#How to Draw a Top Hat for Kids Easy Step by Step

[lysdexic-ai]

Wanted or Worthy? A Deal with the Straw Hats!

“Join our crew!”

Find this full chapter, the prologue, and all published chapters at:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56539126/chapters/143693317

    The world around me blurs, colors merging like watercolors left in the rain. My senses dance — distant embers reaching for something just beyond my grasp. Clearer than before, the sea hums once more, its sound foreign yet familiar. A whisper threads through my bones in a language I don’t comprehend — but somehow recognize.

        {M‡g dr€¥md‡ dr§um ‡’ n¤’tt φm l‡’fsb¥lgjφr ¤f§n §’ d‡mmφ h¥ld¥’p‡nφ b§rn‡ð m‡tt}

    A trace of movement draws my attention. The skeleton, gliding over, appears unconcerned by the gravity of the situation. ���Yohoho! Are you alright, young lady? You looked like you saw a ghost! Oh, hold on — I guess I am a skeleton … Close enough! Yohohoho!” His laughter rings out, mirthful and unshaken.

    “Brook, wait!” a small, frantic voice calls.

    The urgency yanks me out of my stupor. The skeleton — Brook — reaches for me.

    Dazed, I recoil, pushing against the drenched wooden wall. “No!”

    Freezing mid-bow, Brook’s bony digits halts inches from me. A flicker of surprise dances in his hollow sockets. Slowly, he straightens, the blue cravat at his throat swaying with the gesture. His formal black-suede coat and gaudy orange feather-boa contrast sharply with his red, daisy-print pants. Despite the skeletal form, warmth lingers — a playful energy humming beneath the theatrics.

That was close. I can’t afford to accidentally knock him out or provoke anyone else aboard.

    “Yohoho! I promise I won’t bite!” He says, chuckling melodically, adjusting the crown-like top-hat perched atop his voluminous afro, a lavender cane swinging from his arm, his dark-leather broad-healed boots pats against the grass.

    Before the anxiety eases, the muscular, furry being looms in my peripheral vision. One flash, and he shrinks — transformed into a miniature puff ball of a reindeer. Clad in a yellow-striped shirt and brown shorts, he stands on his hind legs like a person. His wide, round eyes dart between me and Brook, and his oversized cotton-candy blue-and-pink hat teeters on his antlers. The hat’s duck-bill shadows his face, the studded X on the front and the dangling buckles gleam in the sunlight.

    His hooves tremble. “Y-you better not try and t-take anyone else out again! — ” his tiny voice stammers, brave, but shaky. His little sapphire nose twitches, and he stops, confused. “Wait … you don’t want to hurt us?”

    Jinbei steps forward. The weight of his calm presence muscles its way through the tension. His deep, firm, yet gentle voice rumbles. “Brook, give her some space.” A massive webbed hand gently guides Brook back.

    To say Jinbei’s presence is intimidating is an understatement; he’s a foreboding fortress standing between me and the crew. Then he turns to the small reindeer and says. “Chopper, don’t worry. It’s under control.”

    Chopper hesitates, scratching a fuzzy antler. His gaze flick to Jinbei, seeking reassurance. Doubt lingers, but he retreats behind Brook and Jinbei.

So that’s Chopper…

    Then, a poignant phrase punctuates the air. “Usopp, are you kidding me?!”

    I glance up just in time to see the Orange-haired woman in a purple bikini top charge toward Usopp like a mama bear in protection mode. Arms swinging, her sandy high-heeled gladiator sandals thunk against the deck. Gray skorts whip as a banner of fury, and long, wavy hair trails behind her.

This cannot possibly end well.

    “You let her escape?!” She snaps.

    Stepping back, Usopp throws up his hands. “H-hey, now hold on Nami, I was only trying to help.”

    “She took out Luffy and Chopper, and you just … What? … allowed her to wander off?!” The Orange-haired woman — Nami — shoots back.

    The accusation sinks in, souring my stomach. It’s amazing how easy it is to blame the person who made the decision rather than the ones who profit from it. I’v been here before but last time I was standing where she is, regretting my words in the after math.

I’m the one who did this, not Usopp.

    Each muscle in me aches — screaming for rest — but I force myself to stand. “Back off,” I say, weak but sharp. “It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t just stand by and do nothing. He had to make a judgment call and couldn’t help you while playing guard dog. I’m the one who took advantage of that. ”

    Nami’s scowl deepens, but there’s a glint of astonishment in her expression. Laced with wariness, her anger remains. “Oh? And now you care? Funny, considering you didn’t care much when you were knocking out my friends.”

    I fight to remain steady, my breath heavy with fatigue.

The nerve of this chick. I wish I had the strength to use my Haki — to read the room better, maybe even alter the tone.

    The burden of everyone’s scrutiny presses down on me.

    Usopp shifts with a nervous laugh, wiping the back of his neck. “Uh … yeah,” he says, voice uncertain. “Wait … should I be defending you or be worried … or?”

    I shoot him a flat look. “Really?”

    Jinbei watches, weighing my words. “If what you say is true, then you understand why Nami is concerned. You’ve given us no reason to trust you.”

    I meet his gaze, disoriented but unwavering. “Well … you shouldn’t,” I say, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. In spite of my trembling legs, I’m resolute. “But you trust Usopp. He made the best choice he could with what he had. Wether it was the right one or not, you know he made it with the crew in mind. I’m the one you should blame.”

    Brook hums, amused. “Taking responsibility, eh? Quite the honorable move for someone we were throwing into the cell not too long ago...”

    “Yeah, well …” I falter, just for a second. The fiery ache claws up from the depths with an intimate heaviness.

    The stress knots tight in my chest as the memories of when I should’ve taken responsibility in the first place bubbles up.

    Nami’s ferocity is justified — I get it. It’s the same kind of outrage that comes from realizing you were helpless while someone you cherish is putting themself in danger.

    I shove it down, attempting to lock the self-hate away where it belongs.

    “Uh… You okay there?” Usopp asks before second-guessing himself. “I mean, you just kinda… went quiet.”

    I glance at Usopp, standing there, caught between defense and doubt, shifting his weight as if he can’t decide which side of the blame he’s supposed to land on.

    Frustrated tears well up in my eyes.

Why? Why did he risk saving me when he should've let me jump? He could've died running after me.

    To hide my destress, I grit my teeth. My Haki tingles at my mind again. I have to release the stress.“You—!” Before he can say anything more, I haul off and punch him in the side. It’s not to hurt him, but to knock him back.

    “~Oof~!” Usopp stumbles, clutching his stomach. Everyone readies their weapons.

    “Don’t do stupid shit like that again!” I say, staring him down.

    “What the hell was that for?!”

    “I may be the one to blame, but coming after me was too much of a gamble! What would of happened if you wen’t over board?!”

    “Okay, okay!“

    “There are people who depend on you!” I point to the crew. “They depend on you!”  

Find this full chapter and all published chapters at:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56539126/chapters/143693317

[rerubenoving]

will collect kids' drawings from cafes now pls remind me if i forget eksoheksoh

feels like a very good pair of pieces to consider together - personally, adore them in equal measure, but through different mechanisms -- sort of.. mm. as an aside, i apologise, i lack severely in vocab, ref data, and framework when it comes to talking about art, so that will hinder ability to express self and conceive of some lines of thot. or force to abort them too soon. sawwy, ill get better ;( so, as to not hurt myself too much, i talk of pleasure i experience in lieu of 'beauty', i hope to keep language consistent with that. so, the first piece is immediately and intuitively visually satisfying, prompting free rumination; the second -- appeals more as a demonstration of authors thought, idiosyncratic approach to presenting explicit information. at the same time, though, both pieces are similarly abstract and humourous.

Fig. 1 [wonderful mouse, playful yet delicate, laconic. author masterfully intrigues with the open-ended environment and non-stereotypic simplification of form. playground for interpretation. expansive work! nuff said, except 'hehe)']

Fig. 2[twist on scientific illustration -- could be interpreted as both a critique of its mutt-like nature and affinity to mislead, and appreciation of its simplistic and natural representation of unabashedly uneven curiosity with which we regard the world, foundational desire to condense and structurise; imo, the attention-grabbing by subversion (to be discussed) throwback to visuals associated with earliest, almost universally joyous, experiences of learning is effective at enabling viewer to reconnect with that unburdened approach to knowledge -- but i think its more amusing to appreciate how it harnesses genre's inherent impersonal, sterile manner and air of credibility to both validate author's subjective yet honest perspective, and highlight, through contrast, joke and fantasy. now let us consider celestial objects separately, moving clockwise from the ringed planet: ~while the shape itself is immediately associated with saturn, we can infer that it represents the set of 'alien planets' generally -- both by examining remaining objects (to all adjective 'our' applies, imo authors focus is clear) and the labeled figure on the planet -- 'alien'. the figure itself is gargantuan, if we pretend for fun that proportion is unswayed by the weight of attention. as in the first piece, i admire step away from tired convention ᷆ (·.·) ᷇ ~moving on to the moon -- 'poopie'. lmao. decide for yourself if the fact that royal museums greenwich asserts there's '96 bags of human waste on the Moon' makes it funnier. ~clockwise from the top: 'i', 'family', [blank], 'home planet'. author is wearing a hat in the icon, i find it fascinating how a detail so tiny immediately tethers us to the time of creation -- as much as this is an abstract diagram, it reminds us that it is representing a moment, made as an examination of not just realities of the world, but ones space within it. either that or author thinks of themselves as someone who wears hats. 'family', with heart as an icon. admirable intuitive grasp on readability and constraints of medium, attunement to established proportions -- i assume 'family' consists of people, but, while we have precedent for depiction of humanoids, author restrains from spamming that would surely result in clutter, or hurt feelings. [blank] has too much to b said about it so i shall shut the fuck up. now, the 'home planet' label is what initially endeared me to the work. not the words, but the manner -- as in to poke fun at serious attempts at machine-like orderliness and symmetry, the label is mirrored, written right to left. at the same time, feels aesthetically reasonable, to follow radial symmetry. as i say, scientific illustration is inherently silly. its very easy to get stupid with rules. and the starting letter is similarly wrong-way-round, which more immediately hints at the gesture, but i will admit is likely result of author's ongoing journey toward literacy. only two words total here are written with no mistakes in spelling or letter shape: 'i' and 'poopie'. ~ ̗̀O ̖́ <- nobody. isnt that fucking awesome. five strokes to lack!]

[getindumdums]

Michelangelo is also very sensitive and the most likely to shed a few tears. Easy going, always down for fun and grooving. Also. Apparently he likes magic. You know, top hat and the rabbit magic. Also goes to a Vinnie’s Pizza Place when he wants to be alone or just wants pizza. One track mind foodie that surfs. Will get angry and serious only when you put in danger his pizza. Would march through a rain storm. Win a fight for pizza. Has gained excess weight cause of pizza. Pinch his chubby cheeks. ADHD/Autistic

-

Personally I emphasized a certain dynamic seen in a red sky episode when I write them. Raphael and Donatello often team up and agree on certain things. And seem like the most likely to question why they should help humans, especially rude, anti mutant ones. They’re just less trusting of them. With Leonardo being the die hard, unnecessary passionate turtle to want to help people to a comedic degree. (Well fight like our lives depend on it! *talking about protecting something mundane Raphael would not be agreeance with.) Michelangelo then makes an interesting mitigator, a peace keeper. Technically he could he could side with either, but because Michelangelo aims to keep things peaceful, he’ll often side with Leonardo.

One way to look at it is Leonardo and Michelangelo are extremely optimistic, sweet, and a little dense. With Leonardo being more serious and responsible. Give him the keys to your flower shop and he’ll blush, rub the back of his head and say ‘Gosh!’

Meanwhile Raphael and Donatello seem more pessimistic, with Raphael being a jokester, joking about said awful things.

^ This dynamic all the time is kind of out of character. At least it’s a very subtle dynamic in show since the show is great at showing all four interacting and getting along. But it’s an interesting approach to think about if you want to write in tension or angst.

- Other notes.

Raphael is actually extremely careful. He acts tough but is actually cowardly and the first to run from fights he can’t win. Very easy to turn him into a lovable asshole with a kind heart. And constantly updates himself on new lingo and humor. (Also knows his clothes a bit, great at disguising himself so probably good at makeup too.) He gets certain social/common sense things that flies over Leonardo’s head. Makes me think Leonardo is the kind of autistic that doesn’t get certain euphemisms, while Raphael hyperfizated of tv style comedy and acted accordingly. Like Bugs Bunny/Looney Tunes and has made references. (Same voice actor as Yakko’s.) Would taunt an enemy to lunge at him only to side step, and the villain would plummet below.

Donatello speaks philosophically, or poetically in these pessimistic rants, where he talks about things like how they’re ‘ostracized by society’ while clasping his hands together. Might as well give him a beret. He’s overconfident in his abilities. And is rash by always jumping into fights. Will walk into ‘Danger, Do not Enter’ areas and conveniently adjust what he said to justify stealing a tank. Needs Raphael to talk sense into him. Would kill. When he talks sass he goes for the throat. Don’t question his intelligence. Quiet kid? Autistic. Oh yeah. He likes airplanes. ‘Says’ he quit coffee. Gets blown up by his inventions.

Leonardo has the ‘cheesy 80’s hero’ vibes and voice, but with Raphael’s jokes and commentary, gives the idea that Leonardo is a nerd trying to act cool. But doesn’t realize how cheesy he is because his autism. He loves the three musketeers. Studying ninja history. Raphael and Don actually seem to like the ‘future sci-fi stuff’. Unless he likes space movies in the comics. Likes video games. Draws.

All 4 of them have separation anxiety but I’m still watching the episodes so I can’t go into depth. (Also I think all 4 are texture sensitive.) All of them love watching cheesy horror movies. Leonardo, Raphael, and Donatello love watching pro wrestling. But Leonardo is less prone to TV so Donatello and Raphael probably watch it the most. I think it grew on Michelangelo.

Someone or all of them liked westerns and I can’t remember who.

All in all I recommend just studying/watching how they talk and act with each other to have your own interpretation of them. But for examples of mine you can check out my ‘Get in Dum-Dums, We’re Going Vandalizing’ fic. They appear in chapter 2.

what are some of the strengths and weaknesses of 1987 Michelangelo’s character? I have the hardest time writing for him outside of the super obvious “surfer bro” persona honestly

tbh,, I rarely write for 87... they're too witty,,, I have some wips but as far as writing the 87 boys are definitely not my strength

That said! 1987 Michelangelo! Love that guy. hmmm strengths and weaknesses

Weaknesses

-he can be clueless at times. needs things explained multiple times or doesn't pick up on things other characters were counting on him picking up on. this can be a very useful for plot reasons, he can simply forget what he was told or not understand it and therefore fail to act on it

-very obsessed with pizza. more so than the other turtles

-along that vein, generally not difficult to distract

-hard to motivate. he mostly wants to make himself and those around him comfortable, and he's very good at finding simple easy ways to do that. So whatever task needs to be done for whatever other reason, better find a way to make it comfortable and fun, he has a high threshold. For example during training sometimes he would simply rather enjoy the nice weather and there is nothing Master Splinter or anyone else can say

-this goes with hard to motivate, but in the ep where Leonardo leaves and the others have to try to lead, when it's his turn he's just very passive. he is pretty good about knowing what needs done, but he is definitely not one to take charge, and more than likely he'll wait to be told what to do unless the situation is very urgent

-he does not enjoy watching pro-wrestling, to his brothers' dismay

Strengths!!

-sweetest heart of all time. brings home injured animals, takes them to the zoo so he can learn about how to take care of them or give them to someone who can

-btw he can talk to animals

-often is the one tending to his brothers if they're sore after a battle. not first aid, but like fluffing a pillow or just patting their back. He probably holds their hand while antiseptic is applied. Definitely hugs them when they cry

-very loyal. throws a birthday party for Irma. never believes something bad he hears about someone he knows (he'll say "no way, amigo" if someone who isn't present to defend themselves is accused of literally anything)

-strong moral compass, AND

-the ability to communicate persuasively about what he thinks is right. More often than not he uses the same sentence (what you're doing is majorly wrongiouso) (or something like that siahdhsj), but it's the way he says it amd the timing that's important. He understands people, and as much as he always sees the best in them, he also knows how to bring out the best in them. Idk I don't think I'm explaining it too well, but... he's not just blindly trusting. Trust is a choice he makes out of kindness, but then he will hold people to a standard. Does that make sense?

-great with kids

-he's a good mediator, hears out both sides

-faces his fears (he has the most stage fright of them all but by the end of the ep where they appeared on camera he was also handling it the best)

-he can put his foot down when he needs to. very cool trait for the Nice Guy character to have, y'know?

-not afraid to emote! sobs openly because the stove is broken! hugs! speaks up when he is upset! expresses joy for the little things! 🧡

-psychic (i think? probably? might not know it? i remember feeling like it was implied but I'd have to go find the episode(s) alskjdjvf) (pretty sure it wasn't explicit but like. he's psychic okay)

-so much patience

-everyone loves the way he talks. they're always mimicking him. i remember one time when Leonardo asked a question, Michelangelo was standing right there, and Donatello literally said, "Well as Michelangelo would say" and then said what Michelangelo would say and was in fact about to say, then Michelangelo went to say it and got all confused alfjshsjj. Also Shredder will do this too! And you know you're good when Shredder copies you. He had aspirations of being a writer before he turned to villainy, you know (or maybe you didn't but now you do)

[lizzie-is-here]

ANOTHER IMPORTANT THING FOR A NEW SERIES PLS RESPOND!!!

i really appreciate any feedback on these yall 🥺🤍

but as i finish up girls just wanna have fun, i need to plan the next series! i have some new ideas, and i’ve scrapped a few others. like i said, pls feel free to tell me ur thoughts! <3

option one: like the dawn

ship: stucky x winged! reader

genre: angst to fluff

summary: you, steve rogers, and james “bucky” barnes have been best friends since kindergarten. when they go off to war and you pave your own path into the army, you never expected to lose them both. when you go missing on a search for their bodies and get taken by HYDRA, you become their latest experiment. the angel of death and the winter soldier are an assassin duo that haunt seven decades, but when you encounter a blond man on a bridge 70 years later, it stirs something you forgot was there.

basically a love story spanning the decades, with lots of reunions and relearning things about the people you love, and learning that while some things change, you’ll love them anyways.

preview:

As you three entered the science fair, you spun around, dress swishing at your knees as you took in every invention on display. Even if Bucky was the nerd of your little trio, you could still appreciate good science.

However, when you turned back to smile at your best friends, the shorter one was gone.

“Oh my god. Bucky. Where’s Steve?” The brunet whipped to his side, his hat nearly flying off his head in the process. Another reminder that he was leaving soon.

“Holy shit. Steve?” he yelled, peering over the crowd.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whispered. Before you could panic any further, the blond stepped out of the crowd, a pamphlet in hand. “Holy shit, Steve, you can’t run off like that!” you chided, checking him for any bruises.

“You know she’s right, punk,” Bucky added, frowning.

“Why do you two feel the need to chaperone me like I’m some kid?” Steve asked, eyeing you and Bucky as the bright lights of the different booths sent spots across his vision. You rolled your eyes, setting a hand on your hip.

“Because, Stevie,” you sighed, drawing out your words. “You have little-to-no survival instincts, and your mother would smite us if we let you run around on your own.”

Bucky nodded. “C’mon, Steve. I even got you a date.” You whipped towards him, eyebrows raised.

“You did? How?”

“I’m just that good, doll.” He winked at a passing girl, who practically swooned and waved to him.

You scoffed, lightly smacking him on the chest and taking Steve by the hand. “Let’s go, before Buck manages to leave a trail of broken hearts behind him and you have an asthma attack.”

option two: hades and persephone

ship: bucky x plant powers!reader

genre: comedy, fluff

summary: you’ve been in hiding in NYC ever since your escape from a HYDRA facility. in all honesty, it hasn’t been too bad. your power over plant life has made it laughably easy to establish yourself as a small-time florist in new york. you’ve thought about trying to join the avengers, but you’re far from prepared when the whole group comes busting into your store after a bad mission involving a lot of poison ivy. turns out you hadn’t been hiding very well, they were just being polite. (no civil war)

basically a superhero comedy showcasing some fun plant-based powers. isabela madrigal who???

preview:

Carefully making sure no one was watching, you ran a hand over the wilted orchids, watching as they returned to life with a mere touch. You smiled, setting the pots up on a shelf, perusing your store and keeping every plant in top shape. Flowers and houseplants alike lined your shelves, all perfectly healthy without a dead leaf in sight.

You sighed, relaxation taking over your mind. You felt your powers tingle, and when you glanced over to the mirror, you were met with a scattering of lavender flowers growing in your hair.

Frowning, you began to brush it out, waving a hand and dissipating the petals on the floor. Just as you managed to remove the last one, your door burst open with a loud bang, sending you jumping and causing begonias to bloom in place of the lavender.

You shrieked, ducking behind a shelf to furiously remove the pink-orange blooms.

“Sorry! Sorry, miss. You don’t have to hide, we know about your powers,” a voice said. How did they know? You’d been so careful to keep it all secret.

You peeked out from behind the shelf, eyes widening when you saw who was standing in your shop.

The Avengers. Still in their mission gear, covered head-to-toe in rashes. Poison ivy. You were sure of it.

“What the hell happened to you guys?”

option three: lonely is a man without love

(THAT’S RIGHT MOON KNIGHT BABY)

ship: marc spector + steven grant x avenger! assassin! reader (no jake i’m sorry i just don’t have enough screen time to know how to write him😭)

genre: comedy, fluff, slight reverse comfort bc episode five

summary: when you went to london to check out rumors of a new vigilante superhero, you were very shocked to only find a mild-mannered gift shopist. you befriend him nonetheless, and are just about to call the tip a bust when one night, you hear loud noises in his apartment next door. when you break in to check on him, you don’t find your shy friend. instead, you come face-to-face with a snarky mercenary and his… giant skeleton bird? (good ending to endgame, reader can see khonshu for reasons tbd lol. comedic effect??? idk)

basically a girlboss x malewife fic with angst. reader is badass and steven and marc are sweethearts with unresolved trauma.

preview:

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” you said, holding a hand up. Steven- no, Marc, sighed exasperatedly, waiting. “You are a mercenary?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“Just answer the damn question!”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Yes.” You sighed, leaning against the bookshelf.

“So what? Was Steven just an alibi?” you asked. You really hoped not. One, because he was sweet and kind and an absolute nerd. And two, because if he wasn’t, then that meant that Marc’s dedication to a cover was better than yours. And that simply would not stand.

“No, it’s more complicated than that. He’s, like, a facet of me. Another personality.” You perked up, visibly relieved.

“Oh, so he’s an alter? Like, you have DID?”

“Is that what it’s called?”

“Do you… Do you not know the name of your own personality disorder?” His silence spoke volumes. You chuckled under your breath, watching him stammer to try and recover from his fumble. You removed the gun from your waistband, preparing to set it on the table. In an instant, Marc had your wrist in a death grip, attempting to jostle the gun from you.

On instinct, you twisted under his arms, kicking out his legs. He rolled over and stood back up, kicking the gun from your hands.

You took a moment to analyze his fighting style, scanning him as he circled you. He was good, yes, but his form was sloppy. Basic US military training, most likely nothing specialized.

Taking one out of Nat’s book, you leapt up, wrap your thighs around Marc’s head, and flip him over, holding him in place as he thrashed on the floor.

“Shut up, holy fuck you are so damn loud Jesus fucking Christ,” you hissed. Eventually, he tapped your leg, wheezing.

“Truce,” he sighed. You rolled off of him, nodding.

“Yeah, truce.”

option four: the soldier and the scythe

ship: bucky x ex hydra! reader

genre: heavy angst, trauma, hurt and some comfort, healing

summary: all you’ve ever known are the walls of HYDRA. you’re the first joint project between the red room and HYDRA, an assassin with a reputation for perfection. you’ve been modified to resist conditions that would kill anyone else, trained to evaluate every situation and to slip away without a trace. you don’t have any weaknesses. except for your long-time partner. the winter soldier. and when a mission goes south and a man on a bridge stirs up memories in him, you’re stuck in the middle of a war between what you’ve been trained and brainwashed to do, and the man you trust more than yourself.

basically a deep dive into what happened to bucky barnes in HYDRA that turned him into the winter soldier and the lingering hold it has on you both. warning: will discuss abuse, PTSD, torture, dehumanization, and possibly sexual assault. it’s gonna be a heavy one.

preview:

Your room was quite literally the only place you had any semblance of privacy in HYDRA. If you could even call it a room. Four concrete walls, bright fluorescent lights that went out at 12:00, a tiny cot, a toilet in the corner with a sink and tiny mirror.

No cameras though. And that was all you could hope for.

With a sigh, you stripped off your tactical suit, grabbing a thin shirt and pants. You slipped them on, running a bent and broken comb through your hair. Not for your appearance. Hell, HYDRA had trained any care for your looks out of you years ago. But untangled hair was easier to braid back, as you’d found after they’d chopped out a large chunk of your hair one time.

You spot a glimpse of the mirror. Dark, tired eyes stare back at you. Your skin is sunken and dull, although the cut across your nose had stopped bleeding and was already almost fully scabbed over.

You tore your gaze away from the machine in the reflection, opening your door slightly. A freedom not afforded to most HYDRA soldiers. But as one of HYDRA’s prized experiments, well, you got a few privileges.

“Как ты думаешь, куда ты идешь? [Where do you think you’re going?]” a guard asks. You kept your eyes low.

“В гостях у Солдата. [To visit The Soldier.]” He begrudgingly nodded, and let you pass. Silently passing down the hallway, you stopped outside his door. Him. The Winter Soldier. Winter, as you knew him. One of HYDRA’s oldest and best assassins. They’d managed to drain most of the humanity out of him a long time ago. But not all of it.

You knocked.

He opened the door instantly. You both schooled your expressions as you stepped inside and he closed the door. Luckily, HYDRA didn’t care what it’s favorite killers did behind closed doors. As long as it didn’t interfere with your work.

“Are you alright?” he asked. Even though his memories were as jumbled as yours, he knew English was his first language. It was what he preferred to speak.

“I will be.” He sat down on his cot and you joined him, the rough fabric bending under the combined weight. He rested his forehead against yours, both of you closing your eyes.

A moment of reprieve in all of the blood.

[tommyspeakycap]

Can we get baby little Shelby find a bunny and ask Tommy and John to take it home. And get scolded by Polly when they at home? 💕💕

more pre war Tommy fluff ;) 

Bunny

“Tommy!”

The dark haired man’s heart flies into his throat, his mind immediately kicking into gear as he drops the coin he was about to flip. He was deciding whether or not to buy a horse with a new inflow of cash they had recently gotten. That horse is lost the second he hears the shriek that came from somewhere behind him. The heavy boots on his feet make easy work of crushing through powdery snow, but give a very little to prevent him from tripping and slipping; although the fear coursing through him and his extreme haste may well have contributed to his somewhat uncoordinated limbs.

In the maybe a minute that it takes form Tommy to get from where he was to where he had traced his little sister to, a million and one thoughts race through his mind. He fears every worst case scenario his mind can conjure up and immediately blames himself for bringing you out to the country to play in some fresh snow with John and Finn. The air was much clearer out here and so too was Tommy’s mind. He could think, be free of the city smoke and the harsh environment that appears to be tacked to his work in the family business. There was so much pressure on the raven haired bookmaker to uphold his own personal morals while also living a notoriously immoral life. He tried to keep his hands clean, prevent himself from muddying the line between pointless violence and the necessary survival and protection of his family.

So going with his 5 year old little sister out to the county was something not uncommon for him. And the snow had only given him more reason to. He regretted that now.

“What-” Tommy wheezed out, unable to speak for lack of his breath after attempting to run through the deep, deep snow. “What’s happened,” he coughs, “Are you alri-“

“Tommy!” The little girl whispers harshly, waving her hands at him disapprovingly, “Shhhhh, you’ll scare it away!” Tommy snaps his mouth shut, instead opting to take the five year olds outstretched hand and crouch down as she instructs him. On her other side is John; crouched down with one arm around Finn to keep him still. “What are we looking at?” Tommy asks quietly, his neck craned to try and spot whatever his other siblings had noticed. 

“It’s a bunny, Tom. Look.” (y/n) points with her little hand and Tommy follows the general direction in which her hand is showing him. In doing so, he squints and finds his gaze falling upon a small white rabbit sitting picking a blade of grass that it had pulled through the snow. “They want to take it home.” John states, grinning at Tommy something like a Cheshire Cat because he knows for a fact that man isn't able to say no to the puppy dogs eyes of (y/n) and Finn Shelby when they truly wanted something.

“Hm, I don't think so.” He mumbles, trying to keep his eyes off of the disappointed face of his younger siblings. “You know Aunt Polly’ll go mad.” The second he does turn his head to see his youngest siblings gazing up at him in the desperate way he knows always works, he regrets it. “Please Tommy, pleeeease?” (y/n) begs, clasping her cold little hands together and pulling her most convincing puppy eyes Tommy might've ever seen. “Yeah Tommy, please? Pretty pretty please?” Finn joins in, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement and anticipation at the idea of having the little bunny as a pet. 

“Yeah Tom,” John sniggers, stubbing out his cigarette on the snowy ground. The elder brother puts on a pout to mimic (y/n) and Finn, not serving to make things any easier for Tommy as the youngest two weren't able to pick up on John’s teasing nature and sarcastic reiteration of their words. They took it as encouragement while Tommy knew John would be going home to Martha and his own kids, thus wouldn't have to be on the reviewing end of Polly’s temper. Tommy rolls his eyes and inhales deeply, thinking briefly about how angry Polly would be compared to how much it would make you and Finn giggle to have a pet even if only for a while before Tommy would free it back into the wild and tell some lie about a magic bunny farm. The kids chanting brought his mind back. “Please, please, please!” 

“Alright,” Tommy cuts them off, “Alright. But we’re not chasing it around all afternoon.”

--

How on earth Tommy ended up holding his little sister as he stood in the doorway of the Shelby family home kicking the snow off his boots while said little sister had his big trench coat wrapped around her and her smaller jacket used as a blanket for their new bunny rabbit friend, he will never know. He genuinely felt like if he had been outside for one more minute he would have actually frozen stiff, however it was always his top priority that his littlest sibling was as safe as she could be; so it was suffice to say the idea of her getting frostbite and slash or hypothermia after she insisted on wrapping the little rabbit in her own coat was less than appealing to Tommy, so she could keep his warm winter jacket as long as she desired.

“Right Finn, straight into the living room and not a peep to Pol alright?” Finn nods vigorously in a show of his determination to follow his brothers order as he places the wrapped up bunny into the young boys arms. Finn tries to run as unsuspiciously as he can past Polly in the kitchen to go through to the living room where only Ada sat, reading a book by the fire underneath a blanket. 

“Tommy?” The little girls voice draws an “Mhm?” from him as he battles to get her stiff winter boots off of her tiny cold feet. “What're we going to name him?” She enquires, her voice as inquisitive as any other curious 5 year old is. Tommy hums in thought, tapping (y/n)’s other foot in the way that he does that tells her to put her foot down and lift the other one for Tommy to pull that boot off too. There was a distinct routine between the two that had been established in the last five years of her life with Tommy acting as her primary caregiver.

“I don't know, love. Whatever you want to call him. Just remember to stay quiet about it yeah?” He looks up to see his little sister nodding firmly, placing her finger over her lips just as Tommy had done so many times when secrecy or silence was needed. 

“Alrighty then.” Tommy says, lifting both the pairs of boots easily in one hand and putting them by the other shoes. He moves his hands to under the small girls armpits and hoists her gently back up onto his hip as to avoid her stepping small puddles of water that had collected from the snow on her boots and his by the door. “Shall we go see what your brothers gotten up to with that-” 

“Jesus fucking Christ Tommy.” 

Both siblings turn their heads quickly to face Polly when they hear her speaking with her stern scolding tone turned on. Polly immediately notes how Tommy looks slightly secretive, like he was ready to start either lying or making some form excuse for something for which her niece looked rather guilty. Deer in the headlights kind of expression. “Look, Pol...” Tommy begins, but is interrupted by his aunt firmly shaking her head and marching towards him. 

“I’ve told you a million times Thomas. She’s five. That means you do still need to put her bloody hat on when you take her out in the cold but you don’t need to fucking carry her everywhere.” She huffs, pressing both her palms against (y/n)’s cold rosy cheeks, “Shes bloody freezing.” Her scolding tone never fails to make Tommy feels as though he’s still a young boy who’s been caught misbehaving by his aunt. However now he’s an adult with responsibility for his little sister and somehow, he ends up on the receiving end of that tone far more than the littlest member of the family ever will. Polly peels Tommy’s coat away off the little girl in his arms so she could hang it up to hopefully dry some before he next needs it and (y/n) doesn't mind not wearing her brothers jacket anymore, however the words that Polly speaks about putting her back down only serves to make her cling a little tighter subconsciously. 

“She's only little, Pol.” Tommy defends, “And we had long day, haven’t we sweetheart?” Polly wants to scoff when (y/n) nods her head and offers up that angel smile that wins the hearts of her entire family, but the woman can’t help but smile back and shake her head. “Well,” she huffs slightly, her hand reaching back up to the little girl to to brush the snow off (y/n)’s hair, “I think the very least your brother could do if he was going to have you out in the freezing cold all day would be to put a bloody hat on you.” 

The little girl giggles, flicking her eyes to Tommy to inspect his reaction to their aunts words. 

“Remembered.” He notes flippantly with a grin and Polly knows fully well that it was not remembered because putting a hat on top of that little girls soft locks of hair was something he had never once remembered to do without a reminder since she was merely a little bald baby. 

“Course.” She responds teasingly, “Dinner’s out soon.”

Tommy nods his head before Polly walks away in the direction of the kitchen again, where Tommy had no doubt Arthur is now lingering to pick off the scraps of dinner before its put out on the table for everyone else. 

“That was a close one, Tom.” The little girl on his hip whispers quietly, her wide eyes causing Tommy to chuckle heartily as he takes them both through to the living room to see what Finn and now likely Ada were doing with this rabbit. “Yes,” Tommy agrees, walking into the living room “It very much was. Hello Ada.” Ada immediately rolls her eyes at the sound of Tommy’s voice. 

“Pol’s going to kill you, you know.” She states, standing and crossing her arms firmly over her chest as Tommy sets his youngest sister down on the floor to run over to where Finn sat with the bunny close to the heat the fire was giving off. “Probably.” Tommy nods.

Ada turns away to wrap her blanket around her only sister, the one she had wished and prayed for since she had been merely a little girl herself. Tommy vividly remembers the many occasions when Ada was not only his youngest sibling, but also his only sister and recalls how unhappy she had been about those facts. Finn being born eased only one of those issues, but Ada rested a while for the time that Finn was a baby before again pestering their mother about wanting a little sister again. 

She had been ecstatic when (y/n) was born, and she had been besotted with that sweet little girl ever since. 

“You always forget to put her hat on, Thomas.” Ada chastises, the reprimand drawing a chuckle from her brother who takes a seat down on the couch and crosses one leg on top of the other. “So I’ve heard.” Tommy mumbles under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear and stretch out her leg to kick his when she too sat back down on the couch.

“Twat.” She hisses. 

It was Tommy’s turn to role his eyes at his sisters flippant comment, paying no mind to her words thrown in a light tease that he knew she only ever half meant.

“That’s not very nice, Ada.” 

(y/n) doesn't do so much as turn around when she chides those words in dismay to Ada’s insult aimed at her Tom. There was no hiding how the little girl adored Tommy. “Exactly Ada,” Tommy grins widely, giving Ada the biggest shit eating look he can muster as he tried not to laugh, “And that’s why you're my favourite, aren't you my love?” The 5 year old simply nods her head in response to her brothers words before turning straight back to play with her new pet. 

“Well, she might be your favourite but you certainly won’t be Polly’s once she sees you’ve brought that home. She’ll go mad.” Ada nods her head in the direction of the fluffy white animal in their living room. Tommy shrugs his shoulders indifferently, “They're happy though, aren't they? and quiet. Worth it really.” 

Ada knew very well that Tommy was right, although it was likely that she wouldn't even think to much on that in his vicinity, just incase he even got the sensation that she was thinking he was in the right. They’ve got a big family and a lot of hard work had to go into making business run smoothly to provide for everyone. The younger kids can sometimes go amiss to the elder siblings on particularly busy days. Sometimes playing and talking to them gets overlooked or their clothes go on back to front because everyone forgot they sometimes still needed help with things like that. 

So giving them the simple pleasure of almost a normal childhood - not one living with the Shelby name and subsequently the future of the Peaky Blinders tacked to them - by letting them a pet that they can look after and love on for a few days at least was something Tommy was willing to grin and bare the wrath of Polly Gray for. 

He was a sucker for that little girl, so when she’s happy there are few things in the world Thomas Shelby wouldn't endure to keep it that way. 

[discocactusblogs]

Heather- Jason Todd x Chubby Reader Pt.1

{Author's Note: _____ is a blank to put your name}

"Girl, just tell him!" Barbara whispered and nudged me towards my best friend, Jason Todd aka Robin, the boy wonder.

I had found out about him being Batman's sidekick when we were 13, shortly after he became Robin.

"Easy for you to say! Look at you! You're gorgeous! You're fit and thin and redheaded! Just look at me… I'm...not so fit... I'm chubby. I'm a plain bagel. I'm not ugly but I'm not exactly pretty either." I sighed and gestured to my chubby body.

" ______, I know what I'm telling you. Just tell him." She sighed. "Besides, you're gorgeous too! And very intelligent and mature for a fifteen-year-old!" Barbara smiled, holding up a banana like a wand.

"As if. What guy my age sees a girl and goes, 'What a lovely personality?' Get real Babs, no one wants a plain bagel." I shrugged.

"Welp, I gotta get going or I'll be late for work. But trust me, he won't turn you away." She turned away, obviously knowing something I didn't.

"Hey _____!" Jason spoke as he walked up to me from the curb of the grocery store, I had gone to buy some fruit my mom had told me to get.

"Hey Jay." I sighed with a slight blush on my cheeks.

"Are you okay? It's kinda cold today… Where's your jacket?" He asked, tilting his head to the side slightly.

"My jacket!" I gasped. "I forgot it at school!"

"School's closed now. They just locked the gate." He replied with a shrug.

"My mom's going to kill me. That's the only jacket I have!" My eyes watered, knowing my mother was going to be furious with me when I got home.

"Take mine then. I have others at home." He unzipped his hoodie.

"N-no. It's fine. I can get it Monday from school." I spoke softly while staring at the ground.

He draped his jacket over my shoulders. "I said, take it. Besides, it looks better on you than me. It goes well with your hair color. Here, let me hold your stuff so you can get it on." He smirked, knowing I wouldn't refuse if he spoke sternly with me. He took the bag from my hands and I looked at him. "Zip. It. Up." He frowned.

"Yes sir." I put my arms in the jacket and zipped it up. He was bigger and bulkier than I was, so the jacket fit me rather loosely and was down to my mid thighs but it was comfortable and warm. Much warmer than the jackets and sweaters I had before.

"Hm… keep it. I know your dad hasn't been working a lot lately. It gets pretty cold so you can keep that one. Bruce got me some others at home. Just don't tell anyone, got it? I only share with you because I've known you since we were kids. You took care of me so I'm taking care of you." He looked at me, handing back the bag of fruit. "Now, don't think I'm getting soft or being a gentleman. You're still carrying your stuff." He smirked.

I smiled and chuckled. "Thanks." I took the bag and walked down the street with him.

"Hi Jason!" An annoying voice called out from the ice cream shop.

"Hm? Oh, hey Heather." Jason turned around and seemed slightly irritated.

"Are you going to the pep rally tonight?" Heather asked with fluttering eyelashes. She was Jason's girlfriend.

Dark hair, slim figure, bright eyes, how could I compete with that?

"Uh, no." He replied flatly.

"Why not, I'm going to be performing!" She countered.

"I'm just not feeling it. I don't like pep rallies." He shrugged. "Not my thing."

"Okay then. Wanna get some ice cream?" She asked.

"Go ahead and go home ______, I'll catch up later." He looked apologetically at me and walked across the street.

I nodded and kept walking.

I watched as Heather smiled and hugged him.

It hurt.

He was dating her and she was so sweet. Everyone loved her so, I can see why he did too. She always had a smile on her face.

I kept walking, tears stinging my eyes. There's no way I could ever be like her. He liked her more and would run to her at the drop of a hat.

Arriving at home, I stepped inside. "Hey mom! I'm back!" I set the bag on the counter.

"Oh good! Make sure you do your homework!"

"Yes ma'am!" I sigh and go up to my room, closing the door.

Out of instinct, I called my friend, Valerie.

"A simple solution to your problem is to play spin the bottle or something." She teased.

"Why would he ever kiss me? I'm nowhere near as pretty as Heather!" I clutch the sleeves of the hoodie before taking it off and throwing it onto my bed.

"He gave her his sweater." My eyes watered as I told her what had happened at school that day.

"The black one or the fake polyester one?" Valerie asked.

"The black one."

"Oh dear. I'll be right over." She hung up.

"Is it wrong to wish she were dead?" I chuckled softly when Valerie came through my bedroom door.

"Yes. It's your jealousy and I'm gonna chop off your legs if you continue on this path, Anakin." Valerie smirked.

"Dude, I was kidding." I turn in my swivel chair.

"Yeah, it was a failed attempt at a joke. I'm sorry about Jason. If it makes you feel better, Bradley dumped me." She looked at the ground.

"Here's the plan, I drive the car and Jason shoves him into the road and we make it look like an accident." I spoke whilst drawing out the plan.

"Don't worry about it."

"Worry about what?" Jason walked in.

"Oh, you came!" Valerie smiled.

I looked at her, what a traitor.

"So, I heard you gave Heather your sweater!"

"This one?" He held up said object. "Eh, we broke up. She liked someone else and so did I." He sat on a beanbag chair.

"Wait what? But you really liked her and she's so nice!" I exclaim in shock.

"Relax ______, it was mutual." He chuckled. "There's actually something I came to talk to you about." He seemed nervous, his cheeks tinting red and so were the tips of his ears.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I'll go get water." Valerie got up, stretched and went downstairs.

"I don't know how to say this. This is difficult for me but… I'm sorry. I don't want to be your friend anymore." He sighed.

My eyes widened. "W-what?"

"Yeah. I'm...tired of it." He stood up.

"But Jason, you're my best friend!"

"I know. Hey, do you know what material this shirt is?" He checked his shirt.

"Jason, now's not the time-"

"Answer!"

"I don't know! Cotton, maybe?!" I was growing panicked and my eyes were stinging with tears.

"Wrong, it's boyfriend material. And so is that hoodie." He smirked.

I stood in silence.

"What?" He asked.

"Jason Peter Todd, are you...asking me to be your girlfriend????" I stood, mouth agape in shock.

He smirked and nodded. "Sure thing buttercup! I... love you." His face turned beet red.

"Why? I'm not pretty. I'm not slim or fit or anything-"

"Because you're smart, and cute, you're kind and brave. You're so cool too and geek out with me. We both nerd out over science stuff and books. What's not to love???" The look on his face was one of pure confusion, as if the answer was as clear as day.

"Jason, I love you too." I spoke in a hushed whispers as a few years fell from my eyes.

"Don't cry! Why are you crying???"

"I'm just happy! I've liked you for so long!"

"So have I but I'm not crying!"

"I didn't think you'd like me because I'm chubby!"

"What?! You think I'm that shallow? I'm offended!"

"Jay and ______ sitting in a tree~" Valerie teased from the doorway.

"Val!" We exclaimed in unison, Jay pulling me into a side hug.

"Fine! I'mma head out!" She grabbed her backpack and left.

A few days later, Jason was going to leave for a mission that I didn't want him to go on. I knew how dangerous it was for him to go alone.

"I'm leaving...for Bosnia. Bats needs my help." He looked at me sadly.

"Jay, please. Don't go. What if something happens?" I pleaded, clutching onto him tightly.

It was only a few days ago that he confessed to me and we were trying to figure out where to go with our relationship, which led to this argument.

"I'll come back. I promise." He kissed the top of my head. "Love ya." He smirked. His forest green eyes shone in the sunlight like an emerald.

He seemed so confident that he would be okay.

"Jason, no! I have a bad feeling you're not coming back!" I pleaded harshly, grabbing his wrist and asking him to stay.

"I'm just going to meet my birth mom, I'll be fine!" He assured me. "Here, hold onto my jacket for me." He took off his leather jacket and handed it to me.

I nodded with tears escaping the corners of my eyes. "I love you Jason…" I said as I watched him hop into the car and leave. Little did I know that would be the last time I ever saw him.

I kept that jacket with me at all times after that.

A few weeks went by without a word from Jason and the pit on my stomach only grew, the only thing keeping me sane was the scent of his cologne on his jacket that lingered still.

Finally, I mustered up the courage to go to Wayne Manor and ask if anyone's heard from Jason. It was then my heart shattered into pieces.

"Miss ______, I am so terribly sorry. I thought someone had already told you… Master Jason died last week." Alfred sat me down at the kitchen counter for tea.

My eyes widened and the porcelain teacup fell from my hand, shattering onto the tile floor. Tears flowed from my eyes like a cerulean waterfall. "No one told me!" I shouted, falling to my knees to clean up the mess with blurry eyes.

"Miss ______, I can get it." Alfred stopped me, only to realize I was bleeding from a deep cut from a glass shard on the top of my hand, a cut that would leave a scar for years to come.

"He can't be dead… he promised he would come back." I whispered, not even flinching from the cut.

"Here, allow me to tend to that." Alfred took out the first aid kit and cleaned the wound, giving it a few stitches.

"How…?" I asked, flinching from pain.

"... The Joker. Master Bruce didn't make it in time." He replied, the sorrow evident in his tone.

I nodded and thanked him for the help and the tea.

"Send a car to take her home." I heard Bruce from the doorway.

"Right away, Master Bruce." Alfred excused himself.

"His funeral is this Saturday if you'd like to come." Bruce turned away from me.

"I'll be there. Time?"

"Noon."

"See you then."

When the funeral finally took place, the reality of Jason's death set in. He wasn't coming back like he promised. I left a rose on his casket and bawled as I watched them lower the casket with my best friend and love of my life, into the dark, cold ground and with it, my heart.

"You promised." I whispered to myself, looking away from the scene. It was then I decided I wanted to be a nurse to help heal people.

Five years later, my dream of being a nurse was nearly achieved. I was two years away from graduating and I went to visit Jason every day on the way home from work. I still lived with my parents since I was a student at the local university, thanks to Bruce.

When I approached the door, that's when I saw it. A single rose on the bench outside the door along with a cryptic letter. 'Hang in there.' it said with a happy face at the end.

I was stumped but the notes and roses kept happening at least once a week and they soon came every day. At least, until the night that would change my life forever.

(Part Two)

(Masterlist)

[ahatintimepieces]

Fabric Hearts

Remember the first part of that build-a-bear au I wrote for @smieska-draws? It’s back! But now the au name makes sense! Imagine!

Luka, known as the Snatcher to most of the mall locals, runs the Kraft-a-Kid while his daughter, Hattie, runs around with her friends. There’s definitely nothing suspicious about Luka. The rumors that he snatches the souls of children and stuffs them into the dolls are completely unfounded. Probably. Most likely. Don’t worry about it, I’m sure it’s fine.

This is, of course, another au that Smieska and I both developed and like to swap ideas for SO send her your love and adulation because I couldn’t have written this without her ;o; <333 Here’s the link to the piece she did for first part if you haven’t seen it yet (which u should because it’s fabulous and incredible). Without further ado, here it is!

Words: 4,131

The door squeaked open as Luka recorded the number of tiny, elastic collars with bright bells in the back.

“Dimitri can’t make it today,” he warned without looking up from his clipboard. His golden gaze flickered up towards the boxes filled with cotton stuffing and he quickly counted them as footsteps approached. “If you get a sudden influx of customers, come grab me.”

“It’s me, Dad,” Hattie’s voice came from right beside him.

“Did I stutter?” He glanced down without missing a beat. She gave him a deadpan stare as he grinned. His sharp canines glinted in the unnaturally bright florescent lights. “Come on, kiddo. How about you help me with my business endeavors instead of frittering away your summer romping around the mall?”

She readjusted the brim of the top hat she made from her millinery lessons at the fabric store. Why his child fixated on hat-making out of everything she could have taken an interest in was beyond him but even he had to admit her royal purple top hat was well crafted.

“I’m going with Belle and the others to get lunch at the food court,” she said, ignoring his jesting. “Can I have money?”

“You know if you had a job you wouldn’t need to be asking me,” he lamented dramatically before wedging the clipboard between his arm and side. He reached for his wallet in the back pocket of his slacks.

“I’m not even twelve.” She blinked up at him with large blue eyes. “There are child labor laws.”

“Excellent.” He nodded, opening his wallet. “Don’t let anyone in the mall convince you otherwise. But,” he slipped out a bill and gave her a pointed look, “if you accept this, you have to do me a favor.”

“I already cleaned the bathrooms last weekend,” she whined.

His grin widened.

“Tough luck, kiddo.” He twisted the bill in the air, watching her nose scrunch as she seriously weighed her options. After a second of letting her think that she was going to have to do her least favorite chore, he extended the bill towards her. “Just bring me back a coffee and I’ll consider us even.”

Relief instantly flooded her features as she took the bill.

“I can do that! Your usual?” She headed towards the door.

“That’ll work,” he said, tucking away his wallet and grabbing the clipboard again.

“Thanks, Dad!” she chirped before moving to open the door.

Just as she reached for it, the door swung open, and she stumbled back. Luka immediately dropped the clipboard and slipped behind her with the speed of shadows dodging the light. She smacked into his legs, and he placed a steadying hand on her shoulder as Alex walked in with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry, kid! I didn’t see you there.” Alex winced, looking from Hattie to Luka’s hard glare.

“I’m fine!” Hattie promised, giving a bright smile until she placed her hand over Luka’s fingers. She jolted and twisted around. “Dad, are you okay? You’re really warm.”

“It is hot in here.” Alex tugged at their collar, wincing.

“The thermostat dial was probably nudged,” Luka dismissed, pulling away and stooping to grab the clipboard. “I’ll take a look.”

“Should I get you water?” Hattie asked.

“I have water. Now go have fun.” He shooed her towards the door. “The sooner you leave the sooner you can run my errand.”

Hattie hesitated but when he returned to his task of recording inventory, he heard her retreating footsteps.

“Sorry,” Alex muttered as they crossed over to the table for the employees. They dropped their backpack before grabbing the light purple apron with their nametag.

“Let’s just be careful with how forcefully we open doors, hm? I don’t want to deal with any workplace liability cases. They’re a pain.” Luka shot the teen a toothy grin. Glancing back down to the clipboard, he added in a more monotone cadence, “Anyway, Dimitri can’t come today, so once Ember leaves, it’ll just be you and me for the rest of the day. If it gets too crowded on the floor and I’m not around, come find me.”

“Right.” They nodded firmly. While wiping back their bangs and smearing the beads of sweat on their brow, they hurried out. Once the door closed behind them and Luka was alone, he let out a sigh.

The flame that had flared when Hattie nearly got hit crackled noisily in his otherwise empty chest. Luka placed one of his pale hands over the flame and counted out the seconds between metered inhales and exhales. The snap and pop of embers faded and when he glanced towards the thermostat, the temperature in the room lowered back to a comfortable range.

Not that he was bothered by the heat, but he didn’t need his employees passing out.

Ember’s shift ended as he got to counting the unstuffed plush shells. As she hung her apron over the hook, she informed him that two separate groups had just entered the store. Luka nodded, finishing his current count before getting ready to help Alex on the floor.

He brushed back his long, spiky hair into a ponytail. Stray strands the color of soot fluttered against his cheek, and he tucked them behind his ear.

They reflected a warm violet when they caught the light.

With his hair as contained as he could manage, he grabbed his own amethyst apron with the Kraft-a-Kid’s signature logo; a stylized baby goat and parent goat waving a friendly greeting. After draping it over his black suit and making sure it didn’t displace his dark purple tie, he tied the apron with nimble fingers, clawed at the tips. He double-checked that the pocket had extra thread and a compact sewing kit before he clipped on his name tag and headed out into the workshop.

Alex snapped their head up from one of the stuffing stations, looking relieved when they spotted Luka rounding the counter. Alex returned their full attention to the small girl and her mother while Luka smiled at the two teens with a younger child hovering by the bins of unstuffed shells by the entrance.

While he didn’t know them personally, he recognized Brooke and her younger sister Hali, who worked (or in Hali’s case just hovered around in the back when not at daycare) at their uncle’s travel agency, and then Makoto, who worked at the jewelry store. Judging from their uniforms, the teens were probably using their breaks to accompany Hali. Since he often heard good things about their work ethic and Hali’s sweet nature from Mari, he assumed he had an easy session ahead. He waved them over.

Brooke and Makoto shared a nervous look while Hali bounded over with a bright smile.

“Why, hello there!” Luka pasted on his most vibrant customer service smile as he lowered onto the seat by the stuffing station. Cotton and soft fibers filled the glass tank decorated to look like hearty trees and branches climbed around the edges. The machine itself matched the lilac walls and brown and bronze gears that decorated them. The bins and shelves that held the merchandise throughout the store were all structured to look like spools of golden thread.

Holding an unstuffed goat with dark brown fuzz and silver horns, Hali shyly smiled up at Luka as Brooke and Makoto slowly joined.

“I see you’ve picked your new friend!” Luka held out his hands and Hali gingerly lowered the flat goat into his palms. “Before we bring them to life, how stuffed do you want them to be?”

“Um?” Hali tilted her head with a blank expression.

“Do you want them to be firm or squishy?” Luka clarified, fitting the goat around the nozzle and getting his foot ready over the pedal.

“Fiwm, pwease!” Hali declared in a cutesy voice.

“Excellent choice!” Luka set to work, pumping the pedal as he filled out the head of the goat plush. The machine roared to life, blowing air and fluff with the force of a vacuum. Though, his ears perked when he caught Brooke and Makoto in an intense discussion as they remained a couple steps back. What he couldn’t hear over the machine, he pieced together easily enough.

He knew the rumors and could guess what was on their mind when they mentioned the Snatcher and stolen souls.

Luka smirked as he pulled his foot from the pedal and the machine hushed.

“Now it’s time for my favorite part.” He beamed, pulling off the firmly stuffed goat and then reaching for a bucket full of small felt hearts. “The soul ceremony! Go ahead and pick the heart that most resonates with you.”

“If it’s just a heart, why is it called a soul ceremony?” Brooke asked, her voice quivering as she pressed closer to Makoto.

Hali, meanwhile, was completely enraptured with picking out the right fabric heart.

“Hearts, souls, same thing, really,” Luka soothed with a toothy grin, giving the teens a considering look.

Makoto’s gaze flickered down to his fangs. She lifted her chin, trying to project an air of confidence. But her furrowed brows wavered.

“Souws awe heawts?” Hali gasped, looking up with awe.

“Absolutely!” Luka kept his voice cheerful, gesturing to the bucket. “It’s what gives your new friend life! I imagine without one, they would feel pretty empty and hollow.” Keeping his chin tilted down, he lifted his eyes towards the teens and lowered his voice just a touch. “Wouldn’t you feel pretty soulless without a heart?”

The two stiffened.

“Pwobabwy!” Hali chirped, completely unaware of their increasing unease. She dug around the hearts and pursed her lips. “How do woo know which heawt is the best?”

“That’s up to you!” Luka bounced effortlessly back into an upbeat cadence. He pinched a heart with a checkerboard pattern in red and white. “The nice thing about these hearts is that they’re blank slates. They’ll be filled with whatever you put into them. But don’t put in too much!” he added with a chuckle. “Wouldn’t want your new friend to be more you than you!”

Brooke squeaked in fright and his grin stretched.

“I wiwl take this one, then!” Hali held up a solid red heart.

“Great! Hold on to it, now.” Luka placed the tub back down. “First, why don’t you rub the heart on your hair so your little buddy will always have soft fur!”

Hali beamed at that and rubbed the fabric heart on her hair. When she pulled it back down, some of the blond strands followed the heart while the strands too far away stuck up from the lingering static.

“Well done! Now, rub it against your funny bone so your friend has a sense of humor.” Luka tapped his elbow when Hali crinkled her nose for a moment. Her eyes lit up in understanding and once the heart was granted good humor, Luka added, “and why don’t you strike a superhero pose, so that your pal will hold courage.”

Hali giggled as she placed her hands on her hips and preened.

“Fantastic. Lastly, I want you to rub the heart between your palms!” Luka motioned for her to mimic him as he demonstrated. “Now, when it’s nice and warm, give it a clap to start its heartbeat!”

The clap resounded through the workshop and the teens jolted behind her.

“That should do it,” Luka praised, holding out his palm. Hali handed the heart over, and he slipped it into the goat, tucking it snuggly away in the cotton and fluff.

He then set to filling out the rest of the plush. Once it was stiff and sturdy, he handed it to her, asking if she was content with it. When he received an enthusiastic nod, he took it back and sealed the hole. He snipped the extra thread with the scissors in his apron and then passed the goat back to Hali.

“Here’s your new friend! Be sure to visit our shop in the back! We have plenty of accessories and outfits for the newest member of your family,” Luka recited the same sales pitch as always. “Once you’re ready, head over to an open kiosk so you can fill out the adoption papers. If you need any help, Alex or I will be overjoyed to assist.”

“Thank woo!” Hali hurried over to the accessories, hugging the goat to her chest.

Luka clasped his hands and turned to the teens. When his gaze flickered to the floppy hooded doll in Makoto’s arms, her embrace tightened.

“Ready?” He motioned for her to hand it over so that he could stuff it.

She looked to Brooke, who shrugged with uncertainty. Makoto stepped forward.  

Keeping his tone light, he went through the same script as always. He asked if she wanted the doll to be firm or squishy and, in an effort to loosen her up a bit, offered to add any fun sound boxes or scents to the plush. She remained on edge until he asked about the nametag on her uniform as the machine roared to life again. She explained how her boss liked to give everyone themed nicknames and she was saddled with “Makoneko.” When he asked if she appreciated the nickname, she pointedly rolled her eyes as he removed his foot from the machine pedal again. Her shoulders relaxed when he chuckled.

“Your turn to pick a heart,” Luka twittered in an overly cheerful voice as he held out the bucket.

“Do I have to do the ceremony?” Makoto hesitated, plucking the first heart she saw. Rather than scared, her bored expression mirrored that of many teens who wanted to skip the step.

Perfect.

“I wouldn’t recommend it.” He shrugged casually. “What is a heart without a heartbeat? A soul without a person behind the personality?”

“What?” She faltered, shoulders slowly stiffening again as Brooke’s eyes widened.

“I only mean it’ll be a sorry existence for this little friend.” Luka waved the stubby hands of the purple plush toy. “And you get out what you put in.” Her brows dipped in slight confusion, and he smirked. “You have to at least start its heartbeat. You don’t want to bring a ghost home, do you?”  

“Just do the ceremony!” Brooke hissed through clenched teeth.

“F-fine,” Makoto said, slowly lifting the heart to her long black locks. “So, hair for soft fur?”

“Does it look like this one has fur?” Luka gestured to the doll with the yellow spiral in its hood. He scoffed, turning up his nose. “Of course not! No. First, why don’t you rub the heart against your belly so that it’s full of laughter.”

“I thought that was the elbow.” Makoto crinkled her nose. Though she rubbed the heart against her stomach, eager to get it over with.

“There is a difference between telling good jokes and laughing at them, kiddo,” Luka offered with a smirk. “Now, how about you jump up and down a few times? I’m sure your friend would love to share some of your energy.”

“What does that mean?” She jolted.

“Just that exercise keeps the heart healthy,” Luka said placidly.

Her eyes narrowed but she eventually gave a sluggish skip.  

“Then, rub it against your ear, so it will always listen.” He smiled brightly, being sure to bare his teeth. Once she complied, he clasped his hands together. “I’m sure you know what to do now! Warm it between your palms and then clap to start the heartbeat!”

She let out the breath that she had been holding, relieved it was finally over. She gave a small clap before passing the heart back. He slipped it into the doll.

“Any names in mind for your friend?” Luka prompted as his foot tapped the pedal.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled curtly, purposefully trying to let the whirling air in the stuffing machine drown out her answer.

“How’s this feel?” he asked a few seconds later when the machine hushed again. He pulled the doll from the nozzle and passed it back to her.

“Good.” She returned it after assessing the squishiness.

“If you haven’t got any names, I always thought these particular dolls looked like minions,” he prattled, closing the seam. When she didn’t respond, he continued lightly, “so Minion might be a good name.” He glanced up to meet her gaze and lowered his tone. “You did make sure it’ll listen. It’ll be an obedient little kiddo.”

Her breath hitched.

“Obedient to who?” she challenged, maintaining a fragile glare.

“All done!” Luka snapped upright after snipping the excess thread, pretending he hadn’t heard her question. “Welcome your friend into the world!”

Makoto accepted the doll, her gaze flickering between it and Luka with uncertainty.

“Same as always,” he droned in his peppy, customer service voice. “Browse to your contentment. My daughter recommends the plush purple cherries. You want to keep your buddy happy and fed! Make sure to finalize the adoption and meet Alex or I by the counter.” He glanced over to find the other young girl with her mother already at the cash register. “Looks like it’ll be Alex!”

Makoto nodded numbly as Brooke stepped forward and looped her arm through hers, rescuing Makoto by tugging her away.

“One more thing,” Luka began, keeping his eyes on his clean-up routine. The teens’ footsteps paused as they hovered. Though his smile laced his voice, his enunciation was sharp. “I’m sure the Snatcher doesn’t have to tell you but be sure to treat your new friend as you would yourself. You put your soul into bringing them to life, after all.”

The teens gasped.

“Have a good day, kids.” Laughter laced his voice.

They rushed away as he chuckled.

While he finished cleaning up, Hattie returned with her friends. As soon as she spotted him behind the stuffing machine, she rushed across the tiles decorated to look vaguely like a forest path.

“Here’s your coffee,” she chirped, holding up the cup.

“Any plans for the rest of the day?” he asked, pushing to his feet and picking stray fluff from his apron. Once he was as clean as he was going to get, he accepted the drink. He held it towards his lips, pausing to quirk a brow at young Muriel and Timmy as they passed the stuffing machines to check out all the colorful outfits. Belle, meanwhile, joined Hattie with her azure bow bouncing in her dark coils.

“We’re going to head to the bookstore.” Hattie shrugged. “Tim’s friend is hosting a card game tournament.”

“Remember to be back by six,” he instructed. “Don’t go snacking after four or you’ll spoil your dinner.”

“I know, Dad,” she huffed dramatically.

“Also, Mom says hi, Mr. Kingsley,” Belle pipped in.

“Tell Mari I return the sentiment. Now get your friends to stop loitering.” He turned back towards Hattie and rose his voice so Timmy and Mu could hear. “They scare away customers.”

“Says the Snatcher,” Timmy whispered to Mu.

Luka covered his smirk with the coffee cup. His gaze shifted over Hattie and Belle and he watched as Makoto and Brooke fled the store at a brisk pace. Hali struggled to keep up, but she managed to meet his eyes and offered a cheerful wave.

“Fine,” Hattie sighed. “Come on, guys!”

“I need to stop by Mom’s before we head to the bookstore,” Belle mentioned as she and Hattie turned to leave. “I left my cards with my backpack.”

As the girls left, Luka turned to head back towards the counter, taking a sip of his coffee. He immediately winced.

“Ugh, tepid,” he grumbled as Timmy and Mu ran past, hurrying out to follow Hattie and Belle.

After making sure the kids all had their backs turned and Alex was busy with something on the counter, Luka summoned a gentle ember to his hand. While the flame harmlessly licked the cup, the coffee warmed inside until steam wafted from the hole in the lid. He took a tentative sip and swallowed the scalding liquid.

The flames in his chest crackled and popped, and the knots in his shoulders eased.

He snuffed out the ember in his hand as he lowered the cup. Mist trailed from the lid as the coffee maintained its heat.

“I think you scarred those two for life,” Alex muttered as Luka returned to the counter.

“Which two?” he asked, mind still on Hattie and her friends.

“Brooke and Makoto.” Alex glanced up, shaking their head with a scolding expression.

“I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary,” Luka said calmly. He leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee during his momentary break. “If those hooligans are letting their imaginations run wild, it’s not on my conscience.”

“Uh-huh.” Alex gave him an unimpressed look. “Also, I think we’re running low on the beach ball accessories.”

“I noticed,” Luka muttered, swirling his cup pensively. “Those aren’t particularly popular, and we are getting near the end of the season…”

While they discussed whether they needed to send out an order or if they would make it until the fall selection came out, Hattie rolled on the balls of her feet as she, Timmy, and Mu waited for Belle to return from her mom’s flower shop just across from Kraft-a-Kid. Hattie idly watched all the mallgoers, thoughts blank, but Timmy and Mu had their eyes locked on Kraft-a-Kid, thoughts whirling noisier than the stuffing machines.

“Okay, I’m ready!” Belle announced as she bounced out with her deck of cards.

“Hattie.” Timmy whirled around. “Your dad’s magic!”

“Timmy, he doesn’t steal souls, we’ve been over this,” Hattie whined, crossing her arms.

“If he doesn’t steal souls, then what’s with his coffee?” Mu snapped, nodding her head towards the display window where Luka could be seen leaning against the counter inside the workshop.

Hattie squinted, trying to figure out what was out of place with the steaming coffee cup. After a moment, she turned to Belle, who shrugged.

“It’s hot!” Mu gestured wildly, causing her blond mustache to bob with her movement. “Look at that steam!”

Hattie blinked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Belle supplied dryly. “Because Hattie ordered it hot.”

“But he said it was tepid!” Timmy argued. “We heard him!”

“He probably thinks it is,” Hattie said, knitting her brows together. “He likes his coffee hot enough to burn his tastebuds.”

“You aren’t getting it!” Mu huffed. “It wasn’t steaming when he said it was cold!”

“Okay, but even if he somehow heated it up, that didn’t have anything to do with stealing souls,” Belle appeased.

“That’s what we mean!” Timmy urged. “If he can use one type of magic, he can use others!”

“I regret the day I told you about those rumors,” Hattie grumbled.

It didn’t matter as much when strangers said it, but instead of laughing with Hattie when she told them that people thought her dad was some kind of heartless, soul-snatching monster, Mu and Timmy had latched onto the conspiracy and ever since refused to let go. She couldn’t talk about new product plushies or designs around them anymore because they would just start a debate about which shell would best hold the souls of children.

“Look can we just get going?” She started walking in the direction of the bookstore and Belle matched her pace. Mu hurried to catch up as Timmy trailed behind, keeping a watchful eye on Kraft-a-Kid.

“Are you sure you haven’t seen anything weird?” Mu insisted. “Heard any screams of children he caught? Seen any dolls move in the corner of your eye?”

“You know he laughs like a cartoon villain?” Timmy added.

“The store is literally called Kraft-a-Kid!” Mu continued. “Open your eyes, Hattie!”

“Kid is just another word for baby goat!” Belle argued. “It’s cute!”

“We aren’t talking about this anymore!” Hattie snapped, tugging down on the brim of her hat. She turned away from them and focused on Belle. “So, what deck are you using? The one with fairy types? Or your cat themed one?”

“Both!” She grinned mischievously as she happily helped to redirect the conversation. “I combined them because I wanted to use all my favorites. How about you?”

“Going with the forest deck.” Hattie glanced up, where her deck was safely tucked away in the hidden compartment she stitched into the top hat.

Timmy and Mu huffed, letting their argument go as they pipped in with talking about their own decks. But it was only a matter of time before they started back on their theories about her dad’s supposed magic. Trying not to deflate too much, she kept her eyes forward. She swallowed her frustration and focused on the upcoming tournament.

Besides, even if her dad did have magic and only used it for heating up coffee, it hardly seemed something a heartless monster would do.

Right?

[ipuckwithhockey]

History Repeats Itself- B. Boeser

a/n: This somehow ended up being around 11k words, so I hope y’all enjoy it! Also, I only did a quick scan for grammar and spelling so sorry if there are errors!

summary: You and Brock met once back in college when you were still committed to your high school boyfriend. Years later you’re single and older and just starting a new job in Vancouver. The only question now is whether or not you will take the opportunity to rewrite your own history.

warnings: None that I can think of

“So, are you in or no?” Y/N’s roommate asks her as they walk out of the library and toward their dorm. 

“I don’t think so Mags, I actually have some studying to catch up on.” You reply unconvincingly. Midterms of your first semester at the University of North Dakota just came to a close, and your excuse of having homework on a Friday night wasn’t convincing anyone. 

“Y/N, seriously? You aced all of your midterms and we just spent three hours in the fucking library! Live a little! The hockey team is having a huge party, and the guys are really fun AND super hot! You deserve this!” Maggie tries to convince you to come out to a party that the UND Hockey team is having tonight, and you tell yourself not to give in. 

“Maggie, I have a boyfriend. And you know they don’t let guys who aren’t on the team into their parties. God, it’s basically a frat.” You scoff at the idea of a frat party, but there’s still a small part of you that wants to experience the chaos of a real college party. That’s probably why it ends up being so easy for Maggie to convince you to slip into a pair of skinny jeans and a cute top before embarking on a night out.  

“Y/N, this is Nick and Brock. They’re both in my econ class. Nick is a sophomore, but Brock here is a freshman like us!” Maggie happily introduces you to the two tall boys as you enter an old musty house, full to the brim with college kids. The air smells like stale alcohol and you take note that your shoes are somehow already sticky. You’re not sure if it’s from something you stepped in or if it’s just the floor in general. 

“Hey, nice to meet you.” You shake Brock’s hand that he’s extended for you and you can’t help but stare a little too long, taking in his blonde hair and ocean-blue eyes. 

You had to admit though, Katie was right, these guys are super hot. You can already tell your roommate has her eye on this Nick guy, and it actually looks like he might be interested in her too. He’s just her type— He’s hot and he knows it, and his dark hair and striking features draw the eyes of nearly every girl in the room. The blonde boy who stands across from you is quite honestly the opposite of Nick. Brock is also undeniably good-looking, but he’s shy and his light hair and soft smile make him seem less intimidating than his friend. 

Nick finds you and Katie some drinks and some other girls you’ve become friends with show up to the party a little later. The boys come and go as they mingle with other people and their teammates, but Nick tends to stay close by to Maggie and you catch glimpses of Brock occasionally. Apparently his shyness doesn’t apply to his teammates. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch him and his friends dance together to some shitty remix of a song you used to blast on your way to school. You’re actually having a great time, but you can’t hear your phone ringing over the music that’s blaring through the house you’re in. Later, Nick offers to walk you and Maggie home after a few hours of living like a real college kid, and Brock ends up tagging along since he apparently lives in the same building. 

“So, how come we haven’t met you before tonight? This one talks about you all the time.” The four of you are walking across campus and Nick has Maggie under his arm as he asks why you never seem to be with your roommate. 

“She has a boyfriend. And I’m pretty sure he’s allergic to having fun.” Maggie quips as some of the alcohol she’s consumed tonight gives her the courage to openly criticize your relationship. 

“Maggie.” You say in a warning tone. “He’s just not a big partier, and usually I’m not either.” You shove at her shoulder lightly. Maggie was nice and you liked being her roommate, but when you first met and told her you had followed your high school boyfriend across the country to attend a university in “North fucking Dakota” she immediately expressed how crazy she thought you were. In her eyes there was no way that a couple who started dating when they were fifteen would last forever. You disagreed, which is why you turned down your scholarship to an ivy league and followed your boyfriend to North Fucking Dakota. His family was from North Dakota, and for some reason everyone in their family had to go to school there too. At the time, you didn’t see it as giving something up, you saw it as you and your boyfriend starting a life together outside the confines of your hometown. 

“So, what floor do you live on, Brock?” Maggie asks as the four of you make your way up to your building. 

“I’m on 4— Room 405. What about you guys?” Brock asks back. 

“We’re 219.” You say back before you’re startled as you hear another voice you’re not exactly expecting.  

“Y/N! Where the hell have you been?” The group you’re with is almost to the doors of your dorm building when a perturbed voice yells for you.  

“Uh- Owen. What are you doing here?” You’re surprised to see your boyfriend standing in front of you, looking like he’s seeing red. You weren’t even supposed to be seeing him at all tonight. He had told you he was going to be occupied for the evening while he was studying for his physics exam. You hadn’t told him you were going to the party, but at the time you didn’t think it was important. Owen preferred that you didn’t bother him while he was studying, so you decided against calling him before your night out. 

“I’ve been calling you for like two hours— God have you been drinking?” The rest of the group you were with tonight looks uncomfortable to say the least, and you can’t blame them. Owen wasn’t the best at saving face, especially when he felt like someone hadn’t upheld the standards that he had set out for them. Now he just looked like a dad reprimanding their child, and a wave of embarrassment quickly washed over you.

“I just- We went to a party. I didn’t think you’d mind. You were supposed to be studying all night,” You say sheepishly, as you begin to regret letting Maggie convince you to go out. Before Owen can clap back again, Maggie nudges you and tells you that the three of them are going to go, not wanting to invade on your private life any longer. 

When they’re gone, Owen starts again, “This just isn’t like you. I’m so disappointed.” You feel bad now, you know you haven’t done anything wrong, but Owen’s words make you feel like you have, so you tuck your tail between your legs as follow him back to his dorm and apologize for what you did. 

That was almost five years ago. You dated Owen for longer than you’d like to admit but eventually you removed your rose-colored glasses and broke up with him. You graduated from UND and got a second chance at your Ivy League dreams when went to graduate school. Now, you’ve completed your masters and have been offered a promotion at you job. The only catch was that the new position required you to move to the west coast… of Canada. 

You moved almost two months ago, and your raise was enough to allow you to move into a nice building downtown. Work takes up most of your time now, so you haven’t been able to explore the city as much as you would like, but you can already tell your decision to make Vancouver your new home was a good one. The laid back and easy feeling you get from this city is completely different from the big east coast metropolis you had been living in before, and even though you’re working more than ever, you feel like you can actually breathe here. 

Since your breakup with Owen your senior year at UND, you’ve taken time to take back your life. You try your best not to ponder on the past anymore, and you focus on your own future. It can’t be denied that at first it was hard not to remain bitter at the idea that you had so willingly given up many things in your life, for a boy who took them too eagerly. You worked through it though and took back your life by focusing on your own goals and working on furthering your own career. The past is the past now, and you were ready to start this new life in Vancouver. 

*

“I actually can’t believe you’re wearing that.” Elias mocks at Brock as they step out of the elevator and into the lobby of Brock’s apartment building. Brock is sporting a bucket hat, and even though he knows Elias is joking, he wonders if he shouldn’t have just left the hat sitting on his kitchen counter. The two of them are bickering back and forth about their fashion choices, and Brock almost misses you as you walk past him. Almost. He recognizes you immediately even though your hair is longer, and your face doesn’t look so much like a kid’s anymore. 

“Hey, nice to meet you.” Brock extends his hand, hoping he doesn’t seem too nervous to the pretty girl he has just been introduced to. He’s a freshman, and a star on the UND hockey team, which kind of makes him North Dakotan royalty. Since starting college, he’s learned what to say and how to say it, to get a girl’s attention, but he’s not the overly confident guy that his friend, Nick is. Nick lays it on thick and loves the attention he gets. Brock likes it, it’s fun, but he’s more laid back, and not as worried about getting the girl. He just likes to have a good time with his friends and doesn’t really need all of the extra attention. 

He would however like to have your attention. He makes some friendly conversation with you over the course of the night, but you stick close to your girlfriends, and he can’t tell if you’re not interested or if you just aren’t catching what he’s putting down. 

Later that night, when Nick tells Brock that he is going to walk you and your roommate home, he’s quick to tag along. Even though he lives in the same building, he probably would have stayed at the party a little longer if you hadn’t been going with them. On the walk across campus, the four of you make some small talk, and Brock knows that Nick definitely thinks he’s getting laid tonight. 

Brock can’t help but hope that Nick getting laid will mean you will need a hideout for a couple hours while your roommate occupies your shared room. Even though he’d happily accept it, he doesn’t think he’ll be getting laid. Brock just hopes that he’ll have some time to get to know you a little bit better, maybe get your number, and then eventually ask you out. It’s right then that Nick asks why they’ve never met you. 

“She has a boyfriend. And I’m pretty sure he’s allergic to having fun.”  Maggie replies, and Brock can’t help but be disappointed. You had a boyfriend. So it wasn’t that you weren’t interested, well it was, but it was only because you were already taken. Maybe you had even caught on to his light flirting, and he can’t help but think how embarrassing that is.  

This embarrassment honestly wasn’t as bad as what was to come next. Brock isn’t sure if his secondhand embarrassment is worse than the embarrassment that you’re probably feeling as the guy, who is presumably your boyfriend, yells at you for going to a party. He can tell that you’re trying to play it cool, you’re definitely uncomfortable with scene that is unfolding. Brock isn’t sure what to do, and him and Nick exchange a few quick glances as to say, “what the fuck?” And next, he’s incredibly thankful that Maggie steps in to tell you that they’re going to head into the building. 

“What the fuck was that?” Nick asks as the three of them get out of earshot from you and Owen.  

“Meet Owen, the illustrious high school boyfriend.” Maggie’s sarcasm is clear, and Brock is surprised that someone who seems so sweet could be dating a guy like that. 

That hockey party his first semester at UND was the last time Brock spoke to you. He left after his sophomore year when he signed with the Canucks and before he left, when he would see you on campus, you were usually with the jerk he only briefly encountered that first night. When you would pass him in the hallway of your dorm or even around campus you would usually avoid meeting his eye or offer one of those awkward tight-lipped smiles. Brock would always smile back, and he would wonder if you were actually happy with that guy, and occasionally he would tell himself that he could make you happier. 

You felt bad as you essentially avoided him for the first few weeks after that party, but it got easier as time went on. The two of you barely knew each other, but for some reason every time that you did pass him, you were still enamored by his kind eyes and generous smile that only made you feel worse for avoiding him. Over time your friends, like Maggie, would eventually fall to the waste side too as your boyfriend continued to control your life. Maggie stopped asking you to hang out and when you moved in with Owen after your freshman year, you basically lost all connection with her. Everyone probably thought that you were a massive bitch because they perceived your actions as you choosing your boyfriend over them. They weren’t wrong, but you didn’t know at the time, that your priorities were extremely misguided. 

Brock’s little crush was soon forgotten when he dove headfirst into the NHL. He was busy trying to establish himself in the league, and he found himself in a few lackluster relationships that usually ended in a mutual agreement that it just wasn’t working. He was a good guy, and even though he wasn’t a saint, he preferred to get to know a girl and take her to dinner before anything else. The girls he dated usually fell pretty hard for him. He’s unmistakably attractive and his endearing personality make him incredibly charming. They knew that they couldn’t hold on to him forever and that he didn’t want to hurt them, so they let him go and hoped that they would find another guy that was half as good.

Seeing you now is like a breath of fresh air for Brock; his little crush immediately rising to the surface after being buried away for so long. 

“Y/N?” Brock lightly touches you on your arm to get your attention. You’re lost in the email you’re replying to on your phone, and you’re more than surprised when you turn to see the same light blue eyes that you met your freshman year of college. 

“Brock?” It’s the only thing that your brain can formulate right now. Brock Boeser is probably the only person you know in Vancouver and yet he’s standing in front of you right now. You haven’t seen or spoken to him in years, and you can’t believe that he even remembers you. 

“Hey, I thought that was you.” Brock says, as Elias notices the big smile that’s plastered across his friend’s face. “What are you doing in Vancouver?” Brock asks, wondering how a girl from the east coast who went to school in North Dakota, somehow ended up in Vancouver. 

“I um- I live here. I just moved for my job a couple months ago,” You tell him.

“Oh, no way! Vancouver’s great, I’m sure you’ll love it here.” He replies, still taking in the fact that you’re standing in front of him. 

“Yeah, I like it so far,” you say. “Do you live here? – Or I guess, in the building?” You ask. You know that he lives in Vancouver, you’re aware of his hockey career, but you’ve lived here for a couple months and have never seen him around. 

“Yeah, I’ve been back in Minnesota for most of the summer, so I just got back a couple days ago.” He tells you. You never really put much thought into where athletes go after their season ends, but it makes sense that they would go back to wherever they call home. 

Elias nudges Brock to remind him that he’s still standing awkwardly beside him. “Oh, this is Petey,” Brock turns to introduce you to his friend that you already recognize, “It’s Elias, nice to meet you.” Elias says as he offers his hand to you. 

“Yeah, I know.” You let out a light laugh and think about all of the Vancouver Canucks posters you’ve seen him on throughout the city. You’ve seen posters of Brock too, but you barely even know the guy, so it’s never really struck you as anything out of the ordinary. 

“Are you a Canucks fan?” Elias asks.  

You laugh a little, “Oh, no. I don’t follow hockey or really any sports, but everyone at work does, so I’ve been trying to learn a bit about it to keep up with the water cooler conversations.” You laugh again because it’s true. You’ve never really been tuned into sports, but your new office is basically all men, and they’re all huge Canucks fans, so your google searches of the team’s stats and roster have helped you become familiar with the team before their season starts. 

“Well, you’ll have to come to a game some time.” Brock tells you. 

“Um yeah. Maybe.” You offer back, mentally debating on if that would ever actually happen, but knowing that he’s only being polite. “I um- I’ve actually got to go, but it was great running into you.” You smile, and say goodbye to the two blonde boys and make your way up to your apartment. 

Brock Boeser lives in your building. Again. You laugh, thinking about how funny it is that history is repeating itself. He’s just as cute as he was the first time you met, but the truth is you barely know each other, and you’re sure he remembers that you were probably a massive bitch in college who avoided him at all costs. You don’t let the thought of him linger too long and push it to the side to get on the realities of your life instead of continuing to mull over the past.  

*

Over the next month or so, you continue to run into Brock in the elevator or in the lobby of your building. He always says hi and greets you with the same sweet smile. You make polite conversation and he’s so charming sometimes that it makes you blush. It starts off with awkward hellos and goodbyes, then you start to make small talk, and soon enough conversation between the two of you becomes pretty effortless. His little jokes are usually so dumb, but they make you laugh and you truly appreciate that he’s always so nice. You start to open up a bit more and aren’t as hesitant when he asks you innocent questions about your life. 

You got to meet Coolie and Milo the other day, and Brock says that they are particularly fond of you. They both seem to be the sweetest dogs in the world, so you’re sure they’re just as good for everyone else. You see them ever so often when Brock takes them on walks around town, and he loves the way your eyes light up when you see his furry kids.

Brock usually asks you how work is going, even though your advanced corporate job goes way over his head, and you ask him about hockey, which you also have little to no knowledge of. You both usually give short and uninteresting answers like “great” or “it’s going.” Then, just as Brock is trying to find more ways to get to know you, you tell him that you’ve been trying to educate yourself more on hockey. You explain that you primarily work with men, and these men happen to be very keyed in on the sport and particularly on the Vancouver Canucks. Now, every time he sees you, he asks you what you’ve learned. 

Your conversations are still fairly short, but you tell him when you’ve finally learned all of the NHL team names, and understand each of the hockey positions. You explain some of the penalties and you’re pretty proud of yourself when your explanation of offsides gets an approval. When he asks you who you’ve decided your favorite player is, you tell him you like “that Boeser kid,” but not as much as you like Elias Pettersson. This gets a big laugh from him, and he tells you he doesn’t disagree with your analysis. This is a turning point for the two of you. Brock can tell that you’re becoming more comfortable with him, and he likes seeing this lighter side of you. 

One day when you pass him in the parking lot, he’s on his way to a game, dressed in suit, but with a beanie on his head. You’ve seen him like this a number of times before, and you really don’t understand why he insists on covering up his beautiful hair with various hats. You also don’t mind admiring how good he looks in his game day apparel. He’s good looking, and it’s not a crime to admire that. 

As you walk toward each other in the parking lot he calls out to you, “Hey, you learn anything new this week?” You laugh, because he usually starts the conversation like this, asking if you’ve studied up or done your homework. 

“Actually, I have a question for you.” You tell him as you come up, stopping before you would pass each other. 

“Okay, shoot.” He says. 

“Well, that’s actually your job, but my question has to do with goalie interference. I just don’t really understand it. I was trying to find videos of calls during games, but all of the calls seem kind of inconsistent.” You tell him, and he laughs at your shooting joke, leaving you feeling proud for a moment. He’s also laughing because you’re right. No one fucking knows what goalie interference is. 

“Yeah, I’m not even sure what goalie interference is half the time. But if you figure it out let me know!” He answers. You laugh, and the two of you begin to part ways. 

Before he makes it to his car you shout back, “Oh, Good luck tonight!” 

He smiles and thanks you before opening his car door and on his way to the rink he thinks about all of the little conversations the two of you have had over the course of last couple of months. His crush has only continued to grow, and Elias keeps nagging him to ask you out, but he’s not even sure if you’re single. With his luck, you’re probably married to that asshole from college, although he hasn’t noticed you with anyone and he hasn’t seen a ring on your finger. 

After that night Brock decided he needed to figure out if you were single or not, so that he could move on from his infatuation with you instead of wasting his time pining over a girl who was already taken. You’re always polite, and more recently you’ve become more and more comfortable joking and bantering with him, but sometimes you give him a look like you’re not sure what to say. 

That look is the look you get when you contemplate how you got here. Years ago, you couldn’t have fathomed having a simple conversation with Brock, but now you see him on a regular basis and make conversation like you’ve been friends for years. You appreciate his willingness to talk with you, and you enjoy your interactions more and more every day.

Brock knows that on Sunday morning you usually go for a walk down to the coffee shop on the corner, so today he grabs Coolie and Milo and heads for the door, hoping he’ll be lucky enough to run into you. He makes it all the way to the coffee shop without seeing you and he’s praying that when he opens the door to the store that you’ll be waiting inside. 

No such luck. 

When he doesn’t see you standing inside, he decides he should at least buy a coffee instead of awkwardly walking out. After he picks up his drink he walks across the street to the park so that Coolie and Milo can get some exercise. For some reason, the gods are on his side today, and a few minutes into his walk he sees you sitting on a bench under a tree, reading a book. 

He doesn’t get to secretly admire how pretty you look sitting there, with the sun streaming down through the limbs of the trees, because Milo and Coolie have spotted you and are actively dragging him in your direction. You’re stirred from your reading and when you look up you see two big fur balls running toward you, their owner not far behind them. 

“Hey! Sorry about them.” Brock apologizes as he tries to calm the dogs down. You’re laughing and smiling because Coolie has jumped up on the bench beside you. Brock tells them to get down as they continue to try and jump for your attention, and they eventually settle at his side. 

“It’s fine, I don’t mind at all. I feel the same way when I see them,” you say, and it gets a light chuckle from Brock. He loves that you get so excited to see them and he cherishes the way your eyes light up when you reach down to pet them. He’s not sure what to say now, and before the silence gets too awkward you ask him if he wants to sit while motioning to the spot next to you. He gladly accepts your offer, and he sits down next to you.

“What are you reading?” He asks, attempting to facilitate some conversation. 

You turn over the book in your hand so that he can see the cover, “It’s called Normal People.” You say before giving him a brief description. You also tell him it’s a series on Hulu and he says he’ll opt to watch that instead of reading the book, earning another laugh from you. 

“So, did you leave the boyfriend behind or did you bring him with you?” He asks referring to some of the plot points of the book you had described to him. The question surprises you because one, there wasn’t a boyfriend, and two, why would Brock think there was a boyfriend? Your mind works fast enough to figure he might think that you’re still with Owen, but over the last couple months you don’t think you’ve given him any reason to think you would still be with him. 

“Neither I guess. I didn’t have a boyfriend to leave or bring.” You answer, looking over at Brock. You’re sure you almost hear what sounds like a sigh of relief from him, but it happened too quickly to tell. 

“I guess you and that guy from college didn’t work out?” Brock asks cautiously. He’s trying not to seem too eager, but he’s dying to know what ever happened between you and that jerk. 

You let out a light laugh as you think back to your previous relationship, “No, it definitely didn’t work out.” You say back. “We were obviously super young; we started dating when we were fifteen,” you sigh. “Anyway, I think it just took some time to realize I wasn’t going to marry a guy I thought was cute in my 9th grade biology class. We just didn’t have anything in common anymore. And he turned out to be a total jerk.” It feels surprisingly easy talking to Brock about this. You’ve felt so much shame and embarrassment for staying with this guy from high school for so long, but Brock’s eyes don’t convey any judgement or reason to feel ashamed. 

After that you gracefully shift the conversation to Brock’s love life. It was only fair, and when you asked him if he had a special lady- or man in his life, his cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. It isn’t because you asked him if he was perhaps seeing a man, but because he was just so flustered by you and your questioning of his love life at all. 

“Nope. No ladies... Or men for that matter.” He says with a little laugh. 

“Really? A star hockey player like you doesn’t have girls lined up waiting for their chance to be with you?” You tease, as you can see, he’s still blushing a bit. You don’t think much of it, other than that he’s probably just shy about those things, but you don’t really feel too bad about teasing him.  He continues to convince you that there aren’t any other ladies in his life, and eventually the topic of conversation is forgotten. 

Brock walks back to the apartment building with you, and when you get in the elevator you remember that you’re going to be attending a Canucks game next week, “I almost forgot! I’m going to the Preds game next week!” You tell him, and his expression lights up hearing you say that you’ll be attending one of his games. “Some of the guys from work invited me to go with them. I think I’ve really won them over with my new hockey knowledge,” You tell him proudly. 

Some of the guys from work who are particularly invested in the hockey team invited you to come with them to a game, and you happily accepted the invitation. You had proven yourself to them as a colleague and now as a hockey fan too. 

“I guess we’ll have to get a win for you guys.” Brock replies confidently. The Canucks have had a great record lately and it looks like their winning streak is just getting started. “You better!” You say before the elevator stops on your floor and you tell him you’ll see him later, leaving Brock to think about everything he’s learned about you that morning. 

*

It’s Thursday, and this week has been hell. 

Sadly, you’re used to dedicating most of your time to work, but this week has been a total shit show, for lack of better words. A big account you’ve been working on decided at the last minute that they wanted something completely different, causing you and your team to have to work some crazy hours this week. By Thursday you’re practically a zombie due to your lack of sleep. The hours you have spent at home have been minimal, as you’ve gotten home past ten almost every night this week, and you leave in the morning again before 7. 

The guys on your team have all been working crazy hours too, but you’ve been taking the lead on this campaign, so you’ve made sure to be there early and late every single day. They can tell you’re just about out of gas, and they send you home early, telling you to rest up for the big presentation tomorrow. You try to argue, but they’re right, you need a break. You surrender and head home after stopping to get some takeout, knowing that your fridge at home is starkly empty. 

“Ms.Y/L/N, I’ve got a package for you.” Paul, the concierge of your building tells you as you pass him on your way to the elevators. You haven’t made any online purchases as of late, and you don’t remember anyone telling you they were sending you anything. Still, you wait patiently as he goes to the back room to grab it. When Paul returns he’s holding a decent sized shopping bag. You’re not sure what it could be, but you take the bag and thank him, too focused on getting up to your apartment and out of your work pants. 

As soon as the door to your apartment is closed behind you, you drop your bags onto the kitchen counter and slip out of your dress pants. Your bra follows shortly, and you settle into your couch with your take out. The rest of your evening is spent lounging on the couch, catching up on your shitty reality tv shows and taking a break from work. When you look down at your phone and see that it’s only 8:30 you tell yourself it’s too early to go to bed, but you’re exhausted and you bed is calling to you. As you gather your dishes and clean up your kitchen you’re reminded of the package you picked up on your way in. 

The bag is still sitting on the counter where you left it a few hours ago. You take a minute to think about what it could be or who it could be from, but nothing comes to mind. When you open the bag all you see is some blue fabric. It feels like clothes, so you dump it over on to your counter and come to find that the bag is full of what looks like Vancouver Canucks gear. You’re in surprised to say the least. There are multiple pieces of clothing laying in front of you, and you’re sure it’s at least a few hundred dollars worth of apparel. There’s a note too, but you choose to look through the other contents first. 

First off, there’s a navy blue hoodie with the classic Cancuks logo. There are two t-shirts, one has the Canucks throwback logo on it and the other has the pride logo printed on the front. You smile at that, knowing that he obviously knew you would like that one. Next, is a Canucks beanie with a pompom on the top. Finally, you unfold a royal blue jersey. You’re expecting to see a number six on the back but instead your eyes land on the number 40. You can’t help but feel a little sad for a minute, knowing he didn’t get you a jersey with his number on it. 

Alas, you unfold the piece of paper that was sitting in the bottom of the bag and it reads:

I figured you might need some gear for the game Saturday. I hope everything fits okay. 

If you ever need anything I’m Apt. 859, *his phone number* 

-Brock

P.S. Petey insisted that I include his jersey since he’s “your favorite.”

You don’t feel as bad about it not being a Boeser jersey now, and you use a magnet to hang the note up on your fridge before folding your new gear and heading to bed, grinning ear to ear. 

Your presentation goes off without a hitch the next day and you and your coworkers are ready to let loose a bit for the Cancuks game the following evening. You meet up with them at a bar that’s not far from the arena, and you grab a round of drinks before you head into the game. The four co-workers you meet up with take note of your Pettersson jersey, and you smile, satisfied with their praises. A couple of them are sporting jerseys too, one with Horvat and the other with a Boeser. You don’t mention that you know the guy who actually wears number 6, and when he scores the game winning goal you cheer just as loud as everyone else, but secretly you’d like to think it was because he knew you were there in the stands. 

When you get home after the game you shoot Brock a quick text.

You: nice goal tonight! i think this pettersson jersey is lucky! (10:54pm)

You: this is y/n btw (10:54pm)

You’re not sure if he’ll reply so you set your phone down and start to go through your nightly routine. A few minutes later you hear your phone buzz from your night stand. 

Brock: petey didn’t even score tonight and you’re still talking about him? maybe i’ll just take that jersey back (11:01pm)

You: hey, no take backs. but it was a very nice goal!  (11:03pm)

Brock: how was your first game? (11:07pm)

You: my second favorite player scored, my team won, and my co-workers were impressed with my vast hockey knowledge so i’d say it went pretty well! (11:13pm)

You spend some time debating on how to word your message, not wanting to send a reply too fast, and not wanting to seem to flirty, but you still let yourself tease him a little bit more before hitting send. 

Brock: HAHA. very funny. (11:14pm)

Brock: i’m glad you had a good time. (11:14pm)

Brock: we’ll have to get you to more games. it looks like you might be good luck. (11:15pm)

*

Sunday morning is your time to relax. You try not to do any work and opt to take some time for yourself. This can take many forms, like lounging around the house or even reorganizing your bathroom. Today you opt for baking. You bake a couple dozen brownies and place them in a container before slipping on some shoes to head up a few floors. 

You hadn’t given it much thought until you were standing outside of his apartment door, but the two really only interact in the hallways or elevator and you’ve never been to each other’s apartments. The brownies in your hand are probably getting colder by the minute, and you know they taste the best when they’re still warm so you convince yourself to bring your knuckles to the door. 

The person who answers the door isn’t Brock. The boy who answers is shorter and has dark hair. You recognize him as Quinn Hughes. Brock told you once that they call him huggy bear, but you’re not totally sure you know why. 

“Uh-“ There aren’t words coming out of his mouth, it’s more like an awkward sound that you think it is meant to convey some sort of confusion. 

“Um, Is Brock here?” You ask, offering a smile to the boy in front of you. 

“Oh, yeah. Um, come on in.” Quinn doesn’t really know if he should be letting someone into his friends apartment, but Brock made him answer the door so he didn’t feel so bad about inviting a stranger in. 

You walk through the door and take in Brock’s home. It’s similar to yours, but slightly bigger. He lives on a different side of the building so the windows are slightly different too. You follow Quinn into the living room where you see Elias and Brock and Jake Virtanen sitting on the couch playing video games. The dogs notice you first as you walk in and Quinn nudges Brock telling him someone is here for him before he turns around to see you. 

“Y/N! To what do we owe the pleasure?” He asks as he stands from the couch. 

“I uh, I just wanted to bring you these. I figured it’s the least I could do since you got me that lucky Pettersson jersey.” He lets out a solid laugh at that. You liked it when he laughed like that. He lets his head hang back and his hand rests on his stomach. 

“Well thank you. You really didn’t have to do that.” He says as you hand him the box of brownies. He walks over to the kitchen counter and pulls the lid off.  The smell of freshly baked brownies starts to fill the room, and the other boys are at the counter before you know it. 

“Oh shit. Those look good.” Jake says as he eyes the baked goods.

The boys are quiet for the next couple minutes except for some humming and “yum” sounds that escape between bites.  A couple dozen brownies is apparently no match for four hockey players. You swear half the box vanishes in front of your eyes as they compliment you on your baking abilities. You mentally thank your mom for the perfected family recipe that you practically have memorized. They make friendly conversation, besides Quinn who has remained rather quiet, except for offering a few side comments or sounds of agreement. Eventually Elias asks you more about how your first game hockey game went. 

Elias is observant and incredibly well spoken, and he’s making what could have been an awkward situation a very pleasant one. He guides most of the conversation as Brock becomes more comfortable with the dynamic of you being there with his other friends. It’s cute how close Brock and Elias are. Even just standing in the kitchen you can tell the two of them have a bond that’s different than the ones between the other boys. Brock is sometimes shy and blushy when the two of you talk, but with his friends he’s more bold and sure of himself. 

The small talk is getting thin, and you’re about to politely end the conversation and tell them you should go when Jake asks how you and Brock know each other. You don’t know why you hesitate, but you do, and you look at Brock who is standing next to you. Before you can decide how to answer Brock replies simply, “We went to UND together back in the day.”

“I guess we don’t really know each other very well, but we had some mutual friends.” You try to add and clarify.  

“Oh cool,” Jake replies, not really giving it much thought. “So are you liking the city so far?” he asks. 

“I like it a lot , I just haven’t had a lot of free time outside of work to explore. But, my co-workers finally like me since I know all about hockey now, and the one girl in our office is my best and only friend!” You laugh at yourself a bit, because you know it sounds a little sad that you’re a young twenty-something with zero signs of a social life. It earns some laughs from the guys too. 

“You should come out with us next weekend, you gotta experience Vancouver’s night life! Plus, we’re celebrating my dog’s birthday!” Jake exclaims, and you can see Elias rolling his eyes and Brock and Quinn are both laughing while shaking their heads. 

You look between the boys, a bit confused, “Your what? Your dog’s birthday?” 

Jake laughs too when you seem so confused about it, “It seemed like a good excuse to go out. Gotta keep it loose, ya know?” He seems serious about this and you can’t help but laugh. The guys explain that they don’t get out too often during the season, and some of them don’t even like going out, but sometimes it’s good to just let loose with the boys. Jake is one who particularly enjoys a good night out, and so occasionally when the boys haven’t frequented a bar in a while, he comes up with “reasons to celebrate.” Elias sounds like a dad when he says that they all just go along with it to make Jake happy, and Jake looks like a little kid when he rolls his eyes at them. He’s also quick to make the point that they always end up having a good time. 

“You obviously don’t have to come, but I think it’ll be fun, and you should bring your friend. Her name’s Jade, right?” You’ve talked to Brock about Jade a couple times in the past, but you didn’t really think he would have listened that intently or that he would remember your co-workers name. It’s nice knowing that he does. 

“Yeah, it’s Jade. I guess I could ask her if she’s free and let you know.” You tell him, still contemplating if you even want to go out to some busy club on a Saturday night. 

*

“So, uh— What are you doing this weekend?” You ask Jade, your co-worker as you walk into her office. She’s the only other girl in your office, and you’ve become good friends over the last few months. Her dark hair and dark features match her bold and strong personality. Jade constantly bugs you to get out more, especially on the weekends, but you usually curb her requests saying that you’re still getting settled into the new city. This excuse was wearing thin since you’ve been here almost four months now, and you knew you would have to give in to her requests soon. Instead, you’ve opted to invite her to go out with Brock and his friends this weekend. Or rather, pray she would go with you because there was no way you were going alone. 

“I don’t know, probably nothing because my friend is a loner who doesn’t ever leave her house.” Jade looks over at you with a knowing expression causing you to roll your eyes. 

“Your loner friend actually wanted to ask you if you wanted to go out this weekend.” You say mimicking her cadence.  “That guy from college who lives in my building is celebrating his friend’s dog’s birthday, so him and some of their friends are all going out.” When you explain why Brock’s friends are going out you realize again just how ridiculous it sounds, and you know it’s not really why they’re going to a bar to get hammered, but you relay the information anyway. 

You told Jade about “the guy from college” that you had run into in your apartment building, but you didn’t tell her that the guy was Brock Boeser. You were sure she knew who he was, even if she wasn’t shy with her discontent with sports. She’s just not a sports person, but anyone in Vancouver would immediately recognize the name of one of their biggest players. All you told her was that you had gone to UND together and that you had never really been friends, just that you had mutual friends. 

She never asked more about who he was, but she did ask if he was cute. You couldn’t lie, it would be sinful to do so about a man who was as good looking as Brock, so you told her the truth. You also told her how good of a guy he was and that he never hesitates to start a conversation with you. Since then, she has asked for regular updates on your interactions together. Even though you withheld some crucial information, you still told her about how he liked talking about hockey and that he had gotten you some Canucks gear to wear to the game. When you told her about that she insisted that he liked you, and part of you wanted to believe that, but another part of you knew that you and Brock still barely knew each other. 

He seems really sweet, but you can’t help but feel like he still has plenty of girls vying for his attention. Girls who are prettier and smarter and nicer than you. When you think back to those brief interactions with him it still gives you a feeling of anxiety. It’s the kind of anxiety that you get when you remember something embarrassing you did as a kid or when you’re trying to fall asleep and you remember that you said “you too” to the barista who said “come again!” Either way, you weren’t convinced that your limited interactions warranted any feelings on either of your parts, so you continued to try to suppress your growing feelings for him.

Luckily, Jade was happy to oblige your request of going out. She asked if your friend had any cute single friends, and while you weren’t quite sure if they were single, you said yes figuring that one of them had to be.

“Y/N, It’s me!” You hear Jade come in through your apartment door that you had left unlocked for her. It’s Saturday night and you’re getting ready to go out with Brock and his teammates. You still haven’t told Jade who he is, and you’re hoping she doesn’t freak out when she finds out. 

“I’m in my closet!” You shout back to Jade as she makes her way through your apartment. She finds you sitting inside your walk-in closet, trying to decide what to wear, “I’m having a crisis. I have no idea what I should wear.” You look over at her precisely curated outfit that’s perfect for a night out. She looks hot and it’s just enough to not be overdone. He hair is flawlessly sleek and her make up looks like an artist painted it on. 

“Stop moping. You’re just nervous because he’s cute and you like him. Go make us some drinks and I’ll pick out your outfit.” You don’t put up a fight, knowing that she’ll probably be able to piece together a great ensemble that you never would have thought of. Your strengths were probably better suited for making cocktails anyway, so you go to the kitchen and whip up a couple of drinks. 

On your way back to your room you turn on your “going out” playlist that hasn’t been touched in ages, and when the first drop of alcohol touches your tongue you automatically feel less anxious. She’s right, you totally have a crush on this guy, and you’re super nervous about going out with him and his friends. What’s worse, is that this was pretty much a pity invite, and him and his friends feel bad that you don’t know anyone else in the city.  

Brock’s night was going somewhat similarly to yours. When Elias got to his apartment for the pregame he found Brock standing in only his boxers with a pile of clothes covering his closet floor. Elias couldn’t help but laugh at him. He hasn’t seen Brock act this way about a girl in a long time. Come to think of it, he’s not even sure if he’s ever seen Brock act like this. Brock was sensitive, but he wasn’t anxious like this. He wouldn’t get tied up in things like what to wear or what to say to a girl. He did however, have the issue of falling way too hard way too fast, ending up in situations where girls left him after they got what they wanted. Over the years he’s learned how to guard his heart a bit better, and his friends, Elias especially, were always there to protect him. 

Elias likes you. He liked you the minute he met you. He was intuitive and was a good judge of character, which made him and Brock a good pair. Brock has a tendency to trust a little too much, but now Elias is there to help guide him toward the right people. When Brock introduced you to Elias, he could immediately tell that you were a good person. He could see it in your eyes, and in your genuine appreciation that Brock would recognize and say hello to you. Elias liked that you were sprightly enough to make a joke about knowing who he was. Most of all, he liked how Brock talked about you. Elias immediately recognizes when Brock has had a conversation with you before practice or a game. He comes in with a little pep in his step, that causes some of the guys to question if he got laid the night before, but now Elias recognizes that he must have seen you on his way to work. Brock gushes about your interactions and about how cute you are when you explain the hockey things you learn.  The day that you told him Elias was your favorite player Brock was so excited to tell him. He wasn’t even mad, he just loved how light hearted willing to joke around you were. 

Brock occasionally thinks back on the times he saw you after that first night at UND. He thinks about what would have happened if your boyfriend hadn’t been waiting for you outside of your dorm. It’s not that he thinks he would have gotten lucky or that you would have cheated on your boyfriend with him, it’s just that maybe if you had had a bit more time to get to know each other you could have at least become friends.  And maybe that friendship could have grown into something more and you would have broken up with that asshole to be with him. Brock thinks about what could have been, but he also knows that hindsight is 20/20. He doesn’t consider himself a superstitious guy, but he can’t help but think that you came to Vancouver for a reason. 

When your wardrobe crisis has been averted, you’re fully dressed in skinny jeans and a cute top that’s revealing enough but doesn’t exactly come right out and say “I want to have your babies right now.” (That’s how Jade described it, anyway.) The two of you have had a round of drinks and you decide that it’s probably an appropriate time to head up to Brock’s. You didn’t want to get there too early and be the only ones there, so you made Jade wait it out in your apartment until it was at least thirty minutes after the time he had said to come. 

Brock texted you letting you know the door was unlocked, and when you get out of the elevator you can already hear music playing from behind his door. “I can already feel it. This is going to be fun!” Jade tells you excitedly as you reach out for the doorknob. You laugh thinking about how she has no idea she’s about to be drinking with a bunch of professional hockey players for the night. 

When you open the door you see some of the guys you’ve met mulling about, most of them with drinks in their hands. Brock comes up to you almost immediately. Without even thinking he wraps you in a hug, and it feels so natural even though you’ve never had any sort of physical interaction with him. Your suspicions were right, he gives the best hugs, and you wish that you could stand there in his warm arms forever, but it only lasts a second before he’s pulling away and turning his attention to your friend who looks likes she’s surprised to see Brock Boeser hugging her coworker and Elias Pettersson coming up behind him to say hello. 

“Okay, you didn’t tell me that “your friend” was Brock fucking Boeser.” She doesn’t even try to whisper it, and it’s kind of what you love about her. She just expresses herself freely, and it’s honestly so funny when she says it.  It has Brock’s head falling back as he lets out a laugh. 

Brock and Elias introduce you and Jade to the other guys who are in the apartment. There are a couple girlfriends among them and even though they all look like they just walked out of an instagram ad, they all seem genuinely nice and aren’t nearly as intimidating as you thought they would be. You don’t get too much time to mingle before Jake informs the group that the “birthday party” is ready to move to the bars, followed by packing into various Ubers. 

When you’re all at the bar, a few other guys show up, some single and definitely ready to mingle, but to your surprise some have even brought their wives. The drinks are flowing and you’re actually having fun. You notice that Jade and Jake have spent a lot of time talking, and he offers to get her a drink before they head off to the bar. You laugh, and shake your head as she turns back to give you wink before heading off with the hockey player. 

You turn your attention back to the guys standing around the table, when one of them asks you, “So, how do you two know each other? I feel like somebody said you went to UND?” It’s Brandon Sutter, you didn’t recognize him when Brock first introduced you, seeing as most of the photos you’ve seen of him include a hockey helmet covering most of his face. It’s probably the alcohol— no, it’s definitely the alcohol that has you responding to his question, “Yeah, we went to UND together, but we didn’t really hang out or anything, I think everyone just thought I was massive bitch.” You laugh, but you can see some confusion setting in on Brock’s expression. Brandon laughs too, not thinking much of what you said. 

“What do you mean?” Brock asks. He never thought of you that way back in college. He knew that guy you dated was jerk. He dimmed your light, and that wasn’t your fault. 

“I don’t know, I just figured you guys all thought I was kind of a bitch because I just hung out with my boyfriend all the time.” You don’t really know what else to say, thinking back to those days where you would follow Owen around like a lost puppy. 

“I don’t think anybody thought that, we just thought your boyfriend was dick.” He says, and before you can say anything else he adds, “No offense. He just didn’t seem like he treated you very well. That night he yelled at you in front of the dorm when he found out you went to our party left a pretty bitter taste in my mouth.” 

“Sounds like a dick, to me.” Quinn says matter-of-factly. You’re sure it’s the alcohol for him too, he’s been more talkative in the last hour than he has been in the two other times you’ve seen him. 

“Yeah, he was.” You answer back.

“So I guess you’re not still dating this guy, are you?” Brandon asks. You can feel sets of eyes all resting on you now, like you’re about to reveal a big secret. 

“No no, we broke up right before senior year of college. I dated a little in grad school, but when I found out I was moving to Canada I didn’t really bother with trying to find boyfriend.” You tell them, as they nod in response.

The rest of the night isn’t as serious. Jade and Jake tear up the dance floor, and when she nudges you to signal she’s leaving with him you tell her to wrap before she taps it, earning a laugh and wave goodbye. Brock stays by your side the entire night, neither of you wanting to join the others dancing. His arm stays perched on the back of the booth you’re in, while you listen to JT tell some elaborate story from their recent road trip. 

When Brock sees you yawn for the third time in a row he asks if you’re ready to head home. “Yeah, I’m tired. I’ll probably just head home soon.” You think he might offer to go back with you, but you don’t want to assume. Instead of yelling over the loud music he just nods and pulls out his phone. He tells the boys that you’re both heading out and they all say goodbye before Brock nudges you out of the booth. 

On the car ride home he asks you what you thought of the boys, laughing when your first response is that there are just so many of them. “It’s like trying to keep track of puppies. They’re there one second and then they’re off doing something else the next,” You laugh at yourself thinking about how many of them probably have undiagnosed ADHD, or maybe some of them are diagnosed. “But it’s cute, you guys are like a little family.” This earns one of those genuine Brock Boeser smiles. He’s proud of his little family. He loves them all, and he’s glad that you like them because he can tell they like you too. 

That night out leads to a few more texts back and forth, and eventually to full on conversations that go one for days at a time. One night he asked what you were doing and you told him you were going to watch the Battle of Alberta game. You had heard a lot about this rivalry since you embarked on your hockey education, and you figured you should see what all the hype was about. To your surprise, Brock asked if he could join you, and the two you spent the night watching hockey from your couch. 

You hadn’t watched a game this intense before, and when Matthew Tkachuk drops his gloves to fight Zack Kassian, Brock can tell you’re on edge. You knew there were fights in hockey, and you had watched a few clips on youtube, but it seemed more real watching it in realtime. You wondered what it would be like to see something like that in person. As the two players are ushered off the ice, you can’t help but wonder if Brock would ever find himself in a situation like that, and when you ask him if he ever fights during games he chuckles a bit before he answers, “No, I’m not really the fighting type. I think it’s better for everyone if I leave that up to guys like Zack and Jordie.” 

You’re not totally convinced by this, and you don’t like that the thought of Brock in a fight makes you feel so sick. He can sense your hesitation and he wants to try to ease your mind, “When fights like that break out, it’s usually because both players have agreed to it. You can see that they’re talking right before, they’re asking each other if they want to do it.” He narrates as the fight replays on your TV. “Occasionally someone will still throw a punch even if the other guy says no, but that’s not common. It’s kind of an unspoken rule that you have to stand up for your team, so most guys who are asked will fight, but I’m not usually the guy in that position. I haven’t fought once in the NHL, and I plan to keep it that way. I’d get rag-dolled by both of those guys.” He says pointing back to where the players now sit in their respective boxes.

It’s nice to know that Brock hasn’t fought anyone before, but you still worry about him getting hurt. What if he was the one who got caught by a bad hit? You can’t keep thinking about things you can’t control, so you try your best to shift your attention back to the game. 

You and Brock find yourselves in each others apartments more often after that. The two of you will make dinner and watch a game, or just watch TV for the night. Occasionally you walk down to the coffee shop on the corner together or walk over to the park with Coolie and Milo. You’ve started to become friends, and you feel like Brock is letting you get to know him more and more everyday. The conversation is easier, and the flirting is probably more noticeable than either of you thinks it is. Your positions on the couch have drifted from opposite sides of the couch to having your thighs touching while his arm sits, resting behind you across the back of the couch. He always greets you with a big hug, and lately you’ve noticed his arms lingering around your body a little bit longer than the time before

He hasn’t made a move yet, and you haven’t either. You think that maybe he just isn’t interested in getting closer, and you’re admittedly too self-conscious to try to make a move yourself. Tonight os just like any other night that the two of you spend together but you don’t notice that Brock is pretty far gone in his thoughts. That may be because you’re lost in your own as well. A few minutes later his voice brings you back to reality, “Are you okay?” You look up from where you’ve been staring down at the wine glass in your hand. You’re sitting at his kitchen counter, and he’s standing on the other side of the island looking back at you. You tell him you’re fine but you can see that he doesn’t buy it for a second. 

“You know you’re like a really good guy, right?” You ask him, after taking another sip of wine. 

He smiles back at you with a bit questioning in his eye, “I mean I’d like to think that I’m not too bad.” He says back. 

“No, Brock. You’re like really good. You help old ladies at the grocery store, and you talk about your nephew like he’s your own kid, and you’re nice to me when you really don’t have to be.”  You try to tell him just how genuinely good he is. You wish you could explain it more eloquently and you wish you could show him how good of heart he has. 

“That just sounds like normal people stuff,” he replies with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

He would say something like that, and think that normal people were just as nice as he is, and maybe they were, but the people that you’ve met throughout your life have somewhat tainted that idea for you.

“I think maybe you don’t realize how good you are.” He says back, looking you directly in the eyes. “You’re a good person, and just because I knew you back when you dated some jerk in college, doesn’t mean that it has any impact on how I feel about you now.” He’s so serious in this moment, and not at all like the usual lighthearted guy you’re used to. Somehow he knew just where your insecurities laid. He’s so genuine and honest sometimes that it hurts and the butterflies you feel in your stomach are getting harder and harder to ignore. 

The two of you don’t talk much for the rest of the night, and instead settle in a comfortable silence while Brock catches up on the episodes of Gossip Girl that Elias watched without him. Brock isn’t paying attention to what is happening on his TV. His mind is way too busy thinking of what he’s going to do next. The guys have all been pestering him to get a move on, saying that he’ll miss his window of opportunity with you, and he knows that they’re right. If he’s lucky he hasn’t missed his opportunity yet, but if not, he might just be screwed. 

He doesn’t even notice when his eyes shift away from the screen and move to rest on you. He’s taking his time, studying every feature, taking in every soft curve of your face. He loves the subtle crinkles on the sides of your eyes that deepen when you smile, and it’s even better when it happens because of something he said or did. If he could, he would make sure that smile stayed on your face for every second of the day. Your hair flows naturally without being fixed and he knows that you often let strands fall in front of your eyes when you’re too concentrated on your work or like now, when you’re invested in the show that you’re watching. 

Without a thought, and on instinct alone, Brock slowly moves his hand up toward your face and softly tucks the strand of hair behind your ear. You’re a bit caught off guard at first, but you remain still as you feel his fingers linger on the side of your neck. Eventually you let your eyes meet his and you realize just how close you are to him. The two of you stay like that for a minute, staring at each other, taking each other in. It’s too easy to get lost in Brock’s ocean-like eyes, and you swear you hear the enchanting sound of waves crashing on a beach.  

You’ve been staring at each other for what feels like too long, and you’re about to pull away when you feel Brock’s hand on the side of your face again. He’s slowly inching toward you and his eyes are still glued to yours. He’s searching for any source of panic or concern in your eyes, but he doesn’t find any. Your heart has taken over at this point and you can’t keep yourself away any longer, before you lean in and your lips finally meet his. 

Kissing Brock feels like everything good in the world. It’s feels like the first time you road a bike or the first time you tasted ice cream. It’s new and invigorating and yet you feel totally safe and secure. Before you know it, you’re deepening the kiss and Brock lets you lead him to where you’re comfortable. It just so happens that you find comfort when you reposition yourself so that your legs are straddling his and his hands are resting on your hips. It’s only when your hips shift on top of him and he can’t help but let out a deep moan that also he makes himself pull away from you. It’s then when you start to panic, and think that maybe this was a mistake, maybe he’s realizing that now. 

“I don’t want you to think that I just want this.” He says as he motions to the small space separating your bodies. “I don’t want this to just be a one-time thing…” he mutters out, like he’s a bit embarrassed, and nervous that you won’t want the same thing. 

“Brock, the only reason I wouldn’t want this is if you didn’t want it. But if you do, then I do too.” You say steadily. Brock smiles and it’s one of those big toothy smiles he only shares when he’s truly happy. You can’t say anything because you’re just as elated, so instead you lean down to kiss him again. 

*

It’s only been a short six months since that night on Brock’s couch, but now you get to call his bed your own, and when you come home to your shared apartment you’re greeted by your beautiful blond boyfriend and your two dogs. Brock insists that you’re their adoptive mom now, and to make it official he bought the two of you matching hats that say “Dog Mom AF” and “Dog Dad AF.” You both wear them when you walk your fury kids together and even though you tell him you think they’re cheesy he knows that you love them.

Brock is somehow everything you need him to be. He’s strong when you’re not and he makes you laugh when you’re sad, but most of all he’s your steady companion. It’s crazy now, thinking back to when you met him. You were just a kid, barely out of high school, and you really hadn’t had the chance to think about what you actually wanted for your life. 

Then you graduated, went to graduate school, and started to find out who you were without a boy to dictate the ins and outs of your life. When you were given the opportunity to move to Vancouver you saw it as a new beginning, but you didn’t realize that it was going to be a gift to more than one part of your life. Your work life and your career goals were finally falling into place and that just left one more thing—your love life. You had stopped worrying so much about finding a boyfriend along the way as you focused on yourself, but when Brock Boeser reentered your life you couldn’t ignore it. 

Brock’s reemergence was a surprise to say the least, but now you both see that it was a gift of a second chance. When you first met, neither of you were ready for the kind of commitment you now share with each other, and you know now more than ever that those years with Owen and the years you spent alone were all worth it, because when history repeats itself you have the power to change the narrative. 

[anubislover]

Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya chapter 19: Lying Hearts

“How can anyone stand to live in a city like this?” Nami grumbled as the light glinted off of yet another painfully white building. True, the setting sun had lessened the glare slightly, but after an entire afternoon of it, she was developing quite the headache, even with the sunglasses.

Law shrugged and continued walking at a leisurely pace, still unaffected. “I’m sure if you’re born somewhere like this it’s easier, but people can learn to tolerate almost anything given enough time, I suppose.”

“Do you think you’d be able to learn to tolerate bread?”

“I said almost. I’d sooner die of starvation.”

She shook her head with a chuckle but kept pace, following his lead. Instead of heading straight back to the submarine, Law had insisted on a few detours through Atifakuto—partially in case anyone had grown suspicious and decided to follow them, but also to scope out potential escape routes under the guise of sightseeing. Nami, for her part, had been exceedingly helpful in this, mapping out in her head which stairways lead where and pointing out various places to hide. If Law found her compliance suspicious, he didn’t say anything; it was in their best interest to work together, especially with some potentially valuable goods on the line, so her behavior was easily rationalized.

For her, however, there was more than artifacts or even belli at stake. This heist had to go well. She needed Law to trust her enough to open up about why he was so obsessed with Amber Lead. Perhaps if he could do that, she wouldn’t even have to sneak into his quarters to take a look at the ledgers. She could just ask and he’d let her in like a rational human being.

Of course, in order for either of their plans to succeed they needed to know where the vase was. Luckily, the rest of the Hearts hadn’t been sitting idle on the submarine. They’d been investigating every possible gallery, art collector, museum, and auction house their prize could possibly be at. The second they had a lead, they’d call on the mini Den Den Mushi.

Until then, though, Law and Nami were forced to meander about the city, planning and killing time.

“So, while we wait for some intel, what else are you going to buy me?” she asked as they wandered the fourth level. They’d passed quite a few shops, and while most had stocked dull business suits similar to the last store, Nami felt her bags were tragically light. They were in a beautiful-if-blinding city, and she was walking away with only one outfit? What a travesty.

Snorting dismissively, Law glanced down at her with a clear look of are you kidding me? on his face. “Nothing. I told you I was only getting you one outfit. I’m your captain, not your sugar daddy.”

“You know, for a man who wants this little job to go well, you’re not putting in nearly the effort you should,” she quipped, a sly smile on her lips, eyelashes fluttering prettily. “I’m supposed to look professional and put together if I’m gonna pull off being your lovely assistant. That means I need matching shoes and accessories. Maybe a cute leather purse or briefcase to really sell it.”

“If you want those so badly then buy them yourself. Or,” he smirked, halting his pace to turn around and catch her chin between his fingers, tilting her head up towards him as he stepped in close enough so she could feel his body heat, “you earn them by doing certain favors for daddy.”

Her cheeks only pinkened a little at his innuendos while she stuck out her tongue and shoved him away. Last night’s dream wasn’t quite as close to the forefront of her mind anymore, but that didn’t mean his smirk didn’t do things to her she’d rather ignore. “Pass. You should know by now that it takes more than clothes for me to play nice.”

“Mmm, I do. That’s what makes it so much fun,” he purred, gold eyes glinting in wicked amusement. One gloved hand was shoved into his pocket while his free arm slung itself casually over her shoulder as he continued stalking along the fastidiously clean road. “But since you’re currently insisting on being a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need a man to provide for her, you can instead borrow some shoes from Ikkaku, and she might still have a pair of glasses or something from the time she pretended to be a receptionist at a Naval base.”

Brown eyes widened at his statement. Not because he was suggesting that she borrow clothes or anything, but the bombshell he’d just casually dropped in light of her recent discovery.

“Was this for one of your plans?” she asked, shoulders stiffening.

He shrugged like it was no big deal, though he did give her a curious glance at the way she tensed beneath him. “Yeah. We needed someone on the inside, and they’d put out an advertisement for an attractive female in her early twenties. It’s not like Uni or Penguin could do it.”

“But…holy shit, Law, are you serious?” she hissed, dragging him over to an unoccupied part of the street behind a solitary gated tree so she could scold him in private. There weren’t too many people about, but the last thing they need was to get unwanted attention because they’d caused a scene, even if Law totally deserved to get chewed out at the top of her lungs for being such an asshole. “Ikkaku has Marine brothers who want her dead and you sent her into the lion’s den? What the fuck?!”

Caught off-guard by her anger, Law’s eyebrows shot up briefly before furrowing. “She told you about them?”

Damn. In her shock and anger on her friend’s behalf, she’d forgotten that this was a subject she wasn’t technically supposed to know. But instead of admitting guilt, she doubled down and threw on her best poker face.

“Yeah. She told me,” she lied easily. Too easily. It came as naturally as it had back in the days she’d been working under Arlong, getting close to pirates by lying through her teeth and then robbing them blind. How many crews and captains had she deceived before Luffy? Nami had honestly lost count, but once she’d joined up with the Straw Hats, lying to a supposed ally hadn’t been quite as instinctual.

But this isn’t Luffy, and Law’s keeping way more secrets than I am, she rationalized. It’s just a little white lie anyway. He’d be way more pissed at Shachi and Penguin for telling me. I’m looking after those guys.

Law’s expression hardened, and for a moment she wondered if he’d seen through her bluff. She didn’t think she’d gotten too rusty in the lying department, but Law was smart and distrusting in general, so she couldn’t quite tell. Trepidation hung heavy in the air as she waited for him to speak, mind going a mile a minute coming up with new lies and explanations to appease him. Worse came to worst, she could throw the guys under the bus, even if she didn’t really want to, but they were his best friends, so Law would doubtlessly be more forgiving towards them, right?

Thankfully, it seemed his anger came from a completely different place, as he snarled quietly through clenched teeth, “Nami-ya, I am, as you have pointed out rather frequently in the past, a control freak. Do you really think I would devise a plan that required sending my top mechanic into a Marine base if there was even a chance she could be recognized? Especially by her utter shit of a brother?”

She flinched at the vitriol in his voice. It seemed she’d touched a nerve, and unless she wanted to lose all the progress she’d worked for, she knew it was best to back down. “Sorry. You’re right.”

“I’ll accept your apology if you tell me what prompted her to tell you,” he stated, crossing his arms. “It’s not information she makes widely known, even to those who are permanent members of my crew.”

Well. At least this was easy enough to justify, and she’d be doing both Law and Ikkaku a favor, right? Sure, the guys would obviously tell him later, but being the first to warn him might earn her a few more crumbs of trust. “There was an article in the paper about Marine reinforcements coming to the Grand Line. Ushi was interviewed. He seemed pretty intent on taking down the Heart Pirates.”

Law froze, his frown deepening into a dark sneer. The tic in his jaw and the way his fists clenched reminded her of his reaction to Ikkaku having been attacked on Grimm. “That fucker will stay away from Ikkaku if he’s got any brains in him.”

“You’re pretty protective of her,” she said. Sure, he’d perhaps phrased his defense in a way that implied his priority was the plan, it was clear from the hiss in his voice that Ikkaku’s safety had been genuinely considered.

The brim of his hat hid his eyes as he stated, “I’m protective of all my crew. She’s just…it’s hard to find submarine engineers, let alone ones as skilled as her. Ikkaku’s hard to replace.”

Well that stinks to high heaven of bullshit, she thought. Sure, the Surgeon of Death had a rightly-earned cruel reputation, but he’d shown time and again his crew meant a lot to him. Stepping in close, she used her finger to lift his hat enough to see his expression unobstructed. “Is that why you let her sass you? Because if she walked you’d be dead in the water?”

The gold orbs glared down at her, though the held no heat. “Everyone on the crew is a vital component. Like gears in a well-oiled machine. You’ve gotta take care of them to make sure they don’t break.”

When Nami merely raised a disbelieving eyebrow, he sighed, body deflating slightly. “Look, Nami-ya, everyone on my crew, we’ve all got shit in our pasts. Some have overcome it. Some still carry the scars. Ikkaku…hers is one of the few that’s actively still trying to get her. So yeah, maybe I’m a bit more protective, but it’s for a damn good reason.”

Ok, now that was a fair point. “I’m surprised you haven’t just killed him.”

“Oh, I want to,” he snarled. “No brother should try to hurt their siblings. They’re supposed to look after them. The only reason Ushi-ya still draws breath is because Ikkaku begged me to spare his pathetic life.”

It suddenly dawned on Nami that, despite his criticizing Luffy for not being more bloodthirsty, Law was…surprisingly merciful in his own ways, too. He didn’t murder Ikkaku’s brother, despite having clear reason to, just because she asked. He rescued Jean Bart from a life of slavery despite not knowing him. And while she didn’t fully understand the Ope Ope no Mi’s powers, she wondered if his cuts didn’t draw blood because he didn’t want them to?

She wasn’t sure if he had a complexity addiction or if he genuinely wanted to minimize bloodshed, but once again another side of the incredibly fascinating man had been revealed.

Taking a deep breath to calm his anger, he gave Nami a sadistic smile. “Doesn’t mean I let him off the hook with a sternly-worded warning, though. Wanna know what I did to him the last time we met?”

Nami turned a bit green as she remembered Jinzo’s still-beating heart in his hands. Complex and caring towards his crew or not, he was still a twisted bastard. “Fuck no!”

Briefly he pouted at not getting to regale her with the gory details before shrugging. “Pity. It was quite the eventful evening. In fact, it was also the night of mine and Drake-ya’s first kiss.”

“How the hell are those two things connected?!”

“Well, I had to distract him somehow. He was guarding my poor mechanic like a dragon would a virtuous princess.”

Before she could demand more details, or even snort at the idea of Ikkaku being virtuous, the sound of the mini Den Den Mushi reached their ears, interrupting the conversation.

Looking around to make sure there weren’t any eavesdroppers, Law pulled out the little snail phone and clicked down on the top. “Guessing you’ve got something for me?”

“I do,” the snail answered, and Nami recognized the faint accent that indicated they were speaking to Cousteau. “Only one place that specializes in North Blue history. Jubilee & Atlas Antiques. It’s an auction house and gallery on the fifth level, a block away from the Elevate Deliverer Restoration Church.”

“Well that’s a needlessly long name,” he quipped, rolling his eyes. Mentally, Nami had to agree, though it also sounded vaguely familiar. “At least that makes it easier to find. Anything else I should know? Other landmarks, nearby guard stations, that sort of thing?”

There was a moment of hesitation before Cousteau replied, “No station, though there would probably be at least a few guards wandering around at night. It’s, uh, right by a fountain. Blessings from the White City.”

Nami’s eyes widened a little. Oh. Now she remembered. That had been the church with the huge stained-glass windows. The one in her book, by the tribute to Flevance.

“…I see.”

The little snail chewed its lip, clearly concerned. “Captain, if you want, I can do all the surveillance—”

“It’s fine,” he cut in, tone sharp before smoothing out, “I saw it earlier. In fact, I’m glad it’s so close. Nami-ya and I will check out the gallery. We’re nearby and I’d rather see it with my own eyes to get the lay of the land. Unless anyone else has a better lead, you and the others can head back to the ship.”

“Understood, sir. Anything else you need?” he asked, sounding relieved.

“Just tell Clione I might have a job for him later on, so don’t make any evening plans.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

The call ended, and Nami peered up at Law, expecting signs of the same darkness that had crossed his face when they’d visited the fountain earlier. Instead, his face was totally blank, staring down at the tiny snail, expressionless.

Somehow, that was far, far more unnerving.

“Law?” she asked, touching his arm hesitantly.

As if awoken from a trance he shook his head before smirking down at her. “Well, hope you don’t mind one last detour before heading back to the ship? I know it’s more stairs but look on the bright side; at this rate, the definition of your calf muscles will be a thing of beauty.”

He didn’t wait for her to respond, turning on his heels and heading towards the direction of the stairs to the next level. Frowning, she began to doubt whether or not this was all a good idea. She didn’t know exactly what his deal was, but she really felt like he was too close to this. But she had the feeling trying to talk him out of it would be an exercise in futility, and would set her back far more than any lie she might spin.

Oh well, she sighed internally, jogging to catch up, so long as he doesn’t do anything stupid. He’s sensible enough to keep a cool head, no matter what his problem is. It’ll be fine.

While it wasn’t far, it took longer than either of them would have expected to actually find Jubilee & Atlas Antiques. Mainly because it was a surprisingly nondescript building compared to the opulent churches and museums nearby. Honestly, based on the exterior, one could easily have passed it by. Like everything else the building was pristinely white, the windows boasting small arches over them and flower boxes containing white impatiens. Really, the most impressive thing about it was the marble plaque out front boasting the company’s name in gold leaf.

But the two pirates didn’t really care about the appearance; it was what was inside that counted. That, and the information board out front, which stated in bold, black letters that there would be a showing and auction of North Blue artworks at 8pm that evening.

“Why don’t you just Scan the place, grab the vase, and walk away? Seems like that would be easy compared to putting on this charade?” Nami asked, eyeing the building. It was hardly Harpin’s mansion; it would take almost no effort for Law to use his powers to steal every item of value inside it, replacing artifacts, paintings, and money with pebbles and potted plants with a mere flick of his fingers, then teleporting them away to safety.

Really, if he weren’t such an ass, Trafalgar Law would be a thief’s dream partner.

Of course, he was an ass, so he gave her a look that implied he considered her question to be phenomenally stupid. “Because there’s no guarantee that the vase is even in there—for all I know it’s being kept in a secondary location until the actual event for security or health reasons. It is a relic from a city that suffered a notorious death toll both before and after the World Government had quarantined it,” he explained lowly. “On top of that, my Room would draw too much attention, so if it’s not in there, we’ll have blown our whole cover and probably the operation.”

Though disappointed that they couldn’t just whisk it away with his powers, she conceded that he had a point. Versatile and useful as they were, the Ope Ope no Mi’s abilities did have their drawbacks. Actually infiltrating the auction house was a safer move.

Yet for a moment, she saw Law glare at the building, as if he were equally frustrated that they couldn’t just grab their prize and go. Perhaps even a great mastermind like him sometimes wished to take the direct path. “At least we can be sure it’ll be presented at this auction,” he reassured, almost as much to himself as her as his hand rested on Nami’s lower back while he escorted her away. “Makes it easier to come up with a plan and contingencies when I actually know the target. My crew did good.”

She twirled a strand of hair around her finger in thought. She supposed he was right, and the pride in his voice when he mentioned the Hearts’ contribution…well, she knew better than to argue with that. Seemed the lesson he learned on the last island was sticking. “Still too bad we don’t have blueprints like Harpin’s house, though.”

“It can’t be helped. That was a job I’d been planning for months. This is more…spontaneous. Why? Scared and looking to back out?” he asked, glancing down at her with a challenging grin.

Nami scoffed. She was a thief that specialized in robbing pirates. Sure, she was a scaredy-cat, but when treasure of some kind was at stake, there were few risks she wouldn’t take. “Not a chance. Just pointing out that we’re going in more blind than last time.”

“Maybe, but at least our prize will be out in the open and not in the home of a former Marine with tentacles. Hell, we might even get it legally.”

“Law,” she started, brow furrowing. She wasn’t scared, but she did have a reasonable concern, especially with how intent he seemed on this one item. “What are we going to do if we don’t win the vase?”

The pair stopped by the Flevance fountain, Law taking a long moment to stare solemnly at the beautiful white angels. Without a word he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small coin, pressing it to his lips before flipping it into the water.

When he turned back to her, his gold eyes were as hard as the statues’ and twice as cold.

“Simple; we take it from whoever did.”

XXX

Hidden in a small cove on an unpopulated section of Atifakuto’s coast, the sight of the Polar Tang’s sunny yellow hull was a welcome relief after a whole day of the city’s stark white walls. Law seemed to agree as his tense posture relaxed into a comfortable slouch, even giving a few of the guys a small grin when they called out to them. To Nami, of course, the submarine was still far from the Sunny and thus would never be home, but she couldn’t help but smile at Law’s reaction. The Dark Doctor really did have some softness deep down.

Of course, that didn’t last long, as the moment they were within the safety of the cargo bay he was once more all business. “Dinner is in an hour. Rest up, brush up on your notes, do whatever you need to prepare for the auction tonight; I’ve got a few more dominoes to put in place,” Law stated. He’d been silent for most of the walk back, though Nami attributed that to him mentally filing through all the information they now had and formulating his plan. Much as she missed and loved Luffy, having a captain who didn’t just go rushing in like an idiot was a nice change of pace.

That didn’t mean she appreciated his tone, though. “Say please,” she quipped, hip jutting out. She might have decided to be more compliant for the sake of gaining his trust, but that didn’t mean she was going to let him boss her around.

Besides, if she were too accommodating, he’d probably grow suspicious and then she’d be right back at square one.

He scowled but apparently decided it would be a waste of time to argue. They were on a tight schedule, after all, so her attitude would have to be tolerated. For now. “Please,” he grumbled before marching off, beckoning Clione to follow him. The biologist glanced between the two, bewildered, but smartly said nothing before chasing after his captain.

Flashing a self-satisfied grin at Law’s retreating back, Nami practically skipped to her quarters. Even though they weren’t as prepared as she’d like, so far, things were going well. Perhaps they couldn’t just use Law’s powers to swipe the vase, but by obtaining it through legal means, they wouldn’t have the authorities after them, which would be nice. Besides, it wasn’t her money that would be spent at the auction.

Her research of the North Blue had taught her a few things, including just how valuable things from Flevance were. After all, things made from the white ore had been in high-demand during the city’s heyday; now that it was in ruins, any remaining artifacts would surely triple in price. And, admittedly, if that fountain had been anything to go by, the vase could very well be extremely beautiful. Something any art collector or historian might want for themselves.

Once more, she wondered why the hell Law wanted it. He collected coins, not art, so she doubted it would be something he wanted just for the heck of it. What was his obsession with Flevance—

That train of thought was derailed when Nami walked into her room. She blinked then rubbed her eyes, certain her vision was still messed up from the sun, because Ikkaku was still sitting at her desk, working on some little device, practically in the same position as that morning. Really, the only difference was the lack of towel around her head, though her curly hair was a tangled bird’s nest.

“Have you even moved today?” Nami exclaimed loudly, flabbergasted.

The mechanic jumped a few inches out of her chair, a pen cartwheeling through the air before falling back onto the surface of the desk with a clatter. Apparently since she’d had the room to herself, she hadn’t felt the need to put the earplugs back in, leaving her vulnerable to Nami’s loud voice. “Damn, girl, you scared me,” Ikkaku said with a breathy laugh. She glanced around, noticing the time on the clock and the fact that her hair had dried completely. “Guess I was in the zone.”

“You haven’t been working all day, have you?” Nami asked, plopping her shopping bag on her bed. “At least tell me you had lunch.”

“Sounding an awful lot like Law there,” she teased, pushing away from her desk to stretch. There was an audible pop from her back, and her dark eyes closed in relief. “Like me, too. The boys and I are always bugging a certain workaholic captain to eat something and not subsist solely on coffee and aspirin. But to answer your question, yes, I did have lunch.” She pointed at an empty plate that had been shoved into the far corner of the desk, a few grains of rice stuck to the surface. “Bepo brought me some onigiri.”

“Good. If you didn’t, I’d be dragging you into the galley and force-feeding you a sandwich, then charging you a cooking and inconvenience fee.”

Snorting, Ikkaku cracked her knuckles and rolled her shoulders, further releasing the tension sitting hunched over in one spot for hours had built up. “Dinner’s soon enough; even if I hadn’t eaten, I could have waited. And good luck making a sandwich with no bread on board.” Despite her dismissal tone, though, she gave a wry grin. “But thanks for caring, I guess, even if it does come with a price tag.”

“What are friends for?” Nami shrugged with a smile that was a little forced. It was such an alien feeling, this sudden awkwardness. Since first arriving on the Tang, she and Ikkaku had gotten on like a house on fire. It was almost inevitable, being the two women on the ship surrounded by men dealing with that insanity together. Hell, even if that hadn’t been the case, Ikkaku had practically sacrificed herself for her back at the club on Grimm. A companion like that was more than she’d even dared to dream of before she’d met Luffy.

Was it really right for Nami to act like she didn’t know about her brother? Should she just tell her that the guys told her about Ushi? Really, what was the point of keeping it a secret? It wasn’t that Nami thought she’d slip up and spill the beans—lying was her specialty, after all—but Ikkaku wasn’t some mark or stranger. She was her friend.

Hell, even if they were on opposite crews, she’d even dare to call her nakama.

The issue resolved itself, however, when the other woman’s expression turned a little melancholy. Ikkaku sighed as she rested her cheek on her fist, her other hand idly playing with the pen. “Heh. Funny, I used to ask myself that question a lot when I was younger. I didn’t really have friends back on my home island. I lived with my Gramps in a lighthouse, so besides the occasional trip to town, it was a pretty isolated life.”

“What about your brothers?” Nami asked, masking her interest by taking her purchases out of the bag so they wouldn’t wrinkle before the auction. A swell of relief surged through her. If Ikkaku talked about Ushi herself, the whole charade of pretending not to know about him wouldn’t even be necessary! She just had to carefully press for the right crumbs of information, maybe even offer up a couple tidbits about her own life in exchange. No big deal. Tit for tat, right? “Nojiko was my best friend growing up. Hell, probably my only friend until Luffy came along.”

A dark look crossed Ikkaku’s face. “Yeah, well, Nojiko on her worst day was probably a way better sibling than all of them combined.”

“I don’t think you’ve talked about them much. I basically just know that they exist and said you wouldn’t really make it as an engineer because you’re a girl.”

A long sigh escaped her lips. “That’s…the nice version. Didn’t want to unload my shitty childhood on you, especially since yours sounded worse. I mean, my island was never taken over by pirates, and I didn’t work for the guy who murdered my mom.”

Well, that was certainly true, but then again, people with healthy, normal childhoods seldom became pirates. Or at least, those that did rarely lasted long on such cutthroat seas. Nami should have realized there was more to the mechanic’s past than some run-of-the-mill misogyny. “Maybe, but I don’t mind. We’ve all gone through some rough shit, right? We wouldn’t be in this line of work otherwise.”

“True. I just…I guess I just like to pretend he doesn’t exist most of the time.”

“He?” she asked as if she didn’t already know.

Ikkaku’s calloused hand dropped the pen to instead clench into a tight fist, and there was a haunted look in her dark eyes as she stared off into space. “Ushi. He’s the oldest. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t afraid of him. Spent our childhood making our other brothers use me as a punching bag. When he wasn’t doing that, he gave me almost hourly reminders that I was a burden on the family, that no one really loved me, that I’d never amount to anything.” There was a hitch in her breath and a pause, and Nami noticed her close her eyes tightly for a moment. As if she were fighting back tears. It was a look she’d never expected to see on the tough, vibrant woman’s face. “Then, when I was seven, he tried to kill me.”

“What?!” Nami exclaimed, dropping her blazer to the floor in shock.

“Yeah. Joras had a huge fucking forest, and he led me into it to look for mushrooms or some shit. Can’t remember. Next thing I know, he’s shoved me into a pit, and by the time I’d climbed out, he was long gone and it was night. I think…I think it was supposed to be my grave, ‘cause it was really fucking deep. Or at least it seemed that way. Maybe I’m misremembering.”

Somehow, Nami doubted that. Sure, memories could get warped with age and fear, but some details remained solid for the rest of a person’s life. “But, you got out, right? And I’m sure your parents must have been worried sick!” She could almost picture it. A young Ikkaku, sticks and leaves caught in her messy curls, knees and elbows scraped, face covered in dirt and tears, frightened but once more able to smile when she was finally found, her mother and father scooping her into their arms, scolding her for worrying them but just so relieved she was safe…

At least, that’s what Bellemere or Mister Genzo would have done if Nami had gone missing.

From the bitter laugh that escaped her throat, Ikkaku hadn’t been so fortunate. “I spent three days wandering around those fucking woods, scared and cold and wondering if I was gonna die out there. My parents didn’t even notice I was gone.” After a long moment of silence, her fist unclenched and some of the tension eased out of her shoulders. “Gramps found me, though. When I didn’t come home after two days and a storm rolled in, my brothers Nausagi and Fukuro ran two miles to the lighthouse to tell him what Ushi had done. Maybe they realized he’d gone too far. Or they were scared I’d come back as a vengeful zombie. Either way, Gramps rescued me and demanded custody. Mama and Pops were glad to hand me over. One less mouth to feed, and I wouldn’t be causing their Future Marine Hero any more trouble.”

“That’s…that’s horrible.” And yet Nami could tell she was getting the abridged version of the story. “Tell me your grandfather was a better guardian.”

Despite the childhood trauma she’d just confessed to, Ikkaku merely shrugged, a small grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “Yeah. He was. Gramps was crazy, but he loved me and taught me how to fight. Told me to never lose my smile, ‘cause that’s my best protection against a world that’ll try to break me.”

“Bellemere said something similar to me and Nojiko. ‘Whatever happens, never lose your ability to laugh. If you can survive, happy times, lots of ‘em, will come your way’.”

“Smart lady.” She tried to casually run her fingers through her hair, only to find them caught in the tangled knots. She let out a light chuckle at her predicament and added, “I think she and Gramps would have gotten along pretty well. Well, assuming she liked salty former smugglers who had the gumption to threaten Law with a shot gun. Not that he didn’t deserve it a little.”

Nami had to smile at that, and she could only imagine what he’d said that had nearly gotten him shot. It was definitely something snarky, a shit-eating grin on his face while he provoked a protective grandfather just because he could.

Noticing Ikkaku’s hair situation, she abandoned her suit to instead pick up a wide-toothed comb. “Well, I’m not sure about Bellmere, but I’d certainly love to meet him.”

“Of course you would.” Leaning back in the chair, she allowed Nami to carefully put her thick curls to rights. “How was shopping? Boss show you the blinding sights of the city?”

“It was…enlightening,” she said cautiously. There was still so much to sort out, and every time she thought she had an answer to one of her questions, four more popped up in its place.

Grabbing the pen she’d been playing with earlier, Ikkaku handed it to her over her shoulder. “Here; I made you something, since I doubt you’ll be able to bring your Clima-Tact with you. Kinda why I was so focused—I wanted it to be ready by tonight.”

Curious, Nami inspected the item. It was a plain black ballpoint pen maybe a bit longer than her hand. There was an almost unnoticeable jolly roger engraved into the middle, and she ran her thumb over it idly. “You spent the whole afternoon making me a pen? I could have just as easily brought my stylus.”

“Oh, but a stylus is only good for writing. This is so much more useful. ‘The pen is mightier than the sword’, right? Click the top.”

She did so, and instead of an ink-filled nub, a small syringe, similar to an epi-pen, popped out. Her eyes widened in realization as Ikkaku explained, “Inside’s a powerful tranquilizer. Should knock any fool out in minutes if injected into the bloodstream. Takes longer if it’s ingested. It’s non-lethal to humans, so it should be safe to use on anyone you’re looking to knock out. Assuming they aren’t really Fishmen in disguise.”

“Why? Does it react differently for them?”

She grimaced. “Yeah. Severe allergic reaction. Anaphylactic shock typically. So, unless you want that on your conscience, humans only.”

Tucking the pen away for later, Nami nodded in understanding and went back to combing her hair. “Gotcha. Doubt it’ll be a problem, though. Jean Bart said this place is pretty humans-only.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s impossible for someone to have that kind of bloodline. If it’s diluted through a few generations, a lot of the time you can hide it and pass for human.”

“Hmmm, hadn’t thought of that.”

There was a moment where Nami could tell she was mulling something over. Even faced away from her, Ikkaku wasn’t hard to read, and it was only a matter of time before she voiced whatever question was on her mind.

While she waited, the ginger took the time to appreciate the texture of Ikkaku’s hair, combing out each curl individually so it wouldn’t frizz. The thick, black locks were coarser than her own, yet surprisingly soft despite her hard life at sea. Hair maintenance was extremely difficult living on the ocean, the salt and fluctuating weather of the Grand Line wreaking havoc on Nami’s much finer strands. And while Ikkaku was far more feminine than one would expect upon first meeting her, in the time they’d roomed together, she didn’t seem to put much more extensive care into her shiny locks than some leave-in conditioner.

Guess she’s just got some good genetics, Nami thought appreciatively. Either that or she’s hiding some amazing shampoo formula, and damn if she is I’ll never forgive her!

When Ikkaku at last broke her silence, the hesitation in her voice was palpable. “Hey, it was a Fishman who held you prisoner all those years, right? You ever…blame all Fishmen for what he did?”

It was an unexpected question, but a fair one, Nami supposed. Arlong had committed a crime so heinous she knew she’d never forgive him, and she knew there were plenty of people, especially ones who spent years abused by such a monster, who would project that hatred onto an entire race. But why even ask?

“I…not really. I mean, I can’t say I never lumped them all together in my head, since Arlong and his crew were my only baseline for Fishmen for a long time.” She bit her lip, thinking. “But that was when I was a kid. My view of things was a lot more black-and-white, mostly because I was bitter at my situation. As I got older, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was stupid to think all Fishmen were like him. He was the one who hurt me, so he’s the only one who should get my hate.”

“So, you don’t hate them all?”

She shook her head. “Nah. Hell, I was even able to forgive a member of his crew. I’m sure you heard about how Luffy punched a Celestial Dragon?”

Ikkaku craned her neck up to look at her, dark eyes widening in shocked understanding. “Yeah? You saying the Fishman he defended—”

“One of Arlong’s crew. Hatchi. Like all of them, he hurt me too, but it was on his captain’s orders, and he clearly regretted it.” Well, it had been a bit more complex than that. Hell, when they’d first encountered him again, she’d nearly gone back on her promise to Camie to rescue him. Even if he hadn’t abused her like the others, he’d still been complacent in it. Still destroyed villagers homes, held her hostage, attacked the Navy ships that tried to come to the rescue. He hadn’t been blameless in the least. She would have had every right to demand that he be left to be killed or enslaved. That it was karma come to bite him in the ass.

Yet what had swayed her, apart from Camie’s determination to save him, was her own friends’ reactions to seeing him again. Those who knew her past had immediately been ready to turn the ship around and leave Hatchi to his fate. Of course she’d expected Sanji to be her knight in shining armor and want nothing to do with someone who had abused a lady, even by proxy. Zoro and Usopp had been a bit more surprising, though perhaps it shouldn’t have been. They knew what she’d been put through. Had fought and bled for her. Despite their sometimes heated disagreements, Nami knew she could count on them to always have her back.

The one who shocked her the most was Luffy. He might have flip-flopped between reason and his stomach, but the fact was, her loving, forgiving captain had actually held a grudge on her behalf. Hatchi and Arlong hadn’t done anything to him personally, but his nakama had suffered, and that wasn’t something he’d easily set aside. That genuine show of solidarity and loyalty to her had melted what ice had still been around her heart, which allowed her to truly forgive the octopus Fishman.

Yes, Hatchi had hurt her, but her hatred was solely reserved for Arlong, not his underlings who genuinely felt remorse.

“I’m not a saint or anything but hating Hatchi…it seemed pointless. He wasn’t the one who killed my mother. And blaming all Fishmen for the actions of one seemed pretty shitty. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t kill Arlong if I had the chance, though.”

Nami could practically feel the tension drain from Ikkaku’s shoulders, and she couldn’t hide her smile before she looked away. “That’s good to know. That asshole deserves it, from what you’ve told me. He and my brother should meet, then get sacrificed to some kind of horrible sea monster. Plenty of hungry Sea Kings out there to feed.”

“Couldn’t happen to a nicer pair of guys,” Nami giggled as she ran the comb through the last strand of hair. “Though, that might be cruel to the Sea King. Poor thing deserves a better meal than shit like them.”

“True. We’ll just have to think of something else then. We can ask Law; he’s always got great suggestions.”

A shudder ran down her spine, though she had to admit, it wasn’t as horrified as she’d like. She justified it with the fact that Arlong was scum who deserved whatever painful death the likes of Law might propose. So did Ushi, from the sounds of things. Though, Law had said Ikkaku had begged him not to kill her brother. Why? Did she still care about Ushi due to their familial ties? Or was there something else?

Maybe she just doesn’t want her brother’s death on her conscience, Nami thought, putting the comb away and proceeding to raid the closet for shoes. I just hope that doesn’t come back to bite her someday.

XXX

Dinner on the Tang was certainly livelier and noisier than breakfast. Mainly because the crew didn’t have to walk on eggshells while waiting for Law to get his caffeine hit. Most of the time about a dozen different conversations could be heard, utensils clattered against plates, insults were tossed about, and laughter filled the air. But at the moment, the whole galley was silent save for Nami, who was telling the Heart Pirates—save for a few who’d been sent out on last-minute errands—all about her crew’s wild adventure on Skypiea.

“…so, after Luffy beat the crap out of him, Enel flew off to the moon in his gold airship, and we escaped the island with the help of an octopus balloon, our ship loaded with treasure!”

There was a pregnant pause as the Hearts stared at her in a mix of awe and disbelief. She’d had their undivided attention ever since Law announced that the Straw Hats had found Noland’s lost city of gold, all but demanding she tell the tale and not skimp on the details.

Naturally, those details made the story even more bizarre, practically unbelievable, but she gave them what they asked for, so they couldn’t complain. Even Law’s jaw had dropped once or twice in incredulity. Mostly at the part where Luffy’d been eaten by a giant snake and thus been hidden from Enel’s senses.

Finally, a few of the crew managed to find their voices.

“An orangutan nearly wrecked your ship with singing?” Shachi asked, face utterly baffled.

Penguin grabbed his hat and smacked him over the head with it. “That’s what you’re stuck on? That’s from way back in the beginning of the story!”

The ginger punched him in the shoulder in retaliation, which quickly devolved into a childish slap fight. “Well it’s weird, ok?”

“Weirder than Straw Hat punching Kami or the knock-up stream business or the ship that flew to the moon?”

“Yeah! You ever met an orangutan that could sing?!”

“No, but that’s not the point!”

“You met Monte Blac Cricket?” Ermine interrupted, eyes so wide the whites could be seen even under the rim of their hat, though their mouth quickly split into a smile. “Holy shit, I’d wondered what had happened to him!”

“Wasn’t he your friend or something?” Seiuchi asked through a mouth full of rice.

They shook their head, looking a little wistful, a faint blush rising to their cheeks. “Just a neighbor. The people of Lvneel were dicks to his family and anyone who associated with them didn’t get treated much better. But I always thought there had to be some truth to Noland’s story.”

“Because a city of gold is so fantastical it’s gotta be real?” Nami asked, amused. She’d half-expected everyone to laugh at her like the people on Jaya when she’d asked about Sky Island—she’d even glossed over that part, finding no reason to recap such a blow to her pride. Yet instead, they’d been respectful, even entranced by her tale. It seemed to help that she’d been able to fill in a few blanks with what she remembered from Noland’s ledger, thus adding credibility to the man himself instead of just imagining the lying fool the king’s slander had reduced him to.

Usopp would probably love these guys, she thought fondly. Not that they’d likely believe his fantastical lies, but they’d probably at least let him spin his yarns to his heart’s content.

“Because you don’t tell a king about a city of gold unless you’ve got something to show for it,” Uni interjected wisely, ladling some more curry onto her plate. He paused to smile at her with his eyes, the bottom half of his face still distinctly covered by his bandana despite it being dinnertime. This close, Nami couldn’t help but try to subtly look for signs of scarring, and in fact could spot a line of slightly-paler skin peeking out just over the edge. “That, and history’s rarely all that accurate. Full of lies and twisted to suit a certain narrative.”

“That’s the World Government way. I’m sure we’ll see plenty of it tonight,” Law stated, leaning back in his chair as he munched on some onigiri. The bulge in his cheek might have been comical, but the glint in his eye was humorless. “Can’t wait to hear the dumbass assumptions people make about us Northerners.”

Murmurs of agreement echoed throughout the room, though an angry tic formed on Nami’s forehead.

“Are you saying the stuff you had me study is going to be a load of crap?” she demanded, pointing her finger accusingly. Of course she knew history was skewed at best, but she’d spent days cramming! Had weird sexual dreams about him because of it!

Yes she was blaming the book for that and no one could stop her.

He shrugged and took another bite of rice, unbothered by her irritation. “It’s the information you’ll need to be able to regurgitate if anyone asks you about the North.”

“Yeah,” Penguin chimed in, nodding sagely. He and Shachi had finally been pulled apart by Jean Bart and had resumed eating like nothing had happened. “These people aren’t interested in the truth. They just want to feel superior to the ‘uneducated masses’.”

“Buncha pretentious pricks,” Shachi sniggered, balancing a spoon on his upper lip. “Bet they’d have a fucking fit if they found out El Dorodo’s not only real, but in the fucking sky!”

“I mean, can’t say I’d blame them,” Jude grumbled, playing a bit with his food like a grumpy child. “I figured we’d be the ones to find it, but this whole time we’ve been sailing around in a submarine for nothing!”

“You got something to say about my ship?” Ikkaku snapped, glaring at her crewmate. Behind her, Crozier, Cousteau, and Ermine made slashing motions across their throats, silently reminding him that disparaging the Polar Tang in any way in front of its chief engineer was a sure death sentence.

Before he could say anything, Uni thwapped him on the forehead with the spoon, apparently taking just as much offense. “How can you say it’s been for nothing—we’ve found tons of cool shit down here! May not have been El Dorado, but there have been some amazing sunken cities. And fish! We’ve discovered more aquatic animals than any other ocean explorer,” he pointed out excitedly, Cousteau nodding in agreement. “I mean, we’ve seen deep-sea fish not recorded in any book! Extracted hallucinogenic venom from puffer fish! Taken samples of bioluminescent plankton! We’ve seen octopi punch fish!”

“You ever figure out why they do that?” Shachi asked, cocking his head.

“Best I can figure? Spite.”

As weird as this little tangent was, Nami found herself giggling a bit at how excited Uni was. She didn’t know him too well, given how he was one of the quieter, more reserved members of the crew, but it was endearing to see him so animated and giddy as he discussed marine life.

“Plus, it’s cool to study navigational currents and everything, and underwater topography. The maps I can make from that kind of intel are really good,” Bepo added, twiddling his claws a bit beside her.

“Right! And if that’s still not enough to convince you, who needs a city of gold when you can get your hands on more sunken treasure than most pirates see in their lifetimes?” Uni asked, puffing out his chest.

She couldn’t help it—Nami’s eyes lit up with belli signs at the thought of how many sunken ships the submarine probably came across, all that gold theirs for the taking. Most treasure was basically lost once it hit the bottom of the ocean, but the Hearts’ ship and diving equipment turned the ocean floor into their personal piggy bank.

It seemed Jude had the same thought. “You’re right, you’re right,” he conceded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, it’s a great ship, and we’ve definitely found more than a city’s worth of loot—and yes the fish are cool Uni put the spoon away—but it’s still annoying to find out that we’ve been searching the wrong place this whole time.”

“Eh, happens to every pirate crew,” Jean Bart said, sipping his drink. “You find a treasure map only to discover the gold’s already dug up. Same with legends of lost cities. The fact that the Straw Hats actually found El Dorado and came away with a profit just means they’ve got the Devil’s luck on their side.”

“Or the favor of some god. Probably not that Enel guy, though,” Shachi said with a smirk. “And hopefully nothing from Joras, either.”

There was a murmur of agreement among the crew at that, though Ikkaku looked more uncomfortable than amused. Nami wasn’t the only one to catch that, though, as Uni reproachfully smacked the side of his head with the spoon.

“Dude. Don’t joke about the eldritch horror gods, yeah?”

“Sorry,” the ginger said, blushing slightly as he wiped away the curry splattered across his face.

“Eldritch horror gods?” Nami asked, recoiling at the thought. What the fuck?! Joras sounded vaguely familiar and given the context she guessed it had to be someplace in the North Blue, but she sure as hell didn’t recall reading anything about that! Was this something related to Northern culture, or were the guys just fucking with her?

“Nothing to worry your pretty little head over, Nami-ya,” Law stated with a smirk, though she didn’t miss the glare he sent Shachi’s way. “We’ve been sailing under the ocean for over five years and I’ve yet to see a sleeping god who can turn you mad with terror.”

“No, just an underwater ruin or two that talks about him,” Ikkaku muttered, picking at her food.

Underwater ruins with tales of sleeping gods? Sounds like something Robin would be interested in, Nami thought, nervous sweat running down her neck. Not that she’d be able to blame her. Sure, the archeologist was macabre as hell, but Nami could appreciate her thirst for knowledge, creepy or not. Who knew what history and cultures had been lost to the seas? Maybe there were even Poneglyphs down at the bottom of the ocean!

Damn. Robin and Law would probably get along great. She wasn’t sure if she was frightened or comforted by this thought.

Uni seemed to notice her unease and patted her shoulder. “We’ve seen some strange stuff down there, but nothing more dangerous than Sea Kings. Which, I mean, aren’t exactly friendly guppies, but they’ll leave us be. The Tang’s Seastone coating and electrical defenses ensure that.”

Though she still found the whole concept horrifying, she was appreciated how hard Uni was trying to keep the peace and not make things needlessly frightening for her. The whole crew had a morbid sense of humor, but while she’d mostly adapted, she still found this whole conversation creepy. It made her feel a little guilty for wanting to pry into his business. Yeah, it was annoying to know the crew was hiding stuff from her, but Uni deserved a little privacy, right?

“Yeah, and if there were anything more, Uni’s fish buddies would warn us ahead of time!” Malamute added.

“Fish buddies?” Nami asked, eyebrows lifting to her hairline in surprise. So much for respecting his privacy. “Wait, can you talk to fish?”

The man in question stiffened beside her. “I, uh, I can understand fish a little,” he said, looking nervous. His large hands twisted the napkin in his lap, and he refused to look at her. “It’s a Haki thing.”

“Haki can do that?” she asked, surprised.

“Observation Haki can do a lot of things, and Uni’s the best at it on the ship,” Law cut in harshly, glare brokering no argument. “It’s a skill that’s saved our asses plenty of times.”

Nami blanched at his defensive tone. “Hey, I’ll take your word for it, but you don’t have to act like I insulted his mother or something.”

“It’s ok, Law,” Uni said, shrugging a bit, though his face seemed to sink a little further into his bandana. “I know she didn’t mean anything by it. It’s a fair question, and it is a weird talent.”

“It’s not weird. It’s fucking useful as hell and I won’t hear anyone belittling my crew.”

“I’d never belittle him—” Nami snapped, starting to stand up to give Law a piece of her mind before Bepo’s heavy paws fell on her shoulders, gently but firmly keeping her seated.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized softly. “Law doesn’t mean you. It’s just…the last person outside the crew that found out, he was extremely cruel about it. Beat Uni to a pulp and even threatened to sell him as a freak show attraction before Captain found them.”

“Oh my god,” she replied, anger cooling quickly as she covered her mouth in horror, imagining Uni bruised and bloody on the ground at the hands of some bastard. Well, that would sure as hell explain why Law had taken such offense. If such a thing had happened to Chopper because he could speak to animals, she’d likely be just as pissed. From the scowls on the rest of the Hearts’ faces, the whole crew felt similar. Her gaze flicked to the fuming captain. “I’m guessing he ended up on your operating table?”

“I wish,” he growled, gold eyes glinting in fury as he crossed his arms. “Marines showed up before I could cut out his heart. Must have been his lucky day, but luck won’t be enough to save him if I ever run into Hyena-ya again.”

“Hyena?” she asked, the name not ringing any bells.

“Bellamy the Hyena,” Bepo explained, snout wrinkling in distaste. “He’s also from the North.”

Oh. My. God, Nami thought, wondering if the world was really so small. “You said Bellamy, right? Blonde hair? Spring powers? Asshole with a stupid grin?”

Law cocked an eyebrow in mild surprise. “Seems you’ve encountered him before.”

She ground her teeth as she remembered the way he’d mocked Luffy’s dreams in the bar. “Yeah. On Jaya. His crew laughed at me for asking about Sky Island and his first mate tried to buy me. Later he stole Cricket’s gold, so Luffy went after him. I didn’t see the fight but given what an ass that guy was…yeah, Luffy wiped that stupid smile off his face.”

Once more the room fell silent, but quickly broke out into thunderous applause.

“Hah! I would have paid good money to see that!” Ikkaku laughed, spirits lifted.

“If he hurt Cricket, I’m glad he got the beating he deserved,” Ermine said with a grin.

Uni smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling happily. “When you see Straw Hat again, shake his hand for me! That guy’s a dick.”

Even Law was put in a better mood, though there was still a malicious edge to his smirk. “Good on Mugiwara-ya. Still wouldn’t mind doing some permanent damage to the fucker myself, though. Bad enough he insulted my crew, but that bastard should pick his idols more carefully.”

Nami’s brow furrowed at that. His idols? The hell did that mean?

She didn’t have time to vocalizing that question, though. Sweat ran down her neck when said smirk then took a more lecherous edge as he rested his chin on his fist, eyes glinting with mischief. “But Sarquiss-ya tried to buy you? I might have prioritize kicking his ass, then. I’m the only one who gets to be your sugar daddy.”

“Oh shut up! You didn’t even buy me new shoes!”

“You got her a suit but no shoes? For shame, Boss,” Ikkaku giggled, getting up to help Seiuchi and Jude clear the tables. “I thought you were supposed to be a ladies’ man.”

“I’m a cruel bastard who doesn’t do something for nothing. She can borrow yours.”

Sauntering over, she playfully poked him in the forehead. “Says who?”

Law snorted and childishly poked her right back. “Me. Your captain. The guy who pays your salary.”

“You pay me to keep the submarine running and sass you when you’re being an idiot.”

“I don’t pay you for that.”

“Mmmm, you’re right; that’s a service I provide for free.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say those two were siblings,” Nami chuckled under her breath.

“Right? When I was first recruited I was convinced they were secretly related,” Uni agreed.

Bepo gave them both a smile and said quietly, “I think it’s good for them. Especially Law. I think he secretly likes having a little sister again.”

Brown eyes widened at that little tidbit. Law had a sister? What happened to her? Bepo had stated the past tense, so there was either some kind of falling out or…

…oh no, she thought, turning to watch Law continue to bicker good-naturedly with Ikkaku, his expression annoyed but the glimmer in his eyes belying that he was enjoying himself. Another piece of the puzzle that was the Surgeon of Death had fallen into her lap, but it wasn’t a particularly happy one. Sure, people died or were killed all the time, but Nami couldn’t imagine what she’d be like if she’d lost Nojiko. And depending on how young they’d been or how she’d died, that could really fuck with a guy.

“Nami-ya.”

Her attention was yanked from her musing as Law called her name. He was on his feet, plate clean and smirk dangerous as he regarded her. Nami wondered whether this would be the last time she’d see him in a genuinely good mood for the rest of the evening. “It’s seven o’clock. Time to get ready to watch history be defiled by pretentious morons. And for your obnoxious thunder god’s sake, make sure you’re wearing shoes you can actually run in.”

( @ninhaoma-ya, @awesomi, @vannahfanfics)

[unbridgeabledistances]

ok i have an inbox full of prompts, but i was making valentine’s day plans & all of a sudden felt very inspired to write some valentine’s day gallavich! featuring uncle mickey, homemade cards and a lot of domestic fluff- i’ll probs have a part two up sometime this week!<3

--

It was a lazy, slow-paced Sunday afternoon at the Gallagher house. Mickey had been lying on the couch passively watching trashy reality TV for god knows how long—and apparently at some point he’d fallen asleep, because now the TV volume was just a low hum, and he was being woken up to the startling crash of the kitchen back door slamming shut, and the rustling of shoes and coats being taken off and discarded by the front door.

“Alright Franny, let’s set this stuff up on the kitchen table.” Mickey heard Ian’s voice sail across the room, his eyes still closed to block out the cheery sunshine teeming in the living room.

Mickey tried to doze off again, attempting to block out the bright light infiltrating his eyelids, but it was no use— whatever Ian and Franny were doing, murmuring and clanging in the kitchen, there was no way for Mickey to escape the sound now and drift back into his sunwarmed sleep. He begrudgingly shoved the scratchy crocheted blanket off of his lap, stretching as he rose and stumbled into the kitchen.

He wasn’t expecting the carnage that he saw when he turned the corner; the kitchen table was covered in an explosion of sheets of multicolored construction paper, all reds and pinks and whites, with tiny multicolored stickers and tubes of glitter and shiny ribbons arranged and spread wide across the countertop, scattered with glue sticks and pairs of scissors and an exploded box of crayons. There was a small mountain of cut-out hearts piled high on the table, smattered with glitter-glue and blocky handwriting.

Mickey rubbed his eyes, taking in the scene. “What’re you two Picassos up to?” he asked drowsily.

Ian looked up, his eyes light. “Look who’s awake!” He gestured at the table emphatically, like it was Christmas morning. “Isn’t it great? Me and Franny grabbed all this stuff at the dollar store for less than ten bucks. The glue sticks definitely kind of suck, but I think it’ll get the job done.”

Mickeys eyes scanned to Franny, who was hard at work trying to cut a shape out of a piece of red construction paper, her brows furrowed in concentration. Ian kept chattering on as he unwrapped another sheath of the paper.

“Debbie left Franny with me since some rich lady called her with a weekend handywoman emergency that popped up at the last minute, so now I’m helping Franny make her valentines for school.”

Mickey scoffed. “Fucking valentines?”

Ian rolled his eyes as he contentedly started to glue together two pieces of paper. “Yes, Mickey, valentines. You know, those nice things that normal people give to each other on Valentine’s Day, along with a box of chocolates or some shit and a note about how much they love each other—”

“Yes, I know what they are, smartass. Don’t know why you didn’t just buy the little cardboard ones at the store though.”

Ian smirked, his eyes still focused on the paper beneath him that he was smudging glitter on. “Yeah, well. Franny wanted to make them, and I thought it’d be kind of fun.”

Just then Franny gasped triumphantly, raising a lopsided and crumpled paper heart up for Mickey to see. “Look, Uncle Mickey! I cut a heart! Uncle Ian showed me how!”

Mickey raised his eyebrows at Ian, who had a sheepish look on his face. “Didn’t know you had so many hidden talents, Gallagher.”

Ian flashed a grin. “I used to be really into art class in elementary school, what can I say.”

Franny looked up at Mickey with wide eyes. “Do you want to make valentines with us? We have to make twenty-seven, because that’s the number of people in my class.”

Mickey faltered. Sitting here gluing fucking glitter to pieces of paper was not exactly what he’d had in mind as his plans for the weekend…

“Uh. That’s okay kiddo. I think you two’ve got it covered.”

Franny seemed to readily accept Mickey’s answer, instantly looking downward again and grabbing a fistful of crayons from the table to continue enhancing her masterpiece. Ian, on the other hand, tore his gaze from his own valentine.

“Oh c’mon Mick, you don’t wanna help?” Ian asked, his voice goading and his eyebrows raised.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks but no thanks.” He turned, walking over to open the fridge and grabbing a beer from the top shelf.

“C’mon, just one valentine. Franny can show you how to cut out a heart shape, right Fran?”

Franny nodded vigorously. “Yes, I know how!”

Mickey took a swig of his beer and sighed. “Jesus, fine.” He pulled a chair between Ian and Franny, slowly scraping it on the linoleum, and then perched on the edge uncomfortably. “Alright Franny, show me what you’ve got.”

“Okay, so the first thing that you have to do is pick which color is your favorite. What’s your favorite color?”

Mickey had taken another sip of his beer, and now he sputtered slightly. “I don’t know Franny, you pick for me.”

Franny’s face melted into a pout. “But you have to pick, Uncle Mickey, it’s your favorite color!”

Ian bit back a laugh, his eyes still bright and cheerful. “Yeah, Mick, c’mon. What is your favorite color? We’ve never gotten this deep in our relationship before.”

Mickey gulped again from his beer can and flipped Ian off in the process. “I don’t fucking know. Never thought about it before.”

Franny held the stack of construction paper up to Mickey. “Look! There’s red, and yellow, and blue, and purple, and green—”

Mickey cut her off. “Uh, give me a green one.”

Ian smirked. “Green?”

“Fuck you, it was the first color I thought of.” Of course, that wasn’t really true—if Mickey needed to have a favorite fucking color, it was obviously going to be green, like the green eyes that met his gaze every morning and were the last thing he saw before he went to sleep at night— even if he would never be caught dead admitting that sappy bullshit to Ian.

Ian looked like he was holding back a smile. “Right,” he mused. “Hey, Franny, pass me a blue paper? Cause y’know, that’s my favorite color.”

Mickey gently shoved Ian in the square of his chest. “You’re being fucking soft.”

Ian let a crooked smile burst onto his face. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Mickey leaned back in his chair, holding the piece of thick green paper in front of him appraisingly. “Okay Franny, what’s step two?”

Franny stretched her body across the table to reach for one of the strewn pairs of scissors. “Now, you fold the paper in half, and then you cut out the shape of half of a heart, like this.” She drew an example of the curved pattern on the backside of Mickey’s paper with the tip of her finger. “And then you unfold it and it’ll be a perfect shape!”

“Sounds easy enough.”

Mickey took the scissors from Franny’s grasp, and held them up to the paper. It was just a fucking half circle with a little indent at the top— this wasn’t going to be too difficult. Ian and Franny went back to being absorbed in crafting their valentines, while Mickey started to botch and slash at his piece of construction paper.

When he was finally satisfied he unfolded the shape, the outer shell of the paper falling away. It was… well, it was kind of a heart, with two slanted sides and a wonky top half. It looked more like a blob attached to an angle than anything else.

Ian looked up from where he was doodling on a glittery heart and snickered.

“That’s uh… that’s a good first try, Mick.”

Mickey slammed the piece of paper down onto the table. Fucking arts and crafts, he was never good at this shit even when he was little—he fingers were always too fumbling, too clumsy for him to make anything delicate and pristine. Ian’s hands should have been as ungainly as his, but instead they were quick and nimble, smoothly cutting perfectly-rounded circles and gluing neat lines of glitter.

Franny noticed that Mickey was done cutting his shape. “Good job Uncle Mickey! Now you just have to draw on it, and put on stickers and glitter.”

“Yeah Mickey, let’s see those artistic skills.”

Mickey aggressively flicked some flecks of glitter from the table in Ian’s direction, then picked up a crayon and gripped it with an iron fist. What the fuck was he supposed to draw? This was a valentine for kids at Franny’s school, the fuck did kids like anyways? He started to draw some sort of stick figure, but the arms were too long and the head was too small, so he tried to color over it and make some sort of tree or some shit…

As Mickey scratched at the paper, he looked over at noticed suddenly how content Ian looked—how blissed out and settled he was, just running a crayon over the colorful paper and shaking bits of glitter onto pools of glue. If Mickey was being honest, he hadn’t seen Ian this light and happy in a while; he’d had a hunch in his shoulders for months after the wedding and the pandemic and all the minimum-wage job bullshit, the shadows of expectation hanging over him and causing a deflated weariness in his gaze that was impossible to ignore. But right now, Ian looked like he was having as much fun as Franny was, practically vibrating with satisfaction as he put the finishing touches on his drawing and reaching to place his completed valentine in the growing pile.

Mickey snatched the paper out of Ian’s hand, slightly crumpling it around the edges. “Wait a second. How the fuck did you do that?”

The valentine was immaculate, the heart symmetrical and traced in a thin outline of glitter. In the center of the paper there was a perfect little cartoon of a dog in a top hat, with an air bubble that read “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Ian shrugged. “Watched a lot of cartoons when I was little. And I’ve always kind of liked to draw.”

Mickey shoved the valentine back in front of Ian. Goddamn perfect fucking husband who’s good at fucking everything. He crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair, suddenly losing all motivation to play along.

Ian smirked, then reached to rest a hand on the back of Mickey’s neck. “Giving up already?”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Fuck you, Gallagher.”

Ian’s smile just widened. “Here, how about I cut the fucking shapes and you glue stuff onto them. That’d still help me and Franny a lot, right?”

Franny nodded. “It’s okay Uncle Mickey, I was bad at cutting the shapes too at first.”

Mickey huffed. Okay, so maybe he was horrible at this shit, but the least he could do was suck it up for Franny’s sake. “Fine,” he muttered, and grabbed a glue stick and a bottle of glitter.

A few minutes passed and they settled into a comfortable silence, enveloped in the sound of the scissors gliding and Franny scribbling on paper.

Suddenly, Franny looked up as Mickey reached across the table to grab a pad of stickers.

“Hey Uncle Mickey, what do you and Uncle Ian do for Valentine’s Day?”

Mickey didn’t really know how to answer that question— he darted a glance over at Ian, trying to signal as much. Could you ruin the spirit of Valentine’s Day for kids in the same way you could fuck up Christmas? “Uh, nothing really.”

Ian chimed in. “We used to like Valentine’s Day when we were little like you Franny, but now that we’re big we don’t really celebrate it. Right Mick?”

“Yup.”

Franny’s brows were furrowed again, this time in contemplation. “But. You love each other, right?”

“Sure, Franny. But we don’t need a special day for us to remember that,” Ian explained.

Franny seemed appeased enough by that answer to resume her drawing. “You don’t give each other valentines or candy or anything?”

Mickey almost laughed. Of course he and Ian had never celebrated fucking Valentine’s Day; if he was being honest, he didn’t remember even really thinking about Valentine’s Day before now, other than it being a day when Mandy came home crying in middle school because the boy she liked didn’t ask her out, or buying all the half-priced chocolates in red and pink wrappers at the drugstore a week later with his brothers. With all the shit in his life the past few years, frilly fucking holidays like Valentine’s Day were just… not on Mickey’s radar.

But maybe— maybe this year was different. This year, for maybe the first time in his life, Mickey felt secure and steady in a way that he never had before, like the ground was solid beneath him and wasn’t going to cave in at any minute. He had a fucking husband that he loved—why couldn’t they celebrate Valentine’s Day like a normal goddamn couple? Ian didn’t seem to be too bothered that they both didn’t give a fuck about the holiday, which was all the more reason to catch him off guard. He kept pressing stickers down onto the construction paper, his mind starting to churn.

By the time they’d made the twenty-seven fucking valentines, Mickey had made up his mind; this year, he and Ian were going to celebrate Valentine’s Day.

part two here!

[kerwritesthings]

Homecoming

Summary: It hurts to crash and fall, but helps when you have someone to help pick you back up

Word Count: little over 2.2k

Warning: fluff with a slight touch of oh sad, cursing and a little illusion to naughty

Author Notes: So hey, muse is back, feeling it and she’s a cranking. I had general thoughts on this since end of Final and return to play, bullets I had vomited, maybe a paragraph but it never went anywhere. After I got J’s challenge done, it kind of just poured out in regards to those two kids. This is part of what’s now officially the Orange Blossom verse since I’m fully attached to Tyler and Clementine. 

Guess I need to get a hockey masterlist together now? Cause yeah, more words coming here for them (possibly a NSWF back half to this? maybe?) and on a few other hockey boys. Also, maybe even getting some Shawn words out too? #museisfeelingit

We’re taking off. I finally get to say see you and the boys later and really mean it.

You knew straightaway when the buzzer sounded the other night this was going to be hard, harder than last year for sure. When you talked after, it shattered you hearing him that way. You couldn’t be there and that hurt. You also knew there was more than he was letting on or even telling you, but you weren’t pushing him then; it wasn’t worth it. There’d be a time and place for that.

We’ll be waiting xo

You try to get as much set and ready, at least for the next 48 hours, so you can just both be. Fridge and pantry are full, everything is clean top to bottom inside and out. As you run through the checklist in your head, you feel a heavy head plunk down on your knee with a whine.

“I know buddy, I miss him too. He’s coming home to us right now though. Only a couple more hours,” you scratch behind the golden lab’s ear. “Let me feed you and your crazy brothers so you’re not completely batshit when your Dad gets home.”

As soon as you say Dad, they lose their minds it seems. A raucous feeding and a subsequently needed clean up after of both the kitchen and you, time is closer than you thought. You’re refiling the Brita when you hear the locks clicking open and the telltale plunk of bags hitting the floor. Then he’s there in the doorway between the hall and the kitchen. You just look at him for a moment and truly exhale for the first time since he called after the game, he’s finally home.

“Hi,” you smile, stepping closer to him.

“There’s my babygirl,” Tyler sighs deeply, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms tightly around you. “Fuck, I missed you, so damn much Emmy.”

You hold him just as close, nodding into his chest trying not to cry. He drops his head into the crook of your neck and breathes in and out slowly. Your arms wind around his waist as you feel his eyelashes flutter against your skin.

“It’s too quiet…” he starts.

“They’re outside. They were going crazy in the house; I think they could tell from my energy you were coming back,” you explain. “That or it was just another Wednesday.”

He bites a chuckle back, his lips dusting against your neck.

“May need your help with them,” he murmurs against your skin.

“How bad?” you ask, hands sliding up to his face, pulling him away to look straight at you.

He’s tired, it’s all over his face. He just shrugs.

“Tyler…” you start.

“Bad,” he mumbles out, eyes slipping shut as your fingers start looping in his hair sticking out from his hat. “Doc wants me in for scans and testing tomorrow afternoon.  I’m gonna need you to drive me please, J dropped me off because I couldn’t.”

That’s why you didn’t hear the rumbling of an engine or the garage door.

“Where?” you tread lightly.

“Better to ask me where not, Em. You know the knees were acting up before we went into lockdown, but they were better than before when we went back for phase two,” he replies. “Then the hip started at the end of camp here probably from the other shit. I thought we had it under control before we left and the knees were feeling less shitty. I played the one game in round robin. Wasn’t great, but it wasn’t crazy pain and I’ve played through worse. They backed me out for precautions, you know that. Thought the rest and therapy on it would do it.”

“But then?” you probe carefully, knowing he wasn’t letting on how much the bumps and bruises of playoffs were really affecting him when he would call.

“All kind of went to hell from there though and it just unraveled,” he sighs deeply. “Definitely the right hip. Left is tweaked from compensating. Wrist was nagging too. Everything fucking hurt but, I just. I couldn’t let them down, I couldn’t. It’s playoffs. Not when we were pushing and we were that damn close. So fucking close.”

Tyler sniffs and drops his head to your shoulder.

“You have the biggest heart baby; you’d never let them down. They know that. But you need to take care of yourself and not break yourself to the point of disrepair, Tyler. Not good for them or for you, especially if you want to keep on playing,” you say. “Tabling this for now though. Let’s go see the boys, then I think you need some food, a soak and some sleep.”

“You’re forgetting something,” he whispers into your shirt, his hands holding firm at your hips.

“Hmm?” you question.

“You, I most definitely need you, Emmy,” he picks his head up and smirks before leaning into kiss you.

It starts sweet, light even then he presses into it. Tongue swiping and teeth nibbling, it’s warming up quickly. His hands flex tighter, drawing you even closer into him. You can already feel him half hard against you.

“Ty,” you break away, breathless. “Not if…”

“Nope, non-negotiable. We’ll figure out a way. It’s been almost two fucking months,” he utters against your lips before pressing into another kiss, this one quick. “I hear them losing their shit out there. Come on.”

He snags your hand, tangling your fingers together and tugging you towards the French doors to the patio. You can tell immediately in his gait, he’s in a good deal of discomfort. Knowing him, he’s refused anything heavy pain killer wise while he was playing, other than the extra strength Advil he’s only been comfortable taking. Maybe some cortisone if the inflammation wasn’t subsiding and even that would be a push to get him to agree to.

“Don’t even think about getting down on the grass you, I saw the limping,” you chide, pushing him down onto the lounge chair. “They can all attack you from here.”

He pouts, but you just flick his ear, then yank the hat off his head.

“Boys, look who I found for you,” you call out.

Three large dog heads whip around at once and make a break for you two. You back out of the way, giving the labs more than enough room to get up and around the chair. Once the initial may lay of wagging tails, jumping excitement and licking backs down, Gerry ends up on the lounge wedging himself on and between Tyler’s legs as he thinks he’s still tiny, with Cash and Marshall on either side their heads in his lap.

“Who’s the best boys? Did you miss me? I missed you. Were you good for Mom while I was gone?” he asks them, petting them each as they bask in having him back. “You better have taken good care of her. We had an agreement.”

“As good as being in the house with three boys without their dad could be,” you laugh from behind the chair, hands on Tyler’s shoulders. “They were good to cuddle with, especially on game nights.”

“Not as good as me though,” he tips his head back with a cheeky grin.

“Debatable Tyler,” you tease, bopping his nose.

“Hey,” he pouts, lip jutting out.

“You can remind me later,” you murmur, dropping a kiss to his forehead. “You spend some time with the motley crew out here. Don’t you think about running or leaving that chair, really. I’ll get some stuff pulled together in the kitchen. Any requests? I stockpiled on some of your favorites.”

“Did you make your chicken bake?” his eyes light up as he thinks about what to ask for.

“Of course I did, you asked me about that a few times when you were griping about food options,” you grin. “I’ll get that and salad ready. Boys, you need to take it easy with Dad, he’s more broken than he’s willing to admit.”

You head back into the house and into the kitchen. As you’re turning from the oven to start on the salad, you hear the thump of paws first before feeling a plop of a head on your feet.

“Marsh baby, why aren’t you outside with your Daddy?” your eyebrows knit as you look down at the dog.

The dog just huffs and sighs with big eyes looking up at you.

“He’s back now with us buddy,” you wipe your hands on a towel before bending down to pet him. “He’s missed you just as much as you missed him. You’re his first baby. Go love on him some more.”

Marshall just whines again, nudging you to try to make you cuddle with him on the kitchen floor.

“Let me finish this up, then we can all snuggle on the couch ok?” you bargain, heading to the sink to wash your hands before finishing the salad.

He didn’t leave your side as you went on your way to get the meal together, sticking closer than he did when Tyler first left. The bake would be in for a bit longer, so you slide the salad into the fridge just as everyone filters back into the house.

“Your oldest son has abandonment issues,” you call out. “Tyler, you best not. Get your ass on the couch, I’ll pull him over. There’s no rolling on the floor.”

“He’s always been the most sensitive, worse in his old age,” he jokes, sliding an arm around your waist to lean into you.

“He’s not that old, be nice,” you poke at his side. “Marshall just loves you that much. That needs like 20-25 more minutes in the oven. Salad’s done, so it’ll be easy once this is warmed through. Come on; couch, pups and maybe I’ll even let you get handsy.”

Tyler turns you, palms sliding up your hips around to your back to pull you into him. You go easily and willingly.

“Thank you, Emmy,” he says softly, nosing at your temple. “I’m so lucky I get to come home to not only these three but to you too. Means a lot. I love how much you care about those three nutzos in there as much as how much you love me. And I know it’s not easy at times, but I hope you know that without question, I love you. I love you more every damn day and I want to keep showing you that.”

You didn’t expect that. It’s never been a question on your feelings for each other, but it always hits you when Tyler gets into his feelings like that. You don’t even respond with words; you just pop up onto your toes to kiss him.

“Love you too Ty,” you murmur, a breath away from his lips.

As soon as you both settle into the couch, letting him get comfortable first as you saw the grimace when he initially sat down, the dogs fall into place too. Even if it’s only for a short break, it’s nice to feel like things are settling back into a sense of normalcy. You close your eyes and exhale, probably for the first time since they came off the ice after game six.

“Bath after dishes?” you start as you shuffle plates off the table. “No fighting me, you need it. You’re wincing at every other movement. I picked up some eucalyptus soak with Epsom salt, so you won’t smell like my lavender or jasmine.”

“You joining me?” he wiggles his eyebrows, grin as wicked as ever after taking a sip from his glass.

“We’re not fucking in the tub Tyler,” you chide him as you load the dishwasher. “Busted hips do not make for good times with water sports even with as big as that soaker is.”

“Wrecking all my fun,” he sighs with the grin still evident. “But I guess you’re right. If I promise to kind of behave, will you join me?”

You can’t help but scoff a laugh.

“Kind of behave? Shit’s sake. Only you, Tyler,” you swing back around to the table, dusting a kiss to his temple. “Let me go get stuff ready and the water all set in there.”

“Someone needs to make sure I wash behind my ears amongst other places,” he gets cheeky, snagging you to pull you down onto his lap. “No one better than you for that, baby.”

He nips at your ear before nuzzling his face into your neck before tightening his arms around your waist. You’ve missed this, missed him.

“You can distract me all you want, but I’m still not fucking you in that tub,” you laugh, your hands tracing loops and swirls against the black ink over his forearm before trailing down his hands.

“Was at least worth a shot, but I’ll take you wet, naked and full of bubbles in the water with me,” he sighs, biting at your jaw before pushing you off his lap. He takes a swat at your ass as you’re walking away.

“I’ll add bubbles, just for you, since you asked so nicely,” you call out over your shoulder, sticking your tongue out at him.

“Put that away unless you plan on using that, preferably on me,” he shouts back in the midst of laughing.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

When They Meet Your Ex

Risotto Nero

Risotto would crush your ex’s head between his goth gf tiddies if he ever tries to get anywhere close to you.

You were on a park date on a late evening, not wanting to attract attention, but Risotto’s hat bells seemed to attract all the attention from passer-bys...

And by that, I mean cute little stray kittens would tried climbing up his pants to reach the bells.

Seeing you giggle at that, he only sighed and with the ghost of a smile, he suggested you sit down by the tree and play with the kittens.

It was all super cute at the beginning, seeing your lovely smile made his heart go WRYYYY with happiness, but that was rather short lived.

“Huuh? Y/N, that you? What are you doing with that weird looking clown? And why do you look like you’re wearing his way too large and washed out Metallica Tshirt?” hearing that familiar voice, you gasped and looked up, only to see the irritating face of your ex. “Honestly...Can’t I get a nice and quiet night without you around? Actually, why did you even stop? Come on, go away! I don’t feel like killing my braincells speaking to you again.” you humphed, looking away from him. “Awe, don’t be so hostile with me, babe! You definitely weren’t like that some time ago.” he smirked, as your eye twitched in annoyance. “Don’t call me that! It’s disgusting hearing that coming from your filthy mouth! You lost that privilege long ago!” your voice was lower, dripping with poison with each word. “I don’t think you should be speaking to me like that, considering how much you downgraded. Were you that desperate that you just forced yourself on the first person you saw?” he asked in a patronising voice. “I’m not you to force myself on people who don’t like me.” your voice even harsher now, but your big tiddy goth gf decided to step in. “To think that someone like you would speak like that about my girlfriend in front of me...You sure are a dumb fuck.” Risotto’s deep and dark voice echoed through the park as he stood down, towering over your ex. “Y-You’re not that scary, y’know?” your ex stuttered out those words, but that only made your boyfriend smirk. “Is that so...? Y/N, do I have your permission to teach this shrimp a lesson? No Stand needed, just my fists.” he asked, cracking his knuckles. “Permission granted. Just give me a good view of his blood flying around and I’ll be happy. I’ve been dreaming for this guy to get beat up for so long!” you giggled, leaning down on the tree with a relaxed look, with kittens all over you, as you enjoyed the show, your sweet boyfriend cursing the bastard over and over again, with each punch.

By the end of it, after making sure there’s no more blood on his hands and the jerk ran away, you called him to put his head on your lap, and kissed him tenderly, a smirk on your face.

“Who’d have thought that the best revenge is served bloody.” you chuckled, playing with his beautiful silver hair. “I would know.” he said simply, letting out a calm exhale.

---

Bruno Buccellati

You were at the restaurant with the team, as Bruno was away on a little errand and asked you to make sure the gang doesn’t destroy the restaurant, which wouldn’t really be a surprise, to say the least, but still.

“Okay, Narancia, I know you can do it. This is pretty easy, but you have to focus and take it one step at a time. What is 5 x 6? Take your time.” you asked sweetly, as you stood behind Narancia’s chair, your arms around his neck, your chin resting on the top of his head as he kept thinking and trying to count on his fingers. “Uh....30! Right? Right?” he asked energetically. “Yes, that’s right, congrats! And now, how much is 9 x 7? I know it’s a bit more difficult, but take you time and you’ll get it right!” I tried to hype him up, which made Mista and Fugo chuckle. “I honestly don’t have a clue how you can have so much patience with that braindead idiot.” Fugo complained, leaning back on his chair. “OI! WHO’RE YA CALLING A BRAINDEAD IDIOT?!” Naracia jumped on his feet as if electrocuted, which made me gasp and throw my arms around his torso, trying my best to keep him from fighting with Fugo. “Guys, settle down already! You don’t want to give Bruno trouble, do you?” I tried to reason, but they were long gone in their own word, while Mista was laughing, Giorno was pretending he didn’t know them and Abbacchio was ignoring us by listening to music. “Woaw...You’re a mess as always. Who are these guys anyway? Your groupies? Nah, these 2 seem way too young for that...They couldn’t be your kids, could they?!” a weirdly familiar voice called out from the entrance of the private space where we ate our meals, which made everyone stop what they were doing, snapping their heads towards the new person. “Oh...It’s you. Great, my day can’t get any worse, can it?” I dragged my hand down my face in aggravation. “So they ARE your children! What the hell, you said you didn’t want any children! I begged you so much, and you still denied me! And now?! What the hell, Y/N?!” he shouted, his eyes wide with shock. “These guys are 15 and 17, so if you can come up with a viable explanation on how I, at Y/A years old, could possibly have them as children, then congratulations, you win. Otherwise, I have to say, you’re the most braindead person I’ve ever met...Which wouldn’t be a surprise, considering everything.” I sighed, walking in front of him, staring him down, despite the height difference. “And who do you think you are, speaking to me like that, you little bitch?!” he screamed in your face. “Oi, Y/N, need a little help beating up this guy?” Abbacchio’s low voice called out, but you merely shook your head. “Nah, this is more personal. Listen, idiot, you aren’t allowed here. Restaurant’s rules. This place is reserved only for us, so get your sorry ass away from here before I kick you...Not that you wouldn’t like it, seeing how much of a masochistic freak you are.” you growled, pushing your finger into his chest repeatedly, to make him step way, but he grabbed your wrists tightly. “I think I’ll be leaving this place with you-” he began to speak, before a hand grasped his shoulder from behind so hard that he yelped in shock and pain.

“Now, now, I think mia bella told you already that this is a private place and you should leave. Unfortunately for you, you were stupid enough to touch her, so now you must suffer the consequences for your actions.” Bruno, glaring at the jerk, grabbed him by the shirt and threw him out of the restaurant, before talking to someone on the phone and returning to you, kissing your temple and holding his arm around you protectively, as he guided you back to the table. “Are you my guardian angel, Bruno? You always come to my aid when I need it the most, yet least expect it.” you chuckle, leaning your elbow on the table and gazing at him with a tender look. “I’d say it’s the other way around, but I won’t complain either way. Don’t worry about him, he won’t bother you again, I made sure of that.” he held your hand, intertwining your fingers together, before leaning on his chair, smirking at the others. “How did they behave today?” “On their best behaviour, of course! They are always little angels, and look! Narancia’s getting better at multiplying!” I clap in glee, showing him the new pages in his notebook. “Great job, Narancia, well done! And you, Fugo, for not getting angry at him.” Bruno praised them, but the two only shared a look of unease, as they laughed awkwardly, nodding.

--- Abbacchio Leone

You and Abbacchio were enjoying your day off together at a little cafe in town, knowing very well that none of the guys would bother you the whole day, so you were both pretty happy with that.

Your hand was over his, on the table, as you discussed random bands and were hyped about upcoming concerts in Italy that you were definitely going to together and would buy matching merch that you could wear and flaunt off how cool the two of you were together.

The problem is, however, when someone suddenly put their hands on your shoulders, making you jolt in your seat in surprise, before twisting behind to see who it was -

Only to have the misfortune of seeing your ex.

“Oh great, just what I needed. I got rid of the gang’s annoying antics, but I have to see another, much worse...Argh, whatever, I won’t even bother. Just leave, I don’t want to deal with you.” you roll my eyes, turning back to Abbacchio, obviously with a dramatic hair flip. “Awww, come on, admit that you missed me. I mean, what is this? Your new goth girlfriend, or what? I know I’m irreplaceable in your heart, but come on, no need to pretend that you don’t miss me.” he smirks, sitting on the empty chair next to you. “Oh, bother...” you facepalmed, looking at your boyfriend with an exasperated look. “Your tea is ready, sir, madam. Cherry Vanilla with extra Cinnamon.” the waiter put the teapot on the table, along with two cute little purple cups. “I am sorry, I thought it would be only the two of you. Should I bring another cup for the new sir?” the waiter asked politely, and while you were ready to deny, but Leone was faster than you. “Yes, please.” he answered simply, making you widen your eyes at him, but seeing his mischievous smirk, you realised his plan, which made you put your hand over your mouth to stifle your giggles. “You are very polite, dear Leone. More polite than I could ever be, I must confess.” you confessed, which earned a condescending laugh from your ex. “Well, you were never that much of a kind girl to begin with, Y/N, but that’s why I love you! We complete each other so well! I’m the good one, you’re the bad one...!” he trailed on, until the waiter brought the 3rd cup, and your ex tried to reach for the tea cup, but you slapped his hand away. “Go wash your hands! You can’t sit at the table with dirty hands! I don’t really care if you do it when you’re by yourself, but you should know by now that I’m hygene-obsessed!”  you tried to reason without drawing suspicion to yourself. “Jeez...Can’t believe I stayed with a nagging bitch like you for so long...” he muttered under his breath, but got up and left for the bathroom anyway. “This is gonna be fun.” you giggled, as you poured the tea for for you and Leone, before putting the teapot back. “Now’s my part.” he smirked, as you looked away, giggling, not even able to stop as you imagined how funny it’d be. “I’m back now, babe! Did you miss me~?” he asked in what seemed to be a very failed smooth act, which made you scoff. “You wish.” you snorted, looking away. “Ah...You didn’t pour me tea too, how rude. Well, nevermind, it’s not like you ever had any initiative anyway.” he got the teapot and poured himself a cup, as you and Abbacchio sipped at the same time. “How do you like it?” you giggle, looking at him as he took a big sip from his cup, before gulping and choking. “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?! IT TASTES HORRIBLE!” he yelled at you, as you could barely stop yourselves from laughing. “It’s tea, what else could it be?” you smirked, watching his angry expression, as he tried to leap towards you, but Abbacchio was much faster, taking him by the scruff of his blouse and kicking him out, getting him banned from the cafe, before turning back and sitting with a large smirk on his face. “That was such a great success.” you laughed, high-fiving your smug boyfriend. “Nobody messes with my girlfriend...And honestly, this trick didn’t work with Giorno, so it just had to work with this idiot.” he chuckled lowly, before throwing away the remaining piss-tea and ordering another kind of hot beverage. “We’re the perfect duo, baby.” you kissed his lips while giggling slightly, before getting back to your seat and continuing your conversation from where you left it.

---

Kujo Jotaro

Today had been a very nice and peaceful day for Jotaro, and he intended on keeping it that way.

His mother didn’t annoy him too much with her goodbye kiss, the groupie that kept following him everywhere was rather tame today, not clinging on him as much, the teachers didn’t annoy him, the weather was fine, you promised to meet him in the park after school, with a bento prepared for the both of you, while helping him with some studies.

All went so well so far.

You were happy, and your bright smile managed to even put a smile on his face, and you two sat at the base of a very large and old oak tree, as you fed him the bento you cooked, and after that, you let him put his hat on your head, something he absolutely adored and made his heart beat faster, as he’d put his head on your lap and would let you stroke his hair, as you’d chat randomly and watch the clouds.

Everything was so perfect...

Or so Jotaro hoped.

But there just can’t be a perfect day without something bad happening.

Just as you leaned down to plant a soft kiss on Jotaro’s forehead, some people started approaching you. At first, neither of you thought anything of it, thinking it was just random people passing by, but that was far from the truth.

“Oi, oi! Who’s that over there? It that Kujo? With a girl?” the obnoxious voice echoed through the park, and while Jotaro was merely annoyed, you unintentionally remembered the voice, and flinched in annoyance. “Great, just what I needed today.” you grumbled, tipping the front of your hat, a habit you took from your boyfriend. “Yare Yare Daze...Do you know them?” Jotaro asked in a low voice, getting up and glaring at the 3 boys walking over. “Yeah...That bastard in the middle is my ex. Kill me now.” you sighed, hiding your face completely with the hat that was already extra large on you. “Ah! No way, is that you? Really? Y/N? What the hell? Didn’t you keep preaching how you wanted a smart boyfriend? Tsk...I knew it. You really aren’t as smart as you think you are.” he shook his head, whisking away the hat, making you immediately jolt to your feet, trying to get the hat away. “Get that back! Come on, don’t be a jerk! It’s not even mine, you have no right to take it away! Just give me the hat and go away, I really didn’t want to see you again!” you reached up, trying to get the hat, but it was out of your reach. “Only if you give me a kiss. Come one, Y/N, you broke up with me in such bad terms, why not make it better?” he tried to reach his hand towards you, but you slapped it away hard. “Don’t even think of touching me, you jerk! You don’t deserve anything!” you stepped back, glaring at him, but you didn’t realise you bumped into someone, until you looked up and noticed it was Jotaro. “You have 3 seconds to give back my hat and run away.” he threatened, but your ex was having none of it. “And who the hell do you think you are? Her little play toy? Don’t you know? He loves to play around until she gets bored! And then she’ll just throw you away like garbage! Come on, man, I’m looking out for a bro here!” your ex tried to reason, but Jotaro was having none of it. “I don’t appreciate trash like you talking like that about my girlfriend. You have 2 more seconds before you’re dead.” Jotaro glared threateningly at them, putting you behind him protectively. “E/N, man, you don’t know him? He’s Kujo Jotaro, he’s known in the whole city for beating everyone up, even teachers. He never lost a fight! I wouldn’t go against him!” one of his friends explained, backing away from him, not wanting to get caught up in this mess. “One...” Jotaro stepped forward, grasping the front of your ex’s shirt. “Fine, whatever, here’s your stupid hat, now let me go!” your ex threw the hat at him, which he grabbed with his other hand and gave it to you. “Time’s up.” Jotaro smirked slightly, cracking his fists. “What?! You said you’d let me go!” your ex seemed to have fear flashing in his eyes as he tried to step back. “I said you have 3 seconds to return the hat AND run away.” and with that, Jotaro unleashed a barrage of ORAs at your filthy ex, rendering him barely able to walk as he got away by his 2 minions. “Well, that was surely satisfying to watch.” you chuckled slightly, before returning to your spot at the base of the tree. “Thank you for that. It was a pretty fine revenge, to be fair.” you smirked softly, taking out your notebooks from your bag. “Yare Yare Daze...Only cowards these days.” he shook his head before smiling, seeing you with his hat back on your head. “I can’t deny that. But doesn’t matter, you’re the best anyway. There’s nobody who can replace you in my heart.” you put your hands on his face before stealing a quick kiss from him. “Come on now, dolphin boy, let’s see what you want to revise for the Entrance exam.” you grinned, lifting up the hat so you could see a bit. “That’s my girl.” the ghost of a smile plastered on his face, as he put his arm around you, leaning back the tree and having you leaning on his chest, relaxing with the notebooks in your lap.

[ao3bronte]

Transience

This is my contribution to @mlwriterzine Once Upon A Season! It was a pleasure to be a part of the project and the finished piece (a gorgeous 260 page paperback) was a treat!

Also on AO3!

Adrien is and always has been a young man of many talents. He excels in sports, outshines in academics, and loves tinkering with the vintage 1962 Ferrari he keeps in a secret garage just up the road from their belle-époque penthouse apartment in Paris. So honestly, Marinette shouldn’t have been surprised upon finding a sailing yacht waiting for them in the luxurious marina of Saint-Tropez.

“Um...” Gobsmacked, Marinette slips off her sandals and follows him over the exquisitely varnished toerail, “... since when do you know how to drive a boat?”

“Since I was eight.” Adrien shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “Mère loved to come down every year to watch the annual regatta. She even sailed in a few of them herself.”

“Wow.” Marinette’s eyes grow wide as she gawks at the opulent 16 metre sailboat. She’d never dreamt of setting foot on one, let alone cruising on one through the French Riviera for a week on her honeymoon. Elated, Marinette can hardly keep the stars from her eyes as she drops her shoulder bag and scampers across the deck until she reaches the front of the vessel, splaying her arms out wide.

“I’m the king of the world!” she cries, laughing as Adrien runs along behind her and plants his hands on her hips, holding her steady.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” She grins into the salty breeze coming off the Mediterranean and steps onto the first rung of the railings. “Just don’t let me fall overboard.”

“You’ll be flying soon, M’Lady.” Adrien pulls her against his chest and presses a kiss to her temple, his stubble scratching softly against her skin. “But first, we have some fenders to collect.”

Marinette blinks. “Uh... what exactly is a fender?”

Adrien’s indulgent laughter echoes in the headsail. “You’re about to get a crash course in Sailing 101, Buginette. Are you ready to be my first mate?”

Marinette spins around in his arms and bops him on the nose. “Teach me everything you know, Captain Kitty.”

Adrien hums, tipping her chin upwards to kiss her lips. “I like the sound of that.”

~

After a few minutes of acquiring her sea legs, Marinette and Adrien Dupain-Cheng are off amidst the serene waves of la Côte d'Azur for a honeymoon trip of a lifetime. Marinette can’t keep her eyes off of the hill-perched towns dotting the coastline, sun-drenched and prismatic against the turquoise waters of the Med. Beside her, Adrien keeps their vessel steady, his seasoned gaze trained on the horizon as they pull out of port and soar northwards, the wind at their every beck and call.

For centuries, every Parisian worth their salt flocked to the French Riviera to soak up the Mediterranean sun and the Agreste’s were no different, once upon a time. Adrien’s childhood memories aboard the Éphémère remind him of bouillabaisse and happier days spent scampering across deck pretending to be a pirate in search of buried treasure. It’s something he hopes he can share with his own children one day, especially now that he and his wife no longer have to spend every spare moment of their lives fighting Hawk Moth.

Sensing her husband’s pensive mood, Marinette snuggles deeper into his side as the afternoon sun begins to dip towards the horizon. She doesn’t need Adrien to assure her that their evenings onboard together will be positively serene with nothing but the seabirds to obstruct the sunset that will surely steal their breath away. He kisses her forehead and hugs her close, his guiding light within the storm that had been brewing since his childhood. After all those years of rough seas at the hands of his father, things were finally settling into an even keel.

Marinette learns the ins and outs of sailing quickly, securing lines and watching for traffic as they navigate along the seaboard of Saint Raphaël . Jibs and boons soon become a part of her vocabulary, and once they've successfully moored in the neighbouring marina, Marinette feels like she's run a marathon.

"That was exhausting," she groans, slumping into the cushions on the sundeck.

Adrien beams, having barely broken a sweat. "Come on; I'll make it worth your while."

Hauling her back onto her feet, Adrien leads her down into the main cabin. All clean lines and warm teak, Marinette leaves her duffel bag on the sofa and explores the spacious interior with curious eyes, carding her fingers through the decades old fashion magazines stacked in a woven basket resting on the floor. He leaves her to explore and hauls their luggage and a cooler down the ladder, filling the marine fridge with fixings for their first dinner outside of Paris. It's peaceful, with nothing but the sounds of the waves to keep them company.

The lights are warm and low in their galley kitchen, a cozy escape from the endless vistas of rocky crags and pastel-orange buildings whose narrow streets spill into the sea. Their table is just large enough for two wicker placemats and a bottle of Mouton-Cadet; old vases filled with seaglass and shells rest on every side table, their edges wrapped in nautical rope. By the counter, Marinette grates a snowy pile of Pecorino cheese over a mound of steaming spaghetti while beside her Adrien grinds fresh pepper into a ramekin, his stomach growling after an afternoon spent at sea. A comfortable silence ebbs and flows between them as the evening tide laps against the hull, drawing them towards the tangy, indulgent nest of cacio e pepe they made together.

~

Marinette wakes the next morning to the smell of fresh coffee and a deftly wrapped gift on the bedside table of their lavish master cabin. Slipping her bare legs across the silk sheets as she sits up, she opens her present and plucks one of her own Chat Noir inspired creations from the tissue paper along with a note attached inside.

Care to go for a dip with me, M’Lady?

Marinette snorts and ties the black and neon green bikini up at the neck and hips, leaving a few very tantalizing strings to pull should Adrien let his feline instincts get the best of him. Goodness knows he wouldn’t be able to resist himself, what with the way he could hardly keep his hands off of her last night while they were trying to find a deck of cards in the saloon. She glances at herself in the mirror to wipe the sleep from her eyes and quickly fastens her hair into a loose ponytail, ready to tease her husband senseless.

“Welcome to Cannes!” he announces as she emerges from below deck, mesmerized by the morning sun illuminating his blond hair like a halo. He’s gorgeous in every sense of the word, thoughtful and generous and unfailingly kind, and even in his darkest moments, he never ceases to steal her breath away.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, hooking her fingers into the belt loops of his chinos, “but not as beautiful as you.”

A ruddy flush blooms across his cheeks, a constant victim to her soft-spoken praises. “I can hardly compete against you, Buginette, especially when you’re wearing that.”

“I don’t know...” She grazes her fingernails against his bare chest and smirks as the familiar rumble in his sternum kicks into low gear. “I think the sun suits you.”

“Enough to consider moving down here for good?”

Marinette shrugs; keeping their lives rooted in Paris has been a point of contention between them since the arrest of his father. “Not permanently, no, but I wouldn’t protest if we vacationed here more often.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time you overwork yourself,” he responds, closing his eyes as she continues to explore the chiseled planes of his abs. She’s always been gifted when it comes to distractions and this morning is no different; like wayfaring on a starless night, she’s always been the beacon to guide his way. “Now, I thought I invited you up here for a swim?”

“You did.” Marinette steps back, giving him the merciful reprieve he’d needed to calm his beating heart. “And it is kind of hot up here.”

His grip on the ship’s wheel tightens. “No thanks to you.”

“Easy there, Captain Kitty.” Marinette smirks, flicking the golden bell sewn to the bridge of her bikini top. “Race you!”

“Hey!” he gapes at her, scandalized. “I still have to drop anchor!”

Marinette giggles as she zooms past him, leaping off the back of the boat with delight. “Last one in the water has to make breakfast!”

~

Meandering through the Medieval streets of the old city, Marinette and Adrien pause to catch a glimpse of Villefranche-sur-Mer ’s idyllic harbour. There’s an enormous cruise ship dominating the horizon and Adrien is thankful that they’d brought their disguises in tow. No one has recognized either of them with the way they’ve camouflaged themselves in their floppy beach hats and oversized sunglasses.

Marinette spends the afternoon popping in and out of boutiques with turquoise shutters, snapping photos and picking up little trinkets along the way. They stop for lunch at a peaches-and-cream couloured bistro nestled against the water’s edge, its open windows basking the sunlit stone walls with salt-scented air. Adrien joyfully devours his meal, a simply grilled loup de mer with fennel and lemon, while Marinette chatters over a bowl of Niçoise octopus salad that she had been eager to try since spotting it on the chalkboard menu outside.

“It feels weird, not having them around.” Adrien balances a piece of julienned fennel between the tines of his fork. “It’s the first time I’ve taken my ring off in ten years.”

“I promise you, Tikki and Plagg are appreciating their vacation too,” Marinette assures him around a mouthful of cherry tomatoes. “They deserve a break after what happened. We both do.”

Adrien nods and is quiet for a while.

~

“When I was a kid, I used to watch the cliff divers jump into that cove,” Adrien mentions as they sail by, pointing towards a sharp craig jutting from the coastline. “I always wanted to do it myself. Maybe I will.”

“You’re free to do whatever you want now.” Marinette smiles into the wind, the skirt of her sundress billowing up passed her thighs. “So chart us a course, Captain Kitty. Where are we going next?”

“First, we’re stopping in Èze .” Adrien brushes his bangs from his eyes and relishes in being at the helm of transience. “There are galleries all over the place that I know you’ll love. And we have a dinner reservation. I thought you’d appreciate the view.”

Marinette lowers her sunglasses. “I like the view here just fine, thanks.”

“I could say the same thing about you.” Adrien smirks and snags her by the hips, easily hauling her up onto the dash of the cockpit. She squeals as he savours the salt on her skin as he plants a kiss on her knee in mock apology. “There. Now I have you right where I want you.”

She kicks and he dodges easily, catching her foot with lightning fast reflexes born from being merged with the Black Cat Miraculous for so long. It’s a familiar song and dance between them, a playful contest sparking in their eyes as he peppers kisses along her ankle, her calf, anywhere he can reach. He stops just shy of the constellation of freckles at the hem of her dress and makes eye contact through his lashes, flashing her a mischievous Chat Noir smile. “I wonder if you’re ... ticklish?

Marinette shrieks as Adrien starts tickling her toes, running his fingernails up and down the arches of her feet. She’s tortured him a thousand times by attacking his sides when he least expected it so he figures it’s about time he seeks revenge. “Adrien! Stop!”

He doesn’t, of course, and chooses to memorize each and every facet of her beauty instead; her smile and her pained laughter, her marks and scars from the final battle only a month before their wedding day. “I’m never letting you go!”

“You’re going to— stop it! —have to if we ever want to get to Èze .” Marinette manages to wrench her ankle free and hops down from the ledge, landing easily in his outstretched arms. “That is, unless you want to crash.”

“If we shipwreck,” Adrien bends low and devours that little spot on her neck that makes her weak every time, “promise me you won’t hog the whole door?”

Marinette bursts into laughter. “Are we seriously going to have this debate again?”

“I’m serious! Jack could have totally fit on that— mmpf! ”

Cupping his cheeks, Marinette hurriedly kisses away the space between them and silences his long-winded debate once and for all. It’s an effective way to shut him up—all things considered—and an astonished gasp spirals from his lips as she hoists herself up his body and brackets his hips with her thighs. She claims him, covets him, her tongue sweeping across his lower lip, and he’s helpless to her siren’s song as he braces her against the cockpit’s controls and clings to her like a drowning man.

“Alright, you win.” Breathless and lightheaded, Adrien pulls back after a while just to soak her in, to remind himself that he’s married to the most beautiful woman in the world. He gazes in awe as she recovers, her flushed cheeks and parted lips swollen and wet. Adrien is drawn back in like a magnet, kissing her with every intention of stealing her breath away.

She buries her hands in his hair, her nails gently scraping against his scalp as Adrien all but melts in her embrace, groaning with pleasure. He deepens their kiss, and Adrien feels drunk with his desire to claim, their passion speaking more than words between them ever could. Every gasp and moan conveys their everlasting partnership and the terror of nearly losing one another in the whirlwind. Shell-shocked and injured, they still held their wedding ceremony, even as the fallout had tugged at their ankles, gossip and chaos pooling around their feet. Together, they’d inherited an empire he’d never wanted in the first place, thrusting them into a world unprepared and raw with nothing but each other as a tether in the storm.

“I love you,” she murmurs against his lips, her heartbeat hammering a tattoo inside her chest. He can feel it against his own, fast and strong and wonderfully alive. “We’ll get through this; together.”

Later, as they draw nearer to the charming port town of Èze, Adrien draws her close and hopes she never leaves his side. “Where to, Miss?”

Marinette smiles. “To the stars.”

~

Nothing comes so abundantly as time when you’re sailing through the seemingly endless vistas of the Med. Their honeymoon stretches on for longer than a week simply because it can; he owns their floating home-away-from-home and she’s working remotely, snagging a Wi-Fi signal whenever they’re in port.

Neither of them seem to be in any hurry to leave the solace of the French Riviera behind. It’s where he’s feasted on fresh seafood and felt better than he has in weeks. It’s where they’ve kissed and made love under the stars a thousand times over. It’s where he’s confessed his doubts about living in Paris and where she’s supported his struggle to leave his father behind.

They’re moored in Antibes tonight and the skies are awash in vibrant pinks and apricot. He drizzles balsamic vinegar onto a shimmering pond of Italian olive oil; she wears hair pins with flowers on them and pours wine like an expert, heedless to the way he’s staring at her like she’s his only source of air.

“I love you,” he whispers. It’s enough.

[mistymark]

VIGILANTE/S IX

part nine // 4.6k words // superpowered!au // series masterlist

summary; in which you consider yourself somewhat of a vigilante.

warnings; mentions of alcohol and drinking, I think jaemin says ass at one point, rich people and things (dont be shy, eat the rich)

The rest of the day is spent in careful quiet. The warehouse feels empty, hollow, despite the fact that you can hear the rest of the team moving around, readying themselves for the ball tonight. You don’t see Jaemin the entire day, and you wonder if he’s out. Or if he’s just in his room.

Jaehyun is tense, and you stay out of his way as he mills around in his office, occasionally stepping out to retrieve more cups of his tea – no, it’s not tea, you remind yourself. Renjun sits at the dining table, where you’d eaten breakfast, leaning over a large blueprint that takes up half the wooden surface. When he’d passed you on his way back to his room to get something, you’d heard him mumbling to himself. You knew he was intelligent, but the constant murmuring was unsettling, and made him seem like a madman.

You’d thought that you’d at least have Donghyuck’s company throughout the day, but your room remained empty and silent, something you found equally unsettling.

It was late evening when you saw Donghyuck again, poking his head around the door to ask if you were ready to leave. It had felt like you still had hours before the ball, but the day had passed surprisingly quickly. Jeno still on your mind, you took a deep breath and nodded, standing. Donghyuck opened his mouth to say something but no words came out, as watching you look for your clutch. The red fabric of your dress fell gracefully to the floor and you adjusted the bust before looking at him again.

A smile made its way onto your face, “What?”

Your question seemed to take him by surprise, and Donghyuck’s eyebrows rose as he continued to stare at your dress. His eyes eventually made their way to yours and he cleared his throat, “Nothing. You look great.”

You grin at the compliment, then gesture to the door that’s blocking his appearance from view, “Well? Let me see!”

With a dramatic swing of the door and an equally dramatic eye roll, Donghyuck opens the door, bending in an awkward pose to “model” his suit for the ball. It looked even better than it had when he’d bought it, and he managed to pull off the bold red detailing beautifully, the warm colours perfectly matching his hair and skin. You couldn’t be sure – especially with the red walls in your shared bedroom – but it seemed like his hair had red, coppery undertones in it.

“You look phenomenal,” you say, and your words seem to please Donghyuck as he stands up, straightening his back with an easy-going smile.

“Always do,” he lets out a chuckle, before checking his watch. You’d never seen him wear a watch and wondered if it was new. “The cars should be here in a few minutes, so meet us outside when you’re ready. No rush, though.”

You nod and thank him, but you stay back a moment to look in the mirror and check your appearance for what must be the fiftieth time in the past hour. You were pretty proud of yourself – it had been God knows how long since you’d last worn a dress this grand. Or makeup, for that matter. When you could barely afford rent, makeup wasn’t a necessary purchase.

You toyed with your lipstick, adding another layer for good measure. The red was slightly darker than the colour of your dress, but it still complemented nicely.

When you stepped out of your room into the main section of the warehouse, you were almost surprised to find it empty. The rest of the team must have been outside, and you walked into the false entrance, reminding yourself to be careful to step over the metal door frame, which proved a little difficult in your heels. A hand was outstretched to you, and you gratefully took it, using it to steady yourself as you stepped over, making sure none of your dress was caught in the frayed metal. As you looked up, Jaehyun’s eyes met yours. He only nodded when you thanked him, and when he stepped aside, you noticed a slight frown on his face. You could tell his mind was elsewhere, probably on the Jeno situation.

Mark was fiddling with his sleeves nervously, oblivious to Johnny’s watchful eye. Johnny eventually groaned and turned to Mark, pushing Mark’s hand out of the way as he carefully fixed his sleeve, chastising him for not being ready on time. You watched Mark’s eyes widen before he whispered something back, rolling his eyes as he spoke. Donghyuck was staring out into the dark, down the road – you presumed he was watching for the cars. His expression was blank, but the way he kept scuffing his shoe against the ground gave away his nervousness. He was lucky Doyoung was too busy, as he probably would have told off Donghyuck for ruining perfectly good shoes.

Doyoung was talking to Renjun about something that you couldn’t hear. You noticed with a hint of amusement that Doyoung’s suit did actually match Johnny’s, as they were working together tonight and were supposed to be each other’s dates. You’d thought they were kidding when they brought it up day they’d gone to their suit fitting, but you hadn’t seen either suit when they returned. They looked like quite a pair.

Your eyes fell on Chenle and you almost let out a laugh. He looked annoyed, but his angst was offset by how great he looked. It was a black tie event, and most of the team were wearing various coloured suits with white shirts, but Chenle was dressed all in black. His suit was the darkest out of all of the team’s, and the black shirt and tie were almost indistinguishable in this light. The one streetlight on the street was a block away and leaned dangerously over the street, its light flickering. Out of habit, a whisper of a flame, burning blue, danced between his fingers, weaving its way around his hand like glowing water. You wondered if it took a lot of concentration, especially since he wasn’t looking at it. Your attention shifted at the sound of Donghyuck’s voice.

“They’re here,” Donghyuck muttered. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was a quiet night, and everyone turned to look down the street. The flame in Chenle’s hand disappeared. A sleek black car pulled up to the curb and a man dressed in a suit that was too big for him stepped out. You watched him put on a ridiculous looking hat before turning to the car itself. The car was longer than any vehicle you’d ever seen, though you thought it was probably the same length as those that transported the big shot Supers to and from fights.

The driver opened the door and Doyoung gave Renjun a light pat on the arm as he said his goodbye, ducking as he stepped into the car.

You heard Johnny huff, “Just leave it”. Mark looked up at him helplessly as the older boy turned and followed Doyoung into the car. You stepped forward to follow, but stopped when you noticed similar elongated black cars turning into the street.

“We’re all going in different cars?” It was a stupid question, you knew, but you had to break the silence that had settled among the group. You didn’t want to draw too much attention to yourselves as you entered into the Crown’s headquarters, all arriving at the same time in the same vehicle. It made sense to all go in separate cars.

“Where’s Jaemin?” Jaehyun said to Renjun, and you looked around the group, only now realising he wasn’t there.

You didn’t hear Renjun’s response but watched him disappear back into the building. Mark got into the next car, waiting for Renjun’s return. They were posing as brothers, so it made sense for them to go together. There were four more cars – one for yourself and Jaemin, one for Chenle, another for Jaehyun, and the last for Jeno. You wondered if Jaehyun had noticed the mistake yet.

You heard Renjun’s voice before you saw him stepping out into the darkness, Jaemin’s arm slung over his shoulders. “He’s drunk.”

As soon as your eyes glanced over Jaemin’s appearance, you gasped. He was in his suit, at least, but his hair was a mess, and he had a dazed expression on his face. Whatever he’d been drinking was strong.

“He’ll sober up,” Jaehyun said, dismissively. You gave him a shocked look, and his eyes met yours briefly before he looked back to Jaemin. “Just get him in the car.” Renjun looked bewildered, but nodded, guiding your date to the next car. “Y/n.” Jaehyun stopped you. You looked at him, but there was a heavy silence that hung between you for a moment. After living with him for so long, you considered yourself almost an expert at reading him, but tonight you couldn’t understand the expression on his face. Tense, stressed, concerned? “Water. Lots of water.”

You averted you gaze, nodded and slipped your hand into Renjun’s as you lowered yourself into the backseat of the car. The door slammed shut behind you and you looked up at the ceiling of the car to catch your breath. Jaemin was sitting in the seat beside you, turned towards the window, and you took the opportunity to take in his appearance. The suit was black, but now that you were closer, you could make out subtle stripes of shiny black thread. His shirt was plain and white, if a little crinkled, but it provided a brilliant contrast to the black and red tie he had around his neck.

You’d noticed all the ties had been tied perfectly before you’d left and couldn’t help but wonder if they all knew how to tie them or if someone had done it for them. You just couldn’t imagine Mark knowing how to tie a tie.

Jaemin’s tie was neat, but you could tell he’d loosened it. The top button of his shirt was also undone.

“Jaemin,” your voice sounded too soft, and you wondered if he could even hear you.

“I know,” he said. You waited for him to continue, confused. “I know this was stupid. Drinking before a big job.”

He winced as he leant his forehead against the window, not expecting the glass to be cold. You knew the last thing he needed was for you to start ripping into him as well, especially after you’d heard Renjun give him an earful before you’d left. The smaller boy had been tense all day, and you assumed his frustration was more related to his own task at the ball rather than the weight of Jaemin’s drunken body.

Instead, you leant towards the rack of glasses and reached into the ice bucket, finding a bottle of water, “Just drink this. You honestly don’t seem that drunk, anyway.”

He gave you a grateful smile as he took the bottle, unscrewing the lid, “Yeah, well, my body doesn’t really take long to get alcohol out of my system.”

“I didn’t even think you could get drunk, honestly,” you said, thoughtfully. Your expression almost made Jaemin laugh, the slight frown on your face indicative of how hard you were thinking about it. You knew he didn’t really drink, and until recently you thought it was due to some religious belief, but it had been revealed that he just found it a waste – of money and of alcohol – because it hardly had an effect.

“It takes a lot,” he admitted, taking a swig of water. “But I can.”

“How much?” You asked, noting the slight smell of alcohol that seemed to radiate from him.

He opened his mouth to answer then promptly shut it. A moment later, he spoke, “I don’t think you want to know.” He turned to you with a smirk on his face, but his eyes widened slightly, as if he was only just noticing your appearance, and a single word tumbled out of his mouth quietly, as if he had no control over his words, “Beautiful.”

Taken aback, you leant away from him in your seat, slightly. “Excuse m-?”

“You look beautiful,” he said, though this time he couldn’t meet your eyes.

You wondered if the increase in your heart rate was due to the growing nearness of your mission tonight or the compliment, but, regardless, the warmth that flowed through you made you falter. “Well,” you started, wearily. You breathed in and gave him a wide smile, “I’d say the same but…” you gestured to his messy hair and wrinkled shirt, teasingly.

He groaned and leant back in his seat, a hand covering his face, “Ugh, Jaehyun’s gonna kill me if I look like shit.” You laughed.

Leaning up on your elbow, you looked out the tinted windows to see where you were, “I don’t think we’re far away.” It had been almost half an hour since you’d stepped into the car. “We can fix you up before we go in.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” He asked, and though you gave him a light punch to the gut, you were glad that his usual flirtatious demeanour had returned. Jaehyun was right; he did sober up quickly.

Your attention was caught by the sound of a window rolling down, and you raised a finger to your lips to tell Jaemin to shut up as you listened to your driver talk to a security guard. He handed over two invitations and you watched as a guard shone a torch into the driver’s face, asking for identification. Two more guards, from the other side of the car, walked along the length of the car, shining their torches into the car windows. The door beside you was yanked open, and a gruff voice asked, “Mr and Ms Melrose?”

You nodded, offering a bright smile that you hoped didn’t falter when Jaemin’s arm wrapped around you. “That’s us,” you could practically hear the grin in his voice.

When asked for identification, you “accidentally” elbowed your husband in the stomach as you searched your clutch. Jaehyun had given you fake IDs, and you were supposed to be posing as young newlyweds. You handed your ID over with confidence, turning your head to Jaemin expectantly. He handed his to a guard standing at his window. The guard nodded then shone his light around the inside of the car, checking for any other passengers.

When he was content with his search, he nodded his thanks and shut the door in your face. After two swift knocks on the top of the car, the driver pulled away and the gates ahead opened. It was the same gate you’d watched hours of footage of, and you leant towards Jaemin to see out the window at the large property.

The video feed had not done the mansion justice. Its cream coloured exterior was made to look like it was made of marble, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it actually was marble. It was at least four storeys, though you were pretty sure it had two sub-levels. Large balconies extended from the upper levels, with ornate floor-to-ceiling windows opening on to them, like large glass doors. Most of the lights were on, the windows illuminated, and long, sheer white curtains occasionally fluttered in the slight wind.

The entrance was by far the most impressive part of the building; large stone steps led up to the doors, which were opened by two guards in black suits for each guest, the large doors too heavy to be opened without assistance. A carpet had been laid out on the steps, and you watched as people gracefully ascended the stairs, their suits and gowns standing out against the bright red fabric.

“Wow,” you said, looking at the magnificent structure in awe.

“Yeah. Wow,” Jaemin agreed, not sounding all that excited. You turned to look at him, but his eyes were already on you. It took you a second to realise you were leaning over him, your faces only a few inches apart. Not to mention your current hand placement.

To steady yourself in the moving car, you’d placed a hand on the seat right between his legs. You removed your hand, sitting back in your seat, “Sorry.” You winced as you turned away.

The driver pulled into a circular driveway and you waited as people ahead of you exited their cars. Once a car had dropped off its guests, it drove around the loop and out onto a road leading to a separate gate, where they were stopped and checked by the guards once again. When you pulled up to the top of the circle, a guard walked to Jaemin’s door and stopped, waiting. You wondered what he was waiting for, but you got your answer when you noticed a similarly dressed guard stop by your own door. Simultaneously, your doors were opened and you waved off the hand that offered to help you stand up out of the car. Grabbing your clutch you stepped away from the car, but before you could double check you hadn’t forgotten anything, the door was closed again and the car was already driving away.

Jaemin waited for you on the curb, and you tried to stifle your smile, “Yeah, we definitely need to do something about your hair.”

He rolled his eyes, fighting his own smile. You grabbed his arm with your free hand, using your clutch to gesture to an area to the side of the steps where you could quickly adjust his appearance before going up the steps.

When you were sure you weren’t in an area that would cause any hassle, you pulled out a small mirror from your clutch. “Here,” you handed it to him before turning to look up at the building’s entrance. One of the guards there was looking in your direction, and you couldn’t be sure if she was looking right at you, but it still made you uneasy.

“Thanks,” Jaemin said, passing the compact mirror back to you as he fixed his shirt, retucking the material into his dress pants. You didn’t think that it would make much of a difference, but you were surprised by how crisp he managed to look. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” you stepped in front of him. “Your tie.”

His eyebrows set into a slight frown, “What?” “Here,” taking a step forward, you reached up to his collar, pulling the material together and buttoning the top button. Suddenly, you felt his hand on your waist, and your eyes widened as you looked up at him. He was looking at something over your head, and stepped to the side of the path, moving you with him. A group of guards passed by, and Jaemin nodded at them, a tight-lipped, polite smile on his face.

His attention stayed on them until they were well and truly passed, but when he looked away and back down at you, his gaze softened, “Sorry, I just didn’t think you’d want them brushing against your dress or something.”

“It’s okay,” you breathed. You don’t know why you avert your gaze, but something in his eyes makes you look down. “Er, your tie is loose.” You’d meant for him to tighten it himself, but he just simply jutted his chin up for you to do it, instead. You raised an eyebrow at him, reaching up and tightening his tie. After a millisecond of deliberation, you pull it as tight as possible.

He knew what you were trying to do, and instead of complaining about how tight it was, he just tilted his head from side to side, a ghost of a smile on his face, his voice dry, “Thanks, that’s more comfortable.”

You smile at him sweetly, “I do what I can.” Something over his shoulder catches your attention – a sleek black car identical to the one you’d arrived in had just turned into the circular drop-off zone. “Come on,” you say, sidestepping around him and walking in the direction of the entrance. The sudden absence of his hand on your waist was made apparent almost instantly, and you realise he’d never taken his hand away after moving you out of the way of the guards.

Jaemin quickly caught up with you, which was pretty easy considering you were a little slower in the heels, and stopped at the base of the staircase. You hadn’t noticed that the entrances of each carload of people was timed, with each pair or individual ascending the stairs about 20 steps ahead of the next. You’d have to wait for an opportunity to slip in between another carload of people.

You watched as a guard opened the door of the black car you’d seen pulling into the driveway, and you were suddenly hyperaware of your breath catching in your throat. Jaehyun gave a pleasant smile to the guard who’d opened his door, stepping out of the vehicle with ease. You’d struggled in getting out of the car yourself, what with the length of your dress and the heeled shoes you weren’t quite used to yet, but it came as no surprise that Jaehyun managed to accomplish the same thing much more gracefully. He’s not wearing sticks on the base of his shoes, you reminded yourself.

He glanced over at the two of you, but his face remained neutral, as if he’d never met you. Exactly like you’re supposed to be doing. His eyes move to Jaemin, and he gives a polite, slow nod. You drag your gaze from him to Jaemin, and move your hand to the crook of his elbow.

Jaemin’s still watching the people walking up the stairs, but he moves his arm to a horizontal position in front of his chest almost immediately, as if he was a gentleman ready to escort you. As if he could be anything close to a gentleman. When the next group of people appear to be taking a little too long, Jaemin turns his head to you, smirking, “May I?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, though it takes more effort than you thought it would, and you take a deep breath. Wordlessly, you nod, and he gives you a nod back, before you begin your ascent. When you reach the top, the guards open the doors for you, and you notice that it’s not just the two guards on the outside tackling the weight of the door, but four, another two placed on the inside. All of them are stony-faced, and the girl who’d been staring in your direction before didn’t meet your eyes.

The interior of the mansion is by far more beautiful than the outside – something you didn’t think possible until the guards at the large doors pushed them open for you. You were glad Jaemin was at your side, keeping pace, because you could have stood in the entryway for hours, taking in the grandeur.

The walls were made of the same stone as the outside, but artworks with exquisite gold frames and other metal décor brought out the stone’s warmth. You couldn’t help but notice the extreme contrast between the mansion’s interior and the stony interior of the warehouse. The entryway was a large, open space, and you could see corridors branching off from all four corners of the room, though the grand staircase in the centre was its best feature. The steps led to a small landing, before diverging to curve around a large chandelier that hung from the high ceiling. The chandelier was long enough to extend from the roof to below the staircase two storeys below, and you had no doubt it was worth more than your life. The chandelier was probably worth more than the whole warehouse, including everything inside it, you thought.

The stairs on the exterior led you to the second floor, and you lamented at the thought of having to go up another staircase, just to eventually go back down – you presumed the ballroom was on the second floor, where the windows and balcony doors had been opened. The staircase inside would lead you to the third floor.

You felt Jaemin lean closer to you slightly, as you begun to walk up the steps, “This is what I imagine the inside of Jaehyun’s ass looks like.”

You stifled a laugh, “Awkward time to say I love it, then, isn’t it?”

Jaemin gave you a lopsided grin. After a moment, he spoke again, “I’m nervous.” He didn’t sound nervous at all.

“About what?”

“About which direction we go when we reach the landing thing. Do I go one way and you go the other? Do we follow the people in front of us? Or go the opposite way?”

It was a bit ridiculous, but you found his words comforting. As if he was so sure that everything would go perfectly well tonight, the only thing he had to worry about was how to walk up a staircase.

“Y/n?”

You pulled yourself from your thoughts, “Yeah. Sorry. I think we go the opposite way to the person in front of us.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Though you were mostly assuring yourself, and not him.

When you reached the landing, you both seamlessly stepped to the right, before reaching the top. You were led down a long hallway, which eventually ended at another large pair of doors, accompanied by guards.

These doors stayed open – too many people coming and going, apparently – and you could hear music playing through speakers you couldn’t see. Obviously large, black speakers didn’t fit the look of the ballroom, but even from the other end of the room, the sound from the stage sounded perfectly clear.

The ballroom had the same high ceiling as the main entrance, though this one stretched to the uppermost floor, where you could see handrails ringing the room, areas where the members of the Red Crown could watch over the party. It was a startling reminder of your purpose here.

The room was decorated in the same creams and golds, though the décor came from the wallpaper and ornate windows, rather than paintings and statues, as you’d seen lining the entrance and hallways. The sight of actual armour – despite it being hundreds of years old and terribly ugly – erected in one of the hallways had almost made you laugh. The Red Prince clearly had terrible taste.

The walls glittered with gold thread, twisting its way through swirls of blush pinks and rose golds. It was like a sick version of one of Jaehyun’s suits. In any other room, the wallpaper would have been hideous, but the windows on both sides of the room, large and interspaced, separated the panels of wallpaper. The windows arched at the top, something you hadn’t noticed when you had arrived, and you could see that people had already begun to move out to the balconies, the white curtains slightly obscuring them from view. The privacy of the little balconies looked much more welcoming than the pit of people mingling at the base of the stairs.

You weren’t expecting so many people. You’d read the guestlist a hundred times over, but for some reason, it was startling to see them all at once. Without even trying, you could spot at least ten well-known criminals right off the bat. And it was made worse when you noticed they were engaging in happy, polite conversation with equally well-known politicians and celebrities.

You could feel your composure slipping as you stepped forward to the small staircase that led to the ballroom floor. You’d probably been gripping Jaemin’s arm a little too tightly, because his other hand came up to rest on your own. Without looking at you, he whispered, “This is gonna suck.”

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

Literally always do Christmas stories! They are so much fun! Who cares if its April, you write that story. On this topic, could you maybe do one where they are having a gingerbread house decorating contest with everyone??? It seems like that could be right up your ally. Can't wait to see whatever you have coming next!

There is cursing and drinking within this section. Again, this is mayhem in the best possible light as everyone is together. 

December 14, 2019 

It was the first holiday season in their new house and Kat wanted to celebrate. The tree had been up for several weeks, the fireplace decked out with lots of Christmas decor, and the banister decorated with garland and lights. 

At the last bonfire at Race and Spot’s, she had suggested that they have a Gingerbread decoration contest just before everyone headed home for the holidays. In anticipation, she gathered all of the supplies, and had stations set up around the main part of the house. 

“It all looks great.” Jack pulled Kat to his side, giving the top of her head a kiss. She grinned at him, adjusting her dress as the doorbell rang. “I’ll grab it, you take a few seconds for yourself. Love you.” 

She grinned at him. “Love you too. Thanks!” 

Pulling the cheese and sausage she had cut up earlier out of the fridge, she started setting up the charcuterie board. Laying everything out, she quickly added different crackers and grapes to the board as Jack, Race, and Spot entered the kitchen. “Hey Kat, smells great in here.” 

Accepting the hugs from both of them, she grinned. “Thanks. Lasagna is in the oven along with the garlic bread - just waiting for all of you to arrive.” 

“The party is here!” Race threw his arms up as Spot and Kat chuckled. “Do you need us to do anything?” 

Kat looked around the massive kitchen before grabbing chips and two bowls giving them to the guys. “Can you put those in those bowls? Feel free to head downstairs and grab a drink.” 

Checking the oven, she was pleased by how everything looked. Leaning against the counter, she took a sip of her drink, feeling herself relax slightly. The doorbell rang dragging her attention to the door. Pulling open the door, she grinned seeing the majority of their friends standing on the porch. 

Grabbing coats from everyone, she accepted hugs and kisses on the cheek as cheers of Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays were given. Albert, Finch, Crutchie, Elmer, Buttons, Specs, and Romeo all made their way into the living room, Kat trailing behind them. “Where’s Jack?” 

“Downstairs with Spot and Race, showing off his new bar.” She rolled her eyes good heartedly as the boys all started talking. “You guys can go down there and get something to drink if you want.” 

They made their way down the stairs as she pulled the lasagna out of the oven, putting it on the stove, letting the garlic bread cook for a few minutes longer as the doorbell rang again. Pulling off her oven mitts, she made her way over to the door and opened it with a grin. “Hey, come on in.” 

Blink, Mush, Smalls, Itey, Davey and Charlotte all walked into the house. “Smells fantastic, Kat.” 

“Thanks, just took the lasagna out of the oven. The gang’s downstairs - Jack’s showing off his new bar. Smalls, Char, I have wine in the fridge if you want that. If not, there’s harder stuff downstairs.” Kat took their coats, putting them in the closet with the others before walking back to the kitchen. 

Charlotte and Davey had been dating for the past 2 years and rumors were going around the gang that he was going to be asking her to marry him within the next couple of weeks. Charlotte was one of Kat’s closest friends, the two often going out to get a break from the many guys their significant other hung out with. 

Smalls and Charlotte followed Kat into the kitchen. “Do you need us to do anything?” 

Grabbing a bottle of wine out of the fridge, she motioned for Smalls to grab wine glasses out of the cabinet. “I think I’m all set. I’m waiting for the garlic bread to finish and I think we’ll be good to go.” 

After pouring them a glass of wine, she checked the bread, pulling it out of the oven and setting it on a cutting board. “You ready for the holidays?” 

She grinned at Smalls. “I think so. Everything has been bought and wrapped. We leave for Albany on the 22nd then to my parents the 27 and 28th. Are you ready for the mayhem at momma’s?” 

“Never but it’ll be good. I know we see each other all the time but it’ll be good to get out of the city for the holiday.” Smalls grinned. 

Kat nodded, looking over at Charlotte. “You’re going to Davey’s parents for the holidays, right?” 

“We leave the 21st for Cold Springs until the 25th when we head to my parents until the 28th.” She grinned. “It’ll be good to see his parents and siblings and it’ll be crazy with my siblings and parents.” 

Kat heard the footfalls on the steps as she quickly cut the garlic bread, throwing it into a basket, putting it on the island. She also grabbed the bowl of salad in the fridge along with salad dressings, putting them near the garlic bread. Feeling a hand on her hip, she grinned as Jack stood beside her. “Need anything?” 

“Nope. Food is ready!” She watched everyone line up, grabbing a plate and grabbing  a bit of everything. “Sit anywhere.” 

She put music on the overhead speakers, turning it down so it faded into the background. She watched all of the food to ensure nothing was getting low. “Grab a plate, Kat.” 

“I will in a bit.” She grinned as Jack placed a kiss on her cheek. “Go ahead and get some.” 

She waited until Spot and Race finished before getting her own plate. She filled it up before taking a seat at the island, pleased everyone was enjoying themselves. 

Conversations were loud and boisterous, not unlike anything the group did together. She loved the excitement in the room and grinned as she ate. 

Finishing her plate, she was glad she had opted for throwaway plates. As everyone continued to eat, she started cleaning up the kitchen, knowing that it was going to be a long night and the last thing she wanted to do when everyone left was dishes. Jack joined her a few moments later, giving her a look. “How about I clean up and you go relax? You’ve been running around like a madwoman these last few hours. Besides, you’re supposed to be taking it easy.” 

Ignoring his pointed look, Kat shook her head. “I’m fine, worry bear. Calm down.” 

“Go sit, I’ve got the kitchen.” Jack handed her cup, patting her butt before pushing her out of the kitchen. 

She stuck her tongue out at him, heading towards the office to grab some paper and a pen. Walking into the living room, she took a seat in her favorite chair before starting to write on the paper. “Racer?” 

“What’s up Kat?” He looked up from his conversation with Blink and Smalls. 

She grinned at him. “Can I borrow your hat?” 

“Ugh . . . really? Why not borrow Crutchie’s?” He gave her a look, knowing his hair would look horrible if he took his hat off. 

“Because you’re sitting right here and Crutchie’s in the other room.” She gave him a look as Spot reached up, snatched the hat and tossed it over to her.  “Thanks Spot!” 

Tearing up the paper, she threw them into the hat, reaching in and mixing them up.  “So how is this going down?” 

“Everything is set up in the basement. There will be 8 teams and you have an hour to decorate your gingerbread house.” Kat shrugged, looking at Smalls. “There’s really no rules, just thought it would be fun.” 

“You do know that you called decorating gingerbread houses with my brothers, fun, right?” Smalls raised an eyebrow in Kat’s direction as Kat giggled. 

Nodding her head, Kat smiled. “Yeah I know but that's why we’re going to draw names - I’m hoping to avoid any of your brothers being together.” 

Kat remembered a few years ago when Medda wanted her kids to decorate gingerbread houses. Jack, Kat, Spot, Race, Smalls, Albert, and Finch all descended on Medda’s house and it was pure chaos and the houses looked absolutely horrible. They ended up throwing them out because none of them were salvageable. 

“I still have nightmares about that.” Smalls shivered, giving her sister-in-law a look. 

Pointing at her, Kat nodded. “Me too. Jack and I were just talking about it and we’re hoping tonight doesn’t end that way.” 

By that time, everyone had made their way into the living room. She caught Jack’s eye and he merely winked at her. “Alright, now for the main reason y’all are all here. Everything’s set up in the basement, so we can head down there and divide and conquer.” 

Once in the basement, she grinned. “Alright, Jack, Spot, Davey, Smalls, Albert, Elmer, Crutchie, and Buttons, you all are over here. You’re going to pick one name out of the hat and that’s your partner.” 

“This is awfully school teacher-ish of you Kat.” Race teased, giving his sister-in-law a grin. 

She gave him a mock look. “Well, I do deal with high schoolers on a daily basis so . . . what else do you expect from me, Racer?” 

“Can we just get on with the show?” Albert whined, giving his best friend and sister-in-law a look. 

Stepping up to Jack, she offered him the hat as he picked a name. “Charlotte.” 

“Spot?” He picked his name and grinned, “Specs.” 

“Davey?” Picking a name, everyone groaned as he mixed up the remaining names. “Blink.” 

“Smalls?” She grabbed the top one, grinning. “Romeo.” 

Itey gave a look to Romoe. “Don’t be flirtin’ with her the entire time.” 

Romeo’s jaw dropped. “Me? I’d never!” 

“Albert?” His tongue poked out through the side of his mouth as he picked. “Race.” 

A collective groan came from the group, as Spot and Jack both glared at Katherine. “Hey now, I didn’t have any power over him picking Albert.” 

“Uh huh . . .” Jack gave his wife a look. 

“Elmer?” He quickly picked, wanting to move on from the previous pick. “Finch.” 

“Crutchie?” Crutchie reached in, grabbing one of the two remaining names. “Mush.” 

“Buttons, you’re with Itey.” Kat threw Race back his hat with a grin. “Now there are 8 stations set up around the room, all with bowls of the same decorations. We have more available if you run out but the only rules are that you have to stay at your own stations - no wandering, Race.” 

Race squawked. “Hey now, that was one time.”

“Just reminding you. You have one hour.” Kat said, giving the group a grin. 

Romeo looked at her. “And how are we determining a winner?” 

“Popular vote. Everyone gets one vote.” Jack spoke up, giving his wife a grin. 

“And if there’s a tie?” Race piped up.

“Kat’s the tie-breaker which is why she’s not making one.” Jack said, eyeing the group. “Any other questions?” 

The group was surprisingly quiet after that. “Alright, man your stations and you have an hour.” 

She set her timer before going over to the TV to turn on a football game. Army and Navy were playing and this group was divided between the two teams.  She settled into a chair that would give her a good vantage point to see all the teams and how they were progressing. 

“That doesn’t go there!” Albert cried as he slapped Race’s hands away from the built house. 

Race groaned. “Says who? It can go wherever in the house.” 

“The candy cane doesn’t go on the roof.” Albert sighed, shaking his head. 

“This is a gingerbread house, not one of your fancy paintings, Jack.” Charlotte sighed, giving him a look. Jack squawked. “It’s gotta be pretty, Charlotte. You focus on the roof and I’ll focus on the little details.” 

Kat laughed, hearing the little comments between the groups. She snuggled into the couch as Pluto, their Golden Retriever puppy came over to her before joining her on the couch. 

“Romeo, we’re not going to drip icing all over the house.” Smalls gave him a look. Romeo shrugged. “Then come up with a better idea yourself.” 

“Hey Finchie, that’s actually really cool.” Elmer gushed. 

“BLINK!” Davey cried out. “You can’t do that!” 

“Why not?” Blink shot back. “The swedish fish are going to look amazing on top of the chimney.” 

Kat looked over the couch at the groups who had been quiet thus far - Crutchie and Mush, Buttons and Itey, and Spot and Specs. 

Pushing herself off the couch, she wandered around the room, snapping photos of the groups. Some of the gingerbread houses caused her to raise an eyebrow but all in all there had been no major disasters . . . yet.

“You guys got thirty minutes.” She called, settling back on the couch, pulling a blanket over her legs, watching the mayhem in front of her. Pluto pushed his weight into her side, as she ruffled his fur. 

Early viewing, she was impressed by Spot and Specs, both of which had their tongues poking out between their lips in concentration. Albert and Race’s was pure mayhem, much like their personalities. She grinned at Jack and Charlotte’s - it was expertly decorated with coordinating colors in patterns. 

The remaining time passed quickly, as everyone scrambled to put the last minute touches on their creations. A cry and a couple of cuss words came from Blink and Davey as all eyes drew over to them. “What happened?”

“Our house fell down.” Blink cried, pointing wildly at the heap of disaster on their table. 

Kat giggled, shaking her head. “You’ve got 2 minutes . . . you could try to savage what you can.” 

“We give up!” Davey held his hands, slowly backing away from the table, coming over to sit next to Kat on the couch. “Well that was fun.” 

Throwing her head back, she laughed at sarcasm that came out of Davey’s mouth as Blink came to sit beside him. “Fun for who? You?” 

“You know what I mean.” Davey gave him a look as a triumph cheer came from Jack and Charlotte who enthusiastically high-fived one another as they backed away from their own table. 

The timer on Kat’s phone loudly sang “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” as she silenced the phone.  “Time! Stop what you’re doing and back away from the tables. Spot, drop the icing! Come over here by the TV while I take a look at them.”

She grinned at Jack as she passed him. He grabbed the stack of unofficial ballots Kat had created, handing one to everyone along with a pen. 

She walked along the tables, grinning at some of the creativity with the houses. She took mental notes of which ones she liked. Returning to the group, she gave them a look. “Alright, this is the time you can speak about your houses. Davey, Blink, you’re excused. Who wants to go first?” 

“We’ll go.” Jack said, stepping up, giving Charlotte a look. “We were inspired by Vincent Van Gogh’s Starry Night painting.” 

Charlotte gave him a look. “Not sure what you were smoking but our main goal was just making sure the house stood before decorating it. Then we were inspired by Van Gogh’s painting.” 

They all looked at the rainbow decorations on the gingerbread house before nodding in appreciation. “We’ll go next.” 

Spot and Specs stepped up. “We didn’t have a game plan, just get in there and make sure everything was standing before decorating it. Honestly, it was a kind of a shitshow but we managed to pull it out in the end.” 

“Very eloquently said, Spot.” Jack cracked up, giving his brother a look before looking at the glittery thrown up magic house.  

Smalls and Romeo looked at one another before motioning to their gingerbread house. “It’s standing . . . and that’s all we can ask for.” 

Kat held back a groan as Albert and Race stepped up as Jack grinned at her. “We had this vision of creating the picturesque gingerbread farm house, complete with snow hanging delicately off the roof.” 

“What happened? Looks like a bomb hit your house.” Spot piped up, giving his husband a look. 

Pointing to his husband, Race gave him a look. “Hush you . . . but that quickly went out the door. In the end, we wanted to show our true personalities in the house.”

“Looks like it's a crack house.” Jack said. 

“Best damn crack house in the county.” Albert grinned as Elmer stepped up. 

“We decided to go with the traditional red and white theme with our house. The entire thing is covered in only red and white candies.” Finch grinned. 

Cruchie grinned. “We did our house in green and white with a snowy roof and Santa on the roof.”

“You forgot his eight dancing reindeer.” Romeo called, giving them a look. 

Shrugging, Mush grinned. “If we had another hour, you’d see them along with the sled and a bag full of presents.” 

Clapping his hands, Button drew everyone’s attention to him. “And last, but not lease and the clear winners, ours! We drew our inspiration from Hansel and Gretel.” 

Looking at the house, it was a pretty standard decorated gingerbread house, with Necco wafers as the slants of the roof along with peppermints creating a walkway up to the front of the house. Skittles serve as lights as they were glued to the roof with icing. 

Clapping her hands, Kat grinned at everyone. “Now that we've thoroughly walked through everyone’s houses, now you need to vote. One vote per person and if there’s a tie, I’ll be the tie breaker.” 

The room became quiet as everyone wrote down their votes.  Everyone folded them up and threw them into the basket on the coffee table. Looking around at everyone, Kat made sure all the votes were in before stirring them up. She quickly went through all the pieces of paper, putting them into piles. 

“Well?” Jack asked, bouncing on his toes in anticipation. 

Kat quickly counted the votes for the two piles. Groaning slightly, she grinned. “Eight votes a piece for Buttons and Itey along with Finch and Elmer. So it comes down to me . . .”

She pushed herself off the couch before walking over to the two gingerbread houses. She looked at the traditional one before looking at the red and white house. She bit her look as she stood up and looked at the group. “First, I’m going to say that I really love them both but I absolutely love Finch and Elmer’s more. They get my vote.” 

Reaching behind the couch, she pulled out two gift bags handing them over to Finch and Elmer.  “Winners get these. The rest of you, your consolation prizes are upstairs.” 

Finch and Elmer pulled out the tissue paper of their bags, pulling out the wrapped tissue papered bundles. Unwrapping them, both Finch and Elmer dissolved to loud laughs. The group watched as they both unfolded a red t-shirt. “These are fantastic Kat. Thanks!” 

“What do they say?” Romeo asked, looking over at the two. 

Kat had made t-shirts with the words “Reigning Gingerbread House Making Champs, 2019” on them.  The group laughed, congratulating Finch and Elmer on their house. “Now, before we go back upstairs, either take your house home or throw it away. I don’t want anything left here.” 

The majority of them were thrown away but Finch ended up taking his home along with Buttons. The rest of the houses ended up in the trash and the group took the bowls of candy upstairs to munch on.  The remainder of the night was filled with quiet conversations, drunk antics, and a warm feeling of the Christmas spirit, until Kat kicked them out of her house around midnight. 

Thanks @deliciouspeachpirate for sending this one in!! This is 3300 words of pure mayhem and craziness. Please let me know what you think! Feedback is a writer’s best friend!