#this was a street festival in between all our houses so everyone pulled up we even went two days in a row

[loverboybitch]

ive been so busy and so sleepy but at least ive been spending alot of time with my friends<3.//.

[stylesispunk]

"A broken ankle, karma rules"

no outbreak! Joel Miller x f! reader

Summary: you slipped on ice in front of your neighbor Joel and he ran to help you. warning: none besides a broken ankle, "peach" is reader's nickname, and probably grammar mistakes because I wrote this too fast. Word count: 2,6k a/n: This is the last piece of writing for the Christmas season! It's a short one but a lovely one. I'm actually dying because it's too hot here in my country (perhaps because Pedro is here) I hope you have a lovely Christmas Eve, take care of yourself and I hope there is so much love for you on your way!

dividers by @/plum98

It has been five months since your neighbor, Joel had moved to the house next to yours, in a neighborhood mostly habited by lovely elderly people, you were the youngest woman in this street, and the sweetheart, loved by everyone around. Well, you, your kind heart, warm personality, and the delicious pastries you baked since you were a professional baker.

And of course, the arrival of Joel changed the course of events at the neighborhood, at that sunny morning when he parked his car in front of his house, full of his belongings, clearly indicating he was taking the house.

At first, you didn’t understand the commotion outside when you spotted 3 of the ladies chatting and laughing with an unknown guy on the cobblestones in front of your yard, just when you were leaving for work.

As a shy person, you sometimes hated the new introductions and tried your best to avoid them, but this morning it seemed like the odds weren’t in your favor. Once you stepped outside your door, the three heads, well now four, turned to you, smiling, and the chatting stop abruptly.  You could swear the eyes of the stranger wide at your presence. You felt the rush creeping up your cheeks and swallow, making your war downstairs your porch.

“It’s our lovely baker here, come on sweats pea, let us introduce you both” one of the ladies said, her name was Betty and he was a lovely woman in her 80s.

You walked towards them, avoiding the lump in your throat and the stammer on your heart at the presence of the men next to Betty.

“Look, Joel. She is our lovely peach. Well, that’s not her name but we all call her that because she bakes the best peach tarts in this town” she beamed.

“Hi, nice to meet you, peach” he smirked, “I’m Joel” he took your hand to shake, and you swore there was an electric touch once your hands made contact.

"Joel, you have tried her peach tarts" Betty asked with a sly smile.

Joel, catching on to the playful matchmaking, replied, "I would love to."

As you blushed at that, Betty seized the moment. "Well, you're in for a treat! Peach, why don't you tell Joel about your baking journey? It's such a fascinating story."

“Well, I’m actually have to go to work but I-you. I’m, we can’t talk later” you replied, shyly, making your  

“And again, nice to meet you, Joel. I” you smiled, trying to avoid looking into his eyes.

It has been five months since that morning and you could say you and Joel got along well since then, you wouldn’t say you were both friends but you clearly could say you were on good terms and he was a great neighbor.

Since then, you had found out he was single, no wife, not girlfriend and not daughter, but he did have a dog that always switched his time between your house and his, trying somehow to pull you and Joel together.

And now, as the winter sky painted hues of lavender color in the horizon, you found yourself bundled up in a cozy blanket, sitting on the bench outside your doors with a steaming cup of tea cradled between your hands. The air was crisp, and the soft glow of holiday lights adorned the houses, casting a warm and festive ambiance.

Joel, with his dog by his side, approached quietly, the soft crunch of leaves beneath his boots announcing his presence. The winter silence was interrupted only by the distant sound of carolers and the occasional jingle of bells from some houses, and his presence.

"It's enchanting, isn't it?" Joel remarked, his breath forming a mist in the cold air as he settled beside you.

You smiled, the warmth of the tea contrasting with the chilly breeze, "Yes, there's something nice about winter evenings. Especially on the eve of Christmas."

Joel nodded, his gaze capturing the twinkle of Christmas lights around the neighborhood. "Absolutely. It's my first winter here, but there's a special charm to this season."

He turned to you, taking a look of your side profile looking at the sky. He hadn’t really paid attention of the beautiful features adorning your face. For him, you were clearly a gorgeous woman, but right now in the quietness of a winter afternoon and gorgeous colors around, he thought you looked breathtaking, and his heart stopped beating for a second.

He cleared his throat, “So, any plans for tomorrow night?”

You contemplated your answer for a while before answering the question, “Well, I’m just driving to my parents’ house. We aren’t really a big family so I’m spending the night with them” you smiled, turning to your side to face Joel “What about you?”

“With my parents. I mean they’re coming and my lil’ brother and kids. They all want to know the place I’m living now” he chuckled.

“If is not a bother, I would love to ask you if you could bake a peach tart for me?” his big brown eyes shone under the soft light left of the day “you promised once you would bring me one but you didn’t so…”

Your heart fluttered at the genuine warmth in Joel's request, and the winter chill seemed to retreat in the face of the newfound connection between you two.

"Of course, Joel. I'd be happy to bake a peach tart for you. It's the least I can do for my neighbor and his family," you replied, a grin spreading across your face.

Joel's eyes lit up with gratitude, and he flashed a grateful smile. "Thanks, peach. I can't wait to taste one." He stepped up from beside you and flashed you another smile “So, see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll knock at your door with a peach tart.” you beamed.

As you got ready to drive to your parent's house, your mind was filled with the joy of giving and the anticipation of the holiday night.

Before hitting the road, you took extra care in preparing the peach tart for Joel. The sweet aroma of baking filled your kitchen, creating an atmosphere of warmth and festivity. Once the tart was baked to perfection, you carefully wrapped it in a festive box, adding a touch of holiday magic with a ribbon.

The night before, the snow had painted the neighborhood in a blanket of white, transforming the cobblestones and rooftops into a winter wonderland. As you stepped outside, the chill of the morning air nipped at your nose, and you couldn't help but marvel at the serene beauty of the snowy landscape.

With the box in hand, you made your way carefully towards Joel's house, navigating the slippery cobblestones with caution. The snow had turned the quaint neighborhood into a picturesque scene, and the holiday lights twinkled against the snowy backdrop.

But just before you reached the stairs of the porch, your misstep, slipping on the icy pavement. A gasp escaped your lips, and time seemed to slow for a moment. The festive box containing the carefully prepared peach tart tumbled from your hands, landing with a soft thud on the snowy ground. Your heart raced as you tried to regain your balance, but the slippery surface had other plans.

“Damn it!” you yelled, at the impact, and you winced as you felt the cold seeping through your winter attire.

Just as the echoes of your frustration lingered in the air, a door creaked open. Joel, having heard your exclamation, rushed out of his house with concern etched on his face. His eyes widened as he took in the scene, the fallen box, the snowy ground, and you, trying to gather yourself.

"Peach, are you okay?" he called out, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You managed a sheepish smile as you felt the flush on your cheeks, "I'm fine, just a little clumsy in the snow."

Joel hurried over; his steps cautious on the slippery pavement. "Here, let me help you up," he offered, extending a hand.

But you yelped in pain as you tried to stand up, a sharp twinge radiating from your ankle.

Joel's expression shifted from concern to alarm as he saw the discomfort etched across your face. "Hold on, Peach. Don't force yourself up. Are you hurt?"

You winced, clutching your ankle. "I think I might have twisted it. It hurts."

Without hesitation, Joel carefully crouched down beside you, his eyes scanning for any signs of serious injury. "Let me take a look," he said, his voice calm and reassuring.

As he examined your ankle, you couldn't help but feel a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. The peach tart, now forgotten in the snowy commotion, lay beside you. The chilly air seemed to intensify as Joel's worried gaze focused on your ankle.

"I'm no expert, but it might be best if we get you inside and have a closer look," Joel suggested, his concern evident on his voice.

You nodded, appreciating his attentiveness. With Joel's support, you managed to stand, albeit with difficulty. Together, you limped towards his front door, the snow underfoot now a hindrance rather than a picturesque setting.

Once inside, Joel helped you settle into a chair. "I think it might be a good idea to have a doctor take a look at your ankle. I can drive you to the hospital."

But instead of uttering a word, you started crying. Embarrassment and sadness clouded your mind, with a possible broken ankle you wouldn’t be able to drive to your parent’s house and you just had ruined Joel’s tart.

Joel, seeing your distress, knelt down beside you, his expression a blend of concern and empathy. "Hey, it's okay. Accidents happen, and your health is what matters most right now. We'll figure things out."

“But I ruined your tart” you sobbed, into your palms.

“I don’t care about the tart now, but you, okay? Let me drive you to the hospital” he said, looking out his car keys.

“No, Joel, I can drive myself” you insisted, attempting to push away the feeling of being a burden.

"Don't be a dummy, peach," he said, using the endearing nickname. Joel gently took your hands away from your face, looking into your eyes with sincerity. "Your health is more important. We'll figure out the rest later. Let me help you."

Feeling embarrassed, you nodded, realizing the truth in his words. With Joel's support, you allowed him to guide you to his car, the winter chill contrasting with the warmth of his concern.

As Joel drove carefully through the snowy streets to the hospital, a quiet and comfortable silence settled between you two. The twinkling Christmas lights outside seemed to blur in the background as your thoughts focused on the unexpected turn of events.

"I appreciate your help, Joel," you finally said, breaking the silence.

He glanced at you, a reassuring smile on his face. "That's what neighbors do, right? Look out for each other. Plus, I wouldn't want you driving with a potentially broken ankle."

Your previous accident hit you again, and you sighed. "This wasn't how I imagined spending Christmas Eve."

Joel nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Life has a way of surprising us. Perhaps, something good may happen after this” he said, looking to the front of the road.

Arriving at the hospital, Joel helped you out of the car and into the emergency room. As you waited for the doctor, the events of the day played in your mind. Despite the unexpected twists, you found solace in the genuine care Joel had shown towards you right now, as he took care of you by holding your hand tightly as you both wait for the doctor to attend your ankle.

After what felt like an eternity, the doctor finally arrived, breaking the quiet tension in the emergency room. Joel stood by your side, holding your hand tightly, offering a reassuring anchor as the doctor began to assess your ankle.

The doctor examined the X-rays and then turned to you with a composed expression. "Well, it seems you have a broken ankle. Nothing too severe, but you'll need to be cautious and follow the recommended care for a proper recovery."

You nodded, absorbing the news with a mix of resignation, and the doctor continued to explain the care instructions, detailing the use of crutches, the importance of keeping weight off the injured foot, and the expected timeline for healing.

Joel listened attentively; his concern evident in his eyes. However, to your surprise, the doctor, with a knowing smile, glanced between you and Joel.

"You're fortunate to have such a supportive boyfriend," the doctor said, assuming Joel was your boyfriend.

“Oh, he is-“

“Of course, everything for taking care of my girl” Joel interrupted, playing along with the assumption. He smiled warmly at you, as the grip on your hand gently tightened.

You exchanged a surprised glance with Joel, realizing that he was choosing to support the charade. The doctor continued, providing further guidance and answering any questions you both had.

As the appointment concluded, the doctor left the room, leaving you and Joel alone once again. You couldn't help but feel confusion at Joel’s behavior.

“Why did you do that?” you asked, curious.

Joel looked at you with a sheepish grin, his eyes reflecting a mix of playfulness and sincerity. "Well, it just seemed easier at the moment. Plus, I didn't want to complicate things. It's not like it's hurting anyone, right?"

“oh” you said, your tone disappointed.

“And because I think you are beautiful” he said, once he felt the disappointed in your voice “And I don’t care about peach tarts when I would rather taste the lips of the person who bakes them” he confessed.

Joel's confession hung in the air, and you found yourself caught between surprise and a growing warmth in your cheeks.

"I didn't mean to disappoint you," Joel said, a hint of concern in his eyes.

Your disappointment had quickly shifted to a mixture of surprise and something else—a fluttering sensation in your stomach. "No, Joel, it's not that. I just didn't expect—"

He gently interrupted, "Expect the unexpected, right? Life has a way of surprising us, I told you earlier” he said, smirking.

"Beautiful, huh?" you teased, attempting to lighten the moment.

Joel grinned, "Oh, absolutely.” He continued, "And as for the peach tart, I'd gladly trade it for a taste of something sweeter."

With a subtle shift, Joel leaned in, closing the distance between you. The moment felt like a suspended breath, a pause in time where the unexpected had become a canvas for something beautiful.

Your heart raced as Joel's lips met yours, the taste of your lips was just as sweet as he imagined, and the world outside, covered in a blanket of white, seemed to fade away as the warmth of your new found connection met in both of your lips moving against each other.

As the kiss deepened, you started to feel breathless, a rush of emotions swirling within you, and you even felt grateful for breaking your ankle because it led you to Joel.

the taste of the shared kiss created a sense of completeness, as if the universe had conspired to bring you together on this snowy Christmas Eve. The initial disappointment and frustration had given way to a profound appreciation for the serendipitous journey that had unfolded throughout the day.

When the kiss finally broke, you found yourself looking into Joel's eyes, a silent language being spoken between looks.

“Yes, definitely sweeter than a tart” Joel remarked, a playful glint in his eyes.

Joel remarked, the playful glint in his eyes creating a shared laughter that echoed in the quiet space.

You chuckled, the joy of the moment enveloping you both. "I guess breaking my ankle wasn't the worst thing that could've happened today."

Joel grinned, "Who would've thought a slip on the icy pavement could lead to all this?" His eyes held amusement

“Merry Christmas, peach,” he said, kissing you again.

[fanficshiddles]

The Redbridge Hunts, Chapter 43

It was just over halfway through the summer holidays, Claire and Loki had taken to living together like a duck to water. It was like they’d lived together for years, everything just flowed so well and they just knew it was meant to be.

Bat seemed ecstatic having Claire around all the time too, because of course having two human slaves to feed you and pet you all the time was much better than just one.

‘When is your dad coming to collect Bat?’ Claire called through the house to Loki as she snuggled said cat, before heading through to the front door to put on her jacket.

‘After he finishes work this afternoon. So she won’t be on her own for too long.’ Loki said as he brought their suitcase down the stairs.

He then headed through to say goodbye to Bat. Telling her that her grandpa would be along to collect her later.

Just as Loki joined Claire back at the front door, they heard beeping from outside.

‘That’s our ride.’ Loki said as he grabbed their case and opened the door for Claire.

They stepped outside and Claire waved at the group that was in the minivan. She was shocked to see Chris was driving.

‘Chris is driving?’

‘Yeah, one of his mates owns the minivan company, so he gets it for free as long as we pay for fuel and any issues we cause, of course.’ Loki said with a sigh as they made their way down the path.

‘You’re still not happy about going with him, are you?’ Claire said knowingly.

‘Nope. It will be fine once we are there, he’s staying in the glamping area. Says that camping in a tent is beneath him.’ Loki rolled his eyes.

‘Ah well, probably a good thing.’ Claire laughed. ‘I’m still surprised he’s joining us.’

‘The only reason he’s going is because his band is playing at the festival.’ Loki said.

‘His band?’ Claire raised an eyebrow at Loki.

‘Yeah, he sings in a band in his spare time. Not that he has much spare time. Just a hobby more than anything.’ Loki shrugged.

When Claire and Loki got on the bus, they both laughed as drinks were already on the go. David tossed a can of beer at Loki and Jessica patted the empty seat next to her for Claire, thrusting a can of a blue lagoon cocktail into her hands before her bum had even hit the seat.

‘Let’s go! Get this party started!’ David cheered as he leaned forward and patted Chris’ shoulder.

Chris shook his head in response as he pulled out onto the street. Michael was sitting up front with Chris, though he had a can of beer too.

Loki sat next to David. Jessica and Claire were opposite them, then Matt, Hannibal and Spencer were in the back row along with Hannibal’s partner, Will. Claire had only met him once before, but he was really nice.

‘No need to guess that Severus isn’t joining us?’ Claire asked as she opened her cocktail.

‘Nope. He never does.’ Hannibal drawled.

‘I think he’s spending three weeks at the cabin by the woods we went to during Easter. Think he liked the idea of fooling around in the woods.’ Loki laughed.

‘Typical.’ Matt chuckled.

Micheal was in charge of the music on the drive there, though he was pretty good at his choices. Along with the early drinking of alcohol, it got everyone all hyped up and excited for the three-day festival.

Claire was surprised to see that even Chris looked to be enjoying himself, as much as he could anyway since he was the driver. Though he did join in with some of the karaoke that was going on and seemed amused at the antics of the others.

During the drive there, Claire noticed that Jessica kept glancing round at Spencer quite often, even when neither of them were speaking. She noticed that Jessica seemed to have a rather goofy smile on her face when she did look at him.

‘Is there something going on between you two?’ Claire whispered to her.

‘Whatever do you mean?’ Jessica asked, trying to act casual.

Claire gave her a look. Jessica then caved instantly.

‘Ok, ok… So, we are kind of a thing. Though aren’t really telling people just yet.’ She whispered to Claire.

‘Oh my god, that’s so exciting! So happy for you!’ Claire had to contain her excitement.

‘Thanks. I really like him. We had a one-night stand about a month ago, then we met for lunch and it’s just gone from there.’ Jessica said with a dreamy smile on her face.

‘Does he know about vampires?’ Claire asked quietly.

‘No, not yet. I’m waiting for the right moment to tell him.’ Jessica replied.

‘Good idea. I have a feeling he will be cool with it though, he seems the easy-going type.’ Claire smiled.

‘Yeah, I think so too.’ Jessica said hopefully.

When they arrived at the festival, Chris headed off on his own to his ‘glamping’, while the others continued on to find somewhere to pitch their tents.

‘At least there’s a group of us, we will be safer.’ Matt commented as they passed by a lot of rowdy drunks already.

‘And don’t worry ladies, plenty of men here to look out for you.’ Spencer said playfully and looked at Jessica, who blushed a little bit.

‘I think it would be Jessica protecting him more than the other way around.’ Claire said quietly to Loki and winked at him, making him chuckle as he draped his arm around her shoulder.

They found a decent spot not too far from the entrance to the arenas, but also not too close to the main walkways so they were nearer the fence-line, where it would be a bit quieter and away from main traffic.

Loki and Claire were obviously sharing a tent, so was Hannibal and Will. Everyone was a little surprised when they realised that Jessica and Spencer were sharing one. So they had to tell everyone that they were dating. Claire was glad it was out in the open as she didn’t think she’d be able to keep it a secret once they had more drinks.

David, Michael and Matt had decided to share a tent as David had a large one with three separate sections.

‘No, that doesn’t go in there.’ Claire argued with Loki while they fought with their tent.

‘I told you we should have just gotten a pop-up tent.’ Loki huffed as he tried to read the instructions again.

‘That would be cheating though. Putting up the tent is half the fun.’ Claire teased.

‘Yeah, this is a bundle of fun.’ Loki huffed as he tried turning the instructions sideways to make more sense of it.

He let out a small yelp as Claire whacked his ass with one of the tent poles.

‘Oh, that’s how you want to play, is it?’ He growled and launched for her. Claire let out a squeal as she ran away, but Loki didn’t let her get far before he grabbed her and playfully bit at her neck, making her laugh and squeal some more.

After a little bit of teasing and fooling around, they eventually got the tent up properly. Then it was the task of blowing up the bed. They had a foot pump, so took turns doing it.

‘Is this even going up?’ Claire asked.

‘It is… slowly… very, slowly.’ Loki said after peering at it from a few angles to check it was actually working properly.

‘I feel like I’ve been pumping for hours.’ She sighed.

‘I know what you can pump for hours instead if you like.’ Loki said suggestively with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

‘Calm those eyebrows down, vampy.’ Claire giggled.

Eventually though, they got their bed blown up.

‘You better not pierce it with your fangs, or you’ll be sleeping outside on the grass.’ Claire warned Loki as she sat down on the bed to test it.

Loki laughed wickedly and tackled her down on her back, she laughed as he slid his hands under her top at her back and began tickling her. They rolled around for a little while, she tried to escape his long teasing fingers, but he didn’t relent until David shouted at them from outside.

‘Tents aren’t soundproof guys, we don’t want to be hearing any mischievous business going on. Or you better buy us all damn good ear plugs.’  

That made Claire laugh even more and Loki too, he relented his attack on her. ‘I’ll get you later.’ He growled at her and kissed her on the lips.

‘Mmm, that better be a promise.’ She grinned at him.

Once the group was all happy with their tents, they set up some chairs in the middle and had a couple of drinks before going into the festival arena area. There were some bands playing that night, though the main ones were on tomorrow and the following day.

They ended up meeting with Chris, Loki wasn’t overly fussed as he’d had a good few drinks so was feeling pleasantly tipsy and didn’t really care anymore that he was around. Since he seemed to be behaving, too.

There was a band playing on one of the smaller stages in a tent arena, so the group went along there and hung about at the back to enjoy the music and drinks.

At one point, Claire went up to the bar to get a few more cocktails for herself and Jessica, they were both getting through their drinks pretty fast compared to the guys. When she was waiting for her turn, a guy went up to her and she just had a feeling that he was a vampire.

‘Hello there lovely. Can I get these drinks for you…’ He trailed off once he got closer to her and she noticed his nostrils flare slightly, then he looked sheepish and stepped back. ‘Sorry. I understand you’re with someone. Enjoy the festival.’ He said politely with a nod and then walked away, with Claire not even saying a word.

When she got back to the group, she handed Jessica her drink then went to Loki’s side. ‘The whole being claimed by a vampire really does work for most vampires, huh?’

Loki raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Someone hit on you?’

‘A vampire was about to, but then he must’ve smelt you on me or something as he quickly apologised.’ Claire said in surprise.

Loki’s body relaxed instantly. ‘That’s how it’s supposed to work, and usually does with mature vampires. It’s the younger ones you sometimes need to watch if they aren’t respectful.’ Loki put his arm around her waist and tugged her in close.

Claire smiled goofily. She had a feeling telling Loki about that would get him all protective, even though he already did his job of protecting her just by having her claimed.

Chris was slightly to the side of the group, even though he was sort of conversing with David and Michael, he was also watching the couples of the group. He noticed the way Claire was clinging to Loki, also Hannibal and Will were pretty touchy feely for being in public. Even Jessica and Spencer were pretty close, the way she looked at him with adoration in her eyes…

He had a weird feeling in his stomach, though tried to push it to the side. But after a little while, he ended up leaving the group to see if he could find a woman that was drunk enough to lure back to his glamping tent for the night. For a warm body in his bed, more than a feed… Though he would be kidding himself if he said he wasn’t going to feed from her too.

Later into the night, the group were all pretty hammered and right in amongst everyone else, jumping and dancing along with the crowd of people. When the music finished, it was just before two in the morning.

They made their way back to their tents and Claire was so drunk she couldn’t even see properly where she was going, Loki had to guide her back, even though he was far gone too.

When they got into their tent, Claire didn’t even take off her clothes, she just fell onto the bed and passed out instantly. Loki was able to take off his shirt but that was as far as he got, he collapsed next to her with his arm draped over her. He was able to pull their large double sleeping bag over them, which would do for tonight.

-

The following morning, Chris woke up and noticed the girl he’d found last night was still in the bed next to him. He had indeed fed from her too, though he decided not to kill this time and just make her forget about the feeding part of the night.

He figured since she was a reasonably good fuck, he might find her again before the weekend was out. Even if he did feel like she didn’t satisfy him quite as he had hoped. He wasn’t sure what was going on lately with him, but any girl he fooled around with just didn’t satisfy him in the same way as usual. It was like there was a deeper itch within him that couldn’t quite be scratched.

Deciding to leave her there, he went to one of the nearest food stalls for breakfast and decided to order enough for the group. He went into the tent area B where Matt told him they were pitched in, and it didn’t take him long to sniff them all out.

‘Well, well, well. Aren’t you all quite the sight for sore eyes.’ Chris chuckled.

They were all in the middle of their tents, looking so rough. Claire, Jessica and Hannibal were lying on the grass, still in the same clothes from last night and they looked like death. The three of them had spent a while in the porta potties earlier puking. Michael and Matt were sitting crossed legged on the grass, with their heads hanging down and sunglasses on as they had banging headaches. Will, David, Spencer and Loki were sitting on chairs with big glasses of water, looking rough too.

‘I’ve brought some bacon butties for everyone.’ Chris said as he placed the bag down on the camping table.

Claire had never moved so fast in her life as she shot up and crawled like the girl from the ring across the grass to grab one. Loki didn’t have the energy to laugh, no matter how amusing he found it.

‘What’s gotten into you, being so kind?’ Loki commented as he eventually reached out for a butty.

‘It would be a shame if you were all to miss my band’s set. We’re on in four hours, so I suggest you all get washed up and drink more water.’ He commented with a little smirk, glancing once more at the sight before heading away.

Claire didn’t care what his intentions were, heck, even if a complete stranger had offered her some good greasy food right now, she would’ve bitten their hand off for it. It was just what she needed, she felt so much better after it.

‘I really wish we had showers.’ She groaned as she sat back against Loki’s legs.

‘Baby wipes it will have to be, love.’ Loki said regretfully as he slid his fingers through her hair, making her moan a little as she closed her eyes and enjoyed his gentle touch.

‘I hope you brought plenty of packs.’ She mumbled to him.

‘I thought you packed them?’ Loki asked, his fingers paused in her hair.

Claire’s eyes shot open and she tilted her head right back to look at him. ‘Please tell me you’re just joking…’

Though she could tell by the look of horror on Loki’s face that he wasn’t.

[blu-joons]

Christmas Tree Shopping ~ Lee Taeyong

Your eyes widened in disbelief as Taeyong dropped a list into your lap, with a wide grin on his face. You tentatively picked the list up as Taeyong stepped away, moving one of the sofas in the living room around to make the space that he needed.

You couldn’t believe all of the things that he had written down as the two of you prepared to head off to buy the decorations for your first Christmas together. Taeyong had missed a thing, wanting for everything to be perfect.

Once you’d finished looking through it, you looked across at him with a smile on your face, watching on as the shade of red increased in his cheeks as he realised why you were looking at him.

“Do you think that’s everything?” He chuckled as he spun around the space he had made to check for enough space for the tree.

Your head nodded as you stood up from the sofa, “we’re buying Christmas decorations for one house, we’re not buying Christmas decorations for the entire street.”

His shoulders shrugged as he walked over to you, pushing you towards the front door. Taeyong grabbed your coat off the back of the apartment door and draped it over your shoulders, quickly picking up his own too before opening up the front door and giving you a nudge out of it.

“I’m so excited,” he smiled as you made your way down the flight of stairs to the car, “it’s our first Christmas at home together.”

“I think everyone knows you’re excited,” you laughed, “since we moved in in March.”

His arm draped around you as you began to make your way down the stairs, “I never had you down as the type who would love Christmas as much as this Tae.”

“I’m not usually, but this Christmas is with you.”

As you walked out of the apartment block, a shiver ran down your spine straight away at the chill that was in the air as the winter came in. Taeyong quickly pulled your jacket further around your body to keep you warm, leading you across to the car carefully.

He raced across and opened the car door for you too, refusing to let you out of his hold until you were sat down. “The store that I found isn’t too far from here, it won’t take five minutes.”

“How are we even going to get a tree home in this thing Tae?”

The practicalities were something that he could worry about later, for now he was just excited to find everything that you needed and more for your first Christmas together in your own place. Taeyong was right, it only took a few minutes to get to the store, and as soon as you arrived, you felt the festive spirit in you for the very first time too.

“See,” Taeyong cheered as he noticed the smile on your face turn up, “I told you that this place was good, Yuta bought loads for the dorm here when we came last week.”

He quickly got out of the car, running across to open up your door for you too, giving his hand for you to take, and closing the door behind you too as he led you towards the entrance.

“I still don’t see how we’re going to get a tree home,” you mused as you looked between your car and the trees that were in the back of the store.

“Just let me handle that, everything will be just fine.”

Although you were a little sceptical, you trusted Taeyong as he picked up a basket, glancing across at you as you pulled his list out of the pocket of your trousers so that he could make sure that he didn’t miss a thing. Straight away he led you across to the section of baubles that were just to the left of the entrance, with a theme already in mind.

“Anything red,” he told you as you began to browse too, following his instructions carefully.

“I take it we’re going with a red design this year then?” You chuckled as Taeyong began to fill up the basket, “is this a decision just being made by you, or do I get a say in it too?”

“Just trust me, red is perfect,” he grinned, pecking a kiss to your cheek as he passed you by, grabbing some more items from the stands.

Rather than take a look around yourself, you soon found yourself standing back and admiring the enthusiasm Taeyong had for decorating his home with you, wanting everything to be perfect for the two of you to enjoy.

You were happy watching him in his element, leaving him to make all of the important decisions and make sure that the theme he had in his mind was fulfilled to perfection too.

“Will you be warm enough if we go out and look at trees?” Taeyong asked you once he was finished stacking up the basket with baubles, “if you think you might get chilly, then we can always save looking for a tree for a different day instead.”

“I’ll be fine,” you assured, linking your arm around his tightly, “a little bit of cold weather won’t do any harm, it just means you’ll have to take me for hot chocolate on the way home.”

Although he was still a little bit worried, Taeyong led you across to the door of the store, walking out to the field that was filled with trees. As soon as you looked around, you stopped, stunned by just how many trees there were, whilst Taeyong flew past you and began to find the perfect tree that would fit the spot that he had found.

With months until Christmas came around, Taeyong had already found the spot in the apartment that he wanted your tree to sit in. Just by the television was what he had in mind, with plenty of lights to go around it too, warming up the gap that you had between the living room and the kitchen for most of the year.

“What do you reckon?” Taeyong asked as he pointed across to one of the trees.

You made your way down the pathway to take a look at the tree that Taeyong had chosen too, noticing how it stood just a little bit taller than he was, with plenty of branches that could be decorated beautifully with the decorations that Taeyong had already bought.

“I think it will look great,” you smiled in reply to Taeyong, “is that the one that you’ve got your heart set on.”

Taeyong nodded as he waved across to one of the staff members, asking if they would be able to wrap up the tree. Whilst they did, the two of you made your way around the rest of the store and found the final things on Taeyong’s list to decorate the room.

“All of this should fit in the back of the car,” Taeyong told you, barely able to keep everything in the basket as it was so full.

“And what about the other thing?”

As you walked back out to pick up your tree, you noticed how wide Taeyong’s eyes went. “You see it in the movies, people put their trees on the tops of their cars.”

“How do we do that?” You chuckled.

With his eyes looking between the tree and his car in the parking lot, Taeyong wasn’t quite sure. The smart opinion that you had had began to make sense to Taeyong, knowing that things would never quite go as perfectly as he thought.

“What about if I walk home and carry the tree?” Taeyong suggested, watching as your head instantly shook.

In such weather there was no chance that you were ever going to let Taeyong walk home, one way or another you were going to get all of the decorations that you’d bought home.

As Taeyong picked up the tree and the two of you began to make your way to the checkouts, you were both scrambling for a solution to figure out how to get home. Even as you made your way to the car, neither of you knew what to do.

“What about if we put the back seats of the car down and try and sit it down the middle,” Taeyong suggested as the two of you reached the car, “it won’t take too long.”

“If you put the tree in, them whereabouts do the two of us sit?”

Taeyong dropped the tree, scratching his hand over the top of his head, unable to stop the smirk on his face from turning up as he met your eyes.

“I really should have thought about this,” he laughed, holding his hands up innocently as your head shook back across at him, stuck in the cold.

“It’s just a bit of fun,” you tried to encourage, “one way another, us and all of these things will get home, however it happens.”

You dropped the bags of the decorations that you’d bought, beginning to sort the car out to try and find the space that you needed. Taeyong quickly stepped up and helped you too, watching on as you moved the things in the back of the car around.

“Pass the tree through to me,” you told him, carefully turning the tree around so that it stood up on its side, just about managing to squeeze it in without getting the front seats of the car.

“Are you alright holding the bags in your lap?” Taeyong asked you.

“It’s a five-minute journey, and then we can finally get home.”

---

Masterlist

[mistressemmedi]

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

Greetings from Miley Cyrus - phenomenal numbers.

The streams of Zitti e Buoni are growing by the second, and ahead of Muse, on the top of the English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. We almost tripled followers after Rotterdam (from 1.4 to 3.3 million, ed). Contagious and universal madness: T-shirts and merchandise sold out in 10 minutes. Like records, tickets for a tour that adds dates and expands on maps. They are even looking for us in festivals where the Rolling Stones have played. - Thomas

After the whole cocaine scandal that was started against us from France, which was later denied by my drug test, in Spain there people have been making murals with my face saying "No drugs". Some tweets made us laugh: «Congratulations, Italy! I have never been so sure that four people have fucked each other ". Miley Cyrus started following us. "You are great". “You are more” . - Damiano

From rags to riches - what a story

It was only 2016, and we were playing in restaurants, on the streets, in via del Corso (famous street in Rome). Damiano without a microphone, Thomas's guitar with broken strings, Ethan drummed on a cajón. At the occupations of the high schools in Rome (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first gigs and half an hour of fame, between those who criticized us and those who said "these guys are so cool". One of the rare times in which they offered to pay us to play - 50 euros each - we offered that money to those after us, in exchange for the chance to play during their time slow, as we knew there would have been a bigger crowd. We already understood then how it worked. That visibility was worth more than the money. We still think so ». - Victoria

The intimacy of rock - Choice of a genre

Music allows is this miracle which allows one to talk about very personal and private topics, even difficult and delicate ones. They are and remain deeply yours, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage which is like a delivery, they also find their place in you, their elaboration. They are overcome, they are accepted. One moment it feels aggressive, one moment later a (soft) ballad. It's very cathartic. - Damiano

Against panic - The stage as therapy

I have suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it is a problem that I have worked on thanks to a course of psychotherapy, to my friends and family. Playing has helped me not to let myself be paralyzed by my fears, not to be limited in my private and professional life. I have learned to accept, to live with this side of me. I don't hide it. I no longer feel ashamed. - Victoria

This belief that only crazy people go to the psychologist is widespread ignorance. Nobody is born learned. And it is often difficult to understand why we are here, let alone the derivation and direction of our desires. It is a long and legitimate journey towards one's clarity. - Damiano

Essere fuori di testa – Ma diversi da loro (Be out of your mind - But different from them)

Already feeling a strong passion for something that is not a 'regular' profession but an artistic language, it puts you on a level where you're an anomaly, and while you're neither superior nor inferior to others, it places you in the condition of what breaks the mold but you're also being at a loss, leaving it to you to be bold and to take risks, hoping that they will pay off and land you somewhere. "What good is it if you don't stand out on your own?". You want to give it an aesthetic to your artistic dream, but to others it boils down to " You dress differently! You must be gay! ”, I'm 22 now and it makes me laugh, but at 17 it had an effect on me too. - Damiano

The beauty of being unique - Of believing in that and defending it

After all, we are all different not because we want to be alternative but because really no one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty. - Ethan

Fluid sexuality - Pride is freedom

We appreciate heels on men, we kiss each other, we have an open, extended mind, and we are proud of it. The horizons become vast, beyond the oppression of conservative families. With information on the web, knowledge is enriched and with it the possibility that minorities will be fewer and fewer, because majorities will be fewer and fewer. This will lower the volume to insults and bullying. If social networks can reach a village of 50 souls to reveal to someone, who is afraid of the darkness, that someone has felt that same fear.. There is no longer the need to give it a name, to define that "something" to fear, to brand it with labels that only limit you. Definitions have always had this effect on me. Gender should not even be considered in a person's judgment. Let alone orientation ". - Victoria

Sexism - A culture to be dismantled

Emma (Italian singer) dropped the bomb:" When I went to Eurovision, they insulted me over a pair of shorts. Damiano - half naked and in heels - was never criticized ". The judgment against women is constant, ferocious, and demeaning (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool but Vic a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader she is domineering and pain in the ass, who is successful because only because of her looks [and not the hard work she puts in]). As a male I am privileged, the harassment I suffer is not comparable to that experienced by a woman, the comments on my aesthetics are focused only on my aesthetics and do not insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thinking in a systemic way. But I did find myself in a situation, out of nowhere, with someone who, pulling close to her for a selfie, started licking my face ... "What do you want, did you ask me?" Consent exists, and it is a must ». - Damiano

To grow as a person - The only rule to follow

For me, to conform is the total opposite of educating oneself, and the asphyxiation of one's expression (of freedom). Fortunately, I did not suffer heavy bullying, to the point where I felt I needed to change to adapt to how others saw me. But the matrix of who I am and the aggression that marks me is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and loves dolls, then allow me the freedom to do so. I used to be a kid who wanted long hair and played with Barbies. My friends, as a teenager, looked my long hair and teased me: "You have to find yourself a girl with a short hair to make up for it". My grandparents took the dolls away from me and said: “Stop it, they're not for you” ». - Ethan

“I was six and I already could not tolerate the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things typically defined as feminine as a child, and they made fun of me for skating, for playing soccer, for not wearing skirts, for giving myself the chance to be as I wanted to be. I suffered a little, as I was bullied, but I had courage to stay true to myself, and today thanks to that courage I know that I could have been much more hurt, or I would have risked leaving the most important decision to others: the one about being just me". - Victoria

Love - music and girlfriends

I've been married to music for the past 20 years. I cannot wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary. - Ethan

Everyone goes through their own experiences, sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, but it's never other people's business." - Thomas

When, for the first time, I developed feelings and attraction for a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage to go beyond the limitations I had imposed on myself. For society, being heterosexual is the norm and therefore often one automatically pegs himself in that way, giving up the freedom to experience many different shades and facets of love. Once I got over the initial insecurity of having to question one's own certainties, I lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone. - Victoria

I had paparazzi under my house morning and night. So, after four years of relationship, I finally revealed her name. I still have the paparazzi under my house morning and night, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore. - Damiano

The value of the group - Protecting each other

But the real relationship, the real family, is between us. Our band. We believed in it from the first day, even before calling ourselves Måneskin (moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon, on the poster for our first concert. We share everything, even the pain of the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because he was a victim of racism. Being a group is what we should all do together: stay united and not retreat in the slightest in the face of abuses generated by a distorted vision of someone "being different|. - Thomas

Non ho l’età – like Gigliola (It references Gigliola Cinquetti who won both Sanremo and Eurovision with her song "Non ho l’età" which translates to Not old enough)

Before us, the only one to win Sanremo and Eurovision together was Gigliola Cinquetti (in 1964). Is there is something for which I feel I am not yet old enough for? No, honestly no. Maybe for kids. I'll be honest, I'm not enough to be a dad. - Damiano

Reached the sky - What fears still remain

We are more than in the dream, we have conquered the dream. To fly high this high, there is the risk is to fall and get hurt, but we will try not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - somewhat presumptuously - reassures us rather than frighten us ". - Damiano

(ORIGINAL INTERVIEW IN ITALIAN)

[Please note that I have changed some words or structure sentence, trying to make it so that the interview made more sense lol - I skipped the first two paragraphs, which was basically the interviewer gushing over how pretty the band is lmao (relatable).

Any mistakes in the translation are sorely mine, nothing was proofread, so apologies in advance]

[aressss1]

Through Fire and Ice Chapter 10

(Technoblade x Reader)

Chapter 10

< Prev Chapter | Next Chapter >

~~~~~~

“You’re going to love it when you see it.” You could hear the giddiness in Dream’s voice. His hands were over your eyes as you, Sapnap and Dream walked to where they had been building your house.

 “Dream’s been working on this for days now.” Sapnap chuckled, “I helped a little bit.” You couldn’t help but smile at their excitement. You could feel Dream’s puffs of air hitting the back of your neck, his touch cool on your skin. When he led you to a full stop and he turned you, with his hands still over your eyes. He pressed his body against yours as he whispered in your ear. You could feel the heat rise up on your neck.

“I hope you like it,” His voice causing shivers to run down your spine. “A home fit for a princess.” With that he takes his hands off of your eyes and you open them. In front of you was a home planted inside the wall just like everyone else had, but this one had a tiny, enclosed porch, with little planter boxes for you to garden in. Big circular shaped windows on either side of the front door stared at you as if they were eyes. The dark oak door had a circular frame, and two blue lanterns hung from the overhang of the porch on each side.

 “I-I can’t accept this Dream,” You sputtered out turning to face him.

 “Sure you can! Dream’s done way better stuff than this for people.” Sapnap chimed in chuckling at the blush on your cheeks. “This is child’s play compared to what he’s even done for a lot of the people in our old village.” Sapnap scratched the back of his head. He didn’t go on when Dream cleared his throat, his eyes meeting Sapnap’s almost as if to tell him to shut up.

 “If you don’t want to accept it for free, I’ll make you a deal? How do you feel about that?” Biting your lip, you look back toward the beautiful house just waiting for you to walk inside. Hesitantly nodding, your eyes flit back to Dream. You could see his grin behind the mask, the sight making your heart flutter. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the festival going on tonight? To mark the one-month anniversary of us all moving down here?” He cocked his head at you. You shook your head. Dream was the first one to bring it up. Niki was too busy to think about anything else other than cooking and helping out at the hospital, and Techno didn’t know much about social gatherings in general nor did he care much at the thought, let alone when they were going to be, but you were the same way.

 “I don’t talk to a lot of people.” You shrugged and you heard him chuckle.

 “Alright…” He cupped your cheek, “How about you come to the festival with me? Then it’ll be even.” His voice almost took on a sultry tone. You could see the hope in his eyes from behind the mask. You gave him a deadpan stare.

 “That doesn’t really seem fair.” You were confused when Sapnap shook his head sighing at you. What did you do? This caused a laugh to come from Dream, his thumb stroking across your cheek.

 “Don’t pay attention to him,” he jerked his head toward Sapnap. “You wanna come to the festival with me?” His hand drops from your face. You ponder over his question. You remembered Techno wanted to build your house for you, he had actually asked you what you wanted for your house. Guilt twisted in your gut about Techno, well at least he didn’t have to worry about another thing to do. Looking up at Dream you nodded, it was the least you could do to repay his kindness. He lifted his mask, and you could see the excitement in his green eyes.  “Tonight is gonna be a good one princess.” He took your hand pulling you toward the house.

 The inside of the house was well built, and somewhat furnished. Still trying to get over the fact that Dream had called you princess, you followed them and listened to every word they had to say. Sapnap kept showing you everything that he had built. Overall, it was a nice home, what drew your eye was the fully stocked bookshelves and you found yourself gravitating toward that more than anything.

 “I know how you like your books, so I got what I could from around here.” Dream stood by your side as you allowed your fingers to trace over the spines of the books on the shelves. Sapnap muttered that he would be right back, and he left out the front door hastily.

 “Why are you doing any of this for me Dream?” Your eyes never left the books on the bookshelves, but you could feel his eyes boring into you.

 “I want you to know you have friends who have your back,” Dream explained after a few seconds of processing your questions. “Having a home is the first step to being comfortable.” He half shrugged. “This is where I want you to make your memories.” He let out a chuckle. “I think my first good memory of this place is when your face lit up when you saw it.” His shoulder nudged yours. You weren’t able to hide your blush from him and he led you to the small couch.

 “Who made the furniture?” You ask your hand grazing over a nearby end table.

 “George did,” Dream sat on the couch throwing his arm over the back of the couch. He kicked his feet out in front of him, one boot resting on the other. “He wanted to help at his pace.” You sat next to Dream, his face illuminated by a lantern hanging above your heads. He took his mask and haphazardly threw it on the coffee table in front of him. You felt honored that he took his mask off in front of you. He didn’t do that often it seemed.

 You didn’t know how much time had passed but a golden clock on the wall glared at you when your eyes met it. Oh no… You were late in helping Niki out.

 “Uhh… Dream, this has been amazing, but I have to go, please tell Sapnap I said thank you.” You pushed yourself up from the couch, and Dream stood with you. He towered over you, and his green eyes searched your face. “Where should I meet you for tonight?” His chuckle sent butterflies to your stomach as he cupped your cheek.

 “Meet me here princess.” His tone was smooth, and his thumb brushed over your cheek. “I’ll come by sometime after your route.” Your cheeks heated up under his hand and you pushed forward giving him a hug which he returned. The hug enveloped you, and you gave a content sigh.

 “Thank you for everything Dream.” You pulled away from him, tucking the hair in your face behind your ear. He fished around his pocket for a half second and he held out a set of keys to you.

“I’m glad you like your new home!” His smile was genuine, and you take the keys from his hands. It had been a very long time since you were able to call anywhere home. Returning his smile as you clutched the keys to your chest you moved past him and out the door. Booking it to Niki’s, you see a familiar red cloak standing next to your already loaded up cart.

 “Heh?” Techno cocked his head at you. “You’re late nerd.” He teased. His eyes worriedly ran over your figure, not that you noticed. You weren’t hurt, but you usually were never late. Techno was wondering if he should have been out looking for you. He had gotten the cart prepared in your absence to keep his mind busy.

 “Sorry,” you huffed out, your hands rested on your knees as you caught your breath. “Dream, Sapnap and George made me a house and Dream and Sapnap took me to see it.” You explained. This made Techno’s heart sink. When he wasn’t busy, he was planning out your house. His talks with you about your house were for nothing. You had even wanted to help him build it. Gritting his teeth, he turns to the cart, grabbing onto the handle to pull it.

 “I see…” He kept his voice as even as possible, but you heard the disappointment in his voice.

 “I know you wanted to do it, but this was kind of a surprise to me.” You shrugged nudging his shoulder with yours. “It’s not something that needs to be done anymore. We can spend our time doing other things, like mining.” He perked up at that as the two of you set off on your route. The two of you talking as you went.

 “So, Dream said there’s a festival going on tonight do you wanna come?” You asked as you handed out the food to the people on the street.

 “Is Dream taking you to the festival?” Techno peered down at you, as an old woman took the box of food from your hands. He had known about the festival. Phil had been planning it for a few days now. It wasn’t important to Techno, but the excitement he heard in your voice piqued his interest.

 “Yeah, I’m assuming with George and Sapnap too. I want you to come too.” You shrugged as Techno struggled to swallow down the lump in his throat. “You’ve been working too hard on the mine and helping me. A night of fun is exactly what you deserve.” You beamed up at him. Techno didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to say no to you, but he felt it would ruin your night if he was there. But… Like hell would he allow Dream to do as he pleases. If he didn’t show up, he would be giving Dream exactly what he wanted, and Techno was spiteful toward Dream.

 “Alright…” He grumbled; he wasn’t liking the fact that he was going to have to be social. The smile that spread on your face when he agreed, was worth it though. He kept quiet as you greeted the people who approached you for their rations. You happily handed the people their boxes of food, waving them off, missing the way they would side eye Techno. Sometimes they even had the gall to look between the both of you. Dirty assumptions playing across their minds.

 ‘They are nothing.’

 ‘Slaughter.’

 ‘Protect her.’

 The voices had their demands, not that he would give in to some of them. Even so, he would move in a nonchalant way, to obscure their view of you when their thoughts played out across their faces as plain as day. You kept making your way to people, handing them piping hot boxes of food. When you continually greeted people and asked about their days, Techno had zoned out, the small talk grating on him. You made it look easy. He wasn’t one for talking to people in general.

 The two of you were deep in the residential area of the Burrow when you ran out of boxes. You thought that this was the perfect time to show Techno your new home. When the two of you were on your way back to Niki’s you pointed out the house to him, which caused him to huff in annoyance.

 “Don’t be so grumpy,” You nudged his shoulder. “I’ll let you build onto it how bout’ that? Anything you want to build on it.” Your eyes met his and he nodded contentedly. A smile spread on your face as you fished around your pocket. You held the keys to your house in the palm of your hand. Separating the two keys you held one out for him to take.

 “You’re letting me have a key to your house?” Techno cocked his head at you. His heart thumped in his chest, and he took the dangling key from your hand, tucking it into one of his own pockets. The voices in his mind sounded off, projecting his worries on how you were too trusting, giving him a key to your home.

 “Yeah, why not? You’re literally my best friend.” An embarrassed blush spread over your cheeks, and Techno felt his heart flutter. You could feel his golden eyes on you, and you acted like you didn’t notice.

 “Hm,” Techno grunted as he nodded in response, not knowing how to respond to that. His body gravitated closer to yours, the back of your hand just barely touching his. Resisting the urge to wrap your hand around his, you cleared your throat. There was a comfortable silence between the two of you until you got back to Niki’s bakery. You still had the second half of the route left to complete, but with Techno there you didn’t mind.

 --

 After finishing the route, both you and Techno, made your way back to your new home, to meet up with Dream. Looking around he wasn’t around your home so you shrugged and figured you could show Techno around the place. You opened the door and pulled him in. He looked around with almost uninterested eyes. While you looked up at him and deadpanned at the fact that his head almost hit the ceiling. You knew he was tall but…  He had to be over seven feet tall…

 While you were busy gawking at him over his height, he looked around his eyes scanning over your bookshelves. His eyebrows furrowed at things that he didn’t exactly like, little things, things that could be exploited. Small holes in the wood, that could be used to spy on you. He inspected the windows, to see how easily someone could get in. He already wanted to install a deadbolt on the front door the moment he walked in.

 “I’m making you a weapon’s rack, for when we start making your weapons.” Techno stated. You knew better than to argue with him. You threw your hands up, while a smile pulled at your lips.

 “I told you that you could add anything you like around here,” You leaned against the wall watching him. He entered the kitchen, staring at a blank wall at the end of the house. He had plans, but he was going to build a door to something similar to Phil’s ‘backyard’ for you.

 A sharp knock rang out in the air. Standing up from the wall you open the door as you see Dream standing there, a flower vase filled with lilies, in his hands. You could see the grin stretching across his face when the door opened.

 “Hey princess,” Dream chuckled as he held out the vase for you. “Are you ready to have the time of your life tonight?” You felt Techno’s presence approach behind you as you took the vase into your hands.

 “Well, I’m flattered you noticed the crown on my head Dream, but you don’t really have to call me princess.” Techno bent down so his eyes were level with Dreams. His joke caused you to giggle as you walked over to the end table next to the couch. You completely missed Dream and Techno’s stare down. “Wouldn’t miss this night for the world.” Techno narrowed his eyes as he said it.

 Dream’s hands clenched and unclenched, and his shoulders slightly shook in a silent anger at seeing the hybrid standing in front of him. The sight soothed Techno, and he chuckled and straightened up and cocked his head at Dream. He regained his composure when you turned back around to look at them.

 “Thank you again for everything Dream.” You walked over to the two of them. Unaware of what had gone down, just a second before. “Are we all ready to go?” Dream cleared his throat as he nodded, his eyes scanning Techno.

 “Yep.” Dream gave a small sigh as he turned around and walked down the steps of the porch, waiting for you and Techno to join him. You locked your door behind Techno, hearing a satisfying click. You were the first to descend down the steps to Dream. You planted yourself in between the two men as you started off toward the town square. “I didn’t think festivals were your thing Techno.” Dream spoke up, side eyeing Techno through his mask.

 “Well, you see,” Techno started, “I’m tryin’ to be more social.” Techno gave a half shrug. “I also don’t want to miss out on all the fun.” Techno jeered at him; he was having fun ruining his plans. Dream picked up on Techno’s double meaning, and he grit his teeth.

 “I see…” Dream nodded, “had I known I would have invited you myself.” You looked between the both of them, quietly listening to their conversation.

 “I’m sure,” Techno rolled his eyes. It was going to be a long night…

 --

 The night was filled with friends, games, and drinks. Niki had joined your group for the night, opting to drink with you. Dream had found Sapnap and George and was conversing with them throughout the night. Every once in a while, Dream’s gaze would wander to you and he would give a tiny wave, and you would wave back. As the night grew on and you had gone to dance with Niki, you felt yourself stumbling, the haze of the alcohol overtaking your mind.

 You spent most of the night with both Techno and Dream. Wilbur and Tommy kept Techno company when you weren’t with him. They noted the way he watched over you. Seeing his eyes scan the crowd for anyone who would do harm to you, as per the voices in his minds request. They were instantly scheming, on ways to get you two together.

 “Techno, come on, Fundy’s got this drinking game, I think your girl’s playing with Niki,” Wilbur pulled on Techno.

 “She’s not my girl, Wilbur.” Techno sighed. The large crowd around him, was almost too much. Between that and the voices, he felt a little bit overstimulated.

 “Yet!” Wilbur said as he pointed upwards to accentuate the word. “Come on, it’ll be fun.” Wilbur raised his eyebrows at the hybrid. Techno looked back and forth between you and him. You had been mid drink when he looked over at you. He sighed, and nodded grumbling to himself as he made his way over to you. That was when Will noticed Dream heading over to your table as well. “Tommy, you gotta distract Dream.” Will’s head snapped over to Tommy as he nodded his head in Dream’s direction.

 “What do you want me to do man?” Tommy asked his eyes landing on Dream’s approaching form. A look of panic almost reaching his eyes. Will just pushed him toward Dream in a hurry.

 “Anything, just be yourself, and don’t let him near them.” Will whispered to him. He watched as Tommy walked up to Dream in his boisterously confident way. His arms outstretched and he gave a big toothy grin to the man he needed to distract.

 “Dream! Mah friend!” Tommy practically shouted, slapping a hand down on Dream’s shoulder. “How ya been? Come on, I got something to show ya! We gotta find Tubbo!” Tommy pulled Dream away and Wilbur watched as Dream turned to look at both you and Techno. He held his breath when Dream tried to pull away, but Tommy had insisted. A sigh of relief escaped him as Dream gave into Tommy, following him to wherever Tommy was bringing him to.

 Will headed over to your table only to sit next to Niki. He watched for Dream so he could distract him next if need be. You were already slurring your words, but you cuddled up closer to Techno practically leaning on him, and that brought a smile to Will’s face. Techno needed someone in his life and those close to him knew it, even if Techno denied it. Dream seemed to get everything he wanted, well… Not this time. Wilbur would make sure of it. At least for tonight.

 ~~

 You pulled at Techno’s hands, trying to get him to come with you to the dancing area. Swaying a tiny bit, your eyes begged him, even when he looked over at the other dancers in discomfort. He could definitely hold his alcohol better than you. He didn’t want to deny you, but others could use this against you… He didn’t want to make you a target like he was.

 “Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaassssssseee??” Your whine knocked him out of his thoughts. “When are we ever going to do this again?” Techno let a sigh out and he stood from his seat, leaving his cloak on his chair. His hand was still in yours as you led him to the other dancers. You got into your positions, this wasn’t any ballroom dance by any means, the music was too fast paced for that, people locked arms and spun around to the tempo of the music and the two of you followed suit. He kept you steady, even as you were tripping on your own feet due to the alcohol.

 Techno reveled in your laugh as the two of you danced, the outside world was quickly shut out when he focused soley on you. Keeping you upright, keeping you happy. It made him feel things that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Your hands on his arms felt right and that’s when he knew, that he would do anything for you, for your happiness.

 All this time fighting, adventuring… None of it had the satisfaction of when you held him closer. When he caught you staring up at him, with a blush on your face. He had lived a life that many dreamed of, but he only dreamed of you, and he found you.

 You stumbled on your own feet once more, and he was there to catch you when you fell, and you fell right into his chest. Both your movements stopped, as if time for the two of you was standing still, even as the others around you still spun in their dances. You laughed at your own clumsiness, letting out a little snort. That was enough to send Techno in a fit of laughter on his own. He watched as your cheeks reddened and you buried your face into his chest in embarrassment while you still laughed. This was a perfect moment that Techno would cherish forever.

 ~~

 Dream walked back to the festival, a bit peeved at Tommy who was still yammering in his ear about something. Tommy had led him to Tubbo’s bee farm. To show him bees of all things, while he looked for Tubbo. Why was this so important now? Any other time would have been fine but right now during a festival? Dream shook his head sighing. He was supposed to be with you, and you were off doing who knows what with Techno.

 “Tommy, I don’t actually give a fuck right now.” Dream interrupted Tommy’s ramblings as he turned to the boy to his right. This earned a scoff from Tommy, who put a hand on his chest trying to look affronted.

 “Oh, come on Dream, that’s rude.” Tommy started to say but he was interrupted again.

 “I had something to do when you pulled me away, isn’t that rude too?” Dream sighed rubbing at his eyes. “Listen, any other time would have been good, but this isn’t a good time.” He tried putting on a more comforting tone. “Just please let me go do what I need to do.” Tommy put his hands up and stepped away from him. He had done his job, maybe it was Wilbur’s time to shine. “Thank you.” Dream sighed and walked back to the main area where he had seen you last.

 You and Techno were absent from your table and there still sitting at the table was Will and Niki looking in the direction of the dancing area with interest on their faces. Following their gazes, he clenched his fist at the sight. Techno stood there with you in his arms, you pressed up against him flush. You seemed to be falling asleep on him.  Gritting his teeth, he just watches. Techno slid an arm underneath your legs holding you to his chest bridal style. That was enough for Dream.

 He left, the festival still raging around him. He went to go find Sapnap and George. When he finally found the two, he felt numb and angry. After everything that he did for you… Techno? No… He just needed to step up his game. Show you just how dangerous Techno was. The memory that itched across Dream’s face was enough evidence that Techno was dangerous, that all he did was destroy things. He didn’t want that piglin to destroy you, and he would do anything to keep you out of that monster’s reach.

 Sapnap and George greeted him, with Sapnap asking him if he had been with you. He shook his head. The disappointment that played across their faces was almost too much. George gave Dream a reassuring look.

 “I’m sure you’ll get her; you’re Dream after all.” George offered. “And the Dream I know always gets what he wants.” He laughed as his grip tightened on Dream’s shoulder. Dream sighed. His eyes landing on Sapnap.

 “Want to make some chaos?” Dream asked, he didn’t want to do what he was about to do. But he needed to pull out all the stops. Techno couldn’t control himself in certain moments and you would be in the middle of that if he didn’t stop it.

 “What’s up?” A smirk pulled at Sapnap’s lips the moment Dream mentioned chaos.

 “I think we should let everyone know we have a pig fucker in our midst.”

 ~~

 You were out like a light in his arms, it was only when he unlocked your door with his key and he stepped in your new bedroom, did you wake up.

 “Mm, Techno?” You still slurred a bit, but your eyes fluttered open as you focused in on his face.

 “I’m here,” His voice was barely above a whisper. He brought you over to your new bed, reluctantly setting your body down. His eyes met yours and you reached out for him.

 “Stay… Please…?” Your voice came out like a whimper, and he could do nothing but nod as he sat down on the bed, pulling the covers over you. It didn’t seem to be enough for you because you sat up, and tried to pull the covers on him, your head sinking to his shoulder as you tried but failed to do so. Techno let out a chuckle. This was something he was getting used to, but you were never so bold about it before. He laid down with you, after taking his mask off, your head still on his chest.

 You felt the room spinning around you and the only thing that kept you grounded was Techno’s hold on you. It was quite a while before you spoke again.

 “Thanks for tonight Tech,” You whispered into his neck, before planting a kiss to where his pulse could be felt. This made Techno freeze. Feeling your lips on his skin was something he had wanted for weeks now. But there was just one problem.

 “You’re drunk.” Techno’s monotone voice rang out in the room. He pulled away to look you in the eyes. This made you giggle.

 “So…?” Your eyes searched his, lips slightly grazing his. All you had to do, was push forward… And you did. Your lips crashed down on to his, and you saw the look of surprise in his eyes before you closed your own. Techno took a shaking hand trying to decide on deepening the kiss or pulling away from you. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes flooded black, his silver irises drinking the sight of you in, and his urges took over.

 ‘Ruin her’

 ‘Take her’

 ‘Make her yours.’

 Between everything he wanted, and the voices it should have been easy to fall into the kiss. But no… He pulled away from you. Gently setting you on the mattress, he got up from the bed. His hands clenching and unclenching. He couldn’t… Not while you were like this.

 “Techno?” The sound shattered his heart. You sounded hurt. If this went on everyone involved would regret it. He couldn’t do that to you.

 “I-” Techno stammered. “I’m sorry…” With that he grabbed his mask and walked to the door. “I’ll be right out here. I’m not leaving… I just can’t do this right now…” He hoped you understood, hoped you wouldn’t remember this in the morning, but yet he hoped you did…

 The rest of the night, was nothing but pain… He heard you cry yourself to sleep. He desperately wanted to go in there, kiss your tears away, tell you he wanted to be with you. But no, he listened to your crying on the other side of the door. He wasn’t sure if he could hold himself back if he went back in there. It was better if he kept an eye on you from outside your door. The voices shouting at him a million miles a minute.

 The night crept by and Techno did not sleep.

[writingwithacupoftea]

Comfort Blanket

Summary: It is up to Tommy and Y/N Shelby to keep the family together after their Mother’s death. They discover along the way that sometimes a comfort blanket is an object and other times it’s a feeling...

Word Count: 1891

Prompt: “There’s no place for us to sleep at night.” (part of @smallheathgangsters​ 1k followers party 💜)

A/N: This ended up being way more festive than I anticipated but, hey ho, it’s less than 3 month til Christmas now! I’ve also definitely taken some liberties with the whole pre-series story and ages and stuff but oh well. I’ve wanted to write a piece based on the blanket in this gif for a while now, so this prompt just worked perfectly for it! 

Congratulations again, Leah, on the 1k milestone - it’s so well deserved, and here's to 1k more 🥳 I hope you and everyone else enjoys my little contribution to the celebration ❤️

(gif by @nofckingfighting​)

The Shelby clan had never known darker times than the months following their mother's death.

Their father was more absent than ever before. Arthur Shelby Junior was still hopelessly trailing around after him. John had fled to Martha's house, seeking comfort in her arms. Ada was distraught, and everyone had given up trying to guess what her next move would be, for entering her teenage years had made her even more unpredictable than ever anyway. Between looking after Finn and working as much as her brother would allow, Polly was permanently exhausted.

Tommy felt like he was drowning alongside his mother, burdened with the responsibility of trying to look after his family as best he could whilst grieving.

That left Y/N. Born just a year after Tommy, she was the one he turned to when he needed a break. Whether it was to cry and mourn the loss of his beloved mother, or taking charge when all Tommy wanted to do was sleep after a long day's work, Y/N was always there. She picked up the pieces for all of her siblings, and was the oil that kept the cogs of the machine turning.

One night, Tommy and Y/N found themselves alone in the parlour, relishing in the moments of quiet that had fallen after the rest of the family had gone to bed. It was at these times that the pair confided in each other, whether it was their own news or that of their siblings.

Tonight, so far, they had sat in silence. But Y/N knew that Tommy would tell her something soon, and also knew that Tommy would be able to sense that she had something to tell him. It was all a matter of who would speak first.

"I don't know what to do, Y/N/N." Tommy had taken the leap this time.

"Don't know what to do about what?" Her brother's confession had surprised Y/N: Tommy always had a plan for everything.

"I'm doing everything I can to provide for us all and it's still not enough, even though I've taken every fucking job I can find. The lock on the door is still broken from when Dad came home drunk the other night, and the window next to Finn's nursery hasn't been mended yet from when John accidentally smashed it with his ball. Polly's had to take all of the spare blankets for him so that he doesn't get sick. We can't afford to buy any more. There's no place for us to sleep at night. Not somewhere that's safe and warm, anyway."

Y/N sighed. "First of all, Tom, and this is important, so you'd better fucking pay attention to me." Y/N was pleased to see that he let out a slight laugh at that. "You're doing an amazing job at all of this. We're all so grateful for everything you're doing, even if I'm the only one that will actually say it out loud. We couldn't ask any more of you, Tommy.

"Secondly, I may be able to help you – now, don't get mad!" Y/N added this last part hurriedly, having seen Tommy's eyebrows quickly shoot up. Taking a deep breath, Y/N broke the news. "Harry has given me a job...as a barmaid in the Garrison."

"What?!" Tommy jumped out of his seat, looking down at Y/N in disbelief. "Are you out of your mind? If you think I'm going to let you work there with all those drunk idiots every night, then you'd better think again."

"If you think you can tell me what I can and can't do, then you'd fucking better think again, Thomas," Y/N retorted, as her brother began to pace up and down the room. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm an adult now and can make my own decisions. Anyway, I've worked everything out and I have a plan to put to you."

Tommy sat down again, not taking his eyes off his younger sister.  

"You're working yourself into the ground, Tommy, and quite frankly we can't afford for you to be ill, so you need to get some more rest." The man in question opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off immediately by Y/N. "I want you to give up a couple of your jobs – some of them only pay a pittance, whilst my wage alone would cover that and a little more. I want you to put more time and energy into building up our Dad's business. I've got this feeling that it could become so much more, and you're the one that will make it happen, Tommy, I just know it!"

The second eldest Shelby brother sighed, his head falling heavily into his hands. He had to admit, Y/N's plan sounded incredibly tempting. But still, doubts invaded his thoughts, namely his concerns over his sister working in the Garrison of all places and the question of what if it all failed? What if they ended up in a worse position than they were in now?  

With two words from Y/N, however, he was convinced: "Trust me."

"Fine. We'll give it a go on one condition – if any of those fuckers at the pub ever, and I mean ever, give you any bother whatsoever, you tell me straight away. Alright?"

Y/N smiled softly at her brother, pleased with the outcome of their conversation. "Alright," she whispered in agreement, reaching over to grab his hand.

"Thank you, Y/N." Tommy's voice broke through the silence, his sincerity as clear as day.

"We're going to be alright, Tom. One day, we won't have to worry about everyone being safe and warm in their beds. It might take some time, but we'll get there eventually."

Tommy nodded, almost imperceptibly, before slowly getting up to make his way to his own bed, only stopping to place a gentle kiss to his sister's forehead.

All they could do now was pray that Y/N would be right once again.

***

About a year later, their prayers were beginning to be answered.

Business at the betting shop was flourishing, and the Shelby's were gaining more respect by the day. It was all illegal, of course, but all that mattered to Tommy and Y/N was that enough money was rolling in to look after the family.

As Christmas drew nearer, their house was beginning to feel more like a home again for the first time since their mother passed. Fires roared in the hearth at night, they had finally been able to make the repairs that the house so desperately needed, and the family seemed to be happy.  

The future looked brighter for the Shelby clan, and it was a sight that Y/N was overjoyed to have before her. Her plan had worked, the dark circles beneath Tommy's eyes were melting away and her Christmas present for him was finally ready.

Despite Tommy's arguments that she didn't need to stay on at the Garrison anymore, Y/N had decided to keep her job there. Surprisingly, she'd discovered that she was rather good at bar work and had been immensely satisfied when her brothers had entered the pub on one of their 'check-ups' on her to witness her chucking a couple of drunks out onto the street by the scruffs of their neck. Y/N liked earning her own money, rather than relying on Tommy, and it meant that no questions were asked about how she was spending it.

Most of her wages had gone towards Tommy's present, and Y/N could only hope that he liked it. The closer and closer that it got to the big day, the more Y/N began to doubt it. But she'd put too much work into it to turn back now.

She had decided against leaving it under the tree, not wanting anyone to be ridiculed for it, and instead kept it a secret in her room. So, on the night of the 25th, Y/N padded down the stairs to meet Tommy alone in the parlour.

"I thought you'd be in bed by now." Tommy was smiling up at her from his seat on the sofa.

"You know I'm always too excited at Christmas to get much sleep." Her brother rolled his eyes fondly at Y/N's reminder. "Anyway, I have one more present to give out."

Tommy's brows furrowed in confusion. "But we all opened your presents earlier, Y/N/N?"

"Yes, yes, I know – you don't need to make this any more embarrassing for me than it already is!."

The man in question chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender.

Y/N sat down next to her brother, and handed him the carefully wrapped package. "Happy Christmas, Tommy," she said, gently. As he began to open it, Y/N's nervous rambling automatically began. "Now, if you don't like it, just tell me. I won't be offended! I can find something else to do with it. It's not really your colours, now I think about it, and - "

"Y/N do you want me to open this or not?" Tommy snapped, but his eyes were full of fondness for his younger sister.

"Yes," Y/N replied, meekly.

Tommy pulled away the last of the wrapping to find a thick patchwork blanket, which was clearly handmade. Speechless at the thought and care put into the gift, he asked the only question that was running through his head:  "Why?"

"I wanted to give you something special to say thank you for everything you've done for us since Mum died. Also, I'm not stupid, you know." At Tommy's confused expression, Y/N elaborated. "Nearly every morning before we got the house fixed up, I used to wake up with double the amount of blankets on top of me compared to how many I went to bed with. Your blankets, Tommy, when we barely had enough to share between us all in the first place. So I wanted to make you one myself that is yours and yours alone.

"You said to me once that we had nowhere to sleep at night that was safe and warm, but you created that place for us, for me. I know we've got plenty of blankets in the house now, but I just wanted to try and give you that same feeling of comfort that you gave to me." She stopped talking at that, suddenly aware of how long she had been going on for.

Tommy held the warm fabric in his hands, his thumb tracing the messy stitching which held each patch together, trying to blink away the tears glazing his eyes. "I love it, sweetheart. Thank you."

A relieved smile lit Y/N's face, but it was quickly replaced by a loud yawn. She gently rested her head on Tommy's shoulder as she curled her legs up on the sofa, and he wrapped his arm around her.

"Happy Christmas, Tom," Y/N mumbled sleepily.

"Happy Christmas, Y/N/N," Tommy replied with a smile.

Moments later, Y/N's breathing had evened out and she had fallen into a deep slumber. Tommy's eyes flitted between her sleeping form and the beautiful blanket on his knee.

Maybe he could share his blanket with his sister just one more time...

[bluebellwriting]

Love Me Tender Part 6

Hey folks! I know it’s been a minute, I’ve been super busy with work and school, but I’m by no means done with this piece and you know I had to post something for Valentine’s Day (to make up for the fact that single and lonely 😆😭)

Despite popular belief, Hell does in fact freeze over. It’s Hell, after all, and in the world of pain and torture, everything is fair game. And it’s February, historically one of the coldest months for you back when you were living and certainly the most miserable in Hell too. The roads are slick with sheets of ice, you can’t walk a block without a three-foot icicle nearly spearing itself through you, and everyone’s car is perpetually trapped in a snowbank thanks to Lucifer’s “generous snow plow program.” Each winter day reminds you of the worst snow cyclones from when you were growing up in Brooklyn, cold yes, but in a way it’s all very sentimental. They remind you of the winter nights cuddled up with your siblings, hot chocolate in hand, listening to the winds blustering against your windows. It’s all rather lovely, in a strange way.

Your boyfriend of four months does not seem to agree, if the way he’s gripping you and nuzzling into your neck is anything to go by. You’ve been trying to extricate yourself from your practically shared bed for the last ten minutes, but each attempt only causes Alastor to pull you closer. He’s basically on top of you now, those boney forearms are stronger than you’d think.

“Sweetheart,” you whisper. “It’s time to get up.”

Alastor groans but otherwise your voice falls on deaf ears.

“Come on, we have to make breakfast and then--”

“But darling, it’s freezing,” he sighs. “And why would I go anywhere when I have my own personal heater right here.”

It’s really hard to stay mad at him, especially when he places sweet little kisses from your cheek to your shoulder and back again.

“Well your personal heater has some errands to run and needs to get her day started.”

“Ugh,” Alastor whines and inch by inch, begins to roll off of you. “How can you even stand to be out in that unbearable cold? Don’t you want to stay right here with me, your loving and adoring boyfriend?”

“You know I would,” you boop his nose. “But then I wouldn’t be able to get your present.” 

His ears perk up immediately.

“Present?” He coos. “A present for lil’ ol’ me? Dearest, you shouldn’t have.”

“Yes, but I can’t pick it up until I get out of this bed.”

“Oh fine. I suppose I have some things to do for tonight as well,” he teases and kisses you on the nose before finally allowing you to shift out of bed.

“Although before you leave me,” he whines. “I have a little something to kick off the festivities.”

With a snap of his fingers, a red garment manifests in your arms.

“Oh, Alastor.” You run your hands over the thick velvet of the dress. “It’s lovely.”

“This is just the beginning, love. Now go try it on,” he shoos you off to the bathroom, then immediately curls back up into the comforter to protect himself from the draft leaking in from your window. 

The dress is beautiful and warm. As soon as you change into it and assess yourself in the bathroom mirror it hits you that this has to be a customized dress. It fits you far too perfectly and the fabric is so soft, it’s like a blanket heating you up and snuggling you in. It’s either custom or enchanted with Alastor’s magic. Or maybe both, you wouldn’t put it past him to make this the perfect dress.

The last four months together have been a dream. A blissful and rapturous dream that you never want to wake up from. If you thought he was sweet before you began dating, then this is an entirely new level. You two are practically glued to the hip, and he finds a way to make every possible moment so enthralling and exciting that it doesn’t even matter. 

Everything about him is just enthralling, and the best part is that he can’t seem to get enough of you either. It makes your face warm and your mouth split into a grin just thinking about it.

You poke your head out of the bathroom door and giggle at the sight of Alastor in his own personal blanket cocoon. 

“Comfortable?” You ask.

“I’d be more comfortable if you were here with me.”

“While that sounds tempting, I wouldn’t want to ruin my fabulous new dress.”

He shoots up, blanket still around his shoulders, eyes wide and alert and trained on the way the bodice clings to your curves. It’s even more perfect than he could have expected.

“Do you like it?” He scoots to the edge of the bed and holds his arms out for you to step into.

“I love it.” You smile and step between his legs to fall into his embrace. “It’s perfect. Thank you, my love.”

“That’s just the beginning, dear,” he cheers.

“Alastor, you didn’t--”

“Nonsense! It’s our first Valentine’s together and it must be the best of all time!” Ever one for theatrics, with a flourish of his arm the room is filled with red roses.

“Oh my goodness,” you giggle and cup his face in your hands. “You darling man.”

Alastor melts into your hands, letting the softness of your palms warm his cheeks.

“Only for you, love.” He leans forward and nuzzles your nose. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, dear.”

If you weren’t worried about getting to the store and back in time, you would have stayed here, exactly like this, for hours more. 

“Let’s begin the day, shall we, love?” You whisper.

“But it’s cold!” He whines. “And you’re so warm!”

“Ugh, you’re such a southern boy,” you tease and pull away from him, if only to draw him out of his blanket nest and into the world. 

“You love this southern boy,” he laughs and finally rises. With a quick snap, he’s dressed in a redder-than-average suit with one of the red roses on your floor now pinned to his lapel.

He hands you your coat, gloves, hat, scarf, and tries to force another sweater upon you but you stop him before you’re a complete bundle of wool and layers.

---

Charlie must have gotten up early because the entire lobby is littered with hearts and confetti. Chocolates are on every available surface and your fearless leader is currently snuggling with Vaggie in matching heart sweaters. You watch Angel hand Husk a box of chocolates wrapped in a lovely bow. Hesitantly, Husk opens the box and spits out whatever he was drinking all over your brother before stomping away with a red face.

“What did you do to that poor man?” You call over.

“Just gave him an innocent token of my affections,” Angel chimes and shows you the contents of the box: three rows of chocolates with letters printed on each piece, spelling out “Best Dick Ever.”

“Angel, that is so vulgar,” you exclaim.

“It’s the day of love, sis.” Angel pops one of the pieces into his mouth.

“That is not love, my fellow,” Alastor chastises.

 “Aww, that’s cute coming from you, strawberry pimp.”

“I’ll have you know that I am plenty romantic,” Alastor says incredulously. “Aren’t I, (Y/N)?”

“You are, love. The most romantic,” you coo. “Now I have to get going. Please be nice, boys.”

“And you,” Alastor leans down to pull your scarf tighter around you, “promise me that you will be careful. You’re sure I can’t come with you?”

“I’m sure, love. I’ll be fine. Angel,” you turn to him. “Be nice.”

“’K, mom,” he calls back to you, waving as you begin your journey into the chilly winds.

“So,” Angel drawls, sidling up to Alastor. “What are you doing for my sister on this ever most sacred day of love and affection?”

“Something special and perfect and I will not have you distracting me,” Alastor sighs and snaps his fingers, transporting himself to his cottage deep in the woods of the Pentagram. Because only a crazy person would want to walk out in that cold. Good thing Alastor loves your kind of crazy.

---

It’s been a while since Alastor has been to his home, his actual home, one that is reminiscent of the large, Queen Anne-style homes of New Orleans. Dust is collecting on the counters and window sills, but that’s nothing that some quick magic can’t fix. The real task at hand is the redecorating and the meal he has to prepare for tonight to be as perfect as can be. This is certainly not the first time that you’ve been to his home but he’s hoping that it will be the last time that he calls it “his home.”

If he had it his way, tonight would be the night that Alastor asked you to marry him, to spend the rest of eternity -- or as long as you’d have him at least -- together in Hell as husband and wife, as partners in crime until the very fabric of the universe began to fray at the seams. He’s known for so long, long before you began your courtship, that he wanted to marry you and it took everything within him not to propose to you on your first date. But he had to be patient, suave, a perfect gentleman, because the last thing he wanted to do was scare you off with a hasty courtship and engagement. The last man who had attempted that with you, well, Alastor was still in the process of hunting him down so he could offer you his head on a spit. That was supposed to be the second part of your Valentine’s gift but alas, the wretched soul was more slippery than he had anticipated.

Hopefully you’d be impressed enough by the way he had decorated the house with some of your favorite colors and furniture from the 1940s, things to make it look more like a home you could share and grow into. 

---

The beauty about Hell in the wintertime is that there are so few people out on the streets to bother you. The sidewalks and roads are eerily quiet, the snow swallowing up distant sounds so the only ones left is the crunch of your boots. Your trip to Rosie’s had been quick, as the poor woman was overrun with sinners trying to buy up last-minute Valentine’s gifts. As she said to you in passing while gift wrapping some tacky jewelry for a panicked demoness, “good for business, bad for relationships.”

You clutched your gift bag close to your chest, guarding it from any muggers who would even dare steal the most perfect gift for your Alastor. This was weeks in the making and you were not about to let someone ruin your first good Valentine’s Day. 

You approached the door to the hotel, already anticipating a warm fire to warm your cheeks and nose, when suddenly an arm is around you and you’re no longer in front of the hotel. No, after blinking your eyes to readjust, you’re now staring at Alastor’s home, which means the arm and body hugging you close belongs to your sweet, adoring, and sometimes startling beau.

“Alastor!” You squeal. “What have I told you about surprising me like that?”

“I’m sorry, love,” he chuckles. “But I just couldn’t have you out in the cold any longer.”

“If this wasn’t a day dedicated to love you’d be buried in snow right now,” you grumble.

“I don’t doubt that, sweetest. Now come on, the fire is waiting for you.”

When Alastor first brought you into his home it was your one-month anniversary. You were actually relieved when it wasn’t a massive mansion like most Overlords pick for themselves, and you couldn’t help but be charmed by the perfectly retro, 1920s decor.

But it’s different now. The living room has new, floral wallpaper and some of the furniture reminds you of... your old home back in New York.

“You redecorated,” you shiver as you allow the warmth of the home heat up your body. Alastor rubs his hands up and down your shoulders to warm you up as soon as your coat and layers have been shed.

“Do you like it?” He asks, a glimmer of hope igniting in his eyes.

“Oh it’s lovely,” you breathe and inhale, smelling the hot meal he’s probably slaved over. “Just surprising. What brought this on?”

“Oh, just, wanted to try something new. Are you ready for dinner?”

“I’ve been salivating since I first stepped into the door.”

Dinner is delicious, mouth wateringly incredible and cajun. But all throughout dinner you couldn’t help but notice the way Alastor’s knee bounced or the way his hand shook whenever he held his fork to his mouth. Not to mention the eery quiet between you two. You can’t seem to get more than a one-word response out of him. It makes your heart drop, and the way his eyes shift away from your gaze makes a pit form in your stomach.

“Alastor, love. Is everything alright?”

His eyes dart up to meet yours. His teeth worry his bottom lip and you can hear his fingers tapping excessively on his seat.

“Of course, darling. Everything is right as rain. Are you enjoying your food?”

“It’s amazing, Al. It’s always amazing.” You beam at him and reach across the table to hold on to his hand.

“If you don’t have any more delightful surprises for me, love, could I give you my gift now?”

“(Y/N) you didn’t--”

“I won’t even dignify that with a response.”

Reaching down beside your chair, you pull out the perfectly wrapped present and slide it across the table to him.

“It’s not much,” you explain. “But I hope you like it.”

It’s perfect. So perfect, the wrapping, the bow, the very idea that his darling has given him a gift at all, that he doesn’t even want to open it. As much as he wants to tear it open, there’s the urge to keep this moment preserved in his mind forever and ever, just in case his present to you goes south tonight.

But from the way you’re looking at him, eyes wide and hopeful, he knows he has to open it right now.

Inside is a little plastic... view finder? He’s really never seen anything like this. They look like binoculars but there’s a little white disk inside with small film negatives along the circumference.

“It’s a reel viewer,” you explain. “Put it up to your eyes and click the lever.”

So he does. And with each click he’s met with little candids of you and him, some from before your relationship began, some from after, all of them more perfect than the last and preserved forever just for him. His heart swells and warms an overwhelming amount. His joy leaks from his mouth and eyes, until it feels like the sun itself is pouring through his teeth and tears.

“Oh, (Y/N), darling...” he sniffles.

“I know it’s not much but--”

“It’s everything, dearest.” It really is. And more importantly it’s enough for him to get his act together. He feels like he can breathe again, like the fog of doubt has finally been lifted. What was he so worried about? You love him, of course, you love him.

“It’s perfect.” He rises and comes to kneel before you. “More lovely and wonderful than you will ever know. So much better than my gift to you but I hope you will love it all the same. I love it, (Y/N). I love you. So, so very much, dearest.”

“Alastor, I’m going to love anything you give me because I love you, sweetheart.” You peck his nose.

“Yes, well, that’s the thing. Because really, this feels more like just another gift from you to me.”

“Is it now?” You tease.

“It is...” he sighs. “I love you. I hope you never have to doubt that for an instant in your life. And I know this might be too soon, and you can say no for now, or forever, but I have never doubted for a minute that you are the one for me. My gift to you, love, sweetheart, darling dearest, is this.” 

He motions to the dining room.

“The... dining room?”

“No, love,” he chuckles. “The house. My house... Our house. If you’ll have it. If you’ll have me.”

You gasp and tears flood your eyes so quickly that you have to blink them away to see Alastor’s hopeful eyes properly.

“You’re asking me to move in with you?”

“I am. I’m asking you to make this house, our home.”

“Oh, Alastor.” You launch forward and wrap your arms around his neck. You press your lips to his in a bruising kiss, letting him bundle you up in his own arms and grip your waist.

You pull way for a brief moment, short enough to mumble out a fervent series of ‘yeses.’ 

“Of course,” you say between kisses to his face. “Of course, I’ll move in with you.”

[cheri-translates]

Alone on Christmas

A one-shot dedicated to my Secret Santa partner, @beautiful-mystic-mess​

♡ MERRY CHRISTMAS YOU PRECIOUS GIRL ♡

And major appreciation to @ginkgowritings​ who initiated this wholesome exchange and for feeding us quality Gavin content :>

Mildly suggestive!

[ a week before christmas ]

“How could you do this?!”

“I’m sorry.”

“You. Are. The. Worst. Boyfriend. Ever.”

“I know.”

“How could you leave your adorable girlfriend alone on Christmas?”

“Mm, she’s adorable.”

“...”

A zephyr rakes up dried leaves, pulling them into a dance in mid-air. This dazzling display would have left you in awe, if you weren’t currently fuming.

Gavin presses a chaste kiss to your right temple. You huff, a cloud of mist leaving your parted lips.

It’s nearly impossible to stay mad at him.

“I’m going to miss this,” you grumble, voice slightly muffled by the azure scarf you’re sharing with him. 

Giving your laced hands an angry squeeze in the left pocket of his jacket, Gavin halts in his footsteps in the middle of the empty park.

“I’ll only be gone for two weeks, and even though I might not be contactable…” his voice falters when he sees the tears prickling the corners of your eyes, glistening under the glow of streetlights.

Eyes widening, he quickly removes himself from the scarf and stands in front of you, wrapping the wool evenly around your shoulders. Cradling your face, he tilts your chin upwards and gently scoops away the pearly droplets with his calloused thumbs. 

“I really am the worst boyfriend,” he murmurs, slight panic in his eyes.

The last thing you want Gavin to see before he leaves tomorrow is your crying face.

You smack him in the chest, then turn away to rub the heels of your palms roughly against your face. However, it’s a futile effort as the tears return in a continuous, unrelenting supply.

“What if... what if something happens?” You choke, words surfacing in a blubber as you sob messily.

Gavin turns you around to face him, as though he’s inspecting a fragile antique. He draws you into an embrace, and you bury your face in the crook of his neck.

A light swirl of wind tangles and tosses the scent of mint in your surroundings.

“Nothing will happen. I promise.” he whispers into your hair.

He draws back, flitting his lips across your face, every peck removing the tears, the sadness of his impending departure, and the clouds of uncertainty. 

The ticklish sensation causes you to giggle.

Gavin gazes into your slightly reddened eyes, then brings your right hand to his lips, planting a kiss on your engagement ring.

“I’ll make it up to you when I get back.”

--

[ four days before christmas ]

The house is silent, save for the occasional tapping of the keyboard and the almost imperceptible whirring of Sparky Jr. Jr. the Zoombot.

“Maybe Kiro’s Christmas album could turn this gloomy season around,” you muse to yourself, scrolling through your playlist before settling on a bubbly rendition of “All I Want For Christmas Is You” to inject some festive vibes into the room.

Leaning back against your chair, you return your gaze to the document on the laptop screen. You thought burying yourself in work would make the days more bearable. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to have such a desired effect.

Whenever you worked at home, Gavin would drop by the study room and bring you warm drinks, your favourite snacks, and words of encouragement to keep your momentum going.

You stare at the pink, bunny-shaped post-it note stuck to the top right corner of the laptop: I’ll be home soon. You can do this, my girl.

He had stuck it there before he left. But it seems he’s also taken your motivation along with him.

You sigh.

--

[ christmas day ]

The dullness of winter hangs above you as you drag your feet down the familiar street, boots sinking into the soft snow. 

The streets are livelier than usual, with raucous children pressing their ruddy cheeks against the glass windows, cooing over the newest toys.

Aside from you, no one is alone. Seeing everyone accompanied by their partner, friends and family gives you a stark reminder of how the person you wanted to spend Christmas with is currently in an unknown location and in an unknown condition.

Catching sight of your gloomy reflection in a glass window, you hurriedly smoothen the crease in between your brows, perking yourself up. You don’t want to ruin the company’s Christmas party for everyone.

This year, your contribution to the party is in the form of baking Christmas goodies. Not wanting to mess it up, you even sought the advice of Victor beforehand on how to make the perfect chocolate cupcakes. 

Although the goodies turned out slightly different from the images he sent you, you trust that your employees wouldn't dare to complain given that the fate of their monthly salaries rests in your hands. At least, not in your presence.

--

After storing the box of cupcakes in the pantry’s fridge, you head over to the main office. 

“Boss!” Minor greets enthusiastically once you step inside, squatting down next to the Christmas tree standing tall in the corner of the room.

Although the branches are already weighed down with tons of decorations, Minor continues digging through the cardboard box filled with ornaments, seeking to further embellish it.

“We’re almost done,” Kiki says proudly, taking a step back to admire the tree. “All that’s left is for Eli to-"

“Kiki!” Willow interrupts loudly. “I think we need more fairy lights.”

“Eli?” You repeat, utterly confused. “Wh-”

“Anyway,” Anna pipes up, handing you a Santa hat so you can match with the rest of them. “Since you’ve been such a wonderful boss, we thought we should give you something you’re sure to love.”

“Yes, make a guess!” Minor chimes in, standing up and clasping his hands together excitedly. “We’ll give you three tries.”

A thud from the file cabinet draws everybody’s attention. The door swings open, revealing none other than a familiar figure curled up in a foetal position at the bottom shelf.

But how is this possible? 

A ghost? 

Did you finally go insane after plowing through all those proposals for Victor over the past few days?

“Bro Gavin! You were supposed to wait for our signal!” Minor huffs in mild irritation.

“...it’s really cramped.”

You watch, frozen in position, as he struggles to extricate himself from the clutches of the cabinet. 

Straightening up and patting some dust off his hands, his face breaks out into a handsome, slightly sheepish smile as he mouths your name. 

“Gavin!” You lunge at him, wrapping your arms around his neck in a tight hug. He responds instinctively by pressing you closer to himself, and you can feel the rumbling of his chest as he chuckles softly.

Ignoring the flush on your cheeks when you hear whistles from around you, you draw back, staring at him in wide-eyed disbelief.

Then, you fire a series of questions at Officer Gavin:

“Are you real?”

“Yes.”

“When did you get back?”

“This morning. The mission ended earlier than expected.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” “I wanted to give you a surprise.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Nope...?”

“Gavin helped with the decorations.” Kiki pipes up excitedly, pointing at the unevenly cut paper snowflake garlands strung on the walls.

Catching the hesitance in Gavin’s response and Kiki’s input, you lift his hands up. As expected, you notice the razor-thin paper cuts donning his fingers. 

You bring them to your lips, blowing on them. “My Gavin is a poor liar as always.”

“And I thought their posts on Moments were bad enough...” Minor gripes good-naturedly, gesturing for everyone to leave the room. “We’ll go decorate the pantry now~”

Knowing glances are exchanged among the group as they flee from the scene, giving the two of you some privacy.

All the heaviness in your heart from the days before seem to melt away as you stand on your tiptoes, kissing him with all the fiery passion you have in your being. You can feel him laughing against your lips.

“It’s only been seven days,” he breathes in between kisses. You feel like crying with joy, but only laughter bubbles from your throat. Breathless and blissful laughter.

“Seven days is too long,” You respond, planting kisses on whatever skin you can reach on his handsome face. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he echoes. He pulls your face away from his just so he can simply look at you, his liquid pools of amber drinking you in.

The door slams open with a thud.

“Did anyone miss me?” Eli bellows, strolling into the room with a tower of presents.

-

The party commences soon after that. Gifts are exchanged (Minor knitted Thorny a mini Santa hat), glasses are clinked, and separate conversations take place.

While it’s nice to be a part of the liveliness, you feel pretty overwhelmed and drained soon after. Offering to bring the cupcakes out, you politely excuse yourself from the intense discussion with the girls on which was the worst Christmas movie on Netflix this year.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that Gavin is currently engaged in a conversation with Minor (though it looks more like a one-sided effort on the latter’s part). You decide not to disturb their moment of bonding, and head out by yourself.

-

Taking small sips from a glass of water, you fiddle mindlessly with the round magnets on the refrigerator, relishing this short breather. 

Once you feel sufficiently rested, you pull the fridge doors open, retrieving the familiar box.

“Are you okay?”

The sudden voice causes you to jolt, and you almost drop your precious cupcakes.

"Mm, I’m fine. Just bringing the desserts out," you tell Gavin with a shrug.

"That can wait," he says simply. One large hand glides between yours and the tray, snatching it away, and sliding it onto the counter next to you. “I said I’d make it up to you when I got back.”

Now that the obstruction is out of the way, he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his lips to yours. You giggle, hands moving up to lace through his hair as you try to bring him closer than he already is. 

He crushes you tightly against his body, easily lifting your feet off the ground and seating you atop the counter. There isn’t even enough room for air to fit between the both of you.

His teeth travel upwards, grazing the soft lobe of your ear, making you shiver deliciously.

“Gavin, not... not now,” you’re trying very hard to keep your volume down. 

“Hm?” His warm breath tickles your skin. Caressing your cheek, he peppers feathery kisses down your jawline, ending with gentle licks and nibbles on your neck. “Why not?”

What happened to the boy who used to blush at the mere thought of talking to you?

“We’re in the office,” you respond lamely, attempting to pry him away without using any strength whatsoever. Your body betrays you, and you feel your grip around his neck tightening so he couldn’t go anywhere even if he tried.

Someone in the doorway clears their throat.

As though you got scalded, you release your hold on him and hop off the counter.

You lift your head to see a teasing Eli, his brows arched in bemusement as he splays his fingers over his eyes. "Please refrain from using the office furniture inappropriately.”

While you smoothen your slightly rumpled clothes and, Eli stuffs a Santa hat into Gavin’s hand. 

“Here,” Eli says, injecting faux urgency into his voice. “Wear this.”

“No.”

Already expecting Gavin to refuse from the get-go, Eli waggles his brows.

“If you wear it, maybe you could...” His voice dips into an audible whisper. “Slide into her chimney tonight.”

Gavin coughs, dealing a painful blow to Eli’s torso. “Get out.”

“Ah, my spleen.” Eli winces exaggeratedly, grabbing the box of goodies off the counter. “I’ll keep the others occupied. Please lock the door next time. You’re welcome.”

With a wink, he makes his way back to the meeting room, shutting the door with a click.

Pretending that you didn’t hear Eli’s comment, you meet Gavin’s gaze once again. After staring each other for a few seconds, the two of you burst into embarrassed laughter.

He takes you into his arms with a contented sigh, nuzzling his chin against the top of your head.

"Merry Christmas. I’m happy to be home.”

-

ENDING THIS WITH ANOTHER POOR EDIT:

[thewildwaffle]

Plants With Teeth

A requested idea from a reader on ao3.

“Welcome to the Junto Space Port," the security repeated the same old procedure with each new wave of visitors passing through. "All incoming travelers must check-in through customs before continuing. Please make sure proper identification is ready to be presented." Kartch followed the flow of travelers without much thought. She'd done this route so often with her business ventures, she almost had the number of steps from the terminal to each of the check-in spots memorized. Her eyes glazed once again over the sea of fellow travelers. There was an exceptionally large variety of species on this trip. That wasn’t too odd. It was a popular time to travel to Junto. The weather was exceptionally pleasant this time of the year, celebrations and festivals were going on nearly in every street and township in the region, the harvest of several important crops was just about wrapped up, and business and inter-solar trade were booming. Kartch wondered just how many of her fellow ex-passengers were here on vacation and how many like her were here to work. A heavy something from behind smacked into her short tail. It didn’t hurt really, but it was enough to throw her off balance. With a surprised squeak, she dropped her luggage and reached with all four arms instinctively to try to grab something, anything, to stop her fall. Before she hit the floor, strong hands grabbed her and carefully helped her back up. “Woah there, I gotcha, I gotcha,” a voice she could tell was being translated by her chip filled her ears. “Sam, you gotta be more careful, you nearly took them out!” Kartch looked up into the face of the alien that had saved her, who in turn looked down at them with a concerned expression on their light brown face. “I’m sorry about that. Are you okay?” It was a human. Kartch stared for half a glip before catching herself. She’d of course seen plenty of humans before but hadn’t ever dealt with them directly or this closely. Now one was basically holding her.

“Sorry Mirela,” another voice piped up from behind. Kartch looked, it was another human carrying what looked like must be a large, hard plastic case that must have been what hit her earlier. “It’s not me you should be apologizing to,” the human holding Kartch helped her back up to her feet and picked up the dropped luggage. “I’m sorry,” the reprimanded human dipped their head. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and shouldn’t have been messing around with the boxes like that.” Kartch made a gesture as if she was brushing herself off. “I accept your apology. I’m not hurt and all is well.” Mirela frowned at the other human as she stood back up to her full height.“You shouldn’t have been messing around with them at all. Those are merchandise, not toys.” Mirela leaned over to pick up another two boxes that appeared to be identical to the ones her companion was carrying. Never one to be rude enough to ask aloud, Kartch wondered what the humans were carrying and what they planned to sell. Instead, she asked, "Those look heavy. Wouldn't you prefer a wagon to carry them?" The human Mirela smiled. "We're fine. We’ve got someone getting one for the rest of what we've got. And well, these things are lighter than they look. They're just a bit bulky to carry. Thank you for your concern though." Then as if knowing the question Kartch had on her mind. "We've got a few little plants we're taking to the street market in the north Jupo District." “Plants?!” Kartch started and gave the pair of humans with a bit of alarm. “To sell? From Earth? I hope you don’t have much trouble getting through customs.” “Yeah, no we made sure we followed all the requirements. No pollens, nothing bearing easily spread seeds, nothing poisonous, etc.” As Mirela spoke, another human approached, pushing a wagon laden with more of the large boxes. Mirela glanced over at the new arrival before turning back to Kartch with a soft smile. “We did our research, don’t you worry.” “Mirela,” the new human stopped the wagon to look between their companion and Kartch. “Uh, they got the plants up here in good time alright. Um. Are we… what’s going on?” Kartch cleared her throat. “Ah, well. I won’t keep you. May the stars grant you luck.” With a smile and a wave, a common farewell among humans, Mirela and the other were off. As Kartch continued on her way, she couldn’t help but steal another look at them. Humans, she thought. Huh. Well, go figure they’d want to visit Junto. Compared to their home planet, or at least what she’d heard of it, Junto must seem to be a paradise of safety and splendor. The customs lines were long and weren’t moving as fast as she’d like. It took forever to wind through the twists and turns of the queue. She kept looking at her timepiece, growling quietly each time she did so. She wished they’d open more customs booths, that would help ever so much with getting everyone through more efficiently. Or that they do something at least, this was taking more time than she'd planned. After what seemed like partecs, she reached the front of the line. She hefted her luggage onto the inspection counter with a huff that was a mix of exasperation from her wait and relief that it was over. The security personnel began with the regular questions and asked for identification. As she pulled it out and handed it over, she saw the humans she had run into earlier arrive at the front of the line just next to her. She heard them being called up and watched only for a moortik as they placed a few of their boxes on the counter before she returned her attention to her own business. It was not polite to stare after all, and she just needed to make sure she got through here without any more further delays. The security personnel behind the counter was just finishing up with their inspection of her luggage and wrapping things up when a surprised screech nearly made everyone jump. Kartch turned her head, looking for the source of such alarm. Surely someone was hurt? Or in danger? What was it? “What are those things?!” Kartch found the source of the alarming sound. It was the security personnel at the counter with the humans. Said personnel was now looking slightly orange in the face and was staring into the now opened boxes the humans were transporting. Kartch, as well as everyone else nearby, leaned in to try to get a better look at what all the commotion was about. The human Mirela sighed and pulled the box open a bit more and pulled out one of the specimens. It was a flexible clear cylinder with a small green plant inside. Kartch could see the plant had large oval-shaped leaves or petals at the end that had a bit of red coloring with small thin stems pointing out and slightly up from the petals. So those were the plants the humans were going to sell? Well, they looked harmless enough, cute even. What had gotten into the security-? “Are those teeth?!?” the customs worker nearly squeaked out the words. Everyone who had been looking on froze. What? “They’re venus flytraps,” Mirela explained calmly. “They’re a carnivorous plant from Earth.” She pulled out an important-looking paper and handed it across the table. “We have a permit to sell them and a signed acknowledgment from the Inter-System Trade Commission of their safety and potential as a useful house-plant, as well as permissions to sell and trade them within the Junto system. The customs personnel didn’t look like he’d quite overcome his shock just yet. “Carnivorous… plant?” he repeated back. Kartch agreed with his confusion. Those two words didn’t sound like they belonged together in the same sentence. That little plant in the human’s hand didn’t look like it deserved such a bizarre description. Her own customs personnel, finally breaking his stare at the proceedings of the booth next to his own, finally shut Kartch’s luggage, stamped its carding, and slid it back to her with a silent nod before returning attention back to the drama next to him. Kartch pulled her luggage off the counter and slowly stepped toward the exit, her eyes still locked on the strange plant in question. It didn’t seem that strange-looking to her to cause such a ruckus. But then she saw it. Or rather, she got a better look at it. The stems she thought she saw curving delicately away from the petals were actually teeth. Oh. Those were teeth. That plant had teeth. Plant teeth. Those petals were some sort of plant mouth?! The customs personnel numbly took the paper the human Mirela handed and scanned over it, looking perhaps a bit too dumbstruck to really comprehend what was actually written. Mirela continued to explain what the plant was and did. How it could survive in even the poorest soil, how it could trap and digest small insects and pests for nourishment, and how the Inter-System Trade Commission as well as several committees and interplanetary environmental groups had studied and approved it, and were even pushing for it’s use in helping to combat a dangerous pest infestation problem on the third moon of Biurbitak. Kartch could stop and wait forever to hear more, the next person in line behind her slowly shuffled up to the counter. And anyway, she did have places to be. Blinking and shaking her head, she tore her eyes away from the strange plant held by the strange alien. As she finally walked out of the exit, she felt her fur prickle across her body. Carnivorous plants. Those are apparently a thing. She took a deep breath and let it out. What kind of planet must Earth be that it’s so dangerous, even the plants have teeth?

[batfamscreaming]

superbat highschool au - Halloween

[warning for: non consensual kissing, implied abusive living situations]

As Halloween grew closer, Tommy (bundled up in the same scarf and loafers as Bruce) asked if anyone had plans for the evening. 

--

Clark hadn’t celebrated Halloween in a couple of years now. Not really. Maybe a Halloween party here or there but that was it. Houses were too far spaced out for trick-or-treat back home.

“Uh, I mean I think Bruce ‘n I were going to head to the library again, but--” Clark began, looking to the other boy for confirmation.

--

Bruce began to nod, but--

“No, Bruce and I are gonna go out on the town,” Tommy said, swinging his arm around Bruce’s shoulders and tugging him close. 

“...Tommy, curfew exists,” Bruce said, huffing a little. 

“Not if we break it, it doesn't,” he said, grinning. 

--

“Uh, okay. Is that an invitation then?” Clark smirked.

Breaking curfew once wouldn’t get him expelled.

--

“It can be,” Tommy said. “Harv?”

Harvey gave him a look that called him an idiot.  

“Gotham on Halloween?” he said. “You're not exactly strolling around the hill houses for candy.”

--

“Is it bad?” Clark asked. “I’ve actually never been off school grounds.”

He’d never seen the city.

--

“Halloween’s crazy for crime everywhere,” future lawyer Harvey Dent said flatly. “It's thematic.”

And if Gotham didn't follow a trend towards the thematic… whew. 

Bruce just seemed to be taking a moment to be stunned that Clark hadn't been anywhere outside the school. 

“Okay,” he said, turning to Tommy. “What’s the plan?”

“I was thinkin’ ice cream and bowling,” Tommy said, grinning. “You wanna plan our escape?”

(Bruce had been thinking too much about the library lately. It was time to steer him towards literally any other thinking direction)

And Bruce nodded, accepting that assignment. 

--

“Sounds fun.” Clark said, shrugging on his jacket.

“So how do you usually sneak out?”

--

“Badly,” Harvey said, still crossing his arms and clearly not pleased. 

“Dodge the guards. Hop the gate,” Bruce said. “Not hard. Easier with a rope. Getting in again’s worse.”

“Cause they actually expect it,” Tommy explained before there were any questions. 

“But at least we’re only on the second floor this year. If we weigh down the curtains and leave the window open it shouldn't be noticeable.”

--

“If it helps any I can jump pretty high,” Clark said. “So you shouldn’t have to worry much about me keeping up.”

Totally within normal human standards. Yes.

--

Bruce snorted. Laughed almost. 

“The gate’s ten feet at lowest,” he said. “Plus spikes.”

--

Clark was so stuck between keeping everything under cover and bragging. He could fly since he was 10. Ten feet was nothing. Ten feet was laughable.

He opened his mouth, swallowed, and sighed.

Dammit.

Keep it under wraps.

“Right.”

--

The boys just huddled together again, nodding and still discussing. “So, do we need rope? Or are we gonna be able to grip the bars?”

“I need the rope,” Harvey said miserably. 

“Got it,” Tommy said. “Leave it to me.”

“Please don't steal stuff and get us in more trouble when we get caught.”

“Never,” Tommy promised. “As if Bruce and I would get caught.”

(Bruce laughed then, but it was anxious for different reasons, then.)

--

“I’ll be able to grip the bars.” Clark said, for what little it was worth. For a moment he even considered offering to carry Harvey over on his back, but he thought maybe that was too much.

Could kids his age carry kids their own size on their backs?

He looked pensive for a moment.

…

No. Probably not.

“Anything I can help with?”

--

Tommy shook his head just as Bruce did. 

“Lay low,” Bruce said. “...have any hats?”

--

Clark thought about that before turning and digging through his things.

He slapped on an old, beat up John Deere baseball cap.

--

Bruce made a distressed face. 

“...have any other hats?”

--

“I gotta winter hat but it’s not that cold out.”

…

“What’s wrong with my hat?”

--

“That Bruce’s gotta wear it,” Tommy said, grinning. 

--

… Clark grinned, took off the hat, and shoved it onto Bruce.

--

“Nnnooo,” Bruce said, hat shoved onto his head and shoved down even more securely by Tommy. 

It tilted his dark hair out of place and looked completely out of place with his ironed white oxford and school blazer. 

--

“It suits ya.” Clark grinned.

It really didn’t.

--

“You're a shit liar,” Bruce said. 

“Quick, get the smallest shirt you have, Kent. He still sticks out too much!”

“Just use some of mi--” Harvey started to say. 

But that got hushed as Tommy urged them into a game of Bruce Dressup, and Halloween grew ever closer, until finally the night arrived.

--

Clark couldn’t do anything about Bruce’s very pressed pants, but he could find a small shirt for him.

‘Small’ being relative.

Bruce would drown in it a little, but at least in the end he didn’t stand out so much in his old ratty John Deere hat.

And when the night arrived he followed their lead.

--

….Bruce, unwillingly, donned the shirt and cap when it was finally time, looking a bit more like a ruffian with the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbow and the cap on his uncombed hair. 

It made him look shorter. His face seemed rounder. Almost puppyish. 

He was a very determined looking puppy as they rigged up their window so that the corner of the bunk bed jutted into view of the opening. 

Tommy had, indeed, acquired a rope from somewhere, and they tied one end into a loop, tossing it around the shallow jut of the bedpost and getting ready. 

Tommy was lookout as Bruce descended first. 

Then Harvey. They'd wait for Clark. Tommy last. They flicked the rope until it came loose from the bedpost, gathered it up, and raced to the gate, sneaking around the buildings and in the bushes in the low light. 

The gate was closed for the night, and they snuck under the desk guard to reach it. 

Again, Bruce took it first, climbing up between the bars using the traction on his shoe to get up. 

The rope was thrown over between the spokes at the top. Used to control their descent. 

He ushered Clark to mimic him once he'd made it to the other side and decided it was clear. Harvey had to have his foot in the loop and he pulled over to make it. 

Tommy went last again, staying behind to make sure Harvey had someone to catch him if he fell. 

And they were outside. 

--

It was hard for Clark to do things like these guys.

He… might have flown a little to descend out of the window a little faster, but kept his feet on the wall and his hands gripped to the rope so at least it looked like he was doing it like everyone else.

The gate though.

Ugh.

He tried to mimic Bruce as best he could, but it looked a little too… flawless. He didn’t strain or land on the other side very hard.

But they had made it.

… And outside, in the dark, there was even more light for his eyes to catch than usual.

--

He was lucky the boys were largely too focused on their own descents to notice. 

That streetlights were common enough to make his eyes look somewhat normal for the moment. 

Once they were on the street, Tommy and Harvey definitely took the lead, steering them up north of the academy, to a slightly more crowded--and festive--area. 

--

“Is this what you guys do every year?” Clark asked anyone who wanted to answer.

He always kinda wondered what these rich city kids did for fun.

--

“What? No way,” Tommy said. “I mean. That'd be nice…”

Harvey shook his head, too. His hands were wrapped around his elbows in a self-protective hug. “Normally wouldn't be able to get away with it.”

“Besides. Our old roommate was really bad at stuff,” Tommy added. “Like not getting all of us in trouble.”

“Spent last year in detention,” Bruce mumbled. 

(By now, Clark knew that didn't necessarily mean Bruce had done anything to deserve detention. 

It could've just been he'd been around while someone did something. Or been the dorm mate of someone who did something. 

...Harvey’s caving to come made more sense if he would just be punished anyway, if they were caught.)

--

“So, what, you just spend Halloween in your dorm studying? That’s… a lot less than I expected out here.” Clark said, not looking as defensive as maybe he should have been in Gotham of all places, hands in his pockets and head up.

Casual.

--

(Bruce kept his head down and the baseball cap over his eyes.)

“...what did you think we did?” Bruce asked. “Orgies? I'm taking you out for ice cream and bowling, Kent.”

--

“I dunno… parties? I thought that's what rich kids did. Go to clubs. Drink. That kinda thing.”

“... Not that I'm saying I want to do those things, but…” Clark shrugged.

--

All the same, all three kids had paused in walking to stare at him. 

“...I wouldn't even be able to set foot out of the house if Mom had her way,” Tommy said, staring. 

“....” Bruce just had that look on his face. 

“Hey. I worked my way in,” Harvey said. 

“I did too!” said Tommy, turning on Harvey a little. “I had to barter to get here.”

“...”

Bruce shuffled a little closer to Clark and breathed out, “their dads are the ones who drank all night.”

And that was all he mumbled before trying to step forward and break up the fight again. 

The bowling alley would close, late hours or not, if they didn't get a-moving. 

--

“Oh.” He mumbled to Bruce, and started walking too.

“Sorry, I guess the TV makes you think one thing even when it isn't very true. Sounds like I get it more'n you guys.”

--

Once more they turned, surprised. 

“You've fucked?” Tommy said. 

He had definitely pegged Clark for a virgin. 

--

Clark nearly tripped over his own feet.

“N-no!! No! God.”

He was beet red.

--

“Did you mean ‘out’?’” Harvey asked, baffled, at the same time as Tommy said, “oh. Okay. Harv still has company then, at least.”

Bruce could finally see the bowling alley coming up. Extended hours for the weekend. 

Ice cream parlor across the street. 

Yes. 

--

“Ugh, shut up.” Clark groaned, following them while rubbing his face to try and get some of the red from his cheeks.

--

“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy said, dropping it as they ducked into the building. It was much warmer inside. “...it's not like we have the money to get into clubs or buy alcohol, though. Seriously.”

“TV,” Harvey shrugged, quietly trying to reassure Clark a little that it was fine. 

--

“What’d ya mean? You at least get an allowance, right?” Clark said.

“Even I get an allowance. Or at least paid a little when I help out on the farm.”

--

….Harvey shook his head. “...my family doesn't have the money for an allowance, anyway.”

Tommy just scowled. “If I see any of my dad’s money it'll be long after mom’s died.”

…

Meanwhile, Bruce ducked his head, and pulled out a ten dollar bill, handing it to Tommy, who took it and huffed up to the counter to pay, being the one who was clearly not dark-haired Bruce Wayne in a baseball cap and oversized shirt. 

“...I get an allowance,” he admitted. “But it's not like I’m going to hike ten miles into the city from the manor to use it.”

--

“Jeeze…” He mumbled over Tommy talking about his mom needed to die for him to get his dad’s money.

“I guess that makes sense.” He said to Bruce again, watching Tommy pay for them.

“Thanks for treatin’ us though.”

Even if it made sense Bruce would pay for it. Still polite to thank him.

--

Bruce smiled a little. “Yeah. No problem. It's nice to get out. Thanks for the hat.”

“Shoooes!!” Tommy called once he'd paid, waving them over to change. 

A four player game was being set up for them, the first letters of their names being their designations. 

And ready to go. 

A night away.

--

Clark smiled back.

He got his change of shoes and then looked around for the heaviest ball they had. It still wouldn’t be enough to offset his throw, but it would help. It was easier not to look too strong when you needed to roll it rather than throw it. It was just a matter of dialing back the momentum.

His first throw though it went way too fast. Nothing that would break everything in its way, but still just too fast.

Shit.

He would try and hide his distressed face and play it off and… dial it back for the one after that.

--

The desk manager warned him the ball was probably way too heavy, but thankfully, the other three boys seemed to tack up his wild throw to weight and momentum, laughing wildly as it careened impressively fast-- into the gutter. 

“Beautiful!” Tommy whistled at him. 

“Like you'll do any better,” Harvey said. 

(And Tommy did not.)

But after a few rounds, everyone was adjusting a little better to the balls, and…

Bruce sat beside Clark while waiting his turn, and jeered the others when they missed just like they did him. 

And… seemed relaxed and happy for once. 

Smiling. 

--

“Hah!” Clark hollered as Tommy did just as poorly as him.

As the night went on though he did get used to rolling the ball down the lane and compensating for how little it weighed to him in comparison.

It was a lot of fun.

He cheered and jeered everyone when they did well or poorly, jabbing them with words just the same as they did him. He tended to stick to Bruce more than Harvey or Tommy. They had grown to know each other a lot better over the past month working on their Court of Owls stuff.

It was good.

This was fun.

He was clapping and laughing along with the rest of them, and upon noticing Bruce looked happy too he would give him a little nudge and a smile.

Happy to see him happy.

--

Bruce had gotten a lot better at being casual with Clark with their search together the last month, but-- 

It wasn't as if he smiled much during the investigating. It wasn't like he was giddy over crime scenes. Any excitement he had about finding a pattern quickly turned to seriousness as soon as he had to explain what he’d noticed. 

And in school, he said little. Let people part in front of him or walk by him without any seeming preference. 

But here, finally, it was just fun. 

...through some twist of fate, Harvey’s score was highest at the end of the game. 

They had no real way they planned to reward the winner. But it was fine if they just mocked Bruce's place in dead last. 

He had wonderful aim, after all--if he was aiming for the gutter. 

But when the game ended, Bruce trotted over to the shoes, picking up his and Clark’s, and bringing them back over to change quietly before heading across the street for the last half hour the ice cream parlor would be open. 

Bruce didn't have to tell Tommy what he wanted--a float--but Tommy would ask the other two before trotting up once more with Bruce’s cash in hand to pay and order at the counter while the four slid into a booth. 

And maybe because Tommy was up paying, Bruce found himself sliding in beside Clark to sit across from Tommy, instead of beside him for once. 

--

Clark’s choice of ice cream was pretty much the most boring of all; a vanilla shake.

He sat on the inside by the window, and didn’t think twice about Bruce sliding in beside him.

“How often have you gone bowling before, Harvey?”

--

Harvey shook his head. A lot. “Almost none? I think in Jr High we went once as a class trip, but I was terrible at it.”

“Harv has two settings,” Bruce said, leaning his chin on his hand and very carefully not putting his elbow on the table. “Professional, and worst luck ever.”

--

Clark snorted, “Man now I feel worse, I go bowling like… at least once a year when my friends and I are bored back home. It’s one of the few things to do back in Smallville.”

--

“Yeah?” Bruce said, leaning in a little, interested. “You've mentioned your town a couple times. What's it like?”

--

“Lives up to the name.” Clark smiled. “Small. Bowling alley, gas station, market. Got one street light in the whole town. The farm is about five miles from the center of town, you gotta have a car or a bike to get anywhere.”

“People always hang out by the train tracks or the ol’ Glott farm that’s cavin’ in on itself.”

--

“Does it rain any less?” Harvey asked, a little sardonic, but still listening all the same. 

It was about then that Tommy came back with their ice cream. 

Vanilla shake. Two root beer floats. A sundae. 

But when he made it to the table, he paused before setting things down, as if he had to… look around and see where they were all sitting for a second. 

--

“Yeah but we gotta worry about tornados way more.” Clark said, and was already reaching for his shake since he was the only one to get one by the looks of things.

“Thanks Tommy.”

--

“Y’welcome,” Tommy said, and... passed out the rest. 

Sundae for Harvey. Floats for him and Bruce. He sat across from Bruce at the table, and didn't interrupt the conversation. Just started to drink silently through his straw. 

“...are tornadoes actually like what they say?” Bruce asked. “I read they can pick up a carton of eggs and just set them down miles away, completely intact.”

--

“Oh yeah, they’re capable of some crazy stuff. After one I saw someone’s record just… stuck in a tree. Like it was a razor blade. Powerlines bent over like they were made of playdough. Then sometimes it’ll set a full can of soda down on someone’s steps without a dent.”

He took a sip from his milkshake, oblivious to anything amiss with Tommy.

--

It was a nice way to ease into the later part of the night. A nice wind-down from bowling as they asked questions about Kansas and what it was like to live on a farm. In a small town. 

When his float was almost drained, Bruce stood, saying, “bathroom, be right back,” and turned to head to the back of the shop. 

“Me too,” said Tommy, following along behind him a moment later, wobbling to get out of the table with his long legs. 

(They turned a corner and headed into the boy’s bathroom, and once they were there, door shut against anyone listening, Tommy said, “Bruce?”)

--

“Okay,” Clark said, and thought nothing of it. He slurped the last of his shake through his straw.

But he did overhear their conversation, whether he intended to or not.

--

Neither did Harvey, who had gotten content to just sit and listen after a while, and was now just quietly watching the street go by, trying to find room in himself to finish up his sundae. 

(“Hm?” Bruce said. 

“Are you mad at me?”

“What? No. Why would I be mad at you?”

“You’ve been avoiding me, lately,” said Tommy.)

--

… Clark turned and looked in the direction of the bathroom.

He didn’t look too hard. Not yet. But he was definitely listening.

As far as he knew Bruce wasn’t mad at Tommy at all.

Nothing had changed.

--

“Don't lie to me,” Tommy said, voice no louder, but a thousand times more sharp than it'd been a moment before. 

There was a stutter in Bruce’s heart. 

“We tell each other everything,” he said. “I told you everything. And now all you do is hang out with Clark.”

“...we’re just looking stuff up,” Bruce said, voice low and careful. “It's just hanging out. It's different.”

“Really? Because you barely ask to just hang out with me. You were gonna be with him before I got this plan together, you remember?”

There was a footstep. A set of footsteps. Shuffling around. 

--

Clark narrowed his eyes.

He glanced at Harvey, then leaned his head in his hands to try and hide the line of sight to his eyes as they glowed blue and looked harder.

Into the boy’s bathroom.

--

He'd find them both shuffled into the two-stall bathroom, neither in stalls. Just Bruce taking a step back towards the back wall, and the tail end of Tommy moving forward, teeth clenched in distress. 

“It's not like that,” Bruce said, keeping his voice certain, even if he didn't look it. “We came along, we went with your plan, didn't we? You're still my best friend, Tommy, come on--”

“Prove it,” Tommy said. 

“What?” said Bruce, furrowing his nose. 

“I told you everything Bruce,” Tommy said, and took a step forward once more, even without Bruce moving back. “So if you really care then just--”

And Tommy had pushed Bruce by the shoulders against the wall, and pushed their mouths together. 

For a long, silent moment, Bruce just stared, unresponsive at him. 

Then, he reeled back with a punch, and slammed Tommy flat on his back. 

--

Before Clark knew it he had crushed his now empty shake glass in his hand.

“Gnnhshit.” He mumbled, blinking hard and looking away from the bathroom.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

The woman working behind the counter was already looking up and heading towards their booth to see what happened.

--

Harvey practically jumped in his seat at the shattering, turning to stare. “Oh, crap! Are you okay?!”

He grabbed a napkin and started trying to help, dabbing up the spilled milkshake and reaching for Clark’s hand to check for injuries. 

--

“Yeah, I’m-- yeah I’m fine.”

He showed him his hand.

No blood. No glass stuck in it.

“What happened over here?” The woman asked, and Clark mumbled out something that was hard to hear. Something like ‘wasn’t paying attention’ and ‘sorry’.

--

“There must've been a crack in the glass,” Harv reasoned, helping her pick the glass up from the floor and countertop. “It just broke while you were holding it?”

From the back of the shop, two boys exited the bathroom.

“Did something happen?” Bruce asked, coming over. 

(Tommy was quiet, behind him.)

--

Clark started to help too.

“Broke my glass.” Was all he managed, still a little too stunned to say much.

“You kids be careful, I’ll clean this up. Don’t worry about it.” The woman said, trying to shoo them off lest they end up cutting themselves.

--

The other three figured he was stunned from his glass exploding in his hand, and they shyly backed off a bit as the waitress shooed them.

“Sorry about this-- here,” he said, and shuffled in his pocket. 

He pulled out a five. 

“Whatever doesn't replace the glass is a tip,” he said, handing it to her. 

--

“Sorry.” Clark said again, and carefully got out of the booth, picking any glass off his lap if there was any.

“Thank you young man.” The woman said, not recognizing who it was handing her the money.

--

“It's no problem,” he said, but even though she didn't recognize him at that moment, he still was hit by an overwhelming urge to put the cap on and hurry the group outside. 

If Clark had ice cream in his lap, it was wiped off with napkins, and Tommy said, at some point, “we should probably head back.”

He and Bruce left their floats unfinished, and were ready to get out the door. 

--

“Yeah. Good idea.” Clark said, and quickly started to walk towards the door.

God.

Shit.

Things were going to be so awkward back in the dorm.

Should he ask Bruce about it??

--

Bruce and Tommy said nothing. Nothing at all about what happened. 

They followed Tommy and Harvey back to the Academy’s gates and took the rope out of Harv’s bag to throw it up again and get them all over. 

Bruce first. The surest climber. Clark. Harvey. 

Tommy picked up last. A sure climber, but big enough to catch them if they fell. 

They snuck back on campus. Lassoed the end of the bed in their window, and rock climbed their way up the building in reverse order. Tommy lookout up top to keep the knot stable. Bruce, surest climber, getting up when no one would be there to catch him if he fell. 

...once they were on campus, all three boys fell into their usual quiet, reserved for avoiding detection after hours, but still-- Harvey said, quietly, “...thanks for doing this. I think I needed to have a day.”

“Course,” Tommy said, stripping to his Pjs and grinning. “Anytime.”

Bruce nodded too. 

“It was a good idea.”

...he returned the hat. The shirt. 

He tugged on his night clothes too. 

As if nothing had happened. 

--

Clark followed them all in, kicking off his shoes and sitting on the edge of his bed as everyone wound down.

“... Yeah. Was fun.” He said, trying to sound convincing.

It was already way past hours and he didn’t want to risk sneaking out in his street clothes, so even he changed into his pajamas in the room too. At least the lights were off so maybe they wouldn’t notice anything weird.

Not that he was… that weird. A little more jacked than a sixteen year old should be, but it was dark, so…

He hurried through it and climbed into bed.

--

...tonight, they were all a little too distracted to really notice. 

Even Bruce was too tired to have one of his quiet nightmares, which surprised even him upon waking. 

...and upon waking, Tommy and Bruce would get changed together as usual. 

Head off to class after sitting together at breakfast. 

No hint of what had occurred between them the night before.

--

Clark changed in the bathroom again that morning. He was still too self-conscious to do it around everyone else.

He didn't mention anything to anyone. He ate breakfast with the others, went to classes even if it was just him and Tommy in the same one.

Waited until that evening when again it was just him and Bruce walking to the library.

“Hey, so… last night.”

…

“You and Tommy fight or anything? I thought I heard something when we got ice cream.”

--

There was an uptick in Bruce’s heart rate, but his confused expression revealed nothing of the sort. 

“No? Maybe you heard him spook me when I got out of the stall. Wasn't expecting him.”

--

Ah.

“Okay, yeah. Maybe.” Is what he said instead though rather than keep prying. “Just checking that you guys are okay.”

--

“...why wouldn't we be?” Bruce asked, his own thoughts loud panic bells that couldn't be heard by anyone else. 

No one could know. Even if Bruce didn't want it. That didn't matter as much as Tommy had done it and Bruce was a boy. 

And he didn't want to know what their teachers, or the press, or Tommy’s Mom would do if they found out. 

“Is something wrong?”

--

“Tommy seemed kinda distracted I guess. Quiet. Normally he doesn't shut up.” Clark tried to huff a laugh.

“But maybe I'm reading too much into it. I was kinda distracted too.”

--

“He might be tired,” Bruce said, making a mental note to tell Tommy to talk more. (Maybe it’d even make him happy.) “or dreading break,  now that it's officially November.”

November. 

Clark had made it to the third month. 

--

“Dreading-- oh right, he doesn't seem to like his mom very much.” Clark said, wanting to get off the topic he brought up.

“Man I can't wait to go home and visit.”

--

“...it hasn't been a good couple years between them, yeah,” Bruce admitted. “...what are you going to do at home?”

--

Clark shrugged, “See my friends. See Ma ‘n Pa? Pet my dog?” He chuckled.

“... What do you do on break?”

--

“....” Bruce needed to think a moment. “Walk. Mostly.”

--

“... Walk?”

It sounded so weird Clark needed to make sure he heard right.

--

...he nodded. 

“Around the grounds. I walk. Maybe read.”

He would definitely read. But. 

Even he got tired of reading. 

A massive manor with nothing to do in it but wander. 

--

…

“Don't have any other family to spend Christmas with?”

--

He shook his head. 

“...the Kanes, I guess. But no. We’re Jewish, anyway.”

“...and Tommy and Harvey’s parents won't let them escape long enough for coming over.”

…

“It's fine,” he said, already sensing the look on Clark’s face. “It's been like this for years. It's not upsetting or anything. Just dull.”

--

“Oh.”

…

“Would you wanna come spend it at my place?”

-- 

Bruce turned to look at him, startled. 

“Huh?”

Like he hadn't quite understood for a moment. 

--

“Do you wanna come spend break at my house? In Smallville?” Clark asked again as though Bruce hadn't heard.

“I'd have to call my parents but I don't think they'd say no.”

--

Before he'd even said he wanted to, Bruce was doing math in his head. 

Clark had been open about how his family couldn't really afford GA. Last minute decision to come. If they couldn't afford that with only one kid it might be rough to take in another and 

(Okay. Okay. What do I have to do to get out. How much money. What did he have to do.)

“Yeah,” he said, calculating the price of a plane ticket if Alfred tried to say ‘no.’ Taxi fee. Plane ticket. Get out. “Yeah, if they say yes-- they don't have to worry about much from me, I can pay for my own food and room if they need me to.”

--

Clark laughed a little, “You don't have to pay for room ‘n food. Maybe bus ticket though.” He stopped and looked around for one of the school's pay phones.

“You got a quarter?”

He would need to call and ask. Letters were too slow for this.

--

Bruce didn't usually carry the money around school, but he dropped his book bag and started rooting around in it for a stray quarter in the bottom, finally coming up victorious. 

--

“Nice, thanks.”

Clark took it and walked over to one of the phones bolted to the wall, pushing in his money before dialing back home.

“Hey Ma. … I'm good. Um, question actually. Would you mind if a friend comes over for break? His name is Bruce. … Nah he's-- well he's Jewish but he usually spends it alone, so-- yeah. He can buy his own ticket don't worry about it. Can he use the guest room? Cool.”

Then he paused.

“Uhhhhhhh okay. Hold on.”

He held the phone to Bruce. “She wants to talk to you.”

--

Bruce’s spine was straight as a rail and his shoulders set, the way they always were when he knew exactly what he wanted and was staring down something in his way. 

He nodded and took the phone. 

“Yes, ma’am?” he said. 

--

“Hello, Bruce? Clark says you're thinkin’ about staying with us over break. I'm fine with that but I need to know, have you run this by your parents?” A kind-sounding woman on the other end asked.

“Oh my god.” Clark groaned, having not gotten to that part yet with her and able to overhear it over the phone. He mouthed a 'sorry’ at Bruce.

--

“My guardian will be fine with it,” Bruce said, not letting a pang of anything show on his face. “He's been hoping I'd find someone to be with.”

--

“... Really?” The woman on the other end said. “I know you boys are at school but is there any way I can call your… ‘guardian’ and make sure?”

Clark was rubbing his eyes.

--

“Yes,” he said. “And if you tell him we called Kansas he’ll handle the distance fee.”

Fine. Fine. 

He gave her the manor phone number. 

“Let me call him real fast and make sure he knows.”

He mouthed to Clark, ‘kidnapping plot,’ and rolled his eyes. 

--

Clark gave him a ‘really??’ look like he didn’t quite believe it, but said nothing.

“Okay, thank you Bruce. Is there anything I should know before you come over? Allergies…?”

--

Bruce nodded, looking bored as sin thinking about it. 

He had to let Alfred know the nice lady on the phone was not trying to get permission to sneakily kidnap him or else he'd never get out of here. 

“No, nothing like that.”

--

“Okay, I’ll make up the guest bed for you. Mind handing the phone back to Clark?”

--

“Alright.”

He did. Handed the phone back. 

Listened from the short distance between them. 

You didn't need super hearing to do that. And Bruce’s ears were still sharper than most. 

--

Clark took the phone.

“Yeah?”

“Is this the Bruce you’ve been writing home about?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure his parents are going to be okay with it?”

“Guardian, Ma. He’s got a guardian. And yeah, probably.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end.

“Oh. Ohhhh. Okay, honey.”

Clark thunked his head onto the side of the payphone and looked like he would rather die. “So it’s cool? You don’t have to worry about him getting there or anything. He can afford a bus--” He paused and turned to look at Bruce.

“You gonna get a bus ticket and come with me or like…?”

--

“However I should get there,” he said, letting Clark suffer. “...might have to borrow your hat again for the first part, if it's a bus from here.”

--

“Yeah he’s gonna get a bus ticket with me.” Clark said. “Anyway we got studyin’ to do so--”

“Okay honey. I’ll call Bruce’s guardian tonight to make sure. But I guess I’ll see you in a few weeks?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Love you, sweetie.”

“.... Love you too, Ma.” Clark said a little quieter before saying goodbye and hanging up.

--

“You've been writing to her about me?” was the first thing out of Bruce’s mouth. 

--

“Yeah?” Clark said. “I told her I made friends with my roommates. If I didn’t tell her that she’d think I was miserable and alone.”

“... Mentioned we’ve been working on a report, but that’s it really.”

--

… “Oh, okay,” Bruce said, not really sure what the knot in his chest (which was normal to have) meant right now, and whether it was loosening or tightening at that. 

“I'll call Alfred,” he said, starting to dig around for another quarter in his bag. “You can go ahead if you want.”

--

“Nah man, I wanna see if he really does think this is a kidnapping plot.” Clark grinned, leaning up against the wall.

--

“Ugh,” Bruce said, rolling his eyes again and shoving in the quarter. “I'm doing it so he doesn't.”

He dialed a number. Waited. 

“Hello. Alfred Pennyworth. You've reached the Wayne Estate.”

“Hi Alfred,” Bruce said. “I'm going to Kansas for winter break.”

--

“Pennyworth.” Clark whispered in disbelief.

What. A. Name.

--

Bruce turned back to look at him. Whispered: “I could've been a millionaire named ‘Pennyworth.’”

“Oh? I see it's all already been decided then, has it Master Bruce?”

--

“Master Bruce?”

Clark was grinning from ear to ear, like this was the most hilarious thing he’d ever heard.

Holy crap was he glad he stuck around for this conversation.

--

That one, Bruce kicked him for. 

“...I'm just going to stay with my roommate for a bit. Okay?”

“I see. And which roommate moved to Kansas, again?” Alfred sounded dry. 

“...the new one’s from there,” Bruce said. “Look, his mom’s going to call tonight and make sure it's alright. I've still got plenty of allowance. I'll just pack weekend clothes and head out from school.”

“...I see. Are you sure you wouldn't like to--”

“Yes.”

…

The other side of the phone was quiet for a while. Bruce just stared down at the buttons. 

“Of course,” Pennyworth finally said. “...but please. Try to keep me more upbraided on things, wouldn't you?”

“It's not hard to find o--”

“I’d just like to not have to go searching all the time is all,” Alfred interrupted. And Bruce went silent again. “...I'm glad you've found someone to spend break with. I'll let his mother know it's fine.”

“...thanks, Alfred,” Bruce said. 

And he hung up without saying goodbye. 

--

Clark didn’t move from the kick, but his amusement died a little when things got… not exactly antagonizing between the two, but not fully great either.

“... I’m sure my mom will give him our address and everything.” Clark said when Bruce was finished, pushing himself from the wall so they could start towards the library again.

--

Bruce nodded. Headed off still feeling good about getting out, but… 

Alfred made it hard sometimes. 

“Yeah. He'll ask. What are we looking for tonight?”

--

“Left off with the Belinsky murders.”

[bowieandqueen11]

Lift Your Sorrows / Victor Van Dort Imagine

Request: Hey love! So I loooove the corpse bride and I was wondering if you could do a Victor x reader where it's Halloween night and they tell scary stories and the reader gets scared so he comforts her? Thanks love! And keep up the amazing work!! 

Yess my darling @denisethefangirl​ Corpse Bride is genuinely one of my favourite films of all time!

Comments and requests are really appreciated! 

Also warning, all these stories are based on true Victorian ghost stories!

Halloween seemed to come naturally to this town.

Upon every gnarled, bare branch that led down the town square and to the Everglot house seemed to sit a murder of crows, their cries warbling throughout the empty market. Children peered out from behind draped windows, gazing out through the frost and onto the street with a sigh, others being ushered into bed - those without children sitting down and getting ready for a night of supernatural games and festivities behind locked doors. As you walked by Victor’s side, away from the Church, trying your hardest to ignore the empty layer of inky cloud above you, you followed your sister back into the dim warmth of your home.

Somehow, as the three of you were walking home on this frightening night, Victoria had managed to convince the two of you in differing away from the usual fortune telling games to instead try telling stories of the supernatural - of ghosts. A chill sank into your bones as you heaved the front door closed behind you, running as fast as you could up the staircase to catch up with the lanky man in front of you, saying goodbye to the night of warm blankets and cheery laughter that you had so been looking forward to with him.

Sensing you had fallen a little behind, Victor stops for a moment, allowing your sister time to blow some cobwebs off the top of a candle holder left abandoned on a desk by the landing. She lights the stub of the candle, barely two inches long, and places the matches back on the table to turn to the two of you, being able to see only the orange glow light up the darkness of her eyes.

‘G-give me your hand, Y/n, Wouldn’t want you falling behind, tonight of all nights, of course. It’s dangerous to be alone in the dark.’

Victor smiles at you, petting the back of your hand as you intertwine it with his fingers, hesitantly leaning into his side and letting him lead you into the bedroom Victoria had just opened. Following the flickering light source, you felt the need to chide your sister as she placed the candelabra down on one of the bed side tables.

‘Victor, would you be a dear and start a fire for us?’

‘Of course, it would be my pleasure.’ He hovers slightly, almost unwilling to let go of your touch, until he finds Victoria raising an eye at his hesitancy and soon scurries away to kneel down on the dirty floorboards.

‘Do we really have to do this in one of the guest bedrooms, Victoria’, you complain, ‘or rather, do we really have to do this at all?’

Your sister only ignores you, swiping her pointer finger across the dusty piano lid that lies abandoned in the corner of the room. Blowing it off her finger, the grime clouds into the room almost in a ghostly haze, the specks nearly translucent as they fell through the air.

‘We want to set the atmosphere, do we not?’, she finally starts, settling herself down gently by one of the marble edges of the fireplace. ‘Besides, it’s not like our parents will mind, in fact I have reason to believe they’re not even here.’

Reaching her slender fingers up behind her, she giggles into her free hand as her finger dances over the ivory keys. She holds her fingers up to you once she stops, ‘see, we’re all alone. When was the last time mother and father would allow music in this house?’

‘Ah, all done! This fire should suffice for the rest of the evening.’

Victor leans back on his knees, dusting off some soot from the cuff of his suit jacket, before he takes his place beside the ample fire, its warmth and light falling far out into the darkened corners of the room, flashing red reflections and curious silhouettes onto the wallpaper. Jumping slightly at being the only one standing still near the walls, you sit down next to Victor, not noticing the way his throat moves with an anxious gulp, or the way his hands start fiddling with his collar, having seen the way your dress folded so pleasurably against his suit, your knee pressing against the side of his thigh. Thinking it rude to stare so intensely at a fine woman, he tried to stop himself from blushing by peering forward and staring into the fire.

‘I’ll start then’, Victoria chimes in, biting her bottom lip as she racked her brain for a true fright. ‘Have you heard the tale of the ghastly headless woman.’

You squeak, making Victor startle slightly and nearly knock over the poker rack as you leap and grab onto his arm.

‘The ghost was first seen by a farmer in Buckingham, I believe, during a frosty, pitch black winter night, all alone on an empty cobblestone street. There he was, near the end of his journey home from his fields when his lantern started to swing by his head, the orange glow settling enough only to show flashes of some strange, dark object lying by his turn at the crossroads.’

Your grip on Victor’s arm tightens so much, he’s afraid you’ll leave wilts on his skin if you squeeze any harder, but he’s enjoying the ever limited physical touch with you so much that he just swallows back the pain and smiles down at you.

You always found his eyes were like the colour of Swallowtail butterflies - so rare and soft, they had this look of wings flying through the sky, so quick, yet relaxed, at ease. Realising the two of you had been gazing at each other so affectionately for too long, Victoria coughed slightly, making Victor jump. He instead, as he turns back to listen to the story, shyly leans over and grabs your hand, letting it rest in the empty space between the two of you. 

‘He called out to the shape, to the strange motionless figure in front of him. There was no reply, only the braying of his horse as it flung itself away from the scene, loosening his grip on the reins, looking back at the figure in time only to see the woman slowly drift away from them, seemingly floating through the thick branches of a bordering hedge. It was only as she began to disappear, that he realised the darkness was not only the colour of her clothes, but in fact the night sky behind the space where her head should be.’

‘That’s horrible!’, you cry out, your sister only gazing into the fire in reply, and reaching up to place a stray curl of hair back into her bun.

‘Strange things do happen in this world’, Victor adds as he looks over at you, finding himself unable to break his gaze as your shaken eyes peer back at him. He feels his heart thunder against his chest in the familiar way it does every time you look at him, the only thing making him blink being the sudden strike of lightning that streaks the foggy sky outside the window. Sheets of rain began to hit upon the pavement outside, somehow chilling the air in a fraction of a second, and making you nestle closer into Victor’s side for warmth.The gloom of the autumn evening truly began to creep into your heart like the damp into bare timber, seeping into your morose pores. 

‘Victor, can we stop now?’

He didn’t have a chance to reply, before the shadowed face of your sister began its second tale of the night.

‘Another story I have been told is of a ghost, an apparition which rises from its tomb to warn men of danger. One man in Garstang, a small village far from here, was delivering letters on a deserted path leading away from the village, only to be stopped by a ghost of abnormal stature, pale as the sky above him, towering above the poor man.’

You felt your stomach lurch at her words, too afraid to walk over to the window and block out the lightening in fear of what ghastly reflection may be waiting behind you. 

Before she could continue, you finally mottled up the courage to call out a desperate, ‘Victoria, please stop!’, and to your surprise, your sister actually did. Shocked, she gave yourself a moment to collect herself by telling the two of you she would go down to the kitchen and find everyone a round of something warm to drink.

As soon as she had closed the door, Victor let go of your hand, choosing instead to settle himself fully beside you. His eyes twinkled as they settled on your face, his hand coming up to rest gingerly against your back. For a moment, you don’t move, but his breathing hitches when he hears slow, stifled sobs from your direction. With his free hand, he tries as gently as he can to try and tilt your chin up away from his shoulder so he can properly look at you in the fire light again. It breaks his heart to see your eyes so bloodshot, your cheeks so rosy and red from the crying. It only fills him with an uneasy determination as he rests his chin against the side of your head, his hair falling over your eyes and he chuckles nervously. He nearly gasps out loud as you tug on his blue tie, nearly choking the poor man until he was left gasping for breath as you pull him tighter against you. His lanky frame completely envelopes you as he composes himself, and places his other arm tightly around your shoulder.

‘It's alright, Y/n. I'll never let anything hurt you. I shall be with you, I believe, always.’

[seasonsofeverlark]

Menorah Lights, Blessing of Life

Author: @alliswell21

Prompt: I would LOVE to see some Everlark Hanukkah fluff there’s way to little out there right now. [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: T - for non-explicit: adult situations, childbirth description, and breastfeeding. 

Canon typical violence. Vague reference to a war zone/conflict. 

This work contains religious and cultural imagery and traditions. There’s also some use of the Yiddish language, as well as some Hebrew. There will be a glossary and more in-depth commentary at the end of the fic, when this piece gets cross posted to AO3 in a few days. Peeta makes a quick reference to 1 Samuel 1:27 towards the end part of the fic.

Author’s Note: Thank you, Anon, for this prompt. I have to be honest, and disclose I’ve never witnessed a Hanukkah celebration personally, and most of the events depicted in this story concerning the festival is a product of hours of research. I apologize for any inaccuracies or if I’ve inadvertently misrepresented any cultural or religious aspect of the holiday.

Extensive thanks to @rosefyrefyre​, who was kind enough to beta read, spell check my Hebrew, direct me to some great sites to aid my research, and serve as the best resource for Judaism accuracy I could’ve asked for! Rose, I always learn something from my interactions with you. I’m grateful for your willingness to share your knowledge. 

***Hannah: Hebrew origin. Means: ‘grace’/‘favor’; attributed meaning: ‘He (God) has favoured me with a child’.***

Happy Hanukkah to those celebrating the holiday! 

————-

The house is reverently quiet, despite being crammed to the gills with all our family and friends.

  Peeta checks his watch nervously for the fifth time in ten minutes. He’s so rigid, I know his leg will bother him so much tonight, he’ll take hours to fall asleep. 

  I smile at him, making a mental note to warm some lavender infused oils to massage the stump of his leg. It’s the least I can do for my husband. 

  Peeta lost his lower leg protecting me from shrapnel during an attack while deployed to the Middle East some 16 years ago. I was rendered deaf in my left ear on the same attack…we are a perfect match, my husband and I; he has to wear a prosthetic leg to get around, I have to wear a hearing aid, and that doesn’t even begin to cover the burn marks and other scars we sustained in the service. 

  “I think we should…” he says quietly, motioning to the small table we placed by the window earlier. 

  I turn to my cousin, Johanna, and nod. 

  Jo winks at Peeta and shuts the lights off, while I pull back the curtains from the windows and tie them up, revealing a waning sunset over the rooftops of our neighborhood. 

  Peeta stands a pace behind me, transfixed by the slim line of flaming orange in the horizon being swallowed by deep purples and indigos of the falling night. It’s Peeta’s favorite color. 

  “Almost time, Katniss!” he whispers, giddy, placing a match box on the table at the foot of the menorah. 

  There’s a soft buzz behind us, which means everybody  is shuffling closer to the window. Outside, the world is busy with cars driving by, splashing the dirty slosh of melted snow accumulated on the ground from days ago; a dog barks somewhere in the distance, and a couple of people hustle home; but the thing that really catches my eyes, is that in a few houses down the street, candlelights start to flicker to life on windows and front porches, announcing the start of Hanukkah. 

  “Should—should we do it?” Peeta asks leaning closer to the window pane, clearly seeing the other houses already lighting their candles. 

  “There’s still a sliver of sun. They just can’t see it because they’re facing our way, against it.” I mutter back. 

  This is Peeta’s first Hanukkah as a host, so he’s a little eager. In fact, my beautiful husband was beside himself when everything fell into place for us to host tonight’s celebration. If he could’ve gotten his way, we’d have everyone over to light the menorah the whole eight days of the festival. But, we are expecting the arrival of our very own little miracle any day now, so hosting the first day was a very generous compromise with our family. 

  The thought warms me inside, and I caress my protruding stomach absentmindedly, staring at the darkening sky. 

  The sun finally sinks. “Now!” I grin at my other half. 

  Peeta grins back, handing me the candles. Two of them, to be precise; long and blue. If my Tatte —my father— were here, he would’ve insisted we used olive oil and wicks instead, but it’s only Peeta’s first Hanukkah leading, and he’s so nervous about the whole thing already…candles are perfectly acceptable. 

  First, I place the shamash— “Shamash means helper candle, Katniss,” Tatte would explain— in the middle peg of our menorah, so it sits higher than the rest. Then, I place the one other candle in the rightmost holder, to signify today is the first night of the Festival of Lights. 

  Peeta passes me the matches, and I light the shamash. I smile at him, encouragingly, and mouth the words: “Your turn,” 

  He takes a deep breath, wiggling his fingers at his sides, and then starts reciting the first blessing: “Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Asher kid-shanu bi-mitzvo-tav vi-tzee-vanu, Li-had-leek ner shel Chanukah.” 

  His Hebrew isn’t perfect, but he recites the whole prayer exactly as we practiced. 

  My mother, who’s standing with Peeta’s family, translates quietly, to not disrupt too much, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments, and commanded us to kindle the Chanukah light.”

  Peeta waits a moment, and then recites the second prayer: “Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Shi-asa nee-seem la-avo-teinu, Ba-ya-meem ha-haim baz-man ha-zeh.” 

  Again, my mother translates, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who performed miracles for our forefathers in those days, at this time.”

  Peeta’s blue eyes shine joyfully in the dim of night. 

  “Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Sheh-he-che-yanu vi-kee-yimanu vi-hee-gee-yanu laz-man ha-zeh.” 

  He finishes the third blessing, which we only say on the first night, with utmost reverence, and holds my gaze for only a second. 

  My mother translates this prayer as well, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this occasion.” She explains this one we only say once, during the first day, but the first two, we recite every night. 

  I take the shamash from its holder and tip the flame into the wick of today’s candle, so it starts the mitzvah of the night. After the light has been kindled, we —the ones in attendance who speak Hebrew— sing Ha-nerot Halalu together. 

  When we finish, my sister, Primrose, starts singing Maoz Tzur, and Peeta turns puppy-dog eyes on me, because he loves my singing.

  I chuckle ruefully before opening my mouth and letting the lyrics spill like second nature. The rest of the attendees join in singing, and suddenly everyone is participating in some way. When the song ends, another one starts, and the atmosphere grows animated and joyful the longer it goes. As it should! 

  Peeta’s brothers came with their families, so he goes to them to chat. My mother has been sitting with them, explaining the proceedings, since it’s the first time they’ve joined us for Hanukkah. 

  The candlelight flickers from the menorah, the only light in the room, just as we finish another song, and then Uncle Haymitch staggers into the middle of the floor, shoving his hands into his pockets. The children peer up with interest, because most of them have known Haymitch long enough to guess what’s to come.

  Haymitch moves his arms just a fraction, and all the kids slip out of their seats like an exhale, and then, the paunchy, ol’ grump is throwing small, shiny, gold disks up towards the ceiling, crowing: “Gelt! Gelt! Gelt for everyone!” 

  “I think he believes he’s some kinda middle-aged, Jewish Oprah!” Blight, Johanna’s husband, cackles somewhere behind me, as the children descend like locusts on the chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil scattered all over the room. 

  Peeta encourages his younger nephews to get in on the fun. 

  Between all three of our siblings, Peeta and I have seven nephews— two of them are teenagers— and one niece. 

  The adults shake their heads and smile from the sidelines, watching the children in merriment.

  When all the gelt has been collected from the floor, Peeta asks the children if they would rather: eat, play dreidel, or hear a story. Since the oldest child in attendance is 8½, the kids settle on a story pretty quick. 

  I sink into the cushions of our plushest chair to watch my husband corral the little ones onto the rug for their story; one of my hands rests lazily on my heavily pregnant belly, while I hold a half eaten sugar cookie in the other one.

  “So…who can tell me what we’re celebrating for the next eight days?” Peeta starts.

  There’s a soft chorus of kiddy voices calling “Hanukkah!”

  “That is right!” Peeta agrees, his eyes are wide, excited, merry, “and Hanukkah is a very important party, because it reminds us of the Miracle of Lights and the victory of the Sons of Israel over the mean ol’ gentiles—“

  “Mamme says gentiles aren’t ‘all’ bad!” cries out Bekka, Johanna and Blight’s little girl, who looks like a carbon copy of her mother, except with long, wavy hair. 

  “Um…you’re right, I should’ve said ‘Greek invaders’ instead of gentiles…my bad—”

  “Uncle Peeta…” one of our nephews— on Peeta’s side— blinks owlishly at him, “What’s a gentile?” 

  “Non-Jewish people,” says Asher, one of Prim’s twins. 

  “Oh…like Muggles are non-magic folk?” asks another of the Mellark boys. 

  “I guess so,” answers the other twin, Aspen.

  “I don’t think we are Jewish,” comments one of Peeta’s nephews, turning inquisitive blue eyes to my husband and then to his own parents, “Are we?”

  “No, buddy, you aren’t a Jew—“

  “Uncle Haymitch says gentiles are helpless,” interrupts Aspen, shaking his head sadly, “He says the goyish thing gentiles do is putting mayo in their pastrami sammiches! So, if neither of you don’t put mayo in your pastrami, then you’re alright. You’re mishpachah, Bran!”

  “Um…what does that mean?” asks Bran.

  “We’re your mishpachah, right, Mamme?” inquires Asher.

  “It means ‘family’,” explains Prim, making the Mellark boys look relieved, and even proud. 

  “Are you a gentile too, Uncle Peeta?” asks Asher, “Uncle Haymitch says you used to be his favorite Shabbos Goy of all times before you married Auntie Katniss.”

  I almost choke on my cookie. 

  Peeta wheezes out a tiny chuckle, but is interrupted by my enraged sister.

  “Boys!” Prim rushes from her chair, her daughter half asleep in her lap; she dumps the toddler into her husband’s arms to stand in front of the twins with her hands on her hips. “That is not nice! What have I said about repeating all the mishegas Uncle Haymitch says?”

  “Not to…” the twins mumble contritely. 

  “Oy! I’m sitting right here, Sunshine!” Haymitch calls out. “Plus, kinder wisdom,” he pronounces it the Yiddish way, like the start of kindergarten, “it’s still wisdom!” 

  The twins are 7, but they can be a menace and clever to boot.

  Haymitch continues, “Everybody knows the Boy used to be pretty helpful back in the day. I was almost sad when Sweetheart finally snatched him up, despite it being the smartest thing she’s ever done,”

  “Haymitch…” I ground a low warning. 

  It’s a well known fact I kept digging my heels in against Peeta’s subtle advances for years, despite having feelings for him myself; I’m grateful my beautiful husband persevered though, because looking at him now, I can confidently say that our marriage, our family, would’ve happened anyway, despite my deep seated fears, the physical and mental toll being in a war zone took on us both, and all the heartbreak in between… 

  Unlike my mother, Peeta did not convert to Judaism in order to marry me. He did that on his own, way before I agreed to make our odd relationship official. I tried to persuade him from converting though— he does love Christmas and bacon— but again, he was committed to our faith with an iron will only the grave can quell. 

  “Eh!” Haymitch waves me off, “Nobody can win with you girls. Not even kvelling about one of your husbands!” 

  I sink deeper into my chair, sufficiently mollified. The old man can gush all about Peeta all he wants, as long as he doesn’t comment on me.

  But Haymitch has a big mouth; he used to give me a hard time for my apparent ‘prickly personality’, often telling me I was so surly, I was practically gornisht helfn—beyond help—and once, he even said, I was as charming as a slug. I retorted he was probably looking at a mirror, and that was the end of that.

  When Peeta started hinting at wanting more out of the casual arrangement we’ve had since the Army, and to my chagrin, two more suitors sprung out of nowhere, Haymitch had the gall to tell me that before Peeta, I was as romantic as dirt. Peeta gave him an earful for that one, though. It was glorious seeing Haymitch properly chastised by his favorite Shabbos Goy.

  I giggle at the memory. 

  I finally relented a couple of years ago, letting my fears go. Haymitch was the first to congratulate me when I announced I was dating Peeta, like a normal couple. My uncle fixed me with a stare that said he expected me to really try, because this boy was a true catch, or as he called him then, “a mensch if he ever saw one.” 

  I happen to agree. 

  I sigh, massaging my ribs where the baby is digging its tuchis in. 

  Haymitch gets away with a great deal of things on the simple account that he was the only person who actually accepted, and welcomed our mother into our family, when she married our father. Everyone else called her an opinionated shiksa behind my parents’ backs, probably thanks to my Bubbe…dear old Grandma really disliked the idea of my father marrying a gentile girl, despite being clear as day how much they loved each other. 

  My sister glares at Haymitch too, then turns to her sons, “It’s the first day of Chanukah, nu?” The boys nod in affirmative, “Then be good, so Uncle Peeta can finish the story—“

  “But, Mamme…we know the story!” 

  Prim gives them The Look and shuts them up right away. “Bannock, Graham, and Bran don’t know the story. They’re our guests, and we are called to be hospitable to everyone, right?” 

  I stare at Prim with mild amusement. She’s such a MOM! 

  “Yes, Mamme.” 

  I wonder if I’ll be able to master ‘the stare’ as well as my baby sister has? 

  Prim told me once, that everything she knows about mothering, she learned from the years in which I took care of her, after our father died, and our mother fell into a debilitating depression that almost killed us all from starvation and hebetude. 

  I have mixed feelings about that assessment, first, because: At first I was just trying to keep our situation hidden from others, so I made sure Prim and I were clean and presentable for school, that all homework was made on time, that we studied our Torah lessons, and that we attended Hebrew school without missing a class. I made sure Prim ate at least once a day, even if that meant I went without.

  There were things I couldn’t provide for my sister, simply because I didn’t know how, and when the pantry was empty, I started secretly raiding the trash containers behind the stores in our neighborhood.

  I was 11 then. 

  That’s when the first and only interaction with Peeta— or as I knew him then: the baker’s son— occurred before the Army. 

  Peeta had been watching me steadily lose weight and figured something wasn’t right. Then he saw how I dove out of his folks’ bakery’s garbage container and emerged empty handed, because trash had already been collected. 

  Instead of sneering, bullying me or calling the police, Peeta gave me two, fresh loaves of bread— the chiefest of foods in our culture— and thanks to his generosity, I figured out how to keep Prim, mother and myself fed when money was tight, hunting squirrels and little birds, long enough for my mother to find the strength to get the help she needed to get better.

  Secondly, in my adult life, I’ve learned to appreciate our mother’s position. She had a really hard time with life in general. Her family turned their back on her when she converted to Judaism, yet people in our community mistrusted her because of my grandma’s own prejudice, the fact that my mother was a nurse and every now and then her hospital wouldn’t (or couldn’t) honor her religious freedom to observe the Shabbat didn’t help her case. People started trusting her after they saw her care for the sick in the community, often paying from her own pocket for their treatments. 

  Peeta never struggled fitting in with my family. Then again, he’s so sweet and friendly with anyone, always so happy and ready to lend a hand…why everyone in our community loves him, and welcomed him with open arms as one of us. Sometimes it’s almost impossible to picture my loving, sweet husband as a seasoned Army veteran, who’s seen his share of destruction and death…then again, maybe it is because he’s seen humanity at its worst that he makes the extra effort to stay a pacifist and he chooses to show The Lord’s love unto others. 

  “Sorry, Peeta, please continue with the story. You’re doing a lovely job!” says my sister.

  I chance a glance at my husband, and see the mirth in his bright, blue eyes. 

  “Thank you Prim,” he says, turning back to the boys, with wonder in his voice. “But, I was thinking, and this might be the best idea I ever had! What if we let the boys tell the story of Hanukkah tonight, since it’s true, they know it better than I do? They are incredibly smart young men!” 

  “Avadeh!” exclaims Haymitch from his spot. 

  The twins wiggle with excitement, and both of them turn eager, hazel eyes to their mother, seeking approval.

  Prim takes a deep breath and nods. 

  Both boys turn their bronze haired heads back to Peeta, enthusiastically. 

  “Alright, go on then, tells us what happened!” Peeta encourages. 

  Asher starts, “The brave heroes, called the Maccabees, kicked out the Greek gentiles that wanted to make the people of Israel pray to their gentile gods! Then the priests came to ‘re-medicate’ the Holy Temple—“

  “Rededicate!” Thom, Prim’s husband, corrects from the back of the room, but the boys are on a roll now.

  “‘Redadecate’ the Holy Temple, by lighting the menorah. So, they looked all over the place, but found only one jar of ‘puridified’ oil—“

  “Purified!” 

  “Yes, what Tatte said! They only found enough of the good oil, to light the menorah for one day!”

  Asher pauses for effect, while all the adults react to the suspense accordingly, gasping and murmuring. 

  Aspen continues the narration after a second. 

  “At first, the priests thought: oh no! We don’t want to light the menorah for only one day, it needs to burn all the time to clean all the filth the Greeks left behind, so we can praise Adonai again!”

  Hushed voices comment their approval. 

  The other twin picks up the story. “But they decided, that even one day, was better than none at all, so they used that little bit of oil, and fired up the lamp, and the lights burned for eight times straight!”

  “Eight days…” corrects Thom.

  “Eight days straight!”

  “It was a miracle!”

  Everyone claps, excitedly. 

  “The priests had time to…” Asher cranes his neck, seeking his father in the crowded living room, and then smiles, enunciating his word with precision, “‘purify’ more olive oil, to add to the menorah from then on!”

  “That’s why we celebrate Hanukkah every year! To remember how our people defended their freedom,”

  “And won back the Holy Temple,”

  “And The Lord accepted their effort with a miracle of lights!” 

  The whole room erupts in cheers and song. Everybody hugs each other in celebration. 

  After a moment, our auntie Effie calls out, “Oh what wonderful storytelling, Tattelles!” She rushes over to the twins and smacks loud, wet kisses, on both of the boys’ cheeks, leaving red lipstick all over their wincing faces. 

  The twins wipe their cheeks with the backs of their hands, and Prim just sighs, hugging her sons to her chest. “Well done, Asher. Well done, Aspen.”

  Peeta pats them both on the head, and ever the attentive host, directs everyone to help themselves to the many treats he made. 

  “Is everything fried?” asks one of Peeta’s sisters-in-law.

  “For the most part,” I hear my mother say, fondly. “To commemorate the miracle of the oil, traditionally, Hanukkah food is fried.” She explains, patiently. “Everything is delicious, and Peeta and Katniss made quite the spread.” 

  My mother busies herself, setting up a stack of napkins on the table where we placed all the food; she then serves latkes to the Mellarks.

  Haymitch grabs her hand and pulls her to sit by me. “Come rest, sit with your daughter, enjoy the lights. I’ll shmooze the bakers now, nu!” 

  My mother comes to sit next to me. She smiles tiredly, “How are you feeling, zeeskeit?” 

  I grin, she’s using the same term of endearment Tatte used to call us. It means ‘sweetheart’.

  “I’m alright. Just a little tired. My back is killing me and I think I have gas, ‘cause my belly keeps rumbling and tensing up.” 

  My mother arches a dark blonde eyebrow, “Maybe the baby is on the way?” 

  “I suppose that could be a possibility,” I shrug. I’m 6 days shy of my due date, but the doctor says I’m healthy, and he expects no complications, whatsoever, plus first time mothers can be early. 

  Thom brings out a dreidel to play with the children. 

  My toddler niece rubs her eyes grumpily— she’s got gray eyes, like my father did. Like mine. Mother and Prim are blonde and blue eyed, but I favored my father in appearance…I wonder who my child will like? I hope it’s a little of both Peeta and I— the girl clings to her father’s arm, watching her brothers and cousins spin the top, suspiciously. Once she realizes gelt is involved in the game, she perks up a little, and tries to spin the dreidel to mixed results. 

  Everyone sits around the children, eating latkes dipped in applesauce or sour cream; Peeta decided not to serve any meat tonight, so we could eat dairy products. Effie is dipping hers in salsa…what an odd woman! 

  Johanna is eating an entire block of cheese, noshing on it like a mouse. 

  Peeta brings me and my mother sufganiyot; he smiles sheepishly. “These were a hit.” He says, “they’ve already disappeared from the tray.”

  I stare at him with wide eyes. “Why does that surprise you, babe? Your cooking is amazing!” 

  Peeta rubs the back of his head, bashful. “Eh, it would be embarrassing if the baker couldn’t handle jelly filled donuts, nu?” he whispers, kneeling in front of my chair. 

  “Nonsense,” I say equally quietly, “you are the most talented person I know.” I kiss him on the forehead, after pushing back the ashy waves of hair falling into his eyes. 

  I hope our child has wavy hair like Peeta does! Mine is boring…not so much the dark as ink color, but the way it’s so thick and straight, the only way to keep it up is in braid.

  Peeta gazes at me with so much love, my heart skips a beat. 

  “Have I told you recently, just how grateful I am to have you as my wife, lover and partner in life?” He reaches up to caress my face, and suddenly the hubbub of the party fades, leaving us in a bubble of our own. 

  “I’m grateful too!” I say, curling my sugar coated fingers around his, cupping my cheek. 

  It’s a veritable miracle that Peeta and I are here today, married and with a child on the way. 

  We grew up in the same neighborhood, went to the same schools, and frequented the same places; yet, despite crossing each other’s paths often, and outside the lone time with the bread when we were eleven, we never truly interacted with each other until we found ourselves deployed to the same base overseas.

  Peeta enlisted in the Army fresh out of high school. I enlisted much later, when it became glaringly obvious that if I was going to pursue any higher education, it would have to be paid for by the military, since every penny Mother and I made, went straight into Prim’s Med school fund. 

  Prim took a couple of breaks from school while building her family, but she’s a pediatrician now, beloved by her patients and their parents. 

  Thom is in the field as well, as a Physical Therapist. He was Peeta’s PT for a while; that’s how him and my sister met. They married years before we did. 

  Call it chance or providence, Peeta and I had no idea we were in the same camp, until our names got chosen for some grunt duty I can no longer remember. We recognized one another instantly, and became very close friends while in the service. Close enough to share cots and knock boots when the itch was too unbearable to ignore. We discovered we had more in common than just our hometown, and then…the worst day of our lives happened, cementing our dependence on the other, like only tragedy can. 

  While on a mission, our unit got attacked. Our Commander, a burly man named Boggs, called for extraction while we ran for cover from a volley of bullets raining on us. In the confusion, Boggs stepped on a landmine that blew off both his feet. 

  I rushed to him, pulling him back to safety. I didn’t think of the shrapnel flying everywhere, but Peeta— who had located me a second earlier— did. He made it to me somehow, and shielded my body with his own, earning a mangled leg full of lead for his troubles. 

  Boggs was beyond medical help; the poor man bled to death in my arms in the transport back to base. Peeta was badly hurt, losing blood quicker than anyone in the transport could stomach. I tried to help him as best I could, wishing I had my mother’s touch or Prim’s cleverness; I placed a tourniquet on Peeta’s thigh. It saved his life, but cost him his leg. 

  It wasn’t until we arrived back in camp, and the adrenaline and terror left my body, that I was able to feel my own wounds. I had second degree burns in several places of my body; the fire and heat miraculously spared my face. Then, I noticed the ringing in my left ear wouldn’t go away, and when it did, no other sounds came in. 

  I was honorably discharged for my damaged ear, but I requested to stay close to my buddy, Peeta Mellark, until he was stable enough to go back home. When questioned about this, I simply replied, “We protect each other. Is what we do.” 

  Peeta was discharged too shortly after. We got shipped back home to America together, which is how we’ve been ever since.

  Peeta and I survived against the odds.

  It took us months and lots of counseling to be able to sleep through the night without waking up screaming. 

  It took him years to convince me it was okay to let my guard down around my heart. I was always so scared I’d lose him to some unseen danger, and like my mother, fall into such a deep depression I could harm any potential children we had together, because in my heart of hearts I knew Peeta was it for me.  

  It took us five, ten, fifteen years to be where we are at, and that in itself is a miracle I’m grateful for. 

  “Peeta, darling, the candles are almost out,” says Effie, who apparently is eager to turn the lights back on. 

  “Alright, let’s see…” I stand up to check just how consumed those candles really are, and as soon as I do, my incompetent bladder releases all the pee I have in my body, and then some. “Feh!”

  My mother gasps and pushes Peeta back, who was still kneeling close by. “Katniss, your water just broke!” 

  “What?! Already? Whatdowedo?!” Peeta is frantic, practically jogging in place, hands hovering uselessly around my belly. 

  Effie screeches in a very uncharacteristic fashion. “Oh! What a big, big, big day this is, darlings! Katniss, doll, you might get to hold your very own bundle of joy in your arms on the first day of Hanukkah! What a blessing!” 

  “Well, first things first,” says my mother, going into nurse mode. “Everyone, calm down! This child is not about to drop just yet. Second, Katniss needs to get out of these clothes and into clean ones. Then we need to get you packed and ready to go to the hospital. Peeta, dear, you need to call the doctor, and let them know your wife’s water broke, and you’re heading to the hospital soon.”

  “Okay! Yeah…on it!” says Peeta chewing nervously on his lower lip. 

  He reluctantly steps aside to make the call. By then, my sister is moving people around to get me through the room.

  Delly, Peeta’s sister-in-law, comes from who-knows-where with an armful of towels to mop up the floor. 

  “Thank you,” I offer embarrassedly.

  Delly waves me off, “Oh no, honey, don’t you worry about it. I know how these things go. You have more important stuff to think of right now. We will clean this place up, and probably call on grandma and grandpa Mellark, to let them know.” 

  I give her a hug, because she’s the nicest person I know, and barely hold back an ugly sob. 

  Peeta comes back from calling the doctor just as my mother is helping me into a pair of baggy sweatpants. Prim’s going through my bag triple checking what I packed, despite my protests that both Peeta and I have been checking on it every day for the last week. 

  “Everything is ready, Katniss. The doctor is on the way to the hospital. There’s a triage nurse already waiting for you, our paperwork is being processed as we speak, so all we have to do is sign it when we arrive, and Effie and Haymitch are taking over hosting duties from us.”

  “Oh great!” I sigh, “you can say goodbye to all the wine in the house if those two are in charge,”

  “Is that sarcasm I detect? That means the contractions aren’t even painful yet…” says Prim dryly. Then she and my mother giggle. 

  I glare at them, rubbing the back of my hips, my bones back there kind of burn. 

  Peeta seems confused and wisely keeps his mouth shut. He grabs the hospital bag I packed for me and the baby, a week ago, and shoulders a backpack for himself, he packed almost a month ago. 

  My mother rides with us to the hospital, and since everyone knows her and my sister there, I get extra pampered by the nursing staff. 

  My obstetrician, Dr. Aurelius, checks on me as soon as I’m put in the hospital gown; he’s a little concerned about my blood pressure, so the nurses keep an even closer eye on me. At 32 I’m not at any greater risk of things going wrong than any other mother-to-be, but this is my first child, so I endure their over prodding gratefully. 

  Labor itself goes quickly, only a couple of hours from the water breaking to the crowning. Peeta holds my hand through it all; he tends to me lovingly, feeding me ice chips, blotting sweat from my face and neck, whispering sweet nothings and encouragement into my ear, and when he’s not talking to me or the medical staff, he prays. 

  After surviving a war zone, second degree burns and a few broken bones, I think that giving birth is perhaps the least painful experience of all. Not in the literal sense of course— giving birth physically hurts like a mother!— but in the psychological-emotional sense. I’m going through this trial for love, with the expectation of meeting someone amazing in the end.

  But when it’s time to push, a fear older than time itself chokes me up. “I can’t do this! Let the baby stay in my belly…I can keep the child safe here, please!” 

  “Sweetheart, look at me,” says Peeta cupping my face in his hands, “You are the bravest, most selfless person I know. I’m not denying how scary this is, bringing an innocent into the world, but you’re not alone…we have each other, and we will face this fear like we’ve faced any other fear, and we’ll beat it into dust!” 

  “Together?” My voice wavers.

  “Together!” he vows. 

  “Katniss…the baby’s crowning,” says Dr. Aurelius, “This is it! On your next contraction, I need you to push real hard, alright?”

  I nod, exhausted; Peeta squeezes my hand in his, and I squeeze right back. 

  “Here it comes!” I bear down with all my might and growl all the breath out of my lungs, and suddenly, the best sound in the world fills the delivery room: the meowling of my newborn reaches my ears. 

  “It’s a girl!” calls the doctor from between the stirrups holding my legs up.

  The man holds the screeching child up, so we can see her, and my whole world shrinks to her tiny shape. 

  Peeta is crying. 

  I’m crying too! 

  My mother is somewhere in the background singing something I can’t quite catch, and everyone around is bustling to get my brand new baby girl cleaned up and measured. Then finally she’s placed on my chest, and my husband and I can’t stop staring and caressing her. 

  “Shalom, sheifale,” I sigh in contentment, kissing my baby’s forehead.

  “Welcome, little one!” Peeta murmurs. Our daughter wraps her whole hand around her father’s index finger and holds fast to it. 

  Again, it feels like we are in this hermetic bubble, where only Peeta, myself, and now our newborn, exist. Meanwhile the doctor and nurses are still working on me, but that doesn’t matter. My family is finally whole, and that too is a miracle full of light!

  “Mazel Tov, my dears!” says my mother, smiling at Peeta and me. “I’ll go tell the people in the waiting room the good news…do you have a name picked out already?” she asks tentatively, her face lit with happiness and relief. 

  “Hannah!” says Peeta right away. “For I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted my plea.” Peeta’s eyes widen, then he looks down at me sheepishly, “unless, you have something else in mind?” 

  “No!” I laugh, “Hannah is perfect!” I hold the babe higher on my bosom, and tilt her head towards my mother, “Hannah, say hello to Bubbie Lily, she’s my Mamme, and I am yours!”

  My mother giggles, “Happy birthday, Hannah Mellark, and happy Hanukkah, zeeskeit.” My mother leans closer, and gives Hannah’s head a peck. “Next time I see you, there will be others with me…your mishpachah, who are eager to meet you, sheifale!”

  “We’re almost done here, and you can see some of your family. But be mindful of visiting hours!” says Dr. Aurelius, pushing back from the instrument table. 

  We all say our thanks to the staff, and my mother goes to talk to our family in the waiting room. Peeta’s led to the nursery, to give Hannah her first bath. Once the baby is dressed and swaddled into a hospital blanket, Peeta snaps a couple of pictures of her with his smart phone and sends it to everyone one we know. The caption reads: “Hannah Mellark, because G-d favored us with a child!” 

  The nurse helping Peeta, takes two of those thin hats they give all the newborns, and fashions it into a single hat with a big bow on the front. Our daughter’s head will be warm and stylish.

  Back in the room, Hannah latches onto my breast easily enough, and to our surprise opens her eyes, to show deep blue peepers, like her father’s! 

  “Look, Daddy, she’s got your eyes!“ I exclaim. 

  “Can she call me Tatte?” Peeta asks quietly, as if asking permission.

  I nod, “Hannah, your Tatte gives the best hugs in the world!” 

  The visitors file in. My mother-in-law falls in love with Hannah, her first and only granddaughter. Peeta’s father tears up a little bit, and hugs his son, kissing his temple. I’ve never seen the Mellarks so happy and moved. A baby would do that, I guess. 

  After our siblings come to visit, Effie and Haymitch make a quick appearance. Haymitch holds Hannah the longest; he sings her a song in Hebrew, then says a blessing over her. 

  Effie pulls Peeta aside, “What we discussed…” she says demurely, smiling softly, and hands him a bag. 

  Since she already gave us practically half of Buy Buy Baby at our shower, I have no idea what else she could’ve gotten, but my husband’s entire demeanor lights up like fireworks when he peeks in the bag. He hugs Effie and thanks her profusely. 

  I fall asleep after a while.

  When I wake up again, the room’s mostly dark, except for a soft, flickering light. 

  Hannah is not in her bassinet, so I sit up with a start, only to find the most wonderful scene in front of me: Peeta’s holding the babe by the window looking down the road. The blinds are open, and on the sill sits a child size menorah. The shamash is lit, but the day one candle is not. 

  “Peeta?” I call softly.

  My husband turns, smiling, “You’re awake! We didn’t want to disturb you. You had a hard, busy day, but…” he shrugs, “It’s Hannah’s first Hanukkah, and I figured you wouldn’t wanna miss it,” 

  No, I wouldn’t. 

  I get up, gingerly, and shuffle towards my family. 

  I cock my head and study the candelabra, which looks suspiciously like the kind business owners put in their offices along their Christmas trees and other wintry decor to show how inclusive they are. This one is smaller than regular menorahs, made of plastic, with a cord sticking from the side which is plugged into the wall besides the window. The flickering light I thought at first to be a real flame, is just a small bulb with a candlelight effect. 

  “Where did you get an electric menorah?” I ask skeptically.

  “Effie,” my husband blushes. “She said it was okay, as long as we lit a kosher menorah, which we did at home,” he says a little defensively, with a lot of pleading generously sprinkled in between. 

  My father would’ve frowned at the decidedly un-kosher menorah. 

  Reading my expression, my sneaky husband harrumps, “This is a hospital, Katniss. I don’t think they’ll be thrilled to find there’s an open flame in a room housing a newborn, no matter what holiday you’re celebrating.”

  I sigh. He’s right. Safety protocols should be observed, and we did light a traditional menorah already; plus, this one is practically a toy for the baby…technically a Hanukkah gift. 

  I relax my stance. I wasn’t aware that my shoulders were so tense during that exchange. 

  “Fine,” I acquiesce, “show me how does the thing work?”

  Peeta grins, looking at ease holding our daughter in one arm like a pro. No wonder he’s always our nephews’ and niece’s favorite uncle. 

  He pulls a couple of bulbs from his pants pocket, and holds them on his palm for me to peruse. “All you do is screw these in the small sockets, just like placing the candles in a regular menorah. Then, you press this button, and it lights up!” He points at a small button at the base of the toy. 

  I nod, accepting his explanation. 

  Hannah wiggles a bit in her father’s arm, then makes an aggravated noise. Peeta adjusts the child against his chest, and looks at me, expectantly. 

  “Hannah’s waiting, and she’s probably getting hungry. I should know, I’m her Tatte!” 

  I snort a reluctant laugh. The man can drive me crazy, in an endearing sort of way. How can I deny my family anything?!

  We say the blessings together, then Peeta whispers all the ceremonial rules on lighting the candles to our baby.

  Hannah has her fist wrapped around his finger again, so he picks up the pretend shamash with the same hand, and touches the tip of the bulb into the opening, so— according to him— Hannah is lighting the day one candle herself…symbolically. 

  He screws the bulbs in their right places, and switches the candlelight on. 

  I must admit, it’s not as tacky as I feared it would be. I make a mental note to let Peeta know I’m glad he thought of this, later…probably tomorrow. 

  We sing quietly, not to disturb anyone else on our floor. After the ceremony of the candles is done, we hold onto each other, watching the flickering lights, while Peeta narrates the story of the Maccabees to Hannah. 

  Everything is quiet after that; Hannah fusses once, so I take her into my arms, and sing a lullaby. 

  Peeta has been staring at me all night like I hung the moon in the sky. He gazes at our daughter like she’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen, and I’m sure my eyes reflect the same feelings as his.

  “I wish I could freeze this moment, right now, and live in it forever.” 

  I smile up at him, who in turn is gazing at our daughter and me with adoration; my heart fills to bursting!

  “I do too!” I stand on tiptoes, and kiss his cheek. “Happy Hanukkah, Peeta. Happy Hanukkah, Hannah.”

  “Same to you too, sweetheart, and thank you Lord, for blessing our family with the miracle of life.”

[fanmoose12]

Hange was crunched over her laptop, typing furiously - it was probably another strong worded letter to one of their associates. If nerves weren't currently eating him up, Levi would have found the scene in front of him amusing. But as the case was, he was barely able to keep it together. He tried to distract himself, looking around Hange’s office. Even though, it was only the beginning of December, she was already in a festive spirit. There was a small Christmas tree on her table, and on her wardrobe hung a string of Christmas lights. Hange adored Christmas, so it was no surprise that she was getting ready for it so early.

Levi glanced back - thankfully, everyone else had already left the office. At least, no one would see him stare at Hange like he was some kind of a creep. It was bad enough that some interns jumped away from him in hallways.

There was nothing to be worried about, though. He just needed to ask Hange a small question. She was his best friend, there was nothing scary in asking your best friend a question. Besides, Hange probably wouldn't even accept his invitation. Knowing her, she received dozens offers already. She'd apologize and refuse, Levi would wave her off and then they'd forget about this incident altogether.

Just like they’ve forgotten about last year's incident.

Yes. There was absolutely nothing to worry about.

Levi straightened his shirt, fixed his tie and took a deep breath. And then finally— he knocked on the door.

"Yes!" Hange shouted. "Come in!"

"Oh, it's you," she said, as Levi walked inside. "I thought it was janitor coming to kick me out again," Hange laughed at her own joke.

The smile turned into a frown, as soon as she saw the look on Levi’s face.

“Is… everything alright?” she spoke gently, getting to her feet and coming to stand beside Levi. She tilted her head, looking at him worriedly. “You look kinda tense.”

Levi lowered his head, hiding his eyes behind the hair. “It’s… my mother,” he managed finally.

“Your mother?” behind the lenses of her glasses, Hange’s eyes widened. “Did something happen to her? What can I do to—”

“She’s fine,” Levi quickly assured her. He wasn’t going to tell it to her, of course, but Hange’s concern warmed his heart. “She just…” he cleared his throat and looked up at her, staring straight in her eyes. “She invited you over for a dinner. At Christmas.”

“Christmas?” she scratched the back of her head in confusion. “Are you asking me to spend Christmas with you?”

“My mom asks you,” Levi corrected. “But yeah. You don’t have to agree, though! If you have other plans already, it’s more than fine. She’ll understand. No hard feelings whatsoever.”

“Are you kidding me?” Hange beamed. “Christmas with Ackermans? How can I possibly refuse? Besides,” she elbowed him in a side with a mischievous look. “It’s not every day that Levi Ackerman—”

“My mom—”

“Invites me over to a Christmas party. Don’t worry, shorty,” Hange reached out and ruffled his hair. For some weird reason - probably because he let Hange get away with literally anything - he let her assault his immaculate haircut too. “Of course, I’ll come.”

“Great,” and Levi actually meant it. Despite, the fiasco during the last year’s Christmas party, he was looking forward to spending this Christmas with Hange by his side. “Now, c’mon, it’s almost nine pm. Get your shit, four-eyes.”

“Huh? Levi, are you offering me—”

“A ride home?” he scoffed. “Yes, I do, Hange. Or have you fixed your car already?”

Hange chuckled sheepishly. “I keep forgetting about that… you know how it is.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately, I do. So hurry up before I change my mind.”

“I’m on it, Captain!” she dashed to her desk, getting her bag and phone. Then Hange went to the wardrobe and took out her coat. She hastily put it on and haphazardly wrapped a scarf around her neck. “And I’m ready!” she announced proudly.

Levi tsked. “You’re such a mess,” he pulled her closer and fixed the wrapping of a scarf, making sure that it covered Hange’s neck completely. “There,” he patted her arm. “Now, you’re ready.”

“Thanks, dad,” Hange giggled and started to lead the way. “So, who else is going to be at the party?”

“You, my mom, Kenny—”

“Oh, your uncle?” she rubbed her hands together with a sly smile. “I like him! He’s so much fun!”

Levi huffed. “Just be careful around him, four-eyes. Or he’ll get you involved in some of his shady shit.”

“There is no need to be jealous,” she teased.

“Keep dreaming.”

“And that’s it?” Hange asked. “Your father—”

“Fuck no,” Levi replied instantly. “Kenny is more than enough to fill the asshole’s quota.”

Hange raised an eyebrow, amusement written all over her face. “So your uncle’s an asshole, huh? Didn’t he raise you, though? You know what they say – an apple doesn’t fall far—”

“Oi,” Levi interrupted, before more shit came out of her mouth. “I may be too straightforward sometimes, and sometimes I’m a little harsh and can come off as rude, but I’m nothing like Kenny.”

“If it helps you sleep at night,” Hange patted his shoulder with a sympathetic look.

“Shut up, four eyes,” scowling, he gave her a light shove.

“Ah!” Hange suddenly exclaimed, spinning around. “Christmas with Ackermans! I’m already looking forward to it!”

“Weirdo,” Levi commented, desperately fighting to keep an affectionate smile off his face.

“You’re saying it as if you aren’t the same,” Hange giggled. “Admit it, Levi. You’re as much of a weirdo as I am. That’s why we’re so compatible.”

“Whatever,” he scoffed, refusing to even entertain the idea. “Hurry up by the way. It’s late already, I don’t want to spend the whole night with your crazy ass.”

“Oh, Levi?” Hange put on an innocent look on her face, twirling a stray lock of her hair. “Can we stop to eat somewhere, please?”

Levi gave her a flat look. “Your fringe is empty again?”

“I just forgot to do the groceries…” she mumbled.

“Fine,” Levi sighed. “We’ll make a stop. But we’re going to my favorite place. Those disgusting burgers you love so much make me want to puke.”

“Let’s eat your boring soup then.”

“My boring soup is healthy. It won’t give you an atherosclerosis.”

“I need another favor from you…”

He groaned. “Let me guess, you forgot your wallet again?”

Hange shrugged with a smile. Levi cursed.

“Alright, I’ll pay for you. But it’s the last time, four-eyes,” he warned with a stern face.

With a smile still on her face, Hange nodded. They both knew that Levi was lying.

“Wait,” Levi said, as they neared the front door of the building. He turned to face Hange, eyeing her critically. “Where are your gloves?”

Hange rolled her eyes, but obediently opened her bag and started rummaging through her things. “Aha!” she exclaimed a couple of moments later, proudly showing Levi a couple of gloves. “Here they are!”

“Put them on,” Levi instructed, walking outside and heading towards his car. “And let’s leave this place, before the café closes.”

“Coming!” Hange shouted, following after Levi with a wide grin.

***

It was a Christmas Day already, and Levi was standing on a porch of his mother's house, waiting for Hange to show up. Knowing his friend, she would be late for at least ten minutes, so Levi leaned against the door, debating if he should go back inside to get his pack of cigarettes. His mother hated when he smoked, but it was going to be a stressful day, Levi knew it. Even without the memories of his last Christmas, nagging at him, there was Kenny he had to deal with, and the relationship between him and his uncle was at the very least, strained. If he wished to end this evening without strangling Kenny, Levi needed a lot more than just one cigarette.

However, before he could decide, he saw Hange at the other end of a street. She was walking with a spring in her step, dangling a couple of bags in her hands.

Levi crossed hands on his chest, watching her approach.

"What is this shit?" he pointed to the bags she was carrying.

"Presents!" she grinned widely.

“Presents?”

"Yes! For you, your mother and uncle."

Levi didn't drop the look of skepticism. "There are four bags."

"Of course, silly," Hange shook her head. "I've got two presents for you."

"Two?" Levi frowned. "Why two? I got only one for you."

"Well, it's not my fault your birthday is on Christmas," Hange complained. "Speaking of!" she spread her hands, "it's time for a hug, birthday boy!"

Levi cringed. "Is there a way to avoid it?"

"No!" Hange announced cheerfully. "C'mon, I'm waiting!"

Levi sighed, but obliged and came closer, letting Hange wrap her hands around him. She hummed happily, nuzzling his cheek.

"Ah, that was a good one," she said, as she took a step back, releasing Levi. He, however, couldn’t agree with her statement. It was a good hug, but it ended too quickly for his liking. Well, it wasn't like he could ask Hange to repeat it. She would agree, of course, but his reputation would suffer tremendously.

"Goddamn it, four-eyes," Levi scowled, when he took a good look on Hange's hands. "How many times do I have to remind you about the gloves?"

He grabbed her red and freezing palms in his, softly rubbing them. "Let's get inside, before you freeze to death."

"You worry too much," Hange rolled her eyes, but didn't try to shake Levi off and let him lead her inside.

The moment they crossed the threshold, Kuchel was already standing in front of the door, smiling from ear to ear. Levi awkwardly let go of Hange's hands and took a step back, allowing his mother to welcome her.

"You came!" Kuchel laid her hands onto Hange's shoulders, kissing both of her cheeks. "I'm so happy to see you, my dear!" she took a step back and faced Levi, giving him a stern gaze. “And you told Hange wouldn’t accept our invitation. You should bring her over more often.”

Levi looked down, mumbling something so quietly, neither Hange, nor Kuchel were able to catch it.

Watching the scene in front of her, seeing an embarrassed Levi, who was just scolded by his mother, Hange couldn’t help – she doubled over with laughter.

“Sorry!” she raised a hand, still chuckling. “I’m just— Levi looks so much like you, Mrs. Ackerman, it’s adorable!”

“Ah,” Kuchel smiled, reaching out to ruffle Levi’s hair. “He was always his mother’s boy.”

Levi groaned, desperately trying to hide his red face from Hange’s amused gaze. “Can you two please stop humiliating me?”

“And here she is!” Levi had never wanted the Earth to swallow him more than he did in this exact moment. He recognized that deep, booming voice instantly. “The only person who can tolerate my dear nephew!” Kenny walked out of the room to welcome them.

That infuriating smirk was already plastered on his face, and Levi cursed under his breath. It would be a very long evening.

“Hange, my darling!” Kenny took a step closer, meaning to take Hange by the hand. Levi was instantly by her side, glaring at his uncle.

“Watch your hands, old man,” he spoke darkly.

Kenny whistled. “Someone’s jealous, huh?”

Before Levi could retaliate and come up with another insult, his mother came to stand between them, wearing an annoyed expression on her face.

“Stop it, boys,” she sighed. “Kenny, don’t pick up on Levi, and you, Levi,” Kuchel shook her head. “Be nice for once, alright?”

“Yes,” Kenny and Levi answered in unison. Kuchel beamed.

“Now you two take your coats and shoes off and then join us in the living room. Hange?” Kuchel turned to her. “You’ll stay the night with us, right?”

“I…” Hange scratched her neck, unsure.

“Stay,” Levi whispered, nudging her in the side. “Mom already prepared the guest room.”

“I guess I have no choice then,” she grinned. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Ackerman.”

“Don’t mention,” Kuchel waved her off. “And please, call me just Kuchel. Levi talks so often about you, I feel like you’re a part of our family.”

“Ah, a-alright,” Hange stared at Levi, but he turned his face another way, stubbornly refusing to meet her eyes. His mother was exaggerating, he didn’t talk about Hange that much.

Kuchel sent them another warm smile, and then left to the kitchen.

"Aw," Hange pouted as soon as Levi took off his coat.

"What's wrong now?"

"You're wearing a simple shirt and cardigan.”

"And?" Levi prompted, feeling his patience go thin.

"Why not a Christmas sweater?" Hange clasped her hands, frustrated.

Levi looked at Hange's bright red sweater with a big reindeer right in the center of it. "No thanks," he mumbled. "My eyes hurt just looking at the monstrosity you're wearing."

"It's called fashion, Levi, you should look it up sometimes."

"Says a person, who can wear the same shirt for two weeks in a row. By the way," Levi outstretched his hand. "Give me it."

"Give you what?"

"My present, four-eyes, give it to me."

"A-ah," Hange resolutely shook her head. "Wait until midnight."

Levi gritted his teeth in frustration. "Fine, you can keep the other one, but you have two presents. Give me the one for my birthday."

"Nope."

"Hange, today is my birthday, I deserve to receive my birthday gift."

"Have some patience, will you? I'll give it to you at midnight."

"Why can't you—"

"Let's go!" Hange pushed him forward, leading him away from the presents. "Your family is already waiting for us."

***

As Levi watched Hange chat with his mother and uncle, sharing jokes and stories about him, he couldn't help but wonder - could it be that Hange actually forgot about the incident that had happened last year? It was the only possible explanation, she was so calm, so nonchalant, while he was practically brimming with nervous energy, trying to think about literally anything to distract himself from the awkward memories.

Noticing his stare, Hange smiled and winked at him, before resuming her story about Levi's meeting with investors. She wasn't nervous in a slightest and Levi decided to follow her example. If Hange was unbothered, what reason did he have to panic? If she didn't remember the events of last Christmas, he should try to forget about it too. *** "Hange, honey, come here," Kuchel beckoned, interrupting Hange's conversation with Kenny. "There is something I want you to see."

"Oh," as soon as Hange saw what Kuchel was holding out to her, she rubbed her hands in anticipation. "Is it what I think it is?"

Kuchel nodded, wearing the same giddy expression as Hange. "It's our family photo album."

Levi, who just came back from the bathroom, felt his heart drop. His mother wouldn't dare...

"Mom, it's my birthday," he reminded, sitting down next to her. "You can't embarrass me at my birthday."

"But Levi," Kuchel pouted. "I'm not embarrassing you! I just want to show Hange, how cute you were as a child."

"Yeah," Kenny chimed in. "She needs to see what your face looked like before you got a severe case of constipation."

"Shut up," Levi hissed, glaring daggers at his uncle.

Meanwhile, Hange was already opening the album...

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed delightfully, staring at the first page. "Levi, you looked so cute! You were the most adorable baby ever!"

"He still is," Kuchel softly patted Levi's cheek.

Levi groaned, covering his face with a hand. It was the worst moment of his life.

"Look at this face!" Hange continued to coo. "And these pretty eyes!"

Levi's cheeks were on fire.

"Tell about this to anyone, four-eyes," he warned quietly, careful not to let his mother hear. "And you're dead, got it?"

"Of course," Hange smiled, amusement swirling in her gaze. "My lips are sealed."

 ***

As the evening progressed into the night, Kuchel excused herself, insisting that she needed to go and rest. Levi and Hange were sitting on a sofa in the living room and watching TV. As they were on the second part of Die Hard, Kenny left too, claiming that there was something he had to take care off. Начало формы

“He’s definitely up to something unlawful,” Levi commented off-handedly as soon as Kenny closed the door after himself.

“Oh?” Hange grinned, muting the TV. “What do you think he’s going to do? Rob someone? Murder?”

“I don’t care,” Levi replied. “And you shouldn’t care too. The lesser you know, the better.”

“You’re no fun,” she smacked his shoulder, before collapsing on his lap with a quiet giggle.

“Get off,” Levi complained. “I’m not your pillow.”

“But you’re warm,” Hange wiggled a little, taking a more comfortable position. “And soft.”

“Shut up,” he sighed, trying to ignore the pleasant feeling that appeared because of Hange’s words. “It’s almost midnight,” he nodded at the clock on the wall. “So get up and bring me my present.”

“Oh my,” Hange looked at him with a sly look. “You really can’t wait to receive it, huh?”

“Give it, four-eyes.”

“Fine!” she huffed, getting to her feet. “But I want to see my present too.”

“Hurry up!” Levi called after her.

He rose from the sofa and headed to his room, where Hange’s present was hidden. When he came to the living room, Hange was already sitting on the floor by the Christmas tree, wearing a wide, excited grin.

"My present," Hange demanded, reaching with her hand.

Sitting down next to her, Levi rolled his eyes and passed the package to her. Instantly, Hange started opening, tearing the paper like an overexcited child. Levi glared at the pile of paper on the floor, but Hange was too excited to notice his dark expression.

"Oh!" she breathed out, as soon as she saw the present. "Levi, is that—"

"Your hands are always cold," Levi explained, watching Hange try the new pair of gloves he got her. "I know it's not much, but..."

"No!" Hange protested, pressing the gloved palm to her chest. "They're perfect! So warm and soft!"

"Good," Levi let himself relax. "It's my first time doing something like this, so I was afraid—"

"Wait!" Hange shrieked, eyes wide. "You made them by yourself?"

"Yeah," Levi said with a frown. "It's a not a big deal, though. Knitting isn't so hard, so..."

"You've knitted the gloves for me..." Hange whispered with a big, dreamy smile on her face. She kept staring at the gloves like they were a damn miracle. Levi couldn't look away from her, as a warm feeling spread through his veins. He could never guess Hange would like his present that much.

"Thank you!" Hange wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him closer for a brief hug. "Well now!" she grinned, letting go of him. "It's time for your presents!"

“Finally,” Levi muttered.

Reaching behind her, Hange handed him the first package. "That's your Christmas present," she said softly.

Levi nodded, taking it from her hands and then carefully unwrapping. Once he was finished, he put the pieces of paper in a neat pile. Then, he looked at his present. It was a sweater, an exact copy of the one Hange was wearing right now, only slightly smaller and green, wherein Hange's was red.

"Matching sweaters!" Hange announced gleefully. "Put it on!"

Reluctantly - the sweater was kind of ugly - Levi put it over his shirt. He felt like an idiot, but the beam he received from Hange was making it kinda of worth it.

"You look really handsome," Hange noted, making Levi's heart skip a bit. "I should have gotten you reindeer antlers, though. They would have completed the look," she added, ruining the sentiment completely.

"Shut up," Levi grumbled. "How give me another one."

"I feel kinda stupid about it now," Hange began, fidgeting a little. The gesture was so uncharacteristic to her that Levi arched his eyebrow, looking at her in surprise. "Especially after your mother showed me a different one, and it contains cuter pictures," Hange smiled at that. "But, well, here. Happy birthday, Levi."

Levi greedily snatched the present from her and took off the wrapping paper. Inside there was a book - a photo album - Levi realized as he took a better look.

He opened the first page, and saw a picture of himself and Hange. Hange was smiling into the camera, one hand was making the piece sign, while the other was wrapped around his shoulders. His face was as emotionless as always, but there was a soft look in his eyes.

"I put our photo at the first page, because I know my face is your favorite," Hange teased with a sly smile.

Levi didn't answer - there was no need to confirm that Hange's words were actually true. Instead he turned the page. The next one showed him, Erwin, Mike and Nanaba, looking relaxed and slightly drunk. Hange obviously took this picture, since she wasn't in it. Then he saw a photo of him and Mike building a sand castle and after that a picture of him and Erwin, while they were playing Mario Kart on Erwin’s sofa. On the next page, there was a group shot of every employee of their firm. He, Erwin and Hange were stood at the center, with Erwin's arms on their shoulders. After that, it was a picture of Levi with their interns, Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Jean, Sasha and Connie. It was taken after they finished a seminar, Levi remembered. The kids were on cloud nine, since it meant that they could finally rest after a long and tiring weekend. They did well on the seminar, so when they asked for a picture with them, Levi just couldn't say no.

"You look like a proud dad here," Hange commented, leaning over his shoulder to look at the photo.

Levi let out a noncommittal grunt and continuing flipping over the pages. There was a lot more, almost three dozens of pages and each one showed a dear memory.

"I know that you like this stuff, keeping small mementos," Hange said. It was true - as much as Levi loved order and cleanliness, he also gathered all kinds of tickets, receipts and other small trinkets that reminded him of good memories. He kept all of them hidden in his desk drawer, though, so he was surprised that Hange knew about it.

"Thank you," he told her.

"You like it?"

"I love it," he confessed. He didn't say it often, probably had never actually said it out loud, but he valued, loved all of his friends. They were the best thing in his life. Of course, he couldn't say it now too. There was a reputation he had to uphold after all. "I've never seen a bigger collection of ugly faces."

Hange laughed then, throwing her head back. Levi watched her with a small smile.

"Happy birthday," she repeated, putting her head back on his lap.

Levi didn't protest this time, simply stared down at her. The Christmas lights were dancing across her face, making Hange look softer around the edges. Without thinking, Levi reached out to brush some hair out of her forehead. Hange smiled, looking up at him.

"Hey," she began. Levi nodded, motioning for her to continue. He stretched his hand, taking his teacup. "Do you remember last Christmas?"

The hand with a cup froze midair, as he stared at Hange with wide eyes. He thought she was going to launch in another lengthy and boring story, not bring this thing up.

"I don't," he answered stiffly, fighting the urge to get up and run. Hange shouldn't have known about this.

"You really don't?" Hange asked, disappointment in her voice. "We were at the party at Erwin's place, I had a bit too much eggnog and—"

And then she staggered out on a balcony, while Levi was having a smoke break. She was clearly drunk and a thought flashed in Levi's mind that he should bring her home or lay her down in one of Erwin's guest rooms, before she did something stupid. And that's what she did in the next moment. Something stupid. She snatched the cigarette from his hand and threw it away. Levi opened his mouth to reprimand her for that, but wasn't unable to actually say anything. Because Hange— Hange was kissing him. Before he could react to it in any way - push her away, bring her closer, entangle his hand in her hair - anything, Hange took a step back.

Whatever was reflecting on his face, Hange didn't like it. She pursed her lips in thought and a line formed between her eyebrows.

"That's not good," she said finally. "Just— just forget anything happen."

And just like that she was gone, giving Levi no time to respond and leaving him alone at a dark, cold balcony.

The next morning, she gave no indication that that kiss had ever happened.

"You do remember," Hange poked his cheek with a finger. "I can see it in your eyes."

"Then why the fuck have you asked?" the hand that wasn't holding a teacup, tightened into fist. What the fuck Hange wanted from him? She told him to forget, didn't she?

"I just wanted to— doesn't matter now," she looked away from him. "I've got my answer already.

Hange moved, trying to get up. Levi pressed on her shoulder, pushing her back.

"You were the one, who told me to forget it.”

"Because you clearly weren't interested!"

Levi frowned. "Who said that?"

"You!" Hange pointed a finger at him, almost hitting him in the nose.

Levi waved her hand away. "I've never said such thing."

"You didn't need to. Your face said it for you."

"I don't understand what you're talking about."

"You don't understand?" Hange huffed. "When I kissed you, you were scowling!"

Levi crossed hands on his chest. "That's how my face always looks like. You know it."

"You didn't kiss me back!" she accused.

"You didn't give me the time to do it!"

Hange felt silent after that. She kept looking at his face, as though searching for something there.

"Does it mean that... you wanted to kiss me?"

"Yes," Levi sighed. "For a very long time now."

"Oh," Hange's cheeks became an adorable shade of pink. "That's a bit unexpected. But... If I were to kiss you again—"

"I'd more than welcome it."

"Alright," she nodded, getting up. Hange leaned in, until their lips were almost touching. She glanced in his eyes, checking his reaction. Then she slowly moved closer, leaving a gentle kiss on his lips. She withdrew almost instantly, looking more than a little embarrassed.

"So," she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Did you like that?"

"It will take me some time to get used to it," Levi admitted.

"We can take it slow," Hange offered. "Would you like that?"

"Yeah," Levi agreed. "I would like that."

"C'mon then," Hange got to her feet and then held her hand out to Levi, helping him up as well. "Let's finish the movie."

He followed Hange back to the sofa and then resumed the movie. At first, he sat at the other end of sofa, deliberately putting some distance between them, in case Hange felt awkward. She rolled her eyes at the gesture, moving closer and laying her head on his thigh.

"Is this okay?" she asked, looking up.

"Yeah," Levi carefully put his hand on her shoulder and started rubbing it softly. "More than okay."

Hange smiled and turned her attention to the TV screen. Levi smiled back, staring down at her.

It was his best Christmas ever. Much better than the last one.

[arahul-abyssia]

Festive

Writing number 4 for Nintember (@starprincesshlc , @jklantern )! To hopefully escape the pit of Emotions™ that was the first three stories, here's some hopefully much much much lighter, more slice-of-life-ish fare.

This does correspond to prompts 16-20, but I got caught up in Real Life for a while, so it's going up mega-late, and also it's kinda... abridged from its original concept, and less polished. 'Tis the way the cookie hath crumbled this year...

~~ Horse, Color, Hats, World, Music ~~

Layna awoke to a loud and repetitive hooting in her ear. She blearily turned her head to the side to find a pair of black-framed bright red eyes staring at her with interest. It took several moments of staring before she was mentally present enough to avert her gaze, sit up, and look out the window at the horizon. As she had expected, the sun had only barely risen fully above it.

She turned back to her greeter. “Relos! How many times do I have to tell you not to wake me up?”

Relos merely, and quite literally, hooted with laughter and flew off out of her room. Layna knew it was futile to keep telling him not to wake her, not because of any obligation or the masterful internal clock of his, but because he knew she didn’t like it and he was a mischief-mongering imp.

Normally, she’d roll over and try to get a few more minutes of sleep, but that day was the first of one of the best weeks of the entire year, and she didn’t want to miss a single moment. She quickly pulled herself from her bed, cleaned and dressed herself, grabbed the pack she had prepared the night before, and hurried downstairs, hoping to get through the delightfully aromatic kitchen and out the door before--

“Aaaalwaaaalrwaaa!”

Standing between Layna and the door was the soft pink-and-cream form of Infra, who was gazing up at her with strikingly accusatory eyes, her hands on her hips.

“Yes, Infra, I know I haven’t eaten.”

“Laaalruuwaar!”

“It’s the first day of the festival and I want to do as much as I can! I’ll get something from one of the vendors.”

“Luulrwarraalyaaa!”

“Ugh…! Fine, if it’ll make you happy.”

Begrudgingly, she returned to the kitchen and sat at the table, as Infra went to the stove, gingerly placed an assortment of breakfast foods onto a plate, and set it before Layna, smiling at her with fairy-pink eyes that had nary a semblance of her previous visage. Unlike the rest of Pokémon in her family’s home, who were all quite content to leave the human part of the family to do as they pleased, the Audino practically operated like another mother to her, as if she needed a third one on top of her human two (who also were often subject to Infra’s mothering). Somehow, she had learned how to do a whole plethora of human home tasks and chores, and she never let Layna leave home in the morning without ensuring that she’d eaten. An outside observer might wonder why a Pokémon was apparently her morning caretaker, and not either or both of her mothers, but with both of them having jobs that began long before dawn, it was simply how things were in their house.

She had to admit that Infra was a surprisingly good cook. This evaluation, however, was not based upon the food that she was at that moment rapidly stuffing into her mouth, but rather upon the numerous meals from days where she wasn’t dead-set on going elsewhere as soon as possible. That morning’s breakfast, while certainly of Infra’s normal calibre, was given no time to rest upon Layna’s taste buds, and may as well have been tasteless for all she cared.

As soon as the last bite of egg left her fork, she jumped to her feet, practically threw the plate and silverware into the sink, and darted for the door, calling out as she left, “‘Kthankyoubyyyyeeeeee!”

Infra was not impressed with her, as projectile kitchenware was dangerous and eating that quickly would likely give her a stomachache, but she’d have time later to worry about such things. Her next task was to prepare food for the rest of the Pokémon scattered about the house, who all were beginning to come to consciousness, probably due to the clatter of cutlery, and she set about with the same dutifulness and joy she always did.

Layna, of course, hadn’t even a single neuron focused upon Infra’s judgment, as she was far more concerned with sprinting down a steep road with wanton abandon, the countless colors and lights and tents and tarps of the festival visible in the distance. It had already entered full swing, always beginning with the dawn, and she wanted to explore as much as she could. She had considered bringing along some of the Pokémon, but not long later decided to bring them along later in the day instead. She did not know why she made this decision, nor did she care.

The streets that had been blocked off for the festival were already bustling with people and Pokémon alike, almost each and every one nearly as energized as Layna was. She promptly began to wander the streets, turning and spinning and looking about enough that she ought to have made herself sick, but this had not lasted for even five minutes before she was drawn to a larger vendor stall by an overpowering floral and fruity aroma.

As should be expected, an impossibly wide variety of flowers and fruits were on display, some having been made presentory and others still being attached to their plants, with countless more options upon the boards hanging from the awning.

“Well, hello there, young miss!” said one of the farmers behind the stand. “How can we help ya?”

“Oh, I’m just looking right now, sir.” She paused a moment, then was overtaken by a rather sudden curiosity. “There are so many flowers and berries here, how do you manage to pick and move them all?”

The farmer chuckled. “We have a lot of help, ‘specially around this time of year. Lot of it comes from extra hands, but it would still be impossible without the help of all our Pokémon, like ol’ Sitrus here.”

At this, he gestured to a Mudsdale beside him, which Layna had somehow managed to miss entirely.

“She’s lovely! And so… big…! I’ll bet she must be really strong, too!”

“More ‘n any of us could’ve expected! And she’s friendly, too; wanna pet her?”

Layna’s eyes immediately lit up. “Would I?!! I mean, uh, if she’ll let me…!”

The farmer laughed and brought the horse forward, and Layna tentatively reached up and placed a hand on her face. Sitrus took a moment to consider her latest contact, then, judging her satisfactory in that esoteric way few can ever decipher, leaned in to her touch. She giggled and stroked her a few times more, noting her fur’s strange combination of roughness and softness, before pulling her hand away. Sitrus, in turn, snorted a puff of hot air at Layna’s face before backing into the shade again.

“Aw, that means she likes you! Well, let me or any one of us know if ya want anything.”

“Will do, thank you!” Layna had no intention to buy anything at that time, not when there were countless other things to do and find and see at the festival. She proceeded to bury her face in several of the flowers around the stall, enveloping herself in their different, yet undeniably pleasant, scents, before scampering off to find some other point of interest.

She could have easily checked the maps of the festival area, which were scattered on boards and holographic signs all about the city and even available online, but this sounded boring and unfun, so she did not. Upon her winding, meandering, unfocused path through the streets were innumerable stalls and stands and attractions to take note of--more fruits and vegetables, tickets to special shows on later days, a ferris wheel to ride with someone else later, foreign cuisine and sweets--but it was not until she overheard the faint but unmistakable sound of music that she was drawn in once again.

Upon the boardwalk was a small stage with a frighteningly energetic group of musicians, surrounded by an even more enthusiastic crowd. They seemed to be in the middle of a rendition of a song Layna heard on the radio nearly every day, an anthem for Trainers detailing their goal to “Catch ‘em All.” She never saw the appeal--both of the song and of the objective--but it apparently spoke quite well to most others.

As they finished their performance--and on a much more somber note than the original song did--their main singer pulled the microphone from its stand and began pacing the stage. “I hope you folks are enjoying the show! Now, however, I’d like to take a break from the hype, and sing something a bit slower, something that’s… rather close to my heart.”

Layna watched as a Toxtricity--which had evidently been playing with the rest of the band, but which, just like the Mudsdale, she had failed at first to notice--stepped forward and began playing a slow guitar piece. The lead singer waited a moment, then began to sing a ballad in a tongue Layna could not understand. It was one she was certain she had heard before, but could not manage to identify it any way beyond that it was not the common tongue known by almost everyone across the world.

She tried to stay and listen, but immediately found that, beautiful though his singing was, she was not in the mood for slow music. Along with a small chunk of the band’s crowd, she turned and left, and returned to her aimless wandering and exploration.

Eventually, she found herself in a quarter rife with food vendors, most of whom had one or two individuals calling out and offering free samples. By the smells and descriptions alone, she was greatly tempted to take every single one she could. Of course, her mothers would likely have tried to limit how many she took so that she wouldn’t spoil her appetite for lunch, and Infra would surely have balked at the notion for the same reasons; also, most of the food in the area was rather far from being healthy. Indeed, she had significant reason to not do what she wanted to do.

However, none of those individuals were here to remind her, and as it turned out, the aromas were very persuasive. Layna marched forward and nabbed every sample in sight, only barely stopping to enjoy them before moving on to the next, and only doing so because of the crowds and lines slowing her down.

Her frenzy ended not fifteen minutes later, and as she looked about to find her next target of interest, she realized she had wound up on the very same street she had started on. Obviously, this would not do, as there were so many other, more interesting circles to walk in the festival’s streets.

However, with home being so near once again, she had half a mind to return to grab something to combat the rapidly rising sun, whose rays were just beginning to take too much precedence over the comfortable morning breeze…

“Twee-tweeoo-twrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!”

Or maybe I won’t have to after all!

A black-and-brown blur was barrelling toward her from the sky, making a frankly obscene level of noise. She stood firm and faced it, staring unblinking at the rapidly encroaching avian, before ducking at a perfect, precise, and repeatedly practiced moment. Like clockwork, Layna’s vision was shaded by an off-kilter hat (which she quickly adjusted), and the feathery form of a Taillow alighted upon her shoulder, whose face she began to delicately stroke.

“Thank you for bringing me my hat, Lond! Wherever would I be without you?”

“Twrrrt-t-twiii!”

“Wait, no, don’t tell me: Infra wanted me to not burn in the sun and you wanted to not be stuck inside with Relos.”

“Twrr-twrr-twrr!”

“I thought so… well, now that you’re here, how about sticking with me for a bit of exploration? I’m sure there'll be plenty of stuff to try!”

Lond pretended to think for a moment, then gave another enthusiastic chirp.

Layna giggled. “In that case, we mustn’t waste any more time! Onward!”

And with no decay to her exuberance, she sprinted off into the festival once more.

[shaydeoffical]

Burnt Chocolate Kisses: Osamu Miya x Fem Reader!

Summary: Osamu and (Y/n),  think about their first valentines together, and find a way to celebrate their third anniversary after a busy day. 

Words: 2.5k

Warnings/keywords: fluff, light fighting, Suna with Barbz energy.

Author’s Note: This is for the Sweethearts Collide Collab I am hosting. Please go support everyone who joined in! I am so excited to share all these V-Day fics with you, and maybe make it a little less lonely for some of you! Please enjoy

Collab Masterlist: here  

Burnt Chocolate Kisses

"Samu." I sat my box down and rushed to meet him at the door. Rice was scattered across his hair and chest, not to mention there was a small patch on his cheek. His eyes were barely open, movements slow, as he took off his shoes. "I told you to let me help at the store today."         "Be glad you didn't." He stepped up from the genkan and slumped into my arms. "One couple tossed their food at the cashier. Instinct kicked it, and I spiked it across the store. I'm going to be collecting those free onigiri vouchers for the next three months."         "Valentine's day is about being with your loved ones and sharing a romantic evening. Yet, there's always an idiot or two who like to ruin the day for everyone. I'm sorry it was hell today." Rocking him lightly, we slowly edged our way to the kitchen. Part of the reason I stayed home today was so I could cook him a magical dinner. But my day hadn't gone to plan either.         "Why do I smell smoke?" Finding some energy, he moved past me and ran to the oven. Opening the door, the last billows of smoke rose up and out. "(Y/n); what happened? Are you okay?" Grabbing a towel, he fanned the air away from the smoke detector and glanced at my hands. There were few people in this world who'd be more interested in my well being than their stove in shambles.         "No burns this time." I laughed, gritting my teeth. The air was thick, my throat closing up. "I guess I did surprise you; there's just nothing to eat…" Inside the oven was a charred goose. We had watched someone cook a goose on Master Chef, and we had wanted to try it for a few months. He held his forehead and turned his back to me, getting the bird into the trash. "So, um, are you going to cook my goose over this?" My voice cracked, but I couldn't stop the joke from slipping out.

       He giggled to my relief. Osamu was a wonderful boyfriend; of course, we had some fights, but he never let it get out of hand. Though it was a different story between him and his twin. Atsumu always used me as a human shield from his brother during fights, and it worked every time. Osamu wouldn't risk hurting me, no matter how much he wanted to strangle his brother. "Nice pun, baby." Coming back to reality, I jumped up, sitting on the counter.         "Well, I wanted to make today special. But I think we both just want to try again tomorrow." I leaned my head against the cabinets. Soot had stained the ceilings and coated the light fixtures. To say I almost burned the house down was an understatement. Thankfully, 'Samu told me that if there was a fire in the oven, to just let it smother out by keeping the door shut.         "We have a history of celebrating the 15th, ya know." He slotted between my legs and pressed his soft stomach against mine. "We'll get our half-price teddy bears and snacks, walk around the park, maybe go to the arcade. Or."         "Or what?" Stealing a kiss, I tapped his nose.         "We just do what we did for our first valentines." He slowly kissed up my throat, nibbling here or there.         "No. Th-that doesn't count!" Blood rushed to my head, his hands ghosting up and down my back. "You can't sweet talk me into this. That was three years ago, and I didn't get to tell you how I felt. Plus, it was after midnight, so it doesn't count. Now, if you want to go skating like our first real valentines, I will."         "I'm not sweet talkin'," he bit down on my favorite spot, my hand anchoring in his hair. "Come on, it's nothin' scandalous. But if I have to keep persuading you, it might take a sloppy turn. I'm too tired to be any count tonight."         "I'm exhausted too." Pulling apart, his eyes sparkled, waiting for my reply. "Alright, let's do it." I jumped down and started to get my warm clothes on. "I'll make it up to you, for last time. Though this might tire us out more than we remember."         "Let's do it." He grabbed a quick snack and went to the bedroom to get changed. "It'll be fun." Hollering back at me, he poked his head out the door, and I could catch a peek at his chest, my chest fluttering.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Flashback

        "So you burnt 'em?" Atsumu held the obligation chocolates to the street light. "You skipped class to cook all day, and this is what you made?"         "Thank you (L/n), they'll make a nice paperweight." Suna snickered, placing the pink heart bag in his pocket. It was Valentine's day, and the three of us were waiting for Osamu to join us for the festival.         "Oi, (Y/n). Tell me you didn't burn your hommi cocos for my brother." Atsumu poked the bulge in my bag.         "I'm going to wait for next year. There's no way I can confess with these." Gripping the side of my bag, I swallowed hard. "No matter how many times I tried, it just… didn't turn out. Hey, wait. How the hell did you know that Osamu's were hommi cocos?" I gripped Atsumu by his collar.         "It's not hard to tell. You keep sneaking away from your club to watch us practice. Not to mention, you've been up each other's ass the past three years of school. It's only a matter of time before one of you does something about it." Suna snuck out one of his chocolates and took a chase bite. His eyes bugged, this throat struggling to swallow the charred candy.           "Damn it." I stomped my foot. A dust cloud formed, sweeping through the crowd of people around us. The weather had been dry for a while; there was a debate on whether it was safe or not to have a fireworks display this year. That's when I was going to give Samu his candy, but things weren't really working out. "I guess there's next year. Maybe we'll go to the same college?"         "What about next year?"         "Ahh, nothing." Twirling on my heels, Osamu was right behind me. Our shoulder's bumped when I turned; his hands steadied me. There were lots of thoughts racing through my head, but I couldn't help but notice how handsome he was, the star's reflecting in his eyes.         "Sorry, I'm late." He smoothed the wrinkles on my sleeves and smiled. "Now, what are we planning for next year? A date without these two idiots?"         "I resent that." Suna looked towards the food booths.         "(Y/n) would rather it just be us, right?" Atsumu pulled me into his arms, pressing my head against his chest.         "Cut it out." I wriggled in his hold.         "I'm the superior twin by far. Who wants to spend time with a loser like Samu, when I'm right here?"         "Let them go, Tsumu." Osamu's voice was even. I was surprised he wasn't trying to lunge around me to hit his brother.         "She even gave me and Suna coco's, isn't that right (Y/n)?"         "She did." Suna agreed, egging them on.         "What's wrong with you?" I finally broke free. "Why are you trying to start a fight?" Atsumu grinned like a fox, holding up the candy I made him. When I looked at Osamu, he seemed crestfallen. The two fought all the time. Why was he so hurt this time? I had made him candy…it just wasn't good enough.         "Just say it (Y/n). I know you want to." Atsumu pushed me towards his brother. "Tell him how you really feel."         "Enough, Atsumu." I dug in my heels. "Can't you just let us have a good night? This is the last Valentine's we're going to have- Oh my god, Rintaro Suna. Put that god damn camera away." Tugging my hair, I noticed a crowd has started to form. Shaking, I hid my face in my hands. "I can't believe you two."         "Come one (Y/n)," Osamu took my hand, breaking the crowd so we could pass. "Let's do what we always do."         "Ditch our friends and stuff our face?" I sniffled, clutching onto his kimono.         "Of course." We stopped in front of a booth selling sweets. "I'm really sorry about the things that were said." I played with the strings hanging from my outfit. "Let's just focus on making happy memories now. Like you said, this could be our last chance to do this again." He stepped closer to me, tucking me under his arm as a large group passed us. There wasn't much of a line, and in a few minutes, it was our turn. My eyes were glued to the apples, and Samu noticed. "Two candy apples, please."         "Here." I tried to pass him some cash.         He pushed it back into my palm and handed me the apple. "It's my treat today."         "It's your treat every day." A pout settled on my lips until I dug into the apple. The red candy coating crunched, and the sweet juice rushed into my mouth. "Hmm, this is good. We should try to make some of these next weekends."         "We should. Let's make it a date." He grabbed my hand, walking towards the line for the next booth, which was selling ticker fish. Diving through the people, my heart was nestled in my throat.         "You shouldn't sound so casual, or I'll get the wrong idea." Someone stepped back, and I tripped over their foot. My candy apple went flying, and my arms failed for any support.         Osamu caught my upper half and eased me into a squat before I crashed. Popping back up, I apologized to the man, and he went on his way. "You okay." Samu dusted off my dress and examined my knees for any stress.         "Thanks to you, I'm fine." I looked at my candy apple, crusted with dirt. "But my apple isn't." The line was moving fast, so I nudged him forward. "Seams like today has been nothing but bad luck for me."         "Is that so? Why?" He ordered the fish, a few drinks and some grilled chicken too. As the food was being prepared, he handed me his apple. We shared food all the time, this was no different, but something was off. His fingers brushed mine when he handed it off. Sure the stick was hard to balance, but this was…so soft. Osamu grabbed the food and re-entered the crowd.         "Well, I-." Pushing my shoulder's back, I bit into his apple and collected my thoughts. We veered off the path with our dinner and find a quiet place to sit and eat. "I was making hommi cocos for someone special, and they burned…multiple times." I plopped down on the grass and took another bite of the apple.         "So Atsumu was lying." Osamu showed me his phone. Atsumu had texted him a picture of the obligation chocolates I made him.         "Yup, he just wanted to upset you." The fire flies lit up the sky as our eyes adjusted to the dark. A breeze filtered through the area, and I scooted closer to Samu for warmth.         "So you were making the hommi cocos for me?" He held out a piece of fish for me, and I used my teeth to pull it off the stick.         "Like I said, today's been terrible." I curled into my knees. "I can't share my true feelings with burnt chocolate."         "I see." He looked at his watch then the sky. "The fireworks about to start. Which means it's almost midnight." He reached over and took another bite of his apple. "We can just wait till then."         "It won't count if we wait, though." I realized that I was basically admitting my crush then and there, but there was no point in pretending now.         "Our feelings will be the same today and tomorrow." He reached into his bag. "I made these for you."                 "Sumu." It was a box of cocos; they were wrapped in pink ribbons and had special frosting with my name. "You, put so much effort into this, I. I defiantly can't show you what I made."         Fireworks went off in the sky above, raining down red and pink sparkles. They illuminated his eyes, making them glow almost. His face was inches from mine, our breath shared. "They are hommi cocos. I couldn't wait for white day. I didn't know for sure if you returned my feelings, so just in case, I made these for you. I really like you (Y/n), please, be mine?"         "I don't know what to say. I had all these things planned, but I'm lost for words." I pulled back, handing him the box. "These aren't good enough to express my feelings, but I want you to know I tried." Having killed the moment, I wanted to kick my own ass for pulling away.         "You skipped class to make these?" he asked, popping one in his mouth.         "I did. Feel free to rub in how bad they taste." I laughed, wiping the sweat from my brow.         "They're perfect." He leaned forward again, but not as far. I met him halfway, our lips touching in a feathery test.

        "Mm, that is so much better without the taste of burnt chocolates." I slid off his lap and onto the blanket beside us. We had gone to a festival and got the same dishes as before. The firework show was about to start, and we finally were alone. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Present         "It was cute. You put some much effort into them that all I tasted was your love." He grabbed my chin, pulling me in for another kiss.         "My love and scorched caramel." Leaning against his chest, I looked at the sky, the first firework going up. "I'm glad you were braver than I was back then."         "As much as Atsumu pissed me off, I'm glad he tried to push together." A loud boom spoked me, of the fireworks bigger than usual. It made a giant red heart.           "He sped things up for sure. Thinking back on the day, there were a lot of disasters, but it was all worth it. Because I got to find the love of my life." I laced our fingers together. "I wish for us to always be together."         "We will; no need to wish for it." He kissed my knuckles, his knee knocking down the stick from our food. "Thank you for working so hard today."         "Well, burning stuff is my love language." I giggled, and we curled deeper into each other.         "I love you (Y/n)." He closed his eyes, starting to drift off. After a hard day's work, he needed a little rest. Considering how hard he fought it to spend time with me today, I could let him use me as a pillow.