#waiting for my aled last patiently (like a dog in the cold)

[burnt-tortellini]

listening to that one bit in radio silence where francis is talking about how aled and her are becoming better friends and all the stuff they do together and feeling ill

[honestsycrets]

Afara || [Assassin!Hvitserk x Saxon Peasant!Reader]

❛ pairing | Assassin!Hvitserk x Saxon Peasant!Reader

❛ type | (?) I think I can leave it at that?

❛ summary | An assassin is killing Bjorn’s loved ones. You don’t think much of it-- because it’s royal business. Until a certain someone makes it your business.

❛  warnings | verbal arguments, assault, mention of sexual assault, sassy hvitserk, assassin!au, alternative English setting, foster son Hvitserk-foster father Harald, no actual sexual assault, kidnapping

❛ sy’s notes | listen, I don’t have an excuse for making this an Anglo Saxon family, it just is for some reason. The setting isn’t strictly Viking-- I feel like its medieval Englishy... or something. I made this for @gearhead66​ but like with all my shit made for some reason it went off in its own direction and she never asked for any of this okay??

The chinking of metal called your attention that day when soldiers soared through your slim alleyway. Their spears jabbed at the slim blue sky between the buildings, each one barking orders. Move, they kick children out of their way.  But not just children, they kicked up mud as they passed.

“What is with them?” you asked your grandmother. She wrung out wet towels into a pale, grunting.

“Up with you, woman! To the square!”

Before she could answer, a guard shoved you forward by your back. You’re suddenly thankful to be a peasant-- otherwise, this mossy coloured dress that was pulled up at the waist, would drag over the ground. Ahead of them, in the largest road in and out of your hometown of Kattegat, stomped King Bjorn. He slapped his reins and made a great show of whatever the hell it was this time with the sound of piercing trumpets.

“--if you find him, bring him to me!” Bjorn boomed, running his horse there and back, from wooden wall to wooden wall. You leaned toward the middle-aged woman by your side, an old woman who had five children and five fewer reasons to give a shit about the king’s fit. Still, if you’ve learned anything from Miss Sigyn, it is that she was attentive to the lives of the royalty if only to know how they might impact her.

“What is going on?” you asked her.

“It seems someone killed his latest whore,” Sigyn said smoothly, the lines of her lips pulled up in small creases-- clearly amused. “The same one that killed his mother.”

“And Queen Gunnhild? Gods, has she...” you gasped. Everyone knew of her latest loss-- her first child, dead, set to the cold rock.

“No,” Sigyn folded her arms over her well-endowed chest. “Queen Gunnhild is unharmed. Isn’t it magnificent?”

“Find me that dog!”

Bjorn set off again. You readjusted your hold on the basket, flexed your fingers around the rim. Sigyn leaned into you, her dirty hands at her mouth. You leaned into her ginger hair, “He’s not been caught?”

“Rumor has it he’s under Harald’s wing.”

“Harald? I thought he was gone.” Her eyebrows lifted up her forehead, wrinkling her dusty skin of that very fact. You held her look a moment before you rolled your lower lip into your mouth. She takes your other arm and turned back toward the long alleyway you came from. The others, who had been there longer, turned their sights toward home.

“No, he’s King Harald’s foster son, his afara. After what happened to Lagertha, well…” you motioned your hand down to motion silence. Guards passed by. Their metal heads might look unassuming, but you knew better than that. As did she. Though, as an older woman, perhaps she was less fearful of consequences than you were.

“Grandmother wanted to see you about some fish baked in clay.” You shrugged off talk of the man, the king, the trials of the rich. They had their own issues. Ones that didn’t include the public, and even if you rathered Bjorn’s rule over Ivar’s, Bjorn was never a man who you thought was worth your time.

“With sourdough?”

You nodded and that was enough to sell her. She stopped in front of your grandmother’s house. The old woman was gone from outside. Inside, you could hear her cooking away. “I’ll bring the boys over with griddle cakes just for you.”

You motioned to the throwaway scraps in your basket, next to the curd cheese and honey pastries-- the last inklings of a sweet harvest. Not for the pigs, but for you. “I’ll hurry to feed the animals and be back in time for dinner.”

After seeing her off, you made your way out of the alleyway. Not so far away was the small shed where your animals were kept and raised. Though your boots sunk in the grass, you were in a good mood. There was a feast to be had. The harvest had gone well. Queen Gunnhild lived while her rival-- that wretched Ingrid-- was dead.

The shed was particularly quiet. The only sounds were the occasional snort of the pigs, bunched up by the stick fence. “Come’n Fattie,” you padded around the side of the fence, calling out to the fattest of the bunch. Usually, he’d snort and rush you for your scraps. As you sat down the food in their vat, they did not rush to it.

They stood in the opposite corner like the bunch of frightened animals that they were. You stared a moment longer before inwardly losing an aggravated sigh. “You’ll make me get in there, will you?”

You plucked the bobbin to the gate and made your way into their pin. It was clean. Your brother made sure to clean it that morning before he made the trip with your father to Hedeby which would be long given the distance. In their absence, you would do what your grandmother couldn’t-- defend the house, take care of the animals, all those long and hard things. The fish was on your mind, roasted in clay, flesh plump and juicy, crispy and waiting. Your grandmother’s sourdough bread too! Along with ale to wash it all down. All those things were waiting, but here you were, fighting with some stupid pigs to eat and go inside their shed.

“If you aren’t going to eat,” you stomped back to the doors and opened them for the pigs to go in. If not pig food, you told yourself, you would sacrifice one of your beloved cheese and honey pastries for these stupid pigs. “Then go inside.”

But what were your pigs but stubborn assholes? They remained there, unmoving. You settled your hand over your hips, then flicked them up again, stomping inside. “There is nothing inside the damn shed!”

The next thing you remembered, your head connected with the dusty floor of the shed. A stabbing pain spiked through your skull, enveloped by that horrible feeling of your head bouncing over the ground. It was dark-- and not of your own actions. Something was dragging you by your ankle. But you weren’t sure what.

“Quiet,” the detached voice said. A man, it was a man that was dragging you off, and so you did the one thing that you could think of. You shrilled. Only a brief moment passed before you felt it. Cool metal against your neck snuffed out that short-lived cry, but not because he had slit the skin apart, only that your fear cemented you there. Your father, your brother, both had taught you how to fight-- and somehow you were cemented in place despite the fact that your knife was strapped to your thigh.

“I don’t like to kill pretty things. So shut up!” He warned, with the voice that said he would, if only he had to. His hand pressed on your throat alongside the knife, snuffing out the noise. The man between your legs was willowy. His shape, although you could not see him, reflected as much. Your hands connected with his back, skidding off of expensive armour. “Are you going to hush?”

You nodded. His knife fell away-- and instead, it ripped up your dress.

“Please don’t-- please don’t--”

“Shut up,” he hissed, throwing away your knife. It collides into a pile with a clink, indicating that perhaps, the man had more. “I’m not going to rape you. I’m not in the mood even if you were worth it. Sit up.”

He forced you onto your knees. You complied, allowing him to take your arms behind your back. The rope was scratchy against your wrists. “I don’t have money. And my father is off in Hedeby, so you won’t get anything from this.”

“Don’t need to,” he says, pacing away from you. With a scratch, he lights the candles that were left for ‘emergency’ purposes. Ones that were expensive, as candles were, and could not easily be replaced. As everything comes into focus, you can make out your attacker. And when he said he didn’t need to, he meant it.

“Prince Hvitserk?”

“Somethin’ I haven’t head in a while,” he stands away from you, kneeled before one of your slaughtered pigs, one that he somehow cooked. His eyes move over your body, knelt before him, like any thrall. The thought scratches across your mind, before you flush in embarrassment, and look down.  “What’s your name?”

Your head drops back because you can't believe it, because just moments before you spoke of Harald’s Dog. You pull at your hands behind your back. It’s tight. He kicks the carcass away, snapping back to you, then kneeling down, playfully pops your cheek. Maybe if you stayed quiet enough-- he would drop it in his boredom. He hasn’t proven especially patient, after all.

“No? Okay. I got it anyway. Your father’s a farmer. You got a grandmother and a brother.”

“How did you…” a long sigh slips out his mouth, following your name. He flicks his knife around. “We can play games, but I’ll have to kill one of the boys when he comes looking for you. It’s not personal, of course. Just… business.”

“Your father’s business?” He laughed, plopped back on his ass, and brought his hands around to grasp his leather boots, and leaned forward. There’s a long, open gash on his cheek. He looks like a man that has seen better days, as tired as he was. But he was right. In time, Sigyn would send someone to come gather you. Her mother--  “What do you need from me?”

“Need to fuck off outta town,” he jerked his thumb to the side. “You’re a good cover. A man and his wife going to Hedeby for the festivities. I’ll drop you off with your father, of course. I’m a stand-up man.”

“Stand up men don’t slit women’s throats in bed at night.”  You had no doubt the sort of awful man this one was. Who crawled into an innocent person’s barn only to slaughter their pigs and-- oooH! Now he was eating your dessert like he’d never had something so good, or at least in a long time. “That’s mine! “You could at least not eat my pastry.”

“You made it? It’s good. You’re a keeper.” He laughed and threw up a dirty hand, speaking between bites of your sweet honey and cream cheese pastry plainly. “But if you prefer murder… that can be arranged too.”

“No!” you hissed at him. “I’ll go with you!”

“That’s what I thought.”

He was a special kind of asshole. But then, what prince wasn’t? Certainly not Harald’s assassin, who climbed into your shed, and took your sweets.

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys  @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever @belovedcherry​ @therealcalicali​

[queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm]

Daminette December Day 8: Robin Hood Au

——————————————————————————

Damian Al Gul was not a patient man. When he heard news of a theif stealing from nobility, it would be an understatement to say he was angry. The king, Ra Al Gul, and his subordinates lived lavishly while the rest of the kingdom lived in poverty. Being the grandson of the king, it put him directly next in the line of succession. This Robin Hood would be audacious enough to steal from his kin. They would have to be taught a lesson.

“King Ra, let’s not be too hasty,” his advisor, Tim Drake, pleaded. Though it would fall onto deaf ears, “No one knows who Robin Hood is and because of this you would punish the kingdom as a whole?”

“Of course,” the king’s voice was as cold as ice, “they need to be taught a lesson. Think of the people as dogs. If they are not disciplined, then they will never obey.”

Tim looked horrified by that statement. He knew the king was cruel, but cruel enough to not value the lives of those he ruled would inevitably cost him the crown. Damian, who had been listening to this confrontation, may not have shown his love for the kingdom, but it was there. He knew his grandfather would let the entire kingdom burn before admitting defeat. “Damian,” his grandfather called, “They are yours and you are able to do as you see fit.”

‘You’re right, Grandfather, I’ll do as I see fit,’ Damian thought bitterly. He’d do what he’d have to to ensure the future of the kingdom. Damian Al Gul is not a patient man, he can’t just wait for Robin Hood to be apprehended or for Ra to die. He would have to do everything himself. His plan needed to be enacted faster then previously expected, no matter it will be done and Damian will succeed even at the price of his soul.

The thief, who the kingdom took kindly to calling them “Robin Hood,” was the orphaned daughter of bakers. Her name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Her parents died due to them falling ill and couldn’t afford the medication needed to save them. That was the final push Marinette needed to fight against the rich. This would be no ordinary heist, this was war. All goods stolen went directly back to the community. This resulted in a following of the Robin Hood persona. However, as all of this happened during the cover of night, no one knew who Robin Hood was. Most assumed a man because a woman wasn’t that clever. Most nobility underestimated the women of the time and what pleasure it brought Marinette to know of their suffering.

Marinette needed to slow down, she was prone to spells of clumsiness. Another selling point as to why no one suspected her to be the smoking gun, how could such a sly thief be a clumsy peasant girl. A certain god of destruction helped with that. Plagg, Kwamii of destruction and bad luck, chose Marinette to be his vessel. With the help from the cat Marinette could disappear into the shadows of the night. How ironic that the kingdom crowned her the prey of her transformed form. Nevertheless she would creep, stalk, and hunt her prey for the good of the nation. It’s a shame that her plan would be intrupted.

It happened on the 8th of December of the year 1519 A.D. Robin Hood fell through on a job. She got sloppy. A child had been involved and threw her off her usual rhythm. On this night Marinette’s sights were set on a Duke that lived near the palace, a high risk target. She didn’t know that the Prince had been watching her activity and predicted her next move. Prince Damian Al Gul was expecting a man and did not anticipate a woman in a cat suit. Her eyes were glowing an electric blue, her suit was loose with many pockets, her hair was long and braided it mimicked a tail, a staff was at her side, and sharp claws were visible. He also hadn’t expected her to destroy the chains he bound her in, “Sayonara, Your Highness!” With that she vanished within the night.

The days following had both Marinette and Damian on high alert. Robin Hood had not been active in seven days and the Prince was trying to convince his grandfather that the culprit was a woman with powers. “There’s no need to punish the whole kingdom, it’s a woman with blue eyes that can destroy anything with a single touch and long hair. The others need not be effected.”

“They help aid and abed a known criminal. They are as bad as them, and are you certain it was a woman? They aren’t smart nor strong enough to achieve such feats, perhaps the night tricked you. There is no such thing as magic,” Ra laughed heartily.

“I know what I saw,” Damian’s voice steeled, “you shouldn’t underestimate an opponent you’ve never encountered. It was definitely a woman, I’m sure of it,” Ra dismissed Damian saying how he was fooled. Damian would kill him before Christmas Eve, he swore it.

Robin Hood took a hiatus for one week before heading back onto the saddle. She hit lower risk nobles. The poor surrounding towns have been receiving copycats and claiming to be Robin Hood. All of which were males, therefore Damian didn’t even bat an eye at these claims. He didn’t understand how she could just vanish from every scene. Not a trace could be found at any of the nobles’ homes. It made him livid.

Marinette had been working odd jobs in an effort to keep food on the table for herself. She never once kept her heist rewards, all of it went back to the people. If she kept it all, she would be no better then the nobels she stole from. Redistribution of wealth would have to come eventually to keep from another French Revolution. The king should be thanking her, without “Robin Hood” the people of the kingdom would have certainly overthrown him by now. All Ra seems to be doing now is sitting on his laurel in the palace. He seems to be on a warpath because of her though.

The people of France are now being punished with lower rations, the king says until “Robin Hood” is turned in, the rations will continue to decrease. Marinette contemplated revealing herself so that the rest would not suffer because of her, but then the people of France said they would defend Robin Hood till their dying breath. “Robin Hood is the only reason my children are still alive,” one citizen shouts, “and you expect me to turn my savior in? Who are we Judas?”

The others seemed to murmur or nod in agreement. Marinette was almost brought to tears. The people of France regarded her as their hero, and as far as they were concerned Robin Hood was their true monarch.

Damian, however, was becoming increasingly more and more frustrated with Ra and Robin Hood. His plan to kill Ra would be complete by sunrise on the 23rd of December, but he was getting nowhere when it came to her. That was until a certain female baker was hired by the palace.

‘She is beautiful,’ Damian thought to himself. He did not know her name, but boy did she take his breath away whenever she walked near him. Her eyes we the most gorgeous blue he’d ever seen, her hair was short and pulled away by two ponytails. She was a goddess in mortal form. Every time she graced him with her presence, he’d drop everything to stop and stare. The baker was none other than Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

She knew the job was risky, but what’s life without a little risk. She had to be careful though, the prince constantly had eyes on her. He never spoke to her, but was always watching her. There’s no way he could recognize her, last time he saw her she was wearing the Miraculous. It’s impossible, so why was he so interested in her?

Marinette was still active as Robin Hood, she never stoped. She wasn’t as frequent, but not once did she stop. This was about something more then her safety, there were real lives on the line and all were counting on her. The palace should probably up their security, how did no one realize that she was in the palace?

Oh, they did. It was just Tim Drake’s idea to keep silent. If Ra wanted to look at them like animals, then Tim would give him animals. They weren’t obedient dogs for his bidding, the people were foxes that were plotting against every move that was made. All but the nobels knew that Robin Hood was part of the palace staff and the staff would do anything to protect one of their own.

The 22nd night of December rolled around and everything was in place for the fall of Ra. Damian had spent weeks of preparation just to ensure the perfect crime. After his mother’s disappearance, Damian’s skill set began to incorporate some less then legal activities. He knew of the types of poison Ra became immune too, he knew of Ra’s intensive knowledge of combat, he knew the interworkings of the castle’s interior. Every piece was in place, noting was left to chance.

The only unknown variable would be the appearance of Robin Hood. Ever since their first encounter, they’ve seemed to slow their pace. They didn’t stop though. It was weird how she was attacking smaller fish other then the big leagues. But she would be a headache for another day, today Damian needed to get rid of his beloved grandfather and he knew just the way to do it. He bumped into someone, “I-I’m sorry Prince Damian! I wasn’t l-looking where I was going!”

Damian recognized the voice as the baker’s, he drew a breath. He was the one who actually bumped into her, “N-No,” he cleared his throat, “No, it was my fault.”

A flush creeped its way up his neck. He didn’t understand it, Damian had experienced attraction to women before. But with her, it was like breathing for the first time. He didn’t know how to explain it, she made his stomach do somersaults and caused his mind to go blank. “Umm,” she spoke again, “well, I think it’s time I take my leave.”

“Wait!” Damian grabbed her wrist and quickly let go after turning off autopilot, “What’s your name?”

“My name?” She questioned.

“Yes, what do they call you, other than a vision of beauty.”

It was Marinette’s turn to be embarrassed now, “O-Oh, my name’s Marinette! Marinette Dupain-Cheng!”

“Marinette,” he said as if it was a spell on his tongue, “what a beautiful name to match the face of the beholder.”

Not knowing how to respond to that Marinette bowed to take her leave. After she left, Damian snapped out of his daze and continued to push his plan into motion.

*Line break*

It was the morning of December 23rd and King Ra was found dead in his bed. He died in his sleep with no signs of foul play. Oh, but foul play was at work. This left a vacancy for the throne. A vacancy that would be filled by Damian Al Gul, Heir to the throne.

After his coronation, Damian started a initiative to improve the kingdom’s poverty situation. Damian knew the Noble families horded their wealths like dragons protecting their treasure, but that would no longer be acceptable. Damian made the kingdom’s economy flurish within 2 years time. And during that time, Robin Hood retired. She said the kingdom no longer needed her.

Marinette continued her work in the palace, she as promoted as assistant to the crown in no time. She spent more and more time with the king and grew an affection for him. But in order to sustain a life, she’d need to find a husband as were the times. Tim Drake seemed like the safest choice, they were best friends. She knew Tim and a man named Conner Kent were infatuated with each other, but not everyone was as accepting as Marinette was.

Her and the king had their daily chat as he was doing his daily duties when Marinette brought up the subject, “Do you think Timothy Drake would make a good husband?”

Damian raised and eyebrow, “Yes, why do you ask?”

“I’m wondering if I should pursue him as a husband or not,” she said plainly.

“W-What?” Damian spat his wine out, “W-Why would you need you pursue him as a husband?”

“I need a husband to sustain myself. I don’t want to marry Tim, but in order to keep my family legacy alive I will need a husband.”

“True, but Tim?” Damian tried to keep his distain to himself as much as he physically could.

“What’s wrong with Tim?” Marinette asked quited angered.

“Oh, nothing... if you enjoy talking to a wet, half-asleep napkin!”

“Hey!” Marinette snapped, “That’s my friend and yours, remember that. My king,” Damian knew me messed up, she only called him king whenever he really made her mad, “do you have a better solution?”

“I-I...” he couldn’t think of anything.

“That’s what I assumed,” Marinette huffed, “Please refrian from talking bad about him like that. What is wrong?”

“Nothing,” ‘Everything that you said’ Damian’s kind took over.

Marinette had left the room, the atmosphere became too much for her. She went to help the other servants in the neighboring rooms. It was then Damian decided he would ask her to marry him.

Damian was never a patient man, remember?

——————————————————————————

A/N: I’m sorry for not posting for day seven. I wasn’t feeling the prompt for it and didn’t want to give y’all something subpar in comparison to the other thing I’m capable of creating for you. Still, thank you for continuing to read, like, comment, and reblog my work! It’s crazy to think so many of you enjoy my work! If you want to be added to the tag list all you have to do is comment or send an ask!

 Tag list: @daminette-december2019 @persephonebutkore @gingerdaile @seraphichana @mystery-5-5 @krispydefendorpolice @jardimazul @royalchaoticfangirl @theoryfan205 @goblinwhoships @emeraldpuffguide @spicybelladonna @thesunanditsangel @coltaire

[luckysevenwrites]

Start Healing

It’s the day after Doyoung finds out you and your boyfriend broke up and Doyoung is going to do everything he can to make the break up easier on you.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is that your mouth is dry and your eyes hurt. Which isn’t surprising since you spend most of yesterday in your bed crying your eyes out. Rolling onto your back you blink up at your ceiling remembering Doyoung coming to your place and comforting you. He held you and let your cry it all out. Not once did he judge you or make you feel like an idiot for dating someone who wanted to change you instead of love you for who you were. You were so lucky to have Doyoung you thought, he had even stayed the night keeping you wrapped up in his arms. Making sure that you felt safe and loved.

           Closing your eyes, you let everything that Doyoung said about you being worthy of love wash over you and tried to forget everything that your ex had said to you. While you told Doyoung almost everything that lead up to your breakup you left out one part about why the two of you broke up. You knew that you should tell Doyoung the rest, but you were worried about how he would react if he knew that he was part of the reason that you and your ex broke up. Thinking back to the conversation that you and your ex had you realized that while he was overall a jerk, he was right about one thing. You did care about Doyoung and that you loved him. You just never acted on it because you figured that Doyoung didn’t feel the same way about you and you were with Jihoon. Now though you were single, and maybe it was time that you told Doyoung how you really felt about him. But were you ready to move on and start dating right away? What if Doyoung didn’t feel the same way? You were not ready for that type of heartbreak.

           While pondering these thoughts the smell of bacon and coffee started to drift your way. Your stomach let out a growl which wasn’t surprising since you hadn’t eaten since yesterday around lunch time. Rolling out of bed you made your way down the hallway towards Doyoung. He was at the stove busy cooking away. He was softly singing to himself as he was busy preparing your plates. You clear your throat to let him know that you were awake. He looks over his shoulder at you and gives you a soft smile.

           “Breakfast will be ready in a bit. Why don’t you get yourself some coffee.”

           “You didn’t have to cook me breakfast.” You tell him as you make your way towards the coffee pot. You grab yourself and Doyoung a cup and get started on making the both of you some coffee.

           “I know but I figured you didn’t eat last night, and I didn’t either so we both need food. How did you sleep?”

           “Alright,” You tell Doyoung as you hand him his cup. “Thanks for staying the night.”

           Doyoung pulls you into his side and kisses the top of your head. Something that he always did and that Jihoon hated. You lean into him and wrap your arms around his waist to give him a quick squeeze. You honestly don’t know what you would do without him. You go to retrieve your cup of coffee and hop up on the counter next to the stove to watch Doyoung finish cooking your breakfast.

           “So, I have today off. What would you like to do today?” Doyoung ask you as he focuses on the eggs.

           “Um, I don’t know.” You answer honestly.

           “Well if you want, we can buy a bunch of really bad food for ourselves, get some alcohol, and watch horrible romantic films.”

           “Are you trying to give me post break up care?” You raise both of your eyebrow’s up in surprise.

           “I figured that’s what you would want,” Doyoung grabs both plate and head towards your island, you follow behind him and grab the seat next to him. “If you don’t want to do that, we can do something else. Like go to that place that let’s you throw plates at the wall.”

           That made you smile. Of course, Doyoung would give you two completely different offers when it comes to handling a breakup. You take a sip of your coffee and look over at him watching as he started to eat his eggs waiting patiently for your reply.

           “Really Doyoung as great as both of those offers are, I’m fine.” Doyoung gives you a look that says he doesn’t believe you for one second.

           “Honest, yes I was upset yesterday but today I’m okay. Am I over Jihoon, no and I probably won’t be for a bit but I am better than I was yesterday.” And you were or at least you thought you were until your phone buzzed at proved you wrong with one little text message.

           Jihoon: Are you home? I need to come and get my stuff

           You stared at your phone, how could he just act so cold to you and be so ready to move on? Yes, you told Doyoung you were fine but you meant that you didn’t feel like crying your eyes out today not that you were over being dumped by someone that you had cared about. Doyoung noticing your face leaned over to look at your phone. He let out a sigh and locked his jaw.

           “Y/n if you don’t want to see him right now you don’t have to.” Doyoung tells you.

           “No, no it’s better if I just deal with it now,” you state firmly, “Will you stay though.”

           “Of course.” Doyoung wasn’t planning on leaving you today and he definitely wasn’t going to leave now knowing that your ex was coming here to get his things. Nodding your head, you look back down at your phone and text Jihoon back.

           y/n: I’m home when will you stop by?

           Jihoon: be there in 30

            You and Doyoung finish eating breakfast in silence. You have to choke down most of your food. You’re too nervous about seeing Jihoon so soon and wonder what he’s going to say to you. Once you finish eating you head into your room grab a box and start to pack up all of Jihoon’s things. Doyoung stays in the kitchen cleaning up your breakfast. Once’s he done he finds you packing and watches you with cautious eyes.

           “Are you sure you’re up for this?” He questions you.

           “No, but I’d rather just get this done and over with then drag it out. It’s better to get this done now then seeing each other weeks from now.”

           “Okay.”

           There’s a knock at the door. You stand and take a deep breathe before heading towards the door. Doyoung follows behind you. You pull open the door and are greeted with Jihoon dressed in a suit that fit’s him perfectly. His hair is styled to show off his forehead and you can’t help but note how handsome he is. Jihoon looks at you briefly before looking behind you at Doyoung and frowns at him.

           “Haven’t even been broken up for twenty four hours and you’re already moving in on her.” Jihoon spats.

           You feel Doyoung heat on your back and his arms comes to snake around your middle pulling you into him. Doyoung is strung tight and you know that his patients is already thin with Jihoon.

           “Jihoon, Doyoung is here as a friend.” You tell him pulling his attention back to you.

           “Sure he is.” Jihoon glares at you. “Are you doing to let me in?”

           “Depends on what else is going to come out of your mouth. I’m not going to let you in here and upset Y/n.” Doyoung grumbles. Oh boy maybe you should have had Doyoung leave and come back after Jihoon left.

           “Why don’t you worry about yourself.” Jihoon shoots back.

           “Okay stop. Doyoung let him in Jihoon just grab your things and go.”

           You step aside, but Doyoung doesn’t move. Instead he crosses his arms over his chest and steps right in front of Jihoon. For a few moments the two of them have a stare down and you wonder if you are going to have to step in between the two of them.

           “Don’t make her upset. This is your only warning.” Doyoung firmly states to Jihoon before stepping back and letting him into the apartment.

           “Follow me I started to put your things in a box for you.” You tell Jihoon and hurry down the hallway.

           Jihoon follows you into your room with Doyoung right behind the two of you. He looks at the box then at you. For a moment it looks like he was sad and that he wanted to pull you into a hug but the looks was quickly gone. Jihoon looks at Doyoung and gives him what you can only assume is a glare.

“Mind if I talk to y/n alone?”

“I do mind.” Doyoung leans against the door showing that he doesn’t plan on moving.

“Doyoung it’s fine really.” You tell him. Doyoung studies you for a few seconds before giving you a nod and heading down the hallway.

“You didn’t have to bring him here as your guard dog.”

“He’s not here as my guard dog. He came over last night to comfort me and stayed the night. We just woke up and were having breakfast when you messaged me. Stop making this into more than what it is.” You snap at Jihoon. Why did he care what you were doing with your life anyway? He was the one who broke up with you.  Jihoon doesn’t look at you and instead heads towards the box of his things.  

           “If you find anything else of mine just let me know.” He tells you before picking up the box. He starts to turn away but stops and looks back at you.

           “I know you told me that there is nothing going on between you and Doyoung but it’s hard to believe that when the very next day he’s here in your apartment. Probably best that we ended things you two are perfect for each other.” You know that he meant it as an insult, but you refused to take it that way.

           “You’re right we are perfect for one another. Because unlike you, Doyoung accepts me for who I am and doesn’t want to change anything about me. He trusts my judgement and he trust me. Not once would he ever accuse me of half the things you accused me of. So, yes you are right Jihoon it’s for the best that we ended things.”

           “He won’t stay with you.” Jihoon states.

           “You can go now.” You glare at Jihoon waiting for him to leave.

It isn’t until he is out of the room and you hear the door close before you let the tears form. You try and keep it together. You don’t want Doyoung to see you crying again for Jihoon. Try as you might though the tears comes. Doyoung comes into your room takes one look at you and waste no time in rushing towards you and pulling you into his warm embrace. He strokes the back of your head, telling you that it’s okay. You cling to his shirt trying to get control of yourself.

“Maybe I do want bad food, alcohol, and crappy romantic movies.” You cry. Doyoung chuckles and tightens his hold on you.

“Okay, why don’t you go find some movies and I’ll run to the corner store.” Doyoung leans back and tuck his chin into his chest to get a better look at you.

“Alright, I want gummy worms.” You tell him.

“Got it,” Doyoung wipes away the few tears remaining and gives you a reassuring smile. “you going to be okay?”

“I will be. I’m just mad at him for trying to change me and not trusting me.”

Doyoung tilts his head to the side at the last part wondering what you are talking about. He couldn’t remember you talking about him not trusting you. All you mentioned was that he didn’t want you to be friends with them and that you had to change.

“Why didn’t he trust you?”

“Um,” Shoot you forgot you didn’t tell him everything, “he just didn’t trust me, with you.”

“Why?”

Well it looked like there was no getting out of this. Doyoung was not one to let things go and you knew that he would be on you about it until you told him. Mind as well tell him now and just get it over with.

“Because he thought that you liked me and that I liked you. We often fought about yours and mine relationship. Even though I told him that I was with him and would never cheat on him. And he might have mentioned before he left just now that we were perfect for each other and that you won’t stay with me.”

“Do you like me like that?” Doyoung asked you ignoring everything else that you said.

“I…what?” Doyoung gives you a light shake.

“Do you like me more than just a friend?”

“I just broke up with my ex and you want to talk about how I feel about you?” Wasn’t it a little too soon to be moving on and right into another relationship?

“We don’t have to date right away. I just want to know how you really feel about me,” Doyoung cups your face between his hands and leans down towards you, “because I like you y/n and I’m willing to wait for you. I’m willing to wait until your ready for us to be together.”

You stared at Doyoung with wide eyes. He did not just confuse to you and tell you that he wanted to date you after you just had your ex come here and get his things. What crazy universe were you living in? Yet, the idea of Doyoung wanting you made you feel all warm inside and you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into him. Maybe it would be wrong to tell him how you really felt about him so soon after a breakup but what did you care if Doyoung didn’t care.

“I like you too.” You whisper.

“Good,” Doyoung leans in and kisses your forehead, “I’m going to get our food you get the movies ready.”

Doyoung pulls away from you and starts to head down the hallway. You stand there in shock for a few seconds before you run after Doyoung and call out to him. He stops with the door part way open and looks over his shoulder at you.

“That’s it. We both admit to liking each other and that’s it.” You almost shriek, because really who just admits to liking each other and then walks away to go buy food.

“No, it’s not it, but you’ve had a lot to take in the past two days. So, we’re going to take things slow and when you are ready we can take the next step?”

“Okay.”

“Okay, I’ll be back in a few.”

Doyoung leaves and you stare at the door for a few minutes before you move into the living room to pick out some movies. You couldn’t believe that Doyoung was willing to wait until you were ready to start dating again. You also could not understand how he was being so cool about all of this. Maybe you were dreaming. You pinched yourself, nope, not dreaming. When Doyoung returned he had three bags worth of food. He laid out the food on your coffee table, then left to get your drink.

When he re-entered the living room, he sat on the couch next to you and reclined back. When you continued to sit on the edge of your couch and just stare at him Doyoung rolled his eyes and leaned forwards to pull you back into the couch with him. He adjusted you so you were reclining into his side with your one arm resting over his middle. Doyoung grabbed the remote from you and pressed play on the movie. While the previews were playing you looked up at Doyoung. He looked down at you and raised an eyebrow at you.

“Are you really okay with waiting until I’m ready?”

“Y/n I’ve liked you for a long time. I’m not about to mess it up by pushing you to date me before your ready. You’ve just gotten out of a serious relationship and you need time to heal from that. I get it. We both know how we feel about each other and I don’t plan on finding someone else and I don’t think you do?” You shook your head no.

“Right, so we both like each other. I’m willing to wait for you and when you’re ready you’ll tell me. Until then I’m going to be the supportive friend that you need to help you get over a break up.”

“I think you might be to good to be true.” You state.

“You want me to do something to seem less perfect?” Doyoung jokes.

“No, I’m good with this version of you. It’s better than your serious self.” Doyoung rolls his eyes at that and looks back at the tv. You call out to Doyoung and he looks back down at you.

“Thank you for being here and for waiting for me.” You tell me.

“Y/n I have a feeling that you are worth the wait. Now watch the movie and eat your junk food.”

You reach out for your bag of gummy worms and settle back into Doyoung’s side. He put’s one arm around your shoulder and curls you in closer to him. As the open scene starts Doyoung leans over and kisses the side of your head. You smile and tell yourself that you are not going to make him wait long.

[reddie-fangirl24]

Eddie, The Patient Chapter 5     (A Reddie Fanfiction)

NOTE: Here is the final chapter to Eddie, The Patient. I have enjoyed every moment of writing this story. Thank you so much for the kind feedback. I hope you all enjoyed this story. It is sad to end it, but I know there will be more stories in the future. I may write little in-between moments. If you have any suggestions, let me know. Enjoy the final chapter!

This was one of the worst nights Eddie, or even Richie could ever endure. It was after two in the morning when Eddie awoke, screaming from a nightmare followed by running into the bathroom, vomiting and painfully crying. Please, let this be the last time, Richie prayed to anyone who could hear him.

Practically carrying his husband back to bed, Richie wiped a cold washcloth over Eddie’s head. Eddie’s fever was climbing like an elevator. It was sad to see the normally energetic chatterbox be taken down by the flu. 

“You’re going to feel better in the morning, Eddie,” Richie whispered to him. The instant Richie pulled up the covers, Eddie’s eyes closed and he was sound asleep. It was much relief to Richie fearing that he was going to have to call an ambulance if Eddie didn’t stop throwing up. It was almost nonstop all day.

Richie sat in a chair close to the bed watching his husband sleep. He held his limp, damp hand, holding it gently so as not to wake him. So fragile. So pale. His patient.

His heart broke at the awful memory when Eddie’s symptoms came out from the other end earlier that day. That was when Eddie choked, unable to cough up what he needed to get out. Ashamed and embarrassed as Richie cleaned him up, Eddie cried thinking he had done something so awful. If Richie hadn’t been there, would Eddie have choked to death? 

As Richie watched Eddie sleep, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of courage fill his insides. Sure, he had taken care of Eddie plenty of times, but prior to having to go back to Derry, Richie never took care of anybody, except himself. And he accomplished just that. That made him feel... good.

And now, Richie never realized how torturing it was when a loved one was sick. About a year ago, Richie had a terrible cold that lasted a week. Eddie was still studying in school, but there were days when he’d take off to take care of Richie. And that wasn’t even when they were married yet. Given how much of an anxious germophobic worry-wort Eddie was, it pained him to see his husband sick.

“Guess this is what happens when you love someone so damn much, eh, Eds?” he whispered, his voice breaking.

Watching Eddie snooze a little longer, Richie crawled under the blankets, spooning Eddie close to him as he went to sleep.

--

The sun hit Eddie’s eyes. Eddie groaned. At least he had an easier time waking up than yesterday morning -- though his mouth was as dry as a desert and his body ached all over, especially his back. His eyes ventured the room spying the bright sun rays coming through the window. He felt warm, not hot or any of those annoying chills shivering up his spine. 

To Eddie’s side, on the nightstand, was a bowl of water, a damp rag, a cup of ginger ale, a bottle of Tylenol, and also a glass of water. The rag obscured half the clock. Something -25. 

Water. Eddie smacked his dry lips together. That fermenting taste was still present.

Pushing himself up was too much of an effort and he fell back into the pillows. His arm was still trying to reach for the glass like a little child trying to reach for the cookie jar on a kitchen counter. 

Just then, Richie walked into the room. Aside from the dark circles surrounding his eyes, Richie had this look of pure excitement overtake his whole face. “Well, there he is! Look who’s awake! I was beginning to think that you were going to sleep the whole day, sleeping beauty!”

“R-Richie...” Eddie’s voice croaked. His hand pointed towards the glass as he struggled to lift himself off his side. 

Helping him sit up, and putting an extra pillow behind his back, Richie handed him the glass of water, helping him hold it. “Small sips, now,” he instructed. 

Eddie more so guzzled down the needed liquid. The water was pure bliss against his haggard throat. It immediately made his insides feel cool. He also noticed how empty it was.

“What time is it?” Eddie asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he relaxed back into the pillows.

“Almost 11:30!” Richie answered going to grab the damp rag on the nightstand.

Immediate panic set into Eddie who leaped from the pillows. “11:30?! Fuck, I never sleep in that late! Did my boss call a substitute? I’m late for work! My students are probably acting like a pack of monkeys! I need to take a shower, brush my teeth, find my shoes-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy there, Mr. Flash!” Richie placed a hand against Eddie’s racing heart and making him sit back into the pillows. For a moment they went through the calming process making Eddie calm down and breathe normally. Slowly, his heart rate went back to normal.

“Thank God you’re back to you!” Richie exclaimed with this gigantic smile, still pressing a hand against Eddie’s heart. Eddie knew that grin. It was the same overjoyed face Richie made when Eddie showed up at his stage door, announcing that he divorced Myra and wanted to be with him. “I already called your school to tell them you’re bedridden today!”

Eddie blinked, somewhat disappointed, but then more relieved feeling the aching pain in his lower back. “Thanks, Richie. That was nice of you.”

Richie washed Eddie’s body with a sponge. “You sweat like a dog yesterday. Your pits even smell like one!” he teased as he helped slide Eddie’s nightshirt over his head. For a moment, Richie frowned, staring at the scar. To relieve the tension, Eddie stuck his tongue out at Richie. It was just like when they were kids. Richie rubbed the soft sponge all around his stomach and chest, and even his armpits. Richie was right. He did smell like a dog! He put on a fresh shirt. 

“How does your stomach feel?” Richie asked, giving his stomach a light pat. 

“Fine. Much better. Just achy.” Wondering if he should have mentioned that last part, Eddie masked a smile. Remembering yesterday’s events at school only made him feel worse. Why couldn’t that have been a blur like most of everything else? 

Turning to Richie who was lounging by his side on the bed, scrolling through the channels, Eddie asked, “Did you have any scheduled rehearsals or shows today?” He still didn’t have the energy to speak.

“No. Well, I was supposed to record the rest of that interview but I told Steve to reschedule it.”

Eddie touched Richie’s hand, getting his attention. “No, Rich, I don’t want to hold you up. Go tape the rest of that interview. It’s-it’s okay.”

Richie scoffed and wrapped an arm around Eddie’s shoulder. “No way, man, you’re way more important! ‘Sides when’s the last time we spent some hubby time together?” He teased poking Eddie in the nose.

Eddie wanted to argue but felt too weak to do so. Richie made him some toast and they sat in bed watching TV, laughing at episodes and making jokes. When was the last time he and Richie spent time together? Leaning against his husband’s shoulder as he was finally able to smell scents without gagging, Eddie basked in Richie’s cologne. He loved that smell. It was his husband’s scent. His husband. His best friend who would do anything for him.

His eyes grew heavy and Eddie fell asleep again for a short time. 

The phone ringing woke him up.

“Hello?” Richie answered. “Oh, hi, Mrs. Alliston. Ruth, sure... yeah, I got the secretary when I called this morning, but I don’t think Eddie will be in until Monday, he is definitely sick as a dog! ... Talk with him? No, he’s pretty tired, like a hibernating bear...”

Oh no... oh no... he knew it, he was going to get fired! Eddie’s heart broke, feeling tears in his eyes. He didn’t want to get fired! This was the first job that he ever loved! Now, what was he going to do? Probably no other school would hire him all because he threw up in front of students. How would this look for Richie? He was going to be disappointed in him. As Eddie hugged his pillow, rolling to the opposite side of the bed so Richie wouldn’t see him, a quiet sob escaped Eddie’s throat.

Right when Richie was nearing the bedroom, his cell phone rang. Slightly groaning when he saw that it was Steve, Richie reluctantly pressed the ‘talk’ button. “Hey, Steve, what’s up?”

“Rich, I got your voicemail this morning. Is it that serious?” Steve asked him, sounding a little stressed. Richie couldn’t blame him after all. Scheduling not just him, but a couple of other clients was not easy. 

“Well, yeah, Eddie was throwing up for most of the day and night. And he had a terrible fever, chills, and he was in pain. Could have filled a bucket with everything that came out!” Richie tried to joke. Ironically, Steve wasn’t so easy to joke around with when it came to situations like this. 

“Just give it to me straight, Rich, will you be able to come in at this weekend?” Steve asked. From the sound of it, he was trying not to sound disappointed. 

Eddie heard Richie sigh. He could just feel the stress and weight on his shoulders. Was he being sick stressing Richie out this much? Oh, he didn’t want to do that. He already put enough over Richie’s shoulders. 

“Look, Steve, I need to take care of everything here. I haven’t been able to spend time with him and I need that. If we could postpone the rest of the taping for the interview next week that would be great. And that show we were thinking about doing on Saturday, that can be postponed, right?”

There was a long pause. Not a good sign. Richie was anxiously digging into his hair waiting for him to say something. Anything. “Yes, Rich, it can,” he finally said.

That was a relief. “Oh, thanks! Listen, I owe it to you, Steve!” Richie said thankfully.

“I know, Richie. But, I just want to bring this up again, I have said it a lot, but you have canceled a number of your own performances in the last five years. I don’t want people to think that you don’t care about your work and that you don’t do it for the fans.”

“What?” Richie exclaimed. “That is so fucking stupid, Steve!” Richie’s loud tone startled Eddie who was beside himself with guilt, burying his face into the pillows.

“You know I am just thinking about probabilities,” Steve said to him apologetically. 

“Well, here’s the truth, you need to consider me! Look, I am going to talk to you later. Just get all the re-scheduling shit together!” With that Richie hung up and slammed his phone on a nearby table, fuming to himself. 

Eddie let out a sob, clutching his pillow. Oh, this was awful! First, he went to school sick, he was getting fired, and now he was keeping Richie from doing any of his shows!

“Eddie?” Richie worriedly asked when he stepped into the room. Guilt swarmed his mind. He was so mad that he forgot about Eddie who was trying to sleep. 

Climbing into the bed, Richie pulled Eddie’s shaking back to his stomach, hugging him close, and kissing his neck. “Shh, it’s okay. I wasn’t yelling at you. None of this is your fault,” Richie soothed. 

“They’re going to fire me!” Eddie cried, clinging to Richie’s arms.

“Fire you? Who, your school?” Richie asked, nuzzling against Eddie.

“Oh, Rich, I did the worst thing yesterday!” Eddie hiccuped.

“What happened?” Richie asked, growing alarmed. 

“I fuckin’ threw up in front of my students! They were so disgusted! Teachers never get sick! They never come to school, that’s why? Now the students told their parents who want me gone! I feel so stupid! Now, Mrs. Alliston is going to fire me and what am I going to do now?”

Eddie sobbed into the pillow, his entire body shaking. Richie held him tightly, tearing up himself. 

“Your boss wasn’t calling to fire you,” Richie whispered into Eddie’s ear.

Relief ran through Eddie’s body. “What? S-She’s not firing me?”

“No, she was just calling to see how you were and wanted to tell you that your first-period class made you a get well card!” Richie explained to him.

Eddie turned around, finally facing Richie. “Really? She’s not firing me?” 

“No! You really think you could get fired for puking in class?” Richie asked not sure whether to laugh or be more concerned. 

“Well, I’m a first-year teacher and...”

Now Richie laughed. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“I don’t know,” Eddie shook his head, downcast. He sat up on the bed, grimacing slightly. “It was so embarrassing, Richie. I-I don’t think I can ever show my face there again.”

Richie groaned rolling his eyes. “Don’t you think you’re being too dramatic on this, man? You’re not the only first-year teacher to get sick. It happens to everyone. Remember that one teacher who was out once every week because she hated her job? She was sick that one time. It’s normal. And look at me. I barfed in front of the class when I gave that report, remember?”

Eddie sighed, his emotions weighing him down. Richie did make a fair point. All teachers got sick. It was good that his class didn’t resent him for the scene that he caused. Still, that didn’t mean everyone would forget about it though.

Richie got his attention, putting his hand on his face and wiping away stray tears. “Still, you should have gotten my attention yesterday morning. I know I was busy, too, but you should have said something.”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

Richie looked into his eyes again. His love’s energetic enthusiasm still wasn’t there. Just a sad, forlorn expression. “Is there something else that’s bothering you?” Richie asked him. “How is your job going? Do you like it?”

And just like that, Eddie’s eyes beamed. “Oh, Rich, I love being a teacher! The kids, my boss, assignments, everything is great about it.”

Richie smiled. “That’s great. I’m happy.”

“I just wish you were here more so I could tell you,” Eddie told him, frowning.

His face falling, Richie touched Eddie’s hand. “I know. It’s tough trying to juggle our schedules together,” his lip quivered, but he held it together, holding everything inside. Richie was not one to show his emotions. That was tough for him. “I feel like a failed you yesterday.”

Eddie’s heart cracked, squeezing Richie’s hand tighter. “What? No way, Rich! You were busy! It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s mine!”

“I take more fault!”

“Yeah, well I take fault for not paying attention to you!” Richie yelled, his voice breaking. Eddie could just feel Richie shaking underneath his touch. It was heartbreaking to see him this way. “Eddie, you’re my husband. I-I’ve never been in an awesome position like that! I don’t want... to let you down.”

Fresh tears fell from Eddie’s eyes. “Oh Rich, I just don’t want to get in the way of everything.”

“Are you fuckin’ crazy? No way! Don’t you ever think that! You could never get in the way of anything!”

Cuddling together, the couple stayed in their warm embrace for the longest time, taking in one another’s scent. Eddie felt his nerves calm, all the aches and pains disappearing. This was the medicine that he needed. This. He never felt happier. A bliss. That overwhelming feeling he craved. 

Parting, Eddie noticed Richie staring at him. Not in his eyes. He was looking at the spot where he had been impaled. The scar. Doctors were surprised to see him wake up and recover. They were right in the prognosis that Eddie would be affected for the rest of his life. And for Richie, that didn’t make it easier for him.

“Rich, are you okay?” Eddie asked touching his love’s face.

In seconds, the tears and agony came spilling out. “You looked dead every time I looked at you! And-and when you were choking I thought I was going to lose you! I can’t get that fucking image of you bleeding out right in front of me out of my head! I-I thought...” Richie grasped Eddie’s hands, staring into his eyes. “I can’t lose you, Eddie! So many times I felt like I wasn’t doing anything to help you! I would never have let you go to school if I was paying attention. God, I’m sorry!”

Eddie gathered his husband in his arms, patting his withered hair. He let him cry. “Richie, s’okay, I’m right here. I’m getting better, all because of you.”

“I felt so scared,” Richie leaned into his shoulder.

Eddie smiled. “I felt safe when I was with you.”

Parting, they looked into one another’s eyes, touching their foreheads together. “I can’t lose you.”

“And I... can’t lose you,” Eddie admitted. “I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t get me out of that lair, right? Richie, I love you, man!”

A big smile appeared on Richie’s face as the tears fell. “I love you, Eddie,” he held him tightly. “Hey, you want to know something?”

“What?”

“July marks our one-year anniversary. Can you believe it?”

Eddie grunted, amused. “Feels like we’ve been married our whole lives. You annoy me!”

“Hey, don’t get personal or I won’t tell you the good news!” Richie giggled. 

“Okay, just tell me already!” 

“So, you’re finally out for the summer and you will be off for three months, right?” Richie giddily asked him.

“Yeah.”

“I have an offer to make you. I’m touring Nevada for a week at the end of June. And then, get this, I have two weeks off! Let’s go away for our anniversary. Hawaii, Ireland, or learn how to french kiss in Paris!”

“Oh, Richie!” And Eddie kissed Richie on the lips, a long, deep kiss. “That sounds great! Wait, how long have you been planning on this? You know we have to make bookings ahead of time, right? Because we can’t just go someplace without a reservation at a hotel. And we need to plan this together.”

Richie wrapped his arms around his love, smiling endearingly. “It’s great to have you back, Eds. Except you should really brush your teeth!” he grimaced but smiled.

Eddie slugged his husband in his arm. Staring into each other’s eyes, a magnetic force pulled them towards one another. That didn’t stop the couple from fervently kissing, holding one another, moaning as they kissed.

“Wait, Rich!” Eddie reluctantly stopped. “You’re going to get sick.”

“Don’t care, so worth it!” Richie covered Eddie’s chin with kisses. Oh, how they missed this. Eddie’s hands traveled down Richie’s chest until Richie could feel them at his stomach until prodding at his belt.

“Hey, hey!” Richie held Eddie’s hands in his, staring into the man’s wanting eyes. At least he recognized him. “When you’re better.”

Eddie pouted. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too, man, but hey, I got the entire weekend free.”

“I love you, trashmouth.”

“I love you, asshole.”

The couple cuddled together and sat back into the pillows feeling relief and absolute bliss.

[otome-lover]

Can you do a disney princess AU where each guys are from different stories and which prince/story do they represent the most?

Tbh most of the princes don’t really have personality’s but I tried my best to find the princes that fit the boys most.

This took me so long to write, I hope you like it!

Victor

Prince Adam aka the Beast

Need I say more?

Victor was a fine business man in trades and took everything seriously, maybe to seriously?

When an old woman came to his building looking for work, one look and he turned her away.

“What use would you be in trades? You would just slow us down”

But little did he know that she was a witch or was she a fairy I can’t remember and she cursed him for his selfishness and his unwillingness to help her at all like she could have done paperwork or something

His whole trade building started to rot and vines started to grow all around it, the sky got darker and cloudly.

All the employees turned into ideas! Desks, tables, chairs, lamps, curtains, even pens, and paper!

And Victor soon turned into a hideous beast!

“Only once you truly help someone will you turn back”

Victor thought this was outrageous! He was only thinking of his business!

Fast forward to you, the child of an inventor, although most of your fathers' inventions didn’t work.... he always tried harder to next time to make it work!

And that’s what happened, after working day and night on an old invention it actually started to work!

“I need to take this to the fair! It’s happening in a few days! Ah, what perfect timing” you father said as he packed his belonging and left.

“I’ll be back in 4 days time! Take care of the house for me!” And that was the last you heard of him, it’s been a week since then.

At first, you weren’t worried, he’s a grown man and he could have just gotten stuck somewhere? But after 3 days that’s when your worry really started to set in.

What if something happened to him? What if he’s hurt or sick somewhere? It’s getting too cold for him to be out!

Al your worst fears came true it seemed when your fathers' horse came back, tired, dehydrated and scared.

“I have to find him” calming the horse down and getting some food and water in the poor things system, you set off hoping the horse would take you to him.

And he did, he brought you to an old building it seemed but it was so covered with vines it hardly looked like a building at all.

Making up your mind you get off the horse and start walking towards the scary building in hopes of finding your father.

But little did you know that not only would you find your father in there but you would find many mysterious things almost seemingly waiting for you.

Kiro

Prince Charming

I mean first his evol, second the chance meeting with MC in the store like ??? It fits okay.

Kiro was a prince of a very successful kingdom, it florist in many places.

Many, many princess wanted Kiro’s hand in marriage but he denied all of them, not wanting to marry without love. Plus he never even meet them!

His father not wanting his son to be alone forever but also respecting his wishes to not marry without love, set up a ball that all were allowed to attend.

You being a poor maid, living with your evil stepfamily knew you’d never be allowed to attend such a lovely ball.

As your stepfamily is about to leave they give you even more chores to do around the house

“ and I want this place spotless before I get back,” your stepmother said.

Before you were about to start on your many chores, a sparkle flashed before your eyes and you were curious about what it was, you followed it outside before it vanishes.

Looking to the ground a little disappointed you start to head back inside.

“Why the long face?” A voice says, turning your head around you see a little fairy flying in front of you.

“Oh hello there, I’m a little upset because I can’t go to the ball...I have too many chores”

As you said that the little fairy swings it’s little wand around and all the chores were magically done! The dishes, laundry, dusting, sweeping, yard work all of it was done.

“Now go to the ball and have fun! Oh but you need a dress!” Swinging the wand once more the fairy makes you the most beautiful dress you’ve ever laid your eyes on and they also make a carriage for you to ride in!

“Oh thank you little fairy! Thank you” getting into the carriage, you’re on your way to the castle.

Gavin

Li Shang

Small spoiler for recents chapters

There is no way Gavin is not Li Shang from Mulan like “let’s get down to business to defeat black swan”

Omg Minor is Mushu

Gavin was one of the fiercest and scariest General anyone has laid their eyes on.

He was smart, good at strategies, trained his men well.

He was a very powerful man in battle.

So when word got to him that the Black Swan was planning an attack he was the first in battle.

He would send out a spy to see just how many warriors there was when they got back and told him, he knew he needed more men so he sent the word out to every family and every man was required to come and fight.

Getting this letter was the worst day of your life and you refused to let your sickly father go but if not for the rules of the land, someone had to go with your family name.

Cutting your hair, taking your father's armor and horse, you set out to the camp where the most feared general was.

Lucien

Dimitri from Anastasia

This fits so well it’s kinda creepy...

Lucien has been trying to find the long lost princess/prince but luck was not on his side.

Every person he thought would work, the queen would see right through him and turn him away...

That is until he found you, you were not elegant or anything like that but far from it.

After meeting you in the old castle, why you were there? Who knows, but seeing the old portrait of the princess/prince then seeing you something clicked in him.

Sure you may not really be royalty but none of the other people he’s brought to the Queen has been but out of those people, you were a spitting image of the lost princess/prince.

Convincing you to come with him was the hardest part, he knew it was going to be I mean you both are stranger! But you don’t have to hit him so much...

After explaining that you might be long lost royalty and you should she the queen, it got to you are you royalty? I mean you have no where else to go technically speaking.

Lucien was patient with you, knowing you’ve never really needed these skills, hell no one needed these skills but royalty!

And he’s enlisted help from many people knew to teach you how to eat proper, walk proper, dance proper, speak proper, to know all the neighboring kingdoms name and all the royalty that live there, hell you needed to learn their dog's names as well.

And this was the start of your long journey to become a proper princess/prince.

[lickstynine]

Misadventures of Kit: Chapter Thirty-One

written with @ocsickficsideblog​

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Kit was still snoring spectacularly when the smell of pancakes came wafting through the house. The kitchen was bustling with hungry redheads, all elbowing each other for the first plate. Surprisingly, it wasn't a desire for food that woke Alistair. Siofra had accidentally left the door ajar when she went to get breakfast, and Finny took the invitation, leaping onto the bed and snuffling the boys. Alistair squealed under the mound of dog on his head, then spluttered with laugher. “Finny! You scared me to death.”

Finny boofed cheerfully in response, shoving his nose under the blankets to give Alistair's face a lick. Kit was scrambling around in his heap of blankets, woken by the commotion.

“It’s okay, Kit, it’s just Finny,” Alistair said, trying to sit up. “Happy Boxing Day.”

"Happier if I wasn't being assaulted in my sleep." Kit grumbled. Finny boofed and licked him as well. Kit shrieked.

Alistair laughed. “He just licked you, Kit!”

"I know! It's disgusting! Now I smell like dog!" Kit wailed. Siofra's head popped in the door, her hair frizzy from sleeping.

"Who's gettin' murdered in here?"

“Kit’s being licked to death,” Alistair said.

"Get off 'im, then." Siofra laughed. She let Kit squirm under Finny a moment longer before yelling "Oi! Get down." The dog hopped off the bed at once, cheerfully wagging his tail. Kit popped out of the blankets, red-faced and horrified.

"I've been defiled."

"Ain't the first time. Shower's open, if ye want it." Siofra offered. Kit nodded, and she went off to find him a fresh towel.

“I wish you two wouldn’t say gross shit in front of me,” Alistair sighed.

"And I wish you wouldn't lick your fingers when you eat something sticky." Kit replied, climbing out of bed to search through his luggage for a change of clothes.

“What else am I supposed to do with them?”

"Wipe them on a napkin! Wash them! Anything else!" Kit cried, thumbing between several pairs of sleek, dark jeans. He'd set out a sweater already, navy-blue cashmere with accented stitching around the collar. Eventually, he settled on the charcoal jeans, grabbing a pair of blue-black socks to finish it off. "I'm going to shower. Don't let the dog follow me."

Finny boofed at Alistair, wagging his tail. Alistair shook his head. “I appreciate you, Finny.” Finny hopped back onto the bed, climbing onto Alistair's chest to lick his face. Siofra peeked in a moment later, having thrown a stack of towels at Kit.

"Oi, you comin' to break — dammit, Finny, I toldja get off!"

Finny whined dramatically, turning to give Siofra a sad look. Alistair grinned. “Come on, Finny, I’ll feed you a bit of breakfast,” he whispered.

The dog jumped off the bed at once, trotting to the kitchen with Alistair in tow. Siofra shook her head, closing the door behind them to get dressed. "Idiots."

Gran was still in the kitchen, a massive bowl of pancake batter slowly depleting beside the stove. Riagán and Mr. Rafferty were sitting at the table eating, while Cillian waited for her to finish piling his second plate. She didn't hear Alistair come in, but she felt Finny nosing her side in search of food.

"Well, hello there, mister. I'm afraid these aren't for you," said Gran. Finny whined dramatically, but she just shook her head. "Try someone more gullible, dear." Finny quickly turned to look at Alistair again. Cillian snorted. Even Alistair smiled, putting a finger to his lips conspiratorially in Finny's direction. Now Gran followed Finny's gaze. "Mr. Heathen! Were ye plannin' to say good mornin', or didja just wanna stand there all day?"

“Um. Morning?” Alistair went red. His own family had never greeted each other kindly, morning or otherwise.

Gran laughed. “I ain’t gonna bite, I just wanted a hello. Ye want some pancakes?” She asked, gesturing with the pan as she flipped a cake.

“Yes please.”

“Alright, hang on.” Gran hip-checked Cillian out of the way, grabbing a fresh plate to stack pancakes on. He cried out in protest.

“Gran! I’ve been waitin’!”

“For yer seconds. Be patient, fat-arse, you’ve already outgrown the poor lad.” Gran said, dropping a pancake on the plate and pouring a fresh one. Once it was cooking peacefully in the pan, she turned to Alistair. “Help yerself to a drink while ya wait. I’ve got tea, coffee, milk.” She gestured towards the fridge with her spatula. Alistair got a coffee, going to sit at the table. He still wasn’t completely comfortable talking to all Siofra’s lively family.

Riagan and Mr. Rafferty looked up from their plates, nodding at him. It was Riagan who spoke first, since he knew Alistair better. “Ye ever call your boyfriend, or didja just talk about it an’ forget?” He asked.

“I called him after Kit went to sleep.”

“He doin’ alright?” Riagan asked. He wasn’t super familiar with Julius, but it was hard to hate someone who was basically an anthropomorphic lamb.

“Yeah… His family all love each other and everything. He actually likes going home,” Alistair said. He sighed. “Miss him though.”

“Gay.” Riagan grinned, taking another bite of his pancakes. Gran thumped him.

“If yer gonna take the piss out’o someone, at least be creative.”

“It’s alright, it was an accurate statement,” Alistair said.

Gran chuckled and shook her head. "I'll never understand you children. But at least I know how to feed ya." She offered Alistair a towering plate of pancakes. "Syrup's on the table."

He took it and poured a liberal amount, glad Kit wasn’t around yet to tell him how gross all that sweet stuff was. It still looked like a snack compared to the portions Siofra’s brothers were eating. A cold, wet nose brushed up against his leg, and Finny boofed, having been promised a snack. Alistair slipped him a pancake under the table, looking around for someone with bacon. He’d have to quickly pinch a streak, since Siofra knew he didn’t eat meat. Finny happily scarfed the pancake. There was a plate of bacon in the middle of the table, next to a heap of scrambled eggs. Alistair waited until everyone seemed distracted by their own plates, then hastily grabbed a couple of rashers and dropped them on the floor for Finny. The dog was crunching happily when his owner walked in.

"Oi, what'd I miss?" Siofra asked, grabbing a coffee and dropping down next to Alistair.

"Nothing interesting, I'm afraid." Gran said. "Where's yer lovely date got off to? Still asleep?"

“He was in the shower when I left,” Alistair said.

"Finny licked 'im." Siofra grinned, "'e was shriekin' like I beat 'im with a bag'o bubonic plague."

“He’s always been like that with animals. On the island he used to run away screaming when I caught lizards to show him,” Alistair said.

Riagán snorted. "How big were they?"

“Small enough for a fat five year old to catch them and carry them around.”

Now both brothers were cackling. "Don't he have dragon tattoos?" Cillian asked.

"Yep." Siofra laughed, "Not scared'o needles or giant monsters, but a lil salamander? Lord save 'im."

“Anything small, really. Including children,” Alistair said.

"I don't like children because they're messy and loud. Though based on that, it's a miracle I like you," came Kit's voice from down the hall. "By the way," he continued, "it's rude to talk about people when they're not around."

"Sorry! Thought ye were busy bein' a germaphobe!" Siofra called back.

"I'm done showering. Just brushing my hair now." Kit's usual hour-long shower had been interrupted by the freezing reality of a small water heater tank.

"Oh, so we'll see ye next year then?" Siofra asked.

"You'll see me never with that attitude!" Kit said, hoping she couldn't hear his muffled laugh.

“It’ll be way longer than next year. Practically next Christmas,” Alistair said.

"Very funny, Al! I keep my hair nice, so it doesn't take nearly as long to brush as yours." Kit quipped back.

“I don’t brush mine.”

"Is that why ya look so shitty?" Siofra asked, grinning.

“Partly. The rest is my face,” Alistair said, deadpan.

"Maybe that's why Julie likes ya. He's too short to have a good view of either." Riagán offered.

“He’s just very very good at liking ugly shit if it’s on me. He’s very tolerant of it.”

"It's truly a miracle you found him." Kit said, finally coming to sit at the table with everyone. He had no interest in pancakes, or bacon for that matter, but he grabbed a mug of tea before sitting down. He saw Alistair once when he was grabbing bacon for Finny, and Alistair made eyes at him not to tell anyone. Kit just rolled his eyes and went back to stirring his tea. "Do you all do anything special on Boxing Day?" He asked.

"Not really." Siofra shrugged. "Sometimes if we're feelin' nice, we'll go help neighbours shovel snow, but… I don't feel that nice today. We'll probably just go down to the park in a bit, walk Finny, go sledgin'."

"Ah. Fun." Kit forced a smile, but he couldn't have been less excited.

Alistair snorted. “If you’re looking for a way to dispose of Kit, there’s plenty of quicker ways than hypothermia.”

"Well, I figured ‘e'd wear a jacket… or ten." Siofra shrugged. "I have some extras he can put over top if need be."

Kit tried to smile gratefully, but he was really grimacing.

“He’s really not a fan of the cold…”

"Well I know that. What would ya rather do, then, Ice Princess?" Siofra asked.

Kit ducked his head sheepishly. "I don't want to interrupt your plans. If I don't go, I'll help Al set up his new tablet -" Siofra snorted, and Kit amended, "keep him company while he sets it up."

"Maybe he wants to go sledgin' with Finny." Siofra challenged, her tone light and teasing.

"Then I'll just stay here and become your grandmother's new favourite." Kit teased back.

"You're already in the runnin’," Gran piped up, setting the last of the pancakes on the center of the table. She'd finally run out of batter and was sitting down with a cup of tea.

“I’d go. I haven’t been sledding since…” He paused. “I don’t even know. Since I was like, five.”

"Really?" Even Kit looked surprised. "Julie never wanted to go?"

“It’s never really snowed when we’ve been visiting his family, I know he’s gone before. There’s nowhere to sled in the city,” he said. “Plus I worry about him out in the cold for a long time. He starts coughing a lot.”

"Ah, that's fair. I haven't been sledding since hypothermia. I took Elle skating a few times, though." Kit mused.

"Elle? Is that the guy who booted ye just before we met?" Siofra asked.

"Yeah…" Kit said, grinning sheepishly.

"Who would ever dump you?" Gran cried incredulously.

"Oh, he… he was right to do it. I was being a pretty lousy boyfriend." Kit replied hastily.

"Oh, I doubt that. You're such a charmin’ young man!"

Siofra kicked lightly at her grandmother under the table, muttering in Gaelic, "Stuff it Gran. It was a mess and he's probably still upset."

Gran begrudgingly quieted down, while Kit just sipped his tea, realizing he'd never told Siofra he knew Gaelic. He glanced over at Alistair, suddenly unsure if he'd told his cousin either. Alistair winked at him, grinning. He knew alright. Kit smiled back over his mug, taking another sip before saying, "If you all really want to go, I suppose I could climb inside a taxidermied polar bear and brave the weather."

“Imagine if you did. All the other people sledding would shit their pants,” Alistair snorted. “Remember when we went around your father’s house putting sandwiches in the mouths of all his taxidermied animals?” By “we” Alistair really meant himself, Kit had just been present (and begging him to stop the whole time).

"I remember." Kit sighed. "They didn't find all the sandwiches right away, and Father was rioting for a week because the house smelled like mayonnaise."

“I’m still pretty proud of that,” Alistair admitted.

"Of course you are." Kit rolled his eyes, looking over at Siofra as she stood up from the table and gathered empty plates. He took his empty mug to the sink himself, following along after her. "Are we… intruding? I feel like this should be a thing for your family and Al and I are interrupting."

"Well, if it were a thing for my family, there'd be near thirty more people here. My dad's brother has five kids, and my mum had five siblings, and most'o them have kids, and almost half'o those kids have kids. We just like to see Gran when we get a chance. If ye were intrudin', ye wouldn't'a been invited in the first place." She shrugged, taking the mug from him to wash in the sink with the plates. "Go start puttin' sweaters on. I'm sure I'll be done before ya."

"I don't need that many sweaters…" Kit mumbled, but he hurried away nonetheless. The necklace Alistair had given him was sitting under his current sweater — he wondered if it would be safe. The chain felt so fragile, he was afraid tumbling down a hill could snap it.

Alistair followed him, nudging his cousin. “Irish family, huh? All those siblings and kids.”

"I mean, mum's family was pretty big up until her generation. And Grandfather had like seven siblings." Kit pointed out. He dug through his bags, pulling out several sweaters. "Do you think my necklace will be safe or should I take it off?"

“It’ll probably be okay under your million layers. Sledging isn’t much of an extreme sport. Or at least it wasn’t last time I did it,” Alistair said. He paused. “Seven siblings? I thought it was five! Which two am I missing..?”

"Catherine and Bernard." Kit replied without hesitation. They'd had this conversation quite a few times.

“Oh yeah, those two. Catherine was that one who used to give me cough sweets and call it candy. Why do weird old people do that?”

"I think that was candy by their standards. The olden days didn't have a lot of sweet flavouring." Kit shrugged. "Help me with this sweater?"

Alistair pulled it over Kit’s head. “Don’t know why you have maids when you’ve got me, you know.”

"The maids know how to clean. But they're not here." Kit shrugged, smoothing out his new layer before handing Alistair another sweater.

“I can clean,” Alistair said, pulling the new sweater on too. “Just not obsessively.”

"Mnn, you say that, but I've seen you with chocolate on your face hours after you last ate." Kit countered, looking in the mirror at his last sweater. He still wasn't as wide at the waist as Alistair, but he no longer looked like a skeleton with so many layers.

“I was only little!” Alistair nudged him gently. “You’ve probably put on thirty pounds with those coats.”

"More like ten. I don't think I'd be able to stand if it were thirty." Kit laughed, pulling out several thick coats from another suitcase. He laid them on the bed in order of how he'd put them on, reaching back in the suitcase for a long cashmere scarf, a luxurious dark-furred ushanka hat, and equally well-lined leather gloves. He wrapped the scarf snugly round his neck before beginning to layer on coats.

“How have you never been mugged?” Alistair sighed. “You’re exactly the type of person they’d target.”

"I don't go where people get mugged." Kit replied flatly. "Help me button my coat?" He asked. He'd tucked his gloves into the sleeves of the last one, but now he wasn't nimble enough to button. Alistair rolled his eyes and helped him.

“You’re like one of my kids.”

"Are you working with children already in your training?" Kit looked surprised, then felt like an ass for not knowing.

“Not as much as I’d like, and not care kids yet. We mostly just help out at holiday camps and classrooms. But it’s still great fun,” Alistair said.

Kit shook his head. "I can't imagine doing that voluntarily, much less enjoying it." He smoothed his outermost coat. "You need to put on a coat, too. Did you pack something warm?"

“Of course I did.” He pulled on his own coat, which was a good deal cheaper and shabbier than Kit’s, as usual.  

Siofra came into the room as Alistair was putting on his jacket. She took on look at Kit, who was twice as broad as usual with layers of coats swallowing him, and burst out laughing. "Fuckin' hell! Are ye on yer way to Moscow?"

"Ew, no. There are better places in Russia to visit. And better places to visit than Russia." Kit replied.

Siofra rolled her eyes, muttering about jet-setting posh boys as she took off her t-shirt, throwing it in Kit's face. She grabbed a sweater from her bag, pulling that on and digging through a haphazardly packed heap of clothes in search of a proper coat. Kit struggled to get her shirt off his face, as his many layers made it hard to fully bend his arms. Siofra looked up when he made a frustrated noise, only to howl with laughter again. Alistair joined in too. “You look a little kid in a snowsuit!”

"I just don't want to get cold!" Kit cried indignantly. Even he couldn't help starting to laugh at the absurdity as he fruitlessly struggled to bend his elbows enough to grab the shirt. He gave up flailing before long. "Sheef, please. Help."

Siofra popped up from where she'd stuffed her head in her suitcase, reaching over and snatching the shirt effortlessly off his face. She threw it on the floor and kissed his cheek. "There ye go. Idiot." Turning back to her bag, she stuffed seemingly her whole arm into the sea of clothes, rifling around for a minute before feeling a familiar waterproof lining. "A-ha!" She cried, triumphantly yanking the coat out of her suitcase. Several other things came flying out of the bag, but she just kicked them under the chair the suitcase was sitting in.

Kit was staring at her in astonishment. He couldn't understand how anyone could live with such chaos, much less find anything in it. Siofra saw him gawking, and she grinned, grabbing a beanie and gloves from the side pocket of her suitcase. "What's got ye so fascinated? My shirt ain't even off."

"How did you even find that in there?"

"I knew I packed it. Knew what it felt like. Just gotta keep gropin'." Siofra shrugged, slinging the jacket around her shoulders and stuffing her arms through the sleeves.

“All his stuff is meticulously organised,” Alistair explained.

"Yea, but does he organize it, or does the help do it?" Siofra asked, doing a mockingly posh accent when she said ‘the help.'

“What do you think?” Alistair muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Figured." Siofra shook her head. "C'mon, princess, my brothers are waitin' on us." She said, dragging Kit along while he whined about how he paid his servants and they weren't slaves or anything.

“They’re actually quite decent, most of them,” Alistair said. “When I was little they’d slip me sweets if I sang silly nursery rhymes for them.”

"Still gotta be lousy to spend yer life workin' for some rich wanker. Can't imagine livin' back when everybody did." Siofra grumbled.

"I mean, you'd probably be a court performer or something. Might even find yourself a decent husband if you struck a minor nobleman's fancy." Kit offered.

Siofra scoffed. "Oh, yeah. That's way better. Be a dancin' monkey an' then upgrade to fucktoy."

“I don’t think most would dance anyway. Not back then. Only the pretty ones,” Alistair added.

"Are ye sayin' I ain't even pretty enough to dance for rich twats?" Siofra raised one eyebrow menacingly.

“No, I’m just saying it’s even more unfair if you happen to be poor and ugly.”

"Oh. Fair. It'd be shit to be you back then, eh?" She asked.

Kit laughed so hard, he snorted, and he instinctively covered his mouth. Embarrassed as he was, he couldn't help adding, "No, Al was born noble. He'd just be hidden in a tower where no one could see him, sort of like Quasimodo."

“Fine! He had way more fun. I’d spend my time climbing over the roof and rescuing gypsy girls,” Alistair said.

"Who's stealin’ gypsies?" Gran asked, giving them a confused look as they walked into the living room.

"Don't worry about it." Siofra laughed. "Did the lads already grab the sledges?"

"Yep. They're waitin' out front." Gran nodded. Siofra hugged her before heading for the door.

"We'll be back in a bit."

"Don't rush yer fun. I'll just be nappin'." Gran said, grinning and pulling down Siofra's hat over her eyes. "Dont freeze, either."

Siofra laughed and fixed her hat. "See ye, Gran." She led the boys outside, where her brothers had shoveled earlier this morning. The path was still fairly clear, since it had stopped snowing around dawn. The second she stepped outside, Riagán nailed her in the face with a snowball. She yelped, and Finny came galloping over to see what was wrong.

"Finny, he got me!" She cried, "Avenge me!"

Finny boofed and sped off towards Riagán, tackling him into the snow. He yelled when the dog hit him, but he was laughing before he hit the ground. He wrestled with Finny for a bit before climbing to his feet. "C'mon, boy! We're goin' to the park! Can ya lead the way?" He asked. That was all the incentive Finny needed to go dashing through the snow, Cillian and Riagán close behind. Siofra walked a bit slower, knowing Kit wouldn't be able to keep pace. Alistair stuck by his side too, almost instinctively.

[a-writing-bear]

[AmeriPan] Chapter 3: The ‘Hell on Earth’ Task Agency

Ao3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13286367/chapters/56767471#workskin

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on Tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’ But it is not formatted as well as the AO3 version.

Previous Chapter    

Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing:  Alfred F. Jones & Kiku Honda (America & Japan)

AU:   Demon AU/HellTaskAgency!AU - Demon!America & Businessman!Japan

Age Rating/Mature:  Teen And Up Audiences (12+ due to mentions of mature themes as well as swearing)

Trigger Warnings:  Mention of Incest ( no actual incest, it is only mentioned out of disgust), Joking about murder.

“I really...should get back to my co-workers…” Kiku gulped, side-eyeing the aggressive yet patient look that Mr Zwingli was sending.  “I just wanted to say sorry for bumping into you this morning. I hope you moved in okay…” Lord, Kiku internally cringed at his own words- why was he even saying sorry? He could have just ignored the 2 and just…

“I do hope zoning out isn’t a hobby of yours Mr Kiku- it doesn’t seem like something your coworkers would appreciate” - Al had gotten a little bit too close to his personal bubble and the Japanese man could do nothing but look away from that dazzling smirk that seemed to be too pretty not to notice. Confused and frustrated with what must be his social ineptness, Kiku shuffled backwards before awkwardly bowing and retreating hastily to his table.

“You’re trying to corrupt him, not kill the damn thing with social awkwardness Al.” Matthew sipped on some coffee as he gazed away, Gilbert now leaning an arm around him also snivelling after Alfred’s performance. “Oh shut it. Not like you’re doing so well with ‘Bonnie and Clyde’ over there  huh-”

“First off, they are  siblings , I would really hate to have a Bonnie Clyde situation- incest was not in the brief. Secondly, we both know we’re going to get a job near them regardless of what we do so it was worth a shot. Zwingli’s suspicious cus he’s paranoid. He’s human .” The last word was thrown out with such disgust, despite the fact Gilbert had affectionately been poking at Matthew’s extremely cherubic cheeks; their human forms really did not aid Matthew in his grunting monologue. Alfred knew Mattie must have been bitter at the blatant disregard that Zwingli man gave him, for he had been more willing to ‘try’ the whole human thing before.

“You two need to calm down. Humans are easy, they’ll commit some crime by themselves. We just have to watch them and make sure it's a crime that will help us all. Wouldn’t that be awesome.” Before Alfred could pitch in some remark the senior demon stood up after planting a very chaste yet meaningful kiss to Matthew’s cheek and stroking his hair; “I should probably go I have another soul on my schedule today- later birdie, and good luck to you southerner- make sure you don’t get too involved with your charge.” and just like that he up and left. Confused by the strangely intimate gestures between his brother and a most revered senior he searched for an explanation on Matthew’s disgruntled glare.

“We just... really...really know each other. It’s nothing.” Alfred could barely wiggle his eyebrows at the perverse confession before his brother sent him a death glare almost as bad as the time they started that plague in Marseille a few centuries ago. He dropped it and continued to idly watch his victim from a distance, it seemed like Kiku Honda was much too occupied in the droning of that Swiss financier to notice him back- Al pouted; ah he could always wait till Monday to play with his meal.

Kiku had tried to pay attention. He really did. It was just hard when he could feel the stare of that American on him so strongly. Did he not know manners? It was rude to stare. The thoughts of the blonde hair only burst when the little girl that sat beside him coughed, searching for some attention.

“Mr Honda. I believe my brother asked you a question. Dubel …” at that last murmur said brother tutted Lili- Although he did not know what exactly had been said in their Swiss, Kiku gathered it must have been some snide remark.

“Of..of course. Yes, it is quite unfortunate trade has made tech a bit difficult but there’s not much I can do about it, Mr Zwingli. except ask for you to balance out the pay and help me scram for something.” The industry was struggling with so much saturation and the recent embargoes and trade tension between China and the US had not made it any easier. Zwingli huffed, sharing the same feeling of disappointment as Kiku.. but after a glance at his sister and flickering between his coffee and the tie of his associate, Vash leaned in and mentioned under his breath:

“You know Kiku... Yao’s been quite overzealous with his penny pinching...generous with his escapades and vacations. You’ve been slaving away quite a bit in comparison…” he paused before whispering even more. “Doesn’t seem right for the right-hand man to be fed at the feet like a dog..” Kiku tensed, suddenly his throat felt dry and a little bit of anger clouded his mind- he was not the only one who recognised the dubious actions of his childhood friend it seemed.

“What- how much is Yao stacking to himself?” Zwingli shrugged nonchalantly, again avoiding Kiku’s eyes as if he had not just admitted to possibly traitorous gossip- the Swiss man turned his head to eye that Matthew boy again, letting Kiku deal with the folder that Lili had unceremoniously slid onto the table in front of them. Give him time to view the damage. Nervously, but with some fiery fingers, the short man opened the folder, ripping it up as if it contained the secrets of the world- if it explained the month shortcomings then perhaps it was the whole world. Kiku’s face went through a tremendous hurricane of negative emotions- disbelief, disrepair and complete fury...and sudden absolute blankness.

“I see.” Humming away in agreement, Vash spoke with his eyes still trained on Matthew on the other table: “Reasons I don’t work with childhood friends.” For some absurd reason, Mr Honda could not stop himself from trying to rationalise or reason on behalf of traitor:

“Yao was reasonable growing up, I have always trusted him- it's like how you are with Ms Lili-”

“Lili would stab me in the back if she knew I was costing us a fortune. At least I hope she would. I taught her well enough. Siblings don’t owe you anything, and friends most certainly don’t.” to that Lili preened, as if a child is praised for cleaning her room, not at the analogy of betraying her own kin. Kiku brewed in his own discomfort and the revelation for a short while before Zwingli cut in once again.

“You know much about those two?” the businessman nudged his head motioning to Kiku’s new neighbours. He shook his head and spoke the truth of knowing just as much as his partner did. “There’s something about them. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Lili’s voice, soft like a bird chimed in, “They are quite easy on the eyes brother.” and just as she uttered the words the two brother

Zwingli only scoffed in response and sipped his near cold coffee. That was not what bothered him.

--

“That Zwingli dude’s been staring at us.” Alfred tried to play it cool and look subtle in her observation. Matthew had gotten a magazine and was doing much better at the covert spying.

“No shit sherlock. He was looking at me like he wanted me roasted on a spit.”

“If you play your cards right maybe he will roast someone else. Get your work done quickly ya know.” Alfred grinned as his brother rolled his eyes. The two got up and headed out to explore earth’s delights, before the back and forth ogling got too suspicious to warrant a restraining order. Tomorrow the two had to go down to Hell and pop into Arthur’s office just to report on how they’ve settled.

“Do you Artie could tamper with my form a bit? I don’t know if I dig the whole classic American boy next door thing going on; being stuck in this for the next 200 years is just a bit dull.” Matthew huffed as they entered their apartment, the afternoon had already faded into a quiet evening.

“Ask him yourself. I was planning on going down tonight and staying there till Monday, to save me from dealing with human night cycles for a bit…”

“Already sick of human life?” Al sniggered before aiding his brother in positioning their candles on the floor in the trademark pentagram and conjuring up a rough but secure portal to their real abode. The walls of their earthly apartment crumbled as the two were engulfed in a blaze of bright and deadly flame. It was a quick half-second that they appeared in the glorious office of their higher up Arthur.

“Bloody hell, must you two always show up with the foulest stench? Clean up before you blast in” The demon with his huge grey wings cringed at his desk from the lingering odour of humans that had clung to Alfred and Matthew, that had invaded his office. Al shrugged, already past the stink of mortal life, and sauntered forward towards his boss.

“When were you gonna tell me Gil is a district manager up top huh?”

“It was in the case of file imbecile. and Matthew told me it would not interfere with your jobs- have you already screwed it up Matt-”

“Fuck off. Alfred just doesn’t read his crap.” Arthur’s brows were raised in surprise- Matthew, despite being a demon, had always been more diplomatic and civil compared to the lot of them.

“Ignore him, he’s bitter about the whole job transfer thing. Anyway, I know it all just began but when can we be transferred back to the patrol division- I already take back what I said about it being boring.” Arthur shot him a pestered look before reminding the pair that the contract would last for 200 years.

“I suppose it could be shortened though...the morality and ethics department have been missing dear old Mattie; it's not the same torturing people when you can’t use moralistic irony on them.” Matthew’s disdain snapped to sudden interest- he would do anything to get out the mess Alfred had gotten them into; he’d sell his soul if he had one. Alfred, on the other hand, was fiddling with some skulls that Arthur had been using as a paperweight as his brother negotiated terms to lower their sentence on earth.

“If you can finish your research, then I’ll get Francis to draft you guys back down here. Alfred will still be on suspension and on the petty crime division but back in hell nonetheless.” satisfied with such terms the 3 shook on it, signing a secondary contract that sizzled up into an invisible seal of demonic promise the moment the pen lifted off the scroll.

“I can’t keep playing favourites with you two, I’ve got other creatures on my payroll.  I’m expecting Armageddon level chaos up there. No take-backs, and when I see the papers I want the murder to be fantastically gruesome and that company to be reeking of corporate greed- enough for the big man himself to come to knock by our offices. I need a fucking bonus down here..the newer recruits are all too wimpy to carry out real torture. Now go. The real work starts Monday” Arthur shooed them, flicking some invisible force that pushed them out of his office doors and into the hot underworld.

“Well I’m gonna stop M&E and witness the new sinners, everyone keeps saying the new wave of demons are inefficient. I won’t be back till we have to go back up top.” Matthew had already begun cracking his neck and stretching his spine as he grew out his dark maroon wings, faux-human form melting away as he began fluttering off into the distance. Alfred kicked the dust at his feet before stretching his arms with a bored yawn- his wings unfurled with a puff and he picked at his re-emerged fangs with complete monotony. Perhaps he should pay to those seedier creatures that lurked near his den around this time. Just as he made his way to his den, he saw some scuffling of some frazzled looking fledgeling- the tail of the little thing curling in panic.

“Hey. Why ya lurking around someone else's territory runt? Go back to your own nest..” the little thing had the tiniest wings, scruffy black feather with yellowish flecks that reminded him of Arthur. In fact, the hair on the top of the premature hell-raiser was reminiscent of his boss so much that it could not have been a coincidence. Oh, hell had Arthur pumped out another batch of fledgelings? Crap that guys ancient there’s like no way he’s got so much-

“Are you Alfred?” the thing squeaked out, some confidence spilling over as it turned to face Alfred's chest straight. Al decided to entertain the creature, he had nothing better to do till Monday anyway. Before he could finish nodding the creature jumped into a salute and yelled the most idiotic thing Al could ever imagine.

“COULD YOU SMUGGLE ME UP TOP?”

Just how dumb were the new fledgelings these days? Hell' has really gone down the drain...

[baneismydragon]

ML Secret Santa! #1

https://sunny-bab.tumblr.com/ @sunny-bab I am your @mlsecretsanta this year! 

You said that you love Jule/rose and wanted something from Alya’s POV so that is what I went for! I had so much fun writing this and I hope you like it too! 

The thing with being an aspiring journalist is that you are always watching. Always looking for the next story, the next big scoop, the next hint at what exciting thing is about to come. At least that was how Alya felt about things. She was always trying to catch every detail in the world around her- from the biggest fight to the littlest glance.

The problem was, she had found, when you spend so much time observing the affairs of others it becomes hard not to want to meddle. Which would explain how Alya found herself on this particular day running across town on a mission.

Her face was flushed from the cold when she arrived, ignoring the ancient elevator and instead sprinting up the four flights of stairs towards her destination and flinging open the door of what had basically become her second home.

“Good morning Ms. Lahiffe!” she called cheerfully, peering into the kitchen and breathing in the heavenly aroma.

“Alya! So lovely to see you dear. Nino’s still in his room. Also forgive the noise, we have some family staying with us for the holidays.”

“It’s no trouble, and thanks,” she waved before darting over to Nino’s door and bounding inside.

“Nino!”

“Don’t you ever knock?” muttered the figure sprawled face first on the bed beneath a mound of blankets.

“You knew I was on my way over, I didn’t see the point.”

“So, what is so urgent that you needed to wake me up on a Sunday morning?”

“It’s 12:30.”

“That’s still my morning,” Nino grumbled, but sat up and scooted over so that Alya could sit down next to him on the bed.

“I have an urgent mission that only team wingman can achieve.”

“Babe, I told you Adrien is swamped this week, we really should wait till after the holidays to try any more of your ridiculous schemes.”

“No I know that, this is a different project.” She pulled out her phone and pulled up a photo gallery. “This is about these two,” she said, thrusting the phone up to his face. 

She watched Nino’s eyes widened in surprise as he stared down at a candid photo of Juleka and Rose talking together in the school courtyard.

“Are you serious?” he asked, rubbing his eyes and reaching for his glasses.

“Look at the evidence, Nino.” She began flipping through the gallery on her phone, all different shots of the potential couple in question. “They are already best friends, which as you know is a great foundation for a relationship. They are extremely comfortable with each other. They compliment each other. No one is as patient with Rose as Juleka is. And let’s not kid ourselves, I love the girl but sometimes she is painfully naive. But Juleka is so chill and supportive about it. Meanwhile, no one gets Juleka to come out of her shell the way Rose does! When just the two of them are together, Juleka doesn’t even mumble, they have just regular conversations. So yes I am serious, I think they would be an amazing couple!”

“That wasn’t what I meant by serious, Als. I meant I don’t really think they need our help. Love kind of has a way of working itself out, you know?”

“You help me meddle in Adrien and Marinette’s love life all the time!”

“Well, yes, but they’re idiots.”

“Why aren’t you on board with this, Nino?” she whined.

“Because I don’t think that they need us interfering in their relationship.”

“But they aren’t IN a relationship! That’s the problem.”

“Alya…”

“Don’t you want to see our friends happy?”

“Of course I do.”

“And don’t you see how perfect they are for each other?”

“Of course I do, but-”

“So what’s the harm in helping speed that along? Come on, this is what we do! We are team wingman!”

“I never should have let you give us a name.”

“Come on Nino, please?” She fixed him with her best puppy dog expression, hands clasped together, lips pressed in a quivering frown, eyes wide. It wasn’t quite as polished as Adrien’s, but Nino had always been a bit of a push over in this regard.

“Alya…” he sighed again, but she could see his defenses beginning to crack.

She flicked through the gallery until she found her favorite picture. She had taken it a few weeks earlier, when all the girls had gone out together to enjoy the first snowfall of the season. Rose had jumped onto Juleka’s back in the midst of an impromptu snowball fight, and the picture had caught them just as they were looking towards each other, their faces bright with matching smiles.

“Just look at them. There is so much love between the two of them. You can see it in the sparkle of their eyes. Tell me you don’t see it too and I’ll forget the whole thing.”

Nino stared at her, his face scrunched in thought as if fighting an inner battle with himself. Finally he let out a weary groan.

“Alright, alright. I will help you with your newest crazy scheme.”

“Thank you! You’re the best!”

“If only to keep you from doing anything stupid.”

---

Over the next week, Alya, with Nino in tow, went out of her way to try and push her friends together.

They made sure they were always paired together for group activities, they saved spaces for them at lunches and group outings so they could always sit together. They casually dropped hints into everyday conversation.

In what she felt was a true moment of brilliance, she had invited the girls to join her, Nino, Ivan and Mylene for an afternoon of holiday shopping, hoping that it would turn into a triple date. It had actually been a pretty fantastic afternoon. Everyone had a good time wandering through the outdoor markets that were up for the holidays. They had enjoyed a nice dinner at a restaurant Mylene had been wanting to try, and they had even gone ice skating.

Watching Rose attempting to teach Juleka how to skate had been absolutely precious, right down to the point where they had dropped out early to go share a hot cocoa.

However, despite her best efforts, she had seen no advancement in their relationship whatsoever. Sure, there were no shortage of subtle glances and soft blushes. Even the occasional brushing of hands when no one was looking. But it was still a far cry from what Alya had been hoping for.

Today was the day they stepped up their game.

A five hour internet research session with Nino the night before had lead them to the perfect plan- a small cafe that had been specifically decked out to cater to romantic outings. Alya was convinced that if they could just convince their friends to go there together, then Team Wingman could turn it into into a first date they would never forget.

It hadn’t been hard to convince both Rose and Juleka to promise to check it out. Juleka was intrigued by the live band Nino had dutifully gushed over, which was supposed to be playing this evening, and Rose was sold the minute Alya had mentioned their signature pink peppermint white hot chocolate. A few vague promises to all try to meet up, schedules allowing, for drinks and maybe a movie and Alya’s plan was in motion.

“Okay, so let’s go over the plan one more time,” Alya said, thumbing through the checklist on her phone as she and Nino walked towards the cafe.

“I really still think we should back off. I’ve told you it will happen when it happens.”

“First we sneak in a scope out the scene,” Alya said, ignoring Nino’s protests, “then depending on how things are going, we start in on atmospheric assistance.”

Nino nodded, although she didn’t miss the slight rolling of his eyes as he brushed away the snow that had fallen into his hair.

“Look, that’s them!” Alya said, dragging Nino behind a mailbox. “Okay, they are going inside.”

“Please tell me we aren’t going to be sitting out here for the next 2 hours waiting.”

“No, we give it a few minutes then we follow to make sure things are going well.”

They waited for about 5 minutes, Alya anxiously watching the door to the cozy cafe for any signs of trouble, and Nino absently tapping his foot to an imaginary beat.

“Okay, I think it’s safe to go after them,” Alya said at last, tiptoeing quickly over to the entrance and cringing when a bell chimed as she pushed the door open.

Luckily, no one seemed to notice their arrival.

She scanned around the cafe, but at first glance wasn’t able to catch sight of her target. However between the eclectic selection of tables, and several floor to ceiling christmas trees that had been set up for the occasion, there were several places that were out of eyeshot where the two might be hiding.

Alya tapped Nino on the arm and motioned for them both to move forward. She edged against the wall sneaking around the various decorations. She looked for any sign of the two girls.

“Well they have to be in here some-”

“Shhh…” Nino whispered, pulling Alya back suddenly.

She was about to protest, but he shook his head violently, a finger pressed to his lips as he flattened himself against the branches of a massive tree.

They exchanged a silent conversation before stealthily creeping to peer around the corner.

Sure enough, there were Juleka and Rose, cuddled next to the fire in the back of the cafe. Rose was curled up in Juleka’s lap, whispering about something excitedly. It looked like something you would see on a Christmas card, both of them still wrapped in scarves and coats from the cold, clutching a pair of steaming mugs, smiling and laughing together with love shining out of their eyes.

Alya had to hold back a squeal of shocked delight as Juleka bent down and placed a soft loving kiss on Rose’s lips. The gesture was so easy and familiar they didn’t even seem to break stride in their conversation. Rose nestled in closer, resting her head on Juleka’s shoulder as their free hands wove together. There was no mistaking the affection between the two of them.

“Well,” Nino whispered, “I don’t think they need our help figuring things out after all.”

“No, I guess not,” Alya said with a smile. She pulled back, circling around the oversized tree and quietly making her way out of the cafe with Nino on her heels.

“So,” she asked once they were safely back outdoors, “how long do you think that’s been going on?”

Nino shrugged. “Honestly? I’m just glad they are happy.”

“Me too,” Alya admitted, weaving her arm through Nino’s and letting her head rest against his arm as they strolled through the snow covered streets. “I guess you were right. Love has a way of working itself out.”

“Well, I am very wise. How else do you think I landed the prettiest girl in school?”

“I always assumed that was just dumb luck.”

“Hey,” he grumbled, glaring at her playfully before giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Do you think those two are as happy as we are?”

“Yeah, I really think they are,” Alya said, thinking of the glowing smiles of their two friends, “Even if they chose to keep it more private.”

“Well then, I think we can call this project officially over. Congrats to Team Wingmen.”

Alya nodded in agreement.

They walked along, in the midst of the falling snow and darkening sky, full of the warmth and joy and love of the season. Alya smiled.

“Although I swear to god, if we find out Marinette and Adrien hooked up behind our backs, I am going to murder them both.”

“Oh, I’m right there with you.”

[mintyvan]

Almost Lover

Hey lovelies! I’m writing a new chaptered fic called “Almost Lover” based on these requests:

van is “whipped” and will do anything for a girl he likes

A.S.A. songfic

meeting van at a concert that isn’t his

young-ish van ( like 16/17 ) where the reader goes on holiday with her parents and stays at van’s parents b&b 

anything young van pls

I hope you enjoy the first chapter! Not all the requests will be in this chapter; they’ll come soon enough. Woo hoo! Long chaptered fics just might be my favorite. This one will have nine parts!

If you like the first chapter of this one, be sure to check out my other completed one :-).

________________________

CHAPTER ONE OF NINE: LIKE, PROPER LOVE YOU

“Fuck, I left my ID in Jessica’s car.”

“No worries, I’ll get them. Stay out here.”

You sat on the cold sidewalk outside, shivering in your flannel as you waited patiently in the dark.

He burst out the door of the bar five minutes later with eight shots of vodka on a tray he probably wasn’t supposed to bring out of the bar at all, and laid them between you on the cold concrete as he sat cross-legged in front of you on the sidewalk. His eyes reflected the lights on the inside.

“Four apiece?” you asked.

“You know the drill.”

Half an hour later, tray forgotten, both stumbling through the streets of your tiny town, you giggled as he darted up a fenced alleyway between two fancy houses’ yards; the favorite spot. It was a fortunate landscaping error. The fences in each yard were supposed to meet together at the property line, but one person built theirs three feet inwards, leaving a reasonable sized gap you and Van loved to sneak into after hours.

The lush vines and vegetation poked through the chain link fence on the left side as you and Van backed up to the wooden fence. He put his arms on either side of your head, gripping the tops of the wooden slats with cold fingers.

“I love you,” he passionately stated, drunk eyes rimmed with red.

“I know,” you said, punching his shoulder lightly.

“Like, proper love you,” he reiterated.

“Van, I know,” you giggled, pushing his hot breathy mouth away from your cheek.

“When you gonna let me kiss you?” he asked, before pressing you back to the wall.

“You’re always on about this,” you darted away from his body, boots crunching in the dirt and shoulders leaning on the chain link across from him instead. The vines tickled your neck. “Just let it go, mate.”

“One kiss. I’ll leave it alone forever if you don’t like it,” he said, taking a jumpy step forward and landing in front of you. His movements appeared faster to you in your inebriated state.

“You said that last time you were drunk,” you rebutted, walking around him in a tight circle back to where you originally stood when he started the conversation.

“And you still haven’t let me kiss you,” he laughed, wiggling his eyebrows as he turned.

You were dreamily drunk under the heavy blanket of night, and his eyes revealed a lot more of the emotion bubbling up underneath his thick leather jacket. You didn’t like when he got romantic on you. You took a step back and let your shoulders fall against the wood fence.

Maybe it was because you felt like he’d stop pushing you about the kiss if you gave in, or maybe it was because you felt like the universe owed you a kiss in the unfortunate dry spell you were experiencing in your love life, but you shot him a tentative look that made his eyes sparkle. “You can kiss me. Once.”

He gave a coy thumbs up and took the one step to cross the tiny gap. He placed his hands on your cheeks, and pressed his cold lips to yours. You pushed him off after they comfortably touched for a few seconds, unfortunately unmoving, and your lips made a slight slick kiss sound from the pressure release as he stepped back, guided by your hands.

“That wasn’t as good as I expected from you,” you stated, also confused by your disappointment.

“You didn’t even give me a chance,” he laughed, slouching down to your level. “Next time.”

“Oh, so there’s going to be a next time, huh?” you poked his belly, slightly surprised by the firmness that rested there. He smiled down at the hand that had touched his belly.

“Yeah, tomorrow night. I need you for the reopening of the bed and breakfast. It’s black tie, an’ that. My parents still think we’re goin’ steady and if they don’t think I’m doing somethin’ with my life they’re gonna cut me off from the band, essentially.” He had reverted back to thoughtful Van.

“Are you serious?”

“About which part? All of ‘em, I guess.”

You groaned, and palmed your forehead. Black tie. Sociability. Responsibilities to your friends. Nothing fun to think about when drunk. You stood in silence, playing with the corner of your flannel shirt while watching your cold breath fan out in front of you. The toe of Van’s boot dug around in the dirt beside him.

“Does it still hurt?” he spoke up, voice muffled by the collar of his jacket.

“Hmm?”

“Not being with him.”

“You mean ---”

“Yeah.”

“Well we broke up about a month ago so I’d say I’m over it now.”

He nodded once. “He really broke your heart. I hated to see it.”

“Yeah,” you said, wrapping your arms around yourself. You had no idea why he was asking.

“It gets lonely sometimes, now, being on my own,” you said. A pause from him.

“I know how you feel.”

“Do you?” you asked him sadly, looking up into his eyes for the first time since the kiss. The corner of his mouth dipped slightly, a half apology for fomenting those breakup feelings again.

He hugged your waist, supple leather brushing up against the soft flannel of your shirt, and nuzzled his nose softly beneath your ear as a consolation.

“I know we have to do things like this in public to keep our parents convinced we’re dating but you don’t have to do it constantly when we’re most definitely out of their view,” you said in false annoyance.

His nose poked in the hollow of your neck, and his breath washed over your cold skin. You sat there for a few minutes, hidden tightly in his arms, letting him hug the sad drunk girl out of you. You started to secretly wish he’d stay there for the sake of it; he was warm, and you liked how he felt. The shots’ effects were fully fledged still and your head was swimming with adoration and friendship for him. His lips felt good brushing up against your neck softly in the embrace.

You shakily exhaled, obviously enjoying the contact, and he peeked up at you from where his head was drunkenly buried in your neck.

He pulled back and stared into your eyes for several heartbeats, searching for permission. You stared back at him and before you could think, you closed your eyes and impulsively brushed noses with him. The slightest nod, and his lips touched yours again. It was desperate; your breathing had let on how much you needed someone, anyone, to help you in the moment, and he was more than willing to fulfill your wants.

His hands began to roam your back, fingers splayed over your shirt, flannel pressing into your soft flesh. His tongue swiped out and you let him explore your mouth with his. A soft sigh from him earned him the privilege to dip under the front of your shirt and feel your hip bones. His fingers traveled up and up until he reached the curve of your breast. Your head swam with liquor and lack of oxygen and your incredible decision not to wear a bra and his lips parted from yours ever so slightly.

“You want to come home with me?” you breathily whispered into his lips. You opened your eyes.

The beam of a flashlight hit straight into your retinas from across the yard, and your sharp intake of breath alerted Van to the light. He turned around, and you broke contact with him, sprinting down the gaps between yards with burning lungs as someone shouted curses at you, the crunching of his urgent racing over dead leaves echoing loudly behind you as you ran. The cold ripped your throat apart with gusts of harsh wind and your flannel whipped open with every step; you knew Van was right behind you. A dog barked in the near distance and your adrenaline kicked in.

The rich were always anal about kids like you lurking around, and weren’t afraid of setting their dogs loose on anyone who dared trespass even slightly.

When your lungs were about to burst and your feet ached with a deadly combination of almost-frostbite and exercise, you reached Benji’s backyard gate. His was the closest safe house to The Spot. You and Van both fell into the garden and laughed nervously at the events that transpired. Benji was sat on the small deck with a cup of tea, finger pointing to his watch, as if he were waiting on cue.

“Y/N, half past eleven. Leg it,” he urged, and you groaned.

“I can drive you home,” Van replied. You doubted his sobriety. Despite the scare, you could still feel the alcohol palpitating in your blood.

“Course you can,” Benji sarcastically laughed under his breath, and you sighed. He always teased Van for his chivalry. You decided to ignore Benji.

“No, mine’s just ‘round the corner, I can fast-walk like he said,” you declared to Van, whose languid expression dropped to one of poorly-masked disappointment.

“Let me at least walk you to your gate,” he blurted, cold blue lips shivering in the floodlight on Benji’s deck. You didn’t want to say no to him, but you knew he’d try to make something out of tonight. It had already gone farther than you’d intended. His eyes were still red-rimmed and glassy.

“I’m fine,” you kissed his cheek squarely, avoiding his eyes. You waved to Benji, and after strutting out of his yard quickly with the gate clunking woodenly behind you, you hurried your way down the street.

You jumped the gate to your front door and dug the key out of the flowerpot at the front. No car was parked in the drive; your dad wasn’t home.

“I am the luckiest bitch in the world,” you whispered to yourself, disbelief soaking into the little laughs you emitted when you walked through the door.

You slid through the hallways in your fuzzy socks, enjoying the electrifying static feeling you were picking up along the way. You spotted a note in the kitchen with a box laid out on the table.

Y/N, sweetheart ---

Something came up at work and they need me to go to headquarters in Liverpool for two nights to work out some books they think are fraudulent. I’m sorry but I’ve got to miss Mary and Bernie’s grand reopening tomorrow. I know they’re dead excited for it after the kitchen fire incident. They’ve come a long way. I went ahead and bought that dress you were eyeing at the shops the other day. I know everyone will love it. I figured that’s what cool dads do, right??

Kisses,

Dad

Shit. You replayed the kissing with Van over and over in your head. If you’d actually snuck Van inside and found your father wasn’t home, you really would have done it in the moment. With Van. You shivered, and distracted yourself with the gift.

You pulled open the lid of the box, and sighed happily. Your dad really was the coolest, and the best at cheering you up, despite his current absence.

There it lay: the matte black dress you’d almost cried over at the boutique window a few weeks ago. A deep V neck all the way to the waist, high squared shoulders, and a slim-fitting waist that dropped to the floor elegantly. You couldn’t wait to try it on.

[angryhausfrau-writes]

You Can’t Cross the Same River Twice - Chapter 14

"It's almost nine. We ready for the invading hordes?" Hawkeye asks.

It's New Years Eve and he and Trapper have been elected to host the East Coast 4077 celebration. Charles had offered, of course, but Trapper informed him quite seriously that he was never setting foot in Back Bay again. And they have enough room for Margaret and her old nursing school friend Kat and Sidney Freedman to stay overnight since Sidney is short enough to sleep on the couch. Hawkeye's looking forward to catching up with all of them, but where Charles has platoons of servants to get everything ready, he and Trapper only have themselves.

"Well, the food should be about done," Trapper says. "I've just gotta put out crackers for that plate of cheese and cold cuts and stuff."

"Charcuterie," Hawkeye interjects.

"Bless you." Trapper's wearing a shit eating grin and Hawkeye wallops him with an oven mitt. "Ok, ok. I'll be serious," Trapper says and Hawkeye stops the barrage. "Charles is bringing champagne because he refuses to - quote - swill sparkling wine like a lower-class boor. And Margaret will probably bring Scotch anyway. And we've got ginger ale for you."

"I suppose I may as well get the champagne flutes out," Hawkeye says. "These are nice, Trap. Why do you own them?"

"Hey, I'm a man of refined tastes. At least when it comes to drink ware." They both laugh and then Trapper continues, "Truth to tell, I think they were a wedding gift. Louise must not have wanted them - she took a lot of the fancy shit with her when she and Robert shacked up since most of it came from her side of the family anyway. But I'm glad she left the glasses - Charles may even deign to drink outta them."

"Speak of the devil, I think I heard a posh knock," Hawkeye says and goes to answer the door.

It is Charles - and he's already a little sloshed by the look of things. Hawkeye gets him installed on the couch with a drink and food and listens to his complaints about how Honoria had absolutely ruined dinner by bringing her pet dog - which had apparently knocked into a servant and upset an entire tureen of split pea soup. Hopefully the others show up soon.

Fortunately, Hawkeye is saved from having to listen to another rambling drunken story - this time about Honoria's unsuitable new beau, who had emphatically not been invited to dinner, hence the dog as a plus one - by the arrival of the rest of their guests. He's really glad to see them - all these members of his strange, wonderful family - and Margaret must feel the same because she practically leaps into Trapper's arms as he comes into the living room.

Margaret hadn't meant to give such an.. enthusiastic greeting. But she is hit with such a rush of joy and familiarity seeing Hawkeye and Trapper and yes, even Charles, again. And it manifests in her throwing herself on Trapper as soon as she's through the door. It's a good thing he's sturdy.

"You sure have a way with women, Trap. They're just throwing themselves at you." Hawkeye sounds teasing rather than jealous, so that's all right. And Kat's just laughing at her.

"Can't help being irresistible." Trapper winks as he sets Margaret down gently.

"Irresistible, huh," Kat says. She gives Trapper a once-over. "Whatever you say, honey."

"Oh, Margaret," Hawkeye says with a grin, "I like her." He turns to Kat and offers his hand. "Hawkeye Pierce. Pleased to finally meet you after hearing about you in all of Margaret's letters."

Kat laughs. "I've heard plenty about you as well." She turns to Trapper. "Both of you. Singly and collectively."

"Might be time to find a new topic of conversation, boys," Sidney says. He'd been lurking in the background a little, observing. And reveling. There's something about the antics of the 4077 - even here in America - that seems designed to raise his spirits.

Hawkeye gestures for them to sit down. "Right you are, Sidney. Let's get you all some refreshments and then we can tell embarrassing stories about Charles."

"He's sloshed enough he may even provide some of them himself," Trapper adds.

The evening passes with laughter and stories. When it hits midnight, they all let out a raucous cheer. Then Hawkeye and Trapper exchange a mischievous glance before descending as one on Margaret. She'd be worried for her virtue - such as it is - if this was back in their first years in Korea. Back before Hawkeye had turned into a semi-decent human being, had been convinced into it by a competent CO and been bullied into it by her - with the help a fair bit of yelling. Back before Trapper had managed the same feat in the wake of his divorce. Back before she'd dumped that low-life Frank Burns and changed for the better.

But they have all changed - and have all changed each other. So she's not surprised when Hawkeye and Trapper just kiss her high on the cheek - one on each side, synchronized as a Swiss watch. They come after Kat next and she bears it with the grace and good humor Margaret has always admired in her - so different from her own short temper - before Kat turns to lay her own kiss on Margaret's cheek, a bit closer to the lips. Sidney is the duo's next victim and then they round on Charles - and the mischief is back with a vengance.

Kat laughs as Hawkeye and Trapper corner a spluttering Charles against the credenza - and then proceed to shake both of his hands vigorously while wishing him a happy New Year in atrocious mockeries of his own accent. Margaret will never admit it, but she's missed these two idiots. The soft smile on Sidney Freedman's face shows she's not the only one.

They toast the New Year with Charles's champagne - and ginger ale, in Hawkeye's case - and sing Auld Lang Syne. It's not long before Charles is snoring on the sofa. The way he's been drinking, Trapper ain't exactly surprised he's passed out. But he is annoyed - at least until Margaret suggests they give him a little surprise to wake up to in addition to the hangover. A few minutes with a makeup bag and the girls have him painted up like some kinda high society B girl.

Then Hawkeye turns to Trapper with an evil grin. "Think Charles would mind if we filled in his hair a little?"

"I'll get the iodine," Trapper says. He's maybe a little sore about the way Charles behaved tonight - high class his butt.

Charles remains asleep through the whole makeover. And he's still asleep when they've finished getting ready for bed. Even shaking him a little doesn't elicit any response except for a louder snore. And as much as he might like to, Trapper isn't going to try slapping him - it would ruin the makeup job, for one thing.

"Well, I don't think we're getting Charles off the couch any time soon," Hawkeye says. "He's out cold."

He and Trapper exchange a glance.

"You can bunk with us, Sidney," Trapper offers. "Or in the girls' room - but I gotta warn you, they've got bunk beds and you will give yourself a concussion."

"With an endorsement like that, I think I'll sleep with you two," Sidney says.

"Oh, Sidney, you have no idea how long I've waited to hear those words!" Hawkeye says breathlessly.

Margaret laughs and says, "On that note, I'm going to get some sleep. Good night, boys." She pulls Kat into the guest room.

Sidney follows Hawkeye and Trapper into their bedroom - it's late and he's tired. He's not as used to staying up all night as he had been during the war - sometimes staying up with a patient, but usually as an attempt to keep the dreams about Korea at bay. But his roommates aren't quite ready for bed, apparently. As soon as the door is closed, Trapper and Hawkeye are standing pressed against one another, closer than they've been all night - and that's saying something.

"Good night, Trap," Hawkeye says. And he and Trapper kiss.

"Night, Hawk," Trapper replies and they're kissing again.

Sidney had assumed their relationship went beyond the platonic as far back as his first visits to the 4077. Hawkeye's not known for hiding his emotions, after all - just the events that cause them. And Sidney's assumptions about their relationship had been further supported by the week he'd spent as their house guest. But even so, they'd kept everything behind closed doors, maintained plausible deniability. So he'd never asked outright - never looked for proof. And he'd never volunteered anything about himself, either.

"I can go back and brush my teeth again if you boys need a little more time to say good night," Sidney says, keeping his tone deliberately casual.

But Hawkeye just pulls back the blankets on the bed and lays down. "C'mon, Sidney, bedtime." He pats the mattress next to him.

Sidney lays down and he's cocooned between Hawkeye and Trapper and the blankets.

"Night, Sidney," Hawkeye says and kisses him. It's close-mouthed and chaste - nothing like his earlier kisses with Trapper - but it's equally unexpected. Sidney turns to Trapper, unsure how he'll react. But he just echoes the gesture before turning out the light.

--

Sidney wakes up to Trapper getting out of bed. He attempts to extract himself from the sheets - not wanting to overstay his welcome - but a half-asleep Hawkeye just pulls him back down into the nest of blankets.

"Don't bother getting up yet," he says sleepily. "Trapper's just going off to be all manly and athletic. He'll be back in about an hour and he'll make coffee. Then we can get up."

True to Hawkeye's word, Sidney is reawakened about an hour and a half later by Trapper coming back from, presumably, the shower, judging by the fact he's wearing a towel - and only a towel. Sidney tries not to be too much of a voyeur as Trapper gets dressed. Hawkeye has no such compunctions and is openly leering. Wanting to give them a little space, Sidney goes to take his own shower. He's still not sure why they're showing him this part of their relationship.

"Are we going to talk about last night?" Sidney asks.

He and Hawkeye are sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee while Trapper starts on breakfast. The house is quiet, everyone else still asleep. The kitchen is an island of warmth and light. It exudes the feeling of safety, intimacy - a place where secrets can be allowed to breath.

"I don't know that there's anything to talk about, Sidney. You can't be surprised about me, or Trapper, or me and Trapper." Hawkeye's tone is flippant but he's looking at Sidney with such an intensity. Like he's trying to speak these words to his very soul.

"Not surprised, no. But I am curious why you chose to offer such explicit proof of your relationship. And why you chose to kiss me." Sidney doesn't think they're looking for a third partner or even a one-night-stand. The kiss hadn't been sexual - though it had been highly intimate.

"We're not in the army anymore, Sidney. No chance of a blue discharge. And you won't turn us in," Hawkeye says.

"You sound awfully sure of that," Sidney responds. "What makes you think you can trust me?"

"You're a Jewish communist, Sidney. You're not going to turn us in." Hawkeye sounds almost challenging.

"Mutually assured destruction. How apt." If he wants to go this route, Sidney will let him. Up to a point.

But Trapper turns from the stove, says, "Hawk," in a tone of gentle recrimination.

"I'm sorry, that was uncalled for." Hawkeye sighs. "You're my friend, Sidney, and I trust you. And I'm sick of keeping secrets from my friends - especially something this big, this important. I wanted you to know. Know for certain. After all, you've already been in my head a few times - what's another peek behind the curtain between friends?"

"And the kiss?" Sidney knows that Hawkeye will deflect till the cows come home. The closer his deflections come to truth, the harder Sidney will have to push to get the entire picture. And Sidney doesn't doubt that everything Hawkeye just told him is true.

"It felt like the right thing to do," Hawkeye says, unsure now in a way he hadn't been last night. "It sometimes feels like we're the only ones in the whole world. There's a sea of  people out there but they don't feel real the way we do here, now. I thought.. I thought you might feel that way too. And you don't have anybody real to go home to at night. I have Trapper and Margaret has Kat but you don't have anyone. I wanted you to know that you aren't alone."

Hawkeye looks like he's about to start crying and Sidney reaches out for him, holds on to him. He's not a psychiatrist in this moment, just a friend. But he's never been able to completely separate the two. And that little speech is so quintessentially Hawkeye - hiding what's bothering him behind his concern for others.

"We're all afraid of being alone - humans are social creatures, after all. But there are plenty of other people out there you can get to know. Maybe the connection won't be as deep as with those you knew in Korea, but not every friendship needs to be the same. I've found a lot of kindred spirits in the various social clubs I belong to."

"Recruiting for the pinkos, Sidney?" Trapper asks, but it's clear he's teasing.

"Ah yes, you've found me out. It's all part of Russia's master plan to take over America with Jewish homosexuals," Sidney says, deadpan.

"Well, you fellas can have it," Trapper says. "Gotta be better than having a general as president - especially one so committed to rooting out degenerates." The last word is spat out like a curse.

"I've always said one good degeneracy deserves another," Hawkeye quips. "I suppose I should go find a few social clubs of my own. Get in on the ground floor of this coup." He's drawn his hand back from Sidney's hold and appears much more at ease.

Then Margaret and Kat come into the kitchen and Trapper serves everyone eggs and toast and coffee and the conversation is traded for lighter chatter about work and mutual friends.

Sidney talks about his paper for the American Psychiatric Association about treating battle fatigue and Hawkeye asks, "So, did you manage to track down Steve Newsome? How's he doing readjusting to civilian life?"

Sidney refuses to break patient confidentiality, even for a man who isn't technically his patient. But there are some things he can share. "I did find Dr. Newsome. And we just had a short interview, not a full therapy session, but he seems well. Or as well as can be expected. He's working a general practice - couldn't go back to surgery after the war, too much pressure, too many memories. He's interested in the quiet life, even talked about leaving Chicago. But all in all, as well adjusted as any of us."

"We all need a change of pace sometimes," Margaret says. "I never saw myself as the type to put down roots, but now that I have, I can't imagine going back to hopping from army base to army base or - God forbid - back to another field hospital."

Kat smiles warmly at her. "And I'm sure glad of that."

"There's something to be said for Korea helping you see what it is you really want outta life," Trapper says - and he's looking right at Hawkeye.

"Well, if Steve's looking for a small town practice far away from his old life, I may know of an opening," Hawkeye says. "My dad is looking to retire in the next few years - and I'm not going back to Crabapple Cove for anything other than a visit - so he needs someone to take over the practice."

"Yeah," Trapper says, "and there's a line of girls looking for a Korean doctor husband after Hawkeye turned 'em down. Just in case Newsome wants to start a family or something."

"You just want them to stop mobbing me every time we go into town," Hawkeye jokes. "Well, there being fresh grist for the gossip mill would make my life a lot easier - I can sure introduce him around if he wants."

Margaret laughs. "And you think they'll settle for Steve after having their hearts set on the great Hawkeye Pierce?"

"Oh, Steve's handsome enough - even if he lacks my particular flair. I'm sure he'll be fine." Hawkeye pauses. "And he does seem much more the white picket fence type."

"Well, I won't start planning a wedding just yet, but I'll certainly let him know about the job opening." Sidney has missed the way the 4077 pulls together when someone needs help - even if their schemes often end in partial disaster. This time, he hopes they'll be able to pull off the scam - Steve could stand to be around friends who understood what he'd been through, and who are figuring out how to live in the aftermath.

And then Charles wakes up and discovers what they've done to him. He berates Hawkeye and Margaret between feeble groans and complaints of a headache. And Sidney has missed this part of the 4077 as well - the games and the pranks - and the retribution for same. He'll have to try and get up to Boston more often.

[megaphonemonday]

doctor, doctor (give me the news)

A short expansion off this post. Just know that their first meeting definitely went exactly the way I wrote it there. And my first stab at Al’s POV. I feel like he’d be much crotchetier in this scenario, but he’s a softy, too, right?

read on ao3

As far as Al was concerned, there wasn’t a single reason for him to stay in the hospital a minute longer. He’d had his surgery, knew which medicines he needed to take and how often to change his bandages and even which parts of his new diet were going to make him the most irritable; surely that meant he could go home and convalesce in peace. 

Not even getting sponge baths from the pretty nurses was enough to make him want to stay.

Unfortunately, his daughters and his doctors were of a different mind. 

“Dad, you’re healing from open heart surgery, not a cold,” Natalie had pointed out after she caught him trying to pack his bag to leave. “You need to rest.” 

The fact that he’d had to sit down and catch his breath not even halfway through was certainly a point in his daughter’s favor. Not that he would ever admit it.

So, in the hospital he stayed. 

On the plus side, and he really could not stress how very few pluses there were to this situation, Al did get front row seats to the performance art that was Mike Lawson struggling for the first time in a long time to impress a woman. 

And what a woman. 

Dr. Ginny Baker was, if Al had ever been petitioned for his opinion on the subject—the fact that he wasn’t now, nor had he ever been, solicited for this kind of advice was a matter of some ruffled pride—exactly the kind of woman he’d pick for Mike. She was smart as a whip and warm and funny to boot. It didn’t hurt that she was pretty easy on the eyes, either. Maybe she was a bit on the young side, but she’d already worked her way through medical school to land a coveted cardiothoracic surgery internship at San Diego Memorial. As the proud father of a surgeon, Al knew exactly how hard that was. If Dr. Baker was mature enough to handle all that, she could certainly take on Mike Lawson.

Not, however, that she seemed to have much interest in that.

(Whenever he got particularly bored during the day, which was often, Al took great pleasure in recalling the dumbfounded look on Mike’s face turning to grudging intrigue after his first altercation with the doc. He hadn’t seen anyone put Mike Lawson in his place so efficiently in what felt like a decade, and never someone who looked the way Ginny Baker did. 

That he’d then gotten to witness firsthand Lawson’s intrigue turn to curiosity to interest to respect just spoke to how long Al had been stuck in this goddamn hospital.)

Honestly, it was good for the kid. He’d been getting too big for his britches lately, with all the carousing and hound dogging. Yeah, the divorce was rough on him, but Mike wasn’t made for all this casual nonsense. The boy didn’t do casual, though he’d done an okay job of pretending lately. It’d be a nice check to his ego if Mike had to work a little for something for once.

And he was definitely putting in the work. After making daily visits for the past week and a half, coincidentally always right around the time Dr. Baker made her rounds, Mike was finally beginning to make progress. 

It probably helped that he’d given up on needling the poor doctor into lashing out at him just for a little bit of her attention. She was generally too cool a customer for that, having treated Mike, and the observing Al, to a seemingly endless supply of barbed zingers nearly every time he’d tried. 

(”I don’t believe you actually have a license to practice medicine.” Mike had declared once as Dr. Baker went over Al’s chart. 

It was only a few days after their first meeting, if Al remembered correctly. Mike was still raring for a fight, arms crossed over his chest, chin jutted out in challenge. Clearly, the man had been waiting to strike while she was unaware. But given the way his catcher’s eyes roved over her form as she flipped through pages, Al thought he was maybe hoping for a more favorable outcome this time around. Al managed not to roll his eyes, but it was a close call. What was so wrong with behaving like an adult around a pretty woman? 

“This isn’t some Doogie Howser situation, is it?”

Dr. Baker hadn’t even bothered to level him with a withering stare the way she had at their first meeting. Instead, she just continued reading and absently replied, “I don’t see what’s so unbelievable about it. If you can still get paid to play ball at your age, I can be a doctor at mine.”

Then, without missing a beat, she’d turned to her patient, said, “Your vitals are looking good, Mr. Luongo. I’ll see you for evening rounds,” and walked out the door, leaving Mike stunned for the second, but certainly not last, time.

Al hadn’t laughed so hard in a good, long while. They’d had to check and make sure he hadn’t burst any of his stitches.)

Since then, things had gotten better. Then again, they couldn’t have gotten much worse, could they?

It was all much to Al’s approval. 

Not that Lawson ever specifically asked for it. In fact, Mike was very careful not to mention Dr. Baker at all to his manager. He just continued to show up every day, like his timing was purely coincidental and he hadn’t sweet talked one of the nurses into giving him the good doctor’s schedule. 

(Mike wasn’t the only one who could charm information out of nurses. That Louise sure did love to gossip.)

Well, if Al had to wait for any of his guys to ask for approval of their personal lives, he’d go to his grave before any of them managed to pull their heads outta their asses. No one ever said ballplayers were the most emotionally open guys in the world.

So, yes, things had gotten better, but that didn’t mean it was a painless process. In fits and starts, Mike had stopped acting like a little boy tugging on pigtails in the schoolyard and begun to act like an actual gentleman. Some of Mike’s first attempts at honest pleasantries, did not, it was safe to say, go over well. But it wasn’t as if the boy didn’t deserve it. 

Dr. Baker’d been rightfully suspicious the first time Mike said something conciliatory, shuffling self-consciously under Al’s reproving stare. Her bewildered gaze had bounced between Al and Mike, looking for some sign of mischief. Although there’d been none to be found, that exam had gone quickly, the doctor beating a hasty retreat and leaving the two men in bemused silence. 

Luckily, Lawson hadn’t been deterred, and Dr. Baker was a pretty quick study. Once it became clear Mike was determined to show off only his best side, she adjusted easily enough. She hadn’t given up on her zingers altogether, but Mike started laughing at them rather than sulking and could rally back without sounding like quite such an ass. 

Slowly, a tentative alliance formed. Together, Dr. Baker and Mike were pretty successful in bullying Al into taking it easy where his daughters and grandchildren so often failed. It would be a hell of an inconvenience if Al weren’t so satisfied at being proved right. They made a pretty good team.

But it seemed like they’d stalled out at that single-issue alliance. 

Which didn’t mean Al was about to put his nose where it didn’t belong. For his part, he mostly stayed out of it, even if the one thing keeping him entertained was starting to get pretty stale. It was far less interesting to watch two people gang up on him while pretending they weren’t sneaking as many glances at the other as they could without getting caught.

If these two stubborn idiots kept moving at this snail’s pace, Al might expire of old age before anything came of it.

And that just wouldn’t do. 

Al Luongo may not ever be the best manager in MLB, but he hadn’t gotten this far in baseball without knowing and catering to his strengths. He was wily and never underestimated the value of patience. 

Even so, every day he had to watch his catcher flirt ineffectually with his doctor, that patience was wearing thinner and thinner. 

Which was where his wiles came into play. 

If the two of them weren’t willing to see what he did—and act on it for God’s sake!—then Al would make them.

He was still waiting for the perfect setup—why was it suddenly so much harder to concoct a strategy when it was only two people on the field? shouldn’t fewer moving parts make it easier?—when Mike blew into his private room, a little later than usual. Dr. Baker had already arrived for her daily check in. 

(Al knew he hadn’t imagined the flash of disappointment on her face when she came in and Mike wasn’t there and was privately thrilled by it. It was nice to have a little confirmation that his plans were based in reality and not just figments of his bored and overeager imagination.) 

Since the boy brought a bag from the sandwich shop across the road with him, though, Al forgave him immediately. There was only so much hospital food a man could eat.

The doc’s shoulders smoothed out under her white lab coat when Mike flashed a boyish grin her way. Al had a feeling he wasn’t the only one forgiving the man his late arrival. 

As the good doctor began to check over Al’s chart—which she’d delayed doing before Mike showed up, dawdling like she was giving herself a better chance of seeing him today—Mike set up lunch on the rolling table. Though he was sure there was no reuben, and certainly no BLT, waiting for him, the smell of fresh baked bread was more than enough to soothe Al’s disappointment. He answered Dr. Baker’s questions, the same ones she’d asked for weeks, with uncommon good humor. 

In no time at all, Mike finished laying out the spread.

Well, nearly finished.

One last item came out of the bag.

Grape soda? What the hell is he doing with that?

Thankfully, Al didn’t have to wait long for answers.

“Oh, here ya go, doc,” Mike said, like it was an after thought. Al was immediately on high alert. Even if this wasn’t the opening he’d been planning for, it’d make for some great intel. Without an office full of scouts, he had to do his own information gathering. It wasn’t often Mike gave him the chance to steal his signs, but the man was an open book right now. His ears were tinged pink, focus trained conspicuously anywhere that wasn’t Ginny Baker. 

The boy was nervous as all get out.

Doctor Baker took the bright purple can with an absent thanks, though her attention was still focused on Al’s chart. It wasn’t until she’d popped the tab and taken a sip that she blinked and looked at the drink in her hand. Her bewildered gaze turned to Mike, who was still doing his best to look nonchalant.

“How did you know this is my favorite?”

“I didn’t,” Mike protested, pinking up even more. It was his ears that were the giveaway. “The guy at the deli talked me out of getting a Coke when he found out it was for you. Looks like someone’s a regular.”

Unfortunately, Dr. Baker didn’t have the same experience as Al did in reading Mike. She didn’t realize that the kid was lying through his teeth; he absolutely knew her preferred beverage. Had probably spent a not inconsiderable amount of time sleuthing it out in order to keep the nurses from gossiping. 

And Ginny would ever know. She simply looked charmed beyond belief.

“Well,” she said, smiling a little shyly, her pretty dimples popping, “thank you anyway. I missed my lunch, so this hits the spot.”

“Aw, doc, why’d you go and do that for?” groaned Al. Dr. Baker turned her attention back to him sheepishly before offering him a winning grin. Al didn’t give in, just frowned in disappointment. He’d raised enough girls to know when he was being played. “Didn’t you just tell me a proper diet is the foundation of a healthy lifestyle?”

Since she’d said exactly that, and on several occasions, the poor girl couldn’t very well say she hadn’t. Al’s heart may’ve been shot, but his ears were not. He still had a mind like a steel trap. 

A steel trap that had just been sprung.

“Mike, take the lady to the cafeteria and make sure she gets something to eat.” When it looked like they both wanted to protest, Al held up his hands and cut them off. “Go on,” he urged, “I promise I won’t have gone belly up by the time you get back."

“Al,” Mike groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. Even the doc frowned at him, and she usually at least gave his gallows humor a pity laugh.

“Lawson,” he returned, perfectly willing to play the disapproving, grumpy old man to get his way. It was the role he was born to play, after all. “I can’t have my doctor fainting from hunger on me. The longer you stand there with your thumb up your ass—pardon my French, doc—the longer I have to wait for my check up. Since I’m not gettin’ any younger, you should really get a move on.”

They looked torn for all of two seconds before Dr. Baker ventured, “He has a point.”

Mike narrowed his eyes at his manager for a second longer, as if he was trying to figure out the play. Stupid boy, it was obvious! Take the pretty girl to lunch and do it quick. Women like Ginny Baker didn’t just wait around forever. 

“I guess he does,” he finally agreed, turning to the lady in question. All at once, the suspicion on his face melted away, leaving behind something awfully close to tenderness. Then, in a stage whisper, “And if we don’t humor him now, who knows how he’ll make us pay later.”

Al rolled his eyes, but the delighted giggle that came from his surgeon did not escape his notice. Neither did the way Mike grinned, light and carefree, as they walked out the door. And the way they bumped shoulders, but didn’t pull apart? He’d have to be blind not to see that. 

Well, good. All the signs were there. The conditions were just right. So, he’d put the live ball in the field. It was up to them to make the play, now. 

Good thing Al always had faith in his team. Even if it took them a little longer than he’d like to execute.

Well pleased with himself, Al settled back against his pillows and gazed around his domain. Hey, he was stuck here until his daughters and doctors decided to release him, he might as well think of this place a little fondly. His eye caught on spread of food on the table, just waiting to be eaten. 

Unlike him, though, it wouldn’t be left waiting long. 

(Not that Al minded. Or wanted to know what Dr. Baker and Michael got up to in the entire hour and a half they were gone. Or why they came back and Mike’s flannel was buttoned unevenly.)

As he bit into his sandwich—Mike never said the meatball sub wasn’t his—Al sighed in contentment. 

A just reward for a job well done.

[enthusiasticclouds-sally]

Mun Questionnaire!!!! 

PERSONAL DETAILS

Nicknames? Kiki, Ki, Little One, my co-workers mainly call me little one and it’s to the point where they legit have forgotten my actual name

Where do you live? Waterbury, Connecticuttt but I was born in Manhattan, NYC didn’t move to CT till I was ten

What’s your age? Freaking oldd: 25

Hair color? Right now it’s dark brown with like dirty blonde highlights, probably going to dye it all straight black pretty soon. I constantly change between the two tbh

Eye color? Dark Brown

Height? Jusssstttttt make it to exactly five feet

Date of Birth? August 23rd, 1992 :D

What’s your star sign? Virgo, legit on the day Virgo actually starts!! :DD

Element? Earth  

How many siblings? Two half-brothers: Carlos and Alexander from my dad’s side in where I’m the oldest and the only girl :DD and only child from my mom’s side

How many pets? Noneee, they legit all die on me so I do all animals a favor and just don’t get them as pets. They’d have a longer life without me xD

Obsessions? Skullssss, Disney, my hair because it drives me up the wall if it doesn’t look okay!! It’s bad I know, oh oh and SLEEPING!!! I adore sleeping it is my favorite hobby I can sleep my entire day away and be at bliss

Bad habits? Bite the nails, talk too fast, buying books that I never end up reading, buying clothes that still have their tags on it, procrastinationnnn, picky af eater, impatient. 

Phobias? MICE!!!!!!! I can’t even look at a mouse!!!! I promise you I will stay on top of whatever the freak I climbed on for the ENTIRE day if a mouse ran by I will NOT touch the ground. I will cry, scream, and enter a panic attack!!! No no no no no no no no!!!!

ABOUT YOU

What makes you happy? SLEEPING!!!! Skulls, Disney…. should really just direct you to the obsessions question… but also my laptop, my carrr!!!! Make-up!!! Hoodies, lots and lots of hoodies drown me in hoodiesss. Sunny days but also rainy days, Pokemon haha, my job on some dayss, MY BED, the dark, all of my hundreds of Disney pins, and gosh a lot of things make me happy tbh

What really irritates you? Headaches, being nauseas, stomach aches, snoring I really can’t deal with snoring and have no rational reason as to why… and this is awful but cuddling hahaha I’m just not a cuddling person… I kinda push you off after like a minute xD Residents I really can’t fucking stand our residents. I hate them. Oh!! Can’t forget waiting!! I’m impatient it’s bad, working on it though xD

What makes you sad? Tear-jerkers haha I hate those shits. Ummmmm I’m really not much of a sad person?? I mean I can add mice in here because they make me cry, but like they scare the shit outta me sooooo

What makes you angry? Drivers. Cranky rude-ass ungrateful patients!!! Like I don’t want to have to be dealing with that shit for twelve hours. Talking about patients, my job xD. I have a love/hate relationship with my job. People tbh haha xD I sound mean I swear I’m not!!! The cold, I really do not like being cold at all!! 

What makes you scared? MICE!!!!! I don’t even want to hear about them!! Any of my patients starting to crash even my babies. It’s really not a fun feeling!! Bugs, fuck bugs.

Who is your best friend? That would be Marie I have been friends with her since the end of fifth grade!!! She is also my complete opposite and is perfect at fucking annoying me, but I love herrrr. Sara is my bff tooo!! She’s my cousin though, but that’s my little buttercup and she’s like my sister, since I have none of those <3 

Ever broken a bone? Nope.

What was the last CD you bought? Oh damn an actual one??? Uhhh I think it was an Aventura one… their Last Project album I believe. They’re a Spanish band. Downloaded album was Pink’s new album I’m in LOVE with it.

What was the last book you read? The Only Astrology Book You’ll Ever Need by Joanna Martine Woolfolk

Who was the last person you spoke to? The mother

What was the last thing you ate? Soup :(( My stomach has been a little shit the past two days. I think I caught the stomach bug fml. 

What was the last thing you drank? Ginger ale because I can actually keep that down

What’s the best thing you’ve ever bought? Oh goshhh I buy SO MANY THINGGSSS!! Uhhhh MY CAR!!! She’s a beautiful 2016 Honda HR-V, I love her :DD My Kat Von D Shade and Light palette!!! I can’t live without that palette!!! Oh oh and my laptop!! She’s been a bit of a shit lately, but I do adore herrr.

What’s the worst thing you’ve ever bought? Ughh I tend to like everything I buyy

What’s the best thing you’ve ever been given? My Uggs!!! My mom got me them and I LOVE them

What’s the worst thing you’ve ever been given? I don’t think I haven’t liked anything that’s been given to me so far??

What are your future goals? Well it was to become a nurse and I ammmm so there it is and I’m even where I wanted to be :DD Maternity nurse with the babieesss :DD 

Describe your bedroom? A black bed. A big black dresser. Two closets…. I have a lot of clothes. Two mirrors, well three if you count my make-up mirror. I have a make-up dresser that’s black too with like a shit ton of make-up!!! Black curtains. White walls and the wall that my bed is attached too has pictures completely covering it in a checkerboard pattern. I’m pretty proud of it, it’s my favorite thing about my room! Oh and another wall has my car tax bill taped to it so that I remember that I have the next half of that shit to pay in January xD

Who do you consider the most beautiful woman in the world? I think Jessica Lowndes if GORGEOUSS

Who do you consider the most handsome man in the world? Ian Somerhalder is GORGEOUSSSS so is William Levy!!!!!!

Favorite thing to do on a hot summers day? Go to the pool, and lay out under the hot summer sunnn. I absolutely LOVE the heattt 

Favorite thing to do on a snowy winters day? Keep my ass in!!!! Curl under warm blankets and drink yummy hot chocolate

If you were granted 3 wishes, what would they be? Have all my bills/loans paid off for the rest of my liiiffeee, anything my mom would want, and idk probably a nice gorgeous house in the future

If you could go back in time to see or change something, when would it be and what would you do? I’d go back to my high school years and not date the douchebag of my ex

What’s the first thing you think about when you wake up? Can I go back to sleep for another hour?? haha

Do you believe in the after-life? I dooo

Where do you see yourself in 10 years time? I have no fucking cluee. I still see myself in the same profession though because I do love it deep down haha. Hopefully, though I’ll be out of CT and just somewhere different. 

What’s the funniest joke you’ve ever been told? I don’t really tell jokes I don’t think I’m funny at all :((

Any hidden talents? None that I’m aware of??? I mean I can sing?? Does that count??

Dream job? Currently doing it!!! Being a nurse :DD Even though I do have a love/hate relationship with it xD

Who is your hero? My mommmm

Describe yourself in 3 words: Introvert, sweet, sarcastic

FAVORITES

Favorite color? Blackkk I love pink too, but black way moree

Favorite number? 14

Favorite animal? Snow Tiger

Favorite sport (to play)? Umm I only ever cheer leaded soo cheerleading by default

Favorite sport (to watch)? Baseball and Football

Favorite Show(s)? Criminal Minds, Law & Order SVU, NCIS, Grey’s Anatomy and my guilty pleasure issss Keeping up with the Kardashians haha yes I hate myself for loving that show xD

Favorite movies? Titanic, Cinderella, Nightmare Before Christmas, The Corpse Bride, andd The Princess Bride 

Favorite band? Evanescence 

Favorite song? It’s constantly switching 

Favorite room in the house? My bedroom!!!!

Favorite food? Pizza!!!!! 

Favorite drink? Pepsi :DD Should I be drinking any kind of soda? Nope because I get kidney stones pretty often. Do I still drink my Pepsi like all the time?? YEASS

Favorite place? Disney World <3

Favorite cartoon character? That would be between Cinderella and Sally

Favorite day of the week? Monday and Thursday because I neverrrr work on those days!! 

Favorite day of the year? August 23rd!! :DD

Favorite season? Summerr

Favorite Holiday? Christmass 

Favorite girls name? Emily, Aria and I have to say I do love my name too!! Kiara is pretty 

Favorite boys name? Declan and Aiden

Favorite country? Italy

Favorite smell? OoOo I’m a very fruity person but cucumber melon is my absolute favorite!! 

Favorite sound? Rain falling, tapping of the keyboard, tapping of acrylic nails, a heart beat especially baby heart beats because they go really fast!!

Favorite accent? British

Favorite Ships (in or our of BDRP)? I love all the ships hereee!!!! I love all of my ships tooo ngl xD 

Favorite Fandoms? I don’t think I really have any???

PREFERENCES

Coke or Pepsi? Pepsi!

Pen or Pencil? Pen. I really don’t like pencils at all and won’t use one unless it’s a lead pencil 

Day or Night? Night all the way

Cat or Dog? Dog but I’m sadly very allergic to both :((

Summer or Winter? Summer!

T.V. or Radio? Radio

Brains or Beauty? Brains

Cup or Mug? Mug

Tea or Coffee? Coffeeee, but I’m not a huge fan or either tbh

Gold or Silver? Silver

Brush or Comb? Comb

City or Country? City

Early or Late riser? Late!!!! Look I get up at like 1pm the earliest. 

Blond or Brunette? Brunette

Scary or Romantic movies? Romantic haha Scary movies are too predictable to me I mean so are romantic but whateverr

Board or Computer games? Board gamess

Half full or Half empty? Half full

Happy and poor or Sad and rich? Happy and poor

Glasses or Contacts? Glasses

Flowers or Chocolates? Chocolate!! Please no flowers those die on me tooo

Love or Money? Love

Hugs or Kisses? Tbh hugss I love hugging!!! Just not cuddling though haha

[lickstynine]

Misadventures of Kit: Chapter Twenty-Five

I just want to say a quick thank-you to those of you that have been waiting so patiently for this. I was really struggling when school first started back up, but I think I’ve finally gotten into a routine, so I’ll be trying to post chapters regularly again.

written with @ocsickficsideblog

By the time Kit was feeling well again, it was barely a week til Christmas. He’d been watching the calendar warily. The Raycraft Christmas ball was drawing close, and even though he wouldn’t be going alone, he was still terrified. Siofra had visited several times while he was sick, and she’d promised repeatedly to beat the shit out of anyone who bothered him, but Kit couldn’t shake the lingering feeling that something would go wrong.

Now it was the 19th, and Kit was getting dressed properly for the first time in almost two weeks. He’d promised to take Siofra shopping for a dress, both as thanks for going with him, and so she’d have something appropriately fancy to wear. Alistair had of course insisted on coming along, and the younger boy was sitting impatiently on the bed while Kit put on mascara and re-re-re-fixed his hair.

“Kit, are you done now?” Alistair asked. He was grumpier than usual because he really didn’t like crowded shops, wearing his scruffy jeans and his black jacket so he could pull the hood up and sulk.

“Almost, but I’ve said repeatedly, you don’t have to come.” Kit huffed. He loved going shopping with girls, but he hated shopping with Alistair.

“Yeah I do. I need to protect you.”

“From what? The shopping centre werewolves?” Kit rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know what’ll crop up,” Alistair mumbled. “Not werewolves. You clearly don’t know your lycan folklore.”

Kit groaned. “That’s not the point. My point is, I don’t need a bodyguard, and even if I did, Siofra is stronger than you. You hate shopping, there’s no reason for you to come.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Kit sighed in frustration. “Well, you’re choosing to come along, so you don’t get to complain.”

Alistair pretended to pout. “But there’s so much to complain about!”

Kit gave him an irritated look. “I’m serious. This is supposed to be a nice day with Siofra.”

“I was joking,” Alistair said. “You can just say if you don’t want me there.”

“Will you get offended if I say that?”

“No.” Yes.

Kit rolled his eyes. He knew better. “Come along, but if you start whining, I’m calling Taddy to take you home.”

“Okay,” Alistair said, brightening just a little. Kit didn’t make him stay home, that was enough to cheer him up. Kit just sighed dramatically, putting on his scarf and gloves and many coats before daring to leave the house. Though his cough had mostly cleared up, the cold outside air still made him wheeze. Alistair supervised this process, making sure Kit was adequately bundled.

When the boys made the trek down the stairs, Siofra was waiting outside the block of flats, with Finny sitting loyally at her feet. Alistair immediately cheered up, kneeling to greet him. Finny was equally excited, throwing his front paws on Alistair’s shoulders to bark and lick his face. Alistair laughed delightedly. “Hello, Finny! I missed you!”

Finny boofed in response, nearly tackling Alistair in his continued attempts to cuddle. Kit rolled his eyes, but Siofra grinned. She had deliberately brought Finny to distract their inevitable third wheel. She met Kit’s eyes, and he nodded gratefully. Alistair was none the wiser - it might hit him later on tonight, and he’d feel indignant, but now he only had eyes for Finny. Siofra ‘generously’ offered him the leash. He took it at once, beaming, genuinely believing she was being kind.

Kit took Siofra's newly-free hand, and they headed off towards the shopping centre at his admittedly slow pace. She didn't seem bothered, telling him about the hike she'd gone on last weekend - she and Riagan had trekked Ockley to Leith Hill, which sounded terrifying to Kit, even in fairer weather, but he listened loyally as she rambled.

“I'd offer to take ya sometime, but you're not exactly… outdoorsy.” Siofra laughed.

Kit shook his head. “I know, it's alright. That was always more Al's thing than mine.”

“What was my thing?” Alistair called back. He’d gone dashing ahead with Finny.

“Going outside.” Kit said, “Like into nature, not just out of the house.”

“Oh yeah, I like that. As long as there’s no people.”

Siofra snorted. “Well, yeah, that’s half the point of goin’ out. Get away from all the bustlin’ crowds ‘o idiots.”

“Definitely,” Alistair mumbled, petting Finny. The dog licked his hand before walking ahead to sniff a tree. Siofra went back to talking to just Kit.

It took almost an hour to reach the shopping centre, but Kit and Siofra were still chattering away when they approached the first store. Kit was so absorbed in a story he was telling, Siofra had to tug his arm to keep him from smacking into the doorway. She rolled her eyes. “You’ve got the survival skills of a dodo bird.”

“I’m not that bad.” Kit huffed. “I’m not extinct.”

Siofra fought the urge to snark back, knowing she couldn’t let him know what Alistair had told her. She settled on, “That’s sheer fuckin’ luck from the look of it.”

“That is correct,” Alistair said.

Kit just huffed again, leading her to the women’s formalwear section of the shop. “Come on, we’re looking for dresses.”

“What sort of dresses do you like, Siofra?”

“I like bright colours. Blue an’ green usually look good, black is easy. Somethin’ that makes my tits look nice, nips in at the waist.” She replied, looking at a deep blue gown on a mannequin before shaking her head. “Colour’s nice, but it’s just a shiny tube. Might look nice on a real skinny girl.” Suddenly, an idea made her snort. “Kit, you try it on.”

Kit’s face flared red. “I’d rather not.”

“He’s not trying it on,” Alistair said firmly. He knew Siofra didn’t know about the Dress Incident, but it still rankled.

Siofra drew back a little. “Jeez, okay. It was a joke. C’mon, let’s just look around.”

“Sorry,” Alistair muttered quietly, but he didn’t offer an explanation. Kit was just glad to be distracted by dressed, guiding Siofra over to an emerald dress with a low-cut top and a full, flared skirt.

“What do you think of this?”

“It’s nice. Little plain, though. If it’s gonna be long, I want somethin’ to be happenin’, ya know?” Siofra mused. “Is there anythin’ with lace? I like lace dresses. It’s like ‘I’m pretty, an’ I’m fancy, but I still fuck.’ Y’know?”

Kit laughed, “I don’t, but I’ll take your word for it.”

“You’re a weird girl, Siofra,” Alistair said, grinning.

“So are you.” She grinned back, turning to examine a deep purple dress with a patterned bodice. Kit came to look with her.

“This fabric is lovely.”

“Yea, looks like it might get warm, though.” Siofra said. “Don’t wanna sweat too much while I’m dancin’.”

Kit paused; he was always cold, he hadn’t even thought of that. “Oh… you’re right. You want something lighter, then?”

Siofra nodded. “Yea. Some’o these are nice, but I wanna look around more. Nothin’s speakin’ to me yet.”

Alistair didn’t join in the conversation much. He mooched around swishing the skirts of mannequins and making shoes dance on his hands and generally worrying the staff as they watched him mess with things. Finny, ironically, was well-behaved the entire time, just padding quietly at his side. Eventually, Kit and Siofra gave up, leaving the store to explore another. Alistair sighed to Finny. “They’ll be at this all day.”

Finny let out a dog sigh. Kit and Siofra were already ducking into another store that had stunning gowns on the mannequins. Kit was pondering outfits, and after a moment he asked, “How do you feel about red?”

“I like a good red. Red is a sexy colour.” Siofra said, winking at him.

Kit grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He’d had a vision of him, hair freshly dyed, red accoutrements paired with a sleek black suit, gold jewelry on top of it all, and Siofra, in a matching red gown and gold accessories.

“You got an idea?” She asked, “You’re makin’ a thinkin’ face.”

Kit nodded. “Come on, let’s find a red dress you like.”

Siofra followed him through the store, gathering up several gowns in varying shades from wine to crimson. Alistair sighed and made scarlet woman jokes, picking at his hangnails. Finny nosed his leg while Siofra smuggled Kit into the dressing room with her. Alistair raised his eyebrows, squatting down and shaking Finny’s paw. “Honestly, Kit is so blooming fancy he won’t answer the door in pyjamas, but I bet he’s getting up to stuff in there with Siofra. Gross. I hope they buy the clothes and don’t just put them back.”

If Alistair actually thought about it, he would’ve known Kit was just in there giving Siofra input on the dresses and helping her try them on. They went through about eight gowns, but all they really figured out was what they didn’t like.

Sequins look too cheap.

The short skirt is too casual… and a little slutty.

That wine colour is too dark, and cool. It doesn’t quite suit you.

Narrow skirts aren’t very flattering to your shape.

These rhinestones don’t look that elegant up close.

Eventually, they came back out, dumping all eight dresses on the reject rack. Despite the seeming failure, both Kit and Siofra had a fire in their eyes.

“To the next store?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yup. Finny, come on!” The dog stood up, tugging Alistair along after his owner.

“You two look like you’re going to war,” Alistair said, running to keep up.

“To war with tacky dresses!” Siofra yelled. She was practically lifting Kit so she could run faster, but he was still out of breath by the time they got to the next boutique.

“Siofra, be careful with him,” Alistair called, as if Kit was his premature newborn.

“I’m fine, Al.” Kit mumbled, but he was wheezing as they walked into the shop.

“Siofra, he needs to rest a minute.”

She paused in the doorway, looking around and finding a cushioned bench to deposit Kit on. “I need to piss anyway. I’ll be back. You figure out how to breathe.”

Kit nodded, waving as she walked off. Alistair sat beside him, rubbing his back. “You alright?”

“Just tired.” Kit sighed, running a hand through his hair. His chest was still heaving, and he let out a tiny wheeze with every exhale.

Alistair bit his lip. “Your chest still sounds bad.”

“It always does, this time of year. Fucked up from years of pneumonia.” Kit mumbled, leaning on the back of the bench. “I should've brought water.”

“Want me to go buy some?”

“Would you?” Kit took out his wallet, handing Alistair a crisp fifty pound note.

Alistair grinned at it. “Yeah, I’ll buy it. With this fifty.”

Kit rolled his eyes. “Just keep the change. I don’t have anything smaller.”

“Course not,” Alistair said fondly, leading Finny to a smaller shop selling health food and fruity drinks. “Wait there.”

Kit, of course, stayed put, out of exhaustion as much as obedience, while Finny sniffled curiously at the shelves of the shop. Alistair found water easily enough, pulling a face at Finny. “Lots of gross food in here…”

The dog didn’t seem as bothered, nosing at anything he could reach. The shop owner was giving Alistair a less-than-delighted look. Alistair quickly paid, getting even more evils for using a fifty. He returned to Kit at nearly the same time Siofra did, and Kit stood, taking the water and following Siofra through the maze of racks in search of a suitable dress.

They had settled on a few details already, bypassing anything that wasn’t voluminous and bright red. Eventually they narrowed it down to three:  two strapless, one with a fluffy chiffon skirt and sparkling floral bodice, and one all satin, with a nipped waist and shimmery detailing around the top; the third had off-the shoulder sleeves, with floral appliques adorning the translucent sleeves, the bodice, and the outer chiffon of the skirt.

Siofra seemed satisfied with their choices, tugging Kit towards the dressing room. “Alright, come on Christina, I need help with my zippers.” She gestured for Alistair to follow. “You, too, Alyssa. Ya don’t hafta come in, but ya hafta at least look at me in each one.”

Alistair sighed, but he did actually want to see the dresses, so he let “Alyssa” slide - though it did annoy him that the sales assistant let him through into the changing room without a second glance, clearly believing him to be Siofra’s dumpy little sister. He was allowed to sit on a bench outside the row of stalls, while Siofra and Kit disappeared into a cubicle to try on the first dress. There was a bit of stumbling, grumbling, and mumbling about “stupid fuckin’ zippers halfway up my arse,” but before long, Siofra stepped out to model the dress.

It certainly wasn’t an ugly dress, but the floral pattern on the bodice tapered up and inward over the cleavage, featuring Siofra’s strong shoulders and completely concealing her breasts. “Fuck me, I look like a bloody drag queen!” She huffed, glaring at the full-length mirror on the open door of her changing stall.

Alistair laughed hard. “Go in that one!”

“You wear it if ya like it so much. I intend to show up lookin’ decent.” Siofra rolled her eyes, pondering whether Alistair might actually fit in the same dress as her. It would be close - he definitely wasn’t too tall or muscular - but she decided he was too squishy in the middle to fit in anything cinched at the waist. After another moment glaring in the mirror, she closed herself back in the stall so Kit could help her change dresses.

“Why does chiffon have so many fuckin’ layers?” She grumbled, “It’s like wearin’ a hoopskirt made’o bloomin’ candyfloss!”

Kit chuckled, “It’s for volume. Take away all the layers, and this is a boring A-line.”

Siofra rolled her eyes. “I know why. It’s just a pain. Come on, let’s get the other fluffy one over with.” She snatched the off-the-shoulder dress off its hanger, pulling it over her head with Kit’s assistance. Though the back opened wide with the zipper, she had no hope of stepping into anything with her hips. The sleeves were a bit snug near the top - dresses weren’t typically made with muscle in mind - but she liked the cut of the bodice better. She swung the door open so Alistair could see.

“Well, at least this one shows off my tits,” Siofra mused, “but I’m afraid if I lift my arms, I’m gonna rip these flimsy sleeves off like She-hulk.”

“Better body, but you look like Popeye with those arms,” Alistair said.

“Well maybe if the sleeves weren’t cut for Olive Oyl, it wouldn’t look so bad.” Siofra grumbled, swishing her hips in the mirror before closing the stall door again. “Fuck this fluffy bicep prison.”

Kit was snickering again as he helped her out of it. “Do you want to bother with the last one? I’m not sure this shop really styles for your body type.”

Siofra shrugged, throwing the heap of chiffon and fabric roses at him to hang back up. “Might as well, I’m already in my knickers.” She’d discarded her bra for the trying-on, since the straps would be awkwardly exposed. Kit hung and set aside the second rejected dress, unzipping the last one and helping Siofra pull it over her head.

“I like the material of this one.” He remarked, running a hand over the cherry satin as he zipped her into it. “Very sleek, elegant.”

“Ooh, this one makes my tits look great!” Siofra grinned in the mirror. She wasn’t wrong - the bodice had a slight dip between the breasts, and the glittering red stones around the top drew even more attention to her chest. Kit nodded, stepping out of the way so she could open the door.

Alistair was already snorting with laughter. He adopted Kit’s plummy accent. “Very sleek and elegant.” Then he switched to Siofra’s Irish lilt. “Cor, don’t my tits look great!”

“Your tits look terrible, actually. You should get a more supportive bra.” She grinned at him.

“Har har. That dress is nice though. Tits and all.”

“Yeah, I like this one.” Siofra nodded, “Skirt’s way more comfortable, too. An’ it looks expensive. I like that.” She swished her hips in the mirror, causing her dress and her curls to sway. Finny gave an approving bark.

Kit seemed excited. He hadn’t expected to find a dress they’d like so soon. “Do you want that one, then?”

Siofra shrugged. “Sure, yeah. I like it. I look hot in it. Why not?”

Kit nodded, bustling the other two dresses out to the reject rack while Siofra posed in the mirror. “Should we start looking for accessories, then?”

“Let’s just buy this an’ go. I had to walk through purses to get to the loo, the selection here is shit.” Siofra said, ducking back into the stall to put her own clothes on. Dress in hand, she and Kit walked to the checkout.

Alistair stood up and trailed after them, sighing heavily. “God, is everything going to take so long? Shoes and purses and flipping rings…”

“The jewelry will probably be easiest, actually.” Kit replied. “Most of the time, necklaces have matching earrings and bracelets and so on. Do you want to do that first?” He asked Siofra, “There’s a lovely jeweller right down this way.” He gestured towards a row of shops.

“Sure, yeah.” Siofra nodded. “I don’t wear earrings, though, so don’t get excited about that.” She warned him. Kit didn’t seem bothered, and they discussed metals and gems while they waited in line at the register. By the time the dress was handed back in a sleek shopping bag, they had already settled on rose gold and rubies. Kit was babbling excitedly as they walked to the jeweller.

“Most of my jewelry is yellow gold, just because it’s more widely available. I didn’t really like rose gold when it first came into style, but I warmed up to it a few years ago. I think it will look lovely on you, especially with your hair.”

Siofra let him talk, listening and nodding as they walked into the store. She was a little out of her element now; her idea of expensive jewelry was the department store - this place looked like a dragon’s hoard. “I hope you know what to look for, cause I’m lost.” She mumbled.

Kit nodded. “I saw an ad for one of their collections a few months back, follow me.” He led her to a lovely array of rose-gold jewelry, set with a variety of gems to show what the shop had to offer. There were only a few bracelets, but the necklaces and earrings were more numerous, and nearly a third of the case was taken up with mannequin hands modeling rings. “They can set any stone in the piece you like.” He explained, letting Siofra examine the case herself. She was trying not to gawk, but couldn’t help staring at the jewels oozing from the pinkish metal.

“Bloody hell… what’s my budget?”

Kit laughed. “You don’t have a budget. Pick what you like. As much as you like.”

Siofra turned to stare at him, more awestruck than ever. “You’re joking.”

“Why would I be?” Kit shrugged. “My father is making me go to this stupid party. I might as well waste his money making you look nice for it.” He was eyeing the earrings himself, wanting to coordinate his own jewelry with whatever Siofra chose.

Alistair attempted to entertain himself by trying to find the most expensive thing in the store, continually getting distracted by the prices. He’d still had money when he was old enough to be able to buy stuff for himself, but he’d never been one for fancy jewellery like this. He was more of the skull-ring-from-Hot-Topic type back then. Finny was interested too - he liked the sparkly things, and pressed his nose against the glass trying to look closer.

Alistair grinned at him. “Shame you don’t have fingers. But we can get you a necklace,” he laughed. “You’re getting nose marks on the glass.”

Finny gave a low ruff. He seemed to like the idea of his own shiny accessory. The sales girl giggled at them. “We do custom collars and dog tags on request.”

Alistair brightened. “Want a sparkly collar? Then I can take you to the Pride Parade.”

Finny barked again, and the sales girl went to a shelf, picking out a book to show Alistair while her coworker helped Kit and Siofra. She laid it  out, opening to a page of thick glittery chains, as well as varying fabric and leather bands that could be stoned and studded. Alistair held the book out like he was showing Finny too, ignoring the amused look he got from the girl. “Are you a glitter or a leather boy?”

Finny snuffled at a picture of a bright blue band, adorned with gold studs and white stones. Perhaps it was sheer chance that he’d reacted to that picture, but Alistair nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good one.”

“Do you know what size band you would need?” The girl asked.

“Siofra!” Alistair called. “What size band does Finny wear?”

Siofra set down the ring she'd been trying on, turning to look incredulously at Alistair. “What?”

“Oh, Finny wants a fancy collar. Don’t worry, I assure you Kit has spent money on more useless shit than this.”

“He wants it?” Siofra asked, trying not to smirk too hard.

“Yeah, he was snuffling the page.” Alistair looked completely serious.

Siofra chuckled. “Um, I usually get ‘im an extra-large when I buy collars. A large might fit, but I worry ‘cause’o all the fur.”

“Extra-large,” Alistair told the girl. He didn’t want to risk getting a tight one.

She nodded. “And did you want all studs, or studs and diamonds?” She pointed to the different options in the book.

“The diamonds… They look pretty.”

The clerk checked a box on a form she’d pulled out. “And you wanted the deep blue?”

“He wants that, yeah,” Alistair said, nodding at Finny. The dog barked happily. Siofra rolled her eyes at them, turning back to her own counter to try on more rings. Alistair ruffled Finny’s fur as he got the collar sorted with the girl, rubbing the soft part behind his ears. Finny tilted his head, tail flapping happily.

The clerk finished typing the order into the register, looking back to Alistair. “Custom orders usually take two to four weeks to complete. Your down payment will be £1200.”

“You fuckin’ what?” Siofra spun back around to stare at Alistair and the girl.

“Kit.” Alistair didn’t even blink. “Credit card. Please.” The older boy pulled out his wallet and passed it to Alistair without looking up from the ruby earrings he was considering. Siofra was staring at them both like they’d just turned into dinosaurs.

Alistair held up the card, raising his eyebrows at Siofra. “Nice, isn’t it? I could do this once. Buy stupid shit I don’t even need. It was cool. Now I have to dig down the back of the sofa for the bus fare.”

Siofra snorted. “Yeah, that’s university for ya.” She was looking at Kit, and how casually he shoved aside a set of earrings to ask for a pair with more diamonds. “Is it still a sugar daddy if I’m older?”

“What would be the younger version? A sugar son? Yuck. And what is he to me? I’m not banging him.” Alistair never did have any awareness of his language in a posh shop. The clerk was giving him a weird look, and awkwardly cleared her throat.

“Ahem, sir? The down payment?”

“Oh yeah.” He handed the card over. She scanned it and handed it back, along with a receipt to sign. He scrawled his untidy signature and gave Kit the card back. Kit stuck it in his breast pocket, knowing he'd need it again once he and Siofra picked everything out. She had gathered a pile of glittering rings, along with a matching pendant and tennis bracelet. He was still waffling between pairs of earrings, trying to decide how to arrange everything - the bane of having ten piercings in each ear.

Alistair was soon bored again, sitting on the floor with Finny and sighing heavily. The dog climbed into his lap and mimicked his sigh. That made Alistair laugh a bit, rubbing between Finny’s ears. Finny licked his face and Siofra grinned at them. “You can take 'im outside. 'e probably needs the loo anyway.”

“Thank god. I’m losing my mind in here,” Alistair mumbled, easing Finny off his lap and getting up. “Come on, Finny.”

Finny climbed to his feet, bounding for the door. He was eager to get outside, too. Alistair ran through the shopping centre with him, laughing when all the posh people gave them dirty looks. He felt like a teenager for a moment. Finny pulled Alistair through the crowd, weaving deftly through the clusters of people. They burst out onto the street together, and Alistair walked Finny up and down the high street, letting him stop to pee. The dog quickly selected a tree and did his business before tugging Alistair down the street.

Alistair let Finny lead him submissively. “Where are we going then?”

Finny just continued to run down the street. Alistair started floundering after a few minutes. “Finny, I don’t think I’ve gone running since PE at school… And even then I’d bunk off and sit in the bogs.”

Finny stopped pulling Alistair along, instead electing to run circles around his legs. Alistair laughed, dragging him to a bench. “Come here…” The dog followed him dutifully and sat by his feet. Alistair gave his lap a pat. “You can sit right up here.” Finny hopped up at once, his fuzzy butt resting on Alistair’s legs. Alistair hugged him happily, completely swamped in dog fur. Finny was content to sit like that until Alistair’s phone buzzed. It was Kit.

We’re going to look for shoes. Do you want to come with or stay out with Finny?

Alistair pulled a face. I’ll come. Where are you?

By the food court. Siofra was hungry. Do you want anything?

Do they have those fancy donuts? The Krispy Kreme ones?

Yeah, what do you want?

Just get that really chocolaty looking one with the crumbly topping.

Alright. Kit didn't bother asking what his cousin wanted to drink - he'd already bought Alistair a hot chocolate when he was getting himself a chai tea. Meet us by the Krispy Kreme.

Okay. Don’t touch anything strawberry flavoured.

Wasn’t on the agenda. Kit rolled his eyes. As if he was the one who forgot about his allergy, when Alistair had never told Julius about it and nearly poisoned his cousin as a result. He was still grumbling to Siofra about it when Alistair came up to meet them, Finny in tow.

“Did you two buy what you wanted then?” he asked.

“We did.” Kit waved the tea in his right hand, offering Alistair the donut and hot chocolate in his left. Siofra just nodded. Her arms were weighted with bags holding her dress and jewelry, and her hands and mouth were busy with a carton of inauthentic but deliciously greasy Chinese food.

“Only one donut?” Alistair said, taking the drinks and food with a grin. It was an old, old joke between them, back when Alistair was still a little pudgy five year old. He’d always insist he could manage several desserts.

“Yes, because you don’t have a change of clothes.” Kit smirked.

“Ha ha. So you’re going shoe shopping next? Are you getting those fancy ones with the red insides or whatever it is?”

Kit rolled his eyes. “I already have a pair of Louboutins that will match my outfit. We’re finding shoes to go with Siofra’s dress, and hopefully a matching clutch.”

“A clutch? Oh! One of those stupid little purses?”

“It's not stupid.” Kit rolled his eyes. “It's small, so it can hold necessities like a wallet and keys, but it isn't a huge bulky thing that's in your way all night. It's an evening bag.”

“I remember them! Remember when we were kids and that Lord’s daughter - Arabella, was it? - hit me over the head with her clutch? So I tied her pigtails to the door handle and slammed it shut,” Alistair giggled.

Kit didn't seem as amused. “You're leaving out an important detail. She hit you because you were flailing around by the refreshments, hit her punch, and spilled it all over her dress.”

Siofra snorted. “Always been a charmer, huh?”

Alistair stuck his tongue out at Siofra. “She didn’t have to hit me, did she? I’d have said sorry for spilling her punch if she hadn’t, and the whole clutch-and-pigtail drama could have been avoided.”

“You also could've been dancing on the dance floor, instead of endangering innocent people seeking refreshments.” Kit pointed out. He spotted a shoe store and walked inside, Siofra in tow. Finny pulled Alistair along, following sedately, while Alistair glared at anyone who gave them funny looks.

Kit and Siofra went immediately to the high heels, looking at the array of shiny shoes on the shelf

“We definitely want something red or rose gold. I know your skirt is long, but it you lift it, the shoes ought to match.”

“They've also gotta fit,” Siofra reminded him. “Most gals have smaller feet than me. See what they've got in a 9.5. I can do a 9 or an 8.5 if it's open-toed.”

Kit sighed. “Well, that certainly limits our options.” He started exploring the shelves, but found little more than a generic gold sandal. After a good ten minutes of scouring, he shook his head and stalked out of the store. “This place is useless.”

“We’d be fine if it wasn’t for her troll feet,” Alistair snorted. Siofra kicked him in the shin as she walked by.

“Shove my troll foot up your arse if you don't watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

“Ow! Get her, Finny,” Alistair urged. The dog just barked cheerfully and kept walking. Alistair rolled his eyes, letting Finny drag him after Siofra. “So where to now? How many shoe shops can be in one big shopping centre?”

Siofra looked at him for a moment, then back to Kit. “Is ‘e actually that stupid, or does ‘e really just never go outside unless ‘e’s followin’ you like a needy puppy?”

Kit shrugged. “Bit of both.” He said, leading the group into another shoe shop.

“I’m not the needy puppy when you’re koala hugging me all night,” Alistair grumbled.

“You’re the one who insists I stay at yours.” Kit replied, not even looking up from the high heels he was examining. The pair he was looking at were actually quite pretty - bright red pumps with narrow laces attaching them at the ankle. Each lace had shiny gold aglets and the heel was tall and thin. Siofra looked at them approvingly, selecting a pair in her size to try on.

“These are cute.”

“They’re basic.” Kit replied flatly. “This style is popular right now. Five girls at any given nightclub are wearing this shoe in one colour or another. You’re not a vapid parasite looking for a face to suck. You’re an exquisite guest at an exquisite event.”

Siofra snorted, amused but also taken aback. “Damn, okay. Maybe save for them for a backup at least?”

“If you like them.” Kit shrugged.

Alistair held Finny’s leash out in a lordly fashion and stuck his nose in the air. “You’re an exquisite quest at an exquisite event, my darling,” he said in Kit’s posh accent. “We must have your own shoes cobbled for you by the finest craftsmen out of gold and marble, studded with pearls fresh from the ocean. We can’t have common shoes on my precious carpets, oh heavens no.”

Kit rolled his eyes at his cousin. “Why don’t you go piss on a tree with Finny? That seems more like your kind of activity.”

“Oh, aren’t we funny. He’s already pissed. I want to see what shoes old Hobbit Feet gets anyway.”

“Who the hell are you talkin’ to about shoes?” Siofra asked, “I saw glittery pink trainers in your wardrobe.”

“I didn’t buy those! They were fucking hand-me-downs from Toby’s sister,” Alistair grumbled. “I don’t have rich parents to fund me anymore. You know how expensive shit is? It’s awful!”

“So you fit in Toby’s sister’s shoes, and you’re givin’ me shit for my shoe size?”

“Maybe she had gigantic feet too, you don’t know!”

“I saw the shoes.” Siofra grinned. “She didn’t.”

“Didn’t you know that posh folk are known for their dainty feet?” Alistair declared, struggling to keep a straight face.

“Then why are Kit’s shoes bigger than mine? He’s the daintiest of the three of us by far.”

Kit spun around; he’d been busy scrutinizing shoes and not listening to the others. “What?”

“They are? Kit, what’s your shoe size?”

“...good question.” Kit sat down on one of the little benches, lifting his foot to check the number on the sole. “10.5. Why?”

“That’s huge!”

“I mean, I said the same thing, but not about his feet.” Siofra grinned. Kit went red, but he laughed so hard, he snorted.

“Gross! I don’t want to hear about that!” Alistair cried, blushing too.

Siofra just laughed. “Stop talkin’ about my feet, an’ I’ll stop talkin’ about his dick.” She turned to look at a pair of gold pumps, trying to gauge whether they were too yellowy.

“Are those the one?”

“Mm, no.” Siofra had pulled out one of her rings to compare the colour. “I kinda wanted a red shoe, anyway. Red pumps are sexy as fuck.”

“Alright, Dorothy. Clicking your heels will be useful at our place, you’ll get to leave early.”

“Actually, in the book, Dorothy had silver shoes. They changed them to red to show up better on-screen.” Kit chimed in.

“I don’t really remember the book. You read it to me when we were kids.”

“I remember. You called my mum Glinda and yours the Wicked Witch, and got sent to your room for the night.” Kit rolled his eyes.

Alistair snorted. “Don’t tell me that wasn’t genius. And true. And your mum bought me fake fairy wings and I got upset when I couldn’t fly with them.”

Kit just shook his head. “I remember.” He went back to looking at shoes, glaring at a ruby pump that had a nice colour but a slightly squatty heel. “This shop is just as bad as the last.”

“What exactly is wrong with that shoe?” Alistair asked.

“The heels are too short, and wide. It's not elegant. Not to mention, it would look pitifully small on someone as tall as Siofra. That heel height might work proportionately for someone Julie's size, but even then, it's unflatteringly thick.”  

“Maybe we could buy them for Jules. He has to climb on the countertop to reach shit from the back of the cupboard.”

Siofra snorted and Kit rolled his eyes. “If I'm going to buy Julie heels, they'll be attractive.”

“He has really fucking small feet. Like, comically tiny.”

“He could probably fit both feet in one'o Kit's shoes.” Siofra grinned.

“And have room to spare,” Alistair agreed.

“My feet are not that big!” Kit cried.

“I was making fun of Jules’s feet that time. It’s no fun when he’s not here to hear it.”

Kit rolled his eyes. “Loving fiance you are.’

“Shut up, I am. If I gushed about him all day you’d feel awkward, right?”

“I'd feel annoyed.” Kit corrected.

“Well, either way. And for the record, I like his stupid small feet. They’re cute and ridiculous,” Alistair said.

“You're just ridiculous.” Kit huffed. “Come on, let's try another shop. This place is a disappointment.”

“Ugh, how many more?”

“However many it takes to find good shoes.” Kit replied. Siofra just chuckled, gesturing for Finny to come along..

“I can’t believe people enjoy this. I’m bored and hot and my feet ache and this place is full of other humans.” He pulled a face, like other people were the equivalent of sewer rats.

“This is why I said you didn’t have to come.” Kit reminded him, “And that is why I said if you did come, I’d send you home if you complained.”

“I have to look after you!” Alistair huffed. “I’m practically your carer. I should be receiving benefits for this.”

“First off, I pay for anything you ask for. Second off, we already discussed that Siofra can take care of me just as well.”

“You know I’m not being serious, Kit. And yes, Siofra is fine and responsible and strong, blah blah blah, but you’re my cousin. I’d worry about you.”

Kit groaned. “You should worry about my sanity if you keep whining. For Chrissakes, Finny is being more cooperative than you, and he doesn’t even know what the hell we’re doing!”

“I’ll bet he does. He’s a clever dog.”

“Okay, so the dog is smarter and more cooperative. Good for him. You still need to stop whining.” Kit said.

“Only if you stop bitching.”

“What am I bitching about?!” Kit cried.

“Me.”

“The only thing I’m bitching about is your bitching!” Kit’s face was going red, and he looked close to popping a blood vessel. “You agreed to not complain when you insisted on coming with us!”

“Kit, calm down,” Alistair mumbled, looking almost unnerved. “What’s wrong with you? I’m not being serious.”

The older boy deflated, his voice wobbly with frustration. “Then why are you seriously trying to drive me insane?” His eyes flickered between Alistair and Siofra and the crowd around them, afraid to say more in such a public setting. Though the cup in his hand was still half-full, he mumbled something about wanting another tea and walked off towards the food court. Siofra sighed and rolled her eyes.

Alistair looked equally upset, mumbling something about taking Finny to pee despite the dog having just been. He went off in the other direction. Now Siofra looked properly peeved, stalking after Alistair and grabbing his collar. “Oi! You don’t get to just kidnap my dog.”

“Get off me!” He yelled it way too loudly for a public place indoors, but his voice was thick, like he had a bad cold. The people nearby gave him weird looks, but Siofra just seemed like an annoyed big sister, so nobody gave them a second glance.

“Then gimme my fuckin’ dog, an’ I’ll go find your idiot cousin myself.” Siofra kept a stony grip on his jumper, holding a hand out for Finny’s leash. Alistair handed it over at once, keeping his face turned away.

“Now get off.”

“Gladly.” Siofra dropped his collar, wiping the now-free hand on her jeans. “You go cry while I fix your fuck-up.”

“Fuck you,” Alistair spat, clenching his fists. He kept his back to her though, hoping he might be able to pretend he wasn’t near tears later if she couldn’t actually see him welling up.

“Go annoy someone else, why don’t ya?” Siofra rolled her eyes and walked off in the direction Kit had gone.

[stellarcheetah-archived]

i don’t expect anyone to read this i just need to toss it out into the void before i choke on it

Warning for animal death. Please do not reblog.

how am i supposed to move on from this when every time i close my eyes all i can see is that blank, unseeing stare on his face as the vet tech wheeled him away for the last time.

i wasn’t there when he died. i was at school, in the commons area, on a computer for a dnd session after working on homework in the art pit all day, when mom texted me to find out where i was.

all the text message said was “Where are you? School or home?” and i knew. i signed off the computer and ran back to the pit to gather my things and wait at the nearest entrance. the south entrance, which isn’t busy. there’s a little sort of vestibule between the outside and the building. i sat on the bench there and all i could do was cry. scream. beg God not to take my baby, not yet. i got no answer.

i should have gone home for the weekend. i should have been there to hold him and to spend the day with him. i should have taken every moment i could with him. mom said he’d had a good day, that he’d been chasing rabbits and barking at the tv, and he’d eaten his dinner without much fussing. he’d gone outside to do his business, come back in, had some water, and came to join them on the couch. she’d picked him up to cuddle him, and minutes later he was gone before she knew what was happening. she said he didn’t cry, or whimper. he didn’t suffer terribly. it’s not much comfort.

i had barely made it through my shift on tuesday, after saying goodbye to him for what would end up being the last time. i had a breakdown in class after. i told my instructor how hard it was, knowing that every time i saw him might be the last time i saw him alive. i didn’t realize it would be true so soon.

al drove. mom was in the front seat with him. he was wrapped up in his multicolour-stripe blankie. his head was covered, and i knew before i even asked that he was gone. al put my things in the trunk while i sat down in the back seat, and mom put him in my arms. i held him all the way to the emergency vet. he was heavy and limp, and his paws were so cold.

the only other person in the waiting room at the vet hospital was a man with a boston terrier. the terrier wanted to come say hello, but after one look at us the owner stepped away to give us space. i didn’t want to give him over to the tech when she came out, but she had to take him to the vet to confirm he was really gone. it didn’t take long for that.

the tech brought us to a private room before she brought him back. they’d laid him down on a steel cart, one of their small blankets draped over him like he was sleeping. they’d already folded up his blankie and taken his collar off. i picked him up and his head just... flopped lamely to the side, like a ragdoll. i pulled him to my chest and sat down on the couch and held him while mom filled out the paperwork. we’d made all the aftercare decisions when we first found out he was dying, so we didn’t have to deal with that then. this is the urn we picked for him:

once the paperwork was done she left us alone with him. all i could do was hold him and cry. his head slipped a few times, just a little, in a way that for a fraction of a second my heart wanted to believe he was alive and waking up. i told him i loved him. i told him not to wait for us, wherever he is, but to go make friends and have fun. i told him he was a good boy. i sang him a lullaby. i held him with his ear over my heart and rocked him. i told him i was sorry. i kissed his little head and held his paw. i don’t know how long i sat with him, but by the time i was able to hand him over to mom rigor mortis had set in. i took clippings of his tail fur. we talked about the silly things he did. the crying came in waves. sometimes so bad i screamed.

we weren’t ready, but we ran out of strength. i laid him back down on the cart. tucked him in. kissed his head. i told him to be good as the tech wheeled him away. i called after him that i loved him. he just stared back at me, unseeing, as the door shut.

nothing feels okay anymore. we went home and i kept instinctively looking for him. we had to go back to my place the next day to get some of my things, and when we came home i kept expecting to see his face in the window looking for me. i kept wanting to point out things on the tv to him. i wanted to ask him if he wanted to go for a walk after dinner. i wanted to offer him my ice cream bowl to lick out. i kept looking at the back door to see if he was there waiting to come back inside. mom had to go out and when she came back i heard her put the key in the lock and i braced myself for barking but it never came. she pulled cheese out of the fridge for making lunch and i expected to hear the patter of his paws running to beg for some and it never came. there’s a hole in the house, in our lives, with him gone.

i don’t have the words to explain this kind of agony.

i found his favourite toy and i hugged it and cried for hours. i slept a lot. i took his leash and held it tight and walked our usual route around the block. there was a young family, parents with two young kids and two dogs, out for a walk. it was nice out. the little boy came right up to ask me what i was holding. i told him it was my dog’s leash. he asked me if my dog was lost.

i told him he was, in a way. the father asked if i was looking for him. i met his eyes and i saw the realization hit him and his wife. they told me they were sorry. asked if i needed to talk about it. i said no. the little boy didn’t understand. he said i could put up signs, and keep looking. i didn’t have the heart or the words to explain to him that my baby was lost in a way that he wouldn’t be coming back. his parents just nudged him along to keep walking. i feel bad that they probably had to explain it to him later. i hope he doesn’t have to lose his dogs like i lost mine.

i don’t know what to do with myself. all i can do is try to get through the day.

i had a dream about him the other night. he was healthy and happy, back to his full pre-cancer weight and barking at tv commercials. i hope there’s a world after this, and that that’s what it’s like for him. he was such a good dog, so healthy and so well-behaved. he didn’t deserve what happened to him.

i know everyone says their dog is the best in the world but i really believe mine was. he never wrecked things that weren’t his to wreck. he never ran away. he never hurt anyone. he didn’t fight his baths. he let mom floss his teeth, when he still had them. he was a good patient at the vet. he stood still to let mom groom him. he tugged at his leash to go see little kids and let them pat him with the utmost patience. he licked the tears from a little girl’s face when she fell on the sidewalk and cried. he came to cuddle up with us when we were upset, to make us smile and feel better. he was the best dog i could have ever asked for.

i wish i could have been better for him. i should have played with him more. hugged him more. walked him more. been there with him when he was dying. but now it’s too late.

my baby is gone. and i don’t know how i’m going to move on.

[cutegirlmayra]

this prompt is VERY au but ive had this for a while , and ive always wanted to see u write it: okay so amy & sonic haven't seen each other for a while bc shes been away studying or something & when she comes back shes more mature & understands the concept of personal space xD and sonic gets a bit upset bc shes not paying him much attention like she used to or maybe he can get jelly of someone!! its okay if u dont want to but ur writing is soooo good i would just love to see it !! ur the best!

Actually, I wanted to do a fanfiction on this idea of Amy leaving for a ‘monastery retreat’ where they promise enlightenment. She leaves a letter and purposefully states she’s not saying where she’s going until she’s found ‘inner peace’ with herself. She goes on the journey that tests her, then gets a job when she realizes the retreat needs to be paid for. She works for some cruel tavern people and gets swindled/con’d. She stands up for herself and gets the money back (by/with some force, lol). She is selected by a teacher who is usually very picky about his students, an armadillo who is infamous for whacking his students with his long stick to train them.

After all this, he teaches her ‘self control’ and ‘balance in her chi’ or whatnot.

I’m starting this concept off after Sonic receives many letters/postcards with different buildings and locations from the mountain she’s at. He takes out the photos, and one by one, races off to each landmark till he finds the mountain and finds her.

Prompt:

Sonic sped forward till halting and slightly wagging from the left over momentum as he looked up at the monastery.

Moving his mouth to the corner of his muzzle, he then pulled out the last postcard Amy sent him, and held a finger up to his chin, tapping his pointer finger to see if it matched.

Yep, definitely.

He looked over, “And that must be the tavern that treated her so poorly.” he put the photo away, but never took his eyes off of it.

“Time to teach them some manners when it comes to rooming guests.” Sonic adjusted his gloves, and smirked, knowing he was gonna cause some mayhem before saying hello to Amy. (his form of justice, he really didn’t like how she described how they treated her.)

After being the most annoying and stuck-up snob the tavern had ever known, they tried to kick him out, even if he did have rings, he wasn’t going to pay them, and fought his way out scott-free.

He chuckled to himself, before looking up at the monastery again. “Check.” he seemed to mentally be checking something off a list, and then threw a ring back at a dog-pile of beaten up men, all having their eyes spin around in their dizziness.

Sonic raced up the monastery before leaning over a counter, smiling charmingly to the woman present.

“Hey.”

“Hello.” the woman gave him a cold look up, and continued to look at her scrolls.

“…Eh-heh.” Sonic smiled nervously, seeing she looked a bit stingy. He straightened himself out, “Is there an Amy Rose that goes here?”

Her face suddenly shifted, and she immediately threw up a cane, pointing it directly at him. “I HATE THAT GIRL. DO YOU KNOW HER!? ARE YOU HERE TO TAKE HER AWAY!?”

Sonic put his hands up, “Y…yes?” he raised an eyebrow, amazed someone could hate Amy… w-well, maybe not THAT amazed, but..

“Oh good~” she suddenly looked cheery and her age, putting her hands together and up by her cheek. “Right this way~” she swished her black cat tail and gestured for him to follow her.

She smirked as they walked into the inner arena, within the walls of the ancient ground.

Sonic peeked over, “Ah!” He was amazed to see two girls battling, one was..

“Amy!”

“Pfft. I’ll admit, she’s improved.” the girl rolled her eyes. Was that a hint of jealousy?

Amy rolled to dodge a girl holding a stick with two spiked knifes tied to the ends of it.

She got up quickly to duck from another swipe before the girl jabbed, and she had to lean away, holding her hammer with both hands.

“Woah!”

Her sensai watched safely away, placing a hand slowly on his staff. “…Focus… Right foot… now!” he muttered to himself, but Amy couldn’t hear him.

Amy leaped to the right side, as if dodging a hint that she was predicting. (He would have naturally hit her with his staff on her ankle if this was training so she’s used to expecting a staff hit xD)

She jumped from her hands and did a few back-flips, before positioning herself again and waiting…

Sonic was slightly confused. Amy’s one to charge in headstrong, but now she’s being..

patient?

She then saw the girl charging her, shouting out a battle cry, as Amy innocently looked up, and seemed calm before looking back down.

She jumped and did the splits, as the girl whammed her face into the wall behind her, and looped her hammer over a wall decoration.

She waited a second in the air for the girl to lean back, holding her face.

She then fell on the girl and whacked her out.

“Winner! The Reformed Rose!”

Amy got up and giggled, thinking the nickname funny since the first time she got here, and then looked up.

Her smile and waving completely halted, as her eyes fixated…

On her favorite shade of blue.

Her master looked confused, before following her eyesight with his own. He gasped, picking up his long stick. “Oh no.” he quickly rushed to where Sonic was.

Amy raced up with acrobatic skills to him.

While keeping her pace, her master kept looking over to her, worried. “Remember your training, remember your training!” he kept muttering, as finally they both made it up to the final wide ring of the arena, and Amy, in her monk attire, held the biggest open smile on her face, panting from her effort to get all the way up here after a battle like that.

Sonic stepped back, as the counter-girl just glared and ‘hmph’d, folding her eyes and giving Amy a snake-eye, then turning away.

“You’re so-called ‘boyfriend’ is here to take you away.” she left then, fanning her arrogant hand behind her.

Sonic hadn’t seen her in months, and this new look… she definitely had grown. Did he miss a birthday?

Her figure was more built, and her muscles, a bit a intimidating…

Amy was about to cry out his name, before her master whacked a stick to her head and she rubbed it hard, looking to him.

“Restrain yourself…” he eyed her cautiously, as if squinting a warning.

“This will be your final test of all your training. Fail it. And you will not be leaving this monastery.” he warned her, and slammed his staff’s end down, nodding his final statement.

“W-wai-wait a minute there…” Sonic held his hands out, as Amy’s whole body suddenly shifted to them, as if longing to be in them again…

“Uhh..” he held his hands back, seeing her reaction. He knew she’d have withdrawals… but not this bad. “I think we may have to change that ruling a bit.” Sonic scratched behind his head, then looked to Amy.

“Amy, Cream and the others have been worried sick about you.” he lightly spoke to her, arching his eyebrows back to show tenderness, and gesturing to try and entice her to come back. “We’ve all been wondering where you’ve been. Now that I’ve found ya, I plan on taking you back so they won’t have to miss you anymore.”

Amy was still fixated on the way he lovingly said her name, but then heard about her dear friends and looked shocked to hear that, before guilty and bending her ears down.

“Oh, S-”

“Ehem.”

Amy flinched, expecting a staff, but realized her master only gave her a light warning. She was forbidden to say his name…

“..My… friend.” she twitched an eye down, before taking a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. “I would love to go back. But I have to receive permission from my sensai.” she gestured lovingly to her master, who kept his eyes shut, but motioned his head up high, showing status.

“Your sensai?” Sonic narrowed his eyes to the old man, and folded his arms. “You mean this geezer with the long mustache and goatee?”

Like a statue, her master did nothing.

She freaked out though, bending her arms to guard herself but he did nothing to retaliate.

“You would do good in training somewhat in your mouths formation of words as well, boy.” He stuck a piece of his sticks cut off small branch into his ear, wiggling it around. “I could barely hear the insult you said.”

Sonic twitched an eyebrow, this man could dish one back just the same.

Sonic smiled though, liking the fight in him.

He was impressed and held out his hand. “Sonic. Sonic The Hedgehog.”

“I know who you are.” The man moved the hand to the side, before walking to the ring.

Sonic looked confused, before shrugging to Amy, who lightly nodded an apology before turning to her master.

“If you wish to truly see if you’ve mastered all I have to teach you… you must fight your love in the arena!” he spread his arms out, as the crowd suddenly hushed and the battle happening below stopped.

“W-what?!” Amy was shocked. “B-b-but Master!”

“Your speaking back!” He swung his stick into her gut, as she whinced a minute in pain before motioning her fingers around to harness any noise and keep it together.

“No, … M-master.”

“Hmph. Good.” He removed the stick and nodded.

“Amy!” Sonic’s hand went to her, but the master’s eyes shone with a spark and he hit them away from her.

“O-ow! Hey!” Sonic held his hands and glared at the old man. “You know, some could call this abuse!”

“Heh. He is your friend, isn’t he?” The man smiled, knowing she had said the same thing.

Amy got up, shaking a head to Sonic. “You can’t touch me. Cause I’m not allowed to touch you.”

Sonic’s head flung back to him. “W-what?” he blinked a moment, before trying to put to and to together. “Amy… you’re not.. a literal monk, are you?”

She flinched, “WHAT?! NO! I’m not a nun!”

“O-oh…phew~” He was glad he wasn’t THAT late…

“To the arena with you!” The master had skillfully maneuvered himself behind the two, and with one fell swoop of his staff, pushed the two off the ring as they fell towards the arena.

Amy used her hammer to help Sonic spin away, and then flipped and pushed off landings to roll down safely as well.

“Oh! Sonic are you al-!” She cupped her hands over her mouth, about to rush towards him before a staff thrust itself in front of her and stopped her progression.

She realized her mistake and bowed to it, before letting the access energy from Sonic’s presence being there out through training drills, punching around herself and shouting out battle cries before returning to inner peace…

“I am more than my affections… alright!” she prepared for battle. “If I can defeat you, S- I mean!” she shook her head. “My friend. Then I can go home with you!”

He was irritated that someone was forcing her to not even say his name. But then also pushing such limitations onto himself.

He cracked his knuckles, and started to stretch. “Very well, Amy. If I have to fight you, then I won’t go easy on ya.” He then smirked, getting ready. “But not being able to touch me won’t be very easy… I’m fast, you know.” he winked.

“Begin!”

He charged around her in a circle, and she closed her eyes to sense him, before swinging her hammer up to dodge a fast on-going, bullet frenzy of blue.

‘Heh, so she’s learned to listen and wait it out, huh?.’ Sonic looked amused, stopping then and then walking towards her.

“What else have you learned?”

She smiled, seeing he was having fun with this.

He jumped to fake a kick down, before swinging his other leg and hitting her to the side.

She caught herself quickly as he went for a punch, but was able to block and then slide her hammer under his ankle, pinning him and then looking apologetic.

“Sorry.” she squinted her eyes as she bonked him on the head.

“Ow! Ooohhh, almost missed that…” his eyes spun a moment, but he shook it out.

“Heh.” he reached up and grabbed her arms.

“Ah!”

Her master narrowed his eyes.

“Got’cha!” Sonic rolled back on his spine and kicked her over him, getting back up as the crowd cheered.

The sensation of Sonic holding her was a lot for Amy, even if it wasn’t a true ‘hold’ she still got up and tried to restrain herself.

“Okay… okay…” she took calming breathes and turned back around.

Sonic watched her struggle, and started getting upset.

What was wrong with Amy hugging him?

‘I’m more than my affections…’

She had said that, right?

He glared up at her master, who returned the look to him.

“What has he been teaching you…” Sonic lost trust then, even if the man had witty comebacks, if he had brainwashed his friend to believe that touching him or even saying his name was bad…

Unforgivable.

Amy, after seeing him not moving, decided to go for it.

She held her hammer high up by her shoulder, and leaped from one side ot the other, “Here I gooo!!!”

Sonic turned with a calm expression, looking seriously to her.

She suddenly saw him not move and halted her attack, stopping in front of him.

Her master rose his head, eyeing Sonic’s next move.

“S-So-I-I mean! Friend..?” she blinked her eyes, not sure what he was doing.

“Sonic.” He almost bit down on his teeth while saying it. “And I’m not playing this game anymore…”

He walked over to her, as she stepped back slightly, lowering her hammer.

“W-what are you-?”

He embraced her, and held her close.

The crowd gasped, as the master moved himself to the ring’s railing, and waited… patiently…

Amy’s whole being twitched.

She wanted to just smoother him with affection, kiss him over and over, and hold him tighter and tighter!

Her hands moved to hold him back, before stopping.

She had learned so much… about herself, love, and freedom… about inner peace and self-reliance.

She even learned that her own feelings could be managed, and that it’s better to discipline them than let them run amok.

She did touch him, but only to pull him away.

With a kind smile, she closed her eyes, and tilted her head. “I missed you too, Sonic. I’m glad I get to see you again.”

Her master jumped down as Sonic’s approving smile turned to a frown of protection, and he moved his hand over Amy and pulled her behind him.

“Amy’s coming with me!”

He walked forward, head down. “I know she is. Because she won.”

The two blinked for a moment.

“W-wha?” Sonic seemed more startled by that then Amy, as she moved passed his protective arm and over to her sensai, bowing low for him.

“Forgive me, Sensai.”

“No. You’ve done all I expected you to do.” he bowed to her, as the crowd gasped, and she leaned up, shocked.

“M-master!”

“You’ve conquered your emotions, tamed them, and held your being with dignity and every grace a woman can procure.” he leaned up, smiling kindly to her, showing he really did care for his pupil. “You’ve surprised me. Even with great temptation, you valued your new found strength and knowledge more than the cardinal demands of the body. You’ve mastered both body and spirit… and now, you’re heart.” he put his hands together, his staff resting on the crook of his arm, as if showing he wasn’t going to discipline her anymore.

“You may leave… with Sonic.” he nodded the permission of her to speak his name. “And even hug him if you’d like.”

Suddenly, Amy squee’d as all her energy burst from her, and she was about to tackle into Sonic. “SOONNICC-OOFFHP!”

His staff had masterfully slammed into her tailbone, as he glared a moment before pulling it back.

“Don’t let old habits own your new found success… Rose.”

“Y-..Yes, Sensai.” she realized he wasn’t going to let her slip on her training either.

The two left the wide, Asian gates as Amy left with her old red dress, but a sash around her waist with decorative beads hanging down one end of it, showing she was a master monk now. She giggled as it made her dress stick down, and then held Sonic’s arm.

“Shall we?”

Sonic smiled, before pulling her closer and seeming okay with the intimacy. He scratched his nose as some men from the tavern recognized him, and saw who he was with, and fled crying out for mercy.

Amy blinked her eyes in confusion, raising an eyebrow, before looking over to Sonic with suspicion.

He shrugged and chuckled nervously, before scooping her up and taking off.

“Ah! I missed this!” Amy cried out, as Sonic looked down, unamused.

“W-what?” she saw something was troubling him and wondered what on earth it could be. “too tight?” she loosened her hands from his neck, before completely moving them off. “S-sorry.” she looked away.

“…Not tight enough.” he motioned his head down, seeming upset.

Her smile grew wide, and she giggled as she put her arms back around him, and moved her head up. “Hehe, I think I like having you ask for it, now~” she cooed, winking to him as he rolled his eyes.

“I’ll admit. It’s nice to actually have you act grown up for once.”

“Why you-! Hmph!” she puffed up her cheek and looked away. “I don’t have to get angry at those foolish comments anymore.”

“Haha! I’m free! No more hammers!” he jumped and clicked his heels together.

“Oh, Sonic!”

“Say my name!”

“Sonic?”

“One more time!”

He giddily danced off as she laughed, chanting his name and clapping as he really did seem happy to have her back, new and improved, with some of her old habits still being wanted and liked, so it seemed~

“I appreciate the restraint. But you can still hug me.. j-just not randomly or in the middle of something… alright?”

“Now look whose making the rules…” Amy pouted.

“But no hard sticks included!”

They laughed.

(hope that’s what you wanted >w