#Also I like that his room is big and empty enough to fit Marshmallow

[brooklynisher]

Probably not canon anymore but it's funny how everyone imagines Peter's face to be scarred or heavily changed when in reality (or at least in 2012) he literally straight up doesn't have a face.

Like, THAT ISN'T just a covering for his face. That's his actual face

Could it be lighting? Maybe? But I don't think that's how lighting works. I don't think his face is naturally allergic to light.

I don't think this is canon anymore because The Seventh paints Peter's broken mask as this huge mystery and unless the mystery is about bringing this back, I don't think this is the surprise we might be getting.

BUT HEY this was all borderline if not 100% canon at one point in time

[wheresmybuckyhoes]

Game Night

Summary: Bucky and you are basically enemies. That’s the only word you can think of to describe it. What else would it be?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, unprotected sex (do not do this irl), smut, slight angst

I really love a good enemies to lovers at the moment and wanted to give it a go. Let me know what you think. As always, enjoy! xx

‘How about truth or dare?’ Wanda suggested innocently, earning her a series of exasperated groans. You threw your head back in playful annoyance, a drawn out ‘Wandaaa’ leaving your vodka - tasting lips. ‘I meant more like monopoly, or something a group of horny teenagers wouldn’t play’ Tony sighed, throwing back the last of his whiskey, followed immediately by ‘Steve it would mean so much to me if you would get me another bottle of this’.

Meanwhile, you noticed the one and only piece of shit Bucky narrow his icy blue eyes at you from across the table you were all crowded around. You mimicked his expression before turning towards Wanda as you rolled your eyes. You could practically feel his eyes delving deep holes through your back. ‘I say we play. I’ve had at least...’ at this point you held up your hands in front of your face as you counted on your fingers like a dumb child, Wanda raising her eyebrow. ‘...like at least, enough shots to be drunk so I won’t remember this anyway’ you shrugged as you reached for the bottle of vodka only for Sam to pull it just out of your reach. ‘Sam...’ you tried to bargain but Tony’s loud voice cut you off as he spoke, cradling his 4th glass of whiskey delivered so gracefully unto him by a frowning Steve. 

‘As the leader of this group of fucks, I decree that I go first. Capsicle, truth or dare’ he asked pointedly, gesturing to Steve with his glass. ‘You guys are so immature...truth, if I must’ he replied gloomily, taking a tender sip of his orange juice. ‘Are you a virgin?’ he simply asked, earning an uncontrollable giggle from you and Wanda. Before Steve even opened his mouth, Tony added quickly with a smirk ‘a virgin is someone who has never fucked anyone, by the way. Oh, and fucking is what you want to do to y/n. I know you don’t always know all the current lingo, old man, but...’ Steve answered quickly before Tony could continue embarrassing him, and you choked on the wine that had magically appeared in your hand. ‘No, Tony. I’m not, and I’m going to bed’. Steve got up and straightened his shirt, placing his glass gently on an Avengers branded coaster, heading out for the night to his floor of the compound. You didn’t notice the slight frown which flickered over Bucky’s face as you kissed Steve on the cheek as you said goodnight. But you also didn’t notice Tony and Sam fighting over the last bottle of whiskey, so who can blame you.

You played a few more rounds of truth or dare as the night grew dark and the others grew tired. After the first few rounds Sam and Tony got up and left, soon followed by Wanda who was drunk beyond words. You hugged her affectionately before helping her to the elevator and going back to sit down. You forgot Bucky was there.

You groaned dramatically as Bucky smirked at you, collapsing dizzily onto the leather couch and tipping the last bit of vodka you had retrieved from Sam’s grasp down your throat. ‘Fuck off, Barnes’ you seethed. ‘Don’t you have some people to kill?’. He chuckled to himself, pushing himself up from the floor to stand up and cross his arms. ‘Don’t you have some validation to seek from literally everyone?’ he taunted, staring your right in the eyes. You looked down. The bitch knew very well you only wanted validation because when you were trained in an abusive institute not so different from hydra, the only thing that kept you alive was their validation, and he knew that he could get under your skin with ease. But you refused to show it. You looked up and found his opal eyes again.

‘It was my turn, wasn’t it? Truth or dare, asshole?’ you asked, chucking the empty bottle of vodka at him. He caught it swiftly with his vibranium arm, walking over to you and leaning down to place the bottle beside you on the couch, face inches away from you. ‘Dare’ he whispered, leaning back and moving to stand in front of you. He smelt like burnt marshmallows, fiery whiskey and rain. You mentally slapped yourself and reminded your brain how much you hated him.

‘I dare you to stop being such a little bitch’ you stood up, staring up at him with flames in your eyes. ‘Maybe if you didn’t act like such a brat all the fucking time, I wouldn’t have to be’ he mocked, tilting his head to await your reaction. The sheer amount of hate your felt for him at this moment, together with the large quantities of alcohol running through your veins, gave you a dangerous confidence boost. ‘Maybe if you weren’t a little pussy who lost his arm and sanity to some weird scientists because he fell off a train, knew how to fuck let alone talk to girls and didn’t make every single person who he meets want to run away and scream, I wouldn’t act like a brat all the fucking time’. Well shit.

You were breathing raggedly, chest rising rapidly up and down, hands balled up in two tight fists by your side. Bucky’s eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open, a flicker off hurt passing over his handsome features. He shook his head and sighed. ‘Shouldn’t have said that, y/n’. ‘What do you mEEEAAN’ you yelped as he moved to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, as if you were weightless. You kicked him in the chest, hard. ‘Put me down right the fuck now Bucky before I...’ he reached his room and threw you down on his bed, shutting the door behind him. ‘Before you what, hm? Because let me tell you something, darling. I think you don’t hate me. No, you just know I don’t want to sleep with you unlike Steve, Sam and Tony and it hurts. It hurts your precious little ego. But if it stops you from acting like a little bitch all the damn time, I guess I can fuck the bitch out of you’ He climbed onto the bed, as you crawled back, until your back was against the headboard and you were cage in between the wall and the super soldier in front of you. ‘Would you like that, doll?’

You gulped nervously, averting your eyes only for Bucky to grab your chin both roughly and gently at the same time and lift your head up so you were staring him in the eyes. ‘So now you go all quiet on me’ he taunted. You could hardly breath. Your mind was telling you that you hated him with all your heart, but your heart was telling you to get this man’s dick inside of you. Before you could silence the tell - tale beat of your heart, Bucky leant in and kissed you roughly. Your body relaxed into the kiss, and your hands subconsciously flew up to tangle in his chestnut locks. He was actually a really good kisser. You pulled away. You reached a hand out to unbutton his jeans, but Bucky caught your wrist. He chuckled to himself, metal hand gently wrapping around your throat. ‘So now you want me to fuck you? Thought you said I didn’t know how?’ he asked as a small whine escaped your throat, feeling your core burn in desire. You furrowed your brows and frowned at him. He squeezed at your neck. ‘Use your words, doll, or I’ll just leave you here as the pathetic mess you are’ he threatened, eyes clouding with lust and desire.

‘Holy shit Bucky, just fuck me already or fuck off’ you cried out. He didn’t need telling twice. He released your throat, using both hands to undress you in an instant before removing his own shirt and jeans. He hooked a finger in the band of your panties and slid them down your legs, over your heels and onto the floor behind him. He took a moment to gaze longingly at your naked and vulnerable body, muttering an almost inaudible ‘beautiful’. All that was left between your pussy and his dick was the boxers he was wearing. As soon as he took them off, your eyes widened, and you felt your cheeks redden. ‘That’s not going to fit’ you said, a sort of breathless whisper.

Bucky leaned in, kissing you deeply and sliding his tongue into your mouth. You almost screamed when you felt his fingers encircle your clit, moaning into his mouth. ‘I still...fuck...hate you’ you grumbled as you felt his hard on brush against your inner thigh. He rolled his eyes as you did earlier, dipping his head slightly to kiss your neck, expertly sucking on your sweet spot, marking you up with hickies. He slowly inserted a finger, followed shortly by two. They only slightly stretched you out, and you clawed at his back as he moved them faster and faster, curling them slightly to hit your g - spot. ‘B...Bucky, I’m gonn... gonna cum’ you moaned, pulling his head eagerly as you kissed him desperately. Bucky kept up with his rapid pace, bringing you right to the edge. You felt the pleasure build up and up until you were ready to cum, and that is obviously when Bucky decided to pull his fingers away completely. ‘What the FUCK’ you screamed, sitting up in surprise, legs squeezing together from the sudden lack of friction. He covered your mouth to silence your cries, and leaned in real close. ‘If I give you the most mind blowing sex of your life, and I stop treating you like a piece of shit, will you stop acting like a bitch?’ he asked, pushing you back down onto the bed, removing his hand when he was done talking. ‘For fucks sake Barnes, yes. Fucking yes. Now please fuck me’. you whined.

‘It would be my pleasure’. He slammed into your now lubricated pussy, stretching you all the way out. It burned, but at the same time it felt like nothing you had ever felt before. Not a single man you had ever been with had been this big, but you wouldn’t want Bucky to know that.

He moaned in your ear, causing you to clench down hard, and Bucky started to thrust quickly chasing his own orgasm. He continued to circle your clit with his thumb as he slammed into you over and over and over again until he had you chanting his name like a prayer along with a generous string of obscene curses. He lifted your legs onto his shoulders to angle himself so that he was repeatedly hitting your g spot and your orgasm finally hit you like a truck. ‘oh SHit Bucky fucking christ holy fucking shit’ you gasped out as Bucky thrusted deeply into you, cumming deep inside. You felt your legs shake as your eyes rolled into the back of your head in ecstacy, Bucky’s hand finding your mouth to at least try to quiten some of your moans. Although he had stilled inside of you, filling you to the brim, he continued to rub at your clit as he worked you though your orgasm. Your mind was filled with ecstasy and you could see stars. You both came down from your high eventually, Bucky collapsing in a sweaty heap beside you.

He pulled you into his body protectively, feeling his softening dick rest against your back. His arm was secured tightly around your waist, and you felt your heavy eyes shut as his warm breath on your neck comforted you. ‘Still hate me now?’ he asked, kissing the top of your head gently. ‘I’ll consider tolerating you for now. Ask me again tomorrow night’ you giggled sleepily in response. ‘Why tomorrow night?’ Bucky whispered as he also felt his own eyes close, a wave of exaughstion sweeping over his muscular body. ‘After we fuck again, of course, and again the night after that, and the night after that, and every night after that.’

[friggsdc]

Title: little delinquent pt iv

part iii | part iv

Warnings: Female!reader (bat!sis), mostly plot with family fluff, AU, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 4600~

Synop: It had Bruce and Dick sharing a look for a moment before the latter spoke up, “It’s not like I’m against continuing to expand the family, but…” he eyed the child you held nervously, “please don’t start bringing home every child you find…” he tilted his head, “he’s bad enough.” Bruce settled a light glare at his first son (that definitely wasn’t what Bruce was thinking), though Dick was stilled by the way your eyes narrowed at him instead.

“His name is Terrence,” that was all you said, brushing past as they were suddenly on guard at the inherited Wayne-scowl on your face.

---

 A/N: ee;;;; enjoy me not knowing what this plot is, idk tbh, but it’s fun to write. It’s more plot than fluff, which wasn’t what i meant to write sighs. I’ll probably write companion pieces to this that’s zero plot all fluff. The plot wasn’t meant to be so deep, but I mean, uhm… enjoy papa Bruce and mama Alfred~ 

---

[bigR] Dad’s upset.

[bigR] He’s talking less than usual, not even grunts.

[bigR] I think he’s ignoring me?

[you] crap

[bigR] Worse, there’s no news.

No news? True, you hadn’t seen the info feeds light up, the networks had been offline all day, but nothing from Tim’s side? If you didn’t hate Luthor before, well…

[you] this is giving me a headache ::dizzy_emoji::

[bigR] No kidding, I think he’s figuring a few things out.

[bigR] Patrol with B, everything’s unlocked, bb @ late.

[you] is typing…

             “You sure it’s okay?”

The taller male gave quite the toothy grin, a large hand coming up to pull the awkwardly fitted shirt collar back to center, admiring your new outfit. “You can just bring it back later, besides, I think it’s cuter this way.” After a few hours and an incredibly long phone call between Jason, Tim and yourself, the three of you combined were able to get the suit to come off. 

Tim said he still had a lot to go over, but that the laptop was actually incredibly useful. Much of what Tim had been talking (and geeking) about had been lost on Jason and you, too focused on Terry and wrangling the alien suit off.

Jason said he’d be jealous of the strange futuristic-like material if it weren’t for the second skin-like fit, happily poking fun at Nightwing’s taste in suits.

Most of the work was done on Tim’s side since he apparently already had the ability to take control of the suit. It was something you were rather… anxious about, but unlike the manor, Jason’s place had the advantage of no Bruce and no cameras.

So now you sat in the same pair of pants you’d come over in, the only pair of flip-flops he had. They were far too large for you, but your toes would have to hang on till home, and a large t-shirt that fit well enough. 

“Muscle up, Buttercup” was written on the front, Superman’s flexed arm between the words.

“Your taste in clothes is…”

“Cheap. Like second-hand cheap.”

“But… why…”

“To spite Bruce? I pay more for job-related injuries than money I actually have, it’s been tempting me to go back to crime, honestly.”

“…you sure that’s not to spite Bruce as well?”

“I mean,” he shrugged, an impish grin on his face as he lightly ruffled the top of your hair, causing you to childishly swat his hand away, “isn’t that what everyone else does? It’s fun, you should try it sometime.”

“Uh-huh…” you were honestly too much of a—

“Daddy’s girl,” he snorted lightly, unimpressed.

Before slipping one of Jason’s unused backpacks on, you stuffed the batsuit in the bottom, and the jacket you arrived in on top. Turning just in time to see him picking up Terrence’s sleeping form with incredible gentleness, you cooed lightly.

“You know, you’re not bad at that,” he looked at you, frowning, ears flushing before his attention went back to the bundle in his arms.

“Not even…” instead of moving to take the child from him, you opted to stand still and just watch the interaction instead, as if a point were being made.

Big boy looked like he was terrified of breaking the child in his arms, like an heirloom British teacup, “You look cute like that, a giant teddy bear and a tiny uh... new bat?” Walking over, he turned his eyes to the side, not a single trace of anger towards the situation in his voice anymore, “don’t get used to it,” he muttered, unsure of himself. “But you could get used to it,” you smiled, taking the giant marshmallow from him, “he’ll be around from now on, you know. You’ll have uncle duties~” Your teasing only increased his rising timidness, “right…”

“Well,” he began, heading to the door once you had everything, “I’m already late for patrol, let’s get you home.”

-

Alfred had greeted you at the door and mentioned putting on some tea, and you gladly accepted, though not before you went up and changed. With the promise to be back downstairs in a few minutes, he took Terrence from you to ready him for bed. Adorable child was actually quite active, having tired himself out at Jason’s temporary housing.

Quickly, you’d headed to Tim’s room to empty the contents of your bag in his faraday cage, hoping that it was secure enough being in his room. Once you’d locked the safe’s door, you headed out of his room and down the hall to your own. Sorry Jay, but the shoes were uncomfortable, and the shirt kept trying to strangle you more than the shirt of a giant should. Pajamas sounded wonderful right now.

The now empty backpack was tossed to the side near where Duke had left the your clothes from earlier in the day, and a few immediate items for Terrence. You figured everything else was probably in the nursery now, hoping it was all waiting for you in the next few days. The awkward clothes you’d worn over the suit had been tossed on your day clothes, and then Jason’s shirt and shoes were dropped on top.

The shower was quick, and having changed into a fresh pair of pajamas, you suddenly felt sluggish, your shoulders now heavy with tightness. Come to think of it, your thighs also felt rather wobbly, like jelly… but the only strenuous activity you can remember doing in all honesty was… base jumping… was it the wings? It’s all you could honestly come up with. Maybe you weren’t used to such a thing yet, and as you rubbed your shoulders, you headed back downstairs to the sitting room. “Nn…”

“Sore?”

It was still too early for anyone scary to be home right now, so…

You nodded, collapsing on the small sitting couch, Alfred going to stand from his seat to fix you a cup of tea from the tray on the table. “I did a dumb thing today. I’m not certain if I regret it or not.” He handed you the tea plate and cup before returning to his original position on a rather regal looking chair, “I’ve already put the Little Master to bed for the evening. The Young Masters went to bed awhile ago, though I suspect, they are not, actually sleeping.” He gave an amused hum at the thought of Damian and Jon and what they were totally not doing. 

He definitely hadn’t noticed when they’d snuck out earlier. Nope, not at all.

It was a long day filled with heightened emotions, anxiety, stress, confusion, and at the end of it, you were just so tired, and Alfred had always been your confidant next to Tim, and—

You tried to keep quiet as you spoke.

“I jumped out of a really tall building. Like… ninety feet up? I’m not certain, I was watching my life flash before my eyes.” He sighed and frowned into his own tea, “Master Bruce has already left for the night, Master Tim is accompanying him, as the boys are… supposed to be here for a night off. I really had hoped you’d grown up to be more intelligent and not as reckless as your brothers.” Or your father, Alfred mused, sipping at his tea, pinky out, the proper macaroni gentlebutler he was.

“I mean, I panicked, I was in a batsuit, I had a lot of intel on me, like, literally stole a laptop and backed up something called Project B (whatever that meant, though you had your suspicions having met Conner), there was a ton of guards outside going from door to door… I don’t have the same muscle mass to fight like my militant brothers, I was scared of what would happen if they caught me, like dad’s reputation?, I may have been overwhelmed by the—”

“—batsuit?” Ah, you looked up from your tea with wide eyes to see him staring, uncertain if the twinkle in his eye was worry or mischief. “Yeah, that. Uhm… Please don’t tell dad,” you sat up straight, gave him your biggest crocodile tears, and were about to clasp your hands together like a beggar before he waved your antics off. “I would not, not unless it endangers your life, Young Miss, you know that. Including young Master Terrence, of course.”

“This afternoon I must ponder over, What you did was, how shall I say, not okay,” he spoke, stern.

He stood to walk over, seating himself next to you while smiling gently, “though I must admit, I am quite curious as to the story behind all of this.” You gave your own small smile as you stared at your tea, “Yeah. I still don’t know all of it yet, myself, but… it’s actually really cool…” The two of you spoke in hushed tones.

Bruce may have been your father, but much like him, you were raised by Alfred, and seeing as you usually weren’t allowed out on the field like the others, your disposition was as Alfred’s was; support. It was something your brothers and father relished in when they had any extra time over the years. You loved to spoil them, and they were readily eager for it. 

It was also thanks to Alfred that you’d learned you had a unique knack for espionage.

Your brothers were raised to protect themselves and others, getting to go out nightly on risky (and deadly) vigilantism escapades. More than that, they not only got to be of use to your father, but they were able to grow up around him, their lives dedicated to the same purpose.

To say you were jealous was an understatement, often worrying Dick and Jay at times.

To say you were your father’s daughter and just as like-minded as him was also an understatement. This was something Tim and Damian understood better than your two eldest siblings.

You were determined as heck.

You graduated from avoiding Alfred’s detection to stalking your father and brothers, skills honed even further as you learned how to use their toys and listen in on their coms system. It was your father’s own fault, leaving you alone all the time.

You would never be useless again.

You would never be left behind again.

“So, your brothers are helping you, then? I am glad of that, it means I need not worry as much,” even though Jason and Damian only knew half the truth, it was Tim who knew everything you did. Duke didn’t want to know and apparently Jon’s dad had warned him not to get involved with “bat business,” and Alfred… “If… If Terry’s parents…” how were you supposed to frame this part, exactly? You ere bothered by the truth of it, so... maybe making it sound worse than it was? If that was even possible... “if they were bad people, like really bad people,” as if suddenly remembering the walls had ears, you lowered your head and voice, barely audible for him to hear, “do you think dad would let me keep him?”

The both of you knew that wasn’t the issue, Bruce had no problem with the child staying, but…

There was something about the boy that seemed to be worrying you…

“If there is one thing I take great pleasure and joy in,” Alfred beamed like the proud father he was, “it’s that at least one of you children turned out more like myself than Master Bruce.” No, honestly, he was so glad you weren’t gloom and doom like your father and siblings, “I’m certain you could tame the wildest of beasts.”

His parentage held no ground here, the two of you understood the meaning behind the words, memories of when Damian met you for the first time after arriving at the manor surfacing, “I think you’ll do just fine with the child. I have all the confidence in the world.”

Maybe you were being overly paranoid about the whole situation.

The evening was finished in comfortable companionship between the two of you, and he’d shoo you away to bed long before it was time for the boys to come home.

After cleaning up and assuring himself that at least someone in the manor went to bed properly, he busied himself with the surveillance of the manor.

He made certain you wouldn’t be caught just because of his curiosities.

-

Through part of the night, you’d begun doing as much research into the relationship between Luthor and CADMUS as you had time for, the past few days having been spent going over only CADMUS information. That was until you got a ping on Luthor’s name written on several specific checks, and gathering as much information available. You looked for key phrases in the news cycle over the past day’s incident, as well as dating back several months. You’d even taken the chip out of your work phone and popped it into the laptop sitting on the bed in front of you, allowing network protocols to take over.

There was only so much the news would give you, so you checked in on security feeds from the area, keywords during phone calls used to see if anyone noticed, satellite intel snapshots, everything. Anything.

The time-sensitive channels still hadn’t opened, no information from other informants was anywhere in the Societies channel logs, not even the time-delayed backlogs.

Someone else was cleaning up.

-

Early morning, the best time to avoid anyone in the manor who had a night life, also just in time to get breakfast as Alfred made the first batch of the day. Though mostly for himself, he’d generally make extras as you’d often join. Heading down the foyer stairs, Terry’s barely conscious form bundled in your arms, you beelined to the kitchen, the smell your guide. “Ah, good morning Young Miss! I even made some for the Little Master, just in case,” Alfred smiled down at the boy in your arms, holding up a small bowl of minced and steamed veggies.

The kitchen was large for an older-modeled mansion, constantly rebuilt with minimal changes, but still cozy and incredibly sustainable. Between the door to the foyer and the opposite wall, where the door to the dining room was, there was a large table. Several shopping lists, foodstuffs, and cookware took up a good portion, but there as still enough room for a small few people to sit comfortably at once.

You smiled, sitting down in the chair the older male pulled out for you, then pushing you in, food for the child set on the table. You situated Terry in your arms, finding a nice spot to rest his bottom without worry of him slipping off, and reached over to spoon some of his meal to him.

Strangely, he didn’t resist much, yawning in between bites as you had to scoop up what tried to spill out of his mouth, “so, how old might you say he is? I’ve been thinking about it, perhaps about a year?” you nodded as you looked up, agreeing with Alfred as he sat down, food cooking behind him in the meantime. “I think… if not that, maybe a few months younger… he can stand, and seems okay with soft solids… I think you’re right, maybe a year?” his clothing size certainly seemed to think the same, Duke having gone to extreme lengths to get a perfectly fitted wardrobe for the boy. He even included a few different larger sizes for the coming year as well.

“Hm…” Alfred leaned on his crossed arms, rested on the table as he eyed the boy, “I suppose we could begin early development lessons with him, signing especially, but I think he can do more, words, possibly.” In response, Terry sneezed, food spraying all over the spoon and bowl in front of the two of you, his eyes still groggy as he slumped in your hold. “Oh dear,” Alfred hummed in amusement, standing to bring you a small terrycloth towel to clean up.

Terry gave a small grunt as he pushed at the cloth now cleaning his face.

“Gonna… Gonna have to get used to that…” the suddenness surprised you, you knew it was a normal human function, but you just hadn’t… expected it.

“I think there will be a great many things for you to get used to from now on, even I will have to relearn a few things. It’s been… a very long time since an infant was in this home.” He went back to finishing his and your meal, a nostalgic and wistful look masking his face. Bruce had no idea what to do with you when you were an infant handed over to him, and it amused Alfred to this day.

Thinking about it, you looked down at Terry, your chin coming to hover over his head, almost as if you were trying to nuzzle him, loud enough for only him to hear, “…mama. S… Say mama.” The child just tilted his head and cooed at you instead, reaching up to pull at your hair again ohdeargodpleasestop.

Releasing your hair from the child’s grasp and holding both of his hands in yours this time, you tried once more, “mama.”

“Mmba,” he blew a raspberry at you as he slurred his speech, becoming more fascinated with the bubbles he blew than your inquiries. “Mm… bah.” He let out a giggle, popped his lips at you and then smiled, trying, and failing thanks to your hold, to reach for your hair again. After several attempts, he settled for turning slightly, resting his head on your chest as he watched Alfred and all of the very shiny cookware.

You flushed, wanting to beam but also feeling incredibly self-conscious about the situation still, it was honestly a lot to get used to. Frowning in determination at the snuggly bug of a child, you tried a different tactic this time, “ma.” He was still more interested in the food being cooked, however, and you heaved a sigh into his head of hair. “Mma,” well, it was a start, and you repeated your previous chant of mama to him, your own eyes wide with what felt like pride.

Was this how Alfred felt?

“Mmba.” Well, as you said, it was a start. With a sigh, you went back to shoving food in his mouth, though quickly you had to wrangle the spoon from his mouth each time. “Stop… biting it, Terry…” you wondered how Conner had gotten so smart in such a short amount of time, wondering if Terry had still been too young when you took him from the bio labs at CADMUS.

“Ah, good morning Sir,” Alfred greeted, and your head shot up to see your father standing in the doorway, bags under his eyes and a yawn hidden behind the back of his hand. “Good morning, Alfred,” he stared at the older man with a frown, obviously trying not to say something. Instead, he looked at you and the child for a long moment, giving both of you a morning greeting. And even though Terry couldn’t properly respond, he did give Bruce the same challenging look as the last time.

He was looking for something out of the ordinary, however, the only thing in the room that was new was Terry, nothing else seemed to be amiss. But you could tell, looking up at him from the corner of your eyes, head still downturned, he was searching.

“Morning dad…” you tried to be light as you smiled at him, nothing is wrong.

“Daah,” Terry tried imitating, but it was lost in the rest of his babbling as he grabbed the food from the spoon. He was making another mess as he shoved it in his mouth, fingers fiddling around tongue and mushy carrots. Thankfully you still had the terrycloth to wipe at his chubby cheeks.

Bruce’s footsteps were as silent as his entrance, stopping next to you and squatting down, large hand, warm and gentle, landing on Terry’s head as he ruffled his hair, “I’d like to talk to you downstairs soon, okay?” He studied Terry for a moment, eyes as brilliant as his own, though it seemed like Bruce almost enjoyed the small head of hair in his palm. You couldn’t tell beyond the awkward chill in the air, but the two of them were giving each other knowing looks, both challenging, though Bruce couldn’t understand why Terry looked at him that way.

He made to stand up, pulling his hand away before Terry could do any damage, cheeks puffing out in a pout. “There’s something I’d like you to look into,” he spoke as he headed back towards the door, a morning coffee handed to him by Alfred, “oh, and you’re not allowed to leave the grounds for the time being. The tracker seems to be faulty.”

Considering you broke them often over the years, well, yeah, of course it was faulty.

Again.

The smile he gave you before he left was smug and you weren’t completely certain as to why, and it was making you really really nervous, “the League computers picked up something quite interesting yesterday.”

“Uh…” Ah yeah. Well heck.

Yeah, metropolis was both a huge risk AND your last outing, you were glad you took the chance though, even if your stunt escalated the situation. You were now officially on house arrest by the most observant secret-wannabe cop in the world.

Then again, there was no telling exactly what he knew.

He might be bluffing.

“Maaam… ah…” Huh? Did he just… Quickly as if borrowed from the speed force, your thoughts of Bruce and the problems at hand seemed to flee as you beamed at Terry. “Mama?”

“Mamhh.”

-

[bigR] Was able to give the drive a quick look.

[bigR] I don’t understand villains. I just don’t.

The hell did that mean?

[steph] c u soon <33

Ah, crap.

-

The table before Bruce had only a few pieces of paper and only two photos. You’d come home nearly a week ago with a new addition to the family, from where he still wasn’t certain. He’d checked and there’d been no missing infant reports that matched up with him, both in looks and location. Tim seemed to be in on it, hiding secrets along with you, and holding back when Bruce would inquire about anything even remotely familiar to the situation. Tim had also been keeping busy with something the past few days, and ever since you’d come home from shopping, he seemed unable to stay still, constantly fidgeting.

Then there was yesterday, when Duke took you out shopping with the boys while Batman had been at the Womb at the League’s watchtower, digging up as much as he could. Which, unfortunately, was just the few scraps of confusing ledes in front of him. The annoying part is how well you avoided the cameras, there were only a few times where he had been able to make you out, the rest he had to guess based on your profile that day.

The subsequent events had started stacking up in a rather annoying fashion. Your tracker’d been broken since you gave everyone a scare a week ago, returning with a child in your arms and something akin to paranoia. Even Tim had been clueless (until he wasn’t), and now even his attitude was giving Bruce pause. It felt more unnerving than bad, something making Bruce’s own stomach knot when he kept coming up with dead ends.

The day you’d gone shopping, the Womb had picked up something the news hadn’t, as the news was calling it nothing more than an accident, and it was that that gave Bruce even more pause. The worst part is that he couldn’t just take a deep dive into the LexCorp building’s system, knowing that much was out of their (or his) hands.

If Cyborg found out that Batman was secretly looking into a non-incident on the League system for family-related business, then he’d never hear the end of it from Superman and the others. He’d have to go out of his way to get into the building, and right now wasn’t the best time to do so, security was increased ten-fold. He’d have to wait it out.

LexCorp wasn’t even reporting it as an incident themselves, but the fact that they were being very stringent about the details, the increase in surveillance, Bruce felt it in his gut; an obvious coverup. The problem was why, there was no way what had happened had been anything short of problematic for Lex, and yet they weren’t filing any kind of paperwork.

They did their best to act as if they didn’t care, but Batman saw all the extra measures, and he also saw the information black hole happening.

LexCorp, no doubt, was scrubbing.

What he had been able to do, however, was gather two snapshots of a black blur that sped out of the building before disappearing into the thick of the city below.

About the same area where Damian’s own tracker took a detour.

“I preferred it when you used to use electrical tape to tape a transceiver blocker to your arm to hide the trackers,” Bruce hadn’t looked up as you approached (and you were dang silent too, even Terry was being chill), “It was much less of a headache.”

“Yeah, but that was when I was a kid. Nothing I do now can hide me from you anymore, the technology is different from back then.”

“Except breaking it.”

“Except that.”

He snorted as you stopped at the table, situating Terry on your hip, and looked down at the photograph that Bruce pushed over to you. It took every bit of training not to give anything away as you picked the photo up and gave it a once-over.

“This is…?” you turned your head to see him with that smug smile from before, tapping the image in your hand with his finger, “this is what I want you to look into.” You would have bristled if you hadn’t known your father better, this was some kind of trap.

“The same day you headed off to Metropolis, intriguingly enough, the LexCorp building had a break-in,” he paused to gather more words, rolling them around on his tongue before swallowing them, I’m worried, and you’re the reason.

“A break-in? I hadn’t heard—”

“No, you wouldn’t have. LexCorp seems to be keeping it from the public knowledge.”

“Then the League computers?”

“Was able to take a few photos from another satellite, these two were the best ones I could find. One of whatever broke in as it took off flying, and another of the same building a few minutes after. No police, no fire crews, nothing.” He was watching your reactions like a hawk, unfortunately you’d played this game so often growing up (learning to lie and stay out of trouble was a skill your brothers and you freaking perfected, even if they got into trouble on purpose), that it was really very easy to just—

“Uhm, but… dad, how? You grounded me, remember? That makes gathering any kind of intel like, y’know, hard.”

The smug smile was back as he pointed at the rather established medical area, the two of you heading over together, “you’re the information broker, I’m sure you can find something useful. It’s not the first time you’ve had to gather information from behind bars, after all,” you really hated how he still felt compelled to remind you of that.

It was once, in a country where no one knew you and where records were shoddy at best.

And on purpose, dangit.

You still weren’t certain how he even found out, besides, he and your brothers had done worse by comparison.

As he began removing the old tracker, you ignored the pain, the lack of anesthetic nothing new to you, too used to it at this point. Not that it was terribly painful. He was precise in skill, second to Alfred, you were too preoccupied with keeping the child still in your lap to notice what he’d been doing prior to your arrival.

All jokes aside, he’d finally gotten ahold of something that could yield actual results.

He looked to the boy again, staring at his familiar features, at his hair, like midnight, “striking how much he looks like us.” You frowned at him.

It was a statement.

The joke wasn’t lost on him.

Or on you.

[real-fanta-sea]

Still taking kiss requests? 11 trikey would be cool with an od scare

wow it’s been a month? oops... anyway! Here comes your fic!

"mmmm hello handsome!!"

Usually, when the trailer door was kicked open, and Trevor stomped in, it wasn't at 2 in the afternoon, and Michael didn't stand by the sink in an embarrassingly pink apron, washing dishes. And it also didn't involve two giant plastic bags being tossed towards the kitchen while Trevor snickered and clapped his hands.

"oh my, how did you know I love it when you dress up like a french maid Mikey?"

Michael somehow found it incredibly hard to come up with a coherent answer, because T danced trough the room to slap his ass, snake his arms around him and lay a loud kiss on his neck. Instead of words, he just stabbed him with his signature 'I'll kill you' glare and fidgeted a little to shake Trevor off. It was hot inside the trailer already, and M didn't need another guy sweating into his tank top. To his surprise, the pressure T put on his back was gone in an instant, and when he turned around to find out why, he saw Trevor sitting on the table, drinking beer and checking him out with a predatory grin.

"Trevor I told you not to do that. People might see."

"Isn't it cute how afraid you are to be seen when the whole town hears you moan at night?"

Michael frowned and turned around to fish another dirty plate from the sink and scoff in disgust. When did he sign up to be a housewife? Behind his back, Trevor let out a mighty burp and threw the empty bottle across the whole room right to the open mouth of their new trash bin. When it broke with a satisfying crunch, he cheered and whooped like a teenager with his arms flying all around. It occurred to Michael he was, in fact, the only adult in the house capable of being a caretaker.

"What are you so happy about?"

Trevor opened up another beer and snickered.

"You won't believe it, Mikey. I was on the business trip as usual,"

"Uhuh..." Michael rinsed a plate, turned around and while drying it with a cloth, tuned out the sound and just watched Trevor spill beer while flapping his arms around and overact facial expressions as if he was a kid in a drama class.

"...and when I caressed him gently with my fists a couple of times, he agreed to give me a couple of packs for free!"

Still rubbing the plate, Michael just raised one curious eyebrow "Did you kill him?"

Trevor shifted and pointed the bottle to him so fast a couple of drops splashed out "What kind of animal do you take me for? Of course, I didn't kill him, but I sure took his marshmallows!"

"Wait a second, so those... things are full of marshmallows? What the fuck are we going to do with 100 bags of that crap???"

Trevor tapped his head with his index finger to articulate how stupid Michael just sounded to him. "What else do you want to do with food than eat it, Mikey?"

Michael just shot one dead glare to him and shook his head slowly.

"But I like how you're thinking; we could masturbate with them!"

"Trevor, that's disgusting..."

"Noooo try it! They are incredibly soft!"

"Stop it."

"And so runny when you heat them up! And if you are a good boy, I'd fill them with a very special cream for you..."

"T..."

"Michael, I love you, but you are one big fucking buzzkill, you know that?" Trevor slid down the table, finished the bottle and put it back into the crate. Stretching like a cat, he crossed the space between them and casually leaned against the counter next to Michael and tugged him into a half hug, leaving hand lower on his hip than Michael would have liked. He tried his best to look mad and sulking, glaring up into Trevor's grinning face.

"Aww look at those pretty lips pouting! Why don't we put them into good use..." Trevor leaned closer, and Michael slightly shivered when he felt T's hot breath full of beer and Redwoods on his lips. "...and have a challenge!"

"What?" Michael was utterly baffled. He was so damn ready for a forbidden daytime kiss, but all he could do at the moment was blink a couple of times and see Trevor pull away and laugh.

"Challenge, cupcake! To see how many of these bad boys you can fit into that pretty cockpit of yours."

"Trevor, you know I hate it when you call any part of my body a cockpit!"

"But you are not against stuffing it with marshmallows, are you?"

Michael threw the cloth he was holding to the full sink and immediately regretted the splash because the water would get behind the counter and he simply hated fixing that shit. He turned his frowned gaze to Trevor, who watched him with raised eyebrows and waited for round two of winding him up. There was no use going against Trevor who was determined to annoy him till M would give in. He might as well get it over with sooner than later.

"You know what? Fine. Let's fucking do this." Michael pointed an accusing finger and pushed it as close to Trevor's face as he could to see him cross-eyed and grin wider. "But just because you have a killer whale mouth doesn't mean you'll win!"

Michael stomped to the couch, threw his apron over the closest armrest and continued to the bathroom at the same pace, because why not taking advantage and getting his storage empty before the game begins? Judging by the sounds coming from the kitchen, Trevor decided to do the same, but in the sink right next to the washed dishes. Fucking A.

A lot of rustling and swearing later, Michael decided it was safe to return from his porcelain throne and fall back on the couch, scrutinizing Trevor's grin with suspicion and still wiping water off his hands. Trevor returned his gaze with lively flames in eyes and patted the open bag sitting on his lap.

"Ok Mikey, you start."

Michael's unimpressed gaze did not affect Trevor, determined to see his cheeks stuffed. Without a word, Michael reached into the open bag, snatched one marshmallow from the top and put it in his mouth. He almost let his angry act slip when he saw pink tip of Trevor's tongue wet his lips and then lick around the white foam as it disappeared in his mouth. Alright, he can do better than his boyfriend, can't he? The second marshmallow stuck to the inside of his cheek. And then third, fourth, fifth, tenth...

"yoo cunt fat in any mour, Miki? Yoo r a pushi!"

Michael felt a few drops of sweat roll down his temple - and instinctively frowned and balled his hands in fists. He knew he must have looked ridiculous with all the white foam sticking out his mouth, but for love of God, Michael couldn't let Trevor win, not with that smug expression he sported and with the bag almost empty, which meant just a couple of candies away from victory.

"jooosh ya waat, ya kanaaanian fek"

Fuck, his jaw hurt so fucking bad from keeping it forcibly open. It was precisely that kind of pain that woke him up in the night covered in a cold sweat after his brain gave him a dream about blowing a huge cock. Unpleasant and persistent. Michael exhaled through his nose, and while keeping eye contact with grinning Trevor, he slowly craned one hand into the almost empty bag.

Oh fuck!

Nothing could prepare Michael for the feeling of the soft, hot skin under his fingers and the impossibly wide shit-eating grin Trevor put on. It wasn't like Michael wouldn't expect T to cheat, or come up with a different kind of prank. Still, this oddly familiar thing hardening under his fingers literally took his breath away - and Michael shot up from the couch, wheezing, progressively getting more and more red as he stumbled against scarce furniture.

"Bwahahahaha, you should have seen your face, Mikey - I've never seen you more wide-eyed than now! One would think you're used to the feeling of my dick in your hand by now, baby, but thank you!"

Trevor let the rest of the laugh resonate and mix with the wheezing and choking.

"Mike? You can stop, I got it, you hate it... are you ok?"

In answer, Michael's eyes bulged out, and his face tinted blue.

"That's not funny, sugar..."

Trevor's face grew the most serious Michael had ever seen it when he quickly rounded him, hugged him from behind and pushed against Michael's ribs a couple of times with force M was sure was enough to finish him. Instead of crushing into his ribcage, the last blow loosened something within, and he just watched the cursed candy fly through the thick air and roll under the couch in a ball of saliva and dirt.

For a second, Michael could barely do anything else but take deep breaths and hang onto Trevor's arms that held him steady cautiously. However, he never was a man to put rage off, and with one quick movement, he turned around and slapped Trevor across his frightened face.

"YOU FUCKING PRICK, WHY DID YOU DO THAT!!!"

"Mikey, it was just a prank, I didn't want to kill you!"

"REALLY? REALLY? YOU'VE WANTED TO KILL ME SINCE THE FIRST TIME YOU SAW ME YOU ANIMAL!"

Not even the visible hurt and a couple of tears on Trevor's face didn't stop him from going on with his rant. He paced towards the door as fast as possible and turned around to point a finger to T one more time.

"This is the last time I put up with your shenanigans, Trevor. I'm done with you; we're over, you hear me? OVER!"

"Michael! Wait!"

"FUCK YOU!"

Michael stomped out of the trailer and right into the unforgiving Sandy Shores sun, swiftly passing a bunch of half-dissolved marshmallows, and turned around in the middle of the road to gaze back at Trevor one last time.

"MIKEY!"

"TOO LATE, T! DO YOU THINK I'LL WAIT HERE FOR ANOTHER MURDER ATTEMPT? THAT I'LL KEEP SCRUBBING YOUR DIRTY DISHES AND WASHING YOUR DISGUSTING CLOTHES WHILE WAITING FOR YET ANOTHER KNIFE IN BETWEEN MY RIBS? NO! SO LONG, LOVE, AND FU..."

Whatever it was Michael wanted to say, it was completely drowned in the sound of screeching brakes and sighs of metal being deformed in an impact. Before the world switched off and he slowly slipped into comforting darkness, Michael heard a blood-chilling cry and the same voice calling his name, a voice he painfully needed to hear and hold onto like a lifeline.

*****************

Rhythmic Beeping. So loud. Droplets of fluid. Impossibly loud. And why is this light so damn white?

Michael had to blink a couple of times before his eyes decided to focus and adjust to the brightness in the room. He had no idea what the hell has happened to him, every part of his body switched on to let him know he was in a fucking lot of pain that was somehow numbed by whatever they put into the fluid dropping steadily into his IV. As a result, every muscle in his body vibrated in a very uncomfortable, subtle way, and it occurred to him it felt like that one time when they lived above a night club - a constant, low and very intruse mumble.

Moving his head around was near impossible - there was something around his neck, keeping it still. With a minor spike of anxiety, he decided to check whether his toes and fingers even respond. Good, he could feel the sheets rubbing against his moving feet, gentle creases in the bedsheet under one of his hands and... someone else's fingers under the other?

The hand twitched as if in sleep, and tightened its grip on his own. Somewhere near his bed, a familiar sleepy grunt echoed, and Michael's memory filled his vision with many pictures of lazy mornings in a small trailer bed, where the same sensation mixed with dust dancing in scarce sunrays and unexplainable peace.

"Michael..."

"T... Trevor..."

A rustle later, Michael could finally see the familiar face hover over him and block out most of the light. He looked 30 years older than he did last time Michael saw him, with his eyes red and weighted with huge dark bags. His hair was greasy again, and his stubble coloured salt and pepper from worry. Suddenly, Michael's eyes closed under the rediscovered sensation of Trevor's palm gently caressing his cheek.

"Mikey? Are you awake?"

Michael opened his eyes again to look into Trevor's, and tears he saw gathering in them were breaking his heart.

"Trevor..."

The sudden extra weight on Michael's body as Trevor jumped onto the bed and straddled him made him wince in pain.

"Oh my God, I was so afraid you'd..."

Trevor bit his lip and tried to stop the tears by taking a shaky breath. Then, as gentle as he could ever be, he leaned in and took Michael's head in both hands, and brushed his thumbs over his cheeks in tiny circles - a movement which Michael found oddly satisfying. Just as he closed his eyes and eased into the feeling again, familiar lips gently touched his forehead and stayed for longer than ever as if Trevor tried to channel everything he wasn't able to say trough the kiss.

"I almost lost you, Mikey..."

Trevor could not hold his tears in anymore, and just let them fall down onto Michael's face as he gently pressed his forehead against the very place his lips left a moment before.

"Please don't leave me, I can't... I can't live without you!"

"I'm so sorry I hurt you, love, can you forgive me?"

Michael wasn't sure Trevor heard or understood what he said - instead of answering, Trevor just collapsed sideways and squeezed him tight, sobbing into the white sheets. With all the strength left within him, Michael pulled him into a soft hug, and let his hand resting on Trevor's shoulder.

"T?"

"M?"

"Look, I... I'm sorry it had to end this way... I overreacted and got you worried sick, that's the last thing I'd ever want."

"No, I admit, it was stupid to put my dick in the bag. I apologize, Mikey... Are you still leaving me, though?"

Michael's grip on him tightened, seeking the heat and well-known frame against him.

"... No. I said stupid things in the heat of the moment, and now I regret I did. I don't want to hurt you."

"Are you coming back home with me?"

"I am, baby - as soon as I can. I love you, T, and I'm too tired to fight it..."

Trevor's head slowly rose from this shoulder, and he could see both surprise and relief on his face. He would give anything to keep that childlike expression on for longer. His own mouth curved into a slight, but warm smile.

"Let's seal the deal with the kiss, shall we?"

Trevor slowly climbed back upon him, and this time, Michael could feel a familiar kick of lust under his belly as T's ass grazed over the sensitive area. Trevor has never been this gentle with him before, and when he closed his eyes as their lips met, all he could think of was the first time he saw him standing by a lone plane and the way it felt to fall in love at first sight with him.

"Mmmm.... Mikey, careful with that, one more poke on my ass and I'll have to ride you right here."

"Shut up,"

There was no malice in Michael's voice for just a joy of having the old horny Trevor back along with the over-the-edge suggestive banter. The grin over the flushed face above him told him Trevor was more than glad he was back to his old self too.

"And put those pretty lips to work, sugar!"

T just snickered, planted the last brief kiss on his lips and disappeared under the whirlwind of sheets.

[phoenix-manga]

Got Chocolates?

Valentine’s day was getting near and the halls were filled with chatter about boys who brag about chocolates they get from girls at the town. Azul merely scoffs at the idea, he sees Valentines as an opportunity to make sales, he already has made preparations for Mostro Lounge’s menu to fit the holiday. When he arrived at Octavinelle, he made his way to the lounge where he can hear the Leech twins talking about something.

Floyd: Today’s Valentine’s day, right? The guys are bragging about the chocolates they got from town, how come no one gives us any? I’m pretty sure I was nice too!

Jade: You can’t persuade people to give you sweets, it doesn’t work that way… And besides, if everyone was friendly with you, you’ll find it boring and miss the look of fear in their eyes, wouldn’t you?

Floyd: Hmm, you’re right… Ah! Azul is here~

Azul: You two can talk during your break, time is money you know!

Azul huffed and starts to organize the papers on his desk as he feels the twins’ mismatched gaze on him. Feeling a bit irritated, he looks at them with a stern face as he crossed his arms.

Azul: What is it now?

Floyd: Hey, Azul… do you ever want any chocolates from anyone?

Azul: What preposterous question is that? Valentines is merely a business strategy to gain more profit from lovesick fools! Besides, who on earth would be stupid enough to hand us chocolates as a way of “showing affection” on this day?

*WHAM!*

The door swung open to reveal a familiar figure with red and white hair that rushed over to Octavinelle to greet them. Cerule bursts through the doors with a box in her arms that is obviously from a sweets shop with the way the box was in Valentine colors. She quickly went around the room giving a quick side hug to a stunned Azul and an amused Jade while she gave a fist-bump to Floyd who was grinning widely at her appearance.

Jade looks to Azul as he chuckles behind his hand, looking at Azul’s direction as if to tell him ‘I told you so’.

Jade: Oh, it would seem that the ‘stupid’ has appeared, fufu~

Azul: Shut up Jade… Cerule… what in the world are you doing here?

Cerule: What, I’m not allowed to drop by to see my best friends to greet them during Valentine’s day? And I bought the newest item in the sweet shop that I know you’ll like! Who knows, you might make a profit out of it~

That got Azul to relent and allowed Cerule to show them what was inside the box. He takes a look at the box for a moment, before his eyes widened as he saw the brand on the side, Ginger House. That was a very pricey and popular brand that you need to book for reservation for a month to even get the newest product before the store sold out. Maybe Cerule was onto something, he will definitely take advantage of this.

A few minutes later, four cups of warm milk were set on the table. The box contains some weird ball of chocolates but they were big enough to nearly cover the cup, Cerule explained that the hot chocolate bombs were the new craze at Ginger House, they just need to put this on warm milk and the chocolate ball melts and releases the cocoa powder and some additional ingredients depending on the type bought. Azul was very intrigued by the genius behind the product, the way the chocolate bombs were made, they had a cute aesthetic to it that surely catches one’s attention.

Cerule: Which one do you guys want? There’s quite a lot here, I don’t mind if you want to share some with the others!

Jade: You’re too generous to us humble folk, fufu~ The one with the cinnamon scent looks tempting

Floyd: I want the red and yellow one! It’s colored like Goldfish-chan!

Azul: I’ll take the lavender one then…

Once they placed the chocolate bombs into their mugs, the sphere slowly melted to show the cocoa powder and marshmallows from the inside, the trio were admiring how pretty it looked. The scent of their chosen flavors invaded their noses and they can tell that this concoction is going to taste heavenly. As the trio drank from their mugs, their taste buds tingled at the flavor that danced on their tongues, it was like the ambrosia of drinks.

Azul tasted the cool mint mixing with the blueberries on his drink, Jade was impressed with the combination of chocolate and cinnamon that gave a warm feeling as he drank, and Floyd was enjoying how the strawberry worked so well with the white chocolate, he could also taste a tinge of honey. Before they knew it, the mugs were empty, they had planned to take a sip but they were caught up in the flavor daydream that they didn’t realize it. Cerule took it as a sign that the present was a success, she was relieved because she took into consideration that Azul and the tweels work a business that has excellent quality and high standards. So, she wanted to give them something that is up to their standards, unaware that she set off a landmine that would guarantee Azul more madol in the month of Valentines.

Cerule: How was it?

Azul: Ah! I-it was very good… it’s no wonder this new product sold out so quickly, us common folk would’ve had to go through the hassle of going through a difficult reservation to get this…

Floyd: What was that?! I spaced out for a second there, I could’ve sworn it was a sip! What kind of spell did they put in this?

Jade: No spell was used, Floyd… Ginger House is a top tier sweet shop for a reason, I must say… I’m impressed how excellent the product is…

Cerule: Ah! I can’t stay for long! You guys can have the rest, I’m glad you guys liked it! See ya!

She dashes off with incredible speed out the door to wherever she came from, Azul was still staring at his mug in disbelief but soon his expression morphed into a sly grin. Jade and Floyd took notice and had an amused face.

Jade: I take it that you changed your tune, Azul?

Azul: I take back what I said, it seems that the receiving chocolates isn’t so bad~ Now, let us not waste time and get to work, it would be a shame to waste such a nice gift from royalty, after all!

The three took the box with them as they exited the office and headed towards the kitchen to get started on making hot chocolate bombs that will send the entire college, and even the faculty, to be tempted into buying.

Valentine’s day was a day of love, and Azul loves nothing more than to make a lot of madol.

[carolineworld]

sorry another one too 😅💕, zoenne & “I want the K”

Never say sorry for making me happy sending me a fanfic request, never. Thank you so much for this ❤💕

So the “I want the K” means the following: send me two characters and “I want the K” and I’ll generate a number for them! So I have decided to choose 1/7/11 for this zoenne prompt request.

1: Passionate kiss // 7: Goofy kiss // 11: Nose kiss  Zoë x Senne 

With Christmas being around the corner and the family meetings and traditions about to begin, they all have decided to meet up, do a small Christmas party together. As a tradition, they all gathered around Zoë and Milan’s apartment with drinks, foods, and their Secret Santa presents, ready to party and have fun before the holidays start. 

The flat looks so nice, all decorated for the occasion with little lights and garlands all over the place. Snow globes and small figures decorate the tree that very carefully the two roommates put up together, with a shiny gold star on top. 

Warm wine, all sorts of drinks, and a big chocolate pot and marshmallows decorate the table. The candy bar with all types of sweets is currently being emptied, as the guest prefers the sweet over the savory plater with veggies and chips that Zoë has prepared. A mix of Christmas carols and fun upbeat songs sound in the background, as several groups of people talk while other dance happily. 

It’s such a great party that everyone’s enjoying and having fun, and Zoë can’t be happier. This time last year she was partying in the same place, the same celebration going on, but the feeling was off. The was something -more like someone- missing and the happiness was not as high as it is tonight. Tonight no one isn’t happy, no one that isn’t smiling and having fun.

She looks around and all she can see is pure happiness. Noor, Britt, and Amber are talking while drinking the hot chocolate she carefully prepared with Sander’s help earlier. Speaking of Sander, he’s having what it looks like a dancing competition with Aaron and Moyo while Jens and Robbe look at them in a combination of embarrassment and amusement.

A laugh escapes from her lips as she ‘denies’ with her head, having a hard time keeping herself quiet so they don’t notice her laughing at them. 

“Careful, pretty girl” a very busy Milan warns her, having his hands full of refilled candy bowls that their friends have been enjoying. 

A big smile appears on her face. She’s so grateful she has found him. Every time she looks at him she’s more and more sure that Milan is a Guardian Angel sent from heaven. He has helped every single person he saw it needed help, without searching for anything in return. He is the most selfless person she has ever met. An older brother, a parent figure, and the best friend she could ask for. 

One of the bowls that Milan was bringing end up in Jana’s hands, eating the candy inside like popcorn as she listens to whatever Yasmina is saying. Her best friend is finally back for the holidays, after spending more than two months in New York, and she cannot be happier. Her video calls and endless text messages are not enough when all you need is one of her hugs. And she thought that the month and a half of ‘distance relationship’ she had to do with Senne in lockdown were hard. Ha! Silly you, Zoë, she tells herself. Nothing will top the sadness and loneliness that you feel when your best friend is far away from you.

Luckily, Yasmina, Amber, Robbe, Milan, and Senne were there for her. She cannot thank the world enough for giving her these amazing people, and those who came with them, for loving her unconditionally and support her every step of the way.

Now that she notices, something is going on. She sips on her non-alcoholic gin tonic that Senne made her as she suspiciously looks at the little group formed of her boyfriend and two best friends talking way too secretive, as they stopped talking when Milan approached them, and they keep looking at her without any reasonable explanation.

On that couch on the other side of the room, and very far away from the bleach blonde girl, a very important conversation is going on. With the breakup and the ‘let’s try to not have contact with each other as much as possible’, Senne hasn’t been able to celebrate almost anything with his girlfriend. Not Christmas, not neither of their birthdays or even Valentines’s Day. And now that they are back together and with no plans of breaking up ever again, he’s excited to continue with the celebrations.

Last November they celebrated six months since they got back together. It was a private ‘celebration’, as Zoë said that last time they celebrated a six month anniversary they broke up a bit afterward, and thought they would have bad luck again, so they decided to go to dinner and spend the night in Senne’s apartment, celebrating their own way. And now Christmas is coming up and Senne has big plans for her gift, but he needs help and approval.

That’s why he is talking to the two people that know Zoë best, after him of course. He knows how important Yasmina and Jana are to Zoë and he wants to make sure that what he has planned is something he will know she will like. He would talk to Milan, but he doesn’t know how to keep a secret and everyone would know the next day, so better be safe and tell the girls than sorry because of Milan.

“I think the Christmas trip to Bruges is a good idea, she will like it” Yasmina smiles, and Senne is happy. At first, he thought that a trip would be too much, specially after the Museum and concert tickets he also planned to give her, along with a small and delicate coin pendant necklace with their initials engraved on it.

They all laugh as chocolate-covered peanuts fly out of Jana’s mouth, as she was trying to fit too many and forgot about them while talking. When everyone is calmed down and everything is as clean as possible, Jana answers: “Yeah, I think it’s a good idea, too”

“What is a good idea?” A curious Zoë asks, surprising them all. They look at each other not knowing what to say. 

“Nothing,” Senne says quickly as a nervous smile shines on his face, while the girls keep quiet and Zoë is looking at them suspiciously.

The couple locks eyes, challenging each other to see who is going to give up earlier. Senne has a secret to keep, a type of secret that is better to keep, and Zoë knows something is up and is determined to discover it.

“I think Amber is calling us over there, so we will leave you two alone, right Jana?” After a few looks and some gentle slaps on her arm, Jana finally agrees and they leave them alone.

As Senne’s nervousness starts to rise, Zoë thinks about a plan to make him speak. Her mother one time told her that women are powerful if they use their tributes the right way and even though she highly disagrees with that sexist statement, in this type of situation, it’s not a bad idea.

Without any explanation, Zoë sits seductively in his lap, playing with the back is his hair while biting her bottom lip. If the central heating of the apartment wasn’t enough, now he certainly is a bit too hot.

“Baby?” Hot air from her whisper touches his ear and he has to physically stop himself from reacting, so she won’t know that she is indeed making him weak. How could she not? She is his biggest weakness.

Swallowing hard, he answers a quick “Yeah” while trying to think about something to distract him. Thankfully, Robbe and Sander are teasing Aaron and it’s useful enough to make him forget about the gorgeous lady he has in his lap.

“Remember when we agreed to communicate and tell the other one everything?” She is feeling herself, so she comes close to his lips and before kissing him she adds: “Well, I think right now you are not telling me everything”

Hopefully, and he doesn’t care that it sounds bad, he has time to think of his excuse while she’s kissing him. He should be enjoying the kiss. Zoë is not a passionate kisser, especially in public, so the fact that they are basically making out in front of everyone and he’s not enjoying it fully because his girlfriend is too noisy is such a shame.

“Are you going to tell me what were you talking about with my friends?”

Thank god he still has some brain cells that haven’t been affected: “Oh your friends? They are not my friends, too?” Now is his time to smirk at her, and distracting her from the secret that is her Christmas gifts. 

“They were my friends first, then yours, but they were mine first.”

“Possessive, huh?” He lifts his eyebrows, smirking at her sassy face, as she’s, without succeeding, trying to make an angry face.

“You are not going to distracting me, you are keeping something from me” Oh, her stubborn girl, he’s going to have to try hard to not say anything.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise. But you cannot know, at least not yet.”

If her trying to be seductive didn’t work, she doesn’t know what will. She considers herself a pretty normal girl, but when she’s with him, when Senne looks at her, she feels so powerful and unstoppable. So the fact that that didn’t work, the fact that with a bit of seduction she didn’t make him spill whatever secret he’s keeping from her, it's a bit upsetting.

So she tries to do what she thinks will work: tickle him. At first, he laughs, doesn’t talk, or confesses tho, just laughs and tries to escape. It’s all fun and giggles when she remembers that he is stronger than her and that it’s a matter of seconds when he realizes that he can beat her. 

And as if they were connected, Senne finally realizes that he can beat her, and gently blocks her hand from his ribcage to blow raspberries into her neck, making it her time to laugh.

“I promise you, on my life, that it’s nothing bad. It’s one of those things you need to know at a certain time, that’s why I can’t tell you right now, cause it’s not the right time to do so. Okay?” he can see her physically gasp for air, just to make the fakest thinking face ever. “Do you trust me?”  

Her face softens, the brightest and sweet smile appearing on her face. She sits up, as she was in his lap, and sits on the couch next to him. Grabbing his big hand in her tiny ones, she looks at him while rubbing her thumb against his hand. “I do, I trust you”.

“Good” With how she’s sitting on the couch and the noticeable height difference they have, giving her a kiss on the lips is quite a difficult task, as the kiss that was supposed to end up in her lips ends in her nose, causing an adorable giggle to escape both their mouths.

“You missed”

“Maybe, maybe not” The sight that is her eyes shining in love is definitely one of his favorite things, right after how their hearts seem to beat at the same time when they kiss.

Prompt from the But do you REALLY want the K? list.

[frunbuns]

No Use Crying Over Spilled Nail Polish

Allison helps Five. They bond. That’s basically it.

Read on Ao3

Allison sighs. Some of her nail polish has vanished. Vanished might not be the correct word though, because Allison is fairly certain she knows where it's gone. Doesn't make it any less frustrating though.

If Klaus wants to paint his nails he could just come and ask her. She can even paint his nails and he can paint hers. But Klaus always has had sticky fingers. She's not terribly surprised.

"Klaus!"

She marches out of her room, towards Klaus', a scolding on her lips. Except, when she opens the door the room is empty. There's no trace of her nail polish either.

Klaus could be anywhere. The Academy is massive and it'd take her hours to search the whole premise. Just because they weren’t allowed in certain places didn’t mean Klaus wouldn’t go there. In fact, he’d definitely go there if he wasn’t allowed. Five and Klaus seems to love breaking the rules. They’d racked up more punishments to cover all seven of them three times over. 

(Allsion has never understood why they do it. Dad’s punishments can be rough and it’s definitely not something you want.)

Even if the Academy is massive, Allison does not give up that easily. She’ll find the nail polish. It’s hers after all. One of the few things that are really her own. Which is why she finds herself stomping up the stairs.

"Klaus?" she calls out, but receives no answer.

Allison huffs to herself, rolling her eyes. She really does not have the patience for this today.

"Klaus?"

She walks down the hallway, quickly peering into each room as she passes. Somehow they're all empty, even though ten people live in the building.

And then she sees a tuft of dark hair.

"Klaus! I swear to—"

Except, it isn't Klaus. It's Five.

"Sorry, I thought you were—"

He’s slumped against the wall, looking half-asleep as his legs slowly shuffle down the hallway. There’s a thin sheen of sweat coating his pale, ashy face. His bangs are slick against his forehead. Five looks, for lack of a better word, sickly. Allison would almost say he looks dead. But that can’t be the case because she wouldn’t be able to see him, and while dad pushed them in their training, he surely wouldn’t kill them. Right? He wouldn’t do that. He needs them.

She recalls that it’s Five’s personal training day. He had been whisked away after breakfast that morning by dad and Pogo. They hadn’t seen him at dinner. Ben and Vanya had eyed his empty chair through the whole meal. It had been impossible to ignore the missing occupant.

(Why Five is friends with Ben and Vanya Allison doesn’t quite understand. Five is arrogant and smart and he never misses an opportunity to rub it in their faces. He thinks he’s better than everyone and talks back to dad. Vanya and Ben are very much not like that at all. They’re quiet and timid. Really, they shouldn’t be friends, yet here they are.)

"Are you...are you okay?" she asks him.

"I-I'm fine—"

He looks anything but fine. In fact, he looks like he's about to fall apart. Right in front of her.

"You're shaking."

Five's legs seem to be trembling with the effort of holding him upright. Even his arms shake as he uses them to support himself against the wall. His jaw remains tightly clenched. Allsion can't recall ever seeing her brother like this before.

Five is never vulnerable. He never lets himself be. Not in front of them at least. He always acts like he’s invincible. Sharp smiles and a smart mouth. Like nothing will get him down. Like nothing will crack him. (And they believe him.)

"What happened? Was it training?" she asks him.

"Passed out," he tries to explain. "All I need is some rest, and maybe some food."

That, at least, explains why he wasn't at dinner.

“Should I get Vanya? Or Ben?” she asks. “You look like you could use some help.”

Predictably, Five shakes his head. 

Allison frowns. "Let me help you at least," she says.

She's not sure where her sudden desire to help has come from. Normally everything at the Academy is very 'every man for themself'. They've always had to glue themselves back together alone after training.

That doesn't mean that her and Luther hadn't lent a helping hand every now and then. And she surely hasn't missed how Five tends to reach out to them, in his own, special way, when they've had particularly rough days.

Before Five can protest she grabs his arm and lays it over her shoulder, getting a hold of his torso and slowly walking down the hall. Five leans heavily against her as they shuffle forward, nearly stumbling over his own feet multiple times. She pretends not to hear his quiet whimpering.

The stairs are difficult. Allison curses their father for putting Five’s bedroom so high up as she practically carries his weight up. She doesn’t blame him though, as his whole body trembles violently against hers for each step. He’s taller than her - not by much - but he’s also very skinny and gangly.

“It…” Five gasps softly. “It hurts.”

Allison frowns, swallowing heavily. “We’re almost there,” she tells him, even though they still have a flight of stairs left.

She doesn’t say anything about his tear stained cheeks. Just this once, she tells herself. Just this once she won’t tease and make fun of her siblings. Even though they’re all the same age, Allison can’t help but feel like a big sister. Five might be taller than her, but he’s still Number Five, and she’s Three. And three comes before five.

It feels like an eternity, but they eventually make it to Five’s room. Five flops onto his bed, face first. Allison snorts. She takes off his shoes and pushes him further onto the mattress so he doesn’t fall off.

“You said you needed food, right?” she asks.

For a moment Allison thinks Five might have fallen asleep, but he eventually hums at her.

She looks down at her feet, even though he can’t see her from the way his face is pressed against the covers. “Well, since you missed dinner I’ll go see if mom can make you something.”

She leaves before he can answer her.

- - -

On the way down again Allison hears Klaus chatting happily in a room with an ajar door. She looks in. Klaus is laying on the floor, waving his newly painted toe-nails in the air. On the floor is a tipped-over, green nail polish bottle. Over half the contents has spilled out onto the wooden floor.

Allison wants to scream.

“Klaus!”

Klaus jumps. “Christ on a cracker!”

Allison stomps her foot, her hands curled into fists at her sides. Anger bubbles up in her. “You spilled my nail polish!”

He looks down at the bottle. “Oh...sorry.”

“Are you kidding me?!” she shouts. “Klaus, I swear to god—”

Klaus quickly picks the bottle up, wiping the nail polish off the outside of the bottle with his vest. (Mom surely won’t be happy about that.) He quickly screws the cap on and hands it to Allison, looking mildly apologetic. She takes it from his hand with more force than what was probably necessary and stuffs it in her pocket.

“I hate you,” she says. Klaus stares.

Allison lets out a frustrated noise and stomps out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

- - -

Allison walks into Five's room with a plate in her hands ten minutes later. Five is still laying face-down on his bed. The same way as when she had left. She closes the door behind her with a soft click.

"Five?"

She sighs and sets the plate on his nightstand. She shakes him. He groans quietly and slowly turns his head to look at her through bleary eyes.

"I got you food. You better eat it before the bread goes stale."

"Oh," is all he says.

He slowly sits up. He still looks exhausted, but he seems slightly better than before. She places the plate down next to him on the mattress. He picks up the peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich on it and starts eating it. It's disgusting.

Allison grimaces. "How can you eat that?"

Five shrugs lazily.

"Wha' 'appned dow'shtairs?" he asks through a mouthful. He swallows. "Heard you yelling."

Allison sighs and sits down next to him. "It's just…Klaus. He spilled my nail polish."

"Huh," Five says, though he doesn't sound like he cares all that much. "That sucks."

Allison nods, fiddling with her hands in her lap.

Five probably isn’t the best person to confide in. He’s never been good with emotions. Or talking. (There's a reason he never is put in charge when it comes to interviews after all.) But at least he listens. 

“I just—” Allison closes her eyes. “I only have a few, and they’re mine. And Klaus keeps going through my stuff.”

“You know how he is. Klaus is Klaus.”

She sighs. “I know.”

She takes the nail polish bottle out of her pocket and inspects it. It’s still usable at least. There’s still about half of it left. Maybe not quite half, but close enough. She doesn’t even like green that much anyway.

In the aftermath of it all, Allison feels foolish for the way she had reacted. Once the anger had deflated. Maybe she was a bit harsh on Klaus. He didn’t mean to spill it.

she unscrews the cap and, without warning, grabs Five’s free hand. 

“What are you—”

He watches her with raised brows as she carefully starts painting his nails with the green polish. He doesn’t protest, or tell her to stop. Instead he fixes her with a curious stare as he finishes his sandwich.

It takes two coats to make it look okay, the polish a little opaque. It has sparkles in it. Little flakes that shimmers and glitters in the light. Allison can see why Klaus likes this one. It’s pretty nice.

“I think blue would suit you better,” Allison muses. “Not that green doesn’t fit you, I just don’t think it’s your colour, you know?”

Five looks like he does, in fact, not know.

She snorts. “Give me your other hand.”

- - -

The next few days Allison discreetly keeps an eye on Five. He looks better after food and some sleep. A little sore maybe, but much better than when she’d found him. She can’t help but wonder if it’s a normal occurrence if he bounces back so fast. Allison had never thought she noticed everything, but she likes to think she’s fairly perceptive.

She’ll catch his eye every now and then, and his lips will twitch into what looks like a smile. She’s never sure though. It’s always gone before she has time to acknowledge it.

In a lot of ways, it’s as if nothing’s changed since their little moment that day. It’s almost like it never even happened. But the evidence is there. In the form of green painted fingernails.

When Allison steps into her room she notices something on her bed. a small bottle of nail polish. She picks it up and turns it around in her hand. It’s blue. A dark, navy shade of blue. There aren’t any sparkles in it, but it’s still pretty. Even if it’s some unrecognizable drug store brand polish that chips after just a little while.

Allison doesn’t need to be a genius to know where the nail polish came from. She smiles to herself, clutching the bottle in her hand. She places it on her desk, next to her other polishes.

The smile doesn’t leave her face for the rest of the day.

A few weeks later Five runs out the door and doesn’t come back.

[davecall93]

Alan (1)

“This is it,” said the man in charge of costumes, finding the pieces of the fat suit.“And these, I think, are the clothes that go with it.”

Alan lifted them up. He had been cast as a minor character in a local theater production, and his beanpole figure was not substantial enough for the character of Simon, whose primary characterization was that he dealt with his anxiety through food. He had been told he should figure out how to stuff himself with pillows but then the costume director remembered a fat suit had been purchased by an actor some years ago and left it when the play had closed.

“This is great,” said Alan, holding the pieces in his hand. “This is definitely better than pillows.”

“The clothes should work, too. Polo, dockers…tuck it in and get some glasses…you got a nervous, shy compulsive eater. Let’s give it a try.”

Alan stripped down to his boxers. His ribs showed lightly through his frame, and the minor effect of occasional working out saved his arms from a chicken leg effect. A slight bulge of a healthy endowment made for his one bulge. Shy in public, it was his need to adjust as he fit the suit and pants that took his attention. The costume director did not notice.

As he pulled on the polo shirt, the costume director suggested that it may be worth getting an ill-fitting dress shirt to make the character more uncomfortable looking. “But you should go see for yourself.” He gestured to the full body mirror in the room. Alan walked over and looked at himself.

The effect was instant, an instant only slightly less powerful than when he had first felt the full force of his sexuality in the fifth grade. Although his face remained absurdly thin, his stomach rounded out, his flanks and ass seemed to billow, and as he put his hands on his gut, his mind could not get off the space he took up, reveling in the inhabitual stretch of his reaching arms. The clothes gripped his expanded body, and he looked (and felt himself to be) as soft as a marshmallow. His groin danced and radiated a warm tingling that jetted up his limbs.

“It’s me,” he thought, in an instance of clarity that hit him like a train. He wanted to make the suit part of his body. No, not wanted, needed to.

“Not bad,” said the man.

“It looks great,” murmured Alan.

“Maybe makeup can round out your face,” said the man.

“Yeah, maybe they can,” Alan repeated, still speaking mostly to himself.

“How do you move in it?”

Alan turned around and tried walking in it. He made an awkward, artificial waddle, forgetting he should adjust to the costume and not to his imagination of what he would like if he were the costume’s size.

“I’d work on that.”

“Can I—Can I take it home? I’d like to get used to it.”

“Sure. It’s probably a good idea. I’ll help you get out of it.”

“No, no. I want to walk home in it. I think it’ll help out.”

“Method style. I like it.”

As Alan sat on the bus, it was all he could do to not imagine his ass expanding over the seat and into the next, elevating him higher up the seat. The bus was mostly empty, but he imagined people eying the seat and passing it, figuring there was not enough for two. The stop before his, he got out and walked into the grocery store, where he purchased a sheet cake, walking the next half mile home.

As he sat down at the table in the small apartment that he and his boyfriend shared, his actor’s mind formulated a little story about Alan, who was fat, who had a very big sweet tooth, and ate sheet cake directly out of the box because it pleased him to do so. He would say hippy dippy things about body positivity and he would be just a little bit clumsy and little bit destructive because he would know that he could knock things over at his size because he was shy about his size but not really.

He had eaten a good corner of the cake when he heard behind him, “Excuse me what are you—?”

Alan turned around. “It’s me, babe.” He appreciated the retreating look of shock on Richie’s face. Richie had a healthy body and while he did not feel that he needed to be shredded, his body clearly signaled that he was a regular gym goer.

“Holy shit, Alan. The fuck! Is that your costume? You’re huge.”

“They had a fat suit, apparently. I brought it home so I can get used to it.”

“You gonna wear that around the house?”

“I wore it home.”

“Actors…” his boyfriend sighed. Richie hated the theater. Or rather, he had no interest in it, and dating Alan had been its own comedy of manners in putting up with the art. “And you’re eating a sheet cake?”

“Want some?” Alan held up the fork.

“Ha! Why not?” Richie came over took a small bite. He wiped some frosting from Alan’s face. “You gonna eat that whole thing?”

“I’m trying,” said Alan.

“And what about dinner?”

“I thought you were making pasta.”

“I mean…how are you gonna eat dinner after all that?”

“I’ll make room.”

“Pasta it is. You gonna take that off before we eat?”

“Maybe.I think you’ll like what it does for my ass.”

“Oh you have one finally?”

Alan stood up and turned his butt towards his boyfriend—who had given up chasing bubble butts to be with the man he loved—and shook it.

Richie smiled as his eyes followed the two puffs swing side to side, appreciating not only the suggestion of his partner with a butt but also the reverse sexiness of someone just shaking a padded ass with no air of sexiness about it. “Yeah, I could work with that.” He slapped Alan in the back, but Alan was too cushioned to feel it. “I’m gonna shower and take a nap. Enjoy your cake.”

Richie would be a good boyfriend for fat Alan, thought Alan. Baffled but supportive. Which was exactly how Richie felt as he thought of his boyfriend downstairs eating sheet cake from the box in a fat suit, just before he closed his eyes to sleep.

[kieraelieson]

Janus’s Birthday

Commission for @borrowedblue as a present for @infinimay

It was Janus’s birthday, and Remus could hardly contain himself! He was going to make Janus the very best birthday!!

He had several fun games planned, and even written out and everything! And he’d been just about to show the list to Janus when Thomas had summoned him.

Remus crossed his arms and pouted for a long minute, waiting on Janus to come back. And when he didn’t, he popped up in the real world, hidden beneath the couch.

“I’ll just need your help for a few hours,” Thomas was saying.

Remus plopped down on the floor, rather annoyed to hear them setting plans for he-didn’t-care-what.

Eventually he went back to the mindscape, folding up his list and tucking it inside his shirt. It wasn’t fair. It’d been hard to write big enough for Janus to read! And now it was wasted.

Well, he wasn’t letting his plans get ruined so easily. He was an evil mastermind! He wouldn’t let his plots be foiled!

He paced back and forth, ideas spilling from his brain into half-real phantoms, swirling around him waiting to be picked.

He had to choose something that didn’t take Janus’s time. A gift then, not an activity. Or gifts! No one said he was limited to one!

He thought carefully, and finally the memory blasted into his brain, shattering it into a million pieces. He scooped them back up and plopped them back into his head, fitting the top back on. And then he remembered normally. He’d drunk the rest of Janus’s snake oil a week ago. He could get him more!

He squished himself underneath Janus’s door to find the empty bottle. He clambered up to the top of his dresser where he kept his beauty things, leaving a slimy green trail. He had to look around for a bit before he remembered that he had the bag of slime in his back pocket, and he’d sat on it under the couch, breaking the bag. Well, Janus wouldn’t mind too much. It wasn’t the worst thing Remus had spilled in his room.

He looked around the dresser for the bottle, and saw a glass dome. He recognized it immediately as Roman’s handiwork, since it looked just like the one from Beauty and the Beast. And inside was a chocolate cupcake, decorated with gold frosting that glittered and with a single candle, burning already, but never burning out, probably thanks to the dome.

And that really was not fair! Roman’s present didn’t get ruined! Well he was going to do one better. He was going to make Janus a whole cake!

Remus got down, snake oil entirely forgotten, and ran to the kitchen.

Roman’s cupcake was almost certainly conjured, so Remus was going to make his cake from scratch!

He got up onto the counter and started conjuring ingredients small enough that he could use them. He tried to think of how big he wanted the cake to be. Definitely Janus-sized. He wanted it big enough that Janus couldn’t eat it all at once.

He looked in the cabinet, and found a cake pan. Or at least it was probably a cake pan. He set it on the counter and quickly realized that he would not be able to lift it when it was full.

So he conjured The Terror of the Seas! She was a giant man-eating squid, and one of his favorite creations! Usually she lived in the ocean of the imagination, but when he needed big help and Janus wasn’t around she was always happy to help him. The kitchen was too small for her, but her tentacles reached inside.

“Hey, Terror, wanna help me make a cake?”

Terror let out a crooning warble, which meant yes.

Remus grinned and petted the end of one tentacle before conjuring a big enough bowl and spoon.

“Ok, you just stir while I add things.”

It took thirty-seven him-sized bags of flour, and 23 bags of sugar, the eggs he just tried to use normal-sized, with quite a bit of help from Terror. And he needed to pick a flavor, which he thought about carefully while unwrapping all the tiny sticks of melty butter. He could go with chocolate, but Roman had already done that.

Oh. Oh! If he did it red velvet it would be chocolate and look like blood when it was cut into!

With that decided, he added chocolate and then gleefully poured bottle after bottle of red food coloring in until it was a perfect blood-color.

Terror helped pour it into the pan and put the pan in the oven. Remus happily pulled out another bowl. It was frosting time! The color was obvious. He was doing it green. Or black. Or both! Both was obviously the better idea.

First load after load of sugar, and then a bit more butter, and then mix. Terror was incredibly helpful with mixing. Then Remus put part of it into a different bowl, squirting green into it until it was just as perfect as he was.

The other bowl was black. As black as Janus’s cape, and Remus’s heart. He really had checked once to be sure his heart was black, and it was! Which made it easy to get the right color.

And then the cake was done! It was supposed to cool before frosting it, but Remus didn’t have that kind of time. A quick wave of his hand and the cake was perfectly ready.

Terror has to help a bit with frosting, but then he sent away. Decorating was all his!

The first thing to do was to put his Morningstar on it, of course. But that just didn’t look quite right. Remus stared at it for a long minute trying to figure out what it was.

Oh! It wasn’t edible! And there wasn’t nearly enough either. He picked it up and broke the handle off, and then tapped it, which made it into a candy. Then he just had to make more!

He set them all at the base of the cake, lining them up neatly, since it was for Janus, and Janus liked things neat.

Now what should be next? Again, it took barely any effort to realize that the obvious next step was eyeballs. He did make them candy too, though that made him more sad than making the Morningstar into candy. Eyeballs were already so perfect!

Some marshmallow fondant made into swirls was very nice to put on top, but it still needed a few finishing touches. A can of deodorant, a banana peel. Remus frowned. Something was still missing.

His eyes lit up as he realized. He grew two big tentacles to lift him up and set him on top of the cake without messing anything up. Now. Now it was perfect.

He snapped his fingers to clean up the cooking mess, and then again to replace the fishy smell Terror had left behind with whatever smell it was Janus used as cologne.

Remus surveyed everything. It was perfect. He just had to wait for Janus to get back.

And he didn’t even have to wait long! Just a minute later Janus entered the kitchen, looking a bit tired, and stopped as soon as he saw Remus.

Remus stuck out his tongue in a smile at Janus’s shocked expression. “Happy birthday!”

••^*^••

Part Two

••^*^••

Remus grinned as Janus’s shock morphed into happiness.

“What do you think?” He asked, spreading his arms wide to gesture to the cake.

Instead of answering, Janus picked Remus up, hugging him close. “I absolutely despise it. Thank you.”

“Aww, you’re a softie,” Remus teased. “And you also have frosting on you.”

Janus held him out at arms length, snapping to remove the frosting from the both of them.

Remus climbed up his arm to sit on his shoulder. “So what did Tomathy want?”

Janus pulled out two plates and forks, and got out a knife to carefully cut the cake.

“He had a surprise party to help with. He had to coordinate everything and call all the people involved. This particular party is more complicated than the usual, as some people were able to know some details, and had to know other details, but certain details needed to be kept from them. And these details shifted from person to person, making it quite a complicated web.”

“And not the kind of web Virgey likes,” Remus said. “So what was the best part? I want all the juicy stuff!”

Janus smirked, cutting into the cake carefully so that each piece had a swirl of marshmallow fondant.

“Of course, the most entertaining was getting the person who the party was for to come to the location without telling them why.”

He put the pieces on the plates.

“The first idea was to propose that it was merely for them to hang out with Thomas, but then came the difficulty of getting them to the correct house. So then I suggested that, as the owner of the house where the party will be hosted has a dog, that Thomas should claim to be dog sitting. Of course, then they were concerned that they would not be welcome in a house with the owner gone, which needed a lot of convincing to overcome. Finally I insisted that the owner would be back before they would need to leave, and that she would be interested in hanging out as well. That Thomas had left that detail out as it was uncertain how long she would be there, as her previous engagement had a variable time.”

Remus nodded in interest.

Janus set the plates down on the table, laying his hand next to one so that Remus could slide down to the table.

Then he sat down, and Remus wiggled happily, waiting for him to take that first bite.

“Just to confirm, this is all edible, yes?”

Remus crossed his arms, over exaggerating a pout. “Of course it’s all edible!”

Janus smiled in that way he did when he thought Remus was being cute, picking a forkful with an eyeball on it to eat first. His eyes closed with pleasure as he ate it, and Remus shimmied in a happy dance before digging into his own piece. It really was tasty. Would’ve been better if the eyeballs were real, maybe a little slime in the middle. But Janus seemed to like it quite a lot, and that made it perfect.

“What’s that?” Janus asked, and Remus looked down to see his list poking out of his shirt.

“Oh! That was my first idea.” Remus said, pulling it out.

“Can I see?”

Remus handed it over and continued eating cake.

“You were going to dance with me?”

Remus shrugged. “That one would only work if we got the shrink ray, but there isn’t enough time anymore before your birthday’s over.”

Janus got a weird look on his face, and then it smoothed into something perfectly serious. “Well, you know, my birth happened to span the midnight hours, so to be fair, my birthday ought to span two days.”

Remus jumped up, eyes sparkling. “So we can still do the list?!”

Janus suddenly smiled, and it was his genuine, excited smile. “There’s absolutely no way we could do that.”

Remus jumped up and down in little hops. “Eat your cake! Let’s go!”

Janus even ate quickly, instead of neatly, finishing off the piece quickly. He covered the rest of the cake and put it in the fridge.

“Let’s go.”

••^*^••

Remus had worked hard on that list, trying to think of things that Janus would genuinely like.

And this first one seemed perfect.

They were in a bathtub as large as an ocean, Janus reclining against the side, fully clothed, as both he and Virgil were wont to do. Remus had made himself quite a few more tentacles, and was terrorizing the little ships, occasionally helped by a splash from Janus.

The bubbles though Remus was most proud of. He’d used Janus’s shampoo as the base for the bubbles, and then made them semi-sentient so that they would climb up onto anyone’s head and face to make giant crazy hair and beards.

Janus’s hissy giggle when he caught sight of himself in the mirror was exactly the prize Remus was hoping for.

And then on to the next thing!

As soon as they were dry they were suddenly in a lab, and scientists were tearing Remus away as he screamed bloody murder. In order to rescue him, Janus had to convince the scientists that Remus was actually human sized, and had just been hit with their shrink ray.

Remus watched in awe as Janus talked circles around the scientists, until they thought that they were the small ones, somehow made bigger when they weren’t supposed to be.

The grin Janus flashed Remus when he was handed the shrink ray was absolutely blinding.

And then he shot himself with it, shrinking down to the same size as Remus.

As soon as he did, the world morphed around them until they were in a ballroom. Not a grand ballroom, no, that was something Roman might do. This was a small ballroom, off to the side of the grand ballroom, where they could distantly hear laughter and chatter and music.

A little group of rats with tiny instruments stood in the corner and started playing music.

“Remus, I love this,” Janus said, taking the lead in the dance.

Remus beamed. “I knew you would.”

He still stumbled a bit, (probably he should have practiced a bit more) but with Janus leading the dance was even kind of fun. It was a quicker dance, while still being simple, and Janus’s grin showed that it was also a perfect choice.

When they were both just a bit winded Remus snapped to morph the world into a calm study, jazzy music playing in the background.

Janus dropped into the large chair, letting out a long happy sigh and stretching. “Thank you.”

Remus kicked his feet up over the back of his chair, hanging his head down in the front. “Well it’s not over yet!”

Janus smiled again, small and genuine. “I think I’m ready to take a break, and finish off the list in the morning.”

“Ah, alright. I’ll go knock some heads in then until you wake up. Too much of this mushy and I’ll go crazy!” Remus said with a wild grin.

Janus smirked. “Never change, Remus.”

[biwenqing]

slumber party!

Little Yuan has his friends come to his home for a sleep over. Modern AU.

for fytheuntamed on tumblr's untamed spring fest day eight prompt: spring

Gen | Words: 1888 | ao3

Yuan was very excited about today. Not only was it the first day of spring, and warm enough to play for hours outside after school, but he was having his first sleepover at his home.

Okay, Jin Ling had stayed over before, but because he was a cousin it didn’t totally count. Tonight Zizhen and Jingyi were going to be there as well as Jin Ling. It was more than a sleepover! It was a slumber party! Or so his dad had excitedly insisted over breakfast (though Papa explained that there really wasn’t a difference, to which Dad insisted there was because one was a party).

After school, they all waited for Dad as he finished setting his classroom to rights before the weekend. “It wouldn’t be good if someone left a tuna sandwich somewhere!” he called, as he wiped down the desks.

They were leaning against the wall, backpacks in front of them. “Look what I brought,” Jin Ling said, and pulled a book out of his. “It’s a bunch of ghost stories.”

“Are they really scary?” Zizhen asked, eyes wide.

“You can’t scare my guests,” Yuan reminded his cousin, though he wasn’t particularly worried.

Jin Ling rolled his eyes. “They aren’t scary because ghosts aren’t real. Besides, I haven’t read them, so we can find out together.”

Jingyi looked excited. “I know some ghost stories too! I also brought my flashlight. It can turn different colors.”

“I feel like we should have a campfire and s’mores if we’re telling ghost stories,” Zizchen mused, tapping his chin with one finger.

“Dad!” Yuan called. Dad looked up from where he was putting up some art. “Can we make microwave s’mores?”

Dad grinned. “Yes! We should see how big we can get the marshmallow to expand.”

“We can’t let it light on fire though,” Yuan giggled. Experimenting with how long a marshmallow could be microwaved had been fun until they set the fire alarm off. Papa still bought them more marshmallows though.

“Of course, of course,” Dad shook his head and walked over to his desk. “I’m about done here, you ready to move out?”

Jin Ling shoved his book away and put on his backpack. “Yes, Uncle Wuxian.”

“You have your scary little dog?” Dad asked, crossing his arms. “Because if not, we can stop by your house to get it.”

The last time Jin Ling had stayed over, he had forgotten Fairy. He hadn’t been able to sleep until Auntie Yanli brought it over. Luckily, they were pretty much neighbors so it was an easy walk to get Fairy, but Yuan didn’t like how upset Jin Ling had gotten.

Apparently Jin Ling didn’t want to repeat the experience either because he plunked his bag back down and dug through it. He pulled Fairy out triumphantly and Dad pretended to be scared.

“Good thing you have such a fierce protector,” Dad said, as they all stood now to follow. “Especially from ghosts.”

“But ghosts aren’t real!” Jin Ling rolled his eyes, which Yuan knew was very rude to do. He must have picked it up from Uncle Cheng.

“How can you know that? You can’t even do long division,” Dad said back, as he locked the door and then led them down the school hallway. It was always a little weird for it to be so empty after a day of classes.

“Can you do long division?” Jingyi challenged, walking beside Dad.

“That is not the question at hand!” Dad said, then winked at Jingyi. “But of course I can.” Yuan knew what his dad was going to say next. “I am bi and I can do math.”

“What’s bi mean?” Jingyi shot back.

“It means I get crushes on girls, and boys and people who aren’t boys or girls,” Dad explained. Yuan had also heard this before. “But now I just have the biggest crush on my husband.”

“Mr. Lan is so cool!” Jingyi agreed. Jingyi had come over to play several times and once Papa had helped them build a pillow fort and sat in it with them to watch a movie. “You’re lucky he’s your husband.”

“I am very lucky and I love him very much,” Dad said. Yuan knew some kids said it was gross when their parents got all lovey-dovey. But it made Yuan very happy to know how much his dads loved each other and how much they loved him.

...

When they got home, Papa was already there. He had set up the living room so that they could all sleep there, as well as watch a movie if they wanted. Yuan ran over and gave him a hug before leading everyone out to the backyard to play.

To Zizhen, who had never been to his home before, Yuan showed him the garden (which was not for playing in, though it was fine to snack on some of the peas and tomatoes), and the big tree that had a treehouse and swing. Jin Ling had already settled on the swing, Fairy set safely nearby to watch.

“This is so cool!” Zizhen said and climbed out to the treehouse. Yuan was glad his friend liked it, because maybe then Zizhen would like to come over more!

Jingyi was climbing up next. “Let’s play pirates!”

“With magic,” Jin Ling called out, continuing to swing.

“Pirates don’t have magic!”

“Cool pirates do!”

Yuan looked behind to see his dads were watching from the back door. He waved and scampered up to join those in the treehouse, Jin Ling following quickly after.

...

At dinner, Jingyi told Papa all about his project for the science fair. Zizhen was quiet at first until Dad started to tell him jokes. Yuan had told Dad how much Zizhen liked to make jokes so this opened up Zizhen’s whole collection. With the adults distracted, Jin Ling tried to put his vegetables onto Yuan’s plate.

Papa caught that right away. “Do you want something else?”

“We know we can’t cook as good as your mom, but give us some slack!” Dad added and Jin Ling stuck his tongue out at him. Dad just made a face back, causing Jingyi and Zizhen to both burst out laughing.

Jin Ling grumbled and began to eat his peas. Yuan was pretty sure he even liked them but he just wanted to get attention.

“Now that is settled,” Papa said. “What are your plans for the evening?”

“S'mores for dessert,” Yuan listed. “Then popcorn and a movie. And ghost stories.”

“Can we make a fort?” Jingyi asked. He was happily eating all his dinner, including the vegetables.

“Yes!” Zizhen exclaimed. “I want to make a fort.”

“It will protect you from the ghosts,” Dad said, nodding slowly.

“Ghosts aren’t real!” Jin Ling reminded, looking over at Papa. “Right?”

“There is no scientific evidence to support the existence of such a being,” Papa confirmed.

“Which means no,” Jin Ling scowled at both Zizhen and Jingyi.

“We can still have s’mores even if there are no ghosts,” Yuan said, and that got everyone’s attention.

“No dessert until dinner is finished,” his dads reminded them at almost the same time.

Making s’mores after dinner was a lot of fun, though everyone got very sticky. Even Papa, who had decided to be in charge of the actual warming of the marshmallows in the microwave. It didn’t matter though, because Yuan could see how happy his friends were.

The fort they built, once they had washed their hands and his dads checked every one to make sure there was no leftover sticky marshmallow, was big enough to fit all four of their sleeping bags. They were able to manage this by asking for sheets from the closet and the pillows from the guest room. They pulled over some of the dining room chairs to hold the sheets up.

As they were all gathered in the center, some flashlights standing on end to make a campfire overseen by Fairy, Dad called, “Fort inspection!”

“It is a pirate ship now!” Jin Ling called back, crawling on his hands toward the “door.”

“Permission to come aboard then!” Dad poked his head in. “This looks like it is very well constructed.”

“Thanks!” Yuan smiled. He has been careful to balance everything so that it wouldn’t fall down in the night.

“Your papa and I are going to be making our own way to bed, but we’ll come out and say goodnight when it is time for you to sleep,” Dad said, meeting each other of their eyes. “This is a special Friday slumber party treat to stay up late, but I will need you little pirates to go brush your teeth and change into pajamas.”

“Oh no!” Jingyi looked sadly in his backpack. “I forgot my toothbrush.”

“We have some new extras, why don’t you come and choose one,” Dad said and vanished with Jingyi following behind him.

Zizhen frowned, looking at Jingyi’s fallen backpack. “He doesn’t have pajamas either,” he whispered and Yuan could see he was right.

“I’ll go get mine and another set for him,” Yuan whispered back. He didn’t want his friend to be embarrassed or sad.

It was easy enough to find a spare pair of pajamas after he changed into his own. He slipped back into the fort and put them in Jingy’s back, sticking out so he would notice them. Zizhen and Jin Ling both nodded and went about finding everything they needed to get ready for bed.

Such a crisis averted, they all went to the bathroom and managed to brush their teeth, Dad watching over them and scolding Jin Ling when he tried to splash water from the sink. Hurrying back, they crawled one by one back into the fort.

Jin Ling then brought out the book, passing it to Yuan. “You’re better at reading,” he grumbled, picking up a flashlight to hold it and illuminate the pages.

Yuan leaned against a pillow, his friends crowding around. Opening the book, he found the first story. “This one is called Coffin Town,” Yuan said, looking around. Everyone’s faces were deep in shadow from the flashlights.

“Oooh that’s a very dramatic title,” Jingyi said with a grin.

Yuan nodded and took a deep breath. “Once there was a town with more coffins than beds, with more dead than living...”

~.~

“They tuckered themselves out,” Wei Ying whispered as he crawled back into bed. “It’s so cute, I got a picture. They’re in a little puppy pile.”

“They scared themselves with the ghost stories,” Lan Zhan said, glancing up from his book.

“Probably, but no harm done,” Wei Ying slipped closer, resting his head on Lan Zhan’s shoulder. “They’ll protect each other.”

Lan Zhan’s mouth quirked in a smile. “Cute indeed.”

“They’re a good bunch, I’m glad a-Yuan has such great friends,” Wei Ying said, grabbing his own book where he had placed it, spine cracked. “Our baby is the sweetest though.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan agreed. “He gets that from you.”

“Aha!” Wei Ying tipped his head to press a kiss to his husband’s jaw. “I can’t get all the credit. You should see his other dad...”

Lan Zhan kissed the top of Wei Ying’s head. The silence of the evening hour fell back over them and the kids slept on, dreaming of ghost fighting pirates and warm spring days.

[bidean-byedean]

holy shit, I posted a fic?

Merry Christmas fruits (affectionate), here is my Christmas present to me: actually writing something for a prompt and posting it!!

SPN Advent Calendar Day 24: I’ll be Home For Christmas

AO3 Link 

It’s silent in the Bunker. But not empty, not even close. It waited patiently. As it always does. For those who were meant to find it, did. They always do. And for the first time in many years, for the first of many years:

The Winchesters are home for Christmas.

It’s silent in the Bunker. Empty. No one around for miles that even knows of its existence. Patiently it waits. It knows that eventually, someone will hear its calls and find their way. Those who are meant to be there always do. 

Sam Winchester is the first one home. Technically now, Sam Leahy. He pulls up in the sensible car he managed to snag from a grateful dealership owner who had a problem with a cursed family heirloom, and no matter how much Dean teases him, Sam appreciates the normality of it. Especially now. 

Coming around to the passenger side, he opens the door and holds out his hands for Eileen to grab, her centre of gravity no longer where it should be. She pretends to huff, but softens immediately as he pulls her to her feet, her enormous belly pushing them back apart. It’s easy to forget how lucky they are, with all that happened in the last year, and then he sees Eileen, sees her growing with his baby, and it hits him all over again. For all the bad they went through, where they’ve ended up is pretty incredible. 

Eileen tip-toes up to kiss him, their lips already cold despite only being out of the car for thirty seconds. Something wet lands on her face and they both look up to see the first flakes starting to fall. She smiles brightly. 

“I love snow,” she signs. 

“I know, but we should  go in before-“

“Wait, just one minute. Please.” 

She breathes in deeply, letting the cold air fill her lungs and tingle all the way down into her fingers. Where she grew up, there wasn’t snow on Christmas, always the possibility, but it usually amounted to cold rain and miserable clouds. Here, there’s proper good snow, the kind that falls in fat, fluffy chunks from the sky and settles quickly, building up to a thick blanket in the time it takes you to find your coat and hat and gloves and scarf. 

Letting her face fall back, the flakes tickle her skin, landing on her eyes and mouth, melting almost instantly into tiny cold droplets that run into her hair and down her neck. Sam watches her entranced. He’s never thought much of snow before, not more than it being a type of weather that usually denotes Christmas time and them getting stuck somewhere because the Impala is not an all weather vehicle. But Eileen, she makes it magical. The way it makes her smile, how she breathes it in like it’s her first breath of fresh air in years, and not to mention, she looks even cuter than usual with her cheeks and nose all pink from the cold, her eyes shining brightly in the darkness. 

“Why are you staring at me?”

“Cause you’re beautiful.”

“You say that to all the girls.”

He pulls her into another kiss, deeper than the first, trying to tell her that he and Dean may have saved the world but it’s her that made it worth saving in the first place, it’s her that makes it beautiful,. 

Inside the Bunker, it’s perfectly toasty, the rush of warm air that escapes when they unlock the door is like a hug, as if the Bunker itself has come to greet them. The place looks like Santa’s grotto on steroids. Their Mrs. Butters interlude may have ended tragically, however she did remind them that they shouldn’t be embarrassed about embracing the holidays - you never know when will be your last chance to celebrate with your loved ones. No one was meant to have another Christmas, and definitely not the Winchesters, so going all out was a unanimous decision.

The banisters are laced with tinsel and the insanely long strings of lights that the boys found tucked in the back of one of the storage rooms. It took hours to get them just so, but the effect is breathtaking. Sam flips off the main lights and lets the place be bathed in coloured lights: reds and blues and greens and golds and whites. Some of them blink in and out slowly, some change colour, the motion giving it all a dream-like quality. Although they finished putting everything up in the first week of December, Eileen still hasn’t gotten used it to. It’s just so much and she loves it. 

They unpack the last minute groceries and put the oven on for tonight’s dinner: party food. If it comes frozen and in miniature, they were eating it. Sam couldn’t wait to see Jack’s face when he saw tonight’s offering, which reminded him- when would Jack get here? He didn’t exactly have a cell that they could call, but he usually gave them the heads up before he was popping in. He kind of expected him to be here already, it was Christmas Eve and Jack had seemed so excited about the holidays…

The lights click off briefly, so briefly that Sam thinks he might’ve just blinked but when he looks up he sees Eileen by the light switch, an urgent look on her face. 

“Come, come, and shhh,” she signs before disappearing without waiting to check Sam follows. He always follows. 

She makes her way through the Bunker into the library, slowing down to sneak into the room like she was trying not to disturb someone, but as far as Sam knew, they were the only people in the Bunker. 

“What?” He signs frowning, but then he sees:

In the library is the tree; the biggest, most obnoxious tree that they could fit through the front door. Thankfully, they found a ladder so they could actually put the lights and tinsel on the monstrous thing, but apart from that the green bows are bare. It’s not the tree that the pair are concerned with though, it’s who is standing, staring up at it. 

Jack’s had Christmases before. The one with Mrs. Butters was his favourite, but not a perfect one because Castiel wasn’t there, and if Castiel wasn’t there then it couldn’t be perfect. This year would be perfect and his favourite because they would all be there. Him, and Castiel, and Sam, and Dean, and Eileen, and the baby. 

He likes the Christmas tree. He feels its life energy coursing through the evergreen leaves; thankful that Sam listened to him about making sure to cut it so that it could be sustained and replanted. It looks beautiful. He likes the lights, the way they blink slowly, changing colour as if they think you might not notice, bleeding from one hue to another almost perfectly. Jack likes perfect things. Which is good because he thinks everything is perfect. 

“Hey Jack,” Sam calls out. 

They think he didn’t know they’re there, and he let them. It’s nice. “Hello.”

“Do you like it?” He signs while he speaks. He’s getting much better at that, Jack smiles. “Biggest one we could get.”

He nods up Sam. “Very much.”

“We, uh,” he taps a box on the floor with his foot. “Left the decorations for you. Thought you might wanna put them up. There’s an angel for the top.”

“Can I wait for Castiel and Dean to get home?”

“Of course.”

“Want a hot chocolate, Jack?” Eileen asks. “I think baby does.”

His eyes drop to her belly. It’s much bigger than the last time he saw her, the baby is almost ready. His sibling, that’s what Sam and Eileen said. He would be big brother. “Can I have marshmallows?”

“Duh! And whipped cream?”

They disappear together, Sam staying behind to look at the tree for a moment. Flashes of childhood Christmases come rushing back, all jumbled into one. There’s one particular year they had a tree in their sad little motel room, probably stolen from a store or something, but it was still great. They even put their gifts under it and waited until after midnight to open them, almost like a real Christmas. How Christmas should be. 

It’s hard not to be angry or ungrateful or dwell on the horrible shit that happened to them over their lives, but it also isn’t healthy to pretend to not be all those things. He spent so much of his life feeling like he didn’t deserve good things, like he would never get to be happy because he was created for evil and doing bad. The fact that Sam Winchester, the boy with demon blood, Lucifer’s Vessel, was decorating for Christmas with actual God, who considered him a father figure, was almost the most insane thing that had happened to him. But it was good and real and he deserved it. He did. 

“We’re home!” 

Dean’s voice echoes through the Bunker making Sam roll his eyes; no matter how many times he tells Dean it’s a dumb habit, his brother just couldn’t drop it. Sam finds them all in the kitchen, Dean already trying to swap out Jack’s Christmas mug of hot chocolate with a beer.

“Hey! Full house, huh?” Dean beams. “I was just telling them, it’s a fuckin’ nightmare outside. Thought we were gonna get stranded.”

Cas sighs loudly. “You should really get a car that can cope with the weather. Or at least snow tyres.”

“Don’t insult Baby like that, Cas. She got us home, didn’t she?”

“Just,” he mutters into his own drink. “Can I ask the plan for this evening?”

“Food, food, and more food?” Eileen signs. “Did you want to finish the tree first? We can put the presents out now too?”

“Good idea,” Dean nods and they all slope back into the library. 

The box of decorations is extremely old and extremely heavy. Inside, it is packed away meticulously, one of the last remnants of Mrs. Butters’, which they had no hope of replicating when it came to taking it all down again. However, no one is thinking about tidying up right now. They rummage through the vintage decorations: delicate glass shapes, baubles filled like snow globes, and weird festive caricatures of monsters like Bigfoot with a Christmas hat on it’s head. There are spell bags for good fortune and keeping spirits high and hangovers at bay, which they check over thoroughly before deciding are not traps and can go on the tree. 

Soon enough there’s only one thing left. 

“Jack, will you do the honours?” Castiel asks, handing the porcelain-faced angel to him. 

He nods happily and steps into the air. It’s surreal to watch him walk as if on solid ground but get further and further away from the floor. He pauses by the top of the tree and smiles before securing the angel to the point. From the ground, it’s almost too far away to really appreciate the thing, but they all beam up at his handiwork anyway. Then they put out the presents. Somehow everyone managed to get on board and there are five distinct piles, everyone getting their own wrapping paper in order to minimise confusion. It’s really quite impressive that they’ve managed it all so smoothly. Mistakes will likely come to light quickly in the morning when they actually come to unwrap them. 

Silently, Castiel slips his fingers through Dean’s, and as always, the Hunter’s heart leaps in his chest. He never wants to get used to the way that it feels to touch Cas, whenever he wants, however he wants. He would never get used to the fact that Cas wants to touch him back. 

“We’ll go set up the Den,” he announces, pulling Cas along with him.

“Not on the blankets!” Sam calls after them. “And crack a window, we have to sit in there too!”

He flips his brother off over his shoulder. However, the big galump has a point. Not that he’s taking Cas to the Den do anything inappropriate, even if that is their usual MO. It’s not Dean’s fault that they have a built in netflix-and-chill room and that Sam decided to get his wife pregnant immediately instead of making the most of not being dead. Plus, he and Cas had years of lost sex to catch up, as was their God given right. (He doesn’t have the brain capacity to unpack the use of that phrase now that his kinda-sorta-maybe-son-in-law is God). 

The Den is also Christmas-fied, just not to the extent of the rest of the place. There are always fairy lights strung up (their Cas’ favourite lighting), but now, they’ve been swapped out for festive coloured ones. 

“Wait,” Cas says, stopping them as they go through the door. Dean frowns at him, but Cas just looks up until Dean follows his gaze. Ah. “Mistletoe. I believe that mistletoe over a doorway signifies something.”

“Does it now? Do you know what?”

They move in closer. 

“I’m not quite sure.”

“Oh? Must not be important then,” he starts to turn away.

Cas catches him and pulls him in. “It’s coming to me.”

“Mmm?” Dean licks his lips. 

Cas mirrors him, his eyes glittering with the reflections of white-blue lights. “On the tip of my tongue.”

Their faces move together slowly as he speaks. Dean’s hands are on Cas’ waist, while Cas’ travel up Dean’s arms, dragging his fingers over the soft fabric of his shirt, until they settle behind his head. Their lips meet in a gentle kiss; gentle but wonderful. 

When they first started kissing, it was urgent. Every kiss was full of importance, full of words they hadn’t said, full of moments they had missed out on; full of anger and sadness and lust and hatred and betrayal and forgiveness and begging and demanding and everything. They couldn’t touch each enough or at all, it was like sticking your hand in a bath that’s too hot, like gripping an ice cube until it eats into your flesh. It was all too much and they nearly collapsed under the weight of it all.

But they didn’t. 

Now they kiss in the moment. Lazily in bed when they wake up, and briefly when they leave the Bunker without each other, and playfully when they tease each other, and defiantly when people give them bitchy stares, and desperately when they’re drunkenly stripping each other, hungry for each other’s skin. They learnt to be Dean and Cas, this new Dean and Cas that, as it turns out, isn’t all that different from what they had all along. 

The kissing is definitely an improvement though.

They set up for the movie marathon silently, working around each other in perfect synchronicity, hands brushing, shoulders bumping, content with the smallest reassurances of each other’s continued existence. By the time that the others appear, laden with food, the pair are back to making out on the couch. 

“There are children present,” Eileen says loudly, making them jump apart. “Schooch!”  

It takes a second to notice what’s going on, but Sam’s stupid grin is what makes Dean pay attention. 

“No, no way, absolutely not!”

“C’mon! It’s fun!”

“You’re idiots,” he says and signs. “No.” 

“Cas, you know you wanna,” Sam wiggles his eyebrows. “You’d look great in them.”

Cas looks between Dean’s scowl and Jack’s smile for a second before giving in. “Hand them over.”

“Cas! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

He sighs. “You’ll understand when you’re a father, Dean.”

“Hey-“ Dean jumps up after him. “What do you mean, when I’m a father, you brought me two whole ass kids that I-“ They disappear down the hall to get changed and he gets cut off. 

When they come back, Cas is beaming and Dean is failing not to do the same. The onesies are teddy-bear fleece, red and white fair-isle style with a reindeers and Christmas trees and candy canes, and ridiculously cutesy. The fact they’re all wearing one makes Dean want to throw up until he actually sees them all together: this is his family, one that he was never supposed to have, and yet, here they are. His throat stings and he scrunches up his face to try and stop the tears before they’ve even formed, but he catches Cas watching him and knows that he’s been caught out. 

“Dean, come here,” Sam beckons. “Picture.”

“Dude, no way-“ But then Jack is pulling him over to the couch and he’s letting him. “I cannot believe-“

“Shut up and smile,” Eileen says, pushing his shoulder roughly. 

Someone has set up an instant camera, balancing it on books and DVDs until it’s the right height, and they all crowd into where they think the middle of the shot is. On the couch, Eileen sits at an angle against Sam so the camera can pick up her bump, his arm around her; Jack is on the floor by their feet grinning brightly; Dean drops next to him, between Cas’ legs; he rests a hand on Dean’s left shoulder and Dean puts his right hand on top of it. It’s the perfect picture of the frankenstein family and Jack insists on taking more; ones less serious, less perfect, but even better than the first.

Sam dates them all with a sharpie on the white boarder. One will go in the family photo album, the others to be tucked away into wallets and jacket pockets and personal picture frames. Cas snags the one where Dean is looking up at him instead of the camera, completely focussed on his boyfriend. He’s always liked Dean best in the moments that he is unaware of being watched, that’s when he’s the the most beautiful, the most Dean. 

He blushes hard at the picture, but allows Cas his indulgence. 

They get through a lot of food and about two and a half movies before people start to wind down for the night. Lying down for long periods of time is guaranteed to mean that the baby starts up a gymnastics routine, and Eileen lets Jack watch until going to the bathroom becomes imminently required. Her getting up makes everyone else realise that going to bed is a good idea, so they end up switching off the film halfway through and clearing up a little. At least taking the food back to the kitchen so it doesn’t go stale and inedible overnight, stinking up the Den for the foreseeable future (it happens far too often). 

Cas takes Jack to bed, even though he’s God and 1) doesn’t actually need to sleep and 2) probably doesn’t need his (kind of) father to tuck him in. However, his delight at discovering that theyve put sheets on his bed that match his pjs reminds Cas that Jack may be a cosmic being of unfathomable power, but he is still his son. 

“Thank you, Castiel. This is the best Christmas Eve ever, much better than last year because you’re here.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, Jack.”

“It’s difficult being human,” Jack says suddenly. “Even being partly human is tough, and I think you’re doing a great job.”

Cas cracks his knuckles, a new nervous habit that he’s picked up. “Thank you. It gets better everyday, easier; I miss my old self less.”

Jack pats his chest. “I’m taking good care of your Grace, don’t you worry.”

“I have no doubts about that,” Cas smiles, only slightly wistful. There have been many days that he’s wanted to ask Jack for it back, mostly days when Dean gets injured and he cannot do more than silly little human remedies. But it’s better this way. Living a human life with Dean, it’s right. It’s what they both deserve. He hugs Jack tightly before he leaves. “Goodnight, Jack. Merry Christmas.”

On the way back to his and Dean’s room, Cas meets Eileen, a spoon in her mouth. He raises his eyebrows and she puts a finger to her lips.

“Cranberry jam,” she admits. “At least my cravings are seasonally appropriate!”

“I’m not telling if you’re not.”

She winks. “Thanks for making Dean put the pjs on.”

“He loves it really.”

“Not as much as he loves you,” she says it so casually and Cas feels his face burn. “Still?”

“It takes some getting used to… after so long…”

She nods and pulls him into a hug, her bump pushing him away as much as her arms pull him in. The baby kicks against him, a clear foot making contact with his side, which is still surreal to feel to say the least. Before Eileen’s pregnancy, the only time he’d been allowed to touch a pregnant belly was when Kelly put his hand on Jack. It took some getting used to, processing the fact that there was a little person in there, growing and becoming, and in a matter of weeks, it would be out here with the rest of them. 

“Strong.” 

“Oh yeah,” she laughs. “Sleep is getting pretty impossible. But it’s good, strong is what we want.”

“Your child could be nothing less.”

It’s Eileen’s turn to blush. The impending motherhood nerves have been getting harder to handle lately; every time she gets a good kick to the ribs, she’s reminded that there is a real baby in there, and soon it will be in her arms and she’ll have to raise it and make sure that she doesn’t mess them up. She can do that, right? Even though she and Sam lost their parents to hunting, they can do better, right? They can find the balance. The idea of going out on a hunt while her baby sits at home waiting for her makes her heart ache, but she cant imagine never hunting again… Maybe she’ll fall in love with the Men of Letters like Sam and she’ll be happy with researching, perhaps be a consultant like Dean’s considering, but somehow, it doesn’t feel right yet. There’s still so much to prove: that you can be a badass Hunter as a woman, as a Deaf person, and soon, as a mother. But would she really risk losing her family just to prove a point? After everything Sam and Dean went through to make sure she got to live her life at all? There’s so much unknown, but as long as she has this family around her, she can face anything.

“We should get to bed. Merry Christmas,” she goes up on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek and then disappears into her and Sam’s bedroom. 

The quiet of the Bunker is soothing, even though Cas isn’t often up late enough to be the only one - he can never say no to falling asleep in Dean’s arms - he enjoys the solitude. It’s different from being actually alone. He knows that behind the doors, his family slumber peacefully, able to relax and dream of good, hopeful things. The existential horror of constantly fighting for your life abated, at least on a cosmic level; if the idiots around him still want to throw knives at monsters, that’s their prerogative. And he doesn’t even have to pretend to be happy with it. 

He turns off the main lights as he makes his way through the rooms, checking each one out of habit more than an actual need. Soon, he’s bathed in a gentle, colourful glow of the fairy lights, the only illumination left on. He stops by the tree, staring up at the adorned branches, his heart full of a contentment that he used to associate so solely with faith. So strangely similar: the peace he feels knowing that he is loved and that he is able to love back, and the one he felt when he followed God’s commands. But this little family, being part of it, is like a new kind of worship. Now his heart laid down before the altar of love instead of obedience - the difference is he gets something back. Now he knows that when he puts out his hand to hold his God, it will hold him back. 

What would Dean make of him thinking like this? Equating their love to something so intrinsically holy? And on Christmas, of all days. He would mock him, but only out of embarrassment, the continued belief that he is inadequate to be compared to the divine, even though Cas has never met anyone more deserving of the epithet than Dean. 

In their bedroom, Dean is already tucked in bed, reading a battered copy of We that Cas found buried in one of those chaotic secondhand book stalls. He should’ve saved it for Christmas, but Dean’s already halfway through and it gives him a little thrill to know that he did good in picking it, because he knows Dean. 

“Get lost?” He jokes without looking up from his book. “C’mere.”

Cas climbs in and under Dean’s outstretched arm, which he promptly tucks around Cas, pulling him tight into his side. He’s taken off the onsie and is in just his underwear, which is probably for the best considering how they both run hot during the night and always end up kicking the covers off even when they sleep naked. Cas presses small kisses to Dean’s side and chest, not entirely meaning to distract him from his book, but also not being unhappy with that side effect.

‘Something on your mind?” Dean asks playfully. “Could give you an early present, if you like.”

“Mmmm?” He moves up to Dean’s collarbone and throat, sucking a little at the soft flesh, but not quite hard enough to leave a mark. “What kind of present?”

“One you only get if you’ve been good this year.”

“And if I’m on the naughty list?”

Dean looks surprised at Cas’ reply, usually he takes a bit of warming up when it comes to their role-plays. “We- We could go through all the bad things you’ve done… See if can’t figure something out.”

“I think that’s for the best.”

It’s silent in the Bunker. But not empty, not even close. It waited patiently. As it always does. For those who were meant to find it, did. They always do. And for the first time in many years, for the first of many years:

The Winchesters are home for Christmas. 

[excelsi-or]

07/12/18 - you’re warm (woozi)

to a boy i love right now

w.c. 1k

A/N: hope you guys are all doing okay right now :) xx

November 27, 2018

December 7, 2018

She’s exhausted. She’s been studying nonstop for her finals, so Jihoon hasn’t really had a second to talk to her about anything but school. She spends time in the studio with him when she feels like her head is going to explode, but they don’t tend to talk then. He works on his own final projects while she reads or sketches on the couch. Jihoon wasn’t aware that she could sketch until finals season.

However, because of her exhaustion, he also hasn’t been able to ask her if she’ll come to his end of year performance. The performance itself is not a big deal, because he’s performed every year since he started. It’s a big deal, because he now has someone to invite. Typically, his friends are part of the show or have a significant other in the show. There’s been no reason for him to invite anyone; his parents live too far away to come.

But he doesn’t want to add another worry to her plate. She’s been telling him that her parents are insisting she come home. The request agitates her, though she hasn’t explained why. He thinks it’ll pressure her into feeling as if she needs to come, because he’s her boyfriend and he asked her.

“Jagi,” he whispers, lightly shaking her shoulder.

She groans in her sleep and rubs her eye. One eye cracks open and it catches the lamp in the room. He never used to care about people’s eye colour, but hers always soothes him. In the light of the studio lamp, her eyes turn caramel; and for some reason, it instils the want to cover her in kisses. He’s never wanted to cover someone or anything in kisses before.

But he’d smother her in kisses if only his own fear of PDA would let him. Things like that just make him cringe, so he settles with a kiss on the forehead now.

A small smile grows on her face and both her eyes open. Her arms wrap around his neck to hold him close and his lips brush against her cheek.

“We gotta go home,” he murmurs.

“Hansol came over,” she sighs.

Jihoon smirks, straightening up again. “So that’s why you’re here tonight.” She’d just shown up and fallen asleep right on the couch.

“He and Seungkwanie are having a video game night. Think they invited Gyu too.” She shakes her head. “I’ll never get to sleep. Leave me here.” She snuggles into the pillow, a human marshmallow with her winter coat on. He can’t help but smile at how adorable she looks.

“You… can come to my place.”

She lifts an eyebrow. Between school and neither of them living alone, they haven’t really spent much time together besides studio dates. While they have taken advantage of the empty studio on a late night, they haven’t spent any personal time at either of their homes. At least not alone.

“Sleep until Mingyu comes home and then I’ll take you home,” Jihoon suggests. His cheeks are flaming and he isn’t sure why he feels nervous.

At the suggestion, her legs fall to the floor and she sits up. “If you don’t mind me coming over…”

Jihoon offers his hand to her to hoist her to her feet. He picks up her scarf from the couch and wraps it around her neck. He smiles as half her face disappears and she’s just her two beautiful eyes.

They exit the music building, lock it up, and trek across campus through the cold. She presses into him to try to escape the wind. Luckily, his apartment is closer than hers, so they don’t have to travel far. Once inside again, they both can’t help but sigh in relief.

As she slips out of her boots and jacket, he heads into the kitchen. His eyes spot the notice of the performance on the fridge and he snatches it off.

Not without her noticing though.

“What’s that?” she asks, unwrapping her scarf.

Jihoon glances at it and shakes his head. “Nothing.” He crumples it in his hand. “Old notice for something.”

She blinks at this explanation. “You don’t typically clean things. Ever. So if Gyu didn’t take it down, it must still be important.”

As he reaches for a mug from the cupboard, Jihoon grimaces. Seungkwan had warned him that she was observant. Hansol had backed it by saying that it takes her only one or two encounters to be able to read someone well. Both were clear warnings that if Jihoon tried to hide anything, he likely wouldn’t get away with it.

“But if you don’t want to show me, that’s fine too.” She slides into a seat at the small dining table. She props her head in her hand and Jihoon gets to work at making her a hot chocolate so she can fall asleep.

Jihoon has offered his bed to her and while she’s been in Jihoon’s apartment plenty of times, this is the first time she’s properly sleeping in his bed. There are no threats of anyone bursting in unexpectedly. He lies on the bed next to her, on his phone. He promised to be awake when Mingyu got home, so she could fall back asleep. But all she can focus on is how Jihoon’s sheets smell so much like him, it’s dizzying. His body heat radiates off him and she wonders if he’s feeling as nervous as she is.

She rolls over in the bed to look at him. He’s scrolling through Instagram and he glances at her when she rests her cheek on his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” she murmurs, sleep still threatening to pull her under.

Jihoon takes a while to answer, so she starts to pull away. “It’s okay.” Her other hand rests between them and he reaches down for it. He lifts her arm to stretch it across his chest, which forces her to move closer, fitting into his side. The space between her neck and the sheets is large enough for him to snake his left arm underneath, so that he can cradle her into him.

Well, if the smell of Jihoon’s sheets was dizzying, being like this is going to make her pass out. However, Jihoon continues to scroll through his socials as if lying like this is something they do all the time.

“You’re warm,” she mumbles into his side.

Jihoon chuckles. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

She hums in response.

His hand rubs up and down her arm and her muscles relax with his touch. She doesn’t even remember falling asleep.

Next: December 8, 2018

[pacoc-a]

Time in waiting [wip]

Rating: G

Pairing: Five\Vanya

tags; bed sharing, fluff, childhood crush, missed chances, angst

Vanya and Five and their years apart.

Vanya had never been one for fighting so it’s odd that she’s the one with the bruise on her forehead now.

It really started with Luther and Diego.

They were fighting, again, and all she wanted was for them to just stop before they hurt themselves so she moves between them and then she’s not really sure where the punch came from but the next moment she’s on her back and there’s the blood trickling between her eyelashes, shiny and sticky and wet.

Luther at least, had the decency to look ashamed.

Five comes sometime after Pogo has chased them off. She remembers the tick on his jaw, and the stern way he took the bandages off her hands and held her still beside him. Vanya almost felt the need to apologise.

The bruise did look bad. It’s purple and blotchy and it stings.

She wants to cry.

It doesn’t quite register.

Her pills do this, makes everything lag a minute behind so that she's left with the afterthought of a feeling instead of the real thing.

It's a little like seeing the world through a wall of cotton.

It’s for anxiety, she tells herself. She’s been numbed by the pills for so long, the thought of stopping and letting the cloud in her head clear is terrifying. It’s good for her. She’s honestly not sure what that means but Dad says it’s important and that counts for something at least,

She rubs the corner of her eye and it forces a tear out of her.

‘You okay?’ He frowns.

‘Yeah. It just hurts that's all.’

‘Consider it a lesson learned. Getting between those two knuckleheads automatically makes you an even worse version of stupid. Those two are morons and can’t help themselves. You should know better.’ But he puts the bandage on a little carefully this time.

Maybe she’s just a creature of habit. Vanya has been living with only half a feeling all her life and she’s just fine. No problems here. If given the choice, she’d go back to the pills every time.

It’s hard to miss what you can't remember.

Five finishes fixing her up.

‘Well, good news.’ He sits back, ‘You’ll live. You might have a bump on your head for a couple of days but I don’t see how that’s anyone’s fault but yours.’

‘Gee… thanks Five.’

He can be a real jerk sometimes.

Five grins. He brushes the hair out of her eyes. He probably already knows she’d do it again.

The Hargreeves are stupid like that.

There’s a comfortable silence that settles between them. It’s a different sort from the stifling air when she slots herself between the rest of her siblings like a mismatched jigsaw puzzle, awkwardly positioned in all the ways that lets her know she doesn’t belong. Theirs is the kind that is warm and soft, wrapping around their shoulders like a fuzzy blanket.

It’s nice.

He rubs the strands of her hair between his fingers. ‘Your hair’s getting long’, he says.

‘Yeah, I was gonna ask Mom to cut it but maybe not, you know, now that I’ve got this big bump on my head.’

‘Knucklehead.’ He grins. She laughs, calls him weird and swats him away.

Something in her gut stirs. Something sweet like honey, and Vanya isn’t old enough to put a name to it yet so she tells herself that it’s probably the bruise making her head swim like this and leaves it alone.

—

Five has always been a little different from the rest of her siblings. He’s always stood out in the spaces where Vanya has blended in.

Maybe it’s just a part of who he is. Number Five is too brilliant to simply waste his days blending and hiding. He’s brash and arrogant and he’s not the least bit sorry for it.

She’s a little in awe of him.

It’s not just because she’s shy. Reginald has always made it a point to keep her out of the spotlight with her family. She’s not allowed in the common room when the team is meeting. She doesn’t understand their jokes at the dinner table because how could she? When the press comes to gather at the entrance of the mansion, she’s at the other end studying geography. When she finally hits those runs she’s been hacking away for weeks, the others are on the other side of the planet saving the world.

Sometimes, she wonders if she’d have half the confidence if she’d been the least bit special.

It’s a desperate thing to want.

Five never seems to mind though.

He jumps to her side because he wants to, even though he’s all bloody and Mom is right there. He eats the crusts off her sandwiches because she asks.

He dabs the blood off her forehead because she’s hurt.

Five is brash and arrogant but he’s also kind.

Late at night, she creeps past the dark, dimly lit hallways of the Academy and slips his favourite sandwich under his door. The foil is loud when it crumples under the doorway and for a moment she goes still, afraid that someone would come and find her. There’s no one though, and eventually, she makes her way safely back inside her room.

Tomorrow, she can thank him properly. For now, she’s hoping he’d enjoy an early breakfast and the extra marshmallow she added on his sandwich.

—

She goes to his room one afternoon with a tray of food.

Five is jumping from one end of the room to the other, muttering shit shit shit under his breath as he shuffles through his notes with a frantic energy that could rival a lightning bolt. He's almost certainly not in a good mood. He doesn't stop working, not even after Vanya knocks on the door and lets herself in.

'What's up?' Vanya asks.

'Problem solving.'

She takes in the piles of notebooks stacked on his desk and the tiny pieces of paper sprawled across his bedroom floor like confetti.

'Looks like a hurricane went through here.' She picks up a piece of paper on the ground.

'Don't touch anything!' He snaps.

She stops, then places it down. Five huffs and goes back to his notes.

'Can I help? I can sort out your notes if you want.'

'It's fine. I'm just stuck. These numbers aren't working out.'

'Well why not?'

‘Because..' his voice is dripping with frustration, ‘it just isn't. These two things don’t fit. I can’t make it.'

'I thought I could use my old formula to back it up in case the numbers go wrong but it looks like I'll have to go back to square one.' He laughs mirthlessly, 'Shit, I should have gone over this before. I should have…'

‘Didn't you tell me your old formula could be unreliable? Why not just use the numbers you did before, the one you did on my book?'

He opens his mouth like he’s going to argue, stops, then shuffles away to thumb over the rest of his notes.

He gets like this with his work, forgets to eat or take care of himself. It’s an obsession. His nose is stuck on numbers the moment he’s out of training and everything else is secondary.

Honestly, it’s worrying.

She hopes he knows that there's people here who cares about him.

‘I brought you lunch, by the way. Mom said she came by to get you food but you sent her away so I thought I’d come over.’

He doesn’t even turn to look at her. ‘If I didn’t want food then, what makes you think I’d want food now. I’m busy unravelling time and space itself, I’d rather not be disturbed.’

‘When’s the last time you ate?'’

‘What does it matter.’

There’s a couple of minutes of silence where Vanya just doesn’t know what to do. The room is filled with the sound of Five’s pencil scribbling away at his notes and it’s making her painfully aware of the fact that she is very much unwanted here, standing on his space, taking up his time. He's always been stubborn, and Five in this mood is almost impossible to talk to.

She looks down at the tray. The food is getting cold.

‘I’ll leave this here then.’ She places it on the empty space on his desk, ‘It’s soup. I snuck in some bread for you too if you want some.'

It's probably best to leave.

‘Wait.’

Vanya is halfway out the door when Five finally calls out to her. She stops and turns back. From here, she can see him gritting his jaw the way he does when he's frustrated and he doesn't know how to say it.

'Stay. I'll eat. '

She smiles, 'Okay.'

He takes the tray and puts the bowl on his lap. He still wants to work though, so he holds the spoon over his mouth with one hand, nearly dribbling it all over himself while he's halfway through turning a page on the other. He looks so silly like this, with his arm bent and his bowl wobbling precariously on his hip. She laughs, 'Here. Let me.'

Vanya takes the spoon from his hand and he mutters a 'thanks' absentmindedly as he turns a page and opens his mouth for her at the same time.

They're close.

His focus is everywhere, charted across the steady lines of his skin like a diagram. She watches the hard shape of his brow, the stern crease on his forehead, and the way his eyes flicker back and forth across the page like a pendulum and even under the pills she feels an irrepressible sort of fondness for him. Her smart, stubborn Number Five.

She blows on another serving of soup and feeds it to him. Some of it sticks to the corner of his mouth but he doesn't seem to notice.

'You've got a little…' She reaches over and wipes it off with her sleeve.

His gaze flickers towards her for a split second and she misses the way his throat bobs, stuck on something thicker than soup, as she raises another serving for him.

—

The silence in her room is thick like black ink and there's nights when Vanya is sure it's presence is a living, breathing thing. She could feel it plugging up her lungs with its weight, feel her throat constricting like a snake, wringing the life out of her and Vanya gasps, can't even breath in here.

It's why she's grateful for those quiet evenings when the space inside her room warps to Five's footsteps, when his presence appears out of thin air like a dream. And when the bed finally sinks under his weight, it's like the night is a little kinder to her, a little warmer too.

'Klaus snuck off at Griddy's by himself again.' Five shuffles underneath the covers and Vanya shifts to make room for him. He moves until she is sandwiched between the warm pressure of his arm and the cold surface of the wall beside her.

'Can't imagine it was for the donuts though. He's got that look again. Bloodshot eyes. Sweats like he's run a marathon. Snuck back 'round the window in the back and nobody said a word.'

'I can't believe Dad didn't find out.' Vanya says.

'Yeah well, the old man never did give two shits about us as long as we do what he wants. Can't imagine why he'd start now.'

The silence is tense.

Vanya rolls to her side. Five is staring at the ceiling. She could feel herself drifting to sleep, listening to the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing. Her next words are soft. 'Where would you go? If you did time travel I mean, where'd you wanna end up?'

'I will time travel.' He scoffs, 'Besides, the past, the future, what does it matter. Anywhere is better than this shitshow of a house.'

Vanya watches him. She memorises the sharp outline of his nose in the dark, and the way he works his jaw, anger and bitterness molded to the tense shape of his mandible.

'I'll miss you.' Vanya says.

'No you won't. You'd be too busy making a life for yourself away from this place to even remember me.'

'I won't forget.' She says earnestly. 'I'll miss you every day.'

He doesn't look at her.

She can't quite make out the look on his face when it's dark like this but Vanya wants to think that he believes her.

She, at least, wouldn't want to live in a world where there's no Five.

She thinks Five has fallen asleep. She's surprised when his fingers searches for her in the dark. They wrap around the spaces in between, and he holds her tight, like something to keep.

They stay like that, fingers entwined on her tiny twin bed, like two captives floating across a dark sea.

—

The day comes at the dinner table and it starts with a knife on the table and a question.

Five, for all his genius and ambition, is still just a child. He demands attention like it too because he's ready goddammit and he throws a fit, trembling down to his fingertips, right there in the middle of the family dining room.

Reginald would never give it to him. And maybe it's really Vanya, shaking her head firmly 'No' that hardens his resolve, she would never be sure, but it is then that Five turns on his heel and makes a decision.

She remembers the sound of his footsteps as he flings the big, wide doors of the Academy and rushes out into the world beyond.

She remembers her two, stubborn feet planted firmly on the wooden floor as he leaves.

He doesn’t come back.

—

Vanya waits for him for a long time

Her Saturdays are quieter without him. There’s a spot in the lounge where she likes to practice and sometimes she imagines Five sitting on the couch beside her, poring over his books or going over his equations with his Einstein sort of manic, frantic energy until she’s worried he’ll wear down his pencil to dust.

She imagines him perched on her desk while she tells him about Klaus and Diego and the ants, his legs dangling slightly above the floor and that playful gleam in his eye as he proceeds to tell her what they're going to do about it.

It's odd how a person can be everywhere and nowhere at once.

Every morning she wakes up to a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich sitting in the middle of the hallway, cold and untouched. And every night she gets up and makes him another one.

WIP

[sprnklersplashes]

not beyond repair (20/20)

AO3. Also shout out to @vnirhaus who has been this story’s biggest cheerleader from the beginning. Thank you so much, bub.

August twentieth, 1990. Her last day at home.

All of her stuff is packed into a suitcase and cardboard box and stuffed into the back of her mom’s car, ready for to be loaded into the bus for an eight hour journey. Her closet is empty and her dressing table almost bare, only her nightstand and shelves still holding evidence that someone lived in this room. Not everything can fit in the back of her mom’s car after all. Her books are still on display and on her nightstand the framed photos and lamp sit as though she’s not going anywhere. If it wasn’t for those, you’d be forgiven for thinking no-one owned this room. The process was pretty tiring and took a lot longer than they thought it would, to the point where Veronica was just stuffing things in with no real rhyme or reason, shrugging off her mom’s warning that she’ll regret it when she has to unpack.

Her parents have been disasters this whole week. Her mom’s the worst offender by far. She hasn’t been able to enter Veronica’s room without waterworks being set off, or a long speech about how her baby girl is “all grown up” and how she doesn’t know where the time’s gone and what’s she even going to do when she’s gone. Veronica had rolled her eyes, swinging an arm around her shoulders and reminding her that there’s still that full-time job of hers to keep her busy and now that she’s gone there’ll be plenty of time for them to do everything they were too busy for. She just laughed at that. Her mom’s also been incredibly focussed on details, unsure if she has enough of this or that or if they need to make another trip to the store even though there’s not even enough room for an extra spoon in her box. Her dad’s been better, but that’s not saying much, given how he hugs her every chance he can get and lingers in her bedroom for longer than necessary, his eyes misting over before he turns and bolts.

Her parents are ridiculous. And she loves them for it.

Martha comes over for one last movie night. Well, that’s what she called it. Veronica’s not one for dramatics like that. It’s not their last, not by a long shot, even if the room is half-empty and she finds herself holding Martha’s hand tightly and pushing away all thoughts of tomorrow. It’s at least the last for a long while, and since Martha can’t sleep over thanks to her early morning start, they’re making the most of it. Across their laps is a feast bought straight from the 7-Eleven; plump and soft marshmallows, king-sized candy bars and jewel coloured candies, and next to Veronica is as many videos as they can play in the few hours they have together. It was no contest for what they’d watch first. 

“Wonder what movies they’ll be showing at Duke,” Veronica wonders out loud, squeezing a marshmallow between her fingers. “Probably some old French movie from the 1940s making some point about society.”

“What makes you think that?” Martha asks. “You’re going to college Ronnie. They have fun at college. My sister says so.” Veronica hums in acknowledgement, rubbing her cheek against Martha’s hand and popping the marshmallow in her mouth. “You’ll probably be watching all those new movies that the video store won’t get until next year.”

“Yeah but they probably don’t have Princess Bride there,” she reminds her. “And this movie is a damn masterpiece.” She squeezes her shoulder warmly, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I won’t even have anyone to cuddle with.”

“You better not,” she replies with faux sternness. When she looks up at Veronica, her eyes may be heavy and sad, but the lightness of her smile balances it. “I’ll share a lot of you. But not cuddling. That’s my thing.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she says, pressing her cheek to her shoulder as if to prove it. Outside her window, the sun sinks further down, bringing the day to its inevitable close. “You won’t miss me too much, will you?”

“Of course I will,” she replies firmly, turning her head to look at her, all wide eyes and soft cheeks and smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. That’s when the reality hits her, and oh boy does it hit hard “How could I not miss you? This is going to be my first first day since preschool without you.”

“You had to put it like that, didn’t you?” she asks. Her shoulders shake, her eyes prickling even as she laughs. “Oh my God.”

“I thought I would be the first one to cry,” Martha jokes, her voice cracking. Veronica leans over and wipes at her cheeks, her fingers coming away stained with black mascara. Martha looks over at the clock, chuckling at the time. “9:30. We made it a whole 90 minutes before losing it.”

“I’m proud of that,” she says weakly, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “Come on. We’re not spending all of tonight crying.” Martha laughs and lifts over a bottle of nail varnish, insistent on doing her nails one last time before she goes. There’s a glow in Veronica’s heart as she expertly paints little daisies on her nails, her formerly insecure hands steady and careful. She tilts her head as she watches her, the years of friendship passing through her mind. She’s always said there’s nothing she’d ever change about her and she stands by that. But the way she is now compared to the start of this year, her chin up, her eyes sparkling and a smile having taken up a near-permanent residence on her face… it’s beautiful.

“I’m so glad I met you. Way back when,” she tells her, giggling a little as Martha’s cheeks go pink, despite being used to those words by now. She’ll never stop meaning them. If she didn’t have Martha, God knows who or where she’d be.

“I love you too,” she replies, squeezing her fingers gently. “Now sit still.”

There’s no doubt that she’ll meet a million and one interesting people at Duke. People from different states and even countries, people who will agree with her and talk with her and odds are she’ll get along with quite a few. She’ll have friends out there, out in the big wide world, and she’s sure she’ll like them, maybe love some. None of them will compare to Martha. None of them are going to be able to know her like she does or make her feel better with a touch of her hand. She won’t be sitting next to them in their backyard and wonder how she got so lucky to be with them. Nor will she be half asleep on their couch and wonder how she’ll survive without them.  She’ll make any number of friends at college, only time will tell. But Martha’s a Martha, and those are much harder to come by.

                                                                                                *****

August twenty-first, 1990. Dear diary…

And it’s then that Veronica suddenly realises, she’s nearly at the end of this diary. Sitting on the hood of her mom’s car, she flips through and finds only three blank pages left. When the hell did that happen? Just three pages for her to write on, the rest covered in her handwriting (and others, she had to keep up the forging practice somehow) and the occasional doodle. With nostalgia blossoming in her chest, and a little hint of heartache, she looks back over the past year and a half of her life. The life and times of Veronica Sawyer, Volume 17. A little more exciting than other volumes, she hopes setting the tone for the next one. She finds moments she could never forget-her first day of senior year, the day she betrayed Martha, her first night with JD, prom night-and then moments she’s surprised slipped her mind-her buying JD’s birthday present, the day she found out she got into Duke, buying prom dresses. All leading up to her last night in Sherwood, Ohio. She doesn’t read over that one.

Something in the back of her mind tells her to look up and when she does, there’s a figure at the end of her street, hurrying down towards her with the weak rising sun behind him, and she closes her diary. She can’t see his face, but she doesn’t have to. She knows there’s a scattering of freckles along the skin, dimples in his cheeks when he smiles, dark curls falling over his forehead, a crooked smile and strong cheekbones. And those eyes, those big dark eyes that make her heart melt even now. Sometimes sad, sometimes scared. And sometimes, a lot of the time, they’re happy, open and sparkling when he looks at her. And they’re always, always beautiful.

She pushes herself off the car and runs towards him, launching herself into his arms. She stifles a sob and presses her face into his neck, winding her arms tighter around his shoulders. He picks her up and she wraps her legs around his waist, wanting her press as much of her body as she can against him. To make a mark on every inch of his skin. He rocks her slightly as he holds her, his breath rushing through her hair and his arms tightening around her. He doesn’t chase her sadness away, nothing could do that, but he makes it feel okay. Like when she leaves, she’s not going to fall apart. He’s good like that.

“I was starting to think you weren’t coming,” she teases. As if she’d ever doubt it. She finds his neck and presses a soft kiss to it, breathing him in. The smell of coffee and old books and fresh air. Before him, she hadn’t realised how a smell could feel like home.

“How could I deny the lady anything?” he asks her in a low voice, like he doesn’t want to disturb the quiet of her street. If people look out their windows, she thinks, what will they think when they see them, intertwined with each other, tangled together. His hands trace patterns on her back, chasing such thoughts away. The only person she wants to think about is him and the way their bodies fit together and how their hearts beat in unison against each other. She won’t think about anything other than the way he feels against her and how it makes everything feel right.

She once worried about losing him. Back then, she knew this was too good to lose and now she knows it is. Even if she knows she’s not losing him forever, part of it still feels like it is. No matter what happens in college, she’s still going to be counting down the days until she’s back with him.

God it’s going to hurt to leave this.

Eventually, he does put her down and she untangles herself from him, her arms achingly empty even though he’s right in front of her. She takes his hand, sliding her fingers between his and squeezing tightly, his hand warm, save for the coolness of his ring and made to hold hers.

“Come on,” she says, tugging him down the street, back to her mom’s car. She cranes her neck to see inside, no sign of her parents yet. He sits up on the car next to her, pulling her against him and kissing the top of her head. As he does so, she hears him sighing against her, tinged with just a little poorly-hidden sadness. She leans into his chest, pulling her legs against her chest and picking at her socks. There’s a pit forming in her stomach, one that grows bigger and deeper until she can’t ignore it, not matter how much he kisses her.

“Is it wrong that I kind of wish I wasn’t going?” she asks after a while.

“Yes,” he replies. “Absolutely. If you even think about turning this offer down I will never speak to you again.”

“Tough love approach,” she says. “I know.” She turns her head just enough to look out at the street, watching the black road slowly but steadily turning yellow with the rising sun.

“Have I told you how proud I am of you?” he asks gently, running his fingers up and down her arms.

“Only about fifty times,” she replies, a chuckle escaping her lips.

“Well here’s to making it fifty-one,” he whispers, his breath tickling her cheek. She reaches up and takes his hand, her fingers around his before pressing a kiss to the inside of his wrist and pulling his arm over her body.  While reason tells her it’s impossible, she wishes there could be a world where they’re always this close, hip to hip, hands together.

She closes her eyes, the silence between them pleasant and somehow worth as much as all the words he’s said to her before. There’s so much in here, secrets they’ve shared and jokes only the two of them could get. It all settles around them like falling snow and it’s comfortable. She hadn’t realised that being silent with someone could mean so much, not until him.

“I got you something,” he says eventually, his own voice thick and shaking. “A little going away present.”

“J,” she sighs as he slides off the car. He holds up a little paper bag, something she hadn’t noticed before now. “You don’t need to get me presents.”

“Are you telling me you wouldn’t have, if it was me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. She rolls her eyes, putting on a show of being annoyed, but she runs her fingers through his hair with a resigned sigh. She could never be annoyed with him. Even if he is right. “Knew it.”

“Jerk.”

He reaches into the bag and pulls out the present, biting his lip, nervous even now. That might change one day, but if it doesn’t, she’ll still find it endearing.

He presses a diary into her hands, bound in deep blue fabric with a white wolf carefully sewn onto the front, blue eyes looking out at her, secured with a silver buckle and blue strap. Along the spine is delicate silver thread, woven through the dark fabric and reminding her of a starry night sky. A thin silver bookmark hangs from pristine, carefully pressed white pages, all ready to hold her life story.

Just what she needed; she thinks with a shake of her head.

“JD… it’s beautiful,” she tells him, her bright eyes meeting his. She strokes the side of his face, her fingers curling against his cheek and his features glowing. Just a book, some people would tell her. A very generous gift, but it’s just a notebook. Nothing huge. And yet here she is, fresh tears in her eyes and her breath catching in her chest. “Thank you.”

“Here,” he whispers. With a gentle hand, he guides her hand to the buckle and undoes it, opening the book to the front. There on the inside cover, is his looped handwriting along with a drawing of a star, little lines of light shooting out from it.

“Property of Miss Veronica Sawyer,” she reads aloud, her shoulders shaking either from laughter or crying.

“Just in case you lose it,” he says. He takes in a deep breath. “And… so is this.” He takes her hand and carefully lifts it to his chest, placing it over his heart. His eyes never leave hers, even if they begin welling up as well. She can just feel his heart beating beneath her hand, confident and steady and hers. The idea excites her more than anything, him being hers. Forever, if she wants it. Her and JD for as long as she wants.

“JD… Jason,” she says in a low voice, her free hand on the back of his neck. She rubs her nose against his, their lips barely a breath apart. Her words desert her except for the most basic ones and she pulls him against her, her fingers tangling in his hair. She closes her eyes and takes his hand, their fingers intertwined. Neither one of them can guess what’s in store for them, but she’s certain that as long as she can come back to him, and him to her, then she can be okay with anything.

She could tell him all that. She could tell him that she loves him over and over again until they stop sounding like words and she could thank him and tell him that he’s made a mark on her that she couldn’t take away even if she wanted to.

Or she could show him.

Her lips are shy and gentle against his at first, bringing up memories of their first morning together, her in her underwear running to Heather and him coming with her. His hand rests on her back and the other on her waist, his grip gentle. She runs her fingers through his hair and down his cheek, her thumb stroking along his chin, her own touch feather-light.

She tilts her head, opening her mouth and deepening it, her hand curling into his jacket. He reaches up her back and toys with the ends of her hair, his hand slipping beneath and his fingers tangling in it. He gasps a little against her, his chest fluttering, and she giggles despite herself. She kisses him harder and harder again, all the while revelling in the way he tastes. Beneath everything else, beneath the passion and the love and the melancholy, there’s something that’s uniquely him, something she can’t quite explain, but she knows kissing someone else wouldn’t be the same. He’s the only one who can leave her wanting more each time he pulls away and leaves trails of goosebumps on her skin. He’s the only one who can makes her feel like there’s no ground beneath her.

“Veronica,” he whispers against her lips. He rests his forehead against hers, bumping their noses together. When she opens her eyes she sees the tear running down his cheek, and it takes him wiping at her cheeks for her to realise that she’s been crying too. There’s so much unsaid in his eyes and she hears it all.

“I know,” she says in a low voice, her hand finding its way to his heart. He touches his finger to the butterfly around her neck, the corner of his mouth turning up. She pokes the corner of his smile, hoping this moment is captured in her mind forever. When he kisses her again, there’s a lot more desperation in there and it’s feels more bitter than sweet. She leans back a little and his hand lingers on the band of her skirt, trying not to go beneath it.

“Imagine if we did it on your parent’s car,” he jokes breathlessly.

“We’ve done it in worse places,” she replies, chuckling. “Although I’m fairly certain that would get us arrested.”

“Worth it?” he asks, and she slaps his cheek playfully.

“Down boy,” she says.

“Veronica?”

“Shit.” Her mom’s voice carries over the garden fence and she jumps off the car, taking a step away from JD and hastily pulling at her clothes. Some things her mom definitely doesn’t need to know.

She catches him laughing and all she has time for is a dig in the ribs before her mom comes round sees them, her car keys dangling from her hand and her sunglasses on her head.

“Oh, Jason,” she remarks, beaming at him. “Nice to see you.”

“I just came to say goodbye to her, Mrs Sawyer,” he says, taking Veronica’s hand. Her mom’s face softens instantly, apparently forgetting their schedule.

“Well we should really get going… but you two take a few minutes. I have to check stuff in the car anyway.”

“The car is fine,” Veronica sighs, turning to JD. The pit in her stomach opens again, wider and deeper this time, threatening to suck down everything inside her. Still, she smiles up at him and it only grows bigger when he cups her face.

“Go show Duke how we do it in Ohio,” he tells her warmly, squeezing her cheeks gently. She grasps his shoulders, blinking away more tears.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” she replies.

“Oh you’ll be too busy having fun,” he scoffs. “You won’t even think about me.”

“Is that a bet?” she teases, making him chuckle. She lets out an unsteady breath, her hands tightening on him. “You’ll write to me, won’t you?”

“Trust me, you’ll get every detail of my boring life,” he promises, tapping her nose. Insecurity flashes in his eyes, a question he won’t ask on his lips.

“You will too,” she says anyway. “Emails. Letters. Phone calls. Everything. Starting tonight.” She looks over at her mom, seeing her glance at her watch and look at them with worry. She knows it’s time. Her head does anyway. Her heart is digging its heels in stubbornly. His gaze follows hers and, seeming to read her mind, he presses a strong kiss to her forehead.

“I love you,” she tells him, her eyes looking into his. “Jason Dean.”

“I love you too, Veronica Sawyer.” He runs his finger along the back of her hand, his touch tickling. “Ronnie.”

Somewhere in Westerberg Middle School, there’s a table in a geography classroom with their initials carved onto it. That’s where a little boy and a little girl fell in love, even if they didn’t know it yet.

She steps away from him, squeezing his hand one last time before getting into the car, still not taking her eyes off him. She waves at him through the window, her mom climbing into the driver’s seat beside her. He waves back, not stopping even after the car starts up and her mom pulls out of their street. She cranes her neck to keep looking at him, watching him get smaller until they turn a corner and he’s gone. Out of sight, never out of mind.

“Did he get you that?” her mom asks, gesturing to the book in her lap.

“Yeah,” she replies, stroking the wolf on the cover. “Going away present.”

“Aw, sweetheart,” she sighs. A tissue is pressed into her hand and she meets her mom’s eyes, sweet and sympathetic. “Bet you wish you could just put them in your pocket and take them with you, huh?”

Wouldn’t that be nice?

She turns her head and looks out the window. The sun filters through bushes and trees, creating patches of light on her legs and her face. Her mom turns on the radio, playing a song from before her time, one with a pleasant melody and sweet words. They pass the streets she knows like the back of her hand, the video store where she’s on a first name basis with the owner.

Dear diary, she writes on that first page, opposite JD’s message. There’s a huge irony in my life now. It’s not that I don’t want to leave, I do. That much hasn’t changed. I just didn’t count on how hard it was going to be to say good bye. Or how scared I’d be now. But that’s okay. If you don’t have a little sad or scared mixed in with the happy, you’re not human. And I have both, so good for me I guess.

“Be careful you don’t get carsick, hon,” her mom tells her absentmindedly. She nods, closing her diary and tapping her pen against the cover, but her thoughts don’t stop, the dust settling and buzz calming and slowing to a pace she can keep up with. She looks out at the road before her and the world in the distance, finding herself braver and calmer than she had felt this morning. And despite the pain in her chest and dried tears on her face would suggest, she’s happier too.

It’s not bad, this life she has. Sure it’s messy and unpredictable and doesn’t always work out the way she wants. Because if people love her the way they do and she can love them back, then that's more than enough for her.

[lapusas]

in a way, you’re rather pleased with your current situation, the shadow presence of the threat of kara notwithstanding.     ever the optimist, eh ??     you can’t help it though, not really, not in this case, as with many other cases.

you have acquired a nasty habit of talking any chance you get about the entire village being the hokage’s family, yet, as boruto never failed to point out, you hardly got the chance to spend time with your immediate family.     or rather, you hardly allowed yourself the chance, the martyr syndrome well & kicking as you shift from sacrificing bodily safety to sacrificing mental well - being.     & physical well - being  ;     for all your oversleeping in mornings, you actually sleep very little, & most of your wakefulness is either energy drink induced or stress induced.     artificial & naturally manufactured, somewhere between the two.

but in keeping an eye on kawaki, & in the days since your watch over him began, you’ve shifted the priorities of your shadow clone allotment   ( you vaguely remember telling boruto once that you wouldn’t dare place a shadow clone in the hokage’s office.     hah.     well.    ) .     with remaining by the boy’s side, you’ve ended up spending more time around hinata & the kids than you have since you became hokage   ---   which, great, dream achieved, but gods did you miss spending time with your family.     actual family, not symbolical hokage family, much as you care for the village.

you’ve gotten to be the one to greet hinata home for once, you’ve gotten to dole out near spoiling amounts of attention to himawari   ( who’s been absolutely beaming about this fact ) , at least when kawaki’s been docile enough to not need to worry about a bickering fit erupting behind your back with boruto, boruto who, despite his grumbling you are inclined to agree with your daughter, has very much enjoyed your recently consistent presence at the dining table ...

& then there’s kawaki...

so ...

he’s recently started calling you   “ dad ” .

you felt a a wave of mental apologies being sent iruka - sensei’s way at your response the first few times, quiet &   “ do not make a big deal out of this i will even say please ”   as they were, the parallel to your former teacher’s response to you doing the same when you were around kawaki’s age crashing its way into your stinging eyes with the force of a bijuu bomb.     needless to say, you’ve since formed a silent solidarity with iruka - sensei over picking up responsibility for a lonely, bearing - power - he - didn’t - ask - for, & love - starved child & your continued expressions of trust & concern for his well - being resulting in the very tearful realization that you’ve ended up mutually adopting each other as family when said child calls you   “ dad ” .

except, you usually have stuck to calling iruka - sensei   “ iruka - sensei ” , even when he’s insisted that he’s long since stopped being your teacher   ( not that that particularly matters, not to you who still calls yamato - taichou   “ yamato - taichou ”   & will likely never stop calling ero - sennin   “ ero - sennin ”   even in serious conversation ) .

kawaki has all but entirely stopped calling you variations of   “ lord seventh ” , at least around the house, that you’ve noticed.     what that means to you, &, more importantly, what that means for kawaki ...     there’s something about that.     it makes your chest sting a little but also warm, & you realize you’ve been smiling stupidly into your half empty bowl for the past five minutes of dinner when hinata prods at your hand with a chopstick & repeats your name for probably at least the third time.     she asks if you’re okay & you nod & say yeah, sure, of course like you always do, except this time around it actually sounds somewhat convincing.

another second & you decide that you are, in fact, going to make your marshmallow heart everyone else’s problem.

boruto starts excusing himself from the table, finished eating, but you halt him halfway across the room with a hold up, getting up & stopping somewhere in the middle of boruto & the table.     hinata has, no doubt, already recognized the expression on your face ‘cause she is looking at you with that soft, good - willed smile that makes you feel even more sentimentally sappy & you end up putting more of a slightly childish demand in your tone than you’d intended as you spread your arms out & announce  :        ❛     that’s it, dad’s feelin’ mushy, that means it’s family bearhug time  ;     get in here.     ❜

himawari grins open - mouthed & is only all too eager to get in there, after wolfing   ( foxing ??     ... kurama isn’t amused )   down the rest of her food, of course, so you give her a specially tight separate hug before hinata joins in & your arms are officially opened for everyone.     boruto hangs back feigning annoyance & you hardly need to tell him to get on over, kiddo for him to get on over.

you then look to the table & notice kawaki has yet to move much from his seat.     you smile, warm as the late spring sun, & tell him with a slight humor to your tone & nod of your head,      ❛     family bearhugs are good for the heart.     now, c’mere.    ❜

he seems to hesitate a little, but eventually shuffles over into the empty space waiting for him to complete the little group, & the moment he’s in place your arms tighten around everyone & you thank whatever heavens deigned you worthy of two growth spurts because your relative size allows you to near completely wind around your family & they fit perfectly in your hold.

himawari’s buried her face in your stomach, small but ferocious hands gripping at you with the same strength of your initial individual hug.     hinata’s got one arm on himawari & the other on the boys, head resting against the crook of your neck & you can’t help pressing your cheek against the top of her head when you tighten the hold of your hug.     boruto’s in much the same position as himawari, holding onto you about as tightly, no doubt hiding his face against you in silent giddy embarrassment   ( you can practically feel him grinning through the layers of fabric ) .

kawaki   ...   doesn’t seem sure of what to do other than stand there & take the hug, but you kind of get that.     hugs tend to be jarring at first when you’ve been deprived of such contact for too long.     you kind of really get that.     the hand closest to him reaches up & ruffles at the boy’s hair before just   ...   resting there against the back of his head, not unlike the first time you hugged him.     it feels right.

you stand still like that for a few more seconds before winding your arms tight as they can around everyone again in one final affectionate smother, & you know you’ve squeezed the living daylights outta them when hima & boruto start laughing their variants of   “ daaaaad ”   with a slight wheeze.     you laugh in return & loosen your grip & boruto uses the chance to slip out entirely, still half laughing, saying something about suffocating if he stays in there any longer.

❛     welp, i was gonna end it off there with a ludicrously sappy   “ i love you all ” , but you went & spoiled that moment.     ❜     you can’t help smiling even as you try to say it with a straight face & end up laughing as boruto retreats with a grin announcing he’s going to bed.          ❛     sleep tight !!    ❜

the hug has more or less dispersed with that, though himawari’s still loyally clinging to you, & you remove the hands still on hinata & kawaki to pry off the little cub only to pick her up & let her sit in your arms long enough to lightly touch at her nose with a      ❛     you should be heading to bed, too, hima,     ❜     before handing her over to hinata with a kiss to her forehead.

you stand in the middle of the room, watching the two of them disappear off upstairs, waving a nighty - night to a now sleepy - looking himawari with a soft smile.

& then you’re left alone, along with kawaki, & all you can do is sigh in earnest contentment,     ❛     family’s great.     ❜          the everything of it sounds corny & hardly necessary, even to you, but you only say it because it’s true.     & you know that something similar, at least in sentiment, is going through kawaki’s mind.     & you know how sometimes it helps reaffirm the positive if someone else says the same thing you’re thinking out loud.

you throw another soft smile kawaki’s way.     then you proceed to return to the table & scarf down the leftovers in your bowl, resuming the usual evening motions, as though a family bearhug hadn’t interrupted the whole thing.

[thegingerwriter]

Istanbul - The Umbrella Academy #1

(Discontinued)

Characters: Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Five, May (my character) and Vanya Hargreeves.

Word Count: 3944 Words

Warnings: None I think. Occasional swear word, nothing that’s not in the dialogue in the show.

Things you need to know about the character, I’ve added:

- Her power is simply the ability to turn into a cat. No added effects. Just a cat. 

- She is Number 6 and Ben is now Number 7. 

- Her and Five have a very platonic friendship/relationship. Sorry if you thought that was an x reader. 

Hi guys! So I’ve been writing this first chapter since the Umbrella Academy first came out but I wasn’t sure if it was good enough to post! If you’ve watched The Umbrella Academy, this will be easier to understand. Thanks for reading xx

I fell onto Five, hearing him groan underneath me. “Sorry.” I mumbled, pushing myself off of him and rolling onto my back, landing in the dirt. Instantly I noticed I was, in fact, human. I was me again.

Five noticed this too, sitting up to stare at me. “May- you’re- you’re… you.” Five muttered. I guess we were both surprised to find me like this.

We continued to stare at each other and I realised me being human wasn’t the only thing to notice. Aside from me, Five was also different. He was a boy again- the same 13 year old that got himself stuck in the future all those many years ago. Another voice caused us to break out of it, suddenly remembering where we were.

“Is it just me, or do you guys also see little number Five and Six in front of us?” Klaus said and I looked up at him. At all of them. I barely recognised them now. 17 years later they’ve all grown up. Except for us apparently.

“Shit.” I said, glancing at Five who was also starring. Diego, Luther, Vanya, Klaus and Allison. It’s been so long. Five stood up next to me and I followed suit.

What exactly do we tell them? I thought to myself and I could tell Five was thinking the same.

“Anyone wanna explain?” Diego said.

* * *

I sat cross- legged on the bench of the kitchen, the rest of us dead silent as we watched Five at the table, spreading peanut butter on two pieces of bread. He seemed the most relaxed, despite the disbelief the others displayed.

“Wait- where you have you been again?” Allison asked.

“The future. Which sucks by the way.” Five didn’t look up from his peanut butter sandwich.

“Called it!” Klaus hollowered.

I fidgeted with my tattered clothes. “I see we only just missed the funeral.”

Luther looked up at me. “How did you-?” He started but Five cut him off.

“What part of ‘the future’ do you not understand?” He glanced at his sandwich before looking straight at me. “Ruby, could you pass-.” I didn’t let him finish as I chucked him a packet of unopened marshmallows on the bench next to me.

Peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich. Now that is something I haven’t seen in a very long time. It’s a Five delicacy.

“You two have just been running around the future for 17 years?” Diego asked.

“We’ve been stuck in the future for…” Five paused to look up at me. “Forty five years, give or take.”

“So... what? You’re both 58?” Luther questioned, looking at the both of us suspiciously.

“No, my consciousness is 58.” Five corrected.

“But we’re both apparently 13 again, unfortunately. I blame him.” I said, nnoddingat him.

“I obviously miscalculated.” He responded, shooting me a look.

“How did you guys even get back in the first place?” Vanya asked.

Five stuffed his sandwich into his mouth, thinking for a second. “I still don’t know how I brought Ruby along with me but,” He swallowed. “In the end, I just had to project my consciousness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time.”

The others all went silent. “That doesn’t make sense.” Diego confessed and the others nodded.

“Well it would if you were smarter.” Five retorted and Diego pushed his chair back roughly and stood up. I instantly jumped off the bench and stood in front of him, blocking his path to Five and pushing my hand against his chest. I gave Diego a warning look before he huffed and stepped back.

“What were you even doing in the future for so many years?” Klaus asked, suddenly contributing to the conversation.

“We just did whatever we could to survive. I would often try and figure out ways to get home and when Ruby wasn’t attempting to communicate with me I guess she was off chasing mice.” Five gave me a goofy smile and I glared at him.

“That’s not even remotely funny.” I said.

“It was a little funny.” He mumbled.

“You try being a cat for that many years and then you can make jokes.” I crossed my arms over my chest, about to say something else when Vanya stopped me.  

“Wait, what?” She stared at me in complete and utter disbelief. “Cat? You mean for 45 years you were there, you couldn’t change back?” The others looked at me.

I rolled my eyes at the sudden attention. “I’m gonna go change. Gotta be something that fits my 13 year old body.” I said, gesturing to the loose suit on my body.

I began to walk out of the room before Five called out to me. “Yea, me too. Not like this fits me either.”

“What- so that’s it? You’re not gonna tell us anything else?” Allison said and I didn’t even stop walking as I gave my response.

“Nothing else to tell.” I shrugged, and walked out of site.

* * *

Wonderful. That’s the only thing that fits, I thought to myself as I stared at myself in the mirror, As kids, the only clothes we really owned were our academy uniforms and pajamas so there wasn’t much to choose from in terms of outfits.

So I went for the full, regular uniform with the black blazer and my grey skirt. I guess looking like a schoolgirl was better than wearing the ruined clothes that were far too big for me that I had on before.

Sighing, I pulled a comb through my hair, straightening my uniform out right before I heard a knock at the door.

“Come in.” I called out, not even looking at the door. A moment passed and no one came in. I huffed and walked to the door, pulling it open to find an empty hallway.

Confused, I closed the door. Someone cleared their throat behind me and I jumped, turning to find Five sitting on my bed, dressed in his own academy uniform as well.

“Jesus Christ, don’t do that.” I breathed. “You scared me half to death.”

Five didn’t respond to this as he looked me up and down. “You look good.” He noted. I made a face at him and he smiled. He smoothed his hair out with his hands as we both went silent. “So go on then.” He said and I glanced at him in confusion.

“‘Go on’ what?” I said and Five frowned.

“You’ve been unable to talk to me for so long, you’re obviously ‘dying to say some things.”

I shrugged, walking over to sit on my desk. “Nothing in particular comes to mind.”

“Oh.” He raised his eyebrows. “I guess I just assumed you’d be mad at me or something-” I didn’t let him finish as I threw the plastic pencil cup off my desk at his head.

“Ow!” He cried, pushing a hand to his forehead after it bounced off and landed on the floor.

“Of course I’m mad with you, idiot!” I yelled at him, grabbing one of the pillows off my bed and throwing it at him again. “But don’t you think that would have worn off by now? We were stuck in the future for that many years because you decided to be a rebellious teenager and not listen to anything that dad ever told you about time travel!”

I went to throw another pillow at him but he teleported out of site. I didn’t even have to look behind me to know where he was.

I gave a heavy sigh and I sat on the bed, not even bothering to look up at him. “Yes, Five. I was mad at you. And some part of me will always hold a grudge against you for jumping so far into the future.” I met his gaze and he gave me those stupid sympathetic eyes that you could just never stay mad at for long. “But if I never tried to stop you, I would have spent the last 17 years here thinking you were dead.”

A silence filled the room again. “I’m sorry.” Five finally said but the words no longer mattered to me. I let it go a long time ago.

“Anyway.” I said into the silence. “I’m starving.”

“Wanna head down to the kitchen? Probably something down there.” He suggested, before he suddenly gave me a cheeky smile.

“What now?” I asked.

“Race ya.” He said, raising his eyebrows at me and I scoffed.

“We both know you always cheated at this game.”

He shrugged, striding over to the door. “It was always your choice to believe a cat could beat someone who could literally jump through space and time.”

Well, now I wanted to throw another pencil cup at his head. My eyes flicked to the open window and I could tell Five knew exactly what I was I was thinking. The kitchen was three floors beflow us. If I could jump out through the window and onto the second floor railing, I could easily- Five suddenly disappeared and I jumped off my bed.

I leaped for the window and as I did, I changed from human, to a fluffy dark gray cat, landing on the edge of the window before speeding down the railing and jumping onto Allison’s balcony.

I could see the kitchen window from where I was speeding along the drain pipes. I jumped onto the dumpster on the ground, directly across from the kitchen window. I couldn’t tell if it was closed or not but I leapt forward anyway, ready to change back as soon as I landed inside.

My face slammed into the glass, right as I saw Five, standing at the window, a stupid grin on his face as I fell backwards.

I climbed back up to the window, perching myself on the windowsill and waiting him to open it. He ignored me, walking away and leaving me to stare into the kitchen. I saw Diego and Allison sitting at the table, and I pawed at the window until they looked over and Diego rolled his eyes as he got up and pulled the window open, allowing me to jump through.

As soon as I landed on the ground, I was standing on two legs instead of four and I was smoothing my hair out on my head. “Jerk.” I said, glaring at Five.

“You know, for people who are 58, you’re still as childish as when you were kids.” Diego said and it sounded like an insult but I could see the laughter in his eyes. I gave him a smile but I don’t know if he thought it was sincere.

I was about to begin raiding the cupboard when Luther stuck his head into the room. “Hey guys, it’s almost sundown.” He informed us, before leaving again.

Diego and Allison went stuff and Five and I looked at each other. “Does he always come in and tell you what time of day it is?” Five questioned. Diego turned his head towards us but didn’t meet our eyes.

“Luther wanted to have a memorial service in the yard at sundown.” He explained.

“I guess food can wait then.” I said, as Diego and Allison got up to leave. Five and I stood there together again, silence surrounding us.

“A funeral for Dad. Joy.” He said bluntly, before following the others and I did the same.

Outside, it was bucketing down with rain. I stood in the doorway a few minutes later, looking at the others in the wet courtyard, black umbrellas over their heads. I smiled a little when I saw Pogo and Mum. I saw Pogo before briefly but I haven’t seen Mum in four and a half decades. It’s been a long time.

I hugged myself as I walked out into the rain without an umbrella before I suddenly saw Five appear beside me, holding an umbrella over the both of us. I gave him a grateful look before we joined the others.

Luther stood in the centre of the yard, obviously not bothering with an umbrella, holding Dad’s ashes in a stone urn. Allison and Vanya stood off to the side and I glanced over to Diego who also opted to just let the rain fall on him. I didn’t seem like he really cared. I nearly laughed when I saw Klaus walk out and join us with a clear plastic child umbrella and cigarette in his hand. I guess some things just never change.

We all just stayed silent, not really sure where to start. I huddled close to Five, the cold wind not making situation any more bearable. We only looked up when Mum spoke “Did something happen?” She asked, a blank look on her face.

“Dad died. Remember?” Allison said, looking at her skeptically.

“Oh. Yes, of course.” She replied sadly.

Allison turned to Diego with concern. “Is Mum okay?”

“She’s fine, yea. She just needs to rest. Recharge.” Diego answered quickly.

I gave Five a funny look and I could tell he understood. Something was obviously wrong.

Pogo interrupted our thoughts a moment later, looking at Luther. “Whenever you’re ready, dear boy.” He said kindly.

Luther was silent as he stepped forward, clutching the urn and took the lid off. He looked at each of us, as if expecting us to stop him or do something before he turned it over and poured it out into the middle of the yard.

The only thing we could hear was the rain bouncing off the umbrellas as we stared at the pile of ashes heaped on the ground.

“Does anyone wish to speak?” Pogo asked, moving towards the ashes with his cane. When none of us responded, he did so himself. “In all regards, Sir Reginald Hargreeves made me what I am today. For that alone, I shall forever be in his debt. He was my master… and my friend and I shall miss him very much. He leaves behind a complicated legacy-” Pogo was interrupted when Diego jumped in.

“He was a monster.” Diego stared at the heap of ashes, as if hoping it would go up in flames. Klaus let out a chuckle as Diego kept going. “He was a bad person and a worse father. The world’s better off without him.”

“Diego.” Allison and I said warningly. There was no need to go that far.

“My name is ‘Number Two’. You know why? Because our father couldn’t be bothered to give us actual names. He had Mum do it. Five is still called by his number because he was the last one to get a name, but Mum never could give him one. That wouldn’t be the case if he had actually been a dad.”

“Would anyone like something to eat?” Mum cut in and asked cheerfully. There was clearly something wrong with her.

“No, it’s okay, Mum.” Vanya said.

Diego was louder when he spoke this time, angrier than he was before. “Look, you wanna pay your respects?” He stepped out into the middle of us. “Go ahead. But at least be honest about the kinda man he was.” He looked at Pogo.

“You should stop talking now.” Luther interrupted him. Diego turned to glare at Luther.

“You know, you of all people should be on my side here, Number One.” He said sarcastically.

“Guys, stop.” I spoke up but they ignored me.

“I am warning you.” Luther said, clenching his fists.

“After everything he did to you? He had to ship you a million miles away.” Diego stepped even closer to Luther and I could tell this was going to end badly.

“Diego, stop talking.” Luther warned.

“That’s how much he couldn’t stand the sight of you!” Diego pushed his finger into Luther’s chest and this is the thing that very clearly fully set him off.

Luther pushed Diego’s hand away and immediately threw his arm out to punch him but Diego ducked under him and punched Luther in the stomach. Within moments, the two boys were in a heated fight.

Vanya pulled Mum back while Klaus put his arm out of in front of Five and I. We pushed his hand away in annoyance, but after Luther pushed Diego so hard he nearly fell into us, Five hooked his arm through mine and pulled me back, too.

“Boys!” Stop this at once!” Pogo yelled, sounding just like when were kids and the boys were fighting, all the same.

Diego and Luther completely ignored him as they fought in the rain, shoving each other and throwing punches. “Stop it!” Vanya screamed.

Luther grabbed Diego and threw him halfway across the courtyard, rolling across the leaves and the dirt.

“Cut it out!” I exclaimed, going to step forward but Five still had his arm looped through mine and wouldn’t let go. ‘Leave them’ he mouthed to me.

Pogo huffed and shook his head, turning to walk inside. The boys simply wouldn’t stop.

“We don’t have time for this.” Five said, as he turned on his heel and was about to walk back into the house when I stopped him. Diego was directly in front of Ben’s statue, obviously ready to crouch as soon as Luther swung his arm.

“Luther, don’t!” I yelled, but it was too late to stop him as he threw another punch at Diego and he ducked, Luther’s fist colliding with the metal statue.

The Bronze statue fell backwards, breaking in half as it did so. We all turned to stare at the broken figure of our brother, now in pieces on the ground thanks to the boys.

“And there goes Ben’s statue.” Allison said.

It looked like the boys were finally finished until Diego pulled one of his knives out. “Diego, no!” Vanya screamed at him, but he threw it at Luther, just cutting his arm as he jumped back.

Luther gasped and gripped his arm, storming past Diego and the rest of, inside the house.

Vanya walked up to Diego as Luther disappeared. “You never know when to stop, do you?” She asked.

Diego didn’t look at her as he leaned close to her. “Got enough material for your sequel yet?”

“He was my father, too.” She said, before going inside as well.

Just before I was about to follow the rest of the family out of the rain, I walked out from under our umbrella and up to Diego. “I may have been gone for seventeen years, but that doesn’t mean I don’t remember anything. Just because we didn’t necessarily like Dad, doesn’t say we get the rights to talk about him like that after he’s gone. Is it really fair to talk shit about someone when they aren’t here to defend themselves? Even if he really was a crappy person.”

Diego didn’t respond as he pushed past me, attempting to escort Mum undercover. I turned and walk with Five into the house, trying to forget about family drama for even just a moment.

* * *

I walked back into the kitchen again later with Allison. We had been looking for Vanya but couldn’t find her anywhere after the funeral. Instead, however, we found Klaus and Five.

Five didn’t look up at us as we entered, too busy flicking through cupboards and cabinets to really notice, or care probably.

Klaus sat at the head of the table, his legs up and his arms wrapped around around an electric guitar.

“Where’s Vanya?” Allison asked. Klaus looked up at her.

“Hmm? Oh, she left.”

“Five, what are you doing?” I walked over to him.

“That’s unfortunate.” He mumbled.

“What is?”

“An entire square block. Forty-two bedrooms, nineteen bathrooms, but no, not a single drop of coffee.” Five slammed a kettle on the bench and I jumped.

“Dad hated caffeine.” Allison said.

“Well, he hated children, too and he had plenty of us.” Klaus laughed, hugging the guitar to his chest. I snickered a little at that.

“I’m taking the car.” Five said, grabbing the car keys out of a bowl on the bench.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“To get a decent cup of coffee.”

Allison stopped him. “Wait, do you even know how to drive?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

Five scoffed. “I know how to do everything.”

There was no way I was letting him go alone. Right before he disappeared, I grabbed a hold of his blazer and I teleported with him outside in front of Dad’s old car.

Five pushed my arm away when he realised I was beside him. “Do you not remember the last time you decided to do that?” He growled at me.

“Do you remember the last time you decided to run away from the family because you got pissed off?” I shot back. Five huffed and opened the door of the car, hopping inside and I did the same in the passenger side. 

He started the car and gave me one last look before pushing his foot on the pedal and we were off. It was only when he was speeding down the road did I finally ask him something. 

“Why do you suddenly need coffee so bad?” 

“You’re tryinging to tell me that after that many years eating whatever food scraps we could get our hands on, you don’t want a donut from Griddy’s?” He asked, glancing at me as he drove down the street. 

After a few minutes, the car rolled up in front of the diner. “Okay, wait here. I’ll see if they’ve got any donuts left for you.” He said and I scoffed at him. I was about to argue but he got out and slammed the door before I even had the chance to. “Jerk.” I mumbled, for the second time that day. 

As I watched Five enter the diner, the bell ringing as he pushed the door open, I recalled the memories I had of this place. We used to come here when we snuck out as kids when we were bored. Ate donuts until one or all of us threw up and then sneak back into bed like nothing ever happened. 

We never physically got caught, but some part of me always told me Dad always knew. Maybe he was just letting us have some fun for a change, which was something we never got to have as kids anyway. 

I looked through the window to find Five talking to an older man. A truck driver, I believed, since there were only two other cars in the carkpark out front and I had a feeling the pick up truck was his. 

I didn’t feel like staying in the car any longer, waiting for Five to drink his coffee, so reaching over to pull the keys out, I got out of the car, letting the door fall closed behind me. As I approached the door, it opened and the truck driver walked out, holding the door for a split second so I could walk through. I gave him a kind smile before walking up and joining Five at the bench. 

Looking straight ahead, Five said, “’Wait in the car’?” He repeated and I rolled my eyes. 

“I got bored. What’d you say to the truckie?” I leaned my chin on my hand, resting my elbow on the bench. 

“I got an address from him.” Five said, sliding a piece of paper across the bench to me. A clinic of some sort. 

“Why is this important?” I cocked my head at time. He looked distracted, looking at the curved mirror above him to see out into the parking lot. “Five?” 

“I’ll tell you later. We’ve got company.” 

* * *

By the way, Chapter titles are gonna be names of songs from that episode. Because I’m unoriginal :)