#if there are one braincell between them then who has it today hm?

[aeviare]

@sylvctica liked for a starter! || aether for sylvie!

"well, i hadn't exactly planned on doing anything today, but i'm not going to push away any good ideas if you have them. why? what did you have in mind?"

[misslilli]

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | read on AO3

Chapter 21 - The Halloween Fair

[ DS ]

On the afternoon of the Halloween fair, I take out the costume that Miss Hannigan picked out for me from the closet. Ever since I’ve got it, I’m beyond excited to wear it. It’s a black low-cut shirt, a white, checkered suit with a blazer that ties at the waist and a flaring skirt. As I put on the blonde wig and the black beret, I turn to the mirror channeling my best inner Faye Dunaway and say to myself in a breathy, southern lilt: “My, my, don’t you just look dandy, Miss Bonnie Parker!”

My friends have been roped into manning the booths of the fair and somehow, I’ve slipped under the town people’s radars, which leaves me able to roam around the fair, albeit alone. Since I’ve known most people in this town ever since I was little, I’m never actually alone at these happenings, people tend to just pull me into their conversation as I walk by. But as luck will have it, as I’m rounding one of the booths of the fair, I find myself face to face with the one person I had secretly hoped to see.

He’s wearing a brown tweed suit with a matching waistcoat and over the white collared shirt he’s tied an emerald green tie. Perched on his head is a white fedora. ‘Shit. He’s Clyde. What the fuck?’

We stop in our tracks and stare at each other for a moment, taking in our respective costumes. He’s the first one to regain his ability to speak.

“Hey Bonnie, the laws are outside, they’re blockin’ the driveway!” His Warren Beatty impression is perfect right down to the Texan drawl. ‘God help me…’

“Gosh, I hope you’ve parked the getaway car around the corner, Clyde!” I’m putting on my best Faye Dunaway impression again as I add a wink to my statement and just continue to walk past him. My heart thumping hard against my chest betrays my cool exterior, but that’s my secret and my secret alone.

----------

[ FM ]

When we finally get to the Halloween fair that Felix has roped me into, dressed up in a costume I didn’t even pick myself. We trail the grounds together and we’re drawn to the candy apple booth. Well actually, Felix draws us to this exact booth, the little sneak, but I can’t resist his pout and pleading eyes, so we end up getting an apple each. Munching away happily, his mouth full, he asks the question I’ve been too scared to ask myself: “Hey dad, do you think Miss Scully is here too with her friends?” I hope she is, if only to see what kind of costume she has picked out for herself, but I can’t tell Felix that. Instead, I just shrug and we continue our stroll across the town square.

When we round another booth, we both stop in our tracks as we see a blonde woman appear before us , dressed in a checkered suit and a beret on her head. ‘Bonnie. She’s the freakin’ Bonnie to your Clyde. Your sidekick. No, your partner in crime. The woman you love. In the movie of course. Insert awkward cough.’.

Felix is oblivious of course, he hasn’t seen the movies and I doubt he even knows what my costume is, let alone Miss Scully’s. I scrape together the last braincells that are left in my head and a stupid movie quote is the only thing I can think of at this moment.

“Hey Bonnie, the laws are outside, they’re blockin’ the driveway!” The retort she gives me combined with her wink render me speechless until she’s well past me and Felix, mingling with the small crowd that welcomes her into their midst just a few feet away from us.

Felix does the thing I wish I could bring myself to do, staring at her retreating form in wonder and he also speaks the words that have sprung to my own mind.

“Wow!”

----------

[ DS ]

Countless conversations later and a little tipsy on the delicious apple cider they always serve at the Halloween fair, I wander along the booths when I hear a voice I haven’t heard in over a year. And could’ve gone forever not hearing again. It’s my ex-whatever Steve, talking to one of his friends.

I’m hidden pretty well in the crowd of people due to my shortness but I can still catch flashes of their conversation. When I hear my name, I stop, straining my ears.

“Dana? Oh God, no. She’s not even close to being a serious contender for a relationship.” I wince at his statement as well as the tone of his voice. “She’s just always there, you know? Like a well trained Golden Retriever, I say the word and she comes running. Such an easy lay!” When they share a laugh I can feel the flush of shame and anger crawl up my neck.

The situation he describes is exactly what I’ve spent countless hours in therapy getting over. But what he says next really drives a stake through my heart. “It’s so pathetic, but if it’s what I have to do to get laid, whatever. She’s even dirtier in bed than any hot teacher fantasy you could ever imagine and what they say about good Catholic girls is very, very accurate, if you know what I mean!”

If he weren’t the demon I have to face every time I try to get over my past, I would’ve revealed myself and give his ass a good kicking for talking about me the way he has. But not knowing how I’ll react to being face-to-face with him, I stay hidden behind a group of mummies and zombies like a fucking coward.

I’m so furious with him and myself for not being able to stand up to him. Where the hell are my friends when I need them? I haven’t seen them all evening and I could really use their company to talk some sense into me. Since they’re nowhere to be found, I head towards the bar set up in the back and slide onto a stool, ordering a shot of Tequila. ‘Fuck it! That low-life is not even worth your time of day!’

On the surface, I’m so angry I want to set this whole damn place on fire, but deep down, the past hurt resurfaces to join the hurt from his words I just heard.

By the time I’ve downed my second shot, I’ve repeated the mantra that I’m a strong woman who’s better off without men in my head about a thousand times. I see someone slide onto the stool next to me out of the corner of my eye as I order another shot of Tequila to keep the two empty glasses in front of me company.

“A third shot of Tequila is just asking for trouble, if you ask me.” I turn my head slowly towards my bar-mate to tell him exactly where to shove his smart-ass remark when I’m faced with my supposed partner in crime, the charming one with the disarmingly innocent smile on his stupid face. I’m staring him down defiantly, my eyes never leaving his while the bartender places my glass in front of me and I grab it, downing it in a swift motion, daring him in my mind to say anything else. He doesn’t comment, good for him, and orders a shot for himself, just raising his glass silently and I clink it with my empty one – I’m tipsy, not insane, chasing one shot with another.

We’re staring straight ahead during our conversation, turning our glasses over and over between our fingers.

“Which guy seems to be the problem and how many rounds of ammo do I need to take him out?,” he asks after minutes of silence. I want to lean into him for just assuming that it’s a man that has me sitting here seething, but unfortunately, he’s right. This one time.

“How many rounds you got?” He scoffs at that.

“Plenty. And I know of exactly eleven ways to get rid of a body without raising suspicion.”

“And here I was thinking the FBI frowned upon their employees giving out top-level secrets on how to hide away evidence of a crime committed.”

“I’m not going to tell you, I wouldn’t want you to be held in contempt of Congress when questioned.”

“How do you know I wouldn’t rat you out when questioned by Congress?”

“Just a hunch… Talk to me, Red. What happened tonight?” He turns towards me and I can feel his gaze dancing over the skin of my face.

“You really want to know? Well, turns out the asshole of an ex of mine decided that today might be the perfect time to make an encore appearance in my life and reminded me again why I should’ve kicked him to the curb a long time ago instead of hoping I could change him.” Looking down at the bar, I trace my finger through the condensation drops, my anger slowly dissipating and my voice growing more and more quiet. “I heard him say some pretty awful things about me tonight.”

I relax into his hand when he places it comfortingly on my back, right between my shoulder blades, and huff out a sigh. “I’m sorry.,” is the only thing he says, but doesn’t add anything else, giving me the choice if I wanted to elaborate or not.

“What I witnessed today was the way he’s always been but I just couldn’t see through the masquerade of the sweet guy, he was so kind and said all the right things and he quite literally wooed the pants off me from the get-go.”

“Love bombing.” ‘Oh yeah, I forgot, you’re a profiler. You probably already got one worked out for me, trust-issues, anxious attachment style, possibly daddy issues, in short, a hot mess. Avoid at all costs.’

“Pretty much, yeah. And I was stupid enough to believe it.” I raise my hand to call over the bartender for another round.

“You’re not stupid. It’s hard to tell the difference between genuine interest and love bombing in the beginning.” ‘Yeah, no shit Sherlock. It’s exactly why I’m sitting here torn between wanting you to make a pass at me and being absolutely terrified that you actually will.’

“How about we pass on the shots and get some water instead before calling it a night?”

“I think that’s probably a good idea, Mr. Mulder!”

“You know, after tonight, what do you say we just drop the Mister?” I nods slowly, pursing my lips.

“So just Fox?” He makes a pained face.

“No, please don’t. Just Mulder is fine.”

“Mh-hm. I guess since we’re dropping the titles, that that makes me Scully? Little odd, but alright!”

We get the check and argue back and forth about who gets to pay, him putting an end to it with a firm “Will you give it a rest, you’ll get to pick up the next check!”.

In my attempt to slide off the barstool gracefully despite three tequila shots, my heel catches onto the rail at the bottom and I stumble over the stool, knocking it over in the process. I have only his quick reflexes to thank that I don’t follow suit, his arms catching me around my waist and pulling me upright again.

He has the audacity to laugh, the bastard, and I’m beyond mortified. “Easy there, partner! Do you need a ride home? Felix is at a pajama party at his friend Suzie’s house, so I’m free to be your pumpkin carriage for tonight.” ‘NO! Yes? No. Get your hands off me. Don’t let go just yet.’

I’m so confused at the tug of war in my fuzzy head but I hate getting a cab alone and I’m in heels on top of being tipsy, I don’t want to walk home alone at night.

As we walk out, his hand finds his way to the small of my back guiding me through the crowds while making sure I don’t stumble again.

On the drive to the beach house, I manage not to fall asleep despite how tired I feel, too afraid of snoring or, God forbid, drooling onto myself. His hands find my back again guiding me up the stairs to the front door and I turn to face him at the top, even more nervous.

“Thanks for the ride, Mulder. And for listening.”

“Anytime, Scully. Good night!”

When he leans in, I start to panic that this is it and I think it shows on my face, because he only kisses my cheek, just like I did after the birthday party before getting back in the car and heading home. I can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed.

I can’t ignore the flutter of excitement every time his hands land anywhere on my body but what I will absolutely deny, even to myself, is the way my heart constricts in my chest when he gazes at me that way and the sense of comfort that settles over me when we’re together.

Bodily reactions I can deal with, it’s when it comes to emotions is where it gets scary.

I just don’t think my heart can survive another Steve.

[bansept]

Family festival

A very big shout-out to @star-snail whose Ichihime fanart inspired this fanfic : it is a very beautiful piece that just radiates peace and love and fun to me, so I tried my best to convey this in a written way. I hope I do their work justice 🙃

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

Japan is the land of festivals, Ichigo is pretty darn sure of that. He is far from complaining, especially because it allows all his family to reunite so that they can eat sweets, have fun, pray and just, be together.

For days, the house down the street of the Kurosaki clinic had been filled with excited chatters of both Orihime and Kazui, the little boy asking his mother about this and that story, his mother explaining with great details. The 5 year-old had looked at her like magic was pouring out of her mouth, which was probably the case, to him. Kazui had asked about many festivals, including the Tanabata one, which of course brought tears to his eyes.

"B-but why did they part away? Why aren't they together!"

He wasn't a fussy boy, very far from it. He was calm and collected, and obeyed all instructions, but when it involved anything bad, even remotely linked to his parents (a name in this case), he was crying.

So Ichigo had to assure him that no, mommy wouldn't go in the stars, no, they wouldn't be separated. Yes, he could have a big kiss from papa.

"Ichigo, come get Kazui please!" Orihime called out from their room, and her husband complied, leaving the kitchen to tickle his son, who was playing with a few toys near their sofa.

The boy laughed at the fingers on his sides, wriggling in his dad's arms. He shook his tiny legs to try to get him out of such a monstrous grip, but Ichigo had him in a hug in an instant, his son up in his arms as they climbed the stairs.

"Here is my prey... Where do I put him, Hime?" Ichigo chuckled in a fake deep voice, which pulled a squeal from his son, who extended his hands to his mom, hoping to get away from his horrible father.

"Oh, well how about you give this cute boy a bath before dressing him up? We'll be late..."

"We are supposed to meet the rest in an hour, Hime, don't worry."

Ichigo walked to his nervous wife and gave her a very gentle peck on the cheek, hoping to calm her down. Kazui turned his head to the side, suddenly interested in what was on the walls while Orihime blushed a little.

"... You're right. I'm just a bit nervous... I don't know why."

Ichigo gave Kazui a little kiss on the temple before placing him back on the floor, and rubbed his back.

"Kazui, can you go get ready for the bath? I'll be here in a second."

The boy, being the sweetheart he was, nodded simply and pitty patted to the washroom, leaving his parents in their room. Ichigo looked back to his wife and raised his hand to caress her cheek.

"Orihime? Are you okay?"

The young woman breathed out, going to hug Ichigo and burying her face in his neck. She melted in his touch when she felt Ichigo's arms wrap around her, drawing nonsense on the fabric of her kimono.

"I am, it's just... I'm reminded of... I don't know, everything. My parents, my brother... For the first ones, I still wish I had some knowledge of them. And Ni-Chan... He would have been happy to be with us."

Ichigo could only agree with her, only knowing one part of the way she felt. He wished his mother was here today too, to be with her husband and her children and now Kazui too. But it was impossible.

"They're not here physically. But the people we love are with us in spirit." Ichigo said simply, his strong arms tightening a little around Orihime, his face meeting with the top of her hair.

Orihime didn't answer, only hugging him more, letting her emotions calm down, the thrumming of her heart go back to normal. Those types of thoughts didn't come often, not because she was too happy to get them, simply because there was no reason to feel bad about the past. But tonight... Tonight felt different.

After a few minutes, Orihime gave Ichigo more of her sweet and enlightening smile, brushing a hand on his cheek to thank him before getting downstairs. Ichigo went back to his son, who was looking at his reflection and waiting patiently.

"Ah, sorry Kazui. Took more than one second. But now mommy is better and you can get washed!"

Ichigo started the bath and quickly but very carefully washed the boy, who giggled and tried to splash his dad with water multiple times, but was stopped with the promise of more treats if he was nice tonight. Wetting a kimono with soap-filled water? Big no no.

The boys got ready pretty fast, father making sure that son was comfortable in his kimono and waraji, not daring to try to tame his unruly hair. He really was like Ichigo in that department. The only way to make sure it wasn't all over the place was to cut them, even if another reason was more, hem, personal.

Totally not related to how Orihime all but loved to scratch the back of his head and it was easier done when the hair is short.

They got down the stairs, Kazui holding onto Ichigo's hand tightly to not fall, still not used to the straw shoes in his little feet. Orihime checked her reflection one last time before squatting to her son, giving him a big smooth on the forehead, praising Ichigo for dressing him so well.

Did the two blush profusely? Yes. One because he was a little boy and proud to make his mommy proud, and the other one because damn if his wife wasn't the most jaw dropping beautiful woman in existence.

A few knocks on the door wanted them of the arrival of the louder part of the family, as Ichigo jokingly called them. Isshin didn't really wait until anyone opened the door to burst it open, his laughter and happy face infectious.

"Ah! Where is my grandson! Oh, you look so good.. so cute my boy!" He sniffed, tears already streaming down his face as he kneeled down to hug Kazui. Yuzu almost did the same, but had some self restraint (thank goodness) and instead laughed with Orihime. Karin kept the door opened and saluted everyone calmly, without a word, but the smile on her face too obvious for her to pretend to be unhappy about the commotion.

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

All of them, after a lot of tears, walked to the closest festival stalls, the night setting in and the lampions lighting up the streets, giving it a fairy tale like atmosphere. Kazui walked neatly next to his father, holding to his arm closely, but his eyes darted everywhere in wonder. This green light, that blue stall... Some people wore masks and some kids were chasing each other with tiny fireworks in their hands.

"Let's get some food! Yuzu insisted on not making any at home as to not waste the one here..."

The young girl nodded her head enthusiastically while her twin sister trotted to a Ikayaki stall, asking for one before watching the drama play out.

"Well yes, because otherwise you would have eat like normal but all your appetite would have been gone with us and you would have complained about your stomach!"

Yuzu lectured her father, and Orihime stood next to her to tap her shoulder and calm her down, otherwise it would turn into a quite loud conversation. Karin came back next to her twin and gave her a candy apple, placing it in her hand.

"Don't mind him. Let's enjoy the festival. Let him eat if he wants."

The sisters walked ahead, not really caring about their dad's wailing, Ichigo pushing Kazui between Orihime and him.

"Tsk, he always has to be dramatic about everything..."

"But it's funny papa! When grandpa cries he always makes funny faces! And then I hug him and poof! Gone!"

Orihime gave her son a very sweet kiss on the forehead, because who wouldn't melt at the boy's sweet heart and words.

"Hm, oh, Hime. Look there."

Ichigo pointed at a stall with a shooting contest, which confused the woman at first, before she clapped her hands excitedly.

"Oh, we've haven't done one in so long!" She giggled, jogging to the inviting booth with Kazui on her side. Ichigo smiled brightly, shaking his head. Who was the child?

"You go win her a prize, I'll look after Kazui." Isshin told him, surprisingly calm after one minute of crying. He raised an eyebrow at his dad who clapped his hands together before raising Kazui in the air.

"Kazui, you'll see if your papa is good with shooting targets. If he's not, then you'll be staying with me for a while week!"

So, that meant going to bed very late, eating candy, not doing any kind of work and losing a few braincells because of Isshin cooing at him and talking to him like a baby.

No way was he going to lose. Especially when Orihime was watching intently, her hands holding each other on her chest.

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

Of course Ichigo won.

And got the biggest prize he could obtain, a grey teddy bear, proudly holding it for his wife. Orihime was filled with happiness, feeding him a chocolate banana from time to time.

The evening passed like that : between chatters, contests, street food and laughter, not a single Kurosaki wasn't smiling. The sisters stood close to Orihime, always hoping to spend more time with her, always hoping to find this reminder of Masaki in her. Ichigo walked by her side, listening to their chatters and keeping an eye on Kazui, who was getting sleepy.

"Papa?"

"Hm?"

"Who is that?"

Ichigo turned his face to look on his right, where Kazui had pointed at, but seeing no one. There was barely any civilian at the stalls around them, so it was safe to say Kazui definitely needed some well earned sleep. Ichigo crouched down to pick him up in his arms, patting his head gently.

"You're tired baby, were going home soon. You can sleep some if you want."

"But the lady..."

"Hm?"

Kazui couldn't say more, already closing his little arms and snoring softly. The day had been long, of course he was exhausted. Ichigo made sure he held him tight, the teddy in his other hand being a bit of a pain now. Orihime stopped to check on the little boy, her heart feeling like it turned goowee at the adorable sight.

"We should head back... Kazui needs to take some well deserved rest." Ichigo announced to his family, the two girls nodding in unison and Isshin hugging Orihime quickly before patting Ichigo on the shoulder.

"We had a great time, thank you, to the three of you." Orihime bowed and got her goodbyes back at her, Yuzu making one last joke with her before everyone returned to their homes.

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

Once Kazui was changed and put to bed, Ichigo cracked his back bones and brushed his teeth sleepily, now in his sleeping t-shirt and shorts. Weird how before he could have his bed time at 3 in the morning without any problem, and now 11:30 was the maximum.

He heard Orihime sigh next door, in their room, and popped his head out of the bathroom door.

"Hm?"

She laughed at his cute appearance and his puppy look, the head tilted to the side. She waved her hand as if to say "later, later" and went back to changing. Ichigo frowned, the infamous gesture that he had forgotten along the years bringing back the usual anxiety he felt in his younger days.

He spit in the sink and washed up his hands before entering their room and pushing the door closed.

"Hime, what's wrong? Please tell me..." He asked, sitting on the bed to watch her take her hair down, unleashing it from the tight grip of her sofisticated bun. She sighed again, and Ichigo frowned again, before going to hug him, the force of it pushing Ichigo to lay on the bed with his wife in his arms.

"Hime..."

"Nothing is wrong, I promise." She cut him off, rolling to her side if the bed and staring at his eyes. She was not lying, she was alright but then why did she sigh? Why did she look so exhausted when they return back home?

Ichigo still nodded, reassured to a point, before leaning down to kiss her in the lips. She gladly accept the peck, placing her hands on his face in such a sweet and careful hold, Ichigo definitely wanted to kiss her more. But she pulled away again, still looking at him with this strange look, one that made her eyes glitter in excitement. Orihime took one of his hands, so strong, so callous from all those fights, to place it on her belly, warm tears filling her eyes.

"I'm pregnant."

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

Oh I'm so bad for leaving this like that 😂 but then again, if you guys want the rest, you can always ask for it hehe

As I am not Japanese, I had to research for festivals and clothes and food, hopefully what I wrote made sense ;;

[kanene-yaaay-o-retorno]

Caffeinated drinks, black dots and I should’ve stayed at home

Kanene’s Notes: Heya, heya awesome beans! Howz you are all doing?!

I am very glad that I finally finished this idea dfghjkderty. Shinsou was the second character that my mind screamed that I NEEDED to put in a cat cafe and kjhgtrertyu I think that one is a litol more funny and fluff than hurt/comfort, like the one with Midoriya, but worry not! In the end of the day one more kid is adopted :D

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic has Dadzawa and Yamadad and their relatonship can be seen as romantic, if you wish.

* This happens in the same universe as This Fanfic Here and you can also find it on AO3.

* There is passing out due exhaustion, sleep deprivation and cursing, but besides that i don’t think that there are any more warnings. This is more funny and fluff.

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing the manga/anime Boku no Hero.

* Something around 2.500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Oh!! If you have an idea for another scenario in this universe, hmu! I would love to hear it !!Thankys so much for reading this. Take care! Drink water! Eat well!! Pet a cute animal today!! And please sleep a bit, okie? <3 Byeioo!~

                         [~*~]

Shinsou blinked for what it felt the fifth time on the last minutes, which was probably the same amount a normal human being was supposed to blink but right now it just felt wrong. He rubbed his stinging eyes again, suppressing another yawn, firm on his purpose to concentrate his brain enough on the task of remembering his order, an almost impossible action by the way a growing headache involved his mind since he woke up.

The teenager focused again on the colorful, full of doodles of paws and whiskers menu, wishing for the first time in nearly two months attending the place that the drinks’ names were objective and direct, and not awful cat puns that made his braincells prefer to combust themselves instead of gathering the necessary information to remind him of the beverage he should ask.

 He squinted his eyes, dots appearing in the air. Hm. Definitely not a good sign. Maybe he should order two of the most caffeinated drinks instead of just one? He stared the menu again, frustration flaming on his veins as the words blurred and lost their signification, dancing together with the café’s lights.

 And it was only 7 AM.

Perhaps he should have stayed home, on the safety of his bed and the darkness of his room. He knew he should have cancelled his training.

 And yet, even thinking about that possibility made Hitoshi’s stomach be consumed by anxious tugs and knots, leaving an unpleasant taste of displeasure on his mouth. His trainings were one of the best moments on his entire week. They were events he would catch himself smiling as he thought about a newest move he learned or how his body seemed to recover quicker from the lessons. Or even how good, how right and free he felt on the gym, tired and sore, in the moment that his mentor nodded, proudness flicking in his eyes.

 … How amazing it felt to look at the mirror and see that same feeling reflected on his own gaze.

 He couldn’t deprive himself of that sensation, even if dealing with the painful consequences of his sleep deprivation and probably a lecture if his mentor caught him was the only other options.

 “Just one more. Just one more person and then I can ask for the strongest caffeinated shit here.” Yeah. This time those cups would be enough to make him endure at least his afternoon classes, he repeated to himself in mumbles. Two cups. Two cups and some minutes petting a cat and he would be ready. He would be ready for the world and society and the whole being a functional human being thing. And then he would get on the metro and nap until he gets home where he would have the real opportunity to properly sleep. Almost there. Just two cups. Two. Two cups.

 Gosh, he probably sounded like Midoriya, mumbling non stop like this. A mental image of the energetic teen looking as tired as Shinsou and drinking coffee as if his life depended on it popped on his brain, leading to a sudden urge to giggle manically take over the purple haired boy, and for the way some other customers eyed him warily he possible vocalized that impulse as well, limbs feeling at the same time too much heavy and too much light.

 He was so fucking tired.

 “Next one!” Loud. So loud. Shinsou obligated his body to step closer, opening his eyes enough to realize that dark spots still painted his vision. Huh. When did he close his eyes, again? “Good morning, little customer! How can I help you today?”

 Hitoshi stared at the figure in front of him, senses slow like he was under water, trying to understand the distorted sentences being directed at him, the dots growing and twinkling. Black dots were supposed to be able to do that?

 The world swayed a bit under his feet. He tried to move his lips but they didn’t obey him.

 “Little customer?” The voice sounded worried, and maybe that is what compelled the boy to take a deep breath, putting all his will in forming word after word when a nauseating wave of tiredness hit him, leading his conscience’s grip in reality weaken.

 “I am going to pass out.”

 And then the world got completely black, his senses disappearing together with a background screech.

 Well, fuck.

 […]

 Yamada had seen a lot of crazy, strange things while working at the cat café.

 As example that one shift when an adult of blue hair, strict pose and clear exhaustion dripping in waterfalls from his form was convinced that he was in a library and fiercely tried to return a book to them, doesn’t taking a ‘no’ as answer until the blond was left stupefied with a book of “The Secrets Hidden in The Bottom of The Ocean” on his arms.

 Or that occasion when a boy with a blank expression wearing Victorian clothes and completely surrounded by crows opened their door, looked from a side to another, stared at the deepest parts of Yamada’s soul, analyzing all his dark fears and secrets before slowly blink and say “Wrong store, my apologies” walking back and calmly ignoring the hissing and battle yowling of dozens of cats and crows.

 Or the day a green haired woman with a kind, calm aura just walked behind the counter completely unphazed by Hizashi and Aizawa’s unbelieved looks, made two healthy snacks, patted their cheeks saying ‘You two need to eat more, dears’ and then disappeared as if nothing had happened.

 However, none of those events ever prepared him for the moment which purple eyes would stare his in an unfocused state, not really looking at anything and a wobbly smirk – if he wasn’t accustomed with Shouta’s grin, he would easily call it ‘creepy’ – would paint his customer’s pale face, the silence ringing alarmingly on his ears.

 “Are you okay, little listener? Do you want to sit for a minute? You look extremely tired.”

 As the words came out of his lips, a spell seemed to break, the other’s face getting even paler, smile falling and eyes widening leaded his body to stumble forward instinctively, something on his guts screaming for him to get ready. A few other customers on the line grumbled in impatience, looking at their watch and protesting. Somewhere, in the deep part of his brain, Yamada wondered why those things only happened when Aizawa was out and no procedures for those kinds of situations were previously discussed on their contract.

 “Hey, guy,” a blonde teenager behind the paralyzed one said, tipping forward in an attempt to catch the other’s expression, his kimono following each move, “are you… here with us?”

 “Little listener?”

 A hesitant poke on his cheeks, two pair of eyes warily watching a third.

 His mouth finally moved.

 “I am going to pass out.” His voice was light, stitched together by certain. His legs trembled under his own weight, body collapsing.

 “You WHAT?” A terrified shriek mixed itself between Hizashi’s words, flying across the whole store.

 “Oh, shi-”

 His blonde client didn’t waste a second before holding the other, arms locking under his armpits in a strange kind of hug, knees weakening with the sudden, unexpected effort, the limp teenager not even flinching with the touch, laying there completely motionless.

 Hizashi blinked, gulping, adrenaline exploding on each one of his fibers, color slightly draining from his own face, a piece of his conscience wishing with all its strength for this to be only a dream. When his eyes opened, everything would be the same.

 He blinked, the deafening silence still crushing the room, one set of black eyes staring at him in confusion and growing panic, another set closed, heavy, dark circles under it.

 Right. He didn’t have time for this.

 So, he blinked again, finding himself in front of them both, pushing his feelings under a mask of a calm, an easy reassuring smile already slipping on his face, crouching to get the legs of his customer, catching the gaze the other and winking, “let’s get him on a more comfortable position, right?”

 A determined nod, quick, careful steps as they both laid the purple haired one on a small couch placed under some shelves, having to gently dislodge three sleeping cats, who hissed in irritation. The voice of Nemuri, attending the rest of the line filling the space and being acknowledged in the back of his mind, serving as a firm ground and helping his muscles to relax, even if just a little bit.

 Hizashi stared the young boy in front of him, looking somewhat peaceful, a bit of color having already returned to his face, soft snores coming out from him.

 … Hitoshi. That is his name, right? He wasn’t a new client, always coming at every fifteen days, always by morning and always caffeinated drinks that only Yamada - on his most delirious moments - ever thought in trying, quick to go to play with any feline who appeared in front of him. Although, he never stayed more than ten minutes, the quiets ‘bye’s he gave to the felines never failing to melt Yamada’s weak, bleeding heart.

 A childish voice pulled him right out of his thoughts.

 “Mom, is he dead?”

A snort escaped his lips before he could help it. Kids.

 “Sir?” The teenager shook a small device with a shiny screen in front of him, the logo of a new rock band he hadn’t a chance to listen to yet on the background “I found his phone, I think we should call his emergency contact…?”

 “Of course! Thank you, little helper!” He ruffles his hair, flashing a smile and thumbs up as his finger quickly clicked on the call button, listening, not trying to show his impatience as it ringed.

 “You’re late.” A tired voice answered him, and Hizashi felt his entire body relax completely, right before the surprise shook its frame, too much pieces clicking together in a puzzle he didn’t even know he was solving.

 “SHOU?”

 [~*~]

 “I am sorry.”

 “You will be writing a formal letter apologizing to Hizashi, Nemuri and to me, our classes will be cancelled for this week and, if I notice you didn’t recover properly on this free time, for the next week as well. I am not going to stand by and watch you running yourself to the ground, damaging your potential because you lack of some sense of self preservation, do I make myself clear?” Shinsou tried to not visibly flinch at his sensei’s words. He almost forgot how much intimidating Aizawa could be when totally serious. They stopped by the Cat Café’s door, the black eyes staring at him.

 “Yes, sir.” He answered, lowering his gaze. Shouta sighed, his worry stopping to come out as harsh and necessary words to materialize itself in the form of him patting the boy’s head, messing his hair for a few seconds before opening the door and getting into the establishment.

 “Good. Now come in, Hizashi has been worried and he won’t stop pestering me until he sees with his own eyes how you are.”

 Hitoshi didn’t had time to question how someone that he just met – if you consider passing out in front of him a proper meeting – could be worried about his well-being when, as the door clicked behind him, an excited screech filled the room, forging the realization that maybe that weird high sound before his faint wasn’t just the ring of his ears.

 “SHINSOU!!” And, in a blink of eyes, the blonde was in front of him, hands on his face, turning it from a side to another, up and downwards, “You look so much better with some color on your face! I am glad that you finally took some necessary rest, huh? Your eyeshadows even got lighter, which, phew, is such a relief! For a very terrifying moment there I almost thought you would be as bad as this guy right here.” Yamada locked his arms around Aizawa’s shoulder, using the time to take a breather and smile, gladly giving the younger some time to process the flow of words thrown at him. “You gave us both quite a scare, kiddo.”

 “I am deeply sorry for inconveniencing you and interrupting your work, Yamada-san.” He bowed, a slight embarrassed blush dusting his cheeks.

 “Just please don’t do that again and you will be fine, little customer.” Hizashi then squinted his eyes on his direction as Hioshi brought himself back to his previous position, shoulders tense and straightened back, much different from his previous more slouched pose. Yamada’s eyes got a few inches wider. “You gave him The Talk!” He turned himself to Shouta, his excited sentence, loud enough to probably making his friend deaf, if the black haired adult wasn’t already used with the other’s attics, previously covering his ears before the outburst.

 His response was a grunt, Aizawa dislodging himself from his touch with scoff and half heartedly mumbles, ignoring the confusion on his pupil’s gaze. “Maybe he looks like that because of your total disregarding of personal space.”

 “Don’t worry,” Hizashi put his hand at the side of his mouth, as if he was confiding Shinsou’s a secret. “He only does that because he is worried about you, too. Don’t let yourself to be fooled by his grumpy façade. He is a mother hen at heart.”

 “I am going to lock you outside and give all your CD’s to the kittens a their new toys.” The other threatened, going behind the balcony and turning the coffee machines on, preparing the store to open. The few cats who were already wandering around the place yowled and meowed in despair, as if the blonde hadn’t feed them fifteen minutes ago and they were starving under the hands of such unloving and uncaring creature. Aizawa crouched and distributed the treats hidden on his pockets for everyone of them, nevertheless. His friend used the distraction to mouth a ‘see?’ at the younger’s direction, eliciting a snicker from him, his body language more relaxed.

 “Feel free to do whatever,” Aizawa proclaimed, not staring at the boy, who felt a flower of warmth blossom on his chest. “Just be sure that all your homework is completed by lunch time or the moment you decide to go. Sushi is probably napping now, but when she wakes up, I will warn you.”

 “But first,” Hizashi clapped, capturing the attention as he walked with a dance on his step to the bakeries, taking two plate on his way. “breakfast! For you both. And that means something substantial and not just a cup of coffee.”

 Shinsou startled from the table he decided to place himself, shaking his head. “Yamada-san, it’s okay, you don’t need to-”

 “Nonsense, nonsense! I want to. Eating breakfast alone is just sooo boring, you know?” Hizashi spun on the place, almost throwing the muffins and breads around as Ochaco used his distraction to attack his shoelaces. “Uravity, stop, I need those.”

“Her name isn’t Uravity.” Shouta appeared again, bringing drinks and yawning, his focus changed to the boy’s. “Better give up. I’ve been fighting against him for years now.”

 “Also, her name is Ochaco Uravity Fluffy Second and you just refuse to call her that because you’re just jealous of how much genius I am.”

 “I refuse to call her that because I care for her sanity.”

 “Lies, lies.”

 Hitoshi snorted, hiding his smirk behind his hand. “I prefer his name better, sensei.”

 Aizawa watched them high five between the cheers of the blonde with an unimpressed expression. “Cheeky brat.”

 “You’re just grumpy because he has a good taste. Friendship ended with Shouta, now Shinsou is my new best friend.”

"I am truly devasted." Aizawa deadpanned, taking a long sip of his beverage, hiding his smirk as Shinsou snorted, Yamada's dramatic wailing in the background.

 And, as the playful bickering engulfed them between the warm food and purrs, Hitoshi decided that maybe losing his weekly training wasn’t so bad if that was what waited for him.  

[pressedinthepages]

Chapter 12: Threshold

Summary: In the aftermath of training, both you and Eskel find yourselves confused and seeking advice.

Series Masterlist

Words: 1966

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: mild language, angsty, hurt no comfort...yet, neither of them are using the braincell.

    “What have I done?” You cradle your head in your hands, grasping at any thread of control to keep yourself together. Your mind races over all of the different shoulds that you had overlooked - should have kept Eskel at arm’s length, should have parted ways after that hunt, should have not let yourself fall for him all over again, should, should, should…

    You think that you could continue on this path, wallowing in your own mistakes that have changed the course of your life when you hear a sudden knock on your door.

    …

    “What have I done?” Eskel sits where you left him for a few minutes, stunned and achingly hard, but the latter problem ends up sagging into nothingness soon enough. He runs his hands through his hair, mulling over what he could have possibly done to warrant such a visceral reaction from you.

    He climbs to his feet and stumbles over to the stables. Eskel kicks up little puffs of snow with every step, his breath visible as it is pulled by the wind. When he shoulders open the doors he is hit with a comforting warmth from a fire raging in the fireplace. Li’l Bleater bounds over to him, clearly discontent with the fact that it has taken him so long today to come to see her. He typically comes here every morning before dawn, feeding all of the animals, brushing them down, and making sure that everyone will be comfortable until one of them can come let them out later in the day.  

    “Already took care of it, son,” a soft voice calls from one of the stalls before its owner strides out. Vesemir brushes his hands off on his jerkin, Lady following close behind him. Eskel leans against the wall and slides to the ground with a huff, Li’l Bleater clambering into his lap as soon as he is seated.

    “Vesemir, I-I think I’ve really messed up,” Eskel whispers, keeping his eyes trained on the floor. He finds himself idly scratching the fur on Li’l Bleaters’ head as her eyes fall closed, clearly more than happy to keep him trapped here while he figures out his problems. 

    “I noticed the two of you training this morning, seemed like you were really working well together,” Vesemir’s voice is soothing as he runs his hands through Lady’s mane, swiftly untangling the knots and sectioning it to be braided. “Here, come help me.”

    Eskel sighs as he stands, crossing over to your horse. She snorts at him, somehow able to recognize the hurt that pours from him. She still lets him stroke along her nose as he offers an apple, then moves next to Vesemir as he takes some of the mane in his hands. 

    “Tell me what happened.” Vesemir doesn’t look away from Lady as he works, letting Eskel go at his own pace. 

    “Well, we were sparring, working on blocking and parries,”

    “Yes, I saw that,”

    “And then I overpowered her, brought her to the ground. But something shifted, like we weren’t training anymore, we were-I don’t know. But I felt like I just couldn’t pull away from her, no matter how hard I tried.”

    “Mhm, saw that too,” Vesemir hums, Eskel’s gaze snapping over to him. “That’s when I came in here, didn’t want to watch the two of you getting off in the middle of the courtyard.”

    “But that’s just it, we didn’t!” Eskel turns back to his braid, having to move back a few because he lost his place. “She twisted out, bringing us back to the fight. But then, she moved just right, and then she ended up bringing me down, and then when she was holding me there, we-gods, we just went somewhere, like the whole world fell away and all that was left was the two of us.”

    “And then, all of a sudden, she shot off of me, backing away like I was some feral animal.” Eskel’s voice breaks a little bit, but he clears his throat and keeps going, “She ran inside, and I have no idea what I did wrong...maybe I just read this all wrong.”

    …

    “Nah, you’ve got it right.”

    Geralt had shoved his way into your room when you opened the door, inviting himself in and making himself comfortable in the chair by the fireplace. You’d just finished going over the events of this morning, trying to figure out the easiest way to extract yourself back out of the corner that you’ve dug yourself into. 

    “What do you mean? I fucking held him down, and was using him, no more than some common whore.”

    “First of all, you wouldn’t do that to a whore either…”

    “What do you know, Geralt? We haven’t seen each other in three decades, you think you know how I treat the people I take to bed?”

    Geralt grunts, giving you a look, one that calls you on your bullshit without a single word.

    “You clearly care for him, what’s holding you back?”

    You give a breathy laugh, looking at him as if he had suddenly sprouted horns. “What’s holding me back? Hmm, let’s see. I’m essentially cursed-,”

    “Not true, and we’re going to find that son of a bitch,”

    “Witcher’s can’t feel-”

    “Wrong again, have you met Lambert? Fucking angriest prick I’ve ever met.”

    “And there’s no way he could ever feel the same for me. Why should he? I abandoned him, I abandoned everyone, and then, now, all I can think about is running again.”

    “No.” Geralt’s voice booms in your tiny room, startling you a bit when you meet his gaze. The fire in the grate reflects off of his eyes, only adding to the intensity there. You are suddenly struck with how similar he looks to Eskel, their body shapes almost identical and the only major differences between them being their hair and the scar that rakes along Eskel’s cheek. 

    “What do you mean, ‘no?’ I am a grown woman, Geralt, thank you very much, and I will not have you telling me what I can and cannot-”

    “Would you shut up for a moment? I am not trying to tell you what to do, but you really shouldn’t just run away from this...you have an opportunity here, a real opportunity to actually be happy, shouldn’t you take it?”

    …

    “An opportunity? Vesemir, she can’t possibly love me, I mean, look at me.” Eskel has started a second braid, thankful to be able to keep his hands busy. His braids are a bit sloppy compared to Vesemirs, but at least they’re better than what any of the others could do. 

    “Yes, boy, an opportunity. And gods, get over yourself. You think she actually cares about that scar?” Vesemir strokes along Lady’s flank as he speaks, laving her with care under his fingers. 

    “It’s all anyone sees Vesemir, she didn’t even recognize me at first…”

    Vesemir hums, quietly contemplating his next words. “But once she saw who you were, has she actually given you a reason to think that she thinks less of you because of them?” 

    Eskel falls silent, trying to remember if there had ever been a time that you were anything but caring towards him. Vesemir nods, taking his silence as answer enough. 

    “You should tell her. I remember when the three of you were young, how you and Geralt would bicker over her, and then you were the only one who still held a candle for her when you all started on the Path.”

    “��Held a candle?’ Gods, Vesemir, sometimes I forget just how old you are.” Eskel teases, bringing a soft smile to Vesemir’s face. 

    “Shut it you, I’m just trying to help.”

    …

    “Yeah, well, your advice sucks.”

    You pace around your room, trying to see things from Geralt’s point of view. He keeps saying that it would be worth the risk to expose your long-repressed feelings for Eskel, but you can’t see past the horrifying concept of being known. 

    “Fucking hell, you’ve only grown more stubborn. What could happen, hm? What is so bad that could happen if you told him?”

    “He could push me away, leave me…” you whisper, terrified of that ever happening. 

    “Like how you left him?”

    You stop in your tracks, meeting his eyes from across the room. Your hands clench at your sides, fighting back the tears that begin to well in your eyes. You know he’s right, but you can’t bring yourself to admit that.

    “That’s low, Geralt.”

    “But am I wrong?” He crosses his arms, not backing down as you swallow and break eye contact, moving to the window. You look down at the empty training yard below, a fresh dusting of snow beginning to settle atop it.

    You hear Geralt cross to the door and open it, murmuring as he leaves, “You guys need to figure it out.”

    …

    Later that afternoon, you find yourself pulling open the door to the library. Eskel is perched on one of the windowsills, a thick book open in his hands. He looks up as you enter, something very complicated flying over his features before he turns back to the book. 

    You move to stand closer to him, probably able to touch him if you reached out. “What are you reading?” You ask lightly, hoping that he’ll ignore the way your heart is pounding inside of your chest. 

    “Beastiary, just freshening up. I fought an oddly strong bruxa a few months back, thought I’d see if there were anything in here about what might’ve been different about her.”

    Eskel suddenly slams the book shut, swinging his legs down from the sill to fully face you. You feel horribly vulnerable under his scrutinizing gaze, even though all you can see is confusion and weariness in his eyes. 

    “I just wanted to say-”

    “You know, I think that-”

    You both chuckle lightly, the tension palpable in the room when you both speak. Eskel gestures to you, silently asking you to speak first once more. 

    You take a deep breath and steel your nerves. “I wanted to apologize for earlier.” You hold up a hand as Eskel starts to sputter, clearly some argument coming to his lips. “It was inappropriate for me to take advantage of the situation like that, and I hope that you’ll forgive me.”

    “Forgive? Listen, if anyone should be apologizing, it’s me, I just-”

    “Eskel please, I just want to say this one thing.” He sighs and relents, falling quiet as he gently runs his thumb along the spine of the book. You can’t tear your eyes away from it as you speak, each word like a stab in the heart.

    “I think it would be easiest if we both just forgot that it happened. We can move on, still be friends, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if you were cross with me after this.”

    Eskel looks as if he had just been slapped across the face with a fish, mouth agape and confusion written in every line on his skin. 

    “I-well, uh, if that’s what you want, that’s fine, um...” 

    You try to ignore the hurt that plagues his features, and the sorrowful scent that the room adopts and lets seep into the pages of the books tucked in the corners. 

    Instead, you extend your hand, bracing for him to slap it away and scream horrible things in your face. You know better though, Eskel has never been like that. He stews, lets the wrongs done against him sit deep in his belly until all of his anger bubbles over into an outburst of rage. 

    For now, though, he just takes your hand in his and gives a little shake, neither of you looking as though this was the outcome you had been hoping for.