)

Synopsis: Clint meets Tasha when she ‘s a wee spy child and decides to adopt her. After a few years on the run they are caught up by SHIELD and recruited. There is something mysterious going on and they are assigned an alias as a family, with two dads and Natasha. Enter spy shenanigans and fake marriage and falling in love. Yay! Everything is safe and nothing hurts.

                                                       **

Natasha was seven when she met Clint. She can still remember the impact when she hit him, how she had launched herself into his body and sent them both tumbling.  They had ended up on the floor. Natasha with her knife to his throat and Clint with an arrow in his hand the point just pressing against her ribs.

It should have been easy, a clean-cut job of getting into the house, making the target and getting out again but something had been wrong, men positioned in places they shouldn’t and suddenly hostiles everywhere and a blond man with a bow taking out people with unerring accuracy.

She remembers the surprise in his face, how open it was.

“But you are just a child,” he had said in astonished and slightly accented Russian. It made her want to smile because she hadn’t been a child for a long time now.

“I am Black Widow,” she said simply, when she had planned to say nothing at all. The man stared at her.

“Ok, so, I’m going to lower my hand now, nice and easy, like this yeah?” The arrow was slowly removed from her ribs. “We have about ten minutes before my backup gets here so listen. You can kill me and go on doing what you are doing or I can get you out of here, somewhere safe and you can either come with me or go your way, but you don’t have to do this anymore.”

He is, possibly, the first person she can remember who has offered her something without asking anything of her. The idea intrigued her, that somebody could do something for you without wanting anything in return, that there could be actions without purpose or gain.

“You are not a pervert, are you?” She knows about those, they are easy, all soft words and soft hands right up to the point where they are not but then usually it is already too late. He actually laughed at that, a soft huff of air as if she had said something honestly funny.

“No, no perverts here m’am. Nobody but us chickens.” She does not understand that, it had been nobody but them and maybe a handful of dead men, no chickens at all. She frowns at him.

He sighed. “I’m Clint.”

She thought about it, the sharp edge of her knife resting against his throat, but. He has offered to do something for her without asking anything in return. He could have killed her but he didn’t. And he doesn’t want her to kill anyone, he doesn’t seem to want her to do anything. Maybe she can trust him.

“I’m Black Widow,” she says again. She doesn’t have to trust him much, or for long.

In the end they had gotten out through the air ducts. Crawled out a couple of yards behind the perimeter and Clint had then calmly walked her through the tail end of the increasingly panicked ranks of the mission, even snagging his own jacket and bow case from the back of a van. He had draped the jacked around her shoulders and pushed her lightly in the back. “Just keep your head down and walk, nice and easy.”

Natasha had to admire the audacity of it, she is not sure anymore but she believes at one point he even nodded to somebody he knew before getting her into the night. Quietly slipping away.

They go through Europe first, down through Ukraine and Romania to Serbia, Croatia and finally Italy. Clint makes Natasha cut her hair in the bathroom of a gas station. Says that maybe a man and a young boy might draw less attention. Hands her the scissors with an: I ain’t going to touch you, kiddo and closes the door. Her hair is now short and jagged and fiery red and she likes it. It takes her three months before she finally tells Clint her name is actually Natalia Romanova and he grins at her, delighted. “I’m Hawkeye,” he says.

Slowly as Natalia learns to trust him she tells Clint about the Red Room. She has a hard time remembering anything before that but she remembers training, learning and the experiments. 

They had been together for nearly a month when Clint accidentally cuts himself. Its straight across his palm and deep and painful as fuck.  Clint tries to stem the blood flow with a shirt and cursing under his breath. Natasha is strangely unperturbed, as if she can’t understand why he is making a fuss.

“Its not so bad, you just put band aid on it and it’s gone in the morning,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. Clint takes it that she meant, it will be gone in a sort of, it will still be there but at least it wont bother you fashion. As it turns out she means it quite literally.

The next night as they make camp she gives his bandage a suspicious look but says nothing. Clint is cleaning the wound with some water heated on the fire, it stings like a bitch but looks like it will heal nicely, looking up he sees Natasha across the fire, her face is white and her eyes are like saucers. Then she is by his side, prodding and poking at his hand with ungentle fingers.

“You are still hurt, why are you still hurt, why hasn’t it healed? Are you ill, what is wrong with you?” She is as animated as he has ever seen her, shaken up and honestly confused and terrified. It takes a while to calm her down to explain that when ordinary people get hurt it takes weeks and weeks for them to heal, and this is normal and it doesn’t mean that Clint is sick or dying. It is perhaps the first time Natasha lets on that she really cares. It is also the point when Clint realises how truly different she is, and the extent of those experiments. She takes out his knife and makes a shallow cut across the back of her hand and lets him watch as it fades into pink nothingness in a couple of hours.

In Croatia, Dubrovnik, Clint takes her to the beach, all blue water and fishing boats bobbing on the waves. It's the first time she has seen the sea. The water is so clear you can make out all the little fishes darting after each other along the shallows. After only half a day in the sun her skin was so burnt her back broke out in blisters and the heatstroke made her throw up on the bus back to the room they’re renting. Clint pets her hair and nods to the large woman across the aisle, who has been making sympathetic noises and has given them a plastic bag.

“Red hair, can’t stand the sun, any of them. Her mother was just the same, God rest her soul, always so sensitive.” The woman clucks in distress and finds a cough sweet in the horrifying depths of her handbag. Natalia swears she can still feel the taste of it in her nose even after she has thrown up twice.

 All she could do was lie on her stomach in their tiny room with an ice clamp wrapped in a wet towel on her back. She doesn’t cry in pain but she considers it, the possibility. There would be nobody here to punish her for it now. Cling gave her purple and yellow ice lollies, the first she’s ever had, until her mouth was skinned and raw from them. She peels afterwards and sits in the bathroom and gets Clint to peel strips of skin off her back showing her the longest ones. 

“This is so gross,” he tells her after he’s managed to peel a strip of skin all the way from her shoulder down to the small of her back. The new skin underneath the flaking was pink and tender and dotted with tiny freckles. It’s the closest to fun she has had in years.

Clint has never taken care of anyone in his life, not himself and much less anyone else. Things such as regular meals, bedtimes and food which is not pizza is pretty much new and foreign country to him.  It took him about a year to figure out that Natalia needed to go to school, because he could teach her English just fine (except maybe not words like corium and discombobulate) and some maths, as long as it had to do with geometry and seriously, he has been briefed on so many cities that they are probably good for geography for a while, but the rest of it? He has no idea. 

They stayed in Naples for six months, long enough for Clint to work out a way to get into the US and for Natalia to lose her accented English and learn a quite impressive smattering of Italian. Then, they are found. The same car stands parked on their street three days in a row, inconspicuously nestled under a great chestnut tree and Clint calmly tells Natasha to grab the overnight bag in the hall and they walk past is slowly and calmly, looking straight ahead like they were just heading for the park to enjoy the afternoon sunshine. The agents are Russian and in the end it turns ugly, they barely get away and leave corpses on their trail. They get on a plane to America a month ahead of schedule and it is a far too narrow escape. It’s only after this, after their narrow escape to relative safety that Natalia begins to have nightmares.

“Clint?”

“Yeah”

“Can you tell me a story?”

This is the third time the same night Natasha has woken from nightmares and Clint has resigned to sleeping on the floor by her bed instead of going back to his own. He has a lumpy pillow wedged under his head (in fact, he suspects it to be Natasha’s stuffed bear, Phillipov).

“A story, what about?”

There is a silence; it is long enough that he would have suspected that she had dropped off but for her calculated breathing. She is thinking about something, not sure how to phrase it.

“Angela has stories,” she says at last. Angela is Tasha’s friend from school, one of the few she has made. “I mean, her mom tells her stories about her, when she was little, what she said, when she was bad, you know. Could you, could you tell a story about me? When I was little?”

And Clint opens his mouth to say he can’t do that, he never knew her when she was little and lived in a facility where they trained her and filled her blood with god only knows what and then realises that’s not the point. Natasha knows this, but she wants a story. Not a lie, a story, about herself, when she was little, what she might have done. Clint exhales deeply and tries to think.

“Do you remember when we lived in Italy, in Naples? In that tiny apartment and your roll out bed?  Well, a couple of years before that we lived for a while in Rome, but you were so little, only four, you can’t possibly remember. We lived, you and me then, in this small apartment outside of Rome. The kitchen was tiny, but it had this huge fridge-freezer unit, this monster from the fifties in avocado green with a door thick like the safe to a bank vault and the freezer on top of it. It was like a fridge for a large Italian family with a grandma and a fat uncle with a moustache and not just for the two of us. Now it was summer and that apartment was always hot and you wanted gelato but I wouldn’t give you any because it was just before dinner and you couldn’t reach the freezer by yourself. So you had this trick of wedging a kitchen chair against the fridge, on its back legs and then climb up onto the back of the chair so you could open the freezer.”

Clint could actually see it before him, this small, determined version of Natasha, dragging the chair across the room and her bare feet soft against the linoleum floor.

“It used to make me so mad, y’know. You could fall down and split your skull, knock your teeth out, anything. And I caught you this one time, balanced on the chair with your head in the freezer and I got so mad and I yelled at you, and I said: You are driving me nuts, you’ve got to stop doing this. Do you want me to go crazy?”

And you said, without even looking away from the ice cream box: I don’t want you to go crazy. I want ice cream.”

There is silence and then Natasha laughs, it’s just a puff of amusement, there and gone again but its genuine. After a while he reaches up a hand and feels Nat stick her little paw in his. It is soft and slightly sticky, squeezing around his for a moment before she settles down.

“That’s a good story,” she says sleepily and after a while she falls asleep.  Clint is not so lucky but at least there are no more nightmares for tonight. After this she wants a lot of them, Clint tells her about fishing trips, about that time in the Natural History Museum when she thought she was lost in the room with all the gorillas, when Clint was standing right  next to her all the time.

Clint sweats the whole ten hour flight to America. Tasha curls up in her seat and pretends to sleep the whole way, the air hostess giving her a colouring book and nearly subconsciously petting her hair. There is just something about the short curls that people seem helpless to resist.

In the end it is only bad luck that Shield found them. A lot of bad luck at the same time but only chance in the end. Anyway that’s what Clint claims, Agent Coulson maintains that luck had nothing to do with it and it was the result of several years of hard work on his part and if anything it was lucky that Shield found them first and not the Russians. 

They have been living in the US for years now, slowly drifting across the north and the mid west, Clint picking up work where he can find it. They always have emergency bags packed but it was a while since they’ve had to use them. 

It was nearly five years since Clint found Natasha, or she found him, four years of Clint jumping from job to job and Nat from school to school but lately the time between moves become longer and longer. Clint had a job he actually likes, working as a bit of everything in a school for deaf kids. Natasha has friends to sit with her at the lunch table, has started playing soccer, and it turns out she is menace on the grass. They feel safe, five years have gone by and nothing has been seen or heard and maybe it has made them complacent. Maybe its just nice to belong somewhere. Tasha has friends on her soccer team and comes home grass stained and happy. She’s hit a growth spurt and reminds Clint of a foal with long gangly limbs.

It starts with a parent teacher visit, just a stupid mistake. It's Tasha’s homeroom teacher who gives Clint a considering look and remarks that he looks a bit young to have a daughter her age. And that’s all it takes to get the ball rolling, somebody looking just a little extra at the adoption papers and suddenly there is a social worker outside the door. Clint and Tasha are professional liars and it comes to nothing in the end but the notice is already logged into the system, leaving a minute paper trail for people who know where to look. And then Clint had gotten ill with the flu, enough to just not pay attention the nondescript car parked on their street for two days in a row. They are unprepared for it when Clint, kept awake by coughing, spots the stealthy movement on the street and there is no time, no time for anything other than getting out. The rain is pouring down and Tasha is still in her pyjamas, shoes held in one hand. As it turns out the location of their backup storage is compromised and Clint barely makes it out with one bag, containing a change for Natasha and barely enough cash to make it out of town. They don’t try to go to the second one, where Clint’s bow and arrows are stored. It hurts, that bow is as much a part of Clint as his arm, but if it is undetected they can come back for it and if it has been found it is not worth trying to get it back.  They make their way north on foot and hitchhike, avoiding gas stations and bus stops, suddenly nothing feels safe anymore, everywhere is strange and threatening. Clint’s flu had gotten worse and developed into a deep rattling cough that won’t let go and claws at his chest with dull teeth. There was no time to rest and the constant chill of their travel had made it into pneumonia.

They end up in a motel, where everything within the range of the little electric heater is stuffy and fever-hot and everything outside of it cold and damp. Clint lies propped up on the two slim pillows, Natasha is sitting at the foot of the bed, cleaning out her gear, her face cool and efficient. They both know Clint can’t go much further without rest and proper care, they both know they can't turn to a hospital and there is not enough money for any under the table dealings, even if they had the contacts in this part of the country.

It's only logical that she should go on alone, she has a much better chance to get away. How she is going to make it in the long run neither of them mentions.

“You have a quarter?” she asks “I just wanted something from the vending machine.”

Clint nods towards his bags and when she comes back she packs everything in her bag neatly, all her gear cleaned, three knives on her, one in her sleeve, one in her shoe and one at the small of her back. She puts the blankets over Clint. Go to sleep, she tells him. When he wakes up Tasha is curled up next to him and Shield breaks down the door.

They are being debriefed by Hill and Coulson, and a team of junior agents, even Fury is there, scowling behind the eye patch. Howard and Tony Stark is their target, it is just a scouting mission, there has been some untoward suspected HYDRA activity in Stark Industries.

The pale manila folder lands with a dull sound in front of Clint. It contains, in addition to information on the targets, the cover stories for the job.  Natasha squints down at the pages.

“I will be Clint’s adopted daughter and we are living with his brother, my uncle Phil?” Coulson, first name Agent, inclines his head slightly.

 “We felt it was best your handler was with you on site,” he says mildly.

Natasha gives him a slanted eyebrow of disbelief and snorts into her folder “yah, because a grown single man living with his brother and a young girl is not weird, at all,” she says in Russian and rolls her eyes at Clint. He tries not to laugh and hopes not too many at the table can understand. Judging by the twitch in Fury’s eye, he should be so lucky.

Just before the elevator closes Hill shows up and smacks a new folder into his chest.

“Your updated covers,” she explains, “ as I understood there were complaints about the last ones.” She gives Nat a nasty look. Clint opens the folder and starts scanning the content. There are papers, degrees even, official adoption papers and also…

“Hang on, we are married now? How is that better??”

They arrived back at the house at five in the morning, Clint practically carrying a half asleep Natasha and Phil felt so tired as if he was moving through molasses. He managed to change his clothes and brush his teeth before sitting down on the sofa and completely running out of energy. Mechanically turning on the tv and finding antiques roadshow on and just sitting there with the flickering light over him.

After a while Barton came down and slumped beside him, head leaning back and his eyes closed. 

“She’s brushed her teeth and she’s in bed now, I think actually asleep.  I hope to hell there will be no nightmares because I don’t know if I have the energy to even get out of this couch.”

“I’ll get it,”Phil says even though he feels like his spine has been boiled to the consistency of a wet noodle and all he wants to do is sleep for a week. Clint makes an exhausted noise beside him and slumps back against the couch, after a little while his head tips over onto Phil’s shoulder. He can feel the soft hair against his jaw and neck. Clint’s breath skates moist and warm over his neck and collarbone. It’s the best thing he has felt in ages and parts of him wishes he really could lean over and cover Clint’s mouth with his own and pull him close. Instead he leans back, promising himself it will only be for a second and then he promptly falls asleep.

Clint wakes up with the most awful crick in the neck. He is still on the sofa, squashed onto his side and his face plastered to Phil’s shoulder. He might even have drooled a bit on his t-shirt. At some point during the night they had managed to wedge themselves into the sofa, Phil mostly on his back and Clint, well, mostly on top of him. He tries to move his legs and find them stuck under something. Something turns out to be Nattie, curled up like a ball at the end of the sofa and her head pillowed on what might be Phil’s hip. Everything hurts like a motherfucker. Its not the discomfort that’s woken him though, it was the soft sound of the front door. Peeling his face slowly from Phil’s shoulder he raises his head to find Steve, Tony and Pepper awkwardly standing in the doorway staring at their slightly inappropriate family re-enactment of the Gordian Knot.

“Sorry Mr C,” Pepper says “the door was open.”

He really, really hopes he had the sense to take off the leather suit before he fell asleep last night.

[kamen-rider-zed]

Artiste et Muse Ch4

Okay confession time: because depression sucks and my job is eating me alive, this is the last complete chapter of this fic. I'll try to have this done by the end of the week, but I can't make any promises. Just know that I appreciate all of the amazing comments, and I've been so glad to get even a bit of my writing mojo back after so long.

AO3

Chloe groaned and forced her eyes to open against the massive migraine sitting on her skull. She reached out and felt the sheets she’d slept in the previous night; somehow, she made it back home. She closed her eyes again and focused through the pain. How did she get here? What did she remember? The wedding album, crying, lots of crying, the cafe down the street, more crying, and Nathanael holding her.

Her eyes snapped open and she flinched against what she assumed was afternoon light slicing into the room through the thin crack in the drapes. Nathanael holding her? Comforting her? Why would he do that? He hated her, right? But then...why? She sat up, pressing a hand to her temple, and noticed her heels sitting next to the bed. He must have guided her back home, into bed, and even taken her shoes off. Her heart thumped harder in her chest but she shook the feeling away. Why was he having this effect on her?

She slipped out of the bed and out into the living room where she found Nathanael with a sketchbook on one knee and the wedding album on the other.  He lifted his head when he heard her enter the room, and Chloe could have sworn there was the faintest smile on his face when he saw her.

He cleared his throat and whatever smile there had been disappeared. “You’re awake.”

A rude and snarky retort sat just behind her teeth ready to tear into him, but there it sat. Whether it was the migraine or her new and confusing feelings directed at Nathanael that held it back she couldn’t tell. Instead, she pressed her fingers into her temples and asked, “How long was I asleep?”

“A few hours. It’s just a little after one.” He pointed his pencil towards the kitchen. “There’s some pain pills on the counter if you need them. I would have made some coffee, but…”

“But you don’t know how?” She rounded the island in the kitchen and spotted the tiny red bottle. A quick search through the cabinets and she finally found a water glass.

“I know how to make coffee, but…” He turned his eyes back down to the album. “There’s nothing but whole bean in there.”

“Of course, I refuse to live under the same roof as pre-ground bullshit.” She found the beans and a grinder, paused, then turned back to Nathanael. “Get in here, Red. I may not like you, but everyone deserves to know how to make a decent cup of coffee.”

When she saw Nathanael blush at her invitation, she had to fight against the word ‘adorable’ crossing through her mind. He set the books aside and joined her in the kitchen. She taught him the proper proportions of beans to water, the proper grind settings, then set a kettle on the stove. As they waited for the water to boil, she asked, “What were you doing with the album?”

He was quiet for too long to Chloe’s liking. He finally said, “References. I thought I’d...practice drawing a wedding.”

Chloe moved across the kitchen to stand in front of him and crossed her arms. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that? You have the internet, a window into the next ten years of fashion and design. Getting to see that before literally anyone else? And you choose our...the wedding album?”

Nathanael matched her glare for a few seconds before he rolled his eyes and looked away. “Okay, I got curious too. I didn’t get that good of a look at it this morning, so I started flipping through it and...wanted to draw a few things. There, happy?”

“No. What about that book could have piqued your curiosity?”

A subtle movement dropped her gaze to his hands, where she noticed him twisting his wedding band about his finger. “I guess...it’s like I said to Marinette and the others last night; I want to know how this happened. How did we go from being bitter enemies to…” He lifted his left hand, fingers still playing with the ring.

Chloe stared at his hand for a long while. The Chloe and Nathanael of this world obviously had a strong relationship, but where had it come from? Sure, ten years was a long time, time enough for her to move on from Adrien and possibly to...but that was ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. There was no way she’d choose someone else over Adrien...except she had. Or this world’s version of her had. And the Adrien of this world seemed happy with Marinette. Her thoughts flashed back to what Nathanael had said about the Akuma. Fairytale was supposed to make people live their happy endings. Did this mean that her happy ending wasn’t with Adrien?

The low whistle from the kettle broke her out of her thoughts and she finished showing Nathanael how to properly use a coffee press. Chloe found herself inexplicably smiling as he took his first sip of properly pressed coffee and melted into his mug. She raised her own mug to her lips to hide the smile, but had the slightest suspicion she hadn’t been quick enough. The damnedest thing was that she didn’t care. Maybe it was because he’d seen her at quite possibly the lowest she’d ever been in her life, but she wanted him to see her smile.

“Do you want to go through the album together?” Chloe looked to him and raised a brow. “You know, actually take a good look at the photos now that you’re…umm...” He turned away and bit his lip.

“Now that I’m not obsessed over my mother. That’s what you were going to say, right?”

“No!” Chloe stared at him. “Okay, kinda. You know what? This was a bad idea.” He squeezed his way past her and made his way back to the couch. “I should probably just-”

“Sure.”

Nathanael whipped around and gaped. “Wha?”

“Sure, let’s look at the album together. It’s not like I have anything else to do until Ladybug gets us out of here. Besides, if I do get all weepy over my mother, I have…” You, she was going to say, because he had been her sole source of comfort since waking up in this strange world. As much as she hated his guts, having him around, that sense of familiarity, was better than nothing. She bit the inside of her cheek and reminded herself exactly who he was, who he worked for, and continued, “I have to get over it eventually.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, but soon shrugged and slid over on the couch to make room for her. Okay, not what she expected. She grabbed her coffee and sat down beside him, then turned her attention to the album on his knee.

An outdoor wedding. Flowers everywhere, rows upon rows of chairs set in...Chloe reached over and flipped another page, searching for an identifying landmark. Ah, there. The Jardin du Luxembourg. A nice venue. Several women in yellow sundresses. Marinette, Alya, Kagami, and...Sabrina. Chloe pulled the album into her lap and ran her fingers over Sabrina. When had they made amends? How long after Sabrina walked out on her, tired of Chloe using her superhero status to shove more and more schoolwork onto her? More tears pricked at the corners of Chloe’s eyes, but she wiped them away and turned another page.

She blushed at the picture of Nathanael, wearing black slacks, a purple button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a black kippah. Somehow the purple worked for him, and...was he wearing a bee charm bracelet? He looked...really nice, especially with his hair tied back like thaaaa-no. No, she wasn’t going to think about him like that. Focus on something else, Chloe. He wasn’t wearing a jacket or a tie, so maybe they were going for a more casual wedding? Which didn’t make sense, if one of Paris’ superheroes were getting married, it would be a huge event, right?

On the next page...ah, her dress. A black lacy bodice with a low-scooped neckline, halter straps, and pearl adornments dangling from the front. From the waist down, a pure white sheath skirt with gold embroidered hem and a pale yellow sash tied about her waist, the knot somehow tied in such a way to resemble a flower. Lace fingerless gloves in the same yellow as the sash. A simple diamond and pearl tiara with her veil flowing from the back, her hair tied up with a plain white ribbon, and a bouquet of yellow dahlias. She squinted and looked closer at her necklace. Stones of purple, blue, and green. Paon’s colors. Now that she got a better look at it, it was subdued, but still spoke to her color pallet. Light fabrics to let it breath in the heat of summer. Marinette outdid herself.

“Are you nervous, Nath?” Chloe turned to the laptop at the sound of Nino’s voice. It was a shaky video of Nathanael buttoning up the shirt she had just seen, and another blush crept up on her face.

“Nervous? No. Relieved that we’re finally here? Yeah. Relieved that all of the planning and prep is over.” He chuckled. “Not that Chlo let me do much. She insisted on doing almost everything, including pay for all of this.” He turned to face the camera. “You know, her original budget was over a hundred thousand euros? Do you know how long it took me to talk her down from that? I mean, she justified it as a ‘charitable donation’ to expand the gardens, but that was still a bit much.”

“Well, Queen Bee is the face of the international ‘Save the Bees’ movement,” Nino said from behind the camera.

Nathanael smiled again. “Yeah, she is, however accidental it may be.”  He leaned over to grab something off of a nearby table. “I didn’t even really want a wedding if I’m honest, but the moment I mentioned the word ‘elope’ to Chloe, she became a living nightmare until I relented.”

“Yeah, that sounds like you,” Chloe heard from her left. She elbowed Nathanael in the ribs, but kept her eyes on the video.

Nathanael stood back up stuffing whatever he searched for in his pocket. “But I’m glad we’re here. I’m glad she’s…” He turned his gaze to a nearby door and somehow, Chloe knew she was...no. Her alternate self was beyond that door. “If you’d told me ten, fifteen years ago that I’d eventually be married to Chloe Bourgeois, I would have laughed in your face. But I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Not Marinette, not Marc. She…” He chuckled. “She’s come so far since we were in lycee, and I’m so happy…” When he turned back to the camera and smiled, Chloe felt her heart skip a beat. “I’m so happy she’s about to be my wife.”

The screen faded to black, and when color bloomed back in, Chloe stood in the center wearing her wedding dress, her hands fidgeting and her eyes trained on a mirror in front of her.

“Chloe! Stop squirming!” came Marinette’s voice from just off frame.

Chloe looked down and mouthed ‘sorry’, then looked back into the mirror and sighed, her frayed nerves evident in her eyes.

“Don’t know what you’re so nervous about, girl,” Alya said behind the camera. “You’re Le Grand Paris’ chief event coordinator so you obviously know what you’re doing and you’ve triple checked every-damn-thing. This is probably going to be the smoothest wedding ever, granted Mayor Bourgeois doesn’t break down into tears like M. Dupain did.”

“Okay, just because my dad sobbed so loud the priest had to start over three times, that does not mean our wedding didn’t go smoothly.”

“It’s not the ceremony!” Chloe stomped, eliciting another swear from Marinette. Chloe apologized again and wrung her hands together. “I’m...kinda waiting to wake up.” Marinette’s head lifted into frame, a couple of pins hanging from the corner of her mouth and an inquisitive look in her eyes. “I treated Nath like shit for years, treated all of you like shit, and now look at us. Marinette made me a custom dress, Alya and Nino are handling our album, Sabrina agreed to be my maid of honor, and Nath…” She turned her eyes down to her left hand, her engagement ring sparkling in the light. “He proposed. After eight years of probably the rockiest relationship ever, he...chose me. Chose to spend the rest of his life bound to me. Me.

“I feel like this is a dream. I feel like the moment I say ‘I do’, I’ll wake up, I’ll be a teenager again, and Paon and I will be back to kicking each other’s teeth in.” She turned down to Marinette. “Did you ever go through this whole ‘too good to be true’ thing with Adrien?”

The camera lowered to Marinette, who huffed and flashed a wry grin before returning to her work on Chloe’s dress. “When he agreed to date me after two years of stalkery pining, kind of. After I found out he was Chat Noir, definitely. I thought there was no way the guy I loved and the cat who loved me were the same person. Even on our wedding day, I expected it to be some kind of Akuma spell, but here I am, six years deep into marriage with a pair of five-year-olds, and I couldn’t be happier.”

She smiled up at Chloe. “I assure you, this isn’t a dream. You deserve to be happy. After everything you’ve gone through, you deserve this.”

“Especially after all the bullshit you went through with The-Bitch-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

“Alya!” Marinette scolded, but the smile on her face betrayed her true feelings.

“What?” The camera shook in time with Alya’s laughter. “Chlo put the kibosh on mentioning her name, so how else are you supposed to know who I’m talking about?”

“You’re right.” Marinette and the camera refocused on Chloe. “You’re both right. I deserve this. I’ve changed so much since I was a stupid kid, and Nathanael sees that. He believes I deserve to be happy, and you know what?” She turned back to the camera and the smile on her face was bigger and brighter than Nathanael had ever seen. “I believe it too.”

That particular video file ended and Nathanael turned back to Chloe, who had her eyes down on the album in her lap. She seemed focused on a picture of her dress, which was strange since she described it as ‘lackluster’ earlier. “Are you alright?” he asked.

Chloe ran her fingers over the picture, and when she spoke, she spoke with an odd mix of wonder and sorrow in her voice. “I...she was right. It feels like a dream. This is me. I know this is me but it still feels like I’m looking at someone else’s life.” Her voice dropped to a whisper and all Nathanael could make out was, “I’ve never seen…”

“Never seen what?”

She shook her head and blinked at him, his voice jarring her from her stupor. “N-nothing.” She looked down at the album, stood, and held it out to him. “I’m done for today. You can look through it if you like.” When Nathanael accepted it, she collected their empty coffee mugs and strode into the kitchen, seeming all too eager to put distance between herself and him. Or maybe the album.

Nathanael looked down at the photo Chloe had been looking at. The Chloe in the photo wore the same smile she had in the video. Judging from the background, Nathanael guessed this photo was taken moments after that segment of the video ended, when Marinette had finished her last adjustments on the dress. That smile...he’d never seen Chloe smile that big or that bright. He’d never seen…

He paused and looked back up at Chloe, slowly realizing what she’d whispered.

“I’ve never seen myself that happy before.”

[silverynight]

Nature boy

Chapter 5

According to Queenie, Graves doesn't like tea and yet he makes the best Earl Grey Newt has ever drunk. Because he's not going to reject a cup of tea, especially if the Director of Magical Security suddenly gets out of office to find Newt and just offers him a cup of tea out of the blue, making everyone present just gape at him for a couple of seconds.

Theseus quirks up a curious brow at Graves, but doesn't make any comments, although perhaps he gets a little bit closer to Newt that day.

Newt starts feeling bad for rejecting him at the ball and thinks that maybe that's Graves way to try to make peace with him.

That's a great idea actually, because even though he was a bit reluctant to speak with him because of what he had said, Newt truly believes they both need to treat each other with respect if they want to at least have a decent work relationship.

So Newt decides to try as well.

Instead of avoiding him, Newt starts smiling at him or just saying 'hello' to him in the hallway to prove that he's willing to make it work too.

"Good morning, Mr. Graves," Newt grins that day and finds out that the Director of Magical Security is a little bit distracted sometimes because he just bumps into Picquery. "Good morning, Madam President!"

"Morning, Mr. Scamander," she says, rolling her eyes at Graves who turns slightly pink and smiles back at Newt.

"Morning, Newt–I mean Mr. Scamander."

Newt turns around, chuckling and he walks directly to his brother's office.

"Percival has been acting odd lately," Theseus comments, pretending to be focused on the report he's writing.

"Why do you say that?"

"He stares at you."

Newt rolls his eyes, deciding that it's best not to argue with his brother, because sometimes he gets too overprotective to reason with.

***

Graves brings him a book on dragons, Newt has to hold back a giggle because he has read that book once... maybe twice, although he has to admit that particular edition looks prettier than his and has a lovely drawing on the cover.

The Director looks at him expectantly while some of the aurors around have gone completely quiet, not even pretending they're not listening to the conversation.

"Thank you so much, I love it," Newt smiles, because... Graves doesn't have to know.

"But, little one, isn't that–"

Newt elbows his brother in the ribs before he can finish that sentence. And even though it's Newt the one that hit him, Theseus narrows his eyes at Graves.

Although the man doesn't seem to notice.

When Graves decides to allow Newt to work actively on the cases, the magizoologist can't stop beaming at him.

"My aurors have collected information from people that claim they've seen a group of wizards with a hippogriff, they are not sure what they're using it for, but some believe they're abusing it."

It always breaks his heart to hear things like that; he tries to hide it, to look collected so Graves doesn't reconsider his decision to bring Newt with them. It seems his efforts are useless though, because Graves's expression softens as he caresses Newt's face gently.

"We're going to rescue the hippogriff, Newt. It's going to be fine," he assures and the magizoologist nods, feeling a little bit better.

Theseus crosses his arms over his chest, looks from his brother to Graves and clears his throat.

The Director blinks, cheeks turning pink before stepping away from Newt.

"Let's go."

***

It's so different from last time; Newt manages to get to the hippogriff and he starts patching him up while Theseus, along with Graves's aurors, arrests the poachers in the place.

Percival kneels next to Newt and decides to help him take care of the injured creature; it seems he has done something like that before for his own hippogriffs because he knows a few healing spells that actually work on magical creatures.

"I've been thinking..." Newt mumbles, feeling a little bit shy.

"Yes, Newt? Sorry... Mr. Sca–"

"Oh, please, call me Newt," the magizoologist smiles at him.

"Only if you finally start calling me by my given name."

Newt chuckles at the overdramatic gesture he does with his hands.

"Okay, Percival."

"What did you want to tell me?"

Newt sighs, looks at the ground and then at Percival, who's eyes are almost glimmering with... something he's not entirely sure what it is.

"I don't have any other hippogriff under my care at the moment... I mean I think it'd be great for him to be with other hippogriffs... So maybe he could stay with you for a while?"

Percival looks a little bit disappointed and Newt wonders if it's too much to ask of him. But then he smiles fondly at him.

"Of course, Newt."

"Don't worry I'll check on him everyday," Newt says. "Unless you don't want–"

"Oh, I think you coming to my house every single day is an excellent idea," Percival grins from ear to ear, leaning a little bit closer to the magizoologist.

"We're done here," Theseus interrupts, narrowing his eyes at Percival.

"I'll get Harold inside the case," Newt mumbles then, getting up. He feels a little bit flustered for some reason, but decides to ignore the sensation.

***

They're back inside the flat; Newt is sitting on the couch, still thinking about how much his relationship with Percival has changed and how glad he is they decided to fix things between them.

Then, out of nowhere, Theseus takes the coffee he's made for himself, rising from the couch to go back to his room, but before getting to the hallway, he looks at Newt, completely serious and not at all pleased.

"He's in love with you."

"What?"

"Percival is in love with you," Theseus repeats, grimacing.

Newt blushes to the tip of his ears, blinking a couple of times, before looking back.

"I don't think that's–"

"He's not that bad, but I'll talk to him before he tries to court you officially, okay? I'm your guardian and I need to make sure he'll be good to you," Theseus says, cutting him off, before leaving.

Newt doesn't know what to think. He realizes he... likes the idea, but doesn't want to think about it before Percival says something.

Although his heart is beating excitedly.

***

His mother's head appears in the fireplace just a couple of hours later; it's almost like she's been summoned.

Newt starts thinking that she has some sort of way to know what's going on in his life at every moment.

She always manages to surprise him though and not always in a good way.

"I'm so happy for you, honey. But tell me... how's the courtship going?"

"How do you know?" Newt can't help but blurt out, confused.

She rolls her eyes, like it's obvious.

"I've talked to Mr. Graves a couple of times, honey. I mean... Because of me you have a suitor right now, but there's no need to thank me."

Newt's heart almost jumps painfully in his chest.

"What do you mean?"

"Well... you're not... You're not normal, honey. But everyone knows that, so I did my job as a mother and told Mr. Graves that at his age and with a dangerous job like his he wouldn't get anyone as young as you. And I managed to convince him you were actually what he needed, but you're going to be a little less like yourself, okay honey? Maybe try not to get out of the city for the first couple of years and actually take care of your future husband." She lets everything out, almost without breathing once, like an excited child.

She has no idea she just broke Newt's heart.

"I'm not going to stop being myself!" Newt narrows his eyes, trying not to panic. He tries not to think what that could mean.

Percival doesn't actually... have feelings for him, does he? It's because his mother got in his head and told him Newt was just... the right choice.

Mrs. Scamander frowns, irritated.

"Don't be silly, Newt! Graves has the money and the connections for you to be someone in life!" She tells him. "Now please listen to your mother for once or he's going to leave you."

"I'm sorry, mother... I don't feel quite well, I'm going to my room."

So Theseus is wrong after all. Percival is not in love with Newt.

And it hurts so much.

***

It's painful to see Percival the next day, especially when Newt realizes that he has brought flowers just for him.

Newt panics, sitting in front of him inside his office, while Percival smiles.

"I-I wanted to tell you something important, Newt," Percival breathes, flustered.

"Have you talked with my mother?"

"A couple of times, yes," Percival admits, a little bit confused.

Newt was hoping his mother lied to him. Maybe he's asking too much, maybe his mother's right and he can't actually get a spouse that can actually love him back.

But he wants that.

"I'd like to court you," Percival says, smiling nervously. "Would you allow me to do that?"

Newt stares at the Director, having no idea when exactly he fell for him.

"I... don't think it's a good idea, Percival," he says, trying to smile.

The Director stares down at his own hands and nods, looking... sad.

"It's okay, Newt. I understand."

Newt would like to say they can still be friends, but right now he's in pain and he doesn't want to be near someone that doesn't love him back.

Why did he fall for him?

He gets out of the office without another word.

***

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[fire-emblem-drabbles]

hhhhhh,,,, fluffy centaur Quan x summoner pls and thank u. Maybe he teaches them not to be afraid of horses?

I actually thought about writing this like, all day yesterday, so catch me finally getting to this!!! The real mood is thinking about writing but never doing it hahah. me reading this: oh fluffy?? I’ll… I’ll get there. 

OKAY SO THIS IS ABOUT 2500 WORDS AND I WAS PLANNING ON WRITING MOREE BUT THAT CAN BE FOR A PART 2!

In other words, as of putting this in my queue, I’m free form the grasp of this fic and hopefully, halfway through November, I can add something to the “November Mastlist” post that has sat in my drafts. 

You couldn’t see yourself without an animal by your side;  you adored dogs and cats or birds and fish, honestly, most animals warmed your heart. You had even met a few mythical creatures in your time, there was a sweet river nymph who lived very close to your property, and you had once nursed a wisp when it was weak during the winter months. Yes, you adored all animals; alas, horses terrified you.

There was an incident from when you were a child that you hated to recall; you had traveled to town with your mother to pick up some things from the market, and your curious little nature brought you up to a caravan horse. The man had warned you that his horse was a feisty one, but you were young and stupid and must have done something to upset it-your memory got fuzzy around here- because I next moment you could recall was having the wind knocked out of you and feeling tears fall down your face.

The horse had bucked, and hit you square in the chest; you broke 3 of your lower ribs and sported an ugly purple bruise. You then had to be bedridden for a few weeks while they healed. And while you were older now, you still had some hesitance towards the creatures. You would like to get to know one but your fear held you back.

Today was a normal day, though you chest ached at the old memory. You were going to collect fruit at the fringes of your property, and you had your basket already. It was a short walk over, but the day was peaceful and the sun was welcoming. It wasn’t long before you got to your cherry trees, but before you could begin picking them, you froze. Was… was that a horse, somehow lost amongst your trees?

The horse moved, and to your absolute horror, your met eyes with a person. Well, obviously not a person, a centaur. You would have screamed, but really you were too shocked to even speak. Weren’t centaurs nomadic? What was one even doing near here?

“Hello? I-is someone there?” he moved towards you, and you got view of the gash along his side. “I fear I can’t see well...” He stepped closer to you, and you stumbled back. He was obviously injured, but still, fear paralyzed you. “Please, I… I need help...”

“I-I,” Somehow you found your voice. Despite how scared you were, you knew he needed help. You had the proper training, if you could get him back to your house you could treat him but… getting back to your home would be the hardest part. “I’m, I’m here.” You stepped more into his view, and his hazy eyes focused on you. “Can you, I mean… oh...” You took a deep breath. “I can help you but you have to come back to my house. Do you think you can make it that far?” You stared pointedly at the ground as you spoke, unable to meet his gaze or look at his bleeding side.

“If you err, lead the way, I should be able to make it...” He moved closer, holding his hand out to you. “Please...” You started at his outstretched hand. You took a deep breath, and clasped your hand with his, and began leading the way; if you didn’t think about it, you could make yourself believe you were leading another human away. But the pit in your stomach would not leave, and the way your house came much too soon. You always wondered why the doors were so tall, and why the ceiling was so high, perhaps this was it. Once inside your cabin-esqe home, he collapsed to the floor in a panting mess.

“O-okay, try to stay awake, I’ll um, get my things.” You moved quickly to your kitchen, relieved when he let out a little groan to tell you he was still with you. You were glad to have wood floors for once, you didn’t want to think about getting blood out of carpet.

“It’s… getting a little harder to stay awake...” His voice was faint but cut through the otherwise quiet of your home.

“You have to stay with me, okay?” Once finding what you need, you took a deep breath and returned to him. “I’m right here with you so… there’s nothing to fear.” Swallowing your own fear, you sat near to him with shaking hands and pounding heart; this was no time to panic, though, you merely had to focus on what your job was now. Once you had this wound cleaned and stitched, you could hide in your room while he slept to regain his energy. After that, who knows but for now you had a job to do.

~*~

How could one person… centaur… person… well, how could he sleep so long? As soon as you were done with his wound, you took a long bath and hid in your room but you felt bad that he was just alone curled up on your floor… so you made sure he was leaning against the couch and had a few pillows, a blanket even. You always tiptoed around him when you had to be inside, though you tried your best to stay outside. It wasn’t until the night of the third day he stirred, waking slowly to the smell of slow cooking stew.

“Hello?” His voice was quiet and thick with sleep. Slow hands came to rub at tired brown eyes, and push back wild bangs from his eyes. “Uh, is anyone there? Where am I?”

“You’re in my house.” Your voice came as a quick quip from somewhere in front of him, he had to wait for his eyes to focus. Finally, across the room he could see you before a warm stove, stirring something that smelt delicious.

“Ah, I thought I saw a fairy but I figured it was just my dreams.” A warm chuckle left him, and as he removed the blankets from himself he saw that his side was properly cleaned and bandaged. “Were you the one to heal me, little fairy?” You didn’t like how casual he sounded, how playful he seemed to be, when you were still on edge.

“Yes, that was me.” You didn’t mean to make your replies scarce, it really just happened. You didn’t know what to say to him without telling him how your heart was beating erratically. He seemed to pick up on this, despite still being a little tired, and hummed.

“Could I get my fairy’s name, then? I’m Quan.” He offered you a smile and stood to his full height, stretching his human limbs as he did so.

“Please don’t call me fairy… my name is um, _____.” You said softly, unwilling to look at him.  “Dinner won’t be ready until a little while longer, so why don’t you bathe? I err, don’t think my bathroom could fit you, but if you leave the house and head west a bit, you’ll find a river.” You just wanted him out for a bit so you could collect your thoughts.

“Oh, um, alright?” Quan laughed a little. “I’ll take you up on that offer, then.” He was just about to leave before you spoke again.

“Oh but, um, make sure you ask Lorelei first, okay? She doesn’t like people barging into her water without asking.”

“Lorelei?” he asked, glancing over to you.

“She’s a water nymph who makes the river around my property her home.” Was all you said. Quan nodded, opening the door and leaving your home after that. Perhaps this Lorelei could tell him why you were acting so strange around him. Quan knew you had to be kind; it's not every day a stranger takes you in, stitches your wounds, and offers to feed you. Still, you refused to meet his gaze, and hardly had a reply for him. Perhaps you were just shy? But it felt like so much more than that…

It wasn’t long before Quan found his way to the river, as you said he would, but he didn’t see anyone there, nymph or otherwise. So tentatively, he called out “Um, Lorelei?” It was silent a moment, and Quan felt silly for having called out when no one was there, but mischievous laughter filled his ears soon enough.

“Oo are you the one _____ brought back?” Quan looked to the other shore, and there a woman with short hair sat, eyeing him up and down. “I see, no wonder she sounded so scared...” Lorelei, he assumed, spoke under her breath and nodded to herself, smirking then. “What can I do for you, handsome?” She sat up fully, grinning all the while.

“Uh, Quan. Call me Quan.” Lorelei nodded, though he felt she wouldn’t call him by name. “_____ said I could bathe here. That is if I asked. So may I?” Quan asked, smile on his face. Lorelei smiled a little wider.

“Why do I feel that’s not all?” Her voice was sing-song, and she giggled after. “What else did you want to ask Mr. Centaur?” Lorelei winked, and Quan wondered how she could read him so easily, but perhaps it was simply written all over his face.

“____… they… for whatever reason, they seem standoffish with me.” Quan frowned a little. Did he say or do something to hurt you before he fell unconscious?

“Oh, that? It’s nothing you did, poor dear can’t help it.” Lorelei tutted softly, shaking her head. “When they were young, they got into a terrible accident with a horse that ended up hurting them a lot. They’ve been scared of horses ever since, so that could be why they’re wary of you love.” She smiled, sending a wink his way as well. “But you didn’t hear that from me, okay? You have a nice wash, dear, I’ll try not to stare too much.” And as quick as she came, Lorelei was gone. Quan was left to ponder how he should go about speaking with you now; as well as look warily over his shoulder for any peeping nymphs.

Soon enough, you were finished making the stew. You hadn’t cleared your head much, but you had come to the conclusion that you shouldn’t be mean to Quan just because you were scared of him. You didn’t want to come off as rude, but you were debating telling him why you acted in such a way… You absentmindedly filled two bowls and cut some bread to eat as well. Just as you were wondering where Quan was, a knock came at the door.

“C-come in!” You kept your back to him, after all, you still had bread to cut. You didn’t want to eat the whole loaf this evening but if you kept ignoring him too pointedly it would all end up cut.

“Lorelei was… not what I expected.” You chanced a glance at Quan, who was still a little wet from the river's water. Water stuck to his hair and face and he wasn’t wearing the clothing he was before; he probably washed that too, but you quickly turned back to the food. You didn’t want to acknowledge the blush on your face.

“She… yeah, that happens.” You shook your head, stifling a laugh that would be far too awkward. “Dinner is ready, I’m sure your starving.” You picked up a bowl for him, and two pieces of bread and carefully walked over to him. “I guess the table is too small for you so...” You trailed off, but Quan happily took the offered treats. “That’s no problem at all.” He smiled down at you but you couldn’t meet his gaze and were quick to retreat from him and grab your own food. You were tempted to sit at the table facing away from him, but again you didn’t want to be rude. So you sat at the table, and Quan stood, and the two of you ate in an awkward silence that you weren’t sure how to end. You mostly picked at your food, but you noticed how hungry Quan was; it was kinda cute though, he was still trying his best to be polite in your presence.

You stared down at your food, picking at the meat and playing with the broth. You rested your hand under your chin, and your elbow on the table. Before you could help it, a large sigh left you; one that caught Quan’s attention from his food (you noted he was nearly done anyway) and left him staring wide-eyed at you.

“Is… everything alright?” His words were soft, hesitant as you were. You stared at him a moment; in his haste to eat, he made a bit of a mess, and a bit of broth trailed down his bare chest. You looked away but somehow found it in you to reply.

“It’s… not you, as much as you may feel it is.” You looked to him again, this time searching his eyes. “I just… well...” Another sigh left you, and you closed your eyes a moment.

“You don’t need to say another word; Lorelei told me.” You opened your eyes now, lips set in a pout.

“That little jerk...” You muttered shaking your head. “She just can’t keep her mouth shut, huh?” You would have sighed again, but decided against it. “So I… guess now you know, huh?” You looked away again, even though you could feel your heated gaze on you.

“Don’t worry, I understand completely. It’s natural to feel some fear and hesitance after an experience like that.” You could hear the smile in his voice, and you disliked admitting how comforting he really sounded. “I don’t know what I can do, but I’m willing to help in any way I can.”

“Well… It’s been odd having you around, but I admit I...” You shook your head. “What am I saying….”

“No, go on. Tell me.”

“It’s going to sound stupid...”

“I doubt that sincerely, _____. I want to hear what you have to say.”

“It’s just… It’s been nice having you here? Even when you were, well, you know, just sleeping… It helped me a lot seeing you so peaceful. N-not like I watched you sleep or whatever, you were just, you know, in the middle of my living room so like...” Quan’s laughter met your ears, and you finally looked back to him. He was grinning wide with a look of mirth.

“I don’t think I’ve heard you say that much to me in our brief time together.” You blinked a moment as he still laughed, and thought about it. Perhaps that was the most you said to him-- and was it really so hard?

“I… guess so...” You smiled a little yourself, shaking your head. “Well… your stitches still need another week before I can take them out.” You said.

“During that week?” Quan asked, finished with his food now.

“Well… it’s going to sound silly but… maybe you could, well, you know… help me be… like, not so afraid of horses? And centaurs too, I guess...” You looked up to him with wide, hopeful eyes.

“It would be my honor, _____.” His smile was so charming, for a moment you lost yourself in it; perhaps the next week would be great, and you would get over your fears. Looking into his eyes, you could believe that.

[arisalty]

All My Life I’ve Been so Lonely

(Quick A/N, I would like to say thanks to my beta reader Elbie. This is my first time actually completing a fic for the Sanders Sides fandom but it is also the first time I’ve EVER tried writing angst. So... yeah. Also, it’s a Soulmate AU)

(Also I asked the Powerless discord what names for the dogs with no context except a young Patton named them and received an “Aww” in reactions *cough Moon and Dallas*. If only they knew.)

Pairing: Logicality, platonic Prinxiety, platonic Analogince (kinda???)

AO3

Tw: Major Character Death, Car Accident, Bullying, discriminatory language/slurs

Logan had always left little messages from when he was a child and always received little ones back. When he was younger, little doodles like smiley faces, geometric shapes and simple words like “hello” and “How are you?”. As he grew, they turned into late night conversations, maths workings for the other and secret codes made and lost in memories.

He met Patton when he was 7, their parents working together to set up a surprise meeting for Patton’s birthday.

They were best friends, constantly talking. Patton brought out the boldness behind the quiet mask of shyness Logan constantly had, and Logan influenced Patton by enhancing his curiosity by the occasional ramble about something really cool, like the stars.

They had so much in common, but also so many things different between them. They were a perfect match together, bringing out the best parts of both. It was to be expected, they were soulmates, but not all soulmates start off with such a good connection.

They did everything they could together- birthday parties, vacations, Christmases; they were basically joined at the hip.

Logan wished he could say he couldn't remember anything from the 18th of November, but if there was one thing Patton had drilled into his mind, it was that lies were bad and that lies could destroy the world if someone used them right.

And so once again the memory was dragged up as he sat alone.

The day started out with him rising to find a little message in cyan scrawled on the inside of his wrist; “Good morning, Lo! Meet at the park like usual? :)”

Logan grabbed his blue ballpoint pen and wrote back a quick “Of course, Patton”.

Logan got out of bed, showered, dressed, ate (he had eggs on toast), grabbed his school bag and left for school. He met Patton at the corner of the park like usual and got into registration with plenty of time before school started.

Math was first- they revisited the area of shapes that day- then geography (it was a pop quiz), break, Science and English (then lunch, like usual) before finishing the day with cooking.

Cooking was always a fun lesson, due to their class being, well, children, and cooking such things as pizza and banana bread and kebabs. Powdered sugar often coated most surfaces, which oddly never happened when a member of staff was present, only when their back was turned, and Logan was not even going to get started about the time they were able to use barbecue sauce.

But Logan took an extra club after school- further maths, because-- cmon, it’s not that weird to like maths, is it?

But either way, Logan stayed back an hour after school while Patton got a ride home.

Logan was about halfway through the time there (their current project was about using Excel mathematically) when he received a message on his arm in Patton's mother, Tracy’s handwriting;

𝐿𝑜𝑔𝒶𝓃,

𝒫𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑜𝓃… 𝒫𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑜𝓃’𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝑜𝓀𝒶𝓎.

𝐻𝑒’𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑜𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓁 𝒷𝓎 𝒶𝒾𝓇- 𝐼’𝓂 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓃𝑜𝓌. 𝒜𝓁𝒶𝓃’𝓈 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓊𝓅.

𝐼’𝓂 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓇𝓊𝓅𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝓁𝓊𝒷 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒. 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓊𝓈 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓁 𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓈𝒽𝑒𝓈.

𝒯𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓎

Logan felt his hand clench on the piece of paper he was holding. Muffled noises of other students, almost mechanical movement as he picked up his bag, with a jumbled and confusing talk with the teacher and rushed down to the office where Alan was already waiting, having signed Logan out already.

The car ride was almost silent except a quiet “What happened?” from Logan.

Alan took a deep breath, eyes trained on the road.

“He had taken Spot and Buddy out for a walk to pass the time before you came home. You know how restless he can get. And apparently, Buddy broke into a run and ran into the road, and Patton followed to pick him back up to move him onto the pavement, and that’s when the car… Well, you’re a smart boy, Logan. You can work it out.”

Silence fell over the car until they reached the hospital.

Once they reached the right area, they found Tracy sat outside, the woman wiping away a stray tear.

“The doctors are with him now. They’ve already found at least 2 broken ribs and a broken leg, but he’s lost a lot of blood.” her voice dropped as she tried to calm a stuttering breath. “They aren’t sure if he’ll be able to make it.”

Logan sat slowly, shock leaving him with no words, and he found that it was probably for the best that he remained without speaking.

His best friend, his soulmate was dying. He should’ve been there. It was his fault. He should’ve been there. Patton wouldn’t have been restless. He could’ve warned Patton. He us shouldn’t have taken the club.

The doctors came out about half an hour later, and one of Logan’s moms had arrived. The talked in hushed voices to Alan, but everyone could see the drop in his face, the sadness dragging the corners of his lips downwards. Logan was curled into a ball on his mother’s lap, not sobbing, but occasionally another tear would silently follow the glistening path of many that preceded it.

As a face fell, as did the hopes and feelings. Everyone seemed to huddle together more, and Logan choked back a sob, only for it to escape quietly from his mouth, the rest of his breath shaky. Tracy was wiping away tears of her own, leaning into Alan who had moved to embrace his wife. Logan’s mom, Cassie, was wrapped around Logan protectively, rocking gently as she stroked Logan's head.

It was from that moment that Logan was drawing himself back into his shell of shyness and fear.

His once dramatic self he had found with Patton almost completely disappeared.

He moved away not much longer; he couldn’t bear the memories that surrounded the town. Everything reminded him of Patton.

Buddy had been put down after he also got hit by the car, but Spot was given to him to look after.

In the new school he was at, Logan didn’t really make any friends, but one group, the more weird ones and the nerds took him in. But he refused to talk about soulmates. And the closest ones never asked.

However, being a quiet nerd with two moms around the age of 14 would never work out well.

“Oh look, it’s the nerd with the fags for moms!” The boys surrounding him laughed along with his friend.

“Leave me alone,” came a quiet reply.

“Oh I’m sorry, I can’t hear you, but I bet your about to burst into tears.”

“Ooooh, do we need to call mommy to kiss your pride better?”

Logan pressed his eyes closed, trying to ignore the discriminatory idiots around him.

“I feel sorry for your soulmate,” another one went on. “I would want to die if I got someone like you.”

Logan clenched his fist, trying to keep his calm.

“I bet he doesn’t even have a soulmate.”

And then Logan snapped.

“What do you know? You haven’t ever... ever had the chance to get close to your soulmate to have him ripped away from you! You’ve not been through the pain I have. You will never care about those around you. You only care for yourselves. You only care to make yourselves better than others. Well, newsflash, you aren’t, and you will never, ever, in the rest of your lives be better than anyone.”

The group were shocked silent briefly as the boy in front of them was known for not ever retaliating to jibes, but then the head of the group, Samuel Matthews, spoke up.

“Him? So not only were you raised by fags, but you are a faggot yourself? Ha!”

The other boys took this as newfound ammunition, crowding around, enclosing him against the fence where he was sat.

“Just… leave me alone.”

“As if, Fa-“

“Finish that insult and I will not hesitate to punch you.” Logan looked up quickly to see that a taller, older kid had dragged Matthews back by the scruff of his clothes.

“Leave the kid alone, you foul creatures!” Roman Hartley stood the the side, arms on his hips as he glared at the bullies.

“You heard him, fuckers. Go!” The taller, lankier kid glared from underneath his bangs.

The bullies stood their ground, until Matthews muttered a quick “c’mon. We aren’t gonna beat this.”

Once the bullies were gone, Virgil went and seated himself next to Logan, holding out a hand.

“Virgil Evans, sorry you had to go through that. They’re real dicks. Oh, and this is my friend, Roman Hartley, but you probably already know that. He has a habit to broadcast himself.”

“Rude.”

Logan was aware that they were a good two years older, and that most of the time, same years stuck together and didn’t mix with lower or higher ones.

“C’mon bud, let’s go get you a snack.”

Virgil slung his arm over Logan’s shoulder, guiding him to stand up and move towards the hall and canteen. Roman cracked a joke, and Logan let himself share a tiny grin with the two.

Yes, Logan still felt broken after 3 years of Patton being gone, but Logan could be fixed, he just needed the right people.

[ccurry00]

Princess Principal Spinoff #2: Aunt

Finally finished the second spinoff fic! This one takes place probably a month after the first one. To clarify why I didn’t make them call each other their original names, the way i see it is that they’re used to it by now, and they only use it on special moments. And also yea so its easier for me to write. Enjoy!

P.S To avoid any confusion Mama=mother=Princess/Charlotte, Mommy=Mom=Ange.

P.S.S There’ll be a bit of toddler talk, hope it doesn’t put you off!

Knock Knock

“Amanda, could you get the door please?”

“Okay!”

Not expecting a guest, or at least not informed by her moms, Amanda left the kitchen where she was helping them with dinner. Wiping her hands on her apron as she walked across the short path between the couch and the dinner table, she curiously opened the door.

“Hello there”

“Aunty Dorothy!!” she beamed before slamming into her.

“Whoaaaa hello Amanda” Dorothy kneeled down to give her a proper hug. “It’s been a while hasn’t it. Hows my favorite niece?

"Aren’t I your only niece?"

"That you are” Dorothy chuckled fondly, ruffling her hair.

“Oh good evening Dorothy” Princess greeted, having come out of the kitchen upon hearing Amanda’s delighted sounds.

“Good to see you as always Charlotte”

“Mama, why didn’t you tell me that Aunty Dorothy’s coming?”

“Hmmm, actually both your mom and I weren’t expecting her as well” she turned back to Dorothy with a questioning look.

“Oh I was just from Beato’s place and I figured to pay you guys a visit. Besides, I miss this little one” Dorothy leaned back, her hands squeezing Amanda’s arms.

“Is it me but have you gotten bigger since I last saw you?”

“Oh, it’s probably because Mommy-”

“Amanda, could you please help me set the dinner table?” Ange interrupted, having appeared with platters of food in her hands.

“Oh okay!"

As Amanda scampered back to the kitchen, Dorothy didn’t miss how Princess stared non-subtly at Ange who was pointedly avoiding it and laying the filled plates on the table.

"She’s still spoiling her?”

“You have no idea. I’m quite sure if I’m not around, those two would bring down the house”

“…I’m not that bad”

Dorothy smirked.

“Well, I guess it’s fine Charlotte. It is nice to see her spoil somebody else besides you. Though the fact that she’s her daughter must have helped”

Princess slid her a raised eye, but she smoothly continued.

“Oh Charlotte, please, Ange was all over you back then. The word ‘no’ was nonexistent in her vocabulary whenever she was with you. Thinking back now I should have asked you to make her do things for me."

"Not on your life. But yes Charlotte, Dorothy’s right” Ange joined in.“ And since Amanda looks very much like you, my spoiling of her should be your fault. ”

Princess glanced between Ange and Dorothy, innocent expressions on their faces befitting of former spies. She smiled thinly and called out.

“Amanda! Could you bring out just two sets of dishes and cutleries? Your mom must be feeling ill because she said she isn’t hungry anymore, and your Aunt Dorothy’s leaving. It’s unfortunate, but all the more food for us I suppose”

“Okay, Mama! Bye bye, Aunty Dorothy! Sorry Mommy, but you can’t have the sweet potatoes I made then!”

The small smiles on their faces faded quickly.

“Aaa wait I was just kidding Charlotte, now that you mention it I’m feeling quite hung-”

“Amanda, what do you mean no sweet potatoes for Mommy? You know I love your- wait Amanda-”

“Since when did you became as mean as your mother” Dorothy poked Amanda’s ribs, causing her to squeak.

They seated themselves around the table, signs of amusement still on Amanda’s and Princess’s face.

“I heard what Aunty Dorothy and Mommy were saying, so I wanted to protect Mama!”

“She’s such an angel isn’t she?” Princess gushed, using an arm to pull her in for a quick squeeze.

“Ange, aren’t you upset that your own daughter just made fun of you?”

“Protecting her mother is something she must have gotten from me, so it isn’t that surprising” Ange smiled proudly at Amanda. “Besides, she did make a fool out of you, and that’s always a win in my book.”

“You know, I thought you would have learned to respect your elders better by now”

“Huh, you finally admitted to being old”

“Older, not old, and it would explain why people always want my attention. My air of maturity must have been very appealing, so I don’t particularly mind anymore"

"Maybe, but considering you aren’t married, and I am even though I am three years younger, perhaps it isn’t as much of an advantage as you think”

“You should get your head out of your-”

“Language please, you’re in the presence of royalty here, after all.”

“You know what Ange fuc-”

But before they could escalate any further, Amanda spoke up.

“Sorry, Aunty Dorothy! I was the one who made fun of you first so please don’t argue with Mommy. I’m sorry as well Mommy, and I’ve made extras just for you!

”….I am so glad you are nothing like your mom"

“Thank you sweetheart, and watch your tongue ’ elder’,  she is in fact very much like me”

Having enjoyed watched them bicker like old times, Princess finally interjected.

“Please, you two are setting bad examples for Amanda here” Her daughter grinned. “ If it helps, I think you two haven’t really changed much. As far as I’m concerned, I’d like to point out I was actually more popular than you were Dorothy, and while I am married to you Ange, It sometimes feels as if I have two daughters instead. Now let’s start eating dinner, shall we? Or would you like me to continue?”

Dorothy had helped clean up after dinner despite Princess’ insistence she’s a guest, washing the dishes with Amanda and getting just a little bit wet when they had sprayed each other with small, playful flicks. Sitting on their couch with the girl by her side, she was casually telling her stories of her childhood, when Ange walked into the living room from the kitchen. Dorothy’s face turned slick as she noticed them.

“Amanda, have I ever told you how your mom was like when we were still in the academy?” She started, causing Amanda to tilt her head inquisitively.

Ange, on the other hand, widened her eyes.

“She probably never told you this, but she was a complete mess right before her first date with your mother. She was panicking and had no idea what to wear, and no idea where to bring her either. I had to lend her my clothes. Honestly, if I hadn’t helped her I don’t think it would have gone as well as it did"

Ange started mouthing at her to stop, but Dorothy wasn’t finished, fully intending to embarrass her in front of her daughter. It definitely was childish in hindsight, but this was the only topic of conversation that Ange wouldn’t have any rebuttals.

"Oh, and there was this one time when she drank too much, though I think it wasn’t that many and she was just weak.  She started crying badly and I had to carry her to your mother’s room. Started calling out to your mother and wouldn’t let go of her too. She was pretty much like a baby.”

Ange was looking around, probably searching for something to throw at her.

“You aunt Beato and your mother were very close, but your mom wanted to have her for herself and always asked for my help to get Beato away. You know, I think she was just too scared to talk to her.”

She could see Ange glaring threateningly at her from the corner of her eye, but she ignored it, knowing full well that she couldn’t do anything with Amanda in the room. The girl in question, however, hadn’t laughed.

“Wow! Mommy was already really in love with Mama since back then?”

Having not expected that reaction, she looked at her in surprise. Amanda’s eyes were bright with wonder as she asked, and she couldn’t help but feel touched that amidst her petty attempt of using Ange’s past to abash her, Amanda had glimpsed a part she didn’t know of the love between her moms that was already beautiful to her. Dorothy finally looked at Ange, who was smiling so smugly at her. Shaking her head in surrender, she smiled in return.

“Yea.. I guess she was"

"Aunty? Are you okay?”

“I’m *pant* fine I’m fine *pant*, just a little bit tired” Dorothy was on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

Considering that she was an active field agent in her prime, Dorothy would think that she was physically fit. Years of training, countless hand-to-hand combats and days of stakeout, all accomplished with almost no troubles, but here she was wheezing pathetically with her niece at her back. Amanda had dragged her outside and requested the ride just like how she used to give her when she was younger. She had entertained her, having missed the feeling herself, but the extra weight was something she hadn’t take into account. Or at least that’s what she hoped.

Amanda must have noticed her straining and had slid off, looking concerned.

“I’m sorry Aunty, should I have not made you run?”

Oh, bless this child.

“No, no its okay Amanda it’s not your fault.” She quickly reassured her.

“….Are you sure you’re okay?

"Yes yes, don’t worry. Christ, I must be actually getting old”

Amanda remained silent, before smiling sweetly.

“Hmmm but you sure are still pretty for someone who’s old Aunty”

“…..Oh, you….you got a pretty mouth on you don’t you.” Dorothy raised a finger and tapped her nose. “Thank you, Amanda“

“Then….since you’re tired, let me carry you this time!”

“What? No!”

“Awww you haven’t seen me try yet”

“Amanda, I’m literally twice as big as you are. There’s no way you could possibly lift me "

"But I’m bigger and stronger than I was before!”

“I’m sure you are but your mom would kill me if you broke your arms trying. It’s getting late, so let’s go in okay?”

“Awww okay then”

Dorothy turned towards the house, expecting Amanda to follow her. Unfortunately, due to her prior exhaustion, she never saw it coming.

“AHHHHHH!”

“AHHHHHH!”

Ange leaped to her feet. It was Dorothy’s scream, and whatever scared her would put Amanda in danger as well. Princess must have the same idea as she frantically ran down the stairs.

“Amanda?! Dorothy?!”

They had run outside expecting trouble, but their concern was immediately replaced with a mixture of surprise and horror.

“Amanda! Put me down! How did you even get a hold of that thing!! AMANDA!!”

Turned out Amanda was carrying Dorothy in her arms and bouncing several feet into the air, a feat that should be impossible without the green glow of a C ball. Ange’s C ball.

The more horrified of the pair, Princess shouted.

“AMANDA stop jumping around and get down here! Ange why does she have-”

She was shocked when Ange suddenly broke into hysterics.

“Ange what part of this do you find funny??!!”

“HAHAHA, sorry Charlotte, but Dorothy’s face is priceless HAHAHAHA ”

Amidst her screaming, Dorothy still managed to shout profanities at Ange, which just prompt her to laugh louder.

“HAHAHAHAHA”

“AMANDA!"

Having finally heard her mother, Amanda slowed to a stop and released her aunt. Ange gradually got hold of herself, but seeing the glare on Dorothy’s face looking ready to throttle her, she quickly beckoned to Amanda with open arms. Immediately understanding, she bounded to her, placing her arm behind her mom’s neck as Ange secured her with one of hers. She palmed the C ball from Amanda, grabbed Princess by her waist with her other arm, eliciting a yelp from her, before leaping off into the sky.

"Bye Bye Aunty!"

"GET BACK HERE!”

“Amanda, where did you even find that?! And how did you even know how to use it?!”

“I was helping Mommy clean the basement the other day and I found it. Mommy showed me what it does and taught me”

“She was curious!” Ange quickly defended at the piercing look on her. “Besides since its no longer needed for its….purpose, it could be used for a little bit of fun. Charlotte, you must have missed this as well”

“Well, you should have told me! And Amanda you could have gotten seriously hurt if you had let go of the C ball and fall, I was so worried."

"I’m sorry Mama ”

But Princess remained unperturbed by the combined pleas, her eyes shooting daggers mostly at the more supposedly responsible one. Ange had to turn towards Amanda sheepishly, fully knowing she was right to be upset with her.

“Mama…?” Amanda called softly. Princess’ upset disposition waned when saw the guilty look on her.

“I’m sorry for worrying you. I know I shouldn’t have done that, and I promise I won’t do it again. I’m really sorry Mama ”

“……Oh, it’s okay sweetheart.” She sighed. “You didn’t get hurt, and that’s all that matters. It’s alright if you want to use the C ball again, but just make sure to tell us before you do it again okay?

She couldn’t remain upset at Amanda, but Ange on the other hand…

“As for you, Ange, don’t think you’re out of-”

Ange chose that moment to lean in and interrupt with a soft kiss, catching her by surprise. Even after all these years, her wife’s lips still tasted as sweet as ever, and she melted, as it never failed to make her do so. Amanda simply watched, grinning happily at the sight. As Ange pulled away, Princess can’t help but gave way to a blushing smile.

"Would that be enough to forgive me, Charlotte?"

"Mama you’re blushing!”

“……Oh, you two…..”

Her earlier displeasure having completely receded now, Princess shifted closer, her head nuzzling Ange’s and reveling in her warmth, before tenderly grazing Amanda’s cheek with her fingertips.

“Well, you’re right Ange…I do miss this” she looked at around them, particularly to how close the moon looked from up where they are. “It brings back a lot of memories”

They enjoyed the view in silence for several moments, when a thought crossed Princess’ mind

“Amanda, did you really have to carry and scare your aunt Dorothy like that?”

“I’d say she did a fantastic job"

"Ange, at least pretend to be an adult in front of our daughter .” Princess lightly flicked her forehead, which just produced a wider smirk from her. “I’ve never seen her that terrified before. You’ll have to apologise to her later”

“I will! Oh and umm Aunty was making fun of Mommy earlier, and I know Mommy is strong, but I wanted to prank her just a little bit to help give a little payback. I hope that’s okay”

Ange’s eyes softened as she gazed affectionately at her.

“…..What did I ever do to deserve such a daughter” she murmured, before promptly peppering kisses all over Amanda’s face, causing her to burst into giggles.

“Mommy that tickles!”

“Looks like I have a protector of my own as well!”

Princess looked on, choosing to stay silent once more. She took in how her wife’s eyes were brimming with love, the edges of her lips curling up even as she showered Amanda with quick pecks and the ribbon on her grey hair bobbing along pleasantly. She took in her daughter’s rosy cheeks, her small hands weakly patting away her mom’s face and the way her nose would twitch occasionally as she laughed.

I don’t know if I deserve them, she thought as they faced her and flashed her lovely smiles.

But I’m never, ever letting go.

Dorothy had abandoned her screaming, knowing they couldn’t hear her anyway and settled on gazing at them up in the night sky. From where she stood, it was impossible to listen to what they were saying, but from the loud adorable sounds Amanda was making, and the bright expressions on Ange’s and Princess’ faces, her heart warmed.

Her mind went back to when they had revealed the truth about themselves to her and the others. It was several weeks after safely returning to Casablanca, and they had invited them one afternoon. Dorothy couldn’t forget how vulnerable they looked. Princess’ eyes couldn’t stay still as they fleeted between each of them, her face a far cry from her usually composed features, and Ange had looked the same as ever, but the tight grip on Princess’ hand indicated otherwise. Even if she had wanted to at the time, she couldn’t be upset when she heard the news. Beneath the princess facade of one, lied years of an immense amount of pressure, fear, and suffering, while beneath the unfeeling demeanor of the other, lied a depth of guilt that she wasn’t sure would ever be relieved. Princess was particularly worried of Beatrice feeling betrayed, but she had been nothing but understanding, pointing out that it wasn’t her being a Princess that saved her, but by being Charlotte. Dorothy had simply laid a hand on Ange’s shoulder as means of consolation and reassurance. Gratefulness and relief filled her eyes at the simple gesture.

They’ve been through enough, and the happiness they found in each other and worked so hard for is one she pray will last forever and help preserve.

Her attention was drawn from her thoughts when Amanda waved at her. As she returned it with one of her own, her lips quirk into a smile.

And as for that little bundle of joy of theirs…

God knows damn well they deserve her