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ncitygirls · 3 years ago

Text

only - changbin x f reader

angst, fluff, suggestive, royal!au, cw: war, 5.3k

you were barely eighteen when you accepted the hand in marriage of the son of the duke and duchess of levanter. seo changbin - an affluent heir to an impossible fortune - almost had you surprised when you found his interest in you was unlike that of your fellow bachelorettes. naturally, their interest was fuelled by an insatiable greed and a hot desire for financial prosperity. as should yours, as was yours. not changbin though. no, changbin prided himself on many things unfitting for a man of his status, even his age. he wondered not of your family’s alliances or existing trading partners, but of religion and upbringing. he tsked at mention of your international estates, unless in regard to your memories there. he was complimentary of your attire, less in expense but rather in beauty. changbin wanted to know of your favourite season, and your preferred time of day. who was your favourite poet, and from them your favourite poem. he was obsessed with your knowledge of the world, or rather your interest in it. you had been to neo, but did you really see it, really explore? and if not would you care to? did you prefer sugar or honey in your tea? your bread buttered or oiled? to sleep bare or in silk? he wanted to know what side of the bed you preferred to sleep on, if you were adverse to cuddling and if so, if you could be persuaded.

to be fair, he only spoke with you like this for two reasons. the first being your shared upbringing. after almost two decades of friendship, having you enter his home in the prospect of being his wife didn’t come as a surprise to the young bachelor, but rather a relief. he spent days in and days out discussing family politics, ancestry, and accounts. he chose to ignore the blatant issue there, sharing the intricacies of his family’s wealth and heritage with these ladies from kingdoms and countries he’d been too busy to pay any mind in schooling. he knew his ignorance could come back to bite him and it did, especially as you entered his home looking far prettier than he had ever recalled you looking. he held his tongue before he could whistle, but you could see his smirk all the same. it softened into a grin as he bowed, you returning the pleasantry with a lot less pleasantness than he offered you. he welcomed it all the same. it was why he could be free on this day. speak about the things that would effect you two as one another’s, not you two as one.

your presence also meant he didn’t have to pussyfoot around. he didn’t have to fear your hatred, nor your judgement. though your eyes rolled more than the actual number of potential brides he had become acquainted with. he let f bombs slip, and his guard down. he frolicked with you through the grounds you already knew so well, and guided you through the parts once forbidden to the rambunctious children you once were. he walked you to the kitchen and asked for bread, as opposed to stealing it like you both once would. he tried to describe the estate’s chambers as best he could, detailing the art a then prince hyunjin had gifted him and your childish scratchings still on his door frame.

‘you can see it one day,’ he had whispered under the willow tree on the grounds, watching the way your fingers clung loosely to the weeping leaves. ‘it’s still as it was when we were children.’

‘and how would i do that?’ the question is valid enough, though he frowns, tilting his head. ‘i did not realise i had uttered a riddle, my lord.’

‘well neither had i,’ he tutted, moving to latch onto the same branch you once held. ‘and here i was, assuming you to be the smart one.’

‘i am the smart one.’

‘then answer me this,’ he began, pausing to firmly elaborate, ‘plainly.’ your eyes roll for the umpteenth time at his silent warning before you concede with a nod. ‘how might you see my bed?’

with a sigh you deadpan, ‘if you were to make me your wife.’

‘so to see my bed, and your vandalism-’

‘scribbles.’

‘i must make you my wife.’

‘it seems quite the extreme just to see some old scribbles.’ if changbin senses the hidden meaning to your words, he gave nought away. ‘mightn’t someone just bring me a piece of the bed? i’m sure it’s almost past its use, just peel the pane off. and why still the same bed? you are a young lord of age now, don’t you think-’

‘you know you prattle when you’re nervous?’

‘i do no such thing-’

‘it’s cute.’

‘changbin! how are you so sure i want to be your wife, hm?’ you half questioned, moving away from his looming figure. ‘i only came because your parents asked me here.’

‘y/n, i have known you a long time,’ he punctuates his reminder by closing the distance you so bravely placed between you. ‘if you wished not to be here, you would have found no greater pleasure than to decline the invitation.’ that much is not only true but undeniable. the seo’s was your third courting invite this month alone. you knew, and worse, changbin knew. ‘is it so hard to admit that i might have soften that hardened heart of yours?’

‘i find no pleasure in your games, changbin.’

‘what game, y/n? can a man not just want you?’ your eyes betray you as you try to expel the softness conjured by his taunt. a taunt that is starting to sound less like a taunt, and more like a confession. ‘can i not just want you?’

‘how do i know you want me, bin?’ you pressed, pressing your back to the leaning trunk of the all encompassing tree. ‘how do i know you don’t just want a way out of this endless cycle of mindless heiresses?’

‘you said my parents asked you here?’ your head bobbed as he approached you, nodding in time with you before he stopped a foot before you, smiling eyes gazing right at you. ‘who do you think asked them?’

you were married that fall. under that same willow tree, in the presence of his royal highness and his kin, your family and the seos. the affair was small like you both wanted. small like your needs. you joked marrying you was a cop out, as he spun you around the gardens, escaping the intimate celebrations in the grand banquet hall to enjoy the breeze on your skin and feel the wind in your hair. it was the first time he held you since your dance lessons as kids. where you would lead and he would follow. he once swore he would follow you anywhere. both literally and figuratively. around the grounds of your childhood home, in all your beliefs and ideologies. he filled his mind and self with your gospel and truth, infatuated with your manner of thinking, how you arrived at conclusions. changbin spent his whole childhood falling in love with you.

‘you weren’t a cop out,’ he breathed into the shell of your ear, humming as you lay your head on his shoulder. pressing his lips to your temple he confessed, ‘you were my only choice.’

that night, the two of you consummated your marriage under that same willow tree. his hands clinging to your waist as he ground his hips into you. his tightened breaths filling the drum of your ear with every snap, his lips closing around the skin of your jaw, summoning the most satisfying whines he could draw from you. his lover. his friend. his lady.

in his absence, you remind him of this night. how biting the bark had been on your skin, the autumn air stinging your already teary eyes. his last letter arrived over a fortnight ago, it spoke of his fears at battle, the treacherous methods of his enemies. the only face he prays to see again and until that day, the only face he will dream of. you have sent a handful of letters since then, yet still sour as you awake another day to no news. you sigh as you grab your quill, letting the ink drip before signing off your letter.

‘my dearest, changbin. a season separates us, but only a season could.’

it isn’t long after you seal it that you are summoned to the hwang holiday estate. the royal family have a long history of retreating to the country when the weather is a touch higher than that of luke warm water, or near cool cinder. the seo’s residence is but a short carriage ride from the estate, though a tad longer walk. you often opt to walk as you do today, taking no larger than foot long strides between the cobbled paths. your guard walks in time with you, though no more than a few feet behind. he had never been one for small talk, you quickly came to realise. though, since neither is your husband, you feel an odd sense of relief, normality, even in his absence. you try and enjoy the song of the breeze through the willow, the scent of the king’s rose garden carried on its back. it’s hard over the creak of your guard’s hurried stomps, his pace doubling with every corner you take. you only verbalise your awareness of his impatience when he arrives beside you, hastened to strike the door to announce your arrival.

“master yang,” you call softly as you two await entry. “if i did not know any better, i would say you were rushing me.”

“apologies, my lady,” he confesses, stepping back at your side without any question. though, when he gulps, you eye him with a softened concern. “i was informed you were summoned due to a grave emergency.”

“worry not, jeongin.” you chide, recalling your highness’ idea of an emergency. “the king often calls when the queen is away and he is tasked with matters such as assigning dinner seating.” jeongin looks as if he is about to ask when you add, “she says his involvement humbles him.” when he nods, you straighten as the door swings open, a servant welcoming you in. “yes, there is nothing to fear, master yang.”

only, falser words had never been spoken.

you are quick to note the tremor in the king’s frame as he hurries to stand upon your arrival, rushing you through the official pleasantries of an official summoning. “lady seo.”

“your highness.” you reply, your knee bending as you politely lower your head. “how are you on this fine afternoon-”

“i apologise, y/n. but as you know, i didn’t call you hear on matters of leisure.” he politely interrupts, a flush of embarrassment flooding his cheeks as you frown. “when was last you heard from him?”

“heard from who?”

“from—” hyunjin’s confused gaze cuts to his informants, a few members of his court shying away from him before he marvels at them. “has lady seo not been informed?” when he receives no reply, you feel yourself shrink as the gentle king bellows, “why has lady seo not been informed?”

“informed of what—”

“the order of information begins with yourself sire, before reaching the court, the council, the lady and then the people.”

“i specifically requested she be kept informed. why has she not been kept informed?”

“well, your grace, the lady of a knight is only to be informed once official word is received from the battlefield and delivered to you sire.”

“official word of what—”

“which came through this morning and you are about to deliver the information to the lady.”

“king hyunjin!”

gasps fill the room from all but the king himself. he doesn’t falter, instead he turns to move towards you, his eyes growing more fearful, more earnest as he approaches. he shudders at the thought of delivering this message. he even scolds himself for attempting to delegate such responsibility. you are a friend. not only to the crown, but to the royal family itself. before heavy crowns kissed their heads. before rings ever kissed your knuckles. you were his friend. you had always been a friend to him, and the only time you had ever needed him was now and he had let you down.

“we received word that neo soldiers stormed our fortress in miroh. while we have received word from a few troops who were able to escape, we have yet to ascertain who of the full fleet have made it to safety.” when he pauses to gulp he sees your eyes gleam, breaths shallow. his hands then find yours, gripping your shaky, sweaty digits tightly. “we have received no word from changbin’s troop,” he stops when you gasp, your tears falling, cascading down and around your stained cheeks, your lip trembling. “but we have been able to track a number of our men back through the yellow wood, south of levanter.”

“i-is he there? is he okay?”

“we are yet to hear word,” the tears continue to fall, and he hates himself but all he can do is continue, divulge everything he knows. “they plan to set up camp on the edge of the wood, so i will make my way there now and have word sent back to you as soon as i find him.”

“no,” you refuse, snatching your hands away to drag them over your stained cheeks. “i cannot wait, i will join you.”

“as will i,” jeongin pipes up behind you, his voice an odd comfort once more. “your grace.”

“it is no place for a lady,” hyunjin tries, sighing when you just scowl, already mid curtsey as you preempt his agreement and dismissal. “i will have a carriage sent for you at once.”

“would taking just a horse quicken my arrival?”

“i-it would,” he discloses reluctantly, watching you ready yourself to decline the carriage. “for my sake though,” your scowl returns, ignoring the concern from the king. “i implore you to take the carriage. the yellow wood is far from kind..” you decode his meaning before he ever finishes speaking. the yellow wood is far from safe.

“but is this not the same wood my husband’s troop plans to take, sire?” hyunjin’s nod comes seconds later, shame tensing his jaw. hyunjin is visibly trying to appreciate your patience after having all this information dumped on you. but hyunjin also recalls the threats you readily made and followed through on in your younger years. so much so, he fears the worst of you when you bow before slowly approaching him, voice but a decibel higher than a nat’s buzz to threaten him. the king. before as many witnesses as it takes to have your head. “fine. i will take the carriage.

“but i regret to inform you i have fallen victim to the sick allure of hope. so if this carriage takes him from me? if i am too late? i will burn your kingdom to the ground, jinnie. mark my words.”

only once you leave does hyunjin breathe, noticably shaken by the violent rage existing within the women of his kingdom. “ready her carriage.” he suddenly commands, terrified of letting you down. “i want her there by nightfall.”

hyunjin had not embellished the treachery of this road. you had halted close to ten times in the first six hours of the journey. thanks to forewarning by the king and his council, your guards were prepared to be extra vigilant. weary from all sides of the carriage, bandits who fell from the trees and ambushed from the sides did not live long enough to prevail. from dawn til dusk, the wood falsified night with its woven rotted branches and the gradually setting sun, seeing was becoming more hopeless yet more crucial. without a maid for travelling company and jeongin busy guarding your personage, you were once again left with your thoughts. in times of dire woe, you called on memories of your love, though they read more like dreams. this dream is one that only longing for the man you prayed awaited you on the end of this perilous journey could conjure. because not only do you miss him, you fear for him. not much has changed.

‘you think i am going to get myself killed?’ he breathed, nipping at your clavicle as you rest in his lap. ‘have you no faith in me?’

‘of course i do,’ you defend, gasping as he clamps down, teeth rolling your skin. ‘i just-’

‘you just.. what?’ he doesn’t expect an answer. or so you suspect. especially following a slow drag of your thinly veiled heat over his firmed thigh. ‘you think i would ever abandon you?’

‘no, binnie,’ you start, rising from him with a sigh. ‘i just know you.’

‘you do?’ he ponders sweetly, gazing up at your shining eyes. ‘and what is it you know?’

‘you’re powerful, but far too stubborn.’

‘you know,’ he hums, crossing his thick arms as a small pout steals the lips of the strongest man in the kingdom. ‘for someone who claims to adore me, you tend to speak ill of me every chance you get, my lady.’

‘must the two be exclusive?’ when his frown only deepens, his folded arms tightening, you sigh once more. returning to his spread legs, you perch yourself on them, raising your steady fingers to the creases painting the forehead of the most stubborn man you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. he softens only slightly, his pouted lip closing around yours when you lean in, silently asking his forgiveness. ‘for every ill spoken word, i make up for with countless good, bin.’

‘such as?’ he huffs, knowingly egging you on.

with a small smile, you offer a final peck to his lips before praising the knight beneath you. ‘i know you will fight valiantly.’ you admit, pride permeating right through you to the man you call yours. ‘you will bring honour to your family, to your country.’ with the pads of your fingers, you tuck his hair behind his ear, cooing as he relaxes at your touch. ‘you will be a hero, my love.’

‘and this all worries you?’

‘do you know who will keep your legacy alive, changbin?’ his frown returns at concern for your quivering lip, a sudden fear seeping into your tone. ‘me. your widow.’ he begins to shake his head, a half assed assurance on the tip of his prideful tongue when you remind, ‘it may vex you to hear this, but please remember your knighting was in part an award for your bravery, but also in large part to hyunjin’s love for you.’

‘how can you say that-’

‘since bang chan the brave, name a knight who lived to see his knighting. just one, bin. name one who knelt before their king and felt the sword atop their shoulders. name one who did not die in battle, leaving their grieving widow to accept a meaningless commendation of his honour?’

‘you call your father’s commendation meaningless?’

‘don’t make me laugh, bin.’ your scoff would wound him had you not uttered, ‘i would have rathered he be the one to walk me down the isle the day i married you. knowing my father loved me enough to protect his country is a nice sentiment, but don’t you dare assume i would take that honour over his life.’

‘hey,’ he calls, holding you in his lap as you try to move from him. ‘my love, i didn’t mean to offend.’

‘i know,’ in these seconds you see past the facade, the knight that your husband is. you only see what you fell in love with. you see the compassion, the understanding. ‘bin, i need you to understand. really understand.’ with his cheeks cradled in your palms, you plead with your love. ‘you mean everything to me, seo changbin. before i ever realised you did. i will not let this mindless war take you from me.

‘don’t be a hero, changbin. leave that to some village boy with a chip on his shoulder, with something to prove.’ he nuzzles into your palm as he listens to your plea, gazing into your warning eyes. ‘just come back to me, okay? don’t make me beg.’

‘what if it helped your case?’ he mumbled into your skin, his lips gently puckering as his palms glide up the side of your neck. his tongue slid betwixt your parted lips, trying to exorcise any and all tension from your trembling frame. with another soft pucker of his lips, a suck on your wet muscle has you loosening, falling into him as he moves to embrace you. ‘would you?’

‘do not mock me.’

‘i would never,’ you find this hard to believe as he smirks like a man with ten knives readied for your back. they come as kisses instead, they line the column of your neck, followed closely by his thumbs as he angles your head toward him. ‘you just seem ready to, so i would love to hear it.’

‘perhaps i will marry that lee boy, with the speckled cheeks. i hear the maids think he’s a descendant of fairies, born from the very stars that kiss his face-’ the words halt in your throat as he flips you, firmly pinning you to the goose down.

‘you seem to have thought this through..’

‘have i much choice?’ you huff, glaring at his thoughtful gaze. ‘one tends to ponder such things when faced with their husband’s imminent demise.’ he only sighs, eyes rolling skyward as he asks the gods, old and new, why they ever chose you for him. ‘i hear his line is filled only with beautiful men. who was his ancestor again? minho the something.’

‘you know,’ refusing to come to your aid, he gathering up the hem of your silks. ‘most men would have your head by now.’

‘-magnificent! it was minho the magnificent!’

‘maleficent.’

‘hm?’

‘his name,’ nipping at the exposed skin of your chest, his hand tugs at the starched fabric as he corrects you. ‘it was minho the maleficent.’

‘oh,’ you breathe, less in defeat but rather in sweet contentment. ‘and why is that?’

‘because, my sweet,’ he huffs into your chest, resting on the heels of his palms planted either side of your cushioned head. ‘he burned all of levanter to the ground when his queen died.’

‘yes, he did.’ changbin only strokes the skin of your cheek as you pout, his eyes rolling at your uncanny ability to bring everything back to his encroaching departure. ‘and my husband will not even skip one war for me.’

‘’one war’?’ he smirks, dropping his lips to your exposed breast, tongue sweeping over your teased nipples. ‘you speak as though war is like an evening in a tavern.’

‘both tend to end in regret,’ you jest, or attempt to. it is growing increasingly difficult to barter with him as he presses his lips to your stomach, his body lowering in kind with his touch. before he can disappear entirely from view, you rise. as he rises with you, you are stunned by his rosey cheeks, the flush journeying to his neck as you rest on your elbows. he sees your turmoil. your clear desire for him shadowed painfully by your love and fear. he drops a kiss to your hip, his knuckles dusting the veiled bead of your heat, eyes hard on you as you falter, head lolling to the side before you regain your strength. ‘bin?’

‘hm?’

‘stay.’ it’s faint. so faint he barely recognises it as a plea. he only sighs, his forehead pressed to your abdomen as he purges your wet eyes from his memory. ‘please say you will stay. i cannot bear the thought of a winter without you.’

‘my love,’ changbin speaks into your skin, lowly beseeching your understanding while praying for your peace. ‘a season might separate us,’ he hums, expertly parting your thighs as he offers a lone kiss to your mound. ‘but only a season could.’

“my lady?” jeongin’s voice is first to break you from your nostalgic nightmare. the second is the cries of injured men. “we have arrived.”

the edge of the wood is a wounded minefield. limbless soldiers, knights and footmen alike, are dotted around the dimly lit field. your eyes gloss over at the heaped bodies, and water at the stench. “how long have they been here?”

“just under a week,” jeongin recalls, holding his hand out to stop you as medics pass with a burnt body on a stretcher. “it is hard to believe this is the winning camp.”

“there are no winners in war, jeongin.” you whisper, watching a man close the eyes of his fallen comrade a pair approach to drop his body in a mass grave. a fight ensues. “only loss.”

“y/n?” you halt at the call, half sprinting at the sight of han jisung, wearing a smile warm enough to light the night. “i thought his highness was jesting when he said you’d be here.”

“han!” you cried, latching onto him with a grip that nearly winded him. “thank god, thank god.”

“more like thank changbin,” he wheezed, squeezing you back just as tight, lifting you a few feet off the ground. “had he not been here, i would have surely-”

“where is he?”

“-died.” he only grins as you stiffen, recognising his part in your terror a second too late. “oh! no! he isn’t dead! he is alive! very alive!” his eyes flicker to a scowling jeongin, gulping down an apology as he gestures to his left. “come.”

further from the wood and slowly decaying corpses are the tents. some somehow less grand than a teepee, some spacious enough for a few hours sleep. jisung guides you both up to the largest of the lot, where you find an ill tempered king hyunjin growing increasingly more so. “no, leave him be.”

“had we known you were coming your grace- we can have him moved immediately.”

“your king gave you an order, soldier.” jisung chimes in, tongue slotting into the swell of his cheek as he gestures to you over his shoulder. “now move out of the way or i’ll have you explain to lady seo why she can’t see her husband on account of your insubordinance.”

“yes, sir.”

hyunjin bristles at jisung’s ability to command his men with little effort before he softens at your restless gaze. “he’s been asking for you.”

the grandeur of the king’s tent suits changbin well, you think. a fire crackles at the furthest end, masked only by a large canopy where you know he rests. the four poster bed takes up most of the space, and around it lays tin bowls, rags, blankets and water. the room seems barely lived in bar the knight whose faint breaths float toward you through the warm air. you feel yourself stalling, too busy taking in the space to recognise your fear. what will you find when you pull the curtain away? what remains of your husband, your lover, your friend? will he still have the same warm eyes and full cheeks? will his hands still fit in yours? his feet still step in time with yours? will he look the same, sound the same even? you swallow down this fear, and instead bask in the joy that he’s alive. your husband is alive. and nothing separates you. not a season, nor a wood. not time or conflict. only your fears.

and then they don’t. when you pull back the veil, nothing separates you but air. a soft man made gust as you reveal the man you’d once called your friend, only to call your betrothed and then yours. the fire barely lights the room yet still he glows. he lies bare from the waist up, his abdomen bandaged in rolls of cotton, his chest exposed. you watch it, the slow rise and fall of the place you longed to rest your head, you dreamt of dreaming on. before you realise, you have lowered yourself beside him, careful not to disturb him, nor his wound. before you can call for him he smiles. even in his state of slumber, he leans into your touch. before you meet his eyes, you feel his on you.

“you came.” he whispers, a heavy breath of relief escaping him as your thumb dusts his cheek.

“of course,” you try, before taking your lip between your teeth, fearful your tears might dampen his skin. you kneel at his side, carefully ridding yourself of your outer garments, before returning your hand to his cheek. “how do you feel?”

“now?” he smirks, wincing as a laugh runs through him. “wonderful.”

“and before?”

“so, so.” he murmurs with a kiss to your palm. “a sword to the stomach will do that to you.”

“do i have han jisung to thank for that?”

“no,” he coughs, recalling his sacrifice. “only me.”

“well that’s good,” you hum, employing the upmost care when leaning over him. “because i would hate to think my knight was blindsided.”

“never,” his assurance fans your lips, as yours hover over his. “only by you.”

you almost forgot how it felt to kiss him. the feeling only coming in dreams. there was no memory strong enough to conjure the feeling of his lips pressed against yours. the slow melt of tender skin on skin, the warmth, his gentle caress. his kiss is slow, but even in his prime he took his time. his lips close around yours with such timing and precision, ushering a slow burn of desire from the heels of your feet all the way up to the crown of your head. he knew how to expunge pain and fear from you, to free you from your demons, to reinvigorate you. to love you.

he’s weak. in all the worst ways. his body, his will. he raises his hand to your neck, pulling you closer as he presses his tongue between your lips, connecting the muscles with little intent of parting. he swallows around you, drinking you in, keeping that same, slow and teasing pace. only to pull you closer.

“you need your rest,” you pant into his mouth, resting all your weight on your arms as he pulls you back down, pinning your forehead to his.

“no,” he refuses, sweeping his thumb along your jaw. “i need you.” his voice shakes then, unlike him. unlike the man you know. “only you.”

“is that why you called me here?” you tease, silently wiping his tears away, silently reading the fear in his eyes. he begs them away though warms at your easy dispelling. “to use me?”

“my love,” he laughs, ignoring the pain in favour of basking in your smile. “you know i did not call for you.” when you move to argue, he recalls, as if he were there, “‘would taking just a horse quicken my arrival?’”

“i might have been here sooner if-”

“this,” raising his other arm, he gathers your face in his palms, “is soon enough.”

safe.

“okay.” you agree, allowing him to tug you closer once more. you let him kiss you without restraint. you let him curl his fingers into your neck, ignoring his wincing and kiss him through it. you let his grunts mask his pain, his teeth rolling your lip between the rows, you let him share it. you let him have you, because despite the odds he stayed alive. he stayed alive for you. and that was enough. “i love you.”

he blinks up at your shining eyes, guiding your wet cheeks to his puckered lips. “i love you,” he whispers back against your lips, feeling himself heal at just the touch of your hand. “only you.”

because only a season separated you. but now, not even a season could.

#so #changbin #seo changbin #changbin smut #changbin fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #dno if it counts as angst #stray kids au #ncitygirls #skz au #skz smut #skz changbin #lol it is angst #skz angst #changbin angst #stray kids angst

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notnctu · 4 years ago

Text

sugar | s.j ❀

━ listen to: sugar by brockhampton

❀ johnny suh x fem!reader ❀ genre - smut, angst, fluff? ❀ details - fwb!au, kinda unrequited love? who knows lol, sweet love makin ❀ word count - 2k ❀ synopsis - he’s always a call away, ready to love you when you think no one else will. and this will be the one time you ask him to spend the night because johnny suh is the only sweetener you need in your bitterness.

❀ a/n: hello its author doie❀! its based off of the song sugar which is one of my favs ever so i hope u enjoy this smut, rlly this was just me avoiding explicit words lol ps i have never laughed harder in my life when @legendnct (ily hannah) asked me if i was J O R N Y when i told her i was writing this at 4am

The honey dripping, rush of candy goodness, and sugar high of a man --- Johnny Suh. He’s like walking on sunshine, no other cares in the world can harm him, and with a bright happiness that promises anything worth fighting for.

He stands six feet tall of sunflowers that turn up to the clear blue skies and soak up the positive energy needed for growth. Johnny Suh, the man that has sugar addicts craving for a slice of his attention; Johnny Suh is the epitome of goodness and virtue.

And the puzzling, estranged question of why you are his subject of sweetness is beyond any galaxy and he’d never tell a soul his reason behind his many dazed gazes, or if they even had much meaning to them. Johnny Suh is the one boy that wears his heart on his sleeve, but holds your’s at his fingertips.

There have been many countless encounters of long and, some unfortunately short, nights of sleeping with bodies that only add to the list of people you’ve kissed. But to have consistency in that aspect? Quite hesitant, to say the least.

While you are able to tolerate a random one night stand with no necessary remembrance of the individual’s name, to give your vulnerability and consistent attention to one person is asking for too much. A flawed characteristic of yours is falling in love too easily.

The hookups are meaningless, quick fucks to fill the evening and rid the irritable desire of lust. The muscles involved exclude the heart because there is no opportunity to fall for someone if you are only going to part ways right afterwards.

Yet, the one remarkable night with Johnny turned into several nights which led into your current relationship with the glowing sun. The one thing you had wished to steer away from --- a friend with benefits.

There was no metaphorical gun to your head, you weren’t forced to sign a contract, there were no ridiculously restrictive rules. No boundaries to hold you back.

When there is no fencing around the edge of a cliff, is that grounds for people to free fall? Regardless, your lack of self control and demising loneliness had you jumping and falling into Johnny’s comfort. The golden boy is someone hard to come by, and you’re not foolish enough to turn down this once in a lifetime chance to be intimately acquainted.

But as you continued to see him, there was an unconscious decision to stop your other random flings. It felt like you already had someone to fulfill the ache, someone to spend your nights with. If you needed him, he’d be there. So, unknowingly by choice, you made yourself exclusive to him, even though Johnny did not decide to do the same.

That shouldn’t bother you, right? But it does. The worst part is that it’s no one’s fault but your own. Johnny’s harmless actions affect you because your feelings allow them to. As much as you ignore the fact you two are nothing more than friends with benefits, the annoying drumming of your foolish heart reminds you of your denial.

While you’ve always had a bitter palette, the dash of sweetener never hurt anyone. He never hurts anyone, with his best efforts. And the intent should have been made clear, that your nightly hookups are an unhealthy coping mechanism. Too much sugar has your glucose levels derailing and seeking out the one person that lights up your endorphins.

The love for Johnny stems from his warmhearted character. His bubbly, goodwill nature that has him overextending himself for people who take him for granted. An extroverted, head-turning personality that you can’t despise and look away, instead are easily attracted to.

Johnny is kind, he’s thoughtful, yet entirely complex as a human being with a fair share of cloudy days. He is simply someone you want to get to know because he makes the atmosphere a safe space and he reads like an open hardback book.

Everyone has a small crush on him, it would be a complete tyranny of your feelings to deny it. Some infatuations are bigger than others and you’ll shamefully admit that you fit under this group of individuals.

On another lonely night, you wonder if he’d be at your will and call, if he would drop the world to come make you feel better. One moment, you are staring at his contact name and imaging the deep voice answering with his signature greeting. The next, you’re actually hearing his voice on the other end of the receiver and panic settles as it’s too late to cancel the call.

“Hey baby, what’s up?” The nickname sends a crown of hearts swirling around your temples. However, he sounds rushed, like he had been in the middle of a strenuous activity.

A nervousness has stammered words falling from your lips, and you’re too incoherent for even your own mind to understand. Johnny chuckles lovingly, and the slight rustling that distorts the background has you imagining that the phone is pressed between his cheek and shoulder. “Collect your thoughts, babe. I’m ready whenever you are.”

A heavy notable sigh erupts into Johnny’s ear, but he doesn’t pull away from the device. He’s all ears, attentive and patiently waiting for you to speak, despite having company on his bed.

“I need you. Can you come over?” If only pride wasn’t so hard to swallow, the question would have flowed much smoother. As if your heart grew hands, it chokes your throat from the inside and you’re preparing yourself for the rejection.

Truthfully, he isn’t obligated to come and there have been rare nights where he declines your offer. But your hope holds onto the slipping strands and the tension of your nerves have fists forming and eyes squeeze shut.

Johnny takes a fast peek at the girl already in his sheets, mindlessly and effortlessly scrolling through her social media. There is a hint of sadness in your voice that he can’t let go and while that’s usually not entirely uncommon, he can tell it took a lot for you to call tonight. So, he finds himself pulling up his sweats and a clean shirt over his head.

“Be there before you know it.” And the clench in your throat relaxes, along with the other parts that had your nails digging moon crescents into your palm and wrinkles forming at your tight creases.

And with a sweet goodbye, he hangs up the call and politely offers to take the girl home as he makes his way over to your place. And you’re dosing yourself in puffs of fruity scents and cleaning up the runny mascara around your under eyes.

With no words exchanged, Johnny knows every way to heal you and dawn a warmth that coats your darkest corners. All you have to do is open the door and let him in. His strength has you lifted from the ground, lips hungry to devour your softness.

A few fumble steps, he reaches your room at ease and gently lays you on your neatly made sheets. Johnny is consistent, no missed beats when it comes to loving you, and without a fail, he always takes a moment to himself to step back and admire your beauty. And your priceless shyness is also an added delight to the scene.

Each article of clothing is discarded and left at different areas of your small room, kisses lining your worst parts to you, but the best parts to him. When you can’t love parts of yourself, Johnny loves them for you and makes you whole.

“Were you in the middle of something?” It did not become aware to you of the possibility that you had interrupted something else, or someone else. And even if Johnny did choose to see you over spending time with them, you have the decent courtesy to make sure he is okay with his decision.

“Nothing important.” You’ll never be able to read him or notice any lies he tells. His smile is enough reassurance, and your question is quickly forgotten when his fingers dive into your wet flower. He uses his thumb to soothe circles around your growing bud, making your whole lower half blossom with trembling ecstasy.

His lips leave soft reminders to love your thighs, your legs, to not overlook their importance: they carry your graciousness into new ventures. Then, he pushes them wide open as he bends your left knee and your right dangles over his sturdy shoulder. The tight grip on your hip is bound to leave marks the next morning, along with the dark love bites he leaves across your canvas.

But his thoughts are focused on the meal ahead, your sugary juices coat the plush of his tongue. He remembers exactly how you like it, where melodic sounds hit the silence in gasps or groans. He suckles, he licks, he kisses your bead in a speed that has his brown locks tangled in between your fingers.

He drinks up more than your wetness, but also the pure image of your fucked out expression and the twists of your reacting body. He wants to surpass your limits, max you out until there isn’t a hint of melancholy in your tone anymore. To remember, to remind, to recall your happiness through heightened pleasure.

At the announcement of your high, he enters your spasming hole with rubber already on and groans at your walls squeezing around him, which halts him in place. However, the dragged movement of his length hits your sweet spot, your orgasm prolongs into a rapturous euphoria and you’re no longer in control of your body.

Johnny’s toned arms hold you close to him. The chemistry in your gazes has your heart pounding faster than his hips. As ruthless as each thrust is and each push moves you an inch upward on the bed, Johnny’s eyes are still kind and loving.

His fluttering kisses are delicate and nurturing. The marks resemble a healing touch that will settle you enough for the next day. For the night, he rids any angst that corrupts your mood by loving you when you think no one else will.

Together, your bodies fall into one another with a bite of elation as he finishes into the protection and your walls hug around him for the last time tonight. Even when your bodies disconnect, the feeling of fullness lingers and you wish to keep this for as long as you can. No more emptiness, not right now.

Perhaps it's the daze of your orgasm, but your hand reaches for his wrist to stop him from making his exit so soon. Selfishly, carelessly, honestly, this will be the one time you ask for him to spend the night. You can’t stand seeing him go, not at this instant. You refuse to spend one more night alone when your heart longs for him to be by your side when you fall asleep.

While the big heart of his beats speechlessly at your request, he lays down to draw you into his toned chest and pampers your forehead with honeyed pecks. Like many times before, no words need to be exchanged for him to know the remedy to your somber.

Possibly, the scene with Johnny caressing your chin and tracing your smile lines is all too perfect for your imperfect reality. And him whispering and wishing a happier narrative for you is more than what you had asked for. Nonetheless, he’s very good at it, mentally noting the fact that he’s probably done the same to other hookups or broken friends.

While you can get used to this form of aftercare, the guards you put up tell you that this is a one time thing. So, you’ll take and indulge all of Johnny’s affection and false love for the next few hours you had left of the night.

Nevertheless, even sweetness can be an overpowering flavor when consumed in tremendous amounts. And you wonder when you’d grow sick of his candied sugar or if you’d just forfeit your health to keep indulging more into your addiction. A sickly saccharine question of your own will be the pit of your downfall: do you love me?

576 notes · View notes

echoghost1 · 4 years ago

Text

Out Of This World (And Into The Next)

Word Count: 6,062

For: @theaxolotkween & @rayghosts/@ghostsray

Summary: What if when Danny first fought the Lunch Lady ghost she actually noticed how young he was. What if she didn't know he was more than just another ghost? What if when she commented on how underweight he was, she decided to help him?

You can read on AO3 or down below the cut

“Don't you see?” The lunch lady screamed as she holds Danny upsidedown by just his ankle, “This is why you need meat! You're skin and bones!” She holds him up higher and really looks at him before addressing him directly in her calmer tone, “When was the last time you ate anything?”

“Uh,” Danny started intelligently as he tried to ignore how odd it was that all the blood wasn’t rushing to his head, “This morning?”

It must be a ghost thing. If he could float then gravity wasn’t really affecting him the same.

“Yeah, I had cereal.” he nods, then adds to himself as an afterthought, “Didn’t finish it though.”

“What?! You didn’t! What about lunch then? It’s past noon!”

“Well this is my lunch hour,” he shrugged, “and I was about to eat, but uh,” he couldn’t help the wince as he finished, “then you showed up?”

She gasped and immediately let go of him.

He dropped about a foot before he flipped in the air and floated back upward right side up.

“Well, that simply will not do!” She looked over him with an expression that Danny wasn’t sure if it was pity or concern. He’d seen Jazz make that face at him a lot, that was for sure.

“Here, eat this!” she said as she shoved a piece of cake straight into his mouth.

With no other choice but to accept, he swallowed it. He wiped his lips for the remaining frosting with his thumb as the flavor of the cake made itself known. It was probably the best piece of cake he had ever had in his life. “Wow, that was delicious!”

He eagerly licked his fingers clean before looking back at her, “Do you have more?”

She smiled, “Certainly child. Right this way.” she held out her arm and gestured him to follow her.

They floated over to the back wall and she opened the door to the walk-in freezer. Only when she opened it, it wasn’t a freezer on the inside. It was the ghost zone.

He stopped in his tracks as he felt the chill from the freezer portal slowly edge its way towards him.

She turned back holding her hand out to him but stopped when she noticed his reaction, “What’s the matter, dear? Aren’t you coming?”

“I,” he hesitated slowly shaking his head, “I can’t go in there.”

She stared at him for a moment before a look of realization crossed her face, “Have you never crossed into the veil before?”

He assumed she meant the ghost zone so he shook his head no.

“Really? Odd, you feel just like it.”

He wasn’t sure how to reply to that, so he didn’t say anything.

She smiled again and floated closer to him, “You haven’t been a ghost for very long, have you?”

He didn’t see the point in lying, so he didn’t. “It’s only been a month.”

She was close enough to gently run the back of her finger down his cheek, “And yet you’re so fully-formed? Even without crossing? You must have a very strong will.”

He was so confused right now. Not even five minutes ago they were throwing punches and now she was comforting him? Were all ghosts this weird?

“Is your family still around?”

“Yeah.”

“Do they know you’re still here?”

“Of course they do! I live with them,” he answered totally perplexed as to what she was asking him. It seemed like there was some meaning that he just wasn’t understanding.

She gasped, “You’re haunting them?”

His hands sprung up on instinct and he waved them around trying to get rid of that line of thinking completely. “No, no, no! I can’t be haunting them! I’m not a ghost.”

She raised an eyebrow and floated back just a hair to completely get him in her view, “Hate to break it to you, Sugar, but,” she gestured to all of him or more importantly the fact that he was glowing and floating and looked exactly like a ghost right now.

He closed his eyes and sighed. “I mean I am right now, but not all the time!”

She pulled him into a hug, “It’s okay, Sweetheart. I know it’s confusing. Especially with how young you are.” she leaned back and examined his face with that same Jazz-face she had made earlier, “You had an accident? It happened fast, didn’t it?”

How did she know that?

“Where was your family?”

He looked down towards his boots and rubbed his arm, “Jazz was upstairs. In her room, I think?”

“And your parents?”

He tried to think back to that day. It was only a month ago, but some of the details were a little fuzzy.

Had his parents just gone upstairs or were they out that day? Hadn’t they just tried to turn it on? No, it was a few days after that, right? Had he been alone or were Sam and Tucker there?

His head started to hurt as he tried to remember. It was like someone had taken an egg beater to his brains and scrambled them.

The lunch lady ghost pulled him into her arms and rubbed his back soothingly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up. I wasn’t sure how much you knew. Or how much you could handle.”

He pulled back, resting his hands on her broad shoulders, “Do you know?” he was so confused right now.

She smiled gently, “No honey, we only just met today.”

“Oh yeah,” he knew that.

He grimaced as the throbbing from his headache flared up. As if he was going to forget about that anytime soon. He rubbed his fist into his forehead trying to soothe the ache.

He thought he heard someone calling to him but he couldn’t focus.

“Why don’t we get you something to eat. That should make that nasty headache go away.” she patted him on the back and pushed him back down towards her shoulder.

The coolness of her body felt so nice that he closed his eyes and hummed in contentment.

“That’s right, just relax,” she whispered.

He could feel her move, the gentle sway as she floated was at just the right rhythm for him to let himself drift off to sleep.

He hadn’t even realized he was that tired until then.

Being a ghost was exhausting.

===============================================

Danny opened his eyes and was greeted with an unfamiliar ceiling. It was very high and the plain white paint was interrupted with large wooden cross beams.

He sat up immediately and floated a couple of inches off the bed. He looked down and found he was still in his ghost form.

He had never woken up that way before.

He looked back at the bed. It had a blue metal frame with one side that arched up along the wall, it reminded him of the bed he’d use whenever he’d visit his grandmother’s house. He had to think for a moment but then remembered what it was called, a daybed.

Why was he sleeping on a daybed?

“I’m supposed to be at school!”

He flew towards the door, but hesitated before he grasped the handle. He slowly reached out and tried to phase his hand through the door.

His hand just ran into the door as if he was solid. But he could feel that tingly feeling in his hand which meant he was using his power.

So why wasn’t it working?

He shrugged and went to open the door normally.

It opened.

He peered out and saw a short empty hall. The brickwork that was in the room he had woken up in, carried out into the hall as well.

There was a familiar scent wafting towards him and floated silently into the room at the end of the hall.

“Grilled Cheese?” he asked softly.

In front of a large flattop grill, like the kind in restaurants, was the Lunch Lady ghost and she was in fact, making a bunch of grilled cheese sandwiches. He looked around the room and found no one else there. Why was she making so many?

She turned to face him and smiled, “Well hello there Sweetpea. You feeling any better after your nap?”

“Uh, yeah?”

And he did. His headache had gone away. Although he was still really confused. Was this where she lived?

It looked like a studio loft apartment and an industrial kitchen had a baby. Weird, but it did fit her.

“Good to hear. You hungry? Lunch is just about ready.”

“Yeah okay.”

If he had slept wouldn’t it be time for dinner?

She put a couple of sandwiches on a plate for him, they were cut into triangles. “Milk?” she asked as she pushed the plate across the counter towards him.

He climbed up onto the barstool and just agreed to that too.

Why not? He couldn’t think of a reason not to. Besides he was hungry.

“Are you expecting anyone else?” he asked as he carefully picked up the hot triangle of cheesy goodness.

“No.” She set a large glass of milk down for him. Much larger than he would have poured for himself.

“Okay.”

This was so weird.

She didn’t think he was going to eat all of those, did she? There had to be at least ten sandwiches on the grill. She already gave him two to start with.

It felt like she was trying to fatten him up.

He really hoped this didn’t turn out to be some Hanzel and Gretel situation.

He took his bite and once again was overwhelmed by just how amazing her food was. It wasn’t just that it was perfectly grilled crispy bread, or that the cheese was just the right kind that it got stringy as he pulled it apart, it even had thin slices of lightly browned deli meats. The first one had ham but the next one was chicken.

Before he could even think to stop himself he had cleared his plate and downed half the milk.

She smiled and filled his plate again. “Don’t be shy now, have as much as you like.”

And he did.

After several minutes he finally pushed the plate away. If he even so much as thought about food, he’d explode.

He groaned and leaned back in the chair. It was so good, but his eyes must have been bigger than his stomach.

“Aw come here, you cute little bean,” she said as she floated around the counter and picked him up to place over her shoulder like he was a little kid.

“Hey!” he protested weakly while still feeling lethargic.

She ignored him and started to pat his back.

He hoped she wasn’t doing what he thought she was doing.

And did she get taller or something, because he didn’t think he was that much smaller than her.

Before he could fully process the situation he burped.

“Ah, that’s a good boy.”

Oh my god, she was doing that!?

He squirmed in her arms. He was not about to be treated like a baby. Absolutely not!

“Hey now, stop that.” she lightly scolded as if he wasn’t any threat to her at all.

Then again, he hadn’t been doing very well in their fight at the school.

“You,” he burped again, “stop it!”

He did not like this one bit. Even if burps made his tummy hurt less.

Wait, did he just think the word tummy?

He meant stomach. He was a big boy, he was supposed to use big boy words.

Wait, no!

“What are you doing to me?!” his voice came out a lot squeakier than he wanted. It was higher pitched than it was this morning too.

“I’m not doing anything,” and the look on her face showed she was telling the truth.

He looked down at his hands. They were so little now.

Somehow, he's gotten younger.

“Why am I little?” he said and his voice sounded even tinier.

She rested him against her hip, seeing as he was now about half his age, and smoothed back his hair, “that’s just what the veil does to some folks. It helps you learn about being a ghost I think. It’s easier to start from the beginning and all that.”

She walked away from the kitchen and back towards the room he had started in.

His room.

“Now I think after all that excitement, we best get you to bed.”

“But I’m not tired,” he said with a betraying yawn.

Or at least he hadn’t been a minute ago.

She tucked him in and kissed his forehead. “Sweet dreams, Cupcake.”

“Night night,” he mumbled already falling asleep.

===============================================

The next time he woke up he was much too small to get out of bed on his own. Or at least he didn’t want to risk it. The bed was very tall and he didn’t want to fall down.

“Ready for lunch?” she asked as she picked him up, “I made spaghetti.”

“Sketti!” he cheered and clapped. If her cheesy sandwiches were yummy he’d bet her noodles were just as good.

For just a moment as she set him in his high chair he thought it was a little odd that they were having lunch again.

Maybe it was always lunchtime here?

He forgot the thought the second she handed him his sippy cup. Apple juice was his favorite!

He was halfway through his second plate of spaghetti when he got bored and decided he’d rather play with the floppy noodles instead.

“Oh okay, I think it’s time for Nanna to just take that away now,” Nanna said as she did just that.

He pouted but then pulled his foot up through the hole in his chair just to see if he could.

He could! Fun!

The buckle was looser than it was before, despite his full tummy.

Nanna turned around and gasped, “Oh you’re getting sauce everywhere!” he floated up out of the chair as she approached, his legs disappeared into a tail as he moved.

He looked down at his new tail in awe.

Then immediately stuck the tip of it into his mouth just to see what it felt like.

He didn’t like it.

Nanna chuckled and plucked him out of the air like an apple from a tree. She cleaned up his face and hands. And feet! As soon as he figured out how to make them come back.

“Alright, beddy-bye time.”

He flinched. The last time he went sleep he got little. If he went sleep again would he keep getting tiny? What if he got so little Nanna couldn’t see him?

He burst into tears and started bawling.

“Oh? Oh no! What’s wrong?”

But he couldn’t answer her. He was much too upset. Also, what were words? He didn’t know how to.

She rocked him in her arms and did her best to soothe him.

He started to get sleepy from the motion but that just launched him right back into hysterics.

“Are you scared to go to sleep?”

He rubbed the tears and the sleep out of his eyes as best he could as he nodded.

“Oh pumpkin, you’ll be okay.”

He shook his head.

“No? Why not?”

He slowly clapped his hands together once, to show getting small. Then he said, “poof.”

She blinked a couple of times then nodded in understanding, “You’re not going to get any smaller. I think you’re done. Now we get to see you grow up again.”

His eyes went wide with surprise.

“Yeah, you’ll be big. And even better, we get to find out what you love the very most.”

He didn’t really understand that last part. What could he love more than Nanna? He hugged her so she would know.

===============================================

He was just staring out the window when she came in to check on him.

The window didn’t use to be there, but sometimes things like that happened. Nanna could change the size of the things in the kitchen to whatever she needed them to be. Whatever food she wanted to cook she always had the ingredients.

He hadn’t been able to change anything before, but he was older now.

“What’s out there?” he asked as he gazed at the swirling green void. There wasn’t much to see, but there had to be something else right?

“Come on, Sweetiepie, it’s time for lunch.”

He sighed and followed her out. “Can I go outside after lunch?” he asked as he sat at the counter. He was happy he was finally big enough to sit on the tall chairs. He liked being able to kick his legs while he sat.

“I don’t know, you’re still so young.”

“But Nanna! I’m seven now! Isn’t that big enough?”

“You were fourteen when I brought you home.”

He scrunched up his nose as he pouted. It’s not his fault being here turned him into a baby and he had to grow up again.

“No more pouting.” she chided as she pinched his chubby cheek affectionately.

He sighed and wondered if Boxy was going to come over again. The Box Ghost didn’t visit all the time, but he was fun to play with when he did. Maybe Boxy would let him go outside.

He just wanted to know what was out there.

===============================================

When he was eleven, Nanna tried to help him find what she called, his Spark. The thing that he loved the most.

He still wasn’t sure what that meant.

“What’s your Spark?” he asked while he was stirring the batter for the cookies.

“Why that would be lunch of course.” she ruffled his fluffy white hair, “And you’re a close second.”

“So other people aren’t Sparks?”

She sprinkled in the chocolate chips as he continued to stir, “I think they can be sometimes, but that’s pretty rare. Sparks form around ideas or things. I don’t think it’s very healthy to have one for another person.”

He just stared into the batter as the chips slowly sank into the thick creamy dough. Something about it looked familiar.

“How do I know what my Spark is?”

“It’s hard to say. It’s different for everybody. For me, I knew right away. I always had a passion for cooking, and lunch was always my favorite meal of the day.”

She pulled out the baking sheet, set it next to the bowl, and handed him a spoon to scoop out portions.

“Basically, there’s something for you out there that fills you with joy and wonder and purpose. Something so wonderful and amazing that you want to do it every day, or you want to always have it with you. Maybe even start a collection of the thing.”

“Like how Boxy is with boxes?”

“Exactly!” she smiled happy that he was starting to understand.

“But how will I know what I like if all I know is here?” he dropped his cookie dough ball onto the sheet and looked up to the kitchen window.

There was a window in every room now. Always ready for him to see into the void of green.

It was never enough.

“Do you think this has anything to do with the windows?”

Nanna stopped, looked up, and just stared at the nearest window. It almost seemed like she hadn’t noticed it before now.

She hummed thoughtfully, “You know, you might be on to something.”

He perked up, floating high enough to be eye level, his tail swishing in excitement, “You think so?!”

“Maybe we can go out for a picnic the next time Box Ghost stops by.”

He flipped in the air as he clapped.

He couldn’t wait.

===============================================

It took much longer than he would have liked for Boxy to finally show up again. He hoped it wasn’t on purpose.

Nanna packed the biggest basket for their picnic that he had ever seen and Boxy carried the checkered picnic blanket.

Nanna told him he had to stay close, but she didn’t make him hold her hand the whole time so that was nice.

He was twelve now so he was old enough to know how to stay close and not get distracted.

Even if there was just so much to look at. Mostly everything was green outside of Nanna’s house, but sometimes there were bands of darker or even light greens. Occasionally they would pass by purple doors.

Nanna made sure he knew what her door looked like before they headed out into the abyss.

“If you get lost you just head home okay. You just go inside and wait for me.”

He nodded as he memorized her door. It was purple, like all the others, but it didn’t have a handle. It was the kind that just swung open when you pushed it. Whether you were on the inside or the outside, it always swung outward. The bottom third of the door was metallic and shiny enough for him to see his own reflection. Above that was a little circular window, like a porthole on a ship.

He wasn’t sure why that made him smile.

Once she was confident that he could recognize the door they made their way out.

They flew for a while amongst the endless green sky until they came across a doorway. He hesitated for just a moment. The frame looked familiar. Very familiar.

“Are you sure it’s safe to go in there?” he asked as he hovered closer to Nanna.

“Of course, Dumpling. It’s the most stable gateway.”

He knew that.

“Did you want me, the Box Ghost, to go first and scare off any nasty humans?”

Danny nodded and took the wrapped-up picnic blanket from Boxy and hugged it to his chest.

Boxy came back after a few minutes, his head the only thing poking back on their side of the portal, “The Box Ghost has found no one!”

The trio flew out of the portal and straight up through the house until they were outside.

The air felt so different here and he didn’t know why he hadn’t noticed the difference sooner. He took a deep breath and looked up at the sky above. It was pitch black and he could barely make out a few twinkling stars. He couldn’t stop the smile on his face when he saw the crescent moon above.

How could he not smile when it smiled at him first? He wasn’t sure if it was a waxing or waning crescent.

He paused and wondered if this was it. Was this his Spark?

He followed Nanna and Boxy to the park and they had a lovely time with food that was delicious, as always.

He couldn’t keep his eyes from drifting up to the sky whenever there was a lull in the conversation.

“What’s on your mind, Honey?” Nanna asked as she packed up the last of the, now empty, food containers.

“I found my Spark,” he said in barely a whisper, eyes still trained on the sky above.

===============================================

Now that he had found his Spark it felt like everything was moving so fast. His powers came to him more easily. The outfit that he always wore changed to better suit his Spark. He found new things that only he could do.

He loved every second of it.

Then before he knew it, he was fourteen again.

“I think you’re ready now,” Nanna said after a particularly quiet lunch.

“You think so?” he floated out of his seat and helped her with the dishes.

She set the plate down on the counter and took his gloved hand in hers, “Yes my little explorer. You were made to roam.”

He was beyond excited but he had spent so much time with Nanna that he knew he’d miss her, “How about I leave after lunch tomorrow?”

===============================================

He floated in the basement invisibly. He had meant to just pass through, but the room hadn’t been empty.

He just floated there and watched her work.

She was completely oblivious to his presence.

He hadn’t thought of her once while he’d been away.

He had to smother himself when he audibly gasped at the realization.

She flinched and looked around. She never looked to where he was floating.

He was about to just float back inside the portal, about to just call the whole thing off and go back to Nanna’s.

He was, but she shut the portal doors before he could slip back through.

She reached for her hood and slipped the red-tinted goggles over her eyes.

He flew away before she could do anything else.

He found himself in the park. The same one he had found his Spark in.

He looked up to the bright sunny sky. It wasn’t as lovely as the night sky, but it had its own charm.

He floated up and sat in the nearest tree as he tried to decide what to do from here.

Nanna said it wasn’t good to linger. She said not to haunt people. Not to cling to the living.

But that was his mom.

He looked down at his white gloves and wondered if he could still do it. He wouldn’t go back if he couldn’t.

===============================================

He could.

He wasn’t sure why though. This ability had nothing to do with his Spark. It made no sense

Unless he was right before and he wasn’t just a ghost? But wouldn’t Nanna know that?

He stood on the front steps of his childhood home and hesitated. His hand raised to knock on the door, but it was his house wasn’t it? Maybe he should just walk in?

But how long had he been gone?

He should have checked that first.

He dropped his hand and turned around trying to think of the best way to figure that out while also trying to remember what day it was when he left.

The door opened behind him and the person stopped mid-word to gasp, “Danny?”

He turned and felt like a deer in the headlights.

His sister.

God, he hadn’t thought about her either.

He was a terrible brother. A horrible son.

He should have never come here.

She hugged him and all his thoughts stopped.

“Danny, where have you been?” she pulled him tighter before pulling back to really look at him. Checking to see if he was hurt.

His eyes started to water, which was not something he wanted. He didn’t want to cry in front of his sister and he definitely didn’t want to do it on the front steps where anyone could walk by and see him.

“Oh, it’s okay! Come here,” she pulled him into the house and he didn’t resist.

He was too busy trying to keep all the liquid in his face to stay in its proper places.

They sat on the couch but she didn’t let him go. It was like she was afraid that he’d disappear if she wasn’t touching him.

That was a silly thing to think. He could disappear anytime he liked. Human contact had nothing to do with his ability to be perceived by the human eye.

Seeing his normally level-headed sister have such an irrational thought helped him calm down a bit.

“When Sam and Tucker told everyone that you’d been taken yesterday I never expected you to just appear on the doorstep.”

His mouth dropped open slightly but he couldn’t find his voice. Yesterday? He had an existential crisis, was taken in by a nice ghost grandma, figured out the point of his continued existence. Oh and had regressed into a baby and grown-up again, in only one day?!

“How?” the word was so soft Jazz didn’t even notice.

She just kept on talking, “I mean the weird story about a meat monster spiriting you away was definitely original, but obviously not believable. Well not believable to anyone but mom and dad of course.” she looked him over again with a more critical eye, “Where were you anyway? Did you try to run away again?”

He didn’t know how to answer her. He wasn’t sure if he should lie, tell the truth, maybe even just let her believe whatever it was that she wanted to believe.

He just hugged her again. His face burrowed into her shoulder all he could think to do was say he was sorry. So he did.

Over and over and over again.

Was he sorry for disappearing or for being a ghost? He didn’t know. Maybe it was both.

He didn’t know if it was just a coincidence or if he had been crying loud enough, but his parents were soon there too and everyone was hugging him tightly.

His breaths came in shuddering gasps and it took him several minutes before he could calm down again. Everything just felt so much. He felt so warm and alive.

He still didn’t know what to tell his family about why he disappeared. Or what he really was.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to tell them.

When they finally asked he said he didn’t know. He just acted like he didn’t remember anything at all.

He was saving the true story for his friends.

===============================================

He had to wait until the weekend because his parents refused to let him go to school until they figured out who had taken him.

But he couldn’t tell them now. They’d hurt Nanna.

They might hurt him too.

He remembers the stories his mom used to tell. The ones about changelings. How angry she would look just thinking about them.

He was just glad all the tests she tried didn’t tell her he was different. That as far as she was concerned he was human.

The tests only proved that he was the original.

I guess it was nice that she didn’t assume the worst.

He was sitting on his bed with his blankets purposely fluffed up around him. He needed to hide the fact that he wasn’t actually touching the bed, that he was floating a few inches above it.

He was always floating at Nanna’s and it just felt weird not to.

There was a tentative knock on his door and he flew over and silently landed before opening it.

His friends instantly tackled him with affection. The trio was on the ground in a tangle of limbs and apologies.

Once they finally stopped talking over each other and untangled themselves, Danny closed the door as they each took their favorite seats. Tucker in his computer chair and Sam on the windowsill.

Danny took his spot on the bed and pulled his knees up to his chest. It had been over a week and he wasn’t sure how he was going to explain what happened. He still had a hard time figuring out how he had spent so long away in such a small window of time.

“So do you really not remember or is that just what you’re telling your folks?” Sam asked as she kept her eyes trained on him. It was like she was looking for any hint at all for the truth.

“It’s hard to explain.” he started simply.

“Just start at the beginning. What happened after the lunch lady napped you?” Tucker prepped as he anxiously fidgeted in the desk chair enough to wobble it.

“I fell asleep? And when I woke up Nanna was making lunch.” he couldn’t help the fond smile, “She always makes the best lunches. She only makes lunch. It’s only ever lunch. Good though.”

“Nanna?” Tucker asked as he shared his confused look with Sam.

“Yeah. that’s just what I call her. I don’t think that’s her name.”

“Okay? But why call her that?”

“Because she’s my Nanna?” he tilted his head to the side and realized that this was already getting hard to explain and he hadn’t even gotten to the weird stuff yet.

“Like your grandma?” Tucker asked like he was grasping at straws.

“Yeah!” Danny pointed excitedly at Tucker, glad to have a word for it. “She’s my ghost grandma!”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“She literally kidnapped you.”

“No, she didn’t kidnap me. She just took me home with her.”

“Did you want to go home with her?” Sam asked slowly like he was a toddler again.

He did a quick check and he was in fact still a teenager. “It was more like I was abruptly adopted.”

“Is that a thing?” Tucker asked with the most incredulous look.

“Yeah, it’s a ghost thing. Nanna says that older ghosts can adopt any child ghosts, or in my case, baby ghost, that they come across. Luckily, I’m a teenager now! Again?” he put a finger to his lips as he thought about whether or not it would be ‘again�� or not.

Tucker snickered, “Hold on, you’re a baby ghost?”

“Former baby. I’m done with that now.” he sighed and looked away as he mumbled to himself, “I’m so glad that’s over.”

“Excuse me, what?” Sam exclaimed wide-eyed.

He chuckled nervously, “Remember when I said it was hard to explain. That’s what I meant.”

“Wait, hold up.” Tucker stood up from his perched on the edge of his seat position and started to pace, “Are you saying that you were a literal ghost baby or???”

Danny winced and visibly leaned away from his friends, “yeah… it was super weird. Also,” his shoulders were nearly touching his ears with how much he was trying to edge away from the conversation, but knowing he just needed to tell them already, “I think I was gone longer than a day.”

“WHAT?!”

Oh boy, he had a lot of explaining to do.

===============================================

After a very long and snack-filled conversation later, it finally seemed like that they were all up to speed on what had happened to Danny.

“Man, I wish I could have seen you’re baby form.” Tucker chuckled as he set his chip bowl aside.

“Why? It was just me, but littler?” then he suddenly remembered that his ghost form had changed after he found his Spark. “Oh, that’s right! I got an upgrade! Wanna see?”

“Yeah, man!” Tucker said at the same time Sam said, “Of course!”

Danny smiled and transformed.

Both his friends just gasped as they looked at him.

And then they kept staring.

His smile faltered and he bit his lip.

Sam gasped again and shot up to point right at him, “Fangs!”

Well, that wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. Also, hold on?

He ran a curious tongue over his teeth and yeah she was right, his teeth were a bit sharper now. “That was probably from all the meat I ate.”

“Also you’re green,” Tucker added helpfully.

He floated over to his mirror and just stared at himself. Nanna didn’t have any mirrors and he never really thought to check.

His skin was green but much paler than Nanna’s was. He also had bright glowing freckles dusting across his nose and cheeks. It didn’t take much looking to see the constellations they could make. His hair was still white but now it moved like it was being blown in a soft breeze, or maybe it was more like he was underwater?

No! It moved like solar flares! Strands arcing and bending as if he was being affected by cosmic winds.

He smiled and saw his fangs. They weren’t too sharp or scary looking, thankfully. They looked more like slightly dramatic canines than true fangs. He’d seen a few actors with teeth like this so it wasn’t too inhuman.

But he was literally green and glowed so he wasn’t sure why he was worried about that.

Although he was surprised that no one had noticed that he was not as skinny as he was before. He’d gained, as Nanna would say, a healthy amount of weight. Then again, he did wear pretty baggy clothes. He supposed it would be easy enough to overlook that they weren’t exactly loose anymore. And his face still looked the same when he was human, he’d always had chubby cheeks.

Besides, that wasn’t even the best part. The best part was his outfit. Which his friends so rudely hadn’t mentioned yet.

The suit he wore wasn’t so clingy and form-fitting anymore. It was puffier and looked like the ones he’d seen in pictures. Except his was cooler because it had stars on it.

He was an astronaut. Just like he had always wanted to be.

#phic phight #phic phight 21 #Danny Phantom #Lunch Lady (ghost)#rayghosts #ghostsray #theaxolotkween #ghost adoption

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jinxedpanda4life · 4 years ago

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DamiRae Hospital AU?

No I am not writing one, if I could write well I would though! So here are some HCs for a hospital AU. If someone decides to write this then I’ll be your first reader. Also I am sort of basing things off of Grey’s Anatomy just a bit and my limited knowledge of the medical field.

- Starts of as 1st year residents, specialties may vary

- The “Titans” are residents and 1st years that show great promise, this doesn’t really play a role its just what people call them behind their backs

- Dr. Kori Anders is a OBGYN (women parts and birth) resident, a year or two away from finishing

- Dr. Richard “Dick” Grayson is is a surgery resident, trained by the hospital owner Bruce Wayne (who is a world renowned surgeon, has awards, etc), specifically general surgery

- Dr. Garfield Logan is pediatrician (kid doctor) res, bonds well with kids, but is considering going back to school to become a vet instead

- Dr. Jaime Reyes is an oncology (cancer doctor), having had cancer as a teen and is now forever trying to rid the world of it, works mostly with kids and teens

- Dr. Jonathan Kent is a physical therapist that works with pain management. Up beat guy and is always trying to brighten his patient’s lives.

- Dr. Damian Wayne is a surgical intern, blood thirsty little thing, hoping to become a neurosurgeon (brain, spine) (or cardiothoracic (heart, lungs) both are competitive)

- Dr. Raven Roth is an anesthesiologist (the drug person that knocks you out) and is starting her surgical internship (she wanted to do more than just help people get high essentially or whatever) has no current preference for any specific surgical field

- Add in characters:

-- Dr. Jason Todd, trauma surgeon (fits too well)

-- Dr. Timothy Drake diagnostician (medical detective basically)

-- Dr. Donna Troy gynecologist

-- Terra Markov is a nurse (i don’t like Terra but nurses are the actual best)

- Story stuff:

- Damian and Raven meet as they are put under the guidance of the same resident

-Damian has an automatic dislike for Raven because she knows everyone already and is equally, if not much more, knowledgable about surgery, the OR, the ER, protocol, etc He also thinks she is cold because she rarely shows emotion (pot kettle Damian)

- Raven can always be found in the medical archives researching old cases and studying new ones, Damian stumbles upon her when looking for an old cardiomegaly case (enlarged heart).

- Raven gets along with all of the past ‘Robins’ making her a go to intern

- Garfield can be seen whenever he is not needed trying to flirt with Nurse Markov and often goes to Raven to sulk

- Damian and Raven are always early to pre-rounds and are typically the first ones there (usually early in the morning, getting there before 500)

- Jon bumps into Damian more often than not and they start becoming friends (Damian is reluctant at first and is still you know Damian about everything), Damian even recommends patients to him

- Though Damian doesn’t want to really ‘hang out’ with anyone he reluctantly hangs out with the Titans, because of Jon and Dick

- When in a large group when at a bar, club or whatever Damian tends to stay close to Raven because 1) they actually have things to talk about 2) she isn’t loud

- Raven & Damian are both assigned to a case that is frankly befuddling and have to start spending long nights and early mornings together to figure it out

- Over that period of time they learn things about each other:

-- Raven learns:

Damian has a dog (Titus) and cat (Alfred)

He is single (Kori told her) and lives in an apartment close to the hospital

He has lived in various countries

He is trained in multiple martial arts

He prefers his tea with brown sugar and a slice of lemon

His eyes are a true emerald color with a ring of gold and flecks scattered within

He may hide it well but when Raven compliments him he becomes flustered

He speaks to himself in Arabic when he curses, trying to remember something, doesn’t want anyone to know what he is saying

He isn’t always an asshole

When he actually smiles a true and genuine smile, she has heart palpitations

-- Damian learns:

Raven has two tattoos (neither are a bird), a gang tat (she is saving up to get it removed), and a mantra in Azarathian; Azarath Metrion Zinthos

She immigrated from Azarath when she was around 8

Her notes are in Azarathian

She actually feels a lot of emotion and knows how to control them

If she is not reading about a current or past case she is reading any book or file she can get her hands on, he has caught her reading in multiple different languages; Azarathian, English, French, Russian, Arabic, Dutch, Mandarin, (could be more or less)

She lives alone and has a cat, Nevermore, and thanks to Dick he already knew she was single

She likes all tea, no matter how prepared, but prefers the sweetener to be honey

Her hair is black but shines purple, especially under the ER lights

Her eyes are a purple that at first glance look blue, like Elizabeth Taylor, he realizes though her eyes are galaxies on their own

When she smiles the world actually stops moving, her eyes shine like stars and he never wants the world to start moving again

She always wears a necklace with a gold and ruby ring at all times (it was her mother’s wedding ring)

- When Damian starts having le feelings for Raven he considers actually seeking medical advice as this has never happened to him before

- Raven tries her best to contain her feelings when at work, going so far as one day a month staying home just to scream, cry and feel her feelings

- It does not help that new feelings towards Damian start popping up, especially since he starts bringing her tea and hanging out with her at work

- During the middle of their 2nd year of residency someone holds Raven hostage in the hospital to fix someone that person loves (this person had connections to Trigon and knew who Raven was)

- That was not a fun time for either Damian or Raven; Damian was outside the hospital pacing trying to figure something out with the other Titans trying to calm themselves and him down

- Shots are fired and when all is said and done, Raven gets shot in the abdomen and the hand (she was in ICU for a hot sec)

- Damian seemed to be there every time Raven woke up, he was always checking on her during rounds even though he wasn’t on her case

- Raven did have to have surgery on her hand and in her abdomen (idk where i’m not getting that specific), she hated being, in her words, coddled

- Even though Raven was right handed (the one that got shot) she learned how to do everything, writing, eating, going to the bathroom, etc. (many of the other residents are impressed since she keeps working on it after her other hand heals)

- Raven’s room also becomes a space for other residents to destress and just vent about their day. She listens and gives advice, all without looking up from whatever she was doing.

- During this time Raven becomes hooked on Pretty Pretty Pegasus

- Raven’s room is also full of cards, flowers, etc all from fellow staff and some from patients. When she leaves (she spends a couple weeks in thanks to multiple surgeries, recovery, and other minor injuries) all of the gifts litter her apartment, the cards end up in a box by her desk, she presses the flowers, and stuffed animals are donated to children’s shelter (she keeps some that she has grown attached to)

- During this time Damian is more of an ass than usual (people notice and tease him)

- Damian at some points keeps working without breaks/sleep for hours on end. Dick pulls him aside after noticing, scolds and forces him to sleep in one of the on call rooms. (He really wanted him to go home, but Damian wasn’t leaving)

- Once Raven was discharged Damian and Garfield help her back home (clothes + gifts + Raven w/a healing hand/other injuries = need help) the other Titans would have helped but were needed at the hospital

- Garfield leaves after dropping off Raven and Damian (and her stuff) as he is called in on a Peds case (could be fake, may not be) and Raven & Damian spend the rest of the time basically watching terrible movies. (with Nevermore sitting on both of them)

- That is the night Damian realizes that not only does he like Raven, but he like likes her. He starts devising plans on how to get her to date him.

- All his plans basically are thrown out the window because of one reason or another (he kept overthinking it)(poor guy)

- It is not until their 3rd year of residency that Raven realizes her feelings towards Damian (Have I made it clear she likes him? I can’t remember...)

- She realizes her feelings when she has to crash at his place for a night (because he lives ridiculously close to the hospital, like how expensive is that??) and he tries to make sure that she is as comfortable as possible

- She never realized how much he cared for her? Like she was always helping him out and there for him but she never realized he reciprocated that care? *Shocker*

- Raven becomes kind of a mess because of all her emotions that she is trying to bottle up. (all the corks are disintegrating and the jar is overflowing)

- Raven is during her Ortho rotation (bone surgeon people, they are cool, ik from experience) that she actually gets a good release for her emotions (setting peoples bones and drilling and hammering in pins is actually therapeutic)

- Raven thinks that may be the specialty she chooses

- Damian saw her as a mess and could not fathom why she was said mess, he figured it was about a romantic interest after someone made an offhand comment about her love life and she became a blubbering mess (very un-Raven like)

- After all of well *motions with hands* that Raven asks why Damian doesn’t have a s/o or someone

- He says there is only person that he has been meaning to ask out (looks pointedly at Raven)

- All Raven says is “Go for it.”

And that is where my HCs end. Now if anyone who happens upon this post decides to write a Medical AU with any of these please tag me, tell me, message me.

You do not have to give me credit, I just want to read it.

This took me a couple of days to write up, so if it is disjointed I apologize.

If anything needs to be corrected for any reason let me know!

I hope this fuels some imaginations!

-I may post more HC AU things if they come to mind, we will have to see.

#damirae #damian x raven #demonbirds #teen titans #raven #damian wayne #rachel roth #headcanon #medical au #au

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haravath0t · 4 years ago

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A Christmas Wish - Day 1

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Filipino!Reader

Warnings: fluff, an immense word count, a talk with the mom??

Hello, everyone! Finally, we have Day 1 of A Christmas Wish! I’m so happy I found a way to extend the Christmas Spirit well into the year through this request! We are uncovering a huge tradition that means a lot to me and my family as Filipinos! Many of the Filipino community are Christian/Catholic, so this particular tradition will be based on the Christian Christmas tradition for the sake of the plot and its personal meaning! I hope this is something that can be understood between author to reader! I promise, the religious aspect of this particular tradition will not be as emphasized as other parts of the culture that I will introduce! Happy readings my lovelies, and to all my Filipino readers, pasensya kung mali ng English translation ko. Ang hirap naman talaga mg translate eh 😅😅😅 huhuuuu

(italics indicate flashbacks! english translations are provided and the pictures of the foods are attached in the bottom!)

You opened your eyes excitedly, a big smile forming on your face as you remembered a particular memory from yesterday that really made you so happy:

You, Steve, and your family had finished putting your luggage in the trunk of the van, squeezing themselves in either of the two vans. The driver was now hours in on the road, the chaos had died down as your cousins who decided to join yours and Steve’s van were asleep. The city was long gone, as the buildings had now become hills and green fields, passing by small little towns and provinces. The once crowded and traffic highways turned into a wide empty road.

Contrary to your cousins who fell back asleep, you were wide awake, not only from the jet lag, but also from your excitement. You were sitting in the middle of the back row of the van, earphones plugged in your ears, listening to the familiar tracks of OPM (Original Pinoy Music) and 70s/80s hits that you were familiar with from your karaoke nights with your parents. Steve was seated on the window (something you recommended him to do), looking as the green grass and hills passed by. Steve couldn’t help but smile, this was something that was so new to him, but it was something you saw as a reminder that you were actually back with your family, back in your roots, back home. It was simple. That’s what he liked most.

“What do you think so far? We’re still a bit far from the hotel and their house, but we’re about more than halfway home,” you ask softly. Steve’s eyes left the window as he instead looks at your lovely sparkling eyes. He couldn’t help the smile that forms on his face as he easily recognizes the excitement on your face. “I already love it, doll. I really do. I can’t wait to have you and your family show us around.” He says softly yet with sincerity. You smiled excitedly and took an earbud out of your ear, kissing his cheek before you put the earbud in his ear, making him laugh. “Y/N, doll, what are you doing?” He asks softly as his eyebrows furrow. You giggle as you scroll through your list of songs that you had downloaded on your phone. “Oh, I figured… well.. If you want, we can listen to this playlist? We can try napping?” You offer, the excited smile turning in a shy one, tints of pink being apparent on your cheeks. Steve’s smile only grew as he kissed your forehead. “Yeah, I’d love that, sugar. What’s the type of music in this one?” He asks softly, securing the earbud into his ear further. “It has some Filipino music and some 70s and 80s songs that my parents love… I listened to them all the time growing up,” you reply with a smile, choosing the song “I Think I’m Falling in Love” by The Boyfriends, smiling as the familiar opening notes are being played into yours and Steve’s ear. Steve’s eyebrows raise in surprise when the music plays but smiles as he lets the tune settle into his ears. Steve subconsciously wraps his arm protectively around your body, “C’mon honey, get comfy, yeah?” You did not think twice as you lean against him, resting your head against the crook of his neck, a big smile on your face reappearing as his familiar scent fills your nostrils. A deep chuckle is felt underneath your body. “Feelin’ better?” He asks softly, resting his cheek against your head. “Mhm, much better.” You sigh happily, closing your eyes as you feel his fingers comb your hair. You smile as you drift off to sleep, hearing the lyrics “I think I’m falling in love, something’s telling me so”.

“You do realize wherever you’re goin’ I’m goin’ right?” He asks with a smile, as he swallows a piece of pandesal. “This is so good by the way,” he adds before you speak up. “I know, but this thing takes place at 4 AM in the Cathedral, Steve! That’s early! “Okay, but we go to different time zones for missions, sweetheart. This is not new, we’ll be fine, you know me,” he responds, chuckling, “besides, we can sleep in after everything.” “Fair point,” you giggle, finishing your milk and throwing the plastic cup away. You kiss Steve’s head and hug him from behind. “Well… I can’t thank you enough, honey. You are doing so much already. Thank you. My family likes you already, I’m sure” A comforting hand rubs your forearm up and down before a soft pair of lips meets the back of your hand. “I’d be very happy if your family does. Their opinion of us matters to me too.” “How’d you even know about us going to mass today?” “Your Tita Joy mentioned it actually last night over dinner, asked if we both were going to Simbang...Simbang Gabi?” Your heart leapt at the sound of Steve saying something in Tagalog, a giggle erupting from your lips. “Goodness, Steve, you’re so adorable. Come on, we gotta get ready if we’re going to the Cathedral by jeepney.” You say, kissing his head before you get your clothes from your suitcase to head to the bathroom.

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckles, playfully saluting you before he follows suit.

Steve was quite happy he tagged along with you, for the town was wonderfully decorated with parols (Christmas lanterns) and a nativity scene in front of the Cathedral. Not only that, he loved seeing you focused throughout the service, watching as you were alongside your family and practicing your tradition. It was truly something beautiful to see in his eyes.

Now, you and your family and Steve were outside of the Cathedral alongside other churchgoers, the town now starting to busy itself as the dawn arrives. There were now many food stalls outside, serving coffee and tea as well as wonderful foods to pair with the Christmas season. These included, bibingka, puto (rice cakes), suman, pandesal, and so much more. “Teka lang, Nanay, kukuha ako lang pagkain para sa atin lahat,” (hold on, mom, I’m just going to get some food for all of us) you say to your mom, her nodding in response. “Oh sige, anak. Sama mo ng Tatay mo! May pera s’ya!” (Alright, take your father with you! He has money!) She responds as you disappear in the crowd to get your guys’ share of good food. Steve only smiles at the interaction, watching as you go ahead with your father to one of the food stalls. “She’s like a kid, isn’t she?” Your mom says to Steve causing him to jump a little and only nod in response. “Yes, ma’am.” She playfully groans and waves her hand to him dismissively. “Oh, please you’re gonna call me ma’am? No, Tita will do for now,” She chuckles, making Steve relax in relief, not realizing his body had been tense. “Oh, Okay Tita.” She smiles and gives Steve a thumbs up and a nod of approval, which makes Steve smile. “You know, Steve, this whole Simbang Gabi thing is something she always has done since she was a girl. She loved it very much.” Steve smiles at this, imagining a younger you holding your parents’ hands as you make your way in the church. “It makes sense why she was up earlier than me during the Christmas season. I always wake up for a morning jog. I normally hear or see her out and about back home.” Your mom only chuckles, watching you and your father order some bibingka first.

“Did she tell you what her motivation was as a kid?” She asks, seeing Steve shake his head. “No, I haven’t.” “Ahh, well, there’s this funny folk belief here, you see. If you attend all 9 masses, then you can make a wish and your wish will come true if that’s what God wills it to be.” Your mother explains, smiling when Steve has an “aha” moment and nods in understanding. “I think that’s beautiful,” he says, hands fumbling within the pockets of his jeans, eyes making contact with yours. He smiles even more when you show your beautiful smile before you go back to ordering from the stalls. “You really love my daughter, don’t you Steven?” She asls, looking up at the taller man. “With all of my heart, Tita,” he responds firmly and surely, which eases your mom.

“That’s good to hear. I love the certainty. She deserves that much you know. She’s been through a lot. And… I can see the way you two look at each other. It makes me happy,” She says, sighing in content. “We’re glad to be able to have you celebrate with us. Goodness, I cannot even thank you enough for letting us fly over with you two.” “It’s not a problem, Tita,” He starts. “Family is important to Y/N, and I hope you know that she talks about you guys constantly. I can’t blame her, you all are very kind and lovely to me. It’s been a wish for her to come here for the holidays.” “Her wish, huh?” Your mom smiles. “Yes, Tita.” “What about you? You’re joining us in these, so do you have a wish?” Your mother presses on, burning through Steve’s eyes with her eye contact. Steve however, was blushing for different reasons. “I do, Tita. It’s ambitious, so let’s see.” “Well don’t be shy, tell me!” Your mom squeals excitedly, motioning to Steve to whisper it into her ear. And so he does, your mom is smiling bigger and bigger and bigger as she hears.

“Oh, susmaryosep! (Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!) That’s a nice wish, very ambitious, I like it! I’m sure it will come true. I’m sure.” Your mom exclaims clapping her hands together in pure excitement. “You...you think so?” Steve asks shyly, seeking for reassurance. “It’s a tough one, Tita. I’m sure you’ve heard the expression “a man out of time” being used on me. It’s a very tough thing to do, you know, to adjust to current events and current society.” He comments, scratching the back of his head. “And you are doing good, Steve. You’re an honest hardworking guy. I promise. I think when the time is right, you’ll get what you wish for.” “Well let’s see, Tita, let’s see.”

FOODS MENTIONED BELOW!!!

Pandesal (bread rolls)

Puto (rice cakes)

Bibingka

Suman

Permanent Taglist: @world-of-aus @world-of-aus-reads @whew-oh-em-gee @tomholland-96 @lordyitsjordy @letstalkaboutsebbaby @thee-soom-soom @lookiamtrying @vesper852 @hailhydra920 @buckybarnesthehotshot @heyiamthatbitch @rodrikstark

A Christmas Wish Taglist: @faithtrustandrobbiekay

(If you would like to be included in a tag list let me know via ask! ❤️☺️)

#mcu #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x filipina!reader #steve rogers x filipino!reader #filipino marvel #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction

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apenapaperandadoofus · 4 years ago

Note

RFA PLAYS AMONG US HCS

YES I LOVE THIS

And imma add the minor trio and Rika too!

RFA+minor trio+Rika playing among us:

Zen:

As crewmate: he’s pretty chill, his avatar is the white one with a halo (because he has an angelic face), his name is Zen with a little heart and he sticks with you and Jaehee most of the time. He does some of his tasks, to prove he’s innocent and then he’ll follow you and Jaehee around to sort of “protect” you. When an emergency meeting is called he is the one in the groups that talks and tries to find out who’s the impostor, along with some other people. He will say that you and Jaehee are innocent and he’ll defend you :)

As impostor: he gets caught immediately because he always kills Jumin first and then when an emergency meeting is called he’ll say “I’m sure he deserved it” or he’s just laughing evilly in the background. He will kill everyone except you and Jaehee! Another way of finding out if it’s him is that he will also kill whoever killed him last round just to get some revenge pft. But the more you all play, the better he gets and soon enough he’s fooling everyone around him (I mean he’s an actor, he can lie) so Zen is pretty good at being the impostor (but he doesn’t kill you or Jaehee so that’s another way of finding out it’s him lmao)

Yoosung:

As crewmate: He plays with the light green avatar, and he didn’t really have like an accessory until Seven hacked into his server and made Yoosung’s avatar wear the post it note that says ‘I’m dumb’ or something like that lmao (he also changes Yoosung’s name to baby Yoosung or something like that which makes Yoosung so freaking angry pft.) Anyway, since LOLOL is something that requires teamwork, he’s pretty good at it! He’s always doing his tasks and sticks to you or Seven. He is the one that gets killed first tho, on A L L O F T H E R O U N D S which makes him shout and scream (sometimes he will rage quit while Seven is just laughing his ass off.) Also if he isn’t killed by the impostor then he’s voted off pretty early lmao

As impostor: he’s an angry chihuahua out for vengeance. He normally gets caught in the 2-3 round. Also. He kills V first so thats how you know. He will literally just kill V and then he won’t do anything else, his purpose is complete (he might kill Seven if he feels like it tho.) its pretty easy to know when he’s the impostor lmao. Also he doesn’t know how to really lie and you can catch him pretty easily.

Jaehee:

As crewmate: she is so freaking perfect holy shit. She gets her tasks done super quick, and she’s the one that can actually guess correctly about who the impostor is. Her avatar is the orange one, and she doesn’t really have any accessories, her name is simply Jaehee. When she’s crewmate she’s super cooperative, and she’s just, the perfect player. She loves trying to figure out who the impostor is, and she’s the one that actually uses evidence to get someone voted off.

As impostor: dude. SHES PERFECT TOO PFT. She is literally one of the best impostors. No one is able to suspect it’s her, and she managed to get the group to vote off someone without seeming too suspicious. She also may or may not sometimes kill Jumin first, it mayyybe makes her a bit happy lmao. She will leave MC for last though, and she will follow MC all around the ship. She doesn’t usually kill a lot though, she mostly sabotages the ship and that’s how she wins.

Jumin:

As crewmate: MY BEAUTIFUL BABY AHHH.

So, his avatar is purple, and he has The cat head hat as his accessory. Seven hacked so his name would be Cat Mom. Alright so our baby actually gets killed first lol. If Yoosung doesn’t get killed, then it’s him. He also finishes his tasks quickly (once he learns how to really play, it does take him a while and he will need your help.) When he isn’t killed he’s also really good at finding out who the impostor is, using facts and logic. He’s a genius my babyyyy. I love him pft. Anyway, Jumin is really really good at finding the impostor which is why they also always kill him lmao. He will stick close to you no matter what.

As impostor: listen. The first time he played and got impostor, he immediately said in the chat: MC can you explain this to me? I can’t do the tasks, and it only lets me ‘vent’ and ‘sabotage’. Do you know what this means? Also why is my name in red?”

He shortest round ever lmao. But then, he’s super good,once he gets the hang of it. The only people he refuses killing is you and V. He’s super good at lying, no one can tell it’s him because he’s perfect at defending himself. Jumin kills and sabotages, he usually does a bit of both. If he has to kill someone like you or V,he will immediately apologize in the chat, and apologize for everyone he balmed or killed too lmao. But it’s so cute. Also Seven taught him that whenever a game finishes he has to say ‘gg ez’ and now he won’t stop saying it. ‘Mr. Han, we managed to sign the contract with Mr. Kim.’ Gg ez. He leaves the chatroom, he signs off with gg ez. ‘Jumin would you like your pancakes with sugar?’ Yes love, thank you. Gg ez. It won’t. Stop.

Saeyoung:

As crewmate: boi. This guy is just super chaotic. He will act like he’s the impostor to scare everyone. He will be following you to make you uneasy. He doesn’t really do the tasks, and mostly focuses on teasing Yoosung or Jumin. He’s also the reason Yoosung gets voted off pretty early lmao. He’ll call an emergency meeting the first 5 seconds of the game and say he just missed you all, and wanted to see your faces pft. Still, when he gets his head in the game (ooo get dat reference??) he’s super good. Sometimes he will play seriously, but it’s like, a 1/100 chance lol. His avatar is the red one, and his accessories will change every single round.

As impostor: He’s still chaotic lmao. As for his name...it’s green lmao. It’s mostly when he’s playing with other people though, but Jumin will always refer to everyone by their username, so he will say “I saw Green vent.” And then everyone will voye Yoosung lmao. He’s like CallmeKevin (his Among Us videos are amazing, rip to peepeepoopoo, 21, Big Chungus, and the rest.) Saeyoung is just a huge troll lmao. He will also kill in front of Yoosung and then proceed to say that Yoosung was the one who did it lol. Oh I really want to play with him lmao it’d be so fun to form a freaking alliance.

As crewmate: he’s super cooperative. His avatar is the turquoise one, and his accessory is the snow crewmate (Seven hacked so V could have one pft.) V always does his tasks. He isn’t one to suspect people, and he’s always the one that reports the bodies. He believes that no one gets voted off unless you’re all 100% sure that the person is the impostor. V was the one that taught Jumin how to play and they mostly spend the whole game together. Also if someone kills him, he’ll be the one to apologize (LMAO I’m sorry, but it’s now a rule that V has to always apologize for something in my head canons, B U T you KNOW he would! This man will apologize for being born lmao -honey no please-)

As impostor: he will lowkey cry. Nah I’m joking lmao. He doesn’t kill everyone and mostly uses sabotage. He doesn’t really blame anyone either. He’s like...a pacifist impostor lol. He doesn’t like getting impostor that much, but he’s the one that gets it’s like three times in a row. There’s nothing else to say, because we all know that V ain’t doing shit as impostor lmao he’s a sweet baby that doesn’t want anyone to get hurt. He does sometimes kill accidentally, when someone suddenly appears close to him he will sometimes press the kill button (he always forgets it’s there) and ends up killing the person, then he’ll confess to everyone and apologize pft.

Saeran:

As crewmate/Impostor:

Ray: sweetest bean ever. Has the pink avatar and the little flower as accessory. He likes doing his tasks and will follow you around every where. He’s always super quick to blame Saeyoung though. As impostor he will always kill Saeyoung and V. He’s actually really good at lying, since he looks so sweet and innocent. He won’t kill you.

Suit: Black avatar, knife hat. He’s always suspicious. He won’t let anyone follow him. He doesn’t really do his tasks, and is not one to participate in the chat. He always laughs when someone gets killed. As impostor he always wins. He will kill everyone in a single round, no one really knows how he does it, but when he’s impostor the round is never long.

Unknown: he has the black avatar too, with the fedora cuz why not? He doesn’t really do his tasks, and mostly follows you around. Not to like, frighten you or anything, but he does like teasing you sometimes. He will not take part in the discussion most of the times, but sometimes he’ll just say: it’s zen... and BAM he’s right.

SE! Saeran: he has The pink avatar and the little crewmate pet. He likes doing tasks and walking around the ship. He also won’t really participate in discussions. He doesn’t really like getting impostor, and he will always win by sabotaging. It’s just...something about killing them (even though it’s a game) that makes him feel weird. Sometimes he will kill Saeyoung though, but it’s probs because he wants to get revenge for a prank or smth lmao.

GE! Saeran: he has either the pink or white avatar, with the flower hat or the snow crewmate. He always follows you around and is pretty good at doing tasks. He’s also a bit more active during discussions. When he’s impostor sometimes he will kill Saeyoung, but it’s in a more to tease his brother kind of way. He is pretty good at lying, but he will always tell you if he’s the impostor. He also won’t tell if you’re the impostor on a round too lmao,he’s just so cute and loyal.

Vanderwood:

As crewmate: first. How in the diddly darn fuck did you get him to play LMAOO. He got stuck with the a maid hat and dress that Seven made for him lol. He’s fine as a crewmate, and he is the one to vote people off mostly because of gut feeling. He can always catch Seven when he’s the impostor too lol, he’ll just call an emergency meeting five seconds into the game and type: ‘it’s seven’ and 80% of the time it is.

As impostor: the other 20% of the time he isn’t right about Seven is because Vanderwood is blaming him lmao. He’s a really sneaky impostor, he’s super good at using vents and great at killing people. He’s also one to win the rounds pretty quickly.

Rika:

As crewmate: she’s still sus lmao. Yoosung is always defending her though. Rika doesn’t really do her tasks, she doesn’t really do anything really. She follows you around, and will always say you’re innocent though. Her avatar is the yellow one with ram horns (don’t ask why, it’s the first thing that popped into my head lmao)

As impostor: ahhh she’s super good at manipulating and blaming others. She also frames V a lot lmao. She will kill everyone, no mercy at all. Saeran and Yoosung are always defending her, so she’s pretty good and hiding that she’s the impostor. During meetings she’ll stay quiet and mostly watch, but sometimes she will say something to stir the blame to someone, in such a...natural manner. She’ll just be perfect at shifting the blame without being suspicious. She’s really good at being impostor.

#mystic messenger #saeyoung choi #mysme #saeran choi #jumin han #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #jihyun mysme #choi bois

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 5 years ago

Text

Logan's Flawless Plan to Getting Out of Being Sick

Ao3

Summary: Logan was sick. He was well-aware of this fact. He was also well-aware that he had better things to be doing than lying about and ‘resting.’ His husband disagrees Content: Sickfic, fever + coughing are the only mentioned symptoms, brief unsafe binding, one alcohol mention, taking more medicine than the dosage amount, the consequences of that (gaps in time/memory, minor hallucinations, senses going fuzzy), half-collapsing, swearing, transmale!logan, transmale!remy, lots of sappy losleep Pairing: Romantic losleep Notes: Three of them: -Based on this post -You’ll notice Logan doesn’t try to keep Remy from getting sick. This is bc they both know Remy’s already doomed to get sick, given he and Logan live together. This was important to me to say bfchsdf -This story’s in Logan’s POV. And Logan is very loopy. Keep this in mind.

Logan was sick

“You’re not going to work today.”

Terribly, horribly sick.

“Yes I am.”

But that wasn’t going to stop him from doing his job, damnit.

Logan heard his husband sigh as he tried to properly tie his tie for the fifth time. The normally easy, effortless action had become difficult, his fingers slow and fumbling as he tried to pull the loop together. He dropped the fabric with a huff after another attempt failed.

Hands that weren’t his own entered his field of vision, tugging the tie off his neck. “You shouldn’t be wearing this anyways.” Remy murmured, likely tossing it to the side. “You’re already coughing enough without it.”

“I’m not coug-” Logan broke off halfway through his sentence, taking a moment to cough into his arm and think about the irony of the moment, “-coughing that much.”

“Mm-hmm. I call bullshit, darling.” Remy said, brushing some of Logan’s hair behind his ear before resting his hand against Logan’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re sick, is what you are.”

“No, I just-” Logan once more paused to cough, Remy guiding him to sit back down on the bed when a few seconds passed and he was still coughing.

“You want to finish that sentence?” Remy asked, tone slightly mocking but mostly concerned.

“Alright, fine. I’m sick.” Logan admitted before continuing on petulantly, “But I’m still going to work.”

“No, you’re not. You’ll just make yourself worse, and you’ll get all your students sick while you’re at it.”

“They have better immune systems, and I‘ll keep plenty of distance between myself and them.” Logan reasoned. “I’m going to work.”

Remy shook his head. “You have a minor death wish, babe. What’s so wrong with staying home and resting and being doted on by your wonderful boyfriend?”

“Husband, Remy, we’re married.”

Remy’s eyes widened in both surprise and recollection, and Logan let out a little content sigh, leaning his head against Remy’s shoulder. “We are, aren’t we?” Remy said, voice joyfully awed.

“We are.” Logan confirmed. “I got you a very pretty ring for it and we exchanged some very cheesy vows and everything.”

“I know. Just forgot for a moment.” Remy said, raising Logan’s left hand so he could press a kiss both to the back of his hand and over his wedding ring. Logan knew he should tell him not to, warn him of germs and the like, but he found it doubtful Remy would listen to him anyways. “Now. What’s so wrong with staying home and resting and being doted on by your wonderful husband?”

“I have important lessons to teach. And it’s unfair to just abandon my students with no warning.” Logan answered. “They at least need a warning that I’m not going to be there tomorrow.”

Remy rubbed circles into the back of Logan’s hand. “You really want to go in, huh.”

“Yes. But only for today, I promise- I’ll stay home tomorrow.”

“I’m not sure you can make it through the day, babe.” Remy said, concern once more leaking into his voice. “Your temp’s real high, and you haven’t even been up for an hour yet.”

“One class then. I can leave a note for the rest of the classes. Please, Rem.” Logan begged. “Just one class.”

Remy pulled his head back a bit, still allowing Logan’s head to remain on his shoulder while also letting him look at Logan’s face. “Why do you want to go in so badly, hun?”

“I promised my students I wouldn’t flake out on them if they didn’t flake out on me. I have to keep that promise.”

“I hardly count being too sick to work ‘flaking out.’”

“Please, Remy, please?” Was Logan’s only response, using his new advantage of Remy being able to see his face by pouting. Remy always folded when he pouted. “One class. Just so I can leave notes for the students. Please.”

Remy’s resolve against his pouting husband lasted for five seconds. “You know I hate it when you do it.” He huffed, though he didn’t sound very annoyed as he moved to card his fingers through Logan’s hair. “One class. That’s all.”

Logan let out a sigh of relief and slumped further against Remy. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Remy said. “But I’m coming with you to make sure you don’t try to stay longer. And you’re staying home tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. And you’re going to get changed into your comfy clothes. You don’t need to be in your polo and slacks right now.”

“Fine.” Logan said neutrally, still just thankful he had managed to convince Remy to let him go at all. Hopefully, going through the motions of the first class would make him feel better, thereby making him less sick, thereby letting him further convince Remy he was fine enough to work the whole day. A foolproof plan. Probably. “Can I at least leave my binder on?”

Remy went stiff next to him, which Logan thought was rude, considering Remy’s shoulder was much nicer to lay against when the muscles in it weren’t so tense. “Hun, please tell me you’re joking.”

“About what?”

“Having your binder on while you’re having coughing fits, that’s what!” Remy said, sounding slightly frantic. “Love, you know I’d give you anything I could, but you need to take that off. Now.”

Logan whined against Remy’s shoulder, not particularly inclined to feel childish for doing so. “I like it on.”

“I know you do, starshine, and normally I do too, but right now I’d really, really like it if it was off of you, okay?” Remy said, still sounding frantic though his voice was very gentle. Ah. That meant he was really worried. Maybe Logan should take the binder off.

“...Alright.” Logan mumbled, trying to not feel too put out. He was sure there was a good reason Remy wanted him to take his binder off. Granted, at the moment, he couldn’t remember it, but he tried not to worry about that. He didn’t need to remember all the important stuff. Remy would remind him. Remy was good like that. Remy was so, so good.

“Alright. That’s good.” Remy said, sounding calmer. He pressed a kiss to Logan’s forehead before getting up, making sure Logan wouldn’t fall over without him supporting Logan’s head before stepping away. “I’mma grab you your sweater, okay? The nice, big lumpy one. And some other comfy clothes. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Logan nodded as he started to tug his shirt off, aware that his polo didn’t count as comfy clothes. Remy nodded with him before turning and wandering out of the room. Logan wasn’t sure where he was going- to be frank, Logan wasn’t completely sure where the door he had gone through led to, but he was sure that wherever Remy was going, it was the right place to be going.

Though it took a fair amount of fumbling, Logan managed to shed his shirt and binder, having moved on to fighting his belt buckle by the time Remy returned.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Remy said, dropping a pile of clothes next to Logan as he easily undid the belt, pulling it free of its loops before helping Logan to pull his pants off as well. “There we go.”

“I took off my binder.” Logan said, a bit abruptly. He knew that Remy could see that the binder was off and next to him, but he felt he had to say it too, just in case, to make sure Remy wouldn’t start sounding frantic and worried again. Logan didn’t like when Remy sounded like that. Remy shouldn’t have to be frantic and worried.

“I know, love, I saw.” Remy said, reaching up to cup Logan’s cheek. “And I’m so proud of you for doing that. You did very good, yeah?”

Logan nodded. “Yeah.”

Remy smiled at him. “Let’s get you into these nice comfy clothes now, okay? Then we can go and make sure you’re not late for class while also being very cozy and very lumpy. And I’ll be lumpy too so we can both suffer the world binder-less together, because I’m pretty sure that’s what true love is.”

“True love is you.” Logan said, and while he wasn’t quite sure where the words came from, or exactly what they meant, he was sure he meant them.

Remy chuckled. “You’re cute when you’re loopy.” He said, picking up the first article of clothing on the pile- a pair of dark sweatpants. “Now come on. Let’s get you dressed.”

It took ten minutes for Logan to get dressed, mostly because he insisted on trying to put on each article of clothing himself, only to be forced to accept Remy’s help when he proved unable to fully pull anything over his head. He did, however, manage to get the pants on by himself, and he decided that was the greatest achievement of his life.

Remy got himself dressed while Logan put on his shoes and prepared his ‘secret weapon’, only taking three minutes to get on an outfit nearly identical to Logan’s, which Logan considered to be unfair. He looked good, too, even in his bigger jacket and with his tousled hair. Logan felt and looked like a lump. A hot, frustrated lump. Though maybe that was the minor fever.

Logan took a swig of his secret weapon and tried not to choke on the taste. Hopefully the fever would be taken care of soon enough. And he could deal with being a lump if it made Remy happy.

At Logan’s grimace after his sip, Remy, who was waiting for his coffee to finish brewing, raised an eyebrow. “Forgot to add the sugar to your tea?”

Logan shook his head. “Not tea.”

“...What is it?”

“My secret weapon.”

Remy frowned. “Logan, honey, I can’t let you drink vodka while you’re sick. Or whiskey. Or whatever alcohol you have in there. And I definitely can’t let you bring it to school-”

“It’s not alcohol!” Logan defended, just managing to bite back on a ‘mostly.’ That wasn’t going to help him or his mission.

Remy’s eyes widened. “Rat poison is worse.”

“Why do you- it’s not rat poison either, I promise.” Logan said, taking Remy’s hand and squeezing it. “It’s just some tea. My throat’s raw, that’s all.”

“...I thought it wasn’t tea?”

“Did I say that?” Logan asked, because he really wasn’t sure. Everything felt fuzzy, memory included. He hoped that meant the secret weapon was kicking in and not that his fever was getting worse. He had things to do.

Remy was still watching him a bit too closely and Logan realized he hadn’t given a very good answer. “We should be going.” He said, hoping that would distract Remy. He knew pushing the point that he was only drinking tea would result in Remy wanting to taste said tea to be sure he wasn’t lying and Logan knew that wasn’t going to work.

Luckily for him, Remy let it slide.

“Yeah, we should.” He agreed, reaching over to grab his coffee before wrapping his free arm around Logan’s waist, pulling him close as they started to head for the door. “I already got the keys in my pocket.”

“I can walk perfectly well on my own, you know.” Logan pointed out, even as he leaned into Remy’s grasp. Just because he didn’t need to be coddled didn’t mean he didn’t like to be near to his husband.

Remy chuckled. “I know, babe, but I also know that you keep wobbling with every other step. I don’t need you adding a bad fall to your list of problems.” He teased. When he got to the door, however, he stopped before opening it, glancing at Logan with light concern. “Are you sure you want to go to work? I know you want to warn your students you’ll be gone, but the more rest you get, the quicker you’ll be better-”

Logan silenced Remy by leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. “I’ll be just fine, dear.” Logan said as smoothly as he could. “But your worry is appreciated.”

Remy didn’t seem wholly convinced, but he still nodded, pressing a quick return kiss to the top of Logan’s head. “Alright. I believe you.” He said before he moved to open the door, somehow managing the feat despite still holding his coffee cup. Leaning slightly more into his touch, Logan allowed Remy to lead him out to the car.

The ride to the university Logan worked at was unimpressive, mostly due to the fact that Logan barely remembered a minute of it. He felt as if all his senses were going fuzzy at the edges, what little focus he had left becoming untrustworthy as he could’ve sworn he saw green stars dancing across the windshield at some point during the drive. The lack of feeling was, however, sufficiently numbing the pain of his fever, so Logan was taking that as a plus.

He only realized they were at the university when Remy was shaking his arm, looking at him funny as Logan partially snapped out of the daze he had been in.

“Are you sure you’re okay, sugar?” Remy asked, sounding once more worried. Logan frowned. He didn’t want Remy to sound worried. “We can go home if you need to…”

Logan shook his head instinctively when he heard home. He couldn’t go home. The whole point of this was to be at work and get into his schedule and pretend everything was fine until it was and feel better so that Remy didn’t have to be worried.

“If you’re sure.” Remy said, though he certainly didn’t sound very sure. Logan frowned more as Remy helped him get out of the car, leaning against him without comment this time. Remy made a very good support. Especially when the entire world was jumping up and down. Repeatedly.

The walk from the parking lot to his classroom was not one Logan remembered, but Logan tried not to let that bother him. He must have drunk more of his secret weapon, though, because the world was starting to become easier to focus on again. The world was also filled with purple and yellow scars that seemed to be tearing apart the fabric of reality, but Logan was fairly certain those were always there.

A blink took him from outside his classroom to inside, where he found his class already waiting for him, all eyes on him and Remy as soon as they entered. Good. They were there, and he could see them clearly. Double win.

“Professor…?” One of the students (send Logan home if he knew which one) said hesitantly. Probably confused by why Remy was there.

Logan patted Remy’s shoulder, hoping that would signal to him that Logan didn’t need his support anymore. Remy promptly let go of him, albeit slowly, watching Logan carefully to make sure he didn’t fall over the moment he stood on his own. Did Logan wobble? No, not at all.

...Maybe a little.

Logan rubbed at the new bruise he had on his hip that may or may not have come from him stumbling into a desk, hard. Okay, maybe a lot. But it was fine, he was fine- he hadn’t fallen over, yet, and that was what really mattered.

By the time he had made it to his desk, set in the center of the front of the room for a reason Logan was sure was very logical, all eyes were on him, including the eyes that were normally still on their phones or closed in faux rest. Another point in his favor. No need to call the class’s attention when he already had it.

Of course, now he needed something to start the lesson with. What was the lesson anyways? Actually, while he was wondering, what class did he teach? How was Logan going to start a class he knew nothing about?

Logan’s gaze flickered to the corner of the classroom, ignoring the sea of concerned looks from his students to focus on the concerned look from Remy, who had even taken his sunglasses off just so Logan could see it. If he had ever had them on. Had he? Didn’t matter. Unimportant. What was important was that Logan had an idea: if he didn’t know how to start class, he would simply steal Remy’s style.

That thought (and no others) in mind, Logan slammed his thermos on top of his desk.

The entire class, Remy included, startled at the noise, all thrown off by it. The only reason it didn’t startle Logan was because he didn’t hear it. At the newly bewildered expressions of everyone in front of him, he cleared his throat, still channeling Remy as he began,

“There’s more pressure in my sinuses right now then there is at the bottom of the sea.” A lie- the real problem Logan was dealing with at the moment was the fever he couldn’t feel but could taste (it tasted peppery, which was appropriate, Logan decided). That and the fact that Logan didn’t think it was humanly possible for his sinuses to be more pressurized than the bottom of the sea. Maybe it was. He should test that.

But not now. Now the class was clearly waiting for him to continue, and continue he would, because he had planned an entire paragraph of this and he was going to say all of it so long as he had vocal cords.

“This,” Logan paused. The container in his hand had a name. Too bad he couldn’t remember it. Logan clicked his tongue, deciding a substitution would have to do before he started again, “This thing’s full of NyQuil.”

That sparked a reaction- gasps from multiple students, and one person he was fairly certain was his husband yelling, “That thing’s full of WHAT!?” Logan nodded to himself. Good. Reactions were good. They meant that his class was following along.

“I’m going to drink it while I teach,” Logan went on, ignoring the continued gasps of shock and possible horror, “and when your heads are replaced by swirling rainbows, I will cancel the rest of class.”

That, of course, was a ridiculous timeline to set. The students’ heads would never become rainbows, swirling or otherwise, which mean Logan wouldn’t have to cancel class, which meant he could teach the full class, which would certainly go over as well in reality as it had in his head, and when Remy saw how well he was doing he’d let him teach for the whole day through. It was a foolproof plan. He truly was a genius.

“Professor… is that safe?”

Logan was pulled from his thoughts and mental back patting by one of the students in the front row. He wasn’t quite sure who they were, probably because their face was blurring into the student’s next to him. He took a swig of the NyQuil. Hopefully that would fix things.

“It’s perfectly safe, as long as I don’t die while doing it.” Logan answered, which was true. Another true thing was that Logan… didn’t know if this was safe. But NyQuil was medicine, so it couldn’t be too bad to take extra of it, right? Right. Right right right right right right-

“Sir, maybe you should go home.” Another student spoke up, sounding concerned. A chorus of agreeing murmurs rose at the suggestion.

“That’s what I told him to do!” Remy added from his spot leaning against the back wall. “But he said he had an obligation to not ‘flake out’ on all y’all lovelies.”

“That’s a great sentiment, prof, but uh… really unneeded.” A student who Logan could see right through said. “We’ll be fine without you for a bit… you should get your rest.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Logan said dismissively, taking another sip from his thing of NyQuil. He no longer cringed at the taste, mostly due in part to the fact he could no longer feel his tongue- therefore meaning he could no longer taste much of anything. “I’m perfectly fine to teach. There’s no need for me to rest.”

“Bullshit.” Remy said, pushing off of the wall and walking towards the stairs, though he didn’t go down them just yet. “I love you hun, but that’s bullshit. Do you even know what you’re teaching today?”

Logan frowned. “Of course I know. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Then teach us.” A student near the back said, which Logan considered rude, because he was fairly certain that student was ganging up with his husband to… something. They were certainly doing something. Something trap-y probably. Normally Logan was very good at avoiding traps. But he had to see them coming to do so.

“I will.” Logan told them flatly, doing his best to look as put-together as he could as he turned down to look at his desk. Surely, his lesson plan was somewhere there. That would have all the answers he currently couldn’t remember.

Luckily for him, his lesson plan was right in the middle of the desk, easy to see and grab. Perfect. Now, if the words on it would just stop dancing, Logan would have everything he needed to convince his husband and class he was perfectly fine.

Logan drank more of his no-longer-a-secret secret weapon as he lifted the paper up to his face, hoping that by decreasing the distance between his face and the paper he would also decrease the dancing of the letters. He was fairly certain it would work because ‘distance’ ‘decrease’ and ‘dance’ all started with the letter ‘d.’

Sadly, his perfect theory was somehow proven wrong- the letters got closer together when he raised the paper, but they didn’t stop dancing, now waving and wiggling in place, as if to spite Logan and his attempts to read them.

“Love?” Logan jerked as he turned towards the source of the word, surprised to find Remy only a few feet away from him. When had he gotten so close? “What are you doing?”

Logan waved his lesson plan at Remy. Wasn’t it obvious? “Checking the lesson plan.” He answered as he took another sip from his thing, ignoring Remy’s frown when he did so.

“I know I’m not a professor, hun, but I think that’s an attendance sheet.”

Now Logan frowned as he moved the paper back in front of his face, squinting at it. It seemed the letters were now willing to still, albeit only a little, just so that Logan could see it was, in fact, a list of student names followed by boxes that, when marked, could indicate a wide variety of things. None of the boxes could, however, tell Logan what his lesson was.

“So it is.” Logan commented neutrally, flipping the paper over to see if perhaps the lesson plan was hiding there. “So it is.”

“Yeah… sweetheart, I’m starting to think it was a bad idea letting you come here.” Remy said, prompting Logan to look up from his search for the lesson plan to focus on Remy instead. That proved hard to do, however, given his face was blurring into a swirl. Logan frowned, feeling distressed. Remy’s face wasn’t supposed to look like that. It was supposed to be pretty and have a chin and brilliant eyes and other features Logan was sure he also loved.

“Your face is wrong.” Maybe if Remy knew his face was wrong, he’d fix it, and it would look right and Logan wouldn’t have to feel distressed and upset and very unable to focus on mundane things such as teaching.

“And you’re proving my point.” Remy responded, though he didn’t seem to be trying to fix his face, which was very unhelpful of him. Though maybe Remy couldn’t see that his face was wrong. Maybe only Logan could because of his stupid fever. Of course it was still messing with him. Nothing another sip of NyQuil couldn’t fix-

“Yeah, we’re not having any more of that.” The thing was taken from Logan’s hands before he could actually get any of the drink into his mouth. He looked at Remy in betrayal as his husband opened the lid and glanced into the container. “How much of this stuff have you drunk, anyways?”

“Not enough.” Logan said, reaching out to take it back. Remy just stepped away, holding the NyQuil out of reach. “Remy.”

Remy just shook his head. “Nope. No more of this for you.”

Logan huffed and stepped towards Remy, reaching out to try and make a grab for the thing. “Let me-”

Remy grabbed the hand that Logan had put out, stopping his attempt and his sentence. “I said nope, sugar.”

Logan’s focus had fallen away from retrieving his NyQuil, however. He was now looking concentratedly at their linked hands, slightly wiggling his fingers in Remy’s grasp- experimentally, not attempting to escape his hold.

“...You good there, hun?”

“Warm.” Was Logan’s only response. Remy tilted his head to the side, confused, before his expression became one of understanding. Still holding Logan’s hand, Remy bent over and placed the thing on the ground before standing back up and moving closer to Logan, taking his other hand in his newly free one.

“Is that nice?” Remy asked, gently, which Logan vaguely registered meant he was trying to lower Logan’s guard and that that was Bad. It was, however, working, as Logan was now fairly certain anything outside of holding Remy’s hands was completely and utterly unimportant.

“Very good.” He said, very eloquently in his opinion. “You’re very good.”

“I know I am.” Remy responded, squeezing Logan’s hands. “I’m so good, in fact, I’m going to take you home now, because I should never have let you leave the house. A mistake, I note, was yours since you used your pout on me knowing full well I would not stand against it.”

“But my classes-”

“Would really prefer you stay home and rest.” A voice that was not Remy’s said. Logan was fairly certain that meant it was one of his students, but he didn’t look to check. He was extremely busy looking at Remy. “You look like you’re going to collapse, prof- just take the day off.”

“I’m fine.” Logan said automatically.

“None of us believe that lie, love.” Remy said as he released one of Logan’s hands. Logan whined at that, and Remy softly shushed him as he moved to rest a hand on Logan’s forehead. “I think the NyQuil’s made your fever worse-”

Remy probably continued speaking after that, but Logan stopped listening, instead choosing to lean into the warmth that was now against his already too-warm forehead. The motion of leaning in was slight, barely a shift at all, but it was also apparently too much, and Logan’s hard fought for balance completely failed him. He tipped forwards, not bothering to try and slow his descent as he began mentally writing his will.

Arms, warm arms, arms that were warm, wrapped around his midsection, stopping Logan from falling all the way over. “And look at that! You’re actually collapsing now. We’re going home, Lo.”

“Mhmmm.” Was all Logan managed. Remy was warm. Remy was really warm. And nice. So nice. Had Logan been trying to work? That seemed silly. Work wasn’t Remy.

Speaking of Remy, he was shifting Logan, pulling him up a bit and resting his head against Remy’s shoulder, arms wrapping more solidly around Logan, all of which were actions Logan was immensely favorable to. He was even warmer, now, and even closer to Remy, and Logan considered these to be very good things.

“I love you.” Logan murmured into Remy’s shoulder, because he decided right then it was very important Remy know that. “You’re very warm. And nice. And warm. And pretty. Very pretty. Too pretty.”

Remy chuckled. “Don’t mind him.” Remy spoke, though Logan got the impression he wasn’t talking to Logan. “He gets sappy when he’s loopy.”

Logan glared at nothing. He wasn’t saying he loved Remy because he was loopy. He was saying that because he loved Remy a lot. More than he loved… planets. And pencils. And peaches.

“You’re not making any sense, starshine.” Remy told him, and Logan realized he had been speaking out loud. Remy pressed a kiss to the top of Logan’s forehead, and he melted even further into his grasp. “But I love you too.”

Logan smiled into Remy’s shoulder, ignoring the background noise of ‘awww’s he was sure was coming from his class. Remy scoffed at them.

“Can we go home now?” Logan asked, because home had bed and bed meant lying down and most of the time lying down meant lying down with Remy and that sounded very nice to Logan right then.

“Of course, honey. Can you walk?”

Logan considered the question for a moment. He probably could walk, if he put his mind to it, given he had mostly walked here and he had been walking earlier. But, if he was going to be Logan (and not Frank, why would he be Frank if he was telling the truth-), he didn’t particularly want to put his mind to it. So he shook his head.

“I think you’re lying.” Remy said, but he still shifted so he could pick Logan up- a move he had perfected back in their courting days as soon as he learned it was a near guarantee to fluster Logan. Instinctively, Logan’s arms wrapped around the back of Remy’s neck and he once more tucked his head into Remy’s shoulder.

“Do you guys, uh… know what to do from here?” Remy asked, the question clearly directed at Logan’s class. “Because I don’t think you’ll be seeing your teach for a good week.”

“You said two days.” Logan mumbled into Remy’s shoulder, though not very aggressively.

“Yes I did.” Remy agreed as he started moving, assumedly towards the door. “That was before you drank half a bottle of NyQuil in an hour and collapsed.”

Logan nodded into Remy’s shoulder. That made sense. Remy was good at sense. Remy was good at a lot of things.

“If anyone asks, we’ll say the professor was here for the full period before leaving.” A student assured Remy.

“And I’ll hold onto his thermos until he gets back!” Another chimed in. “Since you probably want to keep the NyQuil as far away from him as possible for now.”

The class laughed and Remy did too. “Yeah, no, I’m tossing out whatever NyQuil’s left at home. If you get a chance, I highly suggest you dump out the contents of the thermos too.”

“Will do!”

Logan felt Remy nod his head. “Great. So… that was easier to settle than I expected. Though I guess you’re all getting a free class period now.”

“We’ll use it responsibly, Mr. Professor’s Husband.”

“You don’t need to lie to me, kid, I skipped every class I could get away with.” Remy said before he pressed another kiss to Logan’s head. Logan, who was more or less completely asleep, made a little happy noise. “And then I married a teacher. Life’s funny.”

Remy let out a happy little sigh and Logan smiled at his happiness. “That’s enough from me. You kids have a nice day.”

And there was a good chance that something else was said or done after that, but it truly was very cozy pressed against Remy’s chest, and Logan saw no reason to bother keeping awake when Remy was taking care of everything so well. So he didn’t.

Logan wasn’t sure when he woke back up, but he didn’t mind that much. He did know that he was at home and in bed and that was nice. Logan also knew that the NyQuil was at least partially out of his system because his fever was back and it was back with a vengeance. He groaned, turning over and pressing his face into the nearest pillow.

Next to him, he heard Remy laugh, and a hand soon settled in Logan’s hair to card fingers through it. “Hey there, darling.”

“I feel like shit.”

“That’s what happens when you’re sick but you still try to go to work.” Remy softly teased. “And when you drink way too much NyQuil.”

“It was my secret weapon.” Logan protested. Remy laughed again.

“Maybe stick to the more conventional methods of healing next time?” Remy suggested.

“Cuddles?”

“I was thinking more homemade chicken soup and watching old game show reruns, but I suppose cuddles might work too.” Remy said. “Why? Is there a particular reason you mention cuddles?”

Logan huffed as he flopped over, glaring at a very amused looking Remy as he grabbed at his shirt, tugging as well as he could on it to try and pull Remy down. “Don’t be obtuse.”

“Oh you’re so weak- oh, babe, this is sad-” Remy laughed at Logan’s poor attempts to force him to cuddle, gently taking Logan’s hands and holding them in his own. Remy smiled at him. “You’re cute.”

“I’m sick.” Logan responded. “Cuddle me.”

“And why should I do that, now?”

“Because you love me.” Logan told him, shuffling over a bit so that he was closer to Remy, making the pout he then put on more effective. “And I love you.”

“I can’t believe you’re using the pout again.” Remy chided.

Logan pouted harder.

Remy sighed, but he still pulled up the edge of the blankets and sheets, sliding in next to Logan. “One of these days I’m going to find a way to say no to you, you know.”

Logan wrapped his arms around Remy’s chest, pulling him closer and turning his chest into a pillow. “But will you want to?” He mumble asked, not as concerned with the answer as he was with falling back asleep and trapping Remy on the bed with him.

Remy chuckled as he wrapped his arms around Logan as well, seemingly completely alright with becoming trapped as he dropped a kiss on Logan’s forehead. “Never. Because while you may have proven today that you can be wrong of many things, you did get one thing very, very right.”

“Oh?” Logan hummed, only half-interested in knowing what he had gotten right.

“Even if you do stupid things like go to work sick and bind while sick and try to drink NyQuil like it’s water, I still love you.” Remy said sweetly, once more running his fingers through Logan’s hair to help further lull him back asleep. “And as such I will always want to say yes to you.”

Logan let out a small laugh. “You’re a sap.”

“You should’ve heard yourself earlier, hun.” Remy said, chuckling when Logan’s only response was a hum and snuggling closer to Remy. “I’ll tell you about it later. Go to bed, starshine. I’ve got nowhere else to be and nothing better to do than love you.”

Deciding he’d mock Remy’s accidental rhyme later, Logan happily did as his husband said, putting aside the burn of his fever to focus on Remy’s comfortable, loving warmth, quickly falling into a sleep as gentle as Remy’s embrace.

#losleep #ts logan #ts sleep #ts remy #the cryptid speaks #fanfic #fanfiction #ts sides #sanders sides #sickfic #this is v self-indulgent i hope y'all know shbdjfs #also i dislke the ending but eh endings always suck abfhsjdf #bls enjoy my chaotic stupid logan and his loving husband #also i've never taken too much nyquil so idk if logan's experience is accurate #bls for the love of goodness do not test this #don't be chaotic stupid that's logan's job

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lu-undy · 4 years ago

Text

Valentine’s day 5 - Alternate Universe

My choice went to have Lucien be a baker in Paris while Mundy is visiting the city with his parents!

Here it is on AO3!

"Micky, please tell your mum I'm starvin'."

"Mum, Dad's starvin'." Mundy's head swung from left to right.

"Micky, tell your Dad that I'm done with this cathedral now and we can get some lunch."

Both father and son cheered as they exited the impressive Cathédrale Montmartre.

It had been a few days now that the Turner family had travelled from their native Australia to Paris, France. After years of saving, the farmers and the hunter managed to gather the amount they needed to take some very well earned holidays and see a part of the world that Caroline, the mother, had always dreamt of visiting.

And it was Mundy, the son, now close to forty years old, who had suggested the idea of the trip. In his line of work, travelling was usual and he had seen a few places, and a lot of species already. He knew that his mother had always dreamt of seeing the City of Lights and so, he pushed for the idea to become a reality.

At first his parents thought it was way out of what they could afford not only financially, but physically. They were getting close to their seventies! But Mundy insisted and told the tale of a lot of his patrons who were that age and older, yet still roaming the world.

Caroline and Mike, mother and father, eventually accepted the idea, and Mundy worked extra shifts in pubs, playing the saxophone in some bands here and there, to add a few notes in the piggy bank.

There they were now, the three of them, in the capital of romance. The cathedral they had just visited was on the top of a hill from which they could see the entire city of Paris splayed out and spread in le Bassin Parisien, the valley in which the capital was planted. It was easy to distinguish the business district with its towers of black and blue-ish glass, from the more residential or commercial areas. The Eiffel tower obviously pointed to the sky further away.

Mundy had turned out to be the official photographer for the trip. He just enjoyed seeing the delight on his parents' faces and took pictures of them doing absolutely anything. They had never travelled much and he wanted them to have physical memories of it. On some pictures, they were pointing at a monument, on these ones, they were trying to decipher the names of the streets with a map wide open under their eyes, or just sitting on a bench and enjoying a cone of ice cream. Yes, it was July and peak summer in France, which was quite a surprise for the Aussies, but a welcome one. They all preferred hot and sunny weather, and were used to it.

"Let's try this bakery maybe?"

Caroline pointed at a reasonably small shop. The front of it was Burgundy red with the name shining in golden letters.

"Chez Lucien".

[Lucien's.]

Mundy pushed the door and let his parents through. The jingle of a bell rang and immediately after, a wave of delicious smells washed their lungs and made their mouths water even more.

"Bonjour." The baker greeted them. "Que puis-je faire pour vous?"

[What can I do for you?]

"Bonjour." Mundy tried his best accent. "Do you speak English?"

"Oui, I do." The Turner family sighed in relief. They were now used to communicating in sign language but finding someone who could understand even a bit of English was just their luck. "How may I help you?" The baker answered with more than a hint of a French accent.

"Just give us a second, son. I mean look at all these good things, the smell's amazin'!" Mike said, his eyes running through the sandwiches, the quiches and pastries.

"Merci. Will it be to eat here?”

“Yeah, think so.” Mike answered.

“In that case, you may make yourselves comfortable at a table.” The baker suggested.

Mundy noticed there were only two tables inside and one on the pavement. They relieved themselves of their backpacks and came back in front of the glass.

“Do take your time and don't hesitate to ask me if you need me to explain anything."

"Thanks, mate." Mundy answered.

Caroline held Mike's arm dearly as they chatted and pointed at sandwiches here and there behind the glass. Mundy gave them a bit of space and had a look at the desserts.

The colours beckoned his eyes. Red strawberries, all the shades of brown chocolate, white sugar, green pistachio, orange apricot tarts, yellow lemon ones. And the textures looked very different too. Mundy wished he could try a few.

And what a powerful yet pleasant mix of smells. The smell of hot flour was drowning Mundy entirely. As he raised his eyes and looked behind the baker, bread of different shapes, sizes and colours were neatly arranged in wicker baskets. It was impressive.

"What's this one, son?" Mike asked, pointing at a sandwich.

"This has goat cheese, salad, and a drop of mustard with honey." The man in the white apron answered, and Mike and Caroline nodded. "Do you have any dietary requirements maybe? That might help you make the choice easier."

"Mike here has to watch out for sugar and cholesterol." Caroline said.

"Bah, I'm fine." Mike answered.

"Mike, the doctor said to watch out…! Micky, tell your Dad…!"

"Dad…" Mundy started.

"C'mon son, don't side with your mum! Men's solidarity!"

The baker smiled.

"I can recommend a classic French one, if you want a full French experience." He suggested.

"Sure!" Mike answered. "We haven't come all the way from home to stop at sugar and cholesterol!"

"In that case, I would suggest the classic jambon-beurre."

"John what?" Mike repeated.

"Jambon-beurre." The baker said. "Ham and butter. Now, I can make one with a light butter and lean ham for you."

"That sounds great, what d'you say Caroline?" Mike looked at his wife. "Can I get that?"

"My father himself used to have those when his diet became more strict." The baker explained.

"Oh that's very kind of you." Caroline said. "Sure, go for that. I will have the goat cheese and honey one, I never tried that combination of flavours."

"Very well."

Mundy had been watching the whole scene unravel before his eyes and was grinning. He was over the moon to see his parents so relaxed and enjoying their time. They had worked hard all their lives to provide for their only son and had rarely taken a holiday as significant as this.

"And you, Micky?"

"Huh?"

Caroline's voice had broken her son's daydream.

"Oh, uh, I'll get the ham and butter, the normal kind is fine for me."

"Very well, give me an instant." The baker gathered his ingredients and a bread knife. He prepared the sandwich in front of his hungry clients as they watched him.

Mundy found himself staring. The baker was a bit shorter than him by half a foot or so. He looked a bit older too. His temples were grey and his front tuft, which swung between his eyes as he cut the bread, was greying too. However, his eyes shone with a kind of vivacity, of life, that Mundy found made him younger than himself maybe. He had very light blue eyes with dark eyelashes - beautiful - a slightly hooked nose and thin lips. His hands were trained and used to his work as his efficiency showed, but Mundy guessed that he hadn't been a baker all his life. His fingers were too slim to have done manual work all their lives like his parents'.

"I guess you are visiting France for the first time?"

"Yeah, first time out of home since a long time, son." Mike answered.

"Where are you from, if I may?"

"Australia."

"Ooh, that is indeed a long way from home." The baker chuckled and Mundy saw a flash of his pearly white teeth.

"Yeah, the wife's always wanted to come and see it here, y'know, with it bein' the city of romance and all…" Mike explained and he held his wife's hand dearly.

"But of course." The baker placed the sandwiches on a tray. "Will that be all for you today?"

"Micky, ask your mum if we can get desserts."

"You could ask me directly." Caroline answered.

"Yeah but you'd say no to me, honey."

Caroline rolled her eyes and smiled.

"Fine, let us have a look at what you have, uh…?" Caroline adjusted her glasses, looking for a badge or anything to address the shop owner. His name was sewn on his apron, in black, cursive letters. "Lu…?"

"Lucien."

"Ooh, original name. Sounds very French, beautiful!" Caroline said.

"Thank you, Madame." Lucien bowed his head politely. "May I suggest the strawberry tart for Monsieur? It is mostly fruity and the dough has very little sugar. My most faithful customers do like it particularly."

"Yeah, looks very good." Mike said enthusiastically.

"I'll have one of these, uh…" Caroline pointed at the glass.

"Oh, éclair au chocolat. Do you know what éclair means in French?" Lucien asked.

"No?"

"It is a lightning bolt. As a child, my mother used to make me believe that they were called that way because of how fast I devoured them."

"Ooh, that is sweet…!"

Lucien put the mini tart and the éclair on the tray.

"And for you, Monsieur?" He turned to Mundy, who blushed under the piercing gaze.

"Oh, uh, I mean… Maybe one of these…?"

"Cannelé, they are called, because of their shape. They are typical from the South-West of France, where I come from. Have you ever tried them?"

"No, why?"

Lucien smiled.

"They are rarely a tourist's choice." He simply answered. "Here for you. I recommend enjoying those desserts with some coffee. Pray take a seat, I shall bring you your tray."

"Oh, thank you, dear." Caroline said and the Turner family sat around the table. Lucien closely followed. He added a jug of fresh water and glasses.

"Enjoy your meal, or as we say here, bon appétit." Lucien bowed his head and left his customers to enjoy their meal.

"Mum? Dad?" Mundy was holding the camera and took a picture when they both bit in their sandwiches. "There we go."

The Turners enjoyed their sandwiches and the fresh water. After all, it was summer and it was hot. Caroline reminded Mike to take his pills as usual and Mundy was sitting next to them. He loved his parents more than anything or anyone else and in truth, they were all he had. He had a few friends back in Oz, not a lot, but good ones.

"Son?" Mike's whisper pulled Mundy out of his daydream.

"Hm?"

"Can you please tell your mum to stop starin' at the baker like that."

"If I was a few decades younger…" Caroline whispered.

"Yeah, well, if you were a few decades younger, you'd remember that ring on your finger maybe, eh?" Mike teased.

"Mum, please… You're makin' it obvious…" Mundy nudged his mother's elbow gently.

Lucien was behind the counter, leaning on the wall on his side and reading a newspaper.

"C'mon, Micky, tell your Dad that he's handsome!" Caroline nudged her son back.

"Mum…!" He blushed.

"Yeah well, go and have sandwiches with him, then!" Mike answered.

"Oh I would!"

"Caroline!"

"Mike!"

"Mum, Dad, please…!"

"Nah, son, I've seen her stare at enough guys here. Since the moment we landed here and now, her eyes jumped from bloke to bloke like a bee from flower to flower!"

"Not my fault that they all look so charming! And I didn't say anything when you stared at that young sheila in the short skirt in the cathedral…!"

"Well…" Mike blushed, ashamed. "I'm a simple man…!"

"Besides, I'm not the only one who's starin', Mike."

"Hm?"

Caroline nodded in direction of Mundy, for whom the whispers of his parents had dissolved in the air. He had eyes and ears only for that baker. God, his mother was right, he was handsome!

Caroline was right on that people there in France were quite good looking and it made the journey all the more pleasant to the eye.

"Micky?" Mike's voice pulled Mundy out of his staring.

"Huh?"

"Well, I can't tell you to stop cause you got a ring on your finger but uh… make it a bit more, y'know, discreet…?"

Mundy blushed beyond his ears and lowered his head.

And that was the first encounter with Lucien, the baker. From that day on, the Turners would try to have their lunch there everyday. Caroline was the one to push for it. Not only did Lucien turn out to be an incredible guide for them, recommending good and inexpensive restaurants as well as little corners of paradise within Paris, but she could see the blush on Mundy's cheeks whenever Lucien talked to him.

In the evenings, Mundy would take a stroll outside, to give his parents some space. He would walk in the streets of the city, under the lamp posts, letting his feet decide where he should go. More often than once, he found himself not far from the bakery. On one occasion, Lucien was smoking outside of his bakery, as the sky was still bright. Mundy was paralysed with fear. He wasn't supposed to be standing there! He was supposed to be in his shop, and then Mundy could casually look through the window as he passed it, maybe even wave if he made eye contact with him. Yeah, that all made sense, but not Lucien being outside and-!

"Bonsoir, Mundy, wasn't it?"

[Good evening]

Mundy's blood froze. As he was panicking internally, his feet had continued walking until he was within a few feet from the baker.

"Y-yeah, hi."

"Do you smoke?" Lucien asked.

"Yeah, I mean, sometimes."

"Here." Lucien offered one of his cigarettes and Mundy accepted it.

"Thanks, mate."

"Come closer."

Mundy blushed when Lucien closed the gap between them and lit his cigarette up. He closed his eyes and all he could feel was the smell of the Frenchman's cologne, mixed with pastries and fresh bread.

Gosh… He thought as he felt his insides melt.

"Voilà." Lucien chimed as he put his lighter away. Mundy opened his eyes and he felt as if he had emerged from a dream to another one. Now, the ice blue eyes of the elegant man were on him.

"Y-yeah, thanks, heh."

"You like to walk at night?" Lucien asked as they both exhaled the bitter smoke.

"Yeah, it's nice and calm."

"And I guess it is your break from your photography duties?" The Frenchman chuckled.

"What?"

"You are the one carrying the camera all the time, and taking pictures of your parents. Do you have any of you?"

"Uh, yeah, we do have a few of all three of us together."

"I would be delighted to take more in my shop next time you have lunch here."

"Ah, thanks."

They stayed in front of the shop and smoked in silence, watching the few people in the streets come and go.

"Mundy?"

"Yeah?"

"I will soon close the shop. Would you like anything?"

"Oh, uh, no, I'm fine, thanks."

"Very well." Lucien put the cigarette between his lips and entered the bakery. Mundy wasn't sure he could or should follow him so he stayed on the threshold. He watched as Lucien disappeared through a door behind the counter. Soon after, the lights switched off in the shop and Lucien emerged. Mundy couldn't see him clearly in the dark but his silhouette stood out.

"Very well. This is it for today." He said as he came out and locked the shop. "I could do with some good coffee, would you like to join me, perhaps? I know a quiet café." Lucien turned to Mundy who was staring at him. "Mundy?".

He had never seen the baker outside of his natural habitat and a bit like a schoolboy who couldn't imagine his teacher living outside of school, Mundy was taken aback. It turned out that underneath the apron was a white polo shirt and now a beige linen jacket, with a matching hat and trousers.

"U-uh? Yeah? Sorry, you said somethin'?"

"You daydream a lot, hm?" Lucien chuckled.

"Sorry…" Mundy looked away and felt the heat of the embarrassment on his cheeks.

"It is alright, I do like to daydream too." He smiled as Mundy raised his eyes to him and the Aussie immediately averted his eyes. Oof, that grin…! "But you haven't answered my invitation."

"Y-your invitation?"

"Oui, coffee, with me?"

"You sure? I mean, I guess you're tired after work and maybe you want to go back home to your family or see your mates…?"

"I don't have one or the other." Mundy's eyebrows jumped. "You and your parents are the closest I have got to having friends for a long time. So, what do you say? Un café avec moi?"

[A coffee with me?]

"Oh, uh, alright. I mean uh, oui?"

Lucien smiled.

"Très bien, follow me."

[Very well]

The Frenchman led the way through the streets.

"So you left Maman and Papa at the hotel?"

"Uh, yeah. I try to give them some space. Mum's always dreamt to come here with Dad."

"Not with you?" Lucien asked.

"No, I didn't want it to sound so bad… I mean that she'd wanted to come here even before they found me."

"They… found you?" Lucien repeated as they took a turn.

"Oh Gosh, I can't keep my mouth shut…" Mundy mumbled to himself. "Sorry, mate, I-I meant… Ugh… Nevermind."

Lucien didn't insist.

"Here is the café." He pulled the front door and held it open for his tourist friend.

"Oh, thanks."

And it lasted for a couple of weeks, the nights out, sometimes in a café, sometimes just a tour of a neighbourhood with an incredibly patient and passionate guide.

"You like Paris quite a bit, eh?" Mundy asked under the dark blue sky lit by the Eiffel Tower. Lucien had taken him to the Champs de Mars, an open park just in front of the beautifully lit, iconic tower. They were both sitting on the grass.

"Believe it or not, I do not like it much."

"Really?"

"Oui."

"You know it well though, historical stuff and all."

There was a slight smile on the Frenchman's lips.

"Oui, unfortunately so, for some part of it. Non, what I have come to appreciate about this city recently is how you like it."

"What?" Mundy asked, embarrassed and confused. Lucien chuckled.

"You enjoy visiting Paris."

"Well, there's a lot of monuments to see, lots of history behind it, and it's a proper city. The Outback's very different."

"Tell me about it."

They exchanged a glance and Mundy's throat tightened. He could see all the lights on the Eiffel Tower shimmer on the Frenchman's eyes, like stars in a clear blue sky.

"Well… Uh…" Mundy looked left and right. "See everythin' around us?"

"Oui?"

"Imagine there's nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yeah, and imagine there's no grass but just orange dust."

"Hm…" Lucien looked keenly around him.

"Now add a few cacti, not too many, eh? And boulders. Just big rocks, basically."

"What shapes are they?"

"Any weird shape you can imagine. They're a bit like clouds, if you stare at them, you start seeing that they look like stuff but they don't really…"

"Oh… And what shapes have you seen?"

Mundy looked at Lucien sitting next to him. He had removed his hat and jacket. His polo shirt was white with dark blue stripes and he wore matching dark blue chinos trousers with beige loafers. Elegant, he was just so elegant…! What's more, he was lying on his side on the grass, resting part of his weight on his forearm, with one leg folded. Gosh…

"Uh… I usually see animals."

"What kind?"

"Sometimes, it's a gigantic wallaby, or a koala. But sometimes, it's stuff that doesn't even exist."

"Hm, like what?"

Like you, Mundy thought. No one had taken the time to go out with him, take the time to know him, go to cafés and odd little bistrots with him. No one had ever listened to his life in the Outback, no one had ever asked. And certainly, no one had done all that and looked half as gorgeous as Lucien. It was to the point where Mundy struggled to maintain eye contact with him for long. He would sometimes cross Lucien's eyes and avert his gaze the split second after. His feline, light blue irises were too much to take, especially because each time Lucien graced him with a gaze, Mundy could feel a punch to his guts and the blood rush to his cheeks.

"I-I don't know, it's a bit silly…" He answered, blushing and looking down between his crossed legs.

"Mundy…"

He froze when he felt a finger under his chin, pulling it up.

"Huh?"

"Please, tell me."

Gosh, not those eyes…! Oh and fuck it… Mundy couldn't refuse or ignore anything to those ice blue irises.

"Sometimes it's a mix of animals… Like something with the head of an owl, the body of a falcon, but legs like a wild cat. I know, it's ridiculous, ahem…"

"Non, not at all." Lucien answered and maybe it was all in Mundy's head, but he felt the Frenchman's index linger on his chin a bit before parting. The Aussie's jaw was electrified. "I find it poetic."

"D-do you?" Mundy's surprise was so obvious, so naive that it made Lucien grin sweetly. The Aussie uncrossed his legs and let them flow in front of him.

"Oui." Lucien laid down and rested his head on Mundy's thigh.

"Huh-?" Mundy gasped.

"Oh, am I weighing too much on you?"

"N-no, it's fine. I'm just-I'm just surprised, is all." The truth was that Mundy felt the heat in him surge as unexpectedly as Lucien lay on him. Was he just tired of holding his head on his palm? Was it friendly? Was it more? Was it a French thing?

"Hm. Look around you." Lucien said and Mundy did as he was told. It was the dead of night and not many people were out. "The city is almost empty. The Paris of the night is waking up and claiming the streets now."

"The Paris of the night?" Mundy repeated.

"Oui, people who shun the naked light of day because society shunned them first. Those are people whom morality and customs do not understand yet, people who are too free."

"What d'you mean?"

"Look at the pavement there." Lucien pointed and Mundy saw a few women wearing short skirts.

"Yeah?"

"Do you see these women?"

"Yeah."

"They are not women."

"What?"

"They are not women in what is most commonly accepted as the definition for it. They need the cover of the night to exist as they want to. I find it tragic yet strongly inspiring." Lucien went on. "They need the blanket of the dark night sky to wear the dresses, skirts and make-up that they want. We are not too different from them, you and me."

"How? You wanna wear a dress now?" Mundy joked and Lucien chuckled, his head still using the Aussie's thigh as a pillow.

"Non, we too are taking advantage of the night to be what the light of day prevents us from being."

Mundy's heart pounded in his chest. He was afraid he was understanding what Lucien meant, or maybe he wasn't at all and he was just hearing what the thin voice at the back of his head was whispering.

"Huh?"

"May I?"

Mundy sweated. Lucien had taken his fingers in his.

"Y-yeah, I think."

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to force you - oh?" Lucien's eyebrows jumped and he then relaxed when Mundy pushed his trembling fingers shyly between his. Lucien held on to his hand dearly. "Mundy?"

"Mh?" The Aussie was screwing his eyes shut hard and was trying to calm his pounding heart and the rush of blood through his body.

"Merci."

[Thank you.]

His eyes snapped wide.

"What?"

"I said thank you."

"For what?"

"Everything."

And that night, they stayed on the Champs de Mars all the way up until the sun showed its first rays of light. At that point, they were both lying on their backs. The wide lawn was their mattress and the early hours of the new day captured the murmurs of what no one else but them should know.

It lasted for weeks, enough to make a habit out of it and to make Mundy think that it could last forever. Unfortunately enough, the holidays were coming to an end and Australia was calling the Turners back.

"You're not going out tonight? You should take a walk, Micky."

In their hotel room, Caroline and Mike were talking to Mundy.

"Your Mum's right, son. You could do with some fresh air."

"We spent our day outside. I'm tired."

Mike and Caroline exchanged a glance and went to the bathroom.

"I'm tellin' you, Mike, we have to push him out." She whispered to her husband. "He's as sad he could be."

"Yeah, I know, I know… But you're absolutely sure it will do him good?"

"Mike, I'm a sheila. We feel those things. Look at him…"

Caroline held the bathroom door ajar and Mike peeked through the slim opening.

"Doesn't he remind you of someone?" She asked.

"Hm. Yeah, course he does. Look at him lyin' on his bed, starin' at the ceiling. His body is here, his heart is elsewhere. He's exactly like me when I first met you, honey." Mike sighed. "Right, I'll get him out of this room. But you gotta help me."

"Ok, what's the plan?" Caroline asked excitedly.

"Follow me."

Mike took his wife by the hand and they exited the bathroom.

"Uh, Caroline, darl', d'you mind waitin' in the bathroom. This is guys' only talk."

"Fine."

Mike went to sit on Mundy's bed, next to him.

"Look, son. Uh… Your mum and I… Uh… We could do with a couple of hours alone if you… uh… If that's ok with you…?"

Mundy's eyes snapped wide and he sat up, looking his father in the eye and blushing. Mike was averting his gaze from his son, a bit ashamed.

"Oh…" Mundy answered. "Right, fine, I'll uh… I'll go have a walk. I'll be back in a couple hours then. Sorry."

"Good boy, no, no, don't apologise, it's fine." Mike said as Mundy put on his shoes and hat. "Take a bit of money with you and stay safe, eh?"

"Will do. Thanks, Dad."

"No, thank you, son."

Mundy exited the hotel and soon found himself in the streets. The sun was gently setting and the sky was orange with a few streaks of pink. The next day would again be very sunny.

Mundy didn't see it. His eyes were riveted on his shoes, his hands in his pockets, and his back hunched. He was in his own bubble and wanted to stay there, have some time alone to think.

About what? The obvious, of course. He was about to leave Paris, to leave France, to leave Europe, the Northern Hemisphere. He was about to leave Lucien and hadn't told him the dreadful news yet. Why? Because he didn't know how to tell him, especially now…!

Mundy sighed as he recalled the events of the previous night. They were on the quays of the Seine, the river that slithers through Paris.

"You can see almost everything from this river, eh?" Mundy realised.

"Oui, most monuments and important buildings you can see from here."

"Impressive… Oh…"

Lucien had slid his arm around Mundy's and his hand glided down until his fingers laced between the Aussie's. Mundy clenched his hand. He liked it way too much. Oh, hold on, maybe it was too much? He could feel his hand sweating…!

"S-sorry…" He pulled his hand off and wiped it nervously on his trousers.

"There is no problem." Lucien took Mundy's hand again. He pulled it up to his lips and kissed it.

"W-woah… Uhm…"

Lucien chuckled.

"You are such a delightful hint of the exotism I used to love…"

"What's that mean?"

They stopped walking along the river banks. Lucien went to the edge and looked at the streamflow for an instant. He removed his loafers elegantly and rolled his trousers' ends up along his calves. Mundy blushed. Contrary to him, Lucien didn't have a tan and being lighter in skin tone than him, he appeared almost snow white compared to Mundy. The Aussie watched as Lucien sat at the edge and let his feet dangle down. They were in the water up to his ankles. Mundy copied him and they were soon sitting side by side, their feet in the river.

Lucien leaned on Mundy's side and took his hand again. He held it dearly between both of his own.

"Mundy?"

"Yeah?"

"You are leaving a strong impression on me."

Mundy's eyebrows jumped.

"Y-you too." He removed his hat and leaned his head on Lucien's.

Silence fell for a while. It was soothing, hearing just the lapping sounds of the cool water licking their feet and their breaths.

"Lucien?"

"Oui?"

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

"You just did, and yes you may."

"How come you uh… I mean I don't want it to sound bad but… How come you spend all your nights with me? I mean, don't you have anyone waitin' at home? Family, friends? Even the weekends you spend with me. Y'know, it's ok if you wanted to not see me for a few days, I'd understand."

"I have very few friends. To be truly honest, I have none. The only person waiting for me back home is Perle."

"Oh, who's that? Family?"

"Better than that, she is my cat."

"Oh, you have a kitty?"

"The best in the world."

"What does she look like?" Mundy asked.

"Look here, I have a photograph of her." Lucien took his wallet off of his inner pocket and retrieved a small rectangular picture. It wasn't much bigger than a stamp. He handed it to Mundy.

"Oh, woah… Expensive she must be, eh. Gorgeous, long, snow white fur and light eyes, like you almost - huh, I mean…"

"Oui, she has blue eyes." Lucien simply answered. "You wouldn't know on the black and white picture. And I had no idea she was expensive, even though she is priceless to me."

"You didn't buy her off a shop or someone?"

"Non, I rescued her when she was a kitten, cold, shivering and skinny. Poor baby, she barely had the strength to mewl."

"Oh, woah…" Mundy handed back the picture and as Lucien stored it safely in his wallet again, the Aussie was devouring him with his eyes.

"I raised her as best as I could and we understand each other pretty well. She is my little baby, or as I like to call her, mon petit bébé."

"Uh… I… I mean…" Gosh, words jangled and mixed in his head. He had found a man gorgeous as a God, patient with him, who respected his shyness, didn't take advantage of it, didn't force him to do anything and loved his cat?

"Oui?" Lucien raised his fair eyes to Mundy and that didn't help the Aussie at all. His thoughts were broken, everything broke under those eyes.

"Uh?"

Lucien chuckled.

"It is fine. You don't have to say anything." He leaned his head on Mundy's shoulder and held his hand. "What about you? Do you have any relatives besides your parents?"

"Uh, no. It's just them and me. I got a few uncles and aunts. See them for Christmas with my cousins and their kids. And for the pets, we got a few dogs to keep the beasts away from the hens and geese. Mum has a cat too, Percy, he's black and white, with green eyes."

"What kinds of dogs?"

"An Aussie shepherd and a border collie. Good girls they are. We had a few through the years but dogs don't live as long as we want them to, eh?"

"Indeed."

"How old is your cat? What's her name again?"

"Perle, or for you, Pearl. She is now seven years old."

"Oh, a big girl."

"A wise lady indeed. My only companion since… A long time."

"Fair enough. Haven't had anyone to talk to for years too. I mean, apart from my parents."

"You don't have friends in Australia?"

"I do, yeah, but… Uh… Not like you."

"Well I don't imagine you have bakers who have become part time tourist guides there, hm?" Lucien teased.

"Nah, that's true. But uh, yeah, I mean… We've talked about anythin' for the past few weeks, right?"

"Oh oui, from cacti, to desert, to wild animals, Australian beers, dishes, weather, slang…."

"Yeah, and now I feel like I know Paris almost better than where I come from!" Mundy chuckled.

They looked in each other's eyes.

"We indeed have had conversations about anything with baffling ease."

"Yeah…" Mundy confirmed.

"Merci. It had been ages since I last felt such a pleasant connection with someone."

"Same for me."

Lucien had looked up at Mundy and stared. The Aussie hadn't noticed that the Frenchman's pupils dilated as they sank from his lagoon blue eyes, down his long, straight nose, to his rough, thin lips. Mundy was lost in the ice blue irises and time had stopped. Lucien did half of the work and pulled his neck up. Mundy could smell his perfume and his cigarettes, maybe a lingering faint aroma of hot flour too. But the Aussie had been oblivious and didn't meet the Frenchman half-way.

It had been roughly twenty-fours hours after these events now, and Mundy couldn't have got any of it out of his head. He was stuck there and then, his hand between Lucien's, his head leaning on the Frenchman.

And he found it ridiculous! Dinners in little, hidden bistrots, holding hands on the banks of the river Seine, pulling an all-nighter on the grass under the Eiffel Tower… What the hell had he become?

If his parents knew of it, if his friends knew of it, what would they all think? A holiday romance, nothing much? Pfff…

What hurt Mundy wasn't any of that. It was the fact that he had grown attached to Lucien. For him, it wasn't just a holiday matter, he wanted it to be more. Why? Because where on Earth would he find someone that would treat him so well and with whom he felt that he could share his everything? He felt safe with Lucien. He felt safe in a way that the hunter never thought he would one day experience because what that meant is that he was much more insecure about himself than what he let on…

Most people he knew would describe him as a nice bloke if not very talkative. They assumed he was just like that. But now, Mundy realised that he was just… shy. Part of him even thought that he was afraid. Of what? Of people, constantly watching and judging him.

He didn't like people and preferred animals in that respect. Animals didn't care that you were still mostly living with your parents, driving your father's van around the desert. Animals didn't ask about his job only to fantasise about it, use him for the night and throw him away. Animals didn't think they couldn't build anything with him because of his almost nomad way of life. No, animals cared for him because he cared for them, end of story.

"Bonsoir, Mundy. You took your time tonight, I thought you wouldn't come."

[Good evening, Mundy.]

The voice with the French accent broke Mundy's train of thought abruptly and he winced. He looked down at his feet and gave them an angry glance.

Well thanks for that… He was thinking. While he had been pulling on the thread of his thoughts like a cat on a ball of yarn, his feet had guided Mundy to the bakery.

"Oh, uh, y-yeah, sorry…"

"Are you alright?" Lucien asked, as Mundy still hadn't made eye contact with him.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

The Frenchman could have smelt that it was a lie from a mile away. He nonetheless ignored it and they both walked together along the street.

"What would you like to do tonight?" He asked.

"Don't know. You choose."

"In that case, there is somewhere that we could try." Lucien took Mundy's hand and led the way. He had an idea to cheer up his more-than-friend.

The walk was silent as Lucien decided against insisting. Mundy seemed the type to like silence and solitude well, which the Frenchman respected. He too had his moments where he would rather be alone.

Soon enough, they entered a café. Lucien quickly found a table and they both sat down, opposite each other. A waiter soon came. The Frenchman placed their order while Mundy was still brooding, somewhere between his own mind and nowhere… The waiter placed two mugs on the table and disappeared again.

"Here." Lucien took Mundy's hand and pushed it to the mug gently.

"Huh?" When his fingers registered the heat from both Lucien's hand and the mug, Mundy's eyes snapped wide and he landed back on Earth.

"Drink this."

"What is it?"

"Can't you tell?"

Mundy's sense of smell woke up as he raised the mug closer to his lips.

"Hot chocolate?"

"Oui, but not any kind. Try it."

Mundy did as he was told and took a sip.

"Hm… Very soft but not too sweet."

"As my mother used to do to me whenever I felt low, as a child. I kept the habit of coming here and having one whenever I felt like nothing else could help."

"Mh."

"Are you sure you don't want to talk to me about it, whatever it is?" Lucien asked after Mundy took another sip.

"I… I don't know…"

"Is it your parents? They seemed fine for lunch today."

"No, it's not them. It's me."

Lucien tilted his head on the side and his hand slid on the table until he cupped Mundy's, against the mug.

"Tell me, please."

Mundy sighed.

"I'll be goin' back to Oz. I-I'm gonna leave and… I… I kind of… I don't wanna." He mumbled, his eyes riveted on the hot chocolate. Lucien looked at him distraught.

"I see." He answered. "Do you really wish to stay here?"

"Y-yeah."

"You like Paris that much?"

Obviously, Mundy couldn't care less about the city. What counted was Lucien, and Lucien was staying there.

"Mundy…? Talk to me, please. I hate to see you distraught." Now, both of Lucien's hands were on Mundy's, wrapped around the warm mug.

"I don't wanna go, is all. It's childish and just plain ridiculous. But I wish I could stay and have… Have more tours of Paris.. With you."

Lucien's thumbs brushed Mundy's hands.

"I wish you could stay too, Mundy." Finally, the Aussie raised his head and met Lucien's sad eyes. "I have rarely felt the peace that I do with you. Your company is soothing for my now fragile nerves."

Mundy raised an eyebrow.

"What d'you mean?"

"There was a time where I was able to withstand a lot of pressure on my shoulders; the pressure of an entire country even. The moment it was gone, my body and mind collapsed. I didn't know anything anymore, even my own identity, what I was, who I was, was hard to grasp. It took years to come back from there. Years that I wouldn't have survived if not for Perle. I focused my time and energy on her. I devoted my attention to her and it distracted me from thinking too much about myself." He paused to catch his breath.

"Y-you got ill?" Lucien raised his eyes to Mundy.

"Oui, a kind of illness that no doctor knows exactly how to cure. A lot of soldiers go through it. They come back from the battlefields and they find it very hard to adjust back to civil life."

"You were a soldier?"

"Worse, but oui, I belonged to the army."

"How did you become a baker then? You were already one before you went to the army?" Mundy asked.

"Non, I was not. I had no skills besides those that I learnt in the army, or so few. You will mock me, but the idea came from Perle."

"Your kitty?"

Lucien nodded.

"One day I took her out to buy some bread with me. She was lying on my shoulders and when I was queueing to get my bread, she jumped out and into the back of the bakery." Lucien smiled as he remembered the events. "The baker let me through and we looked for her together. When we found her, she was asleep on a tray of still warm brioches."

"Aw, was that a long time ago?"

"She was somewhere between a kitten and an adult cat; a teenager, if you will."

"Ah, right. But how did you become a baker?"

"I apologised profusely to the baker and told him I would pay for all the damage and the pawprints… He told me he'd rather have someone to help him make all that again rather than take my money. So I offered my help. He taught me most of what I know now."

"Wow… Talk about finding work randomly, eh…"

"Oui, indeed. Since then, I have felt much better. Working put my attention and energy into something that brought smiles to the customers and apparently, to me too."

"So you got your own bakery goin'?"

"The previous owner of my bakery happens to be that man from the story. He was very old and decided to retire a few years later. He offered to let me buy the shop from him, which I did. I then changed the name to mine and redid some parts inside, the decoration mainly."

"Oh, I see… Wow… Great story you have."

"Merci." Lucien took a sip of his hot chocolate. "What about you? You said you were a hunter?"

"Yeah, but work is more and more rare now when you mainly do pest control and poacher scarin'."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't hunt beasts for trophies, fur or fun. I hunt and tranquilise whatever happens to be a bit too far from its natural habitat, load it on my van, and drive it back where it should be or in a reserve. As for the poachers, I scare them off of endangered species."

"So you don't kill animals?"

"Very rarely. Only for food when I'm out for days and far from home."

"Oh…" Lucien's eyebrows jumped. "I did not expect that. In fact, I didn't even know that this job existed."

"As far as I know, I'm the only one who doesn't actually kill the beasts. I get contracts that get me travellin' through the world quite a bit."

"Very exciting."

"Seein' the sights is nice, yeah. But uh, I miss my family quite fast and uh… It's not so much my family but… I feel a bit… Uh…"

"Lonely?"

Mundy nodded.

"Yeah…"

"I would recommend getting a cat," Lucien said. "But I am afraid that it doesn't completely fill the emptiness that you feel inside."

"I'd imagine so, yeah…"

Silence fell for a while as they both drank more of their hot chocolates.

"I would love you to stay, but your life, your family and your job are in Australia." Lucien said and his eyes met Mundy. They were both distraught and could hardly hide it.

"Yeah… And I don't know anythin' else but shooting a rifle." Mundy looked through the window. It was now properly dark outside and only the yellow lamps inside the old café provided them with some light.

"I am immensely grateful to you however."

"For what?"

"I wouldn't be able to put a name on it but you brought me some peace and you made me wake up in the morning with a new feeling; the eagerness of welcoming a new day that will for sure contain some spark of joy, namely, your presence, your… Hm, you."

Mundy blushed and turned as red as a brick.

"Y-you do the same. I mean, for me. I uh… I'm not just happy to visit the city with my parents. I'm uh… I'm happy in the evenings, with you."

They hadn't realised until then but they were holding hands on the table, the mugs had been pushed aside.

"I wish I could stay, I really do. But uh… Yeah, without a job or anythin', I can't."

"I understand and, for what it is worth, I would love for you to stay too." Lucien hesitated but thought that it might be his last evening with Mundy. He looked around and could see the few customers in the café were far from them. "And not just to help you visit the city."

Mundy's eyebrows jumped as Lucien had spoken quite low. The Frenchman was staring at him with a particular shine in his eyes. He slightly bent forward and Mundy mirrored him. Their faces were a few inches apart.

"L-Lucien, I'd uh… I'd better get back. We still gotta pack a few things before leavin' tomorrow."

Lucien's chest burnt. Hot lava was being poured on his heart.

"Before you go, may I tell you something?"

They were both whispering. Mundy nodded and Lucien gestured to him to get closer, which he did. The Frenchman wrapped a hand behind Mundy's neck and the Aussie froze rigid when he felt Lucien's breath on his ear.

"Je t'aime." He simply whispered and Mundy's entire being burst and melted when he felt Lucien's lips on his rough cheek.

[I love you.]

"U-uh…" The air was scarce in the room but it happened too fast and Mundy was left alone at the table. Lucien had dashed out faster than a shadow. "Fuck me…"

Soon, the surge of love was replaced by boiling rage and Mundy stormed out of the café, almost running back to the hotel. That night, he cried himself to sleep as silently as he could. He didn't want his parents to hear it.

The next morning, Mundy was woken up by his mother.

"Micky, sweetie? You've been sleepin' a long time, it's lunchtime now."

"Don't wanna eat." He rolled himself under the blanket and his parents exchanged a concerned look. "You can go if you want."

"Micky, you can't travel on an empty stomach, son." Mike's voice took the decision for everyone and Mundy sighed before getting out of bed and dressed up.

They arranged for their luggage to be transferred to the airport while they went to have lunch. Obviously, they ended up in Lucien's bakery.

"Bonjour, Lucien!" Mike tried his best.

"Bonjour, Mike. What will it be today?"

"Hold your horses, son, I've gotta see with the wife if I can get dessert first…!"

"Mike, you know the answer to that…"

"Lucien," Mike turned to the baker. "You married, by any chance?"

Lucien shook his head.

"Non, I nearly did but it did not happen."

"Well, before you get married, ask them if you can get dessert for the rest of your life."

"Mike…! You know why you have to be careful, the doctor said so, now be reasonable, dear." Caroline tried.

"And only get a ring on your finger if they say that yes, you can get dessert until your very last breath!"

Lucien smiled, albeit sadly. After that, the Turner family placed their order and soon enough, their sandwiches and salads appeared on the table.

"Lucien, excuse me, dear?" Caroline called and Lucien came to her.

"Oui, Madame?"

"I saw the poster on your front door. You're looking to hire?"

"Oui, indeed. I think this is the end of a chapter for me. Time maybe to do something else."

"Oh, that's a shame. You're very good at what you do!"

"Yeah, your sandwiches are amazin'." Mike added.

"Thank you very much."

"Did you receive applications?" Caroline asked.

"I am afraid not, but I have only put that poster up this morning."

"What kind of people're you lookin' for?" Mike asked.

"Anyone, from inexperienced to confirmed bakers. In fact, I learnt this trade as a beginner and I would like to pass on my knowledge and techniques to someone else. But don't let me bother you. Enjoy your lunch."

He bowed and returned behind his counter. Mundy hadn't listened to any of it. He couldn't even raise his eyes off of his shoes, especially not to see Lucien. It hurt too much.

"Micky?"

"Mh."

"Micky, you want to eat before we go, dear." Caroline said and her son sighed before taking a bite. He chewed slowly and looked away from anyone else.

"Don't like your sandwich, son?"

Mundy didn't answer and didn't see Caroline and Mike exchanging a glance.

"You can try another one, eh."

Still no answer from the heartbroken Aussie. It was a torture. Eating a sandwich made by the hand of a man he had cried for, hands that he had spent the past few weeks holding fondly even if he had never initiated it. Gosh, now he regretted it, he should have done something, anything…! But he wasn't ready, he never was, he had never been prepared for it! In more than three decades of existence, who the hell would come to him and teach him?

"Mike, Madame Caroline?" Lucien had come to the table.

"Yeah?"

"I have a… an unusual request, if I may."

"Go ahead, son." Mike wiped his mouth and frowned to listen better.

"It is actually for Mundy." Lucien said and Mundy frowned too but his eyes were still low. "If you would rather make your own sandwich, you may help yourself to the fridge and the breads that I have."

Mundy didn't flinch.

"If you want… You can… Make not only your sandwich, but… other sandwiches."

"Oh, you mean to take away? Ouch!" Mike asked and received an elbow to his ribs from Caroline who glared at him.

"That is lovely of you, Lucien. Yes, I think he would love doing that, if that is ok with you?"

"It is the least I can offer, Madame."

"Oh, you really don't have to…!"

"Allow me to insist. You have been lovely customers throughout all these weeks."

"And you have been a lovely guide! So, Micky, what do you say?" Caroline asked her son and he sighed.

"Don't know." He mumbled.

"C'mon sweetie, go and make your own sandwich. And make a couple of extra ones for your Dad and I, for the road."

"Mum…" Mundy hid his face in his hands.

"Micky, you don't want to be impolite to Lucien." She insisted.

"Hm…" He grumbled and pushed his chair back before standing up, not seeing his mother whispering something to his father.

"Here, wear this. It would be a shame to have flour on your polo shirt." Lucien handed him an apron. Mundy took it and put it on without looking at it. This whole show hurt and was preposterous… "Now let me show you around the house, pray follow me."

Mundy dragged his feet on the floor and followed Lucien behind the counter.

"What sandwiches would you and Mike like, Madame Caroline?" Lucien asked.

"If you have that ham and butter, what d'you call it again, Lucien?" She answered.

"Jambon-beurre, Madame." He answered. "Mundy, please take one of those in front of you? Thank you, now, follow me to the fridge. Here is the light butter and the lean ham. I keep them on this side to not get them confused with their regular counterparts. Now, you will do your father's sandwich. Here, chopping board, a fresh baguette and a knife. Go ahead."

"L-Lucien…" Mundy sighed in front of the ingredients. "I can't."

Caroline stood up and went to the counter with Mike, customer side, while Mundy and Lucien were on the other side.

"C'mon, son, your first sandwich here, Micky! Caroline, get the camera!" Mike encouraged him.

"And we get to see you make it!" Caroline added enthusiastically and readied herself to take a picture.

"Wh-what?" Mundy asked, confused that his parents were that thrilled for… him making a couple of sandwiches.

"C'mon, cut the bread, Micky, chop, chop!" Mike said and Mundy got to work, missing the point entirely. He made the sandwich for his father and added his mother's to the plastic bag.

"I won't take one for myself." Mundy said and started undoing the apron.

"Of course not, son!" Mike answered with a chuckle and Mundy's confusion just jumped a notch.

"And what are you doing, Micky? Keep the apron!" Caroline laughed.

"What? I'm not gonna travel with that!" Mundy answered.

"Of course not!" She answered.

"What the hell's been going on? Look, this is just - it's just…!" Mundy covered his face with his hands to hide his shame. At that point he thought it was a nightmare and he would wake up.

"Ooh, we're sorry, sweetie…" Caroline hugged him. "We didn't want to upset you."

"But why…?"

"Micky, look at your apron, son." Mike said.

"Dad, look, I'm just tired. Let's go back home." Beyond the distress of leaving Lucien, Mundy felt embarrassed, ashamed to have been put on the spot with the apron, the sandwich making… What was that all about…?

"S'il te plaît, Mundy."

[Please, Mundy.]

Caroline and Mike stepped back to let Lucien get closer to Mundy. The Aussie turned his face away. He couldn't take any of it anymore.

"Mundy…?"

"Take it back and leave me alone." Mundy removed the apron completely and pushed it against Lucien's chest.

"On one condition, you look here."

Mundy sighed but obeyed. Lucien held the apron between his hands.

"What do you read here?"

The apron was white with something sewn on it. Mundy squinted. His shoulders and jaw dropped when he read the word.

Mundy

It was sewn in cursive letters. Mundy looked at Lucien's apron. His name was sewn in the same style.

"What? What's that mean?"

"It means, and forgive me for repeating myself, that I am offering you a job here." Lucien answered.

"What?! I know nothing of bread!"

"I will teach you, you will see, it isn't hard at all."

"But why? I gotta go back home…" Mundy turned to his parents.

"Micky, you can stay longer if you want." Mike said.

"Yeah, it's fine, you're a big boy and you've stayed with us long enough. Maybe this is your chance?" Caroline added and Mundy's eyes lit up with joy and excitement.

"Really?" His voice broke under the emotion he was trying to prudely contain.

"Of course!" Caroline answered. She went to the tip of her toes to put a hand on Mundy’s rough, slender cheek. "Look, for the past few weeks, we realised with your Dad that we hadn't seen you that happy in years. Each night, when you come back from your walks, you smile and even when you sleep, the smile stays on…!"

"Your Mum's right, son. If you're happy here with Lucien, then stay, at least a bit more. And it's not like you were exactly earnin' a decent wage out of a few hunting contracts, eh? Folks will find other people to deal with their beasts. You deal with you, ok?"

"Oh my God…" Mundy's tears came to his eyes faster than he could control. "Gosh…!" He hid his face and his shame with his hands.

"Aw, baby Micky…!" Caroline went to the tip of her toes to hug him and Mike tapped him on the back.

"It's alright, son, it's alright."

"But, you sure, though?" Mundy withdrew from the hug and looked his parents in the eye.

"Of course! We'll make it back home and give you a call when we get there." Caroline said, pinching his cheek gently.

"Yeah, of course!" Mike added. "Now, c'mere son." Father and son exchanged a long hug. "You make your parents proud, yeah?"

"Yeah, Dad, don't worry."

"And you be a good boy, eh?" Caroline added.

"Yes, Mum, I will."

"You look out for each other, alright boys?" Mike looked at Lucien.

"We will, Mike." The Frenchman answered. "But Mundy…?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you accept my offer?" Lucien held the apron up.

Mundy looked at his parents who nodded, then back at Lucien.

"Yeah… Please."

"Fine." Lucien got closer and put the apron on Mundy. He then tied it for him as the Aussie's eyes were riveted on his parents. Caroline was leaning on her husband's side and both wore a proud smile. Mundy hadn't seen his parents smile like that for a long, long time. "There, you are ready."

"Thanks, Lucien." They exchanged a tender gaze and didn't see Caroline's eyes light up.

"Right, boys, I think we should be on our way." Mike said.

"But of course." Lucien answered. "Here, your sandwiches for the road."

"Mum, you call me as soon as you can, ok?" Mundy said, as they all went to the front door.

"Yes, dear, don't worry."

They were now standing outside of the bakery under the beautiful and powerful summer sun.

"You call us sometimes, Micky, eh?" Mike said.

"Sure, I will."

Hugs and kisses were exchanged.

"And you, you take care of our son, alright?" Mike was shaking Lucien's hand and patted his shoulder. After that, he waved for a taxi to stop.

"I will think of him before I think of myself." Lucien answered while giving a nod.

"And Micky, you take care of Lucien too, eh?" Caroline said as she winked, making her son blush beyond his ears.

"Y-yeah Mum, will do…"

"Bye, son."

"Bye guys, careful on your way back, eh?" Mundy answered.

"We will, don't worry."

And on that, they all waved at each other as Mike and Caroline slipped in the taxi and they went their way. Lucien and Mundy stayed for a while, even after the taxi disappeared. The Aussie was out of breath, everything had happened quite fast.

“I’ll miss them.” He said.

“I will miss them too. You are lucky to have very supportive parents, Mundy.”

“Yeah… But I’m glad to stay here.”

"So…" Lucien said as both him and Mundy entered the shop again.

"Yeah?"

"Ready to learn the fine art of bread and pastry making?"

"I guess… I mean, I didn't really think it through, eh." Mundy chuckled and looked at Lucien. "But with you, anythin'."

The Frenchman smiled.

"First lesson: follow me."

They went back behind the counter and Lucien even invited Mundy in the hidden workshop, behind a wooden door. There were tables lined up in the room, fridges on one wall and ovens in the other.

"Woah… It smells incredible in here…!" Mundy said as he was hit by a wave of hot flour.

"Indeed. You will see, you will never get tired of that incomparable smell. Hot flour and sometimes, hints of sugar."

"Yeah…” Mundy inhaled deeply and when he exhaled, his eyes were half closed. That place was heaven... “Right, so what's first?"

Lucien shut the door and looked up at Mundy.

"First, I have to ask you, are you sure you want to stay with me? We can still call a taxi for you and you can join your parents."

Lucien's light blue eyes raised up to Mundy were a sight to behold for the shy Aussie.

"Y-yeah."

"Yes, what? Shall we call a taxi or…?"

"No. I wanna… Try, with you."

Lucien's smile made all his face beam up poetically. He closed the gap between Mundy and himself and hugged the taller man.

"Thank you so much." Both closed their eyes and held dearly to each other. “Thank you so much for trusting me and for believing that this is all worthwhile. I do appreciate that you are leaving everything behind just for me and… I am beyond grateful.”

Mundy bent down to put his lips next to Lucien's ear.

"Lucien?" He whispered.

"Oui?"

"I think I… I love you too." Mundy screwed his eyes shut and buried his head deep in the crook of Lucien's neck, holding Lucien not like a friend, but like the salvation he felt God sent to him through that man.

"Mundy…?"

"Yeah?"

"Look at me."

Mundy did as he was told and Lucien wrapped his arms around the Aussie's neck.

"O-oh… Right… Y-yeah?"

Lucien smiled before his eyelashes bowed down as he slowly closed his eyes. He pushed himself to the tip of his toes and did what he had dreamt of doing.

Mundy's eyes rolled up in bliss and if he froze for a second, the kiss made him soon melt such that he bent down and pulled Lucien from his back and his hip, to feel more of him against himself. He yielded to the passion of the moment, he let everything explode in him, the yearning, the longing...

It lasted for a few seconds that they both wanted to extend, but the call for air was stronger. When they broke the kiss, they stayed with their foreheads against each other.

Neither knew what to say first, to exit that moment.

"Hold on…" Mundy eventually said.

"Oui? Something is the matter?" Lucien asked.

"No but… You had an apron with my name all along?"

"Non," Lucien chuckled. "When I came back yesterday night, I spent some time thinking and smoking. I couldn't help but repeat the discussion we had in the café on loop in my head. And then I remembered what you said, that you wouldn't be able to stay without a job. That was when I got the idea to hire you."

"Oh, woah…"

"So I woke up this morning, my mind set as hard as stone. I thought that I would ask in front of your parents."

"How did you know they'd accept?"

"I think your mother felt it, for a long time."

"She felt what?"

"Mundy, she is a woman, and your mother, she feels those things. Besides, each time you have lunch here you stare at me with such insistence…!"

"What?! No, I don't!" Mundy protested and his cheeks turned red.

"Yes, you do, mon amour, and don't blush so much…" Lucien chuckled and tapped the tip of Mundy's nose.

"Did you just call me-?"

"My love, oui. Now, let us go to work - oh?!" Lucien's sentence was interrupted by an intense - if slightly awkward - kiss. Mundy held him dearly, almost clawed in his sides and Lucien smiled.

"That is quite unprofessional, hm?" The Frenchman teased.

"Well, you started it, eh?"

"Non, I did not kiss my employer."

"You kissed your employee, that's worse."

"Non, you are not my employee yet."

"What?"

"You are my apprentice…"

"Right, fair enough. What's that make you then?" Mundy asked.

"... And my lover."

"Oh, right, ok, uhm… I-I mean…"

"And very shy."

"Well…"

They spent the beginning of that afternoon in the workshop dealing with bread and pastries as they teased each other. When the time came to close the shop and go back home, Mundy's eyebrows jumped.

"H-hold on." He said on the pavement with Lucien.

"Oui?"

"I… I don't have a home here… I could probably be able to pay a couple more nights at the hotel but…"

Lucien's chuckle cut Mundy's sentence.

"Why're you laughin'? I'm telling you I'm homeless…!"

"Don't be silly, Mundy. Come." Lucien took his hand and led the way.

"Right… I s'ppose you can walk me back to the hotel…"

"Non, I will not and I am not."

"Where are we goin' then?"

"Home."

Mundy frowned in confusion but decided to wait and see. Meanwhile, he held Lucien's hand dearly in his own. A few minutes later, Lucien stopped and got some keys out of his pocket. He unlocked the door and flipped a switch.

"Meow…!"

A white cloud brushed the floor and jumped in Lucien's arms.

"Oui, mon bébé, bonsoir, Papa est rentré…"

[Yes, my baby, good evening to you too, Papa has come home…]

He kissed her countless times and carried her in his arms indeed like a baby.

"Mundy, this is Perle. Perle, this is Mundy."

"Oh, yeah, your kitty…! Hello there, pretty lady…" Mundy scratched her cheeks and jaw, and soon both Lucien and him heard her pur.

"She likes you already." Lucien said.

"I'm good with animals usually, yeah… Hold on, what d'you mean 'already'?"

"Perle," Lucien said to his cat. "Mundy here is more than just a man who knows how to scratch you perfectly."

"Meow?"

"Oui, he is Papa's very good friend."

"Meow…?"

"Fine, oui, he is Papa's… Second half."

"Meow!"

"Don't worry, you are still my baby, but now, you are our baby, because Mundy here" Lucien raised his eyes to his lover. "Mundy here will live with us."

"Wh-...? Wait, are you serious?" Mundy asked in shock at the door's threshold. Lucien pulled him in and closed the door after him.

"I am. Now, make yourself at home, and give me an instant, someone has to feed this snow white baby."

"Meow!"

Lucien went to the kitchen as Mundy opened wide eyes and observed every little thing in the room. The paintings, most of them abstract, the furniture, the brown leather sofa, the persian style carpet in front of it, on which was the coffee table. There was a fireplace too and on the mantelpiece, pictures. They were all about Perle, the white kitten who grew to a majestic, fluffy creature with mesmerising blue eyes, a bit like her master.

"One last thing Mundy…!" Lucien said from the kitchen.

"Yeah?"

"I have only one double bed!"

Mundy blushed and smiled.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #dontneedavalentine2021

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cj-can-art · 4 years ago

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Pancakes

Moceit Appreciation Week Day 1

Prompt: Baking

TW: food

Summary: Patton tries to make pancakes. Janus tries to help. It doesn’t go well.

Read on AO3

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

Patton was not the best at baking. Or anything involving making food, for that matter. But it never stopped him from trying.

“Alright next up is two eggs…” Patton read from the cookbook. He took two eggs from the fridge and cracked them. Perfect! He turned back to the bowl where he was stirring the ingredie—wait. He looked back at the cookbook and groaned. He had cracked the egg on top of the recipe page. Not to mention the crushed eggshell that had snuck its way into the egg white. “Well, I can just slide it off…”

“Mornin’.” Virgil’s rough voice startled Patton, causing him to drop the half cup of milk he was carrying. It splashed up as it hit the floor, staining his khaki pants and blue fluffy socks. “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry!” Virgil rushed over, frantic apologies pouring from his mouth as he grabbed the roll of paper towels on the kitchen counter.

“No, it’s okay, kiddo!” Patton reassured the anxious Side. “You didn’t mean to startle me.”

“Right, sorry,” Virgil bit his lip as he crouched down with the paper towels to clean up the milk on the floor. “I should probably stop saying ‘sorry’ before it doesn’t sound like a word anymore.”

Patton laughed and went to pour another half cup of milk. He had just picked up the carton when an ear-splitting screech rang throughout the entire Mindscape. This caused him to drop the whole thing entirely, soaking the rest of his pants as well as Virgil’s face.

The Sides’ heads turned as a giggling Remus ran through the living room, diving behind the coffee table.

“GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE TRASH GREMLIN!” Roman’s annoyed voice could be heard before they saw him. When they did, it took all of Virgil’s will to not laugh. The prince was covered in honey and feathers. Okay, maybe he did laugh.

The two Sides in the kitchen watched as the twins chased each other in circles around the coffee table.

“You can’t catch meeeee!” Remus taunted.

“I WILL TURN YOU INTO A LIZARD.”

“That would be a pain in the ass!”

“YOU’RE A PAIN IN THE ASS!”

Patton giggled a little before turning back to Virgil. He gasped upon seeing the emo’s milk-covered hair and face.

“Oh! Sorry about the milk, Virge!” Now it was Patton’s turn to worry.

“You’re fine.” Virgil chuckled. “Guess we’re even.”

“I guess.” Patton shrugged playfully. “Hey, where’s Logan? Or Janus?”

“Logan’s working on Thomas’s schedule, and I don’t know about Deceit.” Virgil paused. “Why do you want to know?”

“Oh, no reason.” Patton laughed nervously. Virgil looked Patton up and down before slowly exhaling.

“Okay.” He tossed the soggy paper towels into the trash can. He pointed to the twins, who were still bickering and chasing each other around the coffee table. “I’m gonna get these two to the Imagination before they break anything. See ya later, Padre.”

“Bye, kiddo!” Patton waved as Virgil ran to the living room, tackling the twins and sinking out with them.

Finally. Some quiet. More time to prepare for today.

The quiet scene was then interrupted by a distressed Janus stumbling down the stairs. His hat was askew, his hair was untamed, and he hadn’t even bothered to take off his pajamas. Five of his arms hung at his sides, one arm propping himself against the railing.

Odd.

“Hey, Jan!” Patton waved. “You alright?”

“Yes.” Janus sighed, sarcasm in his voice. “I heard screaming, what happened?”

“Just the twins, but Virgil took care of it. Here, let me just…” Patton walked to the snake hybrid and straightened his hat. “There.”

“Thanks,” Janus smiled warmly. He glanced towards the disaster that was the kitchen. “What happened there?”

“Oh, nothing. Just making pancakes.”

Janus hummed. “No offense, but you’ve never made pancakes before, amica mea.”

“Well, I don’t know what that last part means, but it’s never too late to try new things!” Patton giggled. The human half of Janus’s face flushed a faint pink.

“Ah, well,” Janus began. “I suppose you’re right. Mind if I lend a hand?” Janus extended three of his arms. “Or six?”

Patton beamed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You made a dad joke!” He squealed, hands flapping at his sides.

Janus chuckled. “Yes, yes, go shout it to the masses, why don’t we.”

“Everything’s in the kitchen. I’ve already got a bit of a head start on you.” Patton smirked, walking back over to the counter. Janus followed, stopping over the cookbook.

“Patton, are you sure you’re doing this correctly?”

“Kinda.” Patton shrugged, opening the cupboard to get the flour.

“It says you need one tablespoon of sugar.” Janus said, glancing at the mixing bowl. “And you added almost two cups.”

“You can never have too much sugar!” Patton grinned.

“Well, yes, you actually can.”

Patton shrugged, grabbing the large bag of and lifting it out of the cupboard. He set it down on the edge of the counter, since the rest of it was taken up by other various ingredients. “How much does it call for again?”

“Two cups, although we should probably add more to balance out the sugar.” Janus guessed. “Probably more of everything else, if I’m being, ha, honest.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” Patton smiled nervously. He reached over to the sink to grab the cup measurement. His elbow bumped against the bag of flour, causing it to tip over dangerously.

“Patton, the flour!” Janus warned. Patton yelped, reaching out to grab it. Unfortunately, he forgot about the weight of the bag, and everything from then seemed to move in slow motion. As the bag landed in Patton’s arms, he fell forward due to the weight. He tried to lift the bag up to the counter before he hit the ground, but ended up using too much strength and sent the bag flying up into the air. Flour poured from the bag as it spun a few times, then landed back onto the ground with a thud and a final big puff of flour.

Patton stood up in shock, eyes wide. He took the flour-covered glasses off his face and wiped them with a dishrag. That, however, did not help as the dishrag was also covered in flour. He settled for using the inside of his sleeve, which did work.

Patton glanced over at Janus, and gasped. The Side was covered in flour. There was flour on his shoes, his cape, his scales, his hat, everywhere.

Janus’s lips twitched for a moment before his face broke into a smile. He covered his mouth with a gloved hand as the both of them started to giggle uncontrollably.

“This… this is…” Patton wheezed, “This is terrible!”

“I’m glad you didn’t ask me to do it.” Janus laughed. “I can’t cook to save my life!”

The two stood in the kitchen for the next five minutes clutching their sides and laughing like there was no tomorrow.

Janus managed to compose himself enough to form words coherently.

“Cereal for breakfast?” He asked, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah.” Patton nodded. “That sounds good.”

@moceit-appreciation-week

#moceit #moceit appreciation week 2021 #food #fic #fluff oneshot

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leavesofolive · 4 years ago

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🌞🧹🌻Hearth Witch Tips!🌻🧹🌞

04: Your kitchen eats with you!

Just like with the rest of the house, what you put into the kitchen also heavily affects its energy. When you treat the hearth in certain ways, it reacts in certain ways. Your relationship with any room in the house is give-and-take. That means that if you don’t give back occasionally, the room will grow cold and stop appreciating your presence. But there are plenty of ways to mend your relationship! And the first step is to identify the problem!

From my experience, there are three main reasons why the kitchen stops being a warm and inviting place: 1) You are filling the cupboards with too much toxic, processed foods; 2) You aren’t spending enough time in that room; 3) Or you aren’t keeping the room clean enough.

When there’s a problem in the hearth, it’s always either one of these things or some combination of them. We’ll start with number three since it’s the easiest to explain. The kitchen should be anyone’s top priority to keep clean. It’s where all of your food, the nutrition and fuel of your physical and spiritual bodies, comes from! What you eat is your first defense against illness, injury, and your mental health. If the kitchen is filthy, then the food you take into your body will also begin to develop the same properties.

To keep the kitchen clean, I always start my day by washing last night’s dishes and give the counters a quick wipe. Once a month, I take stock of what’s in the fridge and freezer and scrub them out to prevent bacteria build-up. Sweeping the kitchen floors happens once a week and takes me all of three minutes to complete, tops. Once per season, normally at the beginning, I scrub the floors with soap and water, descale the coffee maker, wipe down the other appliances, and clean out the cupboards. So the only true “cleaning days” for the kitchen is four days out of the entire year. The rest of the time, the chores only take me about 30 minutes. As a quick tip, rinsing your dishes before setting them in the sink speeds up the dish washing process a ton! I’ve personally never trusted dishwashers since they don’t clean stuff well enough and it’s easier, faster, and far more cost effective to do it by hand.

The next problem the kitchen’s energy might be suffering from is how much time you’re spending there. First, spending a lot of time in the kitchen is a great thing! It absorbs the energy you feed to it, so when you don’t go in the kitchen very often or just don’t spend much time in there to begin with, the kitchen grows darker and colder. It loses the warmth and emotion and love that would’ve been sinking into it when you aren’t there.

The way to fix this problem is actually really easy! Cooking your own meals ensures that you are in there for a good amount of time each day because of the prep work and meal planning, etc. Plus, you get healthier, tastier food that way too! If you can’t cook all that well yet, don’t worry! Just like any skill, there’s no talent involved in learning something. It just depends on how much effort you apply to it. Another way to boost the hearth’s energy is to just hang out in that room. Invite some friends over, set out a snack tray, and just chill in the kitchen. Of course, since it’s pandemic right now, it’s best to wait until that’s over with to try this approach. But you, yourself, can still hang out in the kitchen!

The last problem, and a very, very common one in this day and age, is the influence of toxic food. Just like how your house absorbs energy from the land its on and what its built with, the kitchen also absorbs energy from the ingredients you keep within it. Toxic foods include anything processed or with a bunch of added sugars, and even GMO ingredients to some extent due to the trace chemicals that are still on the crops. These kinds of foods, if that’s the only thing in your house, will rot the energy. Not to mention, easy to grab snacks also end up causing you to spend a lot less time in the kitchen if that’s all you eat. Needless to say, no one eats healthy all the time. I don’t either! But having only toxic food in your kitchen isn’t great for you or the hearth.

Once again, cooking comes to the rescue! Even if you’re bad at it, it’s the thought that counts and little by little, as your skills grow and improve, the kitchen will learn to help guide you. There have been many times where I’d be stuck on how to fix something and a bottle of spice would fall of the shelf right next to me. If you listen to the kitchen, it will listen to you, too! Even if you don’t have time to cook, snacks like apples, berries, seeds, nuts, and dried meats are all healthy alternatives! I usually keep kale chips in the house for some yummy, salty crunchiness!

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

If you are worried about cost with this approach (believe me, due to my own situation it’s been a struggle at times), I’ve found out several tips and tricks to significantly lower the grocery bill. Anymore, my bill would actually be bigger if I bought crap food instead! Here’s my advice:

☀ Plan your week ahead! I always plan four meals a week that I’ll cook, and three days that I’ll scavenge for snacks and leftovers. I also stick to the rule of “one simple, one chicken, one meatless, one freebie” to remain more cost effective! The “simple” meal is just something I can make quickly if I know I’ll be short on time. The reason for have one of the meals be chicken is because it’s a much less expensive meat than beef or pork, and it’s a little better for the environment. The meatless meal is for the same reasoning. Meat is expensive and commercial brands are horrible for both the environment and the animals themselves. When I do buy meat, I make sure to buy local, grass-fed, organic meat as often as I can afford to. Keep in mind that every time you purchase anything, you are casting your vote for what is acceptable for society to continue. The “freebie” meal is just whatever I’ve been craving. If I want some kind of beef, I wait until this day.

☀ Learn to bake your own bread! For those of us with the time, this is a great way to save money and to stay healthy! Basic, white bread is actually pretty easy to make and only uses a couple ingredients. Those ingredients also go a long way. It costs me about 24¢ to make one loaf of bread because things like flour, sugar, salt, butter, honey, and yeast are all things that you buy once and can use for several loaves before you have to buy them again! It’s also not as time consuming as you’d think. Yes, it takes about 2 hours, but most of that time is proofing so you can easily be running around doing other things in between.

☀ Grow a garden! Even if it’s just a small, window herb garden, it can take the edge off of your overall food cost. Portobello mushrooms are also super easy to grow inside with minimal effort and equipment. If you have outdoor space, planting a small garden with the ingredients you use the most can help immensely!

☀ Only buy what you need! I know those sales look crazy tempting, but most of them are actually bogus and don’t actually save you any money. Think about what you are actually going to use before it goes bad and stick to your list. The bottom shelves at the store, aka the ones not in your direct line of sight, are usually where the grocery stores hide the better priced goods. At the back of most stores that have bakeries, there’s also usually a spot to get baked goods left over from the previous day for a slightly cheaper price. Day-old baked novelties like bread, cookies, and cakes are still perfectly good, and much easier to enjoy where you don’t have to spend as much!

☀ Check what’s already in your fridge before making your list! This is a huge one, since it prevents food waste, which in turn prevents money waste! What can you make during this week that can use up some of the ingredients leftover from last week? You’ll be impressed how quickly your food cost drops when you aren’t throwing things away. Waste not, want not! This trick also applies in another way, as well. When making your weekly meal plans, what types of foods use similar ingredients? If one meal calls for a slightly pricier ingredient, what other food can you cook with that ingredient to make the cost worth it? This also ensures that you get full use of things without wasting them. For example, this week I bought some fresh mozzarella cheese. Because this item is a little more expensive, I’m using it to make both the tomato mozzarella sandwiches and the beef wellingtons I’m making this week!

☀ Buy mostly produce! One of the best ways to lower your bill while still eating healthy is to simply add more fruits and veggies into your diet! There are so many tasty recipes that call for these babies that you’ll never run out of options, and there’s several things out there for everyone! Because I deal with sensory issues, I had to experiment a lot with what textures and tastes I could handle, especially on the bad days, but even still I found an over-abundance of things I love to eat. Fresh produce is way less expensive than meat, and much less expensive than many of the more mainstream snacks like chips or other processed foods.

------------------------------ All in all, taking care of your kitchen will also end up taking care of you, as well! Spending time there, actually using the kitchen the way it’s supposed to be, and just keeping it clean can work wonders in opening up your home and making it ten times warmer and more inviting! Trust me, your health and home will thank you for it!

#witchblr #hearth witch #pagan #witchcraft #cottagecore #writeblr #daily care #housecare #kitchen #hearth #positive vibes #know your home #healthy eating #health #naturecore #natural living #goblincore #home #kody

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miss-choco-chips · 5 years ago

Text

College au part 2

Home, a place where I can go to take this off my shoulders- someone take me home (Machine Gun Kelly, X Ambassadors & Bebe Rexha – Home)

They are there for each other, the good and the bad. That’s what family is for, after all.

-.-.-.-.-.-

-I'm so gay -sighed Miguel almost dreamingly, stopping next to Slobo by the doors leading to the backyard.

Blissfully unaware of them, Tim was going through his usual routine of what seemed a mix of gymnastics, various martial arts and parkour, with a side of dancing to spice things up.

His friend snorted without even raising his eyes from the motorcycle engine he was trying to fix. A blasphemy, in Miguel's humble opinion, to have such an amazing view and to not take advantage of it.

-I know.

He dropped to the ground, head resting on Slobo's shoulder, gaze unwavering in his appreciation of slim muscles and perfectly controlled strength. Tamed power to the fullest.

-I mean like, really really gay.

-Yeah, what else is new? Pass me the motor oil.

He blindly patted the ground for it, picking something vaguely shaped like a can and thrusting it to where he thought were the other's hands.

When Tim bends over and starts stretching, Miguel wheezes and drops the can.

-I'm so stupidly, non functionally gay.

Slobo rolled his eyes and picked it up, his other hand going to close Miguel’s jaw.

-Dude that's all old news. Either come here with fresh gossip, be helpful, or leave. I don't need you making a mess of my stuff. You are getting your hormones all over my individual bubble.

Miguel sighed again, eyes almost physically turning into hearts when Tim stretched his arms over his head.

-Fuck, I can’t handle this much inner gay. It’s overwhelming.

-Nothing inner about it, dude. You’re dripping it all over my work station. Can’t you go be a disaster gay somewhere else?

-Tim is here, so no can do.

-Can’t you just ask him out and save us all the pining show and second hand embarrassment?

A few meters away, Tim had taken out the bo staff and was practicing some moves. He accidentally brushed a branch (a thick one, from the pine tree Kon’s grandparents had made him plant upon moving there), and snapped it in half. He seemed kinda sheepish about it, which was both adorable and terrifying. Miguel was scared and horny.

-He’d destroy me.

Slobo hummed, hand reaching up to pat Miguel in the shoulder.

-Sounds like something you’d be kinda into, though.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

-This coffee tastes like dirt -complained Tim, while chugging half the pot in one long gulp.

Distantly, Cassie noted there was still steam coming out of the liquid. Hadn’t Tim just brew it? Also, was it completely dark? No sugar?

Like her future?

Despairingly, she let her head fall again on the table.

-Why did I get into politics?

-Your pathological need to fulfill Diana’s expectations -replied Cissie, sitting across from her, long hair in what could have been a bun once upon a time but now looked more like a bird’s nest. That had been hit by lighting. Repeatedly.

It strangely suited her. Or it could be Cassie’s adoration for her friend speaking, who the fuck knows.

-Which, I might add -interjected Tim, not waiting for them to say ‘you may’ before continuing. Because he was a rude bastard like that- you invented by yourself. Diana only hopes you don’t end up in jail. And if it's for the right causes, she might even forgive that.

He dropped to the ground for no discernible reason, back to the cabinets where they kept the fine cutlery they never used. He was staring at the halfway empty pot like it contained the key to conquering mankind.

Knowing Tim, it might actually be true.

-Don’t try to take over the world -she asked, worried he might. Cissie made a confused sound, not privy to Cassie’s internal monologue, but Tim just nodded distractedly, which was all she needed before turning back to her half done paper.

-How are you doing, sis?

-Sis like sister, o Ciss like Cissie? -came Tim’s voice from behind her, probably still sitting on the ground.

-Yes.

-Oh -the girl in front of her blinked- sorry, you were talking to me?

-I mean… Tim is not ‘sis’.

-I resent that, I totally could be. Also, seriously, why does my coffee taste like dirt?

-Don’t drink it then. You were saying, honey?

Cassie rested her chin on a hand, elbow carefully to the side of her paper.

-How are you doing?

-Wondering why did I ever thought studying psychology was a good idea. Why? Who started me on this path, and can I punch them? -her voice raised higher and higher the more distressed she got- Tim? Do you remember?

-Your therapist back in high school got you out of your toxic home life and helped you basically re-build your sense of self worth. Also you like to get into everyone’s business so Kon suggested making a career out of it.

-Remind me to punch him later.

-You could break your hand, and you have an archery competition this friday.

-Kick him, then.

-Got ya.

-Can I just die? -interjected Cassie, phone at hand. Her screen displayed a text sent by a classmate, who updated her on their due date. Apparently, she had calculated wrong and it was way sooner than what she thought- What’s the worst that could happen if I die? I’m sure people would get over it.

-You’d be losing all the progress you made in your career so far -reminded her Cissie.

Tim’s voice joined from behind- Included, but not limited to, that one class you had with the douche professor. Imagine if you lost your progress and had to start over. Imagine having class with him again.

She shivered- That was both incredibly motivational, and unholily terrorizing.

Greta entered the kitchen then. She looked fresh and cute, which was probably due to her having a full night’s sleep.

-Wow, you three have been here the whole night? -she asked, obviously concerned, looking over Cissie’s shoulder at her assignment- Did you guys even make progress? At all? -her eyes discovered Tim’s half assed project, on the place next to where Cissie sat.

If Cassie didn’t love her so much, she would punch her in the face.

Tim sighed.

-I can’t get up. I can’t feel my legs -he admitted. Cassie thinks, she should be worried. Losing sensibility seemed like a serious problem. But, whatever, Greta was here, and she was perfectly well rested. Let her take care of the worrying.

-Tim? Oh my god, are you alright? -she rushed to his side.

-I think the coffee stopped making effect, and my three-on-a-row all nighters caught up to me. Just let me die, Greta. If coffee is not longer working on my body, I might as well let the grim reaper do its thing.

Cassie couldn’t see her any longer, since she was at her back by Tim’s side, but she could still somehow sense her concern growing.

-Tim... Did you use this bag by the coffee maker to brew it?

-I can’t move my head to look up at what you’re pointing, but I guess I did.

-Oh, honey… that is soil for Kon’s vegetable plot. Not coffee grounds.

-...so that’s why it tasted like dirt. Thank god. Excuse me while I faint.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

-I think Conner is dead on our living room -announced Miguel entering the kitchen. Slobo, Anita and Greta didn’t even blink, just kept their... poker? game going.

-He’s probably just sleeping -the other man waved a hand dismissively- Did you check his pulse or something?

-Ew, no. What if he’s really dead? I don’t want to touch a corpse. Greta, you go touch it.

-Why me?

-If anyone will need to put their fingerprints in a veritable crime scene, who better than the only one with no criminal record?

-Tim doesn't have it either, go knock on his door and tell him to do it. I’m about to swindle both these jerks.

-There’s a difference between never getting caught by the police, and erasing all virtual proof of your crimes. Tim belongs to the second group. Also, last I checked, he and Bart were working on something on his room. I’m not approaching that danger zone without protective equipment.

-Speaking of -Slobo raised his head, looking around- has anyone bought them food in the last couple of hours?

-Kon, probably.

-He is dead -he reminded them- Cassie and Cissie are still asleep, and I’m not waking them up. Greta?

Out of their group, Conner was Tim and Bart’s official handler (when Tim was not micromanaging them all, at least; little control freak). Many people believed he lifted at the gym to get all the girls; in truth, as the boy had once told Miguel, it was so he could carry both his friends to bed in one trip to tuck them in at the same time, because if he did it separately, the one that got to be second always tried to make a run for it.

In the event he was unavailable, Cassie took over. Her skills with a lasso and years of practice at the rodeo came in handy then, and it never failed to crack him up when he saw how swiftly she caught them both.

And if she wasn’t close or was busy, then Cissie took over for Bart and Greta for Tim, as they could only handle one at the time.

The rest of them were last resource. Second to last was Jason Todd, who as both Tim’s brother and Bart’s TA held a fair amount of power over them.

If Jason told them to fuck off, then Slobo, Miguel and Anita would talk it out among themselves. Slobo would suggest knocking them out. Which, considering Bart’s speed and Tim’s mindblowing ninja training (and where the hell did he learn that, they would never know), wasn’t a very realistic option. Anita suggested drugs; but between Bart’s ADHD medication and Tim’s antibiotics for his lack of spleen and antidepressants, the adverse effects made them all a little uncomfortable with the idea.

Miguel’s own suggestions, which involved a lot of tender care and coddling, where ignored with a few laughs and a shrug.

-Fuck you, I’m not leaving this table so close to cleaning you both up. If you are worried, you go feed them.

Slobo shrugged.

-If they die, I call Tim’s room. Having a roommate is the worst.

-Excuse you -raised an eyebrow Miguel, walking to the fridge for a drink. He might as well watch the game.

-If I have to listen to you practicing your singing before showering one more time...

-If I can deal with you cursing at your phone at five am, you can deal with my melodious voice -Miguel blinked- That’s not poker.

-We are playing Truco.

-What?

-It’s a popular game in Argentina, or so Tim said. He taught us when he was having a coffee break this morning. And by the way: Truco, bitches!

-I’m in! -Slobo yelled back.

Greta looked at her cards impassively, then at the ones laying on the table between the three of them, before raising an eyebrow- I call Re Truco.

Miguel watched them go for a while. He wasn’t sure on the rules, but from the way they kept yelling, he knew it was highly competitive. It also seemed to involve a great amount of deceit, bullshiting and being as poker faced as possible. It made sense that Tim had been the one introducing them to the game. Speaking of…

-Maybe if I knock on the door with a coffee offering, he’ll listen to me without punching my nose in? -he mumbled to himself, aware that the others were ignoring him. Decided to test his luck, he climbed to his feet and readied the coffee maker.

The rest of the afternoon saw Miguel sitting on Tim’s bed, watching from the sidelines how both he and Bart built… something. It had a chainsaw and a mini shield, so maybe a fighting bot? There were some (not very legal) competitions around campus...

It was almost dinner time when he remembered a tiny, small detail.

-Man, I’m so hungry. You guys think dinner is ready? -asked Bart, hand sweeping the sweat off his forehead- Who was in charge of it tonight?

Lightning-like realization hit Miguel.

-Oh, yeah, speaking of that… Kon was probably dead, last time I checked. Maybe we should order a pizza or something?

-Cool, I could do pizza.

-I’m sorry, Kon was what?!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

-You guys need jobs -told them Tim one morning over breakfast. They had just moved in together, and classes were about to start. Nobody seemed willing to talk about responsibility yet, but he felt like they needed the push to do it.

-I have a job -proudly smiled Bart, eyes never leaving the TV where his character was beating Kon’s into a bloody plump. He didn’t elaborate past that, and Tim made a mental note to investigate further later. Bart’s career was enough, they needn't add another unsolved mystery.

-Where is this coming from, though? We have loads of time for that -scoffed Slobo, watching the game intently.

-Classes are starting soon, and people will be getting all the good jobs. I did some calculations, and the money you guys have been saving for living expenses will run out in two, three months tops. Greta has the coffee shop thing and Cassie just got called back from the movie theatre, but the rest of you need to find some money maker. Stat.

-And what about you? -threw Cissie back, internally agreeing with him but despising the reality check.

Tim looked at her, completely deadpan. Silently, he took out his wallet, fishing three cards (one silver, one golden and one black) from it and showing them to her.

-Even before being adopted by a billionaire, I already was a rich trust fund baby. And now that I’ve said it, I’m gonna avoid getting punched by making my exit. Good luck job hunting.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Cassie and Anita’s room was ground floor, along with the kitchen, living room, laundry area, a medium size bathroom with a shower, and a very small one with only the toilet and sink. The second floor housed Bart and Conner’s room, along with Miguel and Slobo’s, and Cissie and Greta’s, plus the biggest bathroom, with both a tub and shower. The attic had been claimed by Tim, who won that right by paying the deposit for the house on top of his part of the rent. It was the biggest room, the size of the entire house without partitions, with only one separation in the form of the small sized bathroom. He loved his room, would pay twice what he coughed up to have it. It was worth it, every cent.

He loved his attic; The bathroom, however, was another thing. It ran out of warm water constantly.

-This is the second time this month. I love you, but you aren’t burrowing our bath -denied Cissie firmly, arms crossed as she waited outside the door for Greta to finish her shower-. If it was any other day I’d say yes, you know I would, but you aren’t the only one that needs to get ready for the movie, and there’s six of us sharing here. Go ask the girls.

Defeated but understanding, he went another floor down, arms full with his skin and hair care products (he had a image to keep, and one never knew when paparazzi would be around; he and his brothers had a steady competition on who got caught in camera being a ugly mess the least, that he wasn’t willing to lose) and clean clothes.

Anita shrugged when she opened the door, still naked except from her towel and hair dripping.

-Yeah, Cassie already took hers. Just remember to lock the door, dude. Since its ground floor bathroom, someone always tries to get in to pee when you’re showering, it’s annoying. Also, don’t come at me with complains about hair in the drain, okay?

Thankful beyond caring, he nodded and hurried towards it.

He wasn’t expecting what he found there. Already halfway to the shower, he stopped to leave his folded clothes on top of the cabinet near the sink when he saw...

-Why are there weapons here? -he couldn't help but scream, clutching a towel to his naked chest. He felt distinctly like a victorian lady preserving her virtue from a foe. It was a very curious feeling.

-I said no judgements!! -Anita yelled back from across the hallway.

-Yeah, regarding hair on the floor! Nobody said anything about weapons!

-So I forgot my katana there after my shower, big deal. Just don’t fall on it, problem solved.

-No, I’m used to seeing your katana, but why the fuck do you girls have cat shaped brass knuckles?

-They are cute and useful! Aren’t you taking a shower, dude? The movie starts soon!

Deciding that this wasn't a battle worth picking, he turned on the warm water. Ahh, nice, wonderful hot water.

-Oh, Tim! -came Cassie’s yell- Don’t lock the door, forget what Anita said! I need to put on my make up and that mirror is better than the one in our room.

-I’m gonna be showering though.

-And?

Yeah, she had a point. Shrugging, he made sure the door was unlocked before stepping under the water and closing the curtain.

He heard her coming in and rummaging through one of the little bags he saw on the sink cabinet. He couldn't help but ask.

-Why do you guys keep weapons here?

-They are for when we are most vulnerable.

-With thighs like yours you’re never vulnerable.

-I love you. But just pretend I have noodle legs, for argument’s sake.

-Mkay.

-Well, name one instance when you’re more weak and exposed than when you’re taking a shower.

-...Yeah, I follow. Still seems a bit excessive, but I do like that pointy needle thing you have by the blow dryer. I need to get my sister one of those, cute and deadly like her.

-That? Oh, honey, no, that’s a hair pin.

-If you put your hair in a bun and use that as an ornament, you’d never be unarmed, that’s all I’m saying. Again, cute and deadly.

-...You’ve opened my eyes.

-You’re welcome. May I borrow your eyeliner?

-Sure, but why? You don’t usually use makeup.

-If I make myself long enough wings, maybe I’ll be able to fly away from my problems. Or look fabulous enough to not care about them.

-In moments like this I’m reminded of my undying love for you. Do my eyes too.

-Gotcha.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He came home five minutes after receiving the text, chest heaving from the run and heart beating furiously for a entirely different reason.

Cassie, phone at hand, was waiting by the door. Her eyes were solemn.

-What happened? -he asked, not bothering with niceties as he stepped in and closed the door behind him.

-Family dinner went wrong -she shrugged-, not that he told me. Bart was playing games when he walked in and he texted Jason, who told him, and then he came to me.

Fuck them, Kon thought uncharitably. The Waynes were both an awesome family, and boarding on toxic. Guessing which kind were they going to be any given week was like playing lottery. It was such a Murphy law thing that they went for shitty this particular weekend, where Tim could have used their love and support the most.

-How is Jason? -he asked, not that he cared too much, but because he knew Tim would want to know sooner or later.

-Bart didn’t say, but he did mention he was hanging out with Kori and Roy, and Artemis said in the family group chat to not bother her tonight, so I’m assuming she’s there too.

-Biz is still at the farm, but three is better than nothing -he sighed, taking off his coat and walking towards the stairs- Bart?

-He just convinced Tim to take a bath in the big tub, so he’s probably standing guard by the door.

A nod, Kon’s steps hurried with purpose now that he had a clear destination in mind.

-The others?

Cassie waved vaguely towards the arch on the wall leading to the living room. Kon could see someone moving there from the corner of his eye, but didn’t turn to check; he wouldn't be derailed from his path.

-Greta went to the attic to clean Tim’s room a bit. You know he doesn't have the strength to do it himself right now, but seeing it like that also makes him feel worse. Cissie and Anita are readying the living room for a movie night, picking up all the pillows and blankets in the house. A pillow fort might be in the making.

They were on the second floor now. Kon could see Bart ahead, back resting against the wall, just by the side of the door.

-Slobo ran to Tim’s favorite pizza place -Cassie kept going, keeping pace with him- and should be back soon; Miguel went to the store to buy comfort food, sweets and stuff. Ice cream too, probably.

Conner nodded again, glad to see everyone was following their protocol for these kind of situations. All their housemates accounted for, he stopped in front of Bart and patted his shoulder comfortingly. He was very empathetic, tended to pick up on everyone’s moods, specially Tim’s, and let himself be influenced by them. The shadows on his eyes were probably a mirror image of how their friend currently taking a bath was doing. Not so hot, apparently.

-I’ll take it from here, you guys go put on your pajamas and help the girls get everything ready -he suggested, eyes going to Cassie’s. She nodded, understanding that her mission now was to calm Bart down. Helping Anita and Cissie would do wonders for him.

On most situations, the group tended to follow Tim’s lead, their indisputable commander in chief; when he couldn’t be there, or was too emotionally compromised, Cassie would take over. However, in this particular scenario, everyone deferred to him for some reason. Maybe because he’s been with Tim for the longest time, maybe because he knew him best. It didn’t matter; all he cared about was that it made his work easier, and they seemed glad to have a task they could focus on, rather than dwelling in concern.

Softly, he rapped his knuckles against the door.

-Tim? I’m coming in, dude -he informed him, voice low as to not spook him if he was dissociating. The last they needed was him slipping in the shower.

When no answer came, he entered the steamy bathroom, door closing behind him. As Cassie had predicted, Tim was sitting in the almost full tub, knees hugged to his chest and chin resting above them. His eyes went to Conner when he approached him though, which was a good enough sign to make him visibly sigh in relief.

Tim’s eyes narrowed, as if he wanted to snap at him that he didn’t need them to take care of him, but then he just deflated and looked ahead again, not nearly strong enough to fight.

Knot growing on his chest, Kon sat by the tub’s edge- Hey there. You’re not looking very cool right now. Have I ever told you I despise like 66% of your family?

-Three out of six is not 66%.

-Three? I only like Alfred and Cass.

-You don’t dislike Jason.

-I mean, it varies from moment to moment. But I’ll give you that since you’re feeling bad, and concede on 50%.

Tim snorted a little, and his eyes didn’t look as dead as they had when Kon first came in, so he gave himself infinite Best Friend points.

-Want to talk about it? -he asked gently, hand on Tim’s wet shoulder. He felt more like saw him shrug.

-Nothing to tell, really… It was more of the same shit. I love them, but sometimes they…

-Don’t make it easy, huh?

-...yeah. I don’t even know why I’m so fucked up over it, I’m used to this.

Kon squeezed his shoulder- Your psychiatrist warned you, this week was gonna be tough even without the family drama. Your body is adjusting to the new medication, and it…

-Yeah, yeah, I know -he sighs, sinking deeper into the water- I just… I just hate this. That my brain works like that, that I worry you all, that I can’t just fucking deal with it alone. You know what Jack used to say about mental illness…

-A stupid bastard’s words shouldn't be taken seriously. And you know we don’t like the J word in this house, it’s one of the rules.

Tim’s smile, small and tentative, was a thing of beauty. It never failed to remind Kon why he put so much effort into making the situation better for his friend, when he saw that it actually did help.

-You guys can’t just erase my father from my memory by sheer force of will and avoidance of the topic.

-Sure we can -he gave his shoulder a light pat-. The boys will be here soon with food, and I heard a movie night is in order. You done with your bath? We could stay here longer if you want to, though.

Tim’s smile grew a little bit, cheeks warming, delighted despite himself at the love and care that was being bestowed upon him. Some time ago, he might have fought them over it; the progress was hard earned, but Kon wouldn't change a single thing about it.

-Yeah, I just have to put conditioner on and comb my hair -he hesitated a bit, glancing down at his arms hugging his legs and probably weighing their strength-. Could you, uh… do it for me?

Kon had already been reaching for the bottle even before he asked.

There was little he could do to help Tim, medical wise. But there were professionals for that, and after many late night talks and specially bad episodes, Tim had gotten better at seeking their help when needed.

What he could do was no less important, though; making sure their home was a safe, supportive, non-toxic place for him to come back to.

That’s what best friends-- what family was there for.

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