#but i feel like it says everything about leo that he would over-exaggerate how old he is in the context of talking about how young he is

[xserpx]

‘The name Brock has entirely different connotations. Heroism, patriotism, derring-do! Have you considered a biography, by the way, Your Grace?’

Leo paused with fork halfway to his mouth. ‘I’m twenty-two years old. I hope I’ve a few achievements still to come.’

— The Trouble With Peace by Joe Abercrombie

[cherriesfineline]

Au Pair – Chapter I

It's finally here – I'm sorry this took so long, this past few weeks have been a mess but here it is, our first chapter for the Au Pair series; I kinda hate this, ngl- I always hate first chapters, a lot of introductory info and bla bla but yeah.

In the weird case you happen to enjoy this and want to be added into the taglist (starting next chapter) you can request it here.

Feedback, likes or reblogs are so, so appreciated! I'm very much new to the whole writing world so yeah it'd be really helpful to hear your thoughts about this <3

Love you all, have a wonderful week beauties!

Warnings: none specifically for this chapter – age gap.

WC: 6.6k

Masterlist

Y/N was tired, to say the least.

And it wasn’t the tiredness she used to feel after a long work shift at her previous job -where her boss was an old, grumpy lady with horrible manners- or the exhaustion felt after spending hours crying due to a fight with her mother. No, this was different. It was a tiredness she couldn’t get rid of; a tiredness no lavender smelling bath or hours upon hours of sleep could amend.

She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment her brain shifted in such a drastic way. Y/N could easily recognize and admit her life had never been an exciting one; a memorable one. Ever since she was a little girl it all seemed to fly by; graduations, birthdays, friendships – nothing ever seemed to leave an impact and nothing ever seemed as exciting as everyone else put it to be. She knew she struggled with allowing herself to enjoy things, but this far her life had been pretty average.

Maybe it was the fact that she was 22 years old and never been in a real relationship what skyrocketed her fear of dying alone. Now, she knew it might seem exaggerated – 22 years wasn’t a long life at all, but the pungent emptiness she’d been feeling felt like her inevitable destiny – like that’s how life was supposed to be for her.

England felt different, though. But in all honesty, her emotions hadn’t had switched into completely different ones like she’d expected to happen when she applied for this job as an Au Pair all the way back in February.

With a steaming hot cup of coffee between her cold hands, she sat down next to Coco (a very soft grey Scottish Fold) on the giant couch of her new home, scratching in between his tiny ears earning a low purr in response. Coco had become one of her closest friends so far, along with Anya, a three year old girl with cute blonde locks and a laugh so contagious it made the muscles on your cheeks ache after a long playdate.

Maybe moving away wasn’t the smartest choice. It actually might be one of the stupidest choices she had ever made, actually – moving all the way across the globe when she cried herself to sleep most nights due to her loneliness overcoming her (almost inexistent) self-awareness. Y/N liked to believe she had a wide understanding of her emotions, but it was a blatant lie.

At least she was distracted for most of the day – taking care of two kids and looking after a teenager wasn’t an easy task. It required a lot of mental presence; but by the time she was in bed at night, it all hit back again. She thought maybe this is how life is supposed to be for her, lonely – maybe it was not her brain playing her tricks but her brain making her see how her life truly was.

It’d been two weeks since the Lockehold family picked Y/N up from the airport, and on one side getting physically adjusted to this new life hadn't been as rough as she thought it’d be. She did have it easy, if she had to admit – a big room in a giant, beautiful home and a car to her disposal. Emotionally, on the other side, life was still the same.

She knew the moment she heard heels hitting the cold marble staircase Bella was on her way down with Ivy, the eldest of the three sisters, following close behind, complaining about a hangout she was apparently going to miss because they “are expecting a guest�� as Bella announced, meaning neither of her parents could drive her. That’s how Y/N found herself sitting in her (borrowed) blue Jeep Renegade driving Ivy to her friend Lily’s house – who lived in the same rich, over-the-top neighborhood as her guest family, which meant the ride to and back was no longer than twenty minutes. During those minutes together, though, Y/N could physically feel the irritation running through Ivy’s blood because first, she still wasn’t too fond of Y/N because she is 16 and doesn’t need a babysitter -her words, not Y/N’s- and second, Y/N is still not accustomed to driving on the other side of the road.

Technically, Y/N had the weekends off. Living with the same people who employed her gladly didn’t mean working 24/7, but she hoped she could earn a couple of points in her favor if she took her free time to drive her around.

After a short conversation between the two (where Ivy refused to save Y/N’s number in case an emergency came up because she could always call her dad), Y/N dropped her off and drove back to the Lockehold’s. What caught her off guard, was the sight of someone in the driveway at the house next door getting suitcases out of the trunk of a black cab – there hadn’t been any movement in the old Victorian mansion since she’d moved in next door. A man, definitely very tall, dressed in a dark suit is all Y/N could decipher since it was already dark outside and she had to strictly concentrate on not switching to the opposite side of the road out of habit.

Alex was coming down the stairs when Y/N locked the front door – Bella’s husband was a very handsome man for his age, probably anyone could admit it. He was kind of scary sometimes, but was a true sweetheart on the inside; he’s in his mid-40’s and it was clear as day his family meant everything to him, he even treated Y/N like his own daughter, always making sure she’s comfortable and inviting her to most family hangouts – even though Y/N declined pretty often to allow them to have quality time as a family (and because being too socially involved drained her, but they needn’t have to know that)

“You wanna join us for dinner? We have a guest tonight. A family friend.”

“Oh, no, I'm good, you guys enjoy yourselves. I’ll say hello, though.” Y/N replied with a smile; and as before mentioned, even though she had the weekends to herself, they still loved to insist on her joining them for fancy dinners and whatnot. The Lockehold’s loved being hostesses, loved having people around (from what Y/N learned this past two weeks) but she really wanted -and needed- some time for herself after being with them the entire week, and even though she loved hanging out with them, she just wasn’t in the mood tonight.

“You sure? Bella made homemade pasta, from scratch. Her specialty.” Mouthwatering, Y/N thought. Bella was such an amazing cook, and even though she worked hours upon hours every day, she still came to her husband and kids in time to make dinner every night, not missing a single day.

“Sounds delicious, but I think I’ll pass, I’m just really tired.” And before anyone could make another comment, the loud bell ringing through the main floor of the house startled Y/N as it’s louder than ordinary – and sounded kind of old and creepy, in her opinion. By the time the constant thud in her chest lowered to a normal speed, she could recognize Bella’s voice in the foyer, meaning she was the one who received their guest, with a deep voice following after saying 'thank you for having me'.

"He's here!" Alex clasped his hands together, a wide smile appearing in his face. Y/N followed him into the living room where Bella was already chatting animatedly with a man; tall and with broad shoulders (but not excessively; just the right amount) his figure was leaning slightly forward as he listened to Bella rambling about all the 'good things he had missed while he was away'. His hands were clasped on his back and when he lifted his head, he made direct eye contact with Y/N without even having to search for her eyes. His brown curls were perfectly placed on top of his head looking extremely soft, and when he ran his hand through it Y/N couldn’t help but swallow harshly. He undoubtedly looked like someone who belonged in Hollywood next to a young Leo DiCaprio and he was definitely older than Y/N – probably already in his 30's, she guessed, but ageing like the finest wine. He had the softest looking wrinkles in the corners of his eyes – those eyes, forest green; reminded Y/N of what used to be home for her. His intense gaze held a lot of emotion, a lot of thought, unlike his face, that appeared stiff and cold, with a slight crease between his brows. His pink, heart-shaped lips were pressed in a line, a cute mole adorning one side of his chin.

"Harry! It's so good to see you, we've missed you." Alex's excitement forced him to drift his gaze away from Y/N, leaving her like a heated teenager salivating for him. Y/N honestly thought he might had left her speechless and most likely with increasing probabilities to make a fool out of herself if someone needed her to talk, as she was certain she wouldn't be able to formulate any coherent sentences.

Harry. It totally suited him, Y/N repeated his name a couple of times inside her head to check on its pronunciation. Alex reached him and pulled him in a big hug, patting each other's back, and Harry's lips broke into a huge smile making a line of pearly white teeth appear. And dimples. God, he had dimples.

This is how I die, Y/N thought.

"So good to see you, Alex." If sex was a sound, his voice would definitely be it.

"Your skin is glowing, Harry. Italy always does you wonders." Bella gushed. And she was right – his skin had this beautiful golden undertone, but it looked natural and radiant, almost like the sun itself kissed and caressed his skin with the softest touches. Alex snapped Y/N into reality when he turned to face her and grabbed her hand to pull her closer to them, starting a long introduction no one was paying much attention to, explaining how he’d missed her arrival, like he even cared, and how she was the Au Pair they’d all been talking about ever since February. It wasn’t until Alex mentioned something about Y/N and Harry probably seeing each other a lot she was suddenly interested in what was actually going on.

“He owns the school the girl’s attend.” Alex directed towards her. Now, Y/N assumed the moment she laid eyes on him he was probably rich – who wears a suit to a Sunday dinner with friends? Rich people are weird, that’s something we can all agree on; but owning a school which’s monthly fees per kid were worth three of her salaries? That was quite unexpected.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry." Y/N offered him her hand, trying to sound as casual as possible, even if her skin felt like it was burning under his intense gaze and her eyes were definitely betraying her.

"The pleasure’s all mine, Y/N." He shook her hand. His strong hold sent shivers down her spine; the cold rings making a big contrast against the heat his hand radiated and she couldn't help but fantasize about how his touch would feel in some other places.

The sudden embarrassment feeling hot against her cheeks made her turn around impossibly faster, feeling guilty at the dirty thoughts consuming her brain while around her bosses – and in front of him. Making a beeline straight to her room, announcing she was calling it a night, she sent Harry a quick -but quite charming- smile, and couldn’t help but soften at the sound of Anya running down the stairs yelling an excited ‘Harryyyy’ once she was past the kitchen.

She knew she got lucky with her commodities – an entire studio-like apartment past the main kitchen of the house, where the servant’s area used to be located a handful of decades ago; but she cussed in a whisper when she remembered half way through her making of a sandwich (four hours after she’d retreated to her bedroom and because she decided on skipping dinner that night, not having enough energy to cook) that her lazy ass still hadn’t bought mayonnaise. Her small kitchen had enough space to hold her snacks, along with some ingredients to make a few meals, since she only had to worry about food on the weekends. Reluctantly, she took the small plate holding her sandwich and made her way towards the main kitchen. There was no way in hell she’d eat a sandwich with no mayo – never in a million years, too dry to go down her throat.

I guess they won't mind if I grab just enough to put on my sandwich, she thought. The house was quiet, everyone probably already in bed, therefore she almost pissed herself when she found Harry sitting in one of the kitchen stools, looking down at his phone with an annoyed expression adorning his face. Almost as if he could sense someone was in the same room, he looked up to find Y/N standing at the kitchen threshold, his face abandoning any sort of emotion.

"Hey."

"Hi." Y/N walked towards the fridge on the far right of the kitchen, opposite from where she came in. "Sorry, I thought no one was here."

"Don't worry, just waiting for Bella and Alex to come back down to have some tea, they're putting the girls to sleep. Would you like to join us?" He offered. And honestly, she'd love to say yes and just listen to him talk with that deep, melodic voice, but her stomach was really hating her right now.

"I'm good, just grabbing some mayo. Thank you, though." She declined with a small smile.

"Next time." He sounded more demanding than suggesting, which slightly baffled Y/N. "Can I ask where you are from?" He asked respectfully.

"A small town in the Argentine Patagonia." Y/N replied with her back facing him as she busied herself with the mayonnaise container.

"Never been to Argentina. Or anywhere in South America, actually." And when Y/N turned around, sandwich in hand ready to go back to her room, their eyes met across the kitchen and she felt the heat creeping up her neck for the second time that night. Y/N wondered how his gaze was always this intense – she wasn’t a fan of how they’d barely exchanged a few words and somehow she felt so exposed.

"You should. It's beautiful." She almost, almost, choked on her own words and when she looked down at her fuzzy pink socks and back to him to try and calm her growing nerves down, he surprised her when she caught him looking up and down her body – in any other case she definitely would’ve felt creeped out, but there was something about him, the fact that he definitely didn’t do it with the intention of her catching him (she noticed how he shifted uncomfortably on his seat after the exchange) and how he simply added a “I’m sure it is," afterwards, she knew she was fucked right then and there – she wanted him looking at her. Was that something bad?

But then – then she remembered how she was wearing her soft cotton pajamas, and she began wondering if he was just laughing internally at her outfit instead of checking her out like she initially thought. And just like a save from heaven, Bella and Alex appeared in the kitchen discussing who was picking Ivy up from her friend's house. "Hi Y/N, still awake?"

"Yeah, got hungry. Stole a bit of mayo, hope you don't mind." She shyly held the plate up.

"Please, this is your house too." Alex waved her off.

"Thanks. Gonna go back now." Y/N pointed towards the small hallway that led to her room. "Goodnight." Turning her body to walk away, she caught Harry's eyes, again, still staring at her, but decided on simply walking away, breaking eye contact, making that small interaction their last one for the night.

&

The following week consisted of Anya and Y/N playing lots of fun games, trying to get a word out of Charlie and Ivy ignoring her for the most part. Her relationship with each of them was completely different, each trusting her at their own peace, getting used to having a stranger around. Anya seemed the only one openly excited to hang out with Y/N every day, and even though she could tell Charlie didn't exactly mind her presence, she still hadn't talked to her as much as she'd like her to.

"What are you up to, Charlie?" Y/N asked the seven year old as she sat next to her in the big playroom they had on the main floor. Charlie kept her gaze locked on her drawing with a handful of crayons on her right hand as she drew with her left. "You're left handed? That's so cool!" Bella had mentioned some time ago that Charlie had a really hard time letting people in, Y/N knew it'd take some time for her to see her as a friend -like she wanted her to- rather than someone who gets paid to hang out with her, but Bella confessed Charlie was actually really excited to meet Y/N, which felt like a small relief, knowing she actually wanted her there – unlike Ivy. Charlie spoke only when necessary and struggled with making friends but her psych pedagogue said she's just really shy and that ‘once she breaks out of her shell, she's unstoppable’. "I love the birds you drew here." Y/N pointed at some small birds sitting in a tree branch.

"Bluebirds." She murmured.

Getting a single word from her was considered progress, in Y/N’s opinion, but that’s all she got for the entire afternoon – even after constantly sending comments her way while playing with Anya so Charlie wouldn’t feel left out, not a single word came out of her mouth. Anya mentioned Harry at some point while talking about her favorite doll (which Harry had gifted her for her 3rd birthday) and the flash of captivating green eyes almost blinded her internally (she couldn’t deny she’d thought about Harry every once in a while this past week)

And it wasn’t until later that same day, after spending a long while sitting alone in a nearby park, she got the chance to see him again – even if he had scared her (almost) to death, she couldn’t help but feel an annoying flutter in her stomach.

She would like to say she loved her long walks during the most unreasonable times at night, but her reasoning behind her late night needs of distraction didn’t exactly thrill her. It was during the quietest and most peaceful times of the day when her mind seemed to speed faster than ever before; the sleepless nights and brain-wrecking thinking of how alone and empty she actually felt, along with the laziness and reluctance when it came to things that used to make her happy weighed her down like carrying a sack of potatoes on her back.

As she was walking past her neighbor's house (the one where she had seen that man with the suitcases last week) she noticed someone sitting on the large porch. Weird, she thought. She hadn't noticed any movement in the house since that night a week ago, to the point she even considered it being empty again. The silhouette seemed oddly familiar though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

"Y/N." She slightly jumped as she heard them call for her, in a strong and deep accent. Was that...

"Harry?" She asked befuddled. Did he live there? She watched as he stood up from his sitting position on the outdoor couch and walked across his front yard to take a closer look at him stopping at the bottom of the short staircase that leads to the porch. "What are you doing up so late?" And then something clicked in her brain – he was probably the man she saw that night, with his suitcases. It made sense, how he probably got home from vacation the same day he had dinner at the Lockehold's – the same day Bella mentioned something about him being in Italy

"Can't sleep." He simply replied, with a small sigh. He then nodded to the seat behind him, and Y/N could physically feel her brain going a thousand miles per minute. She sat on the far left of the couch as he retook his seat on the right, "what are you doing up so late?" He repeated her question.

And Y/N repeated his answer. "Can't sleep."

So they sat in silence, what felt like hours barely being a few seconds. "Didn't know you lived next door." Y/N took the time to take in his side profile - sharp and long nose, the tip curving slightly downwards when he spoke the next line.

"Never mentioned it." He replied apathetically. The unexpected switch in his tone made her immediately shut up, and even though it confused Y/N as to why he would want her joining him if he didn't want to talk, she was dreading going back to her room alone to drown in her thoughts again. She'd take uncomfortable company over being alone when her head got like this, it helped her get distracted; overthinking this situation instead of the same scenarios that constantly lived in her head.

They again sat in silence for a while, this time for longer than a few minutes, and even though it was slightly uncomfortable, there was an unspoken understanding between them. He just wanted company, and so did she. This time, however, it was him who tried for conversation. "Why did you choose England for your Au Pair program?"

"I was actually convinced I was going to choose France," Y/N shared with a soft tone, "but when I met the girls in one of my interviews I just knew I had to come here. Anya was so excited about meeting me, she thought it was already settled." She ended with a small smile on her lips. The memory of Anya smiling happily at her through the computer screen even when she hadn't had met her yet warming her heart.

It was true, the fact that she’d chosen England because of the girls. She wanted to learn French – she knew her way around the English language pretty well; but the French family whom interviewed her didn’t come close to the Lockehold’s at all – she thought maybe the experience of living in a whole different continent with a wonderful family was better than choosing a place because of the language – the experience was being experienced either way.

"Anya is a very special kid. They all are." Harry declared, the left corner of his mouth turning upwards in a small half smile.

Y/N nodded slowly before asking, "How long have you known them?" She could recall Alex saying he was a family friend – but she had no other information about him besides that.

"A while." The small conversation went for a long while, he shared the real reason as to why he was awake so late, explaining how he has struggled with falling asleep ever since he was young, but besides that comment, he kept his life very private; not sharing much information about himself during their chat, and every time Y/N reciprocated a question, he would either answer vaguely or didn't answer at all, changing the subject with another question. "It's really late" He commented, Y/N’s phone reading 1:08am.

"Yeah, I should probably go to bed." She lifted her head to look at him, who was already searching for her eyes. Y/N cleared her throat when a few moments passed by, again, with no one speaking a word. She wondered what could possibly be going through his head at the time, but he nodded, got up and said, "I'll see you around, Y/N." Her name flowed so nicely out of his lips it made her knees get weak. Locking herself in her bedroom (after entering it by the door at the side of the house – which leaded straight to her room) she laid in bed trying to understand why they’d just hang out in his front porch way past midnight when they clearly didn’t know each other very well – or at all, better said.

&

First day of classes came by in a heartbeat. The first Monday of September Y/N found herself getting up earlier than she was accustomed to, since the girl's sleeping schedule was different during the summer. 6:15am read her alarm when she lazily threw the soft covers off her body. A quick shower and minimal makeup application later, she stood naked next to her bed checking the weather app, as to know how to prepare the girl's clothes.

After putting a soft pink sweater on and a pair of flared jeans, Y/N left the warmth of her room to wake the girls up. Going for Charlie first (since she didn't need any help changing into her uniform and Ivy used her own alarm) she didn't give Y/N any work at all, waking up immediately after softly calling her name once. Picking her uniform from her closet and leaving it for her to change, Y/N left Charlie’s room to walk towards the next door.

"Morning, Anya." She whispered as she brushed some of her hair out of her face. Anya’s little nose scrunched up and a soft whimper left her mouth as she switched positions, now laying on her side, "gotta wake up, love." Y/N shook her arm softly, and she finally opened her eyes, a tired smile creeping up her face as she noticed it was Y/N sitting next to her. Y/N left her to rub the tiredness off her eyes while she picked her clothes (since her daycare was at the same school her older sister's attended -Harry's school, Y/N couldn't help but think- her uniform consisted of only a white t-shirt with the school logo along with any pair of bottoms she chose for the day.

After picking up her cute small rain boots and help her get dressed up, Y/N did a cute hairstyle on her with the small butterfly hair clips she chose, and went back to Charlie's room to do her hair, Anya coming along.

They arrived at their school; a big, period-like brick building with hundreds of students roaming around and a beautiful fountain at the front – which actually made Y/N’s childhood look like a big joke; the school she had attended was located in the middle of the mountains in a remote field.

"I'll be here at two thirty. Good luck, girls, I'll see you later." Ivy walked away sending a 'mhm' her way to let her know she heard her, and Charlie offered a small smile along with a wave and walked away like her sister. Y/N took Anya off her car seat and helped her get out of the car, her tiny backpack sitting on Y/N’s right shoulder as she grabbed the hand Anya offered her.

"Mommy said I have the penguins' classroom!" She said with excitement as they walked through the doors at the right wing of the building.

"That's so cool! I love penguins, let's search for the door which has penguins on it, shall we?" Y/N suggested even though she could clearly see their door at the end of the hallway.

"Yes! This one has elephants," she pointed at the door they were passing, "look, butterflies!"

"Like your hairclips!" Y/N exclaimed, and she giggled nodding her head. "Ah! Look what we found..." Y/N pointed at the next door.

"Penguins!" She skipped towards the door, dragging Y/N along. They entered the big and colorful classroom where they found some kids crying in their parent’s arms, others being as excited as Anya.

"Hi there! Anya, am I correct?" A woman who appeared to be around Y/N’s age came up to them, scrunching down to be on Anya’s eye level. She nodded frantically, excitement dripping from her smile. "My name is Miss Pia, I'm going to be your teacher this year." She introduced herself, Anya gave her an even bigger smile and slyly asked if she could go meet her classmates, to which Miss Pia agreed, asking her to first hang her small backpack in the rack at the back of the room, taking it from my hands and running excitedly to do it.

"You must be Y/N, then?" Miss Pia asked, getting back up to her feet. She was short with blonde curly hair sitting high in a ponytail, rosy cheeks and a cute teacher apron on top of her regular clothes.

"I am." Y/N offered her hand.

"The administration office said we would be having an Au Pair this year, they always give us a heads up with situations like these." She explained, and Y/N nodded as she continued, "we have the parents, nannies or in this case, Au Pairs," they both laughed," stay for the introduction, you can leave afterwards."

"Perfect, I'll sit at the back with the rest of the parents." Y/N ended up staying for about half an hour, smiling at Anya every time she turned to search for her when something exciting seemed to be happening. She won't be needing any adaptation, as Miss Pia said, and she was dismissed right before they had their first trip to the playground outside, taking advantage of the fact that it hadn't started raining yet.

Right when Y/N was walking out of the building, she spotted Harry at the main entrance, reading something on his phone. He was wearing a navy blue suit with a white shirt underneath, and he looked even more handsome in the daylight. She made her way towards him, walking up the marble stairs (marble stairs! In a school?), and when he noticed her, he put his phone away and slowly (and trying to be as discrete as possible – which he failed to, again) looked up and down her body. Something about him giving her his full attention made her insides burn, and she couldn’t help but bit her bottom lip to suppress a smile.

"Hi." She stopped in front of him, taking a moment to look at his eyes; they definitely looked a lot lighter now that there was natural light surrounding them.

"Hi." He repeated, "Dropped the girl's off?" He motioned towards the building with his head.

"Yes, just left Anya’s classroom." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Miss Pia?" He asked, squinting his eyes.

"Yes. She's nice, looks like she knows what she's doing." Y/N shrugged. She didn't exactly know her enough to have a conversation about her – and she most definitely couldn’t be one to talk, since she herself didn’t know what she was doing half of the time. “How’s the first day back been so far?” He got cut off from his next comment by his phone, and the small crease between his eyebrows grew deeper, which didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N. "I'll leave you to it." She announced, but his eyes found hers again, and it was almost like he was asking for her to not leave him to it, but Y/N didn’t trust her instincts, not with him – not when he made her so nervous her brain couldn’t process things around him, and she was scared of misreading his expressions; he was hard to read. Not like she was expert at reading people but he was frustratingly confusing.

&

They didn't see each other again until a week later on a Tuesday evening – the same day Charlie, Anya and her decided to go for a walk and treat themselves with ice cream from a cute shop across from (what had come to be) her favorite park, Harry and Y/N found each other's eyes across his front garden, just like that night, but this time it was easy for her to recognize him as she could see his face clear and glowing from the sunset shine. His eyes were glued to her until the fence that divided their houses blocked his view, and again, Y/N wondered what could be going through his head.

It wasn’t until after dinner, past her work hours, she decided to leave the house through the door on her room with the sparking curiosity to test if she would run into Harry. Stopping on the sidewalk in front of his house, she noticed he was not sitting outside, and even though that's exactly what she had expected -he was not going to sit there for hours and hours, right?- There still was a small feeling of disappointment that rushed through her, and when she snapped back into reality, it was too late to stop herself as she knocked on his front door.

And Y/N didn’t know where to hide – not like hiding would be less embarrassing but God she did hate herself that moment. The embarrassment running through her veins was painful and made her lightheaded – she knew she had trouble sometimes with not thinking things through, but this was beyond her. He barely knew her. And suddenly his door was wide open.

"Y/N?" Of course she was not lucky enough for him to be asleep and not hearing her knock – life would’ve been too in her favor for that to happen. Of course he was very awake with a half drank cup of tea in his hand and the softest looking pair of grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. "Are you ok? You look really pale." His voice was calm, probably the softest it'd ever been in her presence. At least he doesn't sound mad, Y/N thought.

Harry wanted to be confused, but he was more curious than anything else. For some reason, he felt very intrigued by Y/N – how she seemed confident but insanely insecure at the same time; it reminded him of himself, if he had to be honest. He just learned how to hide the latter.

"Uh, yeah- um, I was-" she nervously turned around halfway to look behind her and back at him again. He raised his eyebrows in curiosity and Y/N really tried her hardest not to step over her words. "I was about to go for a walk, uh, I was wondering if you'd like to join me?" Stupid. So, so stupid, Y/N thought.

"No, I'm good." He replied, finding oh-so-amusing the way her eyes gave her embarrassment away – he was having fun, watching her like a lost puppy trying to think through her next words.

Her mind was, of course, over speeding. She now felt even more embarrassed. Of course he doesn't want to go for a walk, Y/N conscience spoke to her, it's a Tuesday night and he's probably tired and I'm his friends' Au Pair – he probably thinks I'm this young and annoying girl who has a stupid crush and- "would you like to join me?" He interrupted her self-beating up raising his cup and she noticed the half smile adorning his face, almost like he could tell the wheels in her brain were fast-moving.

"Wouldn't want to interrupt-"

"You're not. I wouldn't have invited you in if you were. C'mon in, now. It's kinda cold out here." He disappeared inside of his house, leaving her on his porch with an open mouth and a blank brain. After closing the door behind her and taking her black vans off, she turned on her left as she guessed that was the way Harry went – and she knew she’d guessed correctly when she stepped into a big open-plan concept living room with a giant kitchen on the far back, Harry standing with his back towards her preparing her tea, "sugar?"

"No, thank you." She sat in one of the stools at the kitchen island as she took the scene in front of her. Her very cute (and much older), very hot neighbor Harry, in sweatpants and a very thin white shirt, a small patch of skin showing on his hip, making her tea. His shoulders were broad and she could see his back muscles moving as he poured steaming hot water into the cup, the little curls on his neck so inviting, if only she could run her hand through his soft looking hair just once-

"There you go. Cardamom." He snapped her out of her (probably inappropriate) thoughts, and she thanked him as she grabbed the cup from where he placed it; he stayed in his position standing in front of her on the other side of the island, with his forearms against the cold marble, sipping on his own mug, thinking about how strange it felt to have someone he wasn’t close with sitting in his kitchen after so long. "Why are you up so late?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"I figured. I couldn't either, looks like we both have a bit of sleeping issues, huh?" He sounded playful, but tired. Y/N knew exactly how it felt, being so tired but not being able to peacefully go to bed and get some needed rest.

"I remember you mentioning it before, I figured I'd check if you were up. Walking helps me relax, thought maybe you'd enjoy it too." OK, that wasn't entirely true but her reasoning to be there was quite similar – to check if he was up so they could, maybe, share a quiet night like that one a few weeks ago. None of them understood why they found such comfort in each other’s company – none of them felt like they needed to try too hard.

At some point during their conversation they moved to the couch, where they laid with a wide gap between their bodies. "Elton John's was definitely an interesting read. Lots of crazy anecdotes, you should read it."

"Probably not as good as Keith's, but I'll give it a go." He let a dimpled smile creep into his face, turning his head to look at her from across the couch and the annoying turn her stomach made obliged her to return it, just as bright as his. Finding out their music taste was quite similar made Y/N’s insides all warm and fuzzy, he showed her his vinyl collection (which was quite large) and ranted about how the modern industry was missing a rock star with some of that unexplainable essence old rock bands have – to which she respond saying maybe that something that makes them special was the fact that they were old bands... added to the fact that even though she was an old music lover, modern pop was her guilty pleasure.

Their third teacups were long forgotten on the modern coffee table by the time he noticed Y/N’s eyes were slowly beginning to close and he, as last time, said, "it's really late." And Y/N only nodded and tiredly got up from her position, with him following close behind.

"Goodnight, Harry. Thank you for having me even though I came unannounced." She shyly said, her actions still making her embarrassed even though it had already been a couple of hours.

"My pleasure. We should- do this again," He coughed into his hand, and uncomfortably continued, "I enjoy your company." That sentence alone made her heart explode with a thousand emotions, because even though they barely knew each other and it clearly pained him to admit he enjoyed having her around, his presence made her calm but anxious in a peculiar mixture of emotions. All she did in return was gift him a big smile, face hot of embarrassment (a nice kind of embarrassment, that feeling when you just want to smile really big and tightly hug whoever is making you feel that way) and slowly pushed herself up on her tiptoes to give him a sweet kiss on the cheek. "Bye." He said lastly, and closed his front door with red cheeks and dimples on display.

- Joey.

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Hi! I love everything that you write and heh I am a fan! 😄 tbh this is my first time requesting something on Tumblr! If you don't mind and if I am not being a bother...can you write about how the guys would react If MC suddenly starts making meme references? I don't know how I got the idea but I am REALLY curious. And love you! :D

Hiya! Tyvm for the kind words, and apologies that this took a while! I hope you have the chance to enjoy it regardless ❤️❤️❤️ Love you too, sweet pea! I promise to get to the next request you’ve sent ASAP~

Aight but this would be hilarious because the range of the reactions is just ungodly. I will be putting this under a cut after Napoleon so I don’t clog up everyone’s dash, but all the suitors are included below otherwise! 

Comte is the one that recognizes a few, but didn’t really stay in modern times long enough to be as well-versed as a Gen Z kid might. Regardless he finds the wittiness and absolute chaotic fuckery to be delightful, and will 100% support the harmless nonsense. It never fails to get a laugh out of him

Mozart that first day be like: “Buzz off MC I hate you” MC, because she likes swinging bats at wasps’ nests: “Well that’s not very cash money of you” Mozart: ?????????? Comte, giggling in the bg like the secret fae he is This one’s just because I’m petty, but after the events of Comte rt I just imagine them encountering Vlad again and MC’s just “I lived bitch.” while Comte is flipping him off behind her lkjahgkjhdsg

Comte @ Leo when he finds the latter under his desk: Had it not been for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered you.  MC: wheezing from the hallway as she’s about to give him his letters

MC: So how was your day, honey? Comte: Good, good--briefly had to go beastmode upon the punk that pilfered my lint roller MC, biting her lip to keep from laughing: So does Leo still have his kneecaps? Comte: for now.

Comte, @ literally anyone upsetting the MC: I won’t hesitate, bitch

Comte: Be careful with my emotional baggage, it’s designer

MC: What if I was evil and ran towards you at very fast speeds Comte: My arms are strong, I would catch and hug you

Leo and Dazai are the ones that don’t have a single reference point but are filled with so much dumbass chaos energy that they just. Understand immediately???? Nobody knows how or why, but they just catch on so fast--adapt the language in a matter of weeks. Never underestimate the power of combined boredom, depression, and humor

I swear to god I just see MC taking them their Blanc/Rouge and being like “here you go sir, one enslaved moisture” and they just go fucking hog wild from day one. MC starts impersonating Theo when he leaves the room around Dazai, like fake deep voice “you all only hate me because you do not like me and I am mean to you. grow up.” Or like the MC meets a baby on her travels with Leo around town and she holds them and says v seriously and sagely “So you are Baby? I have heard tales of your exploits.” and Leo about loses his shit right there. They both think MC is the funniest person alive--they’ve never been more eager to throw a ring at someone in their entire life.

Also a bonus for my beloved Dazai:  MC, facing even the slightest inconvenience (like dropping her fork) in the most dramtic voice possible: Life is not daijoubu. Dazai: wheezing

MC, after watching Theo turn down a woman at the bar in the meanest way possible: bro quit letting the darkness consume you u r scaring the hoes Dazai, literally rolling around on the ground, half-drunk and dying:

MC, walking alongside Dazai and stopping to stare at her reflection in the River Seine. Dazai’s expecting some sad or twisted shit, since people often feel comfortable talking about those things around him, but instead she just: “Oh, it’s you. The source of all my problems.” And he about falls into the river from shock HAHAHA

At this point don’t be surprised if his next book is about an absolute madlad woman similar to MC

Napoleon finds it to be a delightful quirk more than anything? He doesn’t really understand it, but he finds it funny when they change their voice for effect or speak in exaggerated tones. If it’s just comprehensible enough for an outsider to understand--or Sebas gives him context--chances are it’ll send him into a laughing fit

For this one I just imagine MC singing that Ratatouille meme song obnoxiously bad while cooking, and Napoleon and Comte are just so wildly amused by it bc it makes zero sense and it’s only vaguely French at this point

MC @ Napoleon while they’re cooking brunch: Can I offer you a nice egg in these trying times?

MC, conflicted because she’s tired and wanted to sleep in but also got to see Napo’s cute sleeping face for a few hours: For my next stunt, I’ll wake up at 5AM on the day I can sleep in. Sebas: Early to bed and early to rise makes a person healthy, wealthy, and wise MC: early to bed and early to rise makes me a massive bitch Napoleon: laughing in agreement

Isaac is the type to be bewildered and concerned at first (especially when he hears the more nihilistic ones hoOOOoooOO BOY) but eventually begins to understand it’s some bizarre attempt at humor (that hurts Zack baby). While some part of him laments that it reminds him of Dazai and he’s secretly jealous of how she and Dazai bond over it, he will sometimes join in the chaos when the mood strikes him and he’s feeling mischievous

Isaac: How are you feeling? MC: Oh, I’m not Isaac: seconds from dialing 911 Isaac: Are you okay? MC: Oh yeah dw I just suffer from that syndrome where your neutral expression makes you look like you’re an angry serial killer Isaac: say sike rn

Isaac, tutoring MC and correcting something:  MC, muttering while redoing it: The risk I took was calculated, but man am I bad at math. Isaac: unable to help a laugh

One time MC was avoiding Isaac for fear of hurting his feelings and he just confronts her like: Isaac: back by unpopular demand, me! What’s wrong, MC pls MC was so hecking proud of him

Isaac, telling MC about a recent discovery he learned at uni from another professor: bones typically heal stronger after they’ve been broken--so long as they’re set properly, of course MC, looking him dead in the eyes: So what you’re saying is that I should break every bone in my body until I become superhumanly powerful? Isaac: please do not, no

Mozart and Jeanne are just. Totally lost. Why are you talking like that??? Why are you making “crab hands”???? They don’t understand. Maybe never will. They reach a point where they just kind of laugh and shake their heads, endeared by the oddity after they’re used to it and have determined it isn’t a threat/insult. 

MC: It’s a cold and it’s a brooooken, Waluigi. Waaaaluigiiiii...waaaahluigi..... Mozart: surprised, then starts snickering and playing along on the piano

Arthur, asking MC very personal questions out loud because he is an idiot sometimes: Soooo MC, are you a top or a bottom? MC: I’m a threat. (If he asks a second time, the response will be “Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy.”) Jeanne, fighting a smile:

MC, about to punch an asshole: Your free trial of being alive has ended Jeanne, seconds from laughing for the first time in 100 years:

Also, because I genuinely can’t help myself. You know that knight meme like “Parry this you fucking casual.” I cannot stress enough that it is literally the personification of Jeanne’s entire character. I’m not even joking.

Arthur and Shakespeare are utterly fascinated by the rapid evolution of wordplay and the sheer hilarity. They will ask all about these so-called “memes” and ask for examples of them if MC can show them (either somehow accessing her phone or drawing them). MC draws Arthur the knife cat meme and he about a s c e n d s at the hilarity of it all, points and yells THEO IS HOLDING THE KNIFE. He is correct. They will be delighted and follow along eagerly, and--god forbid--will make their own based on late 19th century struggles.

Is this where Shakespeare got the idea for “What, you egg? stabs him” and “You are a saucy boy.”? I’m too scared to ask. Don’t even get me started on “The Fool jingled miserably across the floor.” That one is just too on the nose...

I can’t even imagine what would happen to Shakespeare if MC like translated vines and memes into Ye Olde English around him. Imagine she’s at one of those noble balls and hears rumors of these two guys living together and they’re so obviously gay and he says “And those gents w’re roommates.” And in the most false surprised tone ever MC just replies “oh mine own god, those gents w’re roommates.” Imagine having a wife that’s just as hilarious as you are and hits you with all the force of a bag of wet mice every time you speak in retaliation, he’s going into palpitations.

Every time Arthur does smth stupid MC just: “I Pretend I Do Not See It.”

Vincent is tickled pink by MC’s penchant for finding joy and/or amusement in nearly everything they do, and he smiles gently when he sees them muttering and laughing to themselves. He wants to be able to join them in what they love, but he has a harder time following along and understanding the darker humor sometimes. Mostly gets confused??? Please give him the easier ones to mimic and laugh when he tries--or just include him in your jokes MC. He’s babie your honor...

But he also. Will not. Stand any kind of self-deprecation or borderline verbal self-harm. He’s usually very easygoing and calm, but for whatever reason that stuff makes him go deathly quiet and upset.

MC, after something goes horribly wrong, hugging Vincent: Oh Vince, we really in it now Vincent: giggling a little despite his worries, relaxing

MC: Theo stop simping for Vincent that’s my job

MC, when Theo leaves the room and she gets Vincent all to herself: The evil is defeated.

MC: And this is where I would put my will to live...if I h a d one! Vincent: ;-; MC: oh shit, oh fuck, I was only kidding Vincent wait (MC was subsequently lectured and loved on for many hours)

Theo is conflicted because on the one hand, he loves to see you smiling and having fun. On the other, you’re clowning as hard as Dazai and Arthur and he can only handle so many monkeys in his circus. Most of the time he will roll his eyes and be the straight man of this comedy, but you might find him cracking a smile--or accidentally letting a chuckle slip past his lips now and again.

MC, after meeting Theo: I’m a nice person, but I’m about to start throwing rocks at people.

Theo, those first days: Oh? You’re approaching me? Instead of running away, you’re coming right to me? MC: I can’t beat the shit out of you without getting closer.

Theo: Every time I ask MC to explain “vibe check” to me she hits me with some kind of improvised weapon

MC, after the “incident” (you know the one): This year, I lost my dear lover Theo Theo, in the distance: QUIT TELLING EVERYONE I’M DEAD! MC: ;-; sometimes I can still hear his voice...

Sebastian is last because oh boy. OH BOYYYYY I LOVE HIM. Okay so the way I see this happening with Sebastian is just. So wild. Because at first he’s t r y i n g so hard to be the proper butler man. He does not meme. But then he starts to drift closer to what Niles from The Nanny was, where he’ll quip and joke in private or when the situation is just beyond the amount of absurdity he can handle without making a snarky comment. Everyone in the house can’t fathom how Sebas and MC got so close so fast, but there are points where they’re just “Are they even speaking English anymore???” It’s 11 times funnier than normal because Sebas almost never smiles or laughs when memeing, the deadpan quality of his playing along sends MC every time

Has ABSOLUTELY said “HEY. PANINI HEAD. ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME???” jokingly when MC made a mistake in the kitchen. They laugh about it for y e a r s

MC: I can’t date someone who keeps a lamb as a pet, that’s so weird Sebas, brushing Lotte in front of MC: MC: MC: Okay, I will make an exception because she looks very polite

MC and Sebas, fully aware of the fame some of the men will reach in modern times: We will watch your career with great interest.  (I s2g that’s like half of Sebas’ rt right there I’m crying)

Sebas rt with Lotte be like that 500 dollar Mareep meme: “sometimes a family can be just a boy, his gf, and their 500 dollar two foot tall Lotte”

[reversecreek]

hi it’s me... clicks across the linoleum of the dash wearing high heels w a spray tan like i’m a member of jersey shore suddenly..... best summary of willa is that she got moira rose as her #1 chara on a What Character Are You Most Like personality test out of thousands of options.... says so much. u can find her pinterest here n her playlist here 😋 like this or hmu fr plots!!

* ashley moore, cis female + she/her  | you know willa deneurve, right? they’re twenty-four, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, most of her life, on and off? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to watch me by the pom poms like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole sticking gold stars over old polaroids until you can barely see faces, dressing as marie antoinette at your high school prom & delivering fake laughter to a bratz doll you’re pretending is a talkshow host thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is august 1st, so they’re a leo, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt, she/her )

HISTORY:

willa ws born to honestly like….. the perfect family not to honk my own tit bt……………. they were jst rly quite wholesome. her mum celeste was this larger than life person who could never b contained by the four walls of any room she was in. she hd the presence of a gold glitter chess piece on an otherwise mundane wooden board. her dad marlon used to always joke that he had absolutely NO idea how he landed her bc he was just this like. rly average guy by all accounts n purposes….. blended into the sea in high skl……. had a few close friends but was never rly Notable or made a proper impression anywhere…… he always retold it as him coasting thru life until he met her in college. kind of like he’d been half awake before. they just Clicked n no-one cld believe she’d chosen him bt she was jst. completely head over heels n didn’t care what anyone had to say bc that was That

willa always very much took after celeste…… there’s this one quote i remember reading that goes vaguely like “my mom and i would sit and listen to leonard cohen and joni mitchell lyrics together. from a young age i remember her being like "i’m playing this song and when it’s done i want u to tell me what’s happening in it” n she would give me a fake glass of wine when i was 8 and i would listen and b like. i think there was an affair.” which so much summarises their dynamic…… she ws just so like. dramatic n fun n always encouraged that in willa too. her mum was like. everything she aspired to be…… got scouted by a modelling agency in college n shot one campaign before blowing it off simply bc she was bored. starred lead in a play. spent a few weeks travelling asia selling handmade candles shaped like koi fish or curled up foxes or elegantly stretched hands. dated a parisian movie star during a break she and her father took n was featured in tabloids on his arm at the premiere. sm fun n exotic stories willa literally cldn’t get enough. whenever she’d tell them to willa as a kid her dad wld roll his eyes like ohhhhh here she goes again but it’d all b playful n he’d smile bc he honestly cldn’t get enough either. the stuff dreams are made of luv (lizzie mcguire stans rise)

(car accident & death tw) so u know when ur walking down a flight of stairs n then out of nowhere u miss a step n u get that lurch in ur stomach like ur in free fall? yeah. i won’t go into it too much but one night they were driving back from getting frozen yogurt and then suddenly they weren’t. she doesn’t rly remember much about it except for completely ignoring the doctors trying to give her the news and just saying “dad chose pecan. who chooses pecan?” n repeating that over n over n over until it didn’t rly register in her ears as english any more.

willa was uprooted from irving at 11 to go n live w her aunt in NY. this was like. a huge adjustment honestly….. her aunt blanche hd always been a little unconventional bt extremely glamorous. she lived in an old defunct theatre she’d bought out n came from a lot of money. willa’s mum’s side of the family hd always been well off bt celeste opted to live a little more Ordinarily shall we say after settling whereas blanche ws jst balls to the walls dripping w eccentric excess…. wld say she was never naked bc she ws always wearing black opium by yves saint laurent…… probably the living embodiment of la vie boheme….. she’d been admitted a yr early to a rly prestigious parisian design school n is an AMAZING seamstress. a corset she stitched a broadway star into got commissioned fr an actress’ red carpet walk at an indie film festival. rly just lived such a life rich w lots of stories n lots of talent too…… had that star quality essence tht her mum had n that was smthn willa found quite comforting everything considered.

(grief tw) u would think maybe a situation like this (one involving so much sudden change) wld cause a kid of tht age to withdraw into her shell bt willa only came out of her shell MORE. she coped w her situation by spinning it into a celebrity origin story inside her head. the tear jerker tale someone tells during their x factor audition to get the judges rooting for them. mentally streamlining things. repackaging all that hurt as a surefire ticket to success bc it had to be useful for something right? there had to b a point to it right? willa decided the point was she’s a star. KFHSGKFHGFKHGKJSFHG. get it girl….. she ws literally just like ok well clearly i’m destined to be famous n i’m the main character of this story. this story called earth. it’s all about me.

rly heavily immersed herself in her high skl theatre scene……. loved experimenting w fashion n literally wore the most outlandish things like. she treated the hallways like her milan f/w debut every new school yr…… a lot of the things she wore were actual like. costumes frm her aunt’s collection…… she has a multi-story closet u have to climb ladders to reach things in like a very rustic library…. it rly wasn’t uncommon for willa to turn up one day corsetted like a pirate with billowing sleeves or sporting the baby blue gingham of a swedish milk maid. it’s like she literally jst…… became a role. always. every day. the world ws her stage. the cameras were always rolling. her aunt only encouraged this tbh n honestly? icon. we love to see it. willa partied a bunch n rly lived a lax lifestyle where responsibility was concerned…. her aunt ws her best friend…… made rly gd friends with performers in the drag club scene n loved the glitz of that….. lots of wild nights turned grossly bright mornings

snagged an agent fresh into her first yr of college (she gt accepted to a pretty competitive theatre program at [redacted] in NY bc i haven’t looked into what that wld be yet <3 i’m merely a helpless british lass <3) n booked a few commercials n things….. when i say willa wld enter audition rooms like she owned the place i’m rly not exaggerating…. once she turned up to a casting call for MEN n just walked right to the front of the line scraping a random chair along the way n then took a seat w her legs crossed popping a bubble in her gum as they all glared at her like wtf is literally going on who are u. she received several complaints n she was just like “ur all acting so jealous of me….”

i feel like she got a pretty big role in a theatre production in her last yr at school. haven’t decided what yet. maybe smthn rocky horror or even mimi in rent. this was meant to b some like huge moment for willa like yes girl finally making it ur on ur way this is what u wanted n she WAS happy abt it but once it was wrapped she jst had this strange like Huh feeling in her chest……. n a la celeste w all her exciting stories was just like well i’ve done that so what’s next? i think she’d graduate n then jst suddenly decide to move to irving in a fit of impulse. to all her college friends she’d be like “ugh a beach retreat is so necessary honestly the city is sooooooooo toxic this place cld literally enlarge my pores if i wasn’t so rigorous with my skincare routine” bt like 🤔 what u seeking girl? results pending.

SO basically i feel like she finally moved back to irving little over a yr ago. she hd a brief stint starring on a reality tv show tht filmed in one of the larger beach houses where her dog gained a handful of fan accounts dedicated to him……. u maybe will see why in the first bullet point of her personality section………… FKGHKSHFGGKFSHKHG. honestly she ws received pretty well too (mostly bc she’s so fking dramatic n like a caricature of a person) bt it wasn’t anything to warrant actual Fame (despite what willa herself might think). she’s mostly jst like. chilling honestly. accepting scripts n flying out fr auditions still. she’ll nab the occasional part bt she’s looking for that One Thing that rly feels like her big moment….. otherwise i cn just imagine her treating irving like a little dollhouse compared to the roaring mansion of NYC n having fun playing around in it. strikes a pose w a hand on my hip…. and now to personality.

PERSONALITY:

got a very large n lithe greyhound n named him marlene dietrich bc she was a black n white hollywood starlet famously known for her affairs n “bedroom eyes”. willa was like ugh. icon status instantly. didn’t rly foresee the responsibilities tht came w owning a dog tht loves exercise n complains abt him being like “ugh he wants to run soooooooooo much 🙄 like where are u literally going”. having said tht loves him dearly n he can often be seen wearing little clothes. a baby’s bonnet. a quilted leather waistcoat. a custom dog boa. he’s very glamorous. willa calls him a gay icon despite no evidence to support this theory. she also says he can sniff out evil in ppl so she brings him sometimes when she’s first introduced to a friend’s new bf n if his nose quivers a certain way she’s like “marlene has spoken. it’s done”. her friends r like omg? what’s done? willa gets up n walks away without elaborating. marlene’s little paws clicking along the floor w attitude.

literally dressed as marie antoinette for her high skl prom even tho there was no theme pertaining to this. jst loves the spotlight. can fake cry and WILL to get out of a parking ticket or teach someone to watch their tone or even simply for the theatrics of it all. the Most dramatic………….. rly fits being an actress like when people find out what she does it’s very like oh that makes sense.

says she doesn’t get hangovers. she’s just like “i revoked that it doesn’t happen to me”. alludes tht this is bc she’s an all powerful deity that was Chosen to be Blessed bt really she’s jst great at bouncing back n acting fine even w a blistering headache. it’s about believing the performance so much that u even convince urself.

has an extremely elevated sense of self importance bc this is kind of the equivalent of several layers of bubble wrap to cushion her frm the world. strives to b extraordinary bc ordinary honestly feels like a death sentence n there’s nothing she’d want to b seen as less. despite this weight she puts on that she rly doesn’t tend to let ppl’s opinions affect fr the most part like she’s quite firmly set in this I’m Literally The Most Gorgeous And Beautiful Angel Star Creature To Walk This Narsty Little Earth view

probably an incredibly big fan of dramatic short lived love affairs. she wants the glamour of it all. the scandal. the randomly breaking up w someone in a public place n sliding on sunglasses after delivering the words over a freshly ordered coffee (tht she’ll leave without drinking bc that’s star power babey she waits fr no man or no hot beverage)…….. has no preference gets w any n all regardless of gender……… romanticises things so they hv a better spin or story in her head n doesn’t rly take things seriously like jst has fun in her fantasy world…. she’s like ugh chuck i know u wanted to marry me but i’m a beautiful bird in a cage n u literally need to undo the latch n set me free……. the guy’s like……. my name’s chase n we’ve only been on two dates….. willa’s like…… please don’t take this so hard i can tell ur besides urself but people r starting to stare……. gets up n leaves. no-one was staring. chase is confused n honestly probably semi concerned fr her welfare.

always has to b the hottest n most glamorous person in a grocery store…. probably goes to them when she doesn’t even need anything jst holding a basket nonchalantly over her forearm glancing over at a cashier in her wizard of oz corset seamed interpretation on a dorothy dress thinking he wants me soooo bad it’s not even funny….. seduces him over the check out counter jst for him to ask her to come back to his so she can lean back scandalised n cry “IS THAT THE KIND OF WOMAN U THINK I AM, PAUL?! YOU’RE A GHASTLY LITTLE MAN, YOU ARE….” with all the gusto of a telenovela. attracts the shocked glances of all surrounding elderly.

speaks fluent french. probably on her brief stint on tht reality show i mentioned earlier was like “ugh can you believe Deneurve of this guy?” n in her head was like this catchphrase is sensational it’ll catch on fast the twittersphere is abt to implode but it didn’t become a thing except for in a small isolated community. despite this she’s like “yeah it went viral….. go figure. just another day in the life.”

honestly like a lot of fun bt also a huge handful at the same time. keeps her real Serious emotions in a locked box bt is always overflowing w melodramatics n rly giving her all at the drop of a hat where Performing is concerned. probably Loves parties n sees them as another form of production in which she wants to b the lead. rly just. loves herself. except does she? 🤔 lifts my hand up like rihanna n winks. find out next time. lucky by britney plays as i slowly disintegrate in spiderman rp…..

WANTED CONNECTIONS

unrequited flame: willa burns thru people like matches. bright n fast. honestly i feel like she struggles to take romance seriously so it cld be fun to play around with someone who’s been singed by that in the past…. mayb they hd actual feelings whereas willa was just messing around n having fun…. living la vida loca so to speak…….. we can discuss a time frame or specifics to expand upon this but. sexy angst perhaps.

those she knew from childhood: willa moved to NY at 11 n i feel like it was very sudden n soon after the accident. maybe she didn’t even say goodbye. maybe they were rly close n all of a sudden she didn’t show up to school the next day n when they rode past her house on their bike the sign said sold and that was that. honestly very dramatic of her even at a young age. we love a disappearing act. houdini who?

acting rival: honestly jst feel like this cld be funny. willa’s so dramatic she’d be like i literally want them dead they’re a despicable little gremlin fr trying to steal my spotlight. cld be as simple as having auditioned a few times fr the same parts or something.

childhood sweetheart: i think it cld be rly cute n sad if there was someone that kind of echoed the dynamic her mum n dad had except she was the celeste n they were the marlon…. (open to any gender)…….. so like. willa was always very larger than life commanding attention in a room n they were more to the sidelines but they just kind of got each other n brought out the best in one another. added angst to the fact tht willa wld maybe want to avoid them as much as possible now bc it dredges up feelings she doesn’t want to confront where her parents r concerned n also in a way any possibility of them winding up together feels like sellotaping an expiration date to both of their foreheads in willa’s brain

someone who was either a fan of or also on the reality show willa was: i imagine it like a reinvention of the hills honestly except based in these irving beach houses…. probably didn’t run that long bt there was a bunch of drama on it mostly staged…… maybe they were willa’s love interest bt it was all fake fr the cameras…… it wasn’t like. a huge deal n didn’t rly catch flight so much where popularity’s concerned bt. cld be fun to play with <3

patti frands: jogs in high knees to translate that into party friends as i adjust my spectacles. willa’s very sociable bt she’s also like kind of full of herself n obnoxious so do with that what u will. KFHGKSHGKGHFSKG. she knows hw to have a gd time tho like growing up she was rly into the gay club scene n the drag scene in NY so like. let’s hear it fr the gays who know how to do it right <3

someone equally over the top: i luv the idea of willa having someone who just like runs with made up scenarios n roles she makes up on the spot n them hanging out is like a 24/7 improv session tht they reel random surrounding strangers just fr the fun thrill

the other woman: willa is quite detached n selfish so she wld easily be the other woman in a relationship n not care about it n this cld make for good spice <3

[searchingwardrobes]

The Convenient Groom: 11/14

I'm back! I know it's been a month, but I had things in real life that required my attention. To make it up to you, I give you about 4,700 words that I adore. I hope it was worth the wait! I also have the next chapter half written, so hopefully I can get that to you much sooner.

Summary: Killian Jones just happens to be there when Emma Swan gets the phone call that changes everything: her fiance is leaving her at the altar. The thing is, it could also mean the end of her career. Convenient that Killian has nothing better to do that day. Convenient that he’s secretly in love with her. Not that Emma has to know that. Written for @spartanguard​ .

Rating: M

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells​​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​​​ @kmomof4​​​ @let-it-raines​​ @teamhook​​​ @bethacaciakay​​​ @xhookswenchx​​​ @tiganasummertree​​ @shireness-says​​​ @stahlop​​​ @scientificapricot​​​ @welllpthisishappening​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​​ @thislassishooked​​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​ @kday426​​​ @ekr032-blog-blog​​​ @lfh1226-linda​​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​ @nikkiemms​​ @distant-rose @optomisticgirl​​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​ @carpedzem​​ @ohmakemeahercules​​​ @branlovestowrite​​ @superchocovian​​ @sherlockianwhovian​​​ @vvbooklady1256​​ @hollyethecurious​​​ @winterbaby89​​​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​​ @jennjenn615​​ @snidgetsafan​

Killian Jones really needed to stop giving Emma more reasons to find him adorable and sexy. Like playing blocks with two year old Leo in the middle of the Nolan’s living room.

“Wow, lad! This is a super tall tower! Do you think we can add this last block?”

He was on his stomach, guiding Leo’s hand ever so carefully to add one last wooden block to their creation. Killian scooted up on his knees and grinned at the toddler.

“Now are you ready for the best part?”

Leo bent his knees and did a funny little bounce with his bottom sticking out. His grin was wide and his eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Okay,” Killian said, putting an exaggerated tough expression on his face, “ready to dinosaur stomp?”

Killian swung his arms a bit and “stomped” on his knees while growling. Leo did the same, scrunching his face up adorably as he growled. Then both of them let out a loud roar, and Leo swung his arms at the block tower, knocking it over with a satisfying crash. Killian cheered for the boy, and Leo grinned broadly as he launched himself at his “Uncle Killy.” Killian caught him, but fell backwards as if Leo was too strong for him.

“Oh no, it’s the tickle-saurus-rex!”

Liam’s giggles were so infectious, Emma found herself laughing too as he attempted to tickle Killian. She left the couch to join them, helping the toddler to tickle Killian.

“Not fair!” Killian gasped between bouts of laughter. “The giganta-saurus can’t help the tickle-saurus!”

“Hey!” Emma retorted. “Watch who you're calling gigantic.”

“You gi-unt. Leo wi-tul,” the two year old explained, jabbing Emma with a pudgy finger.

“I guess you’re right, Leo. You’re little, and I’m giant.”

Killian shrugged from his spot on the floor. His hair was a mess, and it was way sexier than it had a right to be.

“You can’t argue with the boy’s logic, can you, Swan?”

“Alright kids,” David teased from the dining room, “it’s time to eat.”

Emma scooped Leo up as she stood and balanced him on her hip. Killian stood, groaning as he did. Emma laughed at him.

“Feeling your age, old man?”

“Maybe,” Killian groaned, rubbing at his lower back.

Emma reached out to fix his disheveled hair. She couldn’t help herself. Besides, he didn’t want to look ridiculous in front of his old friends. Right?

“Thanks, love,” he told her softly.

Emma paused with her fingers just behind his ear. “No problem.”

“Hurry over here before the fish gets cold,” Mary Margaret called out.

Emma yanked her hand away, and Killina cleared his throat awkwardly. Mary Margaret gave Emma a look she couldn’t quite read as she approached the table. She deposited Leo in his booster seat, chatting with the little boy so she wouldn’t have to face whatever look Mary Margaret was leveling at her.

They all settled around the table, passing around food and chatting amicably. David had grilled some striped bass he had caught just that morning, and Emma held back a moan at how delicious it was. The fresh fish around here was one of the perks she had grown to love. She had never had anything like this in Manhattan.

As usual, she and Killian had to keep up appearances, so Killian’s hand would every so often land on her knee, or he would press a kiss to her cheek. When the plates were all clean, and they were simply enjoying the conversation, Killian leaned back and slung his arm around the back of Emma’s chair. He doled out casual affection so readily in a fake relationship, she wondered how attentive he would be in a real one.

“So,” Mary Margaret said as she hoisted Leo out of his booster seat, “when did Walsh leave you high and dry?”

Emma’s mouth dropped open, sure she had heard her friend wrong. Mary Margaret just waited for an answer while she wiped Leo’s face and hands with a baby wipe.

“Please tell me he at least gave you 24 hours,” added David.

Killian’s arm dropped away from her shoulder with a thud as he exchanged a shocked glance with her. Emma blinked rapidly, hardly able to process the turn the conversation had taken.

“I’m sorry. Who?”

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes. “You two don’t have to fake it with us. We know Walsh was your fiance, Emma. This building is old, the loft is right upstairs, and the walls are thin.”

David eyed them both as he crossed his arms over his chest. “So what’s going on?” Emma and Killian both released long sighs.

“Look, I was at Killian’s shop checking on the wedding arbor when Walsh called and dumped me.”

Mary Margaret gasped. “The day of the wedding?”

Emma nodded, then glanced at Killian again with an expression that said help!

“So, uh,” Killian began to explain, “I sort of . . . offered to stand in.”

“So this is a fake marriage?” David’s eyebrows arched.

“No!”

“Yes!”

Emma shook her head at Killian, and he ducked his head and scratched behind his ear. She had to tell him to quit doing that. Surely she wasn’t the only one who had figured out it was his nervous tick.

“What Killian means is, yes it’s a real marriage in that the wedding was real and there’s a marriage certificate and everything. It’s legal.”

“But,” Killian clarified, his face already turning red, “Emma means that we haven’t . . . that is to say it isn’t . . . “

“Consummated?” Mary Margaret asked.

Emma choked on the sip of water she had just taken. Killian’s face turned positively crimson.

“So that’s a no, thank God,” David muttered.

“Excuse me?” Killian blurted.

“You’re not my dad,” Emma muttered.

“David, seriously,” Mary Margaret scolded.

David lifted both hands in defense. “I just want to be sure Killian isn’t taking advantage of the situation.”

“I didn’t pimp myself out to him, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Emma snapped.

“Nobody is saying that,” Mary Margaret assured her.

“I would never assume . . . “ Killian stuttered, “I mean . . . “

His face might remain red for the rest of his life.

“David,” Mary Margaret announced decisively, “take Leo in the living room. Emma’s gonna help me with the dishes.”

“But -” David protested even as his wife thrust the toddler into his arms. Mary Margaret gave him a look, and he sighed and rose from the table.

“Killian?” Mary Margaret asked pointedly.

“Yes ma'am,” Killian told her, hanging his head and following quickly after Davd.

Emma laughed. “You use that teacher voice well.”

Mary Margaret shrugged as she started gathering plates. “Whatever works on third graders also works on men is what I’ve found.”

Emma helped her clear the table and take everything into the kitchen. The building was old, and except for the third floor loft apartment Emma had rented, it was the opposite of an open floor plan. She and Mary Margaret were tucked away from the men where they couldn’t overhear their conversation. Oh, Mary Margaret was good.

“Okay, spill it. Why did Killian Jones agree to marry you at the last minute?’

She also wasn’t subtle.

Emma avoided her gaze as she ran the hot water and squirted soap on the pile of dishes. “I don’t know. He said he hoped I could help his brother and his wife with some marriage issues.”

Mary Margaret snorted. “And you believed that?”

Emma scowled at her, but when Mary Margaret gave her a pointed look she sighed. “Killian honestly confuses me. I thought he was inconsiderate when he was just the carpenter downstairs blaring loud rock music. When he was making my arbor, I thought he was nothing but a shameless flirt. But now . . . I don’t know what to make of him.”

Mary Margaret tilted her head, regarding Emma in a way that made her blush. She looked quickly down into the sudsy water and started scrubbing at a saucepan.

“Are you falling for him?”

“You two really need a dishwasher,” Emma grumbled, scrubbing harder.

“Don’t change the subject.”

Emma looked up at her friend in frustration, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. “We have an agreement, okay? Nothing more. We fake this marriage for a year, then we part ways. Killian even says I can spin it in my favor.”

Mary Margaret frowned. “You mean paint him as the bad guy? Emma, that’s awful!”

“I’m not saying that’s what I’m going to do! I’m just saying that we went into this agreeing to no strings, know what I mean?”

Mary Margaret took the clean saucepan and began to dry it with a dishcloth. She said nothing as Emma started washing the plates, but Emma could tell something was bothering her.

“Spit it out,” she finally groaned.

“I don’t want to see my friend get hurt,” Mary Margaret admitted after a beat of silence.

“I won’t.”

“I wasn’t talking about you.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “It was his idea.”

Mary Margaret put down the dish she was drying and turned Emma to face her, ignoring the sudsy water dripping from Emma’s hands and onto the floor. She cupped Emma’s face in her hands.

“Why do you think he offered, Emma? You can’t be that oblivious, you're too smart for that.”

Emma blinked and sucked in a sharp breath. Mary Margaret couldn’t mean that Killian had serious feelings for her. Could she? Sure, the man could kiss, and he had come to be an actual friend she could talk to, but that didn’t mean he lov - had feelings for her.

Emma shrugged Mary Margaret off and turned resolutely back to the dishes.

“We’re being careful.”

“I don’t see how you can be,” Mary Margaret muttered, “living together, pretending to be married, and all those little touches he was giving you tonight.”

“We had to keep up appearances. We didn’t know you had figured it out.”

Mary Margaret kept talking, ignoring Emma’s explanation. “I’ve also just never seen him this happy.”

Emma dropped a handful of silverware into the sink with a splash. She recovered her composure quickly and fished them back out of the water.

“I think you’re exaggerating.”

“You didn’t see him after Milah died. He was a mess. He sold the house they had been renovating for way less than he should have, bought that little cabin from Liam, then shut himself away. Then he started drinking too much. If it hadn’t been for Liam and David, I don’t know what might have happened.”

Mary Margaret’s words caused Emma to freeze, a sudsy plate in her hand, dripping water all over her jeans. What the hell had she gotten herself into? Mary Margaret pried the plate from her hand silently and started to dry it.

“I’m not trying to break his heart,” Emma whispered.

Mary Margaret looked at her gently. “I know that. I also know he’s a grown man who did this of his own free will. I guess I just can’t help worrying.”

“You’re a good friend.”

“I’m your friend too, Emma, so can I give you a little advice?”

Emma bit her bottom lip, the answer “no” on the tip of her tongue, but she finally found she couldn’t resist Mary Margaret’s earnest expression. “Fine, bring it on,” she answered with a teasing smile. “I don’t want anyone to say I can dish it out but can’t take it.”

“I know Walsh hurt you, and it may seem like building a wall around your heart is the wise thing to do. And that wall of yours might keep pain out, but it will keep love out, too. Just . . . open your eyes when it comes to Killian?”

Emma swallowed nervously as she turned quickly back to the dishes in the sink. She never did tell Mary Margaret yes or no.

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

“So how long have you been in love with Emma?”

David Nolan was many things. Subtle was not one of them.

Killian groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “Is it that obvious?”

“You standing up in a tux sure was. Why else would you do this?”

“I’m a nice guy?”

David laughed. “No one’s that nice.”

Muppet Babies was playing on the tv to keep Leo occupied, and the two year old giggled at something Gonzo said. He shifted on David’s lap, and Killian noticed the boy’s eyelids drooping. David brushed a kiss across the child’s blonde hair, and Killian’s heart clenched as he looked away. The words Emma had him repeat - “it wasn’t my fault” - replayed in his mind. Yet he also realized that he wanted what David had more than he had been willing to admit. For the first time, hope for the future flickered within his heart instead of regret for the past.

“Seriously, though,” Killian told his friend, “I didn’t want to see her hurt and humiliated. Not to mention what it would have done to her career.”

David turned away from the dancing Muppets to level Killian with a look that he had seen before. David had given it to him every time he had tried to hide away or drink himself into oblivion after Milah died. Every time he lied and said “I’m fine,” David would give him that look. The look that basically said he wasn’t buying Killian’s shit.

“And you had absolutely no hopes for anything more?”

Killian rubbed wearily at his temple before answering. “I confess I hoped we might get . . . closer, but don’t forget, she was left at the altar. I have to proceed with caution.”

Leo had fallen asleep the way only children can - with no preamble. He was limp in David’s arms, his neck bent at an angle that no adult would be able to endure. Somehow, he was already sweaty. David moved with agonizing slowness to grab the remote and mute the cartoon. Then he turned to Killian with a serious expression on his face.

“Are you prepared for her to leave when this is all over?”

The thought kept him up at night, especially now that Emma shared his bed. He had to admit, he was falling harder every day. And yet . . . He met David’s gaze with resolve in his eyes.

“When I win her heart, it won’t be through any trickery or manipulation. It won’t be because I’m convenient. It will be because she wants me. If she doesn’t, I want her to walk away. All I want is her happiness. I mean that, David.”

His friend nodded. “That’s all I want too. For both of you.”

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

Killian sat in the audience of The Tiana Show, sticking out like a sore thumb. Every other audience member was a woman.

He was amazed as well to see how small the stage was. On tv, it looked much bigger.

Not that he regularly watched The Tiana Show. He had little interest in “swoon worthy” male celebrities, fashion trends, or segments on “how to feel confident choosing a gynecologist.” He had only suffered through a handful of episodes with Emma while she prepped to be a guest.

The stage still looked bigger on tv.

Tiana herself came out on stage for a sound check and a walk through of her marks for the different segments. The crowd cheered, and she waved. She saw Killian, and her face brightened as she rushed over.

“I am so glad you could join us, Mr. Jones,” she told him, giving him a firm handshake.

“I’m happy to be here,” he told her. And he was. Emma was successful, smart, and cared deeply about her clients. She deserved all of the recognition she could get. “But call me Killian, please.”

“Okay, Killian. Did my team prep you on where the cameras would be?”

“Yes, and they made it clear I wasn’t to look at them.”

Tiana pointed a finger at him, “You might just be made for tv, Killian. God knows the camera loves you!”

Killian, unsure what to say, just chuckled nervously as he scratched behind his ear. Tiana winked at him, then returned to the stage where she would give her opening monologue. She addressed the studio audience, getting them pumped up to applaud before they went live.

Killian didn’t pay much attention to her monologue or the cooking segment that had something to do with a new diet fad. Finally they went to another commercial break, and Tiana moved to the other side of the stage where her interview couch was set up. She winked at Killian as she got settled. He assumed it was a “are you ready for this, proud hubby?” kind of wink and not a flirtatious wink.

“And we’re back from commercial in 3, 2 . . .”

“Alright, ladies,” Tiana announced, “are you ready for some tough love in the relationship department?”

The audience clapped and cheered loudly as they had been prepped to do during the commercial break.

“That’s what I thought! Well, today I’ve got a fantastic guest for you. She’s the author of the best seller Seriously, Ladies? , and is releasing tomorrow her new book Ladies, It’s Not Just About the Wedding. She’s got five hundred thousand followers on Instagram, and her videos on YouTube have hits in the millions. Ladies, give it up for relationship expert Dr. Emma Swan!”

The audience applauded, and Killian joined in enthusiastically. Emma smiled at the audience, and gave a little wave. He was probably the only one who knew this wasn’t her favorite part of her job, and he only knew because he’d been living with her for two months.

“Thank you for being here,” Tiana said to Emma as soon as the crowd quieted.

“I’m happy to be here.”

“We’re going to get to your new book in a moment, but first I have to ask you: how is marriage? It’s been two months, right?”

“Yes,” Emma answered, her smile widening as she caught Killian’s eye, “and I have to say it’s been an incredible two months.”

There were “awes” from the audience, and Killian knew there must be cameras on him. He blocked that out, though, and just kept his gaze on Emma. He didn’t have to fake his smile, though. Looking at Emma always made him smile. She looked especially beautiful today, her glorious blonde hair curled and pinned to one side with a gold barrette. She wore a bold, dark floral dress with a flared skirt. Simple gold bangles on one wrist were her only jewelry. He was seriously lucky to be married to this woman, even if it was only for a year. Who wouldn’t want to be her cheering section?

“Well everyone on social media loves him already.” Tiana gestured to a screen above them where Instagram and Twitter comments appeared. “Right here, lovestruck84 says If I can get man candy like that following Emma Swan’s advice, take my credit card, Swan! darcywaitsforme says Where’s Emma Swan been for the past two months? Are you kidding me? If I married a guy who looks like that, I’d disappear for two YEARs. But I think my favorite is hearteyes4ever91.”

The audience laughed as that particular Instagram comment filled the large screen. Killian had started blushing from the get go, but now his face burned even hotter.

“If you can’t see this in the back,” Tiana laughed, “it’s just a row of drooling emojis.”

When the audience quieted, Emma responded with poise. “Yes, he is handsome, and I am a lucky woman. But I hope everyone realizes that good looks isn’t what makes a man a great catch. That’s one of the things I address in my new book.”

“Yes,” Tiana agreed, “I was so impressed with your book. I was highlighting like a mad woman. It’s interesting that you wrote it before your wedding. Do you find yourself wanting to change anything now that you’ve settled down?”

“No, not at all. Many of the principles of dating apply to marriage as well. Any relationship requires work, communication, care, and respect.”

“Can you give us an example of that within your own marriage?”

Emma’s gaze turned to Killian again, and the tenderness in it took his breath away. He had no idea what she was going to share, but the look she gave him told him he had nothing to worry about.

“Everyone’s been going on and on about how handsome Killian is, but they should have seen the way he took care of me when I was sick a couple of weeks ago.” The audience once again melted with a collective awww. Emma pulled her eyes away from Killian’s and back to Tiana. “And believe me, I was not looking sexy one bit, nor was I the nicest patient. Marriage means seeing each other at your worst, so don’t say I do to a man who isn’t willing to hold your hair back while you puke.”

The audience laughed, and Tiana nodded. “Wise words.” Then she looked straight into the main camera. “And when we come back, we’ll hear more from Emma Swan as she fields questions from our studio audience.”

Tiana and Emma both relaxed a little on the couch and chatted in soft voices. A producer came out and explained to the audience how the Q & A would go. It would look like Tiana was choosing people at random, but they had actually been chosen ahead of time. The producer reminded those women not to change their questions and made sure Tiana knew where they were sitting. Emma, however, had no knowledge of what the questions would be, and he could see the worry lines on her face. When she caught his eye he winked at her. She rolled her eyes in response, but now she was smiling.

“And we’re back from commercial in 3, 2 . . . “

“Welcome back to the Tiana Show, everyone,” Tiana said, her relaxed posture replaced by one that was ramrod straight and bordered on regal. “Today we have Dr. Emma Swan, relationship expert, to talk about marriage. Emma, before we get to our Q & A portion, I’ve been dying to know: what exactly made you leave New York City. Was it just love for a certain carpenter?”

Emma smiled graciously. “Storybrook is where Killian’s family lives, but he’s very supportive of my career. He would never ask me to move if it wasn’t right. No, the real reason I moved is because I wasn’t satisfied in New York. I mean, I love the city, but my career there just wasn’t what I had set out to do.”

“How so?”

“Well, it got to the point that the only people who could afford my therapy were the super wealthy. I was seeing celebrities, socialites, politicians. I was giving advice to my followers online, but I still sort of felt like a fraud. I keep my past private, but I will share this: I didn’t grow up with a lot. By moving to Storybrooke, I can live more simply and have a smaller, less visible clientele.”

The audience applauded, and Killian joined them. He knew Emma was being one hundred percent genuine. She had told him the same thing before. He also suspected that Walsh hadn’t been completely on board with the move to Storybrooke.

“That’s beautiful, Emma,” Tiana said, reaching out to grasp her guest by the hand. By the tears glistening in the woman’s brown eyes, Killian sensed she was genuine as well.

“I’m not trying to be a savior or anything,” Emma laughed. She shrugged. “I just want to make a difference as much as I can.”

“Shouldn’t we all? Now, the moment our studio audience has been eager for! Are you ladies ready to get some free advice today?”

The audience responded with loud cheers. Tiana asked them to raise their hands if they had a marital problem they wanted Emma’s help with. Tiana’s show wasn’t shock tv, so Killian assumed the questions would be common ones and fairly innocuous. Nevertheless, Emma had expressed to him her nerves about this part. He found her gaze again and gave her an encouraging nod. Soon, the first woman was speaking into a microphone.

“Hi,” the dark haired woman said timidly, “I’ve been married for two years, and I had a question about some advice my mom gave me.”

“Okay,” Emma said calmly, nodding at the woman to continue.

“Well, she always tells me not to nag my husband, but it’s really hard. We both work, so we divided up the chores, but he always waits until the garbage is overflowing to take it out. It drives me crazy! How can I get him to take it out if I’m not supposed to nag?”

Emma nodded her head, her face neutral. Killian had never seen her do therapy, of course, but this gave him a tiny window into her professional life. She was giving this woman her full attention, with no trace of judgment or even humor on her face.

“First of all,” Emma began, “no offense to your mother, but this is one of those long held pieces of marriage advice that can be really harmful. I mean, it’s kind of sexist if you think about it. Do you ever hear people telling men not to nag?”

There was a ripple of laughter through the audience, and Killian smiled. They were hanging on her every word.

“I think we need to define the word nag. If you mean constantly yelling at someone or constantly reminding them of their failures, then yeah, you shouldn’t nag. No one wants to be talked to that way - not a friend, not a coworker, not a child with their parents. Unfortunately, so many women have taken this advice to mean you should never ask your husband to do anything or remind him of things or express your feelings. That is very dangerous because a relationship can’t work if you aren’t able to communicate your wants, needs, and feelings.”

“So how do I get him to take out the garbage?” the woman asked, and the audience laughed.

Emma smiled. “Well, first you have to tell him that it’s bugging you. He may have no idea that it bothers you. Have you told him?”

The woman wrinkled her nose sheepishly. “Um, no.”

“Then start there. He may think it’s totally fine to wait until things are falling on the floor to take it out. It may never have occurred to him that it bothers you. That actually may solve the whole issue.”

The audience clapped and the woman sat down with a smile on her face. Tiana looked at Emma and tilted her head.

“Now I know men. What if her sorry husband just keeps on being lazy with the trash? I know my boyfriend just keeps cramming stuff in there, and I’m like do you not see stuff falling all over the floor? Am I right, ladies?”

Emma chuckled. “I never said communication would fix your partner. The important thing is that you are open with your feelings. Another part of strong relationships is having patience with one another’s flaws and accepting the person just as they are.”

“So who’s the messy one in your house, Emma?”

Emma’s cheeks flushed as she glanced at Killian, then she stared at her hands in her lap and chewed on her bottom lip. Tiana threw her head back and laughed.

“Oh I see how it is,” the hostess quipped, then she turned to Killian. “Mr. Jones, who’s the messy one?”

If there was one thing Killian knew how to do, it was turn on the charm. He cocked an eyebrow and flashed a lopsided grin.

“Well, Tiana, let’s just say I will happily pick up Emma’s shoes and wet towels for as long as we both shall live.”

Another chorus of awww swelled through the studio audience as Killian winked at his wife. His bloody brilliant, amazing wife.

[ythmir-writes]

onee-sama, If you could, will you write about the midcin suitors and their swords, pretty please? :) I've been seeing plenty of amazing weapons on my dash and I thought of you hehe. Stay safe and stay healthy too!

a/n: imouto – you are asking me??? to write about swords?? Ahaha! Ahahahahaahahh –  yes

do i love weapons? yes. have i been heavily influenced by growing up and seeing amazing weapons in games and anime? absolutely. did i research this? somewhat. do i have absolutely any idea how to describe swords in a fantastical way? i tried. 

any discrepancies as to timeline, i ask you dearest reader to indulge. the term sword is a broad term used to refer to all bladed weapons which are longer than knives. To properly describe a sword, one must look at the historical epoch, the region, and the intended use. Its precise definition thus may appropriately vary.

With all that done, I think we can begin.

Midnight Cinderella Suitors and the Swords they chose (or think they did)

Alyn Crawford has carried many swords to battle, but he favors a double-edged pallasch, grooved and ridged on both faces. It is a practical thing, resilient and heavy in his hands, bare of any decorations save his own Captain’s crest – the snarling mouth of a long-eared dog – carved on the knuckle guard, and twin droplets of rubies at the base of the blade.

Alyn received the sword as a gift from the Wysterian King on the eve of his acceptance into the Royal Guard select. Alyn remembers there had been no moon that night. He does not remember if the King had ever looked so sorrowful.

He carries it with him wherever he goes, sheathed, polished, and sharp, as a knight’s weapon is expected to be, ready to be drawn and used at a moment’s notice. The gleam of the silver blade does not give away its age, how many battles it has triumphed through, how much blood has been cleaned from it.

Alyn has named his sword Excidium, and tries very hard not to roar alongside it during war.

Leo Crawford similarly favors the practical and resilient sword, and carries an estoc. Much like his twin’s, Leo’s sword is bare of any decoration, save for red flames engraved and crisscrossing on the dull grey blade, from base to tip, and the Crawford crest of a bird in flight drawn on the leather wrapped around the hilt.

But unlike his twin, Leo prefers to leave space for some ingenuity. At the center of the blade is a smooth and edgeless portion that allows him to grip the weapon with his other hand to deliver a more powerful blow, or a more poignant point, thrusting and piercing into armor with relative ease and the quiet simmering rage he is careful to never display.

Leo has taken care of this sword since he was twelve. A relic, he would describe it, if he was flustered; a nightmare, if he was about to be damned. He carries it with him when he takes long and winding walks, whenever he visits the Crawford estate, and on days he thinks it would rain.

Leo will never say he has named it Ignis, after the embers stretched out in the sky on the night he had dug it from their parents’ grave. Nor will he ever say that whenever he wields it, he could, ever so faintly, hear their voices whispering to him again.

Louis Howard has never been one to participate in any degree of violence but a Duke must carry a sword, if not for practical purposes then at least, something decorative. It took a long time for Louis to truly choose a sword – until it was too little, too late.

The walloon he carries with him was not chosen so much as the only thing back then nearest to him that he could grip with his one functioning hand, to try to defend the one person he loved the most. And from then on, he had turned to it over and over again.

It is a beautiful thing, with a polished iron guard that had punched holes in the shape of flowers, and a blade the color of the sky that glowed whenever Louis held it, and sang whenever it cut through air. Louis tries not to relish how the sword is like an extension of his arm now, that he has never been seen without it, and that he sometimes stares at it transfixed through the night.

Louis has named his sword Agonist. But Louis really need not struggle, need not resist. He only need carry it with him always – or risk losing a loved one again.

Giles Christophe’s affinity with swords had always been in his blood, in his name, in his soul – so when he had been unceremoniously disinherited by his family without having been bequeathed a weapon, Giles threw everything he had into making his own.

His schiavona is an intricate thing. Forged to be slightly lighter than most to suit his needs, and with a sharper double-edged blade and pointier tip to make up for what he does not have. The guard is a dizzying and complex black metal work in the shape of an unfurled wing, formed by thin strips bending and curving around the hilt and enclosing most of his hand. One might even notice the distinctly shaped cat’s-head pommel – if they were lucky enough to get a close look. But who can really say?

Giles rarely carries his sword with him as his duties as Chamberlain require only his wit as a weapon. Many people are thankful for this, because it never bode well for anyone when Giles appears wielding his stark black blade.

Giles has named his sword Vindicta. He longs for the day when he could finally carry it without shame. He has not had enough of its screaming.

Sid carries a claymore, a daunting thing, with a long, straight, and broad double-edged blade, serrated at the tip, that would have made anyone else look gangly while wielding it. The angled guard made the hilt take the shape of a cross, and it is encrusted with multiple sapphires on both ends which glinted like the All-Seeing Eyes of old.

But do not mention this as Sid has never been one for superstition. The sapphires were there as pawn pieces, he would maintain, not because he they had been the first thing that caught his attention when he won them in a card game, not because he had always been able to predict a blow coming from behind. Not because, and this he would adamantly insist, the Eyes help him see.

Sid never walks the streets without his sword and makes a point to brandish it whenever conducting his business. Sheathed, if he was feeling charitable; through a body part, if not. A dark blue weapon that seemed to coax even the most unwilling tongues to speak.

Sid has named his sword Attestation. It would be best to never ask him why he keeps telling you the sword knows when you lie.

Rayvis Harneit carries a sashka, the curved, narrow blade and guardless hilt an ideal weapon for the streets the Nightwatch patrols. It is a striking thing, the blade unnaturally white like bone, and was carved with fangs on both edges, making it look as if it were serrated. Rayvis is careful not to touch them – too many have bled even when hit with the blunt end.

The scabbard that holds the sword is equally striking, gray painted wood that ended in a wolf’s snarling mouth. It would have been less unnerving if not for the stubborn stains in the shape of a hand around it.

Rayvis carries his sword only during his patrols as it is the last thing he received from his parents before their untimely end. A memento precious and useful. He hopes it would not be the last thing he is holding when he meets his own death.

Rayvis has named his sword Venari. He can feel its hunger grow with every strike.

Byron Wagner’s sword is a katzbalger, with an owl distinctly etched on its pommel. It is a mysterious thing, with a double-edged blade so black it seemed to have been sculpted from ink. It would not have been noticeable in the dark if not for the dozens of tiny gemstones peppered into the blade that sparkled at the barest hint of moonlight. It is no exaggeration to say that whenever Byron took his blade, it looked as if he wielded the night in his hands.

He received the sword from his father the moment he learned to speak. A treasure, surely, and the only gift he had received from the mad king that did not outright give him grief.

Byron carries his sword in the same way as the Steiner kings have done before him: sheathed in an even darker scabbard carved with ancient, looping Steiner symbols for eternal rule; always with him even in his sleep; and held as close as possible to his person, as to replace his heart.

Byron has named his sword Kaalam, and hopes to make a world where he does not always have to turn to it to make people understand.

 Albert Burckhardt’s zweihänder is a heavy thing. It stands up to his chin, with a double-edged blade and a large diamond shaped onyx where the hilt began. The hilt, in turn, is cruciform, brown on black and brown, and had just enough space for Albert’s two hands – not that Albert needed both to lift the giant of a sword – but everyone else’s seem to be an ill-fit, their grip not quite right, always slipping, always grasping it wrong, or unable to carry its full weight.

The sword is a family treasure, passed down the Burckhardt line to the child who was to truly serve the Steiner King. Albert remembers his mother had confessed to him that it was not Albert accepting the sword. It was him who was had been accepted. No one else could hold it without cutting themselves on the blade.

Albert carries the sword at his back with a special double leather sheath, its straps running across Albert’s chest to secure the heavy sword behind him. Sometimes, it almost feels as if it were giving him a tender embrace.

Albert has named his sword Ardent, like all the wishes he does not have the courage to say.

 Nico Meier does not look as if he knows how to wield a sword, and this grossly inaccurate impression has always worked to his advantage. The rapier he keeps at his hip only added to his veneer as an attendant, looking more decorative than useful. His sword had a golden hilt and a scabbard with gold rings at the bottom, both intricately carved with falling petals. The hand guard, though only two strips of curved metal, was masterfully done and inlaid with small tourmalines.

The rest of the sword was deadly – Nico makes sure of it. He keeps the point finely polished to prick at the slightest touch, and the edges of the slender blade sharp. What looked like a strictly piercing weapon could inflict a thousand cuts. Like its master, it is a misleading thing, and the story of where he came to own it changes every time he tells it.

Nico carries his sword as he would any delicate china, lightly, playfully, and with a certain flair, able to switch from his right to his left and back again with relative ease. The duality is second nature and one must do their best to keep up, or perish.

Nico has named his sword Constante, and ironically is the only true thing he believes in in this world.

 Robert Branche would always prefer holding his paintbrushes over a weapon, even to save his own life, but he does own an old schweizersabel, its knuckle guard still intact despite the wars Robert had tried to bury it in.

The sword’s blade is long and curved without compromising its sharp edge. And though it is a slightly dented thing, its re-curved quilliones scratched in every place, it has never lost a speck of its elegance. The green hilt still had its sheen as if in its prime, the knuckle guard still glinted despite several decades of neglect, and at an angle the carved runes on the blade would even seemingly shine, as if holding in some mysterious power, as if proud that despite all of Robert’s efforts, the sword remains by his side. Robert can read them. He will never translate it out loud.

It is hard for Robert to shake off old habits – the sword will never let him – so he continues to carry it wherever he might go, even for running simple errands for his home or his art. His grip would be iron-tight, keeping it firmly in its scabbard. And though it had been lifetimes since he had used it last, he knows he can never be too careful with a sword untouched by time.

Robert has never named his sword. He is afraid of its memories.

[the-hidden-writer]

An Odd Family Tree

A series of snippets from the lives of the FitzSimmons family, set post 7x13. Also, the series of events that leads up to the birth of their grandson.

Available to read on AO3 and FF.net.

Comments make my day!

Chapter 5: Permission

Leo Fitz loved football. It was his thing. He used to play in the local field with a bunch of other boys when he was little- that’s before he started to spend every free hour of every day engineering. So about eleven years old then. And since they’d retired he’d taken a huge step back from engineering and fallen back with his first love. Seriously, if anyone asked him a simple question about football he would probably ramble about it for at least two hours.

“Knock knock!”

Oh, and another thing about football: he did not like getting interrupted.

He adjusted his position to sit up on the sofa. “If that’s anyone that’s not called Owen then come in!”

Of course, it was Owen who entered.

“Hi Mr Fitz-Simmons.” He greeted, somewhat meekly.

Fitz didn’t respond.

“Oh hey, you’re watching soccer. Can I join you?”

“Not if you call it soccer.” Fitz grumbled. Owen just laughed and sat next to him anyway.

If there was one thing that Fitz had learnt about Owen over the year of him dating Alya, it was that he could not shut up. And that was not an exaggeration. Fitz was pretty convinced that if the man went five minutes without saying something then he would quite possibly explode.

So it was unnerving to say the least when all he did was fidget next to him. He appeared to be concentrating on the screen, but when Fitz looked closely he could see that his eyes weren’t entirely focused.

He must’ve been deep in thought. Fitz didn’t even want to consider what the hell he was thinking about.

“So… you a big s- football guy then?” Owen asked eventually, making Fitz actually sigh in relief.

“Yes.” Was his short reply.

“Cool.”

Uncomfortable silence. Fitz felt like the other man was plotting something. He did not like it.

Owen took a deep breath. “Hey-”

“You do know I don’t like you, right?”

Letting out a choked sort of laugh, Owen hung his head and said quietly: “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“You’ve got no common sense,” Fitz continued, “and half the time I genuinely can’t tell if you’re faking your stupidity or not.

And I can never forgive you for taking my daughter away from me, Fitz doesn’t add.

“Look, I know you hate me.” Owen said, his voice still strangely quieter than usual.

It suddenly occurred to Fitz that Owen might be unwell. And even he, a cold-hearted miser according to Alya once, would feel guilty for insulting someone when they’re ill.

“Hate’s a strong word.” He told him. “I don’t hate you lad, but I think it would be crueler to lie and pretend to like you like Jemma does.”

Owen seemed to react at this, and Fitz wondered if he was really so dumb as to not realise that Jemma didn’t like him either.

“She doesn’t?” He asked, confirming Fitz’s theory.

And there was that guilty feeling again. “Well she definitely likes you more than I do. We love Alya with everything we have, and we only want the best for her. And whatever she says, I for one couldn’t care less if my daughter doesn’t end up with you. Now don’t you have somewhere better to be?”

Fitz realised a little too late that he’d phrased that wrong, and for once he actually hoped that Owen wouldn’t pick up on the subtext.

“I love her too, y’know.” Owen said dejectedly. “And I came here to ask you something. But I’m a little put off now if I’m honest…”

On-screen, it was half-time. Fitz tried to relay the fact that Owen was ill over and over in his head to stop himself from punching him.

“If answering your question will make you go away, then sure. Ask away.” He said, taking a sip of his tea.

Owen took a deep breath and looked Fitz in the eyes. Fitz noticed for the first time just how bright, green, and honest they were.

“Will you give me your blessing to marry your daughter?”

He did not do a spit take. That never happened. But it was funny, for a second Fitz could have sworn Owen just said…

“What?”

“You heard me.” Owen said, and suddenly Fitz realised why Owen had sounded off.

He’d been nervous- no, terrified of him. This entire time he’d been trying to muster as much confidence as he could. And the fact that he’d been scared meant that he respected him.

And Fitz didn’t know how to feel. He felt like he’d just been shot in the heart but the pain hadn’t registered yet.

He coughed. “W-Well, you’ve got nerve, I’ll tell you that.” He did not wipe the liquid off his chin, because he did not do a spit take. “After I just told you how much I don’t like you.”

Owen laughed, a bit more menacing this time. “I hope you know that I’ll propose to her whatever you say. It’s just that you three are so close that I thought I’d ask for your blessing.”

The implications started to sink in. “Wait, you’re being serious?”

This man, this hooligan, was asking to marry his little monkey. His princess. His universe. His Alya. The girl whose nappies he changed. The girl to whom he showed the stars. The girl who he tried to teach engineering to, but ended up taking after her mother and studying biology and becoming one of the leading experts in marine biology and was running an entire initiative to save the oceans.

The woman that had just turned thirty.

Ever since Owen, Alya had fought with him a lot more frequently. She would always defend him, telling her father that it was his fault that he didn’t just give him a chance to get to know him. Fitz didn’t change his stance. And maybe, Fitz thought, if he’d taken that chance, then he would be able to see Alya’s appeal in Owen. Her love for him hadn’t wavered, and any fights she’d had with Owen had all been resolved very quickly. Was it really only Fitz that felt so negatively towards him?

“Hey, um, before you answer let me say something.” Owen said.

“I know I’m reckless and stupid. I get that from my parents. But when I’m standing next to literally the smartest family on the planet, how can I not be? I think you think I’m ‘the worst’ (yes, I heard that) because of that, when in reality I’m just average. I was shocked when Alya loved me back, because she is the definition of a genius, and I’m just… me. I’m Owen. The guy nobody likes.”

Fitz listened on in silence, every word striking him as familiar.

...Deke.

“And I tried so hard to impress you,” Owen continued, “even though you guys already know everything. It’s impossible to impress you. The one thing that impresses me is the fact that Alya still likes me after so long. So yeah, I understand if you say no, but I love your daughter and I’m actually pretty good at fighting so I’m willing to die for her. I’ve been told that I can be pretty selfish, and I agree, but not when it comes to Alya. She’s my everything.”

Wordlessly, Fitz switched off the TV. Football could come later. He didn’t know when his eyes had started to well up, but he knew that his vision was now blurry. He had to swallow the lump in his throat.

“You have my blessing.”

Owen nearly jumped out of his seat. “Wait, really?!”

Fitz’s breathing was shaky, and he held his head in his hands. “Yes.” He said, his voice muffled. “Now go before I change my mind.”

It was comical how quickly Owen raced out of the room.

Jemma walked in moments later.

“Darling what’s wrong? What did you say to Owen this time?”

“I told him to bugger off.” Fitz said, looking up to face his confused wife.

“Really? Is that-”

“Jemma.” He interrupted, his voice breaking. “He asked for my blessing.”

Jemma’s face went through a whirlwind of emotions in a tiny amount of time like a silent movie.

“O-Oh.” She said finally. “Did you..?”

“Yeah.” Said Fitz. “But Jemma, he sounded just like Deke.”

Both of them flinched at the name.

He sighed. “Is it bad that the main thing I remember was that I couldn’t stand him?”

“Yes, it is.” Jemma said, moving to sit next to her husband and rub his back soothingly. She was beginning to get choked up herself. “I remember that he was lovely. His memory is what lets me tolerate Owen.”

She wiped away the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes.

“I think you need to start at least tolerating him now, too.”

Fitz did the same for his wife.

“Yeah, I guess I’m gonna have to now.”

[probably-writing-x]

Fleeting Moments (i)

Warnings : Mentions of anxiety, depression and mental illness.

~~~

Her fingers hung over strings searching for any rhythm that she could find inside of her body. There was nothing. No joy, no sadness, no excitement. And even now, there was no pain. It was all just nothing.

'Waiting for as long as you need'.

The words rung in her head like a stuck record. A record she heard but couldn't listen to. Couldn't hold with her and compress into the pocketed comfort of a memory.

So here she was. An empty guitar and an empty vessel of the human she once was...

~~~Three Months Prior~~~

Summer. Sun, sea and absolutely no school.

It was all just bittersweet for Ivy. Summer in this family meant working enough to make money to keep helping her parents and find more for all of Leo's school supplies. Her eight year old brother meant the world to her but his juvenile mind couldn't understand any concept of money problems. So she acted as though they weren't there. And every year, without fail, she would find the money to buy all of the new shoes and backpacks and pencils that had suddenly become popular in his class.

"Ivy, honey, are you nearly ready?" Her father's aging voice called out from downstairs, not aging in years but aging more so in stress.

Ivy hadn't realised that the blurring condensation as residue from her shower had now dissipated from the mirror in front of her. So she just stood there, bare skin only shielded from her own burning eyes by the cotton towel tucked firmly under her arms.

"I'll be down in a minute Dad," She responded, all emotion seeming to have fallen down the drain with the water that stained her skin.

Within irrelevant minutes, Ivy had swapped the towel for a comfortable shield of skinny black jeans and a simple long-sleeved grey t-shirt. Stay as unseen as possible.

The house felt like it was separate from the serenity of her bedroom. There was usually an uncomfortable level of noise, a forgotten TV screen left on the morning news, the human alarm of her mother calling for everything to be on some unknown time schedule and of course, Leo's clattering toys.

"Morning Ivy," Her mum says absentmindedly, "I need you to take Leo to his friend's house today,"

"Mum I've got-" She starts, already knowing the words are futile.

"I know you have work at nine but you'll just have to be ten minutes late and stay ten minutes later," She cuts her daughter off, placing a set of house keys into her hand and spinning to continue with her million other tasks of the morning.

Ivy answers in silence, tugging on a pair of battered shoes she had worn more than enough and finding a suitable jacket for her brother.

"Leo come on," She calls, switching off the television to find some other way of helping, "Ready to go?"

Leo nods with no dispute and slips into his jacket and shoes calmly, making sure he grabbed his bag of random toys that would soon become the best possible imagination starters for him and whichever friend he would be with today.

He's already by the door by the time Ivy has grabbed her phone and his feet have touched ground with outside of this noise.

"Bye mum, bye dad," She raises her voice slightly to try to match the bustling building. She's met with a harsh silence.

The door closes behind her.

Leo's hand clung to her own and it felt like in some way that would boil some sort of happiness in her. And it always seemed to, just slightly.

"So where's your big adventure to today?" She asks, inquisitively hoping she would know the directions to wherever the house would be.

"Jake's," He responds, jumping up with excitement that seemed to burst from his feet, "We're going to be pirates,"

"Pirates?" She exclaims, lifting him up rest on her hip with his legs swinging either side of her, "And who's treasure will you be stealing?"

"No Ivy, we don't steal treasure!" He shakes his head, "We help people."

She chuckles slightly as they turn the corner, luckily to the street where Jake and his joyous family lived.

Leo wriggles down to the floor and runs ahead to where he can already see the house of his friend. It pained Ivy to see it, their pristine house with a tall gate and two shining cars on the drive. When Jake came home, he wouldn't have to bath in lukewarm water or eat averagely cooked food from his sister who had to replace the parents that seemed to work through the day and night. He would have it all. And Ivy could feel another part of her becoming lost into the abyss of never being good enough.

"Oh hello Ivy!" Jake's mother beams from the door, her son already chasing Leo round the front yard.

"Hey, Mrs Smith," Ivy responds politely, "Thank you so much for having him today,"

"No of course, we love having Leo round," She grins, a smile that Ivy couldn't find it in her to dislike.

"I don't know who will be picking him up but-"

"Don't worry about it, he can stay as long as he needs. Whatever works for you and your parents," Mrs Smith smiles with a sickening reassurance. They all knew Leo wasn't as privileged as the other children, that perhaps the Falter family had to work more than the average. But the exaggerated sympathy always made her blood boil. It was unnecessary and always hid how they really felt.

"Thanks," Ivy nods, hugging Leo goodbye quickly before making the quickest exit her feet could manage.

She knew she was already late to work and part of her couldn't find the point to care. The turning roads in front of her and the tired bags carrying underneath her pale eyes made all of it just another internal struggle. To muster a smile for a paying customer and accept tips with a grateful response.

Her thoughts were cut short.

"Falter!" The familiar voice rang out across the street, "Skipping work today?"

Dylan jogged across to meet her, his steps falling into a comforting rhythm beside hers.

"Just running a bit late," Ivy nods in response.

"Right, you look like you're in a real hurry," He chuckles, mocking her with jovial intent.

The brunette teen rolls her eyes, "Shut it Peters,"

They relax into a silence momentarily. He breaks it once again.

"So, how are things?" He smiles before pausing instantly, "Nope I didn't ask that, forget I asked that,"

Ivy smiles, eyes focused on the floor. Dylan had found her skipping school a while ago and had stuck around ever since. Skipping was realistically a broad term, she had taken an extra shift at work. Now it was summer and he had happened to bump into her even when she thought she was free from the horrendous leash of school-aged idiots.

"You don't need to act like you're worried Dylan," Ivy shakes her head, arms falling into a guarded crossed formation in front of her chest.

"No...no," Dylan stops, jumping in front of her to block her from her next step, "I just want to know why. You can tell me you know? You can trust me," His tanned hand rests upon the fabric of her arm and there's nothing but honesty surrounding the dark pools of his blue eyes.

Ivy stops, she wished she could confide in him. That perhaps part of her could be that girl that could truly say how she felt. But the other half of her told her she was already past that stage.

"Not now," The words sliced out of her mouth and fell like daggers into the boy in front of her.

"Alright," He backs away with raised hands like he had to surrender to her icy exterior, "But you know where I am." He states simply, eyes longingly holding onto her own for one last second until he was gone; away with the solemn wind.

She was silently screaming for it to bring him back. Maybe that her hand could lace with his and for that moment she could tell him everything. The real truth. The burning, twisted, devastating hell inside of her that only Ivy Falter knew about.

Work was mundane. A task that had to be done and perhaps provided a distraction for a sufficient amount of ticking hours.

"What will it be today?" Ivy forged a polite tone through her chapping lips, directed at the overly smartly dressed woman standing in front of her.

"Soy latte, one shot of caramel," The woman states simply, glancing up and down at the seventeen year old serving her, "And perhaps a smile with the service,"

"I would if I had a reason," Ivy muttered under her breath, hoping that perhaps it would spark some anger inside of her. Nothing.

"Forget the drink," The woman scoffs, heels clicking on tiled floor as she strutted out of the building just as she had entered.

"Seriously Ivy? What was it this time?" Ivy's boss, Neil, raises his brows, a red fluster sparking in his cheeks as he busied himself with yet another order.

Ivy doesn't respond at first. She starts to question what other people see. In her fatigued blue eyes, in her sun-kissed skin and in her messy brown hair. Are they seeing her as the bitch that stereotypes any rich person they see? Or perhaps as the barista nobody wants to be served by?

"Forget it, just take this order," Neil gestures in the direction of the till before he is off to hand over drinks to waiting customers.

"What will it be today?" Ivy recites, fingers hanging over the keys of the register in front of her.

"Ooh... what would you recommend Miss Falter?" A harshly familiar voice sounds into Ivy's ears. The sound of Lily Cook's words rung sharply in the café, sickening her stomach.

"What do you want Lily?" Ivy sliced the words through a clenched jaw.

She hated her. A bully was the only way to describe Lily. A twisted, evil bitch of a bully. She somehow managed to make every day a living hell for Ivy and the worst thing was, she knew a secret Ivy wanted nobody to know. Not yet.

Lily chuckled to herself cold-heartedly, "I saw you with your little brother earlier. Admiring the houses were we?"

Lily knew she was pretty. She was of a mixture of Asian descent with perfect skin, piercing eyes and long hair that never appeared out of place. There was no denying that she was utterly beautiful.

Ivy couldn't help the forced anger that boiled inside her from that Lily's last comment. Not one part of her could deal with this for a second longer than necessary. The next words... Well, she might just regret them.

"Go fuck yourself!" Ivy stated with no emotion, none was left.

No, she didn't regret it. It felt like some tiny relief on the clenching hold she had on herself.

"Ivy, take your break. Now," Neil says, remaining calm to avoid losing another customer.

As Ivy threw her apron to the side and began to walk away from that place, she could already hear her boss trying to excuse her actions. They didn't require an excuse. They were necessary.

Fresh air became burning to her fiery skin. It clung to her lips, unable to truly reach her throat. Why should she feel like this? Shouldn't she feel empowered, strong, victorious? No. Instead, panic crawled into her chest. It twisted it's sickening claws into her lungs and deprived them of life. Her heart tried to keep up, fluttering painfully into a fearful beat in her body. She was sinking.

"Hey, hey, look at me,"  There were Dylan's eyes again, "Inhale, exhale alright?" She could tell he was nodding but his face was blurring.

She was slumping into him subconsciously. There was skin on the top of her hand and fabric on her palm. She could feel his beating heart in a relaxing rhythm. Hers began to match his.

"You're alright," He sighs in a breath he had been holding and holds her head to his chest as though he was telling himself rather than her.

Words still defied her human power. They hung silently in the air between herself and Dylan. So they walked. Silently and as though nothing had ever happened. She knew not of the destination but an air of comfort surrounded her.

"So you wanna talk about it?" His voice rang in her ears that had started to pound with rushing blood much less than they had before.

"What so you can tell the full story about you being a knight in shining armour?" She scoffs, eyes finding any way to avoid his own.

He chuckles, head hung low as his elbows rested on his knees in a relaxed posture. Ivy sat with crossed arms and her back sternly stiff.

"No, more like for all of the reporters waiting to talk to me," He rolls his eyes, hand resting on top of her knee, "Come on, I'm serious,"

She shifts herself away, "What do you want to know? I get panic attacks sometimes,"

"It's happened before, right? "

"Unfortunately."

"And your parents don't know?"

She shakes her head, "It's none of your business,"

"Okay. Well, I know more than you think, which I think you know, really," He pauses, his relaxed tone instantly switching to one of pure severity, "And I know you're hurting."

Ivy stops. This didn't feel normal. He may have known much more about her, but she didn't know anything about him. He didn't go to her school, though he was the same age as her. She knew nothing of his family, where he lived or even if he lived in this town.

It was only then that she broke back into reality, to see those oddly known eyes looking into hers once more, the freckles dotting his cheeks and the warmly sympathetic smile that crossed his lips.

"Who even are you?" The words fell from her mouth instinctively. She didn't want to ask. Part of her wanted to keep things the way they were, her unknown saviour.

He smirks and looks away, "I figured we'd get to this eventually," He nods, rubbing the palms of his hands together as a simple of his nervous nature, "I'm Dylan Peters," He states, being irritatingly vague.

He refused to tell more about his true self.

"What about your family?"

"I don't really have one, not anymore," He states, eyes finally meeting hers once more, "But I'm still close with my brother,"

"So where do you live now?" She questions, wanting to learn more about this boy.

He pauses for longer than she expected, "Let's get you home, just let the guy at the café know you weren't feeling well," He stands quickly and extends a hand towards her.

She stops, glancing between his hand and his eyes that were trying to avoid hers once more, "Wait I-"

"Not now Ivy, you don't want to know," He shakes his head, "Please?"

"Sure." She nods, worry now circling in her mind. What wasn't he telling her?

Their walk back to her home was silent, Dylan fell into a step alongside her and the streets were empty of any passengers.

She knew the house would be empty too. She hated those times. For when she was alone, she had time to think properly. At least when there were people around, the noise of her family could drown out the screaming thoughts in her mind.

"This is me," She gestures towards the quaint house now towered in front of them, despite his clear knowledge of this being her house.

Dylan nods, walking to the edge of the path that led to the door, "I'll see you later?"

"It seems that way," Ivy smiles lightly.

Dylan chuckles and goes to turn away. She catches his arm, she doesn't miss the feeling of the faint bumpy lines under her hold.

"Thank you."

He shakes his head, "You don't need to thank me,"

She watches as he walks away, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. It takes conscious thought to pull her gaze away from him. Something was different about him. Why did he feel so familiar?

Tags: @imarypayne @sunshine112 @bringmethehorizonandpizza @supernatural-girl97 @vibhati123 @butithasntkilledyouyet @faefictions @carisi-sonny @trap-house-homiecide @shamelessbookaddict @tommydaspidey @oneblckcoffee @darlingtholland @fanficparker

(Please let me know all of your thoughts!!!)

[calligraphist-artemisia]

Shifting Futures (Chapter 6 - Final)

Summary: While trying to save Shiro, the Black Lion accidentally sends him to the future, where he encounters a much older Keith and Pidge. To them, he’s been missing for ten years and declared dead for five of them. The two vow to do everything they can to get him back where he belongs, but when new and old feelings rise to the surface, will they still want to? And does Shiro really want to go back?

A Shkidge time-travel fix-it AU.

Also posted on AO3 and fanfiction.net

Chapter 6: Farewell

If Shiro had to pick one thing that surprised him the most about dating Keith and Pidge, it had to be how unexpectedly affectionate Keith could get at times. A close second was how easy it was to entice Pidge away from her work, which he seemed to recall being more like pulling teeth.

Mornings brought sweet kisses from Pidge whenever he returned from his run. Afternoons were filled with cuddling on the couch and talking to Keith, tactfully asking whatever he could about the future he'd wound up in. The flirting over dinner was always fun, and Shiro delighted in the ways he could get Keith to turn red or send Pidge into an unexpected coughing fit. And while he didn't yet feel bold enough to join them in bed, Shiro knew that as time went on it would be harder and harder to resist.

Shiro sighed as he rested his head in Keith's lap, enjoying the way the other man ran his fingers through his hair. “Tell me more about Lance and Allura's kids?”

“Well, there are five of them,” Keith said, and Shiro snorted in amusement. “What, that's not enough? I'm starting to think you're just using me for illegal future knowledge.”

Shiro could tell from his tone that he was just kidding, but he rolled over onto his back anyway. He reached up and caught Keith's hands in his own, bringing it down to press butterfly kisses against his fingertips. “I'd never.”

Keith stared down at him in amusement. “Uh huh. Okay, Leo's the oldest and is almost seven now. He's pretty determined that he's going to be the next Blue paladin, and honestly, it wouldn't surprise me at all if he is. He's a handful, that's for sure. Maribel and Melenor are twin girls. We used to call them the little princesses, but now they insist on being knights. Alanna, though, loves it. Of course, she's only two, so everything's fun to her as long as she can do whatever she wants. And Alfor's barely one, so nothing really keeps his attention except for food goo, because he can play with it and eat it without someone telling him 'no'. It's always pretty crazy over there when we visit for birthdays. Fun, but crazy. And loud.”

“Not really your thing?”

Keith shrugged. “Growing up, it was just me and my dad. Things were nice and quiet. And Pidge only had Matt, so it's a lot for her too.” He threaded his fingers together with Shiro's and let their joined hands rest over Shiro's heart. “Pidge told me you saw the crib.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Shiro asked.

“I think she pretty much summed it up. We both want a kid one day, but right now isn't the right time,” Keith said. “There's still so much risk to what we do. I could never... I never want them to go through what I did.”

Shiro sat up so he could properly face Keith. “That would never happen. There are so many people in your life who would take them in, raise them with stories of the two of you. Pidge's parents would. Matt would. Allura and Lance. Hunk and Shay... Me.”

“You'd be a great dad, Shiro,” Keith said softly.

“And you and Pidge would be amazing parents. It's alright to be afraid of what the future holds, but if it's something you both want...” Shiro paused, frowning. “Is it something you want?”

“More than I've ever wanted anything,” Keith admitted.

Shiro leaned forward and kissed Keith on the forehead. “I'm glad. There's nothing that I want more than for the two of you to be happy.”

“Is that why you said yes?”

“No,” Shiro said with a shake of his head and a small smile. “I said yes because it's something I want.”

Keith relaxed slightly. “...but you still plan on leaving.”

“Yes.”

Keith lowered his gaze, not knowing what else to say.

“Keith, if all I get are a few months of happiness with you and Pidge, it's worth it. Going back and changing things is worth it, if it means you don't have to know the pain of losing another person you care about.” Shiro reached out and tilted up Keith's head. “I'd rather have this time with you than wonder for the rest of my life what it would be like.”

Pidge's words echoed back to Keith. “It could be a month or a year. But just for a while, we could try?”

Keith's tongue darted out to wet his lips. Any time with Shiro was precious, and while a few months would never be enough for Keith, he knew when to admit that they were right. If he didn't take advantage, he would regret it.

He leaned in slowly, his eyes fluttering shut as Shiro met him halfway. Their lips brushed together, parting briefly, and then Keith pressed forward. He could feel Shiro smile into their kiss.

“You should spend more time with Shiro.”

Pidge glanced up at Keith and then went back to her work. “I will. I'm just so close to... to, um...” She stopped what she was doing and fully turned around to face her husband, taking note of his unusually mussed hair with some amusement. “Are you sure you don't want to spend more time with him on your own? You look like you're having a good time.”

Keith flushed. “I am, but it's not right if you're not part of this too. You're so focused on your research that you haven't spent any time with him.”

A rush of guilt flooded her at his words. It was true; she'd been so wrapped up with her promise to find a way for him to go back that she'd let it consume her. Aside from shared meals and their brief morning greetings, she'd barely spent any time with him. And it wasn't like she was eager to send him away! She just wanted him to have the chance to choose for himself for once. He deserved that, after everything he'd been through.

Pidge glanced back at her computer and the algorithms she's written with help from Slav. They were almost perfect.

'It wouldn't hurt to take a break,' she mused to herself as she made sure her work was saved. Then she stood, wincing at the way her spine cracked in protest. She walked over to Keith and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. “Well, I can't let you have all the fun,” she murmured as she pulled away.

Keith chuckled and chased after her for another quick kiss. “Go. Get out of the house for a while.”

“What will you do?” Pidge asked.

“Probably clean up all of my tools that Kosmo's been using as chew toys. Maybe work on the bike for a bit,” Keith replied.

With one last kiss shared between them, Pidge set of to find Shiro and invite him for a leisurely walk. It wouldn't be a long one - nature was the Green Lion's element, not her own – but she couldn't deny that it was nice to get out of the house for a little while, especially when it meant getting to hold Shiro's hand as they strolled along.

“How's your research?” Shiro asked kindly.

“It's going well. It took a while to get Slav-” (Shiro made a face.) “-to stay on topic, but now that he knows I'm serious about it, there's no getting him to shut up about alternate realities and the flow of space-time,” Pidge grumbled. “I just have to make sure our calculations are correct and then I can start testing. Well, and actually build the time machine.” She frowned, scrunching up her nose. “It's going to need a better name. Like... like...”

“A time portal?” Shiro suggested.

Pidge hummed as she considered it. “That does sound better, but it's still not right. Time portal makes me think of something that lets you see different points in time, not travel to them.” She glanced up at him suddenly unsure of their conversation. Shiro didn't look like he minded it, but there had to be something more pleasant for them to talk about. Something that would be less of a reminder of how short their time together was.

Shiro squeezed her hand. “Maybe you could show me some of your designs, if you've started on them.”

“I might have a few,” Pidge said.

She had every intention of showing him her notebook full of designs. Really, she did. But somewhere along the way they ended up making out instead, and that was so much nicer than talking about time travel.

Pidge gasped as Shiro lifted her up, giving her little option but to wrap her legs around his waist for better stability. Her arms were already around his neck, her fingers entangled in his hair. It felt so undeniably good, but there was a quiet voice at the back of her mind telling her to slow down a little. There was something missing.

She made a throaty sound as Shiro swooped down and captured her lips in a deep kiss, losing herself in pleasure for a few minutes longer. “Wait,” she gasped as he drew back to catch his breath. “Wait.”

Shiro gently eased her down onto the bed, and while he didn't move away from her, he didn't push any further. “I'm sorry. It's too fast. I shouldn't-”

Pidge pressed a finger against his lips, cutting him off. “Trust me, it's not too fast and you have nothing to apologize for.” She slowly lowered her hand, trailing her finger down over his jaw and then back around his neck, keeping him right where she wanted him. “Have either of us told you how we got together?”

“A giant robot lion and an intergalactic war?” Shiro guess.

“Ha. Cute. I mean it, Shiro. Keith's never mentioned it to you?”

Shiro shook his head. “I think he's been waiting for me to ask. I... I haven't wanted to. It only reminds him.”

“Two years after you disappeared, we were celebrating. We'd just delivered a massive blow to Sendak's forces and chased him away from Earth. There was a little drinking. I think I remember Lance attempting a striptease. Hunk says I fell over myself flirting with Allura, but I'm sure he was just exaggerating.” She shrugged at Shiro's questioning look. “I have eyes, Shiro. Anyway, that's not the point. What I do remember is Keith walking me back to my room. And then not leaving.”

It was a good memory; one she would always cherish. It may not have been the most conventional way to start a lasting relationship, but she wouldn't complain. Besides, she thought they handled the whole thing maturely.

“And you started dating after that?”

“No, then we started sleeping together regularly,” Pidge corrected. “Eight months after that, we had our first official date.”

Shiro chuckled in amusement and pressed his lips to her forehead. “No wonder you don't think this is rushing. At least we're dating.”

A giggle burst free from Pidge's throat. Leave it to Shiro to treat even unusual circumstances as though they were perfectly normal. Though she couldn't help but wonder how he would have reacted had he still been with them when the team found out. (Matt, for example, had done his best to put Keith through a wall when he found out. It'd taken Allura, Hunk, and Lance to pull him away.)

She pulled Shiro down onto the bed with her, using his surprise to her advantage so she could flip him on his back and straddle his waist. Pidge grinned down at him.

Shiro's hands settled on her hips. “And what will you do with me now, Katie?”

Pidge swallowed, trying not to let it show how affected she was by the use of her real name. “Now... now I think I'll keep you here like this. It'll make a nice surprise for Keith.”

Shiro's eyes glittered with anticipation.

It was with great reluctance that Pidge dragged herself out of bed the next morning, moving slowly so she wouldn't wake Keith or Shiro. She dressed herself and then took a moment to look at them, smiling at the way Shiro had latched onto Keith in his sleep.

How had she gotten so lucky? Shiro fit together with them so well, like a puzzle piece they didn't know they'd been missing.

What were they going to do once he was gone?

She shook her head to clear herself of such gloomy thoughts and quietly made her way out of the room and downstairs to get started on breakfast. If she was lucky, they would sleep in for once and she could surprise them with breakfast in bed. (She doubted they would, but it was nice to dream.)

As she was gathering what she needed, the doorbell rang.

Pidge frowned as she set a pan on the counter. She could hear the sound of someone rolling out of bed upstairs, their feet hitting the floor hard. “I'll get it!” she called out, giving them extra time to prepare for their guest.

She took her time getting to the door, wondering who was there at such an early hour. It wasn't like they had neighbors and Matt always called ahead before showing up. She got her answer when she opened the door to see Hunk, Lance, and Allura on the other side.

“What are you guys doing here?” Pidge asked bluntly, nowhere near awake enough for pleasantries.

“We've been worried about you,” Allura said. “You and Keith have been holed up here for months except for missions. And Hunk says you've been talking to Slav about alternate realities or something.”

Pidge groaned and stepped aside, wordlessly inviting them inside. 'Damn you, Slav.'

'Sorry,' Hunk mouthed at her as he passed, offering her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

Pidge led them to the kitchen, where Hunk noticed her beginnings of making breakfast and automatically took charge of it, partly out of habit and partly to have an excuse to not actively participate in whatever Allura and Lance had planned.

“So what's so important that you had to show up at seven in the morning?” Pidge asked.

“It's like Allura said, you and Keith have just been sitting out here for months. You didn't even come to my birthday!” Lance said.

“We called and sent a gift,” Pidge replied, crossing her arms over her chest. “We just want some peace and quiet for a bit, that's all. That's why we built our house all the way out here.”

Lance mimicked her stance. “Yeah, but this is something different. I can feel it.”

“Well maybe it's none of your business!”

Allura stepped between them before they could really start yelling. “Okay, that's enough. Pidge, I'm sorry we came so early and without telling you. We really have been worried and just wanted to see if there's anything we can help with. You've both been so quiet lately and then I heard about you working on a project with Slav and... And it just seemed so unlike you to stay quiet about something, is all.”

Pidge's anger deflated as Allura calmly spoke. She couldn't really fault them for getting worried. They had been distancing themselves since they found Shiro.

“I have been working on something, I just didn't want to say anything because I wasn't sure if it would work,” Pidge said, picking her words carefully. She wasn't going to lie to them, but she couldn't tell the full truth either. “The only reason Slav is involved is because he knows more about it than I do and I needed the help.”

Lance fidgeted and then opened his mouth. “I think Keith's cheating on you.”

“Lance!” Allura snapped, whirling around to face her husband.

“What the fuck, Lance?” Keith growled from the stairway. He stalked into the kitchen towards the other man, fury radiating from his very being. “Why would you ever think something like that? I love Katie!”

Any other time, Pidge would have tried to intervene in whatever fight they picked with each other, but for once she though Lance deserved whatever Keith was about to do. In fact, she might actually help.

Hunk broke away from cooking to stop Keith before he could do anything he would later regret. “Keith, what Lance said is wrong, but can we stop and cool down for a second? Everyone?”

“Or at least let him explain why he'd say something so stupid before you punch him,” Pidge said.

“Yes, exact- wait, no,” Hunk corrected himself, frowning at Pidge. “No punching. Lance, explain.”

Lance looked around helplessly, as if he'd just become aware that he wasn't getting any backup. “Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it like that. I just... I just had this feeling that there was something weird the last time we formed Voltron and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it! You know how we can kind of pick up on strong thoughts and feelings when we're together like that?”

“So... you think Keith has strong feelings for someone who isn't me?” Pidge tried to make sense of what Lance was saying.

“Yes! That!”

Pidge turned her gaze to Keith, who had calmed down enough that he no longer looked as though he was seconds away from decking Lance. And while she was still angry that he assumed such an awful thing, it was interesting that he'd picked up on their anxiety over Shiro.

She walked over to join Keith, waving Hunk away back to his cooking, so they could face their friends together. “Should we tell them?” she asked quietly.

After a moment of contemplation, Keith nodded.

Pidge took a deep breath. “Keith and I have a boyfriend.”

Their reactions were instantaneous. Hunk fumbled with a spatula and nearly dropped it on the floor. Lance's mouth hung open in shock. Allura choked on air as she gasped.

There was a beat of silence before Hunk recovered enough to say: “You know I was only joking about the harem thing, right, Pidge?”

“And don't you think I would have picked Allura first if that was my plan?” Pidge joked back. “And Lance too, I guess. Packaged deal and all.”

“I am never dating Lance,” Keith grumbled.

“I know, dear.”

“Boyfriend?” Lance squeaked. “What-? But who?”

“Me,” Shiro said, taking that as his cue to step out of the stairway and into the kitchen, giving their friends a second heart-attack in the span of a few minutes.

As before, there was a period of silence before all hell broke loose and their friends mobbed him, talking too fast for anyone to get a word in. Hunk was sobbing as he threw his arms around Shiro. Lance, tearing up even as he cursed Pidge and Keith for keeping it a secret. And Allura, openly weeping as she tried to confirm that it really was him.

It was some time later that they all sat down together, food forgotten as Pidge and Keith explained the events leading up to their unexpected visit that morning. Some things – the more intimate details – were naturally left out, as was Pidge's pursuit of a way to send him back.

“So you didn't want to tell us because...?” Lance prodded.

“Because Pidge is building a time machine,” Hunk said, his eye widening with realization. “That's why you're working with Slav! It's not alternate realities you're interested in, it's the flow of space-time!”

Pidge nodded.

“You're not staying?” Allura asked Shiro, sounding disappointed.

“I have to go back, if it's possible. I want to change things. Not everything, but...” He hesitated, looking at Keith. “But more than that, there's so much I missed out on. I want to be there to see your children born, Allura. I want to be there for all of you. For the good times and the bad.”

Allura's smile was a sad one. “You know it might not change things for us. It could just create an alternate reality.”

“I know. I still want to try. Even if it is another version of all of you, it's still you. It's a Keith who didn't have to spend ten years searching. A Pidge who didn't have to give up on a friend.”

Allura reached across the table to take his hand. “Alright. Then whatever you need in order to go back, let me know.” She turned to Pidge, who looked as though she was seconds away from crying. “We're here to help. Any time.”

With their friends on board to lend a hand, Pidge finished up the Time Transporter much sooner than she expected. What she predicted would take another six or eight months on her own, only took three, even with testing and building the machine itself.

The day before was dreary and overcast, perfect for the somber atmosphere of Shiro's farewell dinner. They'd all wanted the chance to say goodbye, but had agreed the day he left would be just Shiro, Keith, and Pidge.

Stories were swapped, from the times before Shiro's disappearance and more than a few through the years he'd missed. Mostly silly stories. Lance reminisced about the fun times on the Castle of Lions, like the food goo fight and the squishy asteroids. (Or even that one time the castle tried to kill them all.) Allura's stories of a houseful of half-Altean children and an offhand remark that maybe there was room for another. Keith's countless tales of Kosmo's antics when they all lived on the Atlas and how he would team up with Baebae to wreak havoc. Hunk, gushing over Shay and their baby boy, Vayren. Pidge had a number of stories about Matt and her family, carefully chosen to not reveal too much.

There were no dry eyes when Hunk, Allura, and Lance left that night.

The next morning dawned clear and bright, drying out the wetness from the day before. No one could stomach much of a breakfast and it wasn't long before the three of them were standing in the backyard.

Pidge knelt down to make sure the Time Transporter was set correctly, as well as to give herself a moment to collect herself. She knew if she looked at Shiro she'd never be able to get the words out. “Remember, I can't send you back to the exact moment you left, in case I overshoot and you go back too far. Your best chance is getting sent back ten years from this moment.” She stopped to rub her eyes and then stood up, her voice breaking. “It's set to target Keith. You'll show up wherever he is in the past.”

“Oh, Katie,” Shiro said softly, wrapping her up in his arms. “It'll be okay. You'll see me soon. I know it. Everything's going to be alright.”

Pidge sobbed and buried her face in his chest, unable to bring herself to say anything else. After a few minutes, she was calm enough to let go of him, though tears continued to stream down her face.

“Keith,” Shiro's voice cracked as he turned to face the other man.

Keith's smile was brittle. “See you soon, Shiro.”

Shiro looked away, his hand trembling as he gripped the handle of the Time Transporter. He flipped the switch to give it time to work and then lifted his head, getting one last look at them. “I love you both.”

And then he was gone.

Pidge fell to her knees, sobbing once again, and Keith went to her, hiding his face in her hair as he cried.

They sat in the grass and held each other for a long time.

And then Kosmo gleefully barked from somewhere in the house, and like waking from a spell, Pidge and Keith slowly untangled and he helped her up, freezing as he got a good look at her.

“Pidge?” His voice was full of wonder as he placed his hand on her belly, which had been perfectly flat the last he checked.

Pidge looked down, her eyes wide. “How?”

As new memories trickled in, slowly growing stronger and pushing aside the old until their ten years without Shiro felt more like a well-watched movie than reality, they knew what happened.

“Shiro,” they said in unison, hurrying inside to find him.

Pidge and Keith were almost to the hall when they heard the front door shut and Shiro's voice call out: “We're home!”

Tiny footsteps raced towards them and Keith stepped in front of Pidge in time to catch a little girl with dark hair and sweep her up into his arms. She squealed and giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting a wet kiss against his cheek with a playful, “Mwah!”

“Keira,” Pidge breathed, staring at their daughter. She felt like crying all over again, but at least she could blame it on the hormones.

And then Shiro walked in, a little older and with much whiter hair, but still very much the Shiro they fell in love with. Keith slowly set Keira down, unable to take his eyes off of him.

“Sweetie, why don't you and Kosmo go play outside?” he asked.

“Kosmo!” Keira giggled as the comic wolf loped over to her and laid down, letting her climb onto his back. Once she had a good grip on his harness, he trotted out the back door.

Shiro set down his backpack, his expression one of concern as he approached Pidge. He reached out to brush away her fresh tears. “Hey, what's wrong? Did something happen? Is everything alright?”

“You did it,” Keith said, his tone conveying his awe. “You actually...”

“Changed things,” Pidge choked out with a happy laugh. “You changed the timeline. Our timeline!”

With a shout of delight, Shiro pulled his wife and husband in for a warm hug, basking in the knowledge that he'd done what he set out to do.

At last, everything was right in their universe.

[connywrites]

Eavesdropping

now on [AO3]

“Yeah, well, my mom was a piece of shit, and uh, my dad—oh yeah, he was a piece of shit, too,” Leo snapped, a familiar sign of finding it hard to stop talking shit once he started.

“Not to mention the whole, liking an android more than me, anyway,” he spat with the same fluctuation in his voice as he’d used the day he sauntered in with the expectation of more money; the day when Markus confronted him and his own father encouraged him to back down from his spat of violence. It didn’t matter what he did, how he did it or what measures he took to achieve what he wanted, whether Carl gave it to him or not– it was all he’d seen, wanted or cared for, so he’d go out of his way to do anything to obtain it.

Leo was a person that insisted on pushing forward, for better or worse. If he was challenged, he would tackle it head-on, even if it meant a worse demise for himself.

“But that’s just the complaint everyone has these days, isn’t it? At least it was before everything lead to shit and robots had their heads over ours. But hey, maybe that’s just my fucking problem, after–”

A strange sensation churned in his chest while his typical double personality fought against itself, leaving him to try and make a decision over ‘which Leo’ he would allow himself to be today. It depended on the moment, what he wanted, and which way would be the best to achieve his desires. Lying and telling stories were second nature to him, and exaggeration in his favor fit his sticky fingers like sterile gloves.

“You know what that piece of shit said to me?” He always did the annoying pause for emphasis after a prologue of words, knowing it riled up whomever he was talking to, a key role in his typical manipulation tactics. The more he spoke out loud, the more he fed into the rage still stirring within him, feeling the resurgence of bitter hatred seeping its way to the surface of his skin the same way it always did.

“You know, my dad was full of his own crap, but at least he was real,” he said in an intentional diversion from his original question as he’d already lost the thought.

“This thing…I dunno. It pretends. It pretends real well.” Whoever he was on the phone with seemed to encourage him as he rocked in his seat, leaning forward and speaking with dramatic prominence.

“And that’s like, that’s the point, right? It was made like that, and dad fell for it. Just like ev-er-y-bo-dy else,” he muttered in sharp, slow, spaced syllables, revisiting his misanthropic view of humanity as a whole to fuel the emotional fire.

“I don’t know what’s up, but it’s freaky, you know? I live here, with this thing that could kill me in my sleep. I can’t really explain it. Everyone was scared seeing him on TV, and I live with that, night and day. I could die like, you know, one of the cops in the street did or whatever. I mean, they shot him and took him to the junkyard and the freak came back from the dead, or whatever.”

It was too deep of a thought process, but now that he’d plunged into it, he couldn’t escape what he’d started.

“That’s what I mean. You don’t really know, and it’s not like they tell you.” While Leo couldn’t comprehend much about the politics involving Cyberlife, he had a basic understanding of why the majority of the population didn’t take a particular liking to androids. The shift of power was sudden, and in his own view, he felt like it was majorly his own fault—he’d been shoved to the ground with a concussion in the midst of a petty argument, they’d lost their father and before he knew it, he was sharing bus seats with different mechanical models sharing the same faces, pretending they had an identity in a serial number.

Human rights. New species. Something something, new life form. Freedom. The news reports still rang in his mind as it was all he saw and listened to while bound in the hospital bed that day, as well as the next three following. He’d woken with a bloody nose and no memory of what had happened, only recalling his crippled father hovering above him in fear, sobbing over what he had done and the fact Markus was missing and ‘in danger’. The way Carl spoke about both of them as if they were on equal ground was always strange to Leo, but he knew better than to assume his dad saw him as anything close to how he perceived Markus, thus never raising his hopes with the acknowledgement that he would ever measure up to a machine.

A specifically designed android, modern art with a specific goal in mind, something so precisely constructed down to its behavior and personality. Leo had no chance of fully grasping the degree of which Markus was finely tuned, as he’d only been able to see what was revealed to him. When he wasn’t thinking about the angle of the lifestyle Markus got to lead, he didn’t mind treating him as a person and often didn’t think too hard about it the more time went on. As soon as he could find a reason to use it as verbal bait or any kind of manipulation leverage overall, however, it didn’t matter what Markus had done or fought for; he was reduced to being useless plastic praised much too high in Leo’s personally opinionated mind.

-

“Why were you saying those things about me?”

Confrontation was one of the most difficult things for Leo, and now he was caught in the act, standing stiffly while his body wavered to one side with a bout of anxiety bringing him to tap his fingertips at his side, letting out a sigh, then two, and three. Shaking his head, he turned to leave; but a hand gripping his shoulder was quick to stop him as Markus stilled him with a moment of thought as the android paused to find eye contact, eyebrows narrowing with a stare of disbelief and an edge of anger in a final response to how Leo had been acting, just now as well as overall. Is this what Carl had gone through every time?

“Leo…are you talking about me differently, depending on who you’re speaking to? And how you want them to see me?”

Being called out made Leo feel guilty, and he hated guilt. It meant that not only was he wrong, but he was forced to acknowledge it. Resonating a sense of self-awareness, he was still tussling with between accepting who he was and following through as a better person, or trying to latch onto the uglier parts of himself that existed through old grudges and bad habits for the sake of ease.

There was something in the way that Markus stared at him, a certain sorrow in his eyes with the shift of his mouth into a frown – not one of anger or frustration, but of betrayal. How could Leo blame him? They’d spent this long together with Markus constantly at his side, helping him, teaching them how to handle new coping mechanisms and the lack of certainty that came with the death of a loved one, alongside the difficulties of quitting hard drugs. Sometimes Carl’s death was seemingly the only thing they had in common. Markus felt like he’d taken it much more seriously and heavily than Leo, but he’d seen from the young man’s emotional outbursts – even if they were small and far in-between, as Leo didn’t like being emotional or giving into those thoughts and feelings at all, which was what made them genuine and proved to Markus that what he thought and felt was real – he had his own sorrows haunting him over the matter. There was something in Leo that one would only recognize if they looked, squinted and dug around for, and that was the personality that was resilient, the Leo that wanted to live, to learn and to thrive, weighed down by his previous history, from family neglect to drug abuse leading up to felony charges. A badly manufactured firecracker waiting to be lit with a short fuse while it crackled up to one explosion after another, unexpected and abrupt with sparks flying everywhere. Sometimes it was a glorious display, but usually it was an awkwardly packed bundle of gunpowder in a crooked shell, bound to explode without warning and provide a show subpar to what was usually expected.

A disappointment. A dud. A weakness.

“Shut up,” Leo said in offense, as if Markus’ words were the wrong ones and he had been in the right to deflect them. Lowering his stature while the width of his shoulders tensed and squared, Markus glared at his brother with a gaze holding betrayal. Leo wasn’t exactly the type that was able to read people like books, but he figured if he put forth enough emotion, it would be harder for Leo to avoid, no matter how difficult of a time he had with body language or eye contact.

“I didn’t say anything,” Markus notified him firmly.

“You’ve been doing all the talking. I just don’t like what I’m hearing.” Surprising for Leo, Markus’ voice was soft to his ears, kind and with a slight edge that reminded him of someone that had been hurt – the usual way people responded once they realized you’d set them up for disappointment and used them to gain something for yourself, meanwhile shoving them under the bus in your favor, just as he’d been so many times before, an uncomfortable reminder that whether he liked it or not, Markus was emotive. He could feel, he could think, he could become sad or grow angry, and while Leo didn’t understand it even to the slightest degree, he emotionally crumbled faster than he could catch himself once the subject was brought to his attention. It was harder to be an asshole without the red ice blurring his vision in a berserk panic, leaving him with no choice than to consider what he’d said, and the damage it had already done.

Markus drew in a long, deep breath while he reminded himself that if he wanted to help and understand Leo, it would take patience, to a degree that was new and challenging to him. Sometimes he felt as though he’d finally cracked through the shell, gotten Leo to shine for who he truly was, following his better beliefs and feeling ambition to his core, the key component to fighting his addictions; and sometimes he felt like he’d worked so hard to chisel his way through, only for all the hard work to be shoved back into his face multiple times over. Maybe this was what made Leo so difficult to get along with, but with that thought, he knew that it was only that way because no one else tried to refuse his sly ways. Whoever Leo had known in the past let him get away with the lies, the twisted words and anger, the inflated ego, the pity parties, the coercive motions and cunning words if he wanted someone to feel bad for him. He’d seen it, and he hated it, the way Leo would take every verbal and behavioral cue as an excuse to turn it back on whoever seemingly opposed him or utilize it as a chance to attract attention to himself.

“Leo—” His voice was soft but stern as he tried to catch the other’s attention.

“Leo,” he spat back with blatant sarcasm, rolling his eyes while he mimicked the word with spite and mockery.

“Christ, now you sound like my mom, too. What, my name only worth saying when you want something? When I do something wrong?” That glare was all too familiar, dark, radiant brown eyes staring into Markus’ while he was reminded of interactions he’d long since wanted to forget. Markus acknowledged that despite his personal frustrations, if he didn’t stand up to Leo when he was in a mood like this, no one would, and he’d never learn that he couldn’t get away with acting this way.

“I don’t say your name as means to antagonize you.” For a moment, he’d forgotten that trying to explain himself was a bit too much with words too long, bounding to only frustrate Leo worse; closing his eyes, Markus lifted a hand in a ‘wait a minute’ gesture while he regathered his thoughts. Leo looked nonplussed, scowling while he glared him down through frustration as he was made to deal with this, but let Markus continue.

“I just wish you’d listen, for once. That I could trust you not to act like this as soon as I turn around.”

Was he feeling regret? Over an android’s words? Leo didn’t want to believe it, staring at the ground as he shifted his weight to the other leg again, rotating a foot and smudging the toe of his shoe into the ground, as if snubbing something out – though nothing was there, proving it to be an action carried out by the need of his internal bursting energy alone, always seeming to disrupt him in a way that made it so he couldn’t sit still or hold conversation for long. Markus couldn’t tell whether to blame it on the drugs anymore or not, or leave it to the fact Leo was simply like that as a person.

“Yeah, well, I wish all sorts of shit, but that’s just it – wishes don’t come true.” There was a cold callousness in Leo’s eyes that Markus hadn’t seen since he was on drugs, and that was when the realization clicked into place that it didn’t take an external substance for Leo to act up; it was simply something he did when he might see the response as beneficial, or simply carried it on as a habit, a weapon tucked away into its holster until he needed it.

“So I’m supposed to believe the past four months of our time together weren’t…” too many words, he knew already.

“Leo, I thought that you… I thought that we,” he restated, quick to realize his monologue would likely hit deaf ears and quickly shortening his sentence before continuing. To his surprise, Leo huffed, stopping in place while he considered the words; bringing his hands to the sides of his head, Leo clenched fingers into his hair as he began to pace, a blatant sign something was bothering him and thus hinting Markus to tread lightly.

“I thought we were doing well.” He wanted to finish his sentence with more dialogue, but it lacked malice, holding pure interest as to why Leo would turn on him this way and what he should do about it. He’d heard about it, he knew full and well how Leo changed his personality on a whim, fished for compliments and played the victim card when he needed to for whatever he wanted. Nonetheless, he’d never seen the actions in front of his own two eyes, and the striking disappointment that sunk deep into him made Markus realize so much more about Leo than he’d ever wanted to. It explained why Carl had such difficulty trying to keep in touch alone, why even after doing their best for Leo, everyone had to give up eventually and leave him to face his own battles; a bold contrast to how Leo seemed to either belittle himself or inflate his own ego depending on the moment, leaving Markus to pick apart an algorithm he’d never had to before.

“It’s not that easy,” Leo griped, an immediate excuse to avoid the conversation as he, again, tried to leave. Markus was quick to position himself in his way, tilting his head with a look on his face that made Leo feel cornered—not afraid, simply aware, leaning his head back with an upward tilt of his chin as he subconsciously tried to make himself appear bigger in favor of the interaction, even as the  shorter party.

“I never said it was.” The level of intelligence this computer held reminded Leo of his frustration in the first place, index fingers rubbing circles in the sides of his temples as he glared straight ahead and began pacing back and forth across the polished wood floor.

“You can’t keep doing this.” Markus let the name drop, lacking the need to further add a carved sharpness to the words he spoke, something else he and Leo would disagree on again and again. Every once in a while, Leo seemed to belittle his own name, reacting to it with sudden disgust as if it left a ringing in his ears or a bitter taste on his tongue. What it was like to hate one’s own moniker was entirely beyond Markus, as his was simple and held no particular emotional attachment, short and to the point. There was the generally added personal connection to surnames, and Markus had yet to brave bringing up the sound of Manfred between the two of them.

“I can do whatever I want,” Leo stated blatantly, even though both of them knew better and neither of them believed him for a second.

“Is it that easy for you to lie?” This caught Leo’s attention full-on as he froze in place, staring Markus down with an expression mixed between disbelief and the ‘duh’ he communicated with his eyes, barely short of escaping his lips.

“Is it that hard for you?” Leo parroted, glaring Markus in the eyes the same way he’d done the last time while his fingertips curled into the fabric of the android’s jacket.

“Is it that easy for you to be honest? Oh yeah, you never had to defend yourself, so of course it is! You had nothing to lie about,” he began, already feeling the aggravated heat on his face from his own frustration alone. He subconsciously stepped onto the seething hot trail of rage, knowing it would lead to somewhere ugly and regretful, but took it in stride for the moment as he felt like it was the right thing to do.

“You had nobody to lie to, so of course you wouldn’t get it. There was no need!” Despite having Leo yelling in his face another time over, Markus took a long, quiet moment to recollect, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out in one long, slow motion, before opening his eyes to catch Leo’s while he was granted the mercy of holding eye contact, no matter how short-lived the moment might have been.

“No, I didn’t lie,” he stated with clear modesty.

“There’s no reason for me to lie, withhold secrets or falsify the truth. That isn’t to say I haven’t done it before – I understand the need to when you’re in the position of danger. I will never understand doing so for the sake of self-gratitude, though.”

“You what now?” Right. Markus glanced over to one of the chairs in the main room, leading them both to sit down across one another in the seats on each side of the empty chess table, hoping that Leo would accept the invitation to settle and vent one way or another, whether the conversation was personally constructive for either of them or not. He knew when Leo acted like this it meant he had a lot of pent-up frustrations he needed to get out, and sometimes complaining alone did the trick; but this time, Markus felt like it might be a little bit different.

“Sorry,” Markus offered, thinking about how talking in shorter sentences was his own sort of habit he needed to change, but it was a simple rearrangement of thought compared to the daily major life aspects Leo had to work around and teach himself to adjust to. All he was trying to do was make communication easier between them, and if he still caught himself finding trouble with it, he couldn’t imagine how many times more difficult such a thing must be for someone trying to turn their entire life around. Leo only stared at him.

“Lying just to lie doesn’t make sense to me, neither does lying to get something I want. That’s why you do it, right?” Leo scoffed, glaring daggers in Markus’ direction.

“Yeah, sure, let’s go with that. Lying to win. It’s that easy.” Both of them paused with a heavy tension between them, aggravation building, doing no favors for the docile nature Markus intended to keep with this exchange.

“No. I never said you won, or that it was easy,” Markus corrected, and Leo bared his teeth with a snarl as he further disliked being corrected.

“I said I can’t do the same thing myself unless the situation called for it. I want to understand why you talk to your friends like I’m an object after I thought you were finally understanding how to respect me as a person.” Shifting in the seat, it took all the willpower Leo had not to get up and leave, arms straight at his sides while his hands clenched into the soft red fabric of stiff luxury cushions. Lowering his glower while he glared off to the side, he shook his head with an unsteady motion as everything in his body ushered him to keep moving.

“’Cause some people don’t get it, okay? They’re never going to. They’re not gonna wake up one day and think androids are people, no matter how hard you try,” he continued with spite, but his lowered vision and shrunken shoulders told Markus that there was sincerity in Leo’s word, an emotional defense mechanism slowly crumbling as honesty and realization swirled in Leo’s mind, constantly changing his view for the better even as he dug his hands into old mud.

“It’s just…easier to talk to ‘em the way they know, you know?” Markus glared at him, not feeling so bad when Leo adjusted uncomfortably in his seat again.

“You talked about how I could kill you. You don’t really think of me that way, do you?” Leo swallowed, making Markus grow uneasy. Was this a thought process Leo had stuck in his mind all along? An assumption he’d never heard, and thus didn’t bother trying to work around?

“No,” Leo said, but it was in a rush and he realized he should take it back immediately as it was a falsified truth.

“Maybe,” he snapped, closing his eyes while he leaned back and rubbed over the skin of his forehead, rolling it over his eyebrows and back up to his hairlinne again. Too honest. This was speaking more than he cared to, and every word dug the stress in deeper.

“I don’t know. You’ve seen what—what those things—what your friends do!” Aware there was no way to properly speak about it in a dignified matter, he’d changed his wording with a last-second moment of lament, shaking his head and combing his hands through his hair.

“I don’t know, dude, everyone’s out to get me all the time, why the hell should I think you’re any different?” Leo’s eyes stared at Markus’, but they jittered, dilated and unfocused in a way that would make Markus assume he was on drugs if he didn’t know any better. This was merely a typical stress response in Leo and would usually go as soon as it came as long as he let him ride it out the way he needed to; but that was the trickier part. Sometimes it was a good idea to let Leo get his frustrations out, and others it only made the situation and his own train of thought that much worse.

“Will you listen to me if I explain it to you?” There was a sharpness to Markus’ voice as he offered-yet-threatened to try and hold a conversation over the matter, and Leo stopping in place at least proved he was willing to consider the idea. Shrugging, Leo pulled his arms up from the seat and leaned into the back of the chair, folding his hands behind his head.

“Alright. Okay. Go for it.” Markus never liked Leo’s taunting nature, but he was willing to try and work with it if it might work out in their favor. Looking expectant, Leo raised his eyebrows with a twitch of his lip as he waited. Suddenly, Markus had a harder time finding the words he needed to say once he was put on the spot.

“First of all, I’m not them. I’m not your mother, or your father, or your old friends, or your ex-girlfriend.” Leo already looked bored and annoyed but remained quiet as he waited for Markus to continue.

“I don’t have some ultimate goal to ruin your life, and I’m not dealing with a fluctuation of instable emotions like most people around you had been. I’m not going to think differently of you from one day to the next, I just want to try to understand how you are as a whole. Killing you would sort of defeat the whole point of me trying to get to know you better, anyway,” he continued with a lighter tone to his voice, prompting Leo to face the realization of truth as he bit his lower lip and turned his head to the side, shifting uncomfortably.

“I know that truth is difficult for you, Leo. Sincerity, emotion, it’s all a foreign concept that you struggle to understand.” Cheeks darkening, Leo felt the need to get up and leave thricefold as soon as Markus pointed out the truth, leaving him to start scratching at the long sleeve of his upper arm in agitation while Markus pulled out another pin to add to the cushion of his own denial. Leading to self-discovery was another process in itself, Leo’s body shuffling so his shoulders slouched when he leaned forward, still casting his gaze off to one side in avoidance. Still, in Markus’ mind, it was another step forward.

“You don’t have to tell me. Your relationships with your friends and what they mean are your own business, and not mine. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have the right to be treated like a person, better than how you’ve been talking, with how much I’ve done for you.” Usually, Leo would take that as an antagonization, hearing Markus’ words and reflecting them in his past memories of manipulation – but Markus was sincere, another fact that had him lost while he tried to register the words for what they meant, and the emotion they fully encompassed. Markus wasn’t passive-aggressive, he wasn’t bitter or spiteful; he occasionally sunk his teeth into a bittersweet fruit but overall, Leo knew what he was telling him was honest, and there was no way he could deny or run away from the matter.

“Okay,” he said swiftly, and the disbelief made Markus curl his lips with an expression of dismay and lower his eyebrows while Leo rubbed the palms of his hands together, antsy and avoidant.

“You know what, you’re right,” he admitted – as much as he hated stating such a thing.

“I just… I know so many people, and they all think different. I can’t fit in with anyone, so I sorta, I have to change my behavior because of it.” It sounded pathetic; he knew. It fell flat on Markus’ microphones; he was all too aware. But it was the best he could give at an explanation for his actions, in a way that would make sense to him.

Markus wanted to respond immediately, but he took a moment to redecide, trying to imagine himself in Leo’s shoes; to him, it would be easy to tell the truth and hold a modest persona, but for Leo it would be the opposite. The fact this person had to adjust and change his personality so much made Markus question who the true Leo was, or rather, who he might have been if given the freedom from such a cruel world caving in around him. The longer he’d spent with him, the more he learned that Leo’s exaggerations and lies weren’t merely self-defense; they were deeply ingrained beliefs that would be harder to shake than super glue.

“You don’t have to do that.” It was the first thing Markus thought to say, pausing afterwards so as to let the words sink in.

“I know,” Leo responded in a dark, quiet tone, the words surprising both of them.

“I don’t have to. But it’s easier if I do.”

Easy. A word Markus was aware of, but never became well-acquainted with. Why would there be any worth in doing something if it was easy?

Then he remembered Leo’s situation, where nothing was easy and he had to do his best just to survive, feeling the melancholy drift over him, shrouding him within a cloud of newfound heartache. He still hadn’t adjusted to his own emotions in regard to Leo, so it was always a bit surprising when he felt something in response to their exchange, new sensations he was still regulating to while Leo likely knew the full extent of the strings he was pulling. This time, he hoped to turn the tide, even just slightly.

“Why do you think it’s easier?” It was a difficult concept, but he wanted to know the truth, and understood the thought process Leo must go through every time it came to something like this; he imagined it may have been a practiced feat, but never assumed it could come easily.

“Okay, like, if I called up a thrift shop and started talking about an old microwave like a person, they’d look at me like I’m nuts, right?” The mania strung out through his veins made him continue to shake while he offered a half-smile, half-sneer, eyes wide with disjointed lips and crooked teeth showing an expression Markus never really understood.

“I mean, I get it. The revolution shit. I was there, I saw it, I kinda caused it,” he said with an airy tone holding more snide than he’d really meant. Again, he wasn’t good with confrontation.

“But that doesn’t mean everyone listens. Some people I know aren’t gonna change their minds, and that’s just how it is,” he said, not noticing the touch of gloom to his voice. Markus did, eyes darting over to him while he tried to absorb the full length of exactly what Leo was feeling – but it was impossible, considering just how in-depth his personality was, deeper than most of the humans he’d ever known.

“If you’re speaking and you think no one is listening, then there’s a flaw in your dialogue. I mean to say, they’ll hear you if you talk loud enough.” Leo scoffed.

“I don’t care about that, dude,” he chimed in a voice all too friendly for the discussion at hand.

“They don’t need to hear me. I don’t need to hear me.”

“Then why tell them the lies that you do?”

Leo’s gaze turned serious, the brown of his eyes seeming to dim as he leered at Markus, trying to decide how to respond to his question. The fact he had no words only continued to prove he was in the wrong, and this time he had to face the fact, rather than try to bury it down in his typical act of repression.

“Nobody trusts me. I want to keep what I can, when people think I’m worth it.” He wasn’t worth it, he knew; they were just using him for what he had to offer, whether it was drugs, money or sex, adjusting his weight in his seat again with a rapid scratch at the skin of his collarbone.

“Guess that means talking shit about you too,” he said with the realization that the Leo that spun webs of lies and the Leo here now, trying to overcome such an act in an effort of rehabilitation, were very different and ultimately difficult people to split.

“If I tell them the truth about you, then I lose them as friends, too.” Markus wasn’t sure whether to be hurt over the aspect of being replaceable, or remorseful with the idea that Leo’s friends were that shortly extendable, easy to drop like flies if he so much as told the honest reality of it all.

“Do you want to keep them as friends in the first place?” Markus knew the weight of his words and how they sunk Leo down by the shift of his expression, but in his mind, it was necessary. How else would he come to terms with such an idea?

“The last I knew, you were only talking to your ex-girlfriend. Who were you on the phone with?”

In response to being questioned, Leo was quick to stand from his seat, close to backhanding Markus all over again before he reconsidered the idea, stepping away to pace through the living room.

“Who were you on the phone with?” Markus repeated, his voice holding more depth as he noticed Leo’s typical behavior of avoidance, making him all the more uncertain, and therefor wary, hoping it wasn’t what he thought. Leo avoided the question, feeling the anger bubble up beneath his skin with a readiness to kick down the kitchen chair while his hands clenched fistfuls of his own hair.

“He was–he was—" Speaking was a new sort of communication that Leo could never entirely connect to, linking his ability to easily lie alongside the need to tell the truth in favor of Markus, what he wanted, and how badly he, himself needed the connection they had. Losing it now would only hurt him worse, as much as he hated to think such a thing.

“Was?” Markus’ voice was calm, reasonably quiet. Leo shook his head, scratching his hair while he took in Markus’ question. Feeling defeated, Leo sighed, snapping the fingers of his right hand a few times in lieu of knowing what else to do with himself.

“He was my dealer,” he said in one rushed, fast breath, hoping it would be lost in the wind if they could put aside the conversation. Of course, with Markus, they couldn’t.

“So your red ice dealer doesn’t like androids? Hard to see that connection,” Markus said in a flatly sarcastic voice, but Leo still appreciated the irony, flashing a one-sided smile in response and scoffing before he let out a low, dry laugh, but not one that indicated it was humorous to him.

“Funny. You got jokes,” Leo stated with a bored tone of voice that showed he didn’t actually find it amusing. Markus reflected his expression.

“You and I both know this isn’t funny.”

“Yeah, well, I gotta laugh. What do you call it? Irony?” He shrugged, gaze shifting to the ceiling as he let out a big sigh.

“There’s no reason to. If you stop finding humor in the morbid things, you’ll realize there’s nothing to laugh at.”

“That’s not funny.” The ironic paradox in the statement struck them both, but Markus was the only one to react, letting out a quiet sigh as he leaned forward to prop his weight on his arms with his elbows against his knees, sitting down.

“Would you find it easier if you could laugh at it?” Eyebrows immediately knitting together, Leo glared at him with offense riddling his face, leaving him to feel both frustrated and righted, as there was probably some truth to what Markus had asked. He wanted to bat away the subject and stand up to leave, but Markus’ gaze was enough to reel him back to his seat in the chair even when he tried. Markus felt satisfied that Leo had retreated of his own accord.

“Easy,” Leo said back, staring with cold eyes, glassy with their glare of spite.

“Yeah. Sure. If anything about my life was fucking easy,” he bit, ready to trail down another road of anger and nothing else, virtually feeling his shoes burn from the melting lava - even if it was entirely metaphorical.

“Can you listen to what I’m saying for a moment?” That was new, the frustration in Markus’ voice that Leo had never personally heard before, attention immediately on him as he turned his head, wary as to whether it was an act of truth or not. Another part of himself – and what the drugs made him out to be – he hated was the temptation to distrust, always wanting to second-guess what he’d been told, to challenge what had been done to him. This time, he just sighed, slumping into the chair as the urge to fight left him, and for the time being, he listened to the words Markus was going to say.

“You don’t have to lie to fit in with people. You don’t have to fit in at all.” Looking confused, Leo narrowed his eyes, tilting his head with a defiant shrug of his shoulders.

“If they really mean so little to you, then why give them so much credit?” Leo was struck silent for a moment, sinking into the seat of his chair. Taking that as a victory, Markus continued.

“Do you think more of me or of them? Who matters more to you?” Markus was well aware the ultimatum wasn’t fair, but that was exactly the reason why it would make Leo think over it.

“What the hell do you mean by that?” Leo looked offended, but Markus remained deadpan.

“What do you think I mean?” Leo hated when he asked questions like that. He hated what they meant, and the way it made him think.

“I dunno. It’s not like that. I can’t just, pick and choose my friends, you know?” Markus looked confused.

“Sure you can.” The aspect made Leo feel like he’d fall from his chair, scrambling to catch his balance again with a mocking noise. Markus wanted to comment about it but said nothing.

“You know what’s better or worse for you. Good influences, and bad, whether you want to admit it or not.” His voice became lighter as he was hoping Leo absorbed his words, examining his shifting expressions while Leo did all he could not to get up and leave. Markus continued to be thankful he’d tried so hard not to, another piece of proof that he was still trying, even in moments like this.

“You know what it takes to sober up and talking lowly of me isn’t part of it.”

He was right, of course, the denial leaving Leo to do little but glower in his direction. Markus knew it was a signal of progress, opting to let him for the sake of how it would help, even if Leo didn’t acknowledge it – now or ever.

“Dude, if I leave him too, I won’t have any friends left,” he said with contempt, aware that he would be better off if he’d dropped the ‘connection,’ yet fearful of the future of another person leaving his side—even if it was for the best.

“Do you need them?” Leo stared blankly, lacking any physical or mental response this time.

“I need something,” he stated clearly, even though the words left his lips in crumbling uncertainty.

 “Company, I guess,” Leo continued with a sneer.

“Good company,” Markus corrected. Leo glanced away.

“Maybe that’s part of your problem, or why you keep going back,” Markus offered.

“Do you actually feel a connection to that person?” Leo glowered, teeth bared but lips limp in a lack of proper expression, lacking words certain enough to escape his mouth.

“No,” Leo murmured with the voice of epiphany, a tone of realization that left him in a whisper while he glanced down at his hands now trembling in front of him.

“He’s just there for the drugs. Right?” Leo closed his eyes, hating this particular aspect of discussion, as he’d had many similar interactions with therapists before. They never ended well.

“Right,” he said in a voice that wavered, a hint of dismay proving he didn’t want to believe it.

“Why did you talk to him about me killing you?” That struck him speechless, leaving Leo to roll onto his side and curl up against the seat between an instinctual nature to hide and the desire to flee. For now, while he didn’t want to be there, he laid still, waiting for more of Markus’ words while he curled himself into a corner.

Did he really have to tell the truth?

“Uhm, that’s what he thinks is gonna happen,” he muttered simply. Markus didn’t take it in so few words, swallowing down the awareness of there being so many people out there, always ready to kill himself or others like him.

“And you fed into that?” Leo’s eyes looked tired as he glanced up at him, but they were understanding enough to continue the conversation. Leo glared at him with the obvious undertone that Markus didn’t understand to the extent he needed, but the thought was quickly discarded.

“What else was I supposed to do?”

Markus paused as he acknowledged it was a good question, considering the circumstances. Say no was too simple, with expectations much too intense for someone like Leo, and he couldn’t hold such high hopes against a man like him.

“You weren’t ‘supposed’ to do anything. Just consider what it might mean for yourself, to keep in touch with people like that.” Leo’s own mind reminded him those were his only friends, but realizing Markus wouldn’t understand such a concept, he didn’t dare speak such words out loud.

“It’s bad,” Leo said with an air of realization, as if he just then understood the way it could lash back on him. Markus stared, but didn’t offer any verbal response. Before long, Leo’s hands were scraping through his hair; meanwhile Markus gave him a pointed gaze, distracting him for long enough to keep his attention where he needed it to be, yet didn’t pursue Leo despite part of his initial programming telling him to do so. For the most part, he’d learned to ignore those instructions, neglecting them in favor for what he- as well as androids around him- needed as a whole. Leo had never saved an entire species of his own, he’d mused, but never did he feel so trapped that he felt the need to otherwise. A new chance rose with a bright and vibrant opportunity, an aspect that scared Leo to the core.

“Then why do you keep doing it?” Markus’ words shook him, yet made him think long enough it left him quiet while he debated the exchange. That was the hard part; trying to explain what made it that effortless, that quick to slide off his tongue in a slip of a few seconds of coherent questions and responses, even to the police and authorities.

“Why do you keep asking me about this bullshit?” Leo was pleased to find his external reflection skills were still needle sharp, tilting his head with a twitch in his eyebrows and an accusatory stare at Markus as soon as he’d been given the chance.

“Stop telling me about shit I already know, okay? And the whole listening to me while I talk to my friends, thing – way creepy, dude.”

The weight of the ground seemed to shift beneath them as Markus didn’t exactly expect to be so blatantly dismissed. Nodding, his eyebrows furrowed in a moment of confusion as he scratched the back of his neck—an action he hadn’t generally acknowledged, picked up by someone aside from himself who he didn’t immediately remember while his mind scrambled to find an answer. Leo didn’t notice, and he was grateful.

“What? Now you’re quiet?” The way Leo’s voice cut into him was quick to force him to settle in place, staring into dark brown eyes with his own, digging his metaphorical heels into the ground while he wondered exactly how long he could stand staring into Leo’s eyes.

Looking amused, then offended with an accusatory glare in Markus’ direction, Leo laughed in his face.

“I should have known better, anyway.” Leo rambled on in a tone meant to attract attention and all the while speaking in pointed, short bursts with the anticipation to keep a sharp mindset, a way of speaking that kept Markus on his toes as he’d learned to become more in tune to Leo’s awareness than he’d originally anticipated. Leo sucked in a deep breath while he made his best attempt to hold a civil conversation, but couldn’t help the way his voice held nothing but spite.

It was all too easy for Leo to dig from an old list of egotistical remarks and demanding tones that made Markus equally more curious and yet all the more willing to leave the entire thing behind as soon as Leo opened his mouth.

“All you motherfuckers do—”

Markus turned to stare at him without so much as a three-second movement, barely casting a glance while he did a quick analysis of the human. He was a bit too quick to strike, lost in a moment of what might have been emotionally-driven thought as he shoved Leo to the ground, but even in millisecond motions he wasn’t sure there was anything backing up exactly what he’d done.

“You think that everything is entitled to you, but you don’t deserve half of what the world has offered you,” he hissed through his teeth, a particular accusatory gaze pointing at Leo with his hands already wrapped into the front of an unzipped jacket.

“Haha! Look at you!” Leo’s congratulation was thick with sarcasm, followed by one of his infamous chuckles—the ones that sounded so unrealistic, it was strange to hear from a living, breathing being. That laugh was a signal that the cognitive portion of Leo was lost in the confines of whatever delusions had their grasp on his prefrontal cortex for the time being. There was no negotiating with someone who wasn’t coherently there in the first place.

“Not so perfect now, are you?”

“Leo,” Markus stated sternly with just enough gumption to keep his attention,

“Stop this.”

“Don’t call me by my name,” he demanded, the sour scour never leaving his face. Markus considered it an odd request, but stored away the ‘command’ for later.

“You’re not my fucking parents. I get it, the way you really tried to fit in and become a big part of everything, but don’t you realize how stupid it is? I mean, that’s the joke, you know—the first android Kamski made was a blue-eyed, blond-haired babe!” There was an unusual amount of enthusiasm to his voice as he pointed out the fact, laughing to himself at the idea of Markus being comparable to nothing short of a bikini model.

Markus saw black, and in a moment, there was nothing. The last time they fought, Leo was unconscious on the ground and Markus wondered if he was dead – and hearing otherwise almost made him wish he’d finished the job.

The next thing they knew, Leo was beneath him, turned onto his stomach with his arms behind him while he shouted in discomfort, struggling for a few minutes before he turned his head to glare up at Markus the best he could from his position.

“Alright, if you’re into this, you need to tell me now, because it’s really kinda weirding me out—” Markus’ eyes narrowed as he graced Leo a gaze of distrust, but remained silent, lifting himself up and letting him go in one quick motion. Blinking, Leo brought his arms forward to push his body off the ground so he could stand, then brushed the dirt off his hands and clothes, but wasted no time scowling directly at Markus.

In a moment of silence, it seemed like neither of them had anything to say. Markus had plenty of words to use in favor of convincing Leo he was in the right, but even if Leo was willing to pay attention, he didn’t currently have the desire to teach. Not to someone that refused to listen. Not him.

Markus knew his words were meant to try and pull a response from him, so he was silent in his refusal. In a swift line straight towards him, Leo was quick to close in, never looking away with his eyes glaring into the android’s as soon as he’d set foot in his direction—a behavior that only seemed to happen when he thought he was the one in power, another expression showing an emotion he would never understand.

“Why do you want to hurt me?” It was an honest question, even if Markus didn’t expect an honest response.

“I don’t. I wanna see that you won’t hurt me.” There was a twist of uncertainty that welled inside him as he prepared a few backup commands for the worst of situations—just in case.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Markus said softly with a lift of his eyebrows, and in that moment, something occurred to him; in a haze of his own distracted thoughts, he hadn’t checked to ensure Leo took his medication earlier in the day. Could a few hours make this much of a difference?

“You say I don’t think a lot. I thought that was your whole thing, raising hell about thinking and feeling? Tell me about how you feel, Markus.” Leo spat each word with such vigor Markus felt the flecks of saliva speckle his face. As much as he wanted to resist, he knew if he fought back, the only way this could go was downhill, letting his body grow limp in surrender. Besides – he’d made the first move, after all.

“Tell me if you feel this,” Leo threatened in a tone that gradually lowered before slamming a fist across Markus’ face. Once, twice, then again. Pausing for a moment to recalibrate, Markus felt his weight shift as he found himself weakened a fair amount from the blows. Momentarily silent, he told himself how history had a tendency to repeat, wondering for a moment just what was going through Leo’s mind in the time they’d shared face-to-face, now close enough he could feel the erratic breaths cast down his neck. A swift scan notified him Leo’s conditions being none too healthy, moving his head out of the way as Leo swung another punch and rolling away to sit up beside him. Confused, Leo glared him down with suspicion; Markus shrugged in response.

“Come here,” he beckoned with a voice of concern. Baffled, Leo took the opportunity to stand upright again, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows in a gesture that asked the question so obviously blaring in his mind. Markus was grateful he didn’t feel the need to use his nasty vocabulary to speak, for once. In a few moments, Markus gathered the words to say, reassuring himself they were in a fashion Leo would listen to and understand, even if it sounded unlikely.

“You—you think I’m just gonna, walk over there, right up to you? Is that what you want?” While he paused to catch his breath, Markus took a moment to feel nigh on impressed by how well Leo could taunt while in the face of direct danger. A surprise he’s not dead yet, he thought to himself, before discarding the notion in abrupt discomfort.

“Listen to yourself. You’re not making any sense.” Surprisingly enough, the words seemed to get through to him, leaving Leo to take a moment to kneel on the ground, holding himself up on his uninjured knee and both of his arms. For a moment, he thought back to the days when he’d been more fit, running track with visits to the gym at least twice a week. In that moment of feeling useless all over again, he took a few deep, heavy breaths before heaving himself back to his feet – and turning around, leaving the room before Markus could get another word in.

[pizza-is-my-buziness]

So this is off a Christmas prompt list I reblogged earlier this month and the prompt is about one character agreeing to be the fake date for another and then meeting that character’s sibling so...have some Skimmons!

“Are you sure about this?”

“I am sure about this,” Daisy says as she undoes her seatbelt. “But you have asked me this question like fifteen times. Are you sure about this?”

Fitz sighs, making no move to get out of the car. Instead, he just stares at the house in front of them like a man preparing to walk down the Green Mile. “No,” he says, which Daisy figures he should at least get points for honesty. “But it’s too late to back down now so.”

Daisy gives him a pat on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit.” She gets out of the car, grabbing her bag from the backseat and slinging it over her shoulder.

Her family doesn’t really do Christmas, or any holiday at all really, so it had been pretty easy when Fitz had been complaining two weeks ago about having no one to bring home with him for his family’s Christmas get together. It had been Hunter who suggested a fake date and despite Mack’s efforts to talk both his friends out of this ridiculous plan, Daisy had agreed to be Fitz’s girlfriend for the long weekend and help him put on a good show for his family.

“My father finds pretty much everything I do a disappointment,” Fitz had said the night before, when they were putting the finishing touches on their fake relationship. “Showing up alone would only give him more ammunition.”  

Fitz starts up the walk, the snow neatly shoved off onto either side, creating sparkling miniature snowdrifts in the yard. Daisy takes in the decorations -tasteful and immaculately done- the full wreath on the door, the sparkling reindeer in the yard. “Nice place.”

The door swings open before Fitz can comment and there’s a woman on the other side that looks nothing like Fitz but who immediately breaks into a warm smile, reaching forward and wrapping her arms around him. “Leo, you finally made it,” she says in a lilting British accent, kissing Fitz’s forehead. “How was the drive?”

“It was fine,” Fitz assures her, attempting to move out of her embrace but smiling nonetheless. “Daisy, this is Katharine, my step-mum. And Katharine, this is-”

“Yes, Daisy,” Katharine says, letting go of Fitz only so she can wrap Daisy in her arms instead. “We were so excited to hear that Fitz was bringing someone to visit.”

Daisy pats the woman on the back, smirking at the apologetic look on Fitz’s face. “Well, I’m happy to be here,” she tells Katharine. “Who doesn’t love Christmas?”

Katharine gives Fitz a look to suggest that they both know that he would rather be anywhere else. “Well, come in from the cold,” she says rather than give voice to their shared look. “I’m sure Leo will want to show you around and introduce you to his sister and father.”

Daisy lifts an eyebrow. “You didn’t tell me you had a sister.”

“Stepsister,” Fitz says, though he looks slightly guilty to be making the distinction. “Is Jemma already here?”

Katharine nods, leading them into the kitchen. “Of course,” she says. “You know our Jemma. Always early, never on time.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being early,” says a second voice from the kitchen and when the speaker turns away from the sink, drying her hands on a towel, Daisy feels her heart jump into her throat.

Jemma hurries over to give Fitz a hug, before turning to smile at Daisy. “It’s nice to meet you. Fitz has told me a lot about you.”

Daisy can only smile and nod because all she can think is well, shit. She is definitely in trouble.

“Uh, yeah,” Daisy says when she can finally remember how to speak. “Good things, I hope.”

Jemma’s smile only deepens like she and Daisy are sharing some sort of joke Daisy isn’t even aware of. “Of course. You seem quite marvelous,” she says. “Fitz says you’re a wonder with computers.”

“I just turn it off and turn it on again,” Daisy assures her. “That’s the true trick to any IT issue.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” Jemma replies.

Daisy wonders if it’s possible to fall in love with someone after speaking on two sentences to them. She’s willing to be the first, honestly. Someone call Guinness because she’s pretty sure that she’s already in love with Jemma and ready to marry her right here in the kitchen.

Of course, that would be pretty difficult considering the fact that, you know, they’ve only spoken two sentences to each other.

Also the whole thing with her being Fitz’s stepsister.

And her being Fitz’s girlfriend.

Fake girlfriend.

Whatever.

“Where’s Dad?” Fitz questions, ignoring the fact that Daisy is about to become a puddle on the kitchen floor, looking at Katharine instead.

It is a nice reminder of what she’s supposed to be doing there, Daisy has to admit.

“In his study,” Katharine says. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to know that you’re here.”

Fitz looks dubious, but he decides to go find Alistair anyway, leaving Daisy in the company of Katharine and Jemma. “So,” Daisy says, rocking back on her heels and sliding her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. “What are you guys up to?”

“We were going to start making Christmas cookies,” Jemma tells her. “Would you like to help?”

Honestly it wouldn’t have mattered what they were up to, Daisy’s answer would have been the same either way. “Yeah, definitely.”

Turns out that Jemma means “making Christmas cookies” in the strictest sense of the phrase. “I don’t think I’ve ever made cookies that didn’t come out of a package,” Daisy admits as she works at mixing the batter in the bowl that Jemma hands her. “I wouldn’t even know where to start with this kind of thing.”

Jemma smiles, working at greasing the cookie sheets and arranging cookie cutters and decorations on the counter. “My grandmother used to make cookies from scratch every Christmas,” she says. “When I was old enough, she started letting me help her, though it took me a while to get really good at it.”

Daisy puts a finger in the bowl, popping some of the dough into her mouth. “I definitely approve,” she assures Jemma. “It seems like you’ve got this cooking making thing down.”

Katharine takes the bowl and dumps the batter out onto the flour dusted counter and starts rolling it flat. “Jemma is a woman of many talents.”

Daisy has to bite her tongue to keep from vehemently agreeing with that particular statement.

Jemma rolls her eyes, giving Daisy an exasperated look. Daisy grins and mimics Jemma’s expression, as though she wasn’t just about to throw her hat in with Katharine five seconds ago.

“So, how did you meet Fitz?” Jemma questions as she hands over a cookie cutter shaped like an angel. “He just said it had something to do with work.”

Daisy presses the cutter into the dough, adding the shape to one of the cookie sheets. “We work in the same building,” she says. “I’ve fixed his computer way too many times.”

Katharine smiles. “Well, I suppose romance can blossom at any time,” she says. “We’re happy to see that Leo is happy.”

Daisy swallows, keeping her smile in place. She’s pretty sure that Fitz is happy in the abstract -happy with his job, with his day-to-day life…he’s just not happy with her. And he’s not particularly happy being home either.

Not that Daisy is about to start pointing any of that out.

“Yeah,” she says instead, focusing all her attention on cutting reindeer and candy canes out of cookie dough. “Fitz is great.”

Jemma is looking at her and when Daisy finally glances in her direction, she lifts an eyebrow. Daisy clears her throat, grabbing a thing of sprinkles. “And, uh,” she continues, shaking sprinkles at random out across the cookies, “thanks for having me. Christmas isn’t like a big thing with my family so it’s great to have somewhere to spend it.”

Katharine nods. “We’d hate for you to be alone on Christmas, Daisy,” she says. “Especially since you mean so much to Leo.”

Daisy can’t help but wonder if there’s some sort of conspiracy against her formulated by the universe to rub in the fact that she’s not really dating Fitz.

Maybe that’s why he has such a hot sister.

Thankfully the conversation turns to topics that made Daisy feel less guilty, like stories about Jemma’s job or things that have been happening around the Fitz household. They’ve just put the cookies into the oven when Fitz returns to the kitchen, a scowl on his face. “I’m going to take a walk.”

Jemma glances at Daisy before looking back toward her brother. “Excellent idea,” she says, “we’ll come with you.”

Fitz doesn’t protest and neither does Daisy. As they walk, Fitz launches into a diatribe about his father and how Alistair is enough to make him never want to come home for any length of time, much less several days.

“It’s Christmas Eve, Fitz,” Jemma says gently, putting her arm around his shoulders. “At least stay the night.”

Daisy gives Fitz a sympathetic smile. “We’ve got your back,” she assures him. “I’m used to being the family disappointment so I’m sure I can distract your dad.”

It’s far from a solid plan but it seems to be enough to at least get a slight smile out of Fitz and distract him from his rant. Instead of talking about Alistair, they talk about work and colleagues and the end of the year and the weather and Daisy almost forgets that she’s supposed to be there as Fitz’s date and not just as his friend. It’s too easy to be distracted by Jemma and her stories and the smile on her face and the fact that her shoulder occasionally brushes against Daisy’s as they walk through the neighborhood.

It’s nearly enough to make her forget about Fitz completely.

Which probably makes her the worst fake girlfriend in history.

By the time they get back to the house, the smell of baking cookies has taken over and Alistair has come out of his study. He largely ignores Jemma and Fitz but is polite enough as he shakes Daisy’s hand and says her name like he’s trying to commit it to memory.

Dinner is cordial enough and Daisy does her best to impress Alistair with exaggerated stories of her technological prowess so that he can be impressed in his son’s ability to find a girlfriend. Though, Daisy does have to admit the highlight of dinner is the debate she gets in with Jemma about the merits of Doctor Who versus Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, though she doubts the conversation wins her a lot of points with Alistair.

Daisy is almost disappointed when the night eventually winds to an end and she and Fitz say goodbye to the rest of his family and head upstairs. The bed is big enough for them to share with ease and Fitz is the perfect gentlemen as they get ready for the night.

“I like your family,” Daisy tells Fitz as she pulls on a sweatshirt. “Well, your stepmom and sister seem pretty cool.”

Fitz lifts an eyebrow, looking at her like he knows something that she doesn’t. Daisy frowns, wrinkling her nose. “What?”

Rather than answer, Fitz just scoffs, shaking his head.

Daisy tries not to give too much thought to his stupid, mysterious expression.

When she wakes up in the morning, Fitz is still sleeping soundly beside her, so Daisy slips out of bed, heading quietly downstairs, following the smell of brewing coffee. She’s expecting Katharine, dreading finding Alistair there.

But the person standing in the kitchen is Jemma.

Which is a welcome surprise.

“Good morning, Daisy,” Jemma says warmly. “Happy Christmas.”

“Yeah,” Daisy says with a nod. “Merry Christmas. Did Santa come?”

Jemma tips her head toward the tree in the living room. “Seems we weren’t on the naughty list after all.”

Daisy smirks. “Well, that’s a relief.” She accepts the coffee mug that Jemma hands over. “Also you are my favorite person for making coffee.”

“Are you one of those Americans who can’t function without it?” Jemma teases as she pours them both a cup.

“Says the person who had the coffee made before she knew anyone else was awake,” Daisy says with a scoff.

Jemma gently clicks the edge of her mug against Daisy’s. “Touché.”  

They sit across from each other at the table and Daisy can’t help but admire Jemma in the early morning sunlight spilling through the kitchen window.

That whole falling-in-love-after-two-sentences-thing definitely hasn’t gone away after exchanging dozens and dozens of sentences with Jemma.

“So,” Jemma says, pulling Daisy out of her reverie, “how exactly did Fitz talk you into being his fake girlfriend?”

Daisy shrugs. “Well, he is a really good friend so, wait.” She sits up straighter. “What? Fake girlfriend?” She scoffs, waving a hand. “I mean, ‘fake’ is hardly-”

“Fitz told me before you guys got here,” Jemma assures her. “I have to admit, I thought it was a completely ridiculous idea. But I’m starting to warm up to it.”

Daisy smirks. “Won you over, huh?” She shrugs, leaning back in her chair. “I have that effect on a lot of people.”

Jemma rolls her eyes. “Yes, it’s probably your charming personality,” she says. “Though, if I didn’t know that you were Fitz’s fake girlfriend, I might be jealous.”

Daisy swallows, her heart beating a little faster in her chest. “Oh?” She has to give herself credit for sounding causal and not at all like she’s about to strangle on the heart lodged in her throat. “Jealous, huh?”

“I have quite enjoyed getting to know you,” Jemma says. “It’ll be a shame when Fitz breaks up with you.”

Daisy sighs, nodding. “Yeah, I’m broken hearted.” She bats her eyelashes at Jemma. “Maybe you’ll be there to comfort me.”

Jemma laughs, shaking her head. “That might be difficult to explain the next time we have a family get-together.”

Daisy waves the idea away dismissively. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”  

[yuriplisetsky-rp]

Sitting Down: Couple Interviews [Part One]

//This was co-written with @guanghongvoice who wrote Guang-hong. I wrote Leo, and the Interviewer, with any of the interview’s comments about what GH is doing coming from the exchange this is based on.//

February 1, 2017

With the Olympics fast approaching, we are highlighting some of figure skating’s couples. We are starting with Guang Hong Ji of China and Leo de la Iglesia of the US. Here, we discuss what’s going on in their lives, plans for next season as well as some more personal questions.

Welcome, and Thank you both for joining us here today, I know you must both have very busy schedules with the Olympics coming up soon.

Guang Hong: Yes, we have been very busy. I feel like my life has been moving so fast recently.

Leo: Yes, same it's been a whirlwind year for sure!

I'm sure it has! So, how long have you two been together, exactly?

Guang Hong: Oh gosh um...heh....oh this sounds...odd because it hasn't even been a year and we're already engaged...

Leo: Yes, our one year anniversary isn't for another few months, I think, but it's been amazing.

Guang Hong: I'm not complaining, definitely, just..it might seem odd to some people. But we've known one another a very long time.

It sounds exciting! Guang Hong certainly agrees as he’s blushing right now.So, any wedding plans at all? Have you two talked about when or are you two keeping it slow?

Guang Hong: I'm just happy we're engaged- we're not in any rush for a wedding- though I have a little idea binder.

Leo: Exactly. And we're still so young, too, and neither of us is going anywhere, so there's no need to rush. It'll happen when the time is right.

An idea binder... Have you seen this binder, Leo? Have you two discussed the things in the binder yet, or is it more for... information gathering?

Leo: Um, somewhat! We haven't talked about anything in great detail, but occasionally, things are mentioned.

Guang Hong: Oh, just um, information gathering and ideas, you know, things for the reception that would be nice to leave out for the guests, dress ideas, how to include a deceased relative in a ceremony - Yeah, information gathering.

Okay, sounds interesting, and Guang Hong went nearly purple there towards the end. Very interesting. So, you two were friends for a long time before getting romantically involved... any bumps in the road worth noting after that?

Leo: Um, like any other couple we've had things happen, and with his life being in China before, money issues were a thing at one point, but we worked through it together, just like we always do. Life throws things at you, and we dealt with it.

Guang Hong: Yes, um...yes.

Okay, I seem to have struck a chord there. Guang Hong was almost in tears, and Leo had to rub his back, so we are going to move on. So, Leo you have a great season, and Guang-hong, your season has been up and down. How is it watching your partner go through their season when yours is either not going they want you it or it is and theirs isn't going the way they want it?

Guang Hong: I honestly hold my skating career and my relationship with Leo as far apart as I can. I support him, but we don't even always tell one another our choreography or really discuss much about skating when we're at home (unless I would like advice from him, as he's a gifted choreographer). I'm so incredibly proud of Leo. I can't seem to find my rhythm right now, but I know I can do it again.

Leo: I believe in him completely, and like he said, we don't talk about it too much. I'm proud of him, even though it hasn't gone the way he wanted, but I have complete faith in him.

That is wonderful to hear, and they are holding hands now which is adorable. With you not qualifying for the Grand Prix Final, Guang Hong, was it hard to be there and not be competing with him?

Guang Hong: Honestly...it wasn't as hard as I thought. Getting a gold that season, my first, was a huge achievement and I was comfortable with that being my take away for the season. For Leo, I was just so excited for him and to see him skate that day. I knew he'd be amazing.

Now, there were reports that you and Yuri Plisetsky were... screaming during the warm-up? Is this true, or is it over exaggerated?

Guang Hong: Oh....oh gosh wow that...

Leo: Let's just say I could hear them.

Guang Hong: Sorry, I needed a second there- that was not intentional, and Yuri and I occasionally get competitive- we were definitely being too loud- wait, you could? I was /that/ loud?

Leo: Just a little, but yes. It was more of... "Wait, is that him? No." because there's a lot of other noise, but they were seated pretty close to the rink, so...

Guang Hong: Aiyah... It um, we were having a discussion about what it means to be supportive, what the right things to say are, and yes, we definitely forgot where we were and what we were doing.

If everyone could see them right now. Leo is trying not to laugh, and Guang-hong is in shock right now. He went from holding his head in his head to turning bright red. Let's move on! With the Olympics coming up, is it more special doing it together? Leo, this will be your second Olympics, but Guang-hong, this is the first year you are age-eligible.

Leo: It is very special. I'm so happy to have this experience with him, and I wouldn't trade it for the world

Guang Hong: Oh, I know! I mean...it was always going to mean a lot, being my first Olympics, but the fact that I'm there with Leo...for me, Leo has always made everything better.

Leo: We'll be staying at a hotel in Gangneung together, and I can't wait.

They're giving each other such looks if you could see them now, and Leo just squeezed his hand. It’s very cute. So, besides the competition itself, any other plans during the Olympics?

Guang Hong: Well besides I'm not really sure...I've actually been worried about finding a place for our dog while we're in Korea.

Leo: Yes, we just got a dog, but I'm sure we'll find a place... It's just, it's three weeks, so it's a long time, you know? We have to be there before the 1st, because Official Practices for the Team Event start then, which we are both participating in. And we'll be there for a month, so it's a long time, but we definitely will probably be seeing other events.

Guang Hong: Oh I know, but your parents have Sol and I don't know how they'd be around one another and I don't like the kennel I che-oh, I am /so/ sorry.

Leo: It's fine, love, we'll think of something. We have plenty of people who care about us and will help out.

Guang Hong: Yes, um, anyway- we are very excited to see the other events and I know I'm excited to see old faces and meet the new athletes like myself.

Well, I do hope you find someone for the new dog, but speaking of other events - any, in particular, you want to watch while you're there?

Guang Hong: Oh, I always love watching the skiing and sledding events. Leo wants to try it - he's a little bit of an adrenaline junkie.

Leo: Yes, that's the big thing I want to see, but I also would like to see if I can fit in some hockey or short track, but we only have so much time!

Guang Hong: Oh I know! But we'll get around really quickly with me there, Shizi, we don't need to worry about that.

And they are both laughing now, and they are being quite cute. Now, post-Olympics, a lot of skaters skip Worlds, are you two skipping Worlds or are you planning to compete there?

Leo: I want to compete there. I absolutely do and have no plans not to compete there.

Guang Hong: Same here, actually, I want to go beyond the Olympics.

Leo: The Olympics is great, but Worlds is important, too. That's where we determine the Worlds spot for next year, and where your Grand Prix spots are determined from. If you want to be top-seeded in the Grand Prix, you need to be there.

Guang Hong: Exactly. I already have to miss one competition this year too, and that's one less chance to make my mark for next season. I want to make up for it.

Leo: And I want to get the US Men our three spots back, and I think between me and Michael Anderson, we might be able to do that, It'll be tough, but we both have to show up to do it.

Guang Hong: Oh? You sure sound confident, Shizi.

Leo: Well, I - I am certainly going to try, though I think you and Cao Bin have a better shot and getting the Chinese Men their three spots back.

Guang Hong: Hmm, we might. Thank you for the vote of confidence. *smiles to let him know he was only teasing*

Such cute banter between these two! Even cuter in person. And after Worlds? Any plans for the off-season? Either professionally or personally?

Guang Hong: Oh um, we've been talking about taking a big vacation, actually!

Leo: Yes, we've taken a few little ones, but nothing big and it'll be nice to have a break.

Guang Hong: And Leo thought maybe Disney World - and I've NEVER been and I've always wanted to go, so that's where we're looking at heading.

Leo: Yes, that would be exciting, but it's still in the planning stages right now.

Always something to see! Just a couple more questions now... Do you two prefer competing at the same competitions or separately, or does it matter?

Guang Hong: I... the first time I met Leo, I had just gone to stay in America for the first time and he approached me. He introduced himself and asked to see my jumps. Since then, Leo has always helped to keep me calm. If I don't do as well as he does, then it's not my day and I'm proud of him."

Leo: I hate being away from him, so it doesn't matter if he's competing or not, but I need to have him there. He keeps me centered.

Okay, folks, these two are simply adorable. Guang-hong is leaning against Leo, and they are gazing lovingly at each other, smiling and... very, very cute and romantic. One more question! What is something about the other that you think fans should know?

Guang Hong: Leo is talented in so many ways and so kind and loving and I'm the luckiest person in the world.

Leo: Guang-hong is even more amazing in person, he's the sweetest, most attentive fiance that anyone could ask for.

Okay, these are truly adorable, maybe the most adorable couple I've ever seen. Guang Hong is now hiding back Leo after he squealed from that comment Leo made. Anyway, that's all the questions I have. Thank you both so much for joining me.

Leo: Thank you for having us.

Guang Hong: Yes, thank you.

[thebrowneyedlolita]

MILLI

A long time ago, during what I would call a moment of self doubt, I remember writing to one of my friends this particular message: “ Wish I didn’t feel this much all the time”. I guess the signs were all there already… Now, his reply is the best part. He simply, without any further context given, just said: “I thought about it, but I always end up with the conclusion that I’d rather feel too much than too little”. And there you go. Here I am at the brink of my mid twenties, coming to terms with the reality of it all, and it is slightly terrifying but definitely liberating. I feel too much, I internalise every single little movement and word spoken and to feel for me is to live, experience in strong waves that exaggerate and amplify ‘til my whole body and mind are left exhausted.

My sadness, no matter how little, comes and leaves a mess of shattered glass everywhere, which I diligently and continuously pick up again and reassemble in the best way I can, ‘til the next wave of hurricanes hit the port. And the regularity of it has made me the best of my class at it. I have developed different techniques and methods to regroup and return to a formation, fit enough to fight the next battle. This shouldn’t inspire feelings of pity in the reader, as there is nothing quite as vulgar and easily manipulated as pity. I don’t want pity, in fact it’s not at all as bad as it seems. Happiness for example, can translate into a very strong and powerful emotion to me too and trigger a beautiful wave of intensity that washes over me and leaves me feeling complete.   

For as long as I’ve known how to talk and fully understand emotions, my cognitive ability to process the world around me has always fascinated and scared me at the same time. Every stimuli from the external world has the ability to single handedly knock me off my feet and affect me in such a way that I can’t quite put into words. I’ve decided to scrap up a list of things that I am, the good and the bad, in an effort to come to terms with all of it and hopefully use this as a therapeutic ground for acceptance and growth. 

When I was a kid, my grandparents had a cassette of Riverdance (Irish dancing),the whole thing fascinated me so much I spent two weeks learning the dance over and over again until my legs hurt. I devour books and songs, to the point where people don’t get how excited a bass line makes me feel that it changes my whole mood. Not to mention the immeasurable amount of times I’ve attended a concert and felt my heart would explode, or the times I’ve fallen into a complete trance whilst listening to musicians play jazz at my favourite spot. 

I hate confrontation to the point where I physically feel pain after an argument and my stomach closes up, I frequently laugh and smile whilst walking on the streets which I recognise might scare the people surrounding me but I can’t help it. 

I associate every track to a moment, a word, a feeling, an image, a time and space. I daydream on a regular basis which causes me to miss my tube stop very often. I am obsessive about my hygiene and will floss and oil pull and wash myself way more often than necessary but strangely am not compulsive about anything else. If I think a song sounds like another one I will spend the whole day trying to find what the other one’s name is. I look at colours and images very often and associate them in my head.

I am extremely responsible and I never wanna rely on anyone so am often the person that takes you home at night, tucks you in and leaves water by your bed. I don’t like change to be honest, I love the routine but only if it has excitement in it, if not I try and construct a new set of habits that incorporate that. I dance when I brush my teeth, when I take a shower, when I cook and when I’m supposed to work out. I am not great at sleeping, I am very wired at all times so to ask my head to shut up is a mission.

I love people that are passionate about something, and I will surely fall in love with you if you spend time trying to explain to me how much your passion means to you and let me into your crazy little world. I don’t care if your passion is collecting pencils, just walk me through it with lit up eyes and excitement and I’ll love it.

I love to make other people feel better even if I am not feeling great, I have a bit of a nurse complex but hey it is what it is. I don’t like criticism unless it’s feedback. I have developed a fear of heights which particularly affects my ability to climb up ladders.

I find comfort in music and being alone. I work well in social environments but thrive alone. Sometimes I am very hard on myself and it sucks cause no matter how well I do, it’s still not good enough to my ideal standards. I’ve been put on a pedestal my whole life and I’ve just recently found pleasure in stepping down from it and doing the unexpected. In fact being a bad girl turns me on. I love studying and academics is something I do miss a lot. I love past times and nostalgia for places and people I’ve never met. I’m extremely anxious about missing out and not knowing enough so I try to listen and learn as much as I can about history and science and music and movies and cultures and all the rest this world has to offer.

I can be a bit of a moon in scorpio but I guess it balances out with my sun in Leo. I make a lot of playlists and wish the days of mixtapes were still around. I idealise everything and everyone and it always bites me in the ass when reality hits. I find it hard to receive affection these days because of a rotten apple I’ve had in my past relationships but I’m working on it. I love the mountains and I could spend my whole winter season there. I can be very spiritual as well as very cynical and it’s a weird balance if you ask me. 

I don’t suffer from PMS nor have a painful period which is usually very short lived and I thank the gods every time for this. My mother says I was born to be a mumma and to be fair I can’t wait to have lots of kids and have them wear Led Zeppelin t-shirts and buy them as many instruments as they want. I write a lot and it helps me process stuff. I eat pretty healthy but would down an IPA and pasta every day of my life if I had the chance. When I was a kid my dad used to cook pasta with tuna when my mum was away flying and that was pretty much the only dish he knew how to cook.  Still to this day, I make the best pasta with tuna and vinegar and it’s my favourite dish ever.

I am a very sunny person that lives off of light and warm energy but unfortunately find myself contemplating the darker side of things more often than I wish. 

I am extremely sensitive to people’s emotions and can usually get a good sense of how the other person is really feeling, therefore I go out of my way to make them feel comfortable and give them whatever they need which in return drains the energy out of me. 

I love Woody Allen’s movies and walks at night in lit up cities. I love breakfast, it’s my favourite meal of the day. I have a necklace my grandad gave to me before he passed away and I always carry it with me so when I walk it sounds like him walking in the house. I am not scared of death and would be okay if I had to leave tomorrow cause I believe in fate. 

My favourite movie is When Harry Met Sally and it’s a comfort blanket for me, I used to be able to recite what Billy Crystal said to Meg Ryan at the end. For a long time I wanted to be an actress and got into the actor’s studio in NY but decided I wanted to pursue music instead as I couldn’t see myself living without it. I also wanted to be a ballerina for many years and pursued ballet, frequently visited Julliard with my mum until I grew up and decided it wasn’t for me. 

I don’t get along with technology and partly, I admit, it’s due to my rejection of all things that I find lack human touch. I am extremely fascinated by complex individuals, people that have different layers to themselves and think too much. 

I am scared of clowns and anything relating to the circus.  I have found out after an unfortunate incident that I talk a lot and calmly in situations of danger as an adrenaline release, like this one time where a robber came into my house whilst I was home and as a 15 year old girl at the time, I had long meaningful conversations with him although in a situation of panic and terror. 

He caressed my face before leaving and said “You’re a clever girl”, that episode is still stuck in my mind. He was actually nice to be honest. I also didn’t cry for a while after that.

I don’t like to look at violence not even in movies. I am constantly split between a more tomboy aesthetic that comes naturally and a less comfortable feminine look. I can definitely tell the difference between filtered and unfiltered water and admit I might have a slight addiction to coffee. I don’t like to relinquish control, that’s why drugs have never really had a hold on me. 

My dream is to get to see Michael McDonald perform live. I also wish I could just take a plane and go to New York tomorrow, see Allen perform and eat the best bagel from Zabar’s but I also have rent to pay. I never go shopping for clothes, and if I have to I will smash it out in a couple of hours. Lord knows how people find that interesting. 

I sing because my granddad made me fall in love with it and was my biggest supporter. I love high end fashion but have mixed feelings towards it as I realise the negative impact it has on the environment. Sometimes I wish I could just be reckless and impulsive instead of a responsible routined human but can’t do much about that. 

If I tell you I love you, it means I love you. I once had an outer body experience at a Tinariwen concert and I keep trying to see them live as much as I can to get that feeling again. My favourite instrument is the bass and unfortunately I have a tendency to start many things and never finish them.

I am a bit of a hypochondriac and am always freezing, always. Leo in Titanic was my first ever crush and as a funny coincidence, I too, draw with charcoal. In the summer of 2017 I couldn’t get out of bed, a really special person helped me get out of bed, gave me a job, a purpose and helped me get over it. I weighed 48 kilos, I made a promise to myself one day I would always make sure to never let myself get to that place anymore and I’ve been pretty good at that. I am thankful for people in my life that saw me at that time and helped me through it, I will never forget.

Other than that instant, I am generally very happy and my favourite flower is the sunflower. My favourite colour is dark green and if I could have a superpower I’d probably wanna fly. I have a very bad habit of chewing loudly and I’m tryna work through that. I also have a long time dream of doing stand up comedy but am not great at delivering punch lines. 

I do believe that Christopher McCandless really hit the jackpot when he wrote “happiness is only real when shared” in his diary and I also think that people should put down their phones and talk more. I’m trying to make an effort to improve on that. I think that sums it up, although I do think I’ve left out a lot of stuff for sure. Ah yeah one last thing, no cilantro and Waffles over Pancakes any day. 

EL xx

[tmntreasures]

Honor Among Thieves Ch.6

Leonardo easily pushed aside the manhole cover, and peeked out of the hole. It was day time, but there seemed to be nobody around the alleyway. Swiftly, he hopped up out of the sewer and onto the surface. He reached down into the hole with one hand and pulled Aida out. "Here ya go," he planted her on the ground. "You're free."

Aida squinted from the sudden brightness of daylight. She blinked a couple of times and stared at the sight of her run-down neighborhood. The sudden rush of joy made her smile and she turned to giant mutant. "Thank you. Thank you so much! You have no idea how much--" The sound of high pitched screams caught her attention and she whipped her gaze to the street.

The twins were busy playing in the yard, like good kids, but the older-younger brother, Orlan, was grinning like an idiot at two passing girls who were clearly five years too old for him. Montae suddenly appeared from behind the house and threw two water balloons at the girls, smacking them right in the chest, the water revealing their lack of underwear.

  The girls screamed and ran off as her two brothers hooted at them. Aida growled loudly and was about to run forward before she turned to the turtle once more. "I swear, they're normally better behaved than this...MONTAE! ORLAN! WHEN I'M DONE WITH YOU TWO...!" She hollered at the two before bolting across the street, yelling swears and threats at them in Spanish. The two boys' eyes widened in fear and they both ran from her. She only paused to give Riqui and Rosa a kiss on their heads before going after the other two.

Leonardo huffed, but smiled a little at the scene. He couldn't help but think about his own brothers, and how much trouble they caused him when they were young, and even now... He never really had anyone to relate to before now. There were no other turtle families he could confide in, and the only other humans he knew were the only children in their families. He doubt that he'd see this girl again, but if so, he might consider having a chat with her. He turned on his heel and dropped back down into the sewer, putting the cover back in place once inside.

Raphael smirked a little and stood up. "No thanks, I'm more of an ass man," he walked over to the mini fridge and opened up the tiny freezer. There was a pile a ziploc bags, each one packed with ice. He grabbed one and closed the door before walking back over to Bonnie. He tossed the bag at her before sitting back down on the couch. "Ice it. If you can't move your fingers after a couple hours, go see Donnie again," he informed her before returning to his comic book.

She caught the bag out of the air with her non- injured hand and sniffled. She wiped at her nose before pressing the ice down on her knuckles. Mikey walked in front of the two and put his hands at his sides. "Sooo, me and Donnie are about to head out. Can we trust you two to be nice to each other?" He raised a skeptical brow. 

"Most definitely not." Bonnie growled and shook her head.  

"Hrrmm.." Mikey frowned.

Raphael nodded in agreement with her. "Yeaaah...I should go with you guys. She might hit me again," he feigned injury and held the shoulder she had punched.

Mikey clicked his tongue, “Don’t be such a baby, Raph.” He teased.

Raph narrowed his eyes and looked to Donatello, "No, seriously. I don't want to be stuck baby-sitting. Plus, you get along better with her, so you should stay Donnie."

"Ah-uh," He wiggled a finger at him. "The person who bought that nunchuk? Turns out, they collect Asian weaponry and have Mikey's locked behind some of the most state-of-the-art security systems that are available to the public. So I have to go." He stated.

"Try to get along you guys. Make some small talk, get to know each other! He grinned. "I mean... by the way you two act; quick to violence, short on words... You're bound to have something in common!" He grinned.

Bonnie scoffed and shook her head again. "Unless he wants to be rawed by Drake, I don't think so..." She mumbled.

Donatello snapped his fingers and pointed toward the exit. "And on that note, we're out! C'mon Mikey!" He grabbed his little brother by the arm and dragged him along.

Raphael looked at her and shook his head. "Drake? Really?"

"Hell fucking yeah Drake!" She huffed. "He's got a body, a Bugatti, and most importantly--money." She smirked and straightened her back. "I like his music too."

He clicked his tongue at her, "You know, he's only got one thing that I don't and that's money."

Bonnie turned her head in all directions, her ponytail whipping behind her. "..I don't see no damn Bugatti down here, aaand-" She held up a finger with her other hand and pointed at him. "This body?" She looked him up and down and shook her head. "Uh-un."

He pointed off towards the garage and said, "I got two things better than a boo-gatti. The Turtle Van and the Turtle Tactical Truck. Both of them are armor plated. And I could lift two Drakes. I would like to see him even try to bench press half of me."

She rolled her eyes, but smiled a little. "Alright. That's prrrooobably true." She said. "But what about music, huh?" Her brows perked curiously.

He was ready for this one. He stretched and spoke in a nonchalant tone. "Oh, it's no big deal. Just that my brothers and I have been working on a hip-hop Christmas album for a while."

Bonnie smiled wider and snorted. "Hip-hop Christmas album? What like Ludacrismas, or Christmas in Harlem?" She asked. "That's whack! The only good hip-hop Christmas song," She made quotations with her free hand. "Is Mariah Careys 'All I want for Christmas is You.'" She teased.

At the mention of the singer, Raphael nodded. "Well, everything she touches is great so, of course it is," he bit his lip a little at the thought of her and grinned. "But! Michelangelo does know his stuff. Even if he is an idiot most of the time."

"Alright..." She pushed some stray hairs from her face. "How about giving me a little sample then?

He blinked and stared at her with a blank stare. "...what?"

"C'mon big boy! Spit some rhymes! Throw down some verses!" She stuck her tongue out at him. "Serenade me~" She leaned back dramatically and put a hand to her chest.

His cheeks flushed for a moment but then he chuckled a little at how she was acting. "I can't. I'm just the hype man. Leo's the one with the silver-tongue."

She clicked her tongue. "You're a damn lie, that's what you are... but I'll get it out of you eventually." She smirked and looked down to her injured fist. She took the ice off it and tried flexing her fingers. They moved a little, but not much due to being numb because of the ice. She hissed a little and blew on her fingers.

He looked at her red and swollen knuckles, nodding at them. "Feelin' any better bunny-girl?"

"A little bit." She mumbled. "What about you? Bet that shoulders feeling real sore right about now." She looked up at him and huffed.

He rolled his shoulder and acted like it hurt, making an exaggerated hissing sound. "Damn, ya know. I don't think I'll be able to move it again." What he said next he instantly regretted but he just couldn't stop himself. "You should kiss it and make it better." He cringed the moment the words were out of his mouth.

Her eyes widened and she blinked just once. She stared at him in complete utter silence for a while before standing up and then sitting back down on the couch next to him.

He didn't try to look at her, afraid of what he might say next or how she might be looking at him. It was a dumb thing to say. He was getting too comfortable with her and he needed to calm himself. For all he knew, this could be another way for her to escape. That was something prisoners did right? Get on the guard's good side so they would let them escape or turn a blind eye to some activities. That's probably exactly what was going on here.

He scooted away from her and cleared his throat. "You should uh...stretch your fingers. Gets rid of the stiffness."

She chased after him when he retreated; scooting on closer to him. She grabbed his arm with her good hand and pulled it into her chest. "Mmm..." She hummed and puckered her lips.

His heart skipped a beat and he felt his cheeks burn. "Woah! What the--!" He panicked and yanked his arm out of her grasp quickly, accidentally smacking her nose with his hand. He winced when he felt his hand make impact and his eyes widened. "Fuckin'...fuck! Shit, I'm so sorry!"

"Oww!" She put her good hand to her nose and cringed. "It was a joke, you idiot!" She cried and removed her hand from her nose, revealing a small amount of blood. She scoffed, "great, I'm bleeding.. Again!"

"Raph, what did you do now?" Leo said as he walked into the lair.

The red-clad turtle stood up quickly and held his hands in the air in defense. "I can't be around women! Fuck it! I give up! You said you could do better Leo? Then here's your chance! I'm gonna go work out." He exclaimed before storming off to his room to clear his head.

Leo blinked in confusion and turned to Bonnie. "What did you do to piss him off?"

"Nothing!" She whined as she held her noise. "Can you get me some tissue, please?"

Splinter appeared by her side, offering her an entire box of tissues to her. "You'll have to be more patient with my sons. They're not exactly used to women."

"Ugh..." She reached up and took the tissue box from him, stuffing her nose to stop the bleeding. "I was just joking around. I thought he knew that."

"Raph doesn't usually pick up on humor too well. One time our friend Casey asked him how his brain surgery went, and that..". Leo paused to smile and shake his head. "That didn't go over great."

"Of course." She sighed.

Meanwhile, Donatello and Michelangelo had sneaked in to the house of the individual who had purchased the nunchuk; lucky for them, no one was home. The place was a small mansion, full of fancy decorations and expensive paintings. There were many times where Donnie had to smack Mikey's hand away from touching many of the items inside of the place. He had only checked for security around the weapon and the house in general, not for each individual thing kept behind glass. 

Soon, one of the sensors on his watch beeped, telling them they were getting close to their target. "Okay, so your nunchuk should beee...." He stopped and pointed at a stained, wooden door. "Right behind that door."

Michelangelo stared at the door wide-eyed for a while in silence. "I'm afraid to open it." He turned to his leaner brother. "What if it's like Space Jam, where they go to get MJ's lucky shorts; and when they open the closet it’s supposed to be in, there's this giant dog behind it!"

Donatello sighed and walked by his little brother. "First, stop being such a wimp. Second, for a dog to be huge in comparison to us, it would have to be a cross between a Great Dane and Tibetan mastiff." He opened the door to reveal a room full of Asian weaponry. Donatello's eyes widened, completely impressed not only by the number of weapons but by the quality and age of them too. "These weapons...are almost ancient..." He breathed, stepping close to a Naginata propped on the wall.

Mikey held his breath when Donatello opened the door, and then sighed in relief when there was no dog behind it. He inhaled again when he saw the collection, and his eyes lit up. "Oooh myyy goooddd!! This is sooo coool!!" He squealed.

At the sound of Mikey's voice, Donatello snapped himself out of his admiration and turned to him. "Don't touch anything! This guy clearly has a thing for weapons. He might have an alarm system on all of them," He turned away and began to walk down the rows and rows of weapons, trying to find the familiar nunchuk.

Mikey groaned. "Have more faith! I'm not fifteen anymore, I've matured! I have a better attention span!" He said as he walked down a different aisle. He tucked his hands in his pants pockets in order to keep himself from touching anything.

Finally, Donatello found the case the nunchuk was being kept in. He approached the case and plugged in a USB drive into the display. He began to push buttons on the device on his arm, trying to disable the security system surrounding it. "Okay. This is gonna take a couple minutes. Just keep an eye out in case anyone comes home."

"Yeah, yeah! Of course!" He waved him off and turned his attention back to a particular display. "Yooo Donnie... It says that these nunchuks are Bruce Lees'!"

Donatello looked off in Michelangelo's direction, clearly intrigued but also skeptical. "No way. That has to be fake!"

"I mean, I have no way of actually telling." He scratched at his head. "But by the look of this room, and how many security systems are setup for all this! I'd say it's real!"

Donatello looked down at his device, seeing that it would still take a couple of minutes to tear down the system. At first he started to step away slowly before running silently over to where Mikey was. If they really were Bruce Lee's nunchuk's then this was a piece of martial arts history being locked away!

 "Alright, let me see those..." Donatello muttered as he stared at the weapons behind the glass. They were definitely the same age but something seemed off. "Wait, did they always have dragons on them?"

"Yeah! He had them in Return of the Dragon!" He paused and raised a brow. "...Right?"

"I think? It's been a while since I saw that--" The device on his arm started to blink and vibrate. Panic started to settle in as he stared at it. "Oh...shit! Shit!" He ran back over to the display holding Mikey's nunchuk and began to press more buttons on his arm. He had missed the moment to manually override the system; now the security knew someone was trying to break in. He did everything he could to shut it off, but it was no use. He cringed and yanked the USB drive from the display. He stared at the glass and winced before he used his staff to break the glass. "Mikey! Grab your shit and let's go!"

"Aaah!" Mikey yelled and ran over to the display, snatching up his nunchaku.  He made a bolt for the exit but stopped and turned back to Donatello. "While we're here, do you think we could take a few other things? Like Bruces..." He smiled nervously.

"Absolutely not!" Donatello ran after him, pushing him out the door. "You don't wanna end up like Bonnie do you? Except instead of mutant turtles, you'll be kidnapped by rich men and probably tortured and dissected."

"Uuuh! Good point!" He nodded and left the room.

Once Aida had made sure her siblings were finally behaving themselves and settled, her mind could not keep Bonnie out. All she could think was how miserable the girl might be down there in the sewers, stuck with the four mutants and giant rat. She had to do something to help her, or at least go back to keep her company until they found the weapon. After all, the girl managed to convince them to let her return to the surface; the least she could do was bring her a magazine or a sandwich. 

"Are you sure you can handle it?" She spoke to Orlan as she finished preparing all of their lunches and dinners for the rest of the day and next, as a precaution of course. 

"Yeeees hermana," he grumbled, acting like he was paying attention but was staring at the TV from across the room.

Aida caught where his gaze was and stood in between him and the distraction. "I mean it!" She waved a finger at him. "The twins have to be in bed by eight or else Rosa will have night terrors the rest of the night."

"I know that!" He sneered. "They're my brother and sister too!" 

She sighed and went back to packing food for Bonnie. "You're right. I just want to make sure you'll all be okay."

He looked at her and nodded, "We'll be fine hermana. You don't have to be like a mom all the time ya know."

She scoffed and rolled up Bonnie's bag. "Only when Papa's not here," She pulled him in for a hug and then kissed the top of his head. He recoiled and made a disgusted noise but she smiled as she began to walk out. "I'll be back! If I catch you and Montae throwing water balloons at girls again, I'll make sure to embarrass you at school!"

He waved her off as she closed the door of her house. She ran across the street and into the alley the turtle had released her in. She bent down and tried to open the manhole, but struggled. "Jesus! He's strong!" She panted and finally gave up. However, she wasn't done. She was going to find a way into the sewers no matter what!

Aida wandered around the city until she finally found her opening; an open manhole cover. She breathed a 'thank you' and climbed down, trying not to gag from the smell. She looked around, not sure which way to go and finally decided to start walking off in one direction. After an hour she finally felt lost and began calling out for help.

"Bonnie? Giant turtle men? Big ass rat?" She yelled multiple times, still trekking forward. "If I die down here, I'm haunting all of you!"

-----

Raphael watched them from his room, still trying to get over what had happened earlier. How could he lose his cool so quickly like that? Maybe Leo was right; maybe he did need more discipline. 

"Bonnie?" 

He heard a familiar voice call out, followed by some grunting and a little scream. Raphael hopped out of his room and saw the Latina girl stumble into the lair, her shoes and shins covered in sewer gunk. 

Aida sighed in relief and looked around. "Please tell me there's a hose or something down here...."

Leo and Bonnie both looked in Aida's direction when they heard her voice. Bonnie's eyes widened and her brows raised. "Aida?" She cocked her head confused and stood up. "Aida, what are you doing back here?" She said and rushed over to her.

Aida started to step forward but paused. Not wanting to track gunk everywhere, she kicked her boots and socks off. "I uh...I felt bad leaving you alone down here. Plus, I thought you might be hungry so I made you some food," She held the bag out and smiled at her.

Bonnie felt a tingling sensation in her heart when Aida showed compassion for her. Her cheeks burned warm and lit up a light red. "You... You didn't have to do that." She spoke softly.

She patted her arm and smiled wider, "You didn't have to vouch for me either." It was then that she finally noticed just how red Bonnie's nose was. "Wait...what happened to you?" She snapped her head to the turtles and hollered at them, "Did you hurt her? She already told you what you wanted to know!"

"Calm down! It was an accident," Raphael responded in a bored tone.

Bonnie looked down at her swollen hand and held it up to Aida. "Don't worry. I got my licks in too!" She grinned.

She clicked her tongue and narrowed her eyes at them. "You two have a lot to learn on how to treat ladies!"

Raph huffed and crossed his arms. "I know how to treat a lady. I just don't see any here right now."

Aida growled at him before turning back to Bonnie. "Go on, start eating. You'll need energy."

"Raph, give it a rest." Leonardo sighed.

Bonnie smiled again and took the bag from her. She rummaged through and pulled out one of the sandwiches Aida had made for her. She held it up to her mouth, and nodded. "Thank you." She whispered, and took a bite out of the sandwich.

Raphael waved his brother off and started to make his way back to his room until he heard footsteps approach. He turned his head toward the sound but relaxed when he saw it was just Donatello.

"We got it!" The lean turtle panted, running pass both girls and going straight to his brothers. "We go it back!"

Michelangelo was following behind him, but stopped when he saw Aida. "Heeey! Good to see you again!" He smiled and patted her on the back before passing her and going into the main room.

Leo smiled proudly when he saw the second nunchuk on Michelangelo’s waist side.  "Good job Donnie!" He nodded.

"And Mikey!" Michelangelo added.

"Good job Mikey..." Leo rolled his eyes a little, but still smiled.

Aida grunted a little from the pat but looked between the four brothers. "Wait so...if he has his thing back. Bonnie can go then?"

Donatello's smile turned into a frown. "Well...I don't know. That's kinda up to Leo and Splinter." He paused for a second and licked his lips, "Also...we accidentally set off the alarms."

"What?" Leo's smile instantly turned into a frown, and his brows furrowed. 

"Yeeeah!" Mikey rubbed the back of his neck. "Also, Donnie sweared! Like-- Ten times! It was the weirdest thing!" 

Leo let out an aggravated sigh and turned to Donatello. "Donnie… How did this happen?"

The purple-clad turtle frowned and pushed his glasses up. "Well...Mikey distracted me with Bruce Lee's nunchuk's." He admitted, leaning against his staff. "I missed my chance to bypass the second wall. I thought I had enough time."

"Aw, are you for real Donnie?" Raph growled. "You're better than that! 'Sides, they were probably fake!"

"No, you don't get it!" He explained, "Whoever bought Mikey's is a serious weapons collector. They had a lot of old and expensive things..."

Aida frowned, "You don't think they're gangsters do you?"

"If it is gangsters, they'll definitely be coming for their-well… your stuff." Bonnie added. 

"Donnie, there was nothing left behind to trace you two was there? No gadgets, no chains-" Leo looked to Mikey and then back to Donatello. "Cameras?

Donatello shook his head. "No. Cameras were the first things I disabled before we got in. And we didn't leave anything behind either."

Raphael paced back and forth for a bit and nodded. "Alright then. Sounds like we're in the clear then."

Aida frowned, feeling like something was off about the whole thing. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something about the whole thing that made her gut twist.

Leo sighed in relief and tightened the knot on his bandanna. "So… We should be good then.” He looked to Bonnie and nodded. “You're free to go."

Bonnie’s eyebrows perked and her back straightened. "O-Oh…" She responded.

Leo looked at her confused for a moment and huffed. "What? Did you want to stay?"

Bonnie blinked and furrowed her brows, caught off guard by the comment. She didn't know why she was hesitating to leave this place, but it was a second before she spoke. "N-No! I'm just surprised, is all!"

"By what?" He leaned his head down at her and smirked. 

"O-Oh! If you wanna stay we can have a slumber party and play some games! Like 'I never' and 'Seven Minutes in Heavennn'~" Mikey grinned.

"Ugh..." She scoffed. "I should've never showed you my boobs." 

Mikey chuckled. "No you shouldn't have! They're forever etched into my brain!" He pointed to his head.

Aida blinked too but Bonnie's sudden freedom did not surprise her as much, especially since they had let her go to see her siblings’ just hours ago. These four beasts...they weren't as bad as she had originally thought they would be. She was still skeptical of them of course, but their humanity no longer shocked her. 

She crossed her arms and stared at the four creatures for a second before asking. "Before we go, can you guys at least tell us what… you are?”

Raphael rolled his eyes and looked at the girls. "Why do you need to know? You two aren't coming back down here again." He waved them off. "Go back to the surface and forget all this happened." 

Aida scoffed, "Gonna be hard to forget all of you. It's gonna take weeks just to get the smell of the place out of my nose."

"Yeah, and I think it'll be especially hard for me to forget you." Bonnie glared at Raphael and pointed to her nose, and then nodded to her fist.

"Hey, I already said 'sorry'!" He pointed at her.

"Geez Raph! You hit her nose?" Donatello went over to Bonnie, just now noticing her nose. "Sorry Bonnie. He can be a brute sometimes. Does it still hurt?" He reached out to touch her bridge to make sure it wasn't broken.

Bonnie hissed and jerked away from him. "Yeah! So don't touch it..."

Leonardo put his hands at his sides and sighed a little.  "We're teenage mutant ninja turtles and we're the defenders of this city. That about cover it?" He cocked his head. 

Bonnie mimicked his motion, but with a raised brow. "But why?" "Someone’s gotta do it." He shrugged.

"You're welcome, by the way." Raphael added. 

Aida huffed a bit, "I got no reason to thank you. Except for what happened on the rooftop and I already did that."

Raphael glared at the Latina girl and began to stomp to her. "Hey. We've saved the whole city before. But did you know who did it? No. Because we operate in the shadows. We save you and you don't even know it."

She raised a brow and sized him up, staring up at the giant turtle. "Oh really? Then why didn't you save the two teenage boys from a gang-bang two weeks ago in my neighborhood? Or scare off the drug dealers just ten miles down the road?"

Leonardo frowned and his body tensed. He had to swallow on the lump that was building in his throat before he could speak. "We try to get to everyone we can, but there's only four of us, and we have to stay hidden when its daylight." He answered.

She stared at him for a long time before sighing. "Fair enough I guess," she paused for a second and shrugged. "Just don't forget about those wrecked sides of town okay? It's getting harder making sure my brothers don't end up with the wrong crowd."  

"Sounds like they need to do a couple of burpees," Raphael added in. 

She ignored him and tapped Bonnie's arm. "You ready to bounce then?"

She looked at Aida and smiled with a nod. "Let’s get the hell out of here! I need a shower." She said and began walking towards the exit.

"H-Hey Bonnie!" Michelangelo called out to the girl. She looked back at him with a raised brow. He pointed a nunchuk at her. "I hope this means you're through with stealing! I don't want to have to wrangle you down here again!" He grinned a little. 

Bonnie clicked her tongue at him before turning back around. "No promises!" "We'll at least leave your things alone this time!" Aida added before following her mentor.

Raphael watched the two leave with his arms crossed and grinned. "Five bucks says they're gonna steal something in a week."

Donatello smacked his arm, "Oh c'mon Raph! Have some faith! It'll take at least a month before they start it up again."

The bigger turtle grinned and fist-bumped his brother. "You're on."

[oh-my-otome]

Otome Sitch: Fatherhood

Continuing with the last otome sitch, where you have a pregnancy scare, this time Precious Anon requested the suitors as fathers! 

Three of these suitors are fathers canonically in at least one of their routes: two from MidCin and one from SLBP. 

I used a random generator, and kept randomizing until I got these three daddios in the proper category, boy or girl, for the baby that they have in their routes. 

Here we go! 

Shigezane and Kyo are the laid-back, cool dads. They know all of the latest slang, but thankfully don’t embarrass their sons by using it in front of their friends. For the most part. There have been some cringe-worthy slip-ups. 

They enjoy a close relationship with their boys, but that time they spotted their son in town and jogged over to say “hi,” only to realize that their son was walking hand-in-hand with his girlfriend, gave them a pang of longing for the days when he was only knee-high.

* * *

Sakamoto and Hijikata are surprisingly hands on. They watched you like a hawk for the first few weeks after your baby was born, and now they can do a better swaddle than you can.

They’ve deciphered your infant son’s cries in no time and can tell a hungry cry from a wet nappy one with their eyes closed. 

Sakamoto can get your son to fall asleep by dangling his pocket watch in front of his tired eyes, while Hijikata is highly entertained by putting his reading glasses on your son’s sleeping face.

* * *

“Just wait here,” the young boy whispered, with the back of his hand framing his mouth. 

“I’ve known him a long time,” Kenshin said, his voice just as low, as he pressed himself against the wall, the two of them sidling closer to the door.  In playing their favorite game so many times, they had long ago made a mental map of which squeaky tell-tale floorboards to avoid.

“It’ll never work,” he continued, as his son peeked around the door frame on tiptoe. “I think I might have even tried it myself one time,” Kenshin added, looking down at the list in his hand, and back up again. “Pretty sure he threw a shoe at me.” 

Clicking his tongue at his father, the boy flashed a confident grin even as he pressed his index finger to his lips in a gesture of silence. With a theatrical shake of his head to swing his bangs from in front of his eyes, the boy stepped forward into the room.

“Kanetsugu, father says you lack proper posture.”

“He what!? Him of all people?” Kanetsugu straightened upon his cushion in an unconscious display of proving the boy wrong.

“I bet him that you could keep your helmet balanced on your head if you bent over. Without the ties.” Kanetsugu gave a snort at that, as if it were common knowledge. “Father just laughed, though. Said there was no way.”

Incensed, Kanetsugu snatched his helmet from the shelf, his eyes blazing as his brows drew down on the bridge of his nose. 

“Laughed, did he!?” he fumed as he fit the armor on his head, bending in a crisp bow that had his back almost parallel to the floor.

“Now see here! I’ll show you posture! First a bow and then--” There was a swift breeze, and Kanetsugu was aware that his head suddenly felt lighter. He stood up just in time to see a flash of the little lord’s kimono as he ran from the room, carrying his bulky helmet.

“Dad! Run! I got it!”

With a sudden snap of realization, Kanetsugu gave chase.

“The two of you and your damn scavenger hunts!”

* * *

Leo and Giles have a friendly rivalry with each other, every time there is a children’s spelling bee or trivia tournament. After each event, they take turns paying for ice cream or pizza, but more than once one of them will “forget” whose turn it is and their wallet just so happens to be “at home.”

* * *

Mitsuhide and Saito: helicopter dads. Always in the way following behind their toddlers, they can’t leave the house without a big bag filled with all kinds of stuff “just in case.” 

Saito, of course, always has bandages to spare, while Mitsuhide has no qualms with using his own sleeve as a bib if he has to.

* * *

No one was sure exactly how it happened, but Louis’ son seems more like Sid in temperament, and Sid’s like Louis. When they’re with their own dads, they’re just fine, but when they get together for gatherings, all kinds of mischief would ensue-- such as the frog in the punch bowl incident that was not to be talked about.

* * *

Hideyoshi, Keiki and Haru are the types of dads who want their children to have everything that they never had. As such, they sometimes don’t know when to put their foot down. While that may be one of their flaws, they still respect their own family traditions: young Toyotomi helps his father tend their personal vegetable patch that they cultivate together each year. Keiki and his son happily live dual lives in the capital and helping in the kitchen at Shiki. And Haru and his son make an annual trip to see the cherry blossoms in their hometown.

* * *

It was a given that Nobunaga would have your son climbing trees as soon as he learned how to walk, but you were surprised to see this general fall so easily at the hands of “the enemy.” 

Whenever they play fight with their wooden swords, your young son always manages to easily take down one of Japan’s strongest fighters. Nobunaga lies prostrate on the floor with over-dramatic cries of “you got me!” to your son’ delight.

You will never tire of how excited Takasugi gets whenever there is a festival. Previously, you couldn’t even get him to go if you paid him, but now he’s elbowing kids out of the way so that he and your son have enough room at the ring toss stall.

If they’re not coming home sticky from eating so many sweets, they’re wobbling toward the general direction of your house, barely able to see over the mountain of stuffed animals they won.

* * *

Your infant son tends to be fussy sometimes, so Shingen puts him in a wrap, tying it securely to his body, so that the baby is snug and warm against his chest. To your horror, he gets his mare into a fox trot-- baby and all. The motion gets your son to sleep in no time, but you can’t help wringing your hands.

* * *

Anytime your son cries, Mitsunari comes flying. He plucks the baby from your arms and settles himself in his library, a haori flung over them for warmth as he quietly reads your baby to sleep. Of course, your son is too young to understand what his father is saying, but the look of affection on Mitsunari’s face as your son snuggles up to him, eyes already drooping with sleep, is just precious.

* * *

“What about this one?” Okubo held out a thin book.

“Read it,” said his son flatly, not even looking up from his calligraphy.

“You barely even cracked it open!”

“Book osmosis.”

“That’s not a real thing!” Okubo cried, tossing it like a Frisbee toward the rest of the books in the corner. He had been trying all afternoon to get his son to read something. Anything. He needed to see it for himself. It shouldn’t be possible.

“How about the one on the--”

“Lame twist ending.”

“Fine! The one with the--”

“Butler did it.”

Okubo let out a scream of frustration before swan diving into a stack of books and emerging with the first one he laid his hands on.

“This one!” he shouts, thrusting it under his son’s nose. The boy moved back automatically, accidentally leaving a black slash on his parchment, ruining his meticulous hour of practice. 

“You can’t have possibly read this one, yet! Your mother just bought it the other day! Let’s see your photographic memory handle this!” Feeling triumphant, Okubo joins you in the kitchen.

“He really does have a very good memory, though,” you say, rinsing off a pot in the sink.

“No one can read a book once, in less than an hour, and absorb every last word to the point of being able to recite it from memory.”

“Which book did you give him this time?”

“That new one you just bought. About the red letter.”

You drop the pot in the sink at the same time Okubo realizes what he’s done, his eye going wide.

He peals out of the kitchen with a screech.

“Son! Wait!”

“Do you know what time it is!?” you ask, as you slam your hand down to push yourself up in bed. You can’t take the off-kilter warbling a second longer. 

“I think the sun just went down a while ago,” Kojuro begins, shouting over the sour notes being played on his flute. He rocks your toddler back and forth gently, rhythmically. The only semblance of rhythm in this situation, actually. 

Your daughter bounces in time with the “notes” she’s “playing” as they echo off the castle walls with all the cadence of a cat being run over by a cart. Kojuro looks on in a state of pure rapture. She’s clearly a musical genius.

“Just how long have you two been-- the sun is coming up! Go to bed!”

* * *

“Dad, shouldn’t you be more...I don’t know...”

“More what?” Saizo struggles to say around the dango stuffed in his mouth. He picks a few of them clean from their skewers and reaches toward his daughter for more. 

“No! No! Don’t throw the skewers away! I can teach you how to stab a man with them!”

“Dad!” she cries, looking offended, “anyway, shouldn’t you be a little more...stealth about this. Mom will know it’s you.”

“Us.”

“You, dad. I don’t even like dango!”

“A crying shame, really.”

With an exaggerated huff, his daughter soundlessly drops one tree branch lower, careful not to shake even a single leaf out of place, and presses her back against the tree bark. Saizo reaches down to hand her another empty skewer at the same time she reaches up to give him the last of the dango he has yet to inhale.

He peers down at her between bites, but she’s looking away from him, haughty and indignant, just like how her mother can be some times. She really did get the best of both of them: his hair, the color of dappled moonlight, and her mother’s eyes. 

His agility and her mother’s cooking prowess. 

He first combined the two when she was old enough to start cooking without her mother’s guidance. 

“A game,” he called it, when she was younger. “We’re on a mission to sneak into the kitchen!” She used to love doing that when she was so much smaller. They’d stay up late making dango, and eating it, both of them, while they chatted happily in hushed voices. Then they’d wash the dishes and disappear without a trace. 

“We’re like real ninjas, dad!” If she only knew. At breakfast, they’d share conspiratorial smiles as they said they weren’t really hungry. 

It was their favorite game! Their precious father-daughter time! 

But she “doesn’t like” dango, now. He can’t count how many times she’s shouted at him that she’s “too old” for this and that.

He noticed that her posture shifted, and she seemed to be gazing down along the garden path. Saizo stiffened involuntarily. Did his wife find out they had “borrowed” her ingredients again? It wasn’t that she minded, it was losing his touch that annoyed him. He may have retired, but he didn’t want to get rusty. 

He followed her gaze and saw a teen, with the top half of his blue kimono pulled down, the sheen of sweat on his muscled back glistening in the sun. 

“No.” Saizo’s voice was a low rumble of warning as he leapt down beside his daughter without a sound. For all he trained her surreptitiously, his daughter jumped and almost slipped from the branch.

“Wha-- dad! I’m not--”

Sasuke, meanwhile, continued to train unaware.

* * *

“Dad, stop giggling! You’ll scare them!”

“It tickles, I’m sorry! Okay, I’m good now.” Kondo wiped the tears from his eyes using his shoulder, careful not to disturb the birds perched on him. He was sitting on the ground with his arms stretched wide, palms up. 

“They’re coming back! Let me give you more!” his young daughter cried, ladling more birdseed into his upturned hands. Finally, finally, he would get to interact with animals without them shunning him and running away. He’s waited so long!

“Look!” she said in a stage whisper, “It’s a squirrel this time! Quick, sit still!”

Kondo did as instructed, and the squirrel inched closer. The birds flew away on its approach, but Kondo remained where he was. It picked up the scattered bird seed that had fallen through the gaps in his fingers, and moved steadily closer with cautious steps, until it reached the hem of his hakama where a large seed lay.

“Uh...sweetie...”

“Shh, dad, you’ll scare him!” she said, but Kondo was already starting to slide his bottom backwards a little as the squirrel not only gathered the seed, but continued to prod around his pants leg.

“I think this is enough for today...” he tried to stand up, as the squirrel looked around to see if there was any more food to be had.

“Dad, wait!” but as Kondo pulled himself up, the squirrel latched onto his pants, deciding to stick with the source, hanging on for dear life.

“This isn’t fun anymore!”

* * *

Toshiie and Yuki full of energy when it comes to their daughters. If they’re not on their hands and knees pretending to be a horse, they’re giving piggyback rides or drawing in the dirt. They’re exhausted but happy at the end of the day, and your daughter never has a problem being “too tired” to take a nap, as many young children have complained.

* * *

Byron, Nico, Alyn and Albert stood watching their daughters play in a mud puddle. There was something satisfying about seeing their children do something proper young lords like themselves were never allowed to do. 

As they chatted about their work and their wives, something went whizzing by them, and they ducked out of the way just in time to see a ball of mud splatter on the ground 

“Whoa! Just a little off center. Sorry dad!” said little Burckhardt, wiping her muddy hands on her pinafore.

“Now, what have I told you!? Calculate the trajectory properly before you throw! Don’t stand there doubting your math while something sails through the air!”

“Excuse you, Burckhardt?” said Alyn to Albert as he stepped up beside his daughter. 

“Don’t worry, dad,” replied young Crawford coolly. She flipped her auburn pigtails over her shoulders with a flick of her head as she packed more mud onto her ball. Handing it to her father, she stooped to make another one. “We can make up for it with pure speed.”

Byron’s eye slid toward his daughter, who met his gaze with a determined glint. They nodded silently in unison and she tossed her father the mud ball she was holding, which he caught smoothly, without looking.

“You had better start kneeling. Wagners don’t surrender!” she jabbed her finger toward the Burckhardts and Crawfords. On her mark, her father’s mud ball streaked across the gap, hitting Albert square in the chest. 

Little Crawford took aim and her mud ball landed true, knocking Byron’s eye patch clean off, her father’s cry of “that’s my girl!” sounding over the top of her head.

Suddenly, there was a barrage of mud that seemed to come from all directions.

“You can’t hit us,” came Nico’s voice from the left, “if you can’t see us,” he said form the right. Following each phrase, there was a gust of wind, as if someone were running past, but indeed there seemed to be no one there.

“You were saying something about speed?” It was little Meier, this time, but from where? 

As one, Byron, Albert and Alyn stood shoulder to shoulder, forming a circle, their daughters peeking out from the center, mud balls at the ready.

“Now!” Nico cried. From above! But it was too late. As the men below looked up at the father and daughter crouched in the tree above them, they could do nothing to stop the onslaught of mud balls being rained down upon them.

* * *

Rayvis and Robert may live lofty lives, but they prefer to have their daughters understand early on that not everyone can live that way. They bring their daughters with them to see the town, and when they notice that they have outgrown some toys and clothes, they ask their daughters if they would be willing to donate them.

When they go to market, their daughters are in tow, and whenever they can, they ask their opinion on what their child would like to donate to the food pantry in their school.

* * *

“I can’t. No more.” Okita sank into a crouch before giving up and laying down on his side in the grass. He considered wiping the sweat on his brow, but he didn’t have the energy for it.

“You promised to play!” his daughter whined, her head tilted to the side.

‘Is that what I used to look like? Is that what I used to sound like?’ he wondered, exhausted. She looked so much like him that he accepted that it must be true.

Little miss Okita tutted at her father, poking him lightly in the back with her wooden practice sword.

“I will! I just need a breather!”

“Ooh! Never mind, she’s here!” his daughter shouted. Okita looked up just long enough to see her long ponytail swinging in the breeze as she ran toward her friend, before closing his eyes again, and placing his arm across his face.

“Took you long enough, Yamazaki,” he said wearily, “had to spar with her myself.”

Yamazaki sat in the grass beside his old friend. He waved at his daughter at her cry of “dad, watch this!” The two were engaged in their usual playful duel of who was best: a samurai or a ninja. 

“Hard to imagine you got bested by a little kid,” Yamazaki chuckled, looking back at Okita, “look at you all tuckered out. For shame.”

“Shut up!” Okita replied with what was intended to be a kick in Yamazaki general direction. He could barely lift his leg and Yamazaki had no trouble batting his foot away.

Sitting upon his elbows, Okita looked over at the two girls. Young Yamazaki performed a back handspring just in time to avoid the slash of his daughter’s wooden sword, both of them laughing as they went. It was no surprise that Yamazaki passed on his agility, but Okita remained amazed at his daughter’s inexhaustible stores of energy.

“I don’t know how you guys could stand me back in the day,” Okita started, weariness tinging his every syllable.

“Never said we could.”

* * *

Ieyasu is certainly raising an outdoorsy young lady. If they don’t have their bows slung over their backs on their way to the training grounds, they have their field journals in hand, the edges of the pages worn with use, as they look for plants and wildlife they have yet to identify and sketch.

There wasn’t a retainer in all of the Tokugawa brave enough to remind Ieyasu that he still had the flower crown, that his daughter made for him, on his head as he conducted his war council.

* * *

Katsura is a little too helpful when it comes to his daughter. Though he meant well, he was almost in the midwife’s way, when you were in labor. He enjoys walking through the town and showing her off while he’s out shopping. Katsura is the very picture of a proud father.

He won’t tell you, but he cried a little bit when “daddy” wasn’t her first word. 

It was “Koma.”

* * *

“So embarrassing.” 

“Unbelievable.”

The Ladies Date and Sanada knelt with their daughters on their laps at one side of the hall while Yukimura and Masamune crouched a few yards away, arms outstretched.

“We’re finally settling our feud once and for all!” Masamune said, giving the signal.

On his mark, the ladies gently set their toddlers on the smooth floor. They were matched for pace as they crawled toward their fathers, but they changed course just before they reached them-- baby Date determinedly going to Yukimura and baby Sanada giggling as she crawled toward Masamune.

“It doesn’t count!” Masamune starts.

“Do-over! That’s a clear do-over!” Yukimura agreed.

The ladies gather their children and leave the hall, shaking their heads.

* * *

“You look exhausted!” you remark, as Todo throws himself heavily upon the bedding, placing your baby daughter gently beside him. The bags under his eyes are darkening each day and he seems a little slimmer now that you look at him closely. 

With a laugh, your daughter sits up and grasps at his sleeve, which he acknowledges with a tired smile, too worn out to even turn and look at her.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Just fine,” he says, the weariest you’ve ever heard him, dragging a hand across his face. “She didn’t go far this time,” he says between yawns. “Do you think we should put a leash on her?”

You whirl around to tell him that you’re not about to put a leash on your baby, when you notice she’s no longer by his side.

“Shit. Not again!” you can hear Todo’s voice trailing off as he quickly fades from your vision the way a drop of dye disperses in water. 

He reappears before you in a matter of minutes, clutching your daughter for all he’s worth, completely out of breath. As you take him in, you notice that his clothes are torn, and both father and baby are damp with snow.

“Where was she this time?” you ask, beyond surprised, at this point. The Todo clan genes are a little...special.

“I...I have seen some stuff today...” he begins, looking completely shell-shocked. 

Taking your daughter from his clutches, you hand him a piece of parchment and a brush that you pre-dipped with ink in the short while that he was gone. Having done this so many times since she’s been born, you already have a system.

“You’re fine now. Just draw it on the paper. I’ll tell you where you’ve been.”

Todo sits down shakily and beings to draw upon the parchment in large strokes. With trembling hands, he passes the paper to you.

“Ah. That would be a woolly mammoth. Pleistocene epoch. We call it the ‘Ice Age.’”

[chatcolat]

Ossuary  chatcolat

One shot about Nico and Will going on a not-date trip to an ossuary and coming back boyfriends or something. Solangelo 

Nico wasn’t sure why he was spending so much more time around Camp Half Blood. Though he had been in charge of performing proper funeral rights for all those who died fighting the Earth Mother, Greek or Roman, he ended up back with the Greeks.

At first he spent most of his time with Jason, and then Piper by extension. With a lot of support and encouragement from Jason, he finally told Piper that he was gay. It was not easy, but it no longer made him shake and feel like vomiting. Being a daughter of Aphrodite, the news made Piper ridiculously excited.

“We should find you a boyfriend,” she insisted.

“No, really, let’s not,” he insisted, trying not to glance at the Apollo cabin. Piper was mourning Leo still - they all were - and focusing on Nico seemed to make her a lot happier.

“Play along and I promise to keep her from causing any actual harm,” Jason pleaded under his breath. Nico nodded. He would never say it out loud, but he liked the attention.

“You can’t tell anyone else, though, okay?” He explained.

“Duh,” Piper replied. “Also, I am SO glad you got over Percy. You can do better.”

She scouted around the camp grounds, watching kids play volleyball, canoe across the lake, or pick strawberries in the fields. Her eyes landed on Drew Tanaka, whispering with a few of her friends. She frowned thoughtfully. “Also, if anyone gives you trouble, or tries to push you into anything, you let me know and I’ll bring the full wrath of Aphrodite down on them.”

Nico turned beet red while Jason laughed and said something along the lines of I told you telling Piper would be a good idea.

 There were a lot of things Nico liked about camp. He liked his cabin, even if he was the only one in it. He had been decorating, making it more like a home - it wasn’t perfect, but it was better. He liked the lake and the strawberry fields. Sitting out in the late summer sun stirred far off memories of his childhood in Italy. Those memories used to be painful, a too-bright spot in a world of dark, but with things looking a lot less gloomy lately, lying in the grass on a summer day no longer made his heart ache. He was starting to prefer spending time in the sun to time in the dark of the Hades cabin. Sure, he still liked the shadows – they would always be a part of him, his birthright – but he realized that didn’t mean he couldn’t live in the light too.

When he went to visit Hazel for a weekend in New Rome, she commented, “Nico, you look so healthy! I swear you used to look covered in talcum.” He hadn’t noticed, but his skin had darkened to the deep olive shade it had been in his childhood. He felt better, stronger. His head no longer ached with poisonous thoughts. His chest no longer hurt all the time as it tried to carry the weight of his hopelessness.

“Piper and Jason are going to go look for Leo again, but they’re settling here for school,” Nico told her. It made him a little sad. He would miss having them around all the time. The thought of being known used to terrify him, but now? Now it was comforting. He would miss that comfort.

“Percy and Annabeth’ll be back in New York though!” You won’t be alone. Hazel knew him too, just a different side of him. The dark, lonely thoughts of children of Hades, lost in time, swirled through her head too.

“Plus you can always come visit us!” Frank insisted. Nico smiled. Frank meant it, and that meant the world to him.

“Of course. Jason wanted help with the postmortem aspects of his Pontifex Maximus job,” said Nico. “But I’ve been making friends at Camp Half Blood, too. The kids of Apollo won’t leave me alone.” He said it like he was annoyed, but he didn’t mind. Especially when it was really just one particular son of Apollo that seemed to take pleasure in constantly inserting himself into Nico’s life. He should tell them, but he wasn’t sure he was ready. Hazel was, after all, still adapting to a lot of modern conventions. Having a homosexual brother was perhaps a little too much just yet.

 Will Solace had proved the words he spoke during the battle with Gaea true. Nico was wanted at Camp. People invited him to play volleyball, pick strawberries, and even play capture the flag (as long as he kept his “Underworld magic” out of it). He had been dragged into learning how to row a canoe. More than a few campers got a kick out of seeing the son of Hades struggle at something.

“It’s comforting for them to see you aren’t perfect,” Will explained after fishing Nico out of the lake.

“Of course I’m not perfect,” his face was bright red. He hoped Will thought it was from nearly drowning and not because their hands were touching.

Will laughed. “Yeah, you’re just the strongest demigod of the century or something. No big deal.”

Nico scowled and a few kids around the docks backed up. Will shoved him back in the lake.

“I thought you were my doctor!” He spluttered as he came back up, desperately trying to grab the edge of the dock. He could swim, but just barely. It was more of a dog paddle.

“Yes. Exactly. You need to stop glaring at everyone and lighten up or your face will get stuck like that.” He made a very exaggerated imitation of Nico frowning. “Doctor’s orders.”

Nico grabbed Will’s unguarded ankle and pulled him in as well. When Will resurfaced, the two of them put on quite a show of trying to beat each other to the ladder. A small crowd gathered around and to watch, laughing at their theatrics. Nico could very safely say he had never enjoyed an afternoon more.

 He told Reyna first during one of their Iris messages. After she moved back to New Rome, they had made a regular talking schedule. Nico felt like he now had two sisters in the Roman camp.

“I hope he’s better than a legacy of Apollo,” she muttered. But when Nico reminded her of the boy that had bickered with him through the entire battle with Gaea, she smiled. It wasn’t like Reyna was giving him her blessing, but just being able to talk about it made him feel more confident, less anxious. His heart palpitations no longer scared him after that.

 The night before Piper and Jason left for their cross-country search for Leo, he told them about how his heart sped up and little butterflies fluttered to life in his stomach every time Will smiled.

Piper, who had been anxious the past few days as they prepared for their trip, lit up like it was Christmas. “Perfect choice. Excellent choice.”

“Don’t push him,” Jason chided. Piper shook her head.

“I’m not, am I Nico?” Nico didn’t want to turn this into a thing, he just wanted some advice. He didn’t want this to end the way his slow, painful burn for Percy had been.

“Just tell him,” Piper told him. “Be straightforward and upfront. I wasted so much time trying to get Jason to pay attention – or, well, that’s what Hera made me think – but really, it is a waste of time and energy.”

“And if he’s not into guys and I make a fool of myself?”

The two exchanged a look.

“Nico,” Jason began. “The whole camp knows Will is gay. He even got some people together last year to go to Pride in the City.”

This was news to Nico. Most things about Camp life were, but this was especially new. It made his old anxiety bubble up again. What did people think, then, about how close the two of them had grown? They were just friends after all. But did people think it was more than that?

“Just go for it!” Piper encouraged. “And then Iris message us EVERYTHING. If you need any curses from Aphrodite, I’ll rush back here in a heartbeat. I also think Clarisse will smite anyone who gives you trouble. She can be a brute, but her hearts in the right place.”

“Do what makes you happiest,” Jason smiled at him.  Nico smiled back. It didn’t hurt anymore.

  A few days after Jason and Piper left, Nico was laying on one of the hills that overlooked a strawberry patch. It was a pleasantly warm day and he had drifted off. It wasn’t a true sleep – he could still hear camp life going around him– but peaceful enough anyways. There was a cool breeze coming off the water, rustling the soft grass. The smell of ripe strawberries hung in the air. A shadow passed over his face and the grass beside him rustled. He cracked an eye open and caught a glimpse of Will settling into the grass next to him with the small backpack he carted around sometimes. It was mostly medical textbooks with disturbing images and gruesome descriptions of various ailments.

He was flipping through a notebook, no doubt filled with notes in his meticulous handwriting. How a dyslexic wannabe doctor had that nice of handwriting, Nico would never know.

Jason’s words floated back over him.  Everyone knows Will is gay. Did that mean Will already liked him? Is that why he went out of his way to hang out with him? Were they still friends or had they become something more? Friends. How did you tell when that line was crossed? Could it be crossed without them even speaking a word of it? Nico snuck another peak at Will, opening his eyes just enough to see the boy, but not enough that would give him away.

“I know you’re awake,” Will said after awhile. Nico quickly closed his eyes.  

“I was sleeping,” Nico corrected. “You woke me up.”

Will shrugged but smiled when Nico finally opened his eyes and turned to face him. “You’ve been ‘sleeping’ up here all morning. You missed lunch, which is bad for your health. Time to wake up. I’m still your doctor.”

Nico laughed, and regretted it. Even when he didn’t mean to, his laughs still came out bitter. But Will either didn’t notice or was used to it by now.

“What’re you doing?” Nico asked casually, trying to get a better look at the notebook. It was filled with drawn images of different types of bone breaks, each bone carefully labeled, with detailed instructions on how to set them. Will was good at drawing. He took his studies a lot more seriously than Percy.

School and studying were curious to Nico. He had barely attended a class since the 1930s, so things like college were not open to him. Percy and Annabeth would start school in New Rome next year and here Will was studying for a specialized medical program in New Rome designed for demigods who had a little more medical training than the average mortal college student. Will’s books fascinated him. He had even convinced Percy and Annabeth to let him look over some of the summer homework they brought when they visited on weekends. Annabeth explained a lot of it to him, but be struggled over the words – more from lack of formal education than the typical demigod dyslexia. Part of him wished he could go off to college with everyone else.

“Going over some notes from a few textbooks a son of Apollo in New Rome sent up. Just wanna get ahead, you know?” Will shrugged. Nico didn’t know, but he kept it off his face.

“Is that a thing people do, or just you?”

Will looked at him and grinned. When he smiled there was no denying that he was a son of the sun god. When he smiled, Nico wasn’t sure how long he could go on trying to sort through the endless stream of questions in his head. Friends or friends?

“It’s recommended, but I’ve already skimmed all the books for first year bio students, so…“

“Both?” Nico finished from him with a laugh. He sat up and looked over the book. Cliché as it was, Nico was already something of an expert of skeletons, even if some of the more scientific names escaped him. For example, he knew about the three small bones in the ear, but he didn’t know they were called the ossicles collectively (Will had a small note next to them: how they hell do you break these?). Will’s handwriting was really nice. He smelled nice too. No, stop that.  

“So, I was thinking,” Will smiled in a way more befitting a child of Hermes than Apollo. “There’s only a few days until camp closes for the summer, but a few weeks before school starts again – at least for me.”

Nico nodded. He had been trying to decide what to do with himself during the Camp offseason. He didn’t want to go back to traveling alone again, but he wasn’t sure what other options he had. Staying around Camp Half Blood while everyone else was gone seemed pointless.

“And I was thinking, you know, we could take a trip.”

“What?” Nico was caught off guard, the sentences churning like the Labyrinth down a path he hadn’t expected.

“Right,” Will looked a little embarrassed. “See, I was reading some stuff online, like weird places to go and what not, and I found this awesome church-“

“Full of bones?” Nico knew where this was going. “Because I’m the son of Hades?”

Will had moved from embarrassed to flustered. “Well, yes, but it’s actually really cool. There was this blind monk - no wait, back up – there’s this special kind of church with like some holy dirt, so a lot of people wanted to be buried there, but after awhile there was no space and they were trying to expand. So then they start exhuming bodies and this blind monk starts making cool-,” he cleared his throat, “making art with them, so more people could buy plots to bury their dead, but the bones never leave consecrated ground.” He paused to take a breath then muttered, “I thought it was really cool. And I feel like you are the only one who isn’t going to judge me for that.”

“Oh, I’m judging you, Son of Apollo.” Nico laughed. Will was good at making him laugh. Maybe if he did it enough it would stop sounding so disturbed.

“But, it’s cool right?”

Nico looked around. Generally, he tried to avoid talking about bones and things around other people. It added to the Son of the God of the Dead creep factor. But if a son of Apollo admits it first? And they were friends, right?

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Where is it?”

The anxiety in Will’s face melted into another one of those award-winning smiles. Nico felt a little dizzy.

“Just outside of Prague!” Will grinned. Nico opened his mouth to comment but Will beat him to it. “No, wait. See, I know it’s far. But we could fly there in less than a day! I don’t have a passport, and I bet yours expired like what, 70 years ago? But we can borrow the Apollo cabin chariot.”

“That sounds like an abuse of power,” Nico teased.

“Probably. But I haven’t left New York in years. Plus, there’s a bone chandelier.”

“A bone chandelier?” Nico really wanted to go, but there were so many things that could go wrong. Monsters could attack. Mortal police could discover their lack of papers. Nico might do something stupid and kiss him.

“Yes, wait a minute,” Will was on a roll and cut him off before he could voice the first two. “Let me finish dispelling all that negativity flowing out of you. You spent all summer in Europe, I know. But it was running from monsters and being captured and so on. Plus, with the giants and Gaia gone, most monsters tend to avoid you anyways right? So being a tourist is probably better. Plus, did I mention no soul-sucking shadow travel?”

Nico couldn’t argue. He wanted to go and the practical side of his brain seemed to be on holiday. Part of him even wished they could go back to Venice, but that was pushing it. “How are we funding this?”

“I found some very sweet deals for lodgings as long as we can forge some decent passports, and Connor owes me, so that is also easily taken care of. Do you have a bit of mortal money?”

“Funny enough, I have an account that’s been collecting interest since the 1940s.”

 Nico was not really sure how Will had managed to book this trip so fast – the internet sure is amazing – or how they had managed to cross the north Atlantic with only two monster attacks, but three days after their conversation on the hill, Nico found himself wandering through the streets of Prague. Half the roads were cobbled and the buildings all looked like the world had when he was a kid. But it was still undeniably a 21st century city. As he sat at a Starbucks across from a tram stop he thought I should bring Hazel here. This place was timeless, which made it a perfect place for time displaced demigods.

“So,” Will started as he came back out to the table with their drink orders. Nico looked at his espresso suspiciously but said nothing as Will settled into his seat, looking content with whatever was mixed under all the whipped cream on top. “Prague is pretty cool.”

“We have Starbucks in America,” Nico pointed out. He tried not to make a face as he took a sip. It was not espresso. His displeasure did not escape Will’s notice.

“Okay, you are still obviously missing a few points of modernity. No one goes to Starbucks for their quality coffee.”

“They get those?” He pointed to the thing Will was happily drinking.

“Frappuccino,” Will provided.

Nico frowned. “Is that supposed to be Italian?”

Will shrugged and offered the drink to him. “It’s caramel.”

Nico looked at it with skepticism, but accepted it anyways. It was a lot better than his ‘espresso’. He handed it back longingly. “Yeah, okay, it’s good.”

“The trick is to not think of it as coffee,” Will said with a wink and took another big sip.  

Nico realized awhile ago Will made it hard for him to think straight, so he was not too surprised when he saw his hand reach out to pull the drink back for another sip.

“I can get you one,” Will laughed.

Nico shook his head as he handed it back. “Aren’t you still playing doctor? This much sugar’ll probably kill me.”

Will shrugged and pulled the lid off to eat some of the whipped cream. “So tomorrow we take the train out to Sedlec,” he stumbled over the Czech name, but it didn’t seem to bother him. “Should take and hour or so.”

“All this regular travel takes forever,” Nico muttered. Sure, it was easier to cross continents in a plane or a chariot, but the idea of taking a train for an hour when he could have just shadow traveled in a few minutes a few months ago? It hurt. He how long until he could start using his Ghost King powers again?

“Ha. No. Don’t even start. If you disappear into the shadows, this trip will suck. I can’t make excuses for this trip without you.”

“Aha, the real reason you wanted me to come along. I’m being used so you look less creepy for suggesting going on vacation to an ossuary.” Nico was joking, or at least, he said it like he was joking. Part of him worried it was true. The part of him that had no friends until a month was still convinced this was all a dream or some crazy trick concocted by some other campers. But no. They were friends, right? Friends? Maybe?

“Yes, that exactly. I didn’t invite you for your company or anything,” Will said. Nico could appreciate the snarky tone. Will handed the drink back to Nico. “By the way, on a scale of one to umbra, how shadowy are you feeling today?”

“You aren’t actually my doctor,” Nico replied.

“No, but I am your friend. I’m allowed to worry.”

Nico wished making his heart stop fluttering was as easy as shadow travel.  “I’m fine. Probably a two or three – a solid ray of sunshine.” They both glanced down at his black jeans and skull tee-shirt and laughed.

After a moment of silently passing the Frappuccino back and forth, Will said, “I would be sad if you disappeared, though. Not just because it’d be hard to explain back home, but because I would miss you.” Will’s nervous eyes wouldn’t meet his, which only made Nico’s heart beat faster. If he was nervous too, did that mean he was trying to figure it out too? Were they friends or friends?

There was a tension in the air that wasn’t there before, like they both realized that sneaking away for a trip to Prague together was maybe not something normal friends did. Was this, sitting and drinking coffee together, a date?

No, no, no. Nico scolded himself. Thinking like this made his heart beat faster and the tumbling of wings in his stomach almost unbearable.

He reached for the Frappuccino and stood up. “Wanna explore the city?”

Will grinned. “There’s this giant radio tower with giant babies climbing up it.”

 Sedlec Ossuary was tucked out of the way in the little town. They ended up going to another church first before getting directions to the church of bones.

“This is it?” Will asked. They stood in front of a much smaller church than the last one.

“I feel death,” Nico said by way of affirmation.

Will scoffed. “You said that about the last one.” It wasn’t his fault. Churches were haunted places. Funerary rites and graveyards left lots of spirits and bones hanging around. This could be applied to small European towns in general. So many dead over the centuries from war, plague, and hatred. It got overwhelming.

“Yeah, but this one has a skull on the gate.”

Will looked up and nodded. “Right. Here we come, bone chandelier!” He said it with a little too much enthusiasm but the other people milling about were either also tourists who understood the macabre interest or locals who were probably used to it. No one even glanced twice at Nico.

They walked through a tiny and crowded but loved graveyard and into the church. There was a small admittance fee they paid to a very bored looking youth, and then steps down into the crypt. Will hesitated at the top, his eyes fixed on the bones fixed to the walls. Some dangled down over the stairs. Others imitated the architecture, following arches around the ceiling. On a low wall over the stairs was what looked like a crucifix made of bones with femurs making sun rays around the skeletal representation of Christ. Nico thought it was kind of awesome.

“You can’t chicken out now.”

“Why are we here again?” He asked. For a second, Nico genuinely believed him. The doubts that any of this was real or possible swam around in his brain. Then his eyes met Will’s blue ones and Nico realized he wasn’t asking why he was here with him, he was remembering his demigod mortality. Going into basements decorated with bones was definitely a no-no for children of the gods who didn’t want to die. “Nothing is like, gonna kill us down there right?”

Nico relaxed and tried to smile in a way that was comforting, but he wasn’t sure that was possible for a child of Hades in a church of bones. “No angry ghosts. The magic dirt must have been really good. Plus you’re with a son of Hades. This is my element – literally.”

Will nodded, then slipped his hand in Nico’s and started down the stairs. Nico, surprised, came stumbling after, his face growing warmer with each step. There were lots of tourists around them. Plenty of people to notice. What would they think? Would they turn away in disgust?

None of them paid the two teens any attention. Will’s hand was warm and a little sweaty from the summer heat. Nico never wanted to let it go.

“Oh my gods,” Will muttered as their eyes adjusted to the low light at the bottom of the stairs. There were giant mounds of bones all around them, piles taller than the two of them put together. An actual crucifix hung on a dark wall surrounded by skulls. Two smaller crucifixes like the bone one above stared at the body of Christ. Will was transfixed by the year and name on the wall next to them, made entirely out of curving human ivory.

“I like the style. Think I could get that in my cabin?” Nico joked. Will turned to him, a mischievous smile on his face, ready to make a comeback but he froze, his eyes fixed on something over Nico’s shoulder.

“I think you need that,” he gestured with a nod of his head, squeezing Nico’s hand a little tighter. Nico turned. How he had managed to miss it, he would never know, but there in the middle of the room was a giant chandelier made of bone.

“Yes,” he breathed. It was terrifying, but oddly beautiful. Nico didn’t know the names for all these bones, but he recognized jaws, and hips, and legs. Spines made up swooping candle holders topped with skulls. Four pillars of skulls surrounded it on for sides.

“I’m thinking this blind monk was a son of Hades,” Will muttered, leaning gently against him as they admired the sheer number of bones collected in one place.

“Yeah, I gotta say, even Hades palace isn’t quite this intense,” Nico joked. “Maybe Dad should find this guy and have him redecorate.”

Will grinned, squeezing Nico’s hand again as he pulled him along to look at more of the room. They spent a good hour down there, quizzing each other on the names and locations of the bones. They did end up drawing attention, but for their excellent knowledge of skeletal structure, not the fact that they were still holding hands. They got stopped by a few tourists who wanted to ask them questions and at one point even had a small crowd going.

“You two are so smart!” a middle-aged lady complimented them after Nico explained that the large flat bones around the skulls of the chandelier were from the pelvis. “Your parents must be so proud!”

They both glanced at each other, thoughtfully. Would Hades or Apollo care? What about their mothers?

The laughed about it later over ice cream from a shop next to the ossuary.

“I think Apollo’d be creeped out by this place,” Will laughed. “No way he’d go into the crypt.”

“Hades would probably be unimpressed. It’s so… peaceful. I’ve never been to a peaceful cemetery before.” Nico was staring at the impressions of skulls made with mosaic tiles on the wall. Then Will’s hand brushed his on the table and his eyes blinked in time with his suddenly racing heart. Will hesitated, less confident when they weren’t plunging gung-ho into a monk’s morbid art project.

Piper’s words echoed in Nico’s ears. Be straightforward. Without looking away from the mosaics, Nico reached for Will’s hand, lacing their fingers together. He waited until Will’s fingers settled gently over his knuckles before turning to face him.

Will’s eyes were brighter than the sky, silently asking all the same questions that were floating around in Nico’s head.

“I wasn’t sure,” Will said.

“Yeah,” Nico was too nervous to say anything witty.

“You can be really hard to read sometimes.”

“I get that a lot,” Nico tried.

Will smiled a little. It wasn’t his usual, son of the sun god smile, but a smaller, more self conscious one. It felt private and special.

“I like you,” he said. Nico’s heart collided with his ribcage.

“I like you, too.” Will’s smile widened. He looked like a dork. Nico realized he was smiling too and probably looked equally ridiculous. He didn’t care.

“You can’t actually put a bone chandelier in your cabin,” Will told him. “I think using the bones of dead campers would really put a damper on the space.”

Nico laughed and for once it didn’t sound like he was in pain.

 They were sitting in a monastery park in a residential district that evening, eating takeaway from a Czech restaurant across the street. Will had held his hand the rest of the day. There were a couple old folks who looked at them a bit funny but no one said anything. They were leaving tomorrow, but Nico almost wished they weren’t. Something about this whole trip felt magical in a very normal and not god related way. He liked that.

“Just so you know, I’m pretty sure Apollo cabin placed bets,” Will said, taking a swig of his drink.

“What?” Coke came out of Nico’s nose.

“My siblings, they’re placing bets about whether or not we’re getting together.”

“Yeah,” Nico choked, trying to mop up the mess he made with napkins. “I got that, thanks, but why exactly? Isn’t this, I don’t know, private?”

Will shrugged. “What is privacy at Camp Half Blood? Didn’t Percy used to take Annabeth to the bottom of the lake to get private time when they first started dating?”

Nico didn’t know how he could be relaxed about the whole thing. “Last I checked, neither of us can breathe under water!”

“Uh, that’s what Hades’ cabin is for. No one would go near there without your permission. That’s why you can’t get the chandelier,” Will joked. Then, more seriously he asked, “Does it embarrass you that much?”

“Yes! Of course it’s embarrassing! I get embarrassed for Piper and Jason all the time!” There was a lot more to it than that, but Nico wanted to be brave for Will. For himself.

Will smiled a little. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“I was finally falling out of all the gossip,” Nico whined. Flopped dramatically into the grass next to Will. Will still looked a little hurt so he added, “I guess it can’t be helped.”

“It can’t?” Will looked hopeful.

Nico shook his head.

“I’m tired of the shadows.”

Notes: Sedlec Ossuary is cool.  Less than a week after writing the note in Will’s book about breaking ossicles, I ran into a colleague in the city WHO BROKE ONE. It was a very funny situation.