#turns out the old woman who lived there would check in on her grandson and i had his room

[fallowfield]

catholics talking about demons like "ohhh it was so SCARYYY" while i sit over here like yeah. my great-grandfather had a house that wouldnt burn even after it was demolished so they had to bury the rubble and the cause was in their basement and managed to get a fire poker about five inches deep into a wall because it wanted out. also my entire family on my mom's side have close experiences with ghosts and the like including me. <3

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Grandma's hands

Clapped in church on Sunday morning

Grandma's hands

Played a tambourine so well

Grandma's hands

Used to issue out a warning

She'd say, Billy don't you run so fast

Might fall on a piece of glass

Might be snakes there in that grass

Grandma's hands"

Joseph Solomon (cover) – "Grandma's Hands"

Celeste shook out a clean white fitted sheet across a double bed inside the assisted living facility in Metairie, not too far from Bayou Metairie. She liked working there. A natural neat freak, Celeste loved to clean and found it meditative. There were only twenty residents in the upscale facility. Eighteen were white, one was Korean, and the only Black woman who stayed there was Celeste's favorite.

Miss Irma was nearing one hundred and suffered from some memory loss. At her advanced age, she took on the signs of mild cognitive impairment. She often had her lucid moments and would turn into a chatty delight. On the not-so-lucid days, she stayed quiet and brooded in her private room, staring out of the window. Celeste only worked there four days a week and never saw Miss Irma with visitors. Her records stated she had a grandson who lived in another parish further north.

She finished making Miss Irma's bed and retrieved her client from the dining room for a nap. It was a good day at the facility and working kept her mind relaxed and ready for Fat Tuesday to roll around. She'd been paid in full for all the second line parasols and baskets she made. Six thousand dollars richer, she plotted on how she could make more money using her talent and quitting the chicken processing plant. She had an idea cooking. A little illicit, though. In fact, she was going to set-up a new income stream right after work in her home.

"Okay now, Miss Irma. I'll just roll you in here and get you nice and cozy. Did you enjoy the lasagna today for lunch? It smelled good while it was cooking," Celeste said.

Miss Irma clasped her hands in her lap and remained quiet. She'd been quite a beauty in her youth from the pictures on her dresser that Celeste checked out often. Even with a few liver spots on her hands and the wrinkles on her delicate pale skin, Miss Irma stayed a pretty woman. Her thinning white hair looked matronly pinned into a small bun, and a nurse had dressed her in a lovely pink floral print house dress.

"Here we go. Would you like to sit on your bed and rest, or look out of your window at the garden?"

Miss Irma pointed to the window. Celeste pushed her closer to it. She lifted the window open and checked to make sure the locked screen stayed secure. The overhead fan whirred, creating a subtle buzzing sound. She left the woman alone to take away her dirty linens and drop them off with the rest of the sheets she had collected on her floor of the two-story building.

Celeste tightened her large head wrap at her nape and hurried to check on the other charges in the rooms next to Miss Irma. She helped another co-worker move an old mattress out of a room to make way for the replacement that arrived that morning. Stepping outside to take a smoke break, she checked her smartphone for messages.

Nothing.

She dropped her cigarette on the ground and mashed it with her shoe. Another hour of work and she'd be able to clock out, go home, and soak with perfumed bath salts. Taking a walk around the back of the property to enjoy the marigolds and hibiscus flowers in the garden, she heard the distinct voice of Miss Irma talking. It was a conversational tone peppered with laughter. Celeste could make out her shape from the screen. Miss Irma's back was to the window.

Curiosity moved Celeste back inside, even though her break wasn't over. Pretending to head for a supply closet, she passed by Miss Irma's door and caught sight of a man sitting on the old woman's bed. Celeste hadn't received any visitor notifications for the day, but her curiosity compelled her to enter the room and find out who it was.

Oh, wait a minute.

Celeste stood rooted when sensual green eyes looked back at her.

Terry.

"Hi," Celeste said.

She rubbed her arm absentmindedly while staring at him. He stood from the bed. His full lips peeled back to reveal his beautiful teeth.

"Small world," he said.

"You're related to Miss Irma?"

"Yes."

Miss Irma reached for his hand and squeezed it.

"Please don't leave yet Papa," Miss Irma said.

Terry patted her hand and sat back down on the bed, facing her.

"I'm not leaving."

"Let me get outta y'alls way then," Celeste said.

She busied herself with other chores and periodically walked past Miss Irma's door. At one point, the old woman began crying softly and Terry dropped to his knees in front of her wheelchair and rested his head on her lap. Miss Irma rubbed his hair, and he spoke sweetly to her until she stopped weeping.

"Is everything alright? Does Miss Irma need more water or anything?" Celeste said, trying to be helpful.

Terry's eyes filled with tears too, and he wiped at them quickly. God, she wanted to hug him. She wondered what could make that big pretty man cry gentle tears. A health aide nurse stepped in and rolled Miss Irma into her private bathroom to change her incontinence pad and administer her afternoon round of meds.

Terry approached Celeste, and they moved to the hallway. He leaned against the wall and she stood in front of him.

"I gave her some bad news about her grandson. He passed away while being held in jail. I tried to help him out with bail and some stupid shit went down with the cops. He was murdered before I could get him out."

"Oh, my God…I am so sorry."

Celeste wrung her hands, willing herself not to reach out and touch him. It might seem inappropriate if she did.

"Now that Mike is gone, I'm all that she has left. Actually, she and I are the last ones alive in our entire family."

Terry cut his eyes away to look at the floor. His brows furrowed and his shoulders drooped.

"I had hoped to get Mike up here to visit sooner, before he was arrested. We planned on enjoying Mardi Gras here this year but I was busy working and getting my shit together…time always seems to get away from me," he lamented.

He gazed at Celeste, and his soulful eyes filled her with empathy for him.

"You're lucky to have such a big family," he said. "Travis invited me to watch your tribe practice to help keep my mind off Mike and my troubles. I wish I had a family like that."

"Sometimes it can be a bit much. Everyone knows your business, and it's hard to get away with anything in private because there's always a meddling brother, sister, cousin, aunt, uncle, or even a play cousin all up in your mix."

"Sounds like heaven," he said wistfully.

The health aide returned Miss Irma to the bed and helped her settle into it.

"I better get back in there. Gotta spend as much time as possible with her before I head out again."

"When are you leaving?"

"In a few days. I'm staying at a B&B . I wanted to see the carnival season here, in honor of Mike." He glanced at Miss Irma, checking on her. "Travis's older brother knew me in the marines a few years back. He told me to come out here when I was done. I could visit her more often."

"So you're ex marine now?"

"Yeah."

"Papa, come here. I want to talk with you," Miss Irma called out.

Miss Irma held her arms out toward Terry. Celeste pulled out her smartphone from the side pocket of her dark blue tunic uniform.

"You have your phone?" she asked.

Terry pulled his phone out. She tapped her screen and showed him her phone number on display.

"Take my number and call me. I can show you a good time on Tuesday."

He grinned, tapped in her number on his phone, and shoved it back in his pocket.

"I'll do that. Let me take you out to dinner first. Your choice of where to eat."

"Surprise me," she said.

"Is Monday night good for you?"

"I'm off Monday and Tuesday."

"Expect my call," he said.

He strolled back into the room and pulled up a chair to sit near Miss Irma.

Celeste walked away with a smile stretching her cheeks from California to South Carolina. She worked dutifully uninterrupted, humming and grinning, thinking about a pair of green eyes and broad shoulders. After clocking out, she went back to Miss Irma's room to see if Terry wanted to grab a bite right then instead of waiting for Monday. She wanted to speak to him more and listen to that central Louisiana drawl he had. The marines may have had him clean up his accent a bit, but she caught a Cajun twang to it. It was probably where he inherited his light eyes from. Some white ragin' Cajuns in plantation country.

Silence permeated Miss Irma's room. Terry had already left. Celeste walked closer to the bed.

"I'm sorry to hear about your grandson, Miss Irma. My condolences to you and Terry, ma'am."

Miss Irma's eyes shined like newly minted silver dollars.

"My grandbaby was a kind soul. I don't understand why someone would hurt him. But Papa said everything would be okay."

"Is Papa Terry's nickname?"

Miss Irma looked confused by the question.

"Papa is Papa. My great-granddaddy."

Celeste balked at that and patted Miss Irma's hand. She had to be confusing Terry with a long dead relative. Cognitive decline did cause confusion.

"You mean he's your great-grandson?"

Miss Irma's eyes turned hard like peach pits.

"He's my great-granddaddy."

She pointed to her closet door.

"Go in there and fetch me my box," Miss Irma commanded. "The one on the floor."

Celeste wandered over and pulled open the door. There were four boxes stacked on top of each other. Miss Irma waved her hand.

"The one on the bottom…yes…that one, please."

The old woman was so lively that Celeste took advantage of her energized state. She lifted aside the other boxes until she could open the one Miss Irma wanted. There were three brown, cracked and taped photo albums inside. She picked up the box and brought it over to the bed. Miss Irma patted the side and urged Celeste to sit next to her. She handed the photo albums to Miss Irma, and the woman flipped through pages in two of them slowly. Frustrated, she searched through the third album. Jackpot.

"See here? This is my mother Candice Simmons and her husband Leon Simmons. And on this page…see it here? These are my paternal grandparents, Elise and Gabriel Simmons."

With each flip of the page, Celeste went back in time with the memory Miss Irma still had left. Her short-term memory may have fluctuated, but Terry's visit ignited that long-term one.

"The men look so handsome in these suits," Celeste said. "And the women are gorgeous. Their hairstyles are everything."

Miss Irma beamed.

With a shaky hand, she flipped through a few more pages until she pointed out a large photo.

"This him! This him!"

Miss Irma stroked her slender fingers across the image.

"My great-granddaddy…Papa… Terrence Richmond Guidry."

The picture had the sepia tone of the mid 1800s with cracked and frayed edges. The man looked handsome in a bowler hat and a casket sharp three-piece tweed suit with a dark bowtie. Seated next to him was a pretty dark-skinned woman with small features in a cherubic face. She looked like a petite angel next to her husband, wearing her Sunday dress with a straw hat and white gloves.

Celeste lifted the album closer to her face.

Terrence Richmond Guidry looked like Terry. A lot. Practically his twin. She shook her head slowly. Genes were funny that way because there was a giant picture in Celeste's parent's house that showed off her own grandmother on her father's side that resembled her.

However, the eyes looking at her in the old photo caused a shiver in her arms. Their shape. The thick eyebrows. Long lashes. The way they hypnotized the looker even on two-dimensional albumem paper. Someone born two hundred years ago was long dead. Period.

"He looks a lot like Terry," Celeste said, to humor the woman.

Miss Irma grunted her dissatisfaction with the reply.

"Papa and Mama Dee were together for forty years until her death. He never married again and looked after their children and grandchildren…their great grandchildren too. When I was a tiny wisp of a thing, he always put me on his knee and cut apples up for me to eat in little pieces. Told me I was his pretty Lil Marigold. That's why I like looking at those flowers outside. They remind me of him when he's away. He can't visit me as often as I'd like, but when he comes, he still calls me his Lil Marigold. He say Mama Dee loved marigolds because he used to court her with them every Sunday before Mass."

"Hmmph," Celeste replied.

Miss Irma turned the page and showed another picture of Terrence sitting at a table without a hat, his puffy hair parted on one side.

"These are nice photos, Miss Irma. I have to go now. I'll put these albums away."

Celeste packed the photo albums back up and put the box back in the closet with the others.

"See you on Wednesday, ma'am."

Miss Irma's gaze stayed fixed on the window. Waiting for Terry's return. Celeste felt sorry for her and left the room quietly.

Chapter 5 HERE.

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[prof-peach]

What's a happy adoption story that's occurred on the island? Conversely, what's one of the worst adoption attempts seen?

All adoption stories have a lot of joy in them for us at Dotaku, but I suppose one or two stand out.

We had a seemingly lost and quite old Mawile handed in to us, clear care put into their lifestyle, it's teeth were in good condition for its age, it had no illness, clear and soft skin, creeping joint aches but it was to be expected for the pokemon age, but it had no pokeball, so no trainer ID to return them to.

We expected someone to come for it, we even put out posters on the mainland to help find its trainer, but no one came forward. We eventually posed the topic of rehoming to the pokemon and it firmly refused, we did not bring it up again. This pokemon would sit every time people came off the boats at the dock as if waiting for someone, and each time would walk away dissapointed.

Five years passed, it had never given us trouble, was well behaved and kind in nature, even partook in plnety of island events with time, became one of the permanent fixtures here.

And then out of the blue, an old woman turned up with her grandson, visitors. We were made aware of the dimensia she was living with just in case she wandered off, and catered to it no problem. Staff report that she walked around without issue, enjoyed the grounds just line anyone else, until that is, she spotted this one Mawile, and the pokemon saw her, the two had a moment of recognition.

Theyre both in tears as soon as they reach eachother, the Mawile ran for this woman, we didnt know if it was hostile or not at first, but nope, there as a big hug shared and progressive tears. The grandson filled us in that his grandma use to have a partner but came from a village that just lived with pokemon, no balls, no fancy items, just a mutual choosing. But the Mawile had been stolen by a young trainer passing through years ago, with no pokeballs to stop the capture process, the boy assumed someone caught the pokemon and left with it, seperating the pair. It was kind of the one thing his Grandma would always look for in her later years, forgetting that she'd lost her beloved partner, becoming increasingly worried repeatedly as her illness worsened over the years. It caused a lot of grief.

we can only assume the pokemon got free or released, and was handed in to the island as a "difficult case" due to its reluctance to listen to others.

The woman went home with her pokemon, reunited after 5 long years apart, it brought a tear to plenty of the staff's eyes thats for sure.

On the opposing end we've had plenty of shady folk come in and try to adopt from us, but theres a few measures we put in place when were suspicious. I dont discuss the security precautions we apply in these cases to hide the pricess and keep the pokemon and staff safe here.

Despite this, one or two slip the net on rare occasion, it happens, were not perfect. One that stays with me was a woman who came in to look for a partner, making all the best attempts to charm a quite fantastic little Treeko, a rare variant with fantastic leopard markings. She was forthright and seemed ordinary, we went through our regular security checks and nothing came up on her ID, figured it was a fine match. So she went through the process of adopting, staff saw no red flags. I kick myself now, if i'd been around her with Val we could have stopped this, but i'd been too busy with other jobs to oversee that particular case.

She leaves with the pokemon, and we're none the wiser, but anyone who knows us, knows we do home visits after adoption to make sure a pokemon is happy and well. usually 3 within the year. Some of our staff turn up to an abandoned building, no pokemon, no people, nothing. The hunt began, Grey was quick to try to see if the pokemons ID had been pinged at any pokecentres, but nothing came up. We kept looking, and called in some favours at the local ranger bases and police stations to watch.

Eventually someone spots the woman in question, two regions over in Hoenn, selling eggs. She got pulled over for trafic violations while driving and got flagged. I went over personally to see what was going on, and turns out she was illegally breeding rare species to sell for huge money. The treeko was in BAD condition by this point, we took it back along with two dozen or so eggs, another Sceptile, and a pair of shroomish with unsual patterns that were on their last legs. She was taken to court for cruelty charges and served time.

The pokemon however were fine in the end, took some time to rehabilitate them, but they still hang around the island, that experience was traumatic for them so they choose to stay with us for saftey sake. We have no issues with this, and have since tightened our security checks. The womans trainer ID was a fake, a really convincing one, we messed up. It's cases like that that'll push us to all do better however, we learned a lot, and hold onto those failures to push forward in a better way.

Just glad the pokemon survived and are now healthy and happy.

[betmagic]

Little sunshine au

How it starts

It’s a bit of a rant so it’s a lot.

Okay I’ll start with Makino

She knows about ace and Sabo. Garp would often stop by for food and alcohol before heading up the mountain to visit Ace. When ace was just about to turn 6 he asked for he help in finding a present for him. Makino inquired a bit more and learned that Garp left a child with mountain bandits. Worried about the boy she decided to tag along to help bring the supplies.

Ace of course was wary of the unfamiliar woman yelling at her to go away but Makino was patient ( lord knows she is if she raised luffy in the original canon) and a few more visits she managed to gain the boys trust.

After that Makino frequently visits , Dadan is more than happy with it as it brings food and booze but the brat seems to like her too. She also meets Sabo , Ace had forgotten something and managed to fallow ace to where they met up.

Eventually they start coming to the party bar , Makino had told them that if they want food they were more than welcome at her bar. They even bring her fresh meat already skinned and cut as thanks and sometimes some money and jewelry they stole. She can’t stop them from going to grey terminal but she can give them a place to come when they’re hurt or hungry.

Of course this also how the old marine finds out about Sabo earlier and claims the blond as his grandson on the spot.Something Sabo is both terrified ( because of what ace has told him)and happy ( because someone actually wants him)with.

It doesn’t take long after that to start referring to the boys as brothers / they do decide to make it official with sake later but that’s with Luffy/they live, play , train and steal together . Though they call each other friends they definitely feel it’s more than that.

Any way fast forward—

So when Ace and Sabo are ten , Garp calls asking for him to meet him at makino’s bar in few days. Dadan is with them because garp never calls ahead when visits nor does he ask them to meet anywhere outside the moutain.( she’s not the best foster mother in the world but she knows somethings up).

While waiting the boys are nervous, did someone find out about ace? Or was it Sabo’s father? They don’t know because Garp isn’t answering when they call, so they can only wait and grow more nervous.

So everyone is surprised when Garp arrives with an infant. Who introduced as his biological grandson luffy, Ace and Sabo’s new little brother.

Makino instantly takes the baby, no offense to Dadan ( the two women have become good friends over the years) but bandits aren’t ment for raising children. Dandan immediately refused to take the kid after Garp said he was his grandson, she’s already dealt with enough sleepless nights and dirty diapers so no thank you!

Ace notices the way Makino looks at the baby , love and care , thinking that the person who was kind to him won’t care about him anymore storms off. To many emotions to deal with so he needs so punch / kill something.

Sabo fallowing after him- mainly to make sure Ace doesn’t do anything extra stupid when he’s pissed but he’s also torn about the baby. When his brother / yes I know he’s adopted in canon but this isn’t canon it’s an au so he’s biological brother/ sterry was born everyone focused more on him especially when Sabo started going against being a noble. Back then it was fine since if his parents were more focused on Sterry he was able to get away . But know with people he actually cares about it’s different.

Makino wants to go after them but dadan tells her to let them go , but she does go to check on them.

( it’s while they’re gone that Garp asks Makino to stay and explains a bit more about Luffys mother)

The next few days / weeks the boys avoids Makino and the baby. Even when the woman makes the trip up the mountain , bringing luffy with her, they storms off. This of course upsets Makino and dadan has had enough of the boys making the young women upset.

It’s probably the few times( if not the first time) Dadan actually gets serious with Ace even going as far as to ground both boys Sabo tries to argue but the woman isn’t having it. Makino has enough to handle with luffy , she doesn’t need to deal with the two brats throwing a tantrum. So in a rare display of parental authority she tells them to go foosha apologize and that they’re not allowed to hunt go off to the woods , or grey terminal for 2 weeks. And does she get a rowdy angry strong brats to listen ? Easy she says she’ll Garp as a threat- ace knows she’s not bluffing last time she did that he was 7 causing all kinds of trouble until the Marine put him through training hell. The man takes any excuse to put them through marine training—. The other bandits keep a close eye on them so they can’t sneak off either.

So with guilty conscience they decided to head to foosha village for the majority of their punishment.

Makino is happy to see them, even if they only came because they were grounded.( she’s proud of Dadan , who called to inform her she might be seeing the brats in a day or two).

They apologize, sabo having the idea to bring flowers they picked along then way, ( this is also before ace starts learning manners so his his apology isn’t exactly proper but Makino understands him enough to know he’s genuinely sorry). She accepts the apology and makes them breakfast.

However before she can start someone comes in saying there’s a situation at the dock’s about her usual supply delivery.

Makino expected this , Garp had arranged something for her as compensation for taking luffy, so she would get better supplies, however that meant some one new would be there and the people on the docks were wary of new comers. If she didn’t sort it out soon a fight was going to start.

However she can’t leave luffy alone , she just put him down in the basket on the bar( the baby hated being alone and cried when ever she tried to leave him in another room.)

The only other people in the bar were ace and Sabo.

Noticing her dilemma Sabo offers that they can watch luffy for her. Ace is obviously not okay with that asking why he would offer that, Sabo says that they use it to help apologize.

Ace gets that but they don’t know anything about caring for a baby.

Sabo responds that he read a few books on taking care of babies, and rereading them after luffy arrived out of curiosity. So he can watch luffy even if ace is useless. Which ace takes offense to and the boys start arguing

While they’re arguing Makino thinks it over . She knows leaving two ten year olds in charge of an infant wasn’t the most responsible but she didn’t have much other options. She’s already had several complaints about Luffys crying( she felt awful knowing he was in distress) and she can’t bring him to the docks ; that would risk someone outside the village finding out about his heritage. The boy would try to get in the water — he’d given her a few heart attacks when he did it the first few times; the situation could get out of hand and she didn’t want him getting hurt.( or anyone else in his mother’s protective wrath)

So She accepts the offer She explains that it shouldn’t be long , 30 minutes at most.

All they have to do is watch him , she just changed his diaper and if he wakes up and starts to cry she’s has a bottle prepped and instructions in the kitchen if he’s hungry.

So she leaves leaving them and luffy,

For several minutes it’s quite , and the boys think it’ll be fine and that Makino was worried for nothing.

But them luffy wakes up a few minutes later and starts crying they start panicking. Ace covering his ears yelling at Sabo to do something, the blonde tries to rock the baby back to sleep but that does work. Then he remembers the bottle and the instructions Makino left. So he tells ace to watch him while he makes a bottle or two , leaving ace to watch him.

Ace is of course not happy about being left with the crying baby but Sabo is already gone so he’s stuck babysitting.

Eventually he can’t take the noise anymore so Ace goes over to the basket and glares at the baby telling it to shut up. The baby stops for a moment opening his eyes to look at the new person talking to him.

Ace is surprised by how bright and warm the infants eyes are. Looking at him He fully expects the baby to start crying again.( after all he’s monster)

But instead the baby smiling, a bright and happy one ,giggling. The boys laughter is a wonderous warm sound that makes ace heart swell.

Ace is taken aback by that. Why was the baby so happy to see him? He’d never seen anyone, other than Sabo, to genuinely happy to see him . (Even Makino was kind but she was a bit hesitant to approach him when Ace yelled at her go away; he’s glad she didn’t).

He realized he never actually got a good look at the baby before. He looked so small and fragile , vulnerable. Ace could easily crush him, he’d crushed many animals and adults. Yet the baby , luffy , wasn’t afraid of him. Instead he was eagerly reaching for him.

Ace reached out his hand to touch him , tiny soft hands wrapping around his finger in surprisingly strong grip.

Sabo came rushing back with the bottle surprised to see his best friend staring at the baby with fascination. ( a warm look he’d never thought he’d see on his friends face)

He doesn’t even pull away when luffy starts putting his finger in his mouth. Though he takes that as sighn that he’s definitely hungry.

Seeing Ace’s new interest in the baby Sabo tells ace to pick him up so he can feed him. Ace panics because he doesn’t know how to and why does he have to?

He likes you so you get to feed him!

Knowing he can’t win an argument with Sabo he carfully picks luffy up , realizing that he’s even smaller and breakable in his hands.

Sabo instructs ace on how to hold and feed luffy - the blonde while ace is internally nervous because while his strength allows him to securely hold luffy he could also easily crush him. Sabo actually finds it a little funny watching ace , who brave and confident, panic internally as he holds the baby like it’s a bomb.

But seeing luffy comfortable in his arms Ace relaxes and takes the bottle from Sabo.

Luffy ends up going through 3 bottles ( the note said more than one : Luffys still a D and a Monkey ) before he’s full.

Once he’s done with the bottle he starts whining. Ace panics thinking he did something wrong, Sabo takes him from ace , after taking his cravat off and using it as a rag putting it over his shoulder- mimicking what he’s seen Makino and nanny’s do after a feeding a baby, pats him on the back . The baby burps , surprisingly load and earns a chuckle from boys , Sabo moves to hand him back over to ace.

Except the baby doesn’t want to leave the blonde hold gripping tightly to his shirt. Readjusting to get a better hold on the baby , luffy pats Sabo’s face with tiny hands giggling. Just like with Ace ; Sabo is surprised by how bright luffy is , all from being in Sabo’s arms.

I guess he likes you too. Ace teased,

By the time Makino gets back the boys are completely smitten by the baby. They don’t even leave at night because luffy started to cry when they started to head back.

They spend the next few day’s learning how to take care of luffy , diapers duty is not fun but they still do it, they don’t even go back to the moutain for a few days.

However they’ve noticed something odd , Makino takes luffy out before bedtime and comes back with a sound alseep luffy and her skirt wet. She tells them that walking on the beach helps put the baby to sleep.

Still something is right about that explaination so the boys fallow her one evening.

Makino goes to a more isolated part of the shore, far away from any villagers. She takes her shoes off and walks into the water until it’s at her calves.

To their shock she puts luffy , the vunrable tiny infant, in waves.

They rush over yelling , but it’s to late a wave had pulled luffy under.

Some how Makino is able to calm them down and points just a bit farther in.

Luffy is fine, floating safely , giggling as the waves gently rock him back and forth.

When they ask, Makino tells them Luffys mother would never hurt him.

Before they can ask what she’s talking about A wave of water comes over , unnatural I’m its movements , holding luffy out to Makino son’s asleep and yet completely dry. Makino takes him the water retreating back, but not before gently caressing boys check. The young women doesn’t give the boys any room to ask anything else’s before ushering them back to the bar, it’s already late and it’s bed time.

Once they’re back and luffy is tucked in for the night she answers what she can of they’re questions.

She explains to them that Luffys mother is ocean, that’s why she brings him here so she can rock luffy to sleep. She also explains how it could be dangerous if anyone found about it.

The boys promise to keep it a secret. After all luffy was they’re little brother after all.

And wow thats a lot, if any of this sounds familiar it’s inspired from multiple fics about baby luffy and mother ocean fanfics

That’s it for now though I’ll post later

[noralevin]

NORA LEVIN

full name: nora alexandra levin

pronouns & gender: she/her, cis woman

birthday & birthplace: may 3, 1995 (29); aurora bay, ca

location: ocean crest apartments

time in aurora bay: born & raised, left june 2013, returned november 2022

sexuality: bisexual

occupation: bartender/actress/who knows

@aurorabayaesthetic

about.

nora is the only child of josephine levin (nee burke) and henry levin, the youngest grandson of aurora bay founder charles levin. nora's been in a lot of therapy when it comes to her relationship with her dad, and at the end of the day she's pretty much just a classic case of mild generational trauma playing itself out. henry always felt insufficient next to his big brother james, so his grip on his only daughter tightened as she grew up.

she never put up with it, though. something inside of nora just prohibited her from being the well-behaved golden girl her father had always wanted. as a young kid, it made her a little loud, definitely sort of bratty, but as she got older and her father tried to tighten the leash, it came in handy. she's always been able to see through her father's facade and finds it a little pathetic in her adulthood; his grievance is so clearly not with her, but with the people who'd made him feel inferior next to his brother growing up.

teen nora was a bit of a wild child. she knew she came from old money and knew she didn't love what it did to her family — giving her father this unearned sense of superiority — but she'd also grown up with it and didn't know how to live her life without it. so spent recklessly as a 'fuck you' to her dad. he gave her a credit card, she maxed it out by bankrolling every kegger using a fake id she also bought with the credit card. she bought herself a car when she turned 16, treated herself to hotel rooms and room service whenever she got into fights with her parents, and so on.

when she graduated high school, she had no intention of going to college. she did okay in school, but just didn't think that her next four years would be best spent behind more and more desks. she got into a knock-down, drag-out fight with her dad over it on the night common applications were due, after he discovered she hadn't filled out any of them. what she wanted to do was be an actress in new york. she's always been captivated by great performances in movies and on the stage, and some of it was about the idea and allure of fame.

she dug her heels in, told her father it would be physically impossible to get her onto a college campus. instead, she proposed a compromise: get her to new york, see how she was doing in a year, and if it wasn't good enough, she'd come back and go to college. it was sort of an objectively stupid thing to do, but she was eighteen and stubborn and didn't know any better. eventually, henry actually agreed. he co-signed for a tiny studio in chinatown the summer after her high school graduation, and paid her rent for the first year, but otherwise cut her off.

nora ended up staying for almost nine years. having to survive alone in the city as an eighteen year old activated a part of her brain she didn't even know was there. she worked waitressing jobs between auditions and lied about how old she was everywhere she went. she was only able to stay as long as she did without having to honor her father's wishes for her to come home because she was pretty good at booking commercials which also kept her afloat.

but toward the end, in mid to late 2022, the little work she had started to dry up and so did her money. things were looking a little desperate — she was barely holding onto her apartment — so when her father called to check in, she thought about lying but chickened out. she loved new york, she loved her life, but it wasn't tenable anymore. so she moved back home with her tail between her legs.

she's been back since november 2022, bartending at the four leaf and just trying to recover her pride. she's living at home again, and her dad's unsurprisingly been a real asshole about things. he's trying to get her to enroll in courses at AB college, but she's not having it at all. after she crashed out in such spectacular fashion, she's just trying not to feel like a failure everyday and figure out what's calling to her next.

family.

mother: josephine levin (nee burke)

father: henry levin

cousins: liza levin, sterling levin, lucy driscoll

tidbits.

still has yet to actually grow up and throws parties at her family's big aurora bay drive house when her parents are out of town, like she's sixteen again

grew up very close with her cousins liza and sterling. despite her dad being younger than james, henry had nora first, so she's the oldest of the three and feels a very big sisterly kind of responsibility to them. them and their daughters have really been the only good things about being back in AB

sometimes drives uber in the lexus she bought herself at 16 to keep making her own money. honestly give me people she hits it off with in her uber, bc she's definitely a chatting driver

basically is very fun, irreverent, unfailingly loyal to the people closest to her, but is also completely directionless, stubborn, and defensive (especially when it comes to what the fuck she's going to do with herself outside of bartending and uber driving, bc she really doesn't know)

connections.

cousin of @thelizaxlevin, @sterlingxlevin, @lucydriscoll

cousin-in-law, friends w/ @wesxevans

in a platonic throuple w/ @firefighterrojas, @maverick-liu

lifelong partner-in-crime w/ @aiden-stevens

high school exes w/ @atticus-cortes

tried to steal the same scarf once, now has split custody and also sometimes hooks up with @cricketcampbell

high school fwbs w/ @ulyflynn

former fwbs, coworker, friend of @esmaxdemirci

childhood friends who fell out of touch w/ @priyaxdesai

dumb idiots who kith sometimes w/ @fxckaubreycarson

childhood friends/doers of dumb shit w/ @maura-cortes

catty rich bitches w/ @cavenshh, @victoriaxsanchez

family friends w/ @bradley-banner

roommate of @screamqueen-slater

[earth-ambassador-jim]

Lost Souls: Story 12

Plume Moths

Lost Souls Summary: Merlin awakens early from his sleep. He decides  that he doesn’t want to leaving anything to chance and kidnaps the young  James Lake Jr. to began training his Trollhunter as early as possible.

Barbara  is determined to hunt down the man who kidnapped her son. In her  efforts to get her son back she finds a strange old radio that speaks to  her in a woman’s voice. The radio leads her to an underground society  of shapeshifters.

Mother and son meet again years later as strangers on opposing sides.

AO3 - Fanfiction

~~~~

~~~~

Darci wasn’t supposed to answer the door, but her Mom was on the phone and she was right by it when the bell rang. She hazarded a glance into the kitchen and saw that her mom hadn’t heard.

She contemplated the situation for a moment and decided it would be fine. Her mom could see her from where she was and Darci was eight now.

She checked to make sure the porch light was on and then pulled the door open, letting in a breath of cold night air.

She stared in bafflement at their visitor. Standing outside, alone, in the rain, was a boy about her age. He was in a dirty, too large t-shirt. His straight black hair -cut rather unevenly as if whoever had cut it didn’t really know what they were doing- was wet and plastered against his head and neck. His skin was pale, not just because he was white, but as if he had never seen the sun.

He stared at her with wide blue eyes.

“Who are you?” He asked.

“…I’m Darci,” She said uncertainly.

“But I mean… why are you here?” He shifted from one foot to another and took a quick glance back before fixing his eyes on her again.

“…This is my house?” She really didn’t know what he wanted.

“But… but… this is my…” He trailed off, looking around once more uncertainly. “Do you know where my Mom is?”

“Your mom?”

“Barbara Lake. She lives… lived here?”

“She must have moved,” Darci offered. “It’s just me and Mom and Dad here.”

“Oh,” The boy said quietly.

His lip quivered and water welled up in the corners of his eyes.

Darci frowned. She didn’t like people crying. She was never quite sure what she was supposed to do.

“Maybe, Mom could…”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Both Darci and the boy jumped in surprise at the new voice. A tall grey haired man had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, behind him. He was wearing an absolutely obnoxious Hawaiian print shirt with plaid shorts and sandals but something about him, something in his sharp, hawk like gaze made Darci wary.

“Merlin…” The boy started to say, but then quieted when the man shot him a look.

“Who are you talking to?” Darci jumped again at her mom’s voice behind her.

She glanced back and saw that her Mom was frowning at the strange pair in front of her.

“I thought I told you not to answer the door without me.”

“Sorry, mom,” She said automatically.

She wasn’t really paying attention to her Mom but rather watching the boy. The man… Merlin?... His hands rested on the boy’s shoulders and he seemed to tense under them. He looked as if he had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be.

“Sorry, ma’am,” The man was saying. “My grandson was looking for his Mom who used to live here. -He came to live with me during the divorce, you see- I did try and tell him that she had moved but well…”

Darci’s Mom frowned.

“Sorry to hear that. Was she Mrs. Lake? I think we still have her contact info…”

“Quite alright,” Merlin interrupted. “No need to trouble yourself. Boy, tell this lady you’re sorry for disturbing her.”

The last comment was accompanied by a squeeze of his hands. The boy kept staring at the ground and muttered ‘sorry’.

Something was wrong here.

“What’s your name?” Darci asked the boy.

His head jerked up and he stared at her in surprise.

“Oh, it’s…”

“Come along,” Merlin said sharply, cutting him off. “We need to hurry if we’re to make it to our hotel in time to check in.”

He turned away taking the boy with him.

“I don’t like that,” Darci heard her Mom murmur.

As Darci watched the two figures move out of sight, something small and white detached from the taller of the two. The things came closer and she saw that they were two little white moths.

One of them landed on her Mom and the other tried to land on her. She dodged it. It followed her. She darted away from it toward the kitchen. Behind her she heard the door close.

In the kitchen Darci turned around and saw the moth still following her. Beside her was a water glass. She grabbed it and brought it down over the small insect.

“What are you doing?”

Darci glanced up at her Mom.

“I caught a moth.”

“Oh, why don’t you take it outside?” Her mom turned toward the stove and her casserole.

“You’ve got one on you,”Darci told her, pointing at her Mom’s shoulder.

She blinked and glanced down at it before swatting at it with her hand. It fluttered away to the window and squeezed out through a little crack between the screen and the sill.

“Annoying creatures,” She said. “I should make sure none have gotten into the closet.”

Darci turned back to her captive moth and studied it. It was a strange looking little thing. It was a pure, chalky, white with wings shaped like downy feathers and a long thin body. She got a piece of paper and slid it under the glass so she could pick it up without it escaping. She started toward the window.

“Do you think that boy was the one who used to live here right before us?” Darci asked her Mom.

Her Mom looked at her with a puzzled frown.

“What boy?”

~~~~

The events of that night haunted her all week. Darci tried to get her Mom to say anything about the strange man and boy who had come by their house, but she didn’t seem to remember a thing. She asked her Dad about Barbara Lake but he had only met her in passing and didn’t remember if she had any children or not. When he asked why she wanted to know she changed the subject. Darci was starting to wonder if she had just imagined the meeting. She kept the strange moth in a cage by her bed. It was her only proof that the whole thing was real.

It wasn’t until Friday when something finally came of the incident.

~~~~

“Do I have to come?” Darci whined.

Her Mom took the bread out of the oven.

“Yes, dear. We won’t be there long and it will be good for you to get to know our neighbors.”

Darci heaved a large sigh. She glanced at her Dad, who was busy fumbling with his tie. When he noticed her stare, she gave him a pleading look. He gave her a rye “we’re all in this together smile” and went back to his tie. Darci turned back toward her Mom.

“But Toby’s so boring! He just ignores me when I come over.”

“That’s because he’s shy.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. That’s what adults always said about loners. She had tried her hardest but Toby’s actions made it very clear he just plain wasn’t interested in being friends.

After dinner finished up and Toby and Darci were told to go off and play while the adults chatted.

Once in Toby’s room they had split off to play games on their phones and ignore one another. After about a half hour Darci ran out of lives so she took a break and looked around the room.

It was a rather dull place in her opinion: Nowhere near as cluttered as her room. It had bare wooden floors, a few scattered posters, an old computer, and a large wooden dollhouse. The only interesting thing in the room was the collection of rocks and crystals that spread across every available ledge. Eventually her gaze was drawn to a picture on the desk. It was of Toby with a black haired, blue eyed boy. A very familiar looking boy.

Darci stared at the picture.

“Who’s that?” She demanded.

Toby blinked at her and then briefly eyed the picture. His gaze quickly returned to his phone.

“That’s Jim,” He said quietly. “He used to be my… neighbor.”

“Is his Mom’s name Barbara Lake?”

Toby turned fully toward her with a frown.

“How did you know that?” He asked.

“I saw him last week,” Darci said excitedly. She was so glad to finally have some confirmation that she hadn’t imagined the entire thing! “He came to our house and said he was looking for his Mom.”

Toby was staring at her.

“What.”

“Yeah, he was with this weird old guy who said he was his Grandpa.”

“Jim didn’t have a grandpa,” Toby said quickly.

“Well he never called him “Grandpa” He called him “Merlin”.”

“Like the wizard?”

Darci nodded.

Toby’s nose wrinkled and his eyes narrowed.

“Quit lying,” He said and turned sharply away from her.

Darci stared at him in opened mouth shock at the sudden accusation.

“I’m not lying.”

She had always prided herself on being quite honest in fact.

“Yes you are,” Toby said. “Jim’s been missing for two years now. He’s probably dead. I heard the police talking about it.”

That was news to Darci.

“He’s missing?”

“Yeah, that is what I said,” was Toby’s clipped reply.

Darci frowned. She remembered the way Merlin had been holding onto Jim’s shoulders. It was like he thought the boy would try to escape.

“Do they know he’s dead for sure?”

“No…”

That must have been why Jim was at the house. He must have gotten away from his kidnapper and tried to return to his Mom…

Only to find out that she had moved.

“So what if that really was him,” Darci insisted. “Why would he say his Mom was Barbara Lake otherwise?”

Toby said determinedly looked away from her. “Maybe because this is a stupid prank that someone put you up to?”

Darci folded her arms in irritation.

“Why do you think I’m lying?”

“Oh I don’t know.” Toby finally looked at her. His fists were clenched and his brows were low. “Because I’m not dumb. I mean “Merlin”? Really? You should try to make up a better story than that.”

“I am not making it up.”

“Are too!” Toby snapped getting to his feet.

“Am not!” Darci took a step forward, her own fists clenching.

“Are TOO!”

“Am NOT!”

There was a pause. They were practically nose to nose now. Apparently it struck them both at the same time just how ridiculous they were being and they took a step apart.

“So what would it take to convince you?” Darci asked.

Toby huffed.

“I don’t know… actual proof?”

Darci hesitated and then decided to go for it.

“As they were leaving something strange happened,” Darci said hesitantly.

She described to him what had happened with the moths and her Mom.

Toby was now looking at her like she was crazy. Darci could feel her face burning.

“I still have the moth,” She said.

Toby made a little scoffing sound.

“What’s a moth prove?” He asked. “There’s moths everywhere. And seriously make up a better story.”

Darci ignored the jab. She was tired of the whole thing. “Take it or leave it.”

“Fine, I’ll come see your moth and if I’m not convinced will you leave me alone?”

“I will,” Darci said easily.

It wasn’t like she would want to hang out with him anyway if he kept insisting that she was lying. She got why, but it still stung.

~~~~

It was a nice sunny Saturday when Toby came over. It had now been about two weeks since the incident.

“Let’s see your bug,” Toby said in a surly tone.

Darci shot him an annoyed look. She was seriously rethinking her choice in telling him but… he was her best bet for finding someone to believe her. She didn’t know many people yet and wasn’t ready to risk any of her new friendships at school.

“Come on.” She motioned for him to follow her up the stairs and turned right to go into her bedroom. Once inside she turned back to see Toby hovering in the hallway, brows furrowed and posture tense.

“Well?”

Toby blinked and then came into the room with on quick jerky step.

“Let’s get this over with,” He said eyes fixed firmly on the ground.

Darci picked up the small plastic cage; noting with an uncomfortable jolt that the moth stayed as close to her hands as possible.

“Here.” She handed the cage to Toby and wiped her hands on her pants.

“It’s certainly a weird looking thing,” Toby said after a moment.

“I looked online and found out that it’s a White Plume Moth,” Darci said. “They’re from Europe and North Africa.”

Toby hummed.

“Doesn’t prove anything,” He said, turning the cage around in his hands.

“Look at how it follows me,” Darci said.

She moved closer to the cage and the moth began fluttering against the plastic closest to her. She circled and the moth trailed after.

“Okay. That is a little weird,” Toby admitted after trying to get the moth to follow his own hand with no success.

“Right? Based on what happened with the other moth and Mom, I think if it touches me I will forget about meeting Jim.”

Toby’s nose wrinkled and he shot her a skeptical look.

“It’s weird but it doesn’t prove anything. Here.” He held it out toward Darci.

Unfortunately when he took a step forward his foot landed on Darci’s gunrobot toy and he slipped. The cage flew out of his hands and hit the ground causing the top to pop off. Now free of the cage, the moth started flying toward Darci.

“Nope. No. “-Darci jumped out of the way.- “Absolutely not.” -She took a swing at it with a book and missed. It was unusually agile for a moth.- “Not today.”

She was feeling a lot more certain of her theory now.

“Quit standing there and get it!” Darci yelled at Toby who was standing there watching dumbly as the moth chased Darci all over her room like she was a giant lightbulb instead of a girl.

“Uh…”

Toby grabbed a shoe and brought it down on the little white insect as it fluttered past.

There was a flash of light and a puff of green smoke.

Darci and Toby stared with wide eyes at the shoe and then at each other. Slowly Toby lifted the shoe away. The moth was flattened; its insides splattered on Darci’s desk. In the middle of the mess was a very small green gem, about the size of a grain of rice. It was glowing faintly.

As they watched its light flickered and died.

Toby grabbed a pencil and poked at it.

“I think it’s an emerald,” He said. “But emeralds don’t glow. Where did it come from?”

“Maybe it was in the moth?”

Darci was shaking. It was one thing to suspect that there was something weird going on but this… this was freaky. And not in a good way. The thought that there really existed something that could remove memories –that she would have never known if it had been used on her- was very, very unsettling.

“Do you believe me now?” She asked.

Toby nodded wordlessly.

After a moment his gaze shifted up from the remains of the moth to her. They were wide and shiny.

“S-so you were telling the truth? You really saw Jim?  He came here?”

Darci blinked, a brief rush of warmth coursed through her before cooling into a cold shiver at the memory.

“Yeah,” She said looking away. “I think so.”

“Was… Did he look okay?”

Darci grimaced and focused her eyes on the moth. She really didn’t want to answer that question.

“Darci?”

She jumped when she felt a hand touch her arm.

“Sorry,” Toby said quickly.

He clasped his hands together so hard that the knuckles where turning white.

“Please?”

Darci sighed.

“He looked scared,” She said finally. “He wasn’t hurt but he was all raggedy like a homeless person. He only had time to ask about his Mom before Merlin showed up.”

“Oh.”

Toby was shaking. He let out a loud sniff and then sat down heavily on the floor. He hiccupped and then, to Darci’s horror, he burst into tears.

Darci glanced at the door and then at Toby. Her hands stayed uncertainly at her side and then, after another long moment of hesitation, she knelt down by him and patted his back.

“Are… are you okay?”

“He’s alive,” Toby managed to whisper out between sobs. “I thought…”

He twisted around and latched onto Darci in a hug.

“Thank you.” He said. “I’m sorry for calling you a liar.”

“I forgive you.”

Eventually Toby’s tears petered off and he pulled away from her. They sat for a moment in awkward silence.

“So what now?” Darci asked.

“I don’t know,” Toby said. “Your Dad’s a detective right? Maybe he can help.”

“I’m not sure,” She said.

She thought of the moth taking her Mom’s memories. What if she got her Dad involved and this Merlin guy got mad. What if he made him forget more than just Jim? Besides…

“I doubt he will believe me. My only proof is rather flat now.”

She gave a meaningful glance at the table.

Toby flushed.

“Sorry about that.”

Darci waved her hand dismissively.

“Don’t be. I’ll sleep better without that creepy bug watching me.”

They sat a moment. Toby pulled out a couple Nugget Nummies and offered her one. She accepted and they ate them in thoughtful silence.

“So going to the grown-ups is out of the question,” Toby finally said. “I guess it’s just us then?” He paused eyes widening. “I… I mean me. You don’t have to help. It’s enough that you found out he’s still alive. I wouldn’t dream of…”

“I’m helping,” Darci said firmly.

“But you don’t even know Jim.”

“Yeah, but it’s the right thing to do,” Darci said. She couldn’t drive those sad, lonely blue eyes out of her mind. “Anyway this is definitely the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“That’s for sure,” Toby muttered. “And here I had just stopped believing in fairies and stuff. So where do you think we should start?”

Darci shrugged. Despite her Dad being a cop she had never been that into mysteries. She glanced at the flattened moth.

“I guess we could start doing research on Merlin?”

Toby frowned following her gaze.

“Do you think he really was the Merlin?”

“No idea,” Darci said. “But it’s as good a place to start as any.”

“I suppose. Do you want to meet at my house tomorrow?” Toby said. His gaze was alternating between her and the ground.

“I’ll have to ask my Mom and Dad but I think that sounds good.”

“O-Okay…”

Toby started edging toward the door.

“I’ll see you then?”

“Yep.”

Toby darted quickly out of the room and a minute later Darci heard the front door open and close.

She looked out the window and saw Toby trotting across the street. Once he was out of sight, she walked across the room and collapsed onto her bed.

What was she getting herself into?

 ~~~~

~~~~

Author Notes:

Alternate scene: Darci *opens the door* Jim *standing in the rain looking like the ghost of a murdered Victorian child* -"HavE yOu SeEn mY MötHEr?" Darci: ... Darci: Nope *Slams the door closed* ~~~~ Anyway this was supposed to be a short chapter but then Darci and Toby started arguing.

Plume Moths being able to take away memories was borrowed from the "Dark is Rising" sequence, though it was used very differently there. I'm going to say Merlin added his own twist. (Also go check out The Dark is Rising. It's a good series.)

Please let me know what you think! (Reviews, critiques, and comments give me as a writer power and motivation!)

Tune in next time for the appearance of our favorite punk wizard.

[lillywillow]

It Takes A Village

Summary: When Bucky moves to a new place, he falls in love with the community there

 Written for: @buckybarnesbingo

 Words: 1961

 Square Filled: K2- Found Family

 Pairing: Bucky Barnes x SingleMother!Reader  

 Warnings: Fluff, mild swearing

 Bucky decided it was time to move out on his own. It was scary and he wasn’t sure if he was really ready to do it but it was something that he needed to do. For the first week, Bucky kept to himself. There was still a part of him that was afraid he’d lose his battle with the Winter Soldier and hurt people. That all started to change when he met you.

…

 The first time he saw you, he was heading out the door as you were coming home. You had a young boy holding your hand, excitedly telling you about his day while a girl a little bit older followed behind. You smiled at him as you crossed paths.

 After that, he bumped into you a few times since then, usually making small talk. One afternoon, Bucky was getting his mail as you were coming downstairs in a hurry. In your haste, you missed a step, sending you tumbling down.

 “My ankle!” you cried out.

 Bucky rushed over to help you, gently assessing the damage. You hissed in pain as he held your ankle. Already it was starting to swell and a purple bruise started to blossom.

 “You need a doctor to look at this…”

 “No! I’m too busy to get hurt! I’ve got to take Ida her lunch, and make the sandwiches for the men’s workshop and take my kids to their classes and bake for the-the…”

 “I can help you. Let me take you to the doctor and we’ll go from there…”

 There was something in his eyes that made you trust him.

 “Alright…”

…

 After a visit to the doctor, Bucky took you home to rest. Fortunately, your ankle wasn’t broken but it was badly sprained. Bucky helped you get comfortable with your foot elevated before going to take care of the first job on your list. He knocked on the door of the apartment a floor below yours. A small elderly woman answered the door.

 “Who is it? What do you want?” she asked in a Germanic accent.

 “Hello, Mrs Rosenburg. My name is Bucky and I’m helping Y/N take care of a few things since she hurt herself. I have your lunch for you…”

 “Ah! I know Y/N. Nice girl. She often brings my lunch,” the woman smiled, ushering Bucky inside.

 You had warned Bucky in advance that Ida liked to have a chat over lunch and she liked to chat a lot. You thought that she may be lonely.

 “You seem like a nice young man. I have a grandson just about your age,” she mused as she arranged what she needed for lunch.

 ‘I highly doubt that,’ Bucky thought.

 “Can I help you with anything Mrs Rosenburg?” Bucky offered.

 “Please, call me Ida. Mrs Rosenburg makes me feel so old,” she chuckled.

 Bucky walked over and helped Ida get comfortable at the table and made her a cup of tea. Ida insisted that he make one for himself too.

 “You remind me a lot of my husband… He was so handsome, charming and brave,” she smiled, pointing over to the cupboard full of photographs.

 Bucky walked over and picked up a sepia photo of a young man in a German uniform.

 “No easy times in those days. He had to hide his faith from those Nazi bastards. Saved a lot of lives…”

 Ida went on to tell Bucky the story of her husband. He was a German-Jewish who was drafted into the army when World War II broke out. Karl used his position as a soldier to help smuggle innocent people out of the country. In turn, Ida would help forge documents to help them on their travels. After the war, Karl and Ida immigrated to America. Their story was kept a secret until recently. Sadly, Karl passed away a year ago. Ida had been mostly on her own ever since. She told Bucky her children and grandchildren had offered to stay with her but she assured them she would be alright.

 “Goodness, look at the time. I must have talked your ear off by now. You’re welcome to come back any time,” she smiled, taking Bucky’s hand and patting it.

 He smiled and took his leave, making sure Ida was okay before heading out.

…

 Bucky checked to see you were still resting comfortably before he took the sandwiches you had made to the men’s workshop. As he looked around the place, Bucky felt a welcoming atmosphere. A large, burly man with long grey hair tied back in a braid with a beard to match.

 “Can I help you, lad? Are you looking to join?” he asked.

 “I’m here with the sandwiches Y/N made. She hurt her ankle and I’m helping her out while she gets better,”    Bucky explained.

 “We know Y/N! She’s a fine lass. Grub’s up fellas!” the man bellowed to the others working.

 The men all stopped what they were doing, switched off any machines they were using and headed over to where Bucky was standing with the food. They all swarmed, grabbing a sandwich and taking it to sit down and eat.

 “What’s your name?” the burly man asked.

 “Bucky…”

 “Nice to meet you, Bucky. I’m Aaron. I’m the one who keeps an eye on this sorry lot,” he grinned, making the others laugh.

 “Hey, is that arm made of vibranium?” a slim built young man asked from his left.

 “Yes…” Bucky started to feel a little self- conscious.

 “That’s so cool! I’d love to get a hold of some of that to make some upgrades,” he grinned, pulling up his pants leg to show off a prosthetic leg.

 “I’m Soos, by the way. If ever you need any work done, I’d be happy to help you out some time,” he smiled.

 “Thanks, Soos,” Bucky smiled back. “I should be getting back to Y/N.”

 “Alright. If you want to come back and join us, you’re welcome to come back and do so,” Aaron beamed, giving Bucky a friendly pat on the back.

 Bucky thanked him and headed home.

…

 Bucky helped you do some baking while he waited with you for the kids to come home from school. Under your guidance, he actually produced some pretty good-looking cupcakes and cookies. While you worked, you told him all about your deadbeat ex who ran out on you and the kids. You had been working from home so you could still see your children while making sure you could afford a good life for them. You were also very active in the community. When your kids arrived home from school, they got changed so they could go to their classes. Your daughter put on her karate uniform and your son in ballet tights. Bucky was a little surprised but said nothing. If that’s the way the kids wanted it, then who was he to judge? You made a quick call to their teaches to let them know in advance of the change in drop off and pickup and informed Bucky of their password system which was an extra form of precaution.

 “Now, listen to Mister Bucky and don’t wander away from him, okay?”

 “Okay, mama,” the kids agreed.

 You kissed their heads and let them go on their way.

…

 The whole way to the community centre, your son Dylan asked Bucky many questions while your daughter Sasha quietly followed next to him. Bucky tried to answer all the questions while also including Sasha.

 The classes would be held within an hour of each other so Bucky had plenty of time to wait. He got to know some of the parents while he was waiting, using the password system if they asked and explaining the situation. Bucky was in awe of your children when he watched them in action. Dylan was quite good at ballet and worked well with the little girls in his class. Sasha was the complete opposite in personality to her brother. She was a tough girl who didn’t give her competitors a chance. Bucky was completely amazed.

 After the lessons were over, Bucky started walking the children home when he saw a group of boys picking on a skinny kid.

 “Hey! Leave him alone!”

 All it took was one glance of seeing Bucky heading in their direction to send the bullies scattering. He walked over and helped the boy to his feet.

 “Are you okay?” Bucky asked, making sure he could stand on his feet.

 The kid puffed his inhaler and adjusted his glasses.

 “I’m okay. Those jerks were giving some ballerinas a hard time so I stepped in… Are those Y/N’s kids?” he asked.

 Bucky smiled a little. This kid reminded him a lot of Steve.

 “They are. She hurt herself this morning and I’m helping out until her ankle gets better. I’m her neighbour, Bucky.”

 “That’s Kim. He lives in our building too,” Dylan supplied.

 “Can I walk you home, Kim? It’s starting to get dark…”

 Kim thought for a few moments before nodding. Bucky walked the young man home, meeting his mothers Jade and her wife Marsha. They invited Bucky for dinner to say thank you for what he had done for their son but he politely declined, explaining he had to get back to you. They smiled, admiring his kindness, saying he could join them at any time. Bucky thanked them and walked the kids back to your place.

…

 That was just the start of Bucky’s week. Everyday he stopped by your place, helped make breakfast and get the kids to school. Bucky got any chores done you needed doing and took Ida her lunch. He took care of your every need. You also encouraged him to go out a little, assuring him you would be fine on your own for a little while. Bucky took the time to get to know the people he met a little better, joining the men’s workshop, meeting up with Jade and Marsha and having tea with Ida. In the weeks it took for you to recover, this community had become his family and he would do anything for them. Bucky’s neighbours weren’t the only ones he had fallen for; he had also fallen in love with you. He admired the way you were raising two kids on your own and the way you cared for the people around you.

 One afternoon, Bucky stopped by and knocked on your door.

 “Hi, Bucky. What brings you here?” you smiled.

 “I… these are for you,” he said, handing you a bouquet of beautiful flowers.

 “Oh, thank you!” you beamed, taking the flowers and breathing in their sweet fragrance.

 “I got them from Marsha’s flower stall. She made the arrangement herself…”

 Bucky was starting to become a little flustered.

 “That was very nice of her…”

 “She’s great. I was actually wondering if… I could ask you out on a date…”

 “A date?”

 Bucky’s face started to turn pink.

 “Yeah… I like you a lot, Y/N. You’re an amazing woman with amazing kids and I’d really like to go on a date with you…”

 Smiling, you hugged him tight and teared up a little.

 “You helped me when you didn’t have to. You helped to take care of my kids too. I would love to go on a date, Bucky.”

 Bucky smiled and worked out a time that would work best. He couldn’t wait. It was thanks to you that he was finally able to face the world again and found a place that he could once again call home.

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

Five Times Someone Mistook Roman And Remus (And One Time They Finally Met)

2. Abuela

[1] • [3] [4] [5] [+1]

Word Count: 957

Rating: Gen

Pairing: future Roceit

Warnings: minor swearing

~~~START~~~

Roman really didn’t know what to do in this situation.  

The last couple months had been hard. First Austin just plain ghosted him for no reason; then a pipe burst in the apartment above his, ruining some of his stuff and forcing him to crash on Janus’s couch until he could find a new place to live; and the cherry on top of it all was that some asshole had rear ended him at a stop sign, smashing his trunk so much that it couldn’t open anymore.  

So yeah, when an old lady came up to him at the mall, insisting that he was her grandson that she was there to meet and that he was an hour late, he just kinda let it happen.  

“I was so sure you were going to forget again, Remus,” she said while hugging the living daylights out of Roman (this lady had to be like ninety, how the hell was she so strong?). “You’ve forgotten so many times that I might just think you were avoiding your dear old abuela.” 

Roman had no idea who Remus was, but he felt sorry for the old woman; her grandson seemed to be ghosting her the same way Austin ghosted him — that, or she wasn’t quite in her right mind.  

Either way, Roman certainly didn’t want to be the one to let her down. His own grandma passed away ten years ago, and he still missed her terribly.  

“Of course I wouldn’t forget about you, abuela,” he smiled. “I just got stuck in traffic is all.” 

Abuela laughed, though Roman couldn’t possibly fathom why.  

“You can’t fool me, Remus!” She chuckled. “If you got caught up with a cute boy you can tell me.” 

Roman blushed, which was apparently all abuela needed.  

“You can tell me all about him over lunch. My treat!” She left no room for argument as she looped her arm through Roman’s and dragged him — slowly — in the direction of one of the sit-down restaurants in the mall.  

All throughout lunch, abuela grilled him about “his boy”. For the most part, Roman was making it up as he went — it wasn’t until he’d launched into a long, detailed rant about how his heterochromatic eyes sparkled with mischief that he realized who he’d been talking about the whole time.  

“He sounds very nice,” abuela said as she attempted to flag down a waiter to ask for their check, having missed when Roman handed the man his card just a minute prior.  

He felt kinda guilty for basically tricking an old lady into thinking he was her grandson (by accident), the least he could do was pay for their meal.  

“You’re a naughty boy, Remus,” abuela lightheartedly scolded as the waiter returned Roman’s card to him. “I hope you’re treating this boy of yours just as well as you treat this old hag.” 

“Abuela, if you are a hag then there is truly no beauty in this world!” Roman declared, ignoring the implication that Janus was his boyfriend.  

(Did he have a crush on Janus? Sure, Janus was objectively gorgeous, and Roman thought about kissing him way more than he did someone like Logan, who was also his friend, but that didn’t mean that Roman had a crush on him... Did it?) 

“Such a charmer,” abuela laughed. “So much like your abuelo.” 

After lunch they went to the salon to get medi-pedis because “if I’ve got one foot in the grave, then it’s going to be the sexiest damn foot that Satan ever saw!” Once again, Roman paid before abuela noticed.  

“Let me pay for something, Remus,” abuela insisted as they left the nail salon. “I am your grandmother and I insist you allow me to spoil you a little bit before your auntie comes to pick me up!” 

“You’ve spoiled me my whole life, abuela! It’s my turn,” Roman declared.  

His characterization of this Remus guy was mostly just projecting what he would do if his grandma was still alive, and it was probably pretty off considering Remus apparently forgot about his plans with his abuela often, but he still felt that he must be doing at least a decent job since he hadn’t been called on his bullshit yet.  

Abuela shot him an unimpressed look, and Roman knew he would have to come up with something she could pay for — which was difficult considering he knew nothing about what Remus would or wouldn’t want.  

As he was thinking, they came within smelling distance of a Cinnabon. Abuela must have seen the look on his face because she made a beeline for the counter.  

She bought him a 4 pack of classic rolls so that he could bring one or two to “his boy”. Roman enjoyed one of the rolls while walking abuela to where her daughter was going to pick her up from.  

“Oh, there’s her car now,” Abuela said, pointing at a car that was just pulling up. “Goodbye dear!” 

“Bye, abuela!” 

“Hi Remus!” Remus’s auntie called through the open passenger door. “I like your new style.” 

“Hi, auntie!” Roman replied, hoping this was a normal way for Remus to address his aunt — because he had absolutely no idea what her name was. 

Well, that was a weird day, Roman thought as he looked down at his three remaining cinnamon rolls.  

His wallet would definitely be suffering until his next paycheck, but… abuela had seemed so happy to spend the day with her grandson, what else could Roman have done? 

Whoever this Remus guy was — which was apparently someone who looked enough like Roman that even his aunt thought that Roman was Remus — it was his loss that he didn’t appreciate his abuela enough, she was a gift! 

~~~END~~~

Old ladies are hard to write 😓

Truly no idea how she could spend so long with Roman and not think that something was up with him, but that’s not my problem

General taglist:

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @knight-shives @misunderstood-shadowling

[bokettochild]

Of Gramma’s and Pie

Saw a prompt about Wild and Legend baking pie together, so here we are I guess...

Should this go in the Bunny Merchant’s Fluffy Adventure’s collection? It’s not exactly Ravio centric....

 “So, you claim the vet can bake.”

 It’s morning and the heroes stopped by again last night, wounded and tired and all too happy to sip warm cider and cocoa while Ravio bustled about and worked with Mr. Hero to organize sleeping arrangements for them. The sun rose long ago, but most of Mr. Hero’s family is still asleep, and when he’d last checked he’d found Captain Hero Sir Jr. dozing on Mr. Hero’s bed with young Wild curled into one side and Tune curled into the other, Mr. Rancher spread out over the top of them like some sort of strange blanket.  

 Mr. Chosen Hero dozes on the couch, sailcloth wrapped around him as well as Mr. Hero’s favorite blanket, and the veteran hero lies collapsed on the floor (but suitably surrounded by cushions) at his side, the older hero’s hand hanging down to where Mr. Hero clings to it in his sleep, the edge of the quilt trails over the top of him, and Ravio seriously doubts that his housemate will be waking any time soon.  

 Fortunately, he’s not pressed for company, what with Mr. Traveler Hero happily inspecting the garden outside and humming softly, and Mr. Smithy busily mending the front door that he’s been nagging Mr. Hero about for years now. The tune of their work mixes with that of his own as he mixes up fresh bread dough to bake for breakfast.

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir had stumbled into the kitchen mere minutes ago, pouring himself a cup of coffee from Ravio’s beloved Hytopian-press, and sipping it slowly as he sits at the table and watches Ravio work

 The statement is out of nowhere, but Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s blue eyes sparkle over the rim of his mug, and Ravio can only smile back. “Yes, Mr. Hero is an excellent cook!”

 “Really?” The captain doesn’t sound the least bit convinced, cocking a brow and giving a smile that screams doubt. “The vet, Mister I-Burn-Any-Food-I-Touch?”

 “Mr. Captain Hero Sir!” Ravio exclaims, a hand drawing up to touch his chest in a sign of offence. “You speak so cruelly! Sure, Mr. Hero never mastered campfire cooking, but he’s a talented cook!”

 The captain continued to stare and smile in unbelief.

 ��You should taste his pies.” Ravio sighs, determined to convince his friend. “Light buttery crusts, sweet tender centers, just the right balance of spicey and sweet...” He can already taste the thick gooey richness that is mincemeat, eyes sparkling at the thought of molasses, and stomach growling loudly at the mere hint of apple pie. “I’ll ask him to make you one,” He chirps as he snaps back to attention, shooing Sheerow away from his bread dough and offering his little friend a raisin to keep him busy. “What’s your favorite pie, Mr. Captain Hero Sir?”

 “Oh no,” Mr. Captain Hero Sir shakes his head, laughing lightly. “I don’t like pie.”

 From the bedroom, Captain Hero Sir Jr.’s snores cut off abruptly, Wild kicking lightly in his sleep and Tune’s brows twitching. In the living room, Mr. Chosen Hero starts awake and Mr. Hero stirs slightly, brow furrowing and nose wiggling at some disturbance.

 Three sets of eyes stare at Mr. Captain Hero Sir, one through the window, another from the door, and the third practically in the captain’s face as Ravio darts forwards and slams his hands on the table. Coffee sloshes out of the mug and onto his sleeve, but he’s too busy staring down his old friend to care.

 “You don’t like pie?!?!?!”

 “Um...” Mr. Captain Hero Sir pulls away, wincing at the sudden noise and glancing nervously at the bedroom door. “No?”

 He’s torn, half of him utterly horrified and half wanting to order the captain to go sit in a corner and think about what he’s said, as if his friend is a naughty child, and the other worriedly wondering if Mr. Captain Hero Sir even knows what a proper pie tastes like. “But...how?”

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir shrugs, almost calm, as if his words aren’t critical to their friendship (they aren’t, not really, but Ravio had thought the captain had more sense than this). “It’s just not something I enjoy. If I wanted to eat fruit I’d go buy some, if I want crunchy bread I’ll buy some, why on earth would I mix them?”

 “I sense a disturbance in nature,” Wild and Captain Hero Sir Jr. both stand in the doorway, the younger sleepily rubbing his eyes as the words leave his mouth with a yawn while his elder looms behind him, face shaded in the shadows of the doorway. “What’s happening out here?”

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir sighs in resignation, letting his head fall into his hands as he whispers something unintelligible under his breath, but Ravio doesn’t spare him an ounce of pity as he points an accusing finger the captain’s way. “Mr. Captain Hero Sir says he doesn’t like pie!”

 Four heads shoot up to stare at the man in question, the sleep fading from Wild’s eyes and Captain Hero Sir Jr. sighing in what can only be disappointment with his older brother/father-figure. Over in the living room, Mr. Chosen Hero has shot up to stare in something like shock at the captain, Mr. Hero’s head rising up next to him with a glower that makes them all shiver.

 “Who said what in my house?”

 “I don’t like pie.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir reiterates, and Ravio genuinely has to stumble back, hand on his brow as he looks at the captain.  

 “My own friend! Speaking such words of sacrilege! Such disrespect and sin! Why? I trusted you, Mr. Captain Hero Sir!”

 The man in question sighs again, loudly, shaking his head. “You don’t need to make a big deal out of it, it’s just pie, it’s not even-”

 “Just pie?!?” Two heroes shout en tandem, Mr. Hero practically vaulting himself over the couch and Wild stiffening indignantly.

 “It’s not ‘just pie’!” Mr. Hero protests. “Have you ever eaten pie? Have you never-”

 “Pie is sacred.” Wild nods sagely, eyes sharp and firm as they meet the captains.

 “See?” Mr. Hero motions to the younger hero. “Pie is sacred! You do not disrespect pie!”

 The disagreement turns into a full-blown argument and Ravio can only watch in ever growing shock at how defensive some of the heroes can be about their opinions; Mr. Captain Hero Sir tiredly reiterating his disagreement while the others each travel through the five stages of grief on repeat, Mr. Hero eventually scowling darkly and uttering the words that silence the others.

 “I am gonna to make a pie so lip-smackin' good you’ll be on your knees repentin’ for your sins.”

 And Mr. Captain Hero Sir looks all the more tired at the words, rubbing his head at the beginnings of a country twang in Mr. Hero’s voice as the veteran turns to Wild, eyes flashing indigo as they meet eerie cornflower blue. “Wild, I’ll need your help.”

 “Why?” Ravio whispers, looking between the two.

 “Because,” Mr. Hero runs his hands through his long hair, the locks still messy from sleep and left uncombed for days. “I still haven’t been able to recreate Gran’s recipe for apple pie and Wild’s my best chance at figuring out what I’m doing wrong.”

 The merchant blinks. Once. Twice. Three times. And stares at his friend. “Doesn’t your grandmother live just down the road a way? Only an hour or so? Can’t you just ask her?”

 And as eyes turn to Mr. Hero, the other boy waves him off, ears tainted pink as he turns to the kitchen cabinets and starts searching. “Nope, not tryin’ that. It’s been five years or so an’ she’d only be upset with me for not getting' news to her ‘bout anything. I’d rather save her the bother of fussin’ and worryin’.”

 “You-” Mr. Captain Hero Sir is the one who looks outraged now. “You don’t keep your grandma up to date about how you are? What kind of a grandson are you, vet?!?!”

 “A terrible one.” Mr. Hero sighs into the cabinet, and while his voice is resigned his ears droop ever so slightly, making the captain pause in his scolding.

 Green meets royal blue as merchant and captain exchange a worried look, before both nodding as a silent conversation is spun between them, Mr. Captain Hero Sir plucking up his coffee mug and retreating, and Ravio following behind a few minutes later after making sure his bread is in the oven and that those in the kitchen are fully distracted and properly attired (it brings him no small amount of joy to see Mr. Hero don the frilly bunny apron he gave him last holiday season).

 “We’re contacting that poor woman.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir murmurs as soon as the two of them are clear of the kitchen. “She’s got to be worried sick about him.”

 “Who?” Mr. Chosen Hero is still blinking sleep from his eyes, but he looks between them with curiosity.

 “Legend’s Gran.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir, explains. “Turns out the vet hasn’t contacted her in something close to five years, and now feels awkward about trying.”

 “Oh.” Mr. Chosen Hero murmurs sadly. “Poor vet!”

 “Poor Legend’s grandma!” Mr. Captain Hero Sir , brows furrowed as he shakes his head. “She’s got to be worried sick about him! Imagine if Wind’s granny didn’t know where he was for five years! She’d be sick as death with worry!”

 “We need to contact her.” Mr. Chosen Hero breathes, eyes wide.

 “Agreed.” The other two nod.

 Mr. Chosen Hero’s hand is the steadiest, and his script the most elegant as they work to scribble out a letter. Originally, Mr. Captain Hero Sir had wanted to forge the letter and present it as being from Mr. Hero himself, but Mr. Chosen Hero had rejected the idea, claiming that doing so would only cause problems. “I’m a master of letter mischief.” The Skyloftian claims with a twinkle in his eyes. “You don’t write a letter for someone, or you’ll just cause trouble. Trust me. The best way to do this is honestly.”

 At the doubtful expressions of the other two he adds on, only slightly sheepish. “All other methods are excellent ways of destroying relationships, again, trust me on this one. If we present it as Legend’s words, he’ll just get mad at all of us, and if we lie, then they’ll both be mad and likely hurt. But if we tell her the truth, that Legend is hesitant to reach out because he thinks she’ll only be upset, then any decent granny would either reply or wing it over here as soon as possible.”

 “That’s ‘hoof it over here’.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir corrects with a grin. “But you’ve got the right spirit, Sky.”

 The other man smiles up at him from his seat, eyes twinkling with trouble. “We share a spirit, so...”

 The captain cuffs the back of his friend’s head, missing as Mr. Chosen Hero ducks, giggling softly and smiling as he turns his attention to the parchment and ink that Ravio had provided for their mission. The quill stills just above the paper as Mr. Chosen Hero pauses, biting his lip and looking up at the two of them. “How should I address it?”

 The captain blinks, and Ravio watches as the man frowns down at the blank parchment. “...I don’t know. Does Legend even have a last name?”

 “Lon.” Ravio chirps, moving to grab a letter laid at the top of the desk and pointing out the words scrawled on it in Miss Princess Zelda’s hand. Link Lon, the paper reads, and both of the heroes blink at it incredulously.

 “Lon? Like-”

 “Miss Malon?” Mr. Chosen Hero breathes, and the two exchange a glance.

 “Miss- Oh!” The merchant brightens. “You mean Grammalon?” Again, he darts across the bedroom towards one of the shelves, the heroes’ eyes following his motions as he selects a framed picture from one of the shelves and presents it to them.

 He watches in amusement as their eyes grow wide, Mr. Chosen Hero setting down his quill and reverently touching the picture.  

 “Is that Time?” Mr. Captain Hero Sir breathes, brows cocked as he bends over to study the picture that now lies in Mr. Chosen Hero’s hands.

 “Is what me?” And there the kid/not-kid is, standing in the doorway with raised brows and a curious tilt to his head (some things never change).

 “Time, Legend has your picture on his wall.” The captain chuckles, confusion still apparent in his gaze as his younger brother/son crosses the length of the room to stare at the picture.

 Sure enough, the picture, faded and grainy, displays Time’s smiling face, free of markings or scars, with both eyes shining in a smile as what appears to be the younger version of the hero stares out from the photo, arms wrapped around an older woman with equally bright eyes and long windswept hair.  

 “That’s Mr. Hero’s Grammalon.” Ravio chirps as the three stare. “And her grandson, Mr. Hero’s ancestor, Sir Hero Raven.”

 “Hero of Ravens?” The three heroes look at each other in confusion, and Ravio has to bite back a giggle at their stupidity. All Heroes were the same it seemed.  

 “Hero of Labrynnia, but his name was Raven. He’s Mr. Hero’s ancestor and mentor, but don’t let on that I told you!” He whispers, conspiratorially while the three adult heroes blink at him in confusion.  

 “Legend had a....” Twilight breathes

 “How did his ancestor mentor him?” Sky wonders aloud.

 “Are they still at it?” Legend grumbles as he stirs the dry ingrediants, gaze turning to where Wild stands by the cabinets, ears perked towards the bedroom door.  

 “Yep.” The champion replies, climbing on top of a shelf to reach something located higher up. “How do you even reach stuff this high?”

 “Same way you are right now.” legend smirks, violet eyes never leaving the champion, waiting for the second he slips and sighing softly with relief when Wild hops easily down. “Don’t tell Ravio though, he’d scold me for putting me feet on things.”

 Wild nods and the two return to their work, stirring and mixing and measuring and generally existing within the same space as they work.

 It’s nice having someone to cook with, someone who isn’t fussy (although he does enjoy working with Ravio) and a person who’s daring enough to try nearly anything to make a recipe perfect. The vet and champion work in an easy dance, darting past each other and reaching over around and past in order to get what they need, falling into an easy pattern as Legend reaches for the cinnamon to hand to Wild just as the champion hands him a stack of pie pans to place the crusts in once their ready.

 It’s easy to melt into the lull of the work, and he’s nearly lost in slicing the apples the right way when Wild’s voice begins to waver with an all too familiar lilting tune that has violet eyes shooting up to stare at him.

 “Where did you learn that song?”

 “You like it?” Wild offers a weak smile, and the vet can only nod slowly as Wild’s attention drifts back down to his work. “I think my mother taught it to me, I don’t know. It plays in my head when I work, and sometimes when I cook.”

 “You too, huh?”

 At the champion’s confused stare, he elaborates. “My Gran hums the same song when she works the farm, I’ve known it since I was a tot. Guess I never figured that our weird...” He gestures airily, careful not to scatter flour from his white-dusted fingers. “Family, I guess, that we’d all probably learn it.”

 “Where did it come from?” Wild cocks his head, eyes imploring and ever so wide that it’s hard for Legend to remember he needs to look up to meet them instead of down.  

 “Great Grammalon.” Legend answers easily. He doesn’t know why the words spill from his mouth or why he’s so open with the kid, but Wild isn’t teasing and there’s no one else about now that Four’s moved on to join Hyrule in inspecting the bee hives out in the back. “It’s the family horse song, something of a lullaby too.”

 “Does it have words?” Wild presses, curios and open, drawing a short halting laugh from the vet with the innocence of a face that has many times before been twisted in smiles that would make Hylia shudder.

 “I recken’ so, never learned them though, just the tune.”

 And Wild nods, content with his answer as the two return to their work. When the song drifts over the kitchen again, Legend startles to find that his voice is joining in, humming a soft melody to Wild’s lilting voice, the tune weaving about the kitchen and making every motion and task feel like a dance. They’re both light on their feet, both nimble and quick, both seamless in their motions in a way that makes it so much like a dance that Legend’s nearly lost in it.

 In the bedroom, Twilight blinks awake to help write a letter to a forlorn and forgotten grandmother, while, in the kitchen, the vet and champion work to a tune that rings familiar in more than just their own ears.

  Come breakfast time, when the others are awake at last and everyone has tumbled into the kitchen, they find Wild clapping the flour from his hands over the top of an already dust covered and violently sneezing vet, who’s smile stretches just as far as the champions as he wipes apple juice slick hands across Wild’s tunic, from the shoulders to the waist, snickering wildly as the younger hero pulls back with a soft whine of complaint.

 “You two have been busy.” Time chuckles as he walks into the room, wiping ink from his fingers across Legend’s white dusted apron.

 “Twilight, your kid needs to be controlled.” Legend promptly deadpans, earning a hurt look from the champion.

 “But we just had a bonding moment!” Wild protests.  

 “You can’t deny the magic of bonding moments.” Time nods sagaciously as Wild embraces the vet, further covering the vet in flour and now juice as Legend rolls his eyes, but there’s no missing the little smile on his face or the gentle way he pats the arm that wraps around his front as Wild nuzzles into his flour coated hair.

 “Mr. Hero!” Ravio’s startled shriek sounds, an envelope fluttering to the floor as he freezes, green eyes widening in horror. “What in Lolia’s name have the two of you been doing!”

 “Legend spilled the-” The champion is cut off by a fast-moving elbow to the stomach, making him wheeze lightly as Legend reaches above his head to muffle the kid’s voice.

 “Wild knocked a bag of flour off of the top shelf. Don’t worry he- yech!” The vet surges forward with a horrified expression, only to fall forwards into Wild’s arms where they’re still hooked around his chest, the champion’s tongue lolling out of his mouth with a dopey grin.

 “Licking the hand? Really Wild?” Twilight shakes his head.

 “That’s disgusting!” Legend shivers, wiping his hand off on his once pink but now white apron.

 “The vet knocked it over.” Wild says sweetly.

 “You lil’ shit!” Legend scowls upwards at the hero holding him, but when Wild’s eyes meet his there’s a glimmer of something mischievous in the vet’s gaze. “How would I even reach that?”

 The champion only grins, a bit feral and entirely insane, and squeezes Legend closer. “You're a gremlin too!” And this time when the champion nuzzles again his hair with a delighted growling Legend only sits there in the embrace, covered in flour and wearing the most hideously frilly and pink apron any of them have ever seen, a weary but fond grin pulling at his lips.

 “What’s with the letter.” The pink-and-white-headed vet questions, cocking a brow and leaning back in the embrace of a beaming Wild.

 “It’s um...” Ravio flushes, darkening continuously as Legend continues to stare at him. “It’s...”

 “It’s a letter to your gran.” Warriors pipes up, sipping a second mug of coffee as he sist at the table. “Poor woman deserves to know you're okay.”

 The vet stiffens in Wild’s hold, earning Warriors a glare from the champion as well as the vet for ruining the bonding cuddles. “I told you to let it alone.” Legend scowls, hands fisting in his frankly hideous apron.

 “And I know what it’s like to be a parent who doesn’t know where their kid is.” Warriors returns evenly, eyes softening slightly. “Privacy or not, you’re hurting someone else, and if it means not respecting your wishes in order to set an old woman’s heart at ease-”

 “Okay!” Legend snaps, before sagging back against Wild, going very nearly limp and running is hand down his face as the champion looks down at his cooking buddy with concern in his gaze. “Just- What did you guys write?”

 “We told her you’re okay.” Sky offers. “You’ve been traveling and doing things for the royal family and others and you were feeling guilty over not talking to her. We told her why you hadn’t visited, based on what you said earlier, and we said that we’d try and talk to you about it when we could.”  

 The vet nods slowly, a frown creasing his face where he’d been bright and smiling moments before. “Okay.”

 “Are you alright with us sending it?” The gentle hero presses cautiously, and at Legend’s nod of the head Sheerow is already whizzing over to accept the letter from Ravio’s hands before whizzing back out the open window with an eager noise that has Legend shaking his head with a hint of a smile.

 “Come on,” Wild hefts the smaller hero in his arms like a child with a puppy. “We need to force feed my dad some pie!”

 There was no escaping it, Ravio’s bread was set aside and the only food available was three crisp and warm apple pies, which disappeared almost immediately.

 Warriors repented of his sins.  

[harveywritings92]

You get drunk and lost.

You go out with some friends drinking, get plastered and somehow you've broke away from your group. after walking around the city you have moment of clarity you text you boyfriend, "Halph! me loss...!!" before he can respond you accidently put it on silent, and he freaks and nearly tears the streets upside down looking for you, only to get a call at the ass crack of dawn by random person saying they've found you...

Warnings : alcohol use, Smoking, theft and mature situations.

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

Dabi: He thought it was joke at first, sure his girl likes to let loose from time to time, But she never irresponsible about it! So, when he got that text he thought you were screwing with him, He texted you [Aww what'd ya lose Doll?] you didn't text him back... He thought she just put her phone away, as time passed by soon Dabi got worried, he checked his phone; the time you'd said you be home had long passed.

He called you and kept getting the busy signal. "Tch" without missing a beat he got his hoodie, face-cover and sunglasses on and went out to the bar that you said you'd be at just in time to see your friends drunkenly stagger out of the bar giggling like a bunch of hens. "Hey." He called out to them one them... Ayaka? If that's what her name was? Dabi wasn't really paying attention when you showed him her picture.

he was to busy fantasizing you in that tight little dress bent over couch while he rails you from behind…

Anyway, back to the present. 

Aya was dazed but seemed to recognize him. "ohz! Y/n's s-shy man! how ya doing bro?" the cremator stayed close to the alley shushed the drunk woman gesturing for her to come closer. "I'm fine, where's Y/n? She still inside?" he said in low voice nodded towards the bar, Aya gave him this blank look and Dabi didn't like how loud this silence was.... "Y/n? s-she said- said she was gonna go for a walk..." Dabi eyes narrowed resisting the urge to turn this drunk putz into a pile of ashes. "Aya focus, where did Y/n say she was going?" He said slowly trying to get the drunk woman to remember, this seemed to help as her eyes widened in realization, but that hope was soon dashed as she chortled out. "Your mamma's butt! hehe..." and broke down laughing. 

Dabi growled annoyed before shoving her back over to the group drunk girls waiting for their taxi, for the rest of the night Dabi spent his time looking through every alley, back road and crappy neighborhood, he could think of, But there was no sign of you anywhere! at around 5 am He sat on bench dejected and took his phone out; looked through his contact before stopping at 'Chicken-wings' he glared at the named with a lot of confliction, But before he could press call...

His nickname for You suddenly lights up his screen Dabi answered without hesitation. "Y/n?... where the hell are you?" He hissed feeling both relieved and pissed off at the same time, however the voice that answered him wasn't girlfriend but that of a man. "Who the hell is this... where's Y/n? if you touched her I'll-" Dabi snarled flames bursting from his chin, but the person on the other end told him to calm down and explained, he lived a few blocks away from where Dabi was. 

The cremator wasted no time getting there, he knocked on the door and was greeted by an old man who looked like a breeze would knock him over, The old man confirmed Dabi was the on he called, then apologized for scaring the young man, explained he found you passed out on his patio and didn't want leave you alone outside. "I have no bloody clue how these new-fangled phones work, had to wake my 8 year old grandson to help me." he explained as he led an awkward Dabi to his living room.

"I should be one who's sorry, for the trouble my girls caused you." the raven haired man sighed seeing his girlfriend passed out on the old man's couch, The old man just waved him off. "It's fine boy, we were all young once!" Dabi thanked him again carefully collected his girlfriend and carried her back to one of his safe houses that was nearby, Needless to say aside from nursing a gnarly hangover, You also had to deal with an very Angry, horny and tired Dabi who wasn't you out his sight anytime soon.

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

Hawks: [you lost? lost what? darts?] You don't answer him. [Angel wings? you there???] he didn't wait and see if you'd reply as Endeavor was giving him this look that screamed 'put that phone away, or else I'll launch it so far up you ass you're kids will born screaming your ringtone!' the avian man smiled coyly and put his phone away and waited for the meeting to be over, the meeting and late night patrol finally wrapped up at 3:30 am and Hawks walked outside recalling the conversation he had with you and checked his phone, Keigo felt his heart sink you hadn't answered him, He flew over to the bar while at the same time calling you phone, but all he got was voicemail...

When he got there he saw all your girl friends had gone home and only one of your guy friends was there, Akito if the blond remembered correctly. "Yo Akito-san." He called as he lowered down the ground, the drunk man looked around startled be for noticing Hawks above. "Sky-guy my dude! how ya doing?" he slurred at the number two hero, who stared at him crossed armed as he observed the inebriated man, very unimpressed.

"Nothing much, was Y/n okay?"  

"w-who wha?"

"Y/n, Akito did she get home alright?"

"Oh she went to the subway."

Hawks brows scrunched up in confusion, it was passed midnight the trains weren't running right now! So, where the fuck was his girlfriend?! "Akito, I want you to listen where did Y/n go?" Again the drunk said the Subway, making it very clear he wasn't gonna be any help, Hawks flew up into the sky and sent some of his feathers out to search for his missing girlfriend and focused to see if that one he snuck in to her purse was near by.... "Come Y/n, where are ya baby?" he muttered as he eyes scanned the from above, when he felt a tug from one his feathers and almost on cue his phone light up with your ringtone.

"Y/n? where are you? are you safe?!" He asked frantically and waited but the voice coming from other end wasn't his girlfriend's but older woman's voice. "Is this Kei-Chan?" the winged hero eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Who are you?" the woman voice cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, I'm Anko, I found this girl in front of the shop is her your friend?" Hawks confirmed this expecting this stranger to be a villain holding you hostage and told her to stay where she was. 

Instead when he got to his girlfriend's location; A Subway sandwich shop. *Ah...The subway, Hardee har-har...* He mentally deadpanned before looking down at the front and saw his girlfriend passed out on a bench with a tattered old blanket draped over her, while a little old lady in worn out clothes was standing next to a shopping cart. It didn't take a genius to see the old woman was homeless this seemed to strike a cord with the number 2 hero. 

Hawk silently landed "Excuse me." he called caused the old woman he assumed was Anko to jump by the sudden voice and saw Hawks walking towards. "Yes?" the woman answered warily. Hawks introduced himself as Kei-chan the man she spoke to, he asked how she stumbled on to his girlfriend? Anko adjusted her her old jacket said she saw her going into the with a group of girls, they left in a taxi without her! 

The winged hero looked furious upon hearing this, you had mentioned your friends were a little peeved that the two of you were dating... But to abandon you in a seedy part of town while intoxicated? that was over the line, had Anko not found you first then.... Hawk's jaw tightened not wanting to think about it as the old woman tale continued. You stubbled out a few moments, and passed out on the bench out front.

"I think those girl stole her jacket and shoes, I didn't want the poor dear getting cold, so I put my blanket on her and called you." She handed Keigo your purse a used his feathers to hold it while he gathered you in his arms he thanked Anko for guarding you. He promised to return the her kindness but the old woman said it was fine, but Hawks was already coming up with a few idea as he flew back to his apartment.

The next morning you were alone and confused how you got to Keigo's apartment wondered in your friend had called him, and went check your phone to check your messages, and were very bewildered over why your "Friends" were all apologizing, begging Hawks to call off his fanclub! You were flabbergasted about the situation, until Akito left you a screenshot of their original plan; they were going to make you and Akito drunkenly hook up and ruin your relationship with Keigo! 

Of course they didn't know that Akito was in fact gay, so when they figured that out they just left you alone in front of sub-shop at 3am with no way of getting back home, you were pissed off that's for sure! and blocked them save for Akito as he had nothing to do with their plan.

Then you checked the newsfeeds and saw Hawks was trending curious you checked to see why, and saw Keigo delivering a box containing a new jacket, shoes, blankets and food to a stunned homeless woman with a note saying to "my girlfriend's hero! forever grateful Hawks!" Okay... Now Keigo really needs to tell you what happened last night!

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

Fatgum: [Aw it's all right Teddy Graham, ya can't win them all!] Fatgum chuckled assuming you lost at darts or pool while having fun with your friends, however as the night wore on and patrol came to an end, Taishiro was getting concerned, You hadn't texted him back nor had you called him to tell him she got home alright, just that "Halph...me loss!" text! The BMI hero was loosing his appetite with worry as he wandered down the street looking for the bar you were supposed be at, only to find out from your very drunk friends who was shuffling into in a taxi van.

He stopped one of them asking where you were, did you home with one of the girls? but to his dread they said you went for walk somewhere, Taishiro tried to coax them into remembering where you said were you going? But at this point your friend was too far gone to answer coherently, and with that the blond man took off down the street, hoping to find a trace of his lil'Teddy Graham! 

He searched for hours even showing civilians a photo of you asking if they've seen ya? the answers were always no... it was almost 3 am he was considering calling the cops to help look for ya... as he leaned against a wall to take break, when he heard your ringtone on his phone, Taishiro's hand was shaking as he answered the phone as this nasally voice greeted him

"H-hello, Sir? assuming you're a sir! uh... we found this lady passed out in one of our aisles, could you come and get her, before my manager calls the cops?"

"Wh-where is she?"

"The 7/11 at (random block)."

"Yeah, I'll be right there!"

The chubby hero ran down the street so fast he hadn't noticed his fat was burning off so when he finally arrived at the 7/11 his clothes were baggy and hanging of his body. "Hey, I'm Taishiro, you called me about my girlfriend?" The now skinny hero wheezed catching his breath as the snotty manager turned around to mouth off at Taishiro only to blanch when they realized how much taller and muscular the blond was compared to him and his demeanor quickly changed.

"Y-yes, sir right this way" the balding man stammered leading the 8ft tall man to the back room where a female staff member was watching you, Taishiro let out a sigh of relief and picked you up like a toddler; with your arms around his neck and your head rested on his shoulder, as he was leaving his yellow eyes noticed a backpack stuffed with snacks and other stuff hidden under the manager's desk, he hummed not thinking anything of it and went to thank clerk for watching you as the manager had gone out for a smoke break, Since he was there anyway Taishiro asked for a couple meatbuns for the road.

"Thanks, for lookin after m'girl."  

"It was no problem sir.'

"By the way I saw a backpack, back there, wha's that about?"

(the clerk went white, made sure her manager was still outside, assuming that she'd be too afraid to tell the tall man about his scheme.)

"That lazy bully of a manager has been stealing snacks and other crap from the store, He was going to try and say your girlfriend did it, and scare you into paying him not to call the cops."

Taishiro's hold tightened on your thigh. "I'm guessing he chickened out, because... Well you look like you could crack his head open like an egg!" the blond snorted as he payed for his food "And you'd be right about that!" Taishiro huffed, he then thanked the clerk for her honesty and shot the manager a venomous glare as passed him outside, later that night Taishiro reported what clerk had told him to store's head office, and vowed to return as Fatgum just to make sure the balding thief was gone! 

The next morning you were very confused as to how you’d gotten to your boyfriend’s apartment? you sat up only to get pulled back down an exhausted Taishiro who muttered for you to go back to sleep, he'll tell you everything later. 

[fleckcmscott]

Coffee & Donuts

Summary: Arthur’s thrilled to be part of a crowd. Though the evening doesn’t go perfectly, Y/N’s flirtations make it sweet.

Warnings: Smut

Words: 4,602

A/N: Alright. After the heart wrenching angst of my last piece (which I love, by the way; don't get me wrong! 😂), I had to write another story in which Arthur and Y/N are happy and together. It's inspired by one of Arthur's visions during their kiss. I hope you all like it! Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul for beta-ing!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Parties and celebrations weren't foreign to Arthur. He'd worked plenty, enough to make him realize what he'd been missing out on. He was well-versed in pin the tail on the donkey, musical chairs, and balloon animals. But as an adult, those activities didn't satisfy. He wanted to be included rather than paid. Connect with people, introduce himself. Discuss his experiences and pursuits. Feel sufficiently at ease to loosen up a little and have a good time.

Now he was a guest - a certified guest - at Patricia Gorman's fifty-sixth birthday party. The first party he'd been invited to since being the weird kid in class who'd rotated between three worn out sweaters and could never afford a gift.

He'd been a tad apprehensive about going to Burnside. Gotham's nicest borough had a reputation for high rents and low tolerance. When Y/N and he had entered 2E, however, Patricia's greeting ("You made it!") and the apartment were thoroughly welcoming. Crocodile brown walls and forest green shag carpet made the spacious living room a cozy hideaway. Marigolds leapt across the polyester of the T-cushion sofa and its easy-chair companion. The floor lamp's amber, crimped glass shades cast the spacious living room in a glow borrowed from warm autumn days.

Patricia's husband, Robert, was out on an emergency call. An HVAC had gone haywire in a residential building in Hinckley. Her daughter, son-in-law, and grandson had been by for lunch. That meant the only other guests were Matt - Y/N's old boss - and a bottle-blonde in a black halter dress and spike heels, who Y/N introduced as Laura. ("She's Matt's ex-wife," Y/N later disclosed. "He's been trying to win her back since I moved to Gotham.") Both shook Arthur's hand when he offered it, and he felt a little thrill whirl his stomach when Y/N laid claim to him by telling the woman, "This is my husband."

A collection of appetizers served as dinner, a fun and novel menu. The slow cooker meatballs Y/N and he had lugged over on the subway were a bit tangy; he still couldn't believe the recipe called for grape jelly. The deviled eggs with paprika, a pleasant mix of savory and sweet, was a dish he'd heard about on television. Cream cheese and cucumber sandwiches were light and airy, a good match for his iced tea. Only the artichoke and spinach dip gave him pause. Its beans and hot sauce made his taste buds wince.

That unpleasant flavor was quickly forgotten when Y/N pulled him to sit next to her on the sofa, so Patricia could open her presents. She proudly showed off the orange, clay ashtray her grandson had made for her. Arthur, having successfully kept the secret of her light smoking from Y/N, chuckled at Patricia fibbing she'd put candy in it. She thanked Matt and Laura for the champagne, wrapped in a silver bow with a simple "Happy Birthday" tag. The bottle wasn't popped. Upon peeking into the large giftbag Y/N placed on her lap, she made a soft sound. The Dazey whirlpool bath, which attached to the side of the tub and had three strength settings, was a hit. She announced her plans to try it in the morning. The dark blue Rexbuilt briefbag was intended to replace her cracked, leather briefcase, Y/N explained. Patricia ran her fingertips along the expanding inner compartments, the personalized planner that included the credential "CLA" after her name, and flipped through the included steno pads, eyes brimming.

She sipped at her cocktail and put an arm around Y/N. Melancholy tinged Patricia's voice. "At my age, the people in your life tend to stay the people in your life. Whether you like them or not." She reached further and patted Arthur's knee. "I'm glad an old dame like me gets to call you all friends." His throat clenched in gratification, though he wasn't daring enough to squeeze her hand and thank her for deciding he was a friend.

Still on top of the world an hour later, Arthur sauntered to the red and white enamel dining table to serve himself a second slice of upside-down pineapple cake. The evening had gone well, better than a guy with a natural inability to mingle could've expected. He bobbed his head to the beat of "Come Fly with Me." It was a happy coincidence that Patricia's taste in music aligned with his. She'd regaled him with tales of seeing Sinatra and Count Basie on her and Robert's honeymoon in Vegas. Arthur took a bite absentmindedly, wondering how long it would take for him to save the money to surprise Y/N with plane and concert tickets.

The daydreaming didn't last long. Matt's plodding footsteps preceded him, followed by a long sigh as he propped himself on the beige stone of the dining area's accent wall, across from the u-shaped kitchen. He held out a Budweiser and smirked. "Marriage is a hell of a lot of work."

Pleased that he was being treated like one of the guys, like a regular husband with a regular relationship who got to speak about his regular wife, Arthur accepted the beer and considered the comment. Matt's sentiment was hard to grasp. Dr. Sally had said marriage could be difficult, and Y/N's first hadn't survived the ripples of her life. But it didn't feel like work with her. Their arguments were minor. Her nagging him to find a primary doctor for annual check-ups, even though he'd survived this long without one. Or back in Missouri, when he'd told her to stop shielding him and trust he could take anything she had to give.

Arthur adopted a similar nonchalant posture and jutted his hip against the table's edge. "I like it. It's easy to take good care of her." He wasn't able to completely erase the smugness of success from his tone.

"You're what? Two years in with the most headstrong woman in Gotham? She's great and all, but she spikes my blood pressure." Matt slapped Arthur's back and let out a hearty guffaw. "Give it five more and you'll be in my office trying to avoid alimony."

"Don't. Say that." Arthur crinkled the can in his grip and glared up at him.

"Hey," Matt started, withdrawing even as he tried diplomacy. "It was just a joke. I didn't mean anything by it."

Flinching, pulling at the cuffs of his red sweater, Arthur fought the surge of anger in his veins. It wouldn't do to lose control and cause a scene. Of course Matt's comment about them splitting up was supposed to be a joke. But Arthur didn't find it one bit funny. Even with his complete faith in her and his firm belief that they were meant to be together, the possibility that she'd stop wanting him hurt. It didn't occur to him that the implication of the punchline could be that he'd get sick of Y/N.

With a muttered apology, Matt walked to the others in the kitchen. Arthur glanced over to see her laugh tipsily, until she grabbed her stomach and swatted Patricia's shoulder, a stark demonstration of how much he and Y/N differed. She always knew how to respond to people, the right comebacks. Appropriate timing and levels of interaction. It seemed she was in her natural element, the loveliest swan on a lake. Whereas after years of therapy and practice with her, he was still a fish out of water, flopping around on the shoreline in hopes some stranger would take pity on him and throw him back into the sea.

Maybe that was the real punchline. Eventually their contrasts would no longer complement each other and instead become a chore.

Scowling, he ambled towards the record player stationed before two double-hung windows. Increased the volume to drown out the intrusive notions. It didn't really work. He settled on a grounding technique he'd practiced, all the while lamenting that he couldn't handle a party without needing it. His attention went to the spinning LP, the needle following its grooves. The bright blue album cover, where Ol' Blue Eyes beckoned him, the scuff marks on the cardboard's corner edges. He acknowledged the spider plants sat on the windowsill, worried a papery leaf until it broke off. He stared out the window, taking in the whole of the city. Pinpricks of light dazzling in the darkness.

"Gotham's beautiful at night," Y/N said from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to watch her approach. Her cheeks glowed with alcohol and good cheer, the collar of her ivory blouse unbuttoned. "There's a life behind every light out there. Ten million of them. Here. Try this." She offered her hurricane glass, filled with an off-white slush.

He sipped the pina colada with cautious skepticism and grimaced as soon as it hit his tongue. The blend of pineapple and coconut tasted of cheap sunscreen and tropical imitations, the kind advertised in smudged brochures for bad cruises to islands with made up sounding names. "No, thanks."

Snorting, she shrugged and embraced his back at the waist. "How are we doing?" she asked, curling into his side. After a few seconds, she prodded him. "Had your fill of Matt?"

"He was just joking." Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.  She set the drink next to the record player and brought her hand to his, trailed it over the inside of his wrist, up his forearm. She pecked his chin and nudged him until he turned to her. As soon as their gazes met, the concern in hers told him she'd continue to pepper him with questions. But he wasn't about to let his misplaced doubts spoil her evening. And he knew the perfect way to distract them both.

A new song started. An oldie that sang of Jupiter and Mars, playfulness among the stars. He cupped her cheek, thumb sweeping the corner of her mouth. "Dance with me," he said. Before accepting his proffered palm, she laid a sloppy kiss on him. With a flutter of her eyelashes, she grinned, and his smile grew to match her own. As he held her side, led her in a slow, swaying circle, he marveled at her. At her ability to soothe every molecule, every lingering ache. Self-assurance welled in him, chased away his earlier dejection. He cradled her to his lanky frame, trembled and felt himself blush. She was the only woman for him. That was as certain as his cigarette habit.

Despite Patricia's reassurances she was fine, that Robert working late wasn't unusual, Y/N insisted on staying until he got home. Though Arthur would have preferred they take their leave an hour earlier, being allowed to smoke inside blunted his grumbling. The disarming flirtations she bestowed on him also didn't hurt. She'd pour herself a drink (four in total, if he counted correctly), help Patricia make a plate of leftovers for her husband, then throw him a wink. Whisper and cackle while cleaning, then kiss his temple.

Around midnight, Patricia put her foot down. Ushered them out with a promise to call and a hug fierce enough to crush his ribs. She raised a brow at Y/N's unsteady gait, grasped Arthur's arm, and said with a wry, tired smile, "Make sure you put that woman straight to bed." His dark brows shot up and held. Had she intended a pun? Or had Y/N's spare caresses caused the interpretation? Either way, he liked being trusted to take care of her. And the hint of arousal that flared in his belly.

By the time they stumbled into their apartment, that arousal had reduced to a dull exhaustion. She kicked off her heels on the way to the bathroom, calling a slurred "night!" as she closed the door. Yawning, he put dish soap and hot water in the crockpot, scrubbed burned bits of sauce from its rim, turned it upside down on a towel to dry. Once he'd brushed his teeth for one minute rather than the recommended two, he tossed his sweater, trousers, briefs, and socks in the hamper, and went to the bedroom. He found his blue pajamas in their usual spot, the chair in the corner, and slid them up his skinny but toned legs. Tucked in next to her, he was carried to sleep on waves of fatigue and her quiet, wet snoring.

~~~~~

A tickle threatened to rouse him. Whispers along the waistband of his bottoms. Heat snuggled his back. Delightfully drowsy, he cuddled deeper into cozy, cream-color sheets, already returning to a pleasant, dreamless slumber. But a rumble of exhaust, likely from a bus that needed a new muffler, dragged him to consciousness. Arthur grumbled and tucked his arm under his pillow, not ready to transition to a world of overcrowding and concrete, commotion and bad jokes.

Yet, Y/N's insistent grazes continued, luring him with promises of placid pleasure. Her toes wiggled at his heel until he made space for her to slip her foot between his ankles. The corner of his mouth quirked. He was reminded of last night's playfulness, her endless teasing. The way he'd held the crockpot as a shield to fend off her advances on the train home, her forwardness to the point that he would've preferred having a laminated card to present on her behalf. Forgive my wife: she has a condition. It causes frequent and uncontrollable displays of affection.

Nimble fingers edged lower, loosened the tie of his pajamas before dipping beneath the loose elastic to lace through his dark brown curls, darker than the chestnut hair on his head. Her knuckles ran over him, lazy caresses full of intent. Up and down, up and down. Delicate. Deliberate. The blood racing to his groin, the pleasant swelling, made his abdomen twitch. Soon full and heavy, the sensitive tip straining the cotton seams, he pressed his lips together. When she skimmed the tender skin resting on his inner thigh, he flexed the muscle at the base of his erection. It bobbed and hit her wrist and she let loose a girlish giggle, more intoxicating than wine.

With her left leg draped over him at the knee, she undulated against his rear. Plush lips brushed the boney knobs of his spine, damp breath fanned the nape of his neck, labored, needy. Pebbled nipples grazed his back through the thin nylon of her nightgown, taunting and compelling. He made up his mind to throw an arm around her, to yank her on top of him. To eagerly take part in her seduction.

But she withdrew from his bottoms to palm his stomach and plant a gentle kiss to the shell of his ear, whispering, "Sleep tight." The mattress shifted and she rolled away from him. He furrowed his brows. She rarely relented this easily - other times he'd awakened, hard and aching, enveloped by the captivating wetness of her mouth. What was she up to?

Covers rustled. Her calf bumped his. And the opposite of what he'd assumed occurred. Instead of light footfalls leading out of the room, there was silence, silence that seemed to stretch on and on...

Until a hitched gasp gave her away.

Touching herself. She was touching herself. She'd just been all over him, acted like he was some sort of model on the cover of Vue magazine, and now she was touching herself. Right beside him! Ecstatic to have inspired such brazenness, he grinned and fisted the pillow. Her fleeting, stifled moans tangled him in knots, implored him to give her what they both burned for.

He flipped in her direction, his hand shooting under the sheet to grab hers. "Gotcha."

Eyes wide, she gaped at him in surprise. But adoration softened her expression as she entwined their fingers. "How long have you been awake?" she asked.

"Long enough."

He stretched to rewind the shades, the diaphanous curtains staying in place. Sunlight diffused over them, wrapped around her face, lent her disheveled hair a warm luster. He twirled a feathered lock and pecked her eyelids. "Finishing what you started on the subway, hm?"

"Me?" Y/N brought his knuckles to her mouth.  "You're the one who came to bed without any underwear."

"Well, it was a late night." The pad of his thumb tugged at her bottom lip to reveal the pink tip of her tongue. He bent to claim it. "I was lucky to find my pajamas."

Chuckling, she broke their connection. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. The cake was good. And the music. Everyone was nice."

"Patricia loved having you there. She thought you were very sweet." A pause as she mapped a dimple. "Matt said he'd upset you. Something stupid about breaking up?"

Vague shadows of discomfort flashed through Arthur, a frustration he'd mostly moved on from. He did his best to ignore it, waving her concern away. "Don't worry about it."

"He was just jealous, you know." Her nails ran along the small of his back. "He wants Laura to look at him the way I look at you."

Arthur had spent so much of his life yearning for change, to understand his purpose in the world and improve himself. The idea that a man with a good education, a successful career, and no disabilities could ever be jealous of him was, frankly, bizarre. But he didn't correct Y/N, instead locking her praise within his heart, preserving it for when he needed it most. He boosted himself on his forearm and fiddled with her V-neck, traced its button loops as he slipped the plastic knobs through them. "And how's that?'

A hint of scandal glimmered in her irises. She arched into him as he eased a strap down her upper arm to reveal her shapely breast, the lilac fabric momentarily catching on its taut peak. "Like I can't get enough of you."

He huffed at that, fondled her faintly before his lips met the velvety skin of her chest. A tonic comprised of the musk oil she'd dabbed on before the party and distinct sexual wanting wafted to his nostrils. He licked at her nipple, the bumps on her areola, and drew it between his teeth. She whined softly and lifted the bottom of her nightdress to her waist.

Hurriedly, he yanked on the waistband of her cotton panties, pushed them past her knees. She kicked them off while he knelt to lower his bottoms. Straddling her, he pumped himself back to hardness and opened the drawer of her nightstand. He searched haphazardly until he retrieved a small, glass bottle of lubricant. (She'd ordered it from a mail catalog, both of them a bit too bashful to walk into an adult shop, even together.)

She snagged it from him and poured half a teaspoon in her hand, then palmed herself. He moved between her legs and she grasped his length, coating him with the warm, slippery liquid. He pushed forward into her. Gradually, slowly, savoring every millimeter of her enticing heat. He noted the stretch of her mouth, the jut of her jaw, the lifting of her upper lip. "Mmm..." she breathed and begged him to keep going. When he did, her head tilted back into the pillow, eyelids falling shut. A smile cut across her cheeks as she purred her satisfaction. "Arthur, I love you."

His touch wandered down the curve of her thigh. At the sight of her subtle writhing beneath him, the sway of her slightly uneven breasts in time with his languid thrusts, he pushed her knee into the mattress, splayed her wider. He grunted lowly. "Look at me."

Their gazes met but didn't hold for long; hers dropped to where they were joined. She caressed right above his pubic bone. "I love seeing you like this." Her fingertips walked a line up his sternum to his chest. "And touching you like this." She wrapped her arms around his middle and drew him to her, locked their lips in a greedy kiss. "And making love like this."

He snorted. "I think this is the only reason you married me."

"Well, not the only reason. There's your good hair, too."

"I've been thinking about cutting it. Trying something new."

"Don't you dare." She tugged at his loose curls, wore her best pout. "What else would I hold onto when we're doing this?"

Laughing lightly, he bumped his nose to hers. Falling into her was like falling into his old fantasies, the ones that'd sustained him through years of isolation. Dates at diners, at comedy clubs, at donut shops, at home. Their shapes had changed as he'd matured, his role in them, his aspirations and infatuations. But they'd remained a warm comfort nonetheless, a place that felt like belonging. And now he belonged with her. Hunger filled him. Happiness. And love. So much love, more than he'd ever believed he'd carried in him. He bucked a little harder. "You feel so good," he murmured. "You make me feel so good."

A strained cry left her and her pelvis answered his steady rhythm with demands of its own. Her calves rose to squeeze him closer, encircle his narrow hips. They were pressed together so tightly; it felt like they were one flesh. He never wanted it to stop. But a dizzying euphoria had ignited, one that eclipsed the romantic yearnings of his heart, twisting his desire to last all morning into the desperate drive to possess her. Gasping, Arthur raised himself to his knees, delving deeper with each push. Their foreheads met and he grit his teeth at the scald of her, the texture of her walls. She fit as though she'd been made for him.

He supposed she was.

Pressure began in the base of him, building and building in terrific torment. The muscles of his inner thighs contracted inward. Tingling climbed his shaft, his tailbone, his spine. He wove his fingers into the sheet, his grip a vise that wrested its corner from the mattress. She kissed the spot where his jaw met his neck, all the while murmuring encouragements for him to let himself go.

Bliss shot through him, from the tips of his toes to the follicles on his scalp, and his back stiffened as he whimpered and poured into. Fever engulfed his frame, sublime in its frenzy, leaving him in a heady stupor. Aftershocks made him tremble. Once, twice. Until, sated and spent, he landed on top her. He closed his eyes, ribs rising and falling as he forced air into his lungs.

A minute later, he swallowed and looked down at her. "You didn't come."

She carded through his sweaty locks. "It's all righ-"

"Shh." He slid out of her and settled at her side, reached between her legs to swipe at her core. "I'm not done," he declared, tracing the edges of her entrance, slick and swollen. One of his favorite things about getting her off was demonstrating his prowess in bed, how well he'd learned with her. His thumb met her plump clitoral hood, and he felt her throb beneath his ministrations.

Nails biting his bicep, she rocked upwards. A bewitching blush crept up her breast, her neck, spread across her cheeks. Shallow pants hit his face, short puffs suffused with high-pitched whines, utterly irresistible. He circled her nub at a steady cadence, tapping when she'd shiver, and she clasped the back of his hand. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, sucked the pretty peak, and lowered the other strap of her nightgown to bare her completely. A hushed plea fell from her lips. "Please, please..."

Suddenly, her vulva grew white hot and she seized, her hips stuttering with each flutter of his touch to her folds. She thrusts her breasts towards him, a sharp moan caught in her throat. Liquid pooled against his fingers, proof of her rapture that made him wish, with mild amusement, that he could be an unmedicated young man again. He would've gladly taken her a second time.

Giggling and rubbing her temple, she released a long exhale and opened her eyes. He brushed her hair back and grinned, completely smitten, like the first time he'd heard a joke and understood the punchline. The light brown picture frame on his nightstand caught his attention, and he regarded the wallet size photo in it, one of the shots of Y/N from the booth at Amusement Mile. The last thing he looked at before turning in each night. He lay his head her shoulder and hummed, listened to the drum of her heart.

She smooched his hairline and wriggled out from beneath him to stand. Her nightie had been reduced to a crumpled stripe of lilac cinched about her waist. It felt tawdry and shameless and he wanted to see her in it for the rest of the weekend. But she peeled it down her legs, wrinkling her nose when it got stuck on her thighs, and stepped out of it one foot at a time. She dropped it on the floral bedspread and retrieved her bathrobe from the closet. "Meet you in the kitchen," she said, opening the door.

The sun had risen higher, its beams slanting across the covers. He basked in it, catlike, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He pulled on his pajamas, got a new pair of socks from their dresser, and made his way to the kitchen. He washed off the remnants of Y/N's arousal from his fingers, popped open a prescription bottle and took a tablet. He poured water into the coffeemaker, grabbed the can of grounds from the second shelf, added three scoops to the paper filter. Their three-tone brown mugs sat in their spot next to the machine, waiting to be filled.

When the glass coffeepot was half full, Y/N emerged from the bathroom, chuckling to herself. She opened the breadbox on the opposite counter and took out a wax paper bag. "Do you have any idea how dull this morning would have been if we'd never met? I'd have read the Sunday paper, had a drink. Probably worked on a file." He handed her a couple dessert plates, watched her put a donut on each one. "I wonder where you'd be. What woman you'd have breakfast with, what jokes you'd be writing, what magic tricks you'd have learned."

"Um..." At first he wanted to ask where this speculation had come from, if Matt had let her in on exactly what he'd said. But the confident slant of her smirk told Arthur she was teasing. He tried to play along but winced. No matter how appealing, how extraordinary she found him, his gut told him there wouldn't have been another woman. There'd be no more stand-up routines, no more Carnival. He certainly wouldn't be taking care of Penny. He'd likely be locked up in the hospital, maybe even dead. Without an anchor, his life would have lost what little sense it had.

Y/N was one of his anchors now, hooked into the sand alongside his material, treatment, the ability to pay bills. He seized her hand and squeezed it tight, unaware he was squishing her fingers. "I don't wanna think about it," he said quietly.

She sidled up to him and pulled him to her side. Rubbed his flank soothingly and pecked the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry." She took his chin and guided him to look at her. The intimate comfort of her smile helped him believe her next words, even before she spoke them. "I'll always be here."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @fakestreet​ @ralugraphics​​ @iartsometimes​

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 9

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 6,257

Warnings: mention of accident, mention of blood

A/N: I’m sorry this took longer than usual but it’s pretty long so yay! I hope you’ll like this chapter. We’re slowly getting there :’) Thank you for the feedback, I truly appreciate all of you! Also 1 marvel quote and several Bob Ross quotes that I obv don’t own.

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

Good luck on your interview xx

Bucky had just hit ‘send’ when Sam cleared his throat noisily, drawing Bucky’s attention away from his phone. His friends were frowning crossly at him, their glasses raised in a silent toast. He set his phone face-down on the table and picked up his glass.

“Sorry, you were saying?”

Sam shot Steve a ‘see?’ look and Steve replied with a shrug and a little smile. They looked like two sassy grandmothers judging their only grandson. Bucky checked his phone again, and out of his peripheral vision, he could see his grandmothers share another look.

“What?” he barked, annoyed.

“Nothin,” they both answered at the same time before they took a synchronized sip of orange juice.

Smacking his lips together, Sam opened the menu and began to skim through the choices. A waiter suddenly came out of nowhere to take their order. Bucky ordered a cranberry rosemary scone, smoked bacon, an eggplant sandwich, and a plate of lemon-ricotta pancakes.

“Excuse-me,” Sam called out to the waiter. “Could you make his pancakes in the shape of an angel?” he asked, ignoring Bucky who was openly glaring at him.

The waiter, albeit a little surprised, kept a smile on his face. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Bucky told him, handing him the menu. “Thank you.”

Without another look to his friends, he grabbed his phone and checked his messages for the third time in less than two minutes. Steve snatched his phone up and sat back in his seat, waving the phone at Bucky.

“Enough! Live in the moment.” He pocketed the phone and gave Bucky a pointed stare. “You’ll get it back later.”

“What the hell? You’re not my father, give it back!” Bucky snapped, extending his hand, the palm facing up. Steve shook his head. “Give it back, you fucking meatball.”

He got up and tried to reach inside Steve’s pocket for his phone but Steve kept shifting in his seat. They wrestled like that for a minute while Sam watched them, eating a breadstick and looking mildly entertained.

“Okay, fine,” Bucky panted, pushing himself away from Steve. “You leave me no choice, Rogers.” He cleared his throat like an actor about to jump on stage. “Give me back my phone, Steve!” he said, raising his voice. “Do you enjoy stealing from disabled people?”

He nearly shouted the last two words, and to Steve’s horror, the buzz of conversation around them had died. He could feel people staring at him. Cursing softly under his breath, he reached into his pocket and dropped the phone into Bucky’s awaiting hand.

“It’s okay, we’re friends,” Steve said to the people sitting behind him. They looked at him with a disapproving glare. “Jesus, Bucky, you’re making me look like an asshole.”

An amused expression crossed Bucky’s face as he sat back in his seat. “Don’t touch my stuff.”

It was quiet while he checked his messages. Slowly, those around them returned to their own conversations. Sam pointed his half-eaten breadstick at Steve.

“Do you think the waiter will spit in your omelette?” he said the last word with an exaggerated French accent. Steve glared at him.

Their waiter arrived a moment later carrying a large tray with their brunch. Steve poked at his omelet with a suspicious frown, then looked over at Bucky who was still on his phone. Sam stole a slice of bacon from Bucky’s plate and gave it to Steve.

“I hear you’ve got a date tonight,” Sam said, making conversation.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled, embarrassed. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just looking for something casual. I’m leaving in two days.”

“Where’re you going this time?”

“South Africa,” Steve replied, stealing another slice of bacon. “What about you? What’s that big emergency?”

Sam glanced at Bucky who was grinning like an idiot at his phone. “Not now. Let’s eat first.” He took the plate of bacon, took what he wanted then handed it to Steve. “Want another?”

Steve kept looking over at Bucky while they finished his bacon but Bucky didn’t seem to acknowledge their presence. He was in his own little bubble.

“It’s like we don’t even exist,” Steve remarked out loud.

“I know, it’s amazing. Look!” Sam straightened up in his seat and cleared his throat. “Bucky Barnes is the biggest idiot on the planet, and he can eat my farts.” Bucky was hunched over his phone, his thumb typing away. “See?”

“Impressive.”

“That’s the angel effect,” Sam said.

With a happy little sigh, Bucky pocketed his phone and turned his attention to his friends. He frowned at the amused look they shared.

“What are you guys talking about?”

“Steve’s first date in two years.” Sam turned to Steve. “You must be nervous.”

“Strangely, no.” Steve broke off a small piece of omelet with his fork. “I actually know him. He’s an old friend from college.”

“Nice,” Sam said.

“He’s a fashion photographer now.”

“Wait, what?” Bucky’s brows pinched in confusion as he stared at Steve.

Undeterred, Steve continued. “We’ve been facetiming a lot lately.” He shot Bucky a glance. “Why do you think I go to bed at 8?”

“But I thought-”

“You thought I had a date with your girl,” Steve said with a warm smile. “Listen, man, I like her. She’s cute, funny, talented. She’s a real sweetheart. But I like her because she brought back that light in your eyes. You look happy. That’s all I ever wanted for you. You had to go through so much crap, Buck. You deserve this.”

Bucky looked down at his pancakes, feeling tears pool in his eyes. He blinked them back and sniffed quietly. “So you were never going to ask her out.”

“I was until you called her ‘angel’,” Steve replied with a shrug. “You kept saying you were okay with this but, I mean, I’m not that dense.”

“Why do you keep going out with her then?” Bucky grumbled.

“Jeez, Mother Gothel, I didn’t know Rapunzel wasn’t allowed to leave the tower,” Steve exclaimed. “We were bored. You’re in your office all day. It was fun to mess with you though. You’re a grumpy Gus when you’re jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous, okay. I was annoyed. There’s a difference.”

“Uh-huh.”

Bucky looked over at Sam who had been strangely quiet throughout this whole exchange. He loved teasing Bucky, and he always had something to say about Bucky’s love life. Sam wasn’t looking at Bucky, he just pushed his food around with his fork, his lips pinched shut. He met Bucky’s eyes, then lowered his head again.

Bucky had a feeling something bad was about to happen.

“What’s the big emergency?” he asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

Sam set his fork down beside his plate and leaned back against his chair with a sigh. He trained his gaze on the front door, seemingly deep in thought.

“I’m moving to D.C.” He paused to let the information sink in. “They’re transferring me to the D.C. office. I’m their new chief financial officer.”

“Congrats, man!” Steve exclaimed. “You deserve it.”

“Yeah,” Sam replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s what I’ve always wanted.”

“So why the long face?”

“I’m a little anxious to leave New York. What will Barnes do without me? Without his mentor? Without someone to look up to?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I think I’ll be all right.” He hesitated before he asked, “Did you tell her?”

“Tell who?” Steve inquired, polishing off the last of his omelet.

Bucky felt the wave of long-held sadness his Sam’s eyes. “I’ll tell her tonight.”

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look. They weren’t sure how Steve would react.

The word sugar daddy held a pejorative connotation. Every single one of those relationships featured a powerful, rich man and a poor, vulnerable man or woman. There was a clear power imbalance here that never appealed to Bucky, and he was pretty sure it never appealed to Sam either.

Whether it was a no-strings-attached service or an emotional service, it was still a hole in your resume. One that would be hard to explain to your future employers. He was afraid people would call you names, treat you differently or harass you if they knew.

He often wondered if he had unintentionally ruined your life.

Deep down he knew Steve would never call you a whore or treat you differently but he was still trying to protect your reputation. He believed that Sam had Natasha’s best interest at heart too.

Sam told Steve everything. He remembered the day he had met Natasha, their instant chemistry, the subtle flirting, the arrangement, their first night out, their first kiss, their first time together, their new arrangement. Steve listened attentively. When Sam told him that you were Natasha’s best friend, Bucky interrupted him and told his own story.

“Wow,” Steve deadpanned, leaning forward to take one of Sam’s poached egg and avocado toast. Sam slapped his hand away. “Is that a thing now? Sugar daddies, I mean?”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“Yeah.” Steve sipped his mimosa with a bored look on his face. “You’re both not ready for the real conversation, so I’m just making small talk.”

Sam and Bucky exchanged confused looks. “What real conversation?”

“Sam, you just got an amazing promotion, you’re going to be the Prince of D.C. and you’re sitting here like someone kicked your puppy,” Steve replied, then turned to Bucky. “And you, well... I’ve been living with you for the past two weeks and you’ve gone all Alpha male on me, Buck. Cut the shit. You’re both in love with your sugar babies. Companions, or whatever the fuck you want to call them.”

Sam and Bucky sat in silence with their heads hung low. Steve opened his arms wide like a lawyer in a bad TV show saying ‘I rest my case’.  When he spoke again, his voice was soft.

“Look, as maybe the world's leading authority on waiting too long, don't,” he said. “What’s the worst that could happen, um?”

It made Bucky think. Best-case scenario, you loved him too and life was a breeze for the next fifty years. Bad-case scenario, you didn’t share his feelings. Worst-case scenario, you shared his feelings but couldn’t make the transition from sugar baby to girlfriend.

Yeah, worst-case scenario sucked...

He came home around three in the afternoon, and smiled when he saw your shoes and coat. Knowing you were home always put him in a good mood, but his heart was heavy. He felt conflicted. He didn’t know if it was better to tell you how he felt now or to just keep living in this little bubble with you until it’d inevitably burst.

And to make things worse, Sam was going to end his contract with Natasha tonight. He made Bucky promise not to tell you about it. Bucky felt sorry for Natasha, he wondered if she had feelings for Sam. He wondered if she had a backup plan.

He found you in your studio, sitting on the floor, huddled against the wall, with one knee drawn up to your chest and your arms loosely wrapped around your leg. You were staring at the painting you’d just made, the still wet paint glistened under the artificial lights.

This painting was different from your usual landscapes and occasional portraits. There were various shades of blue and grey intertwined, and five big splotches of dark red paint layered on top of the canvas.

Bucky knew just by looking at you that something was wrong. You looked defeated, sad, upset. He reasoned that your interview didn’t go as planned. Quietly, he stepped into the room and sat down on the floor next to you, his left shoulder brushing your own.

“I just got home,” he said.

“Where’s Steve?”

“He said he had some errands to run. He’ll be back later.”

You nodded, still staring straight ahead. “Okay. I bet you can’t wait to have some time to yourself. I asked Natasha if I could stay with her, but she’s going out with Sam tonight. I’ll stay in my room, I won’t bother you.”

Bucky felt his heart drop, his breath caught in his throat. He had made the woman he loved feel unwelcome. God, he wanted to kick his own ass.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, tilting his head to look at you but you were stubborn and refused to meet his eye. “I thought you were going out with Steve and I- I didn’t want you to feel like you had to stay with me.”

“I’m not interested in Steve. I told you that.”

“I know.” He moved so that he could see your face. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you, and for the way I treated Steve. It won’t happen again. I promise. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course, Bucky,” you huffed.

He saw your chin quiver slightly and your eyes glaze over with unshed tears. You looked utterly broken. He reached up and wiped a stray tear from your cheek.

“Sorry, I had a difficult day,” you said.

His palm cupped the side of your face, his thumb stroking a caress across your cheek. You met his eyes for the first time and he smiled softly at you.

“My angel.”

His words made you cry even harder, silent tears streaming down your cheeks. With his hand still cupping the side of your face, he leaned closer and pressed his lips against your other cheek. You closed your eyes and basked in his affection.

He could feel the warmth of your tears, could taste the salt on his lips as they streamed down your cheek to his mouth. Slowly, he pulled back and looked at you, a smile forming on his lips when he saw a fleck of dried blue paint above your eyebrows.

“Painter Smurf,” he teased, wiping it off. You let out a huff of air that sounded like a laugh. “I’m here for you, angel, whatever you need.” He pulled you against his side and you rested your head on his chest.

“My interview didn’t go very well,” you said after a long moment of silence. “She said that I’m really talented, that my technique is perfect. But my work is too figurative. It’s not what she’s looking for.” You paused to wipe your nose on your sleeve. “It’s just- It wasn’t my first meeting. They all tell me the same thing: I’m not good enough.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky said, kissing your hair. “Your work is unique. It’s raw and beautiful. If they can’t see that then they’re morons.”

“She told me that if I had been a white man in the nineteenth century, people would still talk about me today.” You sighed. “I don’t know, Bucky. Maybe I should work on something more abstract.”

Bucky tilted his head to one side as he looked at your painting. “Is that why you painted this?”

“Mhhh,” you hummed. “She told me to play with the textures, the forms, the lines, the colours. Suggest rather than show. Let the painting tell its own story.”

“Yeah, I think you did it.”

“You think it’s good?”

“I don’t think those adjectives apply here. Not with modern art. It’s in the eye of the beholder,” he said, running his fingers along your shoulder. “Abstract art isn’t supposed to be beautiful, it’s supposed to make you feel something, right?”

“How does it make you feel?”

“Unsettled, sad.”

You straightened up and sat shoulder to shoulder. “My brother died in a hit-and-run.” You let the information sink in for a minute. “I was with Okoye, we got a call from our mom but by the time we got to the hospital, he was already dead.”

Your voice was surprisingly calm and controlled. Bucky wanted to reach out to you but he was unable to move. He listened attentively, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest.

“He was wearing some kind of compression shirt, grey-blue with two white stripes, and it was covered in blood. When I close my eyes and think of that day, all I remember is that shirt and the blood.” You tilted your head and gave him a little smile. “That’s what I painted.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He just sat there, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. He couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Sorry,” you let out a small laugh. “I had a shitty meeting and then I came home and basically relived one of the worst days of my life to put it on a canvas. Now it’s staring at me and all I want is to shred it to pieces.”

Bucky noticed that your hand was close to one of your palette knives. Your fingers brushed against the handle, debating whether you should pick it up and slash the canvas. He laid his hand on top of yours.

“It won’t help,” he said. “Trust me. I can put the painting somewhere else if you want. You won’t have to look at it again. I promise.”

“Yes, please.”

“C’mon, beautiful, let’s go downstairs. I know someone who can help you.” He got to his feet and extended his hand to you. You frowned up at him, a silent question in your eyes. “His name is Bob and he paints happy little trees.”

A bright, wide smile spread until it lit up your whole face, and Bucky’s heart melted at the sight. He grinned at you and pulled you to your feet.

“I love Bob Ross,” you said, and Bucky gave your hand a little squeeze.

In the living room, you sat down on the sofa, crossing your legs under you and grabbed a blanket while Bucky connected his YouTube account to the TV. He sat down beside you, propping his feet up on the coffee table and adjusting the blanket in his lap.

“Hi, welcome back. Certainly glad you could join me today.” The show started and you melted against Bucky’s chest, pulling the blanket up to your neck. “Thought today we could do a fantastic little painting-”

You were pressed against his bad side, but Bucky didn’t mind. As the show progressed, you slid further into his lap until your head rested on the armrest of the sofa, close to Bucky’s right hand.

“People know when you’re happy. They can look at your paintings and tell how you were happy. They reflect your moods. Paintings are a reflection of your innermost feelings.”

He gave your head a little massage while you both watched Bob Ross create a stunning lake view painting.

“Cuz in your world, you can create any kind of illusion that you want. I spent half my life in the military, and I had to live in somebody else’s world all the time. Painting offered me freedom, I’d come home after all day of playing soldier and I could paint the kind of world that I wanted. It was clean, it was sparkling, shiny, beautiful-”

You shifted a little, and Bucky wondered if those words resonated with what you had been through. Being adopted, losing a brother, taking care of your sick mother when your siblings left, graduating, making ends meet... Those experiences had shaped you into the woman you would be for the rest of your life. A kind and strong woman who never really got to live or enjoy life.

He understood how important painting was to you. He was an artist too. He wasn’t a painter, but writing offered him a kind of freedom he had lost a long time ago.

“We should paint along,” you said, tilting your head up to look at him. “Then I’ll sell yours. I bet people would pay a lot of money to own an original Grant Thomas painting.”

Bucky chuckled. He knew you were teasing him, the slight curl of your lips said as much. “I’ll sign it James Barnes. It’ll be worthless.”

“It’s not worthless to me,” you said.

“Would you hang it in your room?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then, okay, I’ll paint along with you.”

When the episode ended, you decided to eat dinner first and paint later. You were sitting at the kitchen island, eating a bowl of leftover pasta from the night before, when Steve came home.

“Hey guys,” he greeted, throwing a plastic bag on the kitchen island before he made his way to his bedroom.

“I’m so fucking late. I still need to take a shower and get dressed.” Steve came out of his room, shirtless, and working his belt buckle open. “Hey, Buck, can I borrow some clothes?”

“I swear to fuckin’ God, Rogers, if you undress in the middle of the kitchen I’ll make you eat your jeans.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He rushed to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. A minute later, Bucky heard the shower running.

Later, you went upstairs to gather canvases, paint brushes and paint while Bucky helped Steve pick out an outfit.

Steve was too excited about his date to remind Bucky that he was an idiot, and Bucky was happy that for once they didn’t talk about his feelings for you. He teased Steve and watched as Steve squirmed, the tip of his ears bright red. Just like old times.

Then they met you downstairs where you had two easels set up in front of the television. Steve stood in front of you, visibly nervous and agitated, while you looked at him from head to toe.

“How do I look?”

“Like you’re wearing clothes two sizes too small for you, which makes you look even bigger than you normally are so... pretty good.”

“Yeah?”

You chuckled. “You look great, Steve.”

Steve responded with a relieved sigh and a little bashful smile. Bucky liked that look on Steve, it reminded him of their childhood when Steve awkwardly flirted his way through Brooklyn.

Bucky jerked back to the present when Steve turned to him for confirmation. He gave him a firm nod and a thumbs-up, then walked him to the kitchen. They talked about Steve’s plans for the night while Steve gathered up his things.

Bucky was walking back to the living room when Steve called out his name and threw something to him. Bucky caught it in mid-air, then looked down at his hand. A shiny looking condom wrapper was nestled in the palm of his hand. He scowled at Steve.

“Just in case,” Steve said with a shit-eating grin.

“You’re a dead man.”

Steve’s laughter echoed down the corridor as he left the apartment.

Blowing out a breath, Bucky pocketed the foil packet and joined you in the living room. You were sitting at your easel, blobs of paint arranged in a semicircle on a palette. There was another easel next to yours, with a palette resting on a stool to make things easier for him.

You selected the lake view episode you had watched earlier, thinking that it would make things easier. Bucky was in awe of you, you made painting look so effortless and beautiful. You added your own trees and clouds, shifting things around to create your own world.

Bucky followed Bob Ross’ instructions closely but, in his opinion, it looked like someone had made it with their feet. You laughed at his comment and told him that you would still hang it in your room. It boosted his ego a bit.

When you both finished your painting, Bucky looked up at the clock. It was close to midnight which made him do a double take.

“Time for me to hit the hay,” he said, yawning. “This is as good as it’s gonna get.”

“Mhh,” you mused, turning the TV off.

“You okay?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, I- uh, I was kind of hoping we’d do this all night,” you said, playing with a mostly dried paintbrush. You looked at him from under your lashes. “But it’s fine. I understand, you’re tired. I think I’ll wait for Steve.”

Bucky looked at you with a pained expression. He could tell something was bothering you. He placed his index finger under your chin and tilted your head up. “Angel, I don’t think Steve is coming home tonight.” You pinched your lips together and nodded. “Talk to me. I want to help.”

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Your words hit him like a punch in the chest, leaving him momentarily breathless. He pulled you close and pressed a long kiss to your forehead. You clung to him for dear life, your warmth and familiar scent made his heart ache.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled against your skin, then pulled back a little so he could look you in the eye. “Let’s change into something more comfortable, um? Then we’ll catch some shut-eye. I have an idea, the first person to fall asleep has to make breakfast tomorrow.”

“You sure?”

“You’re right. I’m exhausted, I’ll fall asleep first,” he said, shaking his head. “New rule, last person to fall asleep has to make breakfast.”

You snorted. “No, I meant... are we going to sleep in the same bed?”

“I promise I’ll stay on my side. But if it makes you uncomfortable, there’s a bunk bed in Steve’s room.”

“No, it’s fine. I want to wash my face first. I’ll see you in a minute.”

Bucky tried to play it cool but his heart was pounding. He kept seeing flashes of his dreams in his mind: skin against skin, steady puffs of air brushing against his skin, the smell of sweat and something uniquely you surrounding him.

He was absolutely terrified.

He went upstairs, took a quick shower, brushed his teeth and changed into his pyjamas. His night-time regimen took longer than he had anticipated so he wasn’t surprised when he found you sitting cross-legged on his bed, scrolling through your phone, looking so calm and peaceful.

You were wearing your pyjama bottoms and a fluffy sweatshirt stained with blue paint and tomato soup. He felt his stomach flip when you raised your head and smiled at him. A chill ran through his spine, and made the hairs on his arm stand on end. He’d never seen you look more beautiful.

“Hey,” you said, placing your phone on the nightstand. “Which side of the bed do you sleep on?”

“The side you’re sitting on.” You rolled to the other side of the bed and slid under the covers making him laugh. “You didn’t have to move.”

“It’s fine. I prefer this side.” You looked around the room. “I like your room. It’s very you.”

“Ah?”

“Yeah, neat, organized, lots of books, a cosy armchair, stormy blue comforter. It looks intimidating but it’s actually really soft. Like you.”

He suppressed a laugh. “Thanks.”

Bucky climbed into bed beside you, turned off the light and drew the blanket over him trying to get warm. He lay on his back looking up at the ceiling. He was so stiff and nervous, he forced himself to breathe normally. You turned onto your side and slid one of your hands under your pillow.

“Do you usually read before you go to sleep?” you whispered, afraid to disturb the silence.

“Yes,” he whispered back. “Do you?”

“Sometimes.” There was a moment’s silence before you spoke again. “I’ve started reading your book.”

“Oh, Christ,” he let out a small laugh and turned his head to look at you, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. “I hope I didn’t traumatize you.”

“You have a very dark sense of humour,” you said. “But I already knew that.”

“I’ve always had a dark sense of humor, but trust me, when I lost my arm I wasn’t in the mood for jokes. Therapy helped a lot. Besides, laughing is good for your health, right? My books are very personal, I don’t censor myself.”

“I know. I wasn’t expecting it to be so honest.” You shifted a little and looked away from him. “I don’t know if I’ll finish it, I feel like I’m intruding.”

“I understand.” He shifted slightly so he was lying on his left side, facing you. “I wrote it like a diary. Talking isn’t my strong suit. I don’t know, I think I’m trying too hard and I just end up being rude or not making sense. When I write, I take my time, I find the right words. It’s easier when I don’t have to look anyone in the eye.”

He knew his book was a little rough. He focused on his depression, his rehabilitation, relearning basically everything. He talked about rediscovering his body, intimately. He talked about his friends, his family, strangers, therapy, dating.

“Can I ask you a very personal question?”

“Of course.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

He swallowed hard, his throat raw and tight. “Yes.” In fact, he was in love right now. “Once. I don’t trust easily.”

“I know I read what happened between you and your girlfriend.”

She had been his first girlfriend since the accident. She was kind, patient, a little over excited but he found it cute. In a way, she reminded him of himself before the accident. She wasn’t afraid to touch him, and God, he needed to be touched.

Sam had witnessed little things that irked him but Bucky had ignored him, refusing to see the warning signs. He wanted to be happy again. But then he couldn’t bury his head in the sand anymore.

She treated him like a child in front of their friends, and her friends praised her for taking such good care of a man like him. A man who, in their mind, was high maintenance. She cut his meat for him even though he was perfectly capable of doing it himself. She helped him dress, tied his shoes, zipped up his coat, etc... He felt infantilized, humiliated.

He didn’t think she was a bad person though. It was just her personality.

“How’s Natasha?” he asked suddenly.

A puff of air caressed his face as you snorted out a laugh. “Why do you ask? You don’t like her.”

“I like her a lot,” he argued. “She seems wary of me, which I understand, but she’s great.”

“Yeah, she is.” You considered his words. “She’s doing well. She went on work date with Sam.”

Despite his promise to Sam, he couldn’t bear the thought of keeping things from you. “I have to tell you something about Sam and Nat.” You waited for him to continue. “Sam got promoted, he’s moving to D.C. He broke things off with Natasha tonight. I mean, their arrangement.”

“I know,” you said. “She texted me while you were in the bathroom. I’m going to spend the night at her place tomorrow. It’s been a while since we had a girls’ night, and we both really need it.”

“Good.” He cupped the side of your face, let his thumb brush your jaw. “I’m going out with the boys tomorrow. Steve’s leaving soon.” He pulled his hand back. “We should try to get some sleep.”

“No, please,” you said, shifting closer to him. “Not yet.”

“Angel, we can’t stay awake all night.”

“I don’t want to be alone in the dark.”

“I’m right here with you,” he spoke gently.

“But once you fall asleep I’ll be alone.”

Bucky raised his head and kissed your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin. When he pulled back, he rested his hand on your forearm and let his warmth seep into your skin. His thumb caressed the inside of your wrist, stroked over your racing pulse point.

“I’ll wait until you fall asleep,” he said.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You smiled and let your index finger run down the length of his nose. “Does it hurt when you sleep on your left side?”

“Not really,” he replied. “Most of the time it’s just weird. It feels like my phantom limb hangs down through the bed. Like my arm is invisible and just goes through the bed.”

“What do you miss the most?”

He let out a long exhale. “Not much. Hugs. Proper hugs... I guess. Holding someone close and wrapping myself around them. Squeezing someone against my chest, making them feel protected. I used to be a great hugger. Now I give bro hugs.”

“I love bro hugs.”

His chuckled dissolved into a grin, and you both stayed quiet for a moment. He knew you weren’t asleep, he could hear you thinking. “What’s on your mind, beautiful?”

“I was wondering,” you started, then trailed off. “One day we’ll have to end this arrangement. Do you think it’ll end well, or is it going to be messy?”

It took him a minute to respond.

“Y’know, one of the things I learned in therapy was to stop worrying about things I can’t control,” he said. “That’s in the future, for future-you and future-me. I don’t know how it’ll end but I can promise you one thing: I’ll always be there for you. Arrangement or not.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you breathed out. “Right-now-me is a lucky bitch.”

You both laughed softly, then fell into a contemplative silence. There was something so peaceful about lying in bed with you, his hand loosely wrapped around your wrist, sharing warmth. He didn’t want to fall asleep.

For the next hour you talked about your families, your childhood, your friends, your likes and your dislikes. You told him about being an adopted child and living with other adopted kids. He could tell you were holding back when you talked about your siblings.

The only one you gushed about was Okoye. You were evasive when you talked about Scott and Wanda, though you did tell him that you had agreed to meet Wanda.

“What’s your favorite comfort food?”

“Breakfast for dinner.” Your voice was soft and small, he knew you were falling asleep. “When I was a kid, we had breakfast for dinner every Sunday night. We’d grab a bowl of our favourite cereal and eat together in front of the TV. I miss those days.” Your face was half buried in your pillow. “What’s yours?”

“Easy, pancakes.”

You smiled, your eyes were closed. “I like pancakes too.”

He watched you fall asleep and made a mental note to make some pancakes for breakfast. Your breathing evened out, and he waited a few more minutes to make sure you were asleep before he rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.

Bucky woke up to the sound of rain striking against the window. He opened his eyes and noted that the room seemed brighter than usual. A quick glance at the bedside clock told him that it was already a little past eight.

He stretched, sighing contentedly, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his closed fist. He tilted his head to look at you, still sleeping next to him. You lay on your stomach with your face turned away from him and your arms hugging your pillow. He adjusted the covers around your shoulders and stealthy slipped out of bed.

He went to the window and fixed the shades to make sure they didn’t let any light in. Then he made his way downstairs where he found Steve cracking eggs into a bowl. He was still wearing Bucky’s clothes, but his hair was a mess. Still he looked positively glowing.

“Mornin’,” Steve greeted with a wide smile.

“Hey, man.” Bucky took a seat at the kitchen island. “When did you get back?”

“About ten minutes ago. Long enough to notice that your angel hasn’t slept in her room last night. Wanna talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Bucky said with a shrug. “She didn’t want to be alone.”

“So you slept with her.”

“We slept in the same bed. Nuance.”

“I’m gonna nuance your face with my fist if you don’t talk to her soon,” Steve exclaimed. “She’s not going to stay single forever, Buck. Things are gonna change, one way or another.”

“I know.”

Steve set the bowl aside and held the edge of the counter behind him. He sighed, exasperated. “If I were you, I’d talk to her before something happens and takes your choices away from you.”

Bucky pinched his lips together, hard, and looked down at the counter. A muscle in his jaw jumped. “I- I don’t know how to talk to her,” he said, feeling tears gather in his eyes. He met Steve’s eyes. “I physically can’t talk to her. It hurts. It’s stuck here-” he aggressively grabbed his stomach “-all the time. And it hurts, Steve, you have no idea how painful it is.”

“That’s love,” Steve replied, smiling at him like he, too, knew how it felt.

“Well, it fucking sucks.”

Bucky wiped the back of his hand against his runny nose. Steve stood there in silence.

“This book I’m writing,” Bucky said, breaking the silence. “It’s about her. Just her.” He paused. “I can’t back down now, my publicist’s too invested in our story. I know it’s an eccentric way of telling someone you fell in love with them but... writing’s easier than talking.”

Steve nodded, his eyes glued to the floor. “It’s like a long love letter.”

“Something like that.” Bucky climbed off the stool and rounded the kitchen island. “Now, I’m going to make breakfast. I promised her pancakes.”

Steve smiled and watched him move around the kitchen. “I hope it works out for you, Bucky. I really do.”

Part 10

[creativeashproductions]

What If...? V // Alive!Luke Patterson

Summary: 1995 was Sunset Curve’s big break in the music world with a successful future. Between 1995-2004 a handful of things happen: Playing the Orpheum, the band buying a house, a car accident, a reconciliation, an engagement, a wedding and children. All things that potentially may have not happened had the boys continued to eating sketchy hot dogs from a car.

Warnings: Swearing, pregnancy, labour, minor angst and a bunch of fluff.

Words: 3.1k

Requested: By @beautifulblogsblog. The last part of your request 🥺😭

A/N: Wow. The last part in the What If…? Mini series is here. This was incredibly fun to write and while I wrote the last two parts I played a few covers and rewrites of Unsaid Emily. This is the first finished series. I’ll also let everyone know that there will be a part three for Lost Time.

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Masterlist

Hospital Maternity Room #284, 1999

“Have a child, they said. Pregnancy is a beautiful thing they said. I can confirm that asshole that said that had a dick.” You hissed from the hospital bed. A contraction contracting your midsection.

Nancy Y/L/N and Emily Patterson took up residence in the chairs on either side of Y/N Patterson in the afternoon of 1999. Nancy had been using the previous months making a scrapbook for the baby; the first bit with copies of photos from Luke and your baby stages. The rest would be the first year of your baby’s life.

“Would you like some ice chips?” Emily asked focused on knitting the baby hat for her impending grandchild.

Mitch and Lance each had made themselves scarce from the hospital in favour of working leaving the women alone.

“I’d like your son to be here to kick his ass.” Your eye twitched at the thought of your husband currently on an airplane. Sunset Curve had gone on a three-day interview marathon to the dislike of your friends and family.

Sunset Curve really needs to fire their manager with little respect for his charges’ lives. Especially the lead singer’s first child. Luke had no clue you had gone into labour.

 “Your father had words with Jerry for his meddling.” Nancy told her daughter glancing up at the strained smile through another contraction, “I’m sure Jerry thought the controversy of Luke not making the birth would be perfect for publicity.”

“I swear I will strangle Jerry if Luke isn’t here. I will pulverize the son of a bitch.” You hissed relaxing against the white sheets in the private suite. The mothers had been constants in the room while Rose, the pianist from the wedding, had visited briefly.

 Rose and the photographer Ray had hit it off so well they had entered a relationship that then blossomed a friendship with you. The couple had become dear friends in the last few months.

 “Okay Y/N, we’re gonna check your progress.” The doctor spoke swiftly tugging the disposable medical gloves on his hands. Two nurses worked with him. Your eyes pinned to the ceiling during the short examination.

“We’ve hit ten centimetres.” The doctor announced pushing the wheeled stool away to study your expressions, “Do you have your partner here?”

The tears built up as it settled that Luke might miss the birth of his first child when he had been so excited about it. He had bought and read more pregnancy books than you he had been talking with his father on how he could support you. He took classes with his mom on how to change a diaper, check the temperature of the bottle and methods for colic and diaper rashes.

Overwhelmed the feeling of two pairs of hands comforted you with the reminder that while Luke wasn’t there, you still had support. The baby would be born with both his grandmothers in the room. It was as best as it could be.

In a fast pace, you then found yourself with your legs in the stirrups with a stranger, albeit a doctor, staring at your vagina. It was uncomfortable, but it faded when the pain really began.

“Okay I want you to push from 1-10.” The doctor soothed, “Good job.”

“You’re doing so well, darling,” Nancy told you, leading Emily to open her mouth. Unfortunately, she didn’t get the chance.

 “I’m here!” Luke exclaimed rushing into the room, “Your dad was-“

Why was it unfortunate that Emily didn’t speak? Well, Luke unprepared caught sight of your exposed lower half. He promptly fainted with a thud to the floor.

“Are you serious?!” You yelled glaring at the puddle of your husband out cold with one of the nurses waving a package under his nose.

The smelling salt pack under Luke’s nose, bringing him back to consciousness, “Oh, boy. I fainted.”

“It happens more often than you would think.” The nurse told the young man while you focused on another push.

By the time the contraction ended, Luke had taken his mother’s place in holding your hand with encouraging words dripping off his tongue.

“This is the only child we’re having.” You hissed at the musician who continued to pale with a perfect view of the birthing in a reflection, “If you faint again I will…ARG”

A beautiful cry filled the room to the relief of baby Patterson’s parents bringing both of them to cry as well. Baby Patterson was scooped away to the corner of the room for a checkup and weight while the doctor inspected you. Time felt unreal as it passed quickly.

Baby Patterson was wiped clean as you delivered the placenta, got cleaned up with a sheet change and began to rest. Baby hairs plastered against your forehead you cooed at the swaddled form of your baby.

“So beautiful.” Luke whispered, unaware of his mother taking pictures with the lessons Ray had given her. The baby’s mouth opened with a gurgle that caused your heart to grow, “I’ll go let the boys know.”

Mesmerized by the baby, Luke made his way to the family waiting room on the maternity ward where it was packed. Opening the door, he counted Reggie, Bobby, Alex, Alex’s boyfriend Willie, your father Lance and Luke’s father. In the corner, Rose and Ray huddled together.

“Well?” Alex anxiously questioned picking at his cuticles, anxious for any news. His blue eyes begging his best friend for answers.

“Y/N is doing fine. The birth was smooth, and baby Patterson is healthy.” Luke proudly announced, placing his hands on the hem of his purple long sleeve shirt.

The room went silent before Mitch spoke, “So, do I have a granddaughter or a grandson?”

From the moment she was born, Stevie Eleanor Patterson had her father tied around her finger with her daddy’s matching hazel gaze. Lips like yours and a nose still unsure of but the nine-month-old was absolutely gorgeous with her short brown hair already curling. Of course, you could be biased as she was all yours.

Stevie wouldn’t settle without rock music of her father singing songs, but she did sleep through the night since day one. That didn’t mean she’d continue to sleep through the night, regression of sleep was tale your mother told about you as a baby.

“Hello sweet baby girl.” You whispered gently rocking the baby back to sleep mesmerized by the perfect combination of you and Luke, “So sleepy from feeding hmm?”

Stevie was heavy with the only complication being the minor tongue tie that was resolved increasing her feed. Stevie had such an appetite you had to compensate with formula to a degree, and you were sure the appetite was all Luke.

“Hey sweetheart.” Luke murmured from the door of Stevie’s bedroom wearing his Rush cutoff shirt and his staple black jeans.

The now twenty-year-old man had transitioned smoothly into fatherhood with the support of his best friends and family. Emily and Nancy had alternated staying in the guest room to help in the first month; the birth had been easy, but recovery had been at a near standstill.

“Hey!” You spoke as Stevie reacted to Luke’s voice, “I thought you said you would be late?”

Luke’s lips turned up at your words, “It looked that way, but Tom sent us home. God, I wish we had him from the first instead of Jerry.”

Both noses of the couple scrunched at the insensitive former manager that had both hit on you and insulted you when started showing with the pregnancy. The minute they could the band fired the man and found a saviour in Tom. Tom had left his previous employment with some magician with a name like Conner or something. The magician was narcissistic truthfully and had a slight obsession with the occult and death.

“Perfect. I need a shower.” You sighed shuffling Stevie into Luke’s warm embrace staring at the daddy-daughter duo.

“Have a bath. Relax babe. I got it.” Luke cooed, staring at his baby daughter’s bright gaze and dimpled smile.

Luke couldn’t believe how blessed he had been in falling in love with someone like you and receiving a gift. The gift being a father to the most beautiful angel in the world with the name Stevie.

“Love you!” You called over hastily make a flee for the master bathroom with the large tub before Stevie objected.

How lucky were you to have a husband like Luke?

Malibu, Patterson home, 2004

Luke, Reggie, Bobby and Alex, better known as Sunset Curve, had become legendary in the music world after their 1995 headliner debut at the Orpheum. In the nine years since the esteemed performance Sunset Curve had released two studio albums and toured four times. With the good times came the bad times as well.

Bobby Willis had decided he wanted to pursue a solo career creating a cavern between all four boys. He would change his name to Trevor Wilson at the suggestion of his label. He had little traction with his songs.

“Daddy!” Squealed, the three old little brunette girl ran through the modest-sized mansion to the man at the door, “I missed you!”

Luke, having memorized the routine, had already left his bag on the ground as his five-year-old daughter launched herself into his arms. Stevie had kept the hazel eyes with the chocolate coloured wavy hair. You could see yourself with her nose, chin, mouth and ears, but the rest is all Luke.

“Bug, you saw Daddy this morning.” You spoke, bringing Luke’s attention to the woman leaning against the wall. Luke’s heart fluttered, taking in the vision of his wife, who inspired so many songs.

Luke’s lips separated to reveal that perfect smile that stilled made your stomach flutter as it had since you were both fifteen. His hazel eyes glanced from your face to the one-year-old on your hip with his eyes closed. Little lips opened with quiet snores.

Hudson Jude was born in December of 2002 thankfully while Sunset Curve was on a break allowing Luke to be there. Hud was a near replica of you with the same eyes as his older sister and father. His infectious personality mimicking his uncle Reggie.

Mitch and Emily’s House May 2002

Last night had been incredible to Luke Patterson as Sunset Curve stood on the stadium stage as the sold-out crowd cheered as the song came to an end. ‘Now or Never’ had a special spot in the band’s hearts as they believed it had been the spark of interest from record execs back in ’95. Luke’s blue electric hung behind him as his best friends, his brothers, came to the edge with him. Grins splitting their faces the four boys grabbed hands and bowed to the audience.

“Thank you so much for coming out!” Luke’s voice reached every corner of the stadium drinking in the cheering and the signs in the crowd. And it felt like just yesterday they played the Orpheum before they hit it big.

The screams growing as Reggie’s winked in the direction of a group of girls, but Luke’s drifted to the VIP section. You stood with Stevie wearing the special headphones to protect her hearing. Her tiny hands clapping as her eyes wandered the large number of people.

The next morning, right now, he was in the living room with his parents, in-laws, his wife and daughter. So much had changed for the vocalist from fleeing this very house to returning to make amends. Now he watched his daughter playing with the toys Emily had found in the attic from Luke’s childhood.

“Hey I got you a gift.” You whispered to the man leaning against your legs on the floor. You sat seated on the couch while the other adults spoke.

“A gift? What for?” Luke questioned leaning to rest his head on your lap. His eyes found the little box you had hidden behind a pillow.

It was small and unassuming to the group in the living room. Luke’s fingers pulled the bow apart before the lid came off. Nestled in the velvet five guitars were. Taking one, Luke read the engraving.

“New Sunset Curve member: Coming December 2002.” Luke whispered blinking as he flipped it to see, “Daddy’s new music buddy.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, “The other ones are for the boys. The back has their names on it.”

 “We’re having another baby?” Luke softly asked, turning to face you completely. His eyes wonder-filled at the news, “Oh my gosh!”

“I know. I’m about two months pregnant at this point.” You murmured back cupping his cheeks with the stubble he hadn’t shaved yet. Tears filling both his and your eyes, “With how busy the tour was I lost track of my periods.”

“Oh my gosh. Can I tell them?” Luke pleaded on his knees, bringing the attention of both your parents. Stevie was still so enthralled by her toys she didn’t catch any words..

“Go ahead.” You smiled at the excited man. Facing the other side of the room, Luke nestled into your side on the couch..

Hand pressing on your flat tummy he grinned, “Stevie’s gonna be a big sister.”

Luke was so excited when his second child was born, he was thrilled at having a son; he would have been just as excited for a girl. He had a son and a daughter he loved with everything in him. He collaborated with Lance on a song for his own children just as Lance had.

“Hi Hud,” Luke spoke, stepping close to kiss his son’s sleeping head nestled in your neck, “How’s my gorgeous wife today.”

“Tired. Hud is breaking a new tooth, but Stevie’s been better today. She missed her uncle Alex.” You spoke, looking at your little girl.

 Stevie had become Alex’s shadow with the man even buying her a toy drumset for her fifth birthday. Alex and Willie had been away the past two weeks for a honeymoon; they legally couldn’t marry, but that didn’t stop them from having a dedication ceremony. The minute the law changed, you had no doubt Willie and Alex would find their way to a courthouse.

“We all miss Alex.” Luke sighed, “I hope he finds beach sand for the next year, there’s only so much I can take of Reggie. Bobby, Trevor came to the studio today. His sales have dropped, and his label dropped him.”

“He wants to come back?”

“To be fair he never really left the band. He went solo.” Luke admitted, “It’s hard to trust him after he took ‘Get Lost’ from us. At least he didn’t take ‘My Name is Luke’ from us.”

Your hand pushed up the hair hanging in his eyes below the orange beanie that had been a staple outfit piece for years now. Fronts pushed together, Luke kissed you for the first time today other than the quick peck as he left this morning. Hudson had a lousy sleep that left Luke staying up most the night with him.

“At the end of the day, it comes down to Reggie, Alex and you to make that decision. He’s never been a bad person, but maybe he felt like he wasn’t important. How many songs did he write?” You questioned your husband tentatively speaking to not spark his passionate anger.

You saw the annoyance in the crinkle of his nose and his eyebrows almost touching, but it didn’t take from the love in his eyes. With a sigh, he shifted Hudson to his embrace, tugging you to the spacious living room.

“If you look at it outside the band you have Stevie, Hudson and me. You have a family. Alex and Willie are connected at the hip. Reggie is with the band, volunteering at the kids centre, or with Ray.” It seemed it shifted something in Luke. His shoulders relaxed.

“The last few years have been pretty hectic.” Luke admitted watching as Stevie danced to the rock playing on the radio. Her little arms moving as if she was drumming.

Hudson shifted on Luke’s lap as you nestled into his side, watching the little loves you created with soft expressions. Stevie’s bright grin lighting up the room better than the natural light from the windows. The innocence she carried deep in her soul it felt like everything clicked into place.

“Daddy! Watch me!” Stevie giggled jumping as the song changed to Bittersweet by her grandfather Lance. The same song that played in the car accident back in ’96 that had a new meaning with having your own children.

It took a long time before Lance was able to pick up the guitar and perform; his lingering pain in his arm the cause. It took a few surgeries and physiotherapy along with relearning how to play before he performed Bittersweet. Lance performed for the first time live in your hospital room to his first grandchild.

“Whoo Stevie!” Reggie called from the front of the house. Behind him, Alex and Willie joined the same family.

“UNCLE ALEX!” Stevie shouted sprinting towards the tall blonde already crouching for the little girl.

The bond between Stevie and Alex was by far the cutest thing you had ever seen with how Stevie looked up at him. Alex would be the first to suggest tea parties and painting each other’s nails with newspaper for any spills. There wasn’t a better role model for Stevie to love. The bond was reminiscent of Uncle Jesse and Michelle from Full House.

“Ellie!” Alex shouted back swinging the little girl in his hug calling his unique nickname for her. He had taken to shortening her middle name; he really didn’t like when anyone else said it.

Peering over the pink sweater Stevie caught sight of Willie in the door, “Ready Uncle Alex?”

 At Alex’s confusion, Stevie wandered over to the skater smiling at the sight of his partner with the little girl. Willie’s brow furrowed as the girl came over to him uncharacteristically.

“Hi.” Stevie spoke, playing with her little fingers, “How was your trip, Uncle Willie?”

A small gasp from both Willie and Alex at the new title given that Stevie was shy with the skater. Stevie had been very excited for her uncle to come back from the honeymoon so she could surprise them.

“What?”

“You married Uncle Alex. That means you’re my uncle now too. Can I call you that?” Stevie’s brows furrowed concentrating on the man with tears in his eyes. The room was silent at Willie collected himself.

“I’d love that Squirt.” Willie choked out when her little arms wrapped around his shoulders, “Learn any new tricks on the drums?”

“Not really! But I lost a tooth!” Stevie excitedly spoke dancing on the balls of her little feet in the kid-sized black vans.

“Oh! Ray wanted me to pass on that he and Rose are pregnant! Baby is a girl due next year.” Reggie gasped, remembering the announcement from lunch at the Molina house, “Ray’s pretty sure they’ll name her Julie.”

The little Patterson girl eagerly informed her uncles on everything that had happened since the dedication ceremony with Willie and Alex. Even the twenty-four hours since she saw Uncle Reggie before breaking out into the dance moves from her dance classes. Hudson now toddling after his older sister with a smile on his little face.

A twist of expressions appeased on the members of Sunset Curve at the same time spoke together. All thinking of a distant vision of a Puerto Rican girl with a blurry face and gorgeous voice.

“Julie Molina? I feel like I know that name?”

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[iamvegorott]

I have an OC that I’ve been meaning to write a story about and her name is Rose (sometimes called Rosie) her story was that Wilford found her as a baby, abandoned, and he desperately started trying to find her a family because he doesn’t think five could take care of her, but dude to the fact that at this point in time a war was going on no one wanted to have another mouth to feed.

For almost three years wilfords going around trying to find someone to take care of her until one night their town gets raided and Wilford and Rosie are hiding in the basement, and when Rosie hears some really loud noises she cuddles up to Wilford and goes “papa, papa I’m scared” and Wilford at that moment could not let her go.

After the raid was over he immediately grabbed what he could and traveled as far away from the fighting as possible (he hadn’t done so before because it’s hard to get a girl a family while on the road when people who want to take a little girl may be shifty)

He raises her on his own until she’s almost 17 and during that time he acts like just a normal single dad (not crazy pink-haired murderer lol but he still does some stabbing) until his daughter figure out that he’s Wilford warfstace (the name I had him use to be a normal “dad” was like Adam Smith because he wanted it to be super plain.

She confronts him and he’s devastated because he took on a life of crime and it’s very lonely, he didn’t think he’d make a good dad because of it. He doesn’t think his daughter would be very happy with it. He’s ready to leave her with the keys to the house they’re living in and sending her hefty checks in the mail until she gets a job because obviously she doesn’t want to live with a “monster” and she’s almost an adult anyways.

She stops him before he leaves and asks him why he kills and he says that he can do very little to help people who are hurt but he can stop those who hurt (cuz he only kills murders, r*pist, human traffickers, abusers, etc in my opinion because if he just killed anyone he wouldn’t be much better than actor) and she’s surprisingly chill with it.

He continues to live with her and he’s a very loving father and one day she comes to him and tells him of a boy at her school who whenever he takes a girl out they go missing. She’s found out that he kills em and hides em so she asks Wilford to murder him but he refuses, he says that he would not kill him because he doesn’t want her to be a part of it, he doesn’t want to have her ask for this kind of thing again so he gathers a bunch of evidence and stages a thing that makes it look like this guy was working with the serial killing Wilford Warfstache and then goes to the court as Adam Smith and gets him in jail and it’s the one time Wilford has ever gone to court.

From then on they live their normal lives. Rosie eventually moves out and becomes a doctor (which Wilford is super proud of because this was before woman were really allowed to be anything but nurses) and he visits a lot. Eventually she ages and becomes an old woman but wilford is still the same and he sits with her on her death bed while most assume he’s her son or maybe grandson because he looks so young compared to her. She dies and wilford buried her and was left broken for years.

Eventually he goes to live at the manor with everybody and one day he goes to visit her grave. He brings flowers and talks to her for awhile before returning home. When he gets there he sees the bouquet of flowers sitting on his dresser. “How’s it going papa?” He hears from the corner and turns to see his daughter, now a ghost, sitting at his desk. He’s overjoyed! She’s able to visit him from the after life and she ends up spending a lot of time with the ipliers and septics. She gets along very well with Edward and Henrick because they’re all doctors and she likes to hover over their shoulders and poke fun at them when they make mistakes. She gets along with JJ because she’s also form a different time getting used to this one (and because she definitely knows wilfords super in love with him and is all “My father has been lonely since I died, pleas have sex with him”). She and Anti get along very well and they commonly use her ghost abilities of floating and going through walls to prank.

When everyone first was introduced to her they couldn’t believe Wilford had a kid that turned out to be like, a super smart doctor and Wilfords a little offended. Dark met her and it went like “you can’t be wilfords, you’re not pink” “I’m adopted unc’ dark” “….oh…. OH! I’m an uncle!!!”

She never married before she died and Wilford learned why after she brought another ghost girl to the manor with her and introduced her as her girlfriend. Wilford immediately starts planning on how to get them to pride without spooking anyone.

Sorry if this is long lol

Oh, I love her!

[hitoshisbabygirl]

Author's Notes ♡: okay uhm the more characters I do the more I’m learning I’m a simp-

Anyways welcome to another BNHAREM collab that I had the pleasure to be in! I had fun trying to turn our league of villains leader into a hero/vigilante! A quick side note, his personality here is more of what I think he could’ve been/acted like if he was treated better and taught how to control his quirk without hate qwq without further waiting here’s my addition to the already wonderful collaborators! Make sure to check their stories out too in the masterlist! ~ bunny ❥

Warnings : None!! Fluffy and awkward Shiggy for the win! Also please ignore typos if any they’ll be fixed later </3

Word count : 3.5K

Paring(s) : Tomura Shigaraki x F! Reader

Summary : When the city you live in is rampant with villains what happens when your seabed by a cold and off putting vigilante (that’s my best summary I’m sorry </3)

Enjoy ♡

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Turning off the TV [ ] couldnt help the trembling of her hands as she realized the mayhem that had been spurring the last couple of weeks with the new arrival of villain groups wasnt subsiding. life was hard , the struggle of not to take the news seriously and feeling like all hope was lost was a common feeling between each day, the chore of getting up early during the daylight time so you could get what you needed before crime became rampant was adreanline fueld.. It was nerveracking, living your life on the edge and feeling unable to believe the ones in and on duty would protect you. After weighing the options about staying in or hurrying down the street for food before the curfew kicked in [ ] reluctantly got up, grabbing her keys , phone and a light jacket as she headed throught the decrepit streets, hearing the distant sirens that never failed to doing their job of setting her nerves ablaze. As she saw the neon signs of the store ahead of her she was able to enter and grab quite a lot of things, the warm feeling of being safe surrounding her as she heard more and more sounds from blocks ahead. “Are you okay sweetie?”

An older lady with a young man asked the anxious girl, a smile on her face as she answered the woman “Ah yeah im sorry ma’am just trying to find the best way home without being in the crossfire” Shaking her head in agreement the older woman spoke again “Its running rampant out there, its why i brought my grandson with me” ponting to the male beside her he gave [ ] a smile, holding a bag fro the lady “Now you be safe dearie, look both ways and use the lights to guide you home!” Waving to the pair [ ] felt a bit more relived as she started the shorter but dreaded walk back to her townhome. The area was better than most in cities, just because of how it wasnt in the full downtown that was in a disarray. Even so it was still dangerous and hearing a loud crash and explosion from in front of where [ ] was walking could never be a good thing. As she walked further she saw a group of people blowing up a strip that included a jewelry spot, a small back and shopping center she knew something bad would happen if she got any closer. Walking backward she headed to an abandoned alleyway, slowly trying to get herself in a safe distance away from whoever was destroying the buildings. As she got into a corner she could hear the people talk and yell, the sound of glass breaking and another boom. Jumping form the sound of the explosion getting closer she moved into a doorway of one of the undisturbed buildings in the strip.

Soon however she felt a hand on her arm as one of the guys caught her. As [ ] tried to fight them off she head them chuckle, one taking her face in his hand as the others tried to go through her bags “Well well well hello ther girl, whatcha doing in the Scorpions part of town” One of the men, who [ ] presumed was the leader snared at her, grinning when she turend her ace away from his. Pulling her face back to his he tried to get her to talk, pushing her cheeks together as he laughed “I like them feisty , why dont you just be nice to me and my guys huh?” before she could form her lips to try to get a smart response a sound of pain came from one of the destroyed buildings. Catching the leaders attention he called out to someone before they all heard a yell of watch out. The building, which they had destroyed was now falling over and onto them who were in its path. All [ ] knew was that the guy who grabbed her arm let her go and shoved her before everything whent black.

A cracking sound , one of breaking concrete broke through [ ]’s head as she opened her eyes to blackness, everything around her covered in the sheet of night as the same cracking sound could be heard. Soon a faint voice could be heard from above her. Lightly she yelped which mustve been enough for whoever was above her as teh cracking sound got lounder before she could see light from the moon above her “H-hey is ther someone down there?” A voice called out as [ ] yelled back to them “O-oh yes! Please help me im stuck and i cant move!” She yelled as she felt her leg get tighter as she tried to wiggle.

“Cover your face if you can” The now more male sound voice said as she did such, felling pieces of cement and gravel touch her arms as she moved them to see long whitish blue hair appear before a gloved hand reached out “Can you reach?” The mystery male asked as she jumped up bepfre yeliping in pain. Hearing the sound the male took his ungloved hand and seemilngly dissolved more concreate taht held her and her leg in place. “Hold on….Im coming dont move, you could hurt yourself if you do.” Hopping dwon the hole with her the male saw how she was twisted in her spot and pained expression that covered her facial features. Faced with a challenge the male gave her his gloved hand as he used the uncovered one to break up the rocks and concrete that held her still “Just a little more okay? Youre close I almost got you” He reassured. Soon [ ] felt herself slip up and into the arms of the mystery man who she noticed had his face covered. As he brought her out of the ruble and into the light from the mood and streetlights she looked at her savior. He wasnt large in stature but her was fit and quite strong to pull her up with one arm. Feeling the girl he just saved staring at him , the male turned to her and simply stated “You should go home” Before starting to head off “W-wait! Please, let me thank you properly. You didnt have to save me yet you did” She said as he turned to her “......Theres no need to thank me, just doing what the heroes arent” Starting to walk again [ ] couldnt help chewing her lip before running to join his side “Well can i at least thank you properly , or just get your name and be able to find you again?” stopping in his tracks he moved his hair from his face before crimson eyes glanced at her “Tomura” He said “Huh..?” “My name...Tomura..or MC” He whispered as she shook her head “Tomura...okay well thank you Tomura for saving me , my names [ ]”

Shaking his head Tomura started off again, shoving his gloved hands in his pockets, this time heading off for good. As he trucked along [ ] heard the sirens appear closer to the damage that was the destroyed store that covered the criminals that tried to get her before. Starting to walk off her own she noticed a shining necklace on the ground. Picking it up she noticed it was one you could put pictures in it. Peeking inside she saw a woman with black hair holing a little boy with just as black ahir and piercing red eyes, the woman happily smiling as she held the child. Closing the locket she took with her , feeling strangely drawn to it. As she heaaded home she thought about the mysterious Tomura, someone who looked like a normal civilian like her and others seemd to have a strong quirk, and was more than what he seemed on the outside

As a few days turned into a week rolled on [ ] noticed that the streets were still bad, but the men who had cornered her had been captured after the building had collapsed. Feeling herself sigh and relax [ ] headed for the store once again, this time during the day as she needed to replace the food she had tried getting before that was lost during the the collapse. As she left once again she saw a familiar tuff of periwinkle hair go around the corner. Peeking her interest she followed himas she heard him curse under his breath before turning around straight into her “ow, wait….its you again” He huffed as his crimson eyes looked into hers “Yep! Hey tomu!” The quirky nickname caused head to fill in the mans face as he was glad it was covered. “[ ]....hello” He said back as he continued to pace around the old scene that stil had some concrete in the land “Whatcha looking for…?” She asked as he still looked around “Something important of mines” “Well can i help out?” Sighing Tomura turned to the hopeful girl that for some reason, didnt bother him as many did

“Fine. its a silver locket..” pausing [ ] thought about the locket she found when they first met “It….wouldnt happen to have a woman and a boy in it would it?” As soon as she said that the periwrinkle haired boy turend to her “You found it? Where” reaching out he went to grab her hands only to stop himself and put them at his sides. Ignoring the gesture as nerves she gave him a smile “Well..I found it the day you saved me, it was actually in the rubble” looking at the sparkling eyes of Tomura she couldn’t help but let her smile grow before sighing “Only thing is...it’s at my house now” still looking at him he gave her a smile behind his covering before shaking his own head “That’s fine..if you don’t mind me coming with you, or you just bring it I’m not really.,,yeah” Giggling at his nervousness [. ] put her hand ont his shoulder “It’s fine! Uhm..have you ate dinner yet? I can even cook you something!” Holding up her bag Tomura felt his heart thump as he agreed to eat with her, the two headed for her place.

Looking around Tomura noticed how clean and kept together her place was. It was warm, and inviting, something he wasn’t too used to “I’m sorry it’s a mess here! I was trying to move things around and make it look better but..I feel like it’s still weird!” Laughing she turned to face the powder blue haired boy who stood still in her doorway. “You can come in or would you need a helping hand?” She teased as she held her hand out. Hesitantly held his gloved hand out before pulling away slightly “S-sorry im just.. nervous” he said softly before [. ] gave him a knowing smile, before taking a step back “Well there’s no rush, take a seat and get comfortable, I’ll get your locket and I’ll start dinner!” Walking away [. ] went to her bedroom as Tomura sat there looking at his hands. They held so much fear in them, life and death. Over the years he learned how to control his power, even able to touch things without gloves and them not dissolve. But witr him nervous, he was afraid one wrong touch would hurt or even worse...destroy the one nice person he’d ever met in the midst of the all of the mayhem. In the mist of him thinking [. ] came back and saw him.

Feeling bad and not sure of how to approach him she tenderly held the locket and placed it on the table, which snapped him from his thoughts “Here you are! I did clean the silver so it was more shiny and not as dingy from the dirt” taking the piece from her hands Tomura place it down to see it better than he remembered and still having his grandmother and him inside of it. “Thank you [ ]. It means...alot to me, more thna youd ever know” Going into her kitchen she started some rice as she tried small talk with him “So...have you always been a vigilante?” Thinking abut the response her messed with a piece of his hair “ Well no...i wanted to be a hero one day but...my quirk is less helpful and more destructive” starting to get the steaks out she seasoned then placed them in the oven before siting down at the table with him “I think the power to disintegrate things could be wonderful as a rescuer! Hell you even saved me! And think if you didnt have that quirk , how would you get me out? Plus youre strong, you got me out with only a hand, youre really strong Tomu” Crimson eyes barely met her gaze.

Seeing her own energy mads him smile, hidden beind the mask he wore. “Uhm...may I?” Reaching for a hand [ ] looked at his eyes aas he wavered, sliding them away from her own “When i get nervous i feel like i loose control” Tomura said before [ ] just gently place her pinky on the glove “Im not afraid taht youd hurt me , i trust you okay?” Taking more of his hand in hers she rubbed the back of his glove, feeling the way he tensed wehn she traced his knuckles “See? Its okay yknow!” Smiling she got up to check the food, failing to see the way Tomura was going though a crisis under his mask, face flushing as she stirred and turned it off , letting both the rice and steak cool a bit before serving. Turning around [ ] saw how handsome her savior was. A soft , almost baby looking face was hidden under that protective mask , turned in a small frown as he fiddled with his hands “Wow...youre handsome” Scaring him from his thoughts Tomura couldnt hide the red that flushed his face as she giggled “Thanks...Ive never been told that before” Hearing him say that made [ ]’s heart twinge before grabbing two plates “Well they must not know the true beauty under your mask hm?” bringing over what she made she sat in front of him, handing him a fork before sitting infront of him “Here ya go! I wont say im a chief but I enjoy cooking yknow?” Now able to see him smile without a protection over majority of his face [ ] couldnt help her heart speeding up as he did. A comfortable silence feel between them as they ate and finished dinner, occasional jokes and small talk happening between them. She learned more about the powder blue haired male, that he wanted to be a hero but because he could disintegrate , they made fun of him and called him a villain instead. But finding a locket with a note attached from his grandmother changed that. She was strong, and a hero herself. She encouraged him to be one, for them to meet someday when he was older and him to become a great hero. It kept him strong, and its how hes a vigilante now. Happy to know more of his story [ ] explained how she wanted to be one too, but also wanted to make uniforms for them. The two went on into the night, talking about the issues outside and the running rapid of the villains whileist other things. Tomura learned that she liked video games which opened a whole new world of things thye could do together.

As midnight rolled around he started to get up , grabbing his things which caught [ ]’s attention “Your leaving?” Looking back at the doe like eyes he couldn't help but sigh and smile at her “Yeah...should go out and see whats to been seen” before he left she got up and strolled over to him “Well its unsafe out there, could you...maybe..stay?” With each word her voice got quieter before she was just silent, messing with his fingers “You want me to stay with you?” Tomura asked before she shook her head, eyes meeting his “Yknow youre nice..and i am a bit of a drifter..” Thinking over the odds out loud he gave her a small smile “Ill stay”

And that's how it was for weeks, them staying together in [ ]’s home, eating together, playing games, shopping for groceries. It was a comfortable thing between the two, sharing the place together like roomates. Tomura was like her protector, not letting her get very far without him and [ ] took care of him when he was injured or just needed reassurance. All and all everything was good except….he knew he had fell for her. [ ] was sweeet to him, gentle and overall just careful of how she helped him. She didnt rush him to anything, was gentle and gave him time to relax and to be comfortable with her. It was painful, for them to be close but yet have different opinions on how they feel about being close and for Tomura it was harder than usual for him having a crush on her.

Fiddling with a pen in the kitchen, Tomura heard [ ] come down the hall , skipping up to him as she gave him a smile he learned he was smitten for “Hey Tomu whatcha up to?” she asked as he gave her a smile of his own back “Ah just thinking about something….whats up?” He asked as the girl came over and gave him a hug, something he wasn’t used to but something he craved every day more than he’d like to admit. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders he chuckled as she slightly squeezed him tighter “Just wanted to check on you that’s all.” Going to move away [. ] felt Tomura pull her closer, burying his face atop her head “Tomu...whats wrong?” She asked as he said nothing, tightly holding her even more as she rubbed his back, knowing this was his silent way of showing he was worried about something “wh’ nt y be m’ plr wo” the male said, muffled on her head. Laughing, she moved her chin to his chest “What're you talking about?” He reluctantly pulled away , their eyes locking as he soon looked down, scratching his arm “I..nothing...thinking out loud. Don’t worry about it” Beofre he could slip away she grabbed his arm, turnighg him back to her. “Tomura...what is it?” Chewing his bottom lip he sided before taking her hand in his, rubbing the smooth skin with his rough glove “I said..why can’t you be my player two” Blinking almost comically [. ] giggled “Well I can be! What game do you wanna play?” Shaking his head Tomura dropped her hand , stepping back as he barely glanced at her “This game called life [. ]...I want to...have you around me all the time, I..really cherish having someone so sweet to me and who cares about me and how I feel..you make me feel more alive and comfortable in my skin then I’ve ever felt before..and I..want to be selfish and make you mine..” He finished with a sigh before looking out the window “ But I know you won’t feel the same so..it’s quite alright”

As soon as he said that he felt a hand at the back of his shirt, pulling him back to his crush, a woman he couldn’t face and now that he laid his feelings out he didn’t want her to pity him. “Tomura look at me” Hearing his full name scared him but Turning around he was surprised to see [. ]’s small smile growing to a larger one once he faced her “Here, give me your hand” Holding her own out he put his hand in hers. To make him even more disarray she undid his gloved to reveal his hands, damaged and scarred from before he could control his powers. Soon he felt soft lips his the bare skin, which every kiss an electric shock went through his body before he felt her fingers lace in his. Wide crimson eyes looked at soft [. ] ones as she took in a breath “I..I’m so happy you told me Tomu, I was afraid you were gonna leave here aha..” letting out a soft laugh she unwrapped a hand to hold his face “I would love to be your player two, I’ll be here for you as long as you need me okay?” Giving her a slight pout he barely lifted his own hand to trace a pinky on her cheek “But what if I need you forever” laughing again and moving closer she stood on her toes to rub noses “Then that’s what it’ll be” Becore he could stop himself he realeased her hand and pressed his lips against hers, hearing the soft gasp she let out as he pushed his lips harder on hers before he felt her relax, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissed him back just as hard. As the kiss got from hard and desperate they slowly started to get more intimate, the kiss softening up until Tomura pulled away breathless as [. ] was too, the both of them letting out light giggles “Wow..that was..” “Great..” Finishing his sentence [. ] gave him another hug, the two of them holding eachother in the middle of the floor “Hey [. ]..” he said as she hummed, before he continued “Let’s kiss again” Giggling she moved her head to meet his , lips sealing for another round of needed affection, the Rü them of their hearts drowning out the mayhem that brought them together.

[recurring-polynya]

Hi Polynya! I’m curious and in the spirit of Ginrei’s birthday, what do you think are his opinions of Rukia and Renji separately and together?

Ha ha, this is such a simple and straightforward question and my answer is going to be so long and so complicated and have almost nothing to do with Rukia and Renji because Ginrei's feelings toward Rukia and Renji have almost nothing to do with Rukia and Renji.

So, I want to start out by saying that Ginrei is a lot like Hisana in the sense that he's a canon character, we get the idea of him and what he's there for, but there's no actual characterization of him, which gives fanfic writers a tremendous amount of leeway to do whatever they want with him. I'm not going to try to justify anything I say here, it's just my ideas and how it goes in my fanfiction. I love it whenever a writer tries to take on the Kuchiki clan and I'm always interested to see what other people's takes are, even when they vary wildly from my own.

I love the fact that "Kuchiki" means "dead tree." We meet Rukia first, and it's sort of a delightfully spoopy name, very appropriate for this salty, overdramatic, grim reaper girl, but it takes on additional meaning when we meet Byakuya, the noble and powerful scion of a dying house.

The thing that makes Ginrei interesting as a character to me is that he is the one who ruled over his house as it fell. I tend to regard filler episodes as semi-canon, so I like the idea of Kouga, even if I don't want to acknowledge the rest of the Zanpakutou Rebellion shenanigans. I think that the main line of the Kuchiki was already running a little thin, Soujun's health was a big concern, and so they marry in this guy who is a scholar and a powerful shinigami. They never say what Kouga's previous social status was, but given that they emphasize what an accomplished dude he is, I think he was chosen for his skills, not his lineage, to strengthen the Kuchiki bloodline, except it backfires. Then Soujun dies, too, a few years later.

Ginrei strikes me as the type of leader who thinks he can control everything. He manages his clan with an iron fist. He is pragmatic, not sentimental. He’s not bad or mean, but he can see that he does not have a lot of room for missteps, and he takes his role very, very seriously. Despite this, he’s lost the generation under him, and all that he has left is Byakuya. There are cousins and branch families, but to the pride of the Kuchiki is its main line, descended from great generals and heroes and the very founders of Soul Society. Byakuya, in a lot of ways, hearkens back to the great Kuchiki of old, and Ginrei sees that he has the potential to reclaim the power and glory of his house. He’s hard on Byakuya and has high expectations for him. Ginrei loved his son and he loves his grandson, but after Soujun’s death, he often wonders if he was too soft on him because of his health, if Soujun would have lived if Ginrei had just expected more of him. Byakuya is the last hope of the Kuchiki and Ginrei knows he can achieve great things, and Ginrei is determined to do everything in his power to make sure Byakuya achieves his full potential.

And some ways, Byakuya is the perfect Kuchiki. He’s strong and he’s hard-working. He’s principled. He’s working on his self-control, and he’s very good at when it comes, to say, sword practice, he’s just not so good at in when it comes to interpersonal relations, but he’s coming along. Then he meets Hisana.

Hisana is absolutely unacceptable to Ginrei. Byakuya needs a marriage with a woman with strong spiritual pressure and a noble lineage so that he can gain some alliances from the marriage and then she can pop out some strapping young heirs while also managing his social life for him, just like Ginrei’s wife did for him. Hisana obviously isn’t going to check any of these boxes.

I headcanon Byakuya as demisexual, in the sense that he doesn’t experience sexual attraction very often, and if he does, it’s only to someone he’s already got strong feelings for. He was sort of okay with the vague idea of marrying someone for the purposes of procreating until he met Hisana and realized how much that would pale in comparison to actually being married to the love of his life.

Up until this point, Byakuya has had some minor rebellions against Ginrei, but they’ve never really gone at it, but this is one time that Byakuya stands firm. Ginrei is super-pissed. He lets Byakuya marry her because he figures she’s going to die soon anyway, but he’s mad about it. He never comes around to Hisana and he’s mean to her and this is really the nadir of Byakuya and Ginrei’s relationship.

Finally, we are getting around to what you asked. Hisana dies and Ginrei softens a little toward Byakuya in his grief. He retires and turns the clan and Squad 6 over to B, hoping it will be a distraction and that Byakuya will finally turn his focus over to what matters. This seems to be going well for about one year and then BAM! Byakuya acquires an orphan.

I am guessing that Ginrei didn’t know about Byakuya’s promise to Hisana to take care of Rukia, but even so, I think if you asked him, he would have regarded Byakuya’s duty to his clan and promise to his parents as more important. It’s not that Ginrei isn’t an honorable man, it’s that his concept of honor doesn’t necessarily extend to a dead peasant in comparison the Noble and Ancient House of Kuchiki. So Byakuya adopts Rukia and Ginrei’s immediate reaction is panic. What is Byakuya doing? Is he going to marry this girl? Is he going to name her his Heir? Has he cracked? And it turns out to be none of those things, he’s just going to keep her around as this sad ghost that haunts his house, but Ginrei’s initial reaction toward Rukia is that of interloper. He thought this Hisana nonsense was overwith, but no, we’re still doing this.

When Ginrei first meets Rukia, she is in her overwhelmed, lonely stage of first becoming a Kuchiki. Ginrei also criticizes her for being small and meek and basically useless. She’s a mediocre shinigami. She’s not beautiful or talented, so Byakuya can’t even marry her off for political gain. The real issue, though is that Rukia is just emblematic of the fact that Byakuya doesn’t intend to move past his grief and remarry. He works his ass off as Captain and Clan Head, but other than that, he’s just gonna be a sad widower and sit in his big house and write letters to his dead wife and the Kuchiki are going to die off. There is really nothing Rukia could do, no way she could be different that Ginrei would approve of, because it was never really about her in the first place.

Fast forward a few years, and now we come to Renji. I also headcanon that in his retirement, Ginrei has moved out to a scenic portion of Rukongai, so he doesn’t interact with Byakuya much on a day-to-day basis, but he hears stuff through other family members that come out to visit him. He’s never actually met Renji, all he knows is that Shirogane retired, and Byakuya hired some tattooed goon from Squad 11 instead of one of the dozens of Kuchiki cousins that are lying around. In my fanfic Call Me Back When the War is Over, Byakuya explains to one of his aunts that the reason he did this was because he didn’t have a relative who was capable of passing the Lieutenant’s Exam. She replies that he just should have pulled some strings so that someone (preferably her own son) could pass, assuming it’s a mere formality. Now this is exactly what Ginrei would have done. This is a problem, though: it involves choosing sides. I’ve got the top seats of Squad 6 set up as follows:

- 3rd Seat Ohno is the Heir to the most powerful Kuchiki branch family. His father is arguably the next in line for Clan Head, based on power terms - 4th Seat Kuchiki Choei is an actual Kuchiki, but he’s a younger son and he’s a clown, meaning that he got bored standing in line for Clan Head and wandered around the corner to vape - 5th Seat Kuchiki Takehiko is the actual closest of Byakuya’s relatives to him, and is arguably the next in line for Clan Head, strictly on family line terms

Pulling strings to help any of these three become the next lieutenant would be a very political move on B’s part, tantamount to anointing his successor. Ginrei assumes that B picked an outsider for the purposes of recusing, of saying “I shall simply refuse to die and remain Clan Head myself, forever’, with the addition fuck you of picking the Actual Worst Person Byakuya Could Find for the job, instead.

This really isn’t the case at all, it is literally that Byakuya feels that you shouldn’t be a lieutenant if you can’t pass the exam. He’s basically a rule-follower, and also it’s a good rule, and also his dad died as a lieutenant and I think he thinks a lot about how that could have been avoided through actions, whereas Ginrei tends to think of it more of a thing that could have been avoided if Soujun was better.

So, that gets us up to the beginning of canon. I am (in theory) working on a fanfic that takes place in the 17-mo timeskip where Ginrei comes to visit and actually gets to know Rukia and Renji and (spoiler alert, but is anyone really surprised) he ends up liking both of them a lot. Part of it is just Ginrei has chilled out somewhat in his retirement and realized that it’s okay to have parts of your life that are not completely devoted to the Good of the Clan. Part of it is that Ginrei loves Competence and Rukia and Renji are so, so competent. Part of it is that Byakuya is obviously doing a lot better than he was, and it’s just really obvious why. Like I said, Ginrei does and always has loved Byakuya, he just wants what’s best for him. It’s just that if there is one thing Kuchiki are terrible at, it’s expressing their love for one another in a positive and healthy way.

As to Ginrei’s feelings about Renruki as a ship, he’s for it, actually. Conniving family members have been trying to marry Rukia for years in hopes of getting an in with Byakuya, and I’m sure they’re setting their sights on Renji, now, too. Ginrei likes them well enough, but he can imagine what a shitshow this could turn out to be, and he finds it very convenient if they were to just marry each other.

I’m rather fond of the idea of Byakuya appointing them as a branch family to the Kuchiki, because I’m not super keen on them going full-Kuchiki if Renji married in, but I think Byakuya would be upset if Rukia married out and he wasn’t able to provide her with the lavish lifestyle he thinks she needs (she does not). It’s a nice compromise that lets them be a part of the family, but out of the limelight. In any case, I think that was Ginrei’s idea, thanks Granddad!