#I stared ta my own picture until I knew it needed a fic to go with it XD

[sourtomatola]

Vampire Equinox drabble for the Eclipse SIMP's

Based off this pic I drew

Your back hit the silk red sheets, almost knocking the wind out of you. You would have tired to get up if you weren’t currently gawking at the towering behemoth that is an Animatronic Vampire staring down at you. He effortlessly held one of your hands against the sheet, your entire hand fitting in his upper palm, large fingers stretching like a spider sitting comfortably.

"Well well, breakfast in bed? How delightful~" He grinned down at you. His glowing yellow eyes washed over you as his free hand reached for the clasp on his cloak. His starry cape slipped into his free hand as he set it elegantly aside and placed a knee on the bed.

You were frozen in fear, but upon feeling the bed being weighed down near your legs, you began to squirm and look away for an escape. You grabbed his wrist and pulled at it, determined to get away from this creature with glistening yellow fangs. You scooted your legs away from him, thinking you could possibly twist yourself away. Your desperation growing as you felt more and more trapped under this creature.

“Hmm?” He watched you for a second in amusement, simply keeping your hand held in place. It was only when you tried to roll into a sitting up position that he suddenly leaned in, his face suddenly so close to yours. The glow of his yellow eyes made you feel like a deer in the headlights. You slowly backed away, but your heart jumped into your throat at the realization that he followed you perfectly, making it near impossibly to make space between you two.

Pressing into the sheets now, you could only quiver in place under the Vampire Lord’s sights.

 “P…please…” The single word escaped your breathless lips.

“No need to be shy Little Robin, I am not making any judgements on you.” He assured, as if that was really on your mind right now!

He started to lean closer, but you pressed into the mattress harder, hoping it would swallow you up and save you. His knee nudged between yours, making you feel vulnerable for but a moment before you realized you could use it. You put your knee against his thigh and used it to scoot yourself farther away from his face. You slid easily on the silk sheets, but not far.

“Your amount of fighting is admirable, but unneeded. The game is over.” He said with frustrating patience. Frustrating to you, since now you’re starting to reach the point where you wished he would just get it over with and stop playing with you! He was always like this though, seemed to love to play with his food.

His knees now fully supported himself on the bed, and his free hand placed next to your head. You saw him come closer and tried to press away again, but his free hand slid under your neck and pulled your head upwards to him. Your eyes forced to look into his, but there was no hypnotism, no mercy. He wanted you conscious as he took what he wanted.

His eyes then glanced down to your neck before leaning down. You struggled in one last ditch effort to get away, to convince him not to hurt you again. His larger body kept you from being able to kick or fight much farther than weak struggles and whimpering.

You felt his fangs ghost over your skin, as if trying to find the most ample spot to bite. He was teasing you. Still, after all of it, he was teasing you again!

Finally, his four fangs plunged into your flesh, making you cry out and tense up under the pain. You knew your fighting was just making your blood rush faster, and make it easier for him to drink, but there was not much more you could do under this animatronic horror. You were powerless against this supernatural machine.

You felt your head starting to get light, still cradled in his metal fingers. “Too…too much!!” You gasped, realizing your vision was trying to grow dark from blood loss.

He shushed you softly and left a gentle kiss to your neck before going back to your seeping wound. Your free hand reached around him, grasping desperately at his back in an attempt to hit or pull him off of you. He continued to drain you, unbothered.

As your vison started to close in faster, you could hear his softly chuckle. “Tenacious little darling…I shall savor you.”

Vampire Equinox Eclipse by @miwachan2

[vcg73]

FIC: Kurt Birthday Drabbles

Earlier this week @elledelajoie left a comment on something I wrote all the way back in 2014.  I had genuinely forgotten I ever started it, but the original idea was to write 21 Kurt Hummel birthday drabbles. I had written just 7 of them, but after we chatted about it, I decided to go ahead and finish.  

If you’re not familiar, a drabble is a scene of exactly 100 words, not counting title headers. Since Chris Colfer and Kurt Hummel’s co-birthday (May 27) is coming up this Thursday, here they are. This goes definite AU at Birthday #19. Because you know I would never sentence my beloved Kurt to a life of being a doormat to people who did not appreciate and value him.

Never underestimate the power of feedback!

~*~*~*~*~

Birthday #1

Kurt’s blue eyes went wide as a frosted cupcake was set upon his high-chair tray, a single candle ablaze on its surface.  

When Mommy, Daddy, Uncle Andy, Grandpa Curtis and Grandma Eileen started singing to him, he smiled and clapped both hands hard around the tempting pile of frosting.

Kurt laughed when the sugary topping went flying and a big splatter of white abruptly decorated Daddy’s surprised face.

Everyone else started laughed too, including the startled father, who retaliated by giving his birthday boy a sticky peck on the cheek and then helped him to blow out a new candle.

Birthday #2

Kurt looked between his presents, confused.

Mommy had given him the pretty dolly he had begged for at the store. Daddy had given him a truck, not big enough to ride but too big to live with the little cars Daddy gave him at Christmas.

His parents seemed to be mad at each other.

Kurt looked at the doll, then at the truck. He smiled and placed Dolly inside the truck and began to drive her around the carpet.

Mommy and Daddy seemed surprised by his actions, but then they laughed, and Kurt knew he had figured out the puzzle.

 Birthday #3

His shoes were black and shiny, buckles on the sides and 1-inch heels on the base. He clomped over the hardwood floors, listening to the click-tap-click-tap in delight. They went perfectly with his dove gray coveralls with “Kurt” sewn on the pocket in black sequins. Mommy had made the outfit for him.

Spotting Daddy watching him, Kurt threw himself into waiting arms. Daddy’s smile looked like he had an owie but was trying to be a big boy and not cry.

Kurt hugged him. “It’s okay, Daddy.”

Burt looked surprised but hugged him back. “Yeah, buddy. I think it is.”

 Birthday #4

Ballet girls were nice. When they heard it was his birthday today, they threw him a party. Kurt puffed up with pleasure when presented with cookies, a sparkly wand and a tiara that read ‘Happy Birthday’ in shiny letters. He was not as fond of the kisses they gave, but four was very grown up, so he screwed up his face and allowed it. The teacher even let him wear the special puffy pink tutu over his little black leotard! 

 He saw Mommy and Daddy up in the gallery taking pictures, so he waved.

Kurt hoped today would last forever.

  Birthday #5

“Can I have cupcakes?”

Kurt’s mother looked up from her book. “I don’t think we have any, sweetheart.”

“Can we have some Thursday?  My birthday is the last day of preschool.”

“It is?” she said, looking surprised. “Is it your birthday already?”

He nodded seriously. “Don’t you remember, Mommy? You were there.”

She laughed. “Well, you have me there.  What kind of cupcakes would you like, sweetie? And don’t say cheesecake. Those are two completely different kinds of dessert.”

Kurt’s hopeful expression fell. “Oh,” he said, clearly disappointed. Then his face brightened again. “Chocolate?”

She nodded. “That we can do.”

   Birthday #6

“Daddy!”

Burt sat up just in time to catch the little body that launched at him. “What’s wrong, slugger?”

“It’s my birthday!”

Grinning despite the way his heart was hammering at the abrupt awakening, Burt asked, “Yeah? I like birthdays. Do I get a present?”

“No,” the boy scoffed. “I get presents!”

 Burt squinted at the clock. 3:15am. “Not until morning, you don’t.”

Kurt pouted and tried, “It’s almost morning.”

“Not close enough, kid. C’mere,” Burt pulled him into the warm bed between himself and his wife.

Kurt snuggled down and went right back to sleep.  

Burt was less lucky.

 Birthday #7

Kids had started treating him funny this year. He was too fancy, too girly, holding hands was weird.

Nobody was coming.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“Am I too late?”

They jumped as a little black girl with pom-pom hair popped out of nowhere.

“I’m Mercedes,” she greeted. “We just moved here. Mom said you would have invited me if you’d known.”

“I’m Kurt.” He smiled. “Do you like tea parties?”

“Is there cake?”

Mrs. Hummel beamed. “Cake, ice cream, and Kool-Aid.”

Kurt shrugged. “Nobody else came.”

She grabbed his hand like she’d known him forever. “More for us!  Happy Birthday, Kurt.”

 Birthday #8

Kurt took a deep breath, thought for a moment, and carefully blew out the candles. All but the extra one that his parents always put on his cake.

“Aren’t you gonna finish, bud?”

He looked from Daddy over to his mother, home again, but so frail he was sometimes afraid to hug her, worried she might pop like a fragile soap bubble. He offered her the candle. “Here, Mommy. Blow it out. Maybe you’ll get another year to grow on.”

The eyes of the two adults met, then Mommy nodded. The three of them blew out the final candle together.

 Birthday #9

Barely daring to hope, Kurt came down the stairs.  Birthday cakes and presents had been Mommy’s specialty.  Daddy had forgotten his own birthday and had nearly forgotten Christmas.

Kurt gasped when he saw it, waiting, shining and spectacular against the front door.

“A bike!”

Bright green, sissy bars with foil streamers, and a banana seat. Perfect!

Burt smiled. He had scoffed a such a “girly” bike when Kurt spotted it at the toy store. But now, looking at the all-too-rare joy in his son’s eyes and feeling the approving smile his wife would have given, he nodded. It was perfect.

 Birthday #10

Buying gifts was tough when your kid always clammed up on you. A dad had to be observant.

Ten years old. A landmark like that needed something special, but the only thing Kurt seemed into was clothes. He had enough of those for ten kids.  

He’d probably like a Barbie he could change in and out of different outfits, but Burt cringed at the thought.

He did doodle pretty good though. Sure, it was mostly pictures of clothes, but that was a start.

A fancy sketchpad with a case and a hundred different colored pencils. Yeah, that was the ticket.

 Birthday #11

“Dad, where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Kurt sighed with exaggerated impatience. He had come home from school to find Dad waiting at the truck, ordering him to get in, then not saying another word. The suspense was killing him.

“Ta-Dahhhh!”

They had pulled up in front of a nondescript brick building. “Columbus Culinary Arts?”

“You like to cook right?  Well, we’re gonna fix your birthday dinner this year with the help of a real chef. Lessons are once a week for the next couple months.”

Gourmet cooking lessons!

“Oh wow. Dad, this is amazing!”

Burt grinned. “Happy Birthday, kid.”

 Birthday #12

Last year’s surprise had gone so well that Burt had decided on a repeat. But when he saw the excitement on Kurt’s face at finding a pair of tickets inside his birthday card turn to disappointment and horror, quickly masked with a fake smile, he knew he’d goofed.

“I know baseball isn’t your thing,” he said, almost pleading. “But you’ve never seen a live game before. It’s a whole different experience. It’s a home game. We can yell and scream, and cheer our team on with thousands of other fans.”

The stiff not-smile never wavered. “Sounds . . . fun.”

 Birthday #13

Dad had bought out one of the partners at the garage this spring and now owned a majority share of the renamed “Hummel Tires & Lube”. Kurt wanted to snicker at that name, but he was proud too.

His birthday this year coincided with Friday Night Dinner. Dad had invited all the mechanics over for a potluck. They’d had Mary’s special fried chicken, Cassius’s homemade cornbread, and Davy’s mac’n’cheese. Now Dad brought out the cake.

Kurt laughed. A sheet-cake with a tow-truck and two little plastic mechanics for decoration.

“You and me kid. Partners.”

The mechanics cheered and everybody dug in.

  Birthday #14

Kurt froze when he saw tickets peeping out of his card. Not again. Noise, sunburn, unhealthy food, tacky uniforms, and Dad trying so hard to make a boring sport seem like fun.

He sighed and pasted on a smile, which quickly transformed into shock.

“Wicked?” he squeaked, staring hard at the little papers as if the printing might change if he dared to look away.

“Embassy Theater is giving regional business owners a discount this year,” Burt said apologetically. “It’s just a traveling production, not real Broadway, but I …”

His apology was cut off by a joyful teenaged hug.

 Birthday #15

“Don’t worry, son, you got this.  Just remember everything I taught you.  You got a whole year to get ready for the practical test.”

“I know.”

“And it’s okay if you don’t get it right the first time. Not everybody does.”

“I’m fine, Dad.”

“I’ll be right here waiting for you when you’re through.”

“I know that, Dad. I’ll be okay, really.”

At that moment, Kurt’s name was called and he sprang from his hard green plastic chair. His dad’s repeated reassurances were making him jumpy.

Twenty minutes later, a brightly grinning Kurt was waving his freshly minted driver’s permit.

 Birthday #16

Burt patted the giant blue bow the dealership had provided over the hood of the shining black Lincoln Navigator.  

Kurt was gonna flip! He’d passed his DMV test with flying colors and was no doubt showing off his shiny new license to all his friends at school.  

He paused. Did Kurt have any friends to share this accomplishment with? He always seemed so alone.

Maybe that’s why he had decided to spoil his son with a huge birthday gift.

It wasn’t right for such a good kid to be all alone. Maybe having his own ride would help change that.

  Birthday #17

A dozen teens gathered in Kurt’s basement to celebrate the end-of-school, non-disbanding of Glee, and Kurt’s birthday, all in one.

“Not like ten years ago,” Mercedes said to Kurt, as they watched Mike and Brittany dance.

“Ten years?”

“Your seventh? It was just you, me, your mom, and lots of chocolate cake.”

Kurt was astounded. “That was you?”

“You forgot?”

“I remember a little girl who showed up and invited herself to my party.”

“And I remember a little boy who needed a friend as much as I did.”

He squeezed her hand. “Thanks for coming.”

She squeezed back. “Always.”

 Birthday #18

Kurt stared at his birthday cake, unable to think of anything to wish for.

He was 18-years-old today, a legal adult. He had new family in Carole and Finn, his dad was on the mend, he would be back at McKinley for senior year, he had made his first visit to New York City, and he had a boyfriend! One who had just told Kurt that he loved him for the very first time.

‘I wish for next year to be as good as this,” he thought, taking a deep breath and blowing.

The flames flickered out, all except one.

 Birthday #19

Senior year had been a disaster, and now he had not gotten into NYADA, despite his well-praised audition.

“Blaine wants me to spend another year here,” he whispered. “I just can’t.”

Burt’s callused hand squeezed his neck. “Then don’t. You’re 19 now, a man. You got talents galore, work experience from the garage, enough drive for ten kids, and your mom’s life insurance money to give you a start.”

“But…”

“No buts,” Burt said firmly. “You go on to New York and grab life by the balls.”

Kurt felt his optimism rise. “Help me look for apartments?”

“You got it.”

 Birthday #20

What a difference a year made.

He’d dumped Blaine after being cheated on less than a month after leaving Lima.  He was enrolled at FIT and sharing a shoebox apartment with a fellow design student and a Broadway hopeful, but both were young gay men from small towns, and they had a lot in common.

“Happy Birthday!” Elliott shouted, tossing a handful of glittery sequins at him.

Adam came in playing the birthday song on a kazoo he had gotten from who-knows-where. “Ready for Callbacks? $20 on who gets the first hot guy’s number!”

“I already have yours. I win!”

 Birthday #21

“I have the honor of presenting your first official grown-up drink,” Adam said, smiling lovingly at his grinning boyfriend of nearly a year. He set down a martini glass with a cherry floating on top. “A Manhattan seemed appropriate.”

Kurt beamed and gave him a kiss, then took an experimental sip. “I’ve had alcohol before,” he admitted. “Mostly wine, though.  Mm, this is good!”

“I thought you’d like it. Happy Birthday, my love.  May the future bring every good thing you wish for, and never more heartache than you can handle.”

Kurt could not have asked for a better sentiment.

THE END

[fuabloboi]

The Treehouse

Day 2 of @petopher-events March 2021 - Kid fic

1982

“Hey! That’s my tree!” Chris peeked down, rubbing his face with the back of his arm as he heard a high-pitched fierce voice.

He groaned, running a hand over his short bristly hair. All he wanted was some peace and quiet. Chris had just been beaten to a pulp by his father, and he was aware that if Gerard saw him cry, he would be battered all over again. He had ended up on a sturdy tree in the preserve after sneaking out the window, silently sobbing to himself. There was nowhere else Chris could have gone. If he tried to run away, Gerard would have still found him and he would have been returned to the Argent household by someone else. Sadly, his father had way too much influence over the county and its people.

“Shut up, it hasn’t got your name on it.” he shouted back.

“As a matter of fact, yes it does.” the voice cried out in reply.

Chris turned his head and caught sight of the initials ‘P. H.’ engraved onto the bark. He almost fell off when he faced forwards and saw a little dark-haired boy with big blue eyes perched opposite him.

“See.” he tilted his head.

“Well, now it’s got mine.” Chris muttered, fishing the pocket knife he carried everywhere and carving his own initials leaving a gap next to the other.

The boy rolled his eyes but outstretched his arm, “I’m Peter. Are you- are you okay?”

“Chris,” he said, shaking the boy’s hand, “And yeah I’m fine.”

“Don’t look like it.”

There wasn’t a single day he didn’t have a black eye, a bruise, or a cut. Gerard always found some reason to punish him and not even his own mother could do anything about it. He wasn’t even sure of how he was alive at that point.

“It doesn’t matter.” he replied hastily and asked, “How old are you?”

“Six.” Peter told him and continued, “What about you?”

“I’m twelve. And how’d you get up here so fast?” Chris inquired since he was confused as to how a six-year-old could race up such a tall tree.

Peter’s deep blue eyes briefly flashed in a golden yellow, and Chris realized that this kid was what Gerard wanted him to hunt down; a werewolf. However, unlike the vivid picture of bloodthirsty savage werewolves and their young that Gerard had painted in his head, the boy didn’t seem like a threat at all. Chris saw him as a human, not a monster.

Peter gasped suddenly, “You’re one of them aren’t you?”

“One of who?” he raised an eyebrow.

“The Argents.” the boy stated calmly.

Chris flinched and nodded at him. He had expected Peter to be afraid of him, and even run away, but he hadn’t. He sat completely unfazed and Chris was surprised.

“What are you doing here?” Peter questioned again.

“Nothing really. It’s peaceful up here and I like it.” he lied. Peter didn’t need to know why he actually came there. Chris wasn’t even sure whether the wolf would have understood if he had been honest.

“Cool!” the boy stared at him before exclaiming with a grin, revealing the absence of a few teeth, making Chris smile as well.

*

“Hey!” Peter greeted, hurtling up the tree and settling in front of him.

“Hey, Peter. What’s this?” Chris smiled at the boy and asked when he held out an energy bar packed in a blue wrapper.

“What it looks like, obviously.” he regarded, waving it, “Take it. I got it for you.”

“Me? Why?” he said, taking it from the wolf’s hands and tearing it open.

“You ask too many questions. I brought it thinking you might be here when I came.” Peter answered, digging into another energy bar that he had kept in his pocket.

“Well, thanks.” Chris replied, taking a bite.

He knew his father would have him whipped for accepting food from a werewolf without a second thought, but he was too famished to care. Gerard didn’t only beat him, he also starved Chris as punishment. The bar tasted like heaven and he wolfed it down. He was more than glad that Peter had brought it for him and yet he was also puzzled.

“You were hungry, I sensed it yesterday.” Peter revealed, licking his fingers.

“Really?” Chris said and stuffed the wrapper in his jacket pocket, “Why did you bring it, though? Why did you trust me? You know I’m… one of them.”

Chris didn’t even want to mention his own last name. He detested being an Argent and being referred to by that name.

“You smell nice.” Peter responded matter-of-factly, but Chris was confused.

He had loathed his own scent, however, with time he had grown accustomed to it. Chris knew he smelled of dried blood combined with sweat and he was pretty sure that didn’t smell nice. Horrible and disgusting seemed more likely.

“Excuse me, what?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Ta said that people who smell nice are good people and I can trust them.” Peter explained.

“Ta?”

“Talia, my sister. She started taking care of me after Ma and Pa- after they went to a better place.”

Everyone had heard the term ‘a better place’ at some point in their lives and that was when Chris pieced it together. Peter wasn’t just any ordinary werewolf who lived in Beacon Hills.

“You- you’re a Hale.” Chris stated wide-eyed.

“Yup.” Peter said bobbing his head.

It had taken place about a year ago when he was eleven and Chris could remember it clearly. Gerard had gloated to his fellow hunters about his achievement of being able to capture and kill both Richard and Emilia Hale, the two oldest members of the family, who were also widely known in the supernatural world. He had seen them briefly and to him, they seemed like genuinely pleasant people. His father had told him that Chris wasn’t old enough to understand, but he was sure that Gerard wasn’t doing something right if he could so heartlessly torture him. He had come to acknowledge that Gerard had the best interest to no one and only for himself.

1986

Chris yawned, his legs dangling from the tree and Peter was munching on an apple, murdering it with his fangs. The wolf was taller now and his hair had grown, the fringe covering his forehead and just above his eyes. It had been a gloomy day and Chris had made it to the tree right after training. He had been beaten again and his body had ached so much that he struggled to get on the tree, but Peter had helped him up and offered an apple.

They had been meeting every day for four years now and Gerard, thankfully, hadn’t suspected a thing. It was most probably since his younger sister Katherine had been born three years ago. The young wolf would arrive with food and they’d sit there together, sometimes talking and sometimes silent.

As a result of their conversations, Chris had discovered that Talia, Peter’s older sister was the alpha of the Hale pack and was the mother to a little wolf girl named Laura. He also found out that Peter was prone to have fits of rage, destroying his own toys. However, Peter had mentioned that he felt comfortable with him and Chris had never witnessed such behavior from the wolf.

“Christopher?” the boy called out.

Peter had begun to call him ‘Christopher’ instead of what everyone else called him in his life and Chris found that amusing. He liked the boy and he didn’t mind meeting him each day for the rest of his life. Chris wondered whether things would change by then, whether he’d escape Gerard and there would be no more hunting, a world where he and Peter could meet freely, no violence, no death, just peace, and happiness.

“Yeah?” he replied lazily, yawning again. Chris was still tired and he needed to nap. He couldn’t do that at home, and as uncomfortable as it would be, Chris felt like sleeping up on the tree.

“What do you think about a treehouse?” Peter suggested with a grin, chucking away the remainder of the apple.

“I like that.” Chris smiled, “But… only if you help me build one.”

Peter rolled his eyes and groaned, “Of course you’d say that. Fine, I’ll help.”

“Great. We start tomorrow. I’m gonna nap.” he muttered to the wolf before closing his eyes, cozying himself on the not-so-comfy branch.

“Well, I’ll be here protecting you.” Peter said and Chris laughed a little.

“And what are you going to do if someone tries to kill us?” He opened an eye to look at the Hale.

In an instant, Peter drew his claws and tried to growl menacingly. Chris thought that it was adorable.

1988

“Christopher!!!” Peter exclaimed, jumping off the tree and launching himself onto Chris, wrapping him in a tight hug. The wolf was twelve and several inches shorter than him but was obviously stronger than most kids his age.

“Peter, woah geez I’m human.” he laughed, stuck inside the rib-crushing hug.

“Happy 18th Birthday! Well, late birthday.” the boy shouted, hugging him tighter.

“Thank you, kiddo.” Chris groaned and Peter let go of him, grinning.

It had been Chris’ birthday the week before and he had been in Japan, doing his first gun deal with the goddamn Yakuza. Gerard’s idea of a birthday present was putting him in a near-death situation and Chris wasn’t even surprised. The experience had been extremely unsettling and so terrible, that he wanted to forget his 18th birthday. He had informed Peter about it a few days before but not many details as even Chris had been unaware of what he was going into until he had made it to the venue.

“What happened? You look pretty shaken up.” Peter eyed him, suspiciously.

“Yeah, it wasn’t that great. It was a gun deal with the Yakuza and it didn’t go that well, but I’m alive, right? So that’s what matters.” Chris managed a weak smile. He knew he couldn’t lie and Peter was always worried about him so he kept the details of figures materializing out of the shadows with swords similar to ninjatos to himself.

“The ya- what?” the wolf blinked at him.

“It’s like Japanese mafia, Pete.” he answered, ruffling Peter’s hair.

“Woah geez. Are you hurt?” Peter raised an eyebrow at him.

“Nah, nah I’m good.” Chris smiled. He was telling the truth in a way. Though he was injured then, he was better now and he was used to the pain regardless.

“Well enough of that. We’re going to have a proper celebration.” the boy smirked and Chris wanted to facepalm himself. He was sure that Peter would have planned something. It was just the way he was. Chris had never wanted anything for his birthday but the wolf would get him small trinkets and he appreciated it very much.

Chris had genuinely been surprised when Peter had introduced him as his best friend to the rest of the Hales. Peter’s sister Talia had dinner prepared and even baked a cake with ‘Happy 18th Birthday Chris!’ on it. Peter had made him what seemed like a bracelet with a little piece of wood shaped like a tree, which Chris assumed was to signify how they met. He had almost cried at the Hale House. He had never been so happy and no one had ever done anything so amazing for him. The Hales had treated Chris like he was one of their own and given him a birthday that he would never forget. The next morning Chris had sneaked back into the house, and Gerard hadn’t noticed his disappearance as always.

1992

“Christopher!” Peter yelled, and he could detect the excitement in his voice, “I did it!”

Chris sniggered as he slipped the wolf figurine that he had been carving for the past hour into his left jacket pocket. He sheathed the knife in his boot, stepped out, and settled on a branch before hanging upside down to greet the wolf.

“I did my first evolved shift!” he panted as he came to a halt.

It took a while for Peter to come into view and Chris shut his eyes when he did, almost plummeting onto the ground below.

“Why are you naked?” Chris groaned.

“What do you- have you seen wolves wearing clothes?” Peter whined back.

“Go get yourself some clothes or I’m leaving.” he said, with his eyes still closed.

There was another whine from the younger boy and it made him snicker. He loved how Peter could always lighten up his mood somehow. It was good and he felt lucky to have the wolf in his life. It had been ten years since they had met and Chris’ life had changed for the better though his father still made his life a living hell. Peter made him forget all of it when they spent time together.

“Ughhh will you come with me? Please, please, pretty please Christopher?”

“Fine.”

Chris landed onto his feet with a flip without opening his eyes and Peter snorted, before snarling. When he glanced in the direction of the sound, Chris saw a wolf with dark black sleek fur. He lowered himself onto one knee so he could run his hand through Peter’s coat. He let out something like a satisfied purr and Chris got back onto his feet. Then they were off, sprinting through the preserve back to the Hale house. Peter was quick, but Chris managed to keep up with him.

Once they had arrived at the residence, Peter shot up the stairs to his room. He came back down in his usual V-neck and jeans with a pout. His hair was shorter now and in a mess as always, yet Chris considered it to look good on him. The two of them went back to their tree, this time walking slowly.

They spent the day chasing each other around through the trees. Chris felt like an idiot for playing, but he was having fun and soon he became comfortable. It was pretty late when Chris was feeling exhausted, so Peter decided that they should take a swim in the lake. They fooled around for a couple of minutes and it was when they dried off to get dressed that Chris remembered about the wolf he had carved. When they got back to the treehouse, Chris had gifted the figurine to an astonished Peter. The wolf had adored it from first sight and thanked him endlessly. Since it was dark, they silently lied down next to each other on the wooden floor. Chris was an adult so he knew that Gerard didn’t give a damn about him as long as he was at the house in the morning.

“Christopher, can I say something?” Peter suddenly spoke up.

“Yeah?” he responded, turning to the side and propping himself up on his elbow.

“I- I- it’s hard to say.” he chuckled lightly, “Never mind.”

“Just go on Pete.” Chris hummed at the boy.

“I- I like you. A lot. You know- more- more than just a friend. I- I just didn’t understand it before.” he mumbled, stuttering a little.

Chris sighed, closing his eyes and lying on his back once more.

“Peter, you’re sixteen. What you feel- it’s not love. It’s just something you feel at this age as you grow.” he explained, “You will know what it’s like to be in love when you’re older, but this as much as you think it is, it isn’t.”

“Okay.” said Peter, softly and Chris flinched as he detected the hurt in the Hale’s voice.

‘I smiled sadly for a love I could not obey’ from David Bowie’s Lady Stardust started ringing in his head, because that’s exactly what he was doing now.

He had acknowledged that there was more than just a brotherly affection he felt towards Peter. He wanted to wrap the wolf in his arms, love him and protect him, but it just wasn’t right. Peter was a sixteen-year-old. He was still a boy in high school while Chris - he was twenty-two; an adult. Chris was disgusted by his own self for the attraction he had to the teenager. It may just be a six year age gap, but Peter was a kid and he wasn’t. It was wrong and Chris detested that he couldn’t view Peter as just his best friend anymore.

Even if their ages weren’t a problem, anything else between them would only give Gerard more reason to harm Peter if he found out. Chris didn’t give a damn about what happened to him. He needed the wolf to be safe no matter what and it would break him if Peter was hurt. It was a sacrifice that he had to make, so they wouldn’t lose what they already had. To Gerard, it wouldn’t be just about loving a werewolf, but also about loving a man.

1993

Peter was already at the treehouse when Chris got there. They were still the best of friends even after the confession from Peter almost a year ago. Things remained just the same and the younger boy didn’t make any advances. This day Chris had news. News that was going to change his life and possibly affect their friendship as well.

“Hey, Pete.” Chris greeted as he settled himself opposite Peter on the wooden floor.

“Christopher.” Peter smiled at him. He had grown into a beautiful man now and Chris still could recall the six-year-old with the missing teeth. Chris had literally watched him grow through the years.

“I’ve- I’ve got news. I’m getting-” he started to say, but was soon interrupted.

“Married next week,” Peter finished his sentence and Chris frowned, “What? All of the supernatural world knows. A hunter family visiting Beacon Hills? It’s obvious. Besides, news spreads around here fast.”

He stared at Peter with his jaw dropped and then nodded. The wolf was right about all of it and Gerard had planned it to be a grand wedding. The funny thing about that was the fact that Chris had never seen the girl he was going to marry or even heard her name. Obviously, Gerard was doing it for his own benefit. He pondered over the question of what it would be like to live with a stranger for the rest of his life.

“Yes.” he said, confirming what Peter had said.

“Well, I’ve got some news too, Christopher.” Peter spoke again, his tone slightly somber.

“What’s that?” Chris inquired.

“I’m leaving. For college that is.” his voice was soft, and Chris couldn’t believe that he had forgotten. Of course, Peter was going to leave. He had mentioned that he was contemplating that decision some time ago. Maybe Chris had been thinking that it wouldn’t come to that.

“Where to?” he asked the boy.

“Oh, that- no idea yet. I’ve got a little more time.” Peter grinned and Chris cracked up.

They spent that entire day together as there was a possibility that it would be the last one they could meet each other freely. It was as much as he could have. Though Chris loved him too, they would be star-crossed lovers and he just wanted to save Peter from that pain.

1998

“Daddy, where thish?” the little dark-haired fair girl in Chris’ arms chirped.

“We’re going to see my good friend, Ally sweetheart.” he said, kissing the top of her head. She was four but insisted on being carried and Chris just couldn’t say no.

“Okay, Daddy.” she hummed, resting her head against his collarbone.

It had been a long while since he had gone back to the treehouse. Chris had become busier with the business and had the responsibility of sustaining a family. Besides, Peter was away as well and he missed the wolf dearly. It was tough at first, not being able to meet his best friend, talk to him or hear of how he was doing. Even if it got easier with time, the Hale was on Chris’ mind every single day and the feelings were still there though he was a husband, a father.

Talia had secretly informed Chris that Peter would be returning to Beacon Hills because she had figured that he’d want to see the wolf again. She didn’t know of his feelings but knew how close they had been.

“Peter!” Chris called out when he arrived at the tree.

“Christopher!” there was a roar and Peter landed, leaping off the tree. Allison stared in amusement.

Chris caught his breath when he got a proper look at Peter. His hair had grown slightly, but it was still the gorgeous mess it used to be. He hadn’t changed much, but Chris could see that Peter had matured, despite the goofy grin on his face. Peter wasn’t a boy. He was a man. It hurt Chris. Seeing the one he always wanted. The one he couldn’t have.

“And who is this angel, then?” Peter spoke first, beaming at his daughter.

“Allison, my daughter.” Chris smiled at the Hale, “Allison, this is Peter, my best friend.”

The words sounded almost bitter in his mouth. Best friends. That was all they could be, but at least they had that.

“Hello, Allison.” the wolf said, waving at her and Chris removed her from his chest, holding her towards Peter.

“Hi, Peter.” she chuckled at him.

Peter raised an eyebrow and Chris insisted with a nod. The wolf gently took Allison into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck instantly. He gazed at him, thrilled. Chris was glad that Allison was comfortable with him since every time Gerard was nearby, she’d break down crying. He didn’t blame her and kept her away from the man as much as he could. It was also amazing to see Peter so happy after years of not meeting each other.

They chatted as Peter gave Allison a piggyback and played with her, fooling around. Chris got the idea that Peter was great with kids and then realized that he was already an uncle to a sixteen-year-old girl, a ten-year-old boy as well as a four-year-old girl. He tried to picture what it would be like to raise a child with Peter, but soon let that thought go because it hurt too much.

As they talked, the wolf revealed that he didn’t want to go to law school, since he didn’t want to stay away from the pack for much longer and didn’t need a job for himself. He also wanted to be where Chris was. That piece of information made Chris feel better and even if they couldn’t hang out in their treehouse, there was a chance they could run into each other frequently.

When evening arrived, Chris decided that it was high time to leave. His wife Victoria would be paranoid and there was no cell signal in that area. Allison also seemed to be exhausted after playing. They had stayed there for a good amount of time. Before they said their goodbyes, Chris wrapped his arms around Peter and pulled him into a tight hug. He gently ruffled his hair like he did when they were younger, earning a snicker from the Hale in return. It had been forever since they last hugged and Chris missed it more than he could fathom.

“Hey, sweetie. I need you to help me.” Chris told Allison as they got to the edge of the preserve.

“Yes, Daddy?” she asked, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Can you promise me that you won’t tell anyone about Peter? And if someone asks where we were, will you tell them we were at the park? Can you do that for me?” he requested. Chris had wanted Peter to meet Allison and he knew what could take place if anyone else found out about that.

“I promise. I will do that.” she grinned at him and then frowned, “But why?”

“You’ll understand when you get older, sweetie.” Chris pressed his lips to the side of her head.

“Okay, Daddy. Park.” she yawned, falling asleep on Chris.

2003

Chris crept down the stairs with his flashlight, trying to make the least sound possible. It didn’t take him long to make out Peter and Derek hiding in the dark.

“Pete, Der?” he whispered to them.

He had managed to shake off Gerard and the other hunters before making it to the Nemeton. Peter had brought him there a couple of times and he figured that it would be where Peter and Derek ran off to. Though it would take the others a while to find the Nemeton, Gerard wouldn’t stop at tracking the wolves down, so Chris had to make sure they got away safely. He didn’t want to see what would happen to them otherwise. Peter was usually up to no good and Chris made sure to keep an eye on him as much as he could. It also didn't help that there were three other werewolf packs in Beacon Hills at the time. It could be a jackpot for Gerard.

“Yeah?” Chris heard Peter’s voice answer him, but his tone was more of a question.

“You have to get out now. Gerard- he’s coming.” he informed them and, both Peter and Derek slowly made their way towards Chris.

“Hey.” Derek said, his expression showing slight fear. The boy was about fifteen.

“Hey, Der.” Chris replied with a smile and glanced at Peter. He swore that the older wolf only got more attractive each time he saw him, which really wasn’t much. They met, but not as frequently as they used to and it almost tore Chris into pieces. He missed Peter terribly and when he lay in bed at night, Chris knew that he wanted Peter next to him instead of Victoria, and she was aware of that as well. She didn't know about Peter, but she did know that Chris wasn't exactly in love with her since it was the same with her for Chris.

Peter moved forward to hug him but Chris deflected it by grabbing his arm. He pouted and groaned.

"Peter, seriously, you need to be more careful. Gerard is so much more on alert these days and I- Peter- I don't…" Chris tried to say and faltered because the lump that formed in his throat didn't allow him to speak further.

Peter put his arms around Chris, wrapping him into a tight hug, "Don't worry, Christopher. I'll be fine."

"Don't you 'I'll be fine' me, Peter. I always worry about you. Promise to me that you'll take care." Chris told the younger man, ruffling his hair.

"Yes, I promise." he mumbled, resting his chin on Chris' shoulder.

Chris wished that the hug could go on for longer. However, they had to get moving now and hugs were for a later time. He pulled away from Peter begrudgingly before it got to the point that he couldn’t bring himself to let go of the wolf. It felt like torture.

He led them out from what looked like a root cellar as quickly as he could. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around just yet. Chris glanced at Peter.

“Yeah, I don’t hear anyone. I think we can get back home safely.” Peter said, reading Chris’ mind, “Der, go on. I’ll be right behind you.”

The teenager nodded and hurried off, disappearing among the trees.

Peter gazed at him, “I’ll see you around I guess.”

“Remember your promise?” Chris asked the Hale.

“Yes, Christopher. I promise I’ll take care.” Peter answered with a smirk and then he was gone, leaving Chris all on his own by the Nemeton.

2004

Chris’ heart was heavy in his chest. He had contacted Peter a few days ago and asked to meet him at the treehouse. He and Victoria had decided to leave Beacon Hills and stay away from Gerard. Victoria didn’t want Allison to be exposed to the supernatural and Chris didn’t either. Chris was sure that Gerard would try to snake his way into the little girl’s mind and twist her views like he did with his younger sister Kate. Even if Gerard didn’t take that route, Chris didn’t want Allison to live through a childhood similar to his. He didn’t want his daughter to grow up to hunt those similar to Peter. Those two were the people in Chris’ life that he loved the most and it would kill him if something happened to either one of them.

He climbed the tree and got himself onto the treehouse to see that Peter was sitting there waiting for him.

“Christopher, what’s going on? You asked to meet me.” Peter said, studying him intently.

“Yeah, Peter, I have news.” Chris told him with a sigh.

Peter raised an eyebrow, rising to his feet, “News? Last time you said that you were going to get married. You’re not getting married again are you?”

Chris chuckled softly, shaking head at the wolf, “No, Peter, I’m not getting married again. I’m- we- we’re leaving Beacon Hills.

“Leaving? You’re going? For how long?” Peter inquired, astounded.

Chris shrugged. They weren’t sure whether they’d ever move back and that was what hurt the most. He would likely never see Peter ever again. Though, Chris was ready if that was what it took to not have to watch his daughter hunt down Peter and his family.

The wolf launched onto Chris, taking him into a tight hug. Chris stumbled backward, but regained his footing and wrapped his arms around Peter. His heart shattered when he heard a sniffling sound.

“Hey, Pete…” Chris choked out the words, stroking Peter’s head with one hand and rubbing his back with the other.

“I- I know we haven’t seen each other much lately, but- but you’re my best friend. You- you were always there for me for most of my life.” he mumbled, “I’ll- I’ll miss you, Christopher. What will I do without you?”

“I’ll miss you too, Pete, but that’s how things are. I’m sorry. I just want you to be safe. You’ll do great without me, I’m sure.” Chris said to Peter, ruffling the younger man’s hair.

Peter silently clung to him a little longer and then finally spoke, “Promise me you’d at least let me know you’re alive from time to time?”

“Promise.”

They spent the rest of the day walking through the preserve that had been a home to them. Chris tried to take it all in before he left. The preserve had been his sanctuary and had given him his best friend.

2011

In just one night, Chris’ entire world crashed down upon him as he watched helplessly. It started off when Stiles had implied that Kate had set the Hale House on fire and unfortunately, it all made sense to him. The idea that someone of his blood was the reason for the demise of a family that actually cared about him, made his blood boil. His younger sister was the reason that Peter was so badly injured and in a vegetative comatose state. The sole reason Chris had left Beacon Hills was to make sure that Peter would be safe and if he had remained there, the wolf would be happy and full of life, while the other Hales would still be alive.

It had gotten even worse subsequently when it was revealed that it was in fact Peter who was the alpha. The bloodthirsty alpha committing all the murders in Beacon Hills. The alpha that Chris had returned to Beacon Hills to hunt. His best friend was the alpha. His beloved Peter was the monster that Chris was attempting to kill.

That wasn’t all. Peter had murdered Kate, ripping her throat out with his claws, that too in front of Allison. Then Peter had been set on fire before having his own throat ripped out by Derek, right in front of Chris’ eyes and he just stood there, unable to do anything. Everything he was used to and everyone he had known was different and he assumed that was what pain did to people.

Chris wished he could have done more. He could have intervened. He could have tried to help Peter this time. But he didn’t and so now here he was at an unholy hour, back at the treehouse, sobbing to himself exactly like he did twenty nine years ago, except then there was no treehouse then. Chris could remember how he had cried when he heard about the fire and that was nothing compared to the pain he felt this night. Chris thought about how could have saved Peter from his fate, but this time he had lost Peter completely and his mind wouldn’t stop recalling the six-year-old with the missing teeth, the crazy mischievous teenager that would joke around with him, the man Chris had deeply fallen in love with. It was like a hole in his heart, one that could never be filled.

Peter was gone and Chris didn’t want to believe that. It was Peter. He didn’t just die. He just couldn’t. Chris hated everything, he hated everyone including himself. He didn’t give a fuck anymore. Nothing mattered any longer.

This was exactly what Chris had tried to avoid and all he had done was fuel it. Even if it wasn’t directly, Chris was still to blame. He had failed everyone and he wondered what Peter had been thinking when he saw Chris standing there, doing nothing for him. His best friend, not lending a hand when he was dying. Had Peter given up on Chris as he died? It broke him into pieces.

Chris looked over at where he had carved his name next to Peter’s and he raised an eyebrow. Maybe his vision was blurry from the crying but he could make out a plus sign between their names. He rubbed his eyes and looked again to see just that. Had some kid found their treehouse and done that?

Or had it been Peter?

Had the wolf still had those feelings for him from almost two decades ago? Had Peter still loved Chris despite the rejection, despite Chris getting married to a woman? Had Peter yearned for him when he was away from Beacon Hills? Had Peter carved the sign between their names because it was his little secret since no one would know what it meant and since he thought Chris wouldn’t see it as he wouldn’t come back? Did Peter love Chris as he lay on the preserve floor, seconds away from his death? Chris would never have those answers because he was too late, too idiotic, and foolish.

His heart ached even more. If Peter did love him, he would have died thinking that Chris never felt the same way about him, though in reality, Chris did. He wished he would have just told the wolf the truth and then explained why they couldn’t be together.

Chris glanced at his watch, realizing that it was almost 3 in the morning. Here he was mourning a werewolf while his family mourned his younger sister. He had to get back home. Although his heart was in pain for someone else, Chris had his duties. He ran his hand over the carvings of the tree and drew back his sleeve, exposing the wrist he wore Peter’s gift and kissed it. Chris had worn it every single day of his life after receiving it and that was all he had of the wolf now.

*

Chris wasn’t sure whether his life was getting worse or better. First Kate, then Peter and now Victoria. However, Peter was back and it drove Chris mad. He had mourned for the wolf, cried his eyes out wishing he could have saved the wolf and hating himself for doing nothing. Then Peter had emerged out of nowhere at the warehouse and Chris couldn’t believe his eyes. He felt stupid for crying and he had been right when he thought that Peter didn’t just die. The fact that Peter had returned to the world of the living the exact night Victoria died baffled him. It was as if the universe willed it.

He found himself in the treehouse once again after Allison had fallen asleep. Chris was happy, and yet so furious. Couldn’t have Peter said something? Couldn’t he have left Chris a sign showing that he was alive? Chris wasn’t crying this time. Instead, he had settled on the floor with his head against the wall, eyes closed, rubbing his forehead trying to make sense of all the different emotions churning inside his system.

There were a few creaks accompanied by a shuffling sound and then a voice said, “Christopher, it’s me.”

There was no way Chris didn’t recognize that voice. It made him feel like his heart was about to melt. He opened his eyes to stare right into Peter’s, drowning in the beautiful blue ones that Chris had always had adored. The wolf was sitting in front of him, cross-legged. There was stubble on Peter’s face now and he was as gorgeous as always. Chris wanted to kiss the heck out of the man.

“I fucking hate you.” he mumbled, before springing towards Peter and into his arms, taking him into a bone-crushing hug. The familiar scent felt like home and Chris was warm inside. He melted into Peter as the wolf hugged him, gently rubbing Chris’ back, and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Chris had already forgiven the man before the apology and pulled away to look at him again. He couldn’t begin to describe how much he had missed Peter. To Chris, it had been like an eternity until he had seen Peter again. Peter smiled at him and Chris was smiling back naturally, a few tears streaming down his cheeks. He peeked at the carving and Peter cleared his throat.

“About that… It’s probably not the right time to tell you this, but I’m not sixteen anymore, so I’m sure it’s real.” he said, and produced the wolf figurine Chris had given him.

“You loved me?” Chris asked the wolf.

“No, Christopher I love you. Always have and still do.” Peter replied, taking Chris’ face in his hands.

He wasn’t sure if he was hearing wrong. Peter had loved him all along.

“But- but you didn’t…” Chris tried to say.

“I knew you must have a good reason to hide it and just stay friends with me, so I didn’t say anything again. I could still smell it on you though. Talia was the one who told it to me because she could smell it too. Heck at first, I didn’t know and I couldn’t stand myself for falling for my best friend. I was confused why you didn’t want something more between us, but I understood eventually. And now we’re here, Christopher. What have we got to lose?” Peter spoke softly, looking into his eyes and stroking his cheek.

Chris was kissing Peter before he knew it, letting loose of all the emotions that he had been bottling up for years. He had never thought this day would come, and he tightened the hug, not wanting to let go of the wolf. He couldn’t let that happen again. Peter was kissing him back passionately, and Chris got lost in all his feelings. It felt good. The taste of Peter’s lips on his, the wolf’s touch against his skin, the warmth. He pulled back, resting his head against Peter’s neck.

He didn’t know what he had done to deserve this but was glad that there was a chance for Peter and him. Chris could be with the one he had truly loved when he was a boy. It was possible now, though it had seemed impossible back then. They could still have a future. Peter held Chris in his arms as they stayed in the treehouse in silence. They didn’t need to say anything.

When Chris had run off to the preserve twenty nine years ago and sobbed to himself on this very tree, he had never imagined that it would lead him to happiness.

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

Hell's Studio fic idea: A pipe bursts and Sammy becomes a toon Imp like Snowflake and Bendy, and Joey doesn't know how to reverse it ASAP, so Sammy is stuck as a toon Imp and Sammy decides to hangout with Snowflake until Joey can reverse the ink's magic (Bonus points if: Sammy gets a uncontrollable stutter as a toon Imp, Susie cooing her small boyfriend, and Sammy drawing with snowflake)

I am So sorry that this took so freaking long, but here you go!

Wally slapped his forehead in exasperation as he heard the pipe bursting from the music department's break room. Then proceeded to go in there, with Snowflake following close behind just in case he needed someone small to check in any holes in the wall that the pipe made in the process.

The sight was familiar, but unwelcome to the pair; a pile of thick ink sliding down onto the floor through the broken pipe peeking through the ceiling. Snowflake was only thankful that it had spilled to the floor instead of the pool table.

“I’m startin' ta think dat eitheah we should completely tear down da music department to put in a betteah pipe system, or just stop fixin' the dang things so dat they at least stop surprisin' us."

The Janitor grumbled as he started mopping up the mess.

"A-at least nobody got caught in it this time."

As soon as Snowflake said that, something under the pile began to move.

“Mmmmh?"

"Yikes, spoke too soon, kiddo."

Wally stated calmly as he started to scrape the excess ink off of what looked exactly like Bendy, except the imp's tie lacked the fun patterns Bendy often wore, and more importantly, he was missing his mouth. So the obvious conclusion the pair made was: The ink ruined his tie by dying it black and also stole his mouth.

"M-mr. Bendy?! are you okay?!"

The formerly buried imp looked at the other one with a perplexed expression before mouthing something, realized that he wasn't saying anything, patting his face where his mouth should've been, and looking like he was about to panic.

"MMMMmmPPHH?! MMMH!! MMPHH!!!"

"Looks like the ink erased your pie hole, boss."

The imp rolled his eyes at stared at Wally in a very sarcastic manner before leaving the room, most likely to visit Joey about this issue.

"...Do you think he's not going to want to do that drawing lesson later?"

"What, Bendy? not want ta draw with ya overah somethin' like this? Nah. It's nothin' fun to wake up to, but I don't think it'll eat at him like it will if it happened ta Sammy."

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

"MmMMmMMM?!?! MMPHH!! MMMPPHHH!?"

Sammy hopped up and down while wildly gesturing to the blank white space on his face where his mouth was supposed to be while Joey flipped through heavily ink-stained spell books. Meanwhile, the real Bendy was still gawking at his doppelganger, still not quite sure whether he should feel flattered or offended that the ink pulled this on Sammy. But also not saying anything because he couldn't find any jokes to lighten the mood with.

It would be one thing if the ink also gave Sammy Bendy's trademark smile (that could make other expressions too). If it did that, Bendy would be making so many mirror and twin related jokes. But it didn't.

"It's going to be fine." Joey repeated almost more to himself than to the hopping mad imp. "Just because an ink flood took out some of my reversal spells, doesn't mean that you're going to be stuck like this forever. Best case scenario, it'll take a few hours for me to find the right one, worst case scenario I'm going to need to order a new book, and that might take a while."

"MMm MmhP?"

"I don't know how long! Some of these are the rarest on the market! Goodness knows how long it'll take to replace if it's ruined and has the correct cure in it..."

The music director let out a heavily muffled, frustrated sigh.

"Yes, I'm annoyed too." Joey sighed as well. "But at least it's not going to be forever."

'Easy for you to say.' Sammy thought to himself as trying and failing to talk was starting to hurt his jaw. 'You're not the one dealing with this! how am I supposed to do my job when I can't speak to anyone?!'

He must've been gesturing as he thought this as Joey snapped his fingers in realization and handed Sammy a notebook and a pencil.

"I know it won't help with the more vocal aspects of your job, but it's better than not having any way to communicate. And much easier than trying to learn sign language in less than a day and with only four digits on each hand."

He tried to write down 'Thanks Joey' but his hands refused to obey him. Confusingly, he instead drew a thumbs up.

"Why thank you! Glad to see that you're taking this better than expected Sammy. I'd better get to work on looking for that spell..."

As Joey left the room, Sammy frowned at the notebook, trying to figure out why he did that. Bendy also peeked at the drawing and felt something click.

"So..." the copied imp awkwardly tugged at his tie as he avoided making eye contact with Sammy. "Just outta curiosity sake, does Snowflake know about this? At least, the fact that it's well, you instead of me?"

Sammy gave Bendy a funny look but nodded anyway.

"Okay, follow up question: ...Is now a bad time to tell you that before you burst in here trying to tell us to fix this that Joey and I were arguing over whether I should go to this meeting with GENT or to give drawing lessons to Snowflake like I promised to, and literally right before you came in I said: 'Well dang it Joey if I could be in two places at once, I would!'?"

Sammy frowned as he saw the guilty yet pleading look in Bendy's eyes, calmly took the newspaper off of Joey's desk, rolled it up and smacked Bendy right upside the head.

"Hey! What gives?!" He sputtered as he rubbed the back of his head.

The Mute music director drew a series of pictures: Bendy putting something in the ink, the ink rising up and flashing him the 'ok' hand sign, Bendy giving it a thumbs up in return and leaving on his merry way, a shift in perspective revealing Sammy as a human having seen the interaction but shrugging it off, Sammy (still human) playing pool with Jack, Grant, and Johnny, the four of them having a good time, the ceiling above them creaking and rumbling ominously, making the four opt to leave, Sammy coming back into the pool room slightly later and keeping an eye on the ceiling, Sammy taking what he came back into the room for, the ceiling above him suddenly bursting and covering him with ink, and the last picture; a bunch of puzzle pieces being fit together, with the picture on the pieces being a lit light bulb.

After showing Bendy his work, he crossed his arms and tapped his foot on the ground.

"What?! You can't seriously blame me for- Okay, yes. I did kinda make a request... but I figured I'D be the one getting drenched! Not you!"

Sammy raised a single eyebrow as Bendy let out a frustrated sigh.

"Look, if I knew that this was what would happen, I wouldn't have done it! But now that it's happened ...would ya help me out with this?"

Sammy's next drawing was his current form with an intentionally bad scribble of Bendy's mouth on the space where he was supposed to have a mouth to indicate it was (poorly) drawn on, and he was trying and failing to do Bendy's job for him as he couldn't speak.

"Of course I'm not going to shirk my responsibilities to make you pretending to be me look like an idiot in front of those big wigs at GENT. I mean, goodness, if this thing flops, who knows what'll happen."

The Musician then showed Bendy a drawing that was so horrible and cold that he wouldn't even dare grace it with a description.

"WHAT KINDA DEMON DO YOU THINK I AM, LAWRENCE?!" Bendy quieted down and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I get it, Damned if I do the thing, damned if I don't do the other thing. I can't let down Snowflake, but if I'm not at that meeting, the studio's relationship with GENT could get bruised! This is why I tried this stunt in the first place!"

He sighed as Sammy just continued to tap his foot in annoyance. "Tell you what, help me and I'll give you anything you ask for! A raise, me not pranking you for a month, more paid vacation days, magic-repelling acetone, name it and it's yours!*"

*Within reason. I'm a demon not a miracle worker!

Sammy showed Bendy an intentionally shaky 'Ok' sign, the closest thing he could think of to a picture version of a hesitant and unwilling 'fine, I'll do it...'

"Oh Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Bendy practically crushed his doppelganger in a spine-breaking hug. "I really owe you this one Sammy!"

'I hope you realize how goddamned lucky you are that I like that kid.' Sammy thought to himself as he patted his double on the back. 'Otherwise I'd hang you out to dry for doing this...'

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

The music director had no interest in deceiving Snowflake; even if he wanted to follow Bendy's plan to the spirit of his deal, he knew too well that the studio and it's ink would always drag any secret up to the surface. So it would just be easier to come clean at the start before lies had the chance to spiral into something that could completely break the poor kid.

"Hi Mr. Bendy! Are you ready for our lesson?"

Sammy nodded, but gestured for his pupil to wait a second before he flipped through the pages of his sketchbook and showed him a series of pictures: some showing the origin of his new condition, and the others showing his deal with Bendy.

"Oh." The child imp seemed sad, and slightly disappointed, but also not surprised. "So Bendy couldn't make it today either..."

The older imp sympathetically patted Snowflake on the back and tried his best to draw out an explanation, but it's kind of hard to put 'He really did want to make it, in fact, he wanted to so much that he was willing to split himself in half for it! But as you can see, it kinda backfired...' into picture format, luckily he got the message across fairly well.

"I-it's okay, I understand. Thanks for filling in for him Mr. Lawrence!"

Snowflake pulled out his own notebook and pencils.

"Do you think you can show me how to do hands that well?"

Sammy eagerly nodded and flipped his book to a blank page.

[typical-simplelove]

Part Two: Dragon Boats (T. Jost)

Part Two to Red Envelopes, Dragon Boats, and Mooncakes; a Tyson Jost fic.

Series Masterlist (please read the small note at the beginning of the Masterlist if you haven’t already)

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Summary: Tyson and Kayla spend the offseason in St. Albert when the Dragon Boat Festival occurs. The couple spend the day with Tyson’s family following Kayla’s family traditions. 

Author’s Note: Similar author’s note to the first part. You don’t have to read part one to understand part two, just an fyi! Again, I have linked pictures and websites about some of the things that are mentioned here. The Pinterest board linked above also has more photos about the holiday. Anyways, here’s part two! I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you thought!

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Again, no climax, really. However, warnings are scissors, being Chinese, Chinese holidays, eating meat, mentions of death.

Before the Dragon Boat Festival

During the Dragon Boat Festival, Kayla and Tyson would be back in St. Albert for the offseason. Because of this, Kayla would not be able to spend the cultural holiday with her parents. Knowing that Kayla was a bit bummed about this, Tyson took it upon himself to try to make this holiday similar to ones in the past. 

Tyson began researching about the holiday. While researching, he learned that people watch or participate in Dragon Boat racing and eat something called Sticky Rice. The symbolism of this holiday is to ward off evil spirits, any lurking diseases, and release any negativity. Tyson had no idea how to celebrate this holiday with Kayla and had no idea how her family celebrated. He decided to just ask Kayla and help her plan. 

“Hey Kayla,” Tyson asks during breakfast a few days before the Dragon Boat Festival. “How do you celebrate the Dragon Boat Festival? I know that’s the next holiday that is coming up that your family celebrates.”

Kayla was shocked that Tyson knew about this. “My family doesn’t do much for this holiday. We don’t watch dragon boat racing but my sister and I always used to make our own mini dragon boats out of construction paper. My mom, sister, and I also used to make sticky rice with my grandfather before he died.”

“What if we did that? What if you, me, Kacey, my mom, and grandparents all made sticky rice? You can teach us! It may not be the holiday you’re used to because you aren’t in Denver with family but you can celebrate with us!”

“If you want, yeah sure! I’ll ask my mom for the recipe and we can make them.”

“Great, I’m excited, babe.”

Despite Tyson only telling Kayla about the sticky rice, he thought he would surprise her with the materials to make dragon boats. Tyson was bouncing in his seat, super excited that he got to spend another holiday with you.

龍舟節 (long zhou jie) - Dragon Boat Festival - June 14, 2021

“Kacey, my mom, and grandparents are set to come at three. Will that be good?” Tyson asks with an amount of energy that no one should have at eight in the morning. 

“Yes, Tyson, don't worry. Everything will be fine.” Kayla responds barely awake.

“Is there anything you need to do to prep before they come?”

“All I need to do is soak the rice. And I marinated the chicken last night so we’re good.”

“Do you need to watch the rice soak?”

Kayla laughs. “No, all I have to do is put the rice in a bowl and then leave it there. I’ll probably do that at 2:45, that way we can be ready to start right away when they arrive.”

“So, then, if I bought something, we can do it before they come?”

“Sure! What is it?”

“I bought materials to make Dragon Boats. I didn’t know what to buy so I went on pinterest and found a site. I asked your sister and she said that the materials they suggested were good. I had to buy green, at least, I thought it was green. I, you know colorblind, so not sure if --”

Tyson is cut off when Kayla kisses him firmly on the lips. “Thank you so much, Tys. You have no idea how much that means to me. Thank you!.”

“Anything for you Kayla. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Tys.”

. . .

After Kayla and Tyson were both mostly awake (more like Kayla because Tyson was bouncing off the walls at 8), they got started on the dragon boats. 

“So, teach me. What do I do?”

“First, you have to make the green construction paper into a box to make it look like a box.”

Tyson just stares at Kayla, wishing that he didn’t take the plastic covering off of the paper so he could read the labels and know which was green. However, Kayla, knowing Tyson, handed the green paper to him so that Tyson wasn’t completely lost. Tyson was about to start but unsure how to put the paper into a box format. So, he decided to watch Kayla construct hers first. Once Kayla finished, she held it up and said a soft ‘ta da!’

Tyson was still ever confused. When Kayla went to grab a second piece of green paper, Tyson decided he would mimic her actions in real time. However, instead of Tyson’s looking like Kayla’s once finished, Tyson’s was all jagged and didn’t look anything like a boat.

When Kayla was about to start a third boat, Tyson said, “Wait! Before you start, can you do it slowly and explain each step very carefully and clearly so I can make one that looks like yours?”

Kayla chuckles and says, “Of course. All you had to do was ask.”

“Ready, Tys?” Tyson nods in response.

“First, fold one of the short sides about two and half inches in. Try to fold it into a straight line. Yeah, like that. Now, do it to the opposite side.” Kayla pauses, waiting for Tyson to give her a nod that she can continue.

“Now, you take the long sides and fold it in about two and a half inches so it looks something like this. Next step is cut along these lines and fold them in. Nope, like this. Yeah that. Tape the sides so that it doesn’t fall apart. Yeah, good. You now take your scissors and kind of cut in a curved line, like a half circle but only the outer line, to make the curves of a boat. After, we take the long ends and fold them against each other so that they are pointy.”

Kayla pauses allowing Tyson to catch up. She smiles softly when Tyson has his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth in fierce concentration as he normally does. 

“Like this?” Tyson asks when finished.

“Yeah!” Kayla responds enthusiastically. “That’s it! And now, we use the gold sharpie and draw scales on the boat. It’s basically is just circles but not closing them. Stopping about seventy five percent of the way.”

Kayla and Tyson draw the scales in silence not wanting to distract the other. 

“What comes next?” Tyson asks, once he has finished his one and Kayla all three of hers.

“We add the dragon!”

“We have to make a dragon?” 

“No, normally my sister and I would print out pictures and we’d color them. In past years, Elizabeth would color in while Charlotte and I made the boats. I just printed out dragon heads that would match. Here they are. We can just glue them on.”

“Thank goodness. I don’t think that I would have been able to draw a dragon. Ever. At all. So, don’t ask me to.”

“Don’t worry, Tys. I know your artistic abilities. After we glue on the dragon head, we can make the oars with red construction paper and glue them one. Then, we’ll be done!”

Tyson finished putting his head and oars on the boat before Kayla because she made three and Tyson had one good functioning boat. 

“What do we do after we finish making the boats?”

“Normally, my sister and I would make a small pond or lake and tape the boats on there. I bought a blue poster board so we can use that.” 

Kayla and Tyson worked on their pond for the dragon boats and didn’t leave out a single detail. They made sure to add areas on the grass next to the pond for the spectators to watch the races. They used old wine corks and painted them red and orange to mimic the traditional drums.The couple worked long into the afternoon and only realized the time when Kayla’s alarm went off reminding her to soak the rice. 

Once Kayla returned to the table where the poster board sat, Tyson had added little goldfish into the pond.

“You know, Tys, I think that if there were goldfish in the pond, then they would be far away from the boats. Also, probably not visible to the human eye.”

“Whatever, Ms. Smarty-Pants Kayla. I like the goldfish. I vote to keep the goldfish in the pond.”

“Fine, but then, one of my boats gets to be in the lead when we glue them down.”

“You throw a hard bargain but fine, I agree.” Tyson says with a mischievous grin. Kayla knows that grin. She knows that Tyson is going to begin tickling her until she is begging for mercy. Tyson instantly gets up and begins tickling Kayla. This continues on and the only chance at a reprieve is when the doorbell rings signalling that Tyson’s family has arrived.

“I guess I have to stop tickling you, Kayla.”

“I guess so.” He doesn’t 

Tyson’s family decide to let themselves in and are shocked at what they see sitting on the kitchen counter. 

“What in the world is this?” Kacey asks.

“Kayla spends her Dragon Boat Festival holiday making sticky rice and dragon boats. So, that’s what we did.” Tyson responds.

“Let me guess, this subpar looking boat was Tyson’s?” Kacey asks. Tyson just sticks his tongue out at her and Tyson does the same. 

“Ok, you two, cut it out. We have some sticky rice to make, yeah?” Laura cuts in with a chuckle.

Kayla and Tyson move the pond onto the coffee table and clear all of the craft stuff away and put it into a closet to deal with later. 

“I already have the rice soaking so we can start with that. Before we mix everything, we have to cut the Chinese sausage, mushrooms, shallots, and garlic. We have to also saute the shallots, too. Let’s start with that and then we’ll go from there.” Kayla explains. 

Once the directions were clear, everyone was assigned with a task. Laura is going to cut the shallots and saute them. Kacey and Kayla are going to wash the mushrooms and cut the mushrooms and garlic. Tyson and his grandparents are going to cut the Chinese sausage. 

“So, Kayla, tell me. How long have you been making sticky rice?” Tyson’s grandmother asked.

“I grew up watching my mom, grandfather, and aunties make the rice. This holiday used to be my grandfather’s favorite. When I turned twelve, my mother finally allowed me and my sister, Charlotte, to help make it. We normally would be assigned with washing the mushrooms and cutting them. Sometimes we’d be allowed to help construct the rice into the lotus leaf. That only happened later into my teenage years.”

“Do you do this with your family often?” Laura asks.

“Yeah, we would do this every year. This holiday is the one where my grandfather would be in control of the kitchen. My grandmother, aunties, and parents would all be sitting working on wrapping these and my sister and I would huddle around my grandfather for just a peak. He would always tell us about the same stories each year from when he was a child. When I was in high school, my grandfather passed away and my grandmother became the head sticky rice maker in our family. When I was in college, my grandmother was diagnosed with Arthritis making it hard for her to do any of the cooking so my sister and I took on a bigger role of making the sticky rice with my mom and aunties while my grandmother watched.”

“Is this your first year not making this with them?” Kacey asks.

“It is, actually, yes.” Kayla responds glumly.

“Do you miss them?” Tyson asks, wishing he asked if you wanted to go home.

“I was at first but then you prompted me with the idea of making the sticky rice with all of you so I’m not anymore! My grandfather always used to tell me that sharing our traditions keeps them alive. So, I am doing what he always wanted me to do.” Kayla replies with a bit of pep in her voice.

“Care to share any of those stories, Kayla?” Laura asks. Kayla looks over at Tyson to get confirmation that she should share. Tyson nods prompting Kayla to continue.

“Sure! I can’t remember all of them but one of them that I remember him telling us was when my grandfather was five. This was the first year that he was allowed in the kitchen to observe the cooking with the elders. While he was watching, my grandfather watched one of his uncles put salt on the lotus leaves. Putting salt on the lotus leaves allows for a richer taste for the rice. I’ll get to why we don’t do that in a minute. My grandfather decided that the pinch of salt on the lotus leaves was not enough and he took it upon himself to add more salt. No one noticed. When the sticky rice was ready to eat, the rice was so salty that it was fed to the farm animals. My grandfather felt so bad that he confessed to putting more salt on the lotus leaves. His punishment was to have to clean the chicken pen. Every year after that, no one put salt on the lotus leaves and my grandfather never used salt for his sticky rice ever again. I actually don’t think he ever used salt again after that.” 

The story gains a laugh out of everyone. 

The rest of the prepping continues on with smaller conversations. Once finished and the rice is drained, everyone watches Kayla mix the rice and all the ingredients together.

“I am going to mix the shallots, mushrooms, sausage, and chicken with rice. I am also going to add oyster sauce, soy sauce, and sesame oil. Once I’ve done that, we can begin wrapping the rice in the lotus leaf.”

Once the rice is mixed, Kayla demonstrates to everyone how to wrap the lotus leaf around the rice.

“You put the leaf on the counter and take one cup of rice and put it in the middle. You just fold it so that the rice won’t come out and tie it with a piece of string. There isn’t any pattern to fold it. Once folded, it should look like this and then we’ll steam them and will have sticky rice!”  

“I remember when I was ten and my grandfather was teaching me how to do this.” Kayla begins. “He told me and my sister about the first time he wrapped rice in a lotus leaf. He always told the story and made sure to say that he watched this being made for almost eight years prior to being allowed to wrap them and doesn’t know why he did it. He would tell us that he took the kitchen scissors and began to cup up the leaf. He cut a circle so that the rice could sit on something. He then trimmed the lotus leaf into mini looking pieces of leaf and placed them on the pile of rice. He always compared it to someone making a scrapbook and gluing small pieces of ribbon onto the paper. Every year, he would make one of these. This was what the young cousins would do. They would place the cut up pieces on the lotus leaf. I probably have pictures somewhere of me and my sister making those when we were really young.”

“Did you want to make one?” Tyson asks.

“Yeah? Sure!” Kayla replies with enthusiasm. She goes into the drawer and pulls out a pair of kitchen scissors. Kayla and Tyson begin cutting up a piece of lotus leaf. Once the rice is placed on a circular piece of lotus paper, Tyson and Kayla begin adding the small miniature pieces. Their giggles and laughter can be heard throughout the kitchen, putting smiles on everyone’s face in the kitchen.

For the next hour, Tyson, Kayla, Kacey, Laura, and Tyson’s grandparents folded the sticky rice and lotus leaf to be ready to be steamed. Conversation flowed easily and Kayla couldn’t help but smile. She was able to share her culture and her upbringing with the man she loves and his family she absolutely adored. It couldn't be any better. 

After there was no more rice to be folded into the lotus leaf, Kayla put the rice wrapped in lotus leaf into the pot to steam for an hour and half. 

“What do you do while the sticky rice is steaming?” Tyson asks.

“Not much, normally my mom or grandmother would begin making the other parts for dinner but I just bought those frozen because I didn’t want to screw up making them for the first time. We can watch a movie or play a game, maybe?” Kayla responds. 

After a small debate, everyone decides to play a card game as Kayla will have to get up and check the water every twenty minutes to make sure that no lotus leaves came undone.

… 

After an hour and half and steaming the rest of dinner, everyone was able to sit down and eat. 

“This is the typical dim sum. Normally dim sum is eaten for lunch but on the Dragon Boat festival, my family eats dim sum at dinner. We have Ha Gow, Siu Mai, Cheong Fan, Lo Ba Go, Cha Siu Bao, and Chao Mian. Which are shrimp dumplings, open faced shrimp dumplings, beef wrapped in rice noodles, fried radish cake, steamed pork bun, and fried noodles, respectively. And, obviously the sticky rice we all labored to make!”

Kayla’s explanation was met with hungry looks and nods of approval of how tasty everything looked. 

“How did you eat the one with the cut up lotus leaf?” Tyson asks, confused.

“Normally, we would put that one aside and eat it the next day. When it’s cold, it is easier to pick the lotus leaf pieces off.” Kayla explains. 

When Kayla sat down, she was so happy that she was able to celebrate this holiday with loved ones, even if they were her boyfriend’s family. If things went according to plan, Kayla hoped that maybe they could make a tradition out of this.

Part Three will be posted on February 26, 2021

[coldwind-shiningstars]

ok ok prompts!!! so, I would be Delighted by some more qinxiyao family fic (deleted scenes or things you might have wanted to include in the big bang fic but didn't get to?), or, alternately, anything in the modern tcgf au? anything at all; they're all so excellent <3

both of these are such excellent prompts I started working on both of them, but the modern au got finished first! I’ll probably both a) do a lot of edits on this and b) do the qinxiyao family fic in a week or so, but here this is for now. Also, for those not in James and my brains, this is a very small part of a very large AU! Small note, all characters appearing in this fic are trans; however, He Xuan is still very much an egg and so they are referred to throughout the fic as “he/him,” although SQX at least is aware of this and wondering when to bring it up with her. She is, however, unaware that “Ming Yi” is a stolen identity and He Xuan is actually the eco-terrorist who’s been blowing up her brother’s fish hatcheries. It’s a long story. 

If Xie Lian was being honest, he didn't much like the internet. It was so bright and everything moved too fast. People used a bewildering array of slang and images. It was surprisingly difficult to avoid spending hours reading upsetting news stories. People spent days arguing about pornography. 

Also, his phone didn't really connect to WiFi very well. Even by the loosest definitions of the word, he hardly counted as a netizen.

People were usually shocked when he told them this, though, because Xie Lian's best friend was one of China's most popular beauty influencers.

Xie Lian's face appeared on her Weibo with some regularity. She talked about him often. He'd gone viral three separate times on Douyin, entirely accidentally. 

What Shi Qingxuan was most famous for, however, was makeup tutorials. He had never actually appeared in one of these, but, since there were very few people in the world capable of saying no to a very determined Shi Qingxuan, this was about to change. He was used to being in her charmingly decorated little apartment but not quite used to becoming a decorated thing himself. He'd even put on one of the outfits Hua Cheng had designed and sewn for him, based on some of his old dance costumes and a few frantic weeks of historical research, and kept swishing the skirts around his legs.

Shi Qingxuan started setting up, chattering away to Xie Lian as she did. "You need anything before we start? Bathroom, water, a snack? I edit my videos pretty heavily, so we can always take a break, but it’s good to be comfy." 

"No, I'm fine," Xie Lian said, and then had to close his eyes when she clicked on the ring light.

He fiddled with the makeup compacts laid out on the table.

Shi Qingxuan adjusted her light, scootched Xie Lian’s chair a little to the left and a little back, and then fiddled with the camera. It was quite the involved operation, Xie Lian thought; he knew a lot went into making videos, but he hadn’t realized it took this much effort before the camera was even on. Shi Qingxuan had done his makeup before, of course, but mostly just for fun, or something she could take a picture of and post on Weibo. It had been so long since he'd been filmed.

He watched Shi Qingxuan press record on her camera and then sit back and flash it a smile, putting on her Influencer Face. She squeezed his hand under the table.

“Hi everyone, welcome to Feng Shi!” she said, chirpy. “I’m Shi Qingxuan, and today we’re doing xianxia makeup with my good friend, Xie Lian. Now, for this look, we’re going to need…”

When Xie Lian was little, the makeup artists for his dance troupe had known he took about twice as long as anyone else did to get his makeup done. He was the darling of the company, though, so this was tolerated with fondness.

He didn't like the way the foundation felt on his face when it dried. His eyes watered when they put on eyeliner. He liked to spin his chair from side to side. 

He'd had much worse things on his face than paint since then, and had learned how to be still.

Shi Qingxuan patted his hand cheerfully as she pulled out the setting powder. 

"You're always one of my favorite models," she said. "You're so photogenic and so patient!"

"Thank you," Xie Lian said, and held still while she brushed it in his face.

Ruoye, probably noticing the warmth, slithered out of Xie Lian's robes and curled up on top of his head so she could get the full blast of heat from the ring light. She flickered out her tongue to scent Shi Qingxuan when she leaned in with a liquid eyeliner pen.

Shi Qingxuan made little kissy sounds at her, which only confirmed Xie Lian's certainty that he had good taste in friends. Most people were startled by Ruoye originally, but how they responded to her after Xie Lian introduced them was a good litmus test.

Ruoye settled in, and Xie Lian reached up a finger to stroke her scales. 

He was feeling good, content and warm, happy to sit still. Then the apartment door clicked open, and Xie Lian stiffened.

"Ming-xiong? Is that you?" Shi Qingxuan called.

Ming Yi mumbled something back and shuffled into the room, buried deep in his black hoodie. As always, Xie Lian's first thought upon seeing him was wondering how he could see through all that hair.

The hoodie had a fish skeleton painted on it that he recognized instantly as one of Hua Cheng's drawings; it made Xie Lian smile, thinking of how insistent San Lang was that they absolutely weren't friends, no way, there was no particular reason he would make custom hoodies for Ming Yi. The fish were a coincidence. He’d even made Ming Yi custom salmon breakup boots while proclaiming it meant nothing. 

Xie Lian, wearing an elaborate hanfu Hua Cheng had designed, sewn, and embroidered himself, even making him a period-appropriate duduo to flatten his chest, absolutely did not buy any of these excuses. Hua Cheng covered people he cared about with his art. 

Ming Yi grunted a greeting and wandered off, probably to raid the fridge. Shi Qingxuan winked at Xie Lian.

“I’ll edit most of this out,” she said, conspiratorial, “But my viewers love Ming-xiong. Especially when he’s out of focus in the background. They’ve made memes. I haven’t told them anything about him. It’s good to keep a little mystery! It keeps people watching.”

Xie Lian, having no real idea what she was talking about, smiled and suppressed his instinct to nod. Shi Qingxuan began painting a flower on his forehead with red pigment.

Finally, Shi Qingxuan gently removed Ruoye from Xie Lian’s head and shoulders and settled a wig cap over his hair, then the wig she’d pre-prepared. A few bobby pins, a few tucks, and then she stepped back, grinning.

“Ta-dah! How do you like it, taizi dianxia?”

“It’s beautiful,” Xie Lian said, honestly.

“We’ll end the video here, I think,” she said, “But I’ll get some posed photos of you to edit in here if that’s alright. Oh, tilt your head back and forth a little? Good. Smile at the camera!”

Shi Qingxuan fluttered her fingers at the camera in a wave; Xie Lian waved too, a few seconds later. As she leaned forward to click off the camera he straightened his legs out to try and loosen them up. His knees made terrible crunching sounds as they stretched. 

“You can take a little break if you want,” Shi Qingxuan said. “I’ll set up the area where we’ll take photos, but I’ll try to make it quick. You’re a darling for sitting through all this, you know?"

She was already bustling around again. She seemed to have an endless fountain of energy; Xie Lian found it admirable. He laid flat on his back on her bed, careful to not get makeup on her sheets or wrinkle his clothes. Ming Yi sat next to him, eating shrimp chips. He put a few directly into Xie Lian's mouth, feeding him like a little bird, and Xie Lian felt warm. Like Hua Cheng, it could be hard to know when Ming Yi liked you, but there were ways to tell.

He let Shi Qingxuan pose him until she was satisfied with the numbers of pictures she’d taken, trying very hard not to feel like the chuunibyou teenager he’d once been. He felt himself mostly immune to embarrassment at this point, but he supposed there were always exceptions.

Eventually, they cleaned up, although Xie Lian had promised Hua Cheng to show off the full look, so he didn’t get changed or clean his face. 

“I’ll buy dinner,” Shi Qingxuan said. “We deserve it. You too, Ming-xiong!”

She herded them both out of the apartment and down the street to a small noodles stall. They all ordered (in He Xuan’s case, three bowls) and Xie Lian was fumbling for his phone when he heard Shi Qingxuan cheerfully tell the clerk to put it all on the same ticket. She tapped her phone to pay for it all before Xie Lian could protest.

A few people asked Xie Lian for pictures as they ate. He posed obligingly, hoping he hadn't spilled any sauce on his clothes while eating. When he was done, he packed up his leftovers, let Shi Qingxuan nag him into calling a Didi instead of trying to walk home, and bid both her and Ming Yi farewell. Ruoye, who had spent most of the time they were eating in Xie Lian's backpack, made a brief appearance too like she wanted to say goodbye as well.

Xie Lian clicked his own apartment door closed quietly and tiptoed over to slide his leftovers into the refrigerator. Down the hall, a light shone out from underneath Hua Cheng's studio door.

There was an old picture of the two of them on the fridge; it was them in a hospital pediatric ward group room. Xie Lian, age fifteen, was beaming at the camera, his "FIGHT! JUVENILE SLE" shirt a bright red and his pants an immaculate white. Next to him, Hua Cheng, his right eye patched with patterned tape, bald and tiny, stared up at him with devotion. 

Ruoye bonked her head gently on the freezer door. Xie Lian pulled out one of her mice and slid her gently into her tank before giving her the treat; she was swallowing the mouse as he left the kitchen.

Hua Cheng turned to him as Xie Lian opened the door to his studio. His eye got wide, and his face looked like it did sometimes when he looked at Xie Lian, like he was seeing something holy. He slid his headphones off his ears.

Xie Lian did a little twirl for him, letting him see the way the fabric moved, and then tilted his face up for a kiss when Hua Cheng came over to him.

“Gege, you look beautiful,” he said.

“San Lang,” said Xie Lian. “It’s all you and Qingxuan. I’ll get her to send you the pictures later.”

Hua Cheng kissed the top of his head. He was dressed down, in a soft shirt and pants, not wearing his prosthetic eye. Xie Lian leaned his head into Hua Cheng’s chest.

“Gege seems tired,” Hua Cheng said. “Would you like to get ready for bed? Do you need dinner or your medicine? I can help you take all that off.”

“San Lang, you’re working,” Xie Lian said. “I already ate, so I think I’d like to sleep. But you don’t have to help.”

"Gege is more important than commissions," Hua Cheng said, and Xie Lian let him bundle him off to bed.

post about prompts! 

[somedayonbroadway]

8 for fanfic writing

8) What is a scene that you wrote that you are most proud of?

Okay, this is a difficult one to answer. I write lots of scenes that don’t even get published and I still love them to death.

If I had to chose one though, it’s one of the scenes in one of my chapter fics called Top Secret. If there’s anything I love writing, it’s suspense.

It’s the scene after Race catches Jack doing something very dangerous and unexpected. Jack pretends he’s never met Race before when Race has the chance to confront him.

Then this scene happens...

The elevator was going to take too long. Stairs! Take the damn stairs, you idiot!

He could already be too late.

He ran up four flights of stairs. He was barely winded by the end of it, only breathing hard because of the panic swirling around in his head.

Rushing up to his own door, Jack fumbled in his pocket for his keys. But when he unlocked the door, he tried to open it only for it to get stuck. Something was blocking it. So he knocked on the door with purpose and tried to shove the thing open. "Racer! Open the door!" he demanded, his fear and worry inadvertently swirling into frustration.

"No! Go away!" came the reply of a little boy who was so obviously shaken.

"Goddamn it, Anthony Michael Higgins Junior! Open the door n' let me explain!"

"Leave me alone!"

Jack growled. "I swear to God, Racer... I need ta talk to ya. J'st open the door!" After all of these years... after all of his fighting and all his struggling... he couldn't lose this boy.

After trying to throw the door open by throwing his body weight against it, Jack shook his head and moved over to the next door on his left. It was opened almost immediately. "Jack, baby, what's wrong?"

"Racer's havin' a breakdown..." Jack forced out, shaking his head in frustration. "I'm sorry, Miss Medda, c'n I use your window?"

Medda nodded immediately, stepping aside and gesturing for Jack to step in. The young man did. Rushing through, he caught sight of Katherine in the kitchen, cleaning off some dishes. "Hey, baby..." he muttered before sliding up next to her and giving her a quick peck on the lips. She smiled at him, not even saying a word. "I'm sorry 'bout rushin' out!" he called as he was walking away again, stopping only to press a kiss to Crutchie's forehead. The boy was dozing on the couch, his leg propped up on a few pillows. "Hey, Crutch..."

"Is Race okay?" he asked drowsily. Jack only smiled a little at that.

"He's gonna be fine, kiddo... I'm just gonna take him for a drive, see if it calms him down..." Jack soothed, beginning to walk over to the window at the back wall, sliding it open.

"Hey, Jackie? Did Race follow you ta work t'day? He said he w's gonna an' he wouldn't talk ta me afta' school..." Jack froze. This was so damn hard.

"No... I didn't see 'im..." And before anyone else could ask him anything else, he was slipping out the window.

Race curled in on himself on the couch. He had a backpack next to him, filled up with clothes and all the money he could scrounge up from his room, after all some psychopath had his wallet. He was debating with himself. He should get Crutchie. Maybe they could leave together. But Crutchie wouldn't believe him. Crutchie would try to stop him. But Jack wouldn't ever hurt Crutchie...

Then again, Race thought Jack would never hurt him.

Lost in thought, the boy hadn't heard footsteps coming towards him from the hallway. Not until he looked over and saw the man that he feared so much walking over to him. Race shot up, backing away as quick as Jack was advancing on him, but when Jack realized it, he slowed to a stop, carefully raising up his hands as a sign of peace. "Hey, hey, hey, kiddo... relax, okay? I know you're scared-"

"Stop!" Race demanded, grabbing the back pack off of the couch, and slinging it over his shoulder. "J'st... stop." He was staring at the man at the end of the hallway. This was the man that had always fought so hard to protect him. But Race had scene him today doing awful things. It was like he didn't even know him at all. "You're gonna try ta get in my head, just like her... so just don't, okay?"

Reluctantly, Jack shut his mouth, clenching his jaw and trying to just beg his baby brother to hear him out without even saying the words. But Race just lost it all over again, tears running down his face and shaky breaths entering his lungs. "William Snyder? Really? That's who you work for?" the boy asked, both disappointment and fear radiating off of him. "He's the most dangerous man in New York, Jack! He's killed people!"

"Racer, you have to calm down-" Jack tried, taking a step forward only for the boy to counter it.

"And Francis Sullivan... your dad's name... Jack... this ain't you!" Race cried backing up even more, reaching for the door.

"No, it ain't, baby brother, but ya gotta let me explain!" Jack begged, beginning to get desperate. He couldn't let Race walk away. Not that easy. There had to be something he could do to make it stop. "Anthony, you don't know what's gonna happen if you don't sit'cha ass down an' let me talk ta ya." He didn't. His brother would be in a world of hurt if he didn't just listen to what Jack had to say.

With a shake of his head, Race just began walking towards the door with purpose, trying not to show how petrified he was of the man he'd once run to for everything. "I don't wanna hear it, Jack, or Sully, or whateva' the hell your name is! I'm gonna go get Charlie n'... n' we'll go find ma..."

Jack hated what he knew he had to do next. He hated it with everything inside of him. "You ain't eva' goin' near that manipulative bitch again!" he stated, his eyes widening at the very thought. He reached into his pocket, a cloth gathering in his hand as he slowly advanced on the boy at the door.

"Ya know what, Jack, she ain't the best motha', but she neva' pretended that she was a good one." Those words hurt. Jack had to take a sharp breath to steady himself when those piercing blue eyes turned back to glare at him as Race was hesitating by the door after moving the chair that had been blocking it. This was his chance.

"Racer... I'm serious, pal... back away from the door or you're gonna regret it." He wished things were different. Truly, he did. But they weren't. This was his life and whether his brothers knew it or not, this was their life too. But Race wasn't listening. He put his hand on the doorknob, ready to leave. "Tony... I don't wanna have ta do this..."

"Just leave me alone, Jack..." Race breathed out, not exactly ready to leave behind the life that he'd been working so hard to be comfortable in. Maybe if he'd succeeded all that time ago, life would be better for them. Maybe if they'd just let him go, they wouldn't have this problem, and Crutchie could live his whole life thinking he had the perfect big brother who would always protect him and care about him. Maybe if Race was gone right now, things would be different.

Finally taking a breath and knowing leaving was his only option, not trusting his big brother in the slightest anymore, Race turned the handle and opened the door, only for it to be slammed back shut by a stronger hand right next to the boy's shoulder. "I can't let ya do this," Jack said, suddenly looking even more dangerous in Race's eyes. Race did the only thing he could think of.

He ran.

He dodged Jack's arms and made a beeline for the nearest fire escape, his big brother right behind him the whole way. "Stop it, Anthony! I don't wanna hurt you!"

"Then don't!" the boy cried, trying to pull open a window in the kitchen, only to feel that Jack was about to make his move. Jack's arms wrapped around him from behind, pinning the boy to his chest and before Race could think how to fight him off, the man was dragging his arms behind him, trying to pin them between their bodies. "Let me go!" Race sobbed out, struggling against his big brother. "Help! Please! Somebody help!"

"Shhh!" Jack hissed, finally able to hold the boy's arms behind him with one of his arms after he shoved the backpack to the ground, before bringing out the cloth and smothering it over the teenager's mouth and nose. Race started screaming harder as Jack dragged him back, away from the windows and into the middle of the apartment again. His brother was still putting up a hell of a fight and Jack couldn't help but try to hold back tears. "Don't fight it, kid... please don't fight it..." he murmured into his boy's ear, leaning his forehead up against the side of his baby brother's head, trying to soothe him even as he was trying to knock him out. "Just breathe it in, Racer... I promise it'll be okay..." He had Race's head back against his shoulder as the boy still tried to fight him off.

It was a long while before Race obeyed, only because he couldn't fight it any longer. The child moaned as his legs gave out on him. He blinked wildly, desperate to keep his eyes open, only for them to roll back into his head as he lost consciousness. Jack sighed in relief and let the weight of the boy pull them both to the ground. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Jack kept muttering, pulling the boy into his lap and removing the cloth from his face, pocketing it and letting himself breath for a moment as he relentlessly apologized to the boy who couldn't hear him.

The boy was now a dead weight on his lap in the middle of the living room. Jack breathed hard, cradling his brother to him and slowly smoothing the hair away from his face as he held tightly to the kid, finally giving into the fear that was only growing inside him. As he pressed a loving kiss to his brother's forehead, his eyes drifted to a picture sitting on the table right next to the couch.

They all looked so happy. Him, his boys who were so much younger, and the man that had his arms around them. His brown hair ended in loose curls that fell just above his eyes; his bright blue eyes stood out above all else. Jack shook his head and let the tears begin falling as he couldn't take his eyes off of the stupid photo. "I'm so sorry..." he muttered, burying his face in his baby brother hair.

For a moment, Jack just rocked his brother back and forth in his arms. He was still here. This could all be okay.

The vibrating of the man's cell phone made him jump a little. He sniffled and swallowed, clearing his throat before he answered the thing. "Kelly," he said as he slid the call open. "Yeah, I got him... I had ta use the chloroform..." he admitted, looking back down at the boy's peaceful face. The kid hadn't looked so sound since... ever. "Look, I don't need a lecture right now..." his voice shook at that as he lay Race down even lower and ran a hand through the kid's hair. "I's gonna bring him in... I'll be there soon." And with that he hung up the phone.

As gently as he could, Jack scooped Race up in his arms and lay him out on the couch, rushing to go change into sweats and a t-shirt before going back into the main room and once again cradling the boy to his chest. "It'll be okay, kiddo... I promise, it'll be okay..."

And boy, did he hope it would be.

It was the first time I had ever really written Jack and Race truly at odds, almost like they’re on different sides and no one knew what Jack was doing. I love that Jack is trying to calm Race down even as he’s drugging him and how Race is thinking that he can talk sense into Jack and make him “wake up” in a sense. I think this might’ve been the first time I’d had Race truly be afraid of Jack.

It was an interesting one to write.

Thank you for asking!

[imagines-dreams]

A Good Name - Tim Drake Imagine

Rating: PG

Warnings: fluff and future, and a flustered Robin

Summary: As a part of Young Justice, you have seen a lot of weird things. But being called (Y/n) Drake was by far the weirdest thing. (Aka I read a fic that I can’t remember the name of where Impulse called reader Mrs. Grayson and I took inspo from that idea to make one for Tim! Someone, aka @despitealldoubts-blog found the fic so here it is! Future Mrs. G by @cait-writes-stuff inspired this!)

Word Count: 2785

“Stand ready,” Nightwing commanded.

The four of you readied yourselves as the unknown source or ball of electricity formed and dropped a transportation device of some kind. It dropped right onto the floor, smoking and whirring, and when smoke billowed out of it, someone jumped out.

“Ta da!” A boy, bright red hair, white and red outfit with a yellow visor. You didn’t recognize him from any database you’ve seen. Not a notable hero or villain. Maybe a hacker or inventor, from the looks of the machine. Could be a thief, an aspiring supervillain, or just a big fan of superheroes.

The alarm went off. “Intruder Alert. Intruder Alert.”

“Computer, lock down cave,” Nightwing said.

Gar tilted his head. “Well, I think we found our unknown energy impulse.”

“Impulse,” the stranger mulled it over. “That’s so crash! Catchy, dramatic, one word.” He appeared by Nightwing’s side. “Like Nightwing.”

A speedster!

“And Robin.”

To you, “And Knockout.”

To Gar, “And Beast Boy.” He blinked.”‘Well, that’s two words.” He talked even faster, and soon, he was trying to explore the cave to find things. With a laugh and a mock salute, he was gone.

“You three, take him down.”

“On it, Nightwing!” you responded. You cracked your knuckles and ran alongside Robin and Beast Boy. You caught him in a hallway and with a smirk, you punched the ground. It splintered under your strength. He wouldn’t be able to run.

And you were wrong. Impulse, whatever his name was, ran up the wall and over your head, back to safer and sturdier ground. You groaned. Nightwing was not going to be happy.

Robin sped out from the kitchen, just to trip on some dispelled tile.

You giggled. It was worth it.

Robin stared at you. “Nightwing’s gonna kill you.”

You shrugged. “Nah, I’m good. It’s nice to see you fall on your ass, Robin. Shouldn’t you have wings or something?”

“Guys, come back,” Nightwing said. “I’ve got him.”

Your jaw dropped. “How…” You shook your head.

Robin laughed and patted your shoulder. “Come on.”

As Impulse explained himself, you grew more and more confused. Time travel was theoretica, and no one could agree on what would happen if it was achieved. Does time travel work so that what you do in the past is actually what happened in the past, like time travel was meant to happen and was accounted for in a neat timeline. Or, was there different timelines, and if so, does the previous timeline disappear or does it become an alternate universe all on its own.

You pressed your fingers against your temples. This was just a tad too much.

“So,” Robin concluded, “you’re a tourist from the future.”

“Why look so surprised. Half the meat at Comic Con are from my era.”

Robin rubbed his chin, and you knew that face. He was doubting the information he got. Trying to find the tells of a lie.

You crossed your arms. “If you’re from the future, you should be able to prove it.”

“Ah, well, my identity is kinda a tell, if you know what I mean. Superspeed, the red and gold.” He smiled up at all of you. “I’m Bart Allen, grandson of Barry Allen. You know, the Flash, Barry Allen.”

“Noted.” Garfield smirked. “Not believed, but noted.”

“What’s not to believe? I’ve got it all! The speed, the amazing good looks.” Impulse’s eyes lit up. “Frankly, I can’t wait to meet him. You know, back when he was still in his prime and all.”

Nightwing sighed. “Well, Bart, coming all the way from the future, you must have worked up a thirst.” He brought a cup of water to the intruder. Tracker, no doubt.

“Thanks!”He sipped the water. “Oh! Ah, you’re trying to get my DNA!” he spat into the water. “That’s such a Dick Grayson move.”

Robin’s eyes widened. “How did…” He looked at his mentor, and Nightwing, or well Dick, just stared at him, trying to figure it out himself.

“Aha! See, I know things that only someone from the future with an amazing Flash legacy to carry would know.” He looked at each of you, and without pause, said, “Dick Grayson, (Y/n) and Tim Drake, Garfield Logan.”

You bit your tongue. That was not your name. Your name was (Y/n) (Y/l/n), not (Y/n) Drake. And Tim? As in Robin’s name was Tim. Tim Drake? Your eyes caught his, Tim’s, and thank god for Garfield, because he spoke before the two of you could stutter about what just happened.

“Your name’s Tim? And your is, uh, Dick?” Garfield cringed.

You smiled as much as you can, and with heat still blooming in your cheeks, you laughed. “Gar, your name is Garfield, like that cat who hates Mondays.”

“Hey!” Garfield poked your chest. “I don’t like Mondays. So, I take that as a compliment.”

“You really shouldn’t,” Tim agreed.

“See, thank you.”

Garfield groaned and covered his face. “No wonder you two got married.”

Just like that, Tim and you looked anywhere else but each other.

“Oops. Spoilers.” He shrugged. “The secret identity is so retro. You can call me anything. Impulse, Bart, Bart Impulse Allen. All’s crash.”

“He can’t actually be telling the truth,” Robin, Tim, insisted. “He can’t be from the future.”

Garfield leaned in close. “Tell us something we don’t know! Yet.” The boy smiled, so proud of himself. “So, when do I become leader? Or part of the Justice League! Or, hear me out, my reality show? Good answers only.”

“Sorry, BB. Never was the best at history. Plus, I shouldn’t say any more spoilers as to alter the timeline. I mean, now, Tim and (Y/n) might not get married and have Jack  and Anna. Oh, god, we will all be feeling the mode.”

Jack and Anna. “Kids?” You gulped and looked to Tim. Sure enough, he was staring at you, too. There was something in his eyes, behind the mask, that screamed surprise and awe, and you weren’t sure how to take that. Tim was your best friend on the team. Maybe not your best friend ever, since he didn’t know your name and you didn’t know his until after Impulse, but still.

He was so amazing, really. Intelligent, strategic, hard-working. You still got surprised every time he actually wanted to spend time with you.

And then, this kid from the future is telling you that that guy, your best super friend and the smartest person on the team, falls in love with you? Has kids with you?

Then, Impulse escaped. Beast Boy went after him, and Tim was back to clearing his throat and forgetting all the information he had just received.

You sighed. “I’m gonna go train. And, uh, Nightwing?”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing!” You pursed your lips. “Just, you know, some slightly chipped, broken, maybe possibly shattered tile in hallway B6.”

“Knockout-”

“Ok, bye!” You ran off to the gym. Nightwing had too much on his mind. He wouldn’t go after you just yet.

So, you took deep breaths. When you entered your small, personal gym, it came to life. The light turned on, and your playlist filled the air. You sighed. “Computer, I need you to search for Tim Drake.”

“On it, Knockout.”

As you worked out, you kept asking your room questions and pieced together bits of information.

“I need a list of billionaires who operate business at least once a month in Gotham,” you said, as you stared at the wall of holograms during your cooldown. “Cross reference the list with the list of people associated with Tim Drake.”

“The list consists of seven people.”

“Read them out, please.” You gulped down water and listened.

“Anthony Edwards, Roberta Stark, Bruce Wayne, Lex Luthor-”

“Wait.” You stared at the profiles of these people. Seven people that were both associated with Gotham and Tim. Only one of them fit the bill of eccentric billionaire who takes in kids and fights crime with only a tight suit and fancy gadgets.

“Bruce Wayne,” you whispered. “Computer, pull up a picture of Batman next to Mr. Wayne.” Oh my god, how did no one figure it out sooner. They even had a similar physique. “Who are children that are associated with Mr. Wayne?”

“Dick Grayson-”

“Aka Nightwing.”

“-Barbara Gordon-”

You’d recognize that bright red hair anywhere. “Batgirl.”

“-Jason Todd-”

The old Robin.”

“-and Tim Drake.”

You gulped. Four kids, just like how there were four kids under Batman. Two of which were named by the kid from the future.

“Pull all of their pictures up, along with Nightwing, Batgirl, Robin three years ago and Robin now.” All of their physical profiles were similar. Even Jason’s and Robin’s. And Robin’s disappearance was near Jason Todd’s reported death. Robin’s reappearance matched the year Bruce and Tim’s dad, Jack Drake, were acquainted.

You stood back and laughed. “Wow.” You were sitting one of the biggest secrets in history. You knew who Batman was! The Batman! You knew who Robin was, who Nightwing was, who Batgirl was. You knew all of their secret identities.

“I knew you’d figure it out.”

“Robin!” Your computer hid all the files. “Find what out? Nothing to see here.”

“Mhm. Computer?”

“Yes, Robin?”

“Bring up the previous files.”

“Of course.”

You gasped. “Wait! No-” And all your files of the Batman and his associates appeared on the wall behind you. You shook your head. “Thanks, Computer.”

“You’re welcome, Knockout.”

You stared at your feet and joked, “I really should program Computer to detect sarcasm.” you turned to your data. “I still can’t believe no one knows. I mean, it’s obvious.” You pointed at Mr. Wayne. “This guy is one of the only billionaires who operates in Gotham weekly, and Batman is known to have multiple, custom made gadgets. Even if he made them himself, he’d need a lot of money to maintain that, so billionaire is in the description.

“Then, there’s the fact that Batman has many sidekicks or associates or what have you. So that means the the billionaire must be associated with kids, maybe even adopt them. And Mr. Wayne adopted two kids as his wards. The first one of the two being an orphaned trapeze artist who was adopted around the time that Robin showed up for the first time. And it helps that Robin was known to do amazing tricks and stunts when locking up criminals.”

With all the pictures and articles around you, you couldn’t help but wonder. “I mean, it’s obvious.”

Robin laughed. “To us, it is.”

You tilted your head. “Us?”

He nodded. “Computer, can search for a video with the keywords, ‘Grayson,’ and ‘quadruple somersault’?”

Two videos popped up, one of which was a small boy performing the very difficult trick.

“The second one. Now, Computer, bring up footage of Penguin and Robin about six years ago next to it, please.”

The two videos played at the same time, and you saw why Tim brought it up. The kid in the first video was a young trapeze artist, Dick Grayson. The second video had Robin perform the same difficult trick when he defeated Penguin.

You laughed. “That’s how you found out?”

“I saw Dick perform when I was a kid. I recognized it in this video, and when I thought I needed to, I approached Bruce.”

You blinked. “When you needed to?”

His shoulders dropped, and suddenly, you knew what Tim meant. Batman needed a Robin, and the only time he was without one was when Jason, the second Robin, died at the hands of the Joker. Tim sought out Mr. Wayne after that. “You don’t have to,” you said.

Tim smiled, but it was forced. “Thanks.”

You rubbed his shoulder. “You’e really smart for figuring that out at the age of what?” You looked at the Penguin’s video date. “Age of nine? Damn, Robin.”

“Yeah, I am smart,” he admitted. “I’m also smart enough to know you’re avoiding the topic we should really be talking about.”

Blood pooled into your cheeks. You took your hand off his shoulder and laughed. “What do you mean avoiding? I’m not avoiding anything.” You pointed out, “Plus, it could just mean I’m adopted or that we happen to have the same last name later on in the future or something.”

Tim raised his eyebrow. “Impulse said, ‘Have Jack and Anna’.”

“So?”

“So, use that smart brain of yours.”

You grimaced. “Are we really going to talk about it?”

“Yes, we are. We’re a team, (Y/n), and whatever happens, this” - he pointed at the two of you- “needs to stay in tact.” The superhero gulped. “I want it to stay in tact.”

You sighed. “Jack is your dad’s name, obviously, so the future he was talking about, well,” you laughed and pulled at your hair, “it means that we name a kid after your dad.”

“What do you think of Anna? Where’d that come from?”

You shrugged. “Could be anything.” You laughed. “All I thought was, ‘Wow, Anna Drake sounds like a good name.’” You shook your head. “Kinda ridiculous, huh?”

Tim was silent. Then, his cheeks turned red, and he turned away from you. You knew that look. He thought of something. He thought of something, and it was embarrassing enough that even the thought of of it made him blush.

“Nuh-uh.” It took two strides for you to be right in front of him. “No, you’re spitting it out. What is it?”

“Nothing!”

“Not according to those rosy red cheeks, Tim.” You pinched his cheek. “Come on, you can tell me.”

Tim shook his head and hit his own forehead. “It’s stupid.”

“Who cares?”

He sighed. “I thought, I was just gonna say, like, I don’t know.” He cleared his throat and glanced at you before looking at his boots. “I just, I think that (Y/n) Drake, it sounds like a good name, too.”

The smile you had so gleefully earned disappeared just like that. Not because you were embarrassed, although that was true. It wasn’t because you might marry Robin, aka Tim Drake, aka your best friend, or because you had been thinking of that name, your first name and his last name, for the past hour or two.

No, it was because he was right. (Y/n) Drake doesn’t sound bad.

“See!”

“Shut up.” You laughed and covered your face. “I don’t need this from you.”

“You asked for it!”

“I didn’t think you’d say that.” You exhaled a long and deep exhale and shook your head. You couldn’t let him do this to you. It didn’t matter that the two of you might be married later on. No, you had to get him back. You bit your lip and sauntered to him.

Tim’s eyes widened, and he froze. He stared at you, almost in awe of your newly found confidence, and even though your fingers shook, you couldn’t help but love the way he looked at you.

Your fingers brushed against his mask, and your eyes met his blue ones. When he didn’t do anything to stop you, you lifted the mask away from his face, and finally, his face was revealed to you.

You bit your lip and brushed his hair back. “You know, I don’t think Tim (Y/l/n) sounds too bad either.” You smiled up at him and played with one lock of hair that was out of place. “Goes well with this handsome face of yours.”

Tim gulped, and you could feel his heartbeat under his skin. It was frantic, but still, he didn’t move. Even when he sheeks got redder than yours, he didn’t move. He just smiled. “I, uh, I mean.” He cleared his throat. “Uh, you know, you being this close and playing with my, you know, hair and everything.” He gulped and looked down at his feet.

You giggled. “Run out of smoothness there, Robin?”

“Maybe,” he admitted.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling too much. You leaned your head on his chest. “It’s ok, that was all the smoothness I had.”

“All of it?”

“Yep.” You wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your chin on his chest. “No more smoothness from me. That was it. That was all of it.”

Tim smiled so softly and genuinely as he brushed your hair out of your face before resting them on your waist. “So no more smoothness from you?”

“Nope.”

“Not even on our first date?”

“Well, you got ask me that first?”

He laughed. “Ok then, Drake, what about a date?”

You hummed, as if in thought.

“Come on,” he pouted.

You laughed. “Yes, (Y/l/n), I’ll go on a date with you.”

[seriouslyhooked]

Thank You (For Your Love)

Future set CS Thanksgiving fic. Emma, Killian and their children are hosting the family and their friends for the holiday, but before guests arrive there’s time for a bit of a CS interlude. Rated M for ‘may be a second chapter with real smut…’ In the meantime please enjoy this little tease. Also please keep in mind I never watched season 7, so any issues you all see with this not fitting into that world, my bad. Still, cuteness is cuteness right? Hopefully! Available on AO3 Here and FF Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! It has been a season of irregular writing for me, but I couldn’t let one of my favorite holidays come without adding some fluff and CS family cuteness of my own to our fandom. This is a time of year meant for love and togetherness, so whether you have a happy family life or whether you find yourself wishing for more, I hope you will enjoy this fic and this expansion of a universe I miss so much. It feels like forever since Once has been on, but I still feel super connected to these characters and this world, and every time I hear this song, ‘Thank You’ by Mozella, I think of Emma and Killian. Hope that happy feeling translates here, and thank you all so much for reading!

Busy. That was the primary way to describe the holidays these days in the Swan/Jones household. A few years back that was often because they couldn’t catch a break from big bads and curse-induced disasters, but all of that had changed. Things had been peaceful for quite a while now, but that peace did not always guarantee quiet.

“How much time have we got, Swan?”

The question from her husband prompted Emma to check the clock on the kitchen wall. Guests were supposed to be arriving in an hour and her parents had been advised that she and Killian had Thanksgiving dinner totally handled. So basically, any minute now the Charmings would sail on through the door, completely disregarding that fact.

“Hard to say,” Emma said shrugging slightly, and though it was feint, she swore she heard a growl emanating from deep in Killian’s chest.

A flush of excitement moved through her instantly, but Emma fought against the instinct to meet Killian’s stare. Even from this distance she could feel the tension between them, the heat that flowed in the air around them, and the need that her pirate always had. Forget the fact that they’d managed to sneak an oh so satisfying rendezvous this morning before the kids woke up, with Killian there was no off switch. Oh he was a perfect gentleman most of the time, always reading her wants and following her wishes at every pass, but he was also… well, how to put this delicately? Insatiable. The man was insatiable even with years of history between them.

“Are you toying with me, love?” he asked, coming behind her and wrapping his arms around her, his hand skimming over her with practiced precision. His fingertips brushed across an exposed patch of skin where her shirt had ridden up, and her pulse fluttered. She hoped he’d missed it, but when he pressed a kiss to her neck, nipping ever so slightly she knew he hadn’t. She pushed back against him, and now she understood his words. She’d said it was hard to say, but that wasn’t the only thing that was hard. Not by a long shot.

“When have I ever been known to do that?” she quipped.

He mumbled something into her hair about her being a siren who always called him back again. She swallowed harshly, but leaned back into his affectionate touch before twisting in his arms to look at him.

“The kids?”

“Coloring,” he reported. Emma arched a brow. “Well Hope is. Little Liam is reporting as her first mate and serving honorably.”

“So he’s chewing on the crayons and drooling on the paper?”

Killian’s only response was that roguish smile of his and Emma giggled – yes giggled – at the idea of an image she’d seen many times. Their daughter, spirited and fiery as she was, had it in her brain that she needed to color every day. When pressed on why it was important, Hope said she needed to become an ‘’aw-tist’ (her word for artist). Emma had asked her why, and her response was well thought out if a little harsh:

“I has ta do this, Mommy.”

“Why, honey?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because Daddy tells me pwetty stories but there’s no pwetty pictures to go with them. My other books have pwetty pictures. Daddy’s stories need them too.”

This would have been a purely adorable thing for her charming and precocious daughter to say save for one small problem. The stories her ‘Daddy’ told her did have pictures, and they just so happened to be drawn by Emma’s father, and Hope’s grandfather.

So far they’d managed to keep Hope’s true objective under wraps from her Dad, who though strong and always doting, would probably be a little hurt about the comments on his sketches. Those homemade storybooks were just supposed to be a cute little project to make for Hope when Emma was pregnant with her, but somehow the stories had clicked. Their little princess was obsessed with tales of the savior and her pirate. She just wasn’t so enthused with the pictures that went with them.

“Henry’s got his eye on both of them, and no interest in being recruited for cooking duty. So that leaves you,” he pressed a kiss behind her ear, “me,” he managed to grasp her earlobe with his teeth in a way that made her sizzle, “and however much time we can manage.”

Emma glanced up at her husband, taking in the handsomeness of his features, and the sexy stubble that still graced his strong set jaw, before pulling him in to her by the collar of his dress shirt. She wanted the kiss that they shared so badly, and immediately they were catapulted back in the thick of the lust that blended so seamlessly with the true love in their hearts. It was so easy to get swept away, to forget that the kids were in the next room and that guests were on the way, but hell if she cared. All that mattered was how good Killian always made her feel, and brilliantly beautiful pleasure that was seeping through her at the promise of what was to come.

“Knock knock!”

Her mother’s call came from the front door, and because she was in the thick of a stolen moment with her pirate, Emma almost ignored it. Then it dawned on her.

“Shit! My parents,” she whispered and though she sought to scramble away, Killian held her firmly where she was.

“Not so fast, my love. Wouldn’t want to hurt the little one.”

His hand came over her stomach which had not yet started to show. In another week or so a bump would start to form, at least if the tendencies of her last two pregnancies held up, but for now, it was still her and Killian’s little secret. A secret they planned on keeping until Christmas day. It seemed only fitting, since all Hope could think to ask for Christmas was a baby sister. Hopefully this would turn out in their daughter’s favor, and Killian was convinced it would thanks to his strange but usually accurate pirate intuition. But no matter who their newest bundle of joy turned out to be, Henry, Hope, and Liam would be happy. There was more than enough love to go around in this family, and all Emma’s children were eager to share it.

“Look what I brought, Henry!”

Emma heard her brother, Neal, excitedly charge to the living room and then heard her oldest’s enthusiastic reply.

“Cool! What is it?”

“It’s a football, Henry. Don’t you know what a football is?”

“Yeah, Henwy, don’t you know?” Hope asked, prompting both Emma and Killian to chuckle, since the likelihood that Hope had any idea was minute at best.

“I was just teasing, bean. Of course I know what a football is. We gonna play later?”

“You bet ya. You want to play Hope?”

“Maybe. I’m an awtist now. Can awtist’s play?”

“Damn, I should –“ Killian started as Emma tried to say “We should handle that.”

“Until later, love?” Killian asked with a wry grin and she smiled, pressing one last kiss to his lips as he went to go swoop Hope up, greet her parents, and prevent a storybook revelation the likes of which this town had somehow never seen.  

After giving herself a moment to regroup and fanning her face a bit to try and blow away the tell tale color of a moment with Killian, Emma joined them all out in the living room. Embracing her parents and her little brother before turning her attention to her kids.

“Looking good, bean,” she said, echoing Henry’s endearment for his sister that had a special history.

When Emma first found out she was pregnant, they’d all taken to calling Hope the little bean and it was Henry originally who said it was fitting. Killian and Emma couldn’t figure why until he reminded them. She and Killian had shared their first real story on the bean stalk, so the product of that kind of true love would be a bean. Killian especially had loved that, so much in fact that the nickname stuck, and the eventual nickname of ‘sprout’ for Liam was just as permanent as well. Emma didn’t know what the new baby’s name would be, but she was eager to see what Killian could come up with.

“It’s my tuckey!” Emma bit back a smile at her daughter’s exuberant words, especially the one that was glaringly mispronounced.

“And what a beautiful turkey she is,” Emma’s mother cooed. It was totally typical. She loved being a grandma just as much as she loved being a Mom.

“Tuckey is a girl?” Hope asked, clearly confused that turkeys could be girls too. But soon enough she did that thing so many four-year-olds tended to do, she decided to roll with it and forget her line of detailed inquiry. “Mommy and Daddy was kissing in the kitchen again.”

“Hope!” Emma said, aghast at having been ratted out so promptly and matter of factly. But her shock grew more profound as she watched her mother take a chocolate from her purse and hand it to Hope. “Mom?”

“My granddaughter and I have a deal. She’s my eyes and ears. My little birdie, so to speak.”

“Oh really? Because it sounds like she’s a spy...” Emma teased.

“A spy?!” Killian proclaimed, play acting like it was his life’s work. He pretended to scour the room, even lifting a squealing little Liam into his arms to help in the exaggerated search. “Tell me we don’t have a spy! A dreaded spy, oh Liam can it really be so?”

“I’m not a spy! Not a spy!” Hope said, immediately shaking her head and looking completely uninterested in this twist on things. She shoved the chocolate back towards Mary Margaret, something that Emma had never ever seen before. “No more tellin, grandma. Sowwy. Love you.”

“And I love you, princess,” she said, pressing a kiss to Hope’s head as she shot a scolding look at Emma. Emma ignored it, but handed the chocolate back to Hope. Her daughter grinned immediately before ripping it open and shoving it all in her mouth as fast as she could, her eyes closing in that intoxicated way that every kid gets with quality candy.

“You mind helping me in the kitchen, Mom?” Emma asked with the benefit of distraction, and her mother agreed with no question, moving behind Emma and stepping into the preparation process seamlessly. After a few minutes though, Emma caved and asked what exactly was up. “So, care to explain why you need a ‘little birdie’ all of a sudden?”

“Oh there’s no reason,” her mother said in that way that said she wasn’t being totally truthful. Emma didn’t even need a super power to feel that either. Her Mom was just a terrible liar. “Fine. I was just thinking that one more baby would really round out this family.”

“Okay, so you and Dad should get right on that,” Emma quipped and her mother huffed.

“Emma.”

“Mom. You act like that’s crazy. What’s stopping you from having another kid?”

“Nothing’s stopping us,” her mother said, her honesty back in full force. “We are blessed with the children we have. I’m perfectly comfortable with two kids. I wanted one girl and one boy and we’ve been blessed with exactly that.”

“But we’re different?” Emma asked, intrigued to know why her mother felt that way specifically.

“Yes I think you are. You and Killian were both denied the childhoods you deserved in so many ways. And I know, even though you’ve never told me, I know in my heart that when you wished for us to find you, you also wished for more.” Her mother’s voice broke, a sign that tears were threatening to come, and Emma wasn’t surprised, not when her own tears were lurking at the edge of her vision. “You dreamed of a big family, Emma. You wanted brothers and sisters and parents who loved you more than anything in the world.”

“And I found that, Mom. Well, most of it at least.”

“I know you did, Emma. I know,” she said, hugging Emma to her quickly. “Your father and I do love you. So much it drives me to enlist Hope in trace amounts of espionage.”

Emma laughed at the reminder. “Yeah, not exactly your best moment.”

“Maybe you’re right. But my point still stands – you are an amazing mother, Emma, and you know how magical that dream of a big, huge family can be to a kid. Now you have the chance to make that come true for your babies, and for yourself.”

Emma smiled at the thought, and she was so pleased that her mother truly understood her despite the long 28 years she’d gone without her. Time had been a great healer, but the remnants of Emma’s past did remain, and those dreams, though they were dreamed so long ago, they still lingered, even now. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell her mother that the dream would come true. Another baby was coming, and this family would in fact grow, but just as she was about to she remembered – there was no one in the world less equipped to handle a secret than her mother.

“Just promise me you’ll think about it,” her mother begged, saving Emma from an awkward half response and Emma exhaled a breath of relief.

“Okay, I promise.”

The joy that brought her mother was undeniable, and the rest of their prep time was spent with elated conversation, and genuine familial love. Soon the rest of their family and friends appeared, filling the house with so many personalities, and laughter, and light. It was unbelievable, but somehow, miraculously, it was also their real life.

“Would you like the honors this year, my love?” Killian asked, when the time had come for the Thanksgiving speech. It was tradition now, that each year before their favorite meal they came together and said all that they were thankful for. Sometimes Killian started things, sometimes it was her parents, but this year Emma felt particularly inclined to take the lead. Killian could see as much just from the expression on her face, and he kissed her cheek before taking his spot at the opposite end of the table. When all eyes were on her and an expectant silence descended, Emma spoke her mind.

“Thank you all so much for being here. Every year we say pretty much the same thing. That we are grateful for our health, for our family, and for our friends. We thank whatever forces out there have gotten us to here, and we wish to be just as blessed in the years still to come. Thanksgiving is all about acknowledging what we are thankful for, and I would be remiss to let this moment pass me by without saying how special this is to me.”

“What’s we-miss mean, Henwy?” Hope asked in what tried to be a whisper but was a very loud inquiry. Some of their guests failed to stifle their laughter as her brother explained.

“It means Mommy really wants to say this and share it with all of us.”

“Oh! Okay, keep going Mommy.”

Emma bit back a chuckle but took her precious girl’s advice. “For so many years I did not have this, and I know that really none of us did. We were all dealing with our own burdens. No one’s story had gotten to that promised happy ending just yet. But we’re here now. We have so much, and it’s all because we have each other. I couldn’t ask for anything more than the love in this room. I couldn’t have dreamed of a life as worth giving thanks for as this one. And I want to thank you all for the part you play and for the light you bring on this day and every day.”

“To family,” Killian said, taking Emma’s silent queue that words were beginning to fail her.

“To family!” Everyone echoed.

With that, everyone proceeded to enjoy the rest of the night, eating and talking and sharing stories of all the highs they’d achieved together throughout the years. It was a perfect thanksgiving, or ‘tuckey-day’ as Hope had fondly put it, and though it ended sooner than the kids might have wished, by the end of the evening Emma was feeling the length of the day. She was tired, but she was also tremendously happy, and so comforted by the safety of her children and the presence of her true love at her side.

“Hard to imagine that I could ever be more thankful than I was the day I made you mine, Emma,” Killian whispered as they shut the door to their room behind them. They’d put Hope and Liam to sleep, so they were officially off the clock. Well, at least for a little while.

“And now?” Emma asked, knowing he was about to say something that would take her breath away with its thoughtfulness and sincerity.

“Now every day shows me how wrong I was. Life has only become more incredible, the world is always brighter, and every moment is one I would never trade for all the riches in the world. And I have you to thank for that, Swan. So thank you, Emma. For your love, for your light, and for everything you are.”

“How is it you always say the right things?” Emma asked, pulling him closer to her and running her hand along his face, her eyes tracking every feature that she’d memorized since the first moment they met all that time ago.

“Because, love, we’re one. Two hearts made whole and all of that.”

“Oh really?” Emma teased, running her other hand down the hard lines of his chest. “And does that two parts made whole just go for hearts or -?”

She squeaked out a sound of delight as Killian swept her into his arms and brought her over to the bed, silencing her with a kiss, and then proceeding to outline just how very together they were meant to be. With his hand, mouth, and body he drew her into a frenzy, making her see stars and succumb to that fever in her blood more than once, helping her reach a high that she only ever found with him. And when it was over, and the two of them were spent, catching their breath curled up in bed, Emma brought her hand over his chest, reveling in the feal of his heart synced in perfect time with hers.

“I love you, Killian. Now and forever.”

“And I love you, Emma. The same and somehow more.”

And with those final words they drifted off to sleep, and Emma’s final thought was that she was so immensely grateful and that she’d never take any of this magic that they’d found for granted, no matter how long their fairytale turned out to be.

……………….

La la la la la la

Mixed up and lost You showed me love at no cost And when nobody else cared You were there

Down on my luck You helped my life get unstuck And when the world went away You stayed

Thank you for the good times Thank you for your love Thank you for the joy you've given me Yeah, yeah, thank you

La la la la la la

You fight off my enemies You'd take a bullet for me And you know I'd do the same for you

'Cause that's how we roll Connected at the soul And I just wanted you to know how I feel

Thank you for the good times Thank you for your love Thank you for the joy you've given me Yeah, yeah, thank you

La la la la la la

Thank you for loving me every day Thank you for showing me the way Thank you for things that I'd never say

La la la la la

Thank you for the good times Thank you for your love Thank you for the joy you've given me Yeah, yeah, thank you, thank you

Thank you for loving me every day Thank you for showing me the way Thank you for things that I'd never say

La la la la la

Post-Note: So there we have it. Just a little family fluff for everyone in this holiday season. And, at the moment, I am thinking it might be fun to write a follow up for Christmas with the baby reveal and a bit more CS smut. Would love to hear what you all think, but more than anything just want to wish you all the best holiday and a lovely rest of your year!!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103,Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154, Part 155, Part 156, Part 157, Part 158,Part 159, Part 160, Part 161, Part 162, Part 163, Part 164,Part 165, Part 166, Part 167, Part 168, Part 169, Part 170,Part 171,Part 172, Part 173, Part 174, Part 175, Part 176,Part 177, Part 178, Part 179 , Part 180, Part 181, Part 182, Part 183, Part 184, Part 185, Part 186

[purewhitepages]

La Retour de Foi Chapter 5

A/N: I cannot even begin to say how thankful I am for all the support. I truly didn’t think anyone would read this fic, and I’m so grateful to you all for the support. Here, the game of near-misses come to an end. 

[EDIT] I hadn’t realized before we posted, but @thelallybrochlibrary‘s Librarian Julia reviewed this fic in their Monday recommendations. It’s very sweet and I’m crying. 

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

“Now, dinna embarrass me, please,” Kitty begged her father as they heard the doorbell ring.

“When have I done that, a nighean?” Ian asked sincerely.

Kitty shivered, remembering Kirk McDougal in school and how she couldn’t look him in the eye for weeks after he had picked her up for a date and met her father. She didn’t answer and instead opened the door for her friend to come in.

“Miss me?” Faith asked with a quick hug. Kitty wasn’t usually one for hugs, but she also didn’t usually meet someone she got on with so well in such a short time.

“No’ a chance.” They shared a laugh. “C’mon then, I’ll introduce ye to my siblings.”

“Oh, how many do you have?”

“Besides Ian? Five plus the two in-laws.”

Faith’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline and she shook her head. “Jeez. Seven of you?”

“Aye, don’t ye have any siblings?”

Faith shook her head, chewing on her lip. “My parents couldn’t have kids. I’m adopted and I don’t have any siblings.”

Kitty breezed past the potential minefield of a topic with ease. “Oh, well, you’re in for quite the shock, lass.” She led Faith from the foyer into the sitting room where most of the family was.

“Everyone!” Kitty announced and they all looked up. “This is my friend, Faith. Faith, this is everyone.”

The small room barely had an open seat with all of the Murrays inside and Faith’s eyes were wide. A chorus of greetings assaulted her ears. “Hello,” she answered back, suddenly a little shy.

Kitty took the initiative. “Over there is my older brother Jamie and Joan and o’course their wean, Henry. The auld coot next to them is Paul-”

“Och, shut yer gob.”

“-My older sister Maggie’s husband. I think Maggie’s in the kitchen helpin’ Ma, most like.”

“She is, who’s this then?” A short girl, nearly the spitting image of Mrs. Murray stood up to them and sized up Faith.

“This is my baby sister, Janet. Be nice, Janet, wee Faith here is my friend.”

“I’m always nice, how dare ye, Kitty-”

“Anyway, the twins are over yonder, Caity and Mike. And of course ye already ken Ian.”

Faith knocked shoulders with the boy as Kitty spoke and he greeted her warmly.

“So where do you fall in the lineup?” Faith asked.

“He’s the youngest.” They turned to see Ian the Elder sitting in a chair by the TV. “Glad ye could make it, Faith. We’ve been expecting ye.”

Faith smiled and nodded. “I wish I’d known there were going to be so many people, I’d hate to saddle you with one more mouth to feed.”

He waved away the notion. “Nonsense, yer welcome anytime in our house, at our table, to our food.”

His wife walked out of the kitchen just now with a young woman following behind her—Maggie, Faith presumed. Mrs. Murray took one look at Faith and turned up her nose. “Nicetoseeyou,” she said quickly as she turned away from the visitor. “Alright you lot,” she said to the army of Murrays now standing at attention to their mother. “I am in need of some good mushrooms for tonight’s meal. Go on now inta the forest and get some.”

There was a chorus of protestation by most of the older siblings before Jenny turned her eye on them. “I willna ask again. Ye know what ta do. And I hope those of ye who have wandered away from yer dear parents havena forgotten where ta look.”

“C’mon, Faith, I ken the perfect spot,” Kitty said taking Faith’s arm.

“She can stay here with me and yer father, Kitty. The forest isna place for those who dinna ken it.” Jenny crossed her arms over her chest and Kitty sighed.

“Dinna listen to anything my Da says, promise?” Kitty whispers.

“I promise, hurry back.” Faith took a seat by Ian as the siblings filed out the back door.

“Some tea while we wait?” Jenny asked. “How d’ye take it, Faith?” She stopped a moment. “Ye do take tea, I assume?”

Faith nodded. “I’ll just take a little milk if that’s alright.”

Jenny set back into the kitchen to get the tea and Faith folded her hands in her lap.

“Now, Faith, what brings ye to these parts of the Highlands?” Ian asked, stretching out his good leg.

Faith colored at those words and looked down. “Eh, my family’s from around here.”

“Ye don’t say. Who are they?”

She fidgeted in her seat. “The McTavishes, Emma and Graham.”

“I canna say as I recall them living around here, and I’ve lived here all my life. What was yer Ma’s maiden name?”

“MacKenzie, I believe.”

“Ah, yes, plenty of them around these parts.” Ian nodded thoughtfully and thanked his wife as she set the tea before them. “Say, Jenny, ye ken anything about a Graham McTavish or an Emma MacKenzie?”

“Och, ye mean besides me own mother being a MacKenzie, I dinna ken anyone named Emma, though.”

“Fancy that, Faith.” Ian stared right into her eyes, right into her very soul. “Who’da thought we might be related.”

She felt her skin flush and her heart beat wildly.

“Something the matter, lass?”

She shook her head. “I don’t- I- how did you know?”

Jenny groaned a very Scottish groan. “Och, how could we not have. For Christ-sake, yer the spitting image of yer Ma.” She stirred her tea angrily. “And just where was yer heid at, lass? Comin’ here without tellin’ a soul who ye were and creepin’ about with my daughter?”

Faith’s face had turned very red and she shook her head. “I wasn’t creeping, Mrs. Murray. I- I- please you have to understand.”

“By all means.” She threw the spoon on the table with a clang. “Explain yourself!”

Faith took a deep breath and gripped the arm-rests of the chair.

“I’ve always been a wanderer, never really belonging anywhere. I was a Brit growing up in Maine until I went to North Carolina for university and I traveled. Then I was in medical school in Boston, closer to my Mom than I had been in years but I still didn’t feel like I had a home. So I tried to give back to the world in MSF and I kept traveling, looking for my place.” She chewed on her lip. “I always knew I was adopted, my parents never hid it from me. But I never thought I’d meet my real parents and I honestly thought I didn’t care. And then, earlier this week while I was visiting some friends in London before going home for good, I get this call from my Mom. She got an email from someone claiming to be my real mother.” Faith closed her eyes tight and shook her head, collecting herself.

“She asked if it was ok that she respond and send some pictures of me: my childhood and school pictures, some pictures from my travels and things like that. I was in shock, I just said yes. For my whole life, I hadn’t thought of my real parents as anything more than a dream, nothing tangible. And here I am, on the same island as them, with the name of the village they live in. Before I’d even really considered what I was doing, I’d hopped on a train and was heading up. It wasn’t until I got to the village that I realized how completely insane this whole idea was and that I didn’t know where I was going or what I was doing. But then I met Kitty and Ian and...Bree and Roger. And I didn’t know who they were when I met them, you have to believe me. And when I did find out, I didn’t know how to tell them and I didn’t want to because finally-... Finally I’d felt like I’d found my place, like I’d found my family.” She was crying now, tears streaming from her amber eyes. “This whole thing was just a big misunderstanding and I shouldn’t have come here, I’m so sor-”

Before she could finish her apology, Jenny grabbed Faith by the shoulders and enveloped her in a hug, tears running down her own face. She stroked the girl’s hair as she cried and whispered to her. “Shh, it’s alright, it’s alright. Ye’re clearly yer da’s daughter as well as yer mam’s, coming up here without a second thought. I’d expect nothing less of a Fraser looking for her family. Shh, shh, it’s alright now.”

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Murray,” Faith gasped in between her tears.

“Now, enough of that. Ye’re forgiven, a nighean.” She pulled back from the hug to wipe the tears from Faith’s face. “And ye’re to call me Aunt Jenny, ye hear me?”

Faith nodded emphatically. “Yes, Aunt Jenny.”

“And ye’re to stay the night at ours.”

“But-” She began to protest but closed her mouth with the look given her. “Yes Aunt Jenny.”

“Welcome home, Faith.” She looked to see Ian, also with tears in his eyes. She gave him a hug too and he patted her back. “There’s nothing to worry about now. We’ll arrange everything with yer parents about a proper greeting.”

Faith pulled back, face white. “I- are you sure?”

He nodded. “Jamie and Claire’ll be off work tomorrow to prepare for the reunion on Saturday. We’ll see about talking to them tomorrow.”

“Reunion?”

“Aye, the first ever Fraser-Murray Family Reunion this Saturday, put up by yer parents up at Lallybroch.” He chuckled. “Ye picked a fair time to show up, eh?”

“They won’t be- will they-”

“Dinna be afraid, Faith. They won’t be cross wi’ ye. If anything, they’ll be mad with joy.”

The door to the outside opened and a storm of feet brought the Murray clan back in.

“Well Ma, if this isn’t enough mushrooms from now until the end of the world, I dinna ken what to tell ye.” They turned to see Kitty holding up a bag of mushrooms cleaned off with the garden hose. She stopped when she saw Faith, eyes red from crying. She whirled on her father. “Da, what the he-, och what are ye doin’ upsetting my friend? I told ye not to say anything funny to her and-”

Faith let out a laugh and placed a hand on Kitty’s shoulder. “Kitty, Kitty, please, can we talk? I’ve got something I want- no, something I need to tell you.”

xXx

“Bree? Roger? Will you come and sit down with us?” Claire’s voice was strong and Jamie’s hand felt heavy and safe in her’s as the two young people stopped on their way to the door.

Bree overlooked the scene: her parents seated side-by-side and her younger brother scowling and arms crossed sitting on the opposite couch. She hoped this wasn’t a “lecture William” session. Fergus’s smile was reassuring however, with Marsali sitting next to him on the couch adjacent to Claire and Jamie.

“Is it important, Mama? Roger and I were about to meet Kitty and Ian at the pub,” Bree asked, glancing at Roger from the corner of her eye.

“Actually it is rather important. Please sit down.” Claire gestured to the couch. Bree and Roger sat next to William, waiting on edge and expectantly.

Clarie took a breath. “Did you want to-?” She asked Jamie but he shook his head. “Alright, as you all know, I’m sure. Your father and I-...after we got married, we made some less than savory acquaintances and some bad choices to go along with those.”

“The Independence Movement is a noble choice to consider, just to be clear,” Jamie clarified. “But yer Mam and I, weel, we went about it the wrong way.”

“We were young, and didn’t fully understand what we were getting ourselves into. And we paid the price for it.” She cleared her throat. “As you know, we’d had another child, a girl. But your father was in prison and I-” She swallowed the tears down again. “I wasn’t dealing with it well, and was in a hospital for psychiatric care.”

Jamie gripped her shoulder again and nodded to her that he would take the lead. “Yer sister was placed with another family. We were told it would be temporary, but-” He smiled sadly. “It turned out not to be the case. Bree would have been too young to remember. Fergus, you might.”

Fergus looked pensive as he chewed on his thoughts. “Yes, I recall you trying to get her back when I first came here with you.” He shook his head. “I had forgotten, in all honesty. I never think of it.” Marsali rubbed his shoulder and he patted her leg.

Claire had composed herself and shook her head. “You are probably wondering why we’re airing out all of this dirty laundry right now.”

The group nodded curiously.

“The family that adopted your sister moved to America when she was a child. I’ve only just this week been able to contact the mother and I’ve received some news and some pictures about her. And if you would like to know about them, about her, we would like to share them with you.”

Claire opened the laptop on her lap, waiting a moment.

“Does this mean she’ll be visiting?” William asked, arms still crossed, but no longer scowling.

“It doesna mean anything yet, mo bhalach,” Jamie said with a smile. “We havena even heard from yer sister, Faith, yet. She’s traveling at the current moment.”

“Yes, from what we’ve heard, it would seem she’s quite the globetrotter.” Claire sounded very proud but then frowned. “We want to make sure that you know that no matter what happens with Faith, that she is not replacing any of you. There is plenty of love to go around.”

Bree nodded and glanced at Roger. William stood and went over to sit beside his mother. Fergus and Marsali gathered beside them to peer at the computer screen. Claire maneuvered it to be more visible and pointed to the screen.

“Look, there’s her as a teen, and as a baby. This is her in South Africa, and I think this one is the most recent-”

“She’s got a lot of tattoos,” William commented.

“You’re still not getting one.” Jamie’s voice was firm, but when he looked back to the pictures, his smile was one of a proud father.

“I like that sweater,” Marsali commented, pointing at the screen. “D’ye think ye could ask where she got it?”

Claire nodded. “Absolutely, we’ll have to.”

“A right braw lass, it looks. I’d love to meet her.” Marsali nodded as she spoke.

Roger squeezed Bree’s hand and she looked back up at him.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Bree said. “It’s just- This isn’t what I had been expecting to hear today.”

“Take your time. It’s alright.”

“What about you? How are you taking it?”

Roger shrugged. “I must admit that I hadna been expecting it either. But it is exciting news, is it no’? Regardless of where she comes from, she is yer blood, and she’s alive and safe.”

Bree looked over at her family glued to the computer.

“You go. Tell me if she looks nice.”

Roger chuckled and pecked her cheek before moving behind the couch where Claire sat to see the pictures. He smiled and looked back up to Bree.

“She’s verra cute.” Bree’s jaw dropped. “Well, when she was a wean, anyway.”

“That’s not funny.”

Roger shook his head with a smile. “She quite favors you, doesn’t she, Claire?”

Claire nodded. “And a doctor too. This one is from her time with Doctors Without Borders.”

Roger’s eyes went wide and his face turned white. “Bree, Bree-” he called out.

“What- what is it?” She jumped up.

“You have to come see this!”

xXx

The sun was setting behind the trees at the edge of the field behind the Murray house, giving the whole area an almost unearthly look. After a hearty dinner and much connecting as a family, a game of football was suggested. The old ball was dug out of a closet and inflated. Two garden chairs, a broken off broomstick stuck into the ground, and an old car tire stood for goal posts. Brown, gold, and red hair flew in the wind as the cousins ran through the last ethereal haze of sunshine. Faith couldn’t even remember what team she was on or what the score was or which goal she was even kicking into. But none of that mattered. Her dark brown hair bounced in thick curls behind her as she ran to the goal away from her shouting cousins--so caught up in that word (Cousins, plural, and not to mention who they were and how much she already loved them) that no one even noticed the commotion happening indoors.

“C’mon inside, the lot of ye, dessert is ready,” Ian the Elder called out from the low wall separating the field from the Murray’s backyard. Faith let the laugh in her breath play out as she fell next to Kitty behind Ian and Mike. She peeked at the girl beside her, still fearful of any animosity she was harboring. Faith’s look was greeted with a wide smile and an arm slung over her shoulders.

“Ma should be making her famous tarts,” Kitty told her. “Ye’ll love it.”

“I’ll have to get the recipe.” She wrapped her own arm around Kitty’s middle, hand placed on the opposite shoulder.

“Aye. And-” Kitty bit her lip. “Ye’ll have to come visit me, in Glasgow. My boyfriend, Geordie, he couldna come ‘cause of work. But he’d love to meet ye. I can show ye all my favorite shops and we can go see a show.”

Faith nodded. “I’d love that, Kitty.” She wasn’t sure when or how, but she would see to it that she went.

The clan piled their way into the house, suddenly stopping. Kitty frowned as everyone looked back at Faith.

“What is it now? I need to eat some tarts!” She stood on her toes to see over the heads of her siblings and her eyes went wide. She grabbed Faith’s arms. “Faith- it’s-”

Faith pushed forward, despite Kitty’s hand, making her way to the front of the pack. She let out the breath she was holding, and regarded the group in front of her. Three women, four men. She had never seen them altogether in person before, but she knew them.

“Hello,” she said, folding her hands over her stomach. “My name is Faith. I’m your daughter.”

Chapter 6

[its-captain-sir]

Brothers Reunited

Here's the other 100 follower giveaway fic! This was for @outcastcommander , who won the 500 word fic (this also ended up way longer than planned... I just suck at target word writing XD) and ask for something based off of this post here. I read it, my brain said angst, and ta da, this happened! Hope you like it! :)

*******

"In here," he said, nudging his brother in the direction of an abandoned air duct. As soon as they were concealed, Echo let out a sigh of relief.

He walked over to one of the rusty, old blades and yanked it to the side, revealing the pack he had stashed there before running off to go rescue Fives from the people after him. Which, of course, was the entire Republic. He honestly didn't know how Fives managed to keep getting himself into these situations.

"What's that?" Fives asked. Echo threw a ration bar at him in response.

"Eat that." Fives made a face. "When was the last time you had something to eat?" he asked.

"I ate something..." he trailed off, frowning. Echo rolled his eyes underneath the helmet he wore.

"My point exactly."

Fives still eyed the ration bar distrustfully. "You're not trying to poison me, are you?"

"If I wanted you dead, you think I would have rescued you?" he said as he rummaged through the pack.

"I don't know, maybe!" Fives shouted, running a hand over his face. "I don't know who you are or what you want or anything-"

Echo reached up and stole the ration bar from his hands, breaking off a piece. He lifted up his helmet just enough to expose his mouth and bit into it.

He pulled the helmet back down. "See? Not poisoned." He held the ration bar back out to Fives. He took it. Echo turned back to the pack, pulling out paint in various skin tones.

"What's that for?" Fives asked through a full mouth.

"We can't be walking around with you still looking like a clone. It'll draw too much attention." He gestured down to the paint. "This will fix that until we come up with another plan."

Fives stared at him, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Why are you helping me?" he asked softly.

Because you're my brother, he wanted to say. Because you're Fives and you're crazy and drive me insane and I'd do anything for you.

"It's my job to watch out for you," he said instead.

Fives raised an eyebrow at him. "Job?"

Echo didn't say anything else, just sat down on the floor by the paints and motioned for Fives to sit down in front of him.

He got to work quickly, dipping his fingertips into the paints and mixing them together in different ways, highlighting different parts and masking others until Fives' face appeared to take on a different shape. He was good at this sort of thing, often did it to cover up his scars when he actually needed to have his helmet off.

Fives let out a huff as he smudged large amounts of paint over the tattoo on his temple, and Echo's heart ached.

Gods, it hurt to have his brother so close to him again and not do anything about it. He wanted nothing more than to be able to cast off his helmet and hold on to Fives and never let go. His eyes burned as that old, familiar sense of longing ripped through his chest and stole his breath away, and he tried to remind himself it was for the best. He wasn't the "Echo" Fives knew. Not anymore. Too much had happened. No, it was better this way, better that Fives would never know what he had become. And if he did figure it out... Echo didn't want to think about that. There was no way Fives would accept him the way he was now. Echo didn't think he could stand seeing the look of revulsion on his face once Fives realized he was part clanker.

Maybe he was being selfish in not telling Fives the truth. Maybe he was only lying to protect his own feelings. Fives had no idea who he was, but they were together. It was something at least, which is far better than nothing and he didn't want to ruin it.

He just wanted to be with his brother. Echo missed him.

Fives cleared his throat, and Echo realized he had been staring, frozen with his paint-covered fingertips inches from Fives' face. "So..." he said, gaze flickering between his fingers and the visor of Echo's helmet. "Am I good now?"

Echo let his hand fall. "Yeah," he croaked out, thankful for the vocabulator in the helmet that revealed none of the emotion he couldn't quite keep out of his voice. "It'll do."

Fives nodded, standing. "What next?"

"Next, we head to my apartment."

Fives paused. "Wait, you mean-"

Echo tilted his head. "Did you think I lived here?" Fives' mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

"While I suppose I see how you could think that, I do have higher standards than living in an old air duct," Echo sighed, crossing his arms.

"Right, uh, sorry," Fives stammered, hand ghosting over the back of his shone head as he looked down at the ground. Echo watched him, heart aching again, until he forced himself to look away.

"Come on," he said softly, turning back to the entrance.

They made their way through the streets of the undercity. It wasn't as bad a place as most people made it out to be. Some had a reason to be here, others just were. People went about their life and you just carved out a place for yourself in between it all like everyone else. Simple as that.

They turned the corner to the street of his apartment building, only to find a Quarren and three Niktos standing by the door.

"Damnit," Echo muttered. "I didn't want to deal with this today."

"What?" Fives asked, looking between Echo and the men at the door. "Wait, is something-"

Echo silenced him with a hush. "Just act like you belong here and let me do the talking. And hope that I won't end up needing to move again."

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but Fives did as he said. The change was almost scary to watch. In a few seconds he'd gone from a confused fugitive to a bored smuggler following a friend. Echo was impressed. Well, he supposed they didn't make clones ARC troopers for nothing.

Echo took a deep breath, already formulating an escape plan should they need it, and approached the building.

"Excuse me, some people actually need to use this door," he said, shoving his way past them. If they could just get inside...

The largest of the three Niktos stepped into his path, blocking the door. Echo stared at him defiantly through the visor of his helmet. "Do you live here? 'Cause I've never seen you around before and if you don't live here, then I kindly suggest you get out of my way.

The Nikto didn't reply. The other two grabbed his arms and shoved him back, placing him right in front of their leader, the Quarren.

"Who's your friend?" he asked, the Niktos resuming their place behind them. Echo supposed it would have made a frightening picture to anyone who hadn't met them before. But he was quite familiar with this little gang. They were hardly a threat worth his time.

"Oh, you know, just someone I met," Echo said. He leaned ever so slightly on the nearby wall, unfazed by their failed intimidation. "I'm good at making new friends. Unlike you I see. This is, what, the third time you've brought the same three guys with you? You having trouble making friends there, pal? I mean, I'd definitely be willing to give you some pointers if yo-"

"Shut. Up." the Quarren hissed.

"Ah, so it's gonna be one of those days," Echo sighed. They had decided to pick a fight with him today? Fine. He'd just have to kick their asses again. "Don't use your blaster," he told Fives. They weren't far enough down where Coruscant police wouldn't be alerted if there was a skirmish. That meant no blasters on either party's part.

He pulled his vibroknife out from his right vanbrace and handed it to Fives. "Hang onto that," he said, "I want it back afterwards." The others had unsheathed their own vibroknifes, and he'd rather Fives have more protection. He knew his brother could hold his own, of course, but he wasn't at his best right now. Someone had drugged him and it hadn't yet left his system. Echo could do without the vibroblade.

He gave a cocky salute to Fives, then quickly turned around and elbowed one of the gang members in the stomach. Another one came at him from the right, slashing his vibroknife through the air in a large swing. Echo sidestepped the attack easily.

"Missed me," Echo taunted, dodging the blade once again. Another swipe. "Missed me again." He took a step back, throwing the gang member off balance enough for Echo to grab him. "You just really are not on top of your game today, huh?" he said, twisting the Nikto's arm till he dropped the knife. Then Echo kneed him in the chest and let his body drop to the ground.

He picked up the discarded vibroknife and threw it at the first Nikto he'd taken down, who had started to get up again. The knife went right through the collar of his shirt and embedded itself in the wall behind him, pinning him there.

"What happened to 'once you're down, you stay down?'" Echo muttered. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He spun and raised his right arm just in time to catch the Quarren's blade. It hit the metal cybernetics with a clang.

The Quarren looked at him with wide eyes and Echo smirked beneath his helmet. "Cybernetic arm," he said. "Which means this is going to really hurt." He twisted and socked the Quarren in the face with his metal hand, dropping him to the ground.

That was enough time, however, for the last Nikto to come up from behind him. He heard Fives shout the beginning of a warning before pain lanced through his jaw. The brute had put all of his strength into the uppercut, enough to knock Echo's helmet clean off.

Blinking the stars from his eyes, he spit out blood on the ground in front of him. "Ow," he hissed. "Rude." He glared up at the last Nikto. The brute actually had the decency to look scared before Echo delivered a roundhouse kick that would have made even Commander Cody proud.

The Quarren staggered to his feet and took off running, the other gang members stumbling after him. He turned around to pick up his helmet, but Fives was already there. His eyes were fixed on the visor, fingers trailing across the double bars painted on it. Echo had painted those bars, and the handprint, on every set of armor he'd had. This one was no exception, the only difference being he no longer wore the handprint on the outside, rather painted it on the inside. He could see the exact moment the realization hit Fives.

Slowly, his brother looked away, gaze traveling up and up until it reached his scarred face and finally met Echo's own.

The helmet fell to the ground.

"...Echo?"

He smiled sadly. "Hey, Fives."

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

Barcelona is for Lovers - Chapter 1

Welcome to my new multi-chapter fic!  Thank you for joining us.  @stupidsatsuma is my beta, and a major help in getting this thing off my computer and into the world!

General warnings for: hanky panky.  Take the ‘lovers’ part of the title seriously.

Masterlist

AO3

Summary

Three months after Rose and the Doctor are reunited and promptly ditched on a beach in Norway, they are still trying to find their feet.  Rose plans a trip to Barcelona for them to relax, reconnect, and hopefully consummate their relationship.

Rose sank into the window seat, arranging her rolling bag at her feet.  Her present view was just of the train at the next platform, but once they were out of the station she anticipated gorgeous views of the English countryside.

“Good spot.”

Rose looked up at the approving tone, smiling slightly as the Doctor settled next to her.  “Thanks.”  She’d chosen the spot specifically with him in mind; they were at the head of the traincar, with nothing in front of them but plenty of space for him to stretch his legs.  His own bag went next to hers, and he reached for her hand.  She gave it willingly, lacing their fingers together and resting the joined palms on her thigh.

She could already see the difference this impromptu trip was making in him.  He’d been here, in this universe, for almost three months now. The first couple of weeks had been good, catching up and getting him settled.  Shopping and paperwork had been interspersed with tours of London and playing with Tony, telling stories and relearning each other.  But once the dust had settled he’d grown restless, and she had to give credit where it was due – he’d tried very hard to hide it.  She knew him, though, could still recognize that longing look in his eye that he’d have when they’d stay on the TARDIS for too long a stretch.

She’d booked this trip the next day.  They’d had to wait until his passport came in, but that was yesterday and today they were on their way.

Now he was calm, looking around in interest at their fellow passengers and out the windows.  “How long’s this leg?”

“Two and a half hours,” she checked their travel documents.  “Then a forty-five minute layover, then another five on the TGV.”

“The ‘TGV’,” he scoffed, “what an original name. ‘High speed train’.  Brilliant.”  His free hand carded through his hair, ruffling the strands he’d spent twenty minutes on that morning to the point of nearly making them late.

“You’re right, ‘Underground’ is much cleverer,” she teased, grinning up at him.  “It’s almost as if someone thought it might be a good idea for the name to be descriptive.”

The Doctor’s jaw dropped, staring down at her for a moment before pursing his lips and harrumphing.  “Go ahead and mock, Rose Tyler.”

She waited, but he didn’t say anything else, just determinedly staring out the window over her head.  “No need to pout, love, we’re on holiday! You should be happy.”

His expression softened, and he beamed at her.  “I am happy, my love,” he emphasized the endearment, and Rose suspected their faces would crack any moment from so much smiling, “cause I’m with you.  Plus, we’re finally alone.”

That was true; after four years of bedtime stories from his big sister about her heroic alien ‘friend’, Tony had been in awe of meeting the Doctor in the flesh, even more so than the time they took him to meet Elmo.  Every second that her brother was awake he clamored for the Doctor and Rose’s attention, barely letting them have a moment to themselves.  The odd times that they did find themselves alone for the day, inevitably one of her parents would interrupt, hijacking them until Tony woke from his nap.

But now they had ten uninterrupted days alone.  They were on their way to Barcelona (the city not the planet), where Rose had rented a house for the week.  No parents, no brother, hopefully no alien encounters – other than what she had planned for the one next to her.  Sightseeing, sunbathing… and, she crossed her fingers, hopefully some shagging.  Or at least brilliant snogging.

The train started moving then, and she squeezed his hand in excitement.  “Here we go!”  Rose let go momentarily to shove up the armrest between them, and they cuddled together by the window as the train left the station and made its way through the city.

She was so distracted by his long, lean body pressed against hers, she almost missed a point of interest.  Using the GPS on her mobile to verify they were in the right spot, she nudged him before gesturing out the window.  “See this park here?”

“Yeah?”

“You can’t quite see it but if you follow these paths, they’ll take you around towards the construction.”

“Oh?  And what are they constructing?” he murmured in her ear, sending a rush of warmth through her veins.

“The Olympic park.”

“Oh, are they doing that here?” he asked in delight.  “I didn’t ask.”

She grinned at him in the reflection of the window.  “Yep! Next summer now.  Coming soon.”

“Think they’ll let me carry the torch?”

“They didn’t let you the first time,” she shot back, “and hopefully, the Isolus won’t get lost in this universe.”

He hummed softly.  “Well, actually, all things considered, it wouldn’t be that big a deal if it happened again.  I mean, no one died, and honestly, I think it helped that family more than it hurt.  What was their name?”

“Webber,” Rose said promptly.  “Chloe and Trish.”

He went still behind her for a moment before pressing his lips to the side of her head, hard.  “I love that you still remember that,” he whispered. “I love you.”

Her heart skipped a beat as it always did, and she took a moment to savor those words, how easily he said them, how often he said them.  “I love you too.”

They’d had breakfast before leaving the house, but shortly before they entered the Chunnel the Doctor stood, stretching.  “I could use a cuppa – you?”

Rose didn’t hesitate to sprawl out across both seats.  “Sure, ta.”  She watched him walk away, whistling, before calling him back.  “Wait!”

“What’s wrong?”  He hurried over to her.

She dug in her purse.  “One – the galley’s the other way, and two – d’you have cash?”  She glanced up to see him grinning, wallet in hand.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he said smugly, as if two days ago he hadn’t almost gotten them arrested because he’d forgotten to pay for lunch.

Rose relaxed, sinking back in her seat, unable to wipe the happiness from her face.  “Great.  Oooh, I could go a chocolate croissant though, if they’ve got any.”

He blinked down at her, looking almost offended.  “We’ll be in Paris in an hour, and you want a croissant from a train?”

“Yep!”

He shook his head, walking away muttering under his breath.

“I heard that!”

In Paris they changed trains, stopping to grab pastries and lunch to go.  Settled in their seats on the TGV, Rose immediately pulled out one of the croissants and tore it in two, offering half to the Doctor.  She had the window again, and they snuggled together to watch the French countryside fly by.

“So this is probably a ridiculous question, but have you ever been to Paris?” Rose asked, leaning back against his chest.

“Of course,” he answered as expected.  “A number of times. Once, I came with my friend Romana.  Was it before? No-  not long after she regenerated.  We were here as tourists-”

“Wait, regenerated?  She was a Time Lord?” Rose bolted upright, turning to stare at him.

The Doctor ruffled his hair, an uncertain expression on his face.  “Yes- well, Time Lady.  She traveled with me for a while in her first and second incarnations.”

“Oh,” she exhaled, mind whirling.  For some reason, she’d never pictured him travelling with anyone but a human.  “Were you… involved?”

“What, romantically?”  His concern seemed to be fading, only to be replaced with confusion.  “Ugh, no.  She is- well, was, I suppose- one of my best friends, and a good ally whenever I had to return home, but- decidedly not.”

“Okay.”  Rose shook her head, resettling herself in his arms.  “Sorry, minor jealous freakout over.  You were tourists?”

He kissed the side of her head, arms tightening around her.  “Right. Anyway, we were wandering around, taking in the sights, when we realized someone was messing with time.  Long story short, an alien of the species Jagaroth had tried to take off in his spaceship some odd 400 million years ago, the ship blew up, and fragments of his consciousness were scattered forward through the centuries.  The one in 1979 Paris was posing as a Count, trying to raise funds to build a machine that would send him back to just before the explosion to stop it.”

“Did he succeed?”

The Doctor scoffed.  “The ship exploding mixed with the amniotic fluid on the ground, creating amino acids and effectively life on Earth.”

“So it was a paradox,” Rose guessed, tilting her head back to see his chin.  “He could never succeed ‘cause if he did he wouldn’t have been splintered in the first place, and there would’ve been no humanity to help him get back to the explosion.”

“Exactly,” the Doctor confirmed after a moment.  “I must say, Rose, you follow this a lot better than you used to.”

“Experience,” she replied simply.  “I spent two years hopping from dimension to dimension.  I had to understand – it was do or die.”

He traced his finger over her face, starting with her cheek before skating over her lips, nose, and brow, feather light.  The touch still made her shiver, leaning heavier into him.  He never spoke, and eventually she turned to look out the window again, the countryside flying by.

The slight rocking of the train must have lulled her to sleep, because she jerked awake at the conductor announcing, “Gare de Narbonne!  Narbonne!”

Struggling to untangle herself from the Doctor’s grip, she sat up, blinking.  The sky was beginning to darken, and she realized it was the last stop before their own.  “Doctor?”  She gently shook him awake as the train began to move again.  “Wake up, please.”

His eyes cracked open, a loud yawn echoing in the otherwise quiet car.  “Where’re we?”

“Narbonne, we’re next.”

“How long?”

“Bout thirty minutes, I think.”

“Oh, okay.”  And his eyes drifted shut again.  Rose waited a moment, before viciously pinching his side.  “Oi!”

“Don’t fall back asleep,” she hissed, “we’ll be there before we know it.  Come on, let’s clean this stuff up.”

He grumbled, still yawning, but did as she asked.  By the time all the trash had been discarded and they’d each made a trip to the loo, they were pulling into the station.

“Gare de Perpignan!  Perpignan!”

The train stopped and they stood, the Doctor snatching Rose’s bag before she could.  “Lead the way,” he nudged, and she did, stepping off the train and quickly locating the car rental booth.

“Erm, bonjour- ah, bonsoir, je m’appelle Rose Tyler, j’ai une reservation?”

Getting the car was relatively painless, despite being able to sense the Doctor’s desire to jump in and take over.  Thankfully he was wise enough to let her handle it, merely following her to the rental car where she froze, keys in hand.

It was exactly what she’d ordered: a midnight blue, sparking convertible in a shade as close to the TARDIS as she could get.  But looking at the vehicle reminded her of a key difference between England and the Continent – the steering wheel was on the other side.

“D’you want me to drive?” the Doctor offered, already popping the trunk and loading the bags.

“No, I can do it, I just need you to navigate for me,” Rose said, biting her lip.  How hard could it be?

“Alrighty, then.”  And he opened the right-side door with a flourish, waiting expectantly.

Smiling, she shook her head, walking around to the left and opening the door for herself.  “Thanks, love.”

“Right.”  He yawned again, ruffling his hair sheepishly as he slid in.  “This is nice.”

“I wanted to feel the wind in my hair,” Rose explained, carefully adjusting her mirrors and seat before starting the car.  “Okay, we’ve got about thirty kilometers to go tonight so we cross the border into Spain.  Then we can drive along the coast in the daylight.”

“Molto bene.”

She eased the car out of the space, watching carefully as she got out onto the street.  Fortunately traffic was light, just enough cars on the road to remind her which side to be on.  She deliberately drove out of her way for a few minutes as practice, before making her way over to the divided highway, holding her breath until she’d smoothly merged with traffic.  So long as she kept going straight she wasn’t too worried, and was soon comfortable enough to steal glances every so often at the farmland on the side of the highway.

“So, you haven’t said what all you’ve got planned for this week,” the Doctor mentioned, startling her; he’d been quiet for so long, she’d thought he’d fallen asleep again.

“Oh, the usual,” she said flippantly, “sun, sand, se- spending time alone with you.”  Rose bit her lip hoping he couldn’t see her blush, and more importantly, hadn’t caught her slip of the tongue.  She wanted to discuss their physical relationship with him, but hurtling down a motorway at 100 kph didn’t seem like the best time.

“That it?”  His voice was warm, and to her surprise, he settled his palm on her thigh, thumb stroking at the sensitive skin.

“Sightseeing!  We’re not too far from Barcelona, so I figured we could drive in a couple days, do the tourist thing.”  She swallowed, warmth pooling in her stomach.  His gaze was heavy on her, but not uncomfortable – more of a cozy duvet during the winter type of weight, rather than oppressive.  Could he, possibly, already be on the same page?

“Yeah, all right,” he was nodded approvingly when she snuck a peek at him, “also, love the alliteration.”

“Just for you, babe.”  Her laugh was off, too high-pitched and breathless, but it was genuine, and he giggled along.

They rode in silence after that, Rose focusing as the traffic picked up around her, the Doctor a steady but still presence next to her but for the occasional direction.  They made it to the hotel soon enough, and once again he rushed to carry her bag for her, dutifully trailing behind as she checked them in.

Despite the fact they’d been sleeping in the same bed since his arrival, anticipation sparked between them as they reached the room.  For the first time, there would be no risk of interruption – no Tony to come bounding in, no Jackie to pester them down to breakfast.

Rose threw open the door, nearly dancing inside – until she stopped dead, the Doctor crashing into her back in his own haste.

“Oi!  Why’d you stop- oh.”  His chest was warm against her back as they stood there, staring at the twin beds.  A beautiful antique nightstand stood between the beds, and Rose had a nasty feeling that it would be quite heavy, if not impossible, to move.

“They were supposed to give us a king,” she moaned, as the two bags dropped to the ground behind her.  “Shit.  And the girl said we were the last to check in, too.”

“We can make do,” the Doctor said bravely.  “It’s one night.”

“Yeah.”  Rose supposed it was for the best, as she lifted her weekender onto the bed closer to the window.  The anticipation and impatience was making her ache, and if they slept curled up together she couldn’t promise to control herself, and she didn’t want that.  She wanted to have a conversation about it first, a likely excruciating and humiliating conversation, and make sure they were on the same page.

Plus, she didn’t want anyone to overhear them – she suspected they would be loud.

She couldn’t wait.

[missjanjie]

Branjie Fic | Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer (7/?)

Title: Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer Summary: Brooke Lynn is a graduate student anxiously embracing her new position as her favorite dance professors’ new TA. Vanessa is a sophomore dance major who just might make her way into being more than the teacher(assistant)’s pet. (lesbian/university AU) Word Count: ~2.9k (this chapter)/~18.9k (total) Relationship: Branjie (Vanessa ‘Vanjie’ Mateo/Brooke Lynn Hytes) Rating: E

Read on AO3 | Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch.5 | Ch. 6

After going back and forth about it over the weekend, Brooke Lynn decided she would attempt to go to class on Monday. She went through all the steps; shower, dress, eat quickly, she had made it all the way to the visual arts building before she panicked. The second she caught sight of Vanessa, all resolve went out the window and she ducked into the first room available.

The room she ended up in turned out to be the auditorium. There were various people milling about, but most occupants were on the stage, rehearsing for the winter musical – RENT. No one particularly minded, or even noticed, Brooke’s presence, allowing her to quietly find a spot to sit and watch. She had never been much of a musical theatre person, but she appreciated the soundtrack and found herself aimlessly humming along to the song they were performing.

“Brooke Lynn? Is that you?” a girl had spotted her from the front of the auditorium and had gotten all the way to the seat next to her without being noticed. “What brings you over here?”

Brooke looked over and winced. The girl’s name was Donna, a senior who she’d had a fling with the year prior, who had pushed for them to start dating and was promptly ghosted. Frankly, Brooke was surprised Donna seemed happy to see her. “Oh, I just…didn’t feel like making it to class today. I’m Katya’s TA now, she’ll understand,” she was talking at her more than to her, the last thing she needed was Donna trying to weasel her way back into the picture too.

“So, the rumors are true? You hooked up with one of her students?” Donna sat cross-legged and sideways on the chair and looked at her curiously. “Is that why you’re here? Did things go bad?”

Abruptly, Brooke got up and grabbed her bag. “I don’t need this right now,” she muttered and briskly walked out and went right back to her apartment. She should have just stayed in bed, she thought.

But on her way back, she was stopped by yet another girl she recognized. This time it was Vanessa’s roommate, whose name was embarrassingly lost on her in that moment. She stopped her on the sidewalk and pulled her to the side. “Listen, it’s really none of my business, but you need to consider forgiving Vanessa. Not for her sake, for mine. She doesn’t shut up about you, even in her sleep,” and the roommate even sounded exhausted.

“You’re right, it is none of your business. Get some earplugs,” Brooke huffed and walked past her, praying she could finally get back to her apartment in peace, but even her own subconscious kept playing showtunes on repeat.

‘Take your brown eyes, your pretty smile, your silhouette…no day but today…’

----------

“She wasn’t in class today. What if she skipped town?” Vanessa was pacing back and forth in her dorm while a beleaguered A’keria sat on her bed, subjected to another round of her friend going on about Brooke Lynn.

“You think she skipped town cause she’s mad at you?” A’keria stared at her incredulously. “Are you even listening to yourself right now? She probably just stayed at home or whatever,” she pointed out, looking up at the sound of a knock at the door. “Please, lord, let that be Brooke Lynn,” she muttered putting her hands together as if in prayer.It was not, it was Blair. “Hey guys,” she turned to Vanessa, “Okay, latest Brooke Lynn update is that my friend, Donna, saw her in the auditorium earlier and she said that she seemed sad and frustrated,” she recalled.

“Fuck, what do I do about this?” Vanessa groaned, plopping herself down on the floor. “What if she meant it? What if she does love me, but I ruined it by being an asshole?” she rests her head against the wall. “I need to do something, just being sorry isn’t gonna cut it anymore.”

“Oh! Big romantic gesture! I love these, I bet we could think of something,” Blair bounced on her heels cheerfully. “Well…you don’t sing or play piano, so that eliminates like, half of my ideas…but we’ll still think of something!” she assured. “What about a flash mob?”

Vanessa shook her head. “That’s too over the top, Brooke Lynn wouldn’t go for something that extra,” she explained. “I wanna do something, but she’s not gonna be happy if it’s somewhere crowded. She hates people seeing her emotions,” she sunk down to sit on the floor and groaned. “Fuck, y’all, I’ve never fucked up like this before.”

“Personally, I think both of you are way too worked up about this. Just jump the redheaded bitch and call it a day,” A’keria remarked.

“You know Brooke would be all ‘beating her up won’t solve anything’,” Vanessa rolled her eyes, though that might not stop her at this point. As mad at herself as she was, she felt like Lily needed to take some of the blame, it would make her feel better, that was for sure.

But then she was pulled from her train of thought when an alarm went off on her phone. “I gotta go to class, but we ain’t done brainstorming,” she said as she got up, the three of them leaving the dorm and going their separate ways.

Vanessa knew things were bad when she was actually relieved to be in class, and this one was actually sort of fun. It was the one she sat next to Yvie in, and they had come to appreciate each other’s company and chat candidly when they could. “Can I ask you something?” she asked when her classmate sat down.

“Go for it,” Yvie propped her elbow up on the desk and rest her chin on the palm of her hand.

“Let’s say you did something that really pissed off someone you care about and they don’t want to talk to you. What sort of, like…big gesture would you do to let them know how sorry you are?” One thing Vanessa was able to count on Yvie for was her honesty. While her friends did more to try to spare her feelings, sometimes it was necessary to have an outside perspective.

Yvie tilted her head and strummed her fingers against the desk. “Well, if just talking is out of the question, you still have to work on their terms. Maybe ask someone close to them and see what they suggest. Just don’t do something stupid and extra, like a flash mob,” she told her.

Vanessa pursed her lips as she listened, quickly concluding that Yvie was right. She didn’t know too many people in Brooke Lynn’s life, having gathered that most of her family remained in Canada. But she knew there was one person that would be able to help her.

----------

“I have been waiting for this moment for so long,” Katya grinned, sitting upright in her office chair and leaning forward.

“I feel like that’s a conversation for another day,” Vanessa remarked. “Anyway, what do I do? It’s been like, three days and I feel like I’m losing my goddamn mind.”

Katya was still giddy but took on a more pensive expression. She was silent for a few moments, then suddenly brightened right back up. “The student radio show!” she looked around until she found the flyer about it. “Brooke did it during her undergrad, so she’s still sentimental about it. She listens to it every week, Tuesday evenings. Go ask them to play a song and give them a message to read. Like that episode of Friends except it works because you’re not a heterosexual douchebag.”

Vanessa nodded, taking the flyer. “I knew you’d come through,” she beamed. “Thanks!” she waved and left. She went straight back to her dorm and opened her laptop and notebook. She needed the perfect song, and the perfect note to go with it. With a google search of ‘best love songs to apologize with’ open and a clean page of paper ready to go, she cracked her knuckles and got to work.

By one in the morning Vanessa had moved on to a second notebook and had finally believed she had captured her feelings into the best of her abilities. And the song? Well, she couldn’t have picked a better one. The lyrics fit so well; it was as if it was written for her to play for Brooke Lynn. She only hoped she would feel the same way.

Early the next morning, Vanessa made her way into the building where the radio show was done. It was foggy and dark, foreshadowing rain, and she only hoped that didn’t reflect the outcome of her plan. While she found the building easily, she did get a little lost finding the actual recording room. After about ten minutes of confusion and wandering, she found just where she needed to be.

As luck would have it, the room was occupied with students that worked on the show, and luckier still, one of the students was Yvie, so Vanessa ran right towards her. “Yvie, I took your advice and now I need your help again to follow through,” she went over and sat at the other side of the desk. “I talked to someone close to the person and—”

“You can just say Brooke Lynn, you know,” Yvie cut her off, “Everyone’s like, aware that something’s happening. It’s an open secret, like Rock Hudson.”

“Who that?”

Vanessa rifled through her bag until she pulled out a sheet of paper. There were several lines that had been crossed out and rewritten, but the bottom half of the page contained a coherent note. “I need you to read this note and play that song tomorrow during your show. Don’t proofread it or nothing, she’s gotta know this came from me,” she was fidgeting with her hands and shifting around in her seat. This could be her only chance at winning Brooke Lynn over.

“For what it’s worth, I’m rooting for you guys. I have no idea why, I just feel like this needs to work out,” Yvie remarked offhandedly.

“Thanks, I think.”

----------

Tuesdays were relatively decent days for Brooke Lynn. She got to be a student instead of a teacher in class and was home in time to cook herself an actual meal for dinner, this time without nearly killing herself or setting anything on fire. It was a nice way to distract herself from her stresses and woes. Especially since, on top of everything else, it had been drearily raining from the moment she woke up.

At this point, she had moved on from her initial fury towards Vanessa, but she was still angry, still hurt. But above anything else she was embarrassed. She was embarrassed that she had let herself fall so easily, that she had gotten sucked in by – quoting the song that had been stuck in her head – brown eyes, a pretty smile, and silhouette. Incidentally, she doubted she would ever be able to listen to the RENT soundtrack again.

But still, she knew better. She didn’t even date and all of the sudden she was vulnerable and lovesick towards someone that would flirt with a girl dressed like a CW character just to make her jealous. Suffice it to say, the past couple months have been a rollercoaster.

“Time for the one consistent staple in my life,” Brooke murmured to herself, sitting down with her dinner at the table and her phone hooked up to a Bluetooth speaker. She checked the time – two minutes to six – the radio show was about to start.

The introduction went as it usually did, and Brooke Lynn was tuning in and out as she ate. That was until the first song ended and the announcer said something that captured her attention.

“This next song was requested by my fellow dance major, Vanessa Mateo, aka Vanjie,” Brooke’s heart skipped a beat and her fork dropped on to her plate. She quickly made the volume louder and listened intently.

“Vanjie wrote a note that she asked me to read: ‘I won’t say your name ‘cause I know you get paranoid when it comes to you and me. But I need you to know how fucking sorry I am that I hurt you. It was stupid and not worth making you that upset. And I know sometimes ‘sorry’ isn’t enough, but it’d mean a lot if you gave me one more chance. If you will, you know where to find me’,” Yvie read. “Aww, that was sweet, wasn’t it? And with that, from Vanjie to ‘you know who you are’, this is Songbird by Fleetwood Mac.”

If Brooke hadn’t already been close to tears from Vanessa’s note, the song would have done the trick. Within the first few lines the dam broke and tears streamed down her cheeks. By the time the chorus hit, she was reduced to sobs.

“And the songbirds are singing, like they know the score. And I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before.”

When the song ended, there was no doubt in Brooke’s mind as to what she had to do. She went to the bathroom to wash her face and get herself together. And with that, her coat and shoes were on and she was out the door.

Vanessa had said in her note that Brooke would know where to find her, and apparently that had rung true, because the next thing she knew, she was running into the dance studio with a certainty that must have come from somewhere other than her conscious brain. It didn’t matter that she was soaked and shivering, she knew that this was where she needed to be.

The Vanessa that stood in the dance studio was one that Brooke had never seen before. She looked meek, hesitant, curling into herself. This was Vanessa without the confidence and attitude she brandished like weapons. She looked terrified, and her red, watery eyes made it clear that she had been crying too. Her bottom lip quivered as she looked up at her. “You showed up.”

Brooke wordlessly ran across the room to Vanessa, grabbing her head and kissing her fiercely. When she pulled away, she picked her up and hugged her tight and damn it, tears were slipping out again. “How dare you turn me into a hopeless romantic?” she laughed through the tears before eventually setting her down. “You have me wrapped around your pretty little finger, it’s just not fair.”

Vanessa was tearing up again too, which admittedly made Brooke feel a little better about her own inability to keep her feelings under control. She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her sweater and smiled up at her. “I won’t take that for granted no more. No more foolishness neither. So, we’re giving us another shot?” she asked because, despite everything that’d just happened, she needed the verbal confirmation.

“Yes. We may not be able to pick up right where we left off, but I can’t picture myself with anyone but you,” Brooke confessed. They would have to try a little harder, having undone some of the trust they’d built. But she had faith in Vanessa, and faith in their relationship. She took a half step back to take off her coat. “Can we sit? That took a lot out of me,” she admitted and sat with her back against the wall.

Vanessa sat in Brooke’s lap, a space she fit perfectly in. She combed her fingers through her damp, blonde hair and kissed her forehead. “Y’know, you’ve changed me too. Got me being responsible, taking care of myself. I used to think that shit was boring, but it feels healthy and good.”

Brooke couldn’t help but giggle at that. “I’m glad I coerced you into self-care,” she teased. She rubbed her hand up and down Vanessa’s back and kissed lightly along her jaw. “You know what we haven’t done yet? Gone on an actual date. Let’s do something fun this weekend, just you and me, maybe venture outside the city…”

“Shit, if I didn’t think we’d get caught, I’d show you how good of an idea I think that is,” Vanessa winked playfully as she leaned up and kissed her.

Brooke laughed and kissed back languidly. “Baby, I don’t have the energy for that right now anyway. What I’m gonna do is bring you back to my apartment, make you try what I made for dinner, then we’re gonna watch some shitty movies until we fall asleep.”

Vanessa smiled and let Brooke pick her up. As they went outside, they realized the rain had cleared and left them with a calm night – or as calm as a night in New York City could be. “It’s a sign,” she joked.

But sometimes the universe was funny like that, whether it was a change in the weather or hearing the right song, sometimes life brings you exactly where you need to be. And hopefully, it put Brooke Lynn and Vanessa on the path to rebuilding their relationship.

[taeheyhey]

Close to Normal

Chapter 16 - Look Where?

Taehyung x Reader - Fluff/Angst - 3.4k words

A/N - Happy weekend you gorgeous lot!! I hope you all had an amazing week filled with lovely things! Thank you so much for reading this and my other fics, I hope you know how much happiness you all bring me. As always, I hope you enjoy, please let me know if you do, and thank you for your asks and likes! 

One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Five ~ Six ~ Seven ~ Eight ~ Nine ~ Ten ~ Eleven ~ Twelve ~ Thirteen ~ Fourteen ~ Fifteen ~ Sixteen ~ Seventeen ~ Eighteen ~ Nineteen ~ Twenty ~ Twenty-One ~ Twenty-Two

You sat in front of the laptop with your fingers anxiously poised over the keys. You had been motionless for the last five minutes as you talked yourself in and out of the action you were about to take. You could feel Ronnie and Peter observing your lack of movement, their eyes burning holes in to the top of your head; the only part of you visible behind the screen rested on the bar’s surface as you crouched over the keyboard.

“...please y/n, look for me.”

As overcome with joy and relief as you had been at his phone call, you couldn’t help but feel it left you with even more questions than you had before. You had almost forgotten about the strange man who had burst in to the hotel suite the morning after you had met Taehyung for the first time, demanding to know who were and how you gained entry to the room, and it had been so easy for you to write off the evasive nature of his answers to your questions as being a result of the very clear and obvious language barrier between the two of you.

You had somehow convinced yourself to disregard the absolute lack of real information or knowledge you had of him, choosing instead to rationalise the strength of your desire to be with him on the kindness he had shown you, the ease with which he could pull laughs and smiles from your lips, the intense way he would fix his eyes on you, and the tenderness and all-encompassing passion with which he touched you.

Now, staring at the cursor blinking apathetically and relentlessly in the search bar, you asked yourself for the umpteenth time what the hell you were thinking. You pressed down on the 't' key heavily with your index finger, as though you had never typed in your life, before lifting your hand to your lips and chewing on your thumbnail, furrowing your brow in the glare of the cold, white screen. You took a deep breath in and quickly tapped on the 'a', your fingertip bouncing off the button as though it were red-hot metal and returning to cover your mouth again in something resembling panic.

The search engine beamed the word 'ta' back at you, along with the suggestions 'target', 'tax calculator', and 'Taylor Swift'. You huffed out a sigh and rapidly and aggressively tapped the delete button three times more than was needed to remove the two letters that were the fruit of almost fifteen minute’s work.

“This is stupid,” you announced loudly and slammed the lid of the laptop shut, causing Peter to partially spill the drink he had lifted partway to his mouth. “Completely and utterly pointless.”

You stood and hooked the computer beneath your arm as you stomped towards the other end of the bar and plugged it in. It was possibly the oldest laptop still in existence and were it not plugged in to the mains power approximately once every forty-five minutes, it would go in to what could only be described as panic-mode and shut down, a fact that you usually found endlessly frustrating.

On this occasion however you were actually grateful for the excuse to walk away from it for a moment. Although your mind was still buzzing with thoughts of what – if anything – you would find once you entered the correct combination of letters, the diversion of wordlessly removing Peter’s glass from his hand to refill the drink he had lost during your Google-related outburst, was a welcome one.

You returned the now replenished glass to it’s position before Peter with a thud without looking at him, leaning forward on to the bar with both hands after you had done so, and stared out through the glass of the front door and began to wonder if you had completely lost your mind.

Was this even what he meant by looking for him? It just seemed so ludicrous that you were sure there must have been a mistranslation. He hadn’t explicitly said to search him on the internet had he? But where else could you possibly begin to look? Then again what kind of person would be so sure that their web presence was enough to answer the multitude of questions you had whizzing around in your brain?

“Do you need to take a break?” Ronnie’s voice shook you from your thoughts. “You look like you’re having a sort of an episode.”

You felt your expression relax at his question, only just becoming aware that your jaw had been clenched and your brow knitted together to such an extent that the muscles in your face were beginning to ache in protest. You pressed your lips together in a brief, tight smile and shook your head no, picking up a damp rag and wiping the bar top in small circles vigorously and enthusiastically, and completely unnecessarily.

Ronnie rose from his stool and walked over to stand opposite you, reaching over the bar and plucking the rag from your hand easily. “Y/N, I’m sure I can handle serving Peter on my own for a little while, you’re just making streaks on the top at this point,” he pointed in the direction of the stairs that lead up to the living area of the building, rag still in hand. “Go.”

You huffed out a sigh and pulled the string at the back of your apron, balling the material up and throwing it on top of the back bar, sticking your tongue out at Ronnie as you did so.

Before you could fully make your exit, you heard Ronnie clear this throat pointedly and you turned to see him gesturing to the laptop, still plugged in at the wall.

You turned on your heel and retrieved the offending object. “Ugh, fine,” you grumbled as you stomped back towards the stairs.

Safely ensconced in your room once more, you sat cross-legged on the bed and lifted the computer’s top, ensuring in was plugged in again. The internet explorer was open just as you has left it and the cursor continued it’s mocking flashing as if you had never abandoned it in a strop some minutes before.

What had he meant by it’s all on the note? Removing the laptop from your legs and setting it beside you on the bed, you leant over to retrieve the folded napkin and removed it from the tiny bag you had decided to keep it in.

It’s all on the note? “There’s barely anything on it,” you muttered to yourself as you delicately set the tiger charm of the beside table, after it had fallen from the folds of the thin paper. You spread the napkin out over your thigh and frowned at it, imagining him leaning over it and biting his lip in concentration. You lifted it and held it close to your face. Your eyes fell on the letter 'V'.

Shaking your head and huffing out a laugh at the absurdity of the situation, you pulled the computer back in to your lap and dropped the note down on to the pile of blankets you still hadn’t straightened properly. You pressed on the 'v' button and hit enter, your eyes wide in anticipation as the search engine took longer than usual to return the results.

You were entirely unsurprised when you were offered a long list of articles on sporting events as a potential answer to your incredibly vague enquiry, along with a plethora of information on a 2009 television programme. You knew you weren’t trying to find out the truth in any earnest way, you were honestly apprehensive about what you might find.

You steeled yourself and tapped in the search bar once more, and added the letters 't' and 'a' to reduce the search results down. Your eyes scanned the list of suggestions and your focus was pulled to around half way down the list. 'V Taehyung South Korean Singer'.

You hesitantly hovered the mouse pointer over the name and attempted to prepare your brain for the immense can of worms you were sure you were about to open. Scrunching your eyes shut and tapping on the mouse pad, you took in a sharp breath to calm your nerves and opened your eyes slowly.

And there he was. 

The beauty of his face perfectly captured in photo after photo in the small selection at the top of the results page. You clicked on the images tab and were instantly bombarded with an enormous amount of varying hair colours and contact lenses and expensive looking clothes. You slowly let out the breath you had been holding as you scrolled through the page.

For the most part he looked the same, but you couldn’t help but notice some subtle differences. The practiced angles and careful lighting made the person in the images seem somehow unreal, untouchable, and your head was beginning to hurt from the comparison between the handsome, caring, giggling young man you had rapidly developed a deep affection for; and the person on the screen with the flawless skin and perfectly applied smoky eye.

Despite the fact he was very obviously wearing makeup in a fair few of the images, and that the photographs had been professionally taken and arranged, you couldn’t help but think how much better he looked in person. The pictures simply failed to do him justice. In a large number of them, the rich gold of his skin had been lightened to such an extent that it caused a dull rage to begin to throb behind your eyes, and you felt offended on his behalf.

So that was it: he was a singer. You realised should have guessed from the mellifluous quality of his voice as you had huddled together on the roof, and your heart clenched at the memory. You cast your thoughts back and tried to bring to mind the melody of the song he had sang so beautifully in his honeyed voice. You hummed a few bars aloud, varying the notes here and there until it sounded close enough according to your best recollection.

You returned your attention to the pictures on the screen in front of you and continued your trawl through them. It would occur to you a little later that you were scanning the images so intently with the goal of finding one that looked the most like the Taehyung you had encountered, so that you might be able to fully reconcile the person you had begun to fall for with the primped and precisely groomed man in front of you on the screen.

Your eyes were suddenly drawn to a photograph in the bottom right corner of the monitor. In it, his hair was the colour of coffee and his eyes were the chocolate brown you had found yourself being lost in over and over. He was biting his lip and staring in to the lens so intently that if you didn’t know any better you could swear he was looking right back at you, the very image of seductive.

Without truly understanding why, you felt an unease begin to unfurl in your stomach and decided you had seen enough pictures for the time being, opting instead for the Wikipedia page, once you were able to wrap your brain around the fact that it existed.

Sometime later that evening you lay on your back on the bed staring at the ceiling, the laptop battery long since draining to nothing, and tried to piece together the huge amount of information you had found. How did it make sense that you had never heard of them? Sure, it wasn’t like pop music was really something you were in to, but all you had had to do was type in three letters and the barrage of content you were instantly hit with was mind-boggling.

Strangely, it was not the fact that he, along with the rest of his group (which included cute, baby-faced Jimin, whom you recalled with a groan that you had carded for alcohol), was so well-known that was most troubling to you. Around an hour or so in to your search, you had come across a thumbnail for a video which purported to be a complication of Taehyung’s “Sexiest Moments”. Against your better judgement, you clicked on the link and were subjected to one of the most confusing three and a half minutes of your life.

The time you had spent with Taehyung had been filled with moments of him taking your breath away with the way he looked at you like you were the only one in the room. It was the heated desire and want that filled his eyes when his gaze met yours, and the way he would bite down gently on his bottom lip or flick his tongue out and run it along the flesh there that made you feel like he was simply incapable of controlling himself and that you were the most desirable person in the world.

Except it had become evident throughout the course of the video that these expressions were well-used and well-practiced, and those looks; those intense stares and provocative glances that you had thought were for your benefit alone; were apparently oft-utilised – and incredibly effective – stage tools with which to make their fans feel a kind of connection with him, much like the connection you believed you had made with him.

Had you really read the situation so inaccurately? Was this what he had wanted you to find? When he ended your last conversation with “I’ll miss you” was that his way of finally saying a proper goodbye?

You wracked your brain to try and think of another explanation, but all your mind could offer at that moment in time was a multitude of reasons as to why an ordinary girl like you had absolutely no place in the extraordinary life of a man like Kim Taehyung.

 ~~~

Finally boarding the plane, Taehyung pulled his headphones from the pocket of his bag and then lifted it to shove it haphazardly in to the over-head lockers before flopping down in to his seat and kicking his head back with a weary groan.

He wondered if you had found out about him yet, or if you had even begun to look, and his palms felt itchy with nervous energy. He rubbed his hands along his thighs in an attempt to calm the tingling and tried to picture what your reaction might be.

Would it make the reasons for his sudden disappearance any clearer to you? Would you be able to understand why he had needed to be evasive when the subject of the nature of his visit to your part of the world came up?

He hoped so. More than anything he wanted you to understand entirely. Ideally he would have been by your side when you discovered the truth; in a perfect world he would have been the one to tell you in person.

But it wasn’t a perfect world, Taehyung thought with a loud sigh as habit caused him to reach once again for the phantom phone in his left pocket, drawing the attention of Jimin who sat beside him.

Jimin wordlessly reached in to his own pocket and offered him his own handset without looking at him, before he continued to inattentively flick through the selection of movies he could watch on the long flight home.

Taehyung smiled gratefully at him – despite Jimin’s focus being trained on the screen in front of him – and plugged his own headphones in to the port at the base of the device. He and Jimin didn’t have exactly the same taste in music, but Taehyung knew that from the sheer amount of time they had spent together there was bound to be some overlaps.

He began to scroll through the music on Jimin’s phone, looking for one song in particular, a piece of music that he would now always associate with you. He remembered that Jimin had once said that it was the song that fit Taehyung the most, and it had always filled him with warmth when he heard it. Now, that warmth would still course through him upon hearing the opening lines, but he knew now there would be a sadness there too as he reminisced about your liaison on the rooftop, at the very least until he was able to see you again.

As the plane began to taxi away from the terminal, Jimin pulled on his earbuds to remove them and turned to Taehyung, who had finally finished moving his thumb along his friend’s phone with a furrowed brow, having just located the track he was looking for and hitting the play button.

“Taehyung-ah,” he began quietly, looking over each of his shoulders before leaning closer to him conspiratorially.

Taehyung pressed pause just as the first note played, pushing the left side of his earphones off and turning to acknowledge him – resting the phone in his lap – and waiting for him to continue.

“We never got to discuss our plan any further.” Jimin looked positively giddy, and Taehyung raised an eyebrow questioningly at him.

“We didn’t start to make a plan about anything, Jiminie.” He fidgeted in his seat uncomfortably. At that precise moment he could barely think beyond what your thoughts may be at finding out the truth about his fame, and whether or not you would have any idea of the implications that went hand-in-hand with it. He chewed on his lip and worried about whether or not you would still think he was worth the complications.

“Which is precisely why we need to discuss it more. What are we going to do?” He was practically bouncing in his seat, and Jimin’s blatant wish to help his friend would have been endearing were it not filling Taehyung with anxiety.

Following his conversations with Namjoon and Seong-min, he had no desire to get anyone in to trouble, and he hadn’t even considered how he might approach the situation once they arrived at home, what with their abrupt return to Korea scuppering his original plan to let you know bit-by-bit using carefully selected videos to reduce the risk of you being overwhelmed. Allowing more people to get involved at this point only seemed to run the risk of muddying things a great deal more.

In the interest of trying keeping things simple, he decided it would be best if he played dumb for the time being. “About what? Y/N?” Jimin rolled his eyes, only just stopping short of saying 'duh', and nodded. “We’ll have a break coming up in a few months, right? I was going to go back and see her and...pick up where we left off.”

The last part of his statement came out as a question in light of the thinly-veiled impatience beaming from Jimin’s face. “That’s your plan? Aish, I thought you were meant to be falling for her.”

“Well what do you suggest if you’re such an expert?” Taehyung’s frustration resulted in the volume of his voice raising above the loud whisper they had been speaking in, causing both of them to shift their eyes from side to side to see if anyone could hear their conversation.

Content that their discussions remained private, Jimin returned to hushed tones and continued. “I need you to tell me everything about what happened between the two of you.”

Taehyung swallowed thickly and felt his cheeks begin to burn as blood rushed to them. “Everything?” The question came out in a squeak.

It only took Jimin a moment to work out why Taehyung suddenly looked so bashful. “Ya, not that! Why would I need to know that?” He made a face as though it was the most offended he had been in his life.

“Because you’re a pervert, hyung.” The two friends turned to see Jungkook leaning over the back of their seats, clearly having heard everything. He turned to Taehyung, “I want to help too.”

As Jimin began to half-heartedly but repeatedly smack the back of the maknae's hands settled atop their headrests, Taehyung shifted back in his seat and faced forward, closing his eyes for a moment. So much for keeping things simple, he thought, turning his attention to the rapidly retreating view of the ground below through the small window. Exasperated, he sighed heavily and slid the headphone back over his ear and pressed play, allowing the sweet melody of the song to fill his ears and thoughts of you to fill his mind.

A/N - Hi again, we've only 6 more chapters to go after this now!! Thank you for sticking with me, feel free to send me any questions you might have about any characters or anything at all really!! Next chapter will be up next Friday evening (UK time!) ☺♥🌟♥

[distressedpanda]

Hold On (Bethyl AU)

Warnings: Language, High Emotions, Self harm, Death

Inspired by the song Hold On by Chord Overstreet

This just came to me while I was listening to this song one day. Since NAF! is doing well I figured I would try posting some of my other fics, and ideas. Still seeking prompts!

Daryl sat on his bike, outside the bustling local grocery store, waiting for Beth's shift to end. He inhaled a long drag off the cigarette held precariously between his lips. He still couldn't believe that the blond angel was dating him, let alone that they had been official for almost a year now.

That's why he was here. Not being great at romantic gestures, he wanted to do something special for her. He had gotten the idea earlier that morning, as she readied herself for work.

“We haven't been for a drive on your bike in a long time,” she had said, in an offhand comment as she pulled her long hair up in a ponytail, in their apartment. “Could be fun,” she added, pressing her hands down the front of her shirt. “I need something to take my mind off momma anyway.”

Daryl had made an affirmative grunt in reply, as she had left for work.

Annette had been sick for a few years, and was back in the hospital again. Daryl knew she was dying, there was just no way she was coming home this time. She was ready to go, had said as much to Beth, her siblings, Maggie and Shawn, and Hershel. Daryl had been there and everyday for the past month he had taken Beth, wanting to make sure she had as much time with her mother as possible.

So that was why he was here now, today they would have an adventure. Daryl would give her the world if he could, so he had gotten off early at the garage. Now that he had met her, he knew he would be lost without her in his life. He needed her more than any drug his brother had ever tried to get him hooked on. And if she needed an escape from her inescapable reality, he was gonna do every thing he possibly could to provide one to her.

She appeared through the automatic doors just then and he flicked the remnants of the dying cigarette across the parking lot.

Flipping the ignition, and revving the engine, it grabbed her attention. He knew it would. She turned to him, throwing a dazzling toothy smile at him. It made him loose the ability to breath every time he saw it.

She sauntered over to him, feeling tired but happy to see him. “Daryl, what are you doing here? Your shift doesn't end for another hour.”

“Got off early,” he looked up at her through his bangs. When she quirked an eyebrow at him, “What?”

She gave a little giggle, “That doesn't explain why you are here?”

He felt the heat creep up his cheeks and tucked his chin toward his chest before answering, “Ya said somethin bout wantin ta go fer a ride. So 'm here.”

That smile grew. He had just enough time to steady the bike, as she jumped on him. Wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, “Thank you,” she breathed.

He nodded, into her shoulder, “Welcome,” he grunted and pulled away, “Now get on, girl.”

~

The ride through the country side was just what Beth needed. With her arms wrapped around Daryl's waist, her cheek pressed against the warm leather of his vest, the wind having long since ripped the holder from her hair, making it blow out wildly behind her, the slow creeping depression melted away. She breathed in the woodsy smokey leathery scent of Daryl, and the earthy tones of the landscape and woods they passed by. She had been too focused on the impending situation her family had been thrown in. But here beneath the beating warmth of the Georgia sun, she allowed herself to forget. Only for this moment, only for this ride. It would be alright, if only for a moment, she didn't have to feel like her entire world was falling apart around her.

She was so wrong.

~

Pulling into the parking lot of their apartment complex, both were immediately on high alert but not because the sun was quickly falling beyond the horizon. Maggie Greene, the eldest Greene daughter, stood with her arms crossed over her chest leaning against the side of the old farm truck. She had raised her head when she heard them approach, and had given a smile Daryl was all to familiar with. It was one of pity and condolence.

He had received that smile when his mother had died in the fire that claimed his childhood home. Which she had caused, and to this day he wasn't sure if she had done it on purpose or not. Some things you never get the answers for.

He felt Beth's arms tighten around his chest, and he knew that she knew.

“Bethy,” Maggie started to say, approaching the bike.

Beth jumped off the opposite side of the two wheeled vehicle, shaking her head. She raised her hands in front of her, murmuring, “No, no, no, no, no,” over and over until, the tears where pouring and her voice was shacking. But the only words she could form where, “No,” even as Maggie continued.

“Bethy, honey,” Maggie's voice hitched and it was obvious she was fighting her own emotions. Daryl, jumped off the bike, kicking the stand into place, to follow Beth. Pulling her sobbing form against his chest. He held her and as she collapsed to the ground, he went with her knowing she needed to be there.

“It was peaceful, Bethy,” Maggie's voice nothing but rice krispies, as she explained. “She went to sleep this morning, and just didn't wake up. She is in a better place. . .”

Maggie was abruptly cut off, when Beth found a new word, “STOP!!!!” She screamed and pushed Daryl violently away. She rose and stormed toward the apartment.

Daryl got up slowly from the pavement, watching his girls' retreating form.

“Daryl, she doesn't need to be alone right now,” Maggie whispered, before turning back for the truck.

“Maybe thas exactly wha' she needs,” he grumbled at her, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably.

Maggie shock her head, staring at her feet, as she opened the truck door, “I've been here before. Just trust me.”

“So've I,” he grunted toward the retreating tail lights of the truck.

~

He followed her, he figured he probably always would. Opening the door, he was greeted by the appearance of a tornado having run through their living room. Pictures with broken glass strewn all over the floor, blankets ripped in half, papers torn into confetti, littered the space.

She was in their room when he found her, crumpled, sitting on the side of the bed. A picture of her and Annette in a death grip in her hands. She wept openly.

He approached slowly, giving her every opportunity to tell him to leave. When he was in front of her, he knelt down on his knees and placed his hands gingerly over hers. He took the picture and placed it safely on the night stand, before returning his hands to hers.

“Beth, talk ta me, please,” his gravely voice soft and light. He didn't want to pressure her, if she wasn't ready he wouldn't push her. He loved her, and he knew from experience that she shouldn't bottle this up.

She took a long shuttering breath between sobs, then lifted glaring deadly blues at him, “This is your fault!” she gritted through her teeth, yanking her hands free of him.

Daryl knew somewhere in the back of his mind that this had to be her way of dealing. Blame the first person available, so you could deal with the pain. It still hurt and when she pushed him away from her, he fell back onto his ass willingly. Staring up at her with bewildered eyes, she stood to pace at the end of the bed. Her hands clenched in tiny fists at her sides, her knuckles alarmingly white.

She shouldn't be doing this. She shouldn't blame him, he hadn't made her mother sick. But Beth couldn't let go of the thought that had surfaced, as she sat alone staring at her Mother's picture. “You stole my last moments with her,” she growled at him. Whirling on him, she pointed a finger into his face, and watched it fall with anguish. Still she couldn't stop herself, even as her heart twisted painfully in her chest, her lungs clinching behind her rib cage. “You did that, Daryl!” she spat.

This was too much. Daryl had put up with to much shit in his life and had always had a short fuse. Even with her. He stood quickly, causing her to take a few steps back. “I ain't do nothin, Beth. I didn make her sick. All I's tryina do was somethin nice. I wanted to give ya some freedom,” he hissed through his teeth trying to keep from yelling at her, even though she wasn't giving him the same courtesy.

“If you had stayed at work, I would have been there. I WOULD HAVE BEEN THERE!!!!” She screamed, arching up on to her toes to be closer to staring him in the eye.

He flung his hands up, “I ain't dealin with this shit! I don hav ta put up with ya talkin ta me like tha,” He turned heading for the door.

She followed him, hot on his heals, “Where are you going? Leaving now, when I actually need you?” She yelled at his back.

He whipped around, one hand on the front door knob, “Nah, Beth. I love ya. But I ain't dealin with this shit.”

And then he left.

Beth dissolved into violent sobs that tore through her body. She lay in a crumbling sniveling heap, for what felt like hours, but couldn't have been more than a few minutes.

When she had no more tears to shed, she drew herself up to sit against the wall. Had she just lost her mother and the first person she had ever actually been in love with, all in the same day?

She felt numb, her hands clenched in fists. Her nails biting viciously into her palms, but she couldn't feel the pain. Standing to make her way to the bathroom, she needed to feel something. She had screwed up. Big time. Daryl, had only been trying to help. Besides, she had made the suggestion herself.

She had been in a terrible funk, ever since her mom had gone back into the hospital. She knew, she wasn't stupid. She knew this would be the last time, that she wouldn't come home.

Stepping in the bathroom, she locked the door. Daryl, didn't need to see her when he came back, not yet.

If he came back.

With that thought on her mind, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She had pushed to far this time. Said things that never should have been aimed at him. She didn't deserve him.

She turned on the cold water, letting it run and fill the room with it's white noise.

She examined her reflection for a long time. Her puffy eyes and the track marks of tears down her cheeks, had her lip quivering again. But this time from anger. Why had her mother been taken? Why was Daryl gone? She was fouling herself entirely, if she believed for one second that he would come back, after the accusations she had thrown at him.

She needed to feel something. Something besides the overwhelming grief and anger that wouldn't let her go.

Her fist shot out, before she even registered that she had given her brain the command. The mirror shattered, clattering in a glittering cascade into the awaiting sink. Her knuckles were raw and bleeding from the collection of cuts across them.

Still, she felt nothing.

Silent tears rolled down her cheeks once more and as her head fell, her eyes caught on a shard of light. The piece of triangular shaped glass held her gaze, the water flowing smoothly over it, as though it was being chosen just for her. She gingerly lifted it from the bowl. Turning and sliding down the cabinet under the sink, she sat on the cold floor.

She would feel this, she just knew she would. Her mother was gone. She had pushed Daryl away. Why should she stay here? Her father still had Maggie and Shawn. But she. She had lost everything, including the will to keep going.

The mirrored glass flashed her lost hollow baby blues back at her, as she twirled it over and over in her hand. It bit into her palm, and she felt it. For a single moment there was pain.

Lifting the glass in her hand, she rolled her opposite palm up, exposing her wrist.

Why keep going?

~

After about half a pack of cigarette's, Daryl decided he would head back in to check on his girl. Flicking the last butt across the dark parking lot.

Trudging up to their door, his shoulders slumped. He knew he probably should have just taken whatever she had to throw at him. But he also knew that, she needed him yelling back at her even less.

“Beth,” he called, as he closed the front door behind him. He could hear water running somewhere and followed the noise to the door of the bathroom. He knocked softly, calling her name again, “Beth.”

No answer.

He tried the knob, locked.

Knocking again, a dreadful feeling wrapped around his chest, constricting to the point of suffocation. “Beth,” he rasped louder. Pounding on the door even harder, when there was still no answer. “Beth, please,” he begged, “Just say somethin.”

Nothing.

He was slamming his shoulder into the door, the wood splintering beneath his blows. His heart racing from panic, the third blow shattered the handle free from the frame. Splinters from the frame and door, spraying across the floor.

He slid onto his knees, next to her lifeless body laying face down by the sink. Her golden locks covering her face. She was far too pale. He rolled her towards him, and that's when he saw the glass and the blood. The crimson life sustaining liquid, pouring freely from her wrist.

“No,” he breathed, pulling her into his lap. He placed his ear against her chest, praying to a God he didn't believe in, for a heartbeat. “Beth,” he breathed, hearing the faintest flutter of her heart. He reached for a hand towel on the sink counter and bound her wrist as best as he could. ”Please, don't leave me,” he begged. Lifting her from the floor, he raced from the apartment. Barely remembering to grab the keys for his truck as he went.

~

Shuffling her carefully but quickly into the passenger seat, he sprinted to the driver side. Slamming the door behind him, he started the truck and gunned it out of the parking lot. “Hold on,” he said, glancing across the darkness of the cab. But only silence greeted him, she was eerily still and just barely breathing. He wouldn't give up on her though, he couldn't just let her go.

The miles to the nearest hospital were a nightmare he couldn't escape, as she lay silent beside him. His vision blurring from unshed tears. His hands were shaking, even with the white knuckled death grip he had on the steering wheel. He couldn't lose her. Praying she was still there, even though he could see no light at the end of this ever growing tunnel.

~

Skidding to a halt, in front of the ER doors, he shoved the truck in park. Leaving it running with the keys in the ignition, all he could think about was saving his girl. He pulled her from the truck and raced inside.

“Help! Please!” He screamed, reaching the reception desk.

Immediately, she was taken from him and placed on a gurney. Wheeling her away, he clung desperately to her hand. But when they reached the entrance to surgery, a nurse pulled him away.

“No!” he growled. “I havta be with her!”

Placing a hesitant but placating hand on his shoulder, the doctors continued to roll her away from him. “Sir we will do everything we can for her. I promise,” the nameless faceless woman calmly spoke.

He crumbled on his knees, and watched Beth disappear behind a set of double doors.

A guttural cry ripped from his throat, “PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!!!!!” The tears flowed freely across his cheeks now.

~

He paced back and forth in the corridor. The nurse had directed him to a viewing window. He watched them check her heartbeat.

They stitched her wrist, and she was now hocked up to so many cords and needles she looked like a human pin cushion. It broke his heart. He couldn't stand to see her like this, wishing he could take all this pain on himself. Placing his hand on the window, over her still lifeless form.

“Come back,” he breathed, his breath fogging the window. He whispered to her and God, “I still need you.”

~

A nurse, he honestly had no idea if it was the same one from earlier, approached him, “Would you like to see her now?”

He didn't turn his eyes away from Beth, “She gonna be alrigh?” his voice trembled.

“I don't know. Honestly that's up to her. Are you her family?” the nurse asked kindly.

“Nah, not yet,” he breathed, “I's hopin someday maybe,” he admitted, without thinking.

“Oh,” she answered, and he could hear the slightest bit of judgment in her voice. Most people didn't understand the age gap between the two of them. If he was honest with himself, he didn't really get it either. It had been her choice, her insistence, that had convinced him to give this a shot in the first place. He didn't care what they thought of him, he was a Dixon after all. But that didn't give people the right to judge Beth for her choices.

He heard the women sigh and then caught her squaring her shoulders at him, “Look, I know this isn't any of my business. But I am thinking you may be just the person to revive her."

His head snapped around on his shoulders. Looking her up and down, she was a small thing like Beth. But the similarities ended there. She had short dark hair, brown eyes, with soft rounded features, the tag on her scrubs shirt read, Millie.

She crossed her arms impatiently in front of her chest, “So how bout you get in there and give her a reason to live,” she huffed. Then spinning on her heels, walked off down the hall.

He turned for the door, and had his hand on the door handle, when she called out, “I will contact her family for you.”

The corner of his mouth twitched in an attempt to smile, “Thanks,” he said to her retreating form and pushed into the cold dark hospital room.

~

The sounds of the machines were so much worse than the sight of them through the window. The steady beeping and the incessant buzzing sounds from the screens and monitors, had Daryl feeling sick.

Approaching the side of the bed, the tears started anew. Silently rolling down his cheeks. She was still too pale. The color drained completely from her face, she was as white as the sheet she lay upon. Her golden mane haloed haphazardly, framing her head. Gently lifting her hand, he sat in the chair next to the bed, and held her cold fingers between his hands.

“Beth,” his voice cracked and broke. He cleared it before continuing, “'m not good at this stuff. I don know what ta say ta get ya back.” Even whispering, his voice was to loud and gravely, hurting his own ears. He pulled her hand up, resting his forward against his clasped hands. She was worth it. He just had to figure out how to tell her. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and let go of everything he was holding inside.

“I still want you. I still need you,” he breathed against her hand. “I'll make this right somehow. I love you. I will love you my whole life. Just please, girl, please, come back.”

The silence was deafening, even with the rhythmic tones from the machines. He wept openly, “Please don't leave me,” his voice sounding like a shout in his ears, but coming out as nothing more than air. “'m not strong enough to live without ya. I can't lose ya, I can't let go. I just wanna take ya home.” His heart was shattering, making it impossible to breath around these emotions that were bombarding and suffocating him.

The door to the little room was thrown open. Daryl snapped his head up and around at the intruder, but quickly his face softened and he tucked his head away from the three advancing on them.

Maggie reached him first, “What did you do?!” she screamed at him. Daryl tucked even further into himself. This was his fault. He knew that. He never should have left her alone, after they argued. Or maybe he should have left her alone to begin with.

Hershel placed a restraining hand on Maggie's shoulder, “Maggie,” his voice pleading with her.

She shrugged violently away from him, “No, Daddy,” she countered turning accusing eyes on him and her brother, who stood silently holding Beth's other hand across from Daryl. “I told him not to leave her alone,” she rounded back on Daryl. “I told you not to leave her alone!”

He nodded at her. What more could he do? “Yer right. Ya did. And I did,” his voice defeated and so tiny for a man like him.

Hershel moved to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but Daryl stood. Dropping Beth's hand and moving around them toward the door. “'m sorry. I know it's not enough, but 'm so sorry,” he managed, before exiting the room.

He slid down the wall outside the door, burying his tear soaked face in his hands. His shoulders shaking, as grief stricken sobs ripped from his throat.

~

Maggie could hear Daryl sobbing outside. Her heart twisted in her chest, causing her already short breath to hammer out of her lungs. Pushing the feeling aside, she turned to look at the eerily still form of her little sister. Her Daddy now holding the hand Daryl had vacated, Shawn still holding the other. She stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at Beth. Maggie watched her chest moving up and down softly beneath the hospital blankets.

Maggie shivered from guilt, she shouldn't have lashed out at Daryl. It's just that they had already lost there monarch that afternoon, her small family unit couldn't stand to get any smaller.

Turning she moved silently toward the door. Her hand on the handle, she glanced back over her shoulder. Her Daddy, smiled sadly up at her and nodded. She returned the smile, and opened the door.

~

Daryl's sobs had quieted, his face still hidden behind his hands. He jerked his head up, when he felt a body slide against his side. Maggie. She was now sitting beside him, her knees pulled up to her chest. She draped her arms over her knees and began picking at her thumb. He couldn't look at her, tucking his chin to his chest.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. He shook his head at her but she cut him off. “I don't wanna hear it. I know I shouldn't have said those things to you. She did this to herself and its up to her whether she wants to live or not.”

Daryl's breath caught in his throat and he tried to swallow the knot forming there, as she continued. “I have been here before, with my momma. It's why I said, she shouldn't be alone. I don't really remember much of it, but I remember the feeling.”

“I do,” he grumbled, surprising them both. Maggie's inquiring brow, brought more from him, “I been here too. Lost my ma, but I remember all of it. 's why I knew she should be alone.”

She scoffed, picking at her thumb again, “Yea, and I am guessing that's why this happened.”

It wasn't a question but Daryl shook his head at her anyway. “Nah, if I had ignored what ya said and left her alone ta begin with, I don think this woulda happened. She ain't you, Maggie. She's different.”

Maggie nodded, “Your right. She isn't me.”

They sat there silent for a long time, neither looking at the other. Maggie rose to her feet eventually. Standing in front of him, she extended her hand, “Let's go take care of our girl.”

He looked up through his long shaggy bangs, “Ya sure ya want me in there?” Still sounding so tiny, and Maggie's heart broke for him.

She drew her lips into a thin smile, it was partially forced but still genuine, “Yea, Daryl. She needs you, and our family doesn't need to get any smaller.”

~

Almost twenty-four hours later, Daryl was alone with Beth again. Hershel, Maggie and Shawn, needing to leave to make preparations for Annette's funeral. Hershel also had to fill out more of Beth's medical info, Daryl hadn't known everything.

Before they had left, they had begged her to wake up. Hershel praying that she would be awake before they had no choice but to proceed with her mother's burial.

Daryl's eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but he fought sleep with every ounce of strength he had. Nurses had come in telling him to go home and get some rest, but he couldn't leave here without her. He wouldn't. He was determined to be the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes.

He believed she would, because he couldn't imagine a world without her in it. He told her as much, over and over. He didn't think he had ever spoken this much in his life, but with her in this helpless state, the words tumbled from him, like a desperate lion finally released from captivity.

~

It was nearing night fall on the second day at the hospital, when he couldn't fight his eyelids anymore. Sitting in the chair, his head lent against the bed, her hand still in his, he drifted for a moment.

The squeeze against his fingers had his eyes popping open, his head snapping back on his neck so hard there was an audible crack. He looked up at her angelic face and groaned, seeing the coloring in her cheeks that was slowly starting to grow.

“Beth,” he whispered, bringing her hand to his lips. He kissed her knuckles, and felt a weak squeeze in response. A stuttering shaky breath escaped his lips to dance across her warming fingers.

~

Beth's eyelids fluttered, the bright over head lights hurting her eyes. Her vision was blurry, and she didn't understand why she hurt so much.

She heard her name escape an intimately well known set of lips, and she turned slowly to the voice, gently squeezing the hand wrapped around her own.

She could see him. Everything else in the room was still alarmingly blurry, but him. Daryl. He was clear.

“Daryl,” she groaned, her throat raw and dry.

He smiled, teary light shining from his eyes. He sat forward and ran his free hand along her cheek. Then stood and lent over her to place a soft kiss on her forehead, “I thought I lost ya.” The gravel in his voice intensified by the emotion she could hear there.

A single tear rolled down her cheek, “I'm so sorry, Daryl.”

He shook his head against hers, closing his eyes, “Nah, 'm the one tha should be sorry.”

She didn't want to argue with him. She would have to learn to forgive herself and so would he. So she said the only thing she could. The only thing she needed and wanted to say. The only thing that mattered, “I love you, Daryl.”

He sobbed once, running his thumb over her cheek bone, “I love you, Beth.”

[senny74]

Zoe was sitting, in silent disbelief...

(/AN/ Hey everyone, last week we had an epilogue of Take a Stand Star of Ceartais and the prologue of third TaS story, The Broken Mirror will be out 18th June. So together with my Bat, @lisiczka-zorua, we decided to write a short oneshot story to fill the gap between the main fic chapters. The story that will follow here is canon to Take a Stand univers, which also means that @crewefox knows about it...  Also I need to thank @esso-is who was willing to help me with this writing and beta-read it despite the state they were in after last SOC chapters. 

so without more babling... Happy Pride Month to everyone reading this, and I hope You will enjoy

I have no idea for title so, I’ll post it without one

-A.R-)

Zoe Nightfall-Rojek was sitting, in silent disbelief,  in the kitchen of the apartment she shared with her husband, Aleks. They had been married for 3 months, and manage to get a proper and nice apartment in downtown of Zootopia. But now their peaceful (as for standards of these two) life was about to change dramatically. On the table, in front of her lied pregnancy test in which she stared for an hour now. The test was positive and she simply couldn’t believe her own eyes. Both Aleks and Zoe knew that hybrid kids were something very rare, and despite two of their best friends being hybrids, they never thought that they can have a child of their own. Aleks was about to be back in home within an hour but Zoe couldn’t even process this herself. Finally after another few minutes she burst with tears of happiness.

When Aleks entered home, he didn't even have time to walk into the living room, as Zoe rushed to hug him instantly.

“Oh, hey honey.” the fox laughed barely keeping himself standing. Despite her size Zoe was very strong and she was able to get her fox off foots pretty easily. “I’m so happy to see you too.”

Zoe eased her hug to look into his green eyes, still having tears in her own magenta eyes and she cried happily “I’m pregnant, Fluff tail! Can you believe it? I’m pregnant!” she repeated with excitation and happiness.

Aleks’ eyes turned watery and his smile grew wider, before he kissed his wife passionately keeping her very close to himself.

When they finally stopped, Zoe led her fox to the kitchen and showed him the test so he could see it too. Aleks kissed her again. The rest of the day, the married couple spent hugging each other and watching cartoons on TV.

000

The news had spread very quickly in their vicinity. Of course the first to know, were Zoe’s parents. She had called her parents the second she woke up. Aleks in that time was preparing breakfast for them. Zoe’s parents were in shock, after their daughter's marriage they didn’t really hope for becoming grandparents, especially grandparents of Zoe’s own kids, but as she told them the revelations, they were very happy. After breakfast Aleks called Skye to tell her why he didn’t show up at work and soon after all of their friends know. Aleks’ parents were last to be informed, because Robyn and Hannah dropped by to congratulate themselves and spend some time with them. For the first week Zoe was still going to work but Ray insisted on her to go for maternity leave. But Aleks was the one to convince her in the end.

The first weeks have passed pretty quickly. Aleks had asked Robyn and Hannah if they could check on Zoe from time to time while he is in work. They agreed and were visiting the pregnant bat whenever they had time off work. Zoe was eating a lot and her taste was constantly changing so Aleks was bringing home kilograms of various fruits.

000

One evening while they were enjoying each others company and watching some TV series, Zoe couldn’t focus on what she watched. Her thoughts were wandering of to their unborn kid.

“Aleks” She started with asking tone of her voice. “How will it look like? I mean, it’s been three months already and we haven’t even talked or thought about how our kid may look like.” She asked nuzzling fur on his chest with her right claw.

Aleks took his eyes off TV and looked at the Bat lying on his chest. “You wonder if it will be more like a bat or like a fox?” he answered question with question.

Zoe nodded still nuzzling his chest.

“well, I would say it will be more of a bat, that looks a bit like a fox.” Aleks thought aloud.

Zoe giggled. “I wish it will have your fluffy tail.”  

Aleks smiled. “ I wish it will have your eyes.”

“What do you think of fur?” Zoe looked at her husband. “Do You think it will be ginger like me? Or silver like You? Or may be something in between?” her eyes were glimmering with  excitation.

“I don’t think it will have my fur colour. I am recessive you know. I’d say it will be ginger like you.” Aleks concluded.

“hmm” Zoe sounded. “our little fox-bat” she giggled again. Aleks chuckled. “So, Fluff tail, have you thought of any names?”

“Names?” Aleks sounded. “no I haven’t.”

“What do You think of Seth?” She asked.

“Seth?” fox repeated.

“Yeah, Seth. I think its a nice name.” Bat thought aloud.

“It sounds nice I guess. What do You think of Emery?” Aleks continued thinking if names.

“I don’t know.” Zoe stated but after a while she asked. “Aleks, what if its a girl?”

“Emily may be?” he answered almost instantly.

“Hmmm,” She sounded. “Emily Nightfall-Rojek, I think it’s okay?”

“well, I like it.” Fox smiled.  

“Maaay be” Zoe prolonged first word and kissed her fox. “You know let’s talk tomorrow, okay? I’m a little tired now.” She yawned at the end.

“Take You to the bed?” Aleks asked with smile.

“We can stay here, Its pretty comfortable.” Zoe yawned again.

Aleks just smiled. Zoe yawned few more times before falling asleep rather quickly. Aleks took her to bed and soon after he fall asleep too.

000

Within a month everything in Aleks’ work just get complicated. Half of the agents he had to work with, went for sick leave and the crimes they were working on started to get out of the control. Together with his partner, Aleks was constantly in rush in work, so when he found a second of relief he fall on chair in his office. The fox tried to get few deep breathes before taking a sip of his black tea. He was really tired and he had 4 more hours to work this day. The ring of his phone got him out of his thoughts. He stood up to reach it and saw ‘Robyn’ displaying on the screen.

“Yes?” He picked immediately

“Aleks, we’re in hospital, come here ASAP” Robyn’s voice rushed.

“Hos... what? What happened?” the fox felt cold chills running down his spine.

“Zoe passed out, I got her to the hospital. We are in ICU.” Robyn elaborated.

Aleks felt his guts twitching in all directions. “Get here as fast as you can.” Robyn said again before hanging off. The fox’s breath flattened. His mind was shattered. He collapsed on the floor in misery. It took him a good minute to  regain any thinking capabilities and as soon as he did, he rushed from the floor to the exit of his office. Aleks didn’t say a word to anybody he just rushed out of the building and drove straight to the hospital. Even if it was the middle of the day it took him half an hour to reach hospital in which he’s been told to get to. He felt dreadful, his thoughts were on full paranoid mode. He was forcing himself not to cry from what his mind was picturing. He quickly reached lobby and the female zebra asked him, not taking away eyes from the monitor in front of her. “how can I help sir?”

“Nightfall-Rojek, in which room is she?” Aleks urged.

“Im forbidden to reveal such information to random visitors.” Zebra told off

“What?!” Aleks quirked “what random? I’m her husband, she’s pregnant, I need to go to her.” He insisted, his voice was cracking with fear and now irritation. His wife was in ICU, he already lost half an hour so any second was valid.

“Sir, you are not bat, and we are not letting friends on ICU too, now pleas wait with visits until Mrs Nightfall-Rojek will be signed off.

Aleks stood like salt stone being dumbfounded “Co kurwa?” fox mumbled almost unaudiable in his native language.

He was about to say more but then he heard his surname across the hall. He turned his head towards the direction the sound was coming from.

Hannah  stood in the corridor on the another side of the hall. Zebra looked from the monitor at the fox upon hearing the surname he was called by but he didn’t waste any second and rushed towards his friend.

“How is she?” was first words Aleks voiced after reaching hybrid. She just hugged the fox instead of answering.

“Hannah?” he asked with fear, his irritation was now gone. After she have ended the hug she lead him to Zoe’s room. In front if it Aleks spotted Robyn talking with the lynx surgeon.

The lynx saw them approaching and asked looking at Aleks. “I assume you must be Mr Rojek, right?”

“Yes” Aleks nodded before glancing at Robyn who had sad face. Hannah walked over and hugged her wife. Then Aleks looked back at the lynx. “what happened?”

“We can't tell.” Lynx answered slowly “most certainly its due to this unusual pregnancy.”

“But she was okay all the time. She was going for check outs regularly.”  Aleks mumbled. “And you telling me now that her state worsened within one day?”  

“It was not within one day, sir. This pregnancy was too much for her body, which lead to almost complete exhaustment. Her organs slowly started to fail.” Surgeon elaborated, with profesional tone of own voice.

Aleks covered his mouth with his paw. Fox felt overwhelming coldness, he was schocked with the revelations. His breath flattened so he tried to calm it a bit before asking with fratenet voice. “Is she going to be okay?”

The lynx sighed. “We are doing our best to save her, sir, but...” He cut middle sentence, looking away from the fox.

Aleks had dreadfull feeling in his guts. He whole felt dreadfull. “But?” he breathed automatically.

“We could not save the child. We don't even know if we can save her” the lynx answered slowly.

It felt like cold iron pierced his cheast. The fox shut his eyes to prevent himself from crying but it did not work. Tears started to run down his cheaks. Robyn and Hannah quickly reached him as he colapsed on the knees.

The lynx kneeled next to Aleks and put his paw on fox's shoulder. He spoke through tears with volnurable voice. “I beg you save her, for the love of God, I beg you.”

“I'm sorry, but I have to go back now.” The surgeon stood up. He was sad. He always hurt to tell hard news to family members and that was what lynx hated about his job the most.

Aleks hugged Robyn and now was crying for good.

Surgeon was gone for hours during which Aleks had phone from Skye who was asking why he just run out from job, but coversation quickly turned on depressive way. He has been given two weeks of sick leave, as his partner agreed to work overtime. Both Robyn and Hannah were doing their best to comfort him. After few hours, the lynx surgeon met them again, saying that Zoe will live, but her state is still critical. Aleks did not dare to leave hospital. He was sitting in the room looking over his wife day and all night long, taking breaks only to drink some coffee or eat some food in hospital's cafeteria.

In passing week, Ray visited them and tried to convince Aleks to take some rest but the stubborn Polish fox refused. The next day Skye, together with Robyn and Hannah dropped by and they finally managed to convince miserable looking fox, to sleep. Zoe had woken up after one week. She still was very weak. Aleks told her what happened and ever since then she was crying. It was a fatal blow for the married couple, as their entire world just fell apart.  Another week passed before Zoe was signed off home, but she wasn't herself anymore.

The bat wasn't eating nor drinking for first days, after the sign off, but later she started eating just enough to not pass out again. Both Aleks and Zoe were heartbroken, and funreal of their unborn seemed to just deepen that. In work fox was mare shadow of his old self, but he held better than his wife. She was sleeping all days from exhaustion while Aleks was in work and when he was back, she was hugging him and crying all nights. Ray had given her a two month leave which was just a formality.After one month they started to cope with the truth, Zoe started to eat regulary, and returned to her normal sleep schedule and Aleks regain a bit of his old self. Their life slowly started returning to it's previous state, but the bat never been the same again. She completely changed her look and become less sociable. And even though things seemed to be back on track in life of this two, Zoe still had cry attacs from time to time, she then always hugged her fox. Both of them wished that they could be blessed with child of their own again and that everything would end good.