#the entire song just feels soft and nostalgic and like being wrapped in a hug. god. song ever

[lexalovesbooks]

My controversial amazing devil opinion is uhhhhhh marbles > fair

[animatedarchives]

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU

— 𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐈 𝐄𝐈𝐓𝐀

author’s note: wOOHOO it’s day 6 of the winter collab and today’s prompt is deck the halls! i used it to set the scene instead of using it as a main idea but i hope you like it nonetheless!! :D

genre: fLUFF i want semi to sing to me too :(

warnings: none! just warm christmas vibes :>

word count: 1.6k words

You and Semi loved Christmas, but today he was being overly enthusiastic about it, and you weren’t entirely sure why.

You normally bought a small tree to decorate every year for Christmas together, but today he came home with one that was double in size, insisting that you help him set it up before the day was over.

“What do I get for my assistance?” you raised your eyebrow playfully. You were already going to help him like you always did, but there was no harm in bargaining for extra benefit.

Semi smirked. “I’ll finally tell you what I want for Christmas,” he said, eliciting a gasp from you in response. You’d been pestering him to tell you for weeks, but every single time you asked, he refused to answer, saying that it was a secret.

So you accepted his offer without another thought, excited to hear what it was that Semi wanted so you could get it for him. Your boyfriend grinned as you sealed the deal.

Everything was going to plan.

You and Semi spent the day decorating the house together, singing and dancing as you enjoyed each other’s company. By the time night had fallen, everything was decorated and the atmosphere emanated a certain coziness and warmth.

“Looks pretty good, huh,” he beamed. You nodded and twirled the shiny golden star in your hand, walking over to the tree to finally add the finishing touch. You stood on your tiptoes, letting out a strained sound as you tried to place the star at the top.

Semi chuckled as you tried to stretch further, amused at how cute you still managed to look despite your little struggle. He approached you from behind, wrapping his arms firmly around your hips before lifting you off the ground.

You shrieked in surprise, quickly grabbing onto his arms in order to regain your balance. But Semi’s grip on you was strong and reassuring, making sure not to let you fall while he stepped closer towards the tree.

You slowly twisted your torso, the peak you couldn’t see before now clearly in view. You extended the star forward, carefully crowning the large fern with its final decoration of the day. You tapped Semi’s arm to let him know you were done, and he gently lowered you down, holding you steadily in his arms as your feet touched the ground.

Both of you admired your work, watching the lights twinkle around the bejeweled tree as the fireplace crackled warmly in the background. The ambience was perfect. It was just what he had hoped for.

He smiled as you sank into his chest and wrapped your arms around his waist, while he rested his chin on the top of your head.

“I love Christmas,” you sighed dreamily as you inhaled the faint yet distinct scent of pine that your boyfriend’s sweater held. “But I love you more.”

Semi’s heart skipped a beat at those nostalgic words, his mind going straight to the object in his pocket as he kissed your forehead and pulled away. The stage was finally set. The time to act was now.

“So, you wanna know what I want for Christmas?” he quirked an eyebrow teasingly. You scoffed at his question, knowing he already knew your answer.

“Yes, Eita, just tell me already!” you replied, scrunching up your nose as you huffed impatiently. You worked hard for your reward. You deserved to get your answer.

Semi laughed at your silliness, but he loved you all the same. He gazed at you with adoration, and his heart began to soften.

“I’ll do you one better,” he said, removing himself from your hold and walking to the corner of the room where his acoustic guitar was propped up against the wall.

“I’ll sing it for you.”

Your eyes sparkled at his response, akin to a child receiving a gift on Christmas morning. You loved it when Semi sang to you, which was why he decided he had to do it today. His hand brushed against the undeniable object in his pocket, his heart skipping a beat as the reality of the situation began to sink in.

This was it.

Semi took a deep breath and began to pick at the strings with his slender fingers. Time seemed to slow down and the air around you became full of romance and intimacy. Semi closed his eyes and quietly hummed along to the tune, an effort to calm his racing heart.

He opened his eyes again to look at you, and a smile crept up onto his face when he saw you swaying gently along to the music. He melted at the sight, and his love for you bled into the lyrics he sang as his melodious voice filled the air.

“I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need.”

You wanted to scoff at how cheesy he was being, revealing that the big gift he had wanted for Christmas was you all along.

But something about the raw emotion in his voice changed your mind, and you reveled in the sweetness of the words woven together by the silky smoothness of his voice.

“I don’t care about the presents, underneath the Christmas tree.”

You began to lose yourself to the music, humming along as Semi slowly strummed his guitar. It felt like you were dreaming, and you watched as Semi slowly began to approach you. His eyes never once left yours, and he continued to pour out emotion into every word that emerged from his rosy pink lips.

“I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know.”

Semi stopped in front of you, and your heart swelled as you gazed up into his warm, brown eyes. You honestly didn’t know how it was possible to love someone so much, but you did know that there wasn’t anyone else that you’d rather be in love with.

“Make my wish come true…”

And just like that, your heart skipped a beat. Because as soon as the lyrics left your your boyfriend’s lips, he slowly began to sink down until he was on one knee.

No way... It- It can’t be...

Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched him pull out a small, black velvet box. You suddenly rememebered how he’d been subtly brushing his hands near the pocket of his pants, making it seem like he was wiping his palms. All of a sudden, everything made sense. The decorating of the house to set the mood, the offer to reveal what he wanted for Christmas just so he could sing this song.

Was this what he had planned all along?

Your vision became blurry, your mind spinning out of control as tears began to well up in your eyes. Seeing you on the verge of tears made a lump form in Semi’s throat, but he forced himself to continue, determined to profess his love for you.

“All I want for Christmas…”

You could barely comprehend what was happening, everything was moving much too fast. It was like you were floating in the clouds, unsure it was real because it felt too good to be true.

But then the physical wetness of a tear trailing down your cheek finally cemented reality for you, and you were pulled back to your senses again.

This wasn’t just a dream.

It was all real.

Semi’s voice trembled, as did his hands. He was barely able to get out the last two words, slowly opening the box to reveal a glittering diamond ring.

“Is you.”

The final note and last lyric of the song struck a cord in your heart, and the tears began to flow freely from your eyes. Semi gently set his guitar aside, taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles to help put you at ease.

“Today is a special day Y/N, because it was the first time that I told you I loved you,” Semi said. You remembered feeling Semi tense earlier when you’d said you loved him, now realising that it was the core of why he proposed today out of all days.

You let out a sob, never expecting him to remember such a minor detail. But little did you know that to Semi, it was the one thing he’d never forget.

“I remember that night like it was yesterday; how we kissed underneath the mistletoe and then spent our first Christmas together exactly one week later.”

Your heart swelled with emotion at the memory — the feeling of Semi’s lips pressing softly against yours as your heart began to warm despite the freezing cold air.

“We’ve spent every Christmas together since, and I don’t ever want that to stop. I want to spend the rest of my Christmases with you, waking up next to you each snowy morning, cuddling by the fireplace with our warm cups of cocoa and decorating our home where we’ll raise our children together.”

“You are the only thing I need, Y/N. Not just for this Christmas, but for the rest of my life,” he smiled softly. “So uh, for my Christmas present this year...” he chuckled nervously.

“Will you marry me?”

You could hardly contain yourself any longer, tackling him to the ground as your heart burst with happiness.

“YES YES YES!” you cried, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. He gently held your body in his arms, rubbing your back soothingly as you sobbed into his shirt.

You pulled away with glassy eyes, extending your finger to allow him to slip the jewel on. The ring fit perfectly on your finger, seemingly made for you, just like Semi was.

“I love you so much, Y/N,” he said, gently cupping your cheek before placing a kiss on your forehead. You placed your hand over his, melting into his tender touch as you looked at him with endearment.

“I love you too, Eita,” you smiled as you leaned forward to press your lips against his soft ones, your souls intertwining together as your hearts beat as one.

© written and published by animatedarchives 2020. please do not steal or repost. thank you.

[writing-fool]

mlqc | special kind of sadness

I’ve been having strange dreams lately. Maybe it’s because of the quarantine, or maybe because of my messed up sleep schedule. I don’t actually have severe nightmares, but somehow an idea for Victor + nightmares came up. It was going to be very short, so I included other types of comforting scenarios. Ahh...besides that, you might have noticed my url is writing-fool, right? It’s actually based off of a Korean song called Swimming Fool. But I think it fits with MLQC too, what with Lucien calling us ‘his little fool’ sometimes~ What a happy coincidence...

Love,

R.

Warning(s): TW! Lucien’s scenario includes a panic attack. 

Victor

You’re all about showing the world that you’re a grown woman with big girl pants on. You’re especially keen on proving to Victor that you can handle yourself, thank you very much. Even though he’s supposed to be your soft, loving boyfriend, he seems to grow stricter the longer you’re together.

“Really? You’re not capable of being a producer if you can’t even get these reports done.” Ouch. Your life doesn’t seem to be getting easier anytime soon.

So...you chalk it up as a grave, grave moment of weakness when you instinctively call his number at three in the morning, after waking up in a cold sweat. By the second ring, you regret your rash decision. What if he’s asleep? What if he thinks I’m some kind of weak child?

By the third, he answers.

“What. Why are you still awake?” His voice sounds as strict as ever. ‘Why are you still awake?’ is a question you would’ve asked if you were in a clearer mindset. Alas, this situation allows little clarity.

You decide against hanging up. I’m bothering him already, might as well apologise. “I-I must’ve misdialled. Sorry to bother you,” you mumble. You hate how your hoarse voice and ragged breaths betray the sobs that have barely subsided.

“...I’m coming over,” is all Victor says before abruptly hanging up.

It’s a twenty minute drive from his luxurious penthouse to your apartment, but you know he’ll make it in fifteen. Running to the bathroom, you try to fix your appearance to make you look more like a successful producer, and less like a woman gone mad. But while your hair can be combed down and your tears can be wiped away, nothing works against your bloodshot eyes, shaking hands and pale complexion.

The doorbell rings, and you’re in full panic mode. You really don’t want him to see you like this. But without him, you’re probably not sleeping tonight. Also, he’s here already. Wiping your sweaty palms on your pyjama pants one last time, you open the front door.

Even when he has his sleeves rolled up, shirt partly unbuttoned and hair mussed from running his hands through it, Victor is handsome. But today, you can’t bare to look at him. Your apartment floor suddenly seems incredibly interesting.

A small gesture encourages his entrance. The door is barely closed again, and he’s already got his arms wrapped around you, your face pressed against his chest. The warmth of his hug and his rapidly beating heart open the floodgates again, and while your boyfriend strokes your hair, you sob your fears out on his black dress shirt.

Later, when you’re both huddled in your queen-sized bed, he asks you why you didn’t tell him about the nightmare right away. “I thought you’d think I’m pathetic or something. You’re always so strict.” You look up at him, mouth formed into a small pout.

For a moment, he’s dumbfounded. Maybe he never considered the idea? Victor hesitates, before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry,” he sighs, “I’ll be more considerate from now on.”

And as Victor rubs your shoulder, legs intertwined with yours, you doze off under the cloudy night sky. But not before hearing his sweet whispers. “Lean on me more, next time. I’ll always be by your side.”

Lucien (TW: panic attack, minor mentions of death)

Disclaimer: I know this could be taken wrongly. I have no intention to romanticise mental illness. It isn’t something that makes you broken, nor is it a ‘fun’ or ‘special’ thing. The story is partially taken from my experience, so I know how this feels. I wrote this as a way to bring awareness in a light manner, and to show that sometimes, panic attacks can be alleviated with someone around. I hope it brings comfort to those who wish they had someone in moments like these.

Listening to Lucien’s lectures tends to transport you back to the time when you were still a university student. Ah, it is a nostalgic feeling. A part of you misses being in school; going out with friends, listening to the teachers drone on about various subjects, eating in the school’s cafeteria.

But if there’s one thing you don’t miss, it’s the immeasurable amounts of stress. So why is that the thing I’m reliving right now?

As a young adult, you struggled with anxiety and spontaneous panic attacks, rendering you vulnerable to a work overload. You’d think it’d gotten better, especially since you have to deal with a lot of projects as a head producer nowadays. However, it seems as though old habits do die hard...This week has been particularly taxing—emotionally, what with your father’s death anniversary, and mentally; an important and popular show just got compromised by one of the actors’ companies. All that, and the prospect of an even tighter schedule during Christmas season has sent you into a full-blown panic attack. 

Your initial plan was to just...ride this one out. That’s what you always did as a child. In an hour or two, your hands will stop cramping, your tears will stop falling, your breathing will return to normal, right? But it seems fate, and Lucien, disagree. I forgot I gave him the key to my apartment.

Lucien senses something is wrong when you don’t come out to greet him by the door. 

“My love? Are you alright?” he yells out. Hearing little besides your irregular breathing, he kicks his shoes off, speeding towards the living area. You’re sat on the white sofa, knees to your chest, shoulders heaving and thick tears streaming down your face. 

Lucien’s brows furrow in deep concern as he kneels down by your form. Even though he’s right in front of you, your eyes do not meet his. You’ve gone too deep in your own shell to even be able to acknowledge his presence. A tentative hand removes one of yours from its tight grasp on your other arm, and Lucien lets out a sigh of relief as he feels your hand clutch his. He takes it as a sign to lift you fully into his arms, and takes a seat on the sofa.

“Breathe. In,” he mimicks a deep inhale, “and out.” Lucien blows out, repeating the motion a couple more times. He rubs your back and your hands, constantly alternating between helping you breathe and gently uttering soothing phrases. 

“Easy, I’m here with you. Do you feel my heartbeat?” When your hands have finally relaxed out of their cramped up form, he presses one of them against his chest. The slow, rhythmic thumping grounds you. Lucien. A stiff nod from you makes a soft, wry smile appear on his face. “Good girl. You’re getting there, my dear. Just stay with me, here. You’re doing great.”

You don’t know how much longer you stay like that. All you know is that he stays with you through the entire attack. Hours later, you two are having a steaming cup of tea at the dinner table. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that. I didn’t want you to worry,” you mutter sheepishly.

“Don’t be ashamed of yourself,” Lucien’s violet eyes bore deep into yours, “Besides, how could I not worry when someone so dear is having a hard time?”

You shrug, a defeated look on your face. Your fingers fidget with the wood of the dinner table, until Lucien swiftly takes your hand in his again. 

He sighs. “Take tomorrow off. I’ll take care of you.” Even though his tone is soft, Lucien leaves no space for argument. You know you should agree. There’s no way you could function properly if you were to go to work tomorrow.

“...Thank you.”

Lucien brings your hand to his lips, leaving feather-light kisses on your knuckles. “No thanks needed. You can be greedier with me.”

Gavin

There’s perhaps no person in the world who enjoys rejection. Sure, there may be those who bounce back quickly, those who see rejection as a new opportunity. But rejection, failure in itself, doesn’t evoke positive feelings. 

As the producer of Miracle Finder, you’ve gotten used to rejection; it was hard to get the show back on track during the first year or so. Maybe you were arrogant, thinking it’d get better, or less painful, the more often you got rejected. 

Things did get better, and last week you were even offered a deal with Loveland TV for a second weekly show. The company had seen the success Miracle Finder had, and had offered you the chance to come up with something wholly original. Something...you. That night, a mere week ago, you took the girls out for dinner and drinks. You were on cloud nine that day. In hindsight, maybe it was karma. Maybe I jinxed it. Cheered too soon, and all that. 

This morning, you got a devastating e-mail that stated, in polite (but somehow still rude) terms, that your new show would not be broadcasted. The relaxed mood at the office rapidly turned somber once you mentioned the unfortunate decision. Your employees decided to give you some space afterwards. Not being able to stand the sadness, and feeling somewhat bad for them, you sent everyone, yes, including Anna, home early.

By three p.m., you’re the only one left at the office. You sit at your desk, head in your hands. I know it isn’t the end of the world...but right now, it almost feels like it is. With a deep sigh, you push yourself up, heading to the small kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea. Maybe you’ll have a biscuit too. Anything to cheer yourself up. 

Your mind automatically goes to Gavin, and without thinking it over too much, you dial his number. After a couple of rings, your call goes to voicemail. Stupid. He’s probably working. I’ll just leave a message.

“Hey babe, it’s me. I-uh, the thing I mentioned last week? The new show deal with Loveland TV? Yeah, that’s not happening,” your voice cracks halfway through the last sentence as you try to push down the disappointment that bleeds through, “I’m staying late today. Need some time to-to process things. I’ll be fine. Love you, hope you’re safe.” 

Time passes agonisingly slowly, so slowly you might as well think Victor’s behind it, while you dive into a mountain of work. It distracts you from today’s events. but the lingering sadness is still present in the back of your mind. 

Around eight, you start cleaning up your desk, shutting down your computer and gathering the papers. A knock on the window catches your attention as you’re about to head out. You turn around, noticing a tall figure on the balcony outside. Gavin! You hastily run back, opening the sliding door for Gavin to enter.

“Hi,” That’s the most awkward thing you could say. “I didn’t know you would come. Did you hear my message? You really didn’t have to...” you trail off when Gavin wordlessly opens his arms to you. His golden eyes look anywhere but you, and a slight blush is visible in the dark room, only illuminated by the bright lights outside. 

You gingerly step into his arms at first, clutching the back of his signature denim jacket tighter as time goes on. A couple of stray tears that you’re not able to hold back create wet splotches on his shirt. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, your voice muffled by the soft fabric.

“No biggie. Are you feeling alright?” he asks you. A non-committal shrug is all you respond with. “I know it was a big project for you.”

“Yeah, I don’t really know what to do now.” 

Gavin bends down a little, kissing the crown of your head. “You move on, and you don’t give up.”

You fall into comfortable silence. Gavin’s thumb rubs up and down your waist, soothing you. “...Have you ever been rejected?” you suddenly ask him.

Gavin chuckles. “Sure I have. I got rejected by my very first love.”

You raise your head to look up at him. Gavin sees his own reflection in your large, teary eyes, and smiles. “And what happened then?” you ask, your voice lightly tinged with jealousy. Who was his first love?

“Well, she’s in my arms now, isn’t she?” Even though he’s embarrassed to say the words, Gavin forces himself to look at you. At those eyes that shine with love for the world, for him. 

Bonus:

“Come on, I’ll take you home.” you pull out of the embrace to get your coat by the coat hanger, opening the door to head out again, like a normal person.

“How? You didn’t come here by bike, did you?”

Gavin’s already facing the window again, but he turns back with a smirk, holding his hand out to you. “I never said we were going by bike.”

“Gavin, no, babe, no, no, nonononononono—Aah!!” Your protests are cut short as Gavin swoops you into his arms bridal style and flies off. The wind rushes past your ears, almost making you miss Gavin’s gleeful laugh. “Gavin! I didn’t lock the doors!”

Kiro

On many occasions, you’re envious of Kiro’s Evol. But even without his Evol, Kiro is so bubbly and kind, you can’t help but like him. You sincerely wish you had that ability. And I know I’m supposed to make my own wishes come true, but I can only do so much to make people like me. I’m not going to bend over backwards and become a pushover just to be liked.

Still, it hurts when people are purposely mean to you. Especially during high school reunions. You were by no means a popular kid growing up...but you didn’t think that some people would still be stuck in a high school mentality. You held your own during the reunion, ignoring the backhanded compliments and blatantly condescending insults in favour of catching up with your old friends. Yet, all you can think of on the drive home are the negative comments.

“Oh, you still can’t drink alcohol? Seems like ‘someone’ hasn’t grown up yet!”

“You’re the producer of Miracle Finder? I hate that show, it’s so unrealistic.”

“Isn’t that a kids’ show?”

“My, you look adorable! My daughter also likes to wear those types of clothes, you know, to go play at the park.”

I can’t believe I missed game night with Kiro for this. With a terrible mood, you shuffle into the house. Kiro’s on the sofa playing A Chinese Ghost Story, a bag of chips on the coffee table in front of him. He turns to greet you with a smile, but it quickly falls after seeing your somber expression. 

“Welcome home Miss Ch—eh? What’s wrong?” Kiro takes his headphones off to stand up in front of you. His hands instinctively move to your waist to pull you close.

“How was the gathering?” he asks carefully. His eyes are big, just like a puppy’s. Had you felt better, you would’ve commented on his cute appearance. 

It’s as if that question flips a switch. “It was horrible!” you sniffle.

“Wha—Miss Chips!” Kiro grows panicked at your sniffles and sobs, and roughly pulls you to his chest. You retaliate by hugging him tightly, crying all your frustrations out on his shoulder.

Somehow, you move into a cuddling position on the living room sofa. You straddle his slender legs and his arms are wrapped around your torso, rubbing comforting circles on your back. Pulling away from his embrace, you start ranting about the terrible evening.

“...and I don’t even know why I’m this upset! It’s so frustrating. I’ve worked so hard to become who I am today, and the moment someone says something to me, I just break down. Maybe I am a child,” you look up at Kiro, eyes wide and brimming with tears, “Kiro, am I a child to you?”

Kiro chuckles. “Well, Miss Chips...sometimes you can be childish,” you jut your lip out in a pout, “b-but I’m childish too! And there’s nothing wrong with that. Some people want to grow up too fast, so they drink alcohol and dress up in dark colours and stiff fabrics to feel properly imprisoned in the ‘harsh adult world’. But most of us could be happier if we just...let our inner child out.”

He cups your cheek. “Never be ashamed of being childish, Miss Chips. It doesn’t make you a child,” a mischievous grin appears on Kiro’s youthful face, “Besides, I wouldn’t do this if I thought of you as a child!” 

With the hand on your cheek, Kiro draws your face closer to his. Your lips meet in a swift kiss that takes you by surprise. He swallows the startled gasp that escapes your mouth, retaliating by slowly swiping his tongue across your bottom lip. You can feel him smile into the kiss as you lean into it, closing your eyes. Your tears are long forgotten as you tangle your hands in Kiro’s blond locks. Slowly, you part your lips, allowing Kiro’s tongue to slip into your mouth. The teasing flicks of his tongue make you go weak, and he chuckles when your grip on his hair loosens. 

Kiro notices you’re growing light-headed, so he gives you time to regain your breath while he peppers little kisses on the corners of your mouth and on your swollen lips. You kissing demon. 

His satisfied hum is disrupted by a vicious punch to the chest. “Ah! Miss Chips, why would you hit me?” It’s Kiro’s time to pout now.

“Who told you to do that?! You’re so sly, it’s unfair!” you scold him, cheeks flushed a bright red.

“Yes, yes,” he pets your head, “but it helped, right? You’re not upset anymore, right?”

Your face scrunches up. “I guess not...I’m still mad at you for surprising me like that,” Kiro giggles, “But thanks.” His smile is contagious, and soon you’re both in a giggling fit.

When the giggles have subsided, Kiro pushes you back into his chest. As he snuggles into your shoulder, he whispers in your ear. “Don’t worry. Every time you feel sad, I’ll be there to cheer you up.”

I’m not saying dark clothes are bad! I have a black wardrobe myself...but we all need to remember that we don’t need to be so hard on ourselves sometimes. 

For some reason I’ve never properly depicted kissing like that in my writing. Ehhh, forgive me if it’s bad. Little note...do you guys know what Chinese drama ‘A Chinese Ghost Story’ is featured in?

[cdelphiki]

Bewildered was the only word Damian could use to describe how he felt.

Because just that morning, he hadn’t expected anyone to acknowledge what the day even was. But now, after he’d spent the morning playing video games with Jon, chatting with his Father on the phone, and then having a rather lovely lunch, people were showing up at the apartment.

Lots of people.

People Damian knew.

That he’d call family, if pressed.

...Plus Drake’s insufferable friends.

Which was just weird. Kon and Stephanie were there among the attendees, right along side Jason, Cass, Duke, and Alfred. 

So yes, Damian was bewildered. Or befuddled. Or just plain old confused.

Alfred he understood, of course. Even if the two of them had barely spoken since Damian got whisked away to the Kent’s, Alfred had always been one to remember things. And despite their relationship’s rocky start, Alfred had always been someone stable and supportive in his life. So, actually, he thought himself stupid for not realizing Alfred would actually remember.

It was the rest of these people that startled him.

He’d felt off kilter ever since he’d answered the door, an hour before, at Jon’s insistence that “it’s for you, D.”

Which, that was just annoying. The x-ray vision. The flagrant use of powers within the privacy of the apartment. Damian wasn’t used to it. Clark and Jon just…. casually floated around, sometimes. Used heat vision to heat things up. Speed to get chores done in a blink. And x-ray vision to look at and find things.

Damian was becoming progressively more amused by the exasperated glances Lois shot him, though, whenever one of them forgot that the rest of them couldn’t just look through the fridge door to see how many eggs were left.

It usually made him grin, actually. And he’d caught himself giving her the same look, a few times.

When Damian opened the door, however, he kind of wished he did have x-ray vision. Just so he could have had those precious few seconds to prepare himself.

Because on the other side of the door was Tim Drake. Just standing there. Holding a neatly wrapped gift with a card on top, and surrounded by all those people.

“Uhh,” Damian had stammered, a horrid habit he’d acquired from Jon, no doubt.

“Hey,” Tim had said, offering a lopsided grin as he pushed the gift at Damian, “Happy Birthday, gremlin. Gonna let us in?”

So Damian did, and it’d been a literal party ever since.

Which was what was so bewildering.

He’d never had a birthday party before.

Not like this.

They had cake and ice cream, as a group, and suddenly it made sense why Lois and Clark had made such a large cake. Before Damian was allowed to blow out his candles, he had to listen to the group sing him a ridiculous song, and it made him nostalgic for that first birthday he'd had away from the League.

Back when it was just him and Grayson and Alfred.

Grayson had sung this same song, all off key and squeaky, entirely on purpose, just to annoy Damian. But it’d been that gentle teasing, The kind Damian had come to associate with Dick Grayson. The kind that made him ache for his older brother, wishing beyond hope that the man would just hit his head and suddenly remember everything. Even though he knew that was not how brain injuries worked.

But just as the song had done on his 11th birthday, it made Damian feel warm inside on his 14th. It filled, just a little, that empty spot in his chest. The one that so often burned, with a soft almost…. happiness he had a difficult time describing. But damn was he going to cry again today. Especially not in front of all these people.

It was one thing to cry in front of the Kents, but like hell would he make such a mistake in front of the Bats.

“Clark,” Damian asked, once everyone had finished their cake and Clark and Lois were gathering the plates to wash, so they could ‘open presents,’ as Jon had shouted so enthusiastically. Brat probably knew whatever Damian got would be stored in their room, and therefore was basically his, too.

At least, that had been his reasoning, a few weeks back, when Damian caught Jon using his nice markers to draw the most horrific drawing of his dad he’d ever laid eyes on. ‘A school project,’ he had said, ‘we have to draw our favorite superhero.’ Damian had just scoffed and criticized both his misuse of the expensive Copics, as well as his predictable selection of his own father as his favorite superhero.

‘Isn’t Batman your favorite,’ Jon had said, to which Damian scoffed, ‘Yes, but Bruce Wayne is not.’ It had effectively shut Jon up. And relaying the price of each marker had also caused Jon to hand them back over, not wanting to replace any by ruining them.

“Yeah, bud?” Clark asked, smiling as he rinsed off each plate at lightning speed, even while he spoke to Damian. They were alone in the kitchen, and even though it was an open concept apartment, the group was being loud enough that Damian was confident in their privacy.

“Did you invite everyone?” he asked, resisting the urge to look away or pull his hood up. He hated his tells, and he tried his best not to show them.

“No,” Clark said easily, now drying the dishes off and putting them away in the cabinets. Why have a dishwasher when you have a Clark, Lois always said. “Tim did, actually. This entire party was his idea.”

“Tim Drake,” Damian asked incredulously. Because that made no sense. Damian had just been curious whether he should thank the Kents or Alfred for the party. It had never even crossed his mind that Tim might be the culprit.

Because what the hell??

“Is there more than one Tim?” Clark asked, clearly amused, now just leaning back against the sink to chat.

Well, yes, there was more than one Tim, Damian thought, but it was true that he didn’t personally know another Tim. It’s just, never in a million years would he have expected Tim Drake to be the one to do something so…. thoughtful. To be the reason Damian felt at peace for once, in a world without Dick Grayson, that is. And without Father around.

“But… Tim hates me?” Damian whispered, failing to prevent his shock from showing on his face, “Why would he….”

When Damian trailed off, Clark just frowned. “I don’t know what all has gone down between you two,” Clark said slowly but softly. In that same tone he always used when comforting Damian. He kind of hated that he liked it so much. “But I can tell you this: He does not hate you. I’d venture to say he actually loves you.”

All Damian could do was shake his head. Because no. No no no no no. That wasn’t right.

That couldn’t be right.

Tim Drake did not love Damian. Tim was the one who always rolled his eyes whenever Damian started speaking at family meetings. He was the one who groaned whenever Damian crashed one of his cases. When he had to team up with the Teen Titans, and Damian was there. When Father assigned them to patrol together. When he just remembered Damian existed, in general.

And it’s not like Damian didn’t deserve it. He realized, now, how wrongly he had treated his ‘brother’ from the beginning. Pushing him off the dinosaur had been unforgivable, he now knew. The fact Tim even tolerated him enough to simply groan and roll his eyes at his presence was more than Damian deserved, after breaking so many of his bones for no good reason.

So, no, Tim Drake did not love Damian. It was impossible. If their roles were reversed, Damian would never forgive Tim. Ever. Would be glad to be rid of him after this whole thing went down between Father and the rest of them, pulling Damian out of Gotham and Tim away from Father.

“Damian,” Clark said, wrapping his arm around Damian’s shoulders and pulling him in a little, “whatever is going around in that head of yours is wrong, okay? Tim cares about you, pal. Otherwise he wouldn’t have reached out weeks ago to make these plans. All those people over there care about you. They wouldn’t be here if they didn’t, okay?”

Resting the side of his head against Clark for a second, the only acceptance of the half hug he’d show, Damian looked at the group of people sitting in the living room, carrying on and laughing about whatever dumb thing Jason had just said.

Steph noticed he was staring, and she smiled brightly and called, “Come on, birthday boy. Come open your presents, and be prepared to be amazed by my awesome gift. Everything else on this table pales in comparison, I promise.”

“Shut up,” Jason said, tossing a chip at her for the comment, “I’ll have you know my gift is very thoughtful and incredible. The demon will cry I tell you. Cry.”

“Pfft,” Tim said loudly, “Mine’s the best. Kon already confirmed it.”

“That’s cheating,” Steph screeched, “You can’t use powers like that!”

It just devolved into chaos from there, as the lot of them continued arguing. Clark squeezed Damian’s shoulder and said, “Go on. I don’t think they’ll stop until you open them all and declare a winner.”

“Tt,” Damian huffed, even though he was smiling a little, “it is not proper to play favorites with gifts. It is the thought that counts, I have been told.”

“There’s the Alfred in you,” Clark said fondly, pushing Damian toward the living room.

The gifts were all incredible. Well, some more-so than others. Jason got him a gift card to one of the local art supply chains, as well as a copy of one of his favorite books. Alfred got him a set of teas, all of his favorites from when he was living in the manor. Steph got him a cartoon-style Robin figure, which was just insulting and kind of hilarious.

But when Damian opened Tim’s gift, he make sure to pay attention to his brother’s face, without making it obvious he was doing so. Tim’s expressions were carefully blank, but Damian could tell he was doing that to cover up for anxiety and excitement for whatever he had gotten Damian. And once the item was fully unwrapped, all Damian could do was gawk.

Because in Damian’s hands was a set of extremely rare natural pigments. He actually hadn’t even heard of half of the pigment sources, that was how obscure they were. But they were some of the most vibrant colors he’d ever seen. Bright purple, rich orange, dark blue, deep red, just to name a few of the colors he saw.

They were…. incredible.

He actually could not wait to mix some of them up and try them out.

“I got them in the gem world,” Tim explained, “a lot of those are made from materials not found on earth.”

When Damian realized what that confession meant, he almost did cry. Because at some point, months ago, before this entire fiasco had even begun, Tim Drake had seen a set of pigments while stranded in another dimension and thought ‘hey, Damian would like those,’ and then got them. Stored them away and waited for his birthday, and then planned an entire party when he realized the Bats were not doing one.

Just that realization threatened to set him over the edge again, but instead he just smiled.

He smiled and started to think that, yeah. Maybe Tim didn’t hate him.

Damian definitely didn’t hate Tim.

[dxmagedrose]

@ninetyscnds sent:

nightmare.

SOME ONE WORD PROMPTS  ||  OPEN

Brilliant lights passed over head — a medley of white and gold shining from above, so heavenly, so divine from the nonexistent rafters above her childhood home. She stared above, watching, knowing something was watching her back when the twisted laughter of Thomas and Lauren Hauley echoed out, running through the house's hallways as Rosa rushed through, her hand trailing over nostalgic but oddly churning and unfamiliar knots in the wood paneling.

"  —  M o m ? "   She called out, the sound of her gentle ringing laughter an old song that sang her to sleep so, so many years ago. Her mom's voice echoed, wavering and slipping as she called her name, sounding so close and yet so, so far away. She sounded happy, a memory of Rosa's she clung to, but something was wrong, something was off.                                                                                                        ( She could feel it. )

"   I    l o v e    y o u ,   g i r l s ,   "  came the harsh whisper of her father's last words to her and her sister the night he left. The hair on the back of her neck stood straight up, the feeling of her being so lost and confused that day hitting her like a tsunami again, knocking her to the hardwood floors. The ground began to move quickly beneath her feet, shaking and crumbling in a whirlpool of creaking floors falling off into a slowly widening hole in the middle of where the living room used to be. The house no longer looked like theirs, the childhood artwork of hers on the wall turned black with scribbled circular crayon lines, desperately winding down further and further into the back hole. Their smiling faces, hers, her mothers, her fathers, the best friends in her siblings on their broken photographs scratched over, black goo leaking from their eyes and noses, too much, too much, spreading down the walls and pooling along the floor. Their furniture was rotten, moldy and dark, abandoned years ago.

" D A D !   Just tell me where you are!"  She cried out, trying to scramble to her feet and check the rest of the rooms as the house closed in on her— l o c k e d, locked, locked, locked,locked,lockedlockedlockedlockedlocked—

"  —   D A D  !  "  Rosa screamed harder, the handle of her own old bedroom door wiggling far more than the others had. The house was sinking, piece after piece behind her dropping off into an empty abyss she couldn't see the bottom of. Light shone brightly from the other side of the door, beckoning her forth if she could only, ONLY —

She burst through the dark room, light running in through the windows. Her old bedroom was empty, with nothing but a single empty journal open on the floor, a feather soaking in blood red ink poured into small droplets on the mildew-y pages.                                                                           ( Her dad wasn't here. )

She could, however, still hear their voices, their laughter, bright and happy from out the window. She slowly approached, shielding her eyes as best as she could from the heavenly lights, peering down to see her family standing around her body, her corpse, hiked up on a cross, talking and laughing among themselves as the flames licked against her feet. They basked in the warmth of her burning flesh, grinning and laughing to one another in the glee of seeing each other again.

She screamed, she screamed as loud as she could, and as such, watched herself scream, catching her own gaze as she simultaneously looked up at her horrified self in the bedroom window and down at the blackened eyes of her burning corpse. She squeezed her eyes shut, hands rushing to her face, thisisntrealthiscantbereal!  But she could still see it, could still see their  g r i n n i n g  faces as they watched her burn, could feel the heat scalding her ankles, bubbling up in blisters.

Harsh running footsteps came behind her and before she could turn around, crying out, her hair was pulled sharply and she was  d r a g  g e d  down the disappearing stairs, tumbling through the abyss until she saw tears in her eyes, gazing up again at another shining light, the only thing she was able to see in the emptiness. What's happening? A soft, broken cry of fear crawled through her throat again, staring up at the judgement of the heavenly light.

Y O U    D E S E R V E    I T  . . . 

The twisted black maws of distorted, indescribable creatures suddenly blocked her view, red hot scalding metal pokers gleaming in their thousands of empty eyes, yellowed rows of teeth twisting up into wicked grins of  H e l l. There were so, so many, and she tried to run, tried to hide, but she was frozen still, eyes widened in horror as her throat ran raw, horrible, nightmarish screams stopping in her throat as they shoved the metal through her skin, so broken it was lost to the blood bubbling through her lips, the sound of her cries just barely gurgling through. One after one they sank their unforgiving metal into her flesh, burning every square inch with an indescribable pain ripping through her.

In the darkness of their quiet motel room, the sharply twitching and frowning witch's restless sleep STOPPED with a bloodcurdling wail to wake both parties up, frantically ripping and clawing the sheets and clothes off of her skin as she tried to fight, tried to scramble her way out of their grip, to claw the metal rods out of her chest, to tear the raw fabric off her burning, torn flesh. She screamed, crying, tears in her eyes as she jumped awake. Her throat began to constrict in panic, and she quickly began to claw at her neck desperately, trying to pry the invisible force off of her as she began to hyperventilate, weeping at the fear paralyzing her entire body.

She saw it. She saw them. She saw where she was going. She saw kind of things they were going to do to her, felt the melting and piercing of her flesh beneath the heat, her voice rubbed so raw from the hellish screams ripping through her, pained croaks from the remnants of torture escaping her mouth...

She shakily placed her hands against her forehead, sobbing into the darkness of the motel room in pure horror, fingers trembling against her pale and sweaty face. She couldn't hear anything but her own wails in her ears, still couldn't see anything but her own burning body, the smell of the scorched fat in her nostrils, beaten and bloodied form beneath the monstrous figures. 

                                                                           ( She was paying the price. )

When the warm, calloused hands of the addict beside her reached out, her name called sharply from the dark, she shrieked louder at the figure next to her she couldn't make out yet. It took her a short minute of panting, gasping out and hyperventilating from absolute terror before she recalled that soft touch, the gentle warmth that was her companion.

" Luke, " Her mind reeled, reaching back out for his solid frame, her scream subsiding into soft shuddering cries as she recognized the safety of his arms — the motel bed beneath them, the locked door barring off any officers or dealers, warding sigils secretly hidden around the room — trembling as she pulled him close and buried her face into his shoulder, thin arms wrapping entirely around him. She gripped on to him tight, her breathing sharp and pained, quick and panicked against his ear, crying softly and weakly against his shoulder, her mind still reeling through the flashes of images, her parents laughing over her death in front of them, the sight of the gore and the carnage, the feeling of metal through her skin and muscles, bones snapped and lungs emptied...

That cold, hard-ass of a witch was gone in that moment. That lack of emotion in her dull eyes was replaced with the childlike fears of her bad dreams, so lost and scared all alone in the confines of her own mind

But she didn't know that it really was a dream. She didn't know how real it was, if she had actually been there beneath them, even momentarily, still imagining the trails of blood running down her form.

Her throat ached with effort, the sobs ripped through her labored panting still as she tried to order herself to be quiet, to pull away from him,  to   s h u t   u p  and silence her sniffles and sneezes; to cut her emotions up into those little pieces and organize them each in their own neat little boxes to be burned down on her own time, not on his.

But her eyes closed tightly shut as she drank in his gentle touch. His warm hands rubbing anxiously, cautiously against her back, her lungs hiccuping with uneven gasps and breaths as she groaned out her shuddering, horrified cries, listening in on his heartbeat to focus her attention on slowing down. Hatred for herself soaked into her momentarily as she bathed in his kindness, in his softness, burying a hand in his hair to grip him even closer to her. Completely ashamed of needing to be held, needing to be loved in that moment. It made her feel weak, pathetic, like that old little girl she used to be just wanting her dad to come back home to hug her again, not knowing why nobody wanted her anymore.

She sniffled against his steady form, holding him tightly.

"  T - thank  —  y-yo-u,  "  she barely managed to snort out, her chin wavering uncontrollably against him. She could feel her tears and snot staining his shirt, and, getting angry at herself, vehemently against the idea of needing someone, anyone to love her, to hold her, she sobbed harder, her iron grip squeezing him tighter. He didn't need to be here. She almost had preferred he wasn't. The idea of crying on his shoulder was so utterly humiliating, feeling like so much more of a low than the bone chilling cravings from sobriety in the morning of chemical dependence. She had never been touched like this. She'd never had her heart and stomach flip and churn against the still, comforting grasp of someone who knew her well enough, someone who was willing to be there with her through her worst nights. She nestled further into his chest, sniffling.

          "    I don't —                                                   — I don't w-want to die, Luke... "  she cried.

[reds-lil-things]

~ sea of love~

I wrote a fic based off of that thing I posted earlier just with a difrnet song

——-

“Keith...honey...it’s time to wake up”

Shiro’s soft, gruff morning voice floated through Keith’s ears. His hair was a mess, in a loose almost completely undone pony tail from the night previous.

Keith’s face was pressed into the crook of Shiro’s neck with his arm wrapped lazily around his torso. He could feel the skin to skin contact of there legs being tangled and there chests touching, both boys had gone to sleep in there boxers.

Shiro’s human hand was rubbing soft circles over Keith’s sides and hips, gently trying to coax the other out of sleep.

“What Time is it?” He asked in a still half asleep voice, even before his eyes had decided to open yet. Though even if his eyes weren’t open he could tell that Shiro was wearing a fond smile.

“It’s around 9:30” Shiro responded, reaching his hand from his hip to gently brush a lock of black hair from Keith’s face, Keith hummed contently finally starting too open his eyes.

Violet met warm grey and both men started to smile, it was another beautiful morning. They were both here. They were both alive.

The present time was 2 years after the fight with the galrans, with Lotor, and even now after all this time every morning they woke up together was one more blessing that they cherished to the fullest.

Keith’s hand slipped up from under the covers to gently slid his hand up over Shiro’s bicep. His thumb running over the raised skin that indicated a scar. His hand stayed there for a moment.

“How’d you sleep my love?” Keith asked, hand sliding up to gently cup Shiro’s face. The cool metal of the gold wedding band on Keith’s ring finger pressing into Shiro’s cheek; who In turn gently curled his own fingers around Keith’s turning his head slightly too kiss his palm.

“I slept great” he assured, leaning in to gently rest his forehead against Keith’s. They both closed there eyes savoring the contact. They stayed that way for a few moments before Keith leaned in, gently connecting there lips.

There was no intent behind the kiss, it was all just tender love, utter devotion and a feeling of completeness that couldn’t be explained with words.

They were in love, they had each other, and that’s all they ever needed.

They stayed that way for a long while, just holding each other. There lips connected while they savored the quiet of the morning. It wasn’t until the dessert warblers began too chirp outside the window that they pulled apart. Soft smiles still lingering on there lips.

“Biscuits and gravy for breakfast?” Keith asked, his fingers shifted to slide through Shiro’s stark white hair. Keith nodded in agreement.

They pulled apart, pulling away the covers and they both climbed out of bed. Walking over to their shared dresser.

Keith pulled on a pair of soft pajama pants he’d gotten the previous year for Christmas, they were flannel and quiet soft. Keith didn’t see any reason too actually get dressed, they didn’t have anywhere to go today anyway. He pulled on a shirt of Shiro’s, liking the loser fit and how the smell of Shiro’s cologne still clung to the fabric. Shiro followed suit in a white shirt and black sweats, smiling when he saw Keith slip on one of his own shirts.

Once they were both dressed, Shiro leaned over and gently pecked Keith’s lips, Keith happily pecked Shiro’s lips in turn after he’d pulled away, they laced hands to walk out of the bedroom together.

“I love you” Keith said softly.

“Love you too” Shiro returned.

They walked into the kitchen together, parting hands, Keith walked over too the old beat up radio tuning it too a channel specifically for soft love songs, they listened to this channel all the time. Shiro walked too get ingredients from the cupboard, and Keith joined him pulling out a few pots and pans.

They got too work, Keith making the biscuits and Shiro making the gravy. In between stirring and kneading the two would share soft pecks and loving glances. Keith would hum along too the song and Shiro would chuckle and Shiro would sing softly along with him. By the time the biscuits were in the oven. Shiro had flour handprints on his butt and Keith had gravy on his cheek, everything seemed like it couldn’t get more perfect.

Until that song came on the radio.

That song....it took Keith down memory lane, it was what him and Shiro had listened too on there wedding night. Slow dancing, letting the world melt away.

“Come with me, my love~”

Shiro’s gaze met Keith’s and there eyes both softened.

“Shiro...it’s our song” Keith said softly before he took a few steps closer too Shiro and the two embraced.

“Yeah...yeah it is” Shiro said softly.

They Hugged each other tightly. This song always made Them both so nostalgic...that entire day had been so surreal for them. It was small, there friends, Keith’s mom and Shiro’s parents; in a small cathedral. Instead of one waiting for the other at the alter, they’d walked down the aisle together. Hand in hand, a symbol of them walking together through everything.

There vows had been touching, and finally, finally, after all they’d been through. They could forever be together..and this song..it was the one they played for the two grooms to dance too. The first dance of the night, with just him and Shiro on the dance floor, swaying together in each others embrace..that’s when he knew..that’s when Keith knew that Shiro truly was his soulmate.

”To the sea~ the sea of love”

Keith pressed his face into the crook of Shiro’s neck, resting his hands on his shoulders letting his eyes slip close as he lost himself too the rhythm of The music. Shiro in turn wrapped his arms around Keith’s torso and began to gently sway back and forth to the soft music.

“I wanna tell you~ how much, I love you”

Shiro began to softly sing along with the words, pressing his cheek to the top of Keith’s head, Keith could feel his eyes starting to get damp with the pure love and serenity of the moment.

“Do you remember~? When we met?”

Keith soon sang along with his husband, though his words were shaky from being a little choked up, and both of there voices were a little gravely because it was so early.

“Thats the day~ I knew you were mine”

Shiro could hear the teariness of Keith’s voice and it soon started too affect him as well, his own eyes growing moist with happy tears. They basked in the memory’s, in the love they held for each other. just swaying softly along with the rhythm. Holding onto each other tightly, soon one of Shiro’s hands reached up and gently took Keith’s from around his shoulders and laced there fingers as they continued to dance in their kitchen.

“I wanna tell you~ how much I love you”

Shiro kisses Keith’s forehead softly, small teardrops dripping down both their cheeks. He was so desperately in love with this man.

“come with me my love~to the sea, the sea of love”’

Keith sniffled softly, and there hands broke apart. Shiro’s hands fell too Keith’s cheeks and Keith’s mimicked him. They gently pressed there foreheads together, singing only soft enough for the other to hear.

“I wanna tell you~ how much I love you~”

They sang along together the last verse of the song, still pressed close, still swaying too the melody.

As the song ended, they continued too sway softly, the rest of the world disappearing around them. Keith’s thumbs gently brushed away Shiro’s tears, Shiro’s palms held Keith’s cheeks and they leaned together in synch their swaying slowing than coming too a stop. They were soon Gently pressing there lips together in a love filled kiss.

They held that kiss for a long time..it seemed like hours passed by the time they pulled away but at the same time it felt like that kiss hadn’t been nearly long enough.

They were still a breath away from each other, the bridge of their noses pressed together.

“I love you” they whispered in unison, the action making a soft smile creep onto both their faces.

They stayed like that for a while, holding onto each other, only a hairs breath away from melting into each other.

This was all they needed, they had each other.

Their love had gotten them through the toughest of times, and it would continue too support them through and through whatever life could throw at them; but here in this moment, where they danced in the kitchen, still wearing there pajamas nothing mattered.

All that mattered was the two heart beats that became one

❤️🖤

————

Thank you so much for reading this! It was kind of self indulgent but with all the craziness from season s6 and the wrecking ball that’s about too hit with s7 I needed to write a soft and tender fic too soothe my nerves. I totally think you should [Listen to “Sea of Love” by Cat Power|https://youtu.be/ilmApy6vFfo] it’s absolutely amazing! And I love all of the comments and likes I get on the stuff I write so don’t be shy! The art for the background and what’s below is done by [arrival-layne on tumblr|http://arrival-layne.tumblr.com/]. Thank you so much for reading this and I hope you have a wonderful day -❤️🖤

[todobaku-shoukat]

Boku No Toddler Academia (31/31)

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11712765/chapters/35994837

The end.

After the incident where Bakugou fell sick, the school provided some additional security and emergency measures. The exams quickly flew by and the holidays soon began. The days went by without accident, especially now that the UA teachers and Hatsume Mei were free to spend their days at the dorms with the toddlers and Midoriya Inko dropped by more often than not. This addition in persons at the dorm was to the benefit of both Bakugou and the toddlers in their planning of their surprise Christmas party for each other. Midoriya Inko graciously provided copies of Bakugou’s childhood photos, having also gone to her friend Bakugou Mitsuki’s house to borrow photo albums on the pretence of finding photos of little Izuku with little Katsuki because she was feeling nostalgic. On the other hand, Bakugou successfully managed to bribe Hatsume into making some equipment and electronics for the toddlers' presents.

 But despite the large increase in caregivers, the toddlers did not stop clinging to their dear mama. Each took turns between sticking to their mama and making secret party preparations. This made Bakugou’s own preparations difficult, but he did not resent the toddler’s clinginess. In all honesty, Bakugou felt like he could not let the toddlers out of his sight. In the past few weeks with the toddlers, Bakugou had seemed to relax and let go of a lot of his own fears and worries. His nightmares of the time he got kidnapped had stopped. At first, it was from being too tired watching over so many energetic toddlers. And then, it was because the toddlers soothed away his nightmares. As if the toddlers sleeping next to him knew, whenever Bakugou’s dreams started turning dark, he would feel soft chubby hands wrapping tight around his arms, anchoring him. Over time, he had already forgotten about the kidnapping. Whenever he saw Shigaraki, Toga and Kurogiri, he only saw his kids, never remembering that they once attacked his class, causing him to get kidnapped and indirectly leading to All Might’s retirement.

 But that day when he went out, he got caught in the snow and fell sick, leading to his terrible nightmare. It reminded him that the Villain Alliance are still out there. This entire situation with the toddlers was a result of the Villain Alliance. Shigaraki? Kurogiri? Toga? They are all part of the Villain Alliance. But what Bakugou is most concerned about is whether or not the Villain Alliance will come and take them or any of his other children away. As such, Bakugou was as clingy to the kids as they were to him. This made it difficult for Bakugou to make his own preparations for the secret Christmas party, having to make large sacrifices to bribe Hatsume to help him. He would have asked All Might to help if Bakugou had more confidence in the man. Honestly, it was difficult for Bakugou to trust All Might with helping him when the latter could not even figure out how to use a washing machine. On the other hand, Midoriya Inko could not keep a secret from her son so she was out of the question. Of course, there were some things that only Bakugou could do by himself, and he did them when the toddlers were asleep.

 And finally, it is the morning of Christmas Eve. The first one awake is surprisingly Midnight, who quietly wakes the toddlers. She had woken them an hour before she expects Bakugou to wake. And considering how late Bakugou slept the night before to be able to meet his Christmas deadline, she is sure he would sleep for longer. As a double agent, Midnight made sure to coordinate both Bakugou and the toddler’s surprise parties. The toddler’s party was more extravagant, including more activities. Bakugou’s party was more like food and presents. And so, the secret party for the day is the toddler’s party for Bakugou. Bakugou’s own “party” would be on Christmas itself so that the children can wake up to the presents.

 All the toddlers successfully slip out of the room without waking their mama, all except Asui and Uraraka who got to sleep by his sides. When they tried to move, Bakugou immediately hugged them, refusing to let them go. In the end, the two became in charge of making sure Bakugou did not leave the room before the rest were ready. The toddlers quickly got to work, not having the time to be jealous of the two girls. Those in charge of cooking cooked, those in charge of decorating decorated. Help from the other UA teachers, Hatsume and Midoriya Inko also arrived, allowing them to quickly and efficiently finish their party preparations before Bakugou woke up.

 Seeing that they are all done, the toddlers decide to return to their futons, wanting to be with their mama. And so, when Bakugou wakes up, the toddlers are in their own futons pretending to sleep. Bakugou yawns tiredly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he gets up. He walks towards the door, oblivious to the toddlers secretly watching him and awaiting his reaction. When Bakugou opens the door, he is hit by the smell of cinnamon cookies. This immediately causes him to perk up, looking around the dorms to see upgrades to the decorations he and the toddlers did the day before. At the dining table sits the teachers, Midoriya Inko and Hatsume. Bakugou glances between them, the cookies on the table and the decorations, feeling extremely bewildered.

 “You guys did this?” Bakugou asks.

 “Nope,” Midnight replies.

 “Then…”

 “We did, mama!” The toddlers exclaim from behind Bakugou, having followed after him. Bakugou turns around to look at those bright beaming faces, chest feeling warm and fuzzy.

 “Yeah?” Bakugou says, smiling back at the toddlers. He picks up one of the cookies, biting into it without hesitation. One bite becomes two and Bakugou quickly finishes that cookie and grabs another one. “This is good.”

 Having been praised, Satou, Ojiro and Shouji grin even wider, proud of themselves. Seeing this, the other toddlers also begin presenting Bakugou with their own work.

 As the leader of the photo frame group, Yaoyorozu gifts Bakugou with their finalised product. The photo it held was one Midnight secretly took of Bakugou watching over the toddlers during their nap. The photo frame itself was embellished with little figures that represented each of the toddlers. Bakugou admires the handiwork, smiling as he recognised which figure represented which toddler. It is surprisingly easy to identify them, each figure representing each toddler well. Uraraka then presents Bakugou with their booklet-like card. Bakugou laughs, reading the little messages from his children. He laughs so hard, that he almost feels like crying.

 Following the presents, they have breakfast and then games, playing the entire day. After dinner, they settle into the pillow fort the toddlers assembled. Bakugou is again given a “throne” to sit on as Hatsume projects a video onto the television screen. The video starts with the toddlers peering into the camera curiously, asking if it has started recording. Upon getting confirmation from the person recording, the toddlers begin to talk all over one another.

 “Mama! Mama! It’s me!”

 “Sensei…”

 “Hello~”

 “Hahahaha! Hi hi mama!”

 “Okay, okay. One at a time, alright? One at a time. Let’s go with you.”

 And one at a time, the toddlers stand in front of the camera, introducing themselves before doing something silly, whether it be an act, a dance or a song. When all the toddlers have a go and the video ends, another one starts. The next video is a compilation, including photos and videos taken from the past few weeks. It showed each of the toddlers hugging Bakugou, them singing together, as well as the toddlers clinging onto Bakugou in their sleep. The next video is also a compilation, but this time, of Bakugou as a child. The toddlers cheer happily as they got to see Bakugou’s childhood photos and videos while the person himself became very embarrassed.

 “It’s okay, mama. You look very cute too when you were a baby.” Todoroki says very seriously. The other toddlers nod along, only to cause Bakugou to be more embarrassed, face turning red. This made the teachers and Hatsume laugh, finding this shy Bakugou extremely different from the usual angry Bakugou. The difference is startlingly adorable.

 And as if he is a knight saving a damsel in distress, Midoriya steps up in between Bakugou and the teachers, arms spread open in a defensive position. “Don’t laugh at Kacchan!”

 This made the teachers laugh even harder and Midoriya Inko smiles. Her son is always a hero.

 And just like that, the day passes and it is time for bed. The toddlers wanted to refuse at first, not wanting the day to end. However, they also didn’t want to defy their mama, hence they went to bed obediently. But after having spent all their energy playing the whole day, the toddlers quickly fall asleep. And instead of staying up to place the toddlers’ presents under the tree, Bakugou goes to sleep early instead. It would probably be better for him to get up earlier to prepare. And so, Bakugou is already asleep when All Might and Midnight receive a call from the school.

 The next morning, on Christmas day, Bakugou wakes up first. He quietly slips outside the room, going off to bake a chocolate cream pie. When the pie is in the oven, he goes to his dorm to take the presents hidden inside. As he is placing the presents under the tree, Midnight comes out and sees him.

 “Merry Christmas,” Bakugou greets when he sees Midnight.

 “Merry Christmas. We had some news from the school last night when you were asleep.” Midnight says excitedly. She thought that it is good news to Bakugou too, believing that the student is eager for the ordeal to be over so that he could return to training to be a hero. She isn’t exactly wrong. Bakugou did want to train to be a hero. But he also did not want the toddlers to stop being toddlers.

 “What news?” Bakugou asks, not knowing what lay ahead is something he dreads deep in his heart.

 Before he can reply, the dorm door opens and Recovery Girl enters. After a round of greetings, Recovery Girl announces, “We managed to find a cure and it was tested last night. It is now ready to be administered.”

 “The cure?” Bakugou asks, a bit lost. His head is still filled with the holiday cheer.

 “Yes. We have been working very hard to finally find it. The principal wanted everyone to be back at school when it reopens after the break. You all have already missed too many lessons so we will administer it today and starting from tomorrow, you all will have remedial lessons.”

 Bakugou’s head begins to fill with questions. The cure? Today? They’re not going to be my children anymore? Will they remember? Do I want them to remember? There is an inexplicable feeling bubbling in his chest and Bakugou feels like the air is too thick to breathe properly.

 “Mama?” Iida asks, having woken up and found his mama. Bakugou turns to look at him. After today, he won’t be his mama anymore, but rather just a problematic classmate. Bakugou suddenly realises he cannot stay here for a second longer, quickly making an excuse before going off to hide in his dorm room. He couldn’t be there to see his toddlers turn back into adults.

 While Bakugou hides in his room, Midnight helps to remove the pie from the oven and sets up the table for breakfast. The other toddlers also begin to get up, wondering where their mama is. As they begin to settle around the dining table, Ashido sees the presents under the tree, immediately running towards it.

 “Wah! Presents! Tsuyu chan! This has your name!” Ashido shouts, calling the other toddlers to crowd around the tree and open their presents.

 “It’s from mama!” Asui exclaims as she opens her present and reads the attached note. This encourages the other toddlers to rip open their presents. Even Todoroki who was slowly opening his to preserve the gift wrap gave up and just tore into it. The toddlers cheer happily at their gifts, looking around to find their mama but to no avail.

 “Where is mama?” Hagakure asks, tears filling her eyes. She had clipped on the bracelet Bakugou had given her, following the instructions given in the note. And after pressing the button, she suddenly had a silhouette. Under the instructions, it said: “Your mama asked me to make this for you, though he did the exterior design. It can only give you a silhouette, but I hope you like it. Your mama really wanted to be able to help you do a proper braid. Also, you can change the colour of the silhouette to match your mood! ~From Hatsume. PS. Let me know if you’re interested in being my model.”

 Not being able to give the toddlers a satisfactory answer, Midnight can only direct their attention away by telling them to eat their breakfast. When the toddlers refused, more interested in their presents than the pie, Midnight says, “Your mama made this pie for you all. Are you not going to eat? Do you want your mama to scold you when he comes and sees you all haven’t eaten?”

 This immediately got the toddler’s attention, going to the dining table with their presents in hand. They eat their pie and drink their milk happily, none the wiser. Recovery Girl had placed the antidote in their milk, knowing that the toddlers may reject it if given the cure just like that. The antidote is expected to require half an hour to take effect. As the toddlers finish their breakfast, the head off to the living room to play with their presents, joined by a group of other heroes. In order to capture the three from the Villain Alliance as soon as they turn, they separate them from the rest of the toddlers, Kamui Woods watching over them.

 Kurogiri is the first to turn back. Although Kamui Woods reacts immediately he goes right through Kurogiri, allowing him to warp Toga and Shigaraki away. Nonetheless, the “mission” is considered a success. Their main mission had been to ensure the safety of the people within the dorm. As the students and two teachers successfully turn back into themselves, Bakugou stays hiding in his room. He spends the entire day in there.

 The next day, everything returns to “normal”, or what was considered normal before the incident. Bakugou did not know what to expect. But when there’s a knock on his door and Kirishima’s voice calling “Bakugou! Let’s go for remedial!” comes through, Bakugou feels immense disappointment. He is now only Bakugou, no longer mama. He returns the call as he normally would, deciding to forget about his time with the toddlers. He has to act normal.

 When Bakugou opens the door, Kirishima put his arm over his shoulder, saying, “Man this past few weeks have been wild, yeah? Midnight gave us a debrief and –”

 Although he tried, in the end, Bakugou couldn’t listen anymore, ducking out of Kirishima’s hold and running off on his own. He had become so used to being their mama that it is strange to be treated as just a friend. He sees Ashido on the first floor, quickly avoiding her and escaping before she could react. Bakugou assumes that Kirishima and Ashido must have told the rest of the class, because everyone began to give him space, not daring nor knowing how to approach.

 The next few days pass by with a stilted air of awkwardness. Bakugou spends most of his time in his room, hiding. And although he promised he would stop thinking about the toddlers, he could not help but to do so. He would look at the presents the toddlers gave him, glance at their photos, and flip through the drawings they made when he gave them a test paper. Some nights, he could not sleep, missing the tiny bodies curled up beside him. And tonight, is one of such nights. It is already past midnight, and everyone else is probably already asleep. They still have remedial lessons the next day after all.

 Bakugou lies on his bed, staring off into space in a daze. Suddenly, there’s movement in his room and a large orange sunflower appears in his vision.  

 “Sensei… Ah… You’re not my sensei anymore… Bakugou… Katsuki… Do you know? Sunflowers stand for adoration… Marry…” Shigaraki drawls out when he is interrupted by the intruder alarm. The alarm seems to pull Bakugou out of his trance.

 “You… You remember?” Bakugou asks.

 “How can we forget our mama?” Toga responds cheerily.

 Overwhelmed with emotions, Bakugou jumps forward and pulls the three villains into his arms. Now that they are no longer toddlers, Bakugou’s arms could not properly wrap around all three of them. Having heard the alarm, the other students in the dorm are instantly jerked awake. For some reason, their instincts told them where to go, immediately going to Bakugou’s room. Being in the room right next to Bakugou, Kirishima is the first one to burst through Bakugou’s door, shouting, “Group hug!”

 With Kirishima’s appearance, Bakugou feels as if he had been cheated. “You fuckers all remember? Then why the hell didn’t you all say anything?”

 “Sorry… We just thought you were embarrassed and then we just –” Kirishima tries to explain.

 “Ah fuck it! Come here you shitty hair!” Bakugou growls and Kirishima complies. The other students quickly squeeze into the hug, missing their mama.

 The first teacher to arrive upon receiving the notice for an intruder at the dorms is Aizawa and Present Mic. Present Mic did not think twice about joining the group hug, pulling the hesitant Aizawa along. Bakugou didn’t know how they will deal with this in the future, especially when three of his kids are villains and two are his teachers. But for now, everything feels warm and right. They are his children, and he is their mama.

[looselucy]

November

“So, when exactly do you think we should have stopped Liam drinking?” Harry’s body curved gorgeously as he leaned against the bar. “Around five pints ago.” I figured. “You didn’t even see him do the shot.” “He did a shot?” I cried. “It was an accident!” “An accident?” I huffed sarcastically. “Yeah. I accidentally ordered the shots, paid for the shots, and then passed one over to Liam. Total accident.”

I lightly slapped Harry’s chest and then dragged my eyes back over to the dancefloor, seeing Liam stood there hugging my dad. I was just grateful that he was being a loving drunk. It seemed the day had rubbed off on him a little bit, because he could have so easily gotten drunk to the stage where he was ready to have a fist fight with my dad, but he’d opted for hugging and dancing instead. “Looks happy though, doesn’t he?” I smiled. “He does.” Harry nodded. “How far do you think you are from being at that stage?” “Well, ten pints and one shot, at least.” I smirked. “But… I just want to talk with him, really. I’m not expecting too much, at this stage. I just want to talk.” It was easier for Liam, in some ways. He’d probably had an even tougher time adjusting to the whole mess than I had, especially with him having to stop travelling and attempting to settle down back in the UK. But at least Liam had been working with him, because it seemed even the small talk had helped them reach a good stage a little quicker. They’d become more familiar with each other. They were used to each other. I hadn’t had that privilege. Also, the bottom line was, I hadn’t drunk as much as Liam had. “You gunna go over there?” Harry asked. “No. He’s gunna have to approach me. I’m trying my best to be understanding, and everything, but I’m not being a pushover. Not tonight.” “Well, I’d offer to buy you a drink, but I’m skint.” Harry smiled, as I turned back to face him. “Student loans don’t really cover buying drinks at wedding receptions.” “You’ve been buying drinks all day.” I pouted. “Let me get you one.” “I’m alright. Kinda want to pace myself anyway.” “Why?” “Well, if you end up drunk, crying, and being sick, I need to be in a fit enough state to look after you.” “Flattered.” I tutted. “But I’m pacing myself too. It could be hours before my dad plucks up the courage to talk to me, and I don’t want to be slurring my replies.” The unmistakable piano notes featured in the opening of Angels by Robbie Williams sounded, and I groaned loudly. It made me regret not getting a drink straight away. “What?” Harry chuckled. “I was just waiting for him to play this song.” I huffed. “Where did they hire this guy? Stereotypical Wedding DJs R Us?” “Worst joke you’ve ever made.” He sniggered. “And for your information, this is a fine song.” “You’re kidding?” “It’s a classic.” He shrugged. “I’d have been disappointed if he didn’t play this.” I watched as everyone poured onto the dancefloor, the song being a literal magnet for those people. I suppose it was pretty difficult not to have a soft spot for that song. For some reason, it seemed to be a nostalgic song for everyone! I wasn’t even sure how that was possible, how one song could have that kind of pull to it, but Angels just did. I guess Liam hadn’t been with us for a while, and I was the one having to think up the sassy, bitter comments. On top of that, it was the prime song at every single terrible wedding that any British person has ever attended. It was just so bloody predictable. As I was staring at the dancefloor, Harry moved around so he was stood in front of me, and offered his hand. “No.” I said straight away.   “We’ve gotta dance.” “To Angels?” “Don’t let me down, Pip-Squeak.” His raised his eyebrows playful, his hand still waiting to be taken. I gave him this look, like I really didn’t want to do it, staring at him through thick lashes, but I found it very difficult to keep the smile off my face. Harry didn’t realise he wasn’t just inviting me to dance, but he was just inviting entirely. The way he held himself, the twinkle that was constantly in his eye no matter the lighting. He was warmth embodied, the kind of warmth I felt like I needed to survive. With a roll of my eyes, I slapped my hand in his, watching each little movement of his lips as they spread into this wonderful, wide grin. He dragged me off towards the crowd, placing us slap bang in the middle, and holding me close to him as we began to sway back and forth, Harry seeming pretty familiar with his role of leading. I was aching to lay my head on his chest, but not only would I be pushing my luck, I would be pushing my own nerves. I couldn’t even imagine how deeply I would fall in love with the bastard if I was slow dancing with him with my head on his chest. I wrapped one arm around him, and lay my other hand on his shoulder. Harry placed one hand on the small of my back, and placed one giant hand nervously on the side of my neck, his throat hitching, and I could feel that he was shaking. Just slightly. He tried to snap out of it. “Okay, so we missed the first chorus whilst you were moaning about the song.” He shook his head. “But I think on the next, you do a spin.” “You want me to spin?” “When Robbie goes, and through it allllll, you step back from me, right?” “Okay.” I chuckled. “But I’ll keep hold of one hand, obviously. THEN, when Robbie goes, she offers me protection, you spin. Then on a lot of love and affection-” “Stop singing.” “You come back close, right?” I could see Harry had started the whole thing as a joke, but the more he explained it, I could see he was actually getting a little bit excited over this performance we were about to put on, even though he would never admit it. My cheeks were hurting I was smiling so much. “And we stay close for whether I’m right or wrong.” “Did you know you can sing?” I bit my lip. “Then, of course, when Robbie sings and down the waterfaaaaall, okay, this is where it gets complicated. When he says that, I’ll step away from you, okay? Then, it’s almost my turn to spin.” “Pippa?” I turned around, to see my dad stood waiting for me. How long had I been waiting for this, for my dad to pull himself together and speak to me? Fuck, I was glad it was finally happening, but did he really need me at that EXACT BLOODY MOMENT? I just wanted to turn around and scream that I was just about to do some bloody spinning with Harry, but I didn’t think that would be much of a big deal to him. “Hi.” I breathed. “You wanna talk?” He mumbled. I nodded, my dad went outside, and I tried to catch my breath before I followed him. Harry dropped his hands from my body at the same time as I dropped mine from his. “Good luck, Pip.” “Thanks.” “Shame though. That was going to be a fantastic dance.” “Well, if this DJ is as bad as I think he is, I’m sure he’ll play the same song again in an hour or so.” “Fingers crossed! Now get out there. Stay calm, okay?” I nodded, and then I finally followed my father, turning around once before I got outside, seeing Harry stood in the centre of the dancefloor on his own, his head towards the floor. He seemed so sad. I really didn’t think it was anything to do with missing out on our dance routine. I had to shove him to the back of my mind for the time-being, because our moment had arrived. It was dark and cold outside now, so no one else was around. My dad was sat down on the wall myself, Harry and Liam had been sat on earlier, smiling with pain as I neared him. I didn’t sit down, I just awkwardly folded my arms. “How are you, Love?” He asked me. “Just looking for answers.” “I bet.” He huffed through his nose and shook his head. “I don’t even know where to start.” “Well, you’re going to have to figure it out, dad. Because if I don’t have some answers within the next few minutes, I’m just gunna go home, and give up on you completely.” The words felt like toxic as they fell from me, and I couldn’t help but feel like I should have felt a little guilty about it. I thought maybe I should have felt a tiny bit of regret, but I didn’t. If anything, I was being nice. He seemed totally lost. I may have been sarcastic, but even my dad had never seen me being so hostile. It just wasn’t in my nature. “I wanted to give you space.” He began. “I didn’t want to push you because, I knew… I knew how you… I knew how you saw me and your mother. You put us on a pedestal. You really looked up to our relationship… and I never wanted to let you down.” My bottom lip was quivering, and I knew this would happen. Even if my dad had just said the word sorry and left it at that, I probably would have burst into tears. Anything could have tipped me over the edge given how long we had gone without talking, and it seemed he wasn’t going to do anything by halves. “Okay.” I breathed. “I get that.” “So, I didn’t want to force any kind of conversation on you too quickly. Then, after a few months… I knew it was supposed to be me who was reaching out to you. But… I was so scared. Scared of you rejecting me and scared of… Scared of breaking your heart more than I already have.” He attempted to hold himself together. “And the longer I put it off, the worse it got, and the more scared I got. Have you ever skipped so many lectures in a row that you were too scared to go back in because of what they would say?” “No.” I lied. “Okay. I’ll pretend I believe you, but we’re cut from the same cloth.” He chuckled under his breath. “But that’s just what it was. By the time I decided my fear wasn’t what was important here, a phone-call wasn’t enough.” He was waiting for me to say something, which he shouldn’t have done, because I had been biting my tongue for a while, and he had given the perfect opportunity to chew. “I thought you were going to write to me.” I could feel myself getting angry. “Huh?” “When you asked Liam for my address, I thought you were going to write to me.” My voice was shaking. “Do you know how much it hurt to receive a fucking wedding invitation when I expected an apology?” My dad undid his top button and loosened his tie, because he obviously felt like he was in a tight spot, but he hadn’t figured out that wasn’t down to his suit. “I didn’t even think.” He sighed. “At what point over the past ten months did you think, dad? We’ve all been fucking scared! That’s not an excuse!” “I’m not trying to give you excuses, Pippa! I’m trying to explain myself. I know it’s not an excuse, trust me! I just wanted you to know why I’ve struggled so much.” “AND DO YOU WANT TO KNOW HOW MUCH I’VE STRUGGLED, DAD?” I was suddenly screaming. “BECAUSE I DON’T THINK YOU REALISE THAT WHEN YOU AND MUM SPLIT UP, YOU DIDN’T JUST DECIDE TO LEAVE HER! YOU DECIDED TO LEAVE ALL OF US! JEN WAS MORE IMPORTANT TO YOU THAN MUM, ME, AND LIAM COMBINED! DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH THAT HURTS?” He clearly didn’t understand the meaning of the word struggled, because this was his bed and he didn’t even have the damn guts to lay in it. Of course, he was scared, but this was all down to him, and wasn’t there to hear his self-pity. All I had wanted was a sincere apology for the way things had been. I wasn’t looking for his explanations and excuses or how he had struggled so much with what he had done. All I wanted, was for him to tell me how sorry he was that he messed up, because he had left our family to try and become happier, and it was us who had dealt with the aftermath and had to clean up the pieces. “I don’t blame you for wanting to be happy, dad.” I forced myself to calm down. “But I don’t want to hear about how hard this has been for you. This… this was your decision, and you’ve made no effort with any of us since you made that decision. Now I have your excuses, I want to hear what the hell you’re going to do about it?” He didn’t know what he was going to do about it, I could see the lost look in his eyes. I didn’t expect him to know what to do, what I did expect was him to finally start thinking about it, and to put those thoughts into action. That’s all I could anticipate from him after he had given us so little, for so long. “I think we should take it steady.” He started. “We’ll… ring each other. Then we can meet up for meals and… you can start talking to Jen and… I don’t know. I don’t want to rush you.” “If you’d had said you didn’t want to rush me in March, I would have understood.” I huffed my humour. “It’s a bit late for that.” “Must you always crack jokes, Pippa?” “Yes.” I told him firmly. “Okay.” He smiled again. “But does that sound good to you?” “I won’t approach you. I don’t want these to be empty words, so if you want to see me, you have to make the effort.” I informed. “I will.” “Then, okay. It sounds okay.” I was getting cold, only just realising how dark it was. I just wanted to go back inside and down a very strong drink, maybe do some shots to make Zayn proud. I figured that was as far as we were going to get that night, and as much as he had frustrated me, he’d also done what I’d needed from him. All I’d wanted, for so long, was a start to rebuilding our relationship. We had that. I was okay. “Pippa?” I looked back up after my momentary glance to the floor, seeing the sorry look in his eye. Seeing that, I wasn’t even sure I needed to hear his apology. His eyes were twinkling his regret, there were lines in the creases and ages of his face that hadn’t been there just a moment before. He felt terribly, about everything. “Hm?” I prompted. “I’m so sorry. I know it’ll never be enough… but I am. I’ll never be able to repay these months to you, but I want to make sure that they’re never repeated.” One tear escaped me, and I was kicking myself for it, but I guess my dad knew more than most how often I cried, since he’d had to put up with it since the day I was born. I think in a way, he was relieved that I cried, because he knew it meant something to me. It would have been worrying if I hadn’t cried, even if it was just a little bit. I quickly wiped that tear away, and nodded, because I was so ready to move forward with him. I was so ready to move on. + + + “MUUUUM! OPEN THE DOOR, IT’S COLD!” Liam yelled. “Hold on, Liam!” We heard her through the wood. “I asked your bloody dad to fix this latch years ago and he never bloody did.” “Mum, you dare start talking about how you need a man around the house again.” I scalded. “I do need a man around the house. I’m rubbish at this stuff and- oop, oh, I’ve got it.” She swung the door open with a look of pride on her face, and Liam pretty much fell inside, kissing my mum on the cheek before he ran down to the kitchen to drink a glass of orange juice that he’d been talking about the entire taxi drive back. “Hi, mum.” I smiled. “How was it?” She asked hesitantly, clearly scared to hear my answer, letting us inside and closing the door behind us. “It was okay. Weird, but okay.” “Was Jen’s dress horrible?” She hoped. “Of course it was. She’s got nothing on you.” I moved to hug her, and I hugged her tight. She’d been so incredibly strong. I’d inherited my crying from her more than my father, even though they were both soft. But she hadn’t rang me crying, and it didn’t seem like she was going to cry then, either. She was just handling it all so well and I had absolutely no clue how she was doing it. I was so proud of her. “Oh goodness, where are my manners?” She blustered, pulling out of the hug. “You must be Harry.” “I must.” He smirked. There was something so remarkable about Harry. Two little words, and even I was already swooning. He was just so stupidly charming, so handsome and cut and perfect. God, he was fucking perfect. It only occurred to me in that moment that I actually kind of wanted Harry to flirt with my mother. He would be good at it, for one, and on top of that it was probably the exact little confidence boost that my mother would need. “I’m Lisa.” She offered her hand. “I know exactly who you are.” He shook it. “I’ve heard nothing but good things.” He moved to give her a kiss on the cheek and she was loving it. I felt like my mum would be the only person I would feel okay about Harry flirting with. “Well, aren’t you tall.” She blushed after he kissed her. “Thank you. I’ve dedicated almost twenty years to growing, so that means a lot to me.” She laughed a lot harder than the joke warranted, flapping her hand and rearranging her hair, flirting back with him as best as she could, though she was a little rusty. “You need to bag this one up, Pippa.” She told me. I just awkwardly laughed instead of saying that I’d already made a weak attempt at bagging him up. I felt like saying that would have brought up more questions than it answered. Harry seemed to feel pretty awkward too, because even though he’d been so wonderful to me of recent, he was still aware that he had broken my heart. I knew he was trying his best to make things up to me, but I’d kind of forgotten that it must have been a hard time for him, too. Almost like he couldn’t put a foot right. “I’m desperate for a brew.” I shakily spoke after a while. “Shall I put the kettle on?” We all wandered through to the kitchen, where we found Liam, fast asleep with an unopened carton of orange juice in his hand, his cheek squished against the top of our dining table. Something tugged at my heart in that very moment, because I realised the last time I saw Liam sat at that table, he was just 18 years old. I didn’t even know that the last time I saw him there would be the last time until that very moment. Liam had gone off to university, and he just loved that escape so much, he never came back. Not for Christmas or birthdays or anything. My mum and dad went down to London to see him a few times, but I knew he hadn’t really wanted them to, that’s why I never went with them, because he’d asked me not to. He wanted to be away from us, and I totally understood that. Then he went traveling and he didn’t come back; he only came back when he was needed. I had to question if it was just what he was like, what he wanted from life, or if maybe Liam had subconsciously known about the affair and our broken family all this time, and wanted to be away from it all. Because I knew, the now 24 year old boy who was asleep at that table deserved to be asleep under the stars in a town he couldn’t remember the name of. I was just staring at Liam, though I could feel Harry gazing at the side of my face, trying to figure me out, like he always was. But all he could take in was how lost I looked, so he filled up the kettle himself, and flicked it on. “So what are you doing up so late, Lisa?” Harry chatted. “I just wanted to hear about the wedding. So how bad exactly was it?” She seemed very excited, and I finally turned back to the conversation, because my mum really needed to vent, and I was more than happy to let her. “The DJ played Angels.” I told her. “Every bad DJ does.” She agreed. “Yes, give me more.” “Not an open bar.” Harry added. “I wondered why you both seemed so sober. Harry, why didn’t you drive back?” “We had a few drinks, just not worth the risk. I’m gunna pick up my car in the morning.” “I’ll drive you.” She smiled. “Thank you.” As soon as the kettle had boiled, Harry asked my mum where the mugs were and got to work. I adored how at home he seemed. It was like he’d been there a million times, and I wished he had, and I wished I’d be able to see him there a million times more. “I’ve set up the spare room for you, too.” “Lisa, I’ve been excited for weeks about sharing a bed with you.” He grinned, passing the cup of tea to her. “Well, I’m sorry to let you down.” She giggled. “I’ll get over it. I hope.” “I’m sure you will. Anyway, I’m going to take this to bed, I’m shattered. I’ll try and drag this one to upstairs.” She gestured to Liam. “Goodnight, mum.” I smiled. “Goodnight, Love.” She returned. She attempted to get Liam out of the chair, but her efforts fell flat. After having a good laugh about it, Harry went to help her, the two of them dragging him upstairs, leaving me on my own for a few moments just sipping my tea. I was glad I didn’t come home often, because it made every single visit more special. I just loved being there, finally back in the right house too. Being in that rented house over summer just hadn’t felt right. Standing in that kitchen, the same kitchen I’d taken my first steps, the kitchen I’d cracked my first egg, it just felt right. I’d never loved a place so much. Harry appeared a few minutes later, a dopey little smile on his face as he grabbed his cup. “You and your mum-” “Two peas in a pod.” I finished his statement for him. “You’re not fucking kidding.” He chuckled. “I got her some flowers to say thanks for having me, but I left them in the car because I really didn’t want to go to a wedding with flowers and then be like, oh I’m sorry, they’re not for you.” “You bought her flowers?” I gawped. No one ever tells you how much love can hurt. Love is made out to be an indestructible force, one that consumes you and everything around you. One that brings joy and a kind of happiness that completes you. Unrequited love was the complete opposite of that, because every time Harry even murmured, it physically pained me. I was so horribly in love with him, and I was getting nothing positive from it. All I had felt now for months was absent, hollow, disorientated and miserable. It was so silly, because it wasn’t like Harry being so kind and wonderful and buying my mum bloody flowers upset me. I’d get this momentary burst of happiness just admiring him, then that burst would turn into a sting, almost like the burst was the sound of gun and sting was the bullet piercing through me. “I’m a very good house guest.” He grinned. “And I also grew up with two dads who insisted that if opportunity ever knocked, I should buy a woman flowers. I spoke to Kev and he said this was opportunity knocking.” “I swear, sometimes it’s like you’re trying to torture me.” “What do you mean?” He asked. I’d said that without thinking for even a split second. Harry had this extremely confused look on his face at first, but then whilst I was trying to think up some kind of excuse for what I had just said, the realisation dawned over his face the true meaning of my words. “Never mind. I’m gunna go to bed, I’m shattered.” I huffed. “You coming? Going? Well… Are you-” “Yeah. Yeah, yeah it’s late.” He was trying to brush past it as much as I was. “Where’s um… Where’s the spare room?” “Next to mine.” “Okay. Yeah. Well. Okay, lets call it a night.” We both downed our brews in perfect unison, experts when it came to downing drinks thanks to Zayn, but at least this one didn’t have the after-kick we were used to. But I would give anything to have the bitter taste of a shot rather than the bitter taste of my words. We both went upstairs in a bit of a hurry, and I just kept quietly cursing to myself, because that was the only outlet I had until I could go into my room and just scream into my pillow, trying to figure out why the hell my mouth would run fucking wild like that sometimes. I opened the door to the spare room, throwing it wide open for him, trying to be quiet. “Well, this is you, so goodnight then. Goodnight.” He moved so he was stood in the doorway, and once again his eyebrows were low, and it seemed to be a more often occurrence that Harry just stared at me trying to work me out. I grabbed hold of the handle to my bedroom door, but before I could go anywhere he moved to me, grabbing hold of the top of my arm with a tight grip. “Harry!” I gasped. “You remember when I rang you over summer?” He was getting closer to me. “Which time?” “After the festival.” His grip loosened. “You… You ignored me.” “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I remember. Why?” “I was… I was going to ask you, if you liked me.” “What?” My eyes went wide. “I was stood at Minnie’s front door. Stood at her front fucking door.” He was panting. “All I wanted… was an answer. Because… Because I knew if you said yes, if you had told me then that you liked me, I wouldn’t be with Minnie.” I’d never felt so sick in my life. I could barely understand what he was saying. All I knew, was that I was finally hearing what I had wanted to hear for so long. I knew it was happening at the same time as not knowing what to expect. My head was a mess. “I… I don’t know-” “And when you told me that you loved me… I was so fucking mad at you, because I knew that if you had just fucking answered when I rang that… we would be together. Now how many wasted months do we have?” My head was spinning. I didn’t think I could possibly be hearing him right because this was like Harry telling me that the pain of unrequited love I had been feeling for so long was actually completely fictional, and that just couldn’t be true. Because as much as I had been hating that kind of love, it was now a comfort zone to me. I was familiar with it. I knew it well and I had learnt to live in it. “I’m confused.” I whispered breathlessly. He went quiet, and as he moved closer to me, I moved backwards. I was totally breathless, disordered by the closeness we were sharing, because it had been months since his face was this close to mine, since I had been able to study the exact placement of the brown flickers through his green eyes. He was quiet for so long, then just before he spoke, he placed his hand on my cheek, stroking his thumb under my eye. “I am in love with you, Pippa. I have been in love with you for longer than I’ve even liked you. I… I remember the exact moment I fell in love with you.” “No you’re not.” I gasped, no idea what else to say. “Last November. I hadn’t even lived with you a month. Me and Zayn… We went drinking, and then we got back and you started drinking with us. You-you drank too much and you threw up. I walked into your room and… and I found you like that and… I helped you. I sat on your bathroom floor with you, and helped you throw up. You were barely dressed, slumped between my legs… sitting against me like you belonged there. You were absolutely fucked, but you were still so witty. You were so funny and so sharp… How could I not fall in love with you?” I barely even remembered it happening, for obvious reasons. But what shocked me the most is that we weren’t even friends, not even close. It wasn’t until February when the two of us started getting on, and he was admitting that it was months before that he realised he felt something for me. Fuck, fuck he’d just told me he was in love with me fuck. “This doesn’t make any sense.” “I felt like I had to distance from you. I felt like you didn’t… want me.” He moved closer, backing me up against my bedroom door. “Because you always pulled away, and then you asked for space and… Minnie… She was like a decoy so I wouldn’t keep crawling into bed with you. And… I was just living out this fucking fantasy I used to have about her but… She’s not you. No one’s you. No one comes close. Even when you said that you loved me… all I could think was… I don’t deserve you. I don’t.” “Why don’t you deserve me?” I shuddered. “I just don’t, Pip. You’re fucking dreamlike. I can’t believe you’re in my life at all, never mind as more than a friend. I’m not worthy of that. I really don’t feel like I… deserve you. But I can’t help myself. I love you. I tried to forget, but I can’t. I love you. I’d do anything for you. I just…” He moved his hand to the back of my neck. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the closeness, lolling my head back. I was piecing together things that I didn’t even realise needed piecing. The missed call, the fact that Harry was with Minnie because he felt she was all he deserved. She was a fantasy he’d had since he was sixteen. He had tried to brush away feelings he had for me and then suddenly I tell him I love him even though I purposefully sent him all the wrong signals. In my attempts to deny my feelings, I created an enormous space between us, thinking I was helping myself, when really all I was doing was turning away from him and shunning his affections. I had literally forced him to think I didn’t care for him that way. I felt like such an idiot I just wanted to curl up into a ball and apologise to him for pushing him away when he felt that we were so close. I gripped my eyes so they were shut even tighter, scared my heart was on the verge of exploding. “Harry, I need you to think about what you’re saying.” I hushed. “What?” “I don’t think… I could survive, if you wake up tomorrow morning and regret this. If you wake up and realise that you want to be with Minnie and that you don’t really love me… I don’t know what I’d do...” “Pippa-” “If you say it again, I’ll believe you.” I stopped him. “If you say it again, that’s it. If you don’t say it again… we can pretend this never happened, and I won’t hold it against you, okay? So please think. Please just take a second and think before you say anything.” Without hesitation, he lifted his other hand and smothered my other cheek with it, leaving me locked between him, pressing his forehead against mine. “Pippa, I love you.” He spoke confidently. “Stay with me.” I demanded quickly. A tear slipped down my face, and he wiped it away as soon as he could. I didn’t want to cry. I really didn’t want to cry, because I felt like all I did was fucking cry, but his declaration was something I had never expected. Ever since I had started university, it felt like things were slowly just starting to go wrong for me. I loved university, but I wasn’t doing the course I wanted, my family had fallen apart and I had somehow fallen in love with a boy I used to hate. It seemed far too surreal that two of those things could flip on their heads in the space of a day. I was okay with the new fundamentals of my family, and Harry was there, his face just inches from mine, telling me he loved me in the same way that I loved him. Surreal didn’t even come close to the truth of the day. “Fuck.” He groaned, tenderly brushing my skin. “I want to. I really… really want to, but I can’t.” “Why not?” “Because I can’t… I can’t be the type of person who cheats on someone.” “So just hold me.” I begged. “That’s bad enough.” He sighed, his hot breath pouring over my skin. “Isn’t this bad enough?” “Yeah, it is! But I can’t take it any further than this. You know now, that’s the most important thing. I just… I can’t cheat, Pip. I’d never forgive myself.” I was so desperate to be with him, even if it was just to have his arms around me as I slept, even if it was just to share a bed with him, I just wanted even more proof that he loved me. I wanted to spend every single second I could moulded into his body, talking to him and touching him and finally just being with him. At the same time, him saying no to me and telling me he couldn’t cheat on her, only made me love him more. Even so, I finally plucked up the courage to return his gentle touch, running my hand through his curls and then softly pressing my fingertips against the back of his neck. “Okay.” I nodded. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” “Don’t be sorry.” He exhaled. “I’m just glad you know. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long.” “Harry-” “No. I should have never been with Minnie, and… the second you told me you loved me I should have… I’ve just been so confused, Pip. And… you-you deserve more than what I have to offer. You deserve more than me.” “That’s not your decision to make.” I scowled. “I know that. I know that now. I’m sorry. But, I feel like you’re better-” “Don’t, Harry.” I cut him short again. “You deserve the world.” “Then I’ll make you my world.” He whispered. He kissed my forehead, drawn out, his right-hand clutching at loose strands of my hair, inhaling me as I inhaled him, realising that every previous urge I’d had to kiss him was absolutely nothing compared to the urge I had in that moment. “I love you.” I smiled. “Fuck.” I felt his grin spread against my forehead. “I love you too.” “Okay. You’ve gotta go, I’m dying.” I giggled. I pushed him by his chest so we finally parted, but before he fell back, he pinched his middle finger and thumb against the palm and outside of my hand, making sure we were still touching as he pulled back to me just a little bit, biting his bottom lip as he smiled. “Okay.” He seemed so bashful. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” “You will.” I blushed. “Can I say it again?” “Just once.” “I love you.” He grinned. “Go before I leap on you.” I pushed him again. “Go!” It was so difficult to end that conversation, because we knew we should have really been ending it in at least a kiss. It felt totally bizarre to have finally opened up and admitted that we were fucking in love with each other, and not to be kissing him. He winked at me, and let go of my hand, not looking away from me until he was in the spare bedroom, lightly and very slowly closing the door behind himself. I finally went into my room, and as soon as I was completely safe, I totally freaked out. I tried to do it as quietly as possible, but I was shaking and prancing all over the place and the elation I felt in that moment was something I had never experienced before and didn’t think I would ever experience again. It was euphoric. It took me at least ten minutes to calm down and get into bed, but once I did, I turned to face the wall that stood between me and Harry, tucking the sheets up tight as I stared to where I knew he would be, wondering if he was on the other side doing the same thing. I was in love, and finally with someone who loved me too.

[nicksilveirart]

(SING!) Story Not Told, chapter 10 – Guess Things Happen That Way

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9 (MATURE)

Click here to read chapter 10:

Sunlight filled the main Moon Theatre office. It was a beautiful day, the town hardly awake, morning breeze blowing. Buster, who rose with the sun, turned off his alarm clock and laid down in bed with his now-girlfriend Ash. He looked up at the time. They still had some time before everyone arrived. He hugged her close, and in her sleep, she returned the gesture. He smiled and gently nuzzled her cheek. "Good morning, sunshine…" She tried turning to the other side, but he held her. "Time to get up…" He singsonged. "Let me sleep…" He gently pecked down her neck. She shivered. "S-Stop…" "After you kiss me." Ash lazily pecked his lips. "Much better. Not a morning person?" He laughed softly. "Not a before-dawn person." "Not even to cuddle with someone?" He came closer. She shook her head. "You know I'm just going to irritate you awake, right?" He gently grabbed her shoulders. "You're gonna get stung." "Worth it." He kissed down her shoulder blade. She groaned. "Are you like this with all your girlfriends?" "Why, too cheesy for you?" He teased. "More like not used to it." She yawned. He laughed. "Morning, sweetheart." "Morning, Buster." She gently caressed his cheek, and smiled seeing him lean into her hand. "Why are you up this early?" "Got a theatre to keep running. Wanna head out and grab some breakfast?" "At six in the morning?" He shrugged. "First batch of bread is always the best batch." "Point." Gently pushing him off, she stood up and stretched out. "Long ride?" "Two blocks." He said, buttoning his shirt. "Fine enough." "Oh yeah? You take the challenge?" She could practically hear him smirking, and was about to retort when realization struck her. "My clothes are downstairs, can you-?" "Guitar case?" "Yes." "Be right back." He took off the stairs. Wrapping herself up in a blanket, she stood up and started going over his various personal paraphernalia - A variety of scripts, trophies (none of which had his name, she couldn't help noticing) and books. Many books. She pulled one from the shelf. On Stage, by Orson Whales. She chuckled to herself. "The irony…" This copy was nothing like the one Tara had lent her a couple days prior. It was worn out, and the pages were yellowish. Opening it, she saw a handwritten message. You've grown into a fine young man, and I trust your talent. This is a little gift to help you understand the next step of your journey. Make the best out of it. -Dad Going deeper into the book, she found several group pictures. Smiling animals, not rarely in costumes, bowing on stage. Pictures of a much younger Buster and, she guessed, his dad. She couldn't help but laugh at some of the photographs. Who'd say once upon a time Buster had long hair. She flipped some more pages. Both of them cleaning up a car. Buster's graduation ceremony. She was so immersed in the pictures she didn't even noticed the small figure right behind her. "Having fun?" She dropped the book, scattering many pictures along the floor. "Uh… Sorry." "I don't mind." He smiled as he kneeled down and started to gather the photos once again. "How much did you see?" "You look nice with long hair." She joined him on the ground, re-adjusting the thin white fabric around her. "I told you I was in a band." "Heavy metal?" She was holding laughter. "Soft rock." She burst out laughing. "Hey, in thirty years you are gonna look back at your pictures and feel the same way!" "I still can't get over you once being in a band, rock or not." He stared at her. She laughed, and slid a photograph to him. "Is this your dad?" Buster had a nostalgic smile on his face. "Yes. This is from the first play I ever directed, I was in middle school." He was absentmindedly running his fingers on the portrait. "He was so proud of me, he smiled like there was no tomorrow." His expression turned sad, and she quickly moved over to him, gently rubbing his back. He put the photograph back on it's spot. "I miss him… But having him in my life for some time was a privilege." Done gathering the pictures, he slid the book back to its place. "Are you okay?" It broke her heart to see him like this. "Yes, I just… I miss him, I wish he could be here with me." Ash gently held his face, and locked lips with him. Kissing back, he wrapped his arms around her. "Thanks. Let's get dressed, the bakery's about to open." "Are you okay?" He nodded firmly. "Okay." Quickly, she slid her clothes on. His mood improved in a matter of seconds. Soon, he was talking about shows he had held and how much he had liked playing in a band. Not too long after, both of them walked down the streets, directed to the bakery.

"Thanks for the meal." Buster merely nodded, checked to see if there was anyone around, and gently kissed her lips. "Let's go in two, you know… Not to raise suspicion." Ash laughed. "Ladies first." He paused, and shot her a humorous smirk. Walking ahead, he peaked his head into the theatre. Great. The show to be set around two in the afternoon, of course everyone made sure to arrive early. He carefully closed the door. "Everyone's in there." "Expected." Ash laughed. "You have the weirdest screening times." "But you know we won't-" "Kiss, or hold hands, or anything that doesn't suit you being a contest holder, and me being a competitor, yeah, you told me." "And you're fine with that?" "I told you I was. Why keep asking?" "Just making sure, you could've changed your mind or-" "I'll let you know if I do." She started walking ahead. "Ash. I don't wanna get arrested, I always gotta make sure. You understand that don't you?" "How about you show some trust." "I know, I'm sorry. I will." He came closer to her, and pulled her into his embrace. "I love you. I don't want to lose this, that we have." I love you. Leaning into his arms, she rested on his shoulder. "Me neither. You don't want to go to jail, and I don't want you to go to jail, we're on the same page." She said, pulling away from him. "And I also don't want your presentation to be late. I gotta rehearse anyway." She shrugged. "We're good?" His ears were low. Smiling, she quickly lifted them and went inside. He sighed. Boy, he loved her.

Everyone was in a hurry. Running low of time and with a special guest that was sure to arrive anytime now, it was more than understandable. Buster went around the stage to make sure everything was perfect. "Okay…" He said, done with the final arrangements. "Meena. Is Johnny here yet?" "He's practicing, Mr Moon." "Go get him, please!" He motioned for the elephant to go upstairs. "Everyone, please-" He was about to tell them the performance's order when a song caught his ears. It was catchy, and full of rhythm. Chasing after the sound, he found Ash, carefully striking the strings of her guitar. He paused. The melody was amazing, but when her voice came along he froze in place, mouth slightly agape. For a second, he thought about going over, and holding her close to him and kissing her, but soon decided otherwise. It would not end well. Being as silent as possible, he took stand by the door. "When you set it all free, all free, all free, you set it all free!" Ash was absorbed in her song, trying to both master it and fix any chord put erroneously, any string she might've pulled by accident. It was written in half a day, she barely had time to practice, but at least it was her song. Opening her eyes, she started going over the sound in her head. "Wow. You wrote that?" "Uhh… Yeah. You like it?" He seemed bewildered. Until she saw that smile form. "Are you kidding? It's fantastic! You gotta sing that today!" His mood and persona lifted almost immediately as he ran off. She did it. I knew she could, he thought, smiling to himself as he started giving directions. "Mike! You're on first!"

Buster took a deep breath as he was being lowered down to the stage. I got one shot. "All creatures great and small! Welcome to the Moon Theatre. I am your host, Buster Moon, and-" His speech was suddenly interrupted by the seemingly free fall onto the ground. The rope came to a halt, and Buster balanced once again onto the moon, symbol of the theatre. "Okay. Behold! The very first stage lit entirely by squid power!" He finished, squids all around him flashing in coordination with a beat. Ash had seen it all not too long ago, but seeing Buster perform along with it added something special to the spectacle. Everyone on stage was clapping at the show, almost mesmerized by the colors. 'Wows' could be heard along the cast. That is, until three massive bears broke into the place. "Hey, hey, hey! You can't just barge in here!" "You know this guy?" "Mike?" "Yes, he says you got his money, and it's in that box!" One word lead to another, and the irritated bears smashed the chest open, dust rising. "See that! Big guy with a bat! Who needs keys, right?" Mike said, as he jumped into the now broken chest. "Okay, let's get this thing square." He messed and messed around, finding nothing but few dollar bills and a lot of broken junk. "That's all there is?!" He jumped out. "He lied!" The cast gasped. "Moon lied to us all!" "Wait a second, I can explain…" He backed off a bit. Ash couldn't believe what she was hearing. "This is just a prop!" "Where's the hundred thousand dollars?" Buster was backing more and more off. Unbeknownst to them all, the glass just under their feet was starting to give in. "It's a box of junk? You wasted everyone's-" They heard continuous cracking, and everything came crashing down. Water flooded the theatre, and animals held onto whatever they could reach.

"Is everyone okay?!" Buster was walking around, distressed. "Nana!" The cast sat on the road just outside the theatre. People all along the streets stopped on their tracks to see what the fuzz was about. Not too long afterwards, all of them witnessed the theatre's literal downfall: The building crashed down, a cloud of dust forming. The cast carefully approached the debris. Ash was the most petrified of them, not because of the near-death situation, or seeing the building fall around her, but because she knew what it meant to Buster. The theatre he loved with all his heart, that he had so many memories with, that was a gift from his father… And the same theatre that held all of those pictures. "No…" She could see him going further into the theatre, until he collapsed to the ground. Miss Crawly was with him in a minute. Digging into the debris, he went across a familiar object. "Dad… I'm so sorry." No longer capable of holding it in, and feeling more lost than ever, he broke into tears, hugging the bucket close. The cast watching him from a distance, before parting ways. Ash, however, remained on the heartbreaking scene.

[obviouslyelementary]

Father’s Memories

I have been wanting to write this for a very long time so here we go:

Morality having fatherly feelings over the others, remembering an easier time when he first saw each one of them appearing in Thomas’ mindset.

A little angst, but mostly fluff.

______________________________________________________________

          Sometimes, only sometimes, when the mood was light and all of them were united in the living room, each one doing something different, Morality found himself being nostalgic.

          He had been the first trait to appear, becoming a being as soon as Thomas was put into this world. As a baby, Morality made Thomas cry, made him quiet, made him eat and sleep and do everything babies do. He was a baby with Thomas, but he remembered everything, unlike his host.

          But he didn’t like remembering things about himself. Oh no. Those things were past that no longer mattered.

          He liked remembering, as the oldest trait, about the first times he saw the others.

          Morality’s eyes searched for Logic, who was in the other side of the living room on his favorite chair, reading a book. The father smiled, a warm feeling filling him up as he remembered the first time he saw that little thing popping up next to him in their old home.

          He was a few months at the time, learning how to be himself together with Thomas, when the boy finally begun understanding what his mother said. And that was the moment another baby, with wide curious eyes and blue diapers appeared next to Morality, startling him.

          At the time, he wasn’t Morality, and Logic wasn’t Logic. He was Feelings, and Logic was Thoughts. And as Morality remembered, the two of them were the same physical age, but the little baby next to him was way different, way less mature, way more confused and scared. He wanted to touch everything, made all efforts to speak, to make himself be understood, and cried when Thomas’ mom wouldn’t do what he had asked. And he was the best to Feelings at the time, because the two cuddled to sleep and held each other in that huge, lonely mindset.

          Morality doubted Logic remembered those times, now too worried about deadlines and projects to stop and think about what had happened before they grew up.

          The father then moved his eyes to Prince, who was silently checking his social medias on his phone. Morality’s grin got bigger as he remembered when that little boy had first appeared, when Thomas was only three.

          Morality remembered him and Logic being taken to a cinema that day. They had never been in one, always watching movies at home. That day, however, was special. Thomas’ parents had decided to take him to watch his first Disney movie in the cinema, the one that had come out that same year: the Little Mermaid.

          He remembered Logic sitting next to him in the cinema chair, staring at the wide screen attentively, while he tried to understand how that giant thing worked.

          And then the movie started, and neither of them had ever felt more magical. The two were silent the entire movie, watching it with wide bright eyes, everything looking and sounding like magic.

          And at the end of the film, when they turned to the side, they weren’t alone anymore. Like a magic spell, a little three year old boy had appeared next to them. And at the time, he was known as Imagination, and grew up to become the well known Prince.

          Morality had loved the idea of having someone else to play with, and even if Logic had first been a little scared of the new boy, soon he learned to use his knowledge to teach him lyrics to the songs he wanted to sing and both became good friends, for a while. And Morality could still remember those countless times where the three would cuddle on the couch after a nice meal and watch all the Disney movies they had available, all trying to sing along the lyrics with their thin childish voices.

          A light chuckle came out of Morality’s mouth as he remembered those times, wondering what the Prince would say if he remembered the times where there were no selfies to be taken or any princes and princesses to look handsome to. The times where he wrapped a towel around his neck and held a broomstick to play pirates with him and Logic. But now there was too much in stake if Prince stopped worrying about his looks and what he said every tweet he made.

          With a soft sigh, Morality moved his eyes to Anxiety, who was on the floor, playing videogames. He smiled fondly at the youngest personality, humming as he remembered the first time the little thing appeared.

          Thomas was seven, and Morality was nervous. Logic was completely freaking out and Prince was shaking. It was the boy’s first ever serious concert, and he hadn’t studied.

          When he put his foot on stage, a small dark figure appeared next to him, and the other three stared wide eyed to the boy that had been created.

          He was small, very small. His hair was all over the place and he wore a black coat over a black shirt and black jeans and he was… distressed. His eyes were wide and he was doing all he could to stop Thomas from walking any further. He looked seven, just like the rest of them, but he was obviously more naïve and childish.

          That was the moment where Prince decided to intervene, rushing to Thomas’ aid and pushing the little, new boy away. Thomas clearly got better after such action, but the little boy started to cry on a corner, and Morality decided to rush to his aid, hugging him only to be pushed away.

          No one had said no to his hugs before.

          Morality felt himself almost crying, but instead of giving up, he hugged the new boy again and held him close until he stopped fighting back and cried against his little shoulder, clearly terrified and upset because of Prince’s actions.

          After the performance, that went great, Prince apologized, and he presented himself. At the time, he was simply known as Fear. And they accepted him a little harder than they accepted each other because of his dark aura and his need to show the dark side of everything. But slowly, he was put together with the family, even though he was a little more shy and quiet than the rest.

          Morality smiled sadly at this new form of Anxiety, remembering all the nights they slept together after he had had a nightmare, all the stories Morality had told him before he fell asleep to calm him down. And for him, it was incredible, to see how different they all had become over those years.

          With a nostalgic sigh, the father put his newspaper down and stood up, cleaning his throat to grab the other’s attention. Logic, Prince and Anxiety stopped what they were doing to look at the oldest trait, waiting for whatever he was going to say, and he smiled, wondering how he had been so lucky on having to take care of those wonderful three souls.

          “You know kids…” he started, hands on his waist. “I know you don’t like when I say this but… I really love you all a lot” he said, contently, and received the same eyes rolling.

          “Yeah, we know” Prince said, looking back down at his phone. Logic and Anxiety repeated the action, looking back at their book and game respectively. Morality sighed and his smile became a sad one, before making his way slowly to the kitchen.

          “Just so you know, I’m making some pizza” he said, knowing that they would love a little homemade favorite meal. He said it with no hidden meanings, knowing that they would always act like that. The three were just like teenagers, ashamed of their parent’s caring demonstrations. And it was fine, even if it made his heart ache a little, because he remembered everything, all the tears and smiles, all the words Logic learned, all the songs Prince sung, all the fears Anxiety overcame, and all the times he had stayed awake over night taking care of them, watching them, holding their hand.

          “Dad?” he heard, and turned around to the door, expecting someone to ask him something. But the three traits were there, looking a little embarrassed, looking at the floor. When he raised his eyebrow, they lifted their heads and sighed.

          “We love you too” they said, together, and Morality couldn’t help the tears that came to his eyes at those words, his heart filling up with pure love and joy.

          “Oh boys” he said, holding back his want to hug them, but happily they came closer and hugged him, wrapping him in a three way hug where he just felt warm and happy and loved. “I love you so much…”

          And suddenly, he felt like a child again, surrounded by the best of his friends, surrounded by the best of his family.